Mary's Musket (Clover Creek Caravan Book 2)

by Kirsten Osbourne

  Mary looked at her mother with shock for a moment. She never used any curse words, but she had just mentioned hell. “Are you all right, Ma?”

  “Sure, I’m fine. I’m not worried at all. If all my children die, then I can just have more. It’s not hard on me to have lots and lots of babies. Let’s have another dozen. That’ll work, right?” Ma was flicking soap and water in the air as she spoke, and it was obvious nothing was going to calm her down quickly. She was in a full-fledged rant, and she needed to get it out of her system.

  Mary rested her head on her mother’s shoulder for a moment. “I love you, Ma.” And she did. She loved her mother more than she could ever express. Though she didn’t much like helping with the women’s chores that her mother was in charge of.

  When her mother turned to her, she had tears in her eyes. “Thank you for saying that, Mary. That’s exactly what I needed to hear.”

  “We all need those words sometimes. I’m still working with you to make sure we don’t lose any of ours. I promise I’m watching the little ones just as well as I can.”

  “I do hope we won’t.” Ma returned to washing the dishes and when they were finished, she waved Mary off. “You go on and have fun with your Bob. I’ll be here, waiting for more to get the cholera.”

  “Just make sure they keep drinking coffee, Ma. That’s what doc says keeps them from getting so sick.” Even the little ones needed to drink coffee and not something else. It didn’t make sense to Mary why they were doing it, but they would follow the doctor’s orders to the letter.

  Ma nodded, not questioning anything. She’d had her entire family on coffee since the beginning of the trip. “I make sure of it.”

  When Mary got to Bob, she was mentally exhausted. “We can’t keep losing people. Ma is about to lose her mind.” She rubbed the back of her neck, wishing there was some way to alleviate her mother’s fears, but short of turning around and going home, there was no way to do that.

  Bob frowned at her, fetching a blanket and taking her hand to walk out into the prairie with her. “I don’t know what we can do about it.”

  “I don’t either. We have to make certain she’s safe from more accidents or injuries.” Mary shook her head. “I’m sorry. We have to make sure the family is safe from those things. Mother doesn’t worry about her own life. She worries about those she loves.”

  “I understand. I don’t know how we can make sure everyone is fine though. This is a dangerous undertaking, and no one is truly safe as long as they are going to Oregon on this Trail.”

  “I know that. My mother knows that. It’s why she’s worried. It’s why she forced Pa to wait two years longer than he wanted to for us to go.” Mary shrugged. “Two years longer than I wanted to wait as well. I wish we were already there, homesteading.” She was ready to start her new life, and this torturous walk was not an adventure to her as much as it was a necessity.

  “But if you’d gone two years ago, you never would have met me, and you have to admit, I’m you’re very favorite husband in all the world.” He winked at her as he said it, hoping to make her laugh, which he succeeding in doing.

  “I do believe you’re right about that, Mr. Hastings.” She rubbed the back of her neck again, wishing there was a way to get her mother to stop worrying. But she had no idea how. “Perhaps we should do a little hunting tonight. It will get my mind off the deaths in camp and my mother’s worries.”

  Bob shrugged. “We can do that, but I thought we were going to sleep.”

  “We will. Just let me get a deer or a bear or something first. I need to feel like I’m doing all I can to keep the camp alive.”

  He didn’t want to hunt, but he wanted to do all he could to keep her happy, and if hunting would ease her mind, then he was happy to do it with her.

  The two of them walked out to the north of camp, knowing that the animals there wouldn’t have been disturbed by their presence yet. It didn’t take long for Mary to hit two antelopes, and they dragged them back to their camp, working together to hang them from a tree. Neither of them said a word as they maneuvered the animals up, and Mary realized the two of them took care of animals the same way they did everything else. They had a silent communication that worked for them.

  Once they were finished, she walked back to her parents’ wagons, finding her mother. “I have two antelope bleeding out in the trees near the river. I hope they ease your mind a little.” She kissed her mother on the cheek and then disappeared with Bob.

  She knew what Bob had in mind, and she wanted to take just as much time as possible to let it happen. Being married wasn’t all terrible. There was definitely some intense pleasure involved. She just hoped the babies wouldn’t start coming right away. It wasn’t time yet. Maybe someday she’d be ready to have babies with Bob, but it would be after their homestead was profitable, and not a moment before.

  They started early the following morning and went later than expected. By the time they reached the Little Blue, they were all exhausted. All Mary wanted to do was collapse in a heap on the ground, but instead, she returned the children with her to their various families, and then she fetched water from the river for the buffalo stew her mother was planning.

  That evening, everyone worked together on meals, instead of having separate family meals as they usually did. While Ma got the water boiling, Margaret chopped up some of the buffalo for their meal. Hannah peeled carrots and potatoes and chopped them into small pieces. The Henderson children sat quietly waiting for their food while their father helped with setting up the camp.

  All of the unmarried men came to eat out of Ma’s stew pot as well. The help of so many hands made the work light, which thrilled them all.

  Mary went over to get two bowls of stew when it was done, fully aware that it would be her job to help with the dishes. She sat beside Bob, ready to go to sleep immediately that evening. She was too tired to do anything else.

