“They make friends so fast, don’t they, Patrick?”
“Yes, they do,” Patrick said. He watched fondly as the young people talked and moved out to explore the forest that surrounded the small winding road. “I think we ought to offer to share what we have with some of the others.” A frown crossed his face, and he shook his head. “We have so much more than some of them do. I don’t see how they’re going to make it.”
Some of the settlers had practically nothing, while the MacNeals had filled their wagon to capacity with an abundance of goods and food.
“I think I’ll go over and see if Mary and I can share the meal. I like the Smiths so much.”
Elizabeth took some of their supplies to the Smith wagon, and soon the two women had a meal going. The group broke off into smaller ones, and the food was shared all around.
Hawk sat down beside Sequatchie, the two of them keeping a watch ahead. “I don’t expect any trouble this soon,” Hawk said, “but it doesn’t hurt to keep a lookout. I think you’d better ride ahead when we start again and scout for a good place to camp for the night.”
“Yes, that would be good.” Sequatchie watched the people as they laughed and talked. “By the time we get there, some of that laughter will be out of them. It’s going to be a hard trip. They have no idea how cruel the wilderness can be sometimes.” His eyes fell on the young woman Rhoda Harper, who sat off by herself. He had observed Hawk speaking to her the previous day and asked, “You know the woman? The one who came alone?”
“I met her years ago back in Williamsburg.”
“Pretty woman. Maybe she will make a fine wife for you.”
“I don’t think so,” Hawk said. Nevertheless, his eyes went to Rhoda, who was sitting in the shade of a group of tall hickory trees. She was eating something and drinking out of a jug, and he wondered aloud, “I can’t figure out what she’s doing. Not quite right for a woman to travel alone into the wilderness.”
“She will find a man there. She’s a good strong woman and will make some man a fine wife.”
Hawk gave Sequatchie a quick look, but there was an impassive expression on the Cherokee’s face that revealed nothing. “You’d make a good poker player, Sequatchie,” he said. “When you put on that poker face of yours I can’t tell what you’re thinking.” Hawk rose and walked around, checking the stock. He came to one of the families that he was concerned about. He hadn’t met the people yet, but something about them had disturbed him. Their equipment was falling apart, and he knew it would never make it through the rough terrain all the way to the Watauga. The man was leaning up against the wagon wheel, and he rose as Hawk came up. “My name’s Hawk Spencer,” he said.
“I’m Zeke Taylor. This is my wife, Iris, and my girl, Amanda.” Zeke Taylor was not a tall man, standing under five nine. He was unkempt, with dark brown hair and a scraggly beard. His eyes were dark brown but appeared almost black, and he was overweight, with a paunch that came from too much eating and not enough hard work. Still, he appeared to be strong, for he had thick shoulders and a deep chest.
“Glad to know you, Taylor.” Hawk took off his cap and bowed to Iris Taylor, who was not over five two. She appeared rather frail, and her blue eyes were dull. She glanced at her husband, and Hawk saw the fear in her look, although Taylor had said nothing.
Amanda Taylor was already as tall as her mother, although she was no more than eleven. She had her mother’s dark hair, long and straight, and her father’s brown eyes, and was far too slender. She glanced shyly at Hawk, then dropped her eyes.
“I’m afraid that team of yours isn’t going to make it all the way to Watauga, Taylor,” Hawk said. He walked around and put his hand on the lean withers of the sorry-looking animal and shook his head. “I think you better trade for a better team before we get too far into the wilderness.”
“I reckon I can handle my own business, Spencer.”
Hawk turned quickly, and his eyes narrowed. There was an arrogance in the man that he had spotted earlier. He saw also that Mrs. Taylor and the child were terrified. Hawk did not like pressure from any man, but he was in no mood for a fight. He knew from the defiant look on Taylor’s face that he would be told nothing. Hawk started to say something else, but once again the frightened look of the woman and child deterred him. “If I can be of any help to you, let me know,” he said pleasantly, then turned and walked away.
As he moved along, he stopped at Jed Smith’s wagon, and Smith said, “I don’t think you met these two fellers—William Bean’s brothers-in-law. This is George, and this is John.” George Russell was a tall, handsome man with dark hair and eyes and a ready grin.
