True Sisters (31 page)

She and John prepared Catherine for burial, but there was little to it, because they could spare no blanket for a shroud. John carried the body to the place where the dead were laid out, already six of them. Anne followed him, weeping, bowed down with as much grief as she had felt when Samuel died, but this time, there was no friend to comfort her. The family stood there, looking down at the body, Lucy in her father’s arms, Joe with his cap in his hand, for he thought of the old woman as a grandmother.

“And what of your faith today, Anne?” John asked now as they pulled their handcart through the snow.

His wife pushed her shawl away from her mouth. “My faith in Him remains strong,” she replied, then turning her eyes upward to the falling snow, she added, “My faith in some of His decisions is less firm.”

“Why, you would question His sending us this snow?” John asked, grinning at his wife and placing his hand over hers on the crosspiece of the cart. It was not often in the past few weeks that they had found something that amused them.

“The snow, no. I question that He did not think to put a railroad in this place.”

“I suppose He can’t be expected to consider everything.”

“Is He not omnipotent?”

The leaders would not have liked the little joke, Anne thought, but they would never know, and if they did, she did not care. She looked over at her husband and, observing the way the two of them pulled the cart in tandem, thought they had become one again, no longer two separate persons at odds with each other, but a couple whose purpose linked them together. Then suddenly, John let go of the crosspiece of the cart and embraced Anne. “No man ever had such a wife,” he said, and kissed her full on the mouth.

*   *   *

That day, November 4, was the worst one Louisa had yet encountered. They had been exposed to the snow and cold for more than two weeks, and the previous day, the drifts had been so bad, the bitter wind so strong, the temperature so far below zero that they had not moved from the camp at Devil’s Gate. A rescuer told her the company could not stay there any longer, and late in the morning, when the weather let up, the emigrants began to move. The captain of the rescue company felt their salvation depended on traveling a little each day, so Louisa and her mother set out once more with their handcart. There was a cove just three miles away where they could be sheltered, but to reach it, they would have to cross the Sweetwater River. Earlier in their journey, Louisa would have thought little about such a crossing. After all, they had waded a dozen such streams. But they had never crossed a river in such cold, and this would be the most difficult crossing of all.

Louisa had heard rumors that the handcarts were to be discarded and all would be taken up in the wagons, but to her disappointment, there was not enough room in the wagons the rescuers had brought for all who needed to ride across the river, and it would take too long for the wagons to cross, double back, then cross again—and again. The elders established a priority: the sick and elderly, the children and widows first, then the men, if there were places left.

Louisa begged for a spot on one of the wagons for her mother, Margaret, who, after all, was both old and a widow, but too many others were deemed in worse condition. “I can walk,” the old woman insisted, as she had since the beginning of the journey, when Thales had suggested she was an idler.

“She can’t. It is too much for her,” Louisa told Thales.

“Then she can ride on top of our cart, and I’ll pull her.”

“She’s too heavy. We can barely push the cart as it is.”

“I will do as I say.” Theirs was one of the stronger carts, made with a canvas top, and Thales settled the old woman on top of their possessions, where the canopy would keep the snow off her.

We will all find the strength to push the cart, Louisa thought. There were just the three of them now. The rest of her family—her father, her sister Huldah, and her nephews, Jimmy and Dick—were gone. Louisa wondered if those few remaining would make it to the valley—the three still living, plus the baby she carried. It might die if it were born in a camp, and so might she. She worried about how Thales would take her death. His belief in the church had already been tested with so many other deaths. And how would she go on if Thales died? She pushed the thoughts from her mind, because they were in God’s hands. She prayed to the Almighty to protect them, then wondered if that did any good. After all, her prayers hadn’t helped the others.

