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“Yes,” Zeb said, “it is. Except in this instance, your fellow man is a woman.”
“As if I didn’t know that.” Fisting his reins, Will put his left foot in the stirrup, grabbed the horn and vaulted easily into the saddle. “How long ago did the first wagons in the train pull out?”
“About two hours, I think. I remember that the sky was already darkening when they passed by.”
“All right. I’ll head down the trail and see how they’re doing, then come back and help you here.”
“Be careful,” Zeb warned. “Just because the worst seems to be over doesn’t mean it can’t fire up and hit us again.”
Will knew he was right. And that thought gave him chills all the way from his nape to the toes of his boots.
Not only had the wagons been in danger before, they could be again. Soon. Perhaps even before he managed to reach them.
Hoping against hope that someone from the rest of their train would ride ahead to check on their welfare, Emmeline kept scanning the trail and surrounding hills. When she spotted several riders silhouetted against the gray sky, she was at first encouraged. Then, she realized that the stationary men, watching from the backs of their horses, were Indians!
Her hand flew to her throat. She didn’t know what tribe they were from, nor did she care. The few Indian women she had noticed, in or near small towns along the trail, had seemed wary, almost afraid. She fully understood their reactions. The Indians were outnumbered and vulnerable in that particular situation. And now that she and what remained of her family were stranded in the middle of nowhere, that was exactly how she felt, too.
As she and Johnny prepared to put their shoulders to the side of the wagon to try to move it, Joanna kept insisting that they wait. “Don’t try to push that over by yourselves. You’re not strong enough. Do as I told you. Get your papa. He’ll know what to do.”
Emmeline didn’t want to inform her that Amos was dead, yet what choice did she have when her mother kept insisting? “Papa’s…Papa’s not able,” she said, hugging Glory and speaking through one of the cracks in the upended wagon.
Joanna gasped audibly. “Dear Lord. Why not? Is he hurt?”
“Yes,” Emmeline said.
“Then you should be tending to him. Go. Do it now. I’m fine. Really. I’m not injured a bit and I can wait as long as need be.”
Emmeline’s voice broke as she forced herself to explain. Reality was almost too terrible to voice. “Papa’s gone to heaven, Mama.”
“No! No, that can’t be. He’s just hurt. You’ll see. Go look again. You must be mistaken.”
“When the wagon turned over, an ox fell on him. Big Jack is okay but Sam is dead. And Papa’s underneath him.”
“Get him off. Save your father.”
“It’s too late.” Emmeline was fighting tears and so was her brother. “By—by the time I reached him to check, he was already getting cold.”
Joanna began to wail incoherently. Glory sobbed softly. And Johnny gritted his teeth while Emmeline struggled to stay strong for the sake of the others.
“Mama, listen. We’ll try to push the wagon over enough for you to crawl out,” she shouted above her mother’s loud, heartbreaking sobs.
Setting Glory out of the way, she motioned to Johnny and got into place beside him. “On the count of three. One, two, three.”
They pushed with all their might but to no avail, which Emmeline quickly realized was a blessing. Even if they could have managed to raise the side of the wagon a little, there was no way to keep it stable and guarantee that it wouldn’t drop and crush their poor mother during her escape attempt, the way the ox had done to Papa.
Exhausted, Emmeline shook her head, stood back and addressed her brother. “Stop. Mama was right. We aren’t strong enough to do this alone.”
“No!” the boy insisted. “I can do it.”
She knew the helplessness he was feeling and sympathized. That didn’t, however, change facts. Touching his thin arm, Emmeline stopped him physically. “We’ll get her out. I promise. Only we have to think, not just try harder. There are some things that are beyond us. Let’s pray for help to come.”
He jerked his arm away and glared at her with reddened, puffy eyes. “That doesn’t work.” His glance darted toward the place where their father still lay. “I prayed for Papa and look what happened.” Emmeline flinched as she heard her brother voice her own doubts. Her prayers hadn’t been heeded either. Why?