“Glad to know you, Hawk,” he said.
“Glad to know you, George. Have you been in the woods a lot?”
“Quite a bit,” George said. “I’ve been kind of a wanderin’ man.”
“He stayed home,” John Russell said, “until his wife passed, and then he just took off to the woods.”
Hawk’s eyes went at once to George Russell. “I reckon I know what that’s like,” he said quietly. “We can use good woodsmen, though.”
John Russell was forty-two, thickset, with brown eyes and hair. He nodded shortly and said, “This here is my wife, Leah.”
Leah was John Russell’s second wife, as Hawk discovered later. She looked half his age, which she was, at twenty-one. She had hazel eyes that contrasted sharply with her black hair. She was a very pretty girl, and somewhat of a flirt, as Hawk discerned almost at once. “How do you do, Mr. Hawk,” she said, smiling at him and turning her head to one side. “We’re glad to have an experienced scout like you to get us safe where we’re goin’.”
John said, “These are my young’uns. That’s Tom. He’s fifteen, and Dake is thirteen. Lelah there, she’s ten, and Morene, she’s three.”
All of the children were blond and had blue eyes, completely unlike John Russell. Quickly Hawk decided they must have looked like their mother. “Fine-looking family you got here, John,” he said.
“How long do you think it’ll take before we get to the Watauga?”
“Hard to say. If there were just men on horseback it wouldn’t take too long, but with wagons and some of the stock in pretty poor condition”—his eyes ran over to the Taylor outfit—“and then, of course, we’re tied to the slowest in the train. We’ll just have to take it as it comes.”
“I’ve done a little scoutin’, in my day,” George Russell said. “Maybe I can be a little help there.”
“That’d be right good, George. As a matter of fact, you can ride ahead with Sequatchie. He’s going to scout out a good spot for tonight.”
“Are you expectin’ trouble?” Russell asked.
“No, not this close to the settlements. Still, you never can tell. Don’t let the children wander away from the train. All it takes is one lone Indian to bring a lot of grief.”
Hawk walked away and George Russell said, “You know, I think he’s a pretty talented fella.”
“I believe you’re right, George,” John Russell agreed. He turned to Leah, and his eyes narrowed, for she was still staring at the tall man as he walked away. “Why don’t you feed those kids, Leah?”
Quickly Leah Russell turned and said, “Come along. We’ll finish eating, and you can help me reload the wagon.”
Soon the wagons were rolling again. It was a long day, and when the sun cast shadows across the road, Hawk rode back and signaled for everyone to pull up and make camp. Those who were not used to such methods of travel were exhausted, and Hawk said to George Russell and Sequatchie, “Well, they’ll settle down to business now.”
“How many miles did we make today?”
“About twelve or fifteen, maybe. Not too bad with this big of a train. But it’ll slow down when we leave this good road.”
George looked at the rutted road and grinned. “You call this a good road?”
“The best you’ll see.” Hawk nodded. “When we get to no road at all, we’ll have to leave the wag
ons behind and pack in what we can. Some of these wagons won’t even make it that far.”
The smoke of cooking fires soon filled the camp, but Rhoda had pulled some cold beef out of the sack that she had on her packhorse. She was about to begin to eat when a woman came over to her and spoke. Rhoda had noticed her before—her clothes were fine and new—and Rhoda felt wary.
“My name is Elizabeth MacNeal. I know your name—it’s Rhoda Harper. I was there when you came in.”
“I’m glad to know you,” Rhoda said shortly.
“We’ve got a long way to go, haven’t we, Rhoda?”
“I guess so. A fair piece.”
“I’ve got supper started, but I wish you’d come over and help me. I’m not much of a cook, you see. I’d take it as a favor.”
Rhoda knew instantly that this was an overture of friendship, that the woman probably didn’t actually need help.
“I wouldn’t want to put you out,” she said.
“Oh, I’m serious.” Elizabeth smiled and added, “I might as well tell you the truth. I think before this trip is over, we’re all going to be better acquainted. But the truth is, well, I come from a well-to-do family. I’ve not done that much cooking in my life.” She laughed and held her hands out. “Look.”
