Sarah set down her booty on the small round table next to the door, then crossed the room and gave Amanda a hug. “As Mama always said, death is as much a part of life as birth is.” She made a wry grimace, and when she spoke again, her tone sounded tart. “Maybe we should be used to it by now, after losing everyone dearest to us this past year.”
Yes, everyone. Shaking off the tormenting reminder that her own losses went beyond mere beloved family members—to the death of her most cherished dream as well—Amanda quickly snuffed the thoughts that could so easily consume her in bitterness. “I’ll never ever be used to it.”
The younger girl smiled gently and gave Amanda’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “No, I don’t suppose I will either, to be truthful. But at least we can think on what Pa said just before he passed on, about not wanting us to wear black and drown in mournful tears. He felt his time had come, and he had peace about where he was going. And he’s with Mama now. Her and the baby. As for us, well, I think we owe it to him to heed his words and keep alive his dream of starting over.”
“Whatever you say.” Pressing her lips tightly together before she voiced a thought about the senselessness of life, Amanda heard a growing noise outside. She stood and returned to the window to see a handful of rowdy boys wrestling in the soggy dirt on the street below. Not far from them, two shaggily dressed buffalo hunters with clenched fists were in a heated debate of their own, their gruff voices spewing bursts of profanity to which no one paid the slightest heed.
From the corner of her eye, Amanda could see her sister filling two tall glasses.
Sarah offered one to her as she stepped to her side. “What’s all the commotion?”
“Another fight. I’m looking forward to some peace and quiet when that train finally pulls out.”
“So am I. Surely the spring grasses along the route are green and tall enough for the animals to graze on by now.”
Several minutes of silence lapsed as they sipped their drinks and surveyed the harried activity that seemed never to cease. Independence, far from being a sleepy little hamlet, was second only to St. Louis as a river port. The hotel proprietor had assured them that the height of each spring season was the same—the whole town overrun with river men, steamship captains, hunters and trappers, traders, teamsters, and hordes of emigrants, the latter all fighting over the scant grazing for their thousands of horses, mules, and oxen. Even on the Lord’s Day, constant movement and voices of the transients filled the air.
“What do you think will become of us?”
Amanda caught her breath. She had been wondering the very same thing herself. Staying at the hotel indefinitely was not even a remote possibility. The expense of lodging and meals was putting a serious drain on their funds and would soon make it necessary for them both to seek employment. The home and possessions that had been sold before leaving the verdant green woods of northeastern Pennsylvania now seemed not only part of some other world, but another life as well.
Unbidden memories of sailing the Great Lakes to Chicago, then boarding a steamboat to St. Louis and securing their outfit for going west, were as real in her mind as if they had occurred yesterday. Who would have imagined all of that would come to naught, all Pa’s plans to relocate in Oregon Territory and use his woodcrafting talents to provide for the three of them. Now it was left to Amanda and her sister to make their own life somewhere. Somehow.
Sarah Jane stepped away from the window and moved to the dark pine four-poster abutting one wall of the room. She picked up her guitar from where it leaned against the headboard. After absently twisting the tuning pegs and adjusting the pitch, she sat down on the quilted counterpane and strummed a soft chord, then another, and a dreamy smile curved her lips.
Amanda groaned inwardly. Strumming always led to singing, and for all Sarah’s innocent sincerity and melodious speaking voice, she was blissfully unaware of the fact she could not carry a tune. “I, um, think I’ll go for a walk and get the cobwebs out of my head,” Amanda blurted. She grabbed her gloves and warm shawl from the armoire and made a swift exit on the first few hummed notes.
Outside, the soles of Amanda’s hightop shoes made hollow sounds on the board sidewalk, the rhythmic echoes blending with the voices and footfalls of others as she threaded her way through the throng, dodging loose chickens and the occasional small farm animal in her path. False fronts on the assorted wooden buildings lining both sides of the street gave the illusion they were more impressive than they actually were. After passing the bank and the barber, the wheelwright and gunsmith, she finally stopped at the last smithy’s shop on the street.
