“Me, too,” Ty adds.
“Okay, boys, where are you headed?” Henry asks. “Under the circumstances I don’t recommend that you return to Denver anytime soon.”
“Considering that we are here,” I stammer, “I am hoping we could travel with you and your family to Utah.” I see Ty do a double take and a flash of astonishment crosses his face and then it is gone. He will never win at poker with that giveaway face. Not that we would play poker, anyway.
[82] But now Ty hides his surprise quite well.
“Well,” Henry begins, glancing at Elizabeth.
“We can do it, Father,” William encourages. “Jared and Ty can help with the chores, and we can hunt a little more to make up for the food.”
Elizabeth nods her head and Henry says, “Okay, then. You will have to work hard, and the days will be long with much walking.” Henry looks down at my shoes. “At least you have shoes of some sort this time,” he states. “Can you walk in those?”
“You bet I can,” I reply with confidence. I want to say that these shoes are called tennis shoes and that they are better than Nikies, that they have cushioned heals and tough rubber soles, and air vented sides. And I could say how they are made of gortex and nylon and are machine washable, but I don’t say all that.
“Then let’s get moving,” Henry suggests. “William can show you how we travel, and what chores are expected.”
With a clucking sound, William starts the wagon moving without us in it this time. It feels really good to be walking for a change. Henry paces along beside us for a few moments.
“So,” Henry brakes the silence, “tell me the fire wasn’t part of your escape plan.” Henry does not direct the statement toward anyone in particular. There is a long pause of silence.
“It wasn’t actually a fire,” Ty replies quietly.
Henry looks at Ty and says nothing.
“It was really more smoke than anything,” Ty continues.
Henry glances at Ty as they walk side by side. It is one of those disapproving looks that parents seem to be good at. The worst is the disappointed look where they expect better behavior from you. I have gotten a few of those and they are no fun at all. As for me, this time I am the one who completely messes up the poker face. Ty just never fails to amaze me.
“I just needed a distraction so Jared could get away. I knew smoke would get everyone’s attention, so I bought some salt peter and sugar and wrapped it tightly in paper. I placed it away from anything that would burn and lit the paper on fire.”
“It sounds like you have done this before,” Henry comments without judgment in his voice.
“Once, when we needed a smoke screen for a movie we were making,” Ty answers.
“Movie?”
I watch, amused, as this time it is Ty’s turn to feel as though the universal translator got switched off.
“Yeah,” he says, catching on quickly. “It’s like a play, and we needed a smoke screen.”
“I see,” Henry says. “And …”
“And during the distraction I unlock the jail.”
“So, Sheriff Johnson did not see Jared run out the front door of his office?”
“No. I opened the side window and then Jared hid under the desk. When Sheriff Johnson saw the open window he assumed that Jared had escaped out the window and went chasing after him. Meanwhile, Jared just walked out the front door.”
“Do I need to tell you that if you intend to travel with us, I expect better behavior on your part?”
“No, sir,” Ty replies.
“I expect hard work, total honesty, and obedience.” Henry looks at us three boys each in turn.
“Yes, sir,” we all reply almost in unison.
“Okay, then. Be on the lookout for wood that can be burned for this evening’s fire. There won’t be much where we stop because this route is so heavily traveled. It will be pretty well used up, at least anything close will be. So, let’s pick up good solid wood as we go.”
We all nod agreement and Henry moves off to talk with Elizabeth as we walk. William leads the horse and wagon along the trail, and George leads the oxen behind us. I am especially glad that we have decided to go around the Rocky Mountains. The Overland Trail is relatively flat, but even so, there are slight ups and downs that kind of drain the energy right out of me.
I feel sorry for the horse and oxen. When the trail goes up a small hill, the horse works hard to pull the wagon up, and then going down the other side, the wagon tries to push the horse. William applies the brakes to slow the wagon, but the horse still has to work hard. To help the horse to pull its load, Ty and I push on the wagon wheels when the trail gets steep.
