by Janette Oke
Once the crossing had been made successfully, the group gathered and Willie offered a prayer of thanks to God for all the travelers. The weary men and animals were glad again to make camp for a good night's rest before taking to the trail. The next day they would resume their journey after their twenty-nine-day delay.
Missie was becoming increasingly concerned about Becky. They still had many days on the trail before reaching Tettsford Junction. Would the services of Mrs. Kosensky be needed after all?
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Chapter 11
On the Way Again
Early the next morning, the camp was a bustle of activity. The travelers could hardly wait for the word to move out. Even the horses stamped in their impatience. Missie was surprised at the feelings that clamored within her. During their previous weeks on the trail, she had dreaded the crossing of the Big River, for it seemed to mark the point of no return. But now that it was finally behind them, she was as restless as the teams. She felt like starting out to walk on her own. If she had known the trail and the direction that she was to take, she might have done just that.
Finally the wagons were lined up and the order shouted. The creak of the harnesses and grind of wheels sounded like music to Missie's ears. At last! They were on their way again! All were alive and accounted for. They had crossed the Big River; surely only lesser obstacles lay in their pathway. Since turning back was no longer possible, she was anxious to forge ahead.
Missie could sense Willie's excitement as he carefully guided the team to follow the wagon ahead of him. It was hard for him to restrain himself from urging them on at a faster speed, but no one
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Chapter 12
Town
Mr. Blake seemed to have a great aversion to towns. In every possible instance he skirted far around them, no matter how small the settlement. When he could not avoid one, he ordered the wagons to keep on moving. No one was allowed to stop for any dallying. Each family made a list of those supplies that were needed and either Mr. Blake or one of his scouts rode into the town and made the purchases.
The wagon master said that his job was to get the wagons, and the folks in them, to Tettsford Junction; and he planned to do just that--and the most deadly enemy of the west-bound settler was a town. Blake had lost no one to swollen rivers, prairie fires or Indians on his many trains west. But he had lost people to towns. And since he did not like having his good record smudged, towns were his enemies.
Everyone was surprised, therefore, when Mr. Blake called a meeting of the train members and announced, "Tomorrow we reach Lipton. Ain't much of a town, but we will be stopping there fer a day. Our campsite is to the right of the town within easy
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walking distance. No teams--no horses atall--no wagons--are to go into the town. Those of you thet have more purchases to make then can be carried will be glad to know thet the Lipton General Store will make deliveries. The place carries a fair line of essentials.
"The train will move on again at the usual hour on Wednesday mornin'. I suggest thet ya all be ready to go."
A general uproar followed the announcement; excitement filled each traveler. To see a town again! To more than just drive through with one's longing eyes picking out dress shops, barbers, food delicacies--just about everything! It would be so good to stop and browse, even though one could spare little money for actual shopping.
Missie's eyes glowed as she and Willie walked back to their wagon. Her mind was busy calculating just what she wanted most and if they would be able to spare their hard-earned cash in order to purchase it.
How big was the town? Did it have a blacksmith? a hairdresser? a butcher? a doctor? Questions flew furiously but Blake was the only one with the answers--and he had somehow disappeared after his announcement.
It was difficult to break from the fires that night and get to bed. Excited chatter buzzed about the camp as women delved into trunks and pulled out favorite dresses. Shaking some of the wrinkles from them, they hung them up in hopes they would be smooth by morning. Men had their wives add another patch to already worn overalls. Some even brushed their shoes, or their hats, or both. Families pored over lists, adding, changing, dreaming, wishing--and reluctantly deleting.
Even the dogs of the camp seemed to catch the fever. They ran back and forth, yapping and tussling and making general nuisances of themselves.
The next morning everyone was ready to roll long before the call was given--even the often tardy Standards. The sooner they began the journey, the sooner Lipton would be reached--and the longer the time available for shopping.
The wagons lumbered out, set for another long, hot, dusty day on the trail, everyone hoping that it wouldn't be too late
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when they pulled into camp to be off to the town.
To everyone's amazement and delight, the town lay before them as they topped the first hill. They had camped only a few miles from it the night before! They all laughed at themselves and at their wagon master, but Mr. Blake's face remained as impassive as ever.
They soon reached the new campsite and formed their customary circle. The men set about the task of caring for the animals while the women scurried around, building fires to heat water for sponge baths within the confines of their wagons. By the time they and their children were ready to head into town, the sun had climbed high into the clear sky; it would be another extremely warm day.
They departed in little groups, eager and expectant. Henry accompanied some of the younger people. The Collinses walked together, Sissie with Meggie in her arms and Tom with Joey hoisted on his shoulders. Mrs. Thorne strode off, with her offspring matching her long strides; her husband would have none of the foolishness and elected to stay behind and mend the harness. Mrs. Page, after voicing a parting barb at Jessie Tuttle, hurried down the trail without even waiting for a reply. Tillie Crane went along, too impatient to wait even for her young husband--at last she could have something done to her hair! Mrs. Schmidt threw a bundle of hastily gathered sticks under the protection of her wagon, shook out her apron and started off with her family members: they quickly overtook and passed the slow- moving Mrs. Kosensky.
