by Leah Banicki
"Chelsea, I hear there's a river crossing." Corinne tried to be friendly and calm. She dismounted and walked with her friend a few minutes. She tied Clover to Chelsea's wagon.
"Yes, the Wakarusa I've heard, can be tricky. Though I try to trust the men, I do get nervous. You look a bit nervous too." Chelsea smiled and gave her young friend a squeeze across the shoulders. "Our husbands will take good care of us, no worries my dear." Chelsea saw a strange look cross Corinne's face and wanted to question her about it but some yelling ahead distracted her.
Corinne's heart began to pound as she heard a woman screaming. The words were too jumbled to understand but the tone and inflection brought an instant dread the way that only bad news could. The crying continued and gasps could be heard ahead. Chelsea reached down, grabbed her boy, and picked him up to hold against her chest. His face looked sleepy and he willingly snuggled against her. Corinne saw the look on Chelsea's face; it was pale and fearful like she felt. Russell mounted up and rode toward the sound to see if he could help. The wagons stopped rolling and voices around them where in confusion as everyone tried to figure out what was happening. Within a few minutes Russell rode back to them grief painted on his face.
"A six-month old baby girl fell out of a wagon and was crushed beneath the wheels." He spoke softly. "The Hagan family." He added. It sounded like he had more to say but could not speak anymore. Russell dismounted and walked to his wife and held her and his son. Chelsea cried quietly and Corinne wiped tears of her own away quickly. She had not met them. They were strangers yet the tragedy was so close. The woman's cries lingered in the air, the sound cut through Corinne like a dull blade. Mr. Walters rode by a few minutes later and said they were camping here. We are crossing the Wakarusa tomorrow.
Corinne watched Russell and Chelsea as they tucked in their son for his afternoon nap. She didn’t realize she had wrapped her own arms around herself like an embrace. She could see the Grants had a good marriage. Russell was supportive and strong without dominating his wife. He treated her with respect. For the first time in her life she recognized how wonderful that must be. In a moment of chaos and tragedy they were quietly supporting each other.
"I think I will go and see if Cookie needs me." Corinne knew that statement was ridiculous but wanted to leave the Grant family alone for a while. The events of the day were overwhelming her. She needed a place to cry.
She took Clover back to their wagon outfit and handed the reins over to Jimmy. They usually silently did their duties and it left Corinne missing her younger days on the ranch where everyone was boisterous and had a word to say or a song to sing. Everyone in her world now was so silent and afraid. Corinne was desperate for some joy. Angela was next to the chuck wagon scrubbing on some laundry. Corinne wanted to help but of course she turned away and made herself useless but obedient. Boredom was eating away at her. Today she needed a task.
After spending an hour in her wagon sorting through her journals and trunks she decided to walk toward the Wakarusa and see what the river was made of. Dinner was going to be a few hours wait. The men were all busy with their wagon repairs and wheel soaking.
Corinne headed toward the west edge of the camp and followed the sounds of the men chopping trees. There was a general hubbub that Corinne was trying to understand and picked up a few phrases as she walked by but they confused her more than helping her to understand.
"The chains will be attached to the pulleys." and "the limestone will make the drop more difficult." These were just a few things that Corinne didn’t understand? Everything around her was very green and lush with spring growth. There was an area that was clear of trees that seemed the place for at least two wagons to fit through side by side. Corinne could not see the water but she was certain she was heading in the right direction.
"Mrs. Temple!" She heard an unmistakable voice call to her. She smiled even before she saw him.
"Clive!" Corinne saw the old man headed her way. "I was hoping to run into you." She wanted to adopt him as her grandfather if she was honest with herself.
"Howdy, young beautiful thing. You heading to take a gander at the river we is crossin tomorra?" His eyes were a stunning ice blue. Today he had on a wide brim hat that had seen a few years of rain and weather. He had a spring in his step and Corinne fought the urge to hug him as he came closer.
