Maps of Fate

by Reid Lance Rosenthal

  Reuben had been watching from a crouching position by the lead horses. He laughed. “I think Lahn likes you.”

  “The feeling is mutual,” Rebecca’s hand ran down the palomino’s shoulder, and the big horse responded with another kiss.

  “I wish we had apples or carrots for some treats for the animals each night.”

  Reuben straightened up. “Well, we have the last of the grain and there is green coming to the grass. Why don’t you give him an extra ration tonight? From then on out you will probably get double kisses.”

  “I’ll do that, Reuben,” she said, turning her attention from the horse to the man. She smiled and their eyes locked. In the momentary silence, she felt her pulse quicken and a slight heat come to her cheeks. A bit disarmed, she broke the spell.

  “We’ve been discussing for a while now, Reuben, that I would really like to ride as often as possible, but at least a few times a week for portions of those traveling days would be nice. Inga is getting skilled with the lines. It would be an opportunity for her and Johannes to have some private time driving the wagon together and…,” she paused and felt her eyes slide to the glisten of his lips within the coarse stubble on his face. “If you would not mind the company, perhaps we could spend part of that time riding together.”

  Reuben straightened up slowly and smiled. “A practical approach and very tempting.”

  Rebecca’s heart jumped again, and she pretended to be absorbed by her hand on Lahn, but the feel of the horse’s finely arched and muscled neck did little to slow her pulse.

  “If, in your judgment, Inga’s up to it and we don’t have any special obstacles or crossing on a particular day, let’s try it,” Reuben said, turning his attention back to the harness. But Rebecca noticed he had to repeat a few simple steps several times and was making little progress. She smiled at Lahn and his big yellow head seemed to nod. And what, my fine horse, she whispered, do you think Reuben would do if offered an extra ration one of these nights?

  Charlie trotted up. He tipped his hat to Rebecca and nodded at Reuben “Evenin’, Mistress Marx, Reuben. Mac wants to have a quick get-together as soon as everyone is unhitched and the stock picketed for the night. Over at my supply wagon…,” he pointed a third of the way across the circle of canvas tops, “going to go over the route he’s taking and some other things. This is where the country starts to really change. Where’s Johannes and his girlfriend?”

  “In the wagon, organizing supplies,” Rebecca cast an annoyed look at Reuben who had broken out laughing from where he bent between the legs of the second lead horse he was still unharnessing.

  Charlie grinned. “Well, bring them along.” He waved and trotted toward Dr. Leonard’s wagon, next in line.

  “Reuben…,” Rebecca stomped a foot down and Lahn took a step backward, “Think of Inga’s dignity!”

  “Oh, Rebecca, everyone in the damn expedition knows about Johannes and Inga. They are not some palace secret.”

  “And what about my dignity?” They both turned to find Johannes laughing, obviously amused.

  Rebecca pounded her foot again, “The two of you…”

  Johannes cut her off. “I think she is very attractive when she does that foot stomp, don’t you, Reuben?”

  Reuben’s eyes met Rebecca’s. “Very.” His tone was serious, and Rebecca felt her exasperation suddenly dissipate.

  “Inga,” Johannes called out to the canvas. “Mac has called a meeting.” He looked back at Reuben. “You don’t have them unhitched, yet?” His tone was incredulous, and then a knowing expression flitted across his face. His eyes darted from Reuben to Rebecca and then back to Reuben. “Let me help you, farm boy,” he said with another laugh.

  Rebecca enjoyed Mac’s good humor, and tonight was no different. He held up his big beefy arms to quiet the chatter of the assembled pioneers.

  “We’re camped tonight on the Nemahaw. Tomorrow night, with luck, we will hole up near the headwaters of the Lancaster River. The next river we hit a few days out will be the Little Blue. It should be low and has a cobble bed. The crossing should be easy. Then we will follow the Seward back toward the North Platte and Fort Kearney. We are saving several days cutting off a big north bend in the Platte, and taking this far less traveled trail but after tomorrow we won’t be near water again ’til three nights from now. If we hit weather, it could be longer. Make sure your water kegs are full.”

