Chapter 13
Day three and Nick had hoped for better than this. The time spent waiting to cross the ferry passed by as if the clock ran backward. He wanted to spend every second with Beth, not avoiding her like a typhoid carrier. Picking at a breakfast he didn’t want to eat, Nick sighed. The crew kept him entertained, and he liked most of the people in his care. Yet, they weren’t her.
Sam swallowed a bite of pancake. “Too bad you never found an elixir for lovesickness. It might improve your horrible mood.”
On edge from his younger brother’s chipper behavior and a lack of seeing Beth, Nick retorted, “So sue me, jackass.”
“Oh ho ho! Such a bad example for your younger, innocent brother!” He held out his hand. “Give me, if you’re not going to eat that.”
“Fine.” Nick passed Sam his plate. “This is all slop anyway.”
With his mouth full, Sam said, “If so, I blame the cook.”
He stood, retorting, “Thank you. Noon and dinner are yours, then.” He went to the animals, getting them ready for crossing later this morning. Nick planned to let them graze once on the other side. With only one group in front of them, the Granville party didn’t have long to wait. He counted on Sam to clean up while he hitched up the oxen. Each animal got a scratch between the ears as Nick worked.
They didn’t have a lot of cattle to swim across the river. Most families had at least one, but no more than five. He wanted to go see Beth, make sure she knew how safe the ferry was. He paused in his chores. Staying away from her had been his idea. Nick needed the time to cool his feelings. If he couldn’t keep his own ardor in check, how could he ask her to do so? As long as she stayed with Bartlett, Beth had to know Nick wouldn’t see her as anything more than a client.
“Nicky!”
He returned her greeting, “Amellie!” and smiled at her laugh.
“We’re next!” She clapped her hands in a cheer. “Monsieur Claude told me of how difficult the remaining journey will be. I’m ready to get started and be done with it. How about you?”
Grinning at her exuberance, he nodded. “I have to admit, the next week or so will be tough on everyone.”
“Once we’re done with that part of the journey, we’ll be fine, won’t we?”
Exhaling, he wondered how much to tell her about the land ahead. Two thirds of the trail remained, with most of the flattest part behind them. He’d spent the prior days’ delay encouraging families with four or fewer oxen to trade or leave the less essential belongings. Animals pulling heavy loads sickened faster than those with easier work. A land with alkali water, if any, ensured disease and death among the dehydrated stock. Nick smiled to reassure her as much as himself. “We’ll be fine. Sam and I have traveled this route. While there’ll be unexpected events, I’m sure everyone will be fine.”
She toyed with her collapsible fan, a slight shake of her hands betraying her nerves. “I’m not sure I like the type of surprises a wilderness could provide.”
In a hope to reassure her, he said, “A few are good, but most can be bad.”
Playfully hitting him with her fan, Amelia asked, “How about we think of the good? What are they again?”
Nick shrugged, enjoying teasing her. “Monsieur Claude may have something special for you and will tan my hide if I ruin it for him.”
Amelia stepped up to him, putting her hand on his chest and pleaded, “You have to tell me.”
“And ruin his surprise for you?” He took a step back as if to escape. Plus, Nick didn’t want Beth to see the girl touching him and thus think he was interested. “Monsieur may have nothing planned anyway.”
“You rotten man.”
“Better you think so than him. He’s meaner.” A whistle caught his attention. Nick looked over to see Mr. Lucky give a signal. Turning to Amelia, he said, “They’re ready for us. Let your family know.”
She gave a little cheer and hurried to her own camp. Nick watched her go for a moment, smiling. If Mr. Bartlett’s wife had truly resembled her, he could see why the man still mourned. His own Sally lacked Amelia’s effervescence, but he’d loved her calm quiet in chaotic circumstances. Beth had the same trait most times, he’d observed, but not in all. He grinned when thinking of how she’d lost her temper when they first met. He’d loved how such a sweet looking woman held such a fiery interior. Nick had expected familiarity would breed contempt. With another man’s wife, he’d hoped for it. He’d not counted on falling a little more in love with her each day.
