Heartbreak Trail

by Shirley Kennedy

  Lucy’s heart went out to Inez Helmick, who had truly been shattered by Bessie’s death. She just wasn’t the same person anymore and had dropped the veneer of irritating self-confidence to reveal tormented self-doubt. “I won’t be delivering any more babies on the trail. I’m done. I don’t trust myself to ...” she bit her lip and looked away.

  “What about Martha?”

  “She’ll be settled in California first.”

  “I hope so, but just in case she delivers early, we’ll certainly count on your help.” Lucy smiled, trying to cheer Inez. “You must promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t care how bad off Martha might be, promise me you’ll never, never blow red pepper up her nose!”

  A week after Bessie’s death, Clint and Charlie came up to the slowly moving Schneider wagon and rode their horses alongside. Clint touched the brim of his hat. “Good afternoon, Captain.”

  “Afternoon,” Abner replied. Lucy, who sat next to Martha, marveled at how extremely polite these two were to one another since that day she got lost in the woods. She still didn’t understand why.

  Charlie spoke up. “There’s a river we got to cross up ahead, and it ain’t for the faint of heart.”

  “Is that so?”

  Clint edged his Appaloosa closer. “The Sweetwater River. It’s treacherous this time of year. Swift currents and quicksand. We may have to detour upstream until we find a place to cross.”

  Lucy remembered the first river they’d crossed, where they had to take the wagons apart and float them across on rafts. Since then, they’d crossed so many rivers she’d lost track. They were able to simply ford most of them, although they always had to watch for quicksand. Only with a few had they been compelled to take the wagons apart and float them across. Abner hated those crossings and tried to avoid them at all costs. Always in a hurry, he became extremely annoyed when a crossing took days. She hoped this next one would not be too bad. Abner’s temper grew increasingly short the more they fell behind his precious schedule.

  “Let’s hope we find an easy crossing.” Abner’s speech was clipped, as it always was with Clint these days. He looked at Charlie. “What about the Indians?”

  She might have known he’d ask. So far, they’d only had limited contact with Indians and no major problems, but it was obvious Abner couldn’t get the threat of murderous savages off his mind.

  “We’re in Sioux country,” Charlie replied. “There are some Snake Indians around, and some Shoshone.”

  “Are they dangerous?”

  Somehow she knew Abner would ask that.

  Charlie chuckled. “They’re all dangerous. You just got to stay alert. Keep telling your men to keep their guns handy and be vigilant at night.” He started to ride off but turned back. “Tomorrow we reach Independence Rock. I know you’re in a rush, but you’d best set some time aside. There are people who’ll want to carve their name on the rock and climb to the top. That’s going to take a little time.”

  Next day, the trail climbed steeply to the rushing waters of the Sweetwater River, then along its banks to Independence Rock. “It looks like an unshaped pile,” Charlie said, “about half a mile long, half that breadth, and one hundred feet high.”

  Hannah, shepherding Bessie’s five small children, stopped by Lucy’s wagon. For the first time since Bessie’s death, she had a gleam of excitement in her eye. “Come on. Bring Noah. We’ve got to carve our names and climb to the top.”

  Lucy called to Abner and Martha, whose wagon was parked next to hers. “Shall we go to the top? Everyone is.”

  Abner straightened and immediately locked his gaze on Martha’s ever-increasing girth, which no apron could conceal. He assumed his I-am-the-prophet voice. “It would not be seemly for Martha to go.” He addressed Lucy. “Don’t you have chores to do?”

  The nerve! If Abner were her husband, she might have meekly bowed to his wishes, but he wasn’t, and she deeply resented his ordering her about. “If this were Boston, Martha would be a proper lady hiding in her house by now. This isn’t Boston, and she can’t hide, even if she wanted to.” She tilted her head defiantly. “Independence Rock is the most famous landmark of all, and we shouldn’t miss it. You ought to come, too. Don’t you want to see it?”

