Pony Dreams (8 page)

“Wake up, Abby.”

Not yet.

Pa and my other brothers needed me. They
weren't very far away, about ten miles from the familiar landmarks.
All they had to do was look at me, and they could find their way
home.

“This way,” I called.

“Abby, you're scaring me. Come on, honey,
wake up.”

That was Adam's voice, but he was safe at
home with Ma and Bart. Pa wasn't. He needed help.

“This way,” I shouted. “I'm okay now. It was
just a little accident. Don't get mad at me, Pa.”

From far away, Bart asked, “What's
wrong?”

“She's talking about Pa in her sleep,” Adam
said. “I can't wake her up.”

Everything shook back and forth, like it had
one day when I was six. Dishes had fallen from the shelves, but
this time no one yelled at me to get under a table.

“Come on, baby,” Ma begged. “Wake up.”

Slowly, I opened my eyes. Adam and Bart
stared at me. Ma looked like she might cry unless I told them I was
all right, but I couldn't reassure them. Trouble loomed for the
Weston family, and I was the only one who knew about it.

“Pa's in trouble,” I said. “We have to help
him.”

She gripped my chin. “How do you know?”

“I saw him in a dream. He and the boys can't
find their way home. They're near that old sinkhole Pa warned me to
stay away from.”

Adam leapt to his feet. “Bart, do you
remember where that place is?”

His expression solemn, Bart nodded.

“Ride as hard as you can,” Adam said. “See if
something has gone wrong, and Pa couldn't send the signal.”

Bart clattered out of the house. A few
minutes later, horse's hooves pounded past.

“Why did I dream about Pa?” I asked. “It was
strange.”

“Sometimes, when you love someone very much,
you can tell when they're in trouble,” Ma said.

Adam carried me to the parlor, and then he
settled me on the sofa. He never explained why, nor did Ma when she
brought me custard. While eating the unexpected treat, I kept an
eye on the front of the house through the oiled-paper window. Ma
and Adam slinked around like barn cats running across the midsummer
desert sand.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

He jumped almost to the ceiling. “Don't know,
short stuff.”

“Why are you so nervous?”

“Just don't like waiting,” he said.

I tilted my head and stared at him. He was
the second most patient person I knew, Pa being the first. Until
today, my oldest brother had never told me a lie. As I thought
about his response to my questions about David and Grace, I began
to suspect Adam had told me quite a few fibs, but I'd never
realized it until now.

Chapter Eleven

Two gunshots
blasted. I jerked and looked around.

Bad trouble!

Was it the Paiute? The Johnsons? Near to
bursting with curiosity, I checked the hallway. No one was in
sight, so I struggled off the sofa to find out what was going on.
Adam pointed at me as he raced for the gunroom.

“Stay where you are. Ma, I'll get your
rifle,” he called.

Grumbling, I sank back onto the seat. He
quickly loaded two of the long guns and returned to the kitchen. A
door opened, slammed closed, and then he ran toward the barn with a
rifle in one hand. Seconds later, he emerged, bending low over his
stallion and riding north. I knelt on the sofa and stared as hard
as I could. Bright sunlight made me squint and brought on a
headache. Ma was in the kitchen, and all my brothers were on the
trail with Pa. No one would ever discover I had stood up. A wave of
dizziness hit me as I did.

“Abigail, put your backside on that sofa this
minute,” Ma shouted.

Holy heck! How did she know?

As soon as the room stopped spinning, I eased
onto the horsehair covering. The slick fabric caused me to slide
forward. I pressed my toes against the floor to keep from falling
over.

Another worry beset me while focusing on the
horizon through the window. Did the shots mean trouble, or had
someone found Pa and my brothers? When would anyone tell me what
was happening? Determined to discover what was going on, I stood
again.

“I told you to sit, and I meant it.” Ma came
through the door. “You won't get any better if you don't listen.
Come on, I want you where I can keep an eye on you.”

She helped me onto the porch, to a rocking
chair she kept out there to relax at the end of the day. After
tucking a blanket around me, she paced back and forth.

After what felt like hours, a rider raced
past us. He didn't slow down until he released his horse into
corral. Charles sprinted to the house. He panted as if he had
ridden flat out for days.