The family in front of him rolled onto the ferry, shaking Nick from his daydream. Seated on Buck, he clicked at the oxen and they snapped to attention. Another two clicks when the ferry returned and they followed him. Sam paid the fare while Nick made sure both of their wagons loaded without trouble.
Once across, he lead his group on out of the way of others disembarking. When looking for Beth, he noticed how the Bartlett wagon lagged behind as usual. Nick watched from a slight hill as Daggart paid the man and loaded their wagon. From this distance, he couldn’t see Beth. Something seemed wrong, he thought, causing a tightness in his chest. He’d feel better after catching some glimpse of her, even from so far away. The Bartlett wagon reached the other bank and he still didn’t see her. Nick imagined she must have ridden inside.
Upon seeing Lawrence’s signal, he knew everyone ferried over just fine. He breathed a sigh of relief. No stock lost this time, and even better, no people. Now, on to the task of getting them through the waiting desert. When Sam rode up to him, Nick knew what he was going to say and asked, “Camp for the night at noon?”
“Yes, and you’re the last person I had left to tell.”
“Very well.” Sam and his mount didn’t continue on and instead fell into step with him and Buck. “We’re not going to talk, are we?”
Sam tipped up his hat, replying, “We don’t have to, no.”
“Good.” Nick wondered how long the easy silence would last.
After a mile or so, the younger brother said, “You don’t have to tell me what you’ll do at Fort Bridger.”
He shrugged. “I hadn’t planned on doing anything.”
“Nothing when she heads south instead of west?”
Nick heard the disbelief in his voice. “That’s her decision.”
“You’ll let her go?”
“It’s not my choice unless I want to kidnap her.”
“Hm. That’s a thought.”
If he didn’t know better, Nick could consider his brother’s tone as encouraging. “Not a legal one, or have you suddenly forgotten everything from university?”
“No, I still remember a few things,” he said. “A law about kidnapping still being illegal is one of them.”
“Legality doesn’t matter.” He continued despite Sam’s beginning of a protest, “I want her only if she wants me. She has this displaced loyalty to her brother-in-law and a deathbed promise to a man who clearly did not have her best interests in mind. Add in a lot of guilt over her sister’s death and it’s a problem I’d like to solve for her.” Nick wanted to give Beth a better life than Bartlett offered and had to at least convince Sam he could do so. “Have you seen her smile?”
“Yes, a few times.”
“She’s beautiful when she’s happy and she’s happy being Beth, not Lizzy. You should have seen the first time I accidently called her by her real name.” Nick grinned. “She looked shocked, of course, but smiled at me. A man would do a lot to receive a smile like that from her.”
“Um hm.”
Sam’s lack of a reply discouraged Nick from saying anything else. He’d rather think of how to see Beth this evening or next anyway. After several minutes, none of the excuses to talk with her seemed plausible. He sighed. Maybe just waiting for an opening to see her would be best. He’d find a reason to search for her when the group reached the far off foothills ahead.
While the distant blue mountains never neared, an approaching thundercloud darkened the western sky. Nick said, “I think we h
ave another half mile before stopping.”
Sam also looked at the storm. “Maybe as much as a mile, but I wouldn’t count on it.”
Hearing the siren song of opportunity, he said, “I’ll go to the back and tell the stragglers. You can take the lead.”
“Impressive try. I’ll tell the Bartletts. You tell the leaders when to halt.” Both left to carry out their duties before the storm hit. They unhitched their animals, tying them on the sheltered side of their wagons. When done, they checked on everyone else. The gust front hit and the day darkened to twilight hues. A strong smell of rain felt like a physical touch due to the thick air. Huge splats of drops, then the pings of hail hit their wagon’s canopy. Nick peered out to check on their animals. The wind blew horizontally hard enough so the wagon sheltered them. He sat back, relieved.
Instead of attempting conversation, Sam dealt his brother a hand of cards. Frequent gaming together lent such familiarity they didn’t need words. Gestures worked fine. When a hard gust shook the wagon, both winced and laughed at themselves for reacting in the same way. The storm and afternoon both passed in a hurry. Once the rain eased, Nick opened the canopy. “Think there’s enough daylight?”
Sam pushed his way over to see the sky too. “Not to go as far as we’d like.”
“True.” He edged his way past the young man, hopping down to the squishy ground.
