Lilac handed out slickers from the back of the wagon just in time for the downpour to hit, drenching them all.
Forsythia arranged her slicker to cover the saddle, too, and huddled into it. That pine grove couldn’t come soon enough. The temperature was dropping as the wind whipped the trees on both sides of the road. At least they had dry firewood if they needed to camp in the grove.
After they’d huddled under the pine trees for nearly an hour, the lightning and thunder passed over them, and since it looked like the rain might keep up, they pulled back onto the road and trudged westward through puddles and running creeks, mud and rainwater slowing them down even more.
The rain had slackened to mist by midafternoon when they paused at a creek that was striving to become a river. It didn’t look terribly deep, but it was wide enough to cause consternation.
“How deep?” Del asked from the driver’s seat.
“Sythia, ride through it and see. We know the wagon will float, since we sealed all the seams before we left home. But if waiting overnight might make it safer, we can do that.” Lark looked toward the west, where the sun had managed to poke a few holes in the cloud cover, stabbing light streams to brighten the land.
Forsythia guided Starbright into the creek. Cool water nearly reached the horse’s belly until she slipped in a hole in the middle and struggled to get her footing again, the current trying to push them downstream. Forsythia kept the reins tight to help keep her mount’s head up. Starbright shook when they reached the other side, making her rider laugh. It was good to laugh again after last night.
“Thank you, God,” muttered Del. “Stay out of that hole in the middle, and we should be okay.”
Using her walking stick as a probe, Lark kept up-creek and beckoned to Del to move the oxen into the water. By the time they reached the other side, the wagon had almost floated but settled back as the teams dug in to pull it out.
Forsythia drew a deep breath. After the horror of last night, this crossing seemed almost easy.
“Well, if that’s the worst we ever cross, we can consider ourselves lucky. We better grease those axles tonight. It’s a good thing we brought both grease and tar along, thanks to Anders’s thinking ahead.” Lark wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her arm.
“I wish I’d read more of those books about traveling west.” Del stepped down from the wagon. “Someone else can ride. I’d rather walk a ways.”
Lilac flicked the whip on the ground, putting the oxen into action.
Forsythia let Lark take the horse and climbed into the wagon. Thank you, Lord, a chance to rest awhile. If only she could stop remembering the thud of that man hitting the ground.
A couple of nights later, screams jerked Lark out of a deep sleep. Not again. On her feet and rifle in hand before she had time to think, she heard Del murmuring at the back of the wagon. “What is it?” Other than her sisters being awake, nothing seemed amiss.
“Sythia had a horrible nightmare.” Del held her sister in her arms, murmuring soothing words and stroking her back.
Lark puffed out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, her heart hammering back into place. “I’ll go check on the animals.”
The indigo skies were lightening in the east, and the sun would be up in another hour. Far too short a time to go back to sleep. Starbright nickered softly as Lark approached, and nuzzled her chest.
As trees emerged from the dark, so the trail to the water could be seen, and Lark removed the hobbles from the mare and led her down to the little river to drink. A cardinal stuttered, then heralded the dawn with its special song. Lark looked upriver to see two deer drinking on the opposite shore. Starbright lifted her head, water dripping from her muzzle, ears pointed at the pair.
The shattered peace tiptoed back in. Hopefully, they could find land like this with a creek and big trees. What would the terrain be like in Nebraska? She led Starbright back to camp, where her sisters had started breakfast.
“Everyone, make sure you have a loaded gun with you whenever you leave the camp from now on. We don’t want a repeat of the other night.” Lark managed to keep her shudder to herself. She’d known there might be thieves about—Anders had warned her repeatedly—but what could they have done differently? That was the big question.
You could have stayed home, her inner voice said. If you hadn’t gotten in such a snit at church and then gone into that saloon . . .
If Del had died, it would have been my fault. And now my little sister has to live with knowing she killed that man. Lord, why do I feel like you are so far away?
She looked across the fire to see Forsythia staring into the mush she was stirring. Of them all, Forsythia was the deep thinker and the one least likely to share her thoughts. She and Pa had many long discussions about the meaning of Scriptures and books they’d read, about the why’s behind how the world spun and men treated each other. Pa had called her tenderhearted.
Lark looked up at the song of a meadowlark soaring toward the brightening sky. Soon the sun would be up, chasing away the memories that came with the night. She shuddered. How could she forget that man’s voice? It was grating, but still she could tell he was enjoying himself. When she thought about the other man who had escaped, she hoped one of the horse’s hooves had connected with him.
Lord, let that awfulness be the worst thing that happens on this journey.
9
Walking, riding, driving—how to get away from that horrible night?
“What’s going on, Sythia?” Lark