"Yes, I need a distraction. I cannot do any chores..." Corinne knew she should stop. She shouldn't be sharing her troubles with anyone. She sighed instead.
"Your husband laid down the law huh?" Clive laughed. "Young men will never understand women." He laughed again, it sounded so rich and heavenly that Corinne joined in. What a terrible, ridiculous situation. Corinne felt a little freer after laughing with her new friend.
"I can't stand to be idle. Let's just say I need a walk." She said. Clive offered his arm and they walked thus through the trees.
The river wasn't deep and it is perfectly calm but the steep sides were going to be a problem, Corinne could see that. The flat land next to the river drops off about five to six feet before you hit water, basically a stony ledge. How can we cross that?
There was one small sandy section that was nearly flat on the opposite side. It had the potential to climb up with a wagon but then dropped off. Corinne could not wrap her brain around it. After one hundred wagons would that pleasant sandy beach turn into a bog where wagons could sink or break the oxen's legs?
"This sure is a pretty spot. I would've come here to fish when I was a youngin." Clive surveyed the spot too. He had made this journey several times and he knew what backbreaking work was ahead. "Though we may scare the fish away permanently tomorrow. It will be quite a ruckus I imagine." Clive gave Corinne a glance and saw concern on her face.
"Now, don't get yourself all tied up in knots. I saw the wagon boss talkin to some local Shawnee. They have been doing this a few years. They use chains and pulleys and get the wagons and animals safely across. There are always risks but we will get through this my dear, Lord willin." Clive gave her a chin up gesture. "I will get you and your young maid friend across safely myself." Clive grabbed her arm and they turned back.
Corinne was surprised that he knew so much about her without her telling him.
Clive seemed to read her mind and answered her unasked question. "I could see you watching her with the concern of a friend. The other night with the music and dancing, you could not enjoy yourself until you saw she was having a good time herself."
Corinne just smiled and gave his arm a squeeze. She didn’t know what to say.
They walked arm-in-arm back to her camp where she passed on dinner and went to her bed before the sun went down. She used the light in the wagon to read her journals and be alone.
Chapter Eleven
April 18 1848
The morning dawned cold with a light drizzle, they had a six a.m. start announcement from the night before. Though many of them were up and ready they knew it would be hours or perhaps, even the next day when their turn to cross would come. Clive came by right at six and told Andrew his plan to take "the girls". He used the excuse of jittery women that get nervous when watching their wagons being handled. He whispered something in Andrew's ear, which made Andrew laugh then he nodded in agreement.
After a breakfast of coffee and johnnycakes Clive showed up and escorted Angela and Corinne to the edge of the Wakarusa. He disappeared for a few minutes and Corinne and Angela chatted nervously. A low whistle got their attention.
Clive was on horseback; his thin frame was straight as an arrow. He wasn’t brawny but he had a strong, wise presence. He needed a haircut; Corinne decided she would take care of that for him later today. She started to feel possessive about him, as she did with Angela. Somehow she wanted them to be near and safe. She had lost so many people when she was young that she felt unnerved when she started caring about people, somehow they might be stolen away or harmed if she started loving them too much.
"You want me to join you. Should I jump in
?" Corinne stood on the edge of the Wakarusa. The drop was about five feet to the water. She had seen a few people jump and most went well but one girl sprained her ankle. Corinne had no desire to hurt herself. Andrew would love that. She could hear his thoughts on how foolish she was.
Clive stood below her on his mount. "Just sit on the edge and put one foot on my horse. He's gentle. He is steady and don't scare so easy."
Corinne sat down on the edge and scooted herself until her foot landed on the saddle behind Clive. Clive coached her along with 'there you go' and she grabbed his hand and then slowly turned her body and stood up. She moved her other leg over and slowly slid down to ride behind Clive.
"Your turn next Angela." Angela looked unsure but after Clive dropped Corinne safely on the other shore he returned for her.