Following, Sam asked, “The creeks will be up. Will you be helping Mrs. Bartlett over them?”
Nick knew a trap when he heard it. “No. She has a husband who can help her.” He patted Buck and got in the saddle.
“Good,” the other man said, also riding.
Letting Sam take the back end of their group, Nick went to the front. He helped those who needed him, chatted with the others. The wagons made their usual circle to keep in the stock, with some building campfires on the outside. He cooked up an early supper of ham and beans for them and their hands. One by one, Chuck, Lawrence, Claude, and Lucky came in and sat. They talked about the storm, passed around gossip like old hens. Nick grinned when Claude talked about Amelia, glad the attraction was mutual.
When Claude mentioned seeing Bartlett at the Chatillon’s campsite that evening, Nick remained quiet. Instead, he listened to the man detail how Daggart made sure he sat by Amelia, how courteous he was to the girl. Nick wondered how Beth liked doing chores by herself. He might be able to help her with the animals and such. Though sitting cross legged, he leaned forward as if to stand. Catching Sam’s wry look at him, he returned an “I know” expression and sat back. This disgusted him, the inability to think without Sam interfering and censoring. He listened to his hands’ chatter, struggling to use the gossip and laughter as a distraction. Every time he wondered what and how she was doing, Nick refocused his attention back to the dwindling campfire.
The next morning, Nick took inventory of the small amount of dry wood they carried in their wagon. Low, but not critical enough to skip coffee. He grinned. The day, still fresh, had a crisp feeling from the recent rain. He led the stock to the creek, two by two. The vegetation glowed with sparkling green, the dust washed away in the storm.
He completed morning chores, saddled up, and led the way through the Black Hills. Even this late in June, Laramie Peak had snow. Nick enjoyed the green valleys and darker knolls in this part of the country. The scrubby evergreens broke up the grassy hills. Craggy, slate grey cliffs dotted the landscape, with outlying blue foothills behind them. The wheels and hooves of so many crushed the sage and prairie grass, giving the air an added scent. An even deeper blue line of clouds moved over the western sky. Seeing no advancing wind, he knew they might have a light shower after noon.
The party bounced over the rocky trail, up sharp inclines and down steep declines. Their wheels traced over ruts from prior travelers cut deep in the limestone and sandstone. He smiled at how the children walked over the embankments on either side of the parents’ wagons. Most removed their canopies this morning. Between the fresh air and warm sun, clothing hung on the exposed ribs dried before noon.
Nick gave the signal to stop for midday’s meal at Warm Springs. The rich smell of damp earth reached them there as well. Used to the routines, no one needed telling to replace canopies or search around for dry wood after eating. Once replenished and ready, they continued. He wanted to reach a certain place among the Black Hills. The abundant wood, fresh water, and thick grass enhanced the natural beauty of the place. They pressed on despite the light showers expected.
Upon reaching the intended camp, he anticipated Sam’s protest at the decision and readied his argument for spending the night here. Sixteen miles seemed too short a distance to go in a day, especially when more scenery to discover lay around the next bend or over the next hill. Yet, Nick knew his group required this place. People and animals both needed a rest from the many loose rocks walked over today.
Nick dismounted, beginning his evening schedule. Halfway through his chores, Sam interrupted by trotting over to him. Nick said, “I know.”
Sam slid from his horse. “All right.” He leaned against their wagon, watching his brother. “I’m glad we didn’t reach here earlier, at least.”
“We wouldn’t have stopped if we had.”
“Pardon me if I don’t believe you.” Sam took the flint kit held out to him.
Nick grinned. “You don’t have to; the truth is the truth.”
Every other word more forceful with the effort of striking a fire, he said, “It is a lovely place and good for the animals.”
“Which reminds me, how are the Bartletts today?”
Sam laughed, saying, “Fine, I suppose. Bartlett is his usual obnoxious self, while I’ve not seen Mrs. Bartlett.”
The flames took hold of the smaller twigs, spreading to the sticks. Had no one spotted Beth among the group, he wondered. “Not today?”
Pausing before getting the cook pot, Sam said, “No. Come to think of it, not at all since Fort Laramie.” He tapped the bottom of the pan like a drum, lost in thought. “I’ve not been looking for her, though. I might have seen her today and just not noticed.” He made a motion for his brother to follow as they went to the Platte.
