Journey of Honor A love story

by Jaclyn M. Hawkes

  Dog growled again and Giselle laughed softly. “Dog doesn’t.” She yawned, sighed against him, and closed her eyes again. “Maybe they got mixed up and sang us awake instead of to sleep.”

  Trace smiled into the dark. “Maybe.”

  They camped the next night beside a beautiful, clear stream. Josiah left as soon as the wagons had stopped and walked up the stream bank and out of sight. That night, after dinner was cleaned up, he gave the women their shawls and took Petja and Giselle out of camp for a walk.

  Once out of hearing of the others, he told them that he’d found a place where he could baptize Petja. They continued on, and at length they got to the place where Giselle finally got to see her grandfather baptize his dear wife. They were only in their white underclothing, but it was a sweet and sacred experience that had Giselle in tears once again. She struggled to have her emotions well in hand again before they made it back to camp, and Trace only looked at her for a few minutes without saying anything when she came to bed.

  Within a few days of leaving Chimney Rock, they pulled the wagon train to a camp site outside of Fort Laramie. They were planning to camp there for a day or two before moving on. Once things were set up, most of the teamsters headed into the settlement and Josiah and the two women went in as well. There were a few things they were hoping they could buy there, but mostly they just wanted to see real people and buildings. It felt like it had been years since Giselle had seen civilization.

  At the trading post she bought fabric to make a couple of new dresses that would accommodate her tummy that was getting distinctly thicker although, so far, she had tried to hide it. Maybe as they rode she could sew. And she bought candy. She had always had a sweet tooth, and she had missed candy this last couple of months. On a whim, she bought some for Trace and Mose and some that her grandparents loved as well.

  Watching her sweet grandparents visit with some other settlers in the store, she was so glad for them. She knew they were both friendly by nature and loved this sort of thing.

  Two days later when both of them came down sick, she wasn’t so glad for them, and wished they had skipped all the visiting and not come in contact with others. At first they were just achy and tired, and then a day or two later, they came down with fevers that started out relatively mild. Giselle assumed they just had summer colds, and she was glad that they’d used enough of the supplies they’d brought to have room for them to sleep in the back of the wagon as she drove the team.

  Trace noticed that she was driving alone as he rode along on his horse and came by to check on them. Even he didn’t think too much about them being ill. Their symptoms were relatively mild, and the two of them were still cheerful and positive even though they were a little under the weather.

  Morning and evening chores were more demanding when she did them alone, and she had to go to bed later and get up earlier in order to get everything done, but she did it and felt confident she could handle this for a couple of days while they recuperated. On the second day she drove alone, it started to rain. Her grandfather had an oilskin slicker but she couldn’t stop driving to dig it out until lunch time, and she pulled a shawl up around her shoulders instead.

  By lunch time, she was soaked through and spent the time they were stopped changing into dry clothes and attending to her grandparents. Then she tried to eat her own lunch as she drove, but it didn’t work out so well. The food was soggy from the rain within minutes and the road had become slippery with mud; and she soon set her plate aside to focus on her team. The one stubborn mule had gotten much easier to deal with during the trip, but on days like today, it was sullen and intractable.

  There had been no one to gather firewood and stow it in the sling under the wagon to keep dry to start the fire that night. Dinner was a little later than usual. By the time she had it cleaned up, Trace had already milked her cow and had spread their bedding out. She was still cold from her morning soaking and longed to snuggle next to him to get warm but didn’t dare. For some reason, the sound of the rain on the canvas wasn’t comforting this time.

  Tonight, for the first time, she wondered if what ailed Josiah and Petja was indeed just a cold. This was the fourth day they’d been sick, and their aches and fevers had escalated to such terribly sore throats that they could hardly swallow. A nagging fever chilled them and tired them to listlessness. Neither one of them had been interested in food and had hardly even taken notice when she spoke to them.

  They were into the month of September, and even though they had made good time so far, they had some mountains to go through yet, and she knew they could already have snow this early. Just the thought made her already-chilled skin break out in goose bumps.

  She was still sleeping like the dead in the morning when Mose came by, and she was loathe to leave the warm cocoon of her blankets when she dragged her tired body up. It was still drizzling rain and she put Josiah’s slicker on from the get go, but then struggled to do her work even with the too long sleeves rolled up. They finally got started. At least she had been ready before some of the other teamsters who were dealing with the same wet wood and damp that slowed her.

  As she drove, she prayed. Her grandparents were gravely ill and this morning there had been no denying that fact. They were lying in the back of the wagon in a lethargic stupor and she feared for what Trace would say when he looked at them. At lunch he came to the wagon to get lunch and she asked him to see what he thought. He’d been smiling when he approached, but the smile was replaced with a look that was frighteningly grim when he climbed back out of the wagon after examining them.

  “Giselle, I’m sorry I haven’t kept closer watch over them. How long have they been like this?”

  “Last night they weren’t much interested in eating or visiting, but they’ve only been this bad this morning.”