“Was…was it quick?” Emmeline asked, needing to know yet not wanting to hear that her father had suffered.
Sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve, the young teen choked back a sob before answering. “I don’t know. When I woke up, Big Jack was standing over me and there was Papa, already so still. I tried to wake him, to pull him free, but…” Johnny stifled another shaky moan. Tears streaked his cheeks.
Touched, Emmeline enfolded him in her arms and held him while he wept on her shoulder. It had been years since the boy had permitted her to show him any affection and their shared hug reminded her of the closer sibling relationship they had once enjoyed. In truth, she’d missed the sweet child her brother had been before he’d grown up enough to begin to emulate their father.
When Johnny finally pushed her away, Emmeline was chagrined. She truly loved the members of her family, all of them, even though they were sometimes less than lovable.
Swiping at his damp cheeks, Johnny pointed east, up the trail. “Look!”
At first, Emmeline feared that the distant Indians had decided to approach. Then, she realized that the horseman was riding with saddle and bridle as well as wearing a slicker that flapped out behind him like great, black wings. No Indian would ride or dress like that, at least not any she had seen thus far in her travels.
She held up her arms, waved boldly and shouted to the rider. “Over here. Hurry! We need help.”
He slid off his mount and started to run toward her before the horse had come to a complete stop.
She knew that man. Glory be! It was the cowboy from the mercantile. And no one had ever looked better to her, not even erstwhile beaus from her old hometown.
Unable to recall his name, she nevertheless greeted him with unbounded enthusiasm. Clasping her hands, she shouted, “Hallelujah!”
“What’s happened? Are you all right?”
“Some of us are,” Emmeline answered, sobering and glancing over her shoulder toward the place where the remains of the ox still lay. “The important thing right now is rescuing my mother. She’s trapped under the wagon. Johnny and I tried to lift it but it was too heavy.”
Will was fetching his rope from where it was tied at the fork of his saddle. “Where’s your father? We’ll need all the muscle we can get.”
Emmeline lowered her voice. “Papa will not be helping. He’s gone to meet his Maker.”
The cowboy merely nodded and went to work instead of asking for further explanation.
Relieved, Emmeline sighed. There was really nothing else to say. And now that a friend had arrived to help, she finally had a moment to step back and take stock of the situation. It wasn’t a pretty picture. When the last breath had left her father’s body, their whole life had changed. They had no home, no money to speak of, very few possessions and no predictable future. She didn’t know how things could get any worse.
And then she remembered that Bess and the twins were still missing.
Will had formally introduced himself to Johnny while he threaded his rope through two of the wagon wheels on the off side. Then, he and the boy used his horse in tandem with the surviving ox to pull.
The rope held. The wagon creaked and groaned as it tilted onto its side. It wobbled for a moment, then settled there in the soft mud, as stable as could be expected, considering the rutted ground.
He watched the tearful reunion of mother and daughters, noting that Johnny stood back with the ox and made no effort to join them.
“Help me free my rope, will you?” Will asked the boy. At first he thought Johnny had not heard. Then, the wiry youngster clambered atop the wagon to assist him.
“Appreciate it,” Will said, coiling the stiff, braided rawhide as he spoke.
Still, the boy did not reply. He seemed to be fixated on the dead ox, so Will started to approach it.
Johnny broke into a run and dashed past. “Don’t touch him. Don’t you dare touch him.”
In moments, Will took in the entire picture and understood everything. He gently patted the man-child’s thin shoulder. “Somebody will have to do it, son. You don’t want your ma and sisters to see him this way, do you?”
There was no answer, yet Will could feel the youngster’s shoulders slumping and see the slight shake of his head.
“Then go fetch me a cover. Not your mama’s nice things. Bring something old that she won’t mind losing. When we’re ready, I’ll use my horse to pull the critter aside and you can cover your pa yourself if that’s what you want to do.”
