by Linda Ford
Luke carried the water. Warren followed with clean clothes. The reverend tagged along. And at his side, was Mary Mae.
Warren slowed a step, thinking to tell Mary Mae to stay behind, but couldn’t find the words and continued on his way without saying anything.
When they reached Sam’s body, pain tore through Warren. His legs turned to rubber and he sank to his knees at Sam’s side.
A hand pressed to his arm. He looked into Mary Mae’s concerned face.
“You don’t need to be here.” His words to her sounded like a plea.
“Sam was your best friend. You shouldn’t face this alone.”
He didn’t bother pointing out that Luke and the reverend were there, and even as they knelt beside Sam, Gil strode toward them. He knew what she meant. As a woman, she offered the kind of sympathy few men were capable of.
Taking his acceptance for granted, she wet a cloth and tenderly washed Sam’s face and then his hands.
Tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks.
The reverend stood by Sam’s head and softly sang, “Rock of ages, cleft for me.”
Mary Mae finished her ministrations.
Warren gently took her hands and pulled her to her feet. “We’ll put on his clean clothes. You return to the others.”
She shook her head. “I’ll turn my back and pray while I wait.”
He rubbed his hand across her back as he left her with her back to the reverend. He couldn’t say why, but her presence offered comfort and strength. His throat constricted so tightly that he couldn’t swallow as he and the other men removed the mud-covered clothes and put on clean ones.
The last time he’d seen Sam in that shirt was when they were back in Independence and had gone to church together. A rush of sweet memories assailed him.
Done with that task, he straightened. “Now to get Polly.”
Mary Mae matched him step for step as he returned to the waiting child. He held out his hand to her. Polly took his hand on one side and Mary Mae’s on the other and the three of them went to Sam.
Polly slipped from them and rushed to her uncle, kneeling at his side. She cried softly as she lay her head upon his chest.
Tears stung Warren’s eyes.
Mary Mae gripped his hand and sniffled.
They stood by waiting for Polly to finish. She sat up, swiped the tears from her face with the heel of her hand and rose to her feet, a sad but determined little girl.
“I want to see him buried.”
No one bothered to argue with her.
A group of teamsters signaled to Warren. He went to speak to them. Pete, the spokesman, said,
“We’ve prepared a place for him up on the hill.”
Mrs. Shepton appeared with a blanket, the others following somberly behind her.
With unshed tears, Warren helped wrap the body of his friend, and with Gil, Luke and Buck assisting, they carried him to the grave.
Reverend Shepton spoke words of encouragement as the body was lowered into the ground. Warren took Polly’s hand, surprised at how tightly she gripped his. Mary Mae held Polly’s other hand.
“‘In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.’”
Many, including Warren, murmured the words along with the reverend.
The reverend closed with prayer, and then signaled them to leave.
Warren was sure they all felt the same way. Polly should not watch the dirt being shoveled over her uncle’s body. He took a step toward the camp, but Polly jerked back.
“I’ll stay until the end.” Her voice was firm.
The teamsters waited, reluctant to put spades into dirt.
Frenchie shuffled forward. “Miss Polly, it hurts us for the man to die. We not be wanting to hurt you more by putting the dirt over him.”
Polly sucked in air. Her voice wobbled. “You would be doing me a favor if you let me see that he is properly covered so the wolves don’t get him.”
“Okay, miss.” Frenchie tossed in the first shovelful of dirt and the others reluctantly and silently followed his example. The only sound was the pattering of dirt upon dirt, the restless shuffling of the animals, and Polly’s soft sobs.
The teamsters finished and stood aside.
Warren pulled on Polly’s hand to draw her away, but she shook her head and freed her hands from his and Mary Mae’s. She looked about and went to a rock, picked it up and carried it to the fresh mound of dirt to deposit it.
Seeing her intention, he joined her in carrying rocks to cover the grave. Everyone joined in the task until there was a large heap marking the spot.
