A Dream for Tomorrow

by Melody Carlson

  She took a handful of grass over to poor Goldie, holding her flattened palm out as the cow hungrily munched. “I sure don’t want to lose you,” she whispered, looking directly into those liquid brown eyes. “But we have to do what we have to do.”

  Chapter Nine

  Will returned with the good news and a pail of water. “We took an inventory of our remaining water,” he explained. “The vote was unanimous. Goldie will be spared.”

  Elizabeth was so happy that she threw her arms around Will and hugged him. “Thank you! Thank you!” Then feeling self-conscious and silly, she quickly stepped away. “Now I can give Goldie a drink, poor old girl.”

  As she was letting Goldie have some water—careful that she didn’t drink too much—she noticed a familiar-looking Appaloosa passing by. She squinted into the afternoon sun in time to spy Eli waving their direction, but instead of stopping to say hello the way he used to do, he just continued on, leaving a cloud of alkaline dust in his wake.

  With his back to Eli and apparently oblivious to him, Will continued talking to her. “After we decided to share some water, I made an offhand comment to my children. I told them that saving Goldie might ensure our family some borrowing rights should we run out of butter or cream next winter.”

  “Really?” She arched her brows. “And what did they say to that?”

  He grinned. “The girls let out squeals of happiness, and Jeremiah mentioned reading that the climate down there was moderate—even in winter.”

  “That’s true enough. But what about the Prescotts?” She moved the bucket away from Goldie now, pausing to stroke a silky golden ear. “I thought your families planned to settle together.”

  “Yes, I’m sure this will make for some lively discussion during the next few weeks.” He shrugged. “But the Prescotts are a democratic family too. I’m sure they’ll put this idea to a vote.”

  “Well, thank you again for your kindness to Goldie,” she told him. “And if it turns out you don’t settle near us in southern Oregon, I hope you will let me repay you in some other way. Perhaps you’d like a nice laying hen.”

  “Perhaps.”

  They continued the grueling climb up Prospect Hill—a hard haul across a bleak and barren landscape. As Elizabeth drove, her mouth became so dry that she had difficultly swallowing, and she was forced to take small sips of water just to wash down the alkaline dust. She hadn’t mentioned her shortage of water to her family. But before they left in the morning, Will had sent Jeremiah with another bucket of water.

  “Your family saved this animal’s life,” she’d told him as she showed him Goldie.

  He smiled. “She’s a pretty cow.”

  “She’s a Guernsey.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be valuable once you settle.”

  Elizabeth tried to imagine it now, what it would be like when they reached their destination—the Promised Land of southern Oregon. Malinda had painted such lovely word pictures in her letters. Rolling green hills, crystal clear springs and rivers, tall evergreens, mild winters…and the ocean was only a half a day’s travel from them. It all sounded wonderful, especially compared to this horrible place. But thinking of Malinda’s letters about Oregon reminded Elizabeth that she still had not heard back from her sister-in-law. Although she checked for mail at every possible stop—longing to get some kind of confirmation that John and Malinda knew they were coming, some reassurance that all was well—there was never a letter. By now more than enough time had transpired for Malinda to respond to the letter Elizabeth had sent back in January. Elizabeth tried not to dwell on this, but it was unnerving.

  She had been careful not to reveal her concerns to her family. But sometimes, especially in the dark of night or driving through this wasteland, she felt very worried. What if something bad had happened to John and Malinda and the children? What if there had been an epidemic? Or, worse, an Indian raid? Father had mentioned that Oregon Country had experienced some incidents of Indian aggression during the past few years, but Malinda had never mentioned such goings-on in her cheerful letters, so Elizabeth had simply assumed those troubles were in another part of the territory. After all, Oregon was a vast piece of land.