Staring at Amos’s remains while he waited for the boy to return, Will thought of his own father and the last time he’d seen him alive. He’d been drunk, as usual. And as mean as a snake. Also his normal state. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to paint this man as the same kind of villain, but he’d heard him speaking about his wife and children in the mercantile and his words had been anything but kind.
Johnny hurried back and displayed a soggy blanket for Will’s approval. “That’s—that’s all I can find that didn’t blow away. Mama wants to come see, but Emmeline is stopping her. We’d better hurry.”
Emmeline? So, that was the eldest girl’s name. Pretty. And fitting, he guessed, although if he’d been naming her he might have chosen something a tad less pretentious.
Shaking himself to clear his head and concentrate on the necessary task at hand, he looped his rope over the ox’s horns, mounted his horse and used it to tow the animal a few yards. Part of the man’s body was pressed into the mud as if it were barely there and the boy was tenderly covering it.
What was this poor family going to do now? Will wondered. What, indeed? He supposed they could try to find another team and keep heading west, but not without at least one drover, not to mention someone who could also hunt to add wild game to their victuals. The laying hens that might have survived the tornado were long gone into the tall grass, and nobody could manage with only one ox. Plus, most of their larder, such as flour and beans and bacon, had been lost or ruined when their wagon had tipped over. The box was cracked and every bow that had held up the canvas cover—which was missing—had been smashed to smithereens. If they had money it might be easiest to give up their own wagon and pay for space in another family’s…but Will doubted they had enough funds for that, even if anyone could be found with room to spare.
He was about to inform the women that it was safe to look at the place where the man lay, when Emmeline approached him. He dismounted to speak with her and removed his hat while her mother fell to her knees beside the older man’s body, rocking and keening disconsolately.
Emmeline offered her small hand and Will took and held it for a brief moment.
“I would like to thank you for everything you’ve done, Mr.—” she began, finally adding, “—forgive me. I don’t seem to recall your name.”
“It’s Will Logan.”
“Then thank you, Mr. Logan.” Withdrawing, she folded her arms across her chest to pull her shawl closer. She was still dripping wet and clearly shivering. He took off his slicker and handed it to her.
She accepted the gift graciously. “Thank you. My mother will need this. I have no earthly idea where most of our belongings ended up. They’re not in the wagon anymore.”
Although she was handling herself well at the moment, Will could tell she was suffering and he didn’t know what to say or do to help her further. When she continued speaking, however, he realized that the family’s predicament was far from over.
“My, my sister Bess and the twins are missing,” Emmeline said haltingly. “It’s all my fault. I sent them off the trail to look for shelter and now I don’t know where they are.”
Will was thunderstruck. He supposed he should have missed the others right away, but in all the confusion following the upset wagon he’d not thought of anything else. “Where did you see them last?” he asked.
Unshed tears filled the young woman’s eyes, deepening their blue color. “I’m not certain. I think it was back twenty or thirty feet where Papa first stopped the wagon. When they ran off it was opposite the direction the terrible wind was coming from.”
“Then they went northeast,” Will said, mounting up. “I’ll start looking in that direction. You stay here with your mother. I came past part of your train about two miles back. They said they’d head this way to check on you just as soon as they’d rounded up some livestock that stampeded in the storm.”
“We have to find Bess and those poor little tykes,” Emmeline said, her voice breaking. “Please, please find them, sir.”
“I’ll do my best,” Will told her. He reined his excited horse in a tight circle to keep it from racing off before he was ready. “Looking for their trail after the grass has been so flattened will be difficult, but I’ll give it a try. If I’m not back by the time more help arrives, tell them where I’ve gone and have them start a more careful search.”
He paused, then decided to say all that was on his mind. “And don’t get caught out in the prairie alone, Miss Emmeline. The local Indians are friendly enough, under the right circumstances, but they can’t be trusted.”
Her eyes widened. “I saw some.” She pointed. “They were over there. On that ridge.”
“Watching for a chance to help themselves to whatever you leave behind, I reckon,” Will said. “They don’t usually steal brazenly, but they aren’t averse to picking up the spoils.”
