I leaned far over the bank trying to see into the water, clear to the bottom. Trying to imagine what it would be like to be that Indian girl. Until Mama pulled me back to this world.
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Evening before- supper. Camp No. 3, Black Jack
We struck camp at Black Jack. Fourteen miles from the last camp. Getting toward evening, Mama sits in the wagon and peels potatoes like she was home in our own yellow kitchen. Being tired of cooking, I took a ramble and picked countless wildflowers, then picked some more of Mama's favorite until I practically had me a flower museum!
"Where'd you find cornflowers?" I heard a voice say. I looked up and sure enough, there were two real-life girls by the names of Louisa and Eliza Nutting. Louisa is nearly fourteen and Eliza ten, with me right in the middle. Louisa knows the names of all the flowers, and when she says them, it sounds like a song.
Larkspur and bellflower, lupine and rose. And my favorite: the wild purple aster with its tiny sun face. Louisa said if we don't know the name of a flower, we'll just make one up. Here are some names we thought of:
Sweet cup Hourglass Flaming star
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Bear's lip Sneeze weed Pink-haired pinecone
The last and funniest, named by Eliza, does indeed look like a tiny pine cone with fuzzy pink hair!
Louisa aims to name all her own children after flowers. Violet, Rose, Cordelia (is that a flower, it sounds like one!), and Eliza said, "If you have a boy child, you can name him Sneeze Weed!" I laughed so hard, I think I did sneeze!
Eliza is redheaded, and likes to collect pink pebbles, which she finds most curious. When I asked what should we do with all these flowers, Eliza said, "Crush them in a book." I think she means to press them for safekeeping, which is just what I've done between these pages.
Oh, how I hope to have a red-haired sister one day. I'll teach her all the prairie flowers, and show her how I pressed some in my journal before she was born. Mr. Ryder has made known his wishes that a girl-baby be called Edwina (Ed-wee-na!), after his own mother. It's my duty as big sister to save her from that cruel fate!
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Bedtime
The Nuttings are to camp right next to us, in our own wagon circle! Oh, to have a friend again. Better yet, two friends!
June 9, morning
A trader arrived this morning from Bent's Fort, which I heard him say is up the big Arkansas River. He has traded with the Indians and hauls wagon loads of skins on his way back to Missouri. He told Mr. Ryder and Mr. Nutting about the road and river crossings, and said the Indians'll be thick once we get to Pawnee Fork.
Later I got Jem to ask Mr. Ryder how far to Pawnee Fork. Mr. Ryder has his faults, but he sure does know this trail.
He said 298 miles. 298 miles! We are already a million miles from anywhere!
Just on evening
Six o'clock and we are still not on our way. One of the rear wagons is caught in a mud hole, and it takes
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several teams (and what feels like forever) to pull it out. Time stretches like thread spilling from a spool on this prairie -- one day can feel like a month.
Camp No.4
Not sure where we are. Prairie, is all. Mr. Ryder says a good camp has water, wood, and grass. There is plenty of the latter!
Late night
Tonight I was started awake by a most eerie sound. It sounded like cat-dog-sheep-wolf all together. Jem called it wolves, but I had already conjured up images of a four-headed beast with sixteen legs and the jaws of a dragon. Mr. Biscuit flew out with a bark and drove them away. Mr. B, good dog, sleeps now between Jem and me, but I'm afraid those wolves have chased off sleep for me.
June 10
Up at 4 a.m. when we heard the call, "Roll out!" Mama is having her morning time again. Up to me
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to blow on the coals and start the fire and see to breakfast. I first roast the coffee beans over the fire, then set water to boil. Does Mr. Ryder even notice that she eats nothing but crackers? If I am stubborn, he is blind.
After breakfast we had just started out when we seized upon the skeleton of a papoose. It had been buried on a platform in a tree, and fallen. It was shrunken and withered as a dried-up plum, wrapped all in a red handkerchief, blue flannels, and a buffalo robe. I could not pull my eyes away from those bones, pale as the prairie moon.
