by J. R. Biery
The road was the wonderful macadam surface made of finely crushed compacted rock. The few wagons and buggies they met seemed annoyed, but were easily able to work around the train with its three sets of tandem wagons. The big oxen with their amazing horns walked along contentedly as though pulling the joined wagons with their heavy loads was easy. So far on the well-graded roads there had been no large hills to contend with. Occasionally, they could still catch a glimpse of the ocean far off beyond the trees and fields. Claire sighed in contentment and devoured her cold biscuit.
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Finally the light was fading. As they passed a farmhouse and empty fields, Father Wimberley left them. He walked out to the house to ask the farmer if he knew a safe place they could stop and camp for the night.
When he came back, he was red-faced and wouldn’t answer any of their questions except to nod. A bearded man soon walked down and smiled at them. “I haven’t seen this big an outfit in years.”
“Oh,” Father Wimberley said. At the man’s smile he answered. “It’s just my family and friends. We plan to join a bigger outfit when we reach Missouri.”
The farmer led them over a hill and off the road onto a grassy area. He helped them make the first awkward circle of the wagons in the field of high grass. “First ones through this month, got some good food for your animals, right beside the river here with plenty of sweet water.” He walked them down and while the men led the oxen to drink, Bonnie started a fire and began to cook while Mother Wimberley kept her company. Claire walked down to the river and watched the men and boys stand beside the big oxen. The animals waited their turn to wade out into the mud of the bank and drink their fill.
Refusing to feel guilty for not helping, Claire wandered back. When a rabbit jumped across the path she let out a little squeal. She was surprised when Mary Anne was the only one to look her way. Little Barney was busy doing his wheeling, awkward version of walking where he wanted to lean down and grab grass or weeds. The little girl went back to paying attention to him. Off the path, there were daffodils blooming near the small clearing. Claire wondered if there had been a house here once, maybe a modest frontier cabin. As she looked about she found a couple of split rails.
Satisfied that she was right, she looked along the fence row for anything else of value. She was rewarded by a thick clump of weeds that she recognized from their own garden. Thinking to please her mother, she gathered as much as she could carry and rushed back to the fire.
The men were returning and Claire picked her way carefully through the soft fading light. It didn’t take long to learn to watch your step where the oxen had been. When her father called to her to be careful, she gave him a smile, aware of another set of blue eyes following her progress.
While the men led the oxen into the circle, they used the oxen yokes between the spread out wagons to make the circle large enough to contain all the animals. Claire dropped the bundle of fragrant herbs at her mother’s feet.
“Fresh mint,” Mother exclaimed.
Claire smiled. “There are the remains of a cabin closer to the river. There were daffodils growing near the road, so I looked around. I remembered you told me they never grew wild, just where the settlers had planted them.”
Claire’s mother lifted a single fat leaf and rubbed it between her fingers. The scent of mint filled the night air. But instead of making her happy, it brought tears to her mother’s eyes.
“Your father was in such a rush this morning, I didn’t dare ask him to dig the daffodils too.”
Claire leaned over to hug her mother while Bonnie laid her spoon down by the fire and walked over to smell the mint. “I can brew a good tea with this. Do you want me to braid it while the beans are cooking?”
Mother Wimberley nodded and rose stiffly.
“Come on Mother,” Claire said, “We can take the lantern for when it gets dark and I’ll show you the place. Maybe there is something good still growing there. I’m sure Father will be happy to dig some for you before we leave in the morning. He has to go past it to water the oxen in the morning anyway.
As though one of the smelly beasts knew they were being talked about, it bellowed loudly. As the women walked past, they could hear the men talking beside the wagons.
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“Where are your horses?” the farmer asked.
“Decided we didn’t need them,” Father said. “The women don’t ride.”
“Oh, that’s a mistake. You need at least two good ones. Save you money in the long run. That way one of you can ride ahead, locate a campsite and the water hole before dark. You just lucked out making it this far before having to stop.”
Claire and her mother smiled at each other. The man must think he had a pair of suckers, ready for the plucking. Her father looked the part of a traveler, in his sensible brown woolen clothes. But Henry looked every bit the part of the city slicker, out in the country for the first time.
Claire knew her father would have enough sense to ignore the huckster. She certainly had no intention of climbing onto the back of any smelly old horse. Sidesaddles were treacherous devices, as the victims of the runaway mount in the city could attest. Besides, neither she nor Mother had a riding habit. The idea of riding made her shudder.
Bonnie walked out to join the two women, whispering, “I need to find a bush, might as well go together. Mary Anne promised to watch the fire, and Bella took over braiding the mint since Barney wanted to keep pulling leaves to smell it.
As they passed the talking men, Bonnie stopped to stand with them and waved the women on into the fading light.
“How far out of Boston are we?” Father Wimberley asked.
“About twelve miles. Now, that will be $1.50 for the night.”
Claire watched her Father stiffen. That was as much as a week’s wages at the mill when she and the girl’s had first started. She understood why he looked so angry and was arguing with the man.
