What the Heart Wants

by Marie Caron

  “Samantha, you can help by putting some water on to boil,” Elizabeth said as she glanced my way. “Come on, Cass,” she said, and the two ran with their arms full to the Powell’s wagon, which was not very far away.

  As I went to the water barrel and scooped up ladle after ladle of cool, clear water, I could see the women and the grim-faced preacher gathered at the back of the Powells’ wagon. I watched as the group parted, allowing Elizabeth and Cassie to enter. And, after setting the iron kettle in the hot coals of our campfire, I sidled toward the curious, concerned group. They were talking quietly amongst themselves, but I couldn’t help overhear Mrs. Sims whose high-pitched voice carried like the trumpeting of a ram’s horn.

  “Don’t go mournin’ this child. If the baby dies, it will be God’s will. The child will spend eternity in a better place. He has a plan for each and every one of us. Don’t be forgettin’ that,” Prissy Sims stated with authority while her husband was ominously quiet. I promptly wished I hadn’t heard a word Prissy had said. I didn’t need to be reminded that life could be snatched away in the blink of an eye, on what seemed like a whim. My father’s death was still fresh in my mind that day. Though he had lived a full and happy life, I felt he’d been cheated. That I’d been cheated. He would never see me married or see his grandchildren. He wouldn’t even see California. Whether or not God was truly in control of every part of our lives, I was not certain. I just knew that it seemed particularly unfair for a baby not to have a chance at life. I was angry, and Mrs. Sims’ words made me feel even more so.

  The reactions to Mrs. Sims’ remarks were mixed. Some of the women nodded in agreement. Mrs. Rutledge raised her voice and said “amen,” and Mrs. Hudson gave Prissy a scornful look but didn’t say anything. Clara grabbed her aunt’s arm, and the older woman patted her hand in a soothing gesture. Angry and frustrated, I went back to check on the water, which was just coming to a boil. When the water had been rolling in the pot for several minutes, I used a piece of folded cloth to grip the handle and carried the pot to Elizabeth, who was kneeling inside the wagon over the moaning young woman.

  “Put it over here,” she directed me, moving aside a bit to make room for me.

  There wasn’t much space inside the wagon, as the sides were packed high with attractive pieces of furniture. Some of us had lost our belongings along the way. Our wagon and all its contents had been lost in a raging river. Others had had to leave things behind in order to lighten their loads. I was pleased to see that this young couple had managed to hold on to so much. They would be able to give their child a good start in life, a real home. Now I prayed that Elizabeth would be able to save Millie Powell and her baby and that God did not have other plans for either of them…at least not yet. Elizabeth dipped a clean cloth into the hot water and waved it around to cool it a bit. Then she soaped the cloth really good and used it to wipe Millie’s private area. Next she rinsed the area with clean water.

  “Cassie, do you have those blankets ready?”

  “Yes, they’re right here,” she said, patting the clothing and other items she had stacked to one side.

  “Good. You may go now.”

  Cassie didn’t argue, and I backed into the corner to allow her to leave the wagon. My heart did a stutter step when I heard Elizabeth’s next words.

  “Samantha, move to her head. I want you to sit behind Millie and hold her. Let her lean against you. She can hold your hands. Millie, honey, I want you to squeeze Samantha’s hands when it hurts. But try not to bear down until I tell you to.”

  “Bear down? But my baby isn’t due for two months!” the young woman wailed.

  “I know that’s what you thought, but I think this baby is ready to be born now, and it’s in a hurry.”

  “Oh my,” Millie said, her voice trembling.

  I watched as Elizabeth bent her head down and looked between Millie’s spread thighs. Then she put her hands on Millie’s bulging belly and smiled. “All right, Millie, it’s time. When you feel the next contraction, I want you to squeeze like the dickens.”

  I helped Elizabeth bring a healthy baby boy into the world on that day, and afterward, I felt much better about things in general. But I still missed John.

