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Authors: Melody Carlson

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BOOK: A Dream for Tomorrow
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“Ugh! That is horrible.”

“Never mind. I just hope it will help you to rest,” Elizabeth told her.

“Horace?” Mrs. Taylor asked quietly as Elizabeth was leaving.

“No word yet. The men haven’t returned.”

It was nearly dark when Asa and some of the other men returned on horseback. JT and Brady jumped up to help with the horses. Looking hungry and tired, Asa came into camp looking as if he were carrying the world on his shoulders. “Are you all right, Father?” Elizabeth led him to a chair by the fire, and as she got him a cup of hot coffee, Clara hurried to fill him a plate with food.

“Mr. Taylor is no longer with us,” Asa said sadly.

“Oh, dear.” Clara wrung her hands. “I was afraid that was the situation. Poor Mrs. Taylor.”

“Where is she?” Asa asked.

“In my wagon,” Elizabeth supplied. “Ruth is staying with her.” She sat down on a chair by her father, waiting for him to continue his story.

He nodded, slowly forking into his food. “It’s been a long day. Matthew and Jess are on their way now. They’re bringing the body and a few salvaged goods. Will and Jeremiah are riding in front of the wagon with lanterns.”

“Oh, my!” Elizabeth shuddered. “That stretch of road is bad enough in daylight. I can’t even imagine it by dark.”

“At least it’s not raining now,” Asa assured her. “And you know your brother. He’ll be careful. And Jess had the good sense to fix him a hot meal, so he’s not driving on an empty stomach.”

“Should we tell Mrs. Taylor?” Clara asked timidly.

Asa sighed. “I s’pect we’ll have to.”

Without speaking, they all looked at one another.

Elizabeth knew her parents were both worn out. “Why don’t I tell her,” she offered. “Maybe I can offer a token of comfort…after all, I do know what it feels like to lose a husband.”

Clara placed her hand on Elizabeth’s head. “You are an angel, child.”

“You two get some good rest tonight,” she told them.

“What about you?” Clara asked. “Do you plan to keep Mrs. Taylor with you all night?”

“Where else can she go?”

Asa just shook his head.

“Why don’t you send Ruthie over to sleep in our wagon,” Clara offered. “That way you’ll have more room.”

“I’m so tired, I might just throw a bedroll beneath the wagon tonight,” Asa told her. “Your mother and Ruthie will have plenty of room.” He gave her a weary smile. “Hopefully my snoring won’t keep them awake.”

“You go see to Mrs. Taylor,” Clara told her. “I’ll finish cleaning up here. You’ll have your work cut out for you in your wagon.”

Elizabeth knew that was true. She sighed as she stood, pausing to plant a kiss on her father’s and then her mother’s cheeks, bidding them each good night and realizing how thankful she was that they were not the Taylors. Then she picked up her lantern and slowly walked to her wagon, trying to concoct a plan for how she would tell Mrs. Taylor this most unfortunate news. But she truly believed that deep down, Mrs. Taylor must already know. One glance at the wreckage today had convinced Elizabeth that no one could have survived.

Ruth, already in her nightgown, was reading a book that Jess had given to her by the golden lamplight. Such a sweet scene…until Elizabeth saw Mrs. Taylor watching them with a worried expression. Then the sweetness was gone. “Ruthie, Grandma invited you to sleep in her wagon tonight.”

“What about Grandpa?” Ruth asked curiously.

“He’s going to make a bed under the wagon.” Elizabeth assisted Ruth with her shoes and then helped her down from the tailgate. Then with lantern in hand, she proceeded to walk Ruth over to her grandparents’ wagon. On their way, they met JT and Brady. “I might as well tell you all at once,” Elizabeth said quietly. “Mr. Taylor has passed on.”

They expressed their sorrows, and then Elizabeth explained that she had yet to tell Mrs. Taylor. “This will be very hard on her, and we’ll all need to do what we can to be helpful and understanding.”

Finally, with everyone settled for the night, Elizabeth climbed back into her wagon. The irony that she was sharing her bed with the same woman she’d been enraged at earlier today did not escape her. And although she felt guilty for her anger, she was more concerned with how Mrs. Taylor was going to receive this sad news. For a moment, she almost thought that Mrs. Taylor was sleeping. But then she opened her eyes, staring at Elizabeth with such a deep and lonely longing that Elizabeth felt tears gathering in her own eyes. Mr. Taylor was probably this woman’s only real family…and now he was gone.

“Mrs. Taylor,” Elizabeth began slowly, “the men have returned. Unfortunately they did not return with good news.”

“Horace?” Her voice broke.

Elizabeth nodded somberly. “He has passed on.”