Mama called, "Get in the wagon and ride a bit, Florrie. Before you know it, your feet'll be spreading out wider than Joe-cakes from all that walking."
We're sitting quiet now. I can't shake the image of that tiny skeleton. Keep thinking I hear a lullaby in between the blowing dust. Ever since laying eyes on the papoose, Mama rubs her newly swollen belly with a different gaze on her face, which says she's about to behold a miracle. Mr. Ryder doesn't see it, nor does Jem, but you can't miss it if you're a pupil of things, as I am.
I wonder, did she have the miracle look for me, too?
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Noon on the prairie
Too hot to write. Now I do feel like a mule, hanging my tongue out, panting with thirst.
Night
Too hot to sleep.
June 11
Our first Sabbath on the prairie!
Quiet as a church without singing. Jem says he's not heard one swear all the day. Every now and again I hear wee wee wee wee wee, the sharp whistle of the partridge, the guggle guggle of the warbler, or the sweet chirp of the lark. Mr. Ryder knows them all and calls to them like a fellow feathered friend. Today a lark answered back. Twee! Twee! Fancy that! Our own Mr. Ryder, a lark.
I do like Mr. Ryder on the Sabbath. (I will have to add bird calling to my list of his good points.) He is altogether more relaxed and attentive to Mama. Jem tried to imitate the birdsong, too, a raven's caw, but it sounded more like a sick cow.
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June 12, 110-mile creek
Left trees behind. Scarcely a bush or shrub to break the horizon. The grass is so tall in places as to hide Mr. Ryder's waist and nearly all but Jem's head. Mama says this prairie reminds her of the sea, the way it goes on for miles and miles and miles. To think I did not know my own mama has been to the sea! I told Mama if all this grass were sea, I would swim and swim and swim. I would swim all the way to New Mexico.
June 13
Picked berries with Louisa and Eliza. We found any number of raspberries and gooseberries on the banks of the creek. We even fixed a line and tried fishing with Jem. Nothing bites but the mosquitoes. I do believe all the fish in Kansas must have gone to California.
Louisa seemed content NOT to catch a single fish. Eliza showed us her purple tongue and said, "My belly's too full of berries to fit any fish!"
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Later
Our small fire let off sparks like shooting stars. I was sorry Mama could not stay up to be with us. Louisa played her violin for us! She played it smooth as silk -- not one squeak! As soon as it grew dark, we sang songs like "Yankee Doodle" and Mr. Ryder's favorite, "The Blue Bells of Scotland."
Mr. Nutting showed Eliza and me a funny dance, and even Jem did the jig, though he looked more like he was stepping on hot coals from the fire. Quite a merry mood was in the smoky air.
Jem pleaded with Mr. Ryder to tell us a story. Eliza and Louisa had never heard any of his tales before, and they gazed upon him spellbound, like a real actor in a theater play.
What a tall tale! About a giant who eats bread made of iron and crushes stone like it was cheese.
Jem begged me to tell it again before bed, but he fell asleep just as I was getting to the good part. If he dreams of ugly, stone-crushing giants, it's not my fault!
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Middle of the night
A most frightful thing! My hands are still shaking, and my heart beating wildly.
I couldn't fall asleep, so I slipped out of the tent and climbed into the wagon. With only the full moon to light my way, I still knew precisely where to find Papa's trunk. I gingerly lifted the lid, trying all the while not to make a sound.
I lifted out his red flannel overshirt, which smelled of soap and pine. I wrapped the arms around me. I found Papa's worn-down boots, a handkerchief, and a belt knife. His soft, wide-brimmed felt hat came down over my eyes when I tried it on.
I cast about looking for the cornmeal barrel, thinking how sweet just a finger lick of honey would taste right then.
Next thing I knew, I was blinded by a light, a shotgun pointed right between my eyes!
How my heart raced when I saw my twelve short years pass before me, without so much as a good-bye to Mama and Jem.
Then the words, "You there! Thief!" finally hit me, in a voice I recognized. The man pointing the gun at me was none other than Mr. Ryder himself!