Occasionally we cross a stream and we stop and let the animals drink water and eat grass. We all get a rest that way.
"This looks like a good place to rest the horse," William says as we cross a shallow trickle of water. There must be a spring near by. The horse needs a drink and a little grass."
"I can skip the grass, but I could use a little water myself," I reply smiling.
"Looks like several wheel ruts through here," William observes.
"Do you think it's the supply train?" I ask.
"Since there are so many tracks through here that's exactly what I am thinking. A stage would not be so obvious."
"So, we are catching up to them?" I say, trying to sound like I am a seasoned pioneer.
"Probably not," William frowns. "These ruts are fairly old. See how they are washed out mostly, and completely dry up here?"
" Yes." I pause.
"New tracks would be more distinct. The edges would be more clear and defined. These are rounded over and sagging. Look at the tracks from our own wagon."
I look over to our own tracks and Ty is already inspecting them. Ty looks up, "How many hours ahead of us are they?"
"It's hard to tell for sure, but my guess is that we are not catching up with them very fast at all."
I must have looked worried because William adds, "We've got a heavy load and," he lowers his voice, "Grandfather and Grandmother walk kind of slow, but even so, when we stop to rest our stock we only have to water and feed five animals."
"And the wagon train has to take care of thirty, or more," I say quickly as I catch on.
"And," Ty adds, "they have to hitch up those thirty in the morning and un-hitch them at night. It takes longer."
"So," William concludes, "we will catch up with them, just not today.”
Annie skips over to where we are standing. "Father says to gather around for a quick lunch."
"Thanks, Annie," I say, always glad for lunch. We un-hitch the horse and hobble her in some tall grass, then walk over to the other wagon. After a blessing on the food, Elizabeth hands out a chunk of bread and some dried meat. I am hungry and it tastes great. Ty is not accustomed to this sort of food and he eats more hesitantly. He will get used to it, I think, and I smile. Wait until he tries the lumpy milk.
"Hey, where's Spot?" I ask William, looking around at the wagons.
"You have a dog?" Ty asks, also looking around somewhat bewildered.
"No," I laugh. "Spot is a cow."
Ty looks at his piece of meat and then up at William.
"We couldn't bring her," William says. "We sold her in Denver. I already miss the milk and cream."
Ty looks relieved and takes a bite of his dried meat.
I sit down by the trickle of water under the limb of a tree. I get my hand wet and rub it on the back of my neck. The cool water feels good on my parched skin. I get up and walk over to the other wagon.
"Elizabeth," I say with my best begging face. "I saw your brand new hand towels and I was wondering if I could borrow one of the older ones?"
"Now, Jared, what could you possible want with an old towel?" she quizzes.
"Well, I don't have my hat," I confess. "I thought maybe I could make a sun guard so my neck and face don't burn. I would only need it until I could fashion a hat out of straw, or something." I think
my argument is reasonable enough, and that she will go for it, but I still hold my breath waiting for an answer.
"You certainly are a resourceful boy," Elizabeth says with a smile. "Let me see what I can find. But you need to get William to show you how to make a hat from a deerskin when you boys go hunting tomorrow."
Elizabeth dives into the wagon and in a few minutes appears with a well worn dish towel.
"Thank you," I say reaching for the towel.
"Hold on, young man," she says, giving me one of those looks. "I've got a little stitch of thread left over from darning a sock. We can just put a couple of stitches in the corners so it will stay on your head. When you are done with the towel, they will come out easily enough."
I patiently watch as she places one loose stitch, then flops it onto my head. It fits snugly and seems to be perfect. "Thanks," I say, trying to be polite.
"Hold on," she gives me that look again.
"Sorry," I mutter.
Elizabeth snatches the towel from my head and snugs the stitch, then she places one more, and snugs it down with a knot. "There you go. That ought to work for a day or so."
