by Diane Noble
I am the first, and I am the last.
I am the living God, the Savior, the everlasting King.
It is I who reveal the deep and secret things. It is I who know what is in the darkness, and the darkness does not hide you from me.
It is I who make the night shine as day, my beloved child.
It is I.
For a long time Lucas stared into the velvet darkness and listened to the voice of the stream and music of the night. In the distance, an owl cried out, and from the wagon camp the melancholy sounds of the captains mandolin carried toward him.
NINETEEN
Lucas rose in the predawn darkness and, after packing up his bedroll, headed out to the herd for Spitfire, saddled the stallion, tied on his gear, then rode back into the wagon camp.
The families were just beginning to stir, getting ready to leave. Some of the men had gone to the herd to fetch their teams; others were laying the morning cook fires or greasing wagon wheels for the day’s journey. He spotted the captain hitching the oxen team and then saw Ellie and the children packing bedding and cook pots into the rear of the wagon.
He dismounted to say his farewells, shook hands with the captain, and nodded to Ellie. Then he grinned at Meg and Sarah and stooped down to greet them at their level.
“I’ve been working on something for you,” he said. Meg’s eyes grew wide, and she crowded in front of her sister. “What is it?” she demanded.
He chuckled as Ellie scolded Meg for her rude impatience, and Sarah stepped forward, giving him an angelic smile, clearly designed to show off her own exquisite manners. She had Phoebe, the raggedy doll, tucked under one arm. “Mister Knight, we shall miss you,” she said with a small curtsey.
“And I’m going to miss you,” Lucas said. He stood and rummaged through a saddlebag. “That’s why I want you to have this.” He handed her a miniature carved rocking horse.
“You made this for me?” Sarah asked, holding the toy in her hand and turning it over and rubbing the tiny whittle marks on the wood. “It’s beautiful!” She drew out the word in awe.
“Just for you … and Phoebe, of course,” he added.
Standing on one foot, then the other, Meg waited impatiently, trying not to ask what he’d made for her. Her eyes were bright in anticipation, and he winked at her as he reached into his saddlebag again. Spitfire shook his mane and danced sideways a few steps.
“And this, m’lady, is for you.” Lucas presented the little girl with a wooden flute he’d carved from a willow branch.
Meg caught her breath audibly, and her mouth formed a perfect O. He showed her how to place her fingers over the holes on top and blow through the mouthpiece. A shrill whistle split through the morning air. Meg giggled and made the sound again.
“Now, next time we meet, I’ll teach you how to play an Irish jig,” he said, grinning at her obvious delight. “That’s a promise.”
“Will we meet again?” the captain said after the little girls had clambered into the rear of the wagon with their treasures.
“I hope so,” said Lucas, meaning it. “But I’m thinking it may be in California, not Utah. Please consider what I’ve told you about taking the Old Spanish Road.”
Ellie looked at him, her clear eyes seeming to pierce clear through to his soul. “You said you might see us in California?”
He nodded.
“Does that mean you might be going there on a mission … or are you thinking of leaving Utah, for good, I mean?”
He considered her silently for a moment, reluctant even now to say aloud the direction he’d been heading all along. “It’s not a mission,” he finally said with a heavy sigh. “But I can’t tell you any more.”
Alexander broke in. “Why not just keep riding? Head over the Sierras yourself. Better yet, join up with us.”
“I’ve got to warn Brigham Young about the troops. He may know by now, but I’ve got to make sure.” He paused.
Ellie touched his arm. “There’s another reason, isn’t there? I mean for going back?”
He smiled into this gentle, godly woman’s eyes. “Yes,” he said simply. “Two reasons. Sophronia and Hannah. Sophie’s a woman who practically raised me from childhood, and Hannah’s her grandniece. I’ve got to get them out before I can leave.” He frowned. “It’s dangerous to leave the territory, you know.” But he could see by their expressions that they didn’t know, they couldn’t begin to comprehend the danger apostates faced.
