Heartbreak Trail

by Shirley Kennedy

  Lucy sprang up from the table, thrusting her chair back so hard it toppled over. “If you quote one more scripture to me, I shall ... I shall ...”

  “You shall what?”

  Words failed her. “Never mind. I shall go see Father tomorrow.” Even as she spoke, she heartily regretted she couldn’t fire back with a more adequate response, something stunningly cutting to bring him down. In the shock of the moment, she could think of nothing else to say. Without another word, she fled the room.

  The next day Lucy sat across from her beloved father in the old, familiar parlor on Beacon Street. She would never see him again if she went to California, or her sister or two younger brothers. “He never even warned me.” Her voice choked. “Never said a word.”

  Elihu Parker leaned back in his chair, looking old, tired, and very concerned. “Of course, you can move back with us. The door is always open.” He regarded her with gentle understanding. “Daughter, do you really want to end your marriage?”

  “He lied to me.”

  “He had his reasons, did he not? Mind you, I’m not making excuses for the man. In fact, right from the start I ... but no matter. No man is perfect.”

  “You don’t like him. You never did.” She stated it as a fact, not an accusation.

  “Jacob is a fine man in many respects. What I don’t like is he’s too much under his brother’s thumb. That in itself wouldn’t be so bad if Abner Schneider were a man I admired, but the problem is, I find him to be far too rigid and self-righteous.” Father offered a small, sly smile. “I confess, there are times when I hear him spouting one of his endless quotes from the scriptures, I would like to take my own Bible and whack him over the head with it.”

  Despite her despair, Lucy managed a laugh, but her despondence quickly returned. “What shall I do? I cannot go to California. The very thought—”

  “Jacob is your husband.” Her father sat up straight. His voice grew hard. “You took a vow to obey him, did you not?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You are now with child?”

  “Yes.”

  “You now want to deny that child its father?” Her father’s voice softened. “The final decision is yours, but think carefully. Do you really want to destroy your marriage? Do you really want to move back home? You’re a strong woman. Time and again I’ve seen you accept your responsibilities without complaint. Why can’t you do so now?”

  Her own father! What had she been thinking? His question made her realize she had no defenses, no defenders. Everyone would say the same thing. Even her own sister, who understood her better anyone else in the world, would tell her she’d be a fool to come crawling home, reputation ruined, subjecting herself once again to the oppressing rule of Pernelia. I would be a pariah, living in disgrace for the rest of my life, the fallen woman who did the unthinkable and left her husband.

  At that moment, Lucy realized further complaints were useless. Whether she liked it or not, her life was not her own. Her future lay in the hands of her husband. No matter what her pain and sorrow, she might as well make the best of it. Honor alone would prevent her from acting the coward, leaving her husband.

  Tears filled her eyes, not so much from sorrow but from pure anger and frustration. “I might as well try to fight the wind. I have no choice, do I?”

  “No, my dear, you don’t.”

  “All right, I’ve decided.” Her voice was bitter-filled. “I shall go to California with my husband, but I don’t have to like it.”

  Elihu Parker gave her an encouraging smile. “Like it or not, you’re smart and have got plenty of spunk. You’re going to do fine.”

  “If you say so.” Lucy knew she’d need a lot more than spunk to get her through the months ahead.

  When Lucy returned to the farm, she announced her decision to Jacob.

  If he was pleased, he showed no sign other than a brief grunt. “We leave in two weeks. You must decide which items you wish to bring, but mind you, we’re taking only three wagons, so space is limited.”

  During the next few days, Lucy learned to her sorrow how right Jacob was. Going through her possessions, time and again she discovered items she could not possibly do without, only to learn she must leave them behind.

  Her precious books? “There will be little time for reading,” scoffed Jacob.

  Her sketch book and paints? “No room.”

  Her lovely clothes? When Jacob discovered she’d packed her blue satin ball gown, he held it up with scorn. “Do you plan on being the height of fashion for the Indians? I assure you, they won’t care how you look.”

  Indians. The very thought struck fear into her heart, as did nearly everything else concerning this insane journey to California.