The owner, a stocky, muscular man in his midforties, glanced up from the red-hot horseshoe he was plucking from the fire with a pair of long tongs. “Afternoon, miss.” He nudged the beak of his black working cap higher, exposing a band of light skin on his soot-streaked forehead.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Plummer. No one has purchased the prairie schooner as yet?”
“’Fraid not. Folks what need ’em, already has ’em by the time they get to town, unless they arranged ahead of time for one of the wagonwrights to build ’em one.” He set the glowing shoe down on the anvil and raised a muscled arm to administer a few whacks with his hammer.
Amanda’s ears rang with each blow, and she sighed as she gazed at the big wagon Pa had bought, now parked alongside the enterprise. Such a waste, brand spanking new, and complete with foodstuffs and tools sufficient for the journey west, plus three braces of mules being housed in the livery. Surely someone should have been interested in it by this time. It galled her to think she might end up having to sell the entire outfit to that shrewd Mr. Cavanaugh, the owner of the mercantile, after all. The offer he had made for it was shockingly low—despite the ridiculous prices he charged for things in his store. The knowledge that her and her sister’s loss would be very profitable to that scoundrel was a bitter pill to swallow. Amanda could just picture his smug expression of triumph if she were forced by circumstance to acquiesce. “Well, I’ll check back with you tomorrow,” she said, turning to leave. “Perhaps someone will still come along and want it.”
“Could be. I did have a couple of people askin’ after the goods.” He cocked a bushy eyebrow in question.
Amanda shook her head. “No. We wouldn’t want to sell things off that way except as a last resort. Certainly a full wagon would be of much more value to a latecomer, don’t you think? We’ve been careful to leave everything intact so the entire outfit would be available for a quick sale.”
“‘S’pose there’s always that possibility, but time’s runnin’ out, miss, till the next train starts gatherin’.”
“I’m aware of that. But still…”
He sniffed and wiped his bulbous nose with a large kerchief, then returned the cloth to his back pocket. “Well, don’t worry, I won’t do nothin’ without your say-so. I’m keepin’ an eye on it for ya.”
“Thank you, Mr. Plummer. My sister and I truly appreciate all your trouble. Good day.”
With a heavy heart and at a much slower pace, she strolled toward the hotel. Slanting rays of the sun at Amanda’s back elongated her shadow as it flowed gracefully over the walk ahead, making her appear several inches taller than her five-foot height—and nearly as slender as Sarah. She lifted her chin.
Several hours later, kneeling at her bedside, Amanda did her best to ignore the outside racket while she formulated her heavenly petitions. When the cool breath of night rustled the curtain on the partially open bedroom window and raised gooseflesh, she rose and climbed into the warm bed.
“Your prayers took longer than usual,” Sarah said.
“I have a lot on my mind,” Amanda confessed.
All at once her sister’s seemingly blithe acceptance of their fate irked her. Blinking back stinging tears, she raised up on one elbow to face the younger girl, unable to bite back the angry words that insisted upon tumbling out of her mouth. “Aren’t you the least concerned that we’re completely alone
in the world now—
and have only a pittance to get us by for heaven knows how long? It took everything Pa could scrape together after paying off those debts that—that—” Amanda fought to keep from choking on the name, “Morris Jamison dumped on him, you know, to finance this venture. And when our money is gone, I haven’t the slightest idea what we’re going to do.”
“I never said I wasn’t concerned,” Sarah said quietly.
Chagrined at the sight of the moisture glistening in her sister’s eyes, Amanda berated herself for her hasty words and reached over to hug Sarah. “I know. I’m sorry, Sissy. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“The Reverend O’Neill told us we have to trust God for the strength we need to go on. And the more I think about it, the more I agree. We can’t spend the rest of our lives moping around, however tempting that might be. Pa did that after Mama died, and look what it did to him. Working day and night, not sleeping, barely eating…”
“Yes, you’re right.”