“And your Hannah … she’s a special young woman?” Ellie asked.
“I’ve asked her to marry me.” Then he chuckled. “Actually, she’s asked me. Three times since she was ten years old.”
Ellie and the captain laughed with him. Alexander patted him on the back. “Then I’d say you’d better hightail it back before she changes her mind.”
They shook hands again, and Ellie kissed him on the cheek. “God be with you, Lucas,” she said as he swung a leg over Spitfire’s saddle.
“Until we meet again …” Alexander said. “Look us up in California.”
“Somewhere near the ocean,” Ellie added with a laugh. “Just follow the coast from Oregon to Mexico. Look for the grandest ranch in the state, the one Alexander’s promised to build me.”
Lucas laughed as Spitfire shook his head, sending his mane flopping and his bridle jingling. But before Lucas could leave, Meg and Sarah raced from the covered wagon. Alexander lifted one twin into his arms and Ellie the other so they could reach Lucas with a goodbye hug and a loud smack of a kiss on each of his cheeks.
Lucas felt more lighthearted than he had in weeks as he kicked Spitfire into a trot and headed toward the California road. Wagoneers and cattlehands he passed along the way called him by name and waved good-bye. He nodded, giving them a half-salute, until he’d reached the front of the forming caravan. The herd was commencing to leave, thundering hooves kicking up dust to the south of the road. The wide and sandy North Platte lay to the other side.
The sun had now risen and swept across the landscape, washing the grasses and rocks and river in sepia hues. By the time he craned around in his saddle to look back, the wagons had formed a single file. With the morning sunlight on the high, arched, canvas wagon tops, they took on a shimmering pale gold hue. From this distance, there was no sign of the worn and ragged gray from weeks on the trail. Children played and skipped in and out of the wagon beds, and the women and men walked alongside their teams.
Faintly on the wind, he heard the “haws!” and “gees!” of the wagoneers as the caravan slowly moved forward, and the shouts of laughter and cries and whines and giggles of the children. Lucas smiled as he watched them. These were good people, and he would miss them. If it weren’t for Hannah and Sophie, he might have considered staying with them to cross the Sierras into California.
He reined Spitfire around to face west, kicked him into a trot, and after a few minutes the stallion picked up to an easy canter. Within a short time, the sun hot on his back, Lucas had left the train miles behind, winding along the North Platte, more quicksand and mud than water.
A couple of hours later, Lucas headed up a rocky bluff that afforded him a view of the California-Oregon road, stretching into both east and west horizons. The North Platte snaked for as far as he could see. To the east he spotted the Farrington caravan, still beside the Platte, and to the southwest of the train, the herd of cattle and horses looking like a single rolling, living beast.
In the sun, Spitfire’s hide gleamed, and Lucas rubbed the stallion’s neck, letting him rest before starting back down the cliff to the trail. He was about to nudge the horse forward when he noticed a billowing cloud of dust a few miles behind the Farrington company. He stared for several minutes then realized it was another, smaller herd of cattle, and just beyond it, a smaller company of wagons.
He extended his small brass telescope and peered at the group. Two men rode point a distance ahead of the remainder of the company. Lucas squinted into the telescope, adjusted the focus, then look
ed again.
He could see neither of the men’s features clearly from this distance, but there was something familiar about one of them as the man took off his hat and wiped his forehead with a kerchief. The balding head with its red fringe of hair reflecting the morning sun, the slope of his shoulders, told Lucas all he needed to know.
The small group was the Missouri Wildcats they’d encountered at Fort Laramie, riding like the wind to catch the Farrington company, just as they’d threatened more than a week ago. Calculating the distance between the Wildcats and the Farringtons, Lucas decided the second company would overtake them by the time he galloped back to warn the captain.
He wondered briefly if his presence would help Alexander or further antagonize the Wildcats. He lifted the telescope again, watching the group for a several minutes, realizing his presence would only endanger the Farrington company. The smaller company didn’t take long to join the Farrington train, pulling into place behind the last wagon as if one with them. Lucas reluctantly turned away from the sight and headed Spitfire back down the cliff. By high noon, he was again galloping west along the California road.