  The night before they left, Lucy lay in bed, Jacob snoring by her side, and vowed from this day forward her husband wouldn’t hear one more word of protest or complaint. She would take good care of him and Noah. She would perform whatever duties were required and remain resolute and strong, no matter what hardships befell her.

  As for Jacob, she still loved him and would always feel pride in being the wife of a man who was a natural-born leader, admired by all—at least all who didn’t know how he toadied to his brother. With a sad heart, she realized she had lost the unquestioning trust she’d once had in her husband. It vanished forever the day she discovered he’d lied. Vanished along with her dream of raising her child in the security and warmth of this sturdy Massachusetts farmhouse that she’d already grown to love.

  She would manage, and most important ... Lucy’s hand rested lovingly over the spot where the tiny spark of life lay within her. “I vow,” she whispered into the darkness, “no matter where we are, no matter what happens, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

  Chapter 4

  Independence, Missouri

  April, 1851

  “We’re here!”

  In the lead wagon, seated between Noah and her husband, Lucy put her arm around her stepson’s shoulders and pointed toward the town square ahead. “It’s the jumping-off point, son. Civilization ends right here.”

  Despite her deep reluctance and painful goodbyes to friends and family, Lucy felt a swell of excitement as the caravan of twenty wagons rolled into town. Independence bustled with energy. Even from a distance, she could see throngs of people buying and selling on street corners, crowding in and out of the town’s many stores and saloons. Never had she seen such a variety of mankind swarming the sidewalks. Blanketed, painted Indians—Mexicans in bells and slashed pantaloons—mountain men in buckskins—river men and roustabouts—negro stevedores—soldiers from what she later learned was Fort Leavenworth. Covered wagons, parked at all angles, lined the town’s central square.

  Thus far, the journey from home had not been easy. The rocking motion of the wagon greatly added to the misery of her early-pregnancy nausea. She yearned to lie down and nap during the day, but her newfound duties prevented any such luxury. She was now the cook, not only for herself, Jacob, and Noah, but also for the two young men Jacob hired to help drive the wagons and herd their sixty head of cattle.

  At the beginning, when Jacob informed her she must do the cooking, she said, “I have never cooked! I’ve never even boiled an egg, yet you expect me to cook all the meals for us and the hired hands? Impossible!”

  As usual, Jacob remained stone-faced. “I’m not made of money. You will do the cooking.”

  She was flabbergasted. “Then how is it you’ve hired two hands to help you with the wagons and the cattle? Surely—”

  “The subject is closed.” Jacob clamped his jaw, a sure sign he wouldn’t tolerate further argument. She said nothing more but still harbored resentment over his miserly ways, especially when she knew he’d hidden a bag of five dollar gold pieces at the bottom of the flour barrel, far more than enough to pay the paltry wage for a cook.

  At least they found plenty of farmhouses along the way to Independence where they were able to buy eggs, milk, and chic
ken—all the fresh food they needed. That was the easy part. The hard part for Lucy was learning how to cook over an open fire, sometimes with a strong wind blowing, sometimes in the rain. With the help of other women in the party, she managed, and true to her vow, she never once complained. Only when she was alone did she permit herself to remember the heart-wrenching scene when she said her final goodbyes to her father, sister, and two little brothers, knowing the chances were slim she’d ever see them again.

  She had pretty much forgiven Jacob his deception. Holding a grudge was not in her nature, especially since it wouldn’t do her any good. Even so, she found Jacob’s subservience to his brother absolutely galling, now even more noticeable because of their day-and-night proximity on the trail. “Please, must we go to Abner’s prayer meeting tonight?” she asked of Jacob one evening after a particularly grueling day.

  “My brother expects us.”

  “I’m so awfully tired, and besides, I cannot see the point in going to a prayer meeting every single night. Am I a sinner if I miss one now and then?”

  Jacob’s instant scowl told her he’d seen no humor in her question. She might’ve known he’d side with his brother. So, of course, they attended each of Abner’s nightly prayer meetings. He was not an ordained minister, but he sounded like one. Often she nearly fell asleep to the sound of her unctuous brother-in-law’s fire and brimstone warnings that she could easily be heading straight to hell.

