“Thank you,” Dianne called as Charity turned in the direction of the animals.
“Your sister sure loves being with the little creatures. She’ll probably be a good one to have on a ranch.”
“She does love animals. She always has,” Dianne said, smiling. “She was forever bringing home one stray or another. Mama used to get so vexed with her. At one time we had at least eight cats.”
Charity laughed. “Well now, cats can be a great benefit. They eat the mice and make great lap warmers.”
Dianne looked out across the field but could see nothing of Joseph or Betsy. “Where could she have gotten off to?”
Charity put her hand to her forehead to shield the brilliant sun. “I couldn’t say. Maybe she’s made her way back to your horses.”
Dianne broke out in a cold sweat. She felt suddenly light-headed. “I’m scared, Charity.” She looked to the older woman. “I think she’s hurt.”
Dianne rushed across the field to where a string of mules were stationed. She didn’t know if these were the Delberts’ mules or not, but she searched among them for any sign that Betsy had been there. Not finding any clue, she hurried on, checking here and there, still finding no sign of her sister.
She saw several men down by the river and for a moment she feared Betsy might have strayed too close to the water. But the men were laughing and seemed to be discussing something of great humor. They certainly weren’t concerned about anything.
By now, Dianne had outdistanced Charity. The older woman had slowed considerably and was now making her way to where the men stood. Maybe she would get their help in searching for Betsy. Dianne welcomed the idea. The more people looking, the sooner they would find her.
But within a few more steps, Dianne had no need of other searchers. She had found Betsy. The child lay on her side, her eyes open, staring blankly. For just a moment, a very brief moment, Dianne thought her sister was playing a joke.
“Betsy?” she called sternly, but there was a tremor in her voice.
The child didn’t move—didn’t so much as blink. That’s when Dianne knew the truth of it. She shook her head and began to scream. Rational thought left her mind. “Help me! Someone help me!” She couldn’t even touch Betsy’s still body.
The men came running, along with Charity Hammond. Two of the men reached Dianne first. They immediately saw the situation and one of them lifted Betsy into his arms. Blood marked the grass where her head had rested.
“She’s dead,” someone said.
Charity came forward and examined the little girl. She looked to Dianne with tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. It looks like she’s been kicked in the side of the head.”
It was impossible to breathe. Dianne’s entire body began to shake so violently that her knees gave out. Someone took hold of her and lifted her into his arms. Looking up, Dianne met the pained expression of Cole Selby. Moments later, she lost consciousness.
C
HARITY HAMMOND HELPED DIANNE PREPARE BETSY’S BODY FOR
burial. Dianne had initially balked at the idea of washing and dressing a dead body. It seemed almost unnatural … gruesome. Still, it was her sister—her Betsy. A tenderness within Dianne’s heart pushed away all thoughts of the macabre.
This is my baby sister—she deserves my loving care,
Dianne told herself as she arranged Betsy’s hair.
Their mother couldn’t even comprehend the situation. Reverend Hammond had come to give her the news while Charity had cared for a hysterical Dianne. The life Dianne thought could surely get no worse had suddenly gone completely mad.
“Why did this happen?” she asked, glancing up from the bow she tied around Betsy’s pigtail. “Why didn’t that mule kick Joseph instead of Betsy?”
“Child, death and dying are a mystery to us all. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
Dianne stiffened. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Charity smiled in a sympathetic manner. “It means that all of life is in the hands of God. The things He allows to happen are often beyond our comprehension. Still, we have to allow that He knows what He’s doing and that there is a purpose in it. We have to bless His name in spite of our pain.”
“That makes no sense,” Dianne replied. She looked at Betsy, now dressed and prepared for burial. She looked unnaturally pale but otherwise seemed only to sleep. “How can I bless His name for this?”
“Oh, child, your grief is fierce—your pain overwhelming—but God understands that. He knows how you feel. He loves you, and He wants to share your burden.”
“He gave me this burden,” Dianne said angrily. “I don’t see anything loving about that. He could have helped in this. He could have made Betsy feel the need to come home when little Joseph left her. He could have allowed Joseph to be there when the accident happened so that he could have come and got me. We might have saved her. God could have done so much, but He didn’t.”
