But his head moved closer, until his lips brushed hers. “You’re so beautiful, sweet Sarah. I could spend my whole life drawing you, painting you. You could become famous right along with me.”
Though the last was said in a jesting tone, his previous remarks had been anything but so. Uncomfortable, she drew away. Mixed emotions—confusing emotions—rushed through her being. “But we’re friends.. Neither of us knows for sure where our paths will lead at the end of this trip.”
Alvin’s expression did not alter a whit. “It’s afterward I’m thinking about, Sarah. You, me, the two of us. Forever. I won’t be a pauper when we reach Oregon, you know, unlike most folks. I’ll have a lot to offer… and I want you to think about that.” He took one of her hands in his and pressed it to his lips.
Sarah searched his eyes, afraid to utter the question closest to her innermost longings. How could she ask something so deeply intimate as whether or not he ever wanted children?
She didn’t know him well enough yet—and she wasn’t sure she truly wanted more than friendship from him… now or ever.
Gently she pulled her fingers from his grasp. “I—I—” But words failed her. She turned and ran blindly for the wagon.
“Sure is a pleasant evening,” Jared said.
Amanda, walking by his side, could only agree as she drank in the star-dusted night sky, the warm lantern glow from the many rooms and buildings of the fort. She smiled after Bethany and Tad, who were skipping ahead of them. “Everyone’s so happy to have their barrels refilled. And to rest, I might add.”
He nodded, and his gaze returned to his children. “‘They’re a lot happier, too. Thanks to you… and your sister.”
Something in Jared’s tone sounded an alarm in Amanda. She moistened her lips. “Well, the whole train was eager to lend a hand—” she began.
“But no one did, except you.”
Amanda felt an inward shiver and drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders.
“They’re almost their old selves, now,” he went on. “The way they used to be.”
Determined to keep the conversation casual, Amanda responded only generally. “It’s nice to see them smiling.”
“I sure don’t have to tell you they think a lot of you, Amanda. And so do—”
“I think we should head back now, Jared. don’t you?” she blurted. “Bethy! Tad! Time to go.” Grabbing them one by one in a hug as they ran to her, Amanda turned them around and pointed them toward the clustered wagons. “March.”
“Like soldiers?” Tad asked. “Yes, sir!” Immediately he straightened to his full height and puffed out his chest. “Hup, two, three, four… hup, two, three, four.”
A giggling Bethany did her best to mimic her older brother’s longer strides. The effect was enchantingly comical.
Grateful for the lightened mood. Amanda picked up the pace to discourage further conversation. This night she would be spending more time than usual at her prayers.
“Ah! Some real, actual rest. At long last.” Red yawned and straightened his legs as he leaned against the wheel of the supply wagon and crossed his arms. “Let somebody else do the lookin’ out, for a change.” He tugged his hat over his eyes.
In no mood to make small talk, Seth only grimaced. The rowdy music was giving him a headache. Above the camp smells he could detect rain coming. And he detested wasting travel time when early snow could close the mountain passes.
His pal plucked the hat away and leaned his head to peer at him. “Boy, you sure do have a burr under your saddle.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Oh, nothin’. ‘Cept, you ain’t said a word for the last three hundred miles or so, that’s all.”
“Nothing to say.”
Red nodded, a lopsided smirk pulling his mustache off-kilter.
“Look. Do me a favor, will you?” Seth rasped. “If you want to talk about trail hazards or the trip in general or the storm that’s coming, go ahead. We’ll plan accordingly. Otherwise, clamp those jaws of yours shut and give me some peace.”
“Right, boss. Will do.” With a mock salute, Red replaced his hat over his eyes and nose and resumed his relaxed pose.
A pair of pregnant minutes ticked by.
The hat fell to Red’s lap. “Er, get the letter that was waitin’ for you?”
Seth slanted him a glare.
“I just asked. None of my business, I know. Even if it was wrote by a woman. Same last name as yours, I noticed.”
Releasing a lungful of air all at once, Seth lurched to his feet, whacking dust off the seat of his britches.
