Cassandra Austin - Trusting Sarah

“We’re from Tennessee,” she began. “We’re moving west because Tom’s afraid there’s going to be a war. Tom says with the three babies, and one more on the way...” She stopped working long enough to pat her damp waist with an even damper hand. A dreamy smile formed on her face before she continued, “Tom didn’t want to risk leaving us alone if he had to fight.”

“Surely they wouldn’t take young fathers.” Sarah had heard talk, but it had seemed far away from her and her own problems.

“To tell you the truth,” Martha confided, “he’s wanted to go west for a long time. Now he can say he’s protecting his family instead of endangering us with the trip.”

The two women finished their washing and walked back to the camp together. Sarah imagined Eli waiting to pounce on her, having spent her absence thinking of new ways to upset her.

“Got a string twixt the wagons for the clothes,” Eli said.

Sarah eyed him suspiciously; he sounded almost pleasant.

“The hunters came in whilst ya was gone,” he said. “Got us a big chunk of deer to roast for dinner.”

Sarah offered no reply.

Around the circle, several wood-burning stoves had been unloaded. Their owners were doing a brisk business renting them to travelers who hadn’t brought their own. Eli, however, was baking his bread in a Dutch oven in the fire. “I’ve seen a lot a stoves just like ‘em,” he said when he noticed what Sarah was watching. “Most was lying along the trail farther west.”

The recollection made Eli happy. When he smiled, his face looked like the cracked leather cover on her grandmother’s Bible. What would Eli think of that image? she wondered.

Secretly, she thought the stoves would come in handy when the families built their new homes. She kept quiet while she helped Eli rig the spit for the venison, peeled potatoes and sliced a loaf of the fresh bread. She was glad when she saw Milburn and Rice coming.

Rice found a place to sit near the wagon. His hair was mussed more than usual. He had a smear of axle grease on his cheek and another on his shirt, which Sarah realized she would be expected to wash out. “That smells good, Eli,” he said.

“Ya think any food smells good,” Eli grumbled.

Rice turned to Sarah. “If River’d been here last night, he wouldn’t’a let that Gaines fella walk you home.”

“Now, it’s none of yer affair who walks Sarie anywheres, boy,” Eli scolded.

Rice continued as if he hadn’t heard. “Me and Mr. Milburn helped everybody check their wagons, and Gaines didn’t let us check his. He—”

“Ya needn’t tell everything that happens,” Eli interrupted.

“Aw, the boy’s not talking to you,” Milburn said. “Rice saw Sarah and Gaines last night, and he wants to tell her what he knows about him.”

“I guess I don’t like him much myself,” Eli conceded.

“River wouldn’t like him, either, Eli,” Rice insisted. “He’s mean and grumpy, and he called me a `no-account boy.’”

Eli took a thin knife and tested the potatoes. “I call ya a no-account boy all the time.”

“But he ain’t got no right to,” Rice said reasonably.

Milburn laughed. “Go wash your face, boy.”

“Yes, sir.” Rice cast Sarah a questioning look. She gave him her most reassuring smile and was rewarded with a grin.

Milburn took off his hat and rubbed his sleeve across his forehead. “I best join Rice and get cleaned up for supper.”

Eli was watching Rice walk toward the creek. “Funny to see that kid wantin’ to look after somebody else, ain’t it, Pete?”

Milburn studied Eli for a long moment. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Eli. You’re almost cheerful. Did you find someone willing to fight with you all day?”

“Oh, just get outta here.” Eli threatened Milburn with the knife. He glanced at Sarah before becoming busy at the fire.

* * *

Five days later, the wagons stopped at a clear stream some sixty yards wide, by far the largest they had crossed. “That’s the Big Blue,” Rice told Sarah. He had proudly shared all the place names with her. “Mr. Milburn’s makin’ sure it’s safe. If River was with us, he woulda done it.”

Sarah clung to the seat as the wagon rocked down the ford into the water. Rice didn’t seem nervous. “We’re real close to a trail crossing,” he told her. “There’ll be wagons all over and not near as much grass. We might see Indians, too.” He looked at Sarah with childish anticipation. “You don’t need to worry about them, though. These around here ain’t much trouble, and by the time we get to where the bad ones are, River’ll be with us.”

Sarah smiled at the boy’s attempt at reassurance.

The wagon rocked again as it climbed onto dry land. “You’re the best guide anybody could hope for, Rice. You’re willing to explain things everybody else thinks I should already know.”

“That’s just ‘cause I only learned it a while ago, and I know how you feel,” he said, blushing at the compliment.

“Sort of like repeating a lesson,” Sarah suggested.

Rice wrinkled his nose, and she laughed.

* * *

“Breakdown! Breakdown!” Milburn brought the word to the front of the line. Rice set the brake and jumped down, craning his neck to see where Milburn had headed as he helped Sarah. By the time her feet were on the ground, Eli had joined them.

“Will we circle and stop here?” the boy asked. Sarah didn’t miss the hopeful note in the young voice.

“You don’t have to tell me it’s Saturday,” Eli responded.

A large crowd had gathered around a wagon halfway down the line. As Eli elbowed his way through, Rice and Sarah followed in his wake. “It’s not too bad, but we’ll have to remove the wheel to fix it,” Milburn was saying. “Another hour and a half and the sun’ll set. Let’s circle up. It’ll be a hike to the creek, but we can manage one night.”

When the teams were unhitched, Eli took the heavy jack and went to help Milburn. As Sarah started a fire with wood from the possum belly, a sling that hung under each wagon, Rice began the quarter-mile walk to the creek to replenish the supply.

A shout of alarm caught Sarah’s attention. People ran toward the broken wagon, and Sarah found herself moving with them. Over their heads, she could see the top of the wagon, twisted at an awkward angle. Pushing through the last of the crowd, she found Milburn on the ground, Eli kneeling beside him. Sarah’s mind rebelled, and she looked away, seeing instead the smashed jack under the corner of the tipped wagon box. She turned from that, as well; it looked too much like Milburn’s legs.

“I sent a couple fellas to unload the supply wagon,” Eli said.

Sarah watched a distant figure move toward them for a full minute before recognition penetrated her foggy brain. “Rice!”

“Don’t let him see Pete till he’s under a blanket.”

Sarah nodded and started across the prairie. Rice’s long legs carried him toward her with alarming speed. She walked slowly, stalling, if only a few minutes.

“Hey, Miss Sarah, what are you doing out here?”

“I have to talk to you,” she said.

“Sure,” he replied, expecting her to follow as he continued toward the wagons. When she didn’t, he stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“Rice,” Sarah began. “There’s been an accident.” She had to tell him; blunt seemed the best way. “Mr. Milburn was hurt.”

The boy stared at her, his mouth shaping his boss’s name. Suddenly he dropped the wood and turned to run. Sarah caught his arm, aware that manners stopped him, not the strength of her hand.

“Give Eli some time to make him comfortable.”

Face white with horror, the boy whispered, “How bad?”