Woman of Courage (Four Full length Historical Christian Romances in One Volume): Woman of Courage Series

by Cynthia Hickey

  “Two new cases and ten more dead.” Relief at Delly’s wellness left him ragged. He sagged against a nearby trunk. “Alice felt poorly, but Sadie cared for her and she’s improving. I think she was more grieving and worried than truly sick.”

  “Ten.” Delly leaned against him. “So many.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, relishing in her softness. He never thought he’d fall for a woman with a will of steel. He couldn’t imagine life without her now, and he didn’t know what to do about the revelation. How could he risk love again when life out west was so uncertain?

  “I’ve tried to get the bodies buried. Some people don’t want to let go. One of the wagons that left on their own came back last night. By morning they were all dead.” He kissed the top of her head then stood. “We’re lucky, I guess. Some wagon trains lose more. Sometimes as much as half.” He peered into the early morning sun. “We’ll stay here until we’re sure no one else is getting sick. We don’t want to take the illness with us. I’ll get us something to eat. Do you want more broth for Dorcas?”

  ###

  At the end of a week, the survivors stood over the graves of twenty-two of their friends and family. Most of them had lost at least one family member, others more. The dreaded cholera swept through leaving sorrow and death in its wake.

  Delly glanced at her raw and cracked hands. She’d constantly washed them with lye soap as ordered. She clenched her fists, relishing the pain in her chafed knuckles. Pretty hands wouldn’t bring back Seth, or help Alice in her grief. Yet the pain in the tight skin reminded her she still lived, as did the baby she carried.

  Alice hadn’t attended the mass funeral. Ben wouldn’t allow it. He was afraid she’d lose their unborn child.

  Guilt weighed Delly down. Her family had been spared death. What made them different than the others? Had she prayed harder? Found more favor in God’s eyes? Why did He take one person and leave another?

  Zeke stepped forward and recited the Lord’s Prayer. His voice quavered yet he continued. Once the simple service reached its end, and dirt was piled on the graves, the weary travelers headed to their wagons, prepared to drive over the graves to obscure them from wild animals and Indians bent on scavenging.

  One woman, Mrs. Holtmeyer, lay prostrate across her husband’s grave despite the orders to pull out. Zeke begged her to come with them. He tried bargaining with her, then resorted to ordering her to climb into her wagon.

  She shook her head and sobbed louder. He pulled her to her feet and tossed her kicking and screaming over his shoulder. He sat her in the back of her wagon and tied the bonnet closed. With no family to help her, Luke volunteered to drive her team. The woman cursed and screamed her husband’s name several times before becoming silent.

  Delly shuddered, each draw of breath a pain deep in her chest. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in the back of the wagon. The harsh reality of life on the trail left her wanting to crawl into a hole and hide. To stick her children somewhere life’s evil couldn’t reach them. Tears ran down her face and soaked the rag tied around her face. Promise or no promise, she should never have come west.

  18

  The wagon train traveled through the Black Hills, according to the guidebook, and bounced over rocks and holes. They’d gone several days drinking only the water from their barrels, and Delly looked forward to fresh water from the springs. Pine and Cedar trees dotted the landscape. In the distance, the snow-covered peaks of Mt. Laramie towered above green valleys and lime-covered ledges.

  She climbed gratefully from the wagon seat, her muscles protesting the movement. Zeke cut the rope he’d used around Widow Haltmeyer’s ankles to prevent her from running into the desert and helped her out of the wagon. The woman sat silently on a boulder and glared as Delly and Sadie prepared supper.

  Her silent stares raised goose-bumps on Delly’s arms, and she avoided making eye contact. Each evening they’d offered her food, only to have her reject it. This was the first time since they’d left the graves that Zeke had let the woman sit untied longer than needed to take care of her bodily functions. Delly squared her shoulders and smiled at her, hoping she’d take nourishment that night.

  “Would you like some coffee? A biscuit?”

  The woman continued to stare straight ahead. Was she regretting the decision she’d made with her husband to come west? The one about starting a new life? What had they left behind? Maybe a life of leisure or a prosperous farm, yet they’d left, lured by the promise of a land filled with milk and honey.

