Cassandra Austin - Trusting Sarah

The interior of the wagon seemed dim and gray. There were boxes and crates neatly stacked and a canvas cover overhead. The canvas was equipped with pucker strings that could close the ends completely. She moved forward in the wagon and loosened the strings as much as possible.

Finding her trunk in the settling darkness, she removed her little jewelry box and let her fingers trace the flower carved in the walnut surface. This was her most treasured possession, a gift from Daniel years ago. Disgusted with herself for becoming melancholy, she opened the box and dropped the hairpins in as she removed them from her hair. She needed to separate the happy memories from the sad, she decided, or not think about Daniel at all.

Her blankets spread on the floor between the piles of crates, Sarah listened to the sounds outside, trying to let the soft voices reassure her. She willed herself to relax on her hard bed but found herself gripping the blankets so tightly her fingers hurt. The images that intruded were too vivid. Knowing them for what they were made little difference. She crawled to the rear of the wagon and breathed in the fresh cool air.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, but the camp grew still, and the fires died. Quietly, afraid of disturbing the others, she took her blankets a short distance from the wagons. The ground was no harder than the wagon, and the stars overhead brought her a peace the gray wagon had not.

* * *

Activity in the camp awakened her. Though it was still dark, men were bringing in teams and meals were being prepared. Their own fire had been rekindled, and Eli hovered near it. She stretched stiff muscles and, gathering up her blankets, hurried to put them away and tend to herself.

When she returned, Eli eyed her sourly. “Ain’t much left for ya to do.”

Sarah wondered if he had let her sleep in order to confirm his own assessment of her. Breakfast did seem to be nearly ready. A coffeepot sat on a grate above the fire, and Eli held the long handle of a skillet in which bacon hissed and crackled.

After setting out the tin plates and cups, she moved near the fire, letting its warmth ease the morning chill. Breathing in the smell of wood smoke, bacon and brewing coffee, she felt an unexpected sense of freedom. She wished she had Rice’s lack of inhibitions and could throw back her head and whoop. She could imagine what Eli would think of her then.

Rice brought the teams in, and Milburn came to help hitch them up. Sarah wondered if she should offer to help or take over the breakfast so Eli could. She wished someone would tell her what she was expected to do. Questions formed in her mind, but Eli’s closed expression kept them there.

When Milburn and Rice came to the fire, Eli served their breakfast. “Can Miss Sarah ride with me?” Rice asked, passing his plate for more.

Milburn laughed. “I imagine Eli wants to talk to her about her duties, Rice. Maybe another day.”

Sarah glanced from Rice’s frown to Eli’s scowl and felt as bad as Rice. She tried to be more careful not to show it.

It was more than an hour, however, before she had to climb onto the wagon seat with Eli. Milburn called a meeting to explain the route by army road to Fort Kearny and announce the order of wagons, describing the rotation system that would keep any one person from always having the dusty rear position.

He introduced the Reverend Fleenor, a young man with an unruly shock of dark hair who invited everyone to worship services on Sundays.

“Hold on a minute!” A hard-faced, stocky man pushed his way through the crowd. “I don’t got time to waste while the Reverend prays for our souls. I say we move as far and fast as we can.”

There was a murmur in the crowd, of assent or dissent, it was hard to tell. Milburn raised his hand. “We’ll avoid longer delays if we keep wagons and harnesses in good condition. Besides, both man and beast need rest. We’ll stop on Sundays if we can.”

The authority in his voice made the man back down. Sarah watched him join two other hard cases. The youngest sported a black eye. From a brawl, she imagined.

Finally, Eli helped Sarah onto the lead wagon. He seated himself beside her and waited. It wasn’t long before Milburn waved his hat in the air. Eli hollered at the oxen, cracking a whip above their backs, and the wagon moved forward.

Off to their right, another train was preparing to pull out. A lone wagon was already ahead of them. Sarah breathed deeply, taking in the crisp spring morning. Birds were singing, and an occasional wildflower peeked among the prairie grasses.

She was leaving the states behind. Leaning out the wagon to look behind them, she could see Fort Leavenworth, with its flag catching the breeze, and the town across the river. There were clusters of wagons still behind them and thirty-six wagons following Milburn into the unknown.

“Ya wishin’ ya’d stayed back there?” Eli asked.

“No. I just want to remember.”

Eli glanced at the pretty face and frowned. In spite of himself, he was curious. Why was she going west, and how did she come to be all alone? The way women liked to talk, he’d bet his back teeth he’d know all about it by the end of the day.

As the sun rose higher, Sarah donned the sunbonnet she had been holding in her lap. It restricted her view but protected her skin and hair from the relentless rays. It also, she discovered, offered some protection from Eli’s curious glances.

At midday, Milburn signaled for a stop. Eli angled his wagon off the main track, and Rice pulled his up beside it. The others did the same. They ate a cold meal, checked stock and harnesses and were on their way again in less than an hour.

Back in the wagon seat, Sarah wondered if she should ask Eli about her duties. She was afraid he would tell her she was useless. She was planning her defense when he broke the silence. “Sarie, what do ya ‘spect Pete hired ya for?”

She decided not to answer directly. “I intend to earn my keep, but I’ll have to be told what to do.”

Eli grunted. “Ya think ya know how to take orders, huh?”

It sounded more like a challenge than a question. She couldn’t imagine anything he could tell her to do that would bother her, except handle the oxen. Their yokes and harnesses looked too complicated to ever understand, and the beasts themselves seemed enormous. Eli watched her, probably taking her silence as hesitation. “Try giving a few orders, sir,” she said.

Her answer seemed to satisfy him; at least he said nothing more. Sarah was free to enjoy the countryside and think about her future. But the future was too uncertain, and the past always hovered in her mind.

The past seemed to consist only of Daniel Harrison. She wondered how six years had changed him. No one back home would tell her where he had gone, but then few had been willing to tell her much of anything. Her former jailer had had some information, even some newspapers, but had been quiet about Daniel. That was probably the way his family wanted it.

She guessed he was doing well. With his father’s money it would be hard not to. Perhaps he was running a branch store or had found something else to interest him, with Papa’s approval.

She watched storm clouds gather in the southwest, their changing shapes fascinating her. They rolled over one another much as her own memories did. Soon they would become too full of anger and pain to hold it inside any longer.

She quickly shook off the illusion. She couldn’t start to cry now, not while she sat beside Eli!

Near a deep ravine where a spring-fed creek watered a stand of cottonwoods, Milburn gave the signal to stop. Eli turned his team in a wide arc and pulled up behind the last wagon, turning again at the last moment to put the oxen outside the circle.