Clay (17 page)

Clay looked helplessly at Garth. “Scotty could have been a little kinder. Help me out here, Garth. I don’t know what to say to her.”

“Ask the Reverend. You know it rips me apart inside to see a woman cry.”

“Thanks a lot, Brother Garth,” Clay said sarcastically. “You’re a big help.”

“She’s your wife, Clay. I suggest you think of some comforting words to say to her.”

Clay paced back and forth for several moments, and then he went back to the wagon. Her eyes were swollen from crying, and her movements were slow as she packed up by rote.

“Are you feeling better, Becky?” Clay asked.

“I know Mr. Scott is disgusted with me. I let my emotions get out of hand, I guess.”

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of, Becky.”

“It’s just that it was so sudden, so tragic. Those two lives snuffed out so easily. Like blowing out a candle.” She shook her head as if unable to accept the truth.

“Becky, you can’t let your thoughts dwell on that.”

“What Mr. Scott said was true, Clay.”

“He didn’t mean to sound so callous. Scotty’s as shaken by the tragedy as you are. Everyone handles grief differently.”

“I mean what he said in Independence. Many of us won’t make it to California. We started out with ninety-eight wagons; now we’re down to forty-nine. Who’s going to be next, Clay?”

“Were you close to the Ryans?”

“Not overly. I’ve spoken to Caroline in passing. The night we crossed the Kansas River, I took a pot of beef and beans to them because they were one of the last to cross. I can still see the happy smile on Don’s face when he saw the apple pandowdy.” She started to tear up again. “They were such a nice couple.”

“What would you think of putting up a marker?” Clay asked.

She jerked up her head. “Would you, Clay? At least it would show some respect for them.”

“I’ll get the ax and trim some wood.”

“Do we have time? Mr. Scott said the first twenty-five wagons should get ready to move.”

“We can catch up with them when the second group leaves. Finish packing up while I find some wood.”

When others saw what Clay was doing, several of the men and women joined him, the minister among them. Soon they had a cross driven into the side of the trail where the Ryan wagon had collapsed.

They hauled a rock to the site and Rebecca painted the words
RETURNED TO GOD
on it, the date, and the names of the couple. The group huddled together as Reverend Kirkland led them in prayer, and then with bowed heads they listened to Tom Davis’s voice raised in a solemn hymn.

Later that evening a solemn camp bedded down for the night. Mothers hugged their children tighter, husbands their wives. All were gratefully aware that it could have been their splintered wagon lying on the bottom of that ravine.

The night was starry but cool at the higher altitude. Rebecca snuggled deeper into her fur pelt to ward off the chill. She still preferred sleeping outdoors, and hoped the snow would hold off.

She turned her head and looked at Clay, lying on his back close by. He had his hands tucked under his head and was gazing up at the stars. How mistaken she’d been about him. He was a good man—a compassionate man, a man of honor.

“Thank you, Clay,” she said.

“For what?”

“For seeing the Ryans had a proper funeral. It meant a great deal to me.”

“I did it for the Ryans, Becky,” he quickly denied.

“They deserved a decent funeral.”

He always seemed embarrassed when she complimented him for doing something really nice for others. He’d make up excuses for his motives.

She rolled over on her side. Smiling tenderly, she whispered, “You can’t fool me anymore, Clay Fraser. I think you did it for my sake, too.”

A week had passed since they had left Independence Rock, and all were looking forward to camping at South Pass that evening. From there on, they would be starting down the mountains instead of climbing them.

As they rode along, Rebecca suddenly frowned and raised her head. “This mountain air must be affecting my hearing. I swear I hear a calliope.”

Clay grinned at her. “It must be the atmosphere.”

“Are you implying I’m light-headed, Clay Fraser?”

“That or the wind blowing through these ravines and peaks. You hear all kinds of crazy sounds.”

Her head perked up again when a trumpeting sound pieced the air. “There it is again. Did you hear it? It sounds like… well, you’ll think I’m crazy, but it sounds like an elephant.”

