“Feeling any better?”
She gave a shuddering sigh and smiled. “Yes, but that’s not saying much. I’ll keep it under the speed limit. I promise.”
“Good.” He studied her for a moment longer and then got out of the patrol car. Opening the back door for her, he offered his hand to help her out.
Shouldering her purse, she looked up at him. He was young, probably no more than thirty or thirty-five. He had kind eyes. “You know what I was doing when you pulled up beside me, Officer? Praying. So much for divine intervention.” Shaking her head, she started back toward her car.
She had just put the key into her ignition when the patrolman walked up to her car window again. He handed her a small slip of white paper folded in half. “My wife and I’ll meet you on the front steps at quarter to ten. Bring your kids. Oh, and pull into traffic easy, Mrs. Madrid. I’ll put my lights on and clear the way for you.”
“Thanks,” she said, confused. She watched him in the side mirror as he walked back to his patrol car.
Opening the slip of paper, she read the name and address of a church.
The trail is clearly marked ahead by the great rock formations.
We passed one a day back that looked like a courthouse with a jail beside it. The one ahead is like a giant funnel set upside down on the prairie.
We ate dust all day. It was our turn to be at the back. Tomorrow we will be at the head.
Water and grass are plentiful. So are the mosquitoes.
I had words with Oren McKenzie today. He was talking about Aphie again and crying with every word he uttered. I lost patience with him and told him he was not the only one who had lost a loved one. I said Aphie would be ashamed of him for his endless carrying on. She was a good and sensible girl and would not think kindly of him if she knew he had not even bothered to give her son a name! He said I do not understand how bad he feels and I said understanding was not what he needed. What he needs is a good hard kick in the backside.
When Oren left our fire, James looked at me and said—It is amazing, Mary Kathryn, how you can see the sins of others so well, and your own not at all. I asked him what he meant. He said Oren has been grieving over the loss of a wife and has only been crying a few weeks while I have been grieving over not having my own way for months. He said—You only know in part, not the whole of his pain. He said I close my ears to anything that does not suit me. I said he was wrong. He said—You closed your ears to me before the first word was out of my mouth about Oregon and why we had to go. He said—It never even occurred to you that this journey is for your own good!
I said what good was there in Deborah dying. I said we should have stayed in Illinois. He said he wished he had left me there. He said he would sooner listen to Oren’s weeping than my endless carping.
David Alexander McKenzie was christened by his father last evening and I am sore ashamed. James is right. I told Oren I had no right to speak to him as I did. He said he was glad of it. He had never held his son before today and doing so eased the pain of losing Aphie. He said David looks like her.
It never occurred to me that I could lose James as easy as I lost my daughter or Oren lost his sweet wife. Life is so uncertain. I do not know where James went to spend the night.
When he came back this morning, I told him I was sorry. It has done no good. The wall I built up still stands between us.
Kavanaugh sighted buffalo across the Platte to the north. Joshua insisted on going hunting with the men. He would give no ear at all to my fears. He came back a short while ago. Without so much as a word, he slid off his horse, took a couple of steps and fell face down on his bedding. He was covered with so much blood I thought he had been shot and stripped him like a baby to see if he was wounded. He will not thank me when he finds out. Kavanaugh rode up as I was doing it and laughed. I did not think it funny and told him so. He said Joshua is unharmed. I asked him what he had done to my son that he would have so much blood on him. He said he made Joshua dress what he killed. He said the boy needed to learn hunting is not all glory. It is hard work.
I could soak his clothes for a month of Sundays and not get all the stains out.
We are nooning longer today than usual because of the terrible heat. The land we are passing through is fertile for rocks and sagebrush and not much else. Some of the animals are sick from the heat.
MacLeod said we will move on in another hour and keep going until dusk. We will be lucky to make 15 miles today.
Joshua shot two rabbits. I will stew them for supper.
Kaiser Vandervert gave whiskey to his oxen. It seems to perk them up. Had we whiskey left I would try some myself.
