The Lost Wagon

by Jim Kjelgaard

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The Farm

  A hundred and sixty-five measured yards from the big pine in the meadow,there was an icy spring. It bubbled out of sand so white that it seemedto have great depth, and the overflow made its own little watercoursethat trickled into the creek. The spring was four feet wide by two and ahalf deep, and Joe and Ellis made the watercourse a dividing line toseparate the land they took for themselves.

  Joe went to the south, so that the great pine was on his property, andhe chose very carefully. A man needed enough land, but not too much andJoe fronted his hundred and sixty acres on the creek. He wanted eightyacres of the meadow for crop and pasture land, and he ran his propertyback to the top of the slope so that he had eighty of timber. Inaddition, he allowed ten acres for the road that would one day parallelthis creek. Snedeker had been right. The creek headed out two and a halfmiles away and throughout its length was natural meadow land that neededno clearing. Emigrants hadn't claimed it as yet because of the Indiandanger, but nothing could keep them from coming here when the threatsubsided. Some, sure of their ability to defend themselves, might comeanyway.

  Ellis laid out his claim just as carefully, with a judicious selectionof meadow and timber, and between the two of them they owned a half mileof timber and a half mile of meadow. It was much more land than theyneeded for the present and as much as they were likely to need in thefuture.

  Joe worked with a happiness and contentment he had never known before,and his pleasure was complete when baby Emma made a slow recovery. Sheremained frail and she could not be as active as the other children, butEmma nursed her carefully and watched her closely. She might havetraveled on, but all of them had lost all desire to travel. They hadchosen their home and they were happy with it, and the fact that itmeant working from the time the sun rose until it set again was acceptedas a part of things. There was a vast amount of work and never enoughtime. However, next season there would be only routine farm tasks andmore leisure.

  He stood back on the ridge and chopped cleanly a slender pine whoseruffled top towered fifty feet above him. Joe chopped the last strip ofwood that held the pine erect and rested his ax on the needle-carpetedground while the pine swayed on its stump and fell. He wiped hissweating brow. A little distance away he heard Ellis chopping a tree,and Joe grinned.

  There were as many trees as anyone could possibly want, but many werecenturies-old giants with massive trunks. They were too big for two mento handle or for mules to drag, and splitting the trunks would mean agreat deal of work and require a lot of time. There was simply no timeto spare, so they had to search through the forest for trees that neededno splitting.

  Expertly, knowing precisely where to strike, Joe trimmed the branchesfrom his tree and cut the trunk in half. He fretted as he did so, andwished that he were two men so he could do twice as much. They werestill camped in the meadow and a house was of the utmost importance. Butcrops were necessary too, and every day at two o'clock Joe had stoppedall other work so he could plow. He let the felled tree lie where it wasand went to seek Ellis.

  Joe had distrusted this slender young man at first, but he had come tolove him as his own. Ellis was still inclined to be reckless andimpulsive, but reckless impulse was the birthright of youth. However,Ellis rose when Joe did and worked until it was too dark to work anymore. Ellis was striving toward a cherished goal. He and Barbara had setno definite date but they wanted to be married before the summer wasover. But rather than build two houses when there was so much to bedone, it had been agreed to build just one with a room for the youngcouple. They'd build a house for Ellis and Barbara when autumn broughtsome relief from other work.

  Ellis was trimming another pine when Joe found him. For a moment Joewatched, taking sheer delight in the supple rhythm of the youngster'sphysical efforts. Ellis had the rippling grace of a cat, and Joe thoughtof his lovely daughter. Their marriage was right and good, as it shouldbe. Ellis turned to Joe and grinned.

  "Loafing again, huh?"

  "If you did half as much work as I do, the house would have beenfinished yesterday."

  "You and Hercules!"

  "That's right," Joe agreed. "How about hauling some of this timber whileI work a bit more on the foundation?"

  "Sure thing."

  Axes swinging from their hands, they left the timber and descended intothe meadows. They had already selected the site for both houses, withJoe's and Emma's on one side of the spring and Ellis's and Barbara's onthe other. However, due to the slope it had been necessary to level thesites and the only tools they had for such work were picks and shovels.Joe glanced down at his new farm.