“You know, I think I hear a calliope, too.” Clay saw Garth come galloping hell bent down the line, and said, “Something’s up.”

Garth reined up at their wagon. “You two aren’t going to believe what’s ahead.”

Clay winked at Rebecca. “A traveling circus.”

“How’d you know?”

“Are you serious?” Clay asked. “I was only joking because Becky and I swear we hear trumpeting elephants and the music of a calliope.”

“You’re right about the music, but there’s only one elephant,” Garth said.

“Oh, you’re such a tease, Garth,” Rebecca said. “Is this more of your joking?”

“No, indeed, Little Sister. We have the pleasure of camping tonight with Professor Romano’s Traveling Circus and Medicine Show.”

As they got nearer, they could see several tents erected within a makeshift circle of a couple dozen wagons. A steam-operated calliope was playing a cheerful song of welcome. Chained to one of the tents was the huge bulk of an elephant, and two tigers paced back and forth in a brightly painted cage with iron bars. Not a mule or ox could be seen among the livestock, but a black-and-white zebra amidst the horses caught Rebecca’s attention. Many of the circus people came out and waved at them as the wagons passed.

Mike Scott was hurrying to direct their train into a circle before chaos reigned, because as soon as a wagon was properly parked, any children in it would jump out and chase over to the circus wagons.

Clay had no sooner put on the brake than Etta came running over to them. “Come on, Becky, let’s go and talk to them.”

Clay couldn’t help smiling as the two hurried off arm in arm. They were as excited as two kids at… a circus! That brought a chuckle out of him. Who would ever have thought they’d encounter a circus on the crest of the Rocky Mountains?

Becky threw back her head in laughter. Her hair was tied back with a ribbon, and she looked as youthful as Etta.

He’d been worried about her. Being an eyewitness to the Ryan accident, she’d taken their deaths very hard. It had taken days for her to get a spring back into her step and that spunky gleam in her eyes. But it
was
back, and that’s what mattered. Becky had an indomitable spirit that would ultimately prevail, no matter how severe the tragedy.

He admired her spirit. He also admired her body, and his physical need for her was becoming a problem. Somehow he had to get her to give up this obsession with an annulment.

They’d gotten along very compatibly since their talk at Ash Hollow. Every day they learned more and more about each other, and the only real issue between them was her independent streak. Every time he tried to help her, she considered it interference and resented him for it. But she was his wife, and he wasn’t going to neglect his responsibilities.

Clay set the mules out to graze, then his curiosity drove him to go over to the circus camp. He spied the two women standing a safe distance away from the elephant, staring at it with curiosity.

“Huge, isn’t it?” he said, walking up to them.

“I’ve only seen pictures of an elephant,” Etta said. “I never realized how big they really are.”

“I saw one once in a parade when I was very young,” Rebecca said. “I’d forgotten how big they are. They’re mammoth.”

“Aha, I see you are admiring my lovely Sophia.” The speaker was a short, rotund man with a tiny mustache that barely spanned the width of his nose. He spoke in a heavy accent as he swept off a stovepipe hat and bowed at the waist. “Permit me to introduce myself; I am Professor Angelo Romano.”

Clay shook his hand. “How do you do, sir. I’m Clay Fraser, and this is my wife, Rebecca, and Miss Henrietta Garson.”

Professor Romano clapped his hands together and stepped back. “Ah, two such lovely ladies to share your company. You are a fortunate man, Mr. Fraser.”

“I won’t deny that,” Clay said. “I have to say, Professor Romano, the last thing I expected to encounter in these mountains was a traveling circus. Are you headed east or west?”

“We are headed east to Independence, Missouri. We intend to winter there and move on to St. Louis in the spring.”

Etta’s eyes were round with astonishment. “My goodness! How do you expect to cross these mountains with an elephant, Professor Romano?”

“Did not Hannibal cross the Alps with elephants?” His dark eyes rounded with merriment.