Ellie’s wagon was midway in the long caravan. Today, as had become her pattern since the incident at Fort Laramie, she rode on the bench to drive the team. Though it was harder on the oxen, she knew that with each step she walked during the white-hot, weary and dust-filled days, the chances of a premature birth for her baby increased. The pain that struck her early on in the small of her back had now settled under her ribs, almost seeming to crush her heart. She had nearly three months to go before the infant could be born full-sized and healthy. And she worried daily that it wouldn’t be so.
She prayed for him, just as she had when she had walked by the team earlier. Now, though, she rubbed the place where he kicked and turned in her belly, and she spoke to God in rhythm with creaking wheels.
Blessed Father,
This child is yours.
Be with him. Guide him.
Protect his ways.
I place him in your arms, dear Father. And Meg and Sarah, too.
Then she raised her eyes to the distant horizon. Thunder clouds were building to the southwest, towering in silver-white magnificence, and Ellie considered their harsh beauty against the deep purple sky.
There is a fear inside me, she breathed.
Oh, Lord! A dread fear that threatens to crush my bones.
Still she kept her eyes westward. A hush had fallen over the land, and the clouds had created patterns of darkness the travelers would pass through. Ellie shivered.
Oh, God, help me!
I fear so!
Then a ray of afternoon sun broke through the towering thunder-heads, nearly blinding her with its intensity. The oxen bawled, the wagon swayed, and the wheels creaked onward in their ruts. And Ellie felt the babe move inside her. Smiling to herself, she lightly touched the little elbow or knee or fist, following its path across her belly.
Do not fear, my beloved.
When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you.
And, my child, when you walk through the fire,
The flames will not touch you.
You are precious in my sight, And I love you …
The wagon wheels creaked as they rolled onward, and Ellie let her mind rest with thoughts of God and his tender mercies. A wind kicked up, lifting strands of hair from her hot face. She closed her eyes, letting the sun touch her face and the breeze caress it.
And I love you …
And I love you …
Soon the company entered the shadows cast by the thunderheads, and great drops of rain began to fall. The scorching air cooled, and Ellie breathed in the fragrance of dust mixed with rain.
And I love you …
All afternoon the caravan snaked in and out of the shadows of clouds. The rain never fell hard, and by the time the wagons circled for the evening, the massive thunderheads had drifted toward the eastern horizon.
“Ellie!” Liza Barrett ran across the night circle, lifting her skirts above her ankles so that she could move faster. Today, the Farrington and Barrett wagons had been a distance apart during the trek, and now they were parked across the circle from each other.
Ellie looked up from the dried-buffalo-dung cook fire, wiping the perspiration from her forehead with her sleeve. She’d been dredging buffalo steak in wheat flour, readying it for stewing. The fat sizzled in the Dutch oven, sending up the aroma of wild onions and bay leaves. The company had hunted the last of the buffalo a few days earlier, and this steak, which had been heavily packed in salt, was all that remained. Ellie was none too sorry. Neither were most others in the company. They’d all had their fill of buffalo cooked every way imaginable.
“Ellie!” Liza called out again as she drew closer.
Ellie waved, then dropped the last of the cut-up steak into the pot, gave it a stir to mix it with the onions, and placed the heavy iron lid on top. She wiped her hands on a nearby cloth as she stood to greet Liza.
“Have you heard about the Wildcats?” Liza asked when she was finally standing near Ellie.
“You mean bobcats?” Ellie glanced worriedly around the camp to find the children, relieved to see them playing with the little O’Donnell girls. “Or mountain lions?”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant. It’s a group that caught up with us today. They’re camped back a ways, but they’ve sent their scout over to talk to Alexander and Abe about joining up.”
“They call themselves Wildcats?” Ellie shook her head and frowned, still wiping the flour from her hands. “Sounds like some militia or secret fraternity or something.” She shook out the cloth and hung it on a hook on the rear of the wagon.