“It's Pa, Peter, and Paul,” he said. “They
took sick not long after we left Carson City. Mr. Johnson took Pa
into a saloon, and then Daniel teased Peter and Paul until they ate
something he gave them.”

She grabbed me out of the chair.

“Get your sister into my bedroom and don't
let her out of the bed.”

“What happened to the runt?” he asked.

“Throwed,” she said as she pelted through the
door.

He carried me to Ma and Pa's bed.

“First I ever heard of a horse tossing you.”
He laid me on the blankets. “What did you do, daydream?”

I stuck out my tongue. He yanked my braids in
retaliation.

“Keep that up, and Ma will make sure you
don't have a reason to toss that tongue around,” he said. “Stay
here. I'm gonna see if she needs help.”

He stomped toward the bunkhouse and appeared
a few seconds later with sheets draped all over him, and blankets
in his arms.

“Take them to the barn. Don't bother doing
much more than tossing them into the hayloft. You and the others
can make up your pallets later,” she yelled.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“How far out are they?” she hollered before
he got out the door.

“A mile or two, but it's hard keeping Pa and
the troublemakers on their horses. Adam sent me ahead to warn you.
He also said to keep the runt out of trouble.”

She chased him down the hallway and mimed
smacking his backside.

“Stop teasing your sister,” Ma said. “No one
would have known a thing until you rode up if not for her.”

The sound of horses plodding up to the house
came through the open door. Charles stopped before going
outside.

“Stay there. This is serious, Abigail. We
aren't sure what made them ill, and you're looking a bit green. We
don't need you falling over.”

He sure could hurt me with just a few words,
and to use Abigail! Ma couldn't have heard him, not with her
bustling around in the bunkroom, shoving beds this way and
that.

“I'm not a little kid,” I shouted at his
retreating form.

She bustled past the door and stopped for a
second.

“Don't even think about moving.”

“I can help.”

“Open my window, but don't you dare strain
yourself.” She pulled the door tight.

I slammed against the wall behind the bed and
folded my arms across my chest. As I did, realization dawned. It
was an incredibly dumb move. Every bruised muscle and bone
screeched in pain. Only Adam's terse explanations kept me from
crying out.

“They're burning up with fever. I didn't stop
to wash them down, figured you'd want them in a bed quick,” he
said. “Pa's the worst.”

“Into the bunkhouse,” Ma said. “Peter and
Paul near the door, your pa near the window. Mark, stay with
Abigail. She's in my bedroom.”

Moving carefully, I walked toward the
window.

“She's not sick, too, is she?” Mark asked

His question increased my frustration. My
brothers would never forgive me for falling off the horse.

“Tossed off a horse,” Bart said. “Thought it
hurt her real bad, but she was just winded.”

Mark burst through the door. He shook a
finger at me when he discovered me standing near the window.

“When Ma says stay in bed, no one else
ignores her,” he said.

“But—”

“Don't argue, get on that bed.”

“Make sure Abigail got that window up,” Ma
called.

His face reddened as he lifted the window.
“Sorry. How are you feeling?”

“It hurts,” I whispered, “but it was my
fault. How are Pa, Peter, and Paul?”

“Not good.”

A hard ball replaced my stomach. My injuries
ached with a fierceness that reminded me of the moments after the
horse tossed me. It took every bit of willpower I possessed to keep
from crying. Just when everyone needed to work the hardest, my
injuries forced one of my brothers to watch me. I chewed my lip to
hold back tears. We had much bigger worries with three people so
sick. There was no doctor closer than a three-day ride.

Ma can fix this. I gotta stop thinking about
doctors.

A horse snorted outside the window.

“Peter, we're home,” Bart said. “Don't go
running off.”

I slid off the bed, and Mark scowled.

“Don't even think about it.”

Holy heck! This has to stop.
I
fumed.

Everyone else bustled to and fro. They all
had important jobs.

Charles walked the horses past the open
window. I could have helped him, if I hadn't been daydreaming. Bart
hurried up the stairs with two baskets, one brimming with eggs and
the other full of long black sticks that had cracks in them. That
chore should have been mine, if I hadn't messed up.

“Pa, you just have to take a few more
steps.”