We crossed the Laramie River this morning and made camp at the fort. There are Indians camped near by. Kavanaugh said they are Cheyenne. They are a fine looking people dressed in buckskins like Kavanaugh and wearing bear claw necklaces and eagle feathers. The chief is a handsome fellow. Joshua is impressed with them. Kavanaugh knows them well and speaks their language. He took Joshua with him when he spoke with them. When he came back he said they are at the fort to trade buffalo hides and furs for tobacco, sugar, and blankets. We have no sugar or blankets to spare.
The soldiers have invited us to a dance in the fort this evening. The men drew lots to see who would stay behind with the wagons and keep watch. Ruckel Buckeye, Wells Doane, Oren McKenzie, Ernest Holtz, and Werner Hoffman lost. Artemesia is feeling poorly and is remaining behind as well. Nellie said nothing will keep her away.
James said he will not go. He knows how much I love to dance. This is just his way of punishing me.
James is speaking to me again. I did not expect him to forgive me for another five hundred miles considering how many it took me to come to my senses. When he said he did not want to go to the dance last night, I knew what he meant was he did not want to go to the dance with me. I said that was fine by me and went anyway. There is little enough fun on the trail without giving up what Opportunity comes along because a man is pouting. James came later. Of course, he did not dance with me because he was still mad. I had partners aplenty with soldiers and MacLeod and some of the other men traveling with us. I even danced with Oren McKenzie. I have not had so much fun since I was engaged to Thomas Atwood Houghton and considered Acceptable Company in Galena. James cut in when Lieutenant Heywood danced with me a third time. He said it was not proper for me to dance with that soldier again. I said it was as proper as him dancing four times with Nellie. He said Nellie is good and married. I said I am good and married too though my husband appears not to notice. He hauled me outside.
I said—What do you think you are doing, James Farr? I don’t want to leave. I was having fun.
He said to shut up and kissed me the way he used to do. We went down to the trees along the river. I am glad the fire has not died in him or me. I was feeling soft inside and said—I am glad you have forgiven me, James Farr.
On the walk back, James said—You do not long for home anymore, do you, Mary Kathryn? I said I would be lying if I said I did not miss Aunt Martha and all the rest. I would be lying too if I said I was pleased with the way things turned out at the homestead. I told him I accept his decision and will not CARP anymore. We will wait and see what there is in store for us in Oregon.
James said Oregon will speak for itself when we get there. And then he said in a quiet voice—Or maybe California. I said what do you mean about California? He said he had been thinking Oregon might be too crowded in a few years with the numbers going and we ought to think about California instead. I could not get air to say anything but he went on real fast telling me that others are talking about it. I said like who? He said Ernst Holtz, Wells Doane, Binger Siddons and Stern Janssen have been mulling it over. I wonder if Nellie knows what is on Wells mind.
James said Kavanaugh has never seen the Pacific Ocean and has a desire to do so. Oh Grand I said. That is good reason for going someplace. Just because you have never been. Just to keep on to the ends of the earth until you have
seen it all! Next he will want to see China!
James said—Stop talking, Mary Kathryn—but I had a lot more to say. So he kissed me again. He kissed me hard and for so long I forgot what my upset was about until now that I am writing my thoughts into this journal. When we all went back to the wagons after the dance, we bedded the children down in the tent so James and I could sleep under the wagon together. We slept last night like two spoons in a drawer the way we used to.
I don’t have a house or land. But I have my James back and my children. They are home enough.
We all went down to the chalk cliffs. James does not know how to write. So I carved his name next to my own, and then carved Henry, Beth, and Matthew underneath. I carved Deborah last and a cross next to it. She will not be forgotten.
Joshua ignored my call and climbed up high to carve his name. I was sure he would fall but he would not listen and come down. Kavanaugh said the boy is sure footed as a mountain goat.