  “We will stop for a day at Fort Kearney. It’s not much, but there is a general store of sorts, a barber shop—if Sam ain’t hunting— and a small candy shop.” He smacked his lips and everyone laughed, except, Rebecca noted, Jacob.

  “You’ll likely see your first army at the post and your first Indians. Might be some Choctaws and Delawares or Shawnees that have drifted west. Might be on their way to hire out with the fur companies up toward Montana and Oregon. They are friendly. Matter of fact, many scout for the army. But they do like to trade and some beg.

  “There’s just four companies of soldiers there. The enlisted are mostly Irish. It’s a boring post, and they pick fights to stay amused. Damn Irish.” Mac grinned and stroked his bushy red beard. The group broke into loud laughter,and again Jacob scowled. “We might run into a Mormon wagon train at the fort or west of there. I hear two of ’em got holed up by winter somewheres. Them poor Mormons are headin’ to the Utah Territories. They call it the Exodus. Started in ’48. They ain’t been treated too pretty back east. Don’t know about you folks, but I take exception when someone tells me who to pray to.” He leaned over and spat a wad of tobacco to the ground. “Anyways, they are good people, and I think we will all get along.”

  “What I really want to tell you, though, is that from here on out it will be a different world than the last four weeks. There will be winds, sudden ungodly weather, a fair chance of running into folks who will be none-too-friendly, and April and May are the sickness seasons. Except for buffalo chips, fuel will be scarce.” He looked around slowly to make sure everyone was paying attention.

  “From here on in, I want your weapons within reach, even when you’re sleeping. Starting tonight, as you noticed, we are picketing or hobbling the stock, and we are tripling the night sentries. Elijah, Harris, Jacob, and William will assist Charlie first shift tonight. Don’t skyline yourselves. Anything funny, fire a shot. I’d rather have a mistaken alarm than no warning. Course, Zeb’s out there somewhere, and I doubt anything will get past him, but don’t doze off—you might not awaken. John, Preacher Walling, Samuel, Thomas, and Clay will relieve you around midnight. When you are approaching one another out there, don’t be trigger happy. The password will be ‘Mississippi’. Ain’t seen an Indian yet that can say that word.

  “If anyone begins to not feel well,” his eyes fixed on Dr. Leonard, “I want to know immediately. It ain’t fair to others if you hold out.” The doctor and Thelma nodded somberly.

  “Ladies—do not venture out alone.” He looked directly at Rebecca and she felt the eyes of everyone shift her way. “I don’t give a tinker’s damn how good you think you are with a rifle. You don’t want the fate that awaits you if the Indians make off with you.” Embarrassed, Rebecca looked beyond the group and caught Jacob staring at her with an enigmatic, intrusive smirk. She turned away quickly. “All of you be alert for rattlesnakes. They will be out as it warms up. You’ll hear them before you see them. Teach your young ’uns to be wary.

  “This grass is greening, but it’s still dry. Starting tonight, clear an extra wide area around your fire—at least six feet—and dig a fire pit every night. Don’t go to sleep without smothering the coals, with a good three or four inches of dirt. We’ve come too far to burn the camp down now.

  “Some of you are going to find your boots getting uncomfortable. Not all of us are lucky enough to have a guardian angel make us moccasins.” He swiveled his head to Sarah, and grinned. Sarah turned bright red and dropped her eyes to the elk hide, legging moccasins that Rebecca noticed she had already begun to wear every day. Several
of the pioneers looked at Zeb, who shifted uncomfortably. Jacob’s lips curled into a mean twist.

  “For those of you who don’t have one, we got extra awls in the supply wagons, rawhide stitching and four good cow elk hides. Not as tough as bull leather, but they’ll do. Zeb has volunteered to show you how to sew up a pair tomorrow night after supper. I suggest, less you want to hobble the five hundred miles to Cherry Creek, you take him up on his offer.” Mac slapped his leg and laughed. “Besides, it cost me three pounds of sugar.” Zeb smiled, and nodded.

  “One last thing. When the weather warms up we will be moving an hour before daylight—taking a three-hour break at midday to rest the stock and then moving until just before dark. That’s all folks. Have a good night.”