“I'm a little nervous. I'm not as good around horses as Corinne. She grew up around them. They seem to smell my fear." Angela smiled nervously but did as Clive instructed. She nearly slipped when she stood up but Clive's strong grip held her until she slid into place behind him. Clive worked his way through the shallow calm water and deposited her safely with her friend.
* * * * *
Clive tied his horse on a nearby tree and walked with them to the wagon crossing area. It was quite a spectacle. Many men gathered around a large apparatus. The Shawnee men were wearing very little clothing. There was a group of white men with them, wearing just pants. Angela and Corinne took turns blushing.
Several very large logs were sticking out of the ground, there was a structure under it with ropes and chains and men handling them roughly with purpose. Taut muscle and yelling seemed the thing to do. The chains would attach to the wagon, stripped of all wheels and harness equipment. The front and back were attached to the large pulley chains then with brute force and more yelling in a guttural language and joined by English the wagon slowly swung up to the top of the pulley then lowered to the water and hung just a foot above getting wet. The pulley on the other side was put to work attaching chains and ropes and then pulled the wagon up and nearer to the bank on the other side.
Corinne felt her stomach drop every time she saw the wagon box freely swinging like that. One false move and a man would be crushed. It shook her nerves up.
"Angela let’s find Chelsea." Angela nodded her agreement and then followed the edge of the river to the Grant outfit.
* * * * *
Corinne kept herself busy with Chelsea Grant and Angela in the morning. They went downstream a few hundred yards and placed a few young teen girls on guard in shifts.
The women prepared to bathe. There were no class systems that would safe guard you from the hazards of real trail life…Grime! Cleanliness was nearly impossible. Every woman did their best but the lack of privacy and long hours of walking or riding didn’t afford them much opportunity to wash. The women carried stools with them and made a nice area to have themselves a bathing party. The sun was warm and the atmosphere was jovial. Several women started singing and with shared soap this was one of the best days they had during the journey so far.
Corinne felt so good with clean skin and hair. Chelsea helped her by brushing and braiding her hair. Corinne admired her Swedish braid in Chelsea’s small hand mirror. The braid looked like a complete circle around her head. It suited her well. Chelsea then braided Angela's hair the same way. They all felt fresh and energized.
By noon the Grant family had their wagons put back together after their river crossing. Corinne was told when her own wagon would be crossing the river and was tempted to not watch. She would be devastated if her wagon somehow fell or hurt someone, or all her oils and journals were potentially harmed. She shuddered at the thought. She watched the wagon being handled for several minutes then decided to head back to the Grant outfit again. She could not watch anymore. Her heart was in her throat. She pushed up her sleeves and helped Chelsea prepare dinner for the Grant and Temple outfit, since not all of the three wagons had crossed the river yet.
* * * * *
"Cori, come tell Chelsea about your grandmother, Trudie. I was just telling her how your grandmother was welcomed into the Cherokee Indian camps and even stayed with them for weeks at a time." Angela smiled and beckoned to Corinne.
"I need to hear this, my dear girl. You stay so quiet all of the time, it's good to know you talk to someone." Chelsea laughed and grabbed a man's shirt from a basket by her feet. With a needle and thread she pecked at the mending. She had her eye on the stew pot over the fire and was satisfied that it was bubbling contentedly.
"Well I think my Aunt in Boston, the 'General', scared my voice right out of me. Honestly, I don't mean to be shy, just not sure anymore when it's permissible to speak. She pounded it into me that ladies should be soft-spoken and not speak unless it was important, and since, whatever I felt was important was shot down and I was sent to my room for my trouble.” Corinne gulped a bit emotionally but then continued. “I was extremely foolish to have gone to Boston instead of with my father but I am making up for that now." Corinne felt herself open up and started telling the story of Trudie, the white woman who befriended the local Indian women with food at first then with a shared interest in plant life and its medicines.