  Abner sternly replied, “Deuteronomy six, Verse eighteen, ‘Do that which is right and good in the sight of the Lord.’ ”

  Dear God in heaven. Well, she’d at least tried to reason with her fool of a brother-in-law. “That’s a noble sentiment, but I hardly think God is against our climbing Independence Rock. Mister Dawes said we’ve come eight hundred and thirty-eight miles from Independence. Isn’t that something to celebrate? What better way than to carve our names and climb to the top.” She placed her hand on Noah’s shoulder. “We pass this way but once. You don’t want your wife and nephew to miss a famous landmark, do you?”

  Abner’s mouth took on an unpleasant twist. “Suit yourself then. I want no part of such loose behavior.” He stalked off without another word.

  Lucy looked after him, savoring this minor triumph. Ever since his mysterious chat with Clint, his words seemed to carry little threat. “He’s letting you go, Martha.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. You know how he is. That’s as close as Abner will ever come to saying yes.” She waited for her sister-in-law’s reply, thinking how disgusted she’d be if Martha went lily-livered and said she wouldn’t go.

  Martha’s face wreathed in a smile. “Let’s go then! I want to carve my name on that rock.”

  They started out, Lucy delighted with Martha’s newfound courage. All thanks to Clint, of course. Whatever he’d said to Abner made all the difference in the world. It wasn’t that Martha had suddenly changed into an outgoing, confident woman, yet lately she’d definitely emerged from her shell of timidity. She occasionally spoke up for herself, and her perennial look of fright had pretty much disappeared. She even smiled occasionally, a treat to see. Best of all, Lucy felt as if she and Martha had become good friends. They worked well together, with never a cross word. They shared an intense dislike of Abner, although as yet Lucy hadn’t heard Martha make a derogatory remark about her husband. She didn’t have to. Lucy knew exactly what the other woman was thinking. These days she felt protective of Martha, much as she would her own sister.

  “God almighty,” Hannah whispered lightly under her breath as they strolled along. “Defying Old Sobersides? Pretty risky!” Lucy smiled but kept silent. Despite everything, Abner still had a hold on her because of Noah, and there was nothing Clint or anybody else could do. She knew Hannah’s reference to Abner as “Old Sobersides” hadn’t originated with her. Abner had become increasingly unpopular. Many in the party had started to mock his constant Bible quoting and stringent ways. She was concerned, but today it didn’t matter. Today was a day to celebrate. She resolved she wasn’t going to let herself wallow in unpleasant thoughts or worry about anything. She, Martha, and Noah were going to have fun.

  They reached the rock, already marked with thousands of names of passersby. The adults scratched their own names in the soft sandstone and helped Noah and Bessie’s five children do the same. “Children, remember this historic spot,” Lucy said. “A hundred years from now, we’ll be gone, but these names will still be here.”

  After an easy climb to the top, they found most of the members of the Schneider party already there. An air of celebration prevailed as they all strolled around, taking in a view so spectacular it took Lucy’s breath away. She knelt by Noah. “There are the Rockies.” She pointed west where, for the first time, they saw the jagged silhouette of the magnificent mountain range, topped by perpetual snow.

  “When do we get there?” asked the bright-eyed boy, still full of questions. Lucy often felt a burst of pride when she looked at him. Many children in the party were unkempt, allowed to run around on their own. Who could blame parents, burdened from dawn to dusk with the problems of simpl
y staying alive? Still, busy as she was, she kept good care of Noah, who was always clean, tidy, and neatly dressed.

  Clint strolled up, along with the Benton family. Lucy already knew he was there. Every single moment she knew exactly where he was.

  “When do we get there?” Clint repeated the boy’s question. “The Rockies are still a long way off, farther than they look. We should get there in two weeks, if we’re lucky.”

  Nathaniel Benton gestured with a wide sweep of his hand. “Take a look, children. Decades ago, fur traders and missionaries were the first to sign this rock. Now it’s our turn. We’re a part of history.”

  “Our manifest destiny?” Lucy asked.