  To distract herself from fretting about their Oregon relatives, she tried to imagine what today’s destination, the Sweetwater River, would look like. The name alone seemed to suggest heaven. And the thought of water made her thirsty again. She reached for the canteen, which was nearly empty—not because she’d been guzzling it, but because she’d poured less than a cup of water into it after their midday stop, convincing herself she could make it through this day with just enough droplets to moisten her mouth. The rest of their remaining water had gone to the livestock for the final leg of this journey, reserving about the last gallon for the children and Brady, minus her meager portion and a bit for Mrs. Taylor, who planned to sleep throughout the afternoon.

  But Brady and the children needed more water since they were afoot in order to lighten the wagon’s load. She’d considered asking Mrs. Taylor to walk along with them, but the poor woman seemed pitifully worn out after walking all morning. Elizabeth had felt sorry for her out there on foot, stumbling wearily along and sweltering in that heavy black woolen dress. It was ironic that Mrs. Taylor only wore black even before her husband’s tragedy.

  Trying not to feel too put out over the grieving woman’s extra weight in the wagon, especially since her own children were walking, Elizabeth reminded herself that their load had lightened considerably after using up most of the water they’d started with at Horse Creek. Plus she’d told JT he could ride Molly if need be, and she’d encouraged Ruth to join her grandparents if she got too hot or tired. And rubbing his sore backside, Brady had assured her he was happy to walk.

  Elizabeth peeled off her riding gloves and rolled up her sleeves. She then untied the strings of her prairie bonnet and even unbuttoned several top buttons of her shirtwaist, hoping that some stray breeze of stagnant air might cool her some. This was going to be a very long afternoon—perhaps the longest afternoon of the entire journey. She suddenly wished she’d invited Ruth to ride with her. Really, what difference would sixty or seventy more pounds have made? And Ruthie’s chatter was always such a good distraction. If she were here, they might even be singing. Or maybe not. Elizabeth’s throat felt so dry she wasn’t sure she’d be able to croak out a tune.

  Still, to pass the time, she decided to sing a song inside her head, but the only tune that came to her was the cowboy song Matthew and JT had played before bed last night, and it wasn’t a very happy song. Even so, the lyrics from the first verse seemed to be stuck in her head now, and there she let them stay, running the lonesome tune through her head again and again.

  “Afternoon, Elizabeth.”

  She looked over, surprised to see Eli and his horse walking alongside her wagon, curiously watching her. Maybe she’d been wrong to assume he’d been avoiding her after all.

  “Afternoon, Eli.” She nodded, giving him a polite smile.

  “You appeared deep in thought…with a very troubling expression. Is something troubling you?” He waved his hand. “Something other than the last day on Devil’s Backbone?”

  “Truth be told, I was simply singing a song inside of my head,” she confessed.

  He grinned with interest. “Now what song would that be, I wonder…?”

  “Just an old cowboy song.”

  “I happen to like old cowboy songs.” His blue eyes twinkled, and the wrinkles on the edges of his eyes crinkled in a way that softened her on the inside. “Won’t you share it with me?”

  She considered refusing him but then wondered why. What did it matter if she sounded foolish? At least it would help pass the time. “I only know the first verse,” she admitted.

  “I’d love to hear it.” He leaned forward with interest.

  So holding her head high, she cleared her throat and sang.

  Oh, bury me not, on the lone prairie,

  Where the coyotes wail
and the wind blows free.

  When I die, don’t bury me

  ’Neath the western sky, on the lone prairie.

  He took off his hat, slapped it across his thigh, and threw back his head, laughing loudly. “Well, if that’s not an entirely appropriate song for this leg of the journey, Elizabeth. I thank you for sharing it with me.”

  She twisted the end of the reins in her hands. “You’re welcome…I suppose.”

  “And since you were so kind to sing the first verse to me, would you like me to sing the rest of the song to you?”

  “Of course, if you know it.”

  “I most certainly do.” He put his hat back on then sang out in a rich baritone.

  “Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie.”

  These words came soft and painfully

  From the pallid lips of a boy who lay

  On his dying bed, at the break of day.