"Thank you," I say, placing it on my head. From behind me comes a giggle. I turn to see Annie.
"You look funny," she says, giggling again.
"Do I look like a girl?" I say laughing.
"Yes," Annie laughs. "A girl with pink flowers in her hair."
"Well," I say, giving my new hand towel 'hair' a quick tuck with my hand and talking in my best girl voice. "I think they are cute and very stylish."
"Lets get rolling." Henry bellows. "Hitch 'em up and let's go."
I walk over to William. "We've got to get you a hat," he says smiling.
I get a quick lesson on how to hitch the horse to the wagon. It is not too tough since the harness is still on the horse. We just attach the steering poles and the lines to the collar, then put a strap around the backend of the horse. William says that it keeps the wagon from running into the horse when going down hill. William knows all the names of the harness parts
[83], but that is too technical for a first lesson, I guess.
We walk for a couple of hours. I divert from the trail a few times and come back with some firewood. Ty helps me with one log that we can barely carry.
"If you get wood that is too big you will have to chop it up," Henry says when we heft a thick log into the wagon. I only have to be told once. Besides, smaller is so much easier.
After resting for a few minutes near some water trickling across the trail, Henry says, "We've got about two hours until the next stream crossing. We will go that far and then stop for the night."
With tired feet I stand. My feet and legs want to complain, but I know that Henry will not tolerate any complaining from his boys, and besides that, I am just a guest. So we walk. William trudges next to the horse, guiding it with a gentle nudge from time to time. Ty pushes on the wagon and I pull when the trail gets steep. The oxen are slow, but they are strong and do not need our help.
The warm summer sun starts to hang low in the west when finally we descend into a small comparatively lush valley. I spot the thick line of trees and bushes that grow in green abundance along the small stream, and I glance at Henry.
"After we cross the stream, head for that flat area to the right," he says pointing. "That is where we will set up for the night."
"Can I help build a fire?" Joseph asks, skipping up to his father.
"Yes, and then we need some water from the stream."
"Yay! I get to help with the fire!" Joseph dances off to sing his victory to Annie.
"Jared and Ty," William says quietly, "we will need help with the horse and oxen. They will need their harnesses removed and then they need to be hobbled near the stream in some grass so they can eat."
I nod and Ty replies, "Show us how you want us to do it."
"Ty, you go with George. He will show you how to care for the oxen. Jared, you stick with me."
When we reach the stream, we have to encourage the horse to cross the stream and not stop to drink. With some persuasive tugging we get her going up the opposite bank and then off to the right. William positions the wagon a little south and west of a previously used pit of grey ashes where a small fire had been built several days ago.
"Let's stop the wagon here," Williams says.
My face must have question marks all over it. I want to ask, "Why here? Why not closer to the water? Besides, you are blocking our view of the mountains."
"We don't want the wagon too close to the fire because we have to work around it to cook, and then later we may want to sleep close to the fire to stay warm. Also, there is a slight breeze, and here the wagon may help to block the wind."
"Okay," I answer. I have been camping a lot with our Boy Scout troop, but I never really planned a campsite with wagons before. I don't consider the wind because, in my mind, I am just going to crawl into my tent and zip it up. Well, I would if I had a tent, that is. I would pitch my tent away from the fire, of course, because I don't want sparks to burn holes in the nylon, and obviously the fire pit has to be clear of brush and trees, that is a given. But this sort of camping is new to me, so I say, "That sounds like good planning," and add, "Why not closer to the water?"
William looks at me like I am nuts, then he patiently explains, "You must not have mosquitoes in Arizona," he begins.
"We do," I say. "But not too many."
"Well, here we have lots of them, and if you are close to water they can be unbearable. Besides mosquitoes, we don't want to attract rats or other vermin."
"I see," I say shaking my head. "Let's just park right here then. I don't much like mosquitoes, either."