  She had just finished eating when she heard the doctor say something to her ma, and she knew immediately it wouldn’t go over well. “Thank you for the delicious meal, Mrs. Mitchell. The next time one of your children is injured, I’ll take extra good care of them.”

  Mary hurried over and added some cool water to the dishwater Ma had been boiling while they ate. “It’s going to be all right, Ma. There won’t be any more injuries.”

  Ma glared at Mary. “You know as well as I do there will be many more injuries. They need to stop calling this the Oregon Trail and start calling it the Death March. No one in their right mind should be bringing children on this trail. It’s going to be a miracle if anyone reaches Oregon alive!”

  Mary rested her head on her ma’s shoulder for a minute. “I know this is frightening for you, Ma. I love you.”

  As angry as her ma was, she never once raised her voice. “We never should have brought the babies. Never! I spent years pregnant with your siblings and you. Years! And all of those years are going to be lost with a six-month trek through hell.”

  “I’ll get better about watching the little ones,” Mary promised. “I won’t take my eyes off them.”

  “Of course, you will. You’re a newly married young woman, and you love nothing better than to hunt.” Ma shook her head, waving Mary away with her hand. “Go. Do something else. I’ll handle the dishes, or Hannah can do them with me. Don’t spend your last minutes on this earth washing dishes, when there is no woman alive who hates women’s work as much as you do.”

  Mary walked away, well aware that Bob followed her out of the circle of wagons to behind them. When he reached for her, she slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me. You want me to have babies so we can kill them too. It’s not happening. Do you hear me?”

  Bob looked at her in shock. “What’s this about, Mary?” Bob understood he wasn’t perfect, and he was willing to have her call him down when his own behavior was bad, but it hadn’t been, and he had no idea what was upsetting her so much.

  “What’s this about? This is about men telling
women what to do whenever they want. It’s about men being in charge of the entire world, because that’s how it’s always been. Well, this woman has a mind of her own, and she plans to use it. Do you understand that?”

  He stared at her for a moment. “I’ve never told you to do something you didn’t want to do. I don’t think you’re angry with me right now, Mary. If you are, I’d sure like to understand why.”

  Mary took a deep breath. “You’re right. I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at my father, and you’re standing in front of me, so you’re getting the brunt of it.”

  “Why are you mad at your father?” he asked, truly trying to understand what was going on with her.

  “Because he forced my mother to come on this trip and bring my younger brothers and sisters. She begged him not to make her come. She was only able to put him off for a couple of years, but we came on the trail anyway. She’s calling the trail a death march.”

  He frowned, closing his eyes. “I promise you that I will never make a decision like that without talking to you about it first. You have every right to make decisions along with me and to have your own thoughts. I will not try to take that right from you.”

  Mary sighed. “I’m sorry I got angry with you about this. I need to blow off some steam…and some heads. I need to hunt.”

  He smiled, leaning down and kissing her cheek. “I’ll go fetch your musket and we’ll hunt together. If hunting will make you less angry, then I’m all for hunting with you.”

  Mary nodded. She waited as he brought her musket to her, and as soon as it was in her hand, she felt in control of her life again. No one should ever force another thinking human to do something they didn’t want to do. That needed to end as soon as a child was grown.

  Together, she and Bob walked and looked for animals in the fading evening light. She was determined to feed the whole camp the next day, and make her mother feel better again.

  Six

  April 21st, 1852

  Today was a sad day indeed. We are traveling along the Little Blue River until we get close enough to the Platte River to make the journey in a day. We’re doing everything possible to always stop at a river, where there will be more animals to hunt, water for our needs, and wood to make our fires.

  Mrs. Bedwell has been under the weather for most of the trip. You could see in her eyes even before we left that this trip would be much harder on her than it would be on most of us, but her husband was determined to drag her and their sons along the way.

  This afternoon, Mrs. Bedwell was feeling ill, and she told her husband she would need to ride once again. The captain was not pleasant to her, and we all heard him chastising her and telling her she was making it harder on the oxen who had to drag her along with everything else. So, she walked with the rest of us, which she was rarely able to do because of her frailty. None of us really knew what was wrong with her, but she wasn’t strong enough to walk.

  Most of us know to stick to the Trail, because there are snakes and all sorts of creepy crawly creatures in the grass. Unfortunately, when I told Mrs. Bedwell she would be better off walking on the Trail, she turned to me in anger, and told me it was none of my never mind what she wanted to do. I’ve never seen the woman angry before, but I backed away. It’s always the little women who look so sweet who have a real temper.

  Not ten minutes later, I heard a rattle, but by then she’d already been bitten. Apparently, she stepped on the rattler. He was slithering away, so I shot him to keep him from getting anyone else, but it was too late for Mrs. Bedwell. She was on the ground in moments.

  Hannah yelled to stop the train, and the relay was heard quickly across the entire company. The captain was angry to stop, and he came back, full of vinegar as he asked who’d called for the stop. I simply pointed at his wife on the ground, who was already unconscious. Hannah was kneeling beside her with her shawl tucked under Mrs. Bedwell’s head.