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June 14 first light
The rest of last night is a blur. Mr. Ryder yelling at me something awful. Mama in her nightshirt yelling back at him. Jem standing outside the tent squeezing his eyes shut and covering his ears.
After the yelling, I hugged myself under the buffalo robe, feeling my own life come back into my blood. A stare-down contest with a gun sure does make a person feel lucky to be alive.
Mr. Ryder's horse kicked him first thing this morning. Made him a bit lame. That's the honest truth! Mama whispered to me, "That horse must be smarter than we thought!" She's not keen on Mr. Ryder pointing guns at everything and anyone. I rewarded Velvet with an apple.
Midday
Later, Jem and I were walking in front of the wagons when a beautiful little animal caught our attention in the distance. I thought it was a dog at first. Jem said it was nothing more than a boulder in the road. Mr. Ryder lent us his spyglass, partly to settle the argument
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and partly to make nice for nearly shooting me last night.
What was it? A curious antelope! More timid of us two-leggers than we were of it. Its dark, clear eyes pleaded like to make friends.
Can an antelope be lonely?
Later, Camp No. 9. Bluff Creek
This evening, I was sewing a lark on my quilt. All the while, Eliza was watching me as intent as a heron on a fish, like she'd never seen a needle and thread before.
I thought maybe she was trying to learn sewing when she piped up, "I know where we can see a real canary that sings." Turns out there's a trader's wife who keeps to her wagon by the name of Mrs. Ernestine Wilcox. They say that she would not leave her St. Louis home without her thirteen canary birds! Oh, how I long to lay eyes on them and hear their song. Eliza said, "Let's go tomorrow and spy on them." Then Louisa said, "You two act like foolish children," after which she admitted she wants to come, too.
Eliza also reported that Mrs. Wilcox has with her a cook who tells fortunes. How that girl knows is beyond
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me. What a spy she'd make for soldiers in the army!
I don't know which is more exciting: thirteen songbirds from St. Louis, or the prospect of knowing my own future.
June 15, Noon- rest
Sakes alive! What an adventure. Eliza came and reported that Mrs. Wilcox leaves her wagon and goes down to the creek to get water when we stop for our midday rest. Louisa and I agreed it was the perfect time to sneak up and spy on the canaries. We carefully stepped round the back of dozens of other wagons, until we came to one that had st. louis written on the outside cover.
"What if someone thinks we're stealing?" asked Louisa, but we made her shush before she could get our nerves up.
We waited silently to make sure no one was about. As soon as we determined it safe, Eliza pulled back the wagon cover and we all three peered inside. There, in a cage atop a bureau, were the sun-yellow songbirds, merrily chirping as if singing for us were their purpose in this life.
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Eliza sang a high-pitched note or two back, and Louisa and I joined her. Such a sweet symphony we caused that I jumped and Louisa screamed when a voice behind us said, "Birds without a cage cannot fly fast enough!"
Louisa and I did find wings on our feet. How we ran! But Eliza, she did not follow us. We hid behind a tree and waited. When Eliza finally came to us, I asked, "That person who speaks in riddles, who was that?" To which Eliza did answer, "The fortune-teller!"
As I sit here now, I still can't believe Eliza has spoken with the fortune-teller! My heart near thumped out of my chest just thinking about it. The woman turned on her angry-like and asked, "Why does this bird not fly?" and Eliza piped right up and said, "I would like to know my future, ma'am," after which the woman said, "The future is a long ways away and looks different in the daylight. Gotta be dark to see that far."
Eliza says she stood there frowning a frown until the woman said, "When you think you're ready, bring one object special to you and meet me at the campfire after dark."
"May I bring my sister and my friend, too?" Eliza asked.
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"Yes, indeed-y," said the woman. "Tell 'em come with their eyes closed and hearts open."
Eliza Nutting must be the bravest girl I have ever known!
Soon we'll know our futures -- perhaps tomorrow night.
June 16
Hot today Caliente.
Hot, hotter, hottest. (Reminds me of my lessons back home at the School of the Sacred Heart.)
