The Veil

by Diane Noble

  Ellie turned back to Alexander. “We usually circle the wagons closer to the water,” she commented.

  He nodded. “It’s not too far to keep them in sight.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, Ellie. I’ll take good care of them.” He slapped the rump of the lead ox, and the beasts moved forward, the creaking wagon following.

  Ellie smiled at her husband and blew him a kiss. He stood watching as the rig moved up the trail from the meadow, and when they reached the top of the incline she craned around in the seat again.

  From the golden meadow with its circle of high-arched wagons, its groups of playing children and busy families, Alexander still watched. Ellie waved, and he gave her a salute and a grin before turning away.

  An hour later, Ellie and Liza halted the team in front of the ranch. The introductions were made as Liza clambered down from the bench.

  Liza reached up to help Ellie descend. But Ellie frowned as she stood, then put her hand on her stomach. A stabbing pain made her catch her breath, and she sank again to the wagon bench, waiting for it to subside.

  Hannah and Sophronia were beside the women in a heartbeat. Sophronia took Ellie’s hand. “It’s time, isn’t it, child?”

  “We’d better get right back to the train,” Liza said, stepping back to the driver’s seat.

  Ellie nodded weakly, then she looked down at the dark circle staining the wood beneath her feet. “I don’t know that we have time, Liza,” she said, glancing back to her friend. “I believe my water just broke.”

  “We’d better get you inside, dear,” Sophronia said, taking charge. Hannah nodded in agreement.

  Liza frowned, as if considering their choices. “Yes,” she finally agreed. “Ellie, I don’t think this baby’s going to wait for us to get back to the train.”

  But Ellie couldn’t answer; she doubled over again in pain. When it had passed, the women helped her from the wagon and into the house.

  As she settled onto a comfortable bed, she smiled up at Liza. “I know you said you’d be with me every minute of this child’s birth. And I made you promise you would be. But I need something else even more.”

  “Anything, Ellie,” Liza said, laying her cool hand on Ellie’s forehead.

  “Go for Alexander please, dear?”

  Liza looked worried. “I don’t want to leave you, Ellie.”

  Ellie grasped her friend’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I’ll be all right. But I want my husband. Can you fetch him?”

  Finally Liza agreed and left immediately for Mountain Meadows, driving the wagon alone. Even before the oxen had taken their first steps, though, another pang pulled Ellie nearly to unconsciousness, and Hannah and Sophronia hurried to boil water and gather clean cloths. It passed, and Ellie smiled weakly as Hannah struggled into the bedroom, carrying a heavy pine cradle.

  “I found it in the barn,” she said as she started scrubbing it with soap and water.

  She’d just folded a small blanket to pad the bottom when another white-hot burst of pain enveloped Ellie. She clinched her teeth and turned on the bed, praying for it to pass quickly. She called out for Alexander, not realizing that Liza had left only minutes before.

  Only an hour had passed when soft cloths were laid into place beneath her. The pangs were coming fast now, and she could barely catch her breath between them.

  Sophronia took up her position at the foot of the bed, and though it was not yet midday, Hannah illumined the room by lighting an oil lamp. Then she pulled a chair close to Ellie and held her hand during the worst of it, murmuring words of comfort and strength.

  “I can see the crowning,” Sophronia said triumphantly. “You can push now, child. When you feel the next pang begin, push with all your might. Push!”

  Hannah wiped Ellie’s forehead with a cool cloth, and Ellie took a deep breath. The next pang started deep within, and she squeezed her eyes shut, clinching her jaws. She pushed, again feeling pulled into a whirl of white-hot pain.

  Suddenly there was a mewing cry, and Sophronia’s lined face lighted with a smile. “Child,” she said to Hannah, “bring me the basin of water. This little girl needs a bath.”

  “Girl?” Ellie whispered.

  “Yes, you’ve got yourself a fine baby daughter. Pretty as a picture. In fact, I do believe she’s got the sweetest crown of dark hair. Just like yours, child.” Sophronia met Ellie’s gaze with a look that said she shared her wonder, then she went back to tying and cutting the umbilical cord.