  Although still miffed about the rifle comment, Rebecca found herself walking a bit more cautiously back to the wagon.

  Reuben was awake early the next morning. He sat up too suddenly, forgetting the bed of the wagon above them, and bumped his head on a wooden strut. “Dammit, been sleeping under here for five weeks and I still can’t remember not to sit up straight without looking?” He laughed out loud. Okay, I will admit to myself I am pre-occupied with riding with Rebecca today.

  There was a chuckle from under the double blankets a few feet from Reuben. The top of Johannes’ blond hair, framed on either side by the trough of his saddle, peeked out from the edges of the blankets, and the long form under the wool stirred. The muffled, sleepy voice was part complaint and part tease, “What are you laughing about, Reuben? And why the hell are you up so early? It’s not even half-light yet.”

  Reuben lay down on one elbow, still rubbing his head. “Johannes, I think you’ll agree that I have been of great assistance to you when you want time alone with Inga.”

  “Ooohhh. I think I know what’s coming,” said the barely audible voice in the bedroll.

  Reuben chuckled and dropped his voice low, unsure of how much sound might carry through the bottom of the wagon bed to the women sleeping above them. “Well, friend, it’s time to repay the favor. And you will get some time with Inga without Rebecca playing chaperone—for all the good that’s done!”

  “True enough,” came the Scandinavian accent from the blankets. “Rebecca’s attempted supervision has been somewhat less than effective,” Johannes muffled his laugh into the saddle. “If she knew how ineffective she has been, she would be stomping that foot of hers like a one-legged dancer.”

  It was Reuben’s turn to chuckle. “There are times when I believe she sincerely wished it was my head under her heel.”

  “You’re not alone in that observation, Reuben.”

  The two men laughed quietly, and Reuben cast a guilty glance up toward the planks that formed the wagon bed. “We can take turns, but you ride with Inga in the wagon a few days a week. I’ll spell you from time to time. Maybe you could teach Inga to ride. That way, Rebecca and I could man the wagon…”

  “You mean woman the wagon,” Johannes was laughing, and though Reuben couldn’t see his head he knew his friend had put his hand over his mouth to try and stifle the sound.

  “Can you be serious about anything? Rebecca and I would like to ride this morning.”

  “Consider it done, Reuben, but if you decide to be alone, don’t get too far away from the wagon train.”

  “Johannes you know damn good and well that Rebecca and I don’t have the relationship you and Inga do. In fact,” he paused, “I’m not even sure we have a relationship.”

  “Well then, you’re the only one who isn’t.”

  Reuben was impressed with Rebecca’s ease in saddling Johannes’ bay. Johannes had offered her the use of his horse, obviously taking his payback to Reuben seriously. Reuben helped her with lifting the heavy saddle over Bente’s back, not so much that she lacked the strength, but the combination of weight and the height of the horse made it cumbersome. It also meant that their bodies touched a few times.

  He was surprised that she hadn’t asked for her sidesaddle. He had noticed her skirt did not have the usual petticoat flare below her hips and clung more closely below her waist and to her legs. Now he understood why. Each thinking their own thoughts, they finished saddling their horses, Reuben hoping the tinges of color in her cheekbones and the silent current that seemed to hover around them were not from the morning air.

  “You need some help mounting?” he asked, regretting the question the moment the words left his lips.

  Rebecca flashed him an annoyed look, “Certainly not.” Holding the reins against the horn with her one hand, she pulled her left knee up with her other, fitting the toe of her boot into the stirrup, and effortlessly swung into the saddle.

  Rebecca was obviously amused and thoroughly enjoying his poorly hidden astonishment. She slipped her right foot into that stirrup and smiled at him in a teasing way. “I’ve always hated sidesaddle. Far less stable, and somehow seems to say that a woman is not as strong as a man. I always rode this way when my father and I went riding.”

  Reuben opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “You wish to know why have I been riding sidesaddle, and why I rode sidesaddle at a gallop to the target practice?”

  Reuben nodded.

