“One of m-my other uncles.” Jesse ducked his head and fiddled with his pocketknife. “I l-lived with him before Uncle Adam, till he p-passed on.”
“Well, you are certainly gifted.” Clark picked up the cow and studied the detail. “You might sell these for good money someday.”
“You th-think?” A shy grin crept over Jesse’s face.
Adam’s chest warmed. The poor boy had known a rough life. This journey would be a good new start for him, please God. Even if not the fresh start he had hoped for himself and Elizabeth.
“That was a mighty fine supper, ladies.” Adam held out his empty bowl as another of the sisters—Delphinium—collected the dishes. “Best venison stew I’ve had in a long time.”
“Where did you grow up, Doctor?” Forsythia sat down and clasped her hands around her knees. Her golden hair caught glimmers of the firelight.
“Illinois.” He sipped his coffee, savoring the hot brew. “Lived there all my life till now, except for medical school, and had a practice of my own. Then I was conscripted into the Union army, but thank God I was wounded and sent home. The war ended not long after that.”
“What started you west?” Clark asked.
“My wife, Elizabeth.” He hesitated, warming his hands around the tin cup. “Her lungs had been weak since childhood, and she was getting worse. We thought the air out west might help—that it was a chance for her. But she took a cold not long after we left home, and it turned to pneumonia. We made it to a boardinghouse in Independence, and I tried to treat her there. But her lungs . . . I suppose they were just too damaged.”
Silence fell around the campfire.
“Sorry.” Adam cleared his throat and attempted a smile. “Didn’t mean to bring everyone’s spirits down.”
“No.” Forsythia’s voice came tenderly with compassion. “Thank you for sharing with us.”
“We’re so sorry for your loss.” Lilac hugged Robbie. “It seems like there’s been too much of that lately.”
She was so right, and somehow they had managed to be caught in the middle of it all.
“You folks certainly have a gift for music.” He tried to lighten the mood. “That gathering last night was something. Have you always played together?”
“As long as we can remember.” Clark stirred the fire. “Our ma always said music was good for the soul.”
“That it is.”
“So where are you headed? Oregon?” Lilac cuddled Robbie as he sleepily shifted in her lap.
“California was our plan. Better climate for my wife. Now . . . I don’t know. Still heading there, I suppose. I’ve left everything of my old life behind, and doctors are in demand wherever one goes, fortunately—or unfortunately.”
“We’ll be leaving you in Nebraska, then.” That was Delphinium. “Our oldest brother has told us of some homestead land for sale there.”
“I’ve heard there’s good farming in that country.” Nebraska—there was an idea. Maybe he and Jesse didn’t have to go all the way to California after all.
Two wagons sure were a lot more difficult to manage than one.
Striding along beside their oxen, Lark wiped her forehead with her sleeve and sighed at Del’s holler for help from the wagon ahead. The Durhams’ span was giving her trouble again.
Lark called for Lilac to take over beside Sam and Sadie and jogged up to help. The oxen tossed their heads and bellowed beneath the yokes.
“Settle down, now.” Lark smacked the near ox on the rump. “Behave yourselves.”
“I guess they miss Thomas.” Del cracked the whip and shouted sternly. “Hup!” The oxen lurched forward but still shook their horned heads in protest.
“We should check their yokes tonight, make sure nothing is rubbing their necks.” Lark swatted at a fly. “Who knows how well Thomas was keeping things up at the end.”
“Good idea.”
Forsythia peeked out the front of the Durhams’ wagon. “Settled them down?”
“I think so. What are you up to?”
“Robbie’s napping on his ma’s quilt. I’m looking through the box where she had their Bible, seeing if there are any papers that will tell us about their family.”
“Find anything?”
“Just a letter with the address of a great-aunt so far. I doubt she would take Robbie, but we can write to her and ask if she knows of anyone else with a claim.”
With the oxen settled down for now, Lark headed back to their wagon and untied Starbright from walking behind.
“Want a little exercise, girl?” She swung up onto the mare’s back, scanning the prairie surrounding them. It would be time for another hunting party soon.
“Still hassling with that dead man’s oxen?” Otis Bane called, flicking his own whip. His voice grated on her nerves. Too bad he had to have the wagon right behind theirs.
“They’re just getting used to new handlers.”
“You’d better not slow us up none. It’s bad enough Hayes won’t let us travel on Sundays. I’ve been talking with some of the other men, and we agree it’s a fool shame to waste one day out of every week.”
Lark tipped her hat to the man’s sour-faced wife, Louise, on the wagon seat and nudged Starbright with her heels. She trotted out of earshot of the man’s complaints, riding alongside the wagon train. Lord, I know you want us to love all people, but some of them sure do try the soul. No wonder his wife looks like she’s perpetually sucking on a lemon.
They ate supper that night with Martin, Thelma, and their daughter, who were quickly becoming good friends. After eating, Robbie and Sarah made a barn for their animals under the wagon.
“It’s so nice for her to have a friend.” Thelma collected the dishes.
“For Robbie too.” Lark sipped her coffee.
A bellow of pain cut across the camp.
Lark dropped her cup and stood. What in the world?
“Help—please, someone help!” A woman’s cry this time, and not far—the Banes’ wagon behind them?
Lark and Del rushed over.
“His leg.” Louise bent over her husband. Otis lay groaning on the ground, clutching his thigh. “He was chopping wood, and the axe missed.”
Even with only firelight, Lark could see blood streaming
