Authors: Shirley Kennedy
“
You can’t.” Clint caught her hand in his. “You’ll carry on because you must. I do.” He was staring off into nothingness. “I knew a man once, name of Jeremiah Todd. He was a trapper like me, crude as they come, barely civil, couldn’t even read, but we were good friends. One day we were out hunting when a grizzly came at me from out of nowhere. Had me on the ground, about to rip me apart, when Jeremiah started whooping and hollering. Then he shot off his gun. The grizzly got off me and went for Jeremiah instead. I watched helpless while that bear ripped my friend apart. There was nothing I could do.” He ran his finger along the jagged scar that scored his cheek. “Every time I look in the mirror, I’m reminded of how Jeremiah gave his life to save mine. Then I wonder, why him, not me? It’s something I live with, a memory that’ll never go away. I’ve managed to go on because I have to.” He smiled gently. “You’ll never forget Bessie, but you’re strong. You won’t let her death drag you down.”
His voice bolstered her confidence. Everything about him gave her strength. She’d be all right now. She drew a deep breath. “Thank you for that. If I were to guess, you don’t share that memory very often.”
He smiled. “Never.”
“
Well, you’re right. I’ll survive.” She smoothed back her hair and lifted her chin. “It’s time for me to go. Good night, or should I say good morning?”
I’ll walk you.”
“
It won’t be necessary. I’d best get back. They’ll be wondering where I am.”
She needn’t have worried. When she reached her wagon, Abner’s loud snores from the wagon next door told her he hadn’t waited up. Climbing into her own wagon, she tried to be as quiet as she could, but her foot slipped, causing a considerable noise. Before she could try again, Abner poked his head out. “Why are you so late?” His voice was hoarse from sleep.
She closed her eyes. “Bessie’s dead.”
“
The baby?”
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Stillborn. It was a girl.”
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Too bad.” His voice held no vestige of sympathy.
Martha stuck her head out. “Oh, Lucy, that’s terrible about Bessie.”
“
You may as well stay up,” Abner told his wife. “Time to fix breakfast. Lucy, you can help.”
Was the man totally devoid of sympathy and compassion? “Abner, I’ve been up all night. Right now I’m very tired. I’ve got to sleep awhile.”
A long pause. “All right, sleep an hour if you must. We’ll be getting off to a late start anyway, what with another funeral and having to dig more graves. Or maybe just one if we’re lucky. I hope John wants them buried together.”
For days, Lucy was haunted by the memory of that agonizing moment when the wagon train moved on, leaving Bessie and her baby’s lonely grave by the wayside, lost forever in the wilderness, never to be visited again.
Only two days after Bessie’s death, they left another grave beside the trail. One of the Applegates’ young hired hands accidentally shot himself and died an agonizing death, leaving Charlie Dawes livid with rage. “Didn’t the boy see all them grave markers with ‘Shot himself accidentally’ written on them? Didn’t he know enough to take the cap out before he stowed his gun in the wagon? Dang it, these people never learn.”
“
Don’t forget that they’re amateurs,” said Clint. “They don’t know how to handle guns. They’ve never been in the wilderness before. All the stress of the journey makes them tired, and that makes them careless. That’s why we have so many accidents.”
Lucy could only nod in agreement when she heard Charlie say, “I still call it sheer, pigheaded stupidity!”
They would soon reach the Rockies but first had to deal with the broken terrain of the foothills, far different from the smooth, flat trek along the Platte. The lush grass gave way to sage and greasewood. The streams grew bitter and brackish. Only a few creeks provided enough good water. They had left the land of the buffalo, and that meant no more buffalo chips. Wood and grass for the animals became more difficult to find. Sometimes the trail became so indistinct that often, in the early morning, Lucy saw Clint and Charlie riding out to stake the way.
“
It’s good we’re kept so busy,” Hannah remarked to Lucy one day. “God’s being generous giving us all these adversities. It don’t leave much time for grieving over Bessie.”
Lucy nodded grimly. “That’s one way of looking at it.” In one respect, Hannah was right. Simply surviving each day took all her strength and attention. To her surprise, even Cordelia seemed affected by Bessie’s death. “I know what good friends you were,” she told Lucy one evening when they were out searching for wood. “She had such a lovely smile.”