  When she’d finished, Hannah carried the basin and a small blanket to the side of the bed, placing them near the infant. After a few minutes, she placed the tiny, wrapped bundle in Ellie’s arms.

  “Faith,” Ellie said, touching a miniature pink fist. “Faith is her name.” She brought the baby to her breast and lightly rubbed Faith’s cheek with the back of her fingers. The baby turned and suckled, and Ellie closed her eyes. “This is the child of your promise,” she murmured. “I give her to you, Lord. She is yours.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Alexander looked up as Liza headed into camp. She’d already halted the team just outside the circle, and now she ran, skirts gathered above her ankles, through the tall meadow grass.

  Her cheeks were flushed, and she was shouting as she hurried toward him. “It’s Ellie! She’s back at the ranch house. The baby’s on its way!”

  He caught both her arms. “You left her there alone?”

  Liza struggled to catch her breath. “She wanted me to. She asked me to come for you.”

  Alexander looked wildly around the camp, suddenly filled with joy and fear at the same time. “The twins?”

  “I’ll find them,” Liza said. “You just go.”

  “No, I told Ellie I’d watch the girls. Maybe I should take them with me. But where are they?” He looked toward the creek, his gaze scanning the place where the children had been playing earlier. There was no sign of the little girls.

  Liza grinned. “For a man who’s used to making quick decisions and giving decisive orders, you sure are having a time with this one.”

  He shook his head slightly and grinned back. “Heaven knows, I’ve been through this before. But Ellie’s had such a time carrying this one, it’s different. Almost like it’s the first.”

  “Just go!” Liza gave him a good-natured push. “Take the wagon—there’s plenty of bedding and supplies for bringing Ellie back when it’s time.”

  Alexander was striding toward the wagon just outside the circle when he heard one of the children cry out from one of the distant hills. He turned to see the twins and the O’Donnell girls all running toward him. He frowned, chiding himself for not paying better attention. None of them should have ventured so far from the wagons. “Where have you been?” he demanded.

  The children’s eyes were wide with fear. “There’re Indians out there!” cried Meg. “Real Indians.”

  “Of course,” he said in a comforting voice. “This is Indian country. They’re Utes, and they’re no different than any of the others we’ve seen since we left home. They’re probably coming to beg—just like all the others.”

  “But these are different,” said Sarah, swallowing hard, her eyes still the size of saucers. “They’re wearing paint on their faces.”

  “And there’s lots of them,” added Prudence Angeline. “More’n we’ve ever seen at once.”

  “They’re coming ‘round the mountains on their ponies.”

  Alexander scanned the horizon, anxious to be on his way but feeling he needed to first ease the children’s fears. “Well, I don’t see any now,” he said. “They’re probably on their way someplace else.”

  “They’re hidden behind those hills,” Prudence Angeline insisted. She pointed to some nearby rolling hills to the east of the meadows. “And some of them were already crossing the creek way down there,” she said, pointing south.

  Now he was concerned. “Which way were they going?”

  The little girl pointed to the rolling hills on the west side of the meadow. Alexander
followed her gaze, realizing for the first time that Mountain Meadows was in the shape of a perfect bowl surrounded by hilly mounds that would allow any hostile group—white or Indian—to see and not be seen. To shoot arrows or rifles with no fear of being shot in return.

  If the children were correct and Indians were moving into position around the meadows, there would be no means of escape. He glanced at the wagon circle, noting how unprepared they were. How vulnerable. Folks were milling about, the men working on wagon repairs for the desert trek, the women starting to fix the noontime meal. Children were scampering around, and dogs were barking and chasing after them.

  Then he noticed how carelessly the company had circled their rigs the previous night. He hadn’t overseen it because he’d been so worried about Ellie disappearing when she pulled her wagon out of the caravan. He’d left to go back to find her, leaving the teamsters to form the night circle. They’d all been so relieved to get out of the openly hostile countryside between the Salt Lake valley and Cedar City they hadn’t thought about any dangers that might still exist.

