A Secret Refuge [02] Sisters of the Confederacy (24 page)

“You can come on one condition.”

Jesselynn stood straighter in the predawn gray light. “What is that?”

“If there is any trouble that can be laid at your door, you wait for another train.”

“Trouble?”

“With your horses or your men.”

“With
you
” was implied.

While dark eyes can become obsidian, green eyes turn to steel. Her jaw matched. “There will be no trouble.”

“No racing.”

“Do you take me for a fool? Of course there will be no racing. I wouldn’t have done so then if we’d had the money for the supplies.” She felt like adding a few well-chosen names but clamped her tongue between her teeth to keep it from further flapping.

“Thoroughbreds are too high-strung for a trip like this. You’re going to lose them.”

“Over my dead body.”
He has no idea what we’ve gone through to get this far. I will not lose them. Thoroughbreds are far tougher than he thinks
. She refused to think about the foals. She’d carry them in the wagon if she had to.

“Suit yourself. I would recommend turning back now.”

“We’ll be ready when the others are. Thank you for your concern.” She couldn’t resist the sarcasm.

The look he gave her, other than finely honed anger, asked a question too. Only for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what it was. She was still puzzling on that when he rode off.

The wagon that had been first the day before fell in behind her as the circle straightened to a long line. Jesselynn waved to the driver, a woman wearing a sunbonnet dangling on a ribbon down her back. A black shawl hugged her shoulders and crossed in front.

“I’m Abigail Brundsford.”

“Jesse Highwood. That’s my aunt Agatha ahead.” In spite of the three men now in attendance, Agatha had asked if she could drive again for a while. Since Jesselynn didn’t want her walking, she agreed. She’d rather be riding but knew that after the noon break, Meshach could drive. Right now he kept the mares on lead lines and tied Roman and the spare ox behind the wagon. Once they were out of such civilized territory, Daniel would use Roman for hunting.

Daniel had snared two rabbits during the night, and Ophelia rose early to fry them for breakfast. The folks in the wagon in front of them had sniffed appreciatively as they ate their mush.

Throughout the day, other members of the party wandered back to introduce themselves, so that by noon Jesselynn’s head was filled with a mishmash of names, trying to remember which went with what face. One family had enough children to start their own town.

When Wolf signaled the stop, Aunt Agatha’s hands were blistered from holding the reins.

“Why didn’t you put on gloves?” Jesselynn cupped her aunt’s hands in her own.

“I don’t have any gloves. That’s why.”

“Ophelia, please get out some of that salve that I bought in Independence.”

Agatha tried to pull her hands away, but Jesselynn didn’t release them until the salve was rubbed in and two strips of cloth bound the oozing sores.

“All we need is for this to go putrid on us.”

“Pshaw, I’ve had blisters before. Paid them no nevermind, and they healed up just fine.”

“Good. Let’s hope these do too.”

That night after supper, one of the men brought out a fiddle and another a harmonica. They started with music to sing by but moved on to dance tunes. Jesselynn and Agatha sat together on the wagon tongue, Jesselynn clapping while Meshach and Ophelia danced a jig.

“Hi, my name’s Elizabeth.” Suddenly appearing in front of Jesselynn, the no-longer-a-girl-but-not-yet-a-woman shifted from one foot to another after introducing herself. Her strawberry hair hung in a thick braid down her back, and the same color eyebrows shadowed her eyes so that the color was hidden. But her flaming cheeks matched the fire that now burned in embers.

Agatha prodded Jesselynn so that she turned to her aunt with a question that drowned in the laughter in her aunt’s eyes. Jesselynn looked back to the visitor.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Jesse Highwood.”

“I know.”

“She wants you to ask her to dance,” Agatha whispered.

Jesselynn felt her face flame. She glanced down at her boots, wishing she were out with the horses where it was safer. “Ah, which wagon is yours?”