Joshua has become so difficult of late. I feel him pulling away from me and James and drawn to Kavanaugh. Kavanaugh encourages him. He told me just the other day that he was not much older than Joshua when he left home and headed west for the first time. I asked him why he left so young. All he said was he had reasons.
I am not ready to let my son go.
James did not leave my side all day today. We walked together while Joshua drove the wagon. I have missed talking with James. He is so full of dreams. I never thought any of them would come to anything but this one of going west has. We will see about the others.
As long as I have James I am safe and happy.
It is so terrible hot. The dust coats all of us. The ground is sandy and makes hard pulling for the oxen. Beth is sick. We made a bed for her in the wagon and she is sleeping. I asked Nellie to pray for her.
Dunham Banks was bad hurt today. A rattlesnake frightened the horses. His own pitched him off and he hit his head on a rock. Doc Reese said his chances are not good. Celia rigged a cradle and had two men help her rig a big sling inside her wagon. Baby Hortense and Dunham both rocked all day while she drove. Celia is a fine strong girl with good sense. She will need both for the long haul ahead.
We are Plagued with Tragedy. Little Patricia Sinnott wandered off this evening and can not be found. Paralee is crazy with fear that the Indians have stolen her. Frank Sinnott, James, and four other men have gone out looking for little Patty. I have my children near the fire where I can see them. Joshua is not pleased with staying here to watch out for us. He said he could ride after Kavanaugh. The scout would know what to do. I told him Kavanaugh and Ruckel Buckeye are hunting game and there is no telling in which direction they went.
Kavanaugh and Ruckel came back and went out with the men again. They looked for little Patty all day and found no trace of her. MacLeod said we can not stay another day. Paralee says she will not go on without her little girl. Franklin said it was her fault the child is lost. It was a harsh, cruel thing to say and not much different from what I said to James not long ago. I cringe thinking of it. Sinnott’s son is from his first wife who died. Paralee is the second wife. She told me a few nights back Franklin has poured all the money she inherited into what he is carrying in those two wagons. Two of his oxen have died already from pulling the load. It appears to me Franklin Sinnott is more worried about getting his goods to Oregon than he is about little Patty lost in the wilderness.
We made 20 miles today. Paralee did not come out of her wagon even for the nooning. Everyone thought she was grieving in quiet. They did not know until we camped that Franklin had her tied so she could not get free and gagged her so she could not cry out. MacLeod is fit to be tied himself now that he knows what the man did to his wife. Franklin insists he did it for her own good. He said she would have run off looking for little Patty otherwise. Kavanaugh told Franklin and Paralee yesterday the Cheyenne do not have their little girl. I sat inside our wagon and cried. It was what he did not say that grieved me so. Little Patricia Sinnott is dead. Everyone but Paralee knows. The nights are bitter cold and the days hot and dry. The child had no blanket or water. And there are coyotes and mountain lions and grizzlys and wolves. No three year old child could have survived one night out there.
Nellie asked me to pray with her that little Patty was taken home to heaven quickly and did not suffer long. I said I can not remember a time when God heard anything I said to him. The last time I tried was for Deborah and look what came of that. Nellie was shocked and said—God loves you, Mary Kathryn Farr, and you have got to believe that. I told her that God loves those he wants to love and I am not one of his chosen people. I told her that it was all right because I have no love for him either.
I did not mean to make her cry.
We are camped near a great rock that looks like a giant turtle. Almost everyone has carved their names upon it. Even me. Joshua and some of the others have climbed to the top.
Devils Gate is not far from here. Joshua is riding over for a closer look. I can see it fine from where I sit writing in my journal. It looks like a giant ax cut through the stone mountain to let the Sweetwater River run through. And sweet water it is after the muddy Platte. It tastes so good. We will follow the river west.
