Bright Morning Star

by J. R. Biery

  Claire’s head hurt, she wanted to run and cry, escape all the uproar and the terrible debate. Calum’s loud voice pulled her back in as he groaned the words, “So Bonnie has been gone a week?”

  She could see in his eyes and face, the torture he was imagining for wonderful, brave Bonnie. Claire wanted to howl in pain at the images, instead she muttered in a dead voice, “Over twelve days.”

  <><><>

  It was Mother who began to talk, telling the Lieutenant about Bella. Henry interrupted as he made a barking sound. Claire rose, shivering, wondering if he were laughing or crying. “What, Henry? Do you want me to put Barney to bed?” Mother asked.

  Claire watched him shake his head violently. It looked as if he was crushing the small boy in his arms. She stepped closer, ready to pull the boy to safety.

  “I couldn’t protect them, I couldn’t protect either of them,” Henry screamed.

  When Claire reached out to touch him, he stood and moved away. Calum rose and stood beside the man.

  “When?” Calum asked.

  “I’m not sure, two days ago. They wouldn’t let me keep her with me. She’s buried on the side of a hill, all alone. There is no marker, no sign for anyone to ever find her.”

  Father Wimberley’s voice sounded depressed, “It was over ninety in the shade.” Calum raised a hand. He had been on battlefields during the Civil War. One never forgot the stench of the dead and dying.

  “We all are buried alone, Henry,” Father said. But before he could finish offering more words of comfort, Henry was muttering again.

  “She made me promise to take care of Barney, to take care of him the way we had agreed if anything happened to her. I couldn’t do it. She wanted him buried with her, but I couldn’t do it.”

  Claire sank beside him, leaned to wrap an arm around the sobbing man. “I thought, I heard you promise her to take care of him, then I saw you put your hand over his face.” She leaned against him. “Oh Henry, I thought you wanted to kill him.”

  He shot up as though scalded by her touch. “I resented him...”he began and Claire closed her eyes in comprehension. She had misjudged him, thought she no longer loved him, could never love such a man. “I never wanted to hurt him, to …” the words faded into a gasp. “You thought I wanted to kill him?”

  Onto the lap of the shocked girl he let Barney’s lifeless body fall. “Now he’s dead and we are days and miles from her grave. They will both be buried alone.” When he said the last words, she heard the horror, heard how lost and alone he sounded. Helplessly she watched him storm off.

  Claire touched the lifeless face, held her fingers over the boy’s lips. When there was no movement, she screamed.

  Alarmed, Calum whistled to call his Indian scouts, and quickly sent them after the crazed man.

  Claire felt emotionally overwhelmed. How could she think Henry wanted to kill this boy? She knew he resented him, remembered all the arguments he and Bella had at the store. Now she had betrayed him again, embarrassed them both by making all of this public. She closed her eyes as though in a faint as her parents rushed forward. Father swept her up and after Mother took the child, he carried Claire to her wagon.

  In the dark she heard a thud, tried not to react. As her father gently placed her on her bed, she heard Calum’s orders.

  “Tie him up and put him in his wagon.” She knew the Lieutenant was staring at four angry boys when she heard Calum explain. “Guilt and grief have killed many a man.”

  As her Father brushed a kiss against her forehead, Claire let her head roll as though already asleep. You thought I wanted to kill him? Henry had accused. This time she couldn’t even cry or pray. She would always see his face and remember those words.

  <><><>

  At dawn, Claire woke to the sound of the troopers bugle. Amazingly, she had slept through the night. Sometimes the soul can feel as exhausted as the body. But this morning she felt renewed. She took the time to change the blood stained dress and to take a quick spit bath with washcloth and bowl of water, rushing to pull on clean clothes and work her hair into order. Satisfied, she hurried out of the wagon to start breakfast.

  She almost collided with Jim, who had stumbled out of the Lambton’s wagon, rubbing his eyes. “Hey, those soldiers are nuts. They get up even before your father, and he gets up earlier than anyone from the city.”

