“I am sorry, folks, but a vote was taken, and while we worry about your safety, you are risking our own safety when we have to leave the circle open for you. If you don’t lighten your load we cannot take the responsibility of your folly.”
“This wagon is plenty large enough for our load, and the mules are able to pull it. I did not see anything in the rules about sizes of wagons or loads. You have no right to demand I leave my belongings behind,” Marcel cried.
“Nonetheless, you are going too slow to keep up with the rest of us, which makes you a liability, if you don’t lighten your load. It is up to you if you want to risk your scalp just to hang on to a few worldly belongings.”
“I am willing to take that risk,” Marcel said with more confidence than she was feeling. She kept remembering the face of that Indian who had caught her from falling. He looked fierce enough, only it seemed that some Indians were friendlier than others.
“I am not willing to take that risk, Marcel,” Josiah stated. “I plan to actually get to Oregon to claim a homestead, even if you aren’t. You will end up dead in the middle of nowhere with all your grandmother’s heirlooms to mark your grave if you persist in hauling this entire load!”
“I would rather end up dead, than have to scrimp and save when we reach Oregon, with nothing to show for it but a wagon and some mules! If you want to stay in the circle, then take your share of the money and find someone else to travel with!”
“You can’t travel all on your own!” Josiah balked. “I won’t let you, even if you could!”
“You and who else is going to stop me?” Marcel taunted. “Everything in this wagon belongs to me. You never wanted it. If you had your way, you would have sold it all and ridden your horse to Oregon, leading a pack mule behind. You don’t care about my comfort, once we reach that wretched place. If I am going to have to suffer on this horrible journey, I should reap a reward in the end,” she grumbled in a shaking voice. “Make up your mind. Either you ride with me, or let me go it alone. It doesn’t make a difference to me, one way or the other!”
“Why are you being so stubborn, Marcel? You want to bring all your luxuries, while you don’t know the first thing about driving the mules or anything else it takes if you are left on your own.”
“I will just have to learn as I go,” Marcel stated. “I will not leave one article behind, so if you want to stay with the wagons, I won’t stop you.”
“Widow Johnson needs someone to help her,” Mr. Camden told Josiah. “The only reason we let her come is because she had a ten-year-old son to help her. You might be welcome to ride with her if you chose to stay with the company.”
Josiah glared down at his sister. “Fine. I give you a week trying to make it on your own before you finally give in and get rid of half of your stuff. If you do, I will come back and finish the journey with you,” Josiah said, handing Marcel the reins and climbing down from the wagon. “I hope you know how to un-harness the mules and then harness them back up in the morning. And since they can’t remain inside the circle, you had better hobble them so they don’t wander off, if they don’t get killed or taken by the Indians first! I’ll collect my belongings in the morning if widow Johnson allows me to travel with her.”
Marcel watched him stride toward the circle and swing over a wagon tongue, without even looking back at her. Mr. Camden looked up at her with worried eyes. “I hate to see it come to something like this,” he murmured. “If another company, starting out late, comes along, maybe they will allow you to travel with them. We all took a vote, and I can’t go against the company’s decision.”
“They are nothing but a bunch of backwoods imbeciles who want to be dirt farmers for the rest of their lives,” Marcel huffed. “They wouldn’t know how to play piano or wind a grandfather clock if their lives depended on it. It is no wonder they have nothing to bring with them, like I have. You can’t imagine the value of my belongings. They are irreplaceable, and even if they weren’t I could never afford to replace them. I doubt that Oregon would have half of what I have in this wagon to offer me, once I arrived, even if I could replace them!”
“If your life isn’t worth any more than that wagon full of belongings, then I take pity on you,” Mr. Camden said, sadly and turned back to the circle himself.
