Cassandra Austin - Trusting Sarah

“You missin’ somethin’?”

Sarah jumped, almost knocking over the trunk. She steadied it as Eli climbed into the back of the wagon. His body blocked the light that came through the back flap. She turned up the wick on the lantern with an unsteady hand.

“No,” she answered him. “I was just trying to decide on something.”

“Didn’t mean to spy, but ya looked like ya’d lost somethin’.” Eli sat on a crate and showed no sign of going away.

Sarah considered a moment and decided the truth might bore him into leaving. “I was looking for something to use to make a doll dress.”

Eli grunted, and Sarah waited for the muttering to start. “Won’t need much to fit that shabby little doll ya was practicin’ surg’ry on yesterday.”

Sarah almost smiled. “That’s the one,” she said. She didn’t look at him but carefully smoothed her pieces as she packed them back into the trunk.

“Pete had a couple extra shirts.”

Sarah stared at him in surprise. He was scratching his whiskered chin. “One was kind of a bluelike gray color. Almost new, I think, when he tore it up some. Oughta work.” He got up and moved some boxes, looking for Milburn’s personal trunk.

There was barely enough room in the wagon for the two of them and all the things that were stored there. Sarah moved to the back and pulled the flap open further. She hoped Eli would think she was trying to give him more light. The last thing she wanted was him asking why the enclosed wagon made her so uncomfortable.

Eli found the trunk and opened it. “Got to go through all this stuff, anyhow. Guess it’s Rice’s now, but he won’t miss the shirt.” He found what he was looking for and closed the trunk, carrying the shirt to Sarah. As he handed it to her, he asked in a lowered voice, “Where’d you know River from?”

Sarah was so startled she was sure she jumped again. “I...I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammered.

They heard Rice’s voice and River’s laugh. In a few seconds they would be at the fire. She clutched the shirt and wondered if its price was information.

After watching her a moment, Eli said, “Don’t matter,” and climbed out of the wagon.

Sarah stayed behind, closing her trunk and putting the shirt and her sewing box where she could get to them easily. Last, she blew out the lantern and, hoping she looked calmer than she felt, left the wagon.

The others had already filled their plates, and Sarah did the same, looking for a place to sit away from them. She needed time to think, to decide what to do about Eli.

“Sit here, Miss Sarah,” Rice called, and she had no choice but to sit near him, near River.

“River said he didn’t see no sign of Indians today, did you, River?”

Sarah tried to give the boy her full attention without looking at River. She heard River’s negative response and looked quickly at her plate.

“But we might see some Pawnee anytime,” Rice added, making sure Sarah knew he had his facts straight.

“Could.” There was humor in the familiar voice, and Sarah couldn’t resist looking up to see the face. He was trying not to smile as he continued to eat his meal, but there was merriment in his eyes as he gave the boy a sidelong glance. “You been scaring Miss Sarah with Indian stories?”

His eyes met Sarah’s, and she held them for a moment before she turned to Rice, pretending her heart wasn’t beating alarmingly fast. Were those blue eyes alone enough to cause it? Or was it fear that sent her pulse racing? Even now, she was sure Eli watched her.

“I told Miss Sarah there wouldn’t likely be trouble but we are in Pawnee territory.”

“It’s Pawnee territory as long as they can keep it,” Eli put in. “There’s gonna be more folks who ain’t satisfied to just pass through. Like that Hollenberg fella.”

River chewed his food thoughtfully. “Now, some folks would say that anybody who can manage to take it from the Indians has a right to it. Maybe our Miss Sarah, here, would agree with that.”

Sarah looked up to see the blue eyes on her, all humor in them gone. She heard Eli grunt; he didn’t expect an answer. But River did. They both knew he wasn’t talking about Indian land. Did he think she would offer some excuse in front of all these people? An admission of guilt? An apology? She felt her face turn red with anger. It took an effort to pull her eyes away from his piercing gaze.

“Excuse me,” she murmured. She rose and carried her plate to the lead wagon. She didn’t want to go back and sit with the others; she needed a little time alone. Slowly she stepped around the wagon, letting it block the firelight. The prairie was lit by the sunset’s pale afterglow. The air away from the fire was crisp and clear. She let it cool her burning cheeks.

River watched Sarah leave the camp. He felt a twinge of guilt and fought against it. She had made herself so damn comfortable with Eli and Rice that he felt like an outsider. He couldn’t resist the opportunity to remind her that he knew who she really was.

Still, it could be dangerous to wander away from the wagons. He took his plate to the back of the wagon and looked for Sarah without appearing to, he hoped. She was standing a short distance away, looking at the stars.

He grabbed his saddlebags and walked back to the firelight, choosing a different seat, one where he could see Sarah through the gap between the wagons. “Rice, let me see your hat,” he said.

“What for, River?” Rice asked. The anticipation in the youth’s eyes told River he could make a guess, however.

“Well,” River began as he lifted an odd bundle from his bag, “you know the doctor’s wife, Prudence? She was stomping around the camp one night when she let out this horrible scream.”

“A snake,” Rice whispered, watching as the cured skin appeared from River’s bundle. River handed him the rattle and he rolled it in his fingers reverently.

River glanced at Sarah once more before he began folding the skin to hatband width. “I didn’t know it was a snake at first. I was just glad she wasn’t screaming at me. When she paused for a breath, we heard the rattle. I didn’t think she was going to stand still for more than a second or two. In fact there was real danger that she’d faint away right on top of the snake. Hold this.” He handed the hat to Rice while he searched his bag for his sewing kit. He glanced toward the wagons. Sarah had moved.

For a moment he was torn between finishing Rice’s hat and going after Sarah. He told himself he was being ridiculous. There were things a person needed privacy to do; he couldn’t go crashing after her.

“What happened?” Rice asked, drawing his attention.

River cut a length of heavy thread and threaded it on a needle before he spoke. “I decided speed was the most important thing under the circumstances, and I jumped right on the snake.”

“Wrestled with it for nigh on an hour, I suppose,” Eli interjected. The other two ignored him.

“My boot heel came down just behind its head. I grabbed my knife and...” He made a slicing motion with his hand.

“Did Mrs. Carroll faint?” Rice asked.

“Nah,” River said. They read each other’s disappointment and laughed.

River looked up in time to see Sarah step over the wagon tongue. She hadn’t made any sound that he could identify. It was as though he had felt her return. He was much more relieved to see her than he wanted to admit.

Rice drew his attention back to his project by rattling the tail. River took several lengths of the thread and fastened one end to the seam at the back of the hatband. As Rice handed him the rattle, he spoke again. “I thought Ernest might faint when he saw me skinning the snake. He thought I planned to eat it, at first. Seems he’d seen my hatband but had never recognized it for what it was.”