He went along, not liking how low a profile Beth had. Even if he kept his distance, Nick needed to know about her. He nodded at a couple greeting him while walking by on the way to Register Cliff. They’d passed the milestone a few miles back and some missed the chance to carve their own names in the soft rock. He watched as they strolled east to take part in the activity. Once out of earshot, he admitted to Sam, “I can’t help but look for her every moment we’re apart. But until she ends this farce between her and Bartlett, I’m staying away so Beth will see she cares for me as well.”
“That’s a first rate attitude.” The young man eased down the embankment and scooped water for dinner. “You’ll gain less buckshot in your hide for doing so.”
They went back to camp and Nick added, “I do think if you or I don’t see Beth before we leave tomorrow, one of us might have to ask Bartlett her whereabouts.”
“I agree.”
Nick looked at his often-contrary brother, surprised. “You do?”
Sam frowned before continuing on to start dinner. “Absolutely I do. She’s a member of our party we’ve not seen in a few days. Her husband’s not known to lie about Mrs. Bartlett.” He paused at a glare from Nick. “Er, Beth, I mean. But if he’s done away with her, I’d like to know before too much further.”
Nick stopped short. “Sam, if he’s hurt her in any way, I want to know this instant so I can kill him inch by inch.”
“I’m sure he didn’t.” He knelt at the fire, placing the pan on the embers. “Have you not heard the man at dinner time? If nothing else, he needs her as a pack mule for his gold mine.”
Retrieving the usual staples from their wagon, Nick muttered, “I would like to do away with him for that alone, myself.”
“Me, too.” Sam looked up while taking the food for cooking. ??
?She’s his property, and until she’s agreed to be your property instead…” He threw ingredients into the cook pot.
“I know.” He crossed his arms, angry, “No need to remind me.”
“Onion?” asked Sam. “This could use a little flavor.”
“Let me chop one up right quick.” He found the least moldy root and cut it so the pieces fell into the soup. The aroma of food soon filled the air. With the signal, their hands gathered around the fire. Nick didn’t feel comfortable continuing the discussion about Beth in front of his employees, so he took care of the animals. He caught sight of the sun just dipping below the high horizon. As good as dinner smelled now, Nick looked forward to passing Fort Bridger. So many people heading west thinned out the wildlife. The reduced populations meant scarce fresh meat and beans for dinner every night until hunting improved. As the rays spread gold among the clouds, he wondered if Beth enjoyed such a sight from her camp. Tomorrow, he promised himself, he’d check on her.
Before opening his eyes, Nick smiled. He’d see her today, whatever it took. Sitting up, he saw Sam still slept. Light struggled to brighten the eastern sky. Could he go on over to the Barlett’s camp now? he wondered. No one stirred, all still asleep. He lay back down on his bedroll with a sigh. Each minute passing made the wait more unbearable.
Disgusted with how slow the day dawned, Nick sat. He wanted a reason to visit Beth, but thinking without coffee was difficult. What reason, he wondered, could he concoct for seeing her? He settled on neither Granvilles having caught sight of her for several days. Checking on someone in their group, even at this early hour, was his duty. He glanced over at Sam. No one had seen her, and he wanted only to make sure she slept without impediment. Nick got to his feet and headed to the Bartlett’s wagon.
Once there, he stopped cold. Daggart slept, snoring, no campfire nearby. The lack of a fire concerned him. Everyone cooked last night and he knew Beth would have as well. Nick tasted fear in the back of his throat. Swallowing the metallic sensation, he reassured his concerns. She had to be resting in their wagon. He didn’t want to be rude and peek inside but had to check.
At almost a tiptoe, he went to the wagon, to the back where the canopy opened. Nick saw nothing amiss when peeking inside. Her sewing bag sat on Beth’s trunk, and from what he remembered, everything else remained in place.
“What the hell are you doing in my wagon?”
Daggart’s bellow startled Nick, and he turned to see Bartlett still seated in his bedroll. “I’m not in your wagon. I’m just looking for Mrs. Bartlett.”
He frowned. “What for at this time of mornin’?”