CHAPTER THREE
ays of sunlight were just starting to shoot pink fingers into the sky. The people in the circle were starting to get the fires going to fix breakfast. Breakfast and supper were the only two meals made with a fire when the company was in their circle. Lunch if it was eaten, consisted of anything left over from those two meals and eaten cold. Fifteen miles a day was expected and twenty if they were lucky. Therefore, there was no stopping during the day unless it was for repairs which prevented the group from moving forward.
Marcel was already hitching the team up. She had paid close attention to how she took them off the lines but discovered her long skirts were just getting in the way. Therefore, when she rose before the sun had even thought of brightening the day, she borrowed some trousers from her brother’s supply of clothes, and even though they were a little large, she hitched them up with suspenders. Then she took the rest of Josiah’s belongings and put them in a pile on the ground for him to find when he came out of the circle. She was determined to start out earlier than the rest to make up for her slow progress. She made sure all her water barrels were filled and the supplies in the wagon balanced out so one side was not heavier than the other. She had learned all of that on their way to Independence.
When Marcel un-hitched the team, she discovered that each mule was a slightly different size from the other and each harness was fit to each mule. Therefore, she decided to name all the mules and mark all the harnesses to each mule so she would get the right harness to the right mule. Also, she saw that the two largest mules were hitched closest to the wagon. She wasn’t sure why that was, but she figured each mule knew their place and how to proceed in their place, so she wanted to make sure they all went back to their proper places.
Later, she learned that the larger mules were what were called the ‘wheelers’. They were the ones who turned the wheels of the wagon and it took more strength to turn the wheels than to just pull the wagon forward, so larger mules were needed. The traces were a little confusing. They connected to each mule and each mule had their own set of traces, running from their bits through rings on each collar of each mule. However, all the bits were connected together, the left inside bit to a mule on the right side of the tongue, was connected to the left outside bit of the mule in front of him on the left side of the tongue. The same with the first mule on the left side going from outside left to the inside left bit of the mule in front of him on the opposite side. The straps crisscrossing back and forth so if the reins or traces were pulled on the left side all mules would feel the tug on the left side of the bit, or all mules would feel the tug on the right side of the bit. This meant that Marcel would have to handle five traces in each hand. Five traces for the left side of the bit and five traces for the right side of the bit. As long as she held them firmly with the same tension, all mules could feel her tug, whether to turn or to slow the team. Also, there was a brake handle, with a pad that pushed against the huge wheels when she pulled it back. This would slow the wagon down as she slowed the mules down on an incline or if the mules were getting away from her. She had watched in awe when Josiah had driven the mules and was sure she could do it too.
Once the team was hitched, Marcel climbed up onto the bench and took the traces in her hands. She figured the mules were smart enough to follow the rutted trail without much guidance, so she just let the mules have their head, once she turned them toward the trail. She smiled with self-satisfaction when the mules complied and followed the path before them. She would show all those so-called voters what she was made of, she told herself.
However, her bravery was forced because she was frightened to death. Only her stubborn pride would not allow her to back down and remove an
y article from her wagon. If she couldn’t get there with all her supplies and belongings intact, she didn’t care if she arrived at all, she told herself firmly.
The sound of the creaking wagon and the rhythmic clop of the mule’s hooves filled Marcel’s ears in the dusk of the morning light. As soon as the sun shot its rays over the tops of the distant hills, more sounds seemed to materialize as birds began waking calling out their morning songs. The world around her was covered with grass. Only a few trees gathered along the bank of the Platte River broke up the landscape. Marcel figured she couldn’t possibly get lost since they were following the river and the trail was well-worn into the soil.
However, the going was slow and even with her head-start the company eventually, caught up with her, passing her by. She saw Josiah waving from the bench of a wagon where he cracked the whip over the heads of a team of four oxen. The woman sitting next to him smiled at her. Widow Johnson seemed to be a pretty woman, Marcel thought. She must be older than her brother, though, if she had a ten-year-old son. She looked happy to have Josiah sitting next to her, wielding the whip. The Oxen had no traces to deal with. They just followed the wagon in front of them. The lead wagon had to be guided by someone walking ahead of the oxen, with a rope attached to the ring on the lead oxen’s nose.