Rhoda reached out in the twilight and touched the woman’s palms. They were indeed soft and smooth, and Rhoda looked up with astonishment. “They’re so soft! You ain’t done much work, have you?”
“No! I tried to cook this morning, and all I did was burn everything or serve it raw. Can you cook, Rhoda?”
“Yes, I’m a good cook.”
“Please come over and help us then. I want you to meet my family. I need a friend, you see. We all do. None of us know much about the wilderness.”
Rhoda hesitated. The woman obviously did not know about her background. If she knew what I was, then she wouldn’t be asking me. Nevertheless, remembering Elizabeth had said, I’d take it as a great favor, she nodded and walked over to the MacNeals’ wagon.
“Patrick, this is Rhoda Harper. You remember, she rode in yesterday? She’s going to teach me how to cook! Isn’t that fine?”
“Well, Miss Harper. I’d be indebted to you forever.” He winked at Rhoda broadly, saying, “If somebody doesn’t teach Elizabeth how to cook, I’m afraid we’ll all die of starvation.”
Rhoda took an instant liking to the tall red-haired man. “I really don’t know much, but I’ve cooked a heap.” She turned and said, “Are these your young’uns?”
“Yes. This is Sarah, and this is Andrew.”
Sarah, always bold, came up and asked at once, “Have you got any children, Miss Rhoda?”
“No.” Rhoda shook her head. “Haven’t even been able to catch a husband.”
Sarah reached up and took her hand confidently. “You will.” She turned and said, “Mama, you can tell her how to catch a husband. You caught Papa, didn’t you?”
“I certainly did,” Elizabeth said, laughing. “And I’ll be glad to give you all the tips I can, Rhoda. Come on now and give me my first cooking lesson.”
It was an unusual experience for Rhoda Harper. She was shocked that the family accepted her so readily. They were, indeed, ignorant of the wilderness, she saw, and knew absolutely nothing about rough living. She herself was used to such hardship, and she quickly organized the meal and found Elizabeth to be an attentive student, despite the fact that she obviously knew little about cooking.
“Oh, I’ll never learn!” Elizabeth said as she dropped the frying pan into the fire.
“Oh yes, you’ll learn!” Rhoda said with encouragement. Finally the meal was finished and they sat down, and Rhoda started to eat. However, she stopped abruptly when the family all joined hands. Sarah was sitting next to her, and she reached out her hand for Rhoda’s. Rhoda took it, not knowing what was happening. Then she saw them all bow their heads as Patrick MacNeal started to pray.
“Our Father, we thank you for your mercies, for your goodness, for this food. Thank you for this guest, and we pray that you would bless her life. And we ask it in the name of Jesus. Amen.”
Somehow, those few simple words went straight to Rhoda’s heart. The confident grasp of Sarah’s hand on hers brought a warmth to her, and for the first time in a long while tears came to her eyes. She lowered her head quickly, then turned to one side and dashed the tears away, hoping that no one saw.
The children chattered away, and Rhoda kept waiting for one of the MacNeals to ask her about herself, but they did not. Finally, it was time to go to bed, and Rhoda cleaned up the dishes while Elizabeth put the children into the wagon.
When Elizabeth came back and sat down, she took some of the coffee that Rhoda had made and sighed. “I’m so tired. I don’t think I can stand up, and this is just the first day. Rhoda, I wish I were as hearty as you.”
Rhoda knew then that she had to tell the truth. She held the coffee mug in her hand and listened to the murmuring of voices from the other campfires. “I guess you don’t know about me,” she said.
Both the MacNeals looked at her, and Elizabeth said, “Why, no. Except you’re a good cook, and we’re glad to have you with us.”
“You won’t be when I tell you who I am.” Rhoda saw surprise come to the eyes of the couple, and she said, “I’ve been a tavern girl most of my life. I reckon you know what that means?” She waved her hand at the others. “Two or three of them know already what I am . . . and the way people talk, before we get very far, everybody will know.” She put the coffee cup down and said, “I thank you for the food, but I don’t suppose you’d better be havin’ anything to do with the likes of me.” She shook her head and said, “It won’t help your reputation.”
