by Debra Samms
In the meantime, a few of the cowboys drove the herd of extra horses and mules across the river, including Snowdrop and little Snowstorm. The animals walked where it was shallow enough and swam the rest of the way, until at last they reached the northern bank of the river.
The women sighed with relief when they saw the little foal scramble out of the cold water, shake himself thoroughly, and go trotting after his mother. "Strong, indeed," murmured Lydia.
Their wagon was the last one to go. The team of mules harnessed to it were increasingly upset about all the other horses and mules leaving them behind on the shore, but at the same time they absolutely did not want to step up on the wooden ramp to the ferry.
But Caleb walked alongside and cracked the bullwhip at them, and finally they lunged and stomped up the ramp. Molly scarcely breathed as she and Lydia and Abigail walked onto the ferry and stood behind their wagon, holding on to the ferry's side rails as it took off across the water.
The mules stomped about nervously. Caleb and another cowboy at their heads held them fast, even as their driver shouted at them to stand still. Molly could see the wagon wheels rolling back and forth even while they were in the middle of the river. She just prayed that all would be well until they reached the safety of the other side.
It was all any of them could do.
Finally they reached the other side. The ferry floated up to the wooden ramp that waited for it. The cowboys who'd been holding the mules tried to get the front rail swung lowered so they could let the mules go down the ramp, but the agitated creatures refused to stay on that moving, rocking boat any longer and were determined to join the rest of the horses and mules already out on the banks of the river.
There was a loud crack! as the two mules lunged forward together, breaking through the front rail and leaping over the ramp. One of the men jumped out of the way but Caleb was caught hard in the side by the leaping mule.
The girls cried out as Caleb was lifted up and thrown clear over the side of the ferry into the water. The mules made a dash for the shore and the wagon rattled mightily as it rolled over the ramp and up onto the shore, but the driver managed to get them stopped and still keep the wagon upright.
Molly thought her heart would stop when she looked over the side and saw Caleb face down in the cold rushing water. A few of the cowboys ran down and dragged him out, and in a few minutes he was sitting up in the grass and rubbing his head.
"Come on, Molly," said Lydia. "I think he's all right. It was a close call, but these things happen out here. These men are tough, just like the mules are."
But Molly had been convinced she was about to watch someone else die in a sudden accident . . . just like the first time it had happened. And she couldn't shake the feeling that it was only going to happen again.
CHAPTER FOUR
The wagon train continued on its way towards Boise, now on the north side of the Snake River. The grass was greener and a little thicker over here and the livestock was benefitting from it, especially Snowdrop with her new foal.
Abigail and Lydia tried to get Molly to watch the antics of the foal as he played along the trail, or to look out at the beautiful sight of the mountains in the distance. But Molly wanted only to keep to herself and try not to think about all of the terrible things that could happen out here . . . happen with no warning.
The river soon turned northward, curving and bending all along the way. In just a few more days the supply wagons reached the town of Boise.
"End of the trail," called Caleb, as they rolled into town.
Molly and the other girls sat up in the back of the wagon at that. "What did you say?" she asked.
"End of the Oregon Trail, for us. It continues on west into the state of Oregon, but we're going due north."
"How much farther?" asked Abigail.
"About two hundred and fifty miles. We leave again at dawn, so enjoy the town while you can."
Caleb stepped down from the wagon, and then turned to talk to Molly and the others as they walked around from the back. "Say, Miss Molly," he said, "it would help me if you'd do something for me," he said.
"Certainly," said Molly. "What is it?"
"I want that mare to stay here until the next supply wagon comes through. Give her time to rest, and the foal time to grow, before the little one has to walk all the way up to that army post."
Caleb reached into his pocket and counted out some money. "Take them down the main street to the livery barn. Give them, and this cash, to Mr. Williams. He'll take care of them."
Since Molly was the only one of them with any real experience handling animals, she led Snowdrop down the street while Lydia and Abigail walked alongside and made certain little Snowstorm didn't stray too far. In a short time both mare and foal were in a comfortable stall in the livery barn, bedded with warm straw, where both of them could eat and rest.
"I'm so glad they don't have to go now," Molly said, as the three of them walked back down the main street. "The foal would probably make it, but it would have been hard on him."
"I'm glad they're staying, too," said Lydia.
Abigail was silent. Molly noticed that she walked very close to Lydia and simply stared at everyone she saw.
"Abby, what is it?" whispered Molly. The men were being polite to them and not staring or making any crude remarks. "We'll be at the hotel in a moment. We can all go in and have a hot bath, and sleep in a bed! What's wrong?"
"It's the guns," Lydia said, answering for her friend.
"Guns?" Molly frowned as they continued to walk towards the hotel. "Every man on the wagon train has pistols and a rifle. We see them every day."
"I know. But I suppose she is accustomed to that by now. It's different here. These men are all strangers."
Molly sighed. "All right, then. Let's just get to the hotel, and – "
"Look out!" Lydia grabbed Molly's arm and pushed both her and Abigail up onto the wooden sidewalks near the hotel, just as two men can rolling out of the saloon across the street.