  Since this was to be a permanent home, and not just an overnight stop,Emma and Barbara had busied themselves making it a comfortable one.They'd rearranged the fireplace, made a table from a log Joe had splitfor them, and even cushioned the chunks of logs that served as chairs.Now, while the children threw stones into the creek so they could watchthe resulting splashes, Emma and Barbara were planting more vegetablesin the garden Joe had plowed. Tad, Joe thought wryly, was probablyfishing.

  A vegetable garden had been first in order of importance because therewas little need to worry about the animals. The grass was tall and richand their discarded beds, thoroughly dried, as well as other grass Joehad mowed already made a respectable hay stack. As soon as they gottime, if they ever did, Joe and Ellis would cut more. This season themules, the horse and the cow, could winter on hay. Next year there wouldbe grain.

  Joe had plowed his vegetable garden near the creek, and it had been aback-breaking job. First he had mowed all the grass as short aspossible, let it dry, raked it up, and added it to the hay stack. Thenit had required all the strength in Joe's arms and all the power themules had to turn the tough sod. Joe had plowed and cross plowed,turning the sod under. But all the labor had been worth while.

  The earth was rich, with very few stones, and already seedlings weresprouting in it. Joe had purposely made the garden big enough not onlyto supply his family, but also to provide a surplus which he hoped tosell at Camp Axton. He couldn't imagine Major Dismuke planting anygardens. Regulations didn't cover them.

  Joe and Ellis walked down to the garden. Kneeling in the soft dirt,patting a hill of corn in with her hands, Barbara might have been somelovely young wood sprite as she glanced up at Ellis. Joe left themalone--young lovers are not partial to sharing even one moment withanyone else--and walked over to Emma.

  There was something new about Emma, a deep and enduring quality risingfrom both strength and happiness. She had conquered her shatteringfears, and her face showed the sweetness of her new self confidence. Joesmiled down on her.

  "By this time next week, darling, you'll be a housekeeper again."

  "Oh Joe! I can hardly wait!"

  "The logs are all cut. We can start building this afternoon. Of coursethe furniture will be rough at first; Ellis and I will have to make it.But if our crops are good next year, and I don't see how they can failhere, we'll go into The Dalles or Oregon City and buy everything new.That's the money Elias Dorrance would have had if we'd stayed inMissouri."

  She said, dazedly, "It's--it's hard to believe, isn't it? We've beenthrough so much, and now we're _here_! We're here, Joe--all of us!"

  He bent to kiss her. "Well, this isn't building a house. I'd better getbusy."

  He turned back toward the building site and as he did Ellis went tobring the mules in. Joe felt a little sorry for him. Remembering his owncourting days, he knew that nothing was as fascinating or as importantto Ellis as Barbara, but Ellis was aware of the necessity for gettingthings done. He was young in years but he had a sense of responsibility.Joe caught up his pick and shovel and went to work.

  They had planned a combined kitchen-living room and three bedrooms; onefor Ellis and Barbara, one for Tad and his brothers, and one for Joe andEmma. Baby Emma would share with her parents until Barbara and Ellismoved into their own house. Then she would have their room.

  The main room would
be in front, facing the creek, and the only doorwould also be there. The rear would be divided into bed rooms. Untilthere was time to lay puncheons, the floor would necessarily be dirt andJoe had taken a cue from Snedeker's post. Though they would not haveSnedeker's advantage in looking through small windows from a raisedfloor, the windows would be small and so placed that everything aroundthe cabin could be seen from them. Thus, in the event of an attack, theywould be able to shoot in any direction.

  They had dug into the slope at the rear and leveled it out to the front,but it was not exactly level. Joe drove stakes at either end, stretcheda cord between them and laid his level on the cord. He loosened dirtwith the pick, scooped it up in the shovel and threw it down the slope.Ellis came with a drag of logs, left them beside the excavation and wentback for more. Joe got down on his hands and knees, leveled a small humpand was satisfied. He leaned his pick and shovel against the wagon, tookhis ax out of the tool box and began notching logs.