Nick kept his face expressionless as if he held a bad hand of cards and didn’t want the other man to know. “I woke up early, remembered talk of how no one had seen Mrs. Bartlett in a couple of days, then came over to check on you and her, simple as that.”
With a sigh, Daggart stood, hands on hips. “Fine. I might as well tell ya now. You were goin’ to find out sooner or later. Beth’s gone.”
“Gone?” he said, fear replacing the blood in his veins. “What the hell do you mean, gone?”
“What else does that mean?” Daggart turned away from him and walked away a few steps. “I don’t see her ‘cus she ain’t here ‘cus I left her at Fort Laramie. That’s what that means.”
Nick’s heart stopped. They’d gone three days now from the fort, leaving Beth alone in the world. Blind fury shoved out his panic. He went to the man, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. Engulfed in a haze of anger, he gripped Daggart by the neck, “Why did you leave her behind? Why would you do that to her?”
Pawing at the hand squeezing his throat, he choked out, “Leggo!”
“Answer me! Why did you?” He saw Chuck out of the corner of his eye. Some part of his rational mind noticed how the young man stared for a moment and ran off in his other boss’s direction. Nick didn’t care who saw him manhandle Bartlett. He needed answers.
“She was sick and wouldn’t wake up the next day,” he squeaked, not looking Nick in the eyes.
Stunned, he released Bartlett. “Wouldn’t wake up? No, I can’t believe you.” Not wanting to know but needing an answer, he asked, “Did you ever see her wake up?”
He looked ashamed. “No. Not really. I thought she was dead from being’ sick and I was sad. But I wasn’t sure and everyone was leavin’, so I let her be.”
“Let her be?” She’d been ill and he’d not known? Nick exhaled, feeling like lead shot filled his gut. “You left her there, possibly…” He swallowed, unable to say the word aloud. “Left her there alone, out in the open?”
“Not so much alone. There’d be others goin’ by to the territories.” He shrugged. “If she was alive, she could always go to the fort and work.”
“If alive and to the fort?” Nick thought of the fear Beth would have at being alone, her panic at how she needed to cross the Platte to Laramie. He struggled to keep his voice lower than a yell. “But you don’t know. All you’re sure about is she’s not here and must be there.” A resurgence of rage hit him like a horse’s hoof. As if by reflex, he punched Daggart in the face. The man reeled and before he recovered, Nick punched him again. Bartlett stumbled back from the two right hits but not far enough to evade a left hook. Before he could throw another punch, Nick felt himself pinned from behind.
“Stop it, Nick!” Sam held him. “Chuck told me Mrs. Bartlett is gone?”
Nick struggled. “Let go of me and I’ll tell—” just then, Daggart stepped up and struck him across the jaw.
Sam released his brother with a shove to get him out of the way. Fists clenched, he raised one, saying, “Do something like that again, and you’ll contend with both of us right now.” The man seemed to wither in on himself at the promise. Sam added, “Find something to do for a while that takes you out of my sight.” While Daggart slithered away, Sam turned to Nick. “Tell me.”
He thought for a couple of seconds before replying, “I don’t know if I can.”
The younger brother put his hands on his hips, staring at the sky. His voice quiet, he asked, “Is it as bad as Sally?”
Taking in a wavering breath, Nick acknowledged, “Maybe not as bad, but close.”
“Fine.” Sam looked at him. “I’ll just come out with it, is she alive?”
Men don’t cry, Nick thought to himself and ignored how his nose stung. “Bartlett doesn’t know for sure.” He forced himself to add, “Beth wouldn’t wake up and had been sick. He didn’t want us to leave him behind, so he left her behind instead.”
Sam stared in the direction of the rising sun. After a moment, he said, “There’s something more to his story than this. We don’t leave anyone unless they’ve passed, and even then only after a service. He knows that and is making excuses.” He looked at Nick’s face. “How’s your eye?”
“I don’t care about that and you’re right. We don’t leave people behind.” Nick’s nose still hurt with the ache of tears and he coughed to keep back the pain. “Sam, if she’s dead…”
“That’s not for certain.” He paused before continuing, “You’ll have to make sure she’s cared for no matter what her condition.” He patted Nick on the back. “Bartlett’s an idiot who wouldn’t know a corpse from a copse.” Taking his brother’s upper arm, he led him to Buck. “Get ready and go back. You can catch up to us later.”