"I told you – you aren't ever going to cheat me again!" screamed one of them, and everyone else in the street raced for cover as the man drew his pistol. Two shots rang out – and the first man lay dead and bleeding in the dirt and mud of the street.
Lydia and Molly grabbed hold of Abigail and got her moving, hurrying her into the hotel. Molly made the arrangements for the room and then they helped their friend up the stairs.
Abigail was still weeping when they got her into the room and shut the door. "I want to go home," she moaned. "I want to go home!"
"Now, tell me," Molly said, sitting her down on the bed and holding her by the wrists. "That was a terrible sight. It was for all of us. But you were frozen even before that happened. What is it about this town that distresses you so?"
The blonde girl drew a deep breath. Molly let go of her wrists. "I am here," Abigail began, "because I answered a notice in the Matrimonial Times."
"Yes. We are all here because we did that," said Molly, trying to be patient. "But – "
"I answered it because – because Benjamin Carson, a driver for a local brewer – the boy I was to marry – was killed in the Chicago streets by a robber. For no more than twenty dollars and a few kegs of beer."
"Oh, Abby . . . I'm so sorry." Molly hugged her friend and patted her shoulder. Then she sat back. "But in a very short time, you are going to arrive at an army post and marry a soldier! What will you do then?"
"They will all have guns at the fort," said Lydia, "just as the men do on the wagon train. But they are there to protect you. You will not have to use a firearm."
Molly nodded. "I doubt if that would be allowed, anyway. Guns on an army post are only for the soldiers. Aren't they?"
Abby sat up, and tried to smile. "I think so. I hope so."
Molly shook her head, and smiled. "Abby, you are not a butterfly yet. I think you are just an egg. But if you really insist on going back to Chicago right now, you'll have to stay here in Boise alone
and wait for the supply wagons to come back from the fort."
"Please say you'll keep going with us," said Lydia. "At least go to the fort and meet your husband."
"Yes," said Molly. "Then, if you still want to leave, you can return with this same wagon train and go all the way back to Franklin and get on the train to Chicago. All right?"
Abigail took a deep breath and nodded. "All right."
CHAPTER FIVE
The next morning, the wagon train left Boise and headed almost due north towards the gold-rush town of Lewiston. Now they were on the eastern side of the winding, bending Snake River, traveling through the very rough country that was almost as arid as a desert. There seemed to be just enough grass, most of it long and dry, to maintain the stock.
Molly was very glad that little Snowstorm didn't have to make this journey just yet.
The first few days went well enough, but then one afternoon – as the three women spent some time walking alongside their wagon in the sunlight and fresh air – there was a loud crack from up ahead. One of the mule teams suddenly swung around off the trail and began lunging and fighting the harness.
Everybody ran towards the wagon. Apparently a wheel had broken and dropped the wagon hard on its front corner, spooking the mules who suddenly couldn't move it. The driver leaped down to get them under control while the shotgun rider jumped out to look at the broken wheel – but to Molly's horror, the plunging mules swung around hard and pulled the enormous broken wagon right over on its side.
Right on top of the man who was checking the wheel.
***
That night, it was Molly's turn to sit and weep beside the campfire while her three friends tried to find out why.
"Molly, you've told me to come out of my cocoon, and you've told Abby she was just an egg," said Lydia. "But I can tell you that you've become nothing but a caterpillar, crawling along this trail mile after mile."
"Please," said Abigail. "Tell us what troubles you so much. You have been so withdrawn ever since the ferry crossing."
Molly looked at her two friends, who had become closer than sisters to her on this journey. "All right," she said, and took a deep breath. "It is true that I am going to Fort Lapwai to be married. But it is not my first marriage. It will be my second. I am a widow."
The other two were silent for a moment. "I suppose we thought that you were simply – a little late in marrying – because you were a schoolteacher first," said Lydia.
"No. That is not why. And the closer we get to the fort, the more I am afraid that my husband won't want me at my age – even though he knows I am a widow – or that – "
She looked away, her face growing hot. "Or that I will not want to be a wife to him, after being married for several years to a different man."
There was silence again. "Molly, I am sure all that will vanish once your husband sees how very strong and beautiful you are," said Abigail. "I suppose that Lydia and I don't know how our husbands will feel about us, either."
Molly raised her head and looked at them both again. "But it's worse than that. I am a widow because – because my husband died in a terrible and sudden accident." She buried her face in her hands.
"Much like the one this afternoon," said Lydia quietly. "Wasn't it?"
Molly nodded. "That man is dead, too. Alive and well one moment, gone forever the next." She began to weep again, unable to stop it. "I think I would be better off going back to Ohio, and living with my mother again."
The other two girls did what they could to comfort their friend, but Molly only continued to weep. Then there was the sound of footsteps approaching their circle around the fire, and another voice spoke.
"Good evening, ladies," said Caleb. "Couldn't help but overhear. Thought I might be able to help."
