“All ready?” She hupped the oxen, flicking the slender whip at the same time.
“This sure was a nice place to camp,” Lilac said, looking back. “In spite of the rain. Do you think we’ll find another wagon to travel with soon?”
“I hope so. There’s safety in numbers.”
“True. But probably not as much peace. As I fell asleep, I felt such a sense of peace, as if God was surrounding us with angels.”
“Thank you, I was concerned that . . .” Lark shook her head, a sudden lump in her throat. “Let’s just say God used you to answer my prayers this morning.”
“Where’s Sythia?”
Forsythia heard Lilac’s question from her pallet inside the wagon. It was dawn on their fourth day, and Forsythia felt wretched.
“I don’t know. I saw her head to the creek a bit ago. Del?”
“Did you check the wagon?” Del suggested, and Forsythia groaned.
Lilac found her wrapped in a quilt and huddled in the rear corner. “What’s wrong, Sythia?”
“Just leave me alone, okay? I’ll be better by tomorrow.” Please go away. Forsythia always longed for her mother’s comfort when her cycle arrived with miserable cramps and a headache. It didn’t happen every month but often enough to make her dread it.
“I’ll bring you a hot rock.” Lilac disappeared.
Oh, I wish I were back home. Even though Ma had gone on to heaven, so she could no longer bring tea and a comforting hand, Forsythia could still have made a cup of ginger tea to help relax the cramping. Sometimes her mother would read to her from her well-worn Bible, and then they would talk about the blessings God was sending down. Ma called times like this the curse of Eve, something she had also suffered.
“But be encouraged. After I had my first baby, I no longer had the monthly curse, at least not the cramping. So you can look forward to that.”
Forsythia jerked back to reality when Lilac returned and handed her a hot rock wrapped in a small blanket. “Thank you.”
“I can’t find the herbs, though I know we packed them, or I’d make Ma’s tea for you.”
“You’re so like our ma.” Forsythia nestled the warmth against her lower belly. I want to go home. Tears leaked over her cheeks. I didn’t want to come on this trip. All because Lark couldn’t keep from saving Jonah’s hide one more time.
“You want some breakfast?” Lilac asked.
“No, thanks.” Forsythia bit back a groan. She could hear the others clattering about outside but tried to ignore them.
“Lilac, let her come and get her own breakfast,” Lark called.
Lilac turned toward the opening at the back of the wagon. “But you know Forsythia struggles—”
“No, she just gives in. Ma always babied her. It’s time she grew up and . . .”
Forsythia curled into a tighter ball, hurt pinching her throat on top of the cramping.
Lilac propped her hands on her hips. “Just because you don’t—”
Lark snorted in disgust. “Let’s just get on the road. Forsythia will be all right by tomorrow.”
“She was supposed to drive today,” Del snapped back.
“You can drive, Lilac can ride, and I’ll walk.”
“I planned on knitting. We’re going to need warmer winter things where we’re going.” Del often knitted as she strode along and still managed to keep from stumbling.
“One more day won’t make a big difference.” Lark’s voice came out gruff, as if she really were a man. “Just calm down and—”
“Me calm down? Have you listened to yourself? Why don’t you just go hunting?” Del must have slammed the coffee jug back into the lidded cooking box outside the wagon by the sound.
“Just stop it. I’ll drive today.” That was Lilac.
“Fine,” Lark snapped. Forsythia heard the creak of the saddle and then the sound of Starbright’s hooves loping down the road.
Forsythia groaned and cuddled closer to the hot rock. This was their first big fight. It would probably not be their last.
She dozed for a while. When she awoke, the rock was only warm and so of little use. Why am I the only one who suffers so? Perhaps walking would help.
She asked Lilac to stop the oxen for a moment and clambered out, then walked beside Del, breathing in the morning air. The sunshine warmed her muscles, easing the cramping.
The sun was past the zenith when they reached a creek. Still no Lark.
“Let’s rest and lunch here—nooning, I think they call it,” Del said.
They unhitched the oxen, then Lilac unyoked one ox from each pair and re-yoked them facing the other direction, a trick learned from Mr. Holt. That way the animals could graze in a circle around each other but not wander too far.
Forsythia dug in the food box and handed a biscuit to each of her sisters. “What if something happens to Lark? How will we know?”
“We just go forward until we find a good place to camp and trust that she’s all right.”
Del spoke so reasonably that Forsythia felt almost foolish in raising the concern. But what if . . . ? Her mind flitted around, seeing her sister with a broken leg or arm, unable to get on the horse. What if she never shows up again? What do we do? No matter how disgusted Forsythia was with Lark’s saving their little brother yet again, or the hurt of her words this morning, the thought of life with no Larkspur was nearly as bad as when Ma died.
She kept pace with the plodding oxen as they continued down the road. Lord, your Word says you are our strength and our shield. You know every breath we take and every step we make. You are our rock and our redeemer. Her mind slipped into song.
“‘Rock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee . . .’”
The sun had started its downhill slide when she saw a horse and rider coming toward them. “Lark. Thank you, Lord God, you kept her and us safe.”
Their sister stopped a ways ahead and waited for them. What did