The bossy manner of the young man amused him as the comment gave Nick hope. “Thank you for permission, because I was going to go, anyway.”
“I had no choice, I know. Let me have my delusions. Don’t worry about anything here, just pack enough provisions for you both.”
Nick took his hand and gave him a bear hug. “I owe you.”
“Bring her back to us safe and that’s enough.” He backed out of the embrace. “Have some coffee and saddle up Buck while I make you and the rest of us breakfast.
He watched Sam go to the wagon and campfire. Their hands all sat around, drinking their morning brew, silent. Ju
dging by the somber expressions, they knew. He took an offered cup without a word. Nick wanted to keep his worry to himself.
“Uh, Mr. Granville?”
He knew Chuck well enough to hear the concern in his voice and looked up at the man. “Yes?”
Twisting the hat he held, the employee said, “We all hope you find her just fine. She’s a very kind woman.”
Unable to trust his voice, Nick tried to smile and nodded. He finished up his cup, packing it for the rescue. While gathering things, he forced himself to focus on sustenance and possibly medicines Beth might need. Bartlett hadn’t mentioned symptoms, now that he thought back. Nick didn’t trust himself to go and ask the man about her condition. Holding his medical bag, his hand trembled and eyes watered. Likely she’d had some sort of stomach bug, he thought, steeling himself even now for what he might find. The sickness most likely had passed, he reckoned, and she wondered when he’d come back for her. Three days now and another two or three until he found her, she’d be very hungry. He needed to pack filling foods, easy to carry. But then, he’d need room for any belongings Bartlett left with her. If Beth was alive, and Sam seemed to think so, he’d buy whatever she needed at Fort Laramie.
One of his saddlebags stuffed full for him, the other empty for her, Nick carried them to his horse. Seeing Sam, he asked, “You don’t need help with morning chores before I leave, do you?”
“You’ve not left, yet? You’re keeping a lady waiting and should hope I don’t tell our mother.” Handing over breakfast wrapped in a cloth, Sam watched as Nick tied the bags onto his horse. “I hope you find her well.”
“So do I.” Nick mounted his horse. He turned, nudging Buck into a gallop back to Fort Laramie. Despite his desire to travel fast, he slacked the pace every so often for his horse’s sake. All morning the need to find Beth alive consumed him. His stomach growled. When hearing the noise, he noticed how the afternoon shadows stretched along the ground. Nick felt bad for his animal. “Sorry, boy, we’ll stop for a while.”
He settled for a rest along the Platte with decent water and grass. Not as good as the place he’d stopped a couple of days ago, but acceptable. Nick dismounted, wincing at how stiff and sore his legs felt. He led the horse to a flat spot on the river’s bank and let him drink his fill. As Buck grazed, Nick dug around in his bag for something to eat. He’d be no use to Beth if he were weak. Fear for her safety distracted him so much that he didn’t taste the jerky. He drank from a canteen, once done, emptying it. Since his horse continued to nibble at the new grass, Nick refilled his canteen for the miles until nightfall.
Landscape he admired before didn’t register with him now as he continued. Nick pushed thoughts of her being dead from his mind. He wouldn’t allow for the possibility until seeing for himself. He had to believe Beth was a strong young lady. Just like Sally, a mean little voice of his conscience said to him. A wave of hurt spread through his chest at the thought. He squinted his eyes to keep the sting of unshed tears at bay. Sally died from his negligence. He wondered if not keeping a closer watch on Beth meant he’d neglected her as well.
No, he pushed away the idea. Nick had watched for her with every step since the ferry crossing. She’d made her choice to stay with Bartlett and he’d honored her decision at the time. The beginning of sunset brightened the eastern sky with gold. He nudged his horse into a gallop, wanting to go a mile or two more before dark.