  Delly turned back to the fire and stirred the beans. She’d headed to Oregon, her heart full of a dream. Why did moments of despair and second-guessing her decision still plague her? Her heart ached for Mrs. Holtmeyer, but there was no going back. For either of them.

  The woman bolted, disappearing into the stand of trees behind the wagons. Delly hitched her skirts and dashed after her. The widow paused at an overhang, glanced over her shoulder, took a step, then disappeared. Delly screamed and rushed forward.

  Below her feet ran a ravine so deep, darkness covered where the woman had fallen. Delly dropped to her hands and knees and strained to hear. Nothing.

  “Delly!”

  “Over here” She sat cross-legged and wrapped her arms around her middle. Hurt ran so deep through her, she thought someone had torn her in half.

  “Where is she?” Zeke asked.

  “She’s gone over the edge.”

  He squatted and peered over then scooted back beside Delly. “Sometimes the grief is too much. I thought I could keep her with us by tying her up. Keep her safe until she came to her senses. But I couldn’t keep her tied all the time. It wasn’t right.” He choked off his words.

  Delly laid a hand on his arm. His muscles tensed beneath her touch. “Sometimes the sorrow is so painful you can’t find an escape outside of death. She bided her time. There wasn’t anything you could do.” Or Delly for that matter, but it didn’t ease the agony in her heart.

  “She told me once she had no family other than her husband.” He sighed. “I guess I’ll give their wagon to Luke and Sadie. She didn’t have much, but it’s more than they’ve got now.”

  Crickets serenaded them from the bushes. Locusts buzzed from the trees. If not for the horror lying within feet from them, Delly might have found herself enjoying the ambiance.

  ###

  They emerged two days later from the Black Hills into the most desolate country Delly had ever seen. According to the guidebook, she overlooked what some called the Devil’s Crater. A fitting name as far as she was concerned. Not a tree or patch of grass as far as the eye could see. The narrow Platte River was barely visible in the distance.

  “This must be what hell looks like.” She snapped the reins to encourage the oxen to move forward and kept her eyes on the billowing bonnet of the wagon in front of her. Luke and Sadie’s wagon now took the spot behind her.

  Dust kicked up beneath Sadie’s skirts as she walked beside Delly’s wagon. Her friend’s eyes twinkled beneath the layer of dirt on her face. From a poverty-stricken freed slave to a married woman with material possessions, Sadie’s dreams were coming true. Delly prayed Oregon would be everything they all dreamed of.

  A few more months and she’d be free of the dirt and dust of the trail. She’d have a home of her own. It couldn’t happen soon enough.

  The sun continued to beat on their heads late into the afternoon. Her head pounded. By the time they stopped on the banks of the winding Platte River, her shoulders sagged. The oxen strained against their harnesses, crazy for a drink. The animals fought Junior and Luke as they struggled to unharness them.

  As the day turned to evening, a dust storm blew in. Everything that wasn’t under shelter or tied down blew away. The children took refuge inside the wagon, despite Delly’s fear of it overturning in the high winds, and huddled beneath a pile of quilts.

  Delly struggled to light a fire so she could cook. The wind scattered her kindling, blew out her tiny spark of
flame, and pulled her hair from its bun. Finally, a flash and a flame. The wind increased and a spark jumped from the ring of rocks and settled on her skirts. She shrieked and jumped back. The strong winds whipped her skirts and fanned the flames. “Help!”

  She beat at her legs with her hands. Sadie grabbed the nearest pot, filled it with dirt, and tossed it in her direction. The wind caught it and blew the cloud of dust away before even a speck landed on Delly.

  Zeke dropped the reins to his horse and dashed to her side, wrestling her to the ground, where he beat the flames until they were out. He yanked her to her feet. “What were you thinking? You don’t make a fire in this kind of weather. Woman, you’re going to give me grey hairs. One day, Delly. Give me one day that I’m not having to save your bacon!”

  Delly stared at the hole in her skirt. Anger replaced fear. Planting her palms on Zeke’s chest, she shoved. “I was trying to put together a meal to feed you, you ungrateful lout!”

