Lazy Days (7 page)

Unexpectedly, Cooper reached and covered her
hands folded tightly in her lap with one of his big ones. The contact only
lasted a second, but it comforted Hallie.

Over the next few days, Hallie's mind swam with
all the information she'd gleaned from Cooper, Emmett, and other emigrants
flooding Westport. The town was a beehive of activity from sunrise until well
after sundown. The list of supplies she began on the
Mirabella
was
revised and added to daily. She now had quantities to add to some entries.
Early one morning, while Tim still slept, she took advantage of first light and
sat beside the window reviewing her list.

Glancing at her son, she smiled when she thought
about how well he'd taken to being called Tim. As gently as she could, she tried
to explain what Cooper had said, but Timmy interrupted, "Ma, I been
wantin' to be called Tim since Mr. Jerome started callin' me that. Timmy is a
baby's name, but I was afraid I'd hurt your feelings if I told you not to call me
that anymore."

After their conversation, he informed Sammy that
he wanted to be called Tim, and Sammy responded with, "Then I want to be
called Sam."

Hallie was fearful that Emmett and Lydia would
become offended, but when she explained, they agreed wholeheartedly. Emmett declared,
"Sammy, you are now officially Sam because this journey is going to grow
you up, too."

Hallie returned her thoughts to her rewritten
list.

500 pounds flour

400 pounds smoked bacon

150 pounds lard

120 pounds hardtack

75 pounds sugar

50 pounds coffee

50 pounds rice

50 pounds beans

10 pounds salt

2 pounds tea

5 gallons whiskey

vinegar

dried fruit

dried vegetables

saleratus

parched corn

corn meal (also for packing eggs)

Hallie sighed. This was just the food. Turning to
the next list, she read:

Washtub

Washboard

Flatiron and starch

Soap

Coffee grinder

Coffee pot

Utensils

Skillet

Pots and pans

Dutch oven

Reflector oven

Lanterns

Candles

Tripod

Buckets

Canteens

Water barrels

Sewing supplies

Shovel, pick axe, hammer, hatchet, saw, other
tools

Hallie paused to gaze out the window. The
tedious task of reviewing her lists was forgotten in the beauty of daybreak. Pink
suffused the eastern sky with golden streaks fanning outward like loving
fingers attempting to touch the soil. Imagining the moment she would step onto
her land brought a smile and quiet laughter, and she whispered, "Five more
days and we leave for Oregon."

She lifted her eyes to the pink heavens.
"Tom, I just want you to know Cooper is taking good care of us. He's been
haggling with the merchants and getting the best prices for the best goods. He
doesn't settle for seconds. Sometimes I argue with him over wanting to load the
wagon with more supplies, but he swears overloading is the worst thing we could
do." She paused, glanced at Tim, still snoring, and then back at the painted
sky. "I trust him, Tom."

* * *

Cooper examined the seven oxen. They looked to
be sturdy, well fed, and dependable. He wanted this team but the price being
asked was still too high. Pursing his lips, he eyeballed the stable owner with
a direct stare and the man's return gaze didn't waver. Cooper decided he was an
honest man. "Two hundred and forty-five dollars is still too high. I'll
give you two hundred."

The leather-faced old merchant pulled on a
strand of his gray beard that fanned out over his chest. "Nope. You're too
low. These are some of the finest oxen in Westport. Hell, make that Independence
and
Westport." He cocked his head at an angle and pulled on his beard
again. "Two hundred and twenty-five dollars. That's with a price break on
the extra ox."

Cooper glanced back at the oxen, walked around
them, felt them again, and grinned when his back was to the old fart. Wiping
the grin off his face, he turned back around and stuck out his hand. "You
strike a mean bargain, Mr. Piper, but I'll pay your price."