  * * * *

  My chance to see him in private came late the next day after everyone had turned in for the night. Everyone that is except for the two men assigned to act as lookouts. They were also expected to protect the drying meet from crows, owls, coyotes, and the like. I knew where the men were posted, so I avoided them, and as quietly as I could, I made my way out of the wagon I shared with Elizabeth and Cassie, a knitted shawl around my shoulders to shield me from the cool nighttime air. I knew that John would be camped outside the circle of wagons but not too far away that he wouldn’t be able to come to our rescue if need be. Clouds covered the moon, and I walked slowly, hoping to avoid the large rocks and fallen timber that littered the nearby field. First, I saw Thunder standing quietly in a half circle of aspen trees, and then I saw John. He was leaning against one of the tall thin trunks, the end of his cigar glowing red orange in the dark.

  He saw me and flicked the cigar to the ground at his feet, grinding his boot heel down upon it. “What are you doin’ out here?” he asked in a gruff voice. It was the first words he’d spoken to me in weeks, and I felt my heart dry up a little more. We hadn’t spent any time alone together since returning from the Indian village. To me it seemed like ages ago, and all I could think about was how much I wanted him to hold me like he had back then. But the first thing he said to me sounded harsh and critical, as though our being apart meant nothing to him. Worse yet, it was as though he didn’t want to be near me at all now.

  “I wanted to see you. I’ve missed you,” I said. I realized I was whining, and I didn’t care. I reached out to put my arms around his neck, to pull him closer, but he grabbed hold of my wrists and shoved my hands into my chest. “Don’t do that. Go back to the wagon, Samantha.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why. You don’t belong out here with me.” He let go of my wrists and stepped sideways out of my reach.

  “But you made love to me. I thought you wanted us to be together. I thought you wanted to work things out.”

  “I came to my senses. Now go back before someone sees us together.”

  “I thought you loved me,” I said, a sob escaping my throat as I hugged my shawl to my chest. I couldn’t believe he was doing this to me, but his next words changed my mind.

  He snorted a laugh. “I was just using you, girl. Hell, what man wouldn’t? You threw yourself at me like a two-bit whore. I’ve had all I want from you. Now go on, git!” He flung his hand toward the circle of wagons, and I ran as fast as my trembling legs would carry me, my white nightgown flapping about my body like the wings of some injured bird.

  Tears blurring my vision, I ran to the other side of the wagons, seeking a place where I could be alone. I couldn’t go back to Elizabeth’s wagon until I got my crying under control. He’d broken my heart, and I didn’t know how I would go on. It was a long while before I crept back to the wagon, and by then, I was chilled to the bone and my teeth were chattering. For the rest of the night, I lay dry-eyed and still, unable to sleep. I was certain the next two months, or however long it took to reach our destination, would be the longest ordeal of my life. All I could do was pray that when we reached Sacramento, Mr. Parker would want to marry me. Now a life with him was my only hope.

  * * * *

  As soon as the deer meat was dried, divided up, and packed away in the wagons, we were on our way again. The days went by, one blending into the next. We reached the Truckee River and followed it upstream, making the gradual ascent into the Rockies. John was gone most of the day, and occasionally, I would see him on the edge of camp talking to Captain Baker. I assumed he was hunting and feeding himself because he never joined us at the big campfire to share a meal, but he didn’t join the men when they stood together smoking their cigars or pipes after dinner, and t
his made me wonder if John was avoiding even the remotest possibility of running into me.

  The train moved on beside the rushing waters of the Truckee, over the windswept land, which, at some points, was almost devoid of foliage. We had left the pine forests and the silver-leafed aspens behind. Not many trees grew at this great altitude, and we saw no game other than an occasional white-coated hare. At night we heard wolves howling, and I couldn’t help but think how lonely they sounded…as lonely as I felt. The air seemed thin, and it was hard for us to walk as many hours as we had before. So we rode in the wagons and endured the jostling as the big wheels lumbered over the rocky ground. At times the trail ended abruptly at the edge of a rocky precipice, and the wagons had to be lowered down to the ground below using ropes. Twice this happened, and twice everything had to be removed from the wagons and lowered separately down to the valley below. The animals were lowered the same way, bellowing and neighing as they went, their front and hindquarters encircled by the ropes. Even the people had to sit in swing-like seats while the stronger of the men lowered us down to the bottom.