  “Delly…”

  She stuck her nose in the air and flounced away. “I’m not speaking to you.”

  “You’re being unreasonable.”

  She whirled to face him. “I’m being unreasonable? Day-after-day, I struggle to take care of this family, drive the wagon, ford raging rivers, eat dust, and feed you.” She stalked over and jabbed his chest with her finger. “I’m so mad I could spit.” She lifted her skirt and dashed away.

  How dare he? Tears stung her eyes. If they weren’t so far toward their destination, she’d turn around and head back to the city this instant. She climbed into the wagon and plopped on the pile of blankets that served as their bed. She forced a smile to reassure the children that everything was all right.

  After the wind died down, she sighed and stared out the bonnet opening. Sadie strolled by arm-in-arm with Luke. Her dear friend seemed to thrive on the rigors of life on the trail. Some of that attitude would do Delly well. Knowing it and mustering it up was a whole different story.

  Here she was, with all of her needs met. So what if she had to work for every morsel? Tears leaked down her cheeks, dampening her hair. An ungrateful fool. That’s what she was. Being so focused on owning land of her own, she’d not once asked what God’s will was. Instead, she’d headed off like a ninny and now paid the price.

  ###

  Seeing Delly on fire had gripped Zeke’s heart in a fist of ice. He’d watched, confused, as she stalked back to the wagon and climbed inside. He turned to Sadie and Luke as they approached. “She scared me. When her skirt caught fire …”

  “It’ll be all right. The trail’s getting to her is all. She’ll see your way in a little bit.” Sadie kicked dirt over the smoldering embers and watched Luke’s long stride toward the corral. “It’s as much my fault as hers. Lighting the fire, I mean. Maybe I need to do more. Relieve some of her burden, instead of disappearing with my husband. I’ll go see what kind of cold supper I can put together.”

  Zeke was an idiot. He shouldn’t have yelled at Delly, but the sight of her skirts on fire had cast all reason to the brisk blowing wind.

  A scream shattered the night. He sprinted toward the far side of the wagon circle.

  The acrid smell of smoke filled the air. Shooting flames illuminated the night. Men grabbed nearby water buckets and dashed past him. He sprinted to join them. Another family had been foolhardy enough to try lighting a fire, and the strong winds had blown the embers to land on the canvas covering of the wagon. Days without rain had left everything dry as tender. Men milled around the fire and tried to approach the wagon. Frightened screams from inside rent the air. The stinging odor of burning cloth hung in the air.

  Luke doused himself with some of the precious water and, covering his face with his arm, leaped into the wagon bed.

  Zeke turned to Hiram beside him. “Who’s in there?” His heart clinched. They’d had more disasters half-way on this trip then the past trips combined. Thankfully, he’d be leaving this life behind.

  “The Turner’s little girl. Mrs. Turner lit a fire and tried to use the wagon as a block against the wind. You can see what happened. The child was inside sleeping.” Hiram removed his hat and wiped his forehead with a red bandanna. “Didn’t take it long to catch fire in this wind. It’s a shame, if you ask me. That fool colored boy has been fighting to get inside that wagon since he heard a child was inside. Probably climbed to his death.” The man shook his head. “We’ve doused it with water, to no avail. The wagon’s a goner.”

  “I would’ve gone in too.” Zeke trotted to the wagon where flames licked the skirt of the bonnet. He glanced around to make sure the flames weren’t spreading and held an arm up against the heat of the blaze. The heat seared his skin through the thin flannel sleeve of his shirt. “Luke!”

  “I’m here.” Luke emerged, carrying a child wrapped in a quilt. He stalked past Zeke to where the child’s father restrained her mother. “Good thing she slept near the front. Fire wasn’t so bad there.” He handed the girl to her crying mother. “She’s coughing a bit from the smoke, but she’s alive and well. I’m afraid you’re going to lose what’s in that wagon though.”

  Mrs. Turner smiled through her tears. “Bless you. Without you, my daughter would’ve died. You showed a lot of nerve.” She cast a glance at her husband who twisted the brim of his hat. “Unlike others.” She sniffed and marched away, hunched over her sobbing child.

