The grizzly bearded man behind the counter spit a wad of tobacco into a brass spittoon at his feet. The sound dinged through the room. “Y’all headed to Oregon, I hear.”
“That’s right.” Delly glanced at Sadie who raised her eyebrows. Where else would they be headed?
“Pity. Heard tell a family died last month crossing the mountain. Another turned around and headed back east. Doubt they made it across the desert.” He tallied Delly’s purchases. “You’ll have a rough time of it with that baby.”
“We’ll be fine.” She straightened her shoulders. “My son will be by to get our supplies.”
She stepped into the brightness of the summer day. Doomsayers gave her the creeps. “Sadie, what day is it?”
“I’m not sure. Sometime in August, I think.”
“We’re way overdue for a Bible reading. Zeke said we’d be here for the night. After supper, I’ll be continuing our read in Genesis.” She shuddered, thinking of what the storekeeper had said. “I need some comfort after that man’s worrisome words.”
She stared at the range of mountains looming a few days ahead of them. She wrapped her arms tighter around Alice, determined they’d all make it safely across if it took her last ounce of strength. Which it might, considering the hardships so far.
Ben Johnson strolled by, Sophia Miller clutching his arm. Delly sighed. Looked like there might be another wedding soon. Two people eager to find someone to share their burden with. Her heart ached with missing Alice. She’d looked forward to being neighbors with her dear friend. Could she befriend Sophia after all the animosity between the two? She’d try. That’s all she could promise.
A shout echoed from camp, and two men darted past her, spurring Delly to increase her pace. “What in the world?”
Someone had constructed a make-shift corral from bent saplings and spare wood. Luke stood in the center with a blindfold over Junior’s Indian pony, while Zeke whispered in the animal’s twitching ear.
Luke motioned for Junior to climb onto the pony’s back before he quickly whipped off the blindfold. A second later, Junior laid flat on his back in the pine needles. Delly’s heart sprang to her throat.
She stepped forward and stopped when Zeke laid a hand on her shoulder. “Get up, son. Show him you’re boss. Be consistent. He’ll get used to the weight on his back.” He strode forward to lift a saddle. “Use this.”
Delly’s heart froze.
###
“Hold the saddle under his nose.” Zeke stepped back as Junior followed his directions. “Let him get used to the smell.” The pony snorted and drew back. “Be patient. He has to trust you.”
After several minutes the pony no longer shied away from the strange object. “Now, put it on his back. Luke will hold him still.”
Junior cast a wide-eyed glance in Zeke’s direction and took a deep breath. The horse snorted and tried pulling away. “I don’t understand. The Indian rode him. Maybe he doesn’t like white men.”
“You do smell different. He’ll get use to you, and he’s probably never had a saddle on before.” Zeke leaned against a tree beside Delly. “Don’t worry, he’ll figure it out.”
“I’m worried about injury.”
“Let him grow up. Knowing how to break a horse is a valuable skill.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You didn’t promise his father you’d take care of him.”
“I’m the only father he’s got now, and I say he can do this.”
She hmmphed and crossed her arms.
Junior finally got a foot in the stirrup, held for a minute, then slung his leg over. The horse immediately bucked him off, landing the boy hard in a cloud of dirt. Zeke laughed. “Again.”
“Are you trying to kill me?” Junior struggled to his feet.
“Persistence is what it takes to train an animal.” Zeke moved forward to help him to his feet. “And this pony has a lot of spirit.”
Junior grinned, and slapped his hat more firmly on his head. “You just gave him his name, uncle. I’m calling this pony, Spirit.”
The sun had set and campfires doused by the time, Zeke felt Spirit had accepted Junior enough to be ridden. He helped the bruised and aching boy into his bedroll then slid into his own under the wagon. His mind immediately moved on to the next few day’s journey.
Soon, they’d be crossing the mountains. The most dangerous part of their journey. Lord, help them.
The last trip he’d taken, five people succumbed to the cold of the mountains. And they’d left only two weeks later. May God forgive him, but that wouldn’t happen again. They’d keep moving no matter how tired the people were.