I help William unhitch the wagon as George and Ty maneuver the second wagon into a semi circle around the fire pit. Then we remove the harness and hang it over the shafts of the wagon.
Joseph and Henry waste no time starting a small fire and soon Annie, Elizabeth and Grandma Brettle are working to prepare some food for dinner, using the water that Joseph brought up from the stream.
Henry busies himself pulling a sheet of canvas out, tying two corners to the ox-drawn wagon, and the other two corners to a couple of stakes in the ground.
William pulls a stack of blankets from the wagon and hands them to me. He takes one look at my questioning face and shakes his head, "This will be our bed tonight." He lifts a rolled piece of canvas from the wagon.
"Are you going to tie this to the wagon," I ask, quite sure I already know the answer.
"No," William smiles.
"Then why is your father …"
"Have you noticed all the dew on the grass in the mornings?" William asks.
"I… guess… sort of. Not really." I am trying to think back. I haven't really been here very long to notice. Sure, in Arizona we get some dew occasionally, but not much, really.
"Well, in the morning your bed will be drenched from dew if you are not covered," William explains.
"So…"
"So, there is not enough canvas for all of us to have one tied to the wagon," William interrupts again. "Besides, it is too much work. I'm just going to sleep under the wagon on top of this canvas. We can pull it over us a little, but the wagon will keep the dew off. Father does not mind doing extra work for Mother. Us boys will just sleep under the wagon. You are welcome to join us."
"Sure… I guess." I am still trying to process this line of thought when Ty walks up.
"I want to sleep under the wagon," he says. "Good way to keep the dew off."
"That's what I thought, too" I say quietly, trying to sound as smart as Ty.
William kicks a couple of rocks out of the way and moves some clumps of dirt, then with our help he spreads the canvas under the wagon and folds it over. "Spread these blankets out in between the layers of canvas and we are done," he says.
I know this technique from Scouts, I think. Only we use a tarp or a large sheet of plastic.
"That should keep us dry an
d warm," Ty sums it up as if he were reading my thoughts.
"It sure will," William agrees.
Ty laughs, "I could crawl in there right now."
"I suggest you wait," William warns. "Father likes to have family prayer, and dinner will not be ready for at least a half an hour."
Ty pulls a disappointed face but says, "Okay."
"William," I query, "do you think there are any fish in that stream over there?"
"I'm sure there are," he replies. "Were you thinking of trying to catch one?"
"The thought crossed my mind," I say hesitantly. I've caught a few fish in my day. But I suppose I shouldn't brag because I didn't exactly bring my fishing pole along.
"Well, good luck with that," William smiles. "Unless you have claws like a bear it will be tough catching one of those fish. They are fast and slippery."
"I guess it would be rather challenging without a hook and some line," I admit.
"I made some hooks, once," William smiles.
"Really?" I say in astonishment.
"Yeah, really. I used an old hat pin. I held it with pliers," he says, pretending he has a pair in his hand, "and I rolled it around a small twig and made a loop at the other end for the line. I still have it," he says.
"Wow! Can I see it?" I ask, smiling.
"Sure." William walks to the wagon and pulls out a small wooden box, removing three small hooks."
"Barb-less hooks," I mumble, inspecting the hand-made work of art.
"What do you mean?" William wrinkles his brow. "Don't you like them? It took me hours to fashion them."
"Oh, yes. I love them," I say quickly. "It's just that I have seen some hooks with what is called a barb."
"What do you mean?"
"A barb is a tiny backwards point along the shank of the hook so that when a fish gets the hook stuck in it's lip the hook will not come out as easily. That way the fish can't spit it out."
"I have heard of hooks with barbs," William admits. "I will have to try to make a barb some time."
"You know, with a little bit of line we could try catching a fish for dinner, or maybe breakfast," I say with enthusiasm.
"I've got line, too," William says. He goes back to the wagon and produces about twenty feet of line and hands it to me for inspection.
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