by Linda Ford
“Can’t say as I do.”
“The island is a beautiful spot with lots of grass and timber, but we won’t camp there. We’ll stay on the shores of the river. It’s called Chouteau Island after a hunting party led by a man of that name. Chouteau and his men were traveling east with their winter’s catch of fur and were attacked by two hundred Pawnee Indians. They withdrew to the island to defend themselves.”
“Did they survive?”
“They sold their furs, so I would say so. Can’t tell you how many perished, though.”
He glanced often toward the nearby wagon. Polly and Judith continued their conversation for some time, and then Polly withdrew to the back.
“One can only hope she is playing with Anna, not scheming something.”
Mary Mae looked that way a moment then sat back. “I can’t imagine what else she might do.” She pulled out a piece of needlework.
He’d noticed the women all worked on quilt squares and had been told they embroidered scenes of the trip. “What scene are you working on?”
“I thought I’d do a bride and groom with the groom offering a bouquet of weeds.”
He choked. A bride and groom? Him and Mary Mae? Had she been convinced to join Polly’s efforts at getting him to marry? “You’ll give Polly false hope.”
“Just joshing you.” She grinned widely. Clearly she’d seen his shock and enjoyed teasing him. She went on. “I’m doing a picture of the three little girls.” She showed him the outline of a baby girl, a toddler girl and an older girl.
“Elena, Anna and Polly?”
“Yes. It’s one of my favorite blocks.”
Now he wanted to know about all the blocks she’d made. What did she deem important enough to immortalize?
“What other things have you put on your blocks?”
“A wagon train, the red leaves Donna Grace found, and the rattles off the snake. Of course, I put a shovel in the picture too.”
They laughed together at the memory of Judith’s fear of snakes and how she’d beat one to death.
“I’ve tried to do one of a sunset over the river, but it isn’t very good. I wish I was more of an artist. I did one of people sitting around a campfire, of Pete playing his harmonica and a teamster doing a jig.” She laughed. “Or maybe it’s you.”
“I only did it for Polly’s sake.”
“You did a fair job.”
Their gazes caught and held. He couldn’t say what he saw in her eyes except it made him feel pleased with himself. As if he had delighted her in some way.
He jerked away. Funny way to think of things. Especially when he felt he had never pleased Gina. But then he hadn’t really tried, hadn’t listened to her demands or requests—something he regretted clear to the bottom of his boots.
Mary Mae turned her attention back to her quilt square and he turned back to guiding the mules as the wheels turned round and round. He had made this trip many times and learned the only way to pass the peaceful hours was to let his mind go blank, except for being alert to the demands of the trail.
Only this time he couldn’t. His thoughts raced with forgotten wishes, denied dreams, and a list of his failures. He tried to concentrate on the latter, but they faded away as he let his distant dreams edge forward. A home. A family. Love. Acceptance.
Buck rode close. “Chouteau’s Island up ahead. We’ll camp in the shelter of the trees. Sure hope the storm holds off.”
Warren jerked himself from his dreamy state and looked at the sky. “It might be wishful thinking, but it seems to be the clouds are thinner.”
Mary Mae studied the sky. “I think you’re right. So the storm is moving away?”
“I’d say so.”
They soon reached the campsite Buck had chosen and pulled the wagons into a circle.
Knowing a storm might yet hit them, they secured camp well. Warren left Mary Mae tending the meal while he took the animals to water.
Polly started to follow him. “I should help Mary Mae.” She turned back.
Warren stared after her. Odd. She usually chose to help with the animals. She skipped back to the campfire and squatted down to play with Anna. Warren was sure that was a great help to Judith. Maybe Judith had spoken to her about the things she could do to make life easier for others.
He shrugged and returned to his work.
At supper, Polly did her best to help serve the meal and carry water for doing dishes.
Warren turned to Judith. “I don’t know what you said to her, but it’s nice to see her rushing about to help instead of picking weeds for me to give to Mary Mae.”
Judith laughed. “She hasn’t given up the idea. She asked me all about falling in love. Insisted I tell her the details of how Gil and I fell in love.”
Warren considered the information for a bit. He couldn’t see anything in Judith’s relationship to Gil that should cause him worry. His mind greatly relieved, he went to assist with bringing the animals in for the night, then rejoined the others at the campfire.
Judith and Donna Grace prepared the babies for bed.
He glanced about. “Where’s Polly?”
“I saw her headed for the trees,” Mary Mae. She leaned close so only Warren heard her words. “Maybe gathering a posy of leaves.”
His eyes met hers as they laughed, her gaze full of mirth and something else, something he couldn’t identify. Or maybe didn’t want to, as it might be warmth and caring. Not that he objected to either, of course.
“I’ll get her.” Mary Mae stepped away from the others.
“I’ll come, too.” He fell in at her side as they sauntered toward the trees. Apart from the fading light and the heavy skies, it was a nice night to be walking with a gal.
His fists curled. All Polly’s talk about marriage had him thinking everything he did was related to courting. His only reason for being with Mary Mae was to ensure her safety as they went to get Polly.
“Polly,” she called.
No reply.