After paying half the amount as earnest money,
Cooper made arrangements to pick the oxen up the day they left. He grinned at
his good fortune. So far, the day had yielded oxen and a wagon. The prairie
schooner he'd purchased for one hundred dollars was premium quality and the
seller had thrown in a bucket of grease and spare parts, including spokes and an
axle. The canvas had been well oiled with linseed to make it waterproof and the
wheels were wide, making for easier travel in sandy soils.

Yep, Cooper was happy with his purchases and looked
forward to the smile that would light Hallie's face when he told her.

Four days before departure, Hallie sat beside
Cooper on their rented buckboard while the Hankersons and Tim rode in the back.
Postings on the community wall and in the local newspaper had informed anyone
bound for the trail with Wagon Train Master Captain Jeremiah J. Jones to meet
in front of City Hall for the purpose of discussing "Important Particulars,"
and also to take a headcount.

Hallie's heart raced; soon she would be traveling
to a new state, a new home, and new beginnings. Excitement and fear of the
unknown vied for preeminence of her emotions. Calming herself with slow breaths,
she glanced sideways at Cooper. His expertise in negotiating the best deals on
the best supplies made her forever grateful to him. Since the night on the boat
when he'd spoken harshly to her, he hadn't brought up the incident again, and
his manner was always patient and gentlemanly, quite in contrast to his rough
appearance. Remembering his treatment of the two cowpokes who had accosted her
and his wielding of not one, but two pistols, as if such behavior were an often
occurrence, she tried to reconcile that man with the one beside her—a man who
was kind to animals and respectful of women.

The braking of the buckboard brought Hallie back
to the present and she glanced across the street at the gathering crowd, excitement
overcoming her fear. She couldn't wait for a glimpse of Captain Jones. Cooper lead
her across the street holding her elbow while she held Tim's, who after their
conversation about his name, informed her that only babies held their mother's
hand.

A platform, no doubt for politicians and city
leaders to address the public, had been built in front of the steps to City
Hall and Cooper directed them to an open space on one side of it.

While they waited for Captain Jones, Hallie
glanced at the emigrants filling the square. Such an assortment of people she
had never seen altogether in one place. Most of the pioneers were families with
children of every age—babies to adults. She was surprised by the number of
older husbands and wives and it made her smile.
Just goes to show you're
never too old to seek adventure and new beginnings.

Among the crowd, she noted a gathering of
"fancy women," their colorful satin bodices revealing generous
cleavages and their decorative hats with feathers showcasing upswept hairstyles
in startling contrast to the plain bonnets and buns of the country women,
herself included. Moving her gaze past them, she stiffened when she recognized
the slimy cowboys who had accosted her—Stubby and his cohort, Harley.

Glancing at Cooper, she saw that he, too, had
spotted them. His eyes, as hard and cold as lead shot on a frosty morning, sent
chills up her spine. When she returned her gaze to Stubby and Harley, she saw
Harley elbowing his friend and pointing in her direction. Stubby turned and his
eyes widened, forcing his forehead into grimy creases. Hallie was close enough
to read Stubby's lips as he mouthed, "Sheeit!" Saying something to
Harley, he made a flapping motion with one hand and the two of them edged to
the outermost grouping of people.

Cooper bent down to her. "Rest assured, Hallie,
they won't even glance in your direction after I have another talk with them."

Hallie couldn't help but laugh. "I think
you've already put the fear of God in them just with your expression. Thank
you."

Cooper laughed also. "I've never been thanked
for my ugly mug, but I'll make sure to keep it pointed in their direction throughout
the journey."

Ugly mug?
Hallie nearly objected—vehemently, but then
realized how improper it would be to tell him how handsome she thought him to
be.