“Hannibal?” Etta asked, confused.

“The Punic Wars, Etta,” Clay said. “He was a Carthaginian general who crossed the Italian Alps and defeated the Romans about two hundred years
B
.
C
.”

“You know of him?” the professor said, pleased.

“We studied his military strategy at West Point. That’s our military academy,” he added for clarification.

“So you are a professional soldier, Mr. Fraser?”

“Not anymore. My soldiering days are over. You appear to be a fairly small party, Professor. That could be very dangerous. The Indians completely wiped out ten of our wagons that had left the train.”

Professor Romano shook his head. “That is regrettable, Mr. Fraser, but I don’t think they will bother us. Sophia is quite a… how do you say it—”

“Deterrent,” Clay said.

“Yes. And if Sophia isn’t enough, the roars and snarls of Romulus and Remus can discourage the stoutest of hearts,” the professor added with a twinkle in his eyes. As if cued, a chilling roar emanated from the tiger cage.

Clay broke into laughter. “I can see, Professor Romano, you are a military strategist, too.”

“Ah, yes. Now I must see what has aroused Remus’s displeasure.” He doffed his hat. “It is a pleasure to meet you lovely ladies. To honor this special occasion, we have decided to give a free performance tonight. I hope you will attend.”

“A circus performance!” Etta exclaimed, when Professor Romano departed. “I’ve never seen one. I can’t wait until tonight. I must go and tell Tommy.” She ran off in delight.

Rebecca had trouble waiting for evening, too. The hours seemed to pass like days until the sound of the calliope heralded the official opening.

The people swarmed over to the other camp and spread out on the grass to watch the performers.

They held their breaths as a man and woman in colorful tights did amazing acrobatic feats on a tight rope strung on poles fifteen feet in the air.

Children cuddled closer to their parents when Romulus and Remus jumped through hoops in the center of a ring of fire; then they clapped in laughter at the sight of the organ grinder’s monkey grabbing the hats off the heads of the male spectators.

Women in spangled tights stood on the backs of galloping horses, and clowns with painted faces handed out balloons to the children.

But the biggest thrill was when the trainers brought out Sophia. The audience gasped with amazement as the huge animal raised up on its hind legs, then balanced its front ones on a huge ball.

After the performance was over, everyone walked from wagon to wagon, where they were greeted by such unusual sights as a bearded woman, a man whose whole body was covered with colorful tattoos, and a midget man and woman who waved and talked to them.

A more exotic act was a woman dressed in a skimpy harem-type costume dancing with a huge snake draped around her neck. Clay and Garth were fascinated by the act, but Rebecca hated snakes and couldn’t bear to watch it. She went over to a wagon brightly painted with eyes and tarot cards. The sign said that for twenty-five cents, Madam Angelina could predict your future. Rebecca couldn’t resist it.

The woman within claimed to be a Gypsy and informed Rebecca that this rare gift of predicting the future had been passed down from generation to generation in her family.

“You vant za palm, za cards, or maybe you vant for Madam Angelina to call up za spirits of za dearly departed? So vat’ll it be?”

“The palm will do fine,” Rebecca said, handing her a quarter.

The Gypsy studied her hand and said it indicated a long life. Rebecca smiled in amusement when the woman predicated a lasting love and great wealth in her future.

Suddenly the Gypsy frowned. “Vat is dis? I zee you haf much zadness in your life, little von, and zer vill be more.”

Rebecca’s smile melted, and her skepticism changed into uncertainty.

“But only zhoze who know zorrow can rekonize true happinez,” the Gypsy continued. “Do not let yezterday fill too much of today, en none of tomorrow, little one.”

“So was it worth twenty-five cents?” Clay asked when Rebecca left the fortune-teller’s wagon.

“I see you managed to drag yourself away from the entertainment. Tell me, Clay, was it the costume, the dance, or the snake that appealed to you the most?”

“Do I detect a bit of jealousy, dear wife, or did Madam Angelina warn you of a glum future?”