  “Keep a sharp eye out for the Potts’ wagon,” Jacob told her. They entered Independence’s town square. Jacob sat tall and straight, with a strong grip on the reins, showing no sign of emotion. In fact, he seemed to grow more serious by the day. Even their arrival at the jumping-off point couldn’t raise a smile or even the slightest sign of excitement. “Watch for Clint Palance and his partner, too. We must make arrangements for joining their wagon train.”

  Clint Palance. His name had crossed her mind more than once as their small caravan headed west. She dreaded the moment she would encounter the trapper again. She could just picture how his lips would quirk mockingly when he expressed his surprise.

  She could even imagine his words: “Are my eyes deceiving me? Is this the same Mrs. Jacob Schneider who declared she’d never set foot outside of Suffolk County?”

  She told herself Clint Palance’s opinion didn’t matter a whit, and from that moment forward, she wouldn’t give him one more thought. Her advice to herself never worked. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Worse, despite the embarrassment she’d surely feel when she saw him again, she was acutely aware of certain wicked, unacceptable thoughts that lurked somewhere deep in her consciousness. She must get rid of them. They were thoughts no decent, respectably married woman would ever entertain.

  “As I live and breathe, Lucy!” cried a very pregnant Bessie Potts. “Oh, my stars!” Awkwardly, she climbed down from her seat on the Potts’ wagon and threw her arms around her friend. “I can’t believe it! What are you doing here?”

  “Abner and Jacob sold the farm,” Lucy replied when they broke apart. “Jacob decided to go west. We plan on joining your wagon train.”

  “What about Abner?”

  “He’s here, too.”

  “Oh dear.” Bessie bit her lip. “Sorry, I know he’s your brother-in-law, but I hate the way he presumes to speak for God. I declare, half the time he acts like Moses descending from Mount Sinai, stone tablets in hand.”

  Lucy burst into laughter at Bessie’s description. “I’m afraid you’re right.”

  Bessie asked, “Did Martha come?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, of course, she did.” They exchanged a knowing glance but said nothing. Poor Martha, what could they say?

  Bessie and Lucy spent the next few minutes in a delightful catching up session. “It really wasn’t so bad,” Lucy referred to their journey from Suffolk County to Independence. No sense recounting all the misery. “Jacob is so well organized and efficient, he planned everything down to the last detail. Beside the cattle, we have three wagons, six oxen, two horses, and six pack mules—enough for all the household goods we brought. He hired two young men to help drive the wagons and herd the cattle.”

  “A cook?” Bessie asked.

  “We left the cook behind.” Lucy put on a cheerful face. “I do the cooking. In fact, I’ve become quite the expert at tossing slapjacks.”

  A shadow crossed Bessie’s face. “Did you know my John hasn’t been well? He came down with typhoid. We nearly lost him. As it is, he’s not the same.”

  “He’s getting better?”

  “He’s still so weak ... Oh, here’s Hannah.” A tall, gawky woman strode toward them. Plainly dressed, she wore her thin, brown hair pulled straight back into an untidy bun. “Lucy Schneider, meet my sister, Hannah Richards.”

  Hannah stuck her hand out. Her work-worn face lit into a beautiful smile. “I’m mighty pleased to meet you, Mrs. Schneider.”

  “Call me Lucy.” Right away she knew they’d be friends.

  Bessie continued, “By the way, all the women in the wagon train are invited for high tea this afternoon. Me and Hannah will be there. Want to come along?”

  Lucy could think of no more unlikely place for a high tea than crude, rough-and-tumble Independence, where most of the population undoubtedly had never heard of such a thing as a high tea. She glanced around the square. “Is there a tea room somewhere?”

  Hannah burst into hearty laughter. “Come back at four o’clock and bring your own cup. Her majesty figures her fine china is too good for the likes of us.”

  “Her majesty?”