Instantly Elizabeth came to her feet. She crossed to where Rhoda stood and—to the woman’s absolute astonishment—put her arms around her, kissed her, and said, “You sit right down there, Rhoda Harper!” Forcing Rhoda to sit, she took a position beside her and said, “I don’t ever want to hear anything like that again from you! Whatever you’ve been is not our business. I can see you’re kind, and that’s what counts. I want us to be friends.”
“I’d take it kindly if you would be a friend to my wife, Rhoda,” Patrick said. “A woman needs a friend. I’ve taken Elizabeth out of all she knew, and it’s going to be hard for her. She’s going to need all the encouragement she can get.”
Once again tears stung Rhoda’s eyes. She dropped her head and stared at the fire. It crackled, and a log broke and sent showers of red and orange sparks into the air. Far off an owl hooted its haunting cry. Rhoda lifted her eyes. The MacNeals watched her with a kindness in their expression that she hadn’t thought possible.
After a moment Rhoda said, “I’d be pleased to have you for friends, but folks won’t think the more of you for it. I’m nothing but a tavern wench, and that’s the truth of it.”
“No more of that!” Elizabeth said. “Now, you come over and make your bed close to us. You’re traveling with us all the way to the Watauga.”
****
Once again, Hawk roused the train while stars still spangled the skies. They cooked a quick breakfast, and Hawk and Sequatchie were invited to breakfast with the MacNeals. The two men sat down and ate, and Hawk said nothing about the presence of Rhoda Harper. As he sipped his coffee, he said, “You’re a good cook, Mrs. MacNeal.”
“Oh, call me Elizabeth . . . and I’m not a good cook at all. Rhoda cooked this. All I do is burn my fingers and drop the meat in the fire!”
Sarah giggled and said, “That’s right, Hawk, but Rhoda’s going to teach Mama to cook, and Mama’s gonna teach Rhoda how to catch a husband.”
Rhoda flushed, and Elizabeth said, “Sarah! Will you hush and never say anything like that again! I’m sorry, Rhoda,” she said, “but Sarah’s just impossible!”
“It’s all right, Elizabeth,” Rhoda said. She looked up and met Hawk’s smiling eyes, and a look of understanding passed between them. She wondered how a godly family like the Mac
Neals could take in a woman like herself, with her reputation.
Hawk looked at Patrick and said, “How’d you decide to go across the mountains?” he asked.
Patrick spoke with enthusiasm, giving him an abbreviated version of the family history. He ended by saying, “I know this doesn’t sound sensible, but as I told you before, I think God has led us on this trip.”
“Well, Paul Anderson agrees with you.” Rhoda’s ears perked up. She had heard that Paul was part of the entourage, but she hadn’t had an opportunity to speak with him.
“It’s good to have a minister on the train. I haven’t met him yet.”
“He’s going to preach tonight,” Sequatchie said. “Preach the gospel from the Bible.”
“Oh, that’ll be wonderful!” Elizabeth said. She saw that Rhoda looked downcast, then added brightly, “Is it a Christian community, Hawk?”
“Like every place else,” Hawk said. “Some are Christians, and some aren’t.”
“What about yourself, Hawk? Are you a Christian man?”
Sequatchie glanced covertly at his friend and listened for his answer. It came about as he expected. “My parents are the best Christians I’ve ever known,” Hawk said quietly. “But I don’t reckon I can say that I have faith, even though I once did.” He did not speak for a while, and then he said, “I suppose I’m a lot like that brother-in-law of William Bean’s, George Russell. He lost his wife and did about what I did—just left and went out to the woods.”
“Well, I’m sorry about your wife,” Elizabeth said. “It’s hard to lose one we love. But you know the last thing my father said to me when I left?” She grew meditative and said, “He’s not in good health, and it’s unlikely that we’ll ever meet again in this world. That was so painful for me.” She reached out and took Patrick’s hand and squeezed it. She continued softly, her voice barely audible. “He said, ‘Christians never say good-bye.’ Isn’t that wonderful?”
Over the Misty Mountains Page 23