  There had been a light snowfall a couple of days before we arrived at one of these cliffs, but now the sky was clear, and a stiff wind was blowing from the northwest. Mrs. Powell, the oldest person in the group, predicted that there was a big storm coming. We hoped we would make it to the other side of the mountains before the storm arrived, as a big snow could bury the wagons and us. At the very least, it would make moving forward impossible. We would have to dig out, if possible, or wait until the snow melted in the spring, but by then, we would be dead of starvation. The wide river was gone now; only small streams meandered downhill from the highest peaks, which were covered in a year-round frosting of ice and snow. Captain Baker had been right; traveling through the mountain passes was slow-going and tough, and all we could do was pray that we’d make it to the other side before the heavy winter snows came.

  Four weeks later Captain Baker halted our progress and told us to step down from the wagons. The wagon train seemed to be perched at the edge of the earth, and we were all eager to see what lay beyond.

  “There it is, folks. That’s where we’re headed. That’s California,” he said as he turned and waved his arm at the sweeping panorama. Walking forward we gathered around our leader, gasping with joy as we saw what lay ahead. Below us lay a snowy path, which was the trail we were standing on. It narrowed down and disappeared into a vast green blanket of trees. And beyond the trees, in the far distance, was a wide expanse the color of amber and garnet. We had reached the highest point in the trail and down below us the trees hadn’t yet lost their fall-colored coats.

  I should have been thrilled to see how close we were to our destination, but all I could feel was sadness and a sense of loss. Soon I would reach Sacramento City, but my father would not be there to see it with me. My heart ached for him and for the child I had once been. I was a woman now in the truest sense of the word, and yet I had no one who loved me.

  As we stood poised above that verdant valley, Reverend Sims led us in a prayer of thanks. We had spent the past five months together, faced hardships together, and celebrated life and death together. Soon we would go our separate ways, some of us remaining in Sacramento while others went on to San Francisco and other cities and towns in California. All but one of us had survived the long journey, and we had welcomed one new life into the world. And, though I was thankful to be here in this wondrous land and to be alive, I still couldn’t forget the uncertainty of my future. What would I do if Mr. Parker didn’t want to marry me?

  Chapter 10

  The first day I set foot in Sacramento was a day I shall never forget. It was late September, and it was quite warm when compared to the mountains we had just traversed. The orange-and-red leaves of the deciduous trees, which we’d seen from afar, looked like lit torches in the bright afternoon sunlight. Elizabeth and Cassie had dropped me off at the hotel where the Hudsons and their niece, Clara Potter, were staying until the purchase of the boarding house was complete. My parting with the Youngs had been emotional, and we had promised to get together often. After all, they wouldn’t be that far away. Elizabeth was going to open a clinic for women here in town, just as soon as she found a location. She wanted a place where she and Cassie could live upstairs with a space below it where she could set up her practice. The city had grown by leaps and bounds in the past few years due to the influx of gold prospectors, and it was still growing now that California had been made a state and Sacramento the capital. There were always new buildings going up, and Elizabeth felt certain she would have no problem finding a place that would fit their needs.

  The Hudsons had offered to let me stay in Clara’s hotel room, or at the boarding house, until I married their nephew, Thomas. Apparently they still believed he and I would be a good match. Even Clara offered words of encouragement. I, meanwhile, dreaded even setting foot in the same room with the man. But at least I wouldn’t have long to wait since we were all having dinner together that night in the hotel dining room.

  I had been given some dresses and underthings by Sarah and Elizabeth, who were both about my size though shorter, and as we got dressed, Clara went on and on about how excited she was to finally be in California. I said very little, as all I could think about was the meeting that was fast approaching. What would I do if Mr. Parker didn’t like me? What would I do if he did! I didn’t really want to marry a man I didn’t love, and though I had tried not to think about John, his face kept appearing in my mind.