She stopped her cart to let the wagons go ahead, trampling the snow to make it easier for the converts following behind to pull their carts. The river was not far, but the temperature was more than ten degrees below zero, and the emigrants were weaker than they’d ever been, so the first of them did not reach the Sweetwater until midafternoon. Louisa watched as the wagons, filled with those who were fortunate enough to ride, crossed the river first, breaking through the thin crust of ice that had formed on the water, while the emigrants who walked behind stood on the slippery banks, looking out across the river, mustering the courage to step into the freezing water. The ford was perhaps a hundred feet wide, although Louisa could see from where the water came on the wagon wheels that it was not more than two feet deep. She watched the first emigrants push into the water, where the soft mud of the riverbed sucked at their feet and the cart wheels, and freezing water stung their bodies. Chunks of ice swept down the river, their sharp edges piercing the legs of the Saints, tearing the bare skin and bloodying the water. She stood on the bank, readying herself for their turn, for as cold as the day was, the water would be colder. She tucked up her skirts to keep the current from dragging them down.

Thales, who had been helping the other emigrants, came up to the cart and asked, “Are you ready?” Louisa dipped her chin, too weary even to reply, and Thales stepped off into the water, his wife behind him, holding her breath in anticipation of the cold. She gasped as she felt the water on her legs, and bit her lip but did not cry out. Gathering all their strength, Thales and Louisa moved as quickly as they could before the water numbed their feet. They were more than halfway to the opposite bank, Louisa thinking how lucky they were to cross without mishap, when the cart tipped, flinging Margaret into the water.

Louisa grabbed her mother but she could not lift the old lady back into the cart, and Thales would not let go of the vehicle, for fear it would be swept down the river. “I’ll drag her to the riverbank,” Louisa said as she tried to maneuver her mother through the water.

But as she started forward, a man ordered, “Hold on to her while I help right the cart.” He went to the back of the vehicle, and he and Thales rocked it loose from the rocks that had caught a wheel. “You push, Sister,” he told Louisa. “I’ll fetch the old woman across.” Without the burden of Margaret, the cart moved easily then, and in a few minutes, Thales and Louisa gained the bank, where Margaret sat, shaking from the cold and wringing out her skirts.

Thales said, “We thank you, Brother—” then stopped abruptly. “Brother Thomas!”

Thomas stared blankly, and Thales said, “You don’t know me, your old friend Thales Tanner? I am so much a skeleton that even my oldest friends don’t recognize me.”

“Heaven’s mercy, Thales, is it you?” Thomas grasped the other man’s hands between his own. When Thales assured him it was, Thomas added, “You are enough to astonish a man. You were looking better the last time we met.”

“As were we all. It’s been a devilish trip, one to try the faith of all, myself included.”

“Then it must have been a difficult time indeed.”

“I’m grateful to you. These are Margaret and Louisa, my wife.”

“You married in England?”

Thales nodded.

“Both wives?” Thomas asked.

Thales looked uncomfortable. “Only Louisa. Margaret is her mother.”

Louisa tried to courtesy, but her wet skirts threw her off balance, and it was all she could do to keep upright.

“Two would be one too many to bring. Our enemies would make much of it,” Thomas said, then added quietly to Thales, although Louisa heard, “I am discovering two may be too much anyway.” He bowed a little to the women and said he must return to the river, that there were other Saints who needed help.

“I’ll go with you,” Thales told him.

Louisa touched his arm, while Thomas looked at him uncertainly, “Are you up to it?”

“These are my hundred, what’s left of them. I must see them through.”

“But you are in as poor a shape as any of them.”

“I do not know why God has made them such cruel sufferers. We promised them the Lord would protect them, and look at this. It’s an abomination.” Thales gestured at the river, which was filled with struggling emigrants. “Perhaps the Lord should have told them to stay the winter in Iowa. I must help them across.”

“You could die,” Louisa said.

“She’s right,” Thomas told him.

“Not likely. I’m not good enough to die.”

“You have changed,” Thomas observed.

*   *   *

The only thing that kept Jessie going on that terrible journey from Devil’s Gate to the cove was the knowledge that Ephraim, Emeline, and Maud would not make it if she failed. She had never been so defeated. If she could have, she would have lain down and let the snow, so white and pure, cover her like a fresh-washed sheet. She had heard it said that when you froze to death, you felt warm, and the idea of resting eternally under that white warmth tempted her. But she knew she had to keep moving. Emeline, sick as she was with fever, could barely push, and Maud and Ephraim were no help with the cart. They stumbled as they followed behind.