A small pang of jealousy and regret caught at Marcel’s heart. Josiah didn’t seem to mind that she would have to face all the future hardships alone, as long as he could remain with the company. Had he really been concerned for her welfare and happiness, he would have stayed with her, even if they couldn’t keep up with the group. A silent tear ran down Marcel’s cheek as she thought about it.
So far, it was quite uneventful. Each day seemed a repeat of the day before and Marcel was sure she would get accustomed to the lonely feeling that ran through her, as the group pulled ahead and her team lagged farther behind. She wasn’t going to tax the team and end up with dead mules on her hands, though, she told herself, so she just kept up the steady pace the mules were setting for themselves.
She knew eventually, she would have to stop and cook something. Biscuits didn’t cook themselves even if she could eat them cold. She knew if she waited until she caught up with the other wagons, it would be so late, she would be too tired to build a fire to cook. Besides, it would be too dark to see how to do anything. Therefore, before the sunset, she pulled up and climbed down to start the evening meal. She figured if she cooked extra, she could eat that for the next few days and wouldn’t have to stop and cook every night.
She figured after she ate, she would continue and catch up with the others so she would, at least, be beside the wagons at night, for a little safety and so Josiah would know she was still alive and well. She wouldn’t want him to waste time coming back looking for her. She wondered whether he would bother if she didn’t show up in the evening? It would serve him right if something happened to her. Then he would have to live with it for the rest of his life, she thought, feeling a little hurt.
When the meal was finished, Marcel packed everything back in the wagon, but then she paused. Now that she was doing the driving, she hadn’t had any time to play her beloved piano. She decided she would play one song before she tried to catch up. She lit a lantern, and sat down on the flour barrel and began to play.
“What is that? Raven asked Trapper Dan. I think I can hear music?” It was the same song that had been playing in his head since they left St. Louis. Now he thought he could actually hear it playing, and it wasn’t just in his head!
“Yeah, I think I hear it too. Thing is, thar couldn’t be a piana out hare in the middle of nowhere, so whar in tarnation is it comin’ from?”
“I think I see a light ahead.” Raven pointed farther up the trail.
“It couldn’t be the wagons goin’ ta Oregon, seeing as how they always circle down by the river an we would be seein’ campfires an hear livestock bellowin’,” Trapper Dan reasoned.
“I do see a small campfire, but it looks like it’s goin’ out,” Raven mentioned.
“The light is comin’ from inside thet wagon ahead. I wonder if one of the wagons from thet train is broken down an they had ta stop on the trail until morning’ ta fix it, while the rest jest left em behind?”
“Only I never heard piana music comin’ from a wagon train before. It’s the same song I heard playin’ when I stopped at that house. Seems eerie, hearin’ it out here now.”
“Might as well investigate,” Trapper Dan suggested as they got closer.
Marcel was finding herself getting lost in her music as she thought about having to make the journey to Oregon without the help of Josiah. This was not what she had agreed to and it just galled her that plans were not going her way. She caught her breath when she realized someone was looking into the back of her wagon. Her rifle, which she kept by the bench up front, just in case, was too far away to grab. When she saw the face of an Indian looking in, her heart leaped and she felt herself shaking. Only there was something strangely familiar about that Indian.
A moment later, another head was looking in beside the Indian and Marcel remembered it to be the trapper she had seen in St. Louis when that Indian caught her. It was the same Indian, she realized now!
“What do you want?” she asked when she managed to calm her breath and stop her heart from climbing up out of her throat.
“We jest heard yer music,” Trapper Dan said. “Whatcha doing out hare all alone? Whar’s yer man?”
“Yer the woman I stopped from fallin’ in the street,” Raven stated before she could answer.
“Yes, I know,” she murmured. “I didn’t even thank you,” she added.