Missie and Willie walked with John and Becky. They chose a much slower pace for Becky's sake, though they too were impatient.
As they passed the Weiss' wagon, they saw Mrs. Emory fastening the tent flap down before leaving for town. Her sad face was lit by a smile when she saw the young couples. Without a word, Willie stepped over to lend her a hand.
"Eager to git into town?" She directed her question to the women.
"Oh, yes," Becky bubbled. "It seems like forever since I've walked on a board sidewalk or looked in a shop."
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Mrs. Emory just smiled.
She is so attractive when she smiles like that, thought Missie, and so very young. I reckon she's not much older than I am. What would I do if something happened to my Willie? How would I ever get home again? Would I just be stranded somewhere out here in the West? Just the thought of such a thing made Missie's stomach churn. Dear God, she prayed inwardly, I don't think I could stand it.
Then she thought of her own mother. A new awareness of what Marty had been through those long years before filled her being and tears threatened to fill her eyes. She hurriedly blinked them away before anyone could notice them.
"Are you goin' shoppin', too?" she asked Mrs. Emory. The woman's face sobered some and she shook her head. "Not exactly," she replied.
Missie realized that the woman would probably have nothing to go shopping with, even though her needs were great.
There was silence for a minute. The young woman seemed to be deciding if she should speak, or leave her thoughts unsaid.
Finally she spoke, her voice soft and even, "I--I'm really goin' to look for a church. I--have this need for a place of prayer."
It was Willie who then reached for the woman's hand. He said nothing--just looked deeply into her eyes an
d gently squeezed the small hand in both of his calloused, manly ones. Missie blinked back more tears. The woman withdrew her hand; with a slight nod of her head that sent the glistening tears on her lashes spilling down her cheeks, she turned to go.
Missie reached for Willie's hand then. He was so much like her pa, her Willie. He felt so deeply what others were feeling. Homesickness for her father and a surge of love for Willie swept through Missie in one wave.
They turned to follow the Clays who were already walking slowly down the path toward town.
"Willie," Missie whispered, "we should try an' draw her out more. She's such a sweet thing, the poor soul. I can't imagine anyone sufferin' so much--so young."
"Yer ma an' pa did," Willie reminded her gently. His hand tightened on hers.
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Missie was silent, too deeply moved to try to speak. Yes, her ma and pa had suffered, but she had been too young to be aware of it. She only remembered them as laughing, loving parents. Would Mrs. Emory someday be able to laugh and love again, too? Missie prayed that the town could supply her with a fine little church where she could meet with God.
The town wasn't much, as towns go, but to the travelers it would suffice. There were sidewalks for Becky to walk on, although one needed to watch one's step--there were loose and broken, even missing, boards. The shoppers soon learned to keep an eye on where they next intended to step.
After a quick general look at the town, the couples separated. The ladies went to yearn over threads, yarn, yard goods and other "luxuries." The men went off to the livery stable to check on more "practical" supplies.
Becky and Missie spent a long part of their morning surveying the soft yarns and materials, planning and dreaming of what they would make for their coming babies. Becky already had most of her necessities, her baby having been "expected" before she ever left home, but she was eager to add some special things to the baby's wardrobe. Missie would wait for her main preparation until she reached Willie's land and was settled--but it would be so much fun to work on a few things now.
There was a hotel of sorts in Lipton, and Becky and Missie's menfolk had promised to take their wives there for a meal. They all looked forward to it eagerly. It would be so good to have food that didn't taste of wood smoke, real store-bought tea, meat that wasn't wild, and maybe even some fresh bread. And vegetables! How long it had been since they had tasted fresh vegetables!
Promptly at noon the men returned and made an elaborate display of escorting their women to the dining room. The room was already crowded, and they had to wait for a table.
The four deliberated long over the menu, and finally, at the impatience of the waitress, placed their orders. Missie was surprised at how flat things tasted without the tang of the smoke. The bread was not fresh--but it was bread. The meat was mild enough--but more than a little tough, and the vegetables were
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definitely overcooked. However, they enjoyed it immensely, and pretended to one another that it was the finest they had ever eaten. They even ordered pie and lingered over it, savoring each bite as they slowly sipped their cups of tea.
In the afternoon they inspected the stores again. They knew that wise decisions had to be made and that each purchase must be considered carefully. It was a big job to make up one's mind after not having shopped for so long.
Their lists were consulted, changed and finally the goods were ordered. Necessary foods were restocked and a few fresh vegetables were purchased. Missie did pick out a few soft flannels and cottons for her sewing for the coming baby and also bought additional wool for heavy socks. They began their walk back, weary and a little poorer, but refreshed by their day spent back in the "real world." They clutched in their arms a few of their most cherished purchases. They would eagerly wait for the rest to be delivered that evening.
Missie and Willie left John and Becky at their wagon and walked on to their own. Becky was looking tired after her exciting and busy day--this in spite of the fact that Missie had insisted she sit and rest for a spell every so often throughout the time spent in town. Missie called back and invited them to share the evening meal with them so that Becky might get some much needed rest. Becky was happy to accept.