A bottle shattered. An Indian staggered through the wagon circle. Glass from the whiskey bottle winked from the fire pit. Zeke shook his head. Forts were an easy place to get the fire water, and unfortunately, too many of the natives succumbed to its liquid siren song. Often with fatal results.
31
Delly stared out the wagon bonnet at the towering Cascade Mountains. In one hand she held her tattered britches, so holey as to be almost indecent, in the other an equally ragged skirt. Around her shoulders, she’d draped a thick quilt against the chill of the morning.
“What are you looking at?” Zeke stopped by on his morning rounds.
“The mountain.” She held up her worn pants. “I can’t decide whether to wear these disgusting britches or throw them in the fire and be done with them.”
“Let me help by telling you what to expect. You’ll be walking. I’ll be driving the wagon. These mountains are so steep the wagons are going to be sliding all over the place, especially with the recent rains. Anyone not driving will be walking and climbing over fallen trees and boulders. They’ll be fighting their way through thick brush.”
“Why can’t we follow behind the wagons?” His words created an imagery that left dread in Delly. The only good point was, once over these mountains, they were finished. Home.
Zeke shook his head. “Too much of a danger of the wagons sliding backwards. It’s happened before; people crushed from a wagon sliding down the mountain. You stay out of the way.”
Delly nodded. “I’ll patch the pants the best I can.”
An hour later, with drizzle wetting every available surface, the women and children stepped onto the poor excuse for a trail that cut through pine, fir, and cedar trees. Redwoods grew up and over, forming a canopy that almost shut out the weak light of the sun.
Delly craned her neck. She grew dizzy with the height of the trees and transferred her attention to the trail in front of her. Thank you, God, I chose to wear pants. How the wagons would ever make it across the muddy rock strewn trail, she could only guess.
Her feet slipped in the mud, and she fell to her knees. She grimaced as her hand plunged into a rotting log full of grubs and leaves. Wagons bounced and slammed over holes as they rolled slowly past.
She eyed a beautiful mirror in an ornate frame tossed carelessly into the bushes. Its weight too much to justify taking it along. Books with mildewed pages, rusted pots and pans, fancy dresses, and small furniture peeked through the thick brush, quickly being reclaimed by Mother Nature. Just as she would be if she collapsed here.
Pushing to her feet, she brushed against a tree. It’s water soaked branches dumped water down the neck of her slicker. Delly slapped the offending branch away and glanced over her shoulders. The others didn’t seem to be faring much better. With Sadie’s increasing bulk, she seemed to struggle the most. Delly slowed her speed and slipped an arm around her friend’s waist. They might as well struggle together.
Someone shouted a warning from above them. Delly looked up and gasped.
###
The wagon in front of him slid backwards and picked up speed as Zeke watched, helpless to stop its disastrous descent. The driver cried out.
Zeke set the brake on the wagon he drove and leaped from the seat. He scoured the brush until he found two logs that would fit snugly behind the wheels. As he worked, he glanced con
tinuously at the slipping wagon, praying the mules pulling it would grab a foothold.
His wagon as secure as he could make it, he dashed to try and prevent the catastrophe he knew would come. Luke obviously had the same idea. Together they tugged on the reins, yanking them out of the hysterical woman’s hands.
“Get out of the wagon!” Zeke dug his booted feet into the mud. “Where’s your husband? I told the men to drive today.”
“It’s his turn to help drive the stock. My kids are in the back!”
“Take them with you. Now!” The muscles in his arms groaned with agony. The healing arrow wound, flamed. The woman scrambled over the seat and into the wagon bed.
Luke strained with him, sweat pouring from his brow. “We can’t hold this. It’s going to crash into our own families.”
Zeke peered around the bonnet. Delly’s face stood out white against the brown of the mountain. Their gazes locked, and he nodded, hoping she’d understand his silent command and obey.