  “Hardly.” Nathaniel regarded her with his gentle gray eyes. “I’ve come a long way since Atlanta, and I’m not referring only to miles traveled. To tell the truth, I don’t think about manifest destiny anymore. I’ve lowered my sights. Now all I want is for my family and me to survive this arduous journey, just like the rest of you.” He placed an affectionate arm around Chad’s shoulders. “I can hardly wait to get to California, find a piece of land, and start our new life.”

  Chad asked, “How much longer will we be on the trail, Mister Palance?” Lucy still marveled at the changes in Chad. Not only had he grown taller and much slimmer, but now, mostly thanks to Clint, he had some manners.

  “It’s about a hundred miles to the continental divide at South Pass. Do you know what ‘the divide’ means?”

  “Yes, sir! That means the water flows west to the Pacific instead of east to the Atlantic and Gulf of Mexico. How long before we reach California?”

  “That’s hard to say. At best, two more months, but better not count on it. We’ve been through a lot, but the worst of the journey is yet to come.”

  Martha’s hand went to her throat. “Two months? I was certain we’d reach California before ... you know.” She blushed deeply, embarrassed to discuss such an intimate topic with a man.

  Lucy tried to hide her own dismay. For the first time, she faced the real possibility that poor Martha would deliver her child by the side of the trail. Just like Bessie.

  No! Lucy shook off her gloomy thoughts. Today she wasn’t going to think about Bessie or dwell on her fears for Martha. Today was a happy day, and she was going to celebrate this great occasion, their arrival at that famous landmark, Independence Rock.

  On the narrow path down from the top, Clint trailed directly behind Lucy. At one place she stumbled over a rough patch, and his quick hands gripped her arms to steady her. Her flesh prickled at his touch, and she longed to be in his arms. Would they ever be alone again? She felt the hot ache in her throat and threw a quick glance over her shoulder. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m here.”

  “I know.”

  She was continuing down the path, comforted to know Clint hovered directly behind her, when she started thinking about her friends and family back in Boston. What would they say if they could see the recently widowed Mrs. Jacob Schneider now? How shocked they’d be. How ironic it was that if she’d returned to Boston after Jacob died, she’d be dressed all in black, secluded in her grief behind closed doors. Here in the wilderness? She wished Pernelia could see her now. Patched blue cotton dress ... scuffed boots ... ridiculous sun bonnet tied in a limp bow under her chin. Not exactly the height of fashion. What would her high-minded stepmother say if she could read her thoughts? Doubtless she’d faint from shock because they didn’t exactly center around grief-filled remembrances of her dear, departed husband. They were thoughts full of lust, desperate yearning for the man following directly behind her. She should be ashamed of herself for thinking such things, but strangely she wasn’t. She did grieve for Jacob—thought about him every day—but life went on whether she wanted it to or not. Simply put, on a wagon train, the future mattered and the past did not.

  Meantime, she ached for Clint’s touch. When could they be alone again?

  Chapter 12

  Amidst tall pine trees, on a high, moss-covered bank overlooking the Sweetwater River, Lucy stood with the other women, Noah by her side.

  “Do we have to cross that?” Noah asked.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Hannah Richards stared at the swiftly running waters. “Just looking at that water scares me spitless. I hope we ain’t going to cross here.”

  “Don’t worry. Mister Palance said they’ll find a place upstream where we can cross safely.”

  Noah pointed below. “Is that a big raft down there?”

  Lucy peered down at the water’s muddy edge, where Abner, Clint, Charlie, and members of the council had gathered. Judging from the wild gesticulations, Abner appeared to be engaged in a heated exchange with several others. He kept pointing at the raft Noah had just observed. Lucy said, “I believe it’s called a skow. A wagon train that came before us must have built it to ferry their wagons across. See the poles?” She pointed toward several long poles that lay close to the skow. “They used those poles to push with. The skow is so big they had to leave it behind.”

  “I’d wager the water was much lower then and not nearly so swift,” Agnes dourly observed. “We would all drown if we try to use that skow now.” She crossed her arms in her familiar gesture of disapproval. “Just look at the bunch of them down there, all those men deciding our lives, and we don’t have a say.”