Red jumped up, too, and grabbed Seth’s sleeve. “Hey, buddy, I ain’t pryin’.”
“Oh really?”
“Sure. Your brother’s got the same last name, too. Figure it must be from her. That wife of his.”
“So?”
“So nothin’. Figure you know what you’re doin’.” He rubbed his mouth. “Just hope you’re not foolin’ around with—”
Seth’s fist sent his partner sprawling backward in the dust. Immediately he regretted the hasty act and leaned over to help Red up. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. And I’m not.”
Kneading his jaw and working it back and forth, Red shrugged and gave a nod. “Didn’t really think you were.” He smirked again. “You really hated that woman Andrew married, didn’t you?”
“Hated her?” Seth looked him straight in the eye. “On the contrary, pal. I was in love with her, but she refused me.” Turning, he left Red gaping after him as he walked away.
CHAPTER 15
Ten exhausting days after leaving Fort Laramie, the wagon train labored up and down the slopes of the Black Hills, where sweet-scented herbs and pungent sage permeated the air. Mountain cherry, currants, and tangles of wild roses lay against brushstrokes of blue flax, larkspur, and tulips. Game was prevalent, and solitary buffalo bulls roamed the ravines of terrain so rough it tested even the most recent wagon repairs, to say nothing of the most rested soul. Trudging a little off to one side while Sarah Jane took a turn driving, Amanda observed for the first time how rickety most of the rigs appeared. Even their own prairie schooner, once so new and sleek against the more clumsy Conestogas, showed the same deterioration. Hardly a wheel in the company was without a wedge or two hammered between it and the rim to fill gaps in the shrinking wood. Canvas tops above the rattling, creaking wagons were stained with grease and dust and bore patches or gaping holes from hail and wind. Animals that had begun the journey hale and hearty now appeared jaded and bony… and ahead lay even rougher country. So many, many miles yet to cover.
“Mandy?” Sarah barely paused. “What do you think of Alvin?’”
“He’s quite nice-looking,” Amanda fudged, then ventured further. “He has very gentlemanly manners, shows definite artistic talent, and will be quite rich someday, from what you’ve told me.”
“Yes. That’s true. All of it.”
“Why do you ask?” With sadness Amanda skirted a child’s rocking horse that had been discarded by someone up ahead.
“I was just wondering.”
“Has he… I mean, has he done something… ungentlemanly?”
Sarah shook her head. “No. But he’s beginning to care. For me.” Her voice vibrated with the jouncing of the seat.
The news did not come as much of a surprise, considering all the time the two had spent in each other’s company. Glancing at her sister, Amanda expected to see a hint of excitement—even happiness—in her expression, yet Sarah seemed glum. Amanda could only pray that her sibling’s trust in men would not be shattered as her own had been. “What about you, Sissy?”
Sarah’s gaze drifted away, and she smiled. “He does meet a lot of the qualifications I set out when we first started this journey, doesn’t he? He is rich. He is quite handsome.”
“But?”
The smile wilted.
“I couldn’t help but notice you seemed to be avoiding him, at Fort Laramie, while you spent more time with Bet
hany and Tad.”
“I… needed time. To think.”
Amanda could see her sister’s unrest. “Tonight at camp we’ll pray about things. Together, like we used to. Would you like that?”
Sarah only nodded.
After Amanda fell asleep, Sarah Jane eased off the pallet. The sudden absence of its comforting warmth became even more apparent as the chill of night crept around her. Shivering, she shook out an extra blanket and wrapped it about herself, lit a small candle, and opened her journal.
Dear Diary,
It’s been days and days since last I visited with you. The rest at Fort Laramie did wonders for both people and animals. A hard rain made the river too swift to cross, so our departure was delayed an extra day. The upper crossing of the North Platte, however, was without mishap, thanks to the Mormon ferry… eight dugout canoes with logs laid across the tops—an effective, if flimsy, method of transport.
Now, heading into the mountains, the land is bleak and barren. Things that appear green in the distance turn out to be only dry sand and rock, sprinkled with stunted clumps of sage and greasewood.