  And now he realized how foolish they had been. Their only source of water lay yards from the circled wagons. If they came under siege, they would have no water supply. Plenty of ammunition, tough teamsters and wagoners and cattlehands to protect the train—but no water.

  “Let’s get back inside the circle,” he said firmly. “I’ll get some of our scouts to take a look.” The small group headed into the circle, and Alexander scanned the hillsides. He could neither see nor hear anything unusual.

  But there was an unnatural hush. The birds that earlier had been singing were now silent. The cicadas had stopped their buzzing racket. And even the earlier breeze from the mountainsides had stilled. It suddenly seemed strange to Alexander that he hadn’t noticed it before.

  The children followed him into the circle, and Alexander raised his rifle and fired off one shot, a signal for everyone to gather inside. People stopped their conversations and looked up in surprise. Several cattlehands, who were just leaving to go out to check on the herd, instead turned back and walked toward Alexander. One of the Mitchell brothers, walking with William and John Prewitt, was the first to reach him.

  “I want you to ride out and take a look behind these mountains. It’s probably a false alarm,” he said to the three. “But we may have some unwelcome visitors. If we do, it’s probably the cattle they’re after, and we’d better get some extra guards out to the herd.”

  They nodded and started for their horses.

  By now Liza had made her way to the front of the crowd, a worried look on her face. “You’ve not left yet?” she asked, puzzled.

  He shook his head and explained. “The children spotted some Indians moving around in the nearby hills. I’ll stay until we get this cleared up.”

  “Do you want me to go back to be with Ellie?”

  “No,” he said quickly. “I don’t want anyone leaving the circle until we know what’s out there.”

  The families had gathered around him now, silently waiting for him to speak. Some looked worried; they all looked puzzled.

  “Folks,” he said, “I don’t want to cause any undue alarm, but some of the children have spotted Indians who’ve come to have a closer look at us.”

  There was a worried murmur, and he held up his hand. “Just to take some extra precautions, I want to go over our plans if we are attacked. First of all, we have ammunition enough for a small army, so I don’t want you to worry on that account.

  “Second, we are a disciplined group. We have planned for this, hoping it would never happen, but we’re well prepared to handle it if it does. In this setting, we would put our plan into action immediately. Each family is responsible for the digouts beneath your wagons. If necessary, dig ruts beneath your wheels so that the wagons rest flat on the ground. As we do that, we’ll tighten the circle, where necessary, so that no invader can enter.

  “We will also dig trenches in the center of the circle, deeper than we are tall. This is for the women and children, so they will have some measure of protection from injury.”

  Everyone nodded in agreement, and Farrington smiled. “I know we’ve gone over our plans many times and never had occasion to put them into action. And today may be no different. Now, are there any questions?”

  Jesse O’Donnell spoke up from the rear of the crowd. “We’re a ways from the creek. Shouldn’t we move the circle closer?”

  Others joined him in agreement, and Farrington nodded. “We’ll have to hitch up the teams to do it, but yes, I agree. It’s the one way we’re vulnerable right now.” The crowd fell silent again, and Alexander’s neck prickled with the feeling they were being watched. “As soon as we hear back from the scouts,” he concluded, “we’ll make a decision whether it’s safe to go after the teams.

  “Until then, stay inside the wagon circle. Families, keep together.”

  The groups had just dispersed when the Prewitts and Lawson Mitchell could be seen riding across the meadow as fast as the wind. Alexander could read the fear on their faces even from this distance. They rode in and quickly dismounted.

  But before the three could utter a word, someone on the far side of the circle screamed. Another scream followed, then cries of dismay and fear; arrows as thick as horizontal rain flooded the circle.

  To the north, shrill war cries split the air, and a thunder of hoof-beats vibrated the ground as the herd was rounded up by dozens of Utes and headed out of the meadow. A couple of the braves rode close enough for all to see the color of their eyes as they whipped the Farrington oxen into motion, and the beasts lumbered, moaning and bawling, across the meadow, pulling the wagon that Alexander had planned to take to fetch Ellie.