Mrs. Taylor tightly closed her eyes, her face contorted into a twisted mass of grief and pain. Then she rolled onto her side, facing away from Elizabeth, and curling up like a small child, she let out a long, low guttural sound—like a wounded animal. Elizabeth shuddered at the haunting sound. After a brief silence, Elizabeth was preparing to say something of comfort when Mrs. Taylor began to loudly sob. She continued like this for some time, sounding as if she might never stop.

Everything in Elizabeth wanted to run…to escape the unhappy confines of this crowded wagon, a spot that had been her family’s refuge these past few months. She longed for a place of peace and quiet, a reprieve from the tortured sounds of this poor woman’s heartache. At the very least, although it was discouraged, she was tempted to go outside and take an evening stroll. Instead, she moved the kerosene lamp closer to her and reached for her Bible, opening the old book to the place where she used a faded hair ribbon as a bookmark. She knew the twenty-third psalm by heart, but at the moment she felt the need to have something solid in her hands…and so she read.

The L
ORD
is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:

he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul:

he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;

thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:

thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:

and I will dwell in the house of the L
ORD
for ever.

Chapter Six

T
he next morning Captain Brownlee delayed the wagon train’s departure for an hour to attend to the funeral and burial of Horace Taylor. At Mrs. Taylor’s request, the captain was chosen to perform the solemn ceremony. Elizabeth felt dismayed that her father hadn’t been invited to provide this service, because she knew his words would have provided more hope and spiritual encouragement than the captain’s. However, the captain had clearly done this before…probably many times.

“Ashes to ashes and dust to dust,” the captain proclaimed as he dropped a handful of dirt onto the faded patchwork quilt that had been salvaged from the wreckage of the Taylors’ wagon and was now Mr. Taylor’s shroud. The dirt landed in a dull thud, and the captain turned and walked away. Naturally there had been no time to make a casket, although Elizabeth had overheard one of the young people suggesting that someone should have salvaged the piano and remodeled it into a coffin. Unkind words perhaps, but the irony was inescapable.

“And now we will sing Horace’s favorite hymn,” Mrs. Taylor declared in a shaky voice. “If you will all join me in ‘A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.’”

Elizabeth had offered her family’s assistance with some musical accompaniment for the service, but Mrs. Taylor soundly rejected this idea. Now as the old woman bravely led the group in song, many of the voices stumbled over the melody as well as the words, but Mrs. Taylor’s voice boomed out loud and clear, if not slightly off-key. By the time they came to the last verse only a few continued singing—with Mrs. Taylor still leading, still off-key. Elizabeth sang quietly along with her, but she nearly stopped singing as the appropriateness of the last few lines hit her. She turned to see Mrs. Taylor, still singing with eyes closed and two streams of tears sliding down her weathered cheeks.

Let goods and kindred go,

This mortal life also.

The body they may kill,

God’s truth abideth still.

His kingdom is forever.

Although there was great relief to have reached Red Buttes, many travelers were sorely disappointed when they learned that the North Platte River was so swollen with rain that their crossing would be delayed. However, Elizabeth and her family decided to make use of this unexpected break. Because of the muddy water of the North Platte, it was impossible to wash clothes in the river and get them clean. As a result, they were forced to carry buckets of water back to camp. They let the water sit until the silt settled to the bottom, and then they scooped water off the top to pour into the washtubs. This made doing laundry a challenge, but Clara, Elizabeth, Jess, and Ruth were determined to get it done, and working together made the task more enjoyable.

They took turns scrubbing and rinsing and finally hanging the clothes to dry in the morning sun, but when the afternoon rain came they scurried to move the nearly dry clothes into Asa’s large tent to continue drying. The mixed blessing of the rain was that they were able to use their tarp awnings to collect drinking water that tasted much better than the river water. Besides, Clara had heard rumors of cholera on this river. She insisted on boiling any water they used for cooking or dishwashing.

During this waiting period, the men tended to mechanical repairs and wagon maintenance. Matthew insisted on applying fresh coats of tar to the undersides of the wagons. After all the rough roads, he wanted to ensure they were still watertight. And Asa hired Bert Flanders to replace some horseshoes and do a few other blacksmithing chores to strengthen the wagons and gear for the second half of their journey. In exchange for Bert’s labor, Asa and Clara shared food supplies, which the Flanders were always grateful to receive.

During the days following her husband’s demise, Mrs. Taylor kept to herself, saying very little to anyone. Despite Clara and Elizabeth’s numerous attempts to draw her out, inviting her to take walks or to join them for family mealtimes, Mrs. Taylor insisted on staying holed up in Elizabeth’s wagon. The bedding even began to smell as stale as the old woman, and Elizabeth felt more trapped than ever.

BOOK: A Dream for Tomorrow
4.29Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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