  But we buried him there on the lone prairie,

  Where the rattlesnakes hiss and the wind blows free,

  In a shallow grave, no one to grieve,

  ’Neath the western sky, on the lone prairie.

  To her surprise, she felt a lump growing in her parched throat. “That was beautiful, Eli. Beautiful and sad.” She slowly shook her head. “I don’t wish to see anyone else buried on this trip.”

  “Nor do I.” He reached for his canteen. Fancier than her plain brown container, his was covered in black and white cowhide with a beaded leather tassel hanging down. “I’d almost forgotten that song altogether. I haven’t heard it in a coon’s age.”

  “If you’d been at our camp, you’d have heard it last night,” she told him a bit sharply.

  He slowly loosened the cap of his canteen. “That makes me wonder…am I still welcome at your campsite?”

  “Why wouldn’t you be?” She peered curiously at him.

  “There’s a rumor rumbling through this wagon train…”

  “What sort of rumor?” Even as she asked this, she recalled how some of the older girls had been talking about her and Eli following Matthew and Jess’ wedding. She also remembered how she had warned Ruth to be wary of gossip.

  “It’s the usual sort of rumor.”

  “Please, don’t think I’m encouraging you to repeat rumors, Eli.” She pushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it under her bonnet. “I certainly don’t appreciate idle gossip.”

  “Yes, that’s wise.” He took a short swig from his handsome canteen. As he put the cap back on, glancing over his shoulder, she suddenly felt worried he might leave without telling her why he’d been avoiding her.

  “Although I am curious as to how a rumor would make you believe you’re unwelcome at our campsite, Eli. Hasn’t my family always received you with open arms? And JT and Matthew enjoy it immensely when you play music with them—although I must admit our singing was not with great enthusiasm last night. Everyone was very tired.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “But I’m still curious, Eli. Why would you be unwelcome at our campsite?”

  “So you do want to know about the rumor after all?”

  She shrugged then made a sheepish smile. “I suppose I do.” She waved her hand to the vast emptiness all around them. “I’ve been so desperate for distractions that I am humming sad cowboy tunes in my head.”

  “There are worse ways to spend your time.”

  “Please,” she insisted, “tell me this rumor. Perhaps I can dispel it for you.”

  “The rumor is that a certain attorney from Boston is courting you.”

  “Courting me?” She opened her eyes wide. “Will? Courting me?”

  He simply nodded, but he studied her with an intensity that made her wonder.

  “Well, hopefully you don’t believe everything you hear, Eli.”

  “Are you saying it’s untrue?”

  “It’s untrue as far as I know.” She sat up straight. “I am being courted by no one.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t be so sure of that.”

  She felt her cheeks growing hot. To distract him, she reached for her canteen and started to take a sip but then remembered that except for a few drops, it was empty. Flustered, she set it down on the seat beside her and fixed her gaze back on her team.

  “Are you out of water?”

  She shrugged, forcing a smile for him. “I am fine.”

  “Elizabeth?” He looked intently at her. “Tell me the truth. Are you out of water?”

  “My livestock were all thoroughly watered on our midday break. My children, Brady, and Mrs. Taylor all have sufficient water. We are fine, Eli.”

  “I’m asking about you.”

  She sighed.

  Now he leaned over and reached for her canteen, leaving his in its place. “I’ll exchange that back with you at the Sweetwater River,” he told her in a firm voice. Then he turned his horse and trotted away. She waited until he was out of sight to pick up the canteen. It was nearly full. She slowly opened it, taking a long swig of cool refreshing water. As she recapped the canteen, she wondered when she’d ever tasted anything so perfectly delicious and satisfying.

  By the time the Sweetwater River was within sight, Eli’s canteen was as dry as her own had been. Between her and Mrs. Taylor, they drank every drop. She had felt sorry to pass several wagons that were unable to continue due to animal fatigue and thirst. Some of the animals looked like they might not even survive the day, but when she paused to inquire, their owners assured her that help had been promised.