“She might have gone far enough she can’t hear us,” Mary Mae said.
“Yes, I expect it’s hard to find a suitable bouquet.” His heart warmed at her laughter.
They followed a little trail into the bushes.
“Polly, it’s time for bed.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t tell her it’s bedtime.” The child normally balked at having to retire before the adults. In fact, she seldom did. She was a true child of the trail, which would serve her well in the future, as he planned to continue freighting. And what else could he do? The trail had become his life.
They went further along the trail that paralleled the river. At an opening, he pointed out Chouteau Island.
Mary Mae shivered. “How frightened they must have been.”
Warren draped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. “They stuck together and survived.”
It might have only been his imagination, but it seemed she pressed to his side as if seeking his comfort. And protection? Could he ever feel one hundred percent confident he could provide the latter?
They studied the island for several minutes, though he had to admit he had little interest in the bit of land. He only wanted to prolong the enjoyment. He turned his thoughts back to his responsibility. “We need to find Polly.”
“Yes, we do.”
He took her hand and led her along the pathway. He called Polly, but received no reply. “She must be hiding.”
“I was thinking the same thing. Polly?” Mary Mae raised her voice. “It’s getting late. Please come now.”
Still no answer, no Polly jumping out from the bushes.
Warren stopped. “Maybe we should go back. She might have gone back to camp a different way.”
Mary Mae held up a hand. “Listen. Do you hear that?”
“Yes.” A distant call. “It could be a bird.”
“Or Polly. We need to make sure before we turn back.”
He agreed, so they hurried onward. He called Polly several times and paused
to listen for a response.
“There it is again.” Mary Mae grabbed his hand. “Hurry. Maybe she’s hurt.”
They continued on, pausing to listen, making sure to check the nearby bushes in case she was there and unable to call out to them.
The shadows deepened making it hard to see ahead. The trees provided protection from the wind, but it moaned through the branches. And stung his face. “Snow.” Falling heavily. “Polly, where are you?” He turned to Mary Mae. “We must get back immediately.”
“How far have we gone?” She looked at the snow driven by the wind.
“Too far for comfort.” He and Mary Mae both wore warm coats. “Did Polly put her jacket on before she ran off?” She was often the last one to need one.
“I don’t think so.” Mary Mae’s voice caught. “Warren, she’ll be cold. We must find her.”
“We’re trying.” They forged ahead, calling often. A knot the size of a bushel basket twisted his insides as the snow fell heavier, turning the path wet and slippery.
Mary Mae stopped. “Listen.”
He strained to catch any sound apart from the thud of his heart.
“Here! I’m here.”
“It’s Polly!” He pushed through the bushes toward the sound. She huddled on the ground clutching her ankle. He fell to his knees beside her. Mary Mae crowded to his side.
“Are you okay?”
“I think I might have broken my ankle.” She sobbed out the words.
“Let me feel it.” It was too dark to see anything but shapes and he gingerly touched her ankle.
She cried out. “Don’t. It hurts.”
He sat back on his heels, his hand on Mary Mae’s shoulder, wishing he could discuss their options without Polly listening. The snow had increased. And darkness deepened. It would be far too easy for them to get turned around as they made their way back to the wagon train. But they weren’t prepared for a night out in such weather.
“I’ll have to carry you. Put your arms around my neck.”
Polly whimpered, but did as he said. The branches caught as his elbows as he made his way back to the trail. Mary Mae led the way.
It seemed to take longer to return than he recalled. Mary Mae paused. “I can’t see where I’m going, but I think this is the trail. What do you think?”
He shifted Polly to one side so he could put out a hand. No need to close his eyes but he did so as he tried to get his bearings. He listened for the sound of the river. That would orientate him, but he couldn’t hear it.
“Polly, you are going to have to ride on my back so I can lead the way.” He needed his hands unobstructed. He shifted her around.
“I’ll help her stay there.” Mary Mae pressed her hands to Polly’s back.
He inched forward, feeling his way with both his hands and his feet. Polly shivered on his back. They had no choice but to continue onward.
And then he ran out of trail. Every direction he shoved his foot, he encountered obstruction. Think. Think. Should they back track or—?
“Is something wrong?” Mary Mae asked.
“I think we’re lost.” Had he failed again to protect those he cared about?
8
Lost? Mary Mae’s knees weakened and she grabbed the tree trunk at her side. She had no trouble finding one to lean on. Seems they were surrounded by trees. Trapped by them. They were lost in a snowstorm without adequate protection. She was already cold and Polly shivered.
She forced herself to speak calmly. “What do you suggest we do?”
He turned. “We’ll have to back track until we find the trail.” He edged by her.
She caught his hand and squeezed it. He squeezed back, offering encouragement and reassurance.
As she followed him, she prayed. God help and guide us. Protect us by Thy great hand.
Warren stopped. She pressed to him, Polly between them. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t find the trail. We are losing body heat traipsing about. It’s time to hunker down and wait for light.”
Polly whimpered. “We’ll freeze to death.”
“Not if I can help it,” Warren said. “I’ll have to put you down. There’s bushes in front of me that will provide shelter but I need to prepare a place.”