A wave of excitement rolled through the crowd, bringing
Hallie's attention to the platform when a man, probably in his fifties and dressed
in military attire, jumped up on the wooden dais. He looked to be as tall and
muscular as the folklore character, Paul Bunyan. His booming voice reminded her
of cracking thunder when he shouted, "Listen up, pioneers! I'm Captain Jeremiah
J. Jones and I proudly served in the Union army. Now that the war is over, I
still serve my country as a civilian consultant, but I'm back to doin' what I
do best—makin' sure ya'll reach your destinations in one piece. So, that bein'
said, I've got instructions that need to be followed exactly as I give 'em.
Anyone wantin' to rebel might as well find another train to hitch up with. I'm
a mean wagon master when it comes to givin' orders and I don't take no sass!"
He paused for effect and then bellowed, "Is that understood?" When
the intimidated crowd didn't answer, the captain yelled, "Is that
understood?"

Cooper was the first to call out, "Yes,
sir. Your leadership is legendary. I, for one, understand."

After that, men, women, and children nodded and
affirmed—almost of one accord— "Yes, sir."

The captain continued, "Good. I always like
gettin' that out of the way first. Now about those 'Important Particulars.' In
a minute I'm going to tell you where to relocate your wagons after they're
loaded, what to pack, and acceptable behavior on the trail. But before I do, I
want to reinforce the fact that your life and the lives of your fellow travelers
depend on you followin' instructions. And here's one more admonishment,
"DO NOT OVERPACK OR YOU WILL END UP DUMPIN' YOUR GOODS ALONGSIDE THE TRAIL!"

Pointedly, Captain Jones glared from person to
person. He asked loudly, "Is that understood?"

In concert, the pioneers quickly affirmed,
"Yes, sir!"

Hallie held her hand to her heart. The wagon
master was the most fearsome man she had ever encountered. She glanced from
beneath her lashes to see Cooper's reaction. Whereas Captain Jones scared the
daylights out of her, an amused smile played across Cooper's lips.
Does nothing
and no one scare him?

* * *

For the next two days, Cooper, with Hallie and
Tim accompanying him, drove their buckboard to different merchants to pay for
food staples, tools, and a passel of other supplies. Cooper estimated their
load would be around nineteen hundred pounds, well within the higher limit of
twenty-five hundred pounds, tops, instructed by Captain Jones.

On the third day he returned to the businesses
to load their prairie schooner with their purchases, and, feeling satisfied
with their cargo, met Hallie and Tim in front of their hotel. The final item to
be loaded was Hallie's trunk. Tossing a coin to a strong looking boy for
assistance, the two of them loaded it, and after a final inspection of the
wagon and oxen, milk cow and his own horse, Cooper turned to Tim. "Are you
ready?"

"Oh, yes, sir!"

He glanced at Hallie. "What about
you?"

"You know I am." A sudden softness
overcame her features. "I can't thank you enough. Without you, we wouldn't
have accomplished this."

Cooper glanced away from the admiration in her
eyes. Whether she knew it or not, right now her feelings were easy to discern,
and she was having feelings for him. Hell, the last thing he needed was a
complication in his life. He had to stay focused on his mission—deliver Hallie
and Tim to Oregon, get them settled, and then return post haste to Missouri. Entanglements
with a woman and her kid were not options and the feelings he was having for
her scared the bejesus out of him. After the fiasco of his marriage, he was a
loner and intended to stay that way.

Turning back to face her, he recognized her hurt
expression by him not acknowledging her heartfelt thank you. He smiled slightly.
"You're very welcome, Mrs. Wells, but thank-yous are not necessary."
There,
calling her Mrs. Wells should get my point across.

Raising his whip, he slapped it in the air and
called, "Giddup." Glancing back around at Hallie and Tim, he nodded,
and they began the first mile on foot of their over two thousand mile journey.

* * *

Following a well-worn road behind other prairie
schooners traveling to the Cave Spring campsite Captain Jones had designated, Hallie
marveled at the numbers headed west though Cooper said the numbers had
significantly dwindled from its heyday in the 1840s and 50s. Alongside the road
emigrants set up camp in every imaginable apparatus. Some slept in the open,
some in tents, some in magnificent schooners like her own, some in
rehabilitated farm wagons. And everywhere there were animals: oxen, cows,
mules, horses, chickens, dogs, and an occasional cat.