“What about my sister? Bess is only fifteen.”
Nodding, Will knew he had to be truthful for the young woman’s own protection, yet he was loath to frighten her unnecessarily. “If she keeps her wits about her, she won’t be harmed,” he said, only half believing it.
In his heart, he wished mightily that the missing girl was a lot younger, like the orphan twins with her, so that if she was captured she’d be treated as a member of the Indians’ families, rather than as a slave.
He gritted his teeth. Or as a potential bride.
Chapter Four
For Emmeline, the waiting and standing helplessly idle were hard to bear. She began to salvage household items that were close at hand and pile them next to the wagon box as she watched Will riding in ever-widening arcs away from the main trail. The country was so vast, so untamed, it seemed as if his task was insurmountable.
She was relieved to note that the distant Indians had apparently gone away. That was something to count as a blessing, at least. If only Mama wasn’t so downtrodden. Emmeline was grown, yes, but she still would have welcomed someone else being able to share some of the responsibility for her family’s welfare, even if that provided her only a few minutes’ respite.
Looking back along the rutted trail that had brought them to this place, she kept expecting to glimpse the aid Will had assured her was on its way. So far, there had been no sign of other settlers or their wagons. If they had experienced the storm at even half the strength that she and her kin had, there was no telling when they would be moving forward again.
Will finished another sweep through the tall grasses, then returned to where Emmeline waited with the stack of soggy bedding and other salvaged items.
“Did you see any sign of them?” she asked, knowing what his answer would be from his grave countenance.
He bent in his saddle to speak quietly with her. “No. How is your mother faring?”
“Not well, I’m afraid. Glory is so sweet the way she’s trying to cheer her, though Johnny is his usual moody self. But Mama has been weeping ever since she heard what happened to Papa. She just keeps sitting there and calling his name, over and over again.”
“That’s understandable. She’s had a bad shock. Do you want to stay here with her?”
“Or do what?” Emmeline asked.
“I thought, if there were two of us looking, we might have a better chance of spotting your sister.”
“You told me to avoid going out alone.”
“Yes, I did.”
Although the sky was still cloudy and his hat brim shaded his ruggedly handsome face, Emmeline was positive she could see his cheeks grow rosy. That led her to ask, “Are you suggesting that we both ride your horse?”
“I apologize,” Will replied. “I realize that a good Christian lady like you—”
“You’re right. Normally I wouldn’t consider riding double with you. But my sister and two helpless little children are missing. I’m not the kind of person to stand on etiquette if my actions might save them from whatever dangers lie out there.”
“All right. Go tell the others what we’re going to do and let’s head out again. It’ll be dark in another few hours. Time’s a-wasting.”
She knew he was right. More than right. He had to be downplaying the imminent danger to Bess and to everyone else. The sooner they located the lost members of her party and rejoined the larger group from the wagon train, the safer everyone would be.
It immediately struck Emmeline that their place in the westward-bound convoy would probably remain empty when the rest of the pioneers reassembled and pressed on. She could not hope to ready their damaged wagon and find a new team in time to go along, nor could she make other plans—not until they’d found Bess, Missy and Mikey.
If they found them.
Waiting aside, Will watched as Emmeline spoke quietly with the surviving members of her family. No one had yet asked about arranging burial for Amos, but he knew that subject would soon arise. There was a small cemetery on the outskirts of High Plains, next to the community church. The blacksmith’s wife, Sarah, and their newborn child had been the first interred there, much to everyone’s sorrow, but they hadn’t been the last. Still, there would be room for Amos Carter. Will would see to that. The man would have a better resting place than a shallow grave beside the trail, even if that was what many pioneers had been forced to settle for in the past and surely would again. Making the long trek to the new state of Oregon was hazardous, at best. Many dreams had ended in tragedy on that trail, just as this family’s had. But for Emmeline’s sake, Will would make sure her father had a decent Christian burial.