  Once the building started, it went swiftly. Still working from dawn todark, Joe and Ellis built up the walls, laid the roof poles, and coveredthe roof with shakes. Joe made a stone boat, a flat sledge and hauledclay from a bed that was about a mile up the creek. While Joe and Ellisworked on the inside partitions, Emma and the children started chinking.The youngsters worked so enthusiastically on the lower cracks that inplaces there was more clay than log.

  Summer was well under way when they had their first visitor.

  He came riding up from the Oregon Trail, a thin sliver of a man on anenormous white horse. But though he was thin, he was a strong man.Muscles rippled smoothly beneath his homespun shirt, and his smile waspleasant. He slid from his big horse and spoke with a pronounced NewEngland twang.

  "Howdy, folks."

  "Hello!" Joe said warmly.

  The thin man extended his hand. "My name's Winterson, Henry Winterson. Ilive--" with a gesture of his thumb he indicated the entire west"--about four miles out there."

  "We're the Tower family," Joe introduced the individual members, "andthis is Ellis Garner."

  "Glad to know you!" Winterson acknowledged. "Glad to know you!" He cameto Barbara. "Woo-hoo! Double glad! If I wasn't already married toMartha, you wouldn't get away!"

  "Careful," Joe grinned. "Barbara and Ellis are figuring on being marriedbefore very long."

  "Well, strike me down! We not only got close neighbors but there's goingto be a wedding! Martha will be plumb out of her mind when she hearsthat! When's the big day?"

  Ellis said, "Soon, I hope."

  "We'll come," asserted Winterson, who hadn't been invited but took itfor granted that he would be. "Martha and me will be here and you canbet on that! Yup! You can just bet on it! Sure is a lucky thing I rodeinto Axton this morning! Otherwise I might never of known we hadneighbors! Yup! Worth losing a horse to find that out!"

  "You lost a horse?"

  "Yup. There's some half-witted Indians prowl about here and they musthave run it off. Figured I'd report it to Axton. Never can tell. Thosesoldier boys might be shot through with dumb luck some day and findsomething they're looking for."

  "Indians bother you much?" Joe queried.

  "Nah!" Winterson said scornfully. "Martha and me came through last year,right at the tail end though we started at the fore. Wagon broke downfive times this side of Axton. Finally I said, 'Martha, if this blamedthing breaks down again we're setting up right where it happens.' Thosewere my very words. That's exactly what I said to her. So the blamething broke down again and we set up right there. This is the first timeIndians pestered us even a mite; mostly they're too lazy to scratch whenthey itch. You don't have to trouble your head about 'em."

  "They told us at Axton to watch out for hostiles."

  "And why wouldn't they tell you that at Axton? As long as thatiron-faced major can keep up an Indian scare, he can set around here andenjoy life. If they transfer him to some other post he might have towork and I doubt if he could stand the shock. This country's every bitas safe as Vermont. Sure do like these meadows. If we'd known about 'emwe probably would have come here."

  "Come anyhow," Joe urged. "There's plenty of room."

  Winterson grinned. "Martha'd bend a skillet over my head. We've got ourbuildings up and our crops in. The day we moved in Martha said, 'Henry,I moved from Vermont to here. That's enough moving for one lifetime.'Those were her very words. That's exactly what she said to me. She meantit, too. I know she'll be fretting to come and visit, though, soon's sheknows you're here. She hasn't seen a woman since last year."

  "Please bring her," said Emma, who hadn't seen a woman other thanBarbara since they'd left Laramie. "We'll be delighted to see her. Comeprepared to stay a while."

  "Do that," Joe seconded. "We've plenty of room."

  "I can see that." Winterson eyed the house. "You sure built as thoughyou aim to stay here a spell."

  "We'll be here," Joe assured him. "We've had enough moving too."

  "Guess everybody has, time they get to Oregon." Winterson eyed Emma'schickens. "You wouldn't want to sell or trade a couple of those hens,would you?"

  "That's my wife's department," Joe said.

  "I don't believe so," Emma told Winterson. "We have only four left.There were six, but two of them were broody and went off to steal theirnests. I haven't seen them since, and suppose some animal must havecaught them."