Lucy thanked her nicely. She hadn’t forgotten how Cordelia had looked down her nose at Bessie and Hannah, but now she hadn’t the time or energy to waste on resentment. Besides, of late, the snooty Southern lady had become a bit more human. Earlier that day she’d actually joined Lucy and others as they toiled to push the wagons up a particularly steep and rocky trail. On the other side, she’d helped hang onto the ropes, straining along with the rest, using all her might to ease the wagons down again.
If Cordelia had become slightly more human, the tough journey west had prompted even more drastic changes in both her husband and son. Thanks to Clint, who’d taught Chad how to ride, the spoiled, chubby boy who had started the journey was now “lean as a whip,” according to Charlie. “Chadwick doesn’t mouth off anymore, either. He tries to imitate Clint, and you know Clint, he don’t say a word more than he has to.”
Nathaniel Benton no longer talked about manifest destiny. No longer the pasty-faced, dreamy-eyed scholar, he now wore the rough twill pants and plain cotton shirts the rest of the men wore. Well-liked, he performed his share of the work and had become a valued member of the council.
Lucy’s heart went out to Inez Helmick, who had truly been shattered by Bessie’s death. She just wasn’t the same person anymore and had dropped the veneer of irritating self-confidence to reveal tormented self-doubt. “I won’t be delivering any more babies on the trail. I’m done. I don’t trust myself to ...” she bit her lip and looked away.
“
What about Martha?”
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She’ll be settled in California first.”
“
I hope so, but just in case she delivers early, we’ll certainly count on your help.” Lucy smiled, trying to cheer Inez. “You must promise me one thing.”
“
What’s that?”
“
I don’t care how bad off Martha might be, promise me you’ll never,
never
blow red pepper up her nose!”
A week after Bessie’s death, Clint and Charlie came up to the slowly moving Schneider wagon and rode their horses alongside. Clint touched the brim of his hat. “Good afternoon, Captain.”
“
Afternoon,” Abner replied. Lucy, who sat next to Martha, marveled at how extremely polite these two were to one another since that day she got lost in the woods. She still didn’t understand why.
Charlie spoke up. “There’s a river we got to cross up ahead, and it ain’t for the faint of heart.”
“
Is that so?”
Clint edged his Appaloosa closer. “The Sweetwater River. It’s treacherous this time of year. Swift currents and quicksand. We may have to detour upstream until we find a place to cross.”
Lucy remembered the first river they’d crossed, where they had to take the wagons apart and float them across on rafts. Since then, they’d crossed so many rivers she’d lost track. They were able to simply ford most of them, although they always had to watch for quicksand. Only with a few had they been compelled to take the wagons apart and float them across. Abner hated those crossings and tried to avoid them at all costs. Always in a hurry, he became extremely annoyed when a crossing took days. She hoped this next one would not be too bad. Abner’s temper grew increasingly short the more they fell behind his precious schedule.
“
Let’s hope we find an easy crossing.” Abner’s speech was clipped, as it always was with Clint these days. He looked at Charlie. “What about the Indians?”
She might have known he’d ask. So far, they’d only had limited contact with Indians and no major problems, but it was obvious Abner couldn’t get the threat of murderous savages off his mind.
“
We’re in Sioux country,” Charlie replied. “There are some Snake Indians around, and some Shoshone.”
“
Are they dangerous?”
Somehow she knew Abner would ask that.
Charlie chuckled. “They’re all dangerous. You just got to stay alert. Keep telling your men to keep their guns handy and be vigilant at night.” He started to ride off but turned back. “Tomorrow we reach Independence Rock. I know you’re in a rush, but you’d best set some time aside. There are people who’ll want to carve their name on the rock and climb to the top. That’s going to take a little time.”
Next day, the trail climbed steeply to the rushing waters of the Sweetwater River, then along its banks to Independence Rock. “It looks like an unshaped pile,” Charlie said, “about half a mile long, half that breadth, and one hundred feet high.”