  Cordelia appeared, Chad by her side. “I agree with you. If we women were making the decisions—”

  “We would all be heading straight back east,” Agnes interrupted. “Back to the homes we should never have left in the first place.”

  Over the roar of the water, they couldn’t hear a word of the conversation below. They could tell, though, from the exaggerated gestures and angry faces that Abner and the guides were in a major disagreement. Finally, Charlie Dawes whipped off his hat and slammed it to the ground. Soon he came charging up the bank. “That dang fool!” Upon seeing Lucy, he stopped abruptly, looking sheepish.

  He must be referring to Abner. Lucy asked sweetly, “Is there a problem?”

  “Dad blame it! With all due respect, ma’am, your brother-in-law wants to cross the river right here, and I’m against it.”

  “That can’t be right. He can’t possibly—”

  “You bet your ass he can! Excuse me, ma’am. He’s got the council thinking they’ll save a lot of time, what with using that skow that was left behind. He says if that other party did it, we can do it, too.”

  “But we were just saying the water must have been a lot lower then, and not as swift.”

  “You’re dang right it was lower!”

  As they watched, Clint, his forehead creased in a frown, came up the bank and placed his hand on his partner’s shoulder. “They just voted. Now stay calm. We’re going to cross here.”

  Charlie’s mouth dropped open. “Well, I’ll be hornswoggled!”

  “Only the wagons. We’ll swim the cattle across upstream.” Clint’s voice was so calm he could have been discussing the time of day.

  Charlie spat on the ground. “That is surely one piss poor decision.”

  “I know.”

  “Didn’t those lunatics see all the grave markers that read, ‘He drowned in the river’?”

  “They’ve made their decision. Let’s not alarm the ladies. Come on, we’d better start gathering rope. We’re going to need a lot of it if we’re going to cross here. Then we’d better find a place upstream for the cattle to cross.”

  Just then, a group of six or seven Sioux arrived on horseback. Lucy no longer panicked when she saw Indians. The ones they’d seen thus far were what Hannah called “pesky” more than anything else. Sometimes they wanted to trade, sometimes they begged for food. At night, the council was compelled to post guards because the Indians had made countless attempts to steal cattle and horses.

  Clint pointed toward the river. In what she guessed was Sioux language, he spoke a few words to the lead horseman, a toothless old man in an elaborate feather
headdress. The old man looked puzzled for a moment then started to laugh, soon joined by his comrades.

  “What are they laughing about?” Lucy asked.

  “They’re laughing at the crazy white men who think they can cross the river here.”

  After Clint and Charlie left, the Indians not only stayed behind, they lined their horses along the river bank, obviously to get a clear view of the white men below making fools of themselves.

  Lucy watched with alarm and a growing certainty that Abner’s foolhardy decision meant disaster. She would at least have a talk with him. The chances she could change his mind were practically nil, but she’d try. She started down the wide path to the river but soon discovered it was muddy, slippery, and so steep she’d have to cling to vines to get to the bottom. They’d be bringing the wagons down this path. She didn’t know how they could make it. She almost couldn’t make it herself. Somehow she managed to reach the bottom safely and found Abner busy inspecting the skow. She gripped his arm. “Abner, please, you can’t cross here. It’s too dangerous.”

  “The decision’s made.” He jerked his arm away.

  “You can unmake it, can’t you?”

  Abner shot her a withering glance. “I won’t have you—”

  “Look!” Lucy pointed upward toward the river bank where the line of Indians solemnly gazed down upon them, waiting for the show to begin. “They think you’re crazy to cross here. They’re just waiting for that skow to tip over and someone to drown.”

  “What do those stinking savages know?” With a look of contempt, Abner walked away.

  Well, she’d done her best. All she could do now was pray they’d all get safely across. Maybe they would, but the more she gazed at the turbulent waters of the Sweetwater River, the more her heart filled with dread.