Chapter 27
Loss
Ray, Larry and John rode the whole day without seeing any more Sioux and none of them said anything about it, not wanting to jinx their luck. That night they rode back into camp and reported to Quincy what lay ahead. Quincy approached Ray with sadness in his eyes and reluctantly tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“Ray, I got some bad news. I know you are fond of that little Potts girl. Well she picked up an illness back at Ft. Laramie and she don’t look too good,” spoke Quincy.
“Where is she, Mr. Woods?”
“Well, the doctor thought it best if they set her family off a little from the rest of the train. He thinks it could be cholera,” explained Quincy as he rung his hands together.
“Where, Mr. Woods?” Ray repeated.
“At the end of the wagons. They had no choice Ray. It could spread.”
Ray didn’t respond. He just jumped back onto Horse and rode at a full gallop to the end of the wagons. There, a few hundred yards from the last edge of the circle sat the lone wagon. They had a small fire burning close by the rear of the Conestoga. Ray could see what must have been Ida’s mother carrying a cooking pot of hot liquid into the back of the wagon. As Ray closed on the wagon, Ida’s Pa stepped out toward him, “Hold up there young fella, there may be Cholera here!”
“I don’t care!” Ray said as he threw himself from Horse’s back and walked swiftly towards the rear of the wagon. Stopping at the closed flaps, out of breath, he called out to Ida, “Miss Potts, it’s me, Ray. I understand you’re a little under the weather?”
From the wagon, all he could hear was a small, tender bit of a whisper, answering his call, “don’t you worry about me, Mr. Ray. I’ll be up and helping you catch that girl first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Now, don’t you worry about that Miss Potts. You just take care of yourself and get well,” Ray encouraged.
“I think I better…sleep now…Mr. Ray…thank you for…” ended Ida.
The flap opened and Ida’s mother handed Ray the cooking pot of warm water she had carried into the wagon. She then climbed down from the back onto the ground in front of him. Ray looked into her eyes for any sign of hope, but her face told the awful truth. Her eyes were blood shot and filled with tears. Her features were torn with the pain of knowing she would never again hold her little baby.
“I’m sorry…Ray…she’s…” was all her mother could say as she turned and buried her face into her husband’s neck. He held his wife and shed silent tears of his own.
Ray stepped back, staring at the wagon that held his small friend. This had to be a bad dream. God would not take one so precious as Ida.
Ray turned in anger and running to Horse’s side swung his leg up and over the saddle. Kicking hard into a full gallop, he rode east, away from the wagons and headed out into the darkness. Ray spent the night alone with his thoughts first of his father, then Zeke, then Ida and then upon his ma, who he had not seen in several months. He emotion measured both angry and sadness at the death of Ida. He felt so helpless. What can one do to avenge a death like this?
By first light he was back in camp with a cup of coffee in his hand staring into the cook fire.
“Ray, there you are. I heard about…well I’m so sorry...I know you really liked that little girl…who didn’t…she was very special,” Laurie tried to comfort Ray.
“I’ll be all right, Laurie, but thank you. She was something special, wasn’t she?”
“She sure was,” smiled Laurie as she reached over and rubbed his shoulder.
As fate would have it, Ida was the only one to contract cholera on the train. Everyone was thankful for their survival, but all were truly touched and saddened by the loss of the sweet little girl called Ida.
-CKS-
The trail for the next several weeks seemed like a long dusty thread with no end. Ray couldn’t wait until they reached Salt Lake. There the boys would be leaving the train. While the train continued on westward across the Sierras, they would head south through the desert to reach Southern California. Ray would miss the folks on the train; they were all trail hardened, diligent, and giving people. Many would give you the shirt off their backs and some had already done just that for others less fortunate.
Revenge Requires Two Graves Page 28