Later
Hotter still. Pulled off all but my chemise! I don't care beans who sees me like so. It's hot as a sizzling Joe-cake on the fry pan, and though Mama says I'm prone to exaggeration, I don't believe this is one.
Even Mama seems to be sinking further and further into the folds of her bonnet. She burns easy. My arms are so brown, I hardly recognize them as my own.
Too hot to pick berries. Too hot to fish.
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"Evening
The heat is shimmery, like grease in a pan, and forms small clouds around people and things and trees.
I think I saw a mirage today, right in the middle of the trail! First it was a party of Indians on horseback. Next I was certain there were no Indians at all, but a tall castle, with a tower and flags flying. Then I squinted and saw a blue lake with white sands and lapping water. I thought to take a swim, but when I unsquinted my eyes, the lake was gone.
The heat visits some strange happenings upon us.
Night
Tonight we made ready to meet the fortune-teller. I asked God to forgive me for lying to Mama and telling her instead that I was taking biscuits to Mrs. Wilcox, who had taken ill. Mama would not approve of fortune-telling, but I think God, if He is all knowing, can understand better than anybody the need for seeing into the unknown.
Louisa took a lock of hair. I took Papa's hat. I've
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taken to wearing it now, favoring it over my bonnet. Mr. Ryder says it's most unladylike, for which I love it all the more. Eliza would not tell what she had hidden in her apron pocket.
As soon as we came to the campfire, the fortuneteller led Eliza into her tent. When she emerged, we nearly pounced on her to find out what happened, but she said only that she was not allowed to tell until we had seen the fortune-teller ourselves.
My turn came next. My heart thump-thumped again as I hunched over and stepped into the tent. The fortune-teller asked me to seat myself cross-legged on the ground directly across from her. When she asked for my special object, I took off Papa's hat and handed it to her. Then I closed my eyes and tried to open my heart like she asked. I swear I felt a most unusual breeze come across my face and through my hair. I couldn't help but wonder all the time if Papa was going to speak to me or some such.
Instead, the fortune-teller spoke to me in a deep voice. She explained she was about to reveal to me a secret between me and myself that I must hold in my heart. I prepared for my secret with a hopeful heart, only to be reminded that the fortune-teller sure speaks some nonsense!
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The moment we were out of earshot, we laughed like fools and busted out with the telling of our secrets.
Louisa was told: A blade of grass pushes against an obstacle as it sprouts from the earth.
Eliza's secret: Horse and wagon part -- all things separate and unite.
My own fortune: She who sees clouds and thunder knows that rain fills the air.
I fail to see what the weather has to do with my future?!
June 17
RAIN!
The fortune-teller was right! About the weather, anyway. Finally the heat is broken.
Traveled all day in rain. At last the dust is washed from me. My tongue's been parchment for a week. Jem and I caught raindrops on our tongues. The rain tasted better than a tall, cool glass of raspberry vinegar lemonade, the way Mama used to make it.
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I have seen my first Indians! Three men and two women. They were quite friendly. The men and women dress almost alike. Some had their faces painted. We gave them food, and they turned to go quite peaceful and all. I wonder where all the talk of scalping and poison arrows and war whooping comes from?
A short distance later I saw one of their houses. It was made of branches, with a hole at the top for smoke to go out so they can cook inside over a fire. Very clever!
I wonder what they think of us. I only hope the men will not be hunting too many of the Indians' buffalo. I admit to wrapping myself in a warm robe at night, but I do not care to eat such great creatures.
Camp No. 12. Council Grove
This place is thick with trees, so we have stopped here for a few days to gather timber. Frenchie and the others cut wood and lash it beneath the wagon for the journey. Also we need time to repair the wagons and rest the animals.
I for one am glad for the rest.
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Just when I thought I could sketch or go find Louisa and Eliza, Mama has me elbow-deep in washing clothes. There's so much lathering of soap and slopping of water, I told Mama, "I feel like I'm washing clothes for an army!" Mama said, "Mr. Ryder and Jem do seem to make up their own army, don't they?" It was nice, how we laughed. Just us.
All the stars in the sky: the Santa Fe trail diary of Florrie Mack Ryder Page 2