“There are only two families here, the spare wagons in tandem are to carry goods we plan to sell in Independence. I thought you said two bits per family.”
“I can let you stay, for seventy-five cents, but that’s the best I can do. You’ve got eighteen oxen, that’s a lot.”
As she and Mother walked on Claire was shocked to hear Bonnie’s voice.
“For water and grass growing along the river?” Bonnie asked.
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It wasn’t dark, but might be by the time they returned. Claire watched her mother use her pocket striker to light the lantern, then look around in satisfaction as she patted Claire’s shoulder. Her mother found a rambling rose, the daffodils and a woody herb called rosemary that was growing like a bush. Poor father, Claire didn’t want to be the one to tell him, she would leave it to mother.
Back at the camp circle she heard Bonnie’s strong voice first. The boys had raced back with a barrow full of dried corn and she was telling them what to do next. Maybe that was the difference. Bonnie had always been the quiet, timid one. Now she was always wanting to tell others what to do.
“Go on, go get a couple more before it’s too dark, we girls can take care of that,” Bonnie said.
She waved to Claire. “Here, help me spread this out.”
Claire stood still, then let her mother take the lantern back toward the fire. “How, what?” she asked.
“Hurry, I’ve got to get back to the dinner. Just throw a handful of cobs where they can reach it. They’ll take care of shelling it.”
“Can they eat that much?” Tom asked as the big oxen happily crunched the hard corn. Jim turned back with the empty wheelbarrow.
“We’ll throw it on top in the wagon with the tools. No sense letting that farmer skin us. Hurry, but stay together,” Bonnie yelled.
She took Claire’s arm and helped her throw a handful to one of the giant oxen. “See?”
Claire didn’t want to scream, but the big animals suddenly all seemed to be ambling in her direction.
“Just throw a handful out i
n a lot of directions. Hurry before they get to the big pile and start fighting over it.”
“Bonnie, something is burning,” Bella called out in her shrill voice.
And Claire was alone.
For a moment she thought about running back to the fire. One of the big oxen mooed loudly, and Claire bent down. She grabbed four or five cobs at a time and tossed them in the direction of whichever ox seemed the closest.
Finally, she was not coming up with any more and she realized the cows were busy swishing their tails and eating. Sighing with relief, Claire stood in the lengthening shadows. Bonnie had believed she could do it and Claire had fed the oxen by herself. Just like at the mill, she could learn to do any job if she put her mind to it. Although, like there, there were still many jobs she had no intention of learning or doing. The first was how to start a fire or cook. Look where that had gotten Bonnie.
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It was dark and the women strained to hear the voices of the men and boys as they plodded back to camp. The men were silent but she could hear Tom and Jim giggling. The two men carried burlap totes full of corn while the boys pushed the last overloaded barrow.
Men and boys were all grateful for the river water Bonnie and Claire had carried. Claire stared as her father splashed water greedily while Henry stood there, shaking out his coat first and brushing his pants. She was grateful for the shadows near the end of her wagon. She watched Henry unbutton his shirt sleeves and deliberately shrub his hands and face to remove all the chaff and dust.
Claire joined the women as Mother and Bella set out the stools around the flat boards. Her Father had planned for everything, even made special sanded boards to fit together to serve as a table on the long trip.
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I am so exhausted,” Claire said with a sigh. Still, the warm food was wonderful, even if it was just beans, cornbread and pork. “Thank you Bonnie, I’m going to bed,” Claire mumbled, as soon as she finished.
Bonnie smiled, looking tired herself. Bonnie collected the tin plates and shooed everyone off to bed. Claire knew she would sleep well tonight.
CHAPTER THREE
Claire climbed over the tailgate, already looking forward to sleeping on her feather mattress. It rested atop all the crates and boxes containing china, linen, and decorative items that her mother could not bear to part with. She unbuttoned her new dress, depressed at the thought that she would have to wear the plain serviceable clothing for the duration of the trip. At least she had been given the chance to look pretty for one day.
She unbuttoned and removed her shoes, unhooked and unfastened the front of her dress while sitting on top of the bed. She felt something move beside her on the mattress. Mary Anne had climbed in and out of every wagon all day. Irritated, Claire was going to tell the child that whatever she had found to play with, she should have put away.
Claire smiled. The girl was outside still, helping Bonnie wash up the metal plates for the next day. There was no way to scold a child who was as sweet as little Mary Anne.
Resigned, Claire stood ready to move whatever was rolling on the bed to put it away. When she put her hand down to reach it in the dark, it moved.
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Her scream shattered the darkness, blood-curdling with terror. The others were already in their wagons ready for bed, except for Bonnie and Mary Anne by the fire.
The twins were in the wagon they would share with Bonnie for the trip, looking out toward the fire and trying not to laugh. Claire almost tripped as she fell out of the wagon. Her mother and father were the first to react, but it was Bonnie, who caught the hysterical girl. Claire’s dress was down around her waist, her small breasts squeezed high above the tight little corset that she had suffered through wearing all day.