Adam's deep rumble frightened me. His
normally reassuring voice sounded worried.

“Louisa okay?” Pa's words slurred
together.

Fear pushed me to my feet, and I regretted it
immediately. The room tilted at a crazy angle, and then everything
bobbed up and down. Mark leapt across the floor and shoved me back
onto the bed.

“Darn it, Abby,” he shouted. “Ma's too busy
to mess with a stubborn child. Do I have to tie you down?”

“Quit treating me like a baby!” Tears spilled
out of my eyes.

I wasn't crying because Mark had yelled at
me. it was silly to think I'd feel sorry for myself. Everything
about this situation scared me so bad the tears just came out on
their own. And it felt very familiar, but I couldn't figure out
why.

The dreams I'd had since the accident might
have provided a clue, but they were fuzzy, almost impossible to
remember.

“Then stop acting like one.” Mark shook his
head. “Quit crying. That never solves anything.”

He paced around the room. Every time he
passed the door, he poked his head out and asked one of the others
for an update. No one said much, and he never enlightened me. About
an hour later, the smell of charcoal drifted through the house.

“Ugh!” I wrinkled my nose. “Why that?”

“Ma's not sure what made them sick. We heard
smallpox had come up at one of the camps where the Army's holding
the Paiute who raided the stations. She's not taking any chances.
Darn it, Abby, why did you have to mess up?” He fixed an angry
glare on me.

Holy heck! This is the limit. I'm not sick,
just hurting. Well, I'll show the lot of them. It's time to get up.
Ma needs my help.

I scrambled off the bed.

“Get me a dress and my petticoats. The lot of
you won't insult me anymore.”

He started for me, but I pointed at the door
and tapped a foot, much as I had seen Ma do whenever someone didn't
jump fast enough to suit her. Mark bolted out of the room.

“Abigail won't get back in bed. She told me
to bring her a dress and her petticoats!” he shouted.

“Then do it,” Ma called. “I'll need help with
meals.”

For the first time since the horse sent me
flying, everyone had quit telling me what to do. I giggled.

“Bring me the yellow dress,” I called. “And
hurry.”

“Close off that sass,” Ma commented as she
trotted toward the porch.

After Mark brought my clothes, I made him
turn around because he refused to leave me alone. It turned out for
the best. My fingers cooperated, but my arms hurt too much to
button up my dress.

“Uh, Mark, could you ... uh, my dress, it's a
bit hard to do up.”

“Turn around,” he said.

Gently holding the fabric away from my
chemise, he slipped the buttons through the holes. Once finished,
he pulled me into a hug.

“Darn it, kiddo, don't ever do something so
stupid again. Pa will holler at you day and night when he hears
about this.”

Snaking my arms around his neck, I held onto
him for a long time.

“I won't,” I promised. “I'm sorry I scared
you.”

He helped me walk to the kitchen and insisted
on getting my boots and stockings before I started work. The woolen
socks went on fine, but the boots proved troublesome. Bending over
to hook them was too painful.

“You should still be in bed,” He grumbled as
he took care of my boots. “I'd hold you there myself if Pa and the
troublemakers weren't so sick.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Adam said from the
door.

He and the rest of my brothers crowded into
the kitchen. Except for Peter and Paul, and that seemed very
strange.

“Abby, you're not to lift anything heavy or
stoke the stove,” Adam said. “Ma's orders. Mark, you stay in here.
Bart, you're in charge of the stock, the chickens, and the
vegetable garden. Charles, you're with me.

“What will we do?” Charles asked.

“There's still the contract to meet,” Adam
said. “Did Pa say when they expected the next delivery?”

That didn't make a lick of sense, and I
almost embarrassed myself by telling Adam the contract could wait.
Then I remembered what Pa had said after signing it. The contract
meant he gave his word to do the job, and a man's word was
something a person never went back on.

“Two to three weeks,” Charles said. “Man from
Russell, Majors, & Waddel told him we should bring the next
delivery to the first station on our route. The Army's sending a
cavalry troop to clear out the rest of the Paiute.” He sighed.
“They want twice as many horses as normal this time. The Indians
destroyed a bunch of stations. They killed the keepers and took the
stock.”