James had to shoot one of our oxen yesterday it was suffering so. Beth is grieving over it. She asked why everything has to die. I had no good answer for her. Nellie was sitting with us and said death is just a door believers walk through to be with Jesus. Her words did not cheer Beth nor I. Why does she have to keep on talking about Jesus? Her words just raise a jumble of questions and heartache. Beth said Old Tom was just an ox and how could he know what to believe. Nellie knew she had raised trouble. Beth said it was not fair that people go to heaven and animals do not because animals are nicer than a lot of people. She is right about that but I could not let her go on with such thinking. A child needs a little hope in this world.
I told Beth Aunt Martha read to me about heaven once and I remember it said the lion would lie down with the calf. Nellie said that was right. She looked it up in her Bible right there on the spot. And I said I remember Aunt Martha reading that Jesus would ride down to earth on horseback. Nellie found that too. I told Beth there had to be animals in heaven for any of that to happen. Lions and lambs and horses maybe Beth said. She wanted to know if Werner Hoffman would see his dog again in heaven. I said likely so if Werner could get himself there.
We buried Dunham Banks today. Celia would not let him be buried in the road. The men dug as deep as they could but we are going over hard rocky ground. MacLeod said words over him. Celia gave baby Hortense to Beth to hold and started gathering rocks to stack on top of poor Dunhams grave. I helped her until the job was done. So did Nellie.
It is dark now and Celia is still sitting by the mound.
Chapter 17
Sierra recognized the highway patrolman even though he was dressed in a Sunday suit instead of a black uniform. He was waiting at the front steps just as he said he would be, and beside him was a young woman holding a baby. He grinned when he saw her.
“Be polite,” Sierra said to her own children who stood glumly beside her, annoyed at being dragged off to church. Their father hadn’t taken them to Mass more than three times in three years. In fact, the last time they had been inside a church was for their grandmother’s memorial service.
“Welcome, Mrs. Madrid,” the officer said, extending his hand. “I neglected to tell you my name. I’m Dennis O’Malley, and this is my wife, Noreen. The bundle she’s holding is our son, Sean.”
As people moved around them to enter the church, Sierra introduced herself and her children. Rather than be annoyed at them for blocking a portion of the steps, people smiled warmly.
Over the last several days, since her experience on the freeway, she’d had a growing sense of . . . something. All the pain, all the crying out, had left her feeling empty. Drained. She had reached the end of her endurance, the end of her abilities to deal with the mess her life had become. And yet,
much to her surprise, she wasn’t depressed, or hopeless, or any of the things she’d expected to be. Instead, she felt . . . directed—as though a gentle hand rested on her shoulder and guided her. With love. She knew whose touch she felt. She’d heard her mother talk about the “presence of God” more times than she’d cared to listen. But now she understood better. She didn’t know exactly what it all meant, but she was ready. She’d spent enough time trying to figure things out for herself, and look where that had gotten her. Now she wanted answers. Real answers.
And for some reason, she felt a certainty that this was the place where she’d find them.
The O’Malleys ushered them into the church and selected a pew near the back. Clanton sat on one side of Sierra, muttering, “What a bore,” under his breath. Carolyn sat on her other side. Dennis sat nearest the aisle, while Noreen sat at the far end of the pew beside Carolyn and near the outside aisle.
“Just in case I have to leave,” she said with a smile. “Sometimes Sean wakes up hungry. He’s small but he makes a big noise.” Her blue eyes were full of warmth. Seeing Carolyn’s look, she smiled. “Would you like to hold him?”
“Could I?”
People turned around from the pew in front. Dennis made more introductions. Everyone was so friendly. They looked happy to see Sierra and her children, and she felt the oddest sense of connection, as though she’d finally come home. The feeling was even more poignant when the service began. Everything was so familiar, yet different. It wasn’t that the pastor said anything she had never heard before. She had heard the gospel from her mother since she was old enough to remember. Yet now, inexplicably, it all made sense. It filled in the gaps of her life. Oh! her soul sighed. Ohhhhh.
The pastor spoke and the words pierced her. Her throat closed even as her heart opened wide. Parched from wandering in the wilderness, she drank in the living water of the Word.
“Why’re you crying?” Clanton whispered, embarrassed and worried.