  Bessie explained. “That would be Mrs. Nathaniel Beauregard Benton, who’s stuck-up, puts on airs, and figures she’s God’s gift to society. You should hear her.” She assumed a snooty southern accent. “At all costs, we must remain refined and civilized, my dear, even if we are living in a wagon.”

  Lucy smiled as Bessie and her sister broke into laughter at Bessie’s imitation. “I’d love to come.” Despite her tactful reply, she reflected with regret that she probably wasn’t going to like Mrs. Nathaniel Beauregard Benton.

  After Hannah left, Lucy, bursting to tell her news, leaned forward and said, “I have a secret to tell you.”

  Bessie smiled. “If you’re going to tell me you’re expecting, don’t bother.”

  “How can you tell?” At barely three months, Lucy was certain nothing showed.

  Bessie flicked a glance toward Lucy’s bosom. “You’re bigger. Besides, it’s written all over you—a certain glow. Lots of women have it when they get in a family way, at least for the first, maybe the second month.” Bessie placed a palm on her swollen belly and sighed. “When you get to the seventh, there ain’t no more glow.”

  Lucy was about to say more when she caught sight of Clint Palance striding through the square. Today he wore not buckskins but a long, black rifle coat, khaki pants, a stylish vest, and a black gambler’s hat with a soft, wide brim. So handsome! So very ... intriguing. As yet, he hadn’t seen her. She couldn’t face him. “I must run now, but I’ll be back for that tea this afternoon.”

  “See you then. Ask Martha. She might want to come, too.”

  Not likely. Lucy hastily turned and started away. She hadn’t gone more than ten steps when she heard Clint’s booming voice. “Mrs. Schneider? Mrs. Jacob Schneider?”

  Damnation. She didn’t want to stop but had no choice. She smoothed down the starched white apron she wore over her brown woolen dress, affixed a smile to her face, and turned. “Why, Mister Palance, what a surprise.”

  “Mrs. Schneider? I had no idea I’d see you here.”

  She knew it! Just as she expected, his eye lit with a mocking gleam. She lifted her chin to a defiant angle. “Well, obviously I am here.”

  His forehead furrowed in feigned puzzlement. “I can’t imagine what urgent event has led you to set foot outside of Suffolk County. As I recall—”

  “Obviously, my husband changed his mind.
” This was every bit as excruciating as she had anticipated. “If you had any manners, out of delicacy alone, you wouldn’t bring up the subject.”

  He grinned, revealing white teeth that dazzled against his bronzed skin. “I’ve never been accused of having good manners.”

  “Obviously.” What was the matter with her? Why did she feel so uncomfortable? What was it about this blunt man that set her all atwitter? She already knew he’ surely bring up her foolish declaration she would never leave Suffolk County, so why was she not prepared? Why was she now feeling a blush creep over her cheeks that he was sure to notice? Well, she would see this through as best she could. She squared her shoulders. “It appears we shall be joining your wagon train to California.” She was pleased at the bright, enthusiastic note she’d put in her voice.

  “Are you actually happy you’re going?”

  “I can hardly wait to get started.” Just amazing that she hadn’t choked on such a lie. “I’m very much enjoying living in the great out-of-doors and, uh, riding in the wagon ... all that wonderful fresh air. I just love cooking over an open fire and ... well, all of that.” She could kick herself. He wasn’t fooled.

  After a moment’s reflection, he grew serious. “I have yet to meet a woman who truly wanted to make this journey.”

  At least he wasn’t mocking her anymore. She’d planned another flippant answer but found she could no longer lie. She was equally serious. “I’m making the best of it.”

  “I’m certain you are.”

  The worst was over. She was proud of herself for having met Clint’s anticipated sarcasm with dignity ... well, something like it. Good manners decreed she ought to stand and chat a little longer, but the problem was, her pulse remained quick and her mouth had gone dry. Why this should affect her this way, she didn’t know, except that she’d never met a man so overwhelmingly masculine as Clint Palance. Even in civilized clothes and without the knife dangling from his belt, he had a certain menacing air. She was so acutely aware of him she couldn’t act her normal self. She decided to leave before he noticed. “Well, I must be off. There’s so much to do.”