Charity’s expression irritated Dianne. She seemed to be at complete peace with everything. With Dianne’s anger—even with Betsy lying dead before them—Charity could bless the name of the Lord.
Coming around the makeshift table, Charity put her arm around Dianne’s shoulders. “Being mad at God won’t change matters. It’ll only make you feel worse. Then not only will you be mourning the loss of your sisters, you’ll mourn the loss of His comfort. And, Dianne, the comfort you need in the wake of these tragedies is found only in Him. No person can offer it. Nothing can provide it.”
“He seems so cruel,” Dianne murmured. “How can I turn to Him for comfort when He seems to be the very source of my pain?”
Charity hugged her close. “It’s that pain that is keeping you from seeing things clearly. I want you to think for just a minute.” She pulled away and drew Dianne to face her. “You talked of the love you held for your father. You told me how much he loved you and how special he always made you feel.” Dianne nodded but said nothing.
“Still, you told me about other times in your life when problems came. Didn’t you tell me that you got hurt when you fell on the ice at Christmas one year?”
“Yes, but what does that have to do with this?”
“Did your father still love you even though you got hurt?”
“Of course he still loved me—he might even have loved me more.” Dianne suddenly realized what Charity was trying to say. “My father had no control over the ice. He couldn’t keep me from falling. But God could have stopped this. He could have prevented Ardith from drowning. He could have kept Betsy from being kicked.”
Charity nodded. “Yes. Yes, He had the power to do that.”
“But He didn’t,” Dianne stated, as though Charity might have forgotten.
“No, He didn’t.” She reached up and gently touched Dianne’s cheek. “And you have to decide for yourself what you will do with that knowledge.”
Dianne pondered those words long after the funeral and into the following days when they were once again on the trail headed west. She walked alongside the oxen team, keeping them in line and contemplating all that Charity had said. Faith would no doubt have said something similar. Her ability to accept God’s will and ways were a marvel to Dianne. But how did these women live with the horrors of life—the frailty of the human body and mind—and continue to bless the name of the Lord?
Still the days wore on with no real answers. The wagon train had been reduced by nearly seventy wagons. The train Daniel Keefer had said was two weeks behind them had shown up at the fort on the day they were to cross the river and head west. A man named John Bozeman was leading a train north through Sioux Indian country, and many of Keefer’s people chose to leave Daniel’s company and head north with Bozeman.
Morgan and Zane had discussed the situation with Dianne and had concluded that they were better off to stay with Mr. Keefer. When Cole Selby came by to find out if they would move out with the Keefer train or head north with the Bozeman party, Dianne had listened as her brothers confirmed they would stay.
“It’s probably for the best,” Cole had told them. “The Indians up north are not friendly to the wagons crossing their territory. Bozeman will be lucky if he doesn’t get the entire party killed.”
“What about our party?” Dianne had asked.
Cole had met her gaze with an expression that softened the hard edges of Dianne’s heart. “We could still run into some hostiles, but Mr. Keefer feels the biggest dangers are behind us. He has friends among the tribes to the west. Hopefully that will keep us from trouble.”
Now, walking with the oxen, passing by a fresh grave with a crude board marker, Dianne couldn’t help but wonder if Mr. Selby’s words would be true. Were the dangers really behind them? People were still dying periodically. A stillborn baby had been delivered only two nights ago. Death was their constant companion.
Dianne looked to the cloudless sky and then to the trail. The air was thick with dirt. She had long learned to wear a scarf around her mouth and nose and to pull her sunbonnet down tight against the dust, but today it seemed to offer little help. She coughed violently and slowed the oxen so that she could put a little more distance between her wagon and Zane’s.
Would this journey ever end? Discouraged by the endlessness of it all, Dianne could well understand her mother’s desire to do nothing but sleep. Dianne longed for it herself. The adventure had lost its attraction. She’d heard tales of people who went mad in the wilderness. She feared her mother might well be one of their number … but then again, perhaps Dianne would be too. The thought startled her. Was it possible she was losing her grip on reality—on life?