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder. “The one with the table and checkered cloth. My mama says even though we are on the way to Oregon, we don’t have to give up all the comforts of home.”

“Oh.”

The fiddler changed to a reel, and all the dancers lined up, partners facing each other with some distance between them.

“Do you know how to dance the reel?” Her hands bunched the folds in her skirt.

“Ah, ah . . .”

“You could learn real fast. I taught my brother.”

“’Scuse me. I better go check on the horses.” Jesselynn got up so fast she nearly tripped over the wagon tongue in her hasty departure.

“He’s just shy,” she heard her aunt say before she was out of earshot.
Agatha Highwood, I swear I’m going to make you pay for this
. She didn’t return to the circle until long after the fiddle had been put back in its case and most of the bedrolls been laid out under the wagons.

Dodging Elizabeth over the next few days took some doing. Jesselynn chose to ride Ahab as a line of defense. She didn’t dare knit or help too much with the cooking. Even braiding rawhide might be thought of as women’s work.

Wolf set up an order for night watches, and the men all took their turns, including Jesselynn.

By the time they turned off at Topeka, the train had fallen into the rhythm of the road. Up before daylight, a quick breakfast, hitch up, and move on out as the sun broke the horizon. Then a short noon stop without fires, stopping for the night where there was water and pasture for the cattle and horses. With the scarcity of wood, it became the job of those who walked along to pick up any wood they found, or dry cow pies. Dried cattle dung burned hot and slow.

They paused only long enough on Easter Sunday for one of the men to read the Easter story and everyone to sing a hymn, closing with the Lord’s Prayer. For dinner they ate dry biscuits and dust. For grace at supper Meshach announced, “Christ is risen.” The others answered, “He is risen indeed.” Jesselynn went to bed murmuring those words again, adding, “Thank you, Jesus.”

They’d been on the trail two weeks when they neared Alcove Springs.

“We’ll do an extra day or two here,” Wolf announced as he rode down the line that afternoon. “This place has a good spring, the folks who live here are friendly, and there’s plenty of available pasture. There’s even some shade, with the big oak trees they have.”

“Ah, we can wash clothes.” Aunt Agatha turned to Ophelia, who walked beside her wagon. “We have plenty of soap?”

“Yessum.” Ophelia snagged Sammy up and set him on her shoulders. “Come on, baby, we got water ahead.”

Thaddeus ran back to her. “Play in the water.”

“And take a bath.”

His smile disappeared. “No bath.”

Jesselynn chuckled. “If that isn’t just like a boy.” Looping the reins around the brake handle, she leaped to the ground to pace alongside the slow-moving oxen. Even Buster, the lazy one, had learned to lean into the yoke and keep a steady, plodding pace. Since they were midway in the line of wagons, they just kept the pace unless something really unusual spooked the animals. And she could walk along beside. Some of the men used a goad and rarely rode the wagon seats. Anything to make the loads lighter.

With the ease born of practice, they circled the wagons downstream of the farmstead and set up camp. The women gathered all the dirty clothes together and headed for the creek. When Jesselynn started off with an armful, Aunt Agatha touched her arm.

“I don’t think that is a good idea.”

“What? Washing clothes?”

“No,
you
washing clothes. Do you see any of the other men or older boys helping?” Agatha kept her voice low and glanced around to see if anyone was close enough to listen.

“But . . .” She knew Agatha was right. Ophelia, Jane Ellen, and Agatha could go join the party at the creek, but not Jesselynn.

Meshach set up his forge, Daniel raced off with a fishing line, and Benjamin took the oxen and horses out to graze.

“If I graze the horses and oxen, Benjamin can go hunting.”

“That’s a fine idea.”

Jesselynn retrieved her writing case, along with the rifle and ammunition from the wagon, and dogtrotted after Benjamin.
Ah, hours alone. Out on the prairie with no one but me and the animals
. The thought made her run faster. She stopped when she heard a yip behind her. Patch, tongue lolling, came running after her.