"Grandma Trudie learned a crude version of the Cherokee language. If you look through her journal you can see some drawings by a few women she met. They took her up the mountains and showed her places where rare plants grew and even into caves where the 'healing waters' were. I remember she told me once that the healing water tasted dark. She took a glass jar full of it out of the cave and said the water was almost pink when she held it up to the sun." Corinne seemed lost in thought for a moment. "She took my mother to that cave once. The next year Grandma Trudie fell and her knees never gave her mercy after that. Her long mountain trips were finished A few times a year a few Indian women came to our ranch and shared herbs and stories with her. My mother tried to earn their trust but they were there for Trudie. I was ten when Grandma Trudie passed away; the Indian women only came by once after she passed. They brought a young girl with them and she gave me a leather pouch with hundreds of beads sown on it. It is stunning. I still have it. It's carried with my grandmother’s journal."
"Did your Grandfather approve of Trudie traveling up the mountains and being with the Indians so much?" Chelsea asked.
"He died before I was born. He was in the militia and was injured. My grandmother was told he died from infection. He always supported her need for knowledge. After that she always had an earnest desire to cure every infection she came across. She strove so hard to find a cure. In many ways the knowledge she gained has helped me understand so much about what the world has to offer, if we just keep looking for it, and listening to those who have gone before us." Corinne realized she sounded like a professor and was going to laugh at herself when a voice interrupted.
"Is the child boring you all with her stories about plants? She can go on and on." Andrew and Reggie walked into the camp. Andrew removed his hat and took a seat on a nearby stool.
"When I sent word to her Father that I would marry her to give her escort I had no idea what childish prattling I'd have to endure." He laughed again. Reggie gave Corinne an apologetic look. She lowered her gaze and thought about remaining silent forever. She hoped that she wasn’t blushing too hard.
"Actually Andrew she was delighting us with her family history about a fascinating woman." Chelsea's face was red from embarrassment for her friend and understood Corinne's silence more than she had before.
"Well, dear me, let me not interrupt. I have heard too much of it already. I was hoping for dinner soon. Mrs. Grant the stew smells delightful. I would like to offer dinner at our outfit tomorrow to give you a rest after your hard work today." Andrew went from one topic to the next completely unaware of how his words affected people. Russell and Lucas Grant, who sat nearby for the whole story, were astonished to find her husband being so hard on her. They were coming to the conclusion that Corinne's husband had a cr
itical tongue that he kept for her alone. He appeared polite and somewhat charming when he wanted to be, just not to Corinne.
Andrew headed off with an excuse to clean up and Chelsea whispered to Corinne.
"I am so sorry dear. I didn't realize that..." Chelsea didn’t know what to say. She was very happily married to a man she adored and he treated her very well. She didn’t know what it would do to her to have someone treat her with such disdain. Chelsea's prayers for Corinne would start that night. Her desire to protect her did too.
Corinne just gave them a false smile and stood up. She mumbled an excuse and headed toward the river where the wagons were being assembled. She was embarrassed and humbled but somehow tried to pull herself together. There is an annulment at the end. She could make it. It didn’t matter what Andrew thought about her. He meant nothing to her beyond this trip. She wanted to cry but refused to allow herself the opportunity. A minute later she ran into Clive at the riverbank.
* * * * *
"Mr. Quackenbush." She called out formally knowing he wanted to be called Clive. She grinned at him mischievously.
"I do declare Mrs. Temple." He said with a southern drawl that nearly sounded authentic. "Yer as perty as a peach pie in der windersill." Clive's different voices nearly had her in stitches.
"Clive, will you be joining us for supper with the Grants?" She was hoping Andrew would behave around Clive. Everyone was on their best behavior when Clive was around, it seemed to Corinne. He was well-known and respected for his knowledge of the West, his dealings with Indians and his business smarts.
"Yes, I will be sharing supper with ya, but I need to discuss something with you. Let’s walk a minute..." Corinne gladly took his arm and watched concern wash over his face. He gave her a glance and then looked away when he asked his tough question. "Corinne has Mr. Temple... well... has he been unkind to you my dear?" Clive hated asking anything that would embarrass her but he had to know.