  He came to her and was far too earnest for comfort when he tried to explain. “Elle, they’re sick. Very sick. They have something called Throat Distemper and they have a serious case of it. We’ll have to make sure that they get enough food and liquid down, and more importantly, that they can breathe okay. It makes a leathery membrane cover their throats and makes breathing difficult at best.”

  She looked up at him in the rain and asked him right out, “Will they die?”

  He didn’t flinch as he told her honestly, “It’s possible as bad as they are, but not likely. But, Elley, this is highly contagious. When you’re helping them you need to wear a handkerchief over your nose and mouth because you could contract it as well. And wash your hands. Always wash your hands. It’s not known how it spreads exactly, but it can become epidemic if not handled correctly. I’ll help you care for them, but be careful, okay? I don’t want you sick as well.”

  She nodded and looked down, surprised by the tender note in his voice. It took her a minute to focus and to go wash her hands before getting their lunch out of the basket. Half of her wanted to sit down and bawl over what he had just told her, but knowing he was truly concerned for her helped ease that a little.

  That afternoon as she drove, she continued to pray. And not just for her grandparents. She prayed for herself as well, that when the time came for her to say goodbye to Trace and Mose, that she wouldn’t just melt into a puddle of heartbreak.

  Over the past months, she had come at first to lean on him and now there was no doubt that she was far too attached to him. She hesitated to use the words in love, even in her head, but if she was honest with herself, that’s what was happening to her heart. She knew it was completely foolish under the circumstances and in a way, she felt guilty as well for being in love with someone who wasn’t a member of the Church. At least the fact that they would be going their separate ways in a matter of a few weeks dealt with that.

  The wind picked up toward evening, and by the time they circled into camp, it was a veritable gale blowing the rain straight sideways. Trying to get the dinner fire lit in the wind and using wet wood took the teamwork of all three of them, and even then it see
med to take forever.

  By the time they had hot food, she was nearly too tired to eat it and merely picked at hers before giving the remainder to Dog. She hurried to milk the cow and then finally lay down to rest beside Trace, literally exhausted. Her prayers that night were sincere but short. She was grateful, but she needed divine intervention.

  Wolves howling again in the middle of the night woke her out of her deep sleep, but this time, she was so weary that she had to let the fear go. She moved against Trace, grateful beyond belief for his strength and reassurance and went right back to her slumber.

  As she milked the cow the next morning, she began having the strangest ache in her lower back. Once she was settled on the wagon seat to drive the ache went away again, but then late that afternoon it returned. This time it was her back and stomach and she worried she was getting the same aches and fatigue her grandparents had. She did her best to ignore it as she worked at the evening chores.

  Lying down eased the strain in her back and she felt much better after just a few minutes of resting beside Trace. She wished she could ask how he thought Josiah and Petja were doing, but she was actually afraid to ask. They didn’t seem to be a lot worse, but she knew they were no better either. She would have dearly loved to have a priesthood blessing for them, but unfortunately, the only one here who held the priesthood was one of the ones who needed its power so desperately.

  It had only been raining off and on for five days, but it felt like a hundred by the time she made it to bed the next night. The pain in her lower back and stomach had nagged at her all day and tonight when she had changed for bed, she found she had been spotting blood. For the first time she recognized that the ache she had been feeling was female cramps and not the illness her grandparents were suffering with, and the huge relief she felt to know that she wasn’t coming down with Throat Distemper almost made her feel guilty. At least Josiah and Petja seemed to be somewhat improved this evening.

  The pain went away after lying down again, and she rested better than she had in days; and even more rain the next morning didn’t discourage her like it had the last day or two. Using wood she’d put under her grandparents’ wagon to dry, she got breakfast started and hurried to milk the cow and clean up afterward.

  Climbing up into the wagon, she fed her grandparents and helped them both to sit up to drink as much as they possibly could. They were sweetly gracious about her caring for them, and she hoped what she was seeing was indeed improvement and not just wishful thinking.

  She was determined this morning to stow wood before they left this camp so that this evening wouldn’t be such a struggle as the last couple. This morning the ache in her back started before they even set out as she rushed to and from the nearby stand of trees carrying the loads of wood. As the wagon train headed out onto the trail, she could feel herself spotting again, and this time she wondered if everything was okay with her babies. She’d spotted a little from time to time through the whole four and a half months she’d been in this condition, but she didn’t remember ever spotting this much.

  Trying to push the worry from her mind because there was nothing she could do about any of it, she tried to concentrate on what she could do. She mentally went over her responsibilities as she drove, trying to plan and streamline chores as much as possible. Perhaps with better planning, she could make things run more smoothly than they had been since her grandparents had taken ill. She certainly hoped so. She had begun to feel like she was falling behind in pulling her weight and her grandparents’ as well.

  She bled enough that morning that, at lunch, she had to climb into the wagon and change clothes before heading back onto the trail that afternoon. Her grandmother woke up as she was changing, and Giselle asked her about the bleeding and if this much was normal. Even as sick as she was, Petja seemed concerned and told her she didn’t think it was okay. She was upset enough about it that Giselle decided asking had been a mistake and resolved to protect them from worry better in the future.