Polly gazed at the grave.
Warren had no idea what to expect next of her and gave Mary Mae a helpless look.
4
The weight of Polly’s loss bowed Mary Mae’s shoulders. The poor child. And poor Warren. He’d witnessed the death of his best friend, and now had an orphaned young girl to deal with, though Polly had shown mature control beyond her years since she’d heard the dreadful news.
Polly remained at the graveside. Warren watched her, a look of despair upon his face. It seemed no one knew what to do.
Mary Mae couldn’t stand to watch them stuck in their sorrow. She went to Polly and pulled the girl to her side. “Let’s go back now. You carry memories of your uncle and his love in your heart.”
Polly sucked in a breath like she’d forgotten to breathe the last few seconds. At Mary Mae’s words, she nodded. “I will never forget him.”
“Of course you won’t.” Mary Mae took Polly’s hand and turned her toward the campsite. Warren remained motionless, looking as if he couldn’t make his body move. Mary Mae caught his hand and pulled him along with her and Polly.
She shepherded them back to the camp. The others followed, a sober, quiet bunch. Mary Mae led Warren and Polly to seats and gently pushed them down. The women had prepared supper and she filled the pair each a plate and took it to them.
“Eat now. You’ll need your strength.” She meant more than physical. The days ahead would be difficult. Sam would be sorely missed.
The harmonica played Amazing Grace.
Mary Mae closed her eyes and prayed for God’s grace and love to comfort them all.
Buck came to the group and stopped before Warren and Polly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Mary Mae wondered if he would inform them they must keep traveling. Though there was no benefit to spending more than the one night there. Buck left without saying anything about plans for the morrow.
Warren seemed not to notice the departure of the wagon master.
Luke and Gil watched Warren.
The women watched Polly.
Little Elena fussed and needed to be nursed. Then Anna went to Polly and leaned on her knee looking up into her face with such worry that Polly laughed. She pulled the younger girl to her lap and hugged her, laughing and crying at the same time.
Anna kept peering up at her, clearly worried about the tears on Polly’s face.
“I’m okay,” Polly said.
Anna patted her face and smiled. She scrambled down and reached for Polly’s hand wanting to play. Polly wiped her eyes and followed the little girl.
Mary Mae’s lungs relaxed. She sidled over to Warren. “What now?” she asked.
Warren jolted as if her words startled him. He looked at her. “I guess we keep on.”
The bleakness in his dark green eyes squeezed her heart. Strange that they had been traveling together as long as they had and she’d never before noticed the color of his eyes, nor how expressive they were. She was drawn into his sorrow and helplessness.
“What can I do to help?”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Will you help me with Polly?”
“Of course.”
She would do anything in her power to ease the pain in his eyes, and to guide Polly through this difficult time.
The other women had slipped away to take care of the food.
The men had one by one left to take care of the animals. Luke murmured that he’d look after Warren’s chores but she wondered if Warren even heard his brother.
Warren jerked to his feet. “Will you walk with me?”
“Of course.” She fell in step with him as he left the circle of wagons. He glanced toward the mound of dirt and rocks on the crest of the hill, then turned the opposite direction.
The evening closed in around them. The sun’s rays were blood red. In the distance an owl hooted, a mournful sound. Pete played somber tunes. Nothing cheerful tonight and no teamsters danced a jig.
They walked in silence.
He stopped, pulled off his hat and clutched it to his chest. “Five years ago I lost my wife and child.”
She had heard Judith mention a loss but hadn’t heard any details. “Oh Warren, I’m so sorry. That must have been very difficult.”
“I neglected them. I was always more interested in building up my ranch, or in getting more cows or in going to a sale. Gina complained many times that she didn’t like being left alone. Our son, Reggie, was almost two when I left them to bring home a hundred head of cows I had purchased. It was important to get them to the ranch in time for breeding. So important that I shoved aside Gina’s begging. She said she wasn’t feeling well and asked me not to leave her alone. Our nearest neighbors were five miles away. I told her to go there if she needed help. But Gina reminded me she didn’t like driving the wagon. Didn’t like riding a horse. ‘I’ll be back in a few days,’ I assured her.