Upon reaching the wagon, Missie stowed away her purchases and set to work building the fire and preparing the meal. Willie changed back into his old overalls and went to care for the cows and horses.
It had been a good day. Missie hummed as she worked. She could hear Willie's whistle moving down the path toward the draw Where the animals were staked out to graze.
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Chapter 13
Breaking Camp
The usual order of the camp was not in evidence the next morning. The 'town,' as Mr. Blake feared, had produced its casualties. Tillie Crane had found her hairdresser. She had also found a job in a dress shop, and she adamantly refused to move one more step into that "God-forsaken" land of wind, sun and rain. Her husband had spent the night badgering and pleading by turn, but nothing was to make Tillie change her mind. A broken Jason Crane finally came to inform Mr. Blake that their wagon would be withdrawing. There was no way that he would travel on without his wife. He'd see what he could do for a job in Lipton. Surely there was work somewhere for a man who was willing.
The Cranes weren't the only ones with problems. A number of the men from the train had been "out on the town." Most of them staggered in, sometime during the night, in various stages of disrepair. Mrs. Kosensky had taken care of her husband--a cold bucket of water for his outside, several cups of hot coffee for his inside. The next morning he was bleary-eyed and belligerent, but ready for travel.
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Jessie Tuttle handled her driver-brother, J.M. Dooley, simply by stuffing him into the wagon and hitching the team herself.
Mrs. Thorne had the most trouble. Her husband failed to reappear at all. After waiting tight-lipped, she set off for town in search of her errant man but strode back to camp empty-handed after two hours of searching. It was Mr. Blake's turn. Maybe he was more familiar with where to look; at any rate, after about three quarters of an hour, he returned. The livery wagon followed, delivering a very sodden Mr. Thorne. His wife said nothing, simply nodding to the men where Mr. Thorne was to be placed and picking up the reins of her team.
After three hours of delay, the teams finally moved out. By then the sun was already hot, the children cranky, and the adults out-of-sorts.
Mrs. Thorne did not so much as give her neighbors a nod or a suggestion of apology. She smacked her team smartly with a rein and maneuvered into position, her face stern and her eyes straight ahead.
Missie shook her head as the woman drove by her. It had been told that Mrs. Thorne had known all along her husband wouldn't remain in the camp mending harness and that she knew exactly what he would do once he got to town. It had happened many times in the past and would likely happen often in the future.
Missie was sure that the invincible Mrs. Thorne would be able to cope. Nothing seemed to shake that woman from solid- rock indifference.
Mrs. Thorne smacked her team again and passed on by, her hands steady, her eyes unblinking against the glare of the midmorning sun. Missie almost missed it, but it was there--and what she saw made her stop short and catch her breath; for unmistakably running down the coarse, tanned cheeks of the woman was a steady stream of tears.
When Missie could breathe again she whispered, "Ya poor soul. Here ya are a hurtin' an' nobody knows--nobody even suspects, so no one reaches out to you in understandin'. Oh. . . God forgive me. Forgive me for not seem' past her stiff jaw to the hurts and the needs. Help me to help her, Lord--to show her kindness and love. She needs me. She needs You, Lord."
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Thereafter, Missie took every opportunity that she could find to greet the woman with a smile, to show little acts of kindness in any way that she could.
The older woman did not really melt, but she did begin to show a little softness around the firm, hard edges of her soul.
Chapter 14
Rebecca
They had been on the trail four days since leaving Lipton, and seemed to be making good progress. The men who had visited the tavern had sobered up, and were now back to their hard tasks. But it was strongly suspected that J.M. Dooley had somehow managed to smuggle some whiskey along in his wagon-- against Mr. Blake's orders. It was a real source of contention between J.M. and Jessie Tuttle; and, of course, anything that affected Jessie, Mrs. Page considered her right to become involved in as well. So, a three-way war was now raging.
Folks smiled at the ridiculousness of it all, but finally Mr. Blake decided that it was time to step in. J.M.'s booze was discovered and discarded. Mrs. Page and her wagon were assigned a new position at the end of the line far from Jessie Tuttle. Things seemed to settle down again.
When they made camp the fourth night, a message was sent to Missie as she cleaned up after the evening meal. It was carried by Mrs. Kosensky's daughter, Nell.
"Ma says, could ya come to Mrs. Clay? She been in labor
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most of the afternoon, an' wants to see ya."
Missie's eyes opened wide in surprise. She had missed Becky that day but had supposed that she just didn't feel up to taking in her customary short walk. She called over to Henry to tell Willie where she would be and quickly reached inside the wagon for a shawl. She almost ran in her eagerness to get to Becky, but held herself back lest others watching would be unduly concerned by her haste.
As she approached the wagon, she could hear Becky's soft crying. She ran the last few steps and was met by a very worried- looking Mrs. Kosensky. Instead of inviting Missie up, the other woman climbed down. She drew Missie aside and began to speak in a whisper.
