Karina Halle - Donners of the Dead

What’s out there?

I suppressed the shiver that threatened my backbone and tried to ignore my mother’s words. Still, the only reason we knew about the Donners and their respective parties on the wagon train was because they were eventually rescued, and by people out west of the mountains. California. According to Isaac, George Clark would have come from the east. And why would Clark set out after them in the first place if they’d already been rescued? I filed that thought away for later.

We rode until dinnertime when Tim told Jake that the “hired help”—meaning Avery, Donna, and I—looked famished. We tied the mule up to a pine and let the rest of the horses graze loose in a field of brown grass while Avery showed off his fishing skills by catching some trout in the Truckee with nothing but a homemade fishing pole.

Though it felt good to be off the horses, we didn’t stay for long. We fried up the fish over a small fire, filled our canteens with the clear, cold river water, and then continued on our way. Tim wanted us to ride as far as we could while we still had the afternoon. Supper would most likely be had in the dark of the looming woods with some of the jackrabbits that Jake casually picked off with his revolver from time to time. He really was a good shot, shooting the animals that even I could barely spot, their tanned hides matching the dry ground.

I barely had a chance to talk to Avery and Donna while we ate, but they seemed to be in good spirits. Avery had enjoyed a tall tale competition with the inventive Meeks, while Donna never stopped remarking on the beauty of the day and God’s blessing. Her talk of the Lord started to annoy a few of the men like Hank and Isaac, but I enjoyed listening to the sing-song quality of her voice, even if my religious views weren’t as strong as hers. I guess like the true half-breed I was, my own beliefs combined Christianity with the spirits and stories of my father’s people.

Everything was fine until an hour or two before dusk, when we entered the forest and began the gradual ascent up the foothills. Having the tall trees block out the dying sun and periwinkle sky made me feel hot under my collar, like I couldn’t breathe and the woods were out to suffocate me. I fell very quiet, no longer listening to Tim’s stories about his time in the Foreign Legion, and instead doubting myself for coming along. Strange how easily I flipped to one side, but I couldn’t quite ignore that terrible feeling that something bad was going to happen.

You’re probably blaming it on the muskrats , I thought to myself. A week ago I’d gone for a ride with Avery and came across a muskrat den close to Lake Bigler. My father had taught me to predict the winter by the thickness of the muskrat’s walls. I couldn’t really tell if the walls were thick or not, but it was a large den and planted that tiny seed of doubt that this could be a tough winter after all.

We eventually stopped in a small clearing by a stream just before night plunged us all into darkness. I helped Donna unsaddle the horses, feed them, and hitch them up for the night, while the men built quick lean-to shelters out of fallen logs, branches, and neighboring boulders. For a troop that appeared to pack so light they hadn’t needed a pack mule until now, I was impressed at the amount of items they had with them. Canvas tarps, muslin sheets, even pillowcases they quickly stuffed with foliage all emerged from their oilskin satchels. Soon, we had a temporary camp complete with shelter, roaring fire, and jackrabbits roasting over a spit.

It turned out that Jake was not only the resident hunter but the resident cook as well. Just as he had handled the trout, he was roasting the rabbits to perfection and boiling beans with pork fat until the mouth-watering smell was overtaking the camp. Donna even looked a bit put out as she sat beside Avery and me on a felled log, having assumed that she would have been the “wife” of the camp, I’m sure.

Tim must have caught me staring because he said, “Jake’s been keeping us well-fed most of the journey, though the deserts were mighty tough on us. You can expect him to take care of the party now that we’re back into fresh game.” He uncorked a bottle of what looked like moonshine and passed it over to Avery. “It would make me happy if you had some.”

Avery took the bottle and a huge swig, nearly coughing most of it up. The men laughed and even I couldn’t help but smile at how terribly enthusiastic he had been. Then he passed the bottle to me.

“A lady of God doesn’t drink,” Donna said, her voice chirping loudly like a bird.

I felt the eyes of all the men on me and Avery looked bug-eyed as he held the bottle out, second-guessing his hospitality.

But I took the bottle from him, looked Donna in the eyes, and said with a dry smile, “Then it’s a good thing I’m not a lady.”

I took a small swig, fully prepared for the burn. I’d had alcohol from time to time, usually Uncle Pat’s whisky that Avery and I used to pilfer from his hiding place in the barn on lonely nights. I managed to keep it down, though I was sure it belonged in a nurse’s kit and not in someone’s stomach, and neatly wiped my mouth. I could feel Donna staring at me in shock and Meeks let out a hearty clap.

“Seems like you got the right tracker, right Tim?” he hooted.

Well, I guess that might have earned me a smidge of respect among them, though I was sure Donna was quickly working out all the ways she could save me from damnation. As a joke I passed the bottle to her to which she staunchly refused and then handed it to back to Tim.

He raised the bottle to me. “There’s no greater woman than a woman that can hold her liquor.” Then he let out a grizzled old laugh.

That was most likely a Texas saying, but I took a strange pride from it anyway.

Everything was pretty upbeat and cheery after that. The jackrabbit tasted delightful and eased my aching stomach which wasn’t used to riding for so long. The fire was hot and bright, making the shadows of the dark forest look far away, and Tim had brought out his harmonica and began playing us a lively tune. If I stretched my mind for a second, I could have believed I was on a trip with a bunch of old friends and not strangers hell-bent on finding a hopeless search party.

Pretty soon, we all wound down for the night. The men had been kind enough to build a separate lean-to for Donna and me, complete with our own fire. From where our blankets were lain down on the soil, soft with pine needles, we looked straight off into the night, as if there were only two of us there. Though I loved my privacy, there was something a bit unsettling about not being able to see the men and their fire. I hoped Avery would have stayed with us, but I supposed that Donna wouldn’t have allowed something so scandalous anyway.

With the chill of night creeping along my bare flesh, I quickly got undressed and into my flannel undergarments and nightgown, and huddled under the layers of buckskin and animal hides. It was strange to have Donna sleeping right under the blankets beside me, even though she was keeping to herself and reciting the Lord’s Prayer over and over again. Somehow, that made me feel alone.

I must have dozed off for a solid amount of time because when I came to, our fire had dwindled down to small, crackling flames and the darkness had crept in. But that wasn’t the reason I was awake.

I rolled onto my back, my nose exposed outside the blankets and growing cold as I breathed in deeply. There was a strange scent around us, like the smell of rotting flesh and something else I couldn’t quite pinpoint. I lay there, listening to Donna’s heavy breathing and wondering if that was the odd, sickly smell that had awoken me, when I heard Sadie whine softly, followed by the stamping of hooves.