  "That's our trouble too," Winterson said sadly. "We fetched three hensand a rooster all this way and they all went in one night. Martha tellsme often, 'Henry, the sound I'm most lonesome for is a clucking hen.'Those are her very words. That's exactly what she tells me. I do have aright nice bunch of little pigs. My sow littered eleven, and I know thata piglet for a hen is giving a lot but I'd be willing--Hey, look!"

  Joe had mowed a wide swath to the creek, and as Winterson spoke one ofthe missing hens appeared in it. About her feet were a cluster of fluffybaby chicks, and the hen moved fussily around them. With a little squealof joy, Emma ran forward. She knelt to gather the chicks in her apron,and clutched the hen beneath her arm. When she returned, her cheeks wereflushed with pleasure.

  "Fourteen! Just fourteen! Joe, we must keep them in the house until youcan build a coop where they'll be safe! I can't have anything happeningto them!"

  "Boy, oh boy, oh boy!" Winterson breathed. "Would Martha like to seethem! You have fourteen more chickens than you thought you had!"

  "Yes," Emma agreed happily. "You may take a hen now, Mr. Winterson."

  "Obliged to you," Winterson declared. "Right obliged, and Martha willjust kick up her heels for pleasure! She's been so lonesome for a hen,and I'll bring the piglet when I fetch her to visit."

  Emma put her chicks in the living-room corner and the hen, feathersfluffed, clucked about them. Then she settled down on the floor and thebabies ran beneath her feathers. Joe glanced at them and made a mentalnote to build a chicken coop as soon as possible. They needed a stable,too. But the mules, the cow, and Ellis's horse, were in no danger fromprowling predators. The chickens were, and they must have a safe place.

  "This is right nice," Winterson eyed the interior of the houseapprovingly. "Right nice and big too. But I reckon you need it for thatclutch of young ones you have. Martha and me, we built only one room andwe're making out in that."

  "Don't you have any children?" Emma asked.

  "Not yet, but it won't be long. Martha and me, we were married the daybefore we left Vermont. The next day she said, 'Henry, I want three boysand three girls. We can start on them as soon as we're in Oregon.' Thosewere her very words. That's exactly what she said to me. Looks like wecan expect the first one in about two months."

  Emma said, "I must be there."

  "Good of you, right good of you, and I know Martha will be pleased aboutit too. I cudgeled and cudgeled my brains wondering what I could do forher, and all I could think of was the hospital at Camp Axton. But Marthawill be glad to have you around and she'll feel better about it too. Iknow she wants the little one born in her own house. It will be sort
oflucky."

  "Hope you don't aim to keep all six of 'em in one room," Joe said."Young ones can be right lively at times."

  "I know," Winterson laughed. "I have five brothers and six sisters.We'll build on as we need more rooms. We plan a sizeable house."

  Emma and Barbara prepared dinner, and after they had eaten Wintersonmounted his vast horse and rode away with one of Emma's hens tuckedtenderly beneath his arm. He dropped the horse's reins and turned towave good-by.

  "I'll bring Martha over next week," he called.

  They watched him until he was out of sight, sad because he was goingbut happy too. They were not alone. There was a near neighbor and Joespeculated on the fact that in Missouri anyone who lived four miles awaywould have been reasonably far. This country was different. It had depthand breadth, but wasn't that what they'd hoped to find? But Joe hadanother man to plan with, and Emma went a little more briskly about herwork because there was a woman near. Barbara's dreamy eyes reflectedonly that there would be extra guests for her wedding.

  Joe and Ellis went to fell saplings for Emma's chicken coop and Joelooked wistfully at his fields. There was so very much to be done and solittle time in which to do it. He wanted to plow again, to see the richearth turn and feel it beneath his feet, for he had a kinship with theearth. For the present, plowing must wait. But before winter, Joe vowed,he would have at least ten acres plowed and sown to wheat and rye. Hedidn't hope to do much more than that because here plowing wasdifficult. But once the land was worked it would not be hard to workagain, and in the years to come he would have as much plow land as hewanted. He wondered oddly why he thought of this in terms of years. InMissouri he had seldom planned beyond the next day.

  After the evening meal, Barbara and Ellis slipped out. The childrenslept, and by the light of an oil lamp Emma mended clothes. Utterlytired but completely happy, Joe sprawled on a wooden bench that wouldserve as a sofa until they had enough money to buy a better one. Themoney he had and all he would get must be saved, for during the winterto come they would still have to buy a great deal of what they needed.Emma's needle flicked back and forth, and she added one of Tad's shirtsto a pile of already-mended clothes.