She wrapped her arms tighter around the sling carrying Alice and dashed to where the rest of their family waited. They slid down the hill and into the brush. Zeke closed his eyes for a moment, relieved, and the fear in his heart for his family’s safety lessened.
The reins slipped as his feet dug deep furrows into the sodden earth. “You’re right. Melvin! Back those wagons up.”
Junior sprinted to their wagon and launched himself into the seat, taking Zeke’s heart with him. Ben Johnson yelled and whipped his oxen to start their progress backward, while the older Oglesby boy did the same.
Zeke and Luke lost their battle to retain control and the reins slipped through their hands. Zeke felt the leather’s lash through his gloves.
The wagon hurtled toward the others. The mules struggled to maintain a foothold and brayed in alarm as their legs were pulled out from under them. The whites of their eyes shone against their muddy coats.
The wagon teetered on the cliff. Caught on the trunks of young saplings. In what seemed like slow motion, it tottered and went over, dragging the mules with it where it once again stopped against a massive redwood tree.
Zeke and Luke whipped knives from their belts and dashed after it. With frantic sawing motions, they struggled to free the mules from their harness. By the time the third mule was free, the tree loosened itsr tenuous hold and the wagon barreled down the mountainside. The last mule screamed in pain as the wagon shattered against boulders before finally coming to a rest at the bottom.
The family who owned the wagon huddled at the top of the cliff. The woman moaned over the loss of their possessions.
Zeke replaced his knife in its holder and made his way to the grieving family. “Luke and I will go see what we can salvage once the others are safely across. Let’s be thankful no lives were lost.”
The man stuck out his hand. “There would’ve been if not for your quick thinking. We’re indebted to you.”
Zeke nodded. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.” He headed to relieve Junior of his wagon driving duties. ”Once we cross over the Devil’s Backbone, we’re home free.” Hopefully he could get the group safely there.
Later that evening, Zeke handed Delly a rump from the slaughtered mule. “Poor thing was still alive when we got down there. Scraped up and bloody with two broken legs. Seems we’ve been eating a lot of mule on this trip.”
She accepted the meat. “Don’t tell Dorcas what’s in the stew. She won’t touch it if you do.” She dropped the chunk into the pot of broth boiling over the fire. “Were you able to save anything?”
“Most of their personal things. About half the food.” He sat on a stool and removed his hat, letting the breeze blow the dust from his hair. “The Wilson’s will be all right. They can pack their things on the three remaining mules. They won’t have a wagon to live in until they’re settled, but that’s minor in comparison to losing a life. I’m sending Junior and a couple others ahead with the stock to better water. We’ll be able to catch up with them in a day or two.” He poured a cup of coffee and smiled. “Luke’s going to be busy tonight. That road wrecked havoc on the wagons.”
Zeke stared into his mug, seeing the faces of all they’d lost on the trail. Seth, Mr. Oglesby, the woman who’s husband died of cholera. He lifted the coffee to his mouth. He wouldn’t dwell on that. He’d focus on what he still had. Delly, and the children.
His gaze followed her as she fed the little ones. She might be young but she possessed a backbone of steel and was a natural mother and nurturer. He noticed the pooch beneath her apron and averted his eyes, wishing the child she carried was his. He tossed the remains of his drink into the fire.
It would be his. As soon as he convinced Delly to marry him.
By the time they caught up with the ones he’d sent ahead with the stock, they’d be setting foot on the beginning of his land. He felt tempted to tell Delly how close they really were, but the desire to surprise her won out.
He still hadn’t asked her to hand over possession of the deed, but God’s Word seemed the best place for the precious slip of paper.
###
The Devil’s Backbone consisted of three steep mountains covered with loose rocks. The walls of the trail cut so close to the wagons, they almost gave Delly an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia. She wondered how anyone dared call it a trail to begin with. She could reach out and touch the rough stones. No one driving anything larger than a farm wagon could travel through.
“I can see why it’s called the Devil’s Backbone.” The oxen’s ears twitched as if in understanding. Sadie had taken to riding in their wagon with Luke, leaving Delly to manage by, and talk to, herself.