  “Apparently not,” Claire said with a laugh. Jim stared at her and smiled too, shaking his head as he backed away. “Got to see the Lieutenant about something.” He almost fell as he collided with her father, climbing out of the front of the wagon. Righted, he ran toward the trooper’s tents.

  Claire was already striking the flint that she now carried in her pocket, quickly starting the fire. She shook the pot and poured the small amount of coffee into a nearby tin cup, setting it on the fire to warm as well. She grabbed the bucket and headed to the water keg to fill both. She paused to return her father’s stare. “What?”

  Father shook his head, smiled at her, “I’ll go fetch some fresh water, give me a minute. You sure you want to cook, Mother and I can do it?”

  “I’m fine, guess it will be more porridge and fat back. I wish we had eggs, the shells always brighten the coffee.” Humming, she walked to the food cabinet and began to grind coffee beans. Her mother peered out of the wagon, her hair uncombed and dress still unbuttoned. “I’m hurrying Claire. I can do all that.”

  Claire stood on tiptoe to kiss her Mother, dusted her hand before reaching up to cup her face. Her hand smelled of coffee grounds and both women inhaled at the same time. Her mother smiled and nodded before disappearing back inside to dress.

  Jim ran past, almost colliding again. She heard him breathlessly shout as he climbed into the wagon. “Yeah, he said to let him loose so he can do it, but we’re both to go along and keep an eye on him.”

  She heard Henry swear, “… does he want you to hold it for me too.”

  Giggling, Claire could hear the sounds of Henry struggling and the grunt as Tom helped him to stand. Carefully, she looked at the meat as she sliced the side of bacon standing in the skillet. When she had a dozen short slices, she wrapped the pork with the greasy cheesecloth covering and set it aside while she spread out the meat in the skillet and put it on to cook.

  Mother appeared and returned the pork and carried the pot of soaked beans with her. “I’m pleased to see you back on your feet. You’ve had us worried you know.”

  Claire titled her head to smile and then whispered, “I know, but for some reason, this morning I woke and my heart felt light again. Like some terrible burden had been lifted.” She added the oats to the boiling water, carefully tilted the lid as she covered the pot and moved it back from the flame a little to add the beans. “I know you and Father disapproved of my behavior. That hurt, then Bella died. I’ve felt guilty and unhappy for too long. I just can’t do it. Now Calum has arrived and is going after her, I know we’ll have Bonnie back soon. I have to live as myself Mother, not pretend to be someone else, even for you,” she whispered.

  Mother leaned over and gave her a brief hug. “Good, I knew Robert was wrong. You are like your Grandmother Wimberley. You never knew him, but your grandfather used to tease her. He would say she was ‘half-fairy,’ because she was so bright and bubbly. I’m glad to have the real Claire back.”

  By the time the three men returned, Claire had the porridge bubbling. She added hot coffee to the mug with yesterday’s cold, and when Henry extended his hand she placed it there. If he noticed she looked better today, he gave no indication.

  The troop rode past, Calum pulling his horse up to talk. The Magee brothers dismounted and Claire was surprised to hear them arguing about which would carry the body of Barney Lambton.

  “We’ll find the grave, make sure the boy is buried with his mother.” Calum barked “enough” as Ian emerged with the child, but looked surprised as were the others when he handed the body up to Shawn.

  Claire handed the washed plate to Mary Anne to dry
and exchanged a smile with the little girl as the soldiers paraded by, looking their way. “Lieutenant Douglas won’t come back without her. Bonnie will soon be back,” Claire said.

  “Won’t you be glad to never have to wash another dish or cook another meal?”

  Claire surprised herself as she shook her head. “I like the idea of not having to do any unpleasant jobs again, but in a way I’ll miss it. Time passes quicker when you’re working.”

  “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop,” Mary Anne said.

  “Work and your heart grows happy,” Claire say.

  “Whistle or sing to work faster,” Mary Anne said.

  Father interrupted the cheerful girls. “Get everything on board, we’re moving out.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Claire trudged alongside her parent’s wagons, relieved to see Henry walking beside his own. She noticed he moved, head-bowed, steps slow. Mary Anne sat on the seat guiding the team and Tim took care of prodding Henry’s lead oxen.