He sat down beside them in the firelight. "I know all about what they call 'mail-order brides,'" he began. "I had a contract with a woman for just that sort of thing a few years back. But before she even left, she lost her courage. Decided to stay on her Pennsylvania farm instead, where it was safe."
He looked down, gazing into the fire. "My sister wrote me later on. Said that this woman had married a nice quiet storekeeper, but died in childbirth a year later right there in her safe town."
All three of them looked up at Caleb. "I can only say that there's risk wherever you go," he said. "You might as well take a big risk, and go after what you really want, so that you don't end up wondering all your life about what you missed."
"The risk of never knowing is the worst one of all," said Lydia.
Caleb nodded. "I think so, too. Good night, ladies."
"Good night," they all murmured, as Caleb got up and walked away again into the darkness.
"He's right, isn't he?" said Abigail. "Everything is a risk, no matter where you are or what you do."
Molly managed to smile at her. "We are all afraid to fly, until we try," she said. "But the breeze up here in these mountains is very, very sweet."
***
At last, over a month after getting off the train, Abigail, Molly, and Lydia rode into the town of Lewiston. They were now just fifteen miles from Fort Lapwai. The land up here, along the Clearwater River, was greener and much more beautiful than the near-desert country that they had struggled through for so long, and was filled with tall evergreen trees and lush grass.
Lewiston itself was a lively and booming gold-rush town, and once again the three young women enjoyed a hot bath and a comfortable bed. But this time, it was an impossibly special occasion – they were all getting married the following day.
In the morning, Abigail, Molly, and Lydia all put on their best cotton dresses, braided each other's hair, and walked back out to the wagons for the final leg of their journey. In just a few hours they would arrive at Fort Lapwai, at the intersection of the Clearwater River and Lapwai Creek.
"We're neither an egg, nor a cocoon, nor a caterpillar any longer," said Molly. "Now we are three butterflies!"
The three young women sat up tall and proud beside the drivers of three separate wagons as the supply train approached Fort Lapwai, and each of them looked eagerly into the distance where their new husbands waited for them.
THE END
Book 2: Place of the Butterflies
A Sawyerville Brides Story
CHAPTER ONE
Chillicothe, Ohio
January, 1875
"Molly! Molly! Come here – hurry – I need you – I need . . . "
Margaret Howard Bergstrom stood in the kitchen of her warm farmhouse, happy to be inside on this gray and snowy day tending to her roast chicken and quartered potatoes cooking on the low fire in the stone hearth. She sighed as she heard her bespectacled husband, Theodore Bergstrom, calling for her yet again.
The older woman who sat at the small table, peeling more potatoes, looked up when she heard the faint call from outside the house. "I can stir that for you, Molly, if you want to go out to him," she said.
Molly glanced towards the window, but then turned back and went on stirring the food in the small pot. "No. That's all right, Mother," she said. "Ted's always trying to get me to come and look at his newest marvelous invention, whatever it is."
She tapped the spoon on the edge of the pot and stepped back from the hearth. "But I have my own chores. Ted understands that I can't simply drop everything every time he calls me outside, just to look at something else."
"I suppose not." In the two years since Molly and Ted had been married, Molly's widowed mother, Louisa, and Ted's widower father, Cornelius, had both moved in with them at their spacious farmhouse. Molly was glad to have their company and their help – especially when it came to Ted's inventions. His father sometimes helped him and always encouraged him. "Is Ted out in the barn right now?"
"Oh, yes," Molly said, noticing through the window that the snowdrifts were piling up near the house as the flurries continued. "He's experimenting with yet another of his modern inventions to help him with the cows."
Her mother smiled. "Well, a dairy is a lot of work. Even a small one. Feeding and milking a dozen cows twice a day is a lot of work for one man, or even two."
"I think," Molly said, scooping up more quartered potatoes for the pot, "that this newest invention is something about running a track along the inside ceiling of the barn from one end to the other. Ted wants to be able to hang a pulley from the track so he can move hay and grain and even pails of milk up and down the aisle without having to carry them."
"My, my," Louisa murmured. "I never imagined such a thing."
"Well, he's always working on scientific things for the farm. He's got an elaborate system of ropes to open the pasture gate without having to go outside the barn. And a double-bladed knife so he can slice two haunches of beef at once."
"I don't know about those kinds of things," said Louisa, "but I will admit that I like your icicle box. I'm sure he could sell those, if he was to build more."
"I think so, too. He's talked about building more, when he has the time." Sitting against the wall beneath the window was a big, solid wooden crate that Ted had made for her. The crate was packed along the bottom and sides with straw and then lined with tin to hold the straw in place. The box could then be partly filled with broken icicles and used to keep meat and milk cold and fresh right inside the house, without having to keep such things outside.
"He really is very smart and clever," Molly said proudly, stirring the chicken and potatoes again.
"Which makes up for his stature and strength," added her mother.
Molly looked sideways at her, but had to agree. "A man doesn't have to be huge and strong when he's as clever as Ted," she said quietly. "His inventions allow him to manage a twelve-cow dairy farm all by himself, with only a little help from the rest of us. How many big men could do such a thing?"