“I heard ya playin’ the piana at yer house, once, too,” he admitted. “It was the same song you was playing now.”
“Oh,” was all she could think to say.
She realized the Indian spoke with the same lingo as the trapper, only with more of a strange accent. The trapper must have taught him how to speak English she deduced.
“Ya niver answered ma question? Why ain’t ya with the rest of the wagon company?” Trapper Dan persisted. “An why are ya all alone?”
Marcel stiffened her back. “My wagon is so large, I can’t keep up. Then my brother refused to keep riding with me cause the wagon company said if I didn’t get rid of half of my load, so I could keep up, they wouldn’t leave a place for me in the circle at night.”
“So he jest left ya on yer own in this Godforsaken country? Don’t he know the dangers yer up against travelin’ all alone?”
“He knows, and begged me to lighten my load but I refused. Hell, if I am going to show up in Oregon empty-handed! We had a falling out and he chose to ride with someone else in the company. He thinks I am going to come to my senses and do as he asks me. Only I won’t. If I ever get to Oregon, I am going to have all my belongings with me, or else!”
“Ya must be one stubborn woman,” Trapper Dan chuckled. “But yer in luck. If ya want, Raven thar, an I will travel with ya. I wouldn’t mind havin’ a woman cookin’ fer us, an Raven is a full-blooded Sioux. Any Indian trouble, he could probably take care of fer ya.”
Marcel brightened, even though she didn’t like the looks of the Sioux, he seemed friendly enough.
“You would do that for me?” she asked, wondering if she should trust them but hoping they were upstanding people.
“Sure enuf,” Trapper Dan smiled. Then he held out his hand toward her. “I’m Trapper Dan, an this is ma sidekick, Raven. If ya don’t mind havin’ an Indian travelin’ along with ya, we would be happy ta help ya out. We’re not going all the way ta Oregon, but we ken get ya past some of the hard parts of the journey.”
“I would appreciate that,” Marcel replied, feeling a little easier about the situation. “I’m Marcel Wilson. I just finished cooking supper. I made extra. Are you hungry?”
A smile stretched across both of their faces.
“Ya done read ma mind,” Trapper Dan smiled.
“While we eat, would
ya continue ta play fer us?” Raven asked.
“Seeing as how I love playing the piano, and I haven’t been able to do it as often as I used to, I would gladly play for you, while you eat. I was thinking of catching up with the others, but since you are here, we could probably camp here the night. You are welcome to sleep under the wagon if you like.”
“That sounds mighty appealin’” Trapper Dan accepted.
“I’ll get you some food,” Marcel told them and opened the tin where she had placed the extra food she had made.
This way, she thought, she wouldn’t have to be in such a rush to try and catch up with the rest of the wagons. If Josiah was worried, he would just have to ride back and find her, she thought slyly to herself. It would serve him right for leaving her on her own for him to worry about until he found her safe and sound with her own escorts.
Trapper Dan stoked the fire and got it burning bright again, and he and Raven sat cross-legged in front of the fire eating the most delicious biscuits and ham he had ever tasted in his life. Thank God for women, he thought to himself, even if he was a confirmed bachelor and never planned to marry. His livelihood was too complicated to have a woman in his life, even if he did miss having one around. Raven, on the other hand, was needing a wife, he thought as he eyed his good friend. He knew how attracted he had been to Marcel when he first encountered her in St. Louis. Only he doubted their new traveling companion would give him a second glance. He watched the expression on Raven’s face as they listened to Marcel play the piano with perfection. She certainly did have magic fingers, and that magic seemed to be taking hold of Raven’s heart, from what Trapper Dan could determine.
Marcel sat playing all her favorite songs. Her heart was lifted. Her future did not look so bleak after all! Now she wouldn’t have to worry, and Trapper Dan could help her hitch up the team every day, which was a big burden off her shoulders. When she finished playing, she climbed down from the wagon.
Sagebrush Serenade Page 3