  Zeke clapped Luke on the back. “Well done! You all right? Not burned?”

  “A little singed, and my eyes are watering from the smoke, but I’ll be all right. Don’t tell Sadie. She’ll have my hide and start fussing.” He grinned and glanced around the circle. “She’ll find out soon enough, I reckon.”

  Zeke laughed. “We had our own fire episode. Delly started a fire and set her skirts a blaze. Scared ten years off my life. I don’t think your wife will gripe too much. She’ll be proud of you. You’re a hero.”

  Luke ducked his head. “I didn’t do any more than what the Good Lord would want. What are the Turners going to do now?”

  “They’ll have to hook up with someone. I’ll see what others can spare. The Turners still have their mules so they won’t have to walk all the way to Oregon.”

  He made the rounds that evening, asking folks to lay their donations in the center of the circle. The generosity of those under his guidance brought tears to his eyes. People who had little still gave until the needs of the Turners were met with blankets, clothes, and utensils. An elderly couple let them share the space of their wagon in exchange for the Turner’s mules taking a turn pulling.

  Removing his hat, Zeke watched the pile at his feet grow, thought of Delly’s safety and Luke’s unthinking heroism and sent a prayer of thanks heavenward. He was truly a blessed man.

  19

  August already and they arrived at the Sweetwater River a couple of hours before nightfall and discovered it would cost three dollars to cross. Delly eyed the rickety bridge which missed some planks in the middle. She sighed. With the outrageous fee charged, she expected it to be in better shape. There seemed to be no other way to cross. With only her wagon, and the Johnsons’ behind her left to drive over, the bridge didn’t look like it would hold up. The other wagons seemed to have sapped the sagging structure of its strength.

  Zeke yelled and encouraged his horse into the swift flowing river. Luke followed close beside him on another horse, Junior right behind on Old Blue. Why did that fool boy insist on swimming the stock? He ought to leave the dangerous work for the men.

  Halfway across, Junior slipped from the mule’s back. Delly’s heart skipped a beat and she screamed. Luke grabbed her son by the collar, pulling him onto his own animal. Junior kicked and thrashed to free himself from the reins. Delly released the breath she hadn’t known she held and transferred her attention to the floundering mule.

  The animal struggled to regain its footing, disappeared beneath the water, and resurfaced a few feet away. The whites of its eyes showed in fear as it was lost down the river. Another loss.
The old animal was as much family as the docile old goat, Mabel. Daely blinked back tears. The children would be devastated.

  Luke managed to keep a hold of Junior until the two of them reached the opposite shore. Junior collapsed on the bank and covered his face with his hands.

  With a deep breath, Delly drove onto the bridge.

  It swayed and creaked, as if buffeted by strong winds. The bridge lurched violently to one side, almost tossing Delly from her seat.

  “Delly!”

  She glanced to where Zeke stood, hands cupped around his mouth. “Hurry! One of the posts is giving way.”

  She cast a look over her shoulder. The Johnson wagon approached close enough for their oxen’s nose to touch the back of her wagon. Beneath them the bridge sagged. The children screamed from behind her. Delly braced her feet.

  “Giddup!” She whipped the reins. The oxen fought against the moving boards beneath their hooves and refused to budge. Delly jumped to the pitching bridge.

  Her skirt caught on a nail, and she tumbled over the side of the wagon, landing hard to her knees on the deck. Maintaining a hold on the wagon, she struggled to her feet, then fell again as the bridge gave another violent jerk.

  Using the wagon to pull to her feet she made her way to the harness. “Come on!” The bridge shuddered again. “We’re going to die, you stupid beasts!” The Indian toll keeper ran onto the bridge and tried to usher the Johnson wagon backwards.

  Zeke dashed to Delly’s side and shoved her behind him. “Go, I’ll get the team.”

  “I can help.”

  “No. Go now.”

  She grabbed the reins and set her jaw.

  A muscle ticked in Zeke’s jaw. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

  “Why do you?”

  With both of them tugging, they made their way across. The bridge collapsed beneath the back wheels of the Johnson’s wagon as it lurched to the bank. The rickety structure washed down river, shattering against the rocks.