Bonnie caught and sheltered her in her arms drawing her away from the fire where she was clearly on display. Bella yelled at Henry when he started out of the wagon to help the half-dressed girl and he realized himself in time. Father Wimberley climbed down, fastening his shirt. By then, Bonnie had helped Claire back into her dress and the girl was almost coherent enough to tell her father that there was a serpent in her bed.
Robert Wimberley yelled at the top of his lungs. “Tom and Jim McKinney. Out here on the double.”
The young boys stood before him, trying to look innocent but looking guiltier by the moment. “I don’t care which one of you did it, but both of you climb in there and don’t come out until you’ve caught that snake. And don’t you dare pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Bonnie released her friend into her father’s care. “You’re saying those boys think it’s funny to release a poisonous snake into someone’s wagon?”
He turned so he was whispering to both older girls. Mary Anne danced around outside the wagon where she had been planning to go to sleep, afraid and excited to see a real snake.
“The farmer warned us he kept a couple of snakes in his corn crib. Told us to not be afraid. They’re nonpoisonous but deadly to mice, rats, and poisonous snakes that get into the feed. I knew the boys were asking a lot of questions about it at the time. But I thought we were lucky when we didn’t see any.”
Mary Anne squealed and backed up to stand, dancing around next to Claire who was standing in her stocking feet, shivering.
The boys held out the bright red patterned snake and it curled its five foot length up around Jim’s hand. Even Bonnie stepped back behind Mr. Wimberley, who shuddered.
Using his angriest voice, he said. “You little-son-of-a-guns, I ought to tan your hides. If you weren’t sleeping with Miss Magee, I’d make you try to get some sleep with that monster in your bed.”
The boys at least had enough sense to look ashamed.
“But it’s late, and it will be morning before you know it. I want you to take that thing up the path toward that fellow’s barn. Don’t release it anywhere near these wagons or the oxen. You pull a prank like this again, and I’ll blister your bottoms good.”
The boys were gone in a shot. In the distance, they heard them arguing about who should get to carry the snake.
Bonnie was the first to laugh and Father Wimberley gave a snort and grabbed Claire’s shoulder. “You going to be all right, girl?”
“I guess. That was the most terrifying experience of my life. I will pay those two scamps back, if it’s the last thing I do.”
Bonnie patted her shoulder. “Don’t be too mad, they didn’t know how scared you would be. Besides, like your father said, they were just trying to have a little fun. Lord knows they have little enough time for it, with all the work they have to do every day.”
Claire nodded and started to climb back in the wagon and then stopped. Her eyes were round and her voice trembled. “What if they brought more than one?”
Her father wasn’t sure, but he tried to be positive. “They’d still be in there trying to catch it. You heard them arguing about whose turn it was to carry it. With two, they’d be fighting about something else. Go on,” he leaned close and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Get some sleep.”
As she still stood there, poised on the step to go in, he lifted Mary Anne up. The little girl slipped past Claire to look around, just in case there was another snake. She wanted to be the one to catch it.
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Bonnie went to bed, exhausted but still smiling. When the twins came back minutes later they were whistling in the dark to keep from being afraid. She leaned out of the end of the wagon and shouted, “boo!” As both jumped, she laughed at them.
Only after she had made them wash the snake off their hands would she let them climb into her wagon. Finally the twins settled down, one on either side of her as usual to keep them from fighting. Tom said “We’re sorry, Aunt Bonnie, we didn’t think it would scare her that bad.”
Bonnie reached over and tugged his nose hard. “Stop lying and go to sleep.”
Jim sat up and stared at her, determined to ask. “But Aunt Bonnie, what was that thing she had o
n under her dress? It looked like it was squeezing the life out of her.”
Instead of laughing, Bonnie reached out and lightly smacked him on the cheek. “A corset, now get still and go to sleep.”
They both were quiet for several minutes before Tom whispered again, “I’m glad you don’t worry about looking pretty, Aunt Bonnie.”
“That’s it.” Bonnie sat up and began pinching both until they were begging for mercy and howling. When she stopped, no one said a word.
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Claire pulled on the tan, linsey-woolsey dress over her chemise and bloomers. She had stored the corset and elaborate petticoat away, along with her cute high-tops. The end of the trail seemed ages away. Lord, in six months she would be nearly eighteen. She wedged her small feet into her sensible boots. Hating to, she pulled on the big tan poke bonnet that had been recommended for the trail.
Unlike Bonnie’s loose fitting dark brown dress, Claire’s was tailored. It was very simple except for the carefully sewn smocking at the waist, neck, and sleeves. She had used the same material and design in the ugly, full-brimmed bonnet. For the first time in ages, she didn’t bother to comb any of her curls into ringlets since they would be hidden under the hideous hat.
Mary Anne came back to check on what was taking so long, everyone else was through with breakfast. “Bonnie said you need to hurry.”
Claire almost said what she thought of Bonnie Magee giving her orders, but didn’t bother. Looking one last time in her hand mirror, she slid it into the carefully compartmentalized trunk and stopped. She grabbed and tucked the small atomizer into her sleeve and rushed before her breakfast was packed away for lunch.