“It’s no wonder his malaria came back again—only this time he wasn’t strong enough to fight it off. Even if we still have days when we’re so sad we can’t think straight, we have to keep living. And whatever pit of trouble we’re in now, we have to climb out of it ourselves, no matter what.” She folded her arms over her bosom. “So I’m going to apply myself to finding a husband—one handsome and rich—so I can get as much as I can out of life.”
Amanda blinked, aghast. “And how do you plan to do that, exactly… if you don’t mind my asking. No one has bought that stupid wagon yet, and we really need the money.”
Sarah’s quiet, even breaths made the only sound in the room for several seconds. “Things work out for the best, don’t they? I figure the wagon didn’t sell because we need it.”
“I beg your pardon?” Amanda sat up in bed, the covers clutched in her hands as she stared through the dim light in her sister’s direction.
“We need it. You and I. We’re going to go west ourselves, the two of us.”
CHAPTER 2
Amanda’s mouth fell open at her sister’s statement. “That has got to be the most—” She fluttered a hand in speechless futility. “I’m surprised that even you could say such a dumb thing!”
Sarah Jane flinched and lowered her gaze.
Amanda knew her younger sister considered her pessimistic and staid, a stick-in-the-mud person, one who rarely gave the girl credit for having a sensible thought in her little blond head. But with both Pa and Mama gone and no one else left to them in this world, the crushing weight of responsibility Amanda felt made it almost impossible to temper her words. It was high time Sarah started acting more like the young woman she was than the little girl she still wished to be.
“It isn’t dumb,” Sarah said evenly. “Surely you can see this town is not a fit place for two unchaperoned girls. We left Pennsylvania to begin a new life out west, didn’t we? Well, now that we’ve started in that direction, I think we should keep going.”
Amanda could scarcely breathe. She stared toward the parted curtain panels, where the glow from outside cast silver outlines on the roofs across the street and glazed the edges of the furniture in the hotel room. She released a despondent huff and flopped back down on her pillow. “I just don’t know. I truly don’t.”
Sarah, the contours of her slight body shrouded in blue-violet shadows and blankets, remained silent for a long moment as her tapered finger tapped the counterpane. “I picked some spring flowers today and took them out to Pa’s grave. And something inside of me made me start singing—you know how he always loved my singing.”
An inner smile struggled for release, but Amanda managed to contain it as her sister went on.
“Anyway, when my song was done, I asked him what we should do, where we should go. He always did give the best advice. And it came to me—as if Pa had said it himself—the wagon is bought and paid for. It has everything we need to go west just like we would have if he hadn’t passed on. The least we can do is to try to see that dream of his through. He would want us to. We owe it to him.”
Amanda didn’t respond for several moments as her sister’s preposterous notion warred in her mind. She gave a shaky sigh. “Know what really scares me?”
“Hm?”
“You could be right. I don’t see any other choice for us at the moment. No matter where we go, we’re going to be alone. We’ve got no one to go back to, and I sure don’t want to settle in a place like this, full of ruffians and drifters.” She paused again in deep thought. “If we did go west the way Pa wanted—and I’m not altogether sure we should, mind you—maybe it would feel like a part of him would be with us.” She paused. “We might just find a good new life for ourselves. Those new woodworking tools of his could provide the resources we need for a while. Maybe even enable us to open a shop of our own in Oregon.”
“What kind of shop?”
Unexpectedly, with the decision to go not actually settled yet, a feasible possibility came to mind. “If there’s one worthwhile thing Maddie managed to teach us, it was how to use a needle. Think about it. More flocks of people are heading west all the time. And they’ll all be in need of clothes. They’ll have their hands so full trying to clear land and build homes before the onset of winter there won’t be much time for less needful things, like sewing.”