  “The captain said that a rescue team will be back here before dark,” a woman from unit two told her. “With water and fresh animals.”

  “And you want to remain out here?” Elizabeth called back.

  The woman nodded to the wagon behind her. “We must stay. Everything we have is in there. We’ll wait for help.”

  “Good luck,” Elizabeth told her. She wasn’t sure that she’d remain behind if she were in their same position—not in this awful place. But it wasn’t for her to decide. She was just thankful it wasn’t anyone in their unit. That would mean that her father and brother would be forced to return. Fortunately, the wagons were only a few miles from the river. But each mile out here felt like a hundred.

  Elizabeth had never thought much about the smell of water, but that is what first told her they were reaching the end of Devil’s Backbone. She could smell something tangy in the air, something green and clean and slightly pungent. And then it hit her—it was water! Her team seemed to smell it too because they began to lift their feet a bit higher, hastening toward it along with the other teams.

  The trees and green grass were just coming into view when JT came bounding up on Grandpa’s riding horse. He had two buckets in one hand. “Grandpa told me to go to the river and get some water,” he happily told her. “Brady will take Beau and Bella to the line first, and I’ll be there to meet them with water.”

  “Bless you!” she called out.

  It was amazing how everyone instantly became energized as they got closer to the Sweetwater River. Even though they hadn’t actually tasted the sweet water of the river yet, Elizabeth was sure it would be true to its name, and she felt as if the very air had revived the weary travelers. The sounds of laughing and singing and happy conversations flitted through their campsites as people settled in for the night. Elizabeth parked her wagon in the space that Brady seemed to be saving for her. Then as he began to remove the harnesses from the team, she grabbed two buckets and ran straight down to the river, meeting JT coming toward her with his own two pails.

  “The water really does taste sweet!” he told her.

  “I can hardly wait.”

  He held up a pail. “Go ahead and have some, Ma.”

  “Not yet.” She shook her head. “Take it to the animals. They deserve it.”

  It was like a big party at the river. Some of the travelers had jumped in with their clothes on. Some had taken parched horses to drink directly from it. She found a clear spot and dipped a bucket
in, and holding it up, she stuck her entire face in and thirstily drank. It was true—the water was sweet! Sweet and cold and fresh and clean. She felt as if they’d walked through hell to get here, but this was indeed heavenly!

  Chapter Ten

  Despite some of our setbacks, we’re making good time,” Asa told the family later that evening. Tired but happy, they had just finished supper and were enjoying their campsite near the Sweetwater River.

  “What about those poor folks who are still stranded out there on Devil’s Backbone?” Clara asked.

  “A rescue team went out hours ago, and the captain said they should all make it into camp before midnight,” Asa assured her. “I’m sure relieved everyone in our unit made it with no problems. Otherwise I’d be out there now.”

  “How many people do you s’pose broke down by the end of the day?” Matthew asked.

  “The captain said there were about a dozen wagons all together. Unit two had the most troubles.” He cleared his throat. “Sounds like their councilman may get replaced.”

  “Did he do something wrong?” Clara asked.

  Asa shrugged. “Not exactly. But I hear he’s too easy on his folks.” He glanced at Mrs. Taylor, who was still picking at her plate of food. “The captain said he should have forced them to rid themselves of more weight before they crossed Devil’s Backbone. One wagon was still carrying a maple dining room set that must have weighed near five hundred pounds.” He shook his head. “Can you imagine the toll that took on those poor oxen!”

  “Well, you can be proud that no one in your unit had a problem,” Jess told him. “You are a fine leader, Asa.”

  He grinned at her. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Pa?”

  She looked slightly embarrassed but pleased just the same. “Pa.”

  “If we keep making good time and pushing hard this week, Captain Brownlee says we should make Independence Rock by the Fourth of July after all.”