“Things didn’t go as easy as I expected so it was a week before I got back.” His voice deepened to a croak.
“I didn’t go to the house immediately. I made sure the cows were settled, paid the men I’d hired to help me, and of course, took care of my horse. It was almost dark when I went to the house. I called Gina. Called Reggie. Neither answered. I assumed they had gone to bed early as they often did and stopped to make myself a pot of coffee and raid the pantry for something to eat.
“Only then did I go to the bedrooms. I went to Reggie’s first to say goodnight, even though I knew he would be asleep. His bed was empty. That didn’t concern me. I knew he often crept in with Gina. So I made my way to our bedroom.”
Mary Mae knew how his tale would end. Understood the pain he felt as he recalled the event. She wished she could ease his sorrow, but all she could think to do was rest her hand on his forearm and squeeze, hoping he would feel her sympathy. No words could offer more.
“I knew as soon as I opened the door that they were ill. The air was foul. I called her name. Called Reggie. Gina turned to me, her eyes sunken. Her skin was gray. Reggie didn’t even respond. I did everything I could. I gave them water. It dribbled out the corner of their mouths. I washed Gina’s face. I don’t think she was even aware of what I did. I begged her to forgive me for being so stubborn and selfish. Her only response was an accusing look. She lasted less than two hours. After she passed, I held Reggie, begging him to drink, begging him to fight. ‘Don’t die, my son. Don’t die.’ He was gone before morning.” Warren drew in a breath that shuddered clear through him.
“Warren, I am so sorry for your losses.” She ached to hold him and comfort him.
His eyes flared. “Save your sympathy for someone who deserves it. I neglected them and they paid the price.” He stepped back and she dropped her hands to her side. He planted his hat on his head and adjusted it firmly. “I will not fail Polly.” He headed back toward the campsite, Mary Mae hurrying to keep up with him.
He stopped so suddenly she was half a step ahead of him before she could halt her hurried stride.
“I’m not so proud that I think I can do this on my own.”
“I’ll help.” Had he not heard her say that already? Maybe he needed her to be more specific. “What do you need me to do?”
He rolled his head back and forth. “I don’t know. I guess what you’ve been doing. What you’ve all been doing. I’ll take over Sam’s wagons. I’ll see that he gets a good price for his goods. Polly will need the funds.”
Mary Mae didn’t ask what Warren planned to do after he sold the goods. Was he going to give Polly the home she wanted and had been promised? Or did he expect the child to grow up on the trail? It was too soon for those questions to have come to his mind, but she promised herself she would make sure Polly got the life she deserved.
She knew only too well how it felt to play second fiddle to ambitions and the need for adventure. Or just plain disinterest.
They arrived back at the campsite. Judith prepared Anna for bed. Polly stood nearby looking lost.
Mary Mae waited a moment to see if Warren would do anything. He didn’t. She went to the child. “Shall we get ready for bed?”
“You’ll stay with me?”
It hurt that Polly thought she needed to ask, and she hugged the girl. “Honey, I will certainly stay with you.”
“I thought—” Polly’s voice broke. “You and Warren were both gone.”
“We were only over there. Didn’t you see us?”
“No.”
Mary Mae signaled Warren to join them.
He came over looking puzzled.
“She’s worried we might leave her.” Mary Mae turned back to Polly. “Warren promised your uncle he would take care of you.”
Warren sat down on a nearby log and pulled Polly to his knees. “I told Sam I would take care of you and keep you forever, and I mean to do that.”
Polly rested her head on Warren’s shoulder, wrapped her arms about him and let tears flow.
He looked at Mary Mae, his eyes glistening with sorrow.