The day raced to an end like he raced to Beth. Nick stopped when the last bit of twilight remained. He made camp in the open. Not his favorite place to sleep, but one guaranteeing to wake him at first light. He didn’t want to stumble around looking for water, so he built a fire first. Being near a dry creek bed didn’t help his horse’s thirst, so Nick drank first, then let his animal drink from his hand until the canteen emptied. Tired as he was, Nick still unsaddled and brushed his horse for the night. He’d not seen a campfire nearby and hadn’t passed anyone since dusk. Even though Nick felt safe, he kept his rifle close in case of predators. He had a quick bite to eat and lay down on his bedroll. For the first time in a long time, he was alone again.
As planned, the morning sun woke him with its new rays peeking over the hills. He sat, seeing his horse thirty feet away, grazing. He now needed to find water for both of them. Nick stood and packed what little he’d taken out for the night. Coffee sounded good, but that meant starting a fire, boiling the beans, and even more of a delay in finding Beth. And if he didn’t find her? Nick paused in saddling his horse, and then shook his head. He swung up into the saddle and signaled gallop to his ride. He slowed when finding the first clean water in miles and stopped for his horse. Nick took the time to fill his canteen while the animal drank. Not wanting to bother with food, he continued on at a rapid pace, rushing past camps just now awakening.
His fear of discovering her grave increased with every mile closer he rode to Fort Laramie. Nick swallowed, wondering how he would know her resting place. Unless the persons that dug her grave still waited to cross the river, he wouldn’t. His eyes watered at the thought of her in the ground. He wiped the tears before they could fall, glad no one would ever know. He sat up straight and nudged Buck into a slow gallop. She had to be alive, he reassured himself.
He topped the hill and saw the ferry below carrying people across. Riding down, the distance seemed shorter from higher up than it was. He waited, once there, to pay his fare.
The ferryman took the five dollars, grinning. “Not much call for folks to go back.”
Nick returned the smile, albeit with more teeth. “I’ll bet not.”
The stout man stood next to him still. “Ah course, some folks balk at poisoned water.”
“Don’t blame them.” He didn’t want to chat about the obvious. He wanted to reach the other side in an instant.
“Then others don’t believe the Territory to be any better.”
Nick suppressed an impatient grunt, instead using his manners, saying, “Probably not.” His mother would hear about this. He’d expect her approval for remaining so calm and civilized.
Leaning closer, he said, “Still, not much call for folks to go back.”
Nick nodded his assent, not giving in to the open ended statement. The idea hit him like lightning to ask the ferryman about Beth. The man had seen everyone crossing and had to remember her. “Tell me, have you seen a young woman going west by herself? She’s about yay high.” He held a hand up near his neck. “She has brown hair and green eyes, and was wearing a white dress with flowers on it.”
“Oh, well, I reckon I see a lot of young ladies cross.” He put a hand to his chin and scratched, thinking. “No, none of them were alone. There were some pretty gals matching your description, though.”
Damn. He’d hoped to hear a yes and the man point to exactly where Beth waited for him. As it was, he couldn’t get to the other side fast enough. They soon reached the opposite bank, answering his prayers. He glanced over and saw how the ferryman was busy with other customers. Nick took his chance to escape the chatter and look for Beth.
He resisted the urge to gallop around, calling her name. Instead, he went to their last campsite. Once where the Bartlett’s camp had been, he swung off the horse. Nick recognized her bedroll, now neatly folded with the pillow on top. Others discarded their belonging in this area too. So many items lay around, he couldn’t tell if Beth might still camp in this spot. He knelt, taking her pillow. Had the rainstorms reached here, and if so, had they washed away her scent? He smelled the fabric, too distracted with fear to detect any trace of her soap. Replacing her pillow, he stood and looked around at the people with their own groups. Nick tried to think of where else she might be, but his mind blanked. He needed to pick the first place to search. The fort, the river, Missouri, or worse, California? Had she tried to follow Bartlett and he’d not seen her in another group on the trail? The outcome Nick worked hard to ignore sprung to mind. Maybe she lay under his feet even now, or under the wheel ruts to where wild animals wouldn’t f
ind and dig her up for food. He fought against a rising panic. “No, not that,” he whispered, unwilling to let her go.
Nick looked over at Fort Laramie, the safest place for a single woman to be. He wanted to search the fort first. Going to Buck’s left side, he put a foot in the stirrup.
“Nicholas?”