“I’m not sure. I can’t figure out whether it was a message of hope or one of despair.”

“Why? What did she say?”

“I guess that my life will get worse before it gets better.”

“That’s a pretty safe thing to say, considering we’re still high in these mountains. You know it’s all part of the act.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

That night Rebecca lay awake, unable to shake the Gypsy’s words from her mind.
Do not let yesterday fill too much of today and none of tomorrow.
Was she allowing the past to rule her life? Clay wanted to make the marriage a real one, but she was afraid. She’d been left alone too many times by those she loved, and she couldn’t risk getting that close to someone again. It was better to depend only on herself, even if that meant a lonely life, than to be vulnerable to the pain of a loved one’s death again.

The only part of the fortune that had a ring of reality to it was that she would know more sadness in her life.

She knew that was guaranteed.

The next morning Rebecca watched sadly as the circus train departed. It had been a magical break in the journey. But tomorrow it would be shoved to the back of all their minds, like anything else that has happened on the trek. If they were to believe Professor Romano, though, the rest of the trip wouldn’t be as arduous. Once they were out of the mountains and across the Great Basin, they’d start to encounter homesteads and towns. Civilization was just ahead.

With breakfast out of the way, she decided to wash her hair. She put the wash boiler on to heat, and by the time she finished the dishes and had them packed away, the water was warm enough for a shampoo.

So as not to get her bodice wet, she removed it and had just dipped her head in a basin of the warm water when Clay came up behind her and grabbed her around the waist.

With a yelp of surprise she raised her head, water dripping down her forehead.

“Get away from here, Clay Fraser.”

“You look like you could use some help.”

“Yes, but you’re a hindrance.”

“We’ll just see about that, if you’ll give me that bottle.”

“Okay, but don’t waste it,” she warned, handing him the bottle of the shampoo preparation. “It has to last the rest of the journey.”

He read the label aloud. “ ‘Let Your Hair Smell Like A Summer Garden With Madam Celine’s Lavender Shampoo.’ No wonder you always smell so sweet.”

He poured some of the liquid on her wet hair and worked it into suds, his fingers massaging her scalp.

“Oh, that feels so good, Clay.”

Not half as much as it did to him. The wet strands curled around his fingers like a sensuous glove as he filled his hands with them.

“If you keep up those ecstatic moans and sighs, Mrs. Fraser, people are going to get the wrong idea.”

She blushed. “Well then, you best hurry up and get this over with.”

He slowly poured more of the heated water over her head, to rinse the suds. Unable to resist the temptation, he pressed a light kiss to the nape of her neck. Then he captured the sodden strands in a towel and rubbed them vigorously.

Clay bowed at the waist. “Can I be of any further use,
madame?
”

She curtsied demurely. “
Merci, Monsieur Coiffeur.
There are no limits to your talents.”

He rolled his eyes mischievously as he curled an imaginary mustache. “Ah,
mon petite,
I am bursting at the seams to show you my best talent.”

She grinned. “Then I suggest you wear a larger pair of pants.”

His shoulders slumped in mock despair. “You have a hard heart, lady. Since you’re refusing my offer, the least you could do is return the service. It would feel good to wash my hair in warm water for a change, instead of a cold stream. Though the truth is, I could use a haircut first.”

“I offer an inch, you ask for a mile.”

“No, an inch is fine,” he said. “That should be short enough.”

“Very well. Take off your shirt while I get my scissors.”

When she returned, he was sitting bare-chested on an upended barrel. There’d been several occasions on the journey when he’d been shirtless, but she’d always kept her distance. The sight of his broad shoulders and muscular chest, with its dark hair that narrowed into a tantalizing trail to his pants, always stirred forbidden fires in her.

She put a towel around his shoulders and began the trim.

Rebecca loved Clay’s hair. Despite the popularity of long hair and mustaches, Clay was clean-shaven and wore his hair trimmed to his nape; its thickness clung to his head in soft waves.