Martha Finley - The Thorn in the Nest

"They are somewhat more heavily laden than she," he said smilingly, with some difficulty restraining the impetuosity of his own steed, as he spoke; "she should have charity for them. But I fear Romeo is disposed to join her in leaving them behind. We will lead the van, however, Miss Lamar, and sometimes indulge these restless spirits in a run of a few miles ahead; if it is but to return again."

"Ah, that will be delightful!" she cried with almost childish vehemence. "I have fairly dreaded the thought of travelling at this snail's pace all the way to Chillicothe."

The wagons had now come up, and from the foremost peered out two chubby, rosy boy faces.

"O Doctor Clendenin! won't you take me up behind you?" shouted the owner of one, the other chiming in, "Me, too, doctor, me too!"

"Hush, Tom! hush, Billy! you should not ask such a thing. Doctor, don't mind them," quickly interposed the mother, showing her cheery, matronly face alongside of theirs.

"Good morning, Mrs. Nash," Kenneth said, moving to the side of the wagon. "We have an auspicious day for starting upon our long journey."

"Yes, indeed, doctor; and how thankful I am that we're all well and so comfortably accommodated."

"You don't seem to care at all for the old home scenes and friends we're leaving behind, Sarah," whined a woman's voice from the second vehicle; "but for my part I shall never, never forget them, and I think it's dreadfully hard I should have to go away from them all into that howling wilderness, as one may say," and the voice was lost in a burst of sobs.

"But we're going to our husbands, Nancy, and they ought to be more to us than all the world beside," returned Mrs. Nash, cheerfully. "Dear me, I'm just as glad as can be to think that in a few weeks my Robert and I will be together again for good and all."

It was characteristic of the two, who were sisters-in-law, the one always looking at the bright side of life, the other at the dark; the one counting up her mercies, the other her trials.

"It'll be a rough, hard journey, and some of us will be sure to get sick," sighed Mrs. Barbour. "Flora's always been a delicate child, and I'll never take her there alive."

"She's looking well," remarked Kenneth, glancing in at the bright eyes and pink cheeks of a little girl, sitting contentedly by Mrs. Barbour's side.

"And we'll have the doctor handy all the way, you know," suggested Mrs. Nash. "Tom, Tom, be quiet," for the boy was still clamoring for a ride on Romeo.

"So you shall," Kenneth said, lifting him to the coveted place, "and, Billy, you shall have your turn another time."

The third wagon carried no passenger; its load consisting of baggage, household stuff, a tent and provision for the way, for there were few houses of entertainment on the route and it would often be necessary to camp out for the night.

The roads were new and rough; in many places in very bad condition. Sometimes there was a mere bridle path, and bushes and branches must be cut away, or fallen trees removed, to allow the wagons to pass.

At noon of this first day they halted on the banks of a bright little stream, dined upon such fare as they had brought with them, and rested for an hour or two; allowing their horses to graze and the children to disport themselves in racing about through the underbrush in search of wild flowers, in which Miss Nell presently joined them.

Kenneth, leaving the two women sitting together on a log, strolled away in another direction, toward Zeb and the drivers who were keeping guard over the horses and wagons.

"Dear me!" sighed Mrs. Barbour, "what a journey we have before us! how we're ever to stand it I don't know; I am tired already."

"Already!" echoed her sister; "why I don't intend to be really tired for a week."

"I'd like to know what intentions have to do with it," returned the first speaker, rather angrily.

"A good deal, I assure you," asserted Mrs. Nash, with decision. "Make up your mind to be miserable and you can't fail to be so; resolve to enjoy yourself, and you're almost equally sure to do that."

"Humph!" grunted her companion, turning away with a scornful toss of the head.

"What's wrong?" asked Miss Lamar, coming toward them with her hands full of delicate spring blossoms.

"Wrong! where?" returned Mrs. Barbour, sharply, thinking the query aimed at her.

"Yonder," Nell answered, gazing anxiously in the direction of the group about the wagons; "they all seem to be busying themselves about that wheel."

"There, I knew it!" cried Mrs. Barbour, "something's broken, and we'll be kept here all night; and we'll be having such accidents all the way. Nobody ever was so unfortunate as I am."

"Why you more than the rest of us?" asked her sister, dryly. "If one is delayed, we all are."

"It was only a broken linchpin, already replaced by another," announced Kenneth a few moments later; "and now, if you please, ladies, we will go on our way again."

At dusk the party arrived at a lonely log cabin in the woods, where they found shelter for the night.

Fare and accommodations were none of the best – the one consisting of fat pork, hominy, and coarse corn bread, the other of hastily improvised beds, upon the floor of the lower room for the women and children; upon that of the loft overhead for the men.

Mrs. Barbour, according to her wont, passed the time previous to retiring in fretting and complaining; talking of herself as the most ill-used and unfortunate of the human race, though no one else in the company was in any respect faring better than she, and all were not only bearing their discomforts with patience and resignation, but cheerfully and with an emotion of thankfulness that they had a roof over their heads; as a heavy rain storm had come on shortly after their arrival, and continued till near morning.

But that was another of the complainer's grievances; "The roads would be flooded, the streams so swollen that it would be impossible to cross with the wagons."

Nell, hearing these doleful prognostications, turned an anxious enquiring look upon Kenneth.

"Do not be alarmed," he said, leaning toward her, and speaking in an undertone of quiet assurance: "the rain is much needed and therefore a cause for thankfulness; and if streams cannot be forded immediately, we can encamp beside them and wait for the abating of the waters."

"But our provisions may give out," she suggested.

"Then we will look for game in the woods, and fish in the streams. No fear, little lady, that we shall not be fed."

Nell liked the title, and felt it restful to lean upon one who showed so much quiet confidence in – was it his own powers and resources or something higher?

The journey was a tedious and trying one, occupying several weeks; and Kenneth's office as leader of the party was no sinecure.

There were many vexatious delays, some occasioned by the wretched state of the roads, others incident to the moving of the cumbrous and heavily laden wagons; which latter might have been avoided had he travelled alone, or in company with none but equestrians.

But Kenneth was of too noble and unselfish a nature to grudge the cost of kindness to others.

And on him fell all the care and responsibility of directing, controlling, and providing ways and means; settling disputes among the drivers, and attending to the safety and comfort of the women and children.

These various duties were performed with the utmost fidelity, energy, and tact, and all annoyances borne with unvarying patience and cheerfulness; even Mrs. Barbour's peevish complainings and martyrlike airs failing to move him out of his quiet self-possession, or goad him into treating her with anything but the greatest courtesy and kindness.

He showed the same to all in the little company, and to those with whom they sought temporary lodgings here and there along the route; more especially to any who were sick, exercising his skill as a physician for their relief, and that without charge, though sometimes it cost him the loss of a much needed night's rest.