It makes me sad whenever we pass castoff treasures along the trails but folks are trying to ease the burden on the animals lumbering so earnestly in this upward climb. We’ve been examining our own meager stores, wondering what we might be able to do without, should our mules begin to falter.
I pray we all make it through this rough section of country, so full of ravines and treacherous slopes. Progress sometimes slows to a point that tempers flare at the least provocation, and the men remain on their guard for rattlesnakes and other wild animals.
Tapping her pencil against her chin in thought, Sarah frowned. Then, after a short pause, she continued writing.
Alvin has expressed a desire for some kind of commitment from me, but I’ve managed to put him off, suggesting we remain friends for a while longer. I always thought wealth was important, along with one’s outward appearance… But now such things seem trivial. Especially in the face of true loss and real struggle, like poor Bethy and Tad endure every day. I feel a little guilty about hiding behind those little ones, though, while I try to decipher my true feelings regarding Alvin. Mr. Hill seems greatly appreciative of any thoughtfulness shown to his children. He’s quite a sensitive man—and ever so much more mature than Alvin. I—
She stopped writing and nibbled at her lip, trying to put her feelings on paper. Then she erased the last word.
Two of the hard days following the ferrying of the river were made all the more loathsome by scummy water, alkali springs, choking dust, and the putrid stench of animal carcasses lying in gruesome little pools of poisonous water. Then came a hideous stretch of deformed rock strata that tore relentlessly at hooves, boots, and wheels.
Finally, to everyone’s relief, the valley of the Sweetwater River came in sight, with its easier grades, fine water, and grass to be enjoyed for more than a week’s travel. Cheers again rang out when the huge bulk of Independence Rock loomed on the distant horizon.
“We’ll be there to celebrate July Fourth, Mandy,” Sarah Jane exclaimed. “Right on time.”
Amanda nodded. No one appreciated rest days more than she. Of all the recent tortures—steaming marshes, odorous sulphur springs, and the like—most horrendous had been the huge crawling crickets that crunched sickeningly beneath wheels and boots for a seemingly endless stretch of miles. Each day took increased effort to remain optimistic for Sarah’s sake, while inwardly her feelings were anything but pleasant. Surmising that other women appeared to have things so much easier than she, with men to drive the wagons and look after repairs and animals, Amanda gritted her teeth, fighting feelings of jealousy and self-pity.
“…so I said to him—” Sarah stepped closer to the wagon. “You’re not even listening to me, are you?”
“Hm?”
“Oh, never mind. Do you feel all right, Mandy? You look flushed.”
“I’m fine. Fine!” At her own uncharacteristic outburst, Amanda watched the scenery blur behind a curtain of tears.
“No, you’re not. You’re not fine at all.”
Even Sarah’s voice sounded faint, sort of fuzzy as she scrambled aboard. “You need to go lie down in back. I’ll take over.”
You can’t. I’m the oldest. The one in charge. But the words wouldn’t come out. In a wave of dizziness, Amanda relinquished the reins without a fuss and nearly toppled off the seat. She crawled back to the pallet. The rumble and rattle of the wheels made her head pound and pound…
Voices. Everywhere. Loud and laughing. Noise. Too much noise. And it was hot, so hot… or cold. How could one shiver so much when it was hot? Why couldn’t the world just stop and be still? There had to be quiet somewhere. Where was Oregon? All a body really needed was peace and quiet, a place to rest. To sleep.
“Do you think she’ll be all right?” Sarah looked anxiously to Mrs. Randolph, hating the waver in her own voice as she peered down again at Amanda’s flushed face. At least her sister had stopped thrashing about and now appeared to be sleeping peacefully.
“Right as rain, soon enough,” came the soothing reply. “Poor child’s plumb exhausted, that’s what. She’s been workin’ herself near to death, always doin’, doin’, never takin’ time to be young.”