Hannah, shepherding Bessie’s five small children, stopped by Lucy’s wagon. For the first time since Bessie’s death, she had a gleam of excitement in her eye. “Come on. Bring Noah. We’ve got to carve our names and climb to the top.”
Lucy called to Abner and Martha, whose wagon was parked next to hers. “Shall we go to the top? Everyone is.”
Abner straightened and immediately locked his gaze on Martha’s ever-increasing girth, which no apron could conceal. He assumed his I-am-the-prophet voice. “It would not be seemly for Martha to go.” He addressed Lucy. “Don’t you have chores to do?”
The nerve! If Abner were her husband, she might have meekly bowed to his wishes, but he wasn’t, and she deeply resented his ordering her about. “If this were Boston, Martha would be a proper lady hiding in her house by now. This isn’t Boston, and she can’t hide, even if she wanted to.” She tilted her head defiantly. “Independence Rock is the most famous landmark of all, and we shouldn’t miss it. You ought to come, too. Don’t you want to see it?”
Abner sternly replied, “Deuteronomy six, Verse eighteen, ‘Do that which is right and good in the sight of the Lord.’ ”
Dear God in heaven
. Well, she’d at least tried to reason with her fool of a brother-in-law. “That’s a noble sentiment, but I hardly think God is against our climbing Independence Rock. Mister Dawes said we’ve come eight hundred and thirty-eight miles from Independence. Isn’t that something to celebrate? What better way than to carve our names and climb to the top.” She placed her hand on Noah’s shoulder. “We pass this way but once. You don’t want your wife and nephew to miss a famous landmark, do you?”
Abner’s mouth took on an unpleasant twist. “Suit yourself then. I want no part of such loose behavior.” He stalked off without another word.
Lucy looked after him, savoring this minor triumph. Ever since his mysterious chat with Clint, his words seemed to carry little threat. “He’s letting you go, Martha.”
“
Are you sure?”
“
Of course I’m sure. You know how he is. That’s as close as Abner will ever come to saying yes.” She waited for her sister-in-law’s reply, thinking how disgusted she’d be if Martha went lily-livered and said she wouldn’t go.
Martha’s face wreathed in a smile. “Let’s go then! I want to carve my name on that rock.”
They started out, Lucy delighted with Martha’s newfound courage. All thanks to Clint, of course. Whatever he’d said to Abner made all the difference in the world. It wasn’t that Martha had suddenly changed into an outgoing, confident woman, yet lately she’d definitely emerged from her shell of timidity. She occasionally spoke up for herself, and her perennial look of fright had pretty much disappeared. She even smiled occasionally, a treat to see. Best of all, Lucy felt as if she and Martha had become good friends. They worked well together, with never a cross word. They shared an intense dislike of Abner, although as yet Lucy hadn’t heard Martha make a derogatory remark about her husband. She didn’t have to. Lucy knew exactly what the other woman was thinking. These days she felt protective of Martha, much as she would her own sister.
“
God almighty,” Hannah whispered lightly under her breath as they strolled along. “Defying Old Sobersides? Pretty risky!” Lucy smiled but kept silent. Despite everything, Abner still had a hold on her because of Noah, and there was nothing Clint or anybody else could do. She knew Hannah’s reference to Abner as “Old Sobersides” hadn’t originated with her. Abner had become increasingly unpopular. Many in the party had started to mock his constant Bible quoting and stringent ways. She was concerned, but today it didn’t matter. Today was a day to celebrate. She resolved she wasn’t going to let herself wallow in unpleasant thoughts or worry about anything. She, Martha, and Noah were going to have fun.
They reached the rock, already marked with thousands of names of passersby. The adults scratched their own names in the soft sandstone and helped Noah and Bessie’s five children do the same. “Children, remember this historic spot,” Lucy said. “A hundred years from now, we’ll be gone, but these names will still be here.”
After an easy climb to the top, they found most of the members of the Schneider party already there. An air of celebration prevailed as they all strolled around, taking in a view so spectacular it took Lucy’s breath away. She knelt by Noah. “There are the Rockies.” She pointed west where, for the first time, they saw the jagged silhouette of the magnificent mountain range, topped by perpetual snow.