  "A penny for your thoughts," she said.

  "They're worth a million dollars," Joe asserted. "I'm thinking aboutyou."

  She smiled knowingly, "Do you miss Missouri, Joe?"

  "Can't say I do."

  "Wouldn't you like to do other things?"

  "What are you driving at?"

  "In Missouri you used to go to Tenney's store nights and have a talkwith the men. Here all you do is work from dawn to dark. Isn't itmonotonous?"

  "Why no," he said. "No it isn't, and the only reason I have to worksixteen hours a day is because there's much to do. Next year we'll bepretty well set and I can go hunting or fishing now and again with Ellisand Tad."

  "But don't you miss your friends in Missouri?"

  He thought of the men he'd known in Missouri: John Geragty, the Garrows,Pete Domley, Les Tenney, Percy Pearl, Tom Abend, Fellers Compton. Nodoubt they were still gathering in Tenney's store every night to discusswhatever the current topic might be. Here there were no near neighbors,but there was, instead, the nearness of each member of his family. Thewarm and wonderful togetherness that had been cemented during their longjourney. This was better, this was more real, and Joe knew he'd ratherbe here.

  "I'd like to see them, if that's what you mean. But I wouldn't go back."

  Barbara and Ellis came in, hand in hand, Joe smiled. They were so young,so in love, and so obviously happy. Joe said with mock severity,

  "Better give her hand back and get to bed, Ellis. Tomorrow we start onthe stable."

  "Tomorrow," Ellis said, "you'll have to work on the stable yourself."

  "Are you running out on me?"

  "Just to Camp Axton. I must see a man there."

  "What man?"

  "The chaplain." Ellis's whole face smiled and Barbara blushed. "We'regetting married on the fifteenth."

  "Honey!"

  Emma rose and crushed her daughter in a maternal embrace. Joe sat boltupright, sobered and a bit anxious, and wondered why he should be. Hehad known since New Year's that Barbara and Ellis would be married, butit hadn't seemed real until now. Then he grinned happily; he'd alwayswondered how it would feel to be a grandfather. He rose and wrungEllis's hand.

  "Good for you, son! Hey! The fifteenth! That's only a couple of weeks!"

  "We know."

  They stood together, a little abashed and a little uncertain but whollyproud. Joe sat down to think. The father of the bride had certain dutiesbut he hadn't the faintest idea of what they were. As soon as they werealone he must ask Emma; she'd probably know. But Joe was certain that awedding present was in order. He racked his brains wondering what he hadto give, and could think of nothing appropriate. Then he thought ofHenry Winterson's huge horse. Ellis had his Kentucky thoroughbred, butexcept in emergency such a horse should be saved for saddle work only,and Ellis needed a team. Maybe Winterson would sell his or perhaps hehad spare horses that he would sell reasonably. If not, Joe wouldpromise the youngsters a team of mules and buy them as soon as he soldsome crops and had enough money. Right now neither of the young peoplelooked as though they were worried about wedding presents, and theycould get along. Ellis was welcome to use Joe's mules.

  The next day Joe worked alone and Ellis returned shortly beforetwilight. The chaplain had promised to come on the fifteenth and some ofthe soldiers were coming too. They'd seen Barbara during her short stayat Camp Axton, and they wouldn't miss a chance to kiss this bride. Therewas sure to be a party and Barbara and Emma made great preparations forit. Mere men around the house became very unimportant, but that, Joedecided, was the way things should be.

  The next week, as he had promised, Henry Winterson brought his prettyyoung wife for a visit. They came in a light wagon drawn by the hugewhite horse and another, smaller animal. Despite the awkwardness of herbody, there was a calm assurance and easy poise about Martha Wintersonthat Joe warmed to at once. He knew that he would always be at ease withher.

  "So glad you could come," he greeted, "and Emma will be happy to seeyou. Come on in--"

  Before he finished speaking, Emma came out. She put a motherly handaround the other's shoulder.