Liza laughed with her. “They say they’re called the Missouri Wildcats.” She helped Ellie pull out the trunk with the eating utensils then climbed into the wagon to lift out the small farm table and chairs. When they were in place on the ground in the shade of the wagon, each of the women settled into a chair.
“How did you find out about them?” Ellie asked.
“One of them came looking for the captain. Just happened to stop by on our side of the circle. Abe took the man out to the herd. Said he thought the captain was there checking some lame horses.” Liza looked worried, an unusual expression for her normally sunny disposition.
“I’ve heard it’s a common thing for one company to join up with another,” Ellie said. “I don’t think it’s out of the ordinary at all.”
But Liza’s expression didn’t change. “Do you know who this group is?” she asked.
“Nothing more than what you’ve already told me.”
“Do you remember back at Laramie, the fight in the saloon?”
Ellie nodded. “The night the men met Lucas Knight.”
“Yes. The Missouri Wildcats are a bunch of ruffians and thugs.” Liza shaded her eyes against the slant of the sun and looked out toward the grazing herd. “Abe told me that night,” referring to how they jumped Lucas, “that these men don’t know how to take no for an answer.”
“Alexander never mentioned it,” Ellie said. “He and Lucas only said that the ruffians took great offense to Lucas being Mormon. He mentioned it almost seemed the group was in some sort of blood feud with the Mormons, maybe from the Saints’ days in Missouri or Illinois.”
Liza leaned forward. “It doesn’t bode well if they’re with us and we have to make a detour through Utah.”
“I doubt that Alexander, or any of the other men, will allow it, Liza. I just can’t imagine them letting this group of scoundrels tag along with our families.” She stood to busy her hands, feeling the dread fear welling up inside once again. Though her words were brave, she was as fearful of the outcome as Liza was. She stooped by the cook fire and, and with a pot holder, lifted the lid of the Dutch oven. The aroma filled her nostrils as she stirred the stew, but it only served to nauseate her. She quickly set the heavy lid back in place and turned again to her friend.
/> “Ellie, are you all right?” Liza moved to her side and took her arm. “You’re pale as a full moon, child. Here, lean on me.”
Ellie touched her forehead, closing her eyes for a moment as the ground seemed to sway. Liza circled her arm around Ellie’s shoulders and led her again to the chair. “I’m all right,” Ellie finally managed to whisper as she settled into it. “Really, I’ll be fine.” She drew in a deep and shaky breath. “I’m just tired. That’s all.”
The pounding of approaching hooves interrupted them a few minutes later. Ellie looked up to see her husband reining the Appaloosa to a halt near the wagon. Abe followed on his sorrel. They both dismounted and walked over to where Ellie and Liza sat at the table.
“Ladies,” Alexander said, tipping his hat. His eyes met Ellie’s with a worried look. He bent to give her a quick kiss.
“Smells good,” Abe said, glancing at the steaming pot.
Ellie smiled, hoping she looked stronger than she felt. “How about the two of you joining us for supper? There’s plenty.”
The men exchanged glances. “We’ll need to be riding out tonight for a while,” Alexander said. “We just came by to let you know not to expect us until later.”
“It’ll keep,” Ellie said. “I’ll move it into the coals for you to have when you get back.”
“Where’re you heading?” Liza asked.
Alexander answered for them both. “There’s a group camped a few miles back that’s decided to attach itself to our company. That’s what the rider who came by earlier wanted. We thought we’d made ourselves clear, but apparently not.”
“You’ve already told them no?” Ellie asked.
Alexander nodded solemnly. “The first time they asked was in Laramie—before the altercation with Lucas Knight.”
Ellie stood, touching her husband on the arm. “They sound dangerous, Alexander.”
“There’s safety in numbers. We’ve got several of the hands and some of the other men going.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll not be gone long, Ellie. You just keep that buffalo stew hot.”