She sat beside him and put her arms around Polly. She pressed her cheek to Warren’s shoulder. All she wanted was to give these two hurting people a little bit of comfort. Yes, he had a brother and sister, but they were married and had babies to take care of. That left her to devote her time to them.
Warren held Polly. How could he hope to help this child? And yet he would. He would not fail her. But he certainly welcomed the pressure of Mary Mae’s head against his arm. Even as he welcomed her promise of help.
Mary Mae sat up, took Polly’s hand and led her to the wagon. They climbed in and rustled about as they prepared for bed. Mary Mae did not leave the wagon again. He wasn’t surprised that she didn’t leave Polly alone. He understood that she would do what needed to be done.
He stared into the flames.
Luke joined him and they sat side by side. After a bit, Luke spoke. “It’s a good thing Mary Mae can help with Polly, at least until we reach Santa Fe. She’s planning to stay there, though we’ve tried to talk her into joining us in heading west to start a ranch.”
His brother’s words edged into Warren’s thoughts. Santa Fe, and then what? He had to plan a future with a little girl. “I’ll figure out something.”
If Luke wondered what he meant, he didn’t say so.
Everyone else had retired. Warren knew Luke would sit with him until he rolled up in his bedroll. Knowing they both needed sleep, he bid his brother goodnight and settle himself under Sam’s wagon. That would be his place for the rest of the journey. He and Luke would have to watch Judith’s wagon when Gil was away.
He needed to sleep, but it wouldn’t come. His insides felt hollowed out and seared. He drifted only to be jerked to alertness at a cry. It took him a moment to realize Polly had cried out. Mary Mae made soothing noises and sang a Spanish lullaby. Polly calmed.
Mary Mae continued to hum.
The sound comforted him and he feel back asleep.
Polly woke him the next morning as she slipped to the ground and scooted under the wagon to lie at his side. “Do I call you Uncle Warren now? Or what?”
He chuckled at her practical frame of mind. “Seems you’ve been calling me plain Warren for the better part of a year. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Okay Plain Warren.”
A muted chuckle over his head let him know that Mary Mae heard the conversation.
Polly sat up on her elbows and stared at Warren.
What was the little gal scheming, and shouldn’t she be swallowed up in grief at this point? Not that he wanted that for her.
“You know Uncle Sam promised me a real home and he was going to marry Miss Liza, though I thought he could do better.”
What was he supposed to say to that? And what did she have in mind? He narrowed his eyes knowing to expect the unexpected with Polly. “Uh-huh.”
“Well, if you’re going to take my uncle’s place, I think you should follow his plans.”
Warren sat up so fast, he banged his head. “Ouch.” He lay down again. “You think I should marry Miss Liza?”
“No silly. Marry—” She leaned close and whispered in his ear. “Mary Mae. I like her fine.”
Warren groaned. “I do believe we have had this conversation before. And nothing’s changed.”
Her lips quivered and her eyes filled with tears. “I just lost my uncle. That changes everything.”
He pulled her to his chest. “It changes some things, but not—” He tipped his head to indicate the wagon above him.
She stuck out her bottom lip. “Why not? Why are you being so stubborn? Don’t you know I need a mama and a papa in order to have a real family? Would you deny me that?”
The wagon tipped. He pressed his finger to his lips, though why he thought it would make them invisible, he couldn’t say.
A brown skirt paused at the side of the wagon.
He and Polly stayed motionless. Maybe she would think they were no longer there. But Polly giggled, ending that possibility.
Mary Mae squatted down and stared at them. “What are you two scheming?”
“Nothing.” Polly’s answer came far too quickly, revealing a guilty conscience.
“We’re commiserating with each other,” Warren said.
“What does that mean?” Polly whispered.
“Means we’re sympathizing with each other.” He whispered his answer.
“Oh. Okay.” She raised her voice. “We’re commiserating.”
Luke stopped at the side of the wagon. “You gonna lay in bed all day? Daylight’s burning.”