  "I'm Emma," she said warmly. "And I know you're Martha. Your husbandtold us all about you. Now you just come right in and make yourselfcomfortable while I fix you a cup of coffee."

  They entered the house. Winterson went to the wagon and from it took asmall, frightened pig with its legs trussed.

  "Brought it," he said cheerfully. "Martha was so tickled to see the henthat she said, 'Why don't you take them two pigs, Henry? Why be stingy?'Those were her very words. That's exactly what she said to me. But Itold her a bargain's a bargain, and here's the pig. What are you goingto do with it?"

  "Keep it in the stable," Joe decided, "until I can build a pen. Say, youdon't have a team of horses or mules to sell, do you?"

  "What for? You have a team."

  "The kids need it. They're getting married next week."

  "Glory be!" Winterson breathed. "I have a black horse at home. He's notas big as the white but he's sound and a good worker. You can have himfor fifty--No! Forty dollars. This is a special occasion and those kidshave to be started right."

  "It's a deal."

  "You don't have to pay cash," Winterson said. "I have enough money tosee me through and my crops are good. Pay for him next year after you'vemade a crop if you want to."

  "That will be a help."

  "We'll leave it that way. You can get another horse easy when theemigrants start coming through. They always have stock that's footsoreand needs only a little rest to get in shape again, and besides they'lltrade. You'll have vegetables to trade by that time. Sorry we can't staythe night. I told Martha we were invited but she has a lot to do.Besides, she's made a pet of that hen and she isn't letting anythinghappen to it. Darn thing sleeps in the hou
se with us."

  "Come on in. Might just as well make good use of your time while you'rehere."

  Tad hadn't come in from fishing. Ellis was up in the timber cuttingfirewood and Barbara was with him. The younger children, overawed atseeing two strangers at the same time, stared at them. Martha Wintersonwas seated at the table and Emma bustled about.

  "She'll wear my wedding dress," Emma was saying. "When I had to pack itto come here I was worried. I feared that it might turn yellow, but itonly shaded to a soft ivory. I think it's even more beautiful that way."

  "Isn't it badly rumpled?"

  "No. I packed paper around it and between each layer, and then wrappedit in my curtains. After it's hung out to air for a few hours, thewrinkles will blow out. The sun will get rid of the camphor odor, too."

  "I'd love to see it!"

  "I'd show it to you, but Ellis might come in any minute and he mustn'tsee his bride's dress before she wears it. You'll see it at thewedding."

  "What's it like, Emma?"

  Emma's voice was soft. "It's white satin with short puffed melonsleeves, over which I wore full long sleeves of white silk gauzefastened at the wrist. My cape was of Swiss muslin, with rich foulardpatterns stamped on it. There are short white gloves with embroideredtops; there's a small mend but it won't show. I sewed it carefully. Theneck line is low. The waist line is tiny, too tiny for me now but rightfor Barbara." Her eyes glowed with the warmth of remembering.

  "Will she wear a bonnet?"

  "Oh yes. I have a Pamela bonnet with a blue ribbon and a colored plume.I suppose it's out of fashion now, but it's very beautiful."

  Ellis and Barbara came in and Emma hurriedly changed the subject. MarthaWinterson rose to embrace Barbara, and turned a laughing face to kissEllis lightly on the cheek. Ellis blushed, and Joe grinned. Heremembered his own wedding, and how embarrassed he had been when Emma'sbest friend, Sarah Townley, had kissed him. They had dinner. TheWintersons left, and the house was given over to preparations for thewedding.

  Joe shrugged away any thought of work; there would be time for thatlater and Winterson was right. The youngsters had to be started outcorrectly and Emma wanted lots of decorations. But still Joe found itimpossible to sleep after the first light of dawn.

  Hatchet in hand, he wandered up the slope into the woods. It was toolate in the season for most wild flowers, but there were fragrant,cone-laden evergreen boughs. Emma wanted the whole living room decoratedwith them, and Barbara would carry a bouquet of cloth flowers scentedwith Emma's precious perfume. About to enter the woods, Joe turned, ashe always did, to look proudly over his land. His heart skipped a beat.To the west, about where he thought the Wintersons' home was, an ominousplume of thick yellow smoke reached far into the sky.