  It had been a good theory, but over the next several days, the hemorrhaging continued and got worse to the point that there was no hiding it from either of her grandparents. In fact, even with padding her underclothing with toweling rags, it took changing her petticoats and slips multiple times a day to keep Trace and Mose and the others from knowing as well.

  At length, Petja told her with a deep sadness in her voice, “I’m afraid you may be losing your baby, my dear. I don’t know what else would be causing this severe of bleeding. And here we lay unable to even help in your time of need. I’m so sorry, dear Elle. Please forgive your grandfather and me for our weakness.”

  Giselle leaned to kiss her soft forehead. “You must worry about getting better and not about me, Nanna. The good Lord will watch over me. He is aware of all of this and I have faith that He will help me.” She patted the small bulge under her dress. “We will be fine. You’ll see. Just get yourself better, do you hear me?” She tried to pretend to be scolding, but could never have sounded stern with these two dear people who had been willing to give up everything to accompany her here to America.

  She had been having to spend the noon time in helping her grandparents eat and then changing her underclothing. Her mid-day meal had become only a bite or two, if she had time for even that as the train got under way again. She assumed it was skipping this meal that was making her feel so weak and lightheaded when she went to stand up, and she told herself she would do better about eating. One good thing was that she had become more slender, and the dresses that had been threatening to rip had become looser again. This was indeed a blessing because she hadn’t been able to start making any bigger dresses since she’d bought the fabric at Fort Laramie those weeks ago.

  Twice that week in the evenings, she heated water in the big kettle and did laundry to wash out her petticoats, but she still found herself resorting to borrowing some of Petja’s to tide her over between launderings.

  What had started out as intermittent spotting had progressed to steady bleeding. It had been happening for nine days when Trace stopped her one morning as she made breakfast and stood looking at her for a second before asking. “Are you okay, Elley? You don’t have your usual color in your cheeks.”

  She simply smiled and said, “It must be all that rain last week. I had gotten shamefully brown on this trip. Being paler is much more proper for women anyway.” Trace looked a little skeptical, but didn’t comment further.

  It felt good to be asked after. The pace of the train had picked up with the cooling of the weather into fall, the rougher terrain and the shorter days. The men had been as busy trying to push on as quickly as possible as she had been caring for Josiah and Petja. She and Trace rarely had time to visit anymore, except for a few quiet words spoken before they dropped off to sleep from exhaustion at night.

  As hard as the rigorous pace had become, it did help her to put her feelings for Trace into better perspective. There hadn’t been time to think about how much she enjoyed him, or how much she would have liked to be a real wife, when every waking moment had been used up.

  Even sleeping had become an urgent need that left little energy for dreams or wakefulness, regardless of what fearful things lurked in the dark. The wolves and coyotes no longer frightened her because she always knew that Trace was there beside her. His strength had taken most of her fears of physical dangers away completely.

  Now if she could just find a way to make getting up in the mornings a little easier. Waking and getting up had become a grueling feat. The fatigue from working too hard and not eating or sleeping enough had become almost overwhelming. Sometimes she wondered if she would have ever made it up if it hadn’t been for Mose coming by with her cold biscuit.

  One morning he commented on it. He’d bent to wake her, and when she finally groaned and opened her eyes, he studied her for a minute and then said, “Miss Giselle, you need to tell Trace. He’s going to be one offended husband when he does find out. And he’d make you take it easier than y
ou’ve been if he knew, which would be a good thing.”

  She struggled to sit up and leaned against the wagon wheel for a minute until she wasn’t so light-headed and replied, “You’re wrong, Mose. I need to do more, not less. You’ve heard the stories of the Donner and Reed party in forty-six in the California mountains. Granted, they used less judgment than you and Trace, but still, delay could cost your lives. Or all of ours if we don’t make it over the Rocky Mountains in time. I can’t be whining and asking to be babied. Especially with my grandparents already not helping.”

  For once Mose put his foot down. In a voice that brooked no argument he said, “No, Miss Giselle. It’s past time. I’ll give you another two days. If you haven’t told him, which is your place and you know it, then I will. And in the meantime, I’m going to be taking over milking that cow and caring for your chickens. Enough is enough.”

  Honestly, she didn’t have the energy to argue. “Okay, Mose. I’ll tell him. And thank you for your help. I’ll accept it gladly.” He left and she sighed. How was she ever going to tell Trace?

  Even though he couldn’t hear what was being said, Trace was surprised to hear the tone of voice that Mose was using with Giselle. Mose was incredibly even-tempered. In all his life, Trace had never heard him talk to a woman in any kind of a short tone. This morning he sounded like her father reprimanding her. When Mose came back over to their wagon, Trace asked him about it. “What’s going on? What are you upset with Giselle about?”

  Mose glanced over to where she was starting breakfast and said, “I’m sorry, Trace. I’m not at liberty to say what I’m upset about. You might ask Miss Giselle though. She could tell you.”

  Surprised that he wouldn’t say more than that, Trace went to help Giselle at the fire and asked her the same thing. She paused for a moment like she was thinking, and then shook her head and turned away. “He’s just upset because he thinks there are some things I should be doing that I’m not. I’ll take care of it.” She leaned down to turn the hot cakes on her griddle.