“Yes!” A growing excitement colored Sarah’s breathless voice. “That’s a grand idea. Truly grand! And we wouldn’t have to wait to settle somewhere before we got started. We could buy some bolts of dry goods right here in Independence, then one of us could ride in back and sew bonnets and aprons and baby things while the other drove.”
“Maybe. It’s just a thought.” Amanda, feeling the first flickers of doubt after her initial enthusiasm, needed time to ponder the idea before making a definite commitment that would alter their lives forever. Then she tossed caution to the wind. “I’ll get in touch with the wagon master and make the arrangements to go with the train as planned.”
Sarah Jane’s teeth glistened like pearls in her wide grin, and Amanda couldn’t help wondering what sort of unpredictable hopes and dreams were taking shape in her sister’s imaginings. It would be one huge chore keeping the flighty girl in check during a long westward journey.
Nevertheless, in that brief instant, Amanda felt a tiny bit of Sarah’s optimism course through her being, accompanied by an uncharacteristic surge of adventure. Maybe for once in her life Sarah was actually right. Heading west would be far better than letting sadness and grief defeat them… and besides, if they really put their minds to it, perhaps they truly could make a good life out there. A small smile tugged at her lips as she relaxed and closed her eyes, sloughing off the guilt from not having sought God’s guidance in the matter.
Early the next morning, the crowing of the rooster out back awakened Amanda. The curtain of night had barely begun to lift, spreading a band of thin light outward from the eastern sky. She checked over her shoulder to see Sarah still in deep slumber. It was an opportune time to talk things over with the Lord.
Reaching for her flannel wrap, Amanda slipped her arms into it and tied the belt snugly, then knelt beside the bed. Dear heavenly Father, she prayed silently, desperately, I don’t really know what to pray. Nothing has happened the way we expected it to since we three came to Independence. And now with Pa gone, Sarah and I have nowhere to turn. We can’t go back to the home we used to know, and it’s a fact this town is not a fit place for us to settle. We’ve decided to see to Pa’s wish and go west.
She paused to gather her thoughts. In truth, I don’t know how we’ll manage this long journey alone, since neither of us is used to doing for ourselves. Back home we had Maddie to cook and keep things nice while we girls wiled away our time in what I admit now were frivolous pursuits. But we’re strong and healthy, and we can learn. I know that for certain. Please go with us on our way. Grant us wisdom and courage, and stay close to us in the weeks ahead.
When there were no words lef
t inside, she rose and crawled back into the warm bed again for a few more minutes of sleep, thankful for the blankets that chased away the chill of the early hour. She would have liked to have more inner peace over her decision, but perhaps that would come in time. Pa always said a person’s steps were ordered by the Lord, and circumstances had all but forced this plan upon them. Surely it had to be God’s will. Determined, she pressed her lips together and closed her heavy eyelids as peace settled over her like a quilt of down.
A short time later, Amanda awoke again to full morning brightness. She dressed in her best navy worsted dress, confident that the tailored fit and fashionable sleeves made her look older than her twenty years. After twisting her long hair into a neat figure-eight coil at the nape of her neck, she added her Sunday bonnet, tying a stylish bow just beneath her chin.
“You look divine,” Sarah Jane gushed. “Ever so grown-up and important.”
“I’m trying very hard to convince myself I feel important,” she confessed. “Let’s go have breakfast, and then I’ll try to locate the man Pa made the arrangements with.”
At Martha’s Eatery, a bustling restaurant popular with trail guides and mountain men alike, Seth Holloway shoved the empty plate away and leaned back in the chair, unfolding his cramped legs. He glanced across the table at rusty-haired Red Hanfield, his partner and longtime friend. “I had word that the O’Bradys pulled into town this morning. That’s the last family we’ve been waiting for. I’ll see they have all their supplies so we can head out day after tomorrow. You ride point with the first wagons this time, and I’ll follow along with the cow column.”
The Brides of the Old West: Five Romantic Adventures from the American Frontier Page 40
