Janet Quin-Harkin (18 page)

“What is it, Mama?” Bliss asked, waking too.

“It’s only a thunderstorm,” Libby said, realizing that the dream clapping had been the sounds of rain on the canvas top of the wagon.

Bliss moved closer to her mother as the storm raged on. A wind sprang up and tore at the wagon flaps. The rain fell harder and harder and from outside came the sound of branches breaking and falling. Eventually, they drifted back to sleep and woke to complete and overwhelming silence.

“The storm’s over,” Bliss announced, sitting up.

Eden opened her eyes. “What storm?” she asked.

“You slept through a thunderstorm last night,” Libby said, smiling.

“That’s funny. I thought people were clapping in my dream. It must have been thunder,” Eden said.

“I had the same dream,” Libby said. “Thank heavens it’s stopped now.”

“It’s awful cold, Mama,” Bliss said. “Is the sun shining, do you think?” She pulled back the flaps and let out a yell. “Look, Mama, it’s snowing!”

The other two joined her. The world outside was eerily white and still. Snow was falling so thickly that the other wagons were just hazy shapes. The big pine trees were already bowed with white branches.

“Can we play in it? Can we build a snowman?” the girls begged excitedly.

Jimmy came up, not looking excited. “We must get going,” he said. “There’s more snow in those clouds and we don’t want to find ourselves trapped up here.”

“But how will we find our way with all this snow?” Libby asked.

“We’ll have to risk it. One good storm and we might be cut off for weeks.”

“But it’s only September. How can this happen?”

Jimmy shrugged as if he wasn’t responsible for the weather. “We’re pretty high up here,” he said, “although it’s not usual to have snow this early. Let’s just hope it’s a freak and it soon melts.”

Libby was glad to get out her old underskirts and camisole and her Boston dress. Even with the woolen shirt and her shawl over her, her fingers were soon numb as she tried to help with harnessing the oxen. Two of them were so exhausted by the climb and the long journey that they refused to get up. They lay there, pathetically covered with a coating of snow and would not move, however much the men tried to cajole, force, or whip them.

“Leave them,” Libby cried at last, when the whips had drawn blood on their backs. “Can’t you see they can’t go on?”

In the end they had no alternative but to leave the oxen. That also meant leaving one wagon. With the expectation that the journey would end very shortly, Rival agreed to leave his own cook wagon behind, having Libby drive the wagon loaded with flour sacks. Rival had his brandied fruit and bottles of brandy brought across and there was scarcely room for Libby’s belongings, much less the children. Libby perched them on top of flour sacks and wrapped them in rugs. “Stay warm,” she commanded.

They began to cross the Sierras with only two teams to each wagon. The going was nightmarish. The animals slithered and stumbled, scared to put down their feet on a trail they could not see. Snow blew into everyone’s faces and found openings in wagon flaps so that it piled and melted inside, making everything wet. Shoes which had held up for more than three months of crossing the wasteland now leaked and fell apart. The men pulled on several pairs of socks over their boots to help them keep their footing as they pulled the bullocks between boulders. Snow blew straight into their faces and in minutes they were soaked through.

“Get back in the wagon, you can’t handle this,” Gabe shouted to Libby as she attempted to coax her team forward.

“There’s no one else to do it,” she shouted back.

“Then leave the damn wagon. You’ll freeze to death. You’ll catch pneumonia.”

“I’ll manage,” Libby said, although she was shivering so violently that she could not keep her hands still.

By midday they came to a man-high drift. While the men got out shovels to dig, Libby made them all hot coffee on the spirit stove. She noticed that there was almost no spirit left. If they had to spend another night up here, how would they keep warm? Eden and Bliss were huddled in blankets, covered in the wolfskins Gabe had bartered for. If she’d known how useful they’d be, she’d have traded the rest of her hair combs and even her mirror, Libby thought ruefully. She cradled a coffee cup in her hands, trying to restore feeling to them. Her legs and feet still felt numb. She had to keep moving, keep active. She poured more coffee and ferried it down to the men working at the drift.