At least her friend would be close by. Zeke said he’d give Luke and Sadie a small plot of land to farm, and Luke expressed a desire to open a blacksmith shop to service the rapidly arriving pioneers to the new territory.
What would it be like starting a new life from the ground up?
She glanced at her gloved hands. Freckles dotted her arms, and she dreaded what her face looked like. Most likely like someone through a handful of mud at her and spots stuck to her face. Well, she’d never put too much prize on her looks anyway, despite Ezra’s flowery words or Zeke’s admiring glances. Looks didn’t last and wouldn’t build a roof over her childrens’s heads. She smiled. But she did like the looks Zeke sent her way when he thought she wasn’t looking. Made her feel all woman.
The trail slanted upward again, and Delly slapped the reins against the animal’s backs. Something in the back of the wagon slid and banged against something else. She glanced over her shoulder to see Alice sleeping peacefully in her crib made from spare wood. Such a sweet baby. She would’ve been the joy of her mother.
Delly squared her shoulders. They’d had an adventure. No denying it. Something to talk about over a warm winter fire. She spotted Zeke’s blue flannel shirt ahead. Would she do it all again? Definitely. For that man, she wouldn’t hesitate. She loved him for sure and certain. No more denying the feelings rising within her. Seeing him day-after-day while they managed adjoining land, it’s the closest she could get to marrying him.
Her spirit lifted as she realized God’s hand in the trials and celebrations of the last six months. By His grace they’d made it. By His mercy, a healthy baby slept in a make-shift box in a weathered wagon.
Tears filled Delly’s eyes as she looked on the trail ahead. She’d been ungrateful, full of whining and complaints. How had the others put up with her? She resolved to do better. To raise her children with the pioneering spirit.
One peak conquered; another begun. Rocks clattered beneath the oxens’ hooves. The beasts strained, slipping on the loose ground, in their effort to pull the wagon. Their struggle reminded Delly of her own.
32
“Is that a house?” Please, God, let it be so. Delly straightened in the wagon seat, her gaze searching for Junior among the milling travelers. Surely they would’ve caught up with the herd by now.
The rest of the train
had circled in front of a log cabin nestled in a meadow between two short mountains. Fields lay lush with hay and rippled in the slight breeze. Thick trees crowded the cleared areas. A garden grew behind a split-rail fence. Chickens clucked in the yard, running between the legs of mules and oxen. A pen held a sow and piglets. Junior’s dogs barked and chased anything dumb enough to get in their path.
A woman stood in the doorway of the building and dried her hands on a starched apron before waving a greeting. Tears welled in Delly’s eyes. A home. Civilization.
Zeke rode up, a grin splitting his tanned face and and crinkled the corner of his eyes. “This is it. The beginning of the end. Folks will branch off from here in the morning to claim their land.”
“We’re that close?” Hope sprouted in her heart.
“Yes, ma’am. Climb on down. These folks sell beef, eggs, and vegetables to weary travelers. Go cook us up a feast.” He winked and rode off.
“Dorcas, get Alice, would you?” Delly bundled her skirt in one hand and climbed from the wagon seat. Her spirits soared as high as the hawk circling above their heads. The scent of late blooming wildflowers and honeysuckle filled the air. She’d made it.
“Welcome. I’m Nora Lambert. My husband Hank will be along shortly. He’s showing Zeke a stranger that showed up here after your drovers rode through.” The woman stepped from the porch and bustled toward Delly. “Make yourselves at home. Times are long between folks visiting.”
A stranger? “I’m Delly Williams.” Delly held out her hand. “Zeke is my brother-in-law.”
“Oh, everyone within a three day ride around here knows Mr. Williams. A fine man.” She beamed.
Delly turned. “These are my children. My son, Ezra Junior, rode through a day ahead of us.”
“On a painted pony. Rode out of here yesterday.” Nora laughed. “Fancies himself a cowboy, that one.”
Woman of Courage (Four Full length Historical Christian Romances in One Volume): Woman of Courage Series Page 22