  The captain screamed for the doctor, who came rushing back, but by then, she was dead. By not caring how ill his wife was to begin with, and by not paying attention to her need to ride in the wagon, he allowed his sweet wife to die.

  He knelt at her head for a moment, his head tilted downward. When he lifted it, tears could be seen in his eyes, but his face was solemn. He called for a grave to be dug, and we camped by his wife’s beloved body for the night. He knows he caused her death. There is no doubt in anyone’s mind.

  Mary went hunting after the early stop and funeral that afternoon. She needed some time alone. Two days in a row she’d seen women upset over the way they were ordered around by men.

  This time, she didn’t wait for her husband, but went out alone. Soon after she left the camp, she heard Hannah running after her. “I just need to walk with you,” Hannah said, her face covered in tears.

  “Where’s your husband?” Mary knew that it was really her husband that Hannah needed when she grew so upset. He had a way of calming her that Mary had no inkling of.

  “He’s talking to Captain Bedwell. The captain needs him more than I do at the moment.”

  “That’s probably true,” Mary said. “I just need to kill something and pretend it’s all men.”

  Hannah looked at her with surprise. “Are you upset with Bob?”

  “Bob? Of course not. Who could be upset with Bob?” She shook her head. “No, I’m angry with all men who think they have a right to make decisions for their wives. Men who don’t take anyone else’s feelings into account when they decide what’s best for their families. Men like my father and the good captain.”

  “Because your father made your mother come on this trip?” Hannah asked, obviously trying to understand.

  “Yes! Ma is going to sleep crying every night. Do you know that she was upset last night when the doctor told her he’d take special care with her next child who was injured on the trail in thanks for his meal? Ma’s biggest fear is to lose one of her children on the Trail. Not me, so much, because I’m grown. But the others. She’s had two injured already, and she’s certain she’s going to lose all of us. She is calling the Trail a death march.” Mary shook her head, desperately wanting to be able to help her mother.

  “I can see that.” Hannah shook her head. “I’ll be more understanding and try to stay close to her.”

  “Better than that, help me keep a special eye out for my siblings. Maisie spends a lot of time walking now, and she wanders away so fast. Ma has to ride with Jeremiah and Annie, the first two injured.” Mary shook her head, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw what she’d watched for the whole trip. Two buffalo drinking from the river. They were cut off from the rest of the herd. She had one chance to bring one down, and she was finally going to do it.

  Carefully, she raised her musket to her shoulder and she sited the male of the pair. With one shot, the buffalo was on his knees. With the second, he was down, and the other buffalo had run off.

  Mary looked at Hannah and squealed. “I did it! I got my first buffalo!” She carefully set her musket down and hugged her friend, letting her go and spinning in a circle. “I just fed our entire camp for days. I got a buffalo!” Why she felt it was such a huge accomplishment, she didn’t know, but to her it was something magical.

  Hannah laughed. “You did great! Now we have to get some men to help us move said buffalo into the camp. It’s going to take a lot of man power.”

  “And I can’t celebrate my buffalo kill, because Mrs. Bedwell died a short while ago, but I know you understand.” Mary would have to be calm as she told people about the buffalo, when she wanted to sing it from the rooftops. Or the treetops. Wherever she could sing it from.

  “I do. I’m always here to understand whatever you say.” Hannah stood for a moment grinning at Mary, when they saw Bob and Jamie running toward them. Bob’s face was full of fear.

  “Are you all right, Mary?”

  Mary nodded, pointing to the buffalo lying on the ground not far from them. “I finally got one!” Mary had killed more animals than everyone el
se in their wagon train put together. It was truly a shock that she hadn’t been the first to get a buffalo.

  Bob smiled. “I’m proud of you. Now I get to hack it up and carry it back to camp. Go and get more men to help us.”

  Mary and Hannah headed back to camp, and the first man she saw was her pa. She had no desire to talk to him, but it might be a bit fun to give him orders for a change. “Pa, I killed a buffalo. Bob and Jamie need help bringing it back.”

  True to his nature, her father glared at her. “What have I told you about not killing anything too big for you to bring back to camp?” His glare had her angry enough to spit.

  “I just felled an animal big enough to feed the entire company for the next few days. And here you are, complaining that I can’t bring it back on my own? Did you say that to the pastor when he brought a buffalo down?” Mary said nothing else as she turned and walked back toward camp, refusing to even look at her father. She didn’t care how angry he was. She was no longer his to discipline.

  Mary and Hannah stopped beside Ma. “How can we help, Ma?” Mary asked.

  “Was that you shooting something?” her mother asked.

  “It was. I got my first buffalo.” Mary did her best not to let pride enter her voice, because she knew her mother was anything but proud of her shooting skills.

  “That’ll keep us all fed for a while.” Her mother said nothing else, but Mary hadn’t expected her to.

  “Could I help you make supper?” she asked.

  Ma shook her head. “No, you go play a game with the children. They all need to have something fun to do.”

  “I’d be happy to do that.” Mary would much rather play with the children than help cook.

  Mary and Hannah went to the children, who were mostly scattered in pairs doing whatever they wanted. Mary rounded them all up. “Let’s play a game together. Who knows how to play Simon Says?”