  “Sir, we’re hemmed in on all sides. That’s what we came to tell you,” said Lawson Mitchell.

  The siege had begun.

  Alexander shouted orders. Amid the cries and screams, women grabbed their children, and men grabbed rifles and ammunition, taking up positions behind the wagons.

  The first attack lasted until evening, ending in a standoff. Three men in the company died from their wounds, and seven more were injured. As far as Alexander could tell, none of the Indians had been shot. As he had earlier noticed, they had complete protection because of the layout of the land. His only hope was that the Utes would quickly give up and move on.

  At nightfall, graves were dug for the fallen men. The Reverend Brown spoke a few hurried words because of the work at hand, then he prayed over the bodies. Immediately, the shoveling began on the wagon trenches. It was well past midnight when they were finished, and Alexander again called the families together in the center of the circle.

  “We’ve got to go for water,” he said. “There’s been no sign of movement outside since sundown. I’m going to try to get down to the creek.”

  “It’s too dangerous,” said Abe, who was standing closest to him. “I think we should wait them out. This can’t last. What else could they want besides the herd?”

  “I say wait them out,” agreed Jesse O’Donnell.

  “I don’t think we have a choice,” Alexander argued. “I’ll go if you’ll cover me with your rifle.” He looked at Abe, who nodded. But even as Alexander spoke, he knew it would be impossible for Abe to give him cover: The Utes held the advantage with their unobstructed view of the wagon camp.

  He took two buckets, one in each hand, and stepped from between the two wagons closest to the creek. He’d walked less than three yards when a barrage of arrows sliced through the air. Quickly, Alexander moved back into the corral.

  “Maybe we could send out a child,” said one of the men. “Maybe they wouldn’t harm a child merely going to the creek for water.”

  “No,” Alexander said firmly. “We’ll wait them out—and pray they’ll tire of this soon.”

  But the Indians didn’t tire of the attack. For a couple of days it continued. No more lives had been lost, but Alexander grew more agitated by the hour. Just as he had wor
ried, water was now dear.

  “We must send someone for help,” he said that night at council. “Are there any volunteers?”

  Hampton said he would go, though Sadie begged him with her eyes not to. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and a moment later was joined by Lawson Mitchell and John Prewitt. They were all young and perhaps stood a good chance of getting out of the meadow.

  “I want you to go to one of the ranches we saw along the way. There’s the one where Ellie’s staying. The people there will be sympathetic to our plight, I’m sure, and will get word out that we need help.”

  The young men nodded solemnly. After they’d gathered some supplies, Alexander walked with them to the edge of the circle. Abe and several of the other men stood with them, giving last-minute directions for how they felt they should proceed from the meadow to the trail.

  The remuda had been run off with the herd, so the men didn’t even have horses to ride from the meadow. Hampton met his worried gaze, and Alexander could see both fear and determination in his son’s eyes. “God be with you, son,” he said, and the two men fell into a rough embrace.

  That night an eerie silence again fell over the meadow. Alexander lay awake, thinking about Ellie, hoping she was safe, that their baby was healthy. Perhaps Hampton was already with her. Perhaps help was on its way and he would soon be reunited with Ellie. Meg and Sarah were sleeping in the center trench with their little friends. With the usual resilience of children, they’d gotten over their initial fear and now seemed to look upon the whole affair as part of their adventure in moving west.

  Alexander looked up at the starry heavens and prayed for them. “Father,” he breathed, “care for the little ones. I worry at the outcome of all this, and I sometimes wonder if we’ll get out at all. There’s something wrong here that I can’t identify, can’t know. Please … take care of them,” he prayed. He thought of a Bible verse that Ellie once mentioned. She said it was important to her because of her condition. He couldn’t remember the exact words, but it had to do with Christ tending his sheep like a shepherd, gathering the lambs in his arms, and leading those with little ones in tow. “Carry them close to your heart, Lord,” he prayed, picturing Jesus holding Meg and Sarah, one in each arm. “Carry them …” And he fell into a restless sleep.