  I hadn’t seen him since that last day in the mountains when we knew we had made it, and Captain Baker called us together so that we could thank the man who had seen us safely to California. I could see the reluctance on John’s face as the captain asked him to come forward, and I knew what he was feeling. Our scout was a private person and didn’t want to be put on display. Everyone shouted, “Hip, hip, hooray!” Several people, the parents of the children he had rescued from the bear, actually went up and shook his hand. He didn’t say anything, simply nodded his head. He had done his job, and now he was free to leave. Even before the meeting broke up, I saw him riding away. He didn’t tell me good-bye or even look in my direction, and my heart broke a little more as I watched him head back the way we had come. It occurred to me then that I still didn’t know where he made his home. Was he going there now? Would he stay in California until spring, or was he headed back across the mountains? I came to the conclusion that day that I would have to go to my grave with more questions than answers about the man I loved.

  As soon as Clara and I were ready, we went down to the lobby. William Hudson and his wife, Esther, were already there. I wondered where their nephew was, but the part of me that was afraid to meet him told me not to ask. Clara had no such worries, and once we were seated, she asked after him.

  “Where’s Cousin Thomas? I thought he was joining us.”

  Mrs. Hudson glanced at me and then at her husband. I thought she looked a bit pale.

  “He won’t be coming. He didn’t think it would be right under the circumstance.” I looked at him questioningly but didn’t say anything. He continued, “I’m afraid I’ve some bad news for you, Samantha,” he began sympathetically. “We just found out this morning. You see…Thomas was married two months ago.”

  I heard Clara gasp, and Esther shook her head. A part of me wanted to shout for joy, but another part thought I should express my disappointment. After all, I had no other plans for my future. I did neither.

  “I’m so sorry, m’dear,” the colonel said.

  “We feel responsible,” Esther added. “We want you to know that you will always have a place in our home,” she continued, wringing her hands. She was obviously upset.

  I finally found my voice. “I accept for now. But, as soon as I can, I will find employment and a place of my own. I don’t want to intrude or be a burden.”

  “Employment? But what will you do?” Esther asked. It was a question I had pondered for wee
ks, and I still had no answer.

  “She could work at the boarding house!” Clara all but shouted.

  “I suppose she could…if she wants to, that is.” William’s statement was more of a question, and I didn’t need to consider it for long. It was an answer to my prayers.

  “Yes, I accept.”

  * * * *

  Within the week, we moved into the big house and then set about making it ready for customers. The house, which at one time had belonged to the town’s mayor, had seven bedrooms, five of which would be rented out. My new employers took the big room at the back of the house on the top floor while Clara and I shared an equally spacious room down the hall at the front of the house. There was a bathing room and what Mrs. Hudson called a toilet across from our room and similar facilities on the second floor. There was one bedroom to let on the uppermost floor and four more bedrooms on the second floor while the kitchen, dining room, parlor, and library took up the ground floor. Clara and I had never been inside a house this large, nor one with an indoor bathing room and privy. Mrs. Hudson showed us how to use the newfangled tubs and toilets and then left us giggling as we scrubbed the porcelain containers until we could see our faces in them.

  We scrubbed the floors, dusted the furniture that had been left by the previous owner, and turned the house into a place fit for even the pickiest renter. By the second week, four of the rooms were rented. Clara and I cleaned and did the laundry. The work kept me busy, leaving me little time during the day to think about anything else. But at night, while I lay alone in my bed, I thought about nothing else but John. Even though I knew he’d lived on his own for most of his life, I worried about him. It was winter, and the mountain passes were deep in snow by now. I pictured him lying in the snow, injured or starving to death, while wolves circled his still body. No, I cried inside as I tried to reason with myself. I told myself that I should forget about him and find someone else. But I knew I’d never find another man I could love the way that I loved John, and many nights I cried myself to sleep.