He lowered Polly to stand in front of Mary Mae. She opened her coat and pulled the little girl close. The child was like a block of ice against her. Oh how she missed the warmth of the campfire and the shelter of the wagons.
Warren thrashed about in the bushes then crawled out. “I’ve made a little cave. It isn’t much but it will be enough.” He tried to hide the worry in his voice but she heard it, an echo of her own concern.
Would they survive this night?
He guided her toward the opening. She went first, on her hands and knees. Polly followed and then Warren. The three of them were crammed together in a tiny space without room for arms and legs. She drew her limbs as tight to her body as she could.
“I’ll lie with my back to the wind,” he said, and edged past Mary Mae. “Okay, now Polly, you come here.” He pulled her to his chest. “Mary Mae, cuddle close.”
She did so, pressing Polly between them, knowing that the two adults must provide warmth and shelter for the child.
Warren pulled Mary Mae closer. “Open your coat and reach it around Polly as much as you can. I’ll do the same.” They did so and covered Polly.
The ground was spongy and dry with leaves. They weren’t warm, but Warren’s arms around her made her feel safe. Her chin rested on Polly’s head. Warren’s chin rested on Mary Mae’s head. His arms encircled them. It was almost cozy.
“Now the important thing is not to fall asleep,” he said. “So we have to keep each other awake.”
“All night?” Polly sounded as shocked as Mary Mae felt. She could fall asleep this very instant.
“How do you propose we do that?” Mary Mae asked.
“By talking.”
“Go ahead.”
“Oh no. You could fall asleep if only I talk.”
Polly giggled. “It’s true. I’ve fallen asleep lots of times while he was talking to Uncle Sam.”
“That certainly doesn’t speak well for how interesting I am,” Warren’s voice filled with mock hurt.
Polly laughed again. “You were talking about money. That’s always so boring.”
Warren tapped a finger on Mary Mae’s back. “Nice to know she’s not interested in money.”
Mary Mae smiled, enjoying the teasing between them. “I expect that might change.”
“Oh no, it won’t. I learned it’s not money that makes a person happy.”
“What did I say? Ten going on thirty.” Mary Mae did her best to sound resigned although she found it amusing.
Warren chuckled.
“What’s that mean?” Polly demanded.
“It means you sometimes talk like a grown up.” Mary Mae did not want Polly to think they were making fun of her.
“Good.”
“Care to explain how you got so far from camp?” Warren asked.
Polly didn’t answer.
“Where you chasing something?” he persisted.
“No.”
“Then what happened? You know better than to wander off.”
“It was something Judith said.” Her words were mumbled.
Warren’s arms tightened. “I find it hard to believe that my sister told you to run off.”
“’Course she didn’t. I thought if you thought I was lost and you looked for me, it would make you think how much you wanted to give me a family and so you’d decide to get married.”
Mary Mae tightened her arm about the child. How could she make Polly understand that her scheming and dreaming were destined to fail without leaving her so disappointed she sank into misery? “Honey, we know you want us to marry, but getting married isn’t something you do to please someone else.”
“But you like him and he likes you. Why can’t you get married?”
Warren sighed. “Polly,
I was married once and didn’t do a good job of it. I simply don’t think I would do any better if I tried again.”
Polly shifted as if she wanted to look in Warren’s face but that was impossible. “What didn’t you do a good job of?”
Mary Mae felt sorry for Warren being cross examined.
“I didn’t take care of my family the way a husband and father is supposed to.”
“You have a family?” Polly’s shock was obvious.
“I had a little boy. Reggie.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died.”
“And it was your fault?”
Warren’s chin pressed harder to Mary Mae’s head. Poor man being forced to answer Polly’s probing questions. But perhaps hearing the answers would put an end to Polly’s matchmaking.
If they survived the night, and that was yet to be seen.
“In a way it was my fault. I wasn’t there to look after them.”
“You must have changed.” Polly’s tone rang with conviction.
“What makes you say that?”
“’Cause you take good care of me. Like right now. You are making sure me and Mary Mae are safe. I’d say you’d be an excellent father and husband.”
Warren chuckled. “You sure are a stubborn little miss. Unfortunately, I haven’t changed my mind.”
Polly shifted again. “I think you will. So will Mary Mae.”
Mary Mae stiffened. “I, too, have my reasons for not wanting to get married.”
“Are they as unimportant as Warren’s?”
Mary Mae couldn’t help but laugh at Polly’s dismissal of Warren’s confession. “My reasons are entirely different. I suppose my experience has taught me not to trust a man and marriage requires a lot of trust. After all, it’s for life.”
“Why can’t you trust Warren?”
Polly was certainly persistent. But it did serve the purpose of keeping them all awake. Mary Mae could see no reason not to elaborate. It might even convince Polly to stop this nonsense. “It’s not Warren. It’s that I don’t intend to be disappointed again. I suppose it started with my pa. He promised to stop freighting and live with us, but he only did it for a few weeks and then he was back on the trail. Then there was my grandfather who promised to take care of us after Mama died, but he planned to send us to Mexico City to learn to be proper Spanish ladies.”