  She still felt sad when she looked at him, still felt the guilt. But like she told Mother, she refused to let it weigh her down any longer. They cleared two hills, saw the ten soldiers that had been left behind by Calum to escort the two wagon trains into the next fort. Father Wimberley rode up beside the lead wagon, four teams in front of their own, but the man refused to push his oxen any faster. For the first time today, Claire felt her father’s disappointment.

  The other wagon train was just getting harnessed and ready to pull out. If they had pushed, they could have taken the lead. In most places on the trail, there was no passing. She could tell from the motion of her father’s shoulders how much passing the other train had meant to him.

  By the time they reached the pass, the other train was filing onto the trail and they had to halt and wait. Father rode back to them. “Let’s use the time folks. Wash and refill the water barrels, look for firewood. Any men who want to try it, this would be a good time to fish or hunt. Ladies, chance to wash out some of the clothes. Let’s just not sit here and wait.”

  He turned, rode up to Henry. “I need you to be on guard duty while the women are near the river.”

  <><><>

  Claire sat in the morning sunlight, her skirt hiked to show her petticoat but not reveal her legs. She had the hem caught twice at her waist to secure it and keep it from getting muddy. Mother had her dress fixed the same way. Mary Anne was barefoot, her dress and petticoat caught like Claire’s when she was riding. As quick as a water sprite, the little girl was laughing as she chased silvery minnows in the shallow water. Tip and Tyler barked and raced along the bank, mirroring the little girl’s actions.

  The twins stood next to two of the would-be miners, all four were mid-river with pants rolled and shoes sitting on the bank as they cast lines into the water. None had had a bite.

  When father rode up, he looked at the angry Henry and smiled. Good, at least the man was back among the living. “Okay, load ‘em up, let’s keep up,” he said. As he rode up the bank, he saw a couple of soldiers watching the women as they stood to struggle with the basket of wet clothes. He wasn’t surprised to see Henry sigh, but stand to carry the clothes before the suitors or soldiers could make the offer. It would take time, but he was confident Claire would reel in her fish.

  <><><>

  It was the next day that the Wimberley wagon train entered the fort. Father was upset when he had to wait at the gates as the larger mule train departed. There would be two days between them again, since many of the wagons that had joined him and the Lamptons needed to restock. Impatient to be gone, Father rushed to restock what they had consumed and did a little bit of business with his tools and wagon parts in trade. Claire and Mother kept Mary Anne with them as they explored the store and the main street.

  The boys took off and Father Wimberley sent Henry Lambton after them. The man grumbled, but quickly pursued the route of the boys. When he found them trying to peek over the saloon doors, they backed into him and he grabbed them by the shoulder. “Father Wimberley wants you to stay with us.” The boys fell into step with him before one of the boys said. “There are women in their underwear back there, but the men are all dressed.”

  Henry stopped, released them. “Stay here.” The boys stood there, giggling as Henry walked back and peered over the door. There were two women visible, one about three hundred pounds, the other maybe one hundred. They wore soiled white petticoats and torn chemises. None of the men drinking and playing cards seemed to pay any attention to them. Disgusted, he turned back to see the giggling twins and smiled as he caught up to them. “You had to make me look, didn’t you?”

  As he listened to their chatter he saw the Wimberley women leave the little grocery store and take the time to store their new purchases. Despite the dirt and bustle of the army base, they looked clean and wholesome. Mary Anne was jumping around, pointing to the Indians and the animals wandering in the street. Claire caught her little finger and hushed her. Annoyed, he looked the other way. He tried to call up all the hurt and rage he felt the day Barney died, but all the hurt was already healing over.

  That evening a small wagon train pulled by oxen entered the fort. There were five wagons left, one had been taken, another burned and the oxen stolen from both wagons.

  When one of the members of his own party laughed at the unfortunates, making fun of them for dragging the half-destroyed wagon along, Father Wimberley reprimanded him. “The Indians would have done the same to us, if we didn’t have the troopers riding along.” The Raglon boy looked as though he was reconsidering.