“You should be watching Sammy and Thaddeus.”

The dog sat at her knee, white ear flopped forward, head tilted slightly to the side. He whined and looked toward the animals.

“You’d rather herd cattle. Can’t say as I blame you.” She turned and started after Benjamin again, but when Patch wasn’t beside her, she looked back to see him still sitting in the same place. “What do you need, a special invitation?” She slapped her thigh. “Come on, then.” The dog bounded across the already grazed grass to her side, running with her stride for stride.

Running yielded a pleasure so deep she felt like shouting. While guilt that she wasn’t back helping with the wash tried to inveigle an entrance, she brushed it off like a pesky fly. Today she could be free.

“Benjamin, wait up.”

He stopped Roman and turned to look over his shoulder. “What you want, Marse Jesse?”

“I’ll do the grazing.” She held the gun up. “You get to go hunting.”

“Ah, fine idea.” He slid to the ground and waited for her to catch up.

“How far out do I need to take them?”

“I keeps dem away from de other animals. Ol’ Ahab get all excited around other mares. So maybe down de creek a mile or so, wherever de grass be good.”

“You take Roman then, and Patch will help me keep them in line. Think I should hobble the horses?”

He handed her the hide and braided hobbles, took the gun, and, mounting Roman, gave her a grin that she knew matched her own.

“Enjoy yourself.”

“I do intend just dat. ‘Sides, deer taste mighty good. We could dry some on top de wagon.”

“Or share it with the others. If you can, get two.”

“Marse Wolf, he say dey goin’ form up huntin’ parties when we get out more.”

“Good. You can show ’em how.” She watched him head for the hills to the east, then turned to follow the grazing animals. Once Ahab threw up his head and stared off to the south, but when whatever had gotten his attention left, he went back to grazing.

Jesselynn moved them out farther, hobbled the two stallions, and sat down in the grass to write her letters. Patch lay down beside her but leaped up when one of the oxen got too far away from the others and drove it back to the herd.

“You are one fine dog.” She scratched his ears and his back when he lay back down beside her. The foals both stretched flat out on their sides, tired of playing. So far they were holding up well, but then, there had been plenty of water and grazing for the mares. The horror stories she’d heard started after Fort Laramie.

Dear Sergeant White,

She still had trouble calling him by his Christian name, even though he’d kissed her once.

I was so sorry to hear that you will be unable to join us like you had planned. I know how it is when family things get in the way of our own dreams. Camping at Alcove Springs in Kansas wasn’t what I thought I would be doing, that is for certain. The only thing I knew about Kansas was John Brown’s trying to free the slaves. So far, it seems a good place, with hills and valleys threaded with creeks. Right now the land is green and the sun warm but not hot. I have an idea I am seeing this land at its most idyllic. The farms seem fair prosperous, with many acres sown to wheat that is coming up nicely. Seems there’s been enough rain for that. Not that rain is helpful to those of us who are traveling.

She told him the events so far, sharing her rejoicing that Wolf, the wagon master, had found no cause to send them back.

In fact, he hardly says anything to me at all. He is more than polite to Aunt Agatha, who is an excellent drover. Whoever would have thought it? But traveling like this brings out the strengths of an individual—that I know for a fact.

I am having some trouble keeping in the guise of a Jesse with all these people around. No wonder you were able to discern that I am a woman in man’s clothes. Today Aunt decreed that I would not help with the washing in the creek, so I am the grazer, along with the dog who adopted us from a farm we saw burning on the way to Independence. He is a fine cattle dog and herds Sammy and Thaddeus just like calves.

She knew he would get a chuckle out of that and planned to tell her sisters the same.

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she was missing dinner. Ah, well, too far to go back. She glanced around at her charges. Several of the oxen were lying down, chewing their cuds. One of the foals was up and nursing. The other mare lay down and rolled, scratching her back to get rid of the winter hair.