“It’s my fault,” Sarah moaned miserably. “I’ve let her carry the whole load this entire journey. Now I’m being punished. What if—”
“Don’t even think such nonsense,” the older woman chided. She removed the wet cloth from Amanda’s brow and rinsed it out in cool water before replacing it again. “Your sister’s a person who takes responsibility serious, is all. She likes makin’ it easy for you, seein’ you having fun with the others. It makes her happy.”
The truth of the statement only made Sarah feel worse. “And I was only too glad to run off and leave everything to her—even after declaring I’d help out more. I hate myself.”
“Now, now.” Mrs. Randolph patted Sarah’s arm. “These days of rest here at Independence Rock will do her a world of good, you’ll see. And when we’re on the road again, she’ll perk right up, wantin’ to take over. See if she don’t.”
“I hope you’re right. Mandy’s all I’ve got left in this world. I’m sure not about to give her up!”
“Well, I’ll be bringin’ some broth by in a little while. See if you can get her to take some.” With a nod, their kindly neighbor took her leave.
Sarah took Amanda’s limp hand in hers and softly massaged it, praying she would open her eyes, be herself again… her dear strong Mandy, who was everything she wished to be herself. Confident, independent, capable… A rush of tears threatened to spill over, until a shuffling at the rear of the wagon brought her emotions back in check.
A voice cleared, and a familiar face peered through the back opening. “How’s the patient?”
“Doing better, Mr. Holloway,” Sarah answered. “Resting comfortably now.”
He nodded and his expression appeared to relax. “Well, if you need anything, let me know.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind. I will.”
More visitors came by throughout the day, one by one. Jared Hill, Alvin, Ma Pruett, all of them speaking in quiet voices.
Even Bethany tapped gently on the side of the wagon, her smudged face scrunched with concern. “I brought Miss Amanda some flowers,” she whispered, clutching a raggedy bouquet in her hands. The stems were too short to put in water.
Sarah accepted the offering with a gracious smile. “Thank you, sweetheart. She’ll just love them when she wakes up.”
“Papa said I can’t stay, so I’d best go now.”
Sending her off with a hug, Sarah felt comforted and hopeful. Maybe she and Mandy had a family after all, one given to them by God. She bowed her head in a prayer of thanks.
“So I missed the whole celebration,” Amanda said in amazement as the train meandered past the spectacular slash in the granite mountains known as Devil’s Gate, heading toward
Split Rock and the much-anticipated Ice Slough folks were eager to see, still a few days hence.
At the reins, her sister nodded. “Fireworks, gunshots, the raising of the flag, everything! I’d have thought the racket would have disturbed you.”
“I never heard it. Any of it! Sorry I was such a bother.”
“You weren’t. You earned that rest—I’m just sorry you had to get sick to get it!”
“Well, I’m better now. Did you get to climb the rock, at least?”
Sarah’s smile held a hint of guilt. “Actually, when I saw you were doing all right, I did go up with some of the others while Mrs. Randolph stayed with you. Alvin took a pot of axle grease along and wrote his name and mine together for all the world to see. Do you believe that?” She giggled. “When he went with Jason to catch the view from the far side, I added a few other names to the list. By the time we left to come back down, the list read, ‘Jason and Alvin and Sarah Jane and Amanda and Mary Katharine, Bethany, and Tad.’ Alvin never noticed.”
Amanda couldn’t help laughing. She adjusted her shawl over her warm coat as they rode in mountain air crisp with pine and the sweet perfume of wildflowers. Tomorrow she would either walk or drive to spare the mules, but today it did feel good to ride—even on the hard, springless seat. She just wished she hadn’t missed the festivities at Independence Rock.
“You sure had a lot of visitors while you were sick.”
“Oh?”
Sarah guided the team around a fallen log. “Mrs. Randolph, of course, was a godsend. She was the one who knew it wasn’t cholera, just exhaustion, and was a great encouragement to me. She made you that good broth.”
“Sounds just like her. She’s a dear.”
“And then Jared Hill came, and Alvin, and Ma Pruett. Bethy picked the sweetest flowers and brought them to you. Even the wagon master checked on you.”
The Brides of the Old West: Five Romantic Adventures from the American Frontier Page 50