“It’s a bugger, ma’am. Pardon my language,” one of them said, wiping the sweat from his brow. Libby stared at the forbidding wall of snow. Then, as she watched, the two men working at the front dug through and they were looking at the long valley below. With renewed energy the men cleared a path wide enough for the wagons and soon they were heading downward. On the other side there was just a dusting of snow, as if Mother Nature had put this last obstacle in the way and then given up.

They camped in another mountain meadow and dried clothes in front of a big fire. Next morning they woke to blue skies and no more trace of snow ahead. “Downhill all the way,” someone shouted and the men encouraged their teams to move faster. There was even more hint of a road here. In several places wooden bridges spanned ravines and at one point the road was built out from the rock face with wooden spikes. It was not easy going. The road was never wider than a wagon and pebbles slithered and bounced down thousand-foot drops as they passed over.

Only one more day of this, Libby kept chanting to herself. She was convinced that she only had to survive this steep-sided valley and everything else would be easy. She sat gripping the reins, willing the oxen not to stumble, not daring to look at that dreadful drop.

She made it safely over the wooden bridge and gave a prayer of thanks. Ahead was a clear road cut into the mountainside. The team ahead of Libby began to move ahead faster. She heard the driver’s shouts and the crack of a whip. Her own team responded, lumbering after the disappearing wagon ahead. “Whoa,” Libby yelled, dragging on the reins. She could feel the wagon picking up speed and jammed on the wheel lock. Sparks flew from the rear wheel, but she was not strong enough to stop it from turning. The wagon started gaining on the weary animals, one of them stumbled and the wagon slithered sideways, one of its wheels hanging out over the drop.

Libby leaped from her seat. She could feel the weight of the wagon pulling at the animals. “Help!” she screamed. “Eden! Bliss! Jump to Mama!”

Slowly, the wagon began to slide backward, hanging out over the drop. Men came running from other teams. Arms reached out to help Libby to the ground. “The children!” She reached out desperately toward them.

“Mama, my dolly!” Bliss yelled. She tried to go back into the wagon. Desperately Libby grabbed at her skirt.

“Forget the doll. Jump! Jump to Mama!” Libby shouted, dragging Bliss down from the seat.

One of the men caught Eden as she jumped. Hands grabbed at the bullocks’ heads. A shower of pebbles cascaded downward, bumping off hidden rocks below. Libby dragged the children back to the rock face, an arm around each of them. The tired animals were no match for a laden wagon.

“It’s no use, it’s going!” men shouted.

“Cut them loose,” someone shouted. Knives hacked at the harness straps. The wagon inched backwards, teetered for a moment, then, with a groan, it disappeared over the edge, taking the animals with it. There was a horrible crash, then all was still. Libby put her hand to her mouth, feeling that she might vomit any second. The vision of that disappearing wagon kept haunting her, knowing that Eden and Bliss had escaped death by seconds. Bliss was crying. “I want my dollie!”

“Don’t worry, sissy, we’ll get you a new dollie,” Eden’s wise little voice comforted. Libby could not stop trembling. She was trembling so violently that she wrapped her arms around her to steady herself.

“Are you all right?” Gabe asked, running up to her.

“Oh, Gabe,” she whispered and buried her head in his shoulder.

His strong arms closed around her. “It’s over. You’re safe,” he muttered, stroking her hair.

Sheldon Rival arrived, panting, up the hill.

“My wagon!” he gasped. “What did you do to my wagon?”

“There was only one team. They couldn’t hold it,” men explained. “We’re lucky it didn’t go over with the Little girls in it.”

“It was
her
wagon?” Rival demanded. “I might have known. You stupid woman. What about my flour? What about my potatoes?”

Libby broke free from Gabe. “Your flour?” she screamed. “My children nearly lost their lives and you’re worried about flour? What sort of man are you? You’re not a human at all, you’re a monster! My only regret is that you didn’t go over that cliff with your precious flour!”

She took her children by the hand. “Come on, children,” she said. “We’ll not stay with this man another minute. We can find our own way from here. Goodbye Mr. Rival. May you rot in hell!”

“Mama—where are we going? What about Mr. Foster? How will we find the way?” Eden demanded.

“My dollie!” Bliss wailed.

Libby kept both hands firmly in hers and kept walking, past the wagons and into the pine trees. Moments later she heard the clip-clop of hooves behind her and there was Gabe on his horse.

“Wait up, you walk too fast,” he called after her.