  Father Wimberley was already gone, walking over to meet the members of the other train. Minutes later he had made a deal for them to join his party and sent the remaining wagons over to join the camped wagons. Sixteen would make a lot of difference, since every gun and able man helped to protect the others. He called the twins away from a game of horseshoes and together, they moved the half-burned wagon down to the stables where he could use the blacksmith’s tools.

  He sent the owner of the wagon to search for lumber while he and the boys dismantled and removed the burned part of the wagon. He sent Tom back to his wife with the burned canvas and orders to use the spare tents. Using two of the four tents that had been stocked with the wagons Father and Henry had sold, she and Claire cut away the burned half and were able to piece out and begin to sew a replacement top. When the wife of the wagon owner came by, Mother and Claire put her to work sewing beside Mary Anne.

  Tom carried back his carpenter’s tools. By nightfall, the wagon had been repaired. There were only the black boards on one side and the front box to show it had been attacked. One of the officers from the fort came by to observe the work and talk, if not, they would have finished even sooner. The boys reloaded the goods that hadn’t been burned and the man thanked him profusely.

  <><><>

  There was no palisade to separate the fort from the rest of the town, but there was a row of decks along the railroad line in front, a rock wall behind and sentry posts along each end. There were the usual ‘tame’ Indians with teepees along the edge of the fort between those posts. At the other side, the two merged wagon trains circled up. The saloons and red light district were beyond the fort on the wild, or Indian side.

  Like the first night outside Independence, Father ordered a joint meal and dance to celebrate their safe arrival and to allow everyone to meet and make friends with their new traveling companions.

  The dinner began with a long prayer of thanks for their safe arrival and a memorial for those precious lives lost already on the journey to their new homes. “None of us knows what really awaits us out west. We’ve sold our homes, uprooted our lives from all we’ve known, in the hope for a brighter future. It takes a special kind of courage, a desire for adventure and a richer life than the one we’ve left behind. Let us ask God to protect and guide us on our journey, amen.” The last word was echoed by all those in the crowd.

  Claire stood, head still bowed. The pra
yer had brought tears to her eyes. The way Father had described Bella and Barney brought their image back to her. Then there had been the special prayer for Bonnie and to protect Lieutenant Douglas and his men in their search. For the first time she realized how much danger Bonnie’s younger brothers, Shawn and Ian were in. Both were boys, only a few years older than Lynne’s twin brothers. Claire had Mother and Father, but she always thought of her dear friends Lynne and Bonnie as sisters. Their siblings always called her Aunt Claire. They were as near and dear to her as family.

  Someone nudged her shoulder and Claire looked up, embarrassed to be caught crying in public. It was the Brewer cousins, Dorothy and Faye, who she had visited with and shared suitors with before Bonnie disappeared and her life became one of endless chores. “Are you ready, come on, don’t you hear the fiddler sawing? It’s time to sing for our supper.”

  Claire straightened, pulling her hankie from her sleeve to blow her nose and wipe her tears. When she looked around, she saw Henry, his pale blue eyes wet as well. Her mother made a waving motion at her and Mary Anne was already on her feet doing strange little hops into the air. The leprechauns were pulling the girl’s shoes Bonnie would have said.

  Well, this might be the last time for celebration. Father was right, they had no idea what waited ahead of them on the long trail to Utah. Smiling, Claire stood and let the girls pull her forward to be lifted onto the flat wagon bed first, followed by the other two. The memory of Bonnie’s brassy voice singing with them clouded her eyes for a second. How she wished she could hear her friend’s loud, strong voice once again? Had she really thought it sounded like a braying mule at one time?

  Tom and Jim looked up at her, Tom passed her up a cup of water and yelled, “Sing the song from the other night, the one about the dreamer.” Jim asked for Buffalo Gals, and other people called out requests. When the man with the banjo looked to them, she whispered, Beautiful Dreamers. It was a slow, sweet song and some shook their heads, wanting more pep, but Claire stiffened her spine and cued the girls beside her. In harmony, they sang the song together and the fiddlers both tried not to hide the girl’s sweet melody.