“I don’t want to lose my mind.” The very thought firmed up her resolve.
I have to be strong. Mama needs me to be strong. The baby needs me to be strong
.
“How are you holding up?”
Dianne startled out of her thoughts and met Cole Selby’s gaze. He rode his horse at a slow, steady walk to keep even with her. “I guess I’m doing as best I can.”
Cole nodded. “You’ve had to bear more than most.”
Dianne noted sympathy in his words. Maybe Mr. Selby wasn’t such a bad fellow after all. Maybe her pride had been the problem from the beginning. Now after losing so much, Dianne felt she had no pride left.
“I appreciate all that you’ve done for us. I guess I should have never encouraged my family to come west. If I hadn’t, maybe my sisters would be alive now.” She shook her head and pulled the handkerchief from her face. After wiping her brow, she shook the cloth in hopes of clearing some of the dust.
“Sometimes things happen,” Cole replied, “things that we wish we could take back or keep from happening.” He looked ahead down the trail, and Dianne got the distinct impression that he knew exactly what she was feeling.
“Well,” Cole said, shaking off his contemplation, “we’ll be stopping pretty soon for the nooning. Be sure to get the animals well watered. There’ll be less water as we head out this afternoon.”
Dianne nodded and repositioned her handkerchief as Cole rode away. He was such a complicated man, appearing to be helpful and knowledgeable but at the same time distant and aloof. Surely there was much more to him than met the eye.
The nooning offered little relief. The heat of the day bore down on them and with little in the way of shade, they were forced to endure the sun’s punishment. Dianne’s misery was further increased by Griselda Showalter’s sudden appearance.
“I’ve come to see your mother,” she announced.
“Mama hasn’t been receiving visitors—” Dianne began to explain.
Griselda quickly interrupted her. “Never mind that. She’ll be glad to see me.”
“Well … I don’t know… .”
“Child, you know nothing of a mother’s grief. She needs another woman to bare her soul to. Now stop fretting and help me into the back of the wagon.”
Dianne studied the determined look of Mrs. Showalter and decided to do as she’d instructed. The last thing Dianne wanted was to have an argument with the woman. She’d seen firsthand how Mrs. Showalter treated her children.
Half pushing, half supporting, Dianne helped Griselda up through the canvas entryway. Immediately the older woman began talking to Dianne’s mother. Maybe she was right. Maybe her mother needed the comfort and shoulder of another woman who’d suffered the loss of a child.
When the nooning was nearly over, Dianne went to retrieve Griselda. She opened the back of the wagon just in time to see Griselda help Susannah take a long drink of something in a bottle.
“What are you doing? What are you giving her?”
Griselda put a cork in the bottle and helped Susannah lie back down before turning to Dianne. “I’m simply helping her deal with her grief. Be off. I’ll see myself out.”
Dianne bristled at the dismissal. After all, this was her mother, not Griselda’s. “The nooning is over. We’re heading out now.”
“That’s fine.” Griselda moved to the back of the wagon. “I’ll be by to check on her this evening.”
“I’m sure you have your own family to worry over,” Dianne stated, her anger at being denied an answer to her inquiry over the medicine building by the minute.
Griselda narrowed her eyes, her brows knitting together and arching up at the ends. “I won’t have the likes of you dictating to me, child. Were your mother able to, she’d no doubt give you a good slap across the face for your lack of manners.” She stomped off, leaving Dianne stunned by her words.
I’ll speak to Zane and Morgan about this,
she promised herself.
They can stand guard over Mama this evening and keep that woman from causing us more difficulties
.
That evening they reached Dry Sandy Creek. It was here they would separate the wagon train. Mr. Keefer would take the travelers who wished to go to Great Salt Lake City and head south, while Cole Selby was in charge of moving the rest of the group to Fort Hall and then on north to Virginia City.
The water here was brackish—barely drinkable. Wood was nonexistent and the grass supply quite poor. Dianne worried about the livestock. They’d worked hard that day and there was little food for them to forage.
“I’ve been thinking about you.”
Dianne turned to find Faith standing not three feet away. She held a crock in her arms. “I brought you something.”