  “Because, Reuben, I thought the shock value of my riding up and demonstrating that I could handle a Sharps rifle was enough excitement for the moment. There’s no sense giving people too much to talk about at one time,” she smiled coyly. “Besides a lady has to keep some surprises for future use.” She reached into the small traveling bag that she had hung on the saddle horn, and pulled out a stiff wool hat Reuben had seen her wear before, and placed it at a jaunty angle over her dark waves.

  Reuben was taken aback again. In addition to the visor in the front, the hat now sported a visor in the rear slightly longer than the protrusion of the forward cloth.

  Rebecca smiled. “I had Sarah sew this on for me. It’s not quite like yours,” she nodded at his cowboy hat, “it doesn’t have the side brims though I plan to get one of those when we reach Cherry Creek. Might make quite the fashion statement when I arrive back in England.”

  She studied his face closely, and Reuben fought to keep his features impassive at the mention of her return to Europe. “Yes, ma’am, follow me.”

  Up from the front of the wagons, they heard Mac’s good-natured curses, and then his daily ritualistic shout, “Let’s get rolling, straighten up the line!” Then, like an impatient timepiece that brought daily order in a patch of timelessness, “I said, move ’em out!”

  Johannes flicked the lines and their prairie schooner lurched forward. He caught Reuben’s eye. “Have fun,” he called out. Inga smiled and waved.

  Reuben and Rebecca looked at each other and laughed. “That Mac is the salt of the earth.”

  “He is quite something. I feel safe with him leading us, and if I may say, I think you’re doing an exemplary job of assisting him. I’m quite proud of you!”

  Reuben expected a teasing, even sarcastic look, but Rebecca’s face told him that she was serious. He could feel his eyebrows rise. “Thank you, but I have much to learn.”

  Except for a distant faint line of clouds hovering on the north-western edge, the sky was blue from horizon to horizon. The fiery sphere of the sun was completely above the rim of the earth, its pale spring glow adding a pleasant heat to the air. The wagons unwound their circle in the same curvilinear fashion as they had grouped the night before, each wagon maintaining its position in the train. In the distance, a pair of golden eagles circled ever higher on the warm, rising morning currents.

  Reuben pointed. “See those eagles, Rebecca?”

  Her eyes followed his outstretched finger. “Yes, aren’t they magnificent?”

  “Even before my father informed me that I was the brother selected…,” Reuben paused, “entrusted, to establish the family future in the United States, I read everything I could on America and that included much material on the American West. Indians consider birds of prey strong medicine, and under certain
situations, a good omen.”

  He turned slowly back in the saddle to look at Rebecca. Her eyes were still focused upward on the eagles, her profile silhouetted against the sun. Truly beautiful. “Perhaps it’s a good omen there are two of them.”

  The gaze she returned was sharp but warm, the brown in her eyes softened. “Perhaps, Reuben.”

  He braced himself against the saddle horn and craned back behind them, looking at the wagons. “Let’s ride out to the side a bit and see the sights. How’s that Sharps doing?”

  Rebecca looked back at her Sharps rifle, wrapped in a blanket securely lashed to the rear of the saddle, one rawhide through the trigger guard behind the trigger, and the other triple-looped around the barrel just forward of the forestock.

  “Fine, thank you, Reuben. I appreciate you showing me how to do that. I shall have to obtain a scabbard.” She smiled at him.

  Yes, truly beautiful. Reuben had noticed some type of change in Rebecca since the supper they had shared with Sarah a week before. Though she had not lost her sharp tongue, her tone was less biting, there was something in the way she looked at him, and when she touched his arm, or their bodies momentarily brushed by happenstance of the endeavor at hand, she seemed to let her contact linger.

  They rode out two hundred yards from the wagons, about two-thirds the way down the line. The rumble of the wheels, occasional bang of uneven ruts, the creak of wagon springs, the sounds of leather, animals and the faint snaps of lines applied by the wagon drivers to their teams drifted, diffused, out over the land. There was a sudden gust of wind from the west, then another. Rebecca quickly raised a hand to her hat and held it in place. Reuben crammed down the crown of his over his head. “Where did that come from?” she asked.