“The river. At last, the river,” Emeline said. She had been pushing the cart with her head down and had not seen the Sweetwater until Jessie stopped on its banks and grasped her shawl to fling off the snow that had accumulated on it. The wind blew the snow sideways, and the flakes hit her neck like particles of glass. As she watched the ice in the river sweep past her, Jessie did not share the girl’s joy. They would have to cross that cold swath, and Jessie wondered if they had the strength for it.

Ephraim came up beside her, and Jessie could sense his dejection as he looked out at the Saints who were struggling in the river. They watched as a cart tipped over, spilling its contents, the couple propelling it reaching out to save their few belongings, but the items were swept away. The man stared dumbly as tin plates swirled in the water and disappeared, but the woman pulled her limp bonnet over her face, perhaps so that no one would see her tears. One of the rescuers waded through the water to the couple and helped them to the far shore.

As he watched them, Ephraim swayed a little and grasped the Cooper cart to keep from tumbling into the river. Then he looked down at the water lapping at his feet and asked, “Have we got to go through it?”

“It’s not so deep. Look to the center of the river. The water comes only halfway up the cart wheels,” Jessie told him.

Ephraim shook his head. He shivered with the cold and turned to his sister, his eyes feverish. “I can’t. I can’t go it.”

“You’ll make it. You’ve come so far.”

“I can’t. It’s too much.”

“Then I’ll carry you across,” Emeline said, coming up beside him and taking hold of his remaining hand.

He began to cry at that, and turning to Jessie, he said, “Look what I’ve come to. I left England a man, and a whole man at that. Now I’m not but a one-armed sniveling brat. I’m so weak, a girl can carry me across the river.”

“No need of that, Brother Ephraim,” a man said, and they turned to find Thales Tanner beside them. His clothes were wet and his face and hands were frosted. He nodded at Jessie then and said, “Sister, you have come a long way.”

“Thanks to you,” she replied. Her voice was dull with blame.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you hated me. Some do, you know. But don’t hate God. It was men, not the Lord, who brought us to this state.”

“My faith in Him is strong. I am yet a good Saint. It is my faith in missionaries that falls short.”

“With good reason.” He added quickly, “If your brother will climb onto the cart and you and the others will push, we can cross quickly. It is cold, but the water is not so strong as the North Platte.”

“I can push,” Jessie insisted, but as she took a step forward, she fell, exhausted, and could not get up.

“You look as if you could not push an ounce,” Thales said. “You’ll ride on the top of the cart with your brother.”

“You can’t push two of us. Besides, it’s a temporary spell. I’ll rest a moment and cross on my own.” The idea of lying in the snow and letting the flakes cover her tempted Jessie once again. She would not give up but would rest for a little while.

“No, that is too dangerous. You might not rise at all if we allowed that,” Thomas said. She did not know how long he had been standing behind her.

“This is an old friend from the valley, one of the rescuers, Brother Thomas,” Thales said.

“We have met. I am Thomas Savage.”

Jessie glanced at him sharply. “I have a relative, Rebecca Savage. Are you—”

“Her husband. So that’s who you are! I’ve been hoping to find you. We are cousins of a sort,” Thomas said. “She is so anxious to see you that she would have come along on the rescue if I’d let her.” He turned back to Thales. “If you’ll go ahead with the cart, Brother, I’ll carry Sister Jessie across.”

She started to protest. After all, Emeline was sick, too, but Thales told her, “There is no dishonor in being weak.”

“In body or in spirit?” Jessie asked.

Thales did not reply. Instead, he started into the river.

“Are you ready, Sister?” Thomas asked.

“I would rest a moment.”

“You haven’t eaten much more than broth made from boiled leather, I’ll wager. Not a nourishing meal.”

“Nor a tempting one. I wouldn’t feed the hogs at home what has kept us alive these last days. I never thought to envy pigs.”

“You have lived on a farm, Rebecca says. Have you found a farmer on this trip who would suit you as a husband?”

“My one brother is dead. The other, as you see yourself, fares poorly. And I have the care of Maud and Emeline,” she said by way of reply