“What are you doing?” she asked with a tired smile.

“Keeping an eye on you.”

“I don’t need keeping an eye on.”

“Where do you intend to sleep tonight? What do you intend to eat?” Gabe asked.

“We’re in California. We’ll find a settlement by nightfall.”

“Hardly. We’re about three days away from the nearest settlements.”

“Are you sure?”

“That’s what Jimmy says.”

“Oh,” Libby said, realizing that they had no possessions and no food. “Then we’ll gather berries, I suppose.”

Gabe laughed. “Gather berries! And what if you meet a grizzly bear while you’re gathering your berries? What if you meet bandits? You can’t take these children through country like this with no man to protect you. Besides, I’ve lost interest in Mr. Rival.”

“But you were driving one of his wagons!” Libby exclaimed. “What’s going to happen to it?”

A big smile spread across Gabe’s face. “For all I care it can sit on a mountain pass until kingdom come,” he said, “or Rival can yoke himself up and pull it down.”

He looked at Libby and they both burst out laughing.

With the girls riding Gabe’s horse, they made good mileage. They camped for the night under towering pines on soft beds of needles. Gabe shot a rabbit which they grilled over a fire. Libby did not find any berries. Next day they pressed on and by day’s end the landscape had begun to change. Golden hillsides and oak groves were replacing pines and granite. Best of all, as they stopped for the night under a large oak tree, they could see a spiral of smoke on the western horizon.

“Civilization tomorrow,” Libby said, staring out at it.

“People yes, I’m not so sure about the civilization,” Gabe said.

“People, houses, food, beds,” Libby said. “I can’t wait for this journey to end.”

“No, I don’t suppose you can,” Gabe said slowly. His tone made her turn to look back at him. “In a few days now you’ll be reunited with good old Hugh, living in a snug little cottage, making mountains of gold and you’ll forget that I ever existed.”

“I won’t ever forget you, Gabe,” Libby said, gazing at him. “I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

Gabe laughed, a light, brittle laugh. “But when we come upon each other again, I emerging from my gambling parlor, and you with your shopping bag and children at your heels, you will pretend that you don’t see me and you’ll pass me by.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll forget you,” she said, smiling at him.

“You already think me beyond hope, so I’m going to ask you one thing,” Gabe said, turning to her.

“Which is?”

“Something I’ve been longing to do since that first evening in New Orleans. . . . May I kiss you, just once, before we part?”

“I don’t think that’s wise, Mr. Foster,” Libby said, stepping back from him.

“What happened to Gabe?”

“We’re coming back to civilization,” Libby said, looking away from him as she tried to pinpoint that wisp of smoke. “We have to remember that I’m a married woman and you’re not a friend of the family.” She glanced across at Gabe. “Is that so amusing?” she asked.

His smiled broadened. “It’s just that I didn’t take you for the kind of woman who cared what people thought. You wouldn’t have started on this journey if you listened to gossip.”

“I don’t care for me,” she said. “It’s Hugh I’m thinking about. I kept looking for his grave all the way. I didn’t see it, so I have to hope he’s already here, working hard for me and the children. Think how hurt he’d be if he heard rumors of his wife amusing herself with a gambler during the lonely hours of the trail.”

Gabe’s smile turned to a chuckle.

“You find me funny?”

“I still find you adorable,” he said. “I cannot think that you are hardhearted enough to send me on my way without one token of affection between us. Just one delicate brushing of the lips—is that too much to ask?”

“Maybe it is,” she said seriously.

“You find me so repugnant?” He took her arm, fiercely.

“You know I don’t,” she said. “It’s the opposite. I’m scared of waking feelings that are best left asleep.”

“I think you’re fooling yourself if you think those feelings are not already awake,” he said softly. He put a finger under her chin and drew her face gently toward him, then he leaned forward just enough to brush her lips with his. “I suppose I dare not ask or expect more than that,” he whispered, his eyes warm and teasing, his face still inches away from hers. “That one little kiss will have to last me through my lonely, declining years.”

Libby gave a half sob, half laugh and wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing her lips up hungrily to meet his. They stood there together, not moving, arms wrapped tightly around each other, lips locked together, for what seemed like an eternity. Then, reluctantly, they broke away.