“It’s a good thing we’ll be here a few days. The meat will take time to dry.” Lilac wiped her hands. Robbie stuck close to her, not letting her out of his sight.
That night they sat around the fire, bellies full and grateful, the scent of woodsmoke and drying venison wafting over them. Jesse played animals with the children.
Del rejoined the circle. “I got Sythia to take some venison broth. Maybe tomorrow we can try a bit of stew, see if she can keep it down.”
“Try boiling some rice in the broth to start,” the doctor said. “Easier on her stomach.”
“Good idea. Too bad we don’t have a farm-raised chicken. That would be more tender than wild game.”
Conversation soon faded into weariness, and the doctor and Jesse headed over to bunk down under their wagon. The sisters spread their bedrolls, and Lilac snuggled Robbie and Sofie under her blankets like two little bear cubs with their mother, her presence seeming to comfort them through the nights.
“I’ll take the first watch.” Lark poked the fire. Now that they lacked the protection of the whole wagon train, they’d have to take shifts again. “The doctor said he’d take the second.”
“Wake me for the third, if the baby doesn’t first.” Yawning, Del lay down beside Mikael with a tired chuckle. “But he probably will.”
Lark leaned her head back and gazed at the sparkling span of stars scattered across the black sky. Much to be thankful for, but much still uncertain. Sythia was still so weak. And tomorrow Lark would need to see if she could find a farm, maybe even a store. They needed some supplies. And where exactly was Salton, anyway? Without a known point of reference or a number of miles to calculate, her mind grappled for solid ground.
The next day after breakfast, she saddled Starbright and headed out, praying for direction. Surely if she stayed along the creek, civilization would crop up somewhere.
Riding along the trace, the grass high as Starbright’s belly, her mind took off on adventures of its own, going back to the night their lives fell apart. She could still see the gambler dealing the cards and then staring at her, veins pulsing, as she gathered up the pile of winnings. His threats stayed indelibly etched on her mind. Lord, I have no idea how he would find us so far from home, but . . . she had no doubt he could. If that money meant so much to him. And not just the money, but his pride—far more dangerous.
She stared out across the grasses rippling in the wind that seemed always to be blowing. It wasn’t the money at all, she knew. It was the horror that a woman had beaten him. Had called him out for cheating, even if not with words. Had she been a man, he might have forgiven her, but she was a woman. And to top it off, she had won fair and square. Surely the news had not gone farther than the limits of Linksburg. After all, who would spread the gossip?
An image of Deacon Wiesel plastered itself across her mind. Good thing those two didn’t know each other. Get the deacon drunk, and he would blab anything.
Lark heaved a sigh. “Only you can protect us, Lord.”
Starbright flicked her ears back and forth.
Lark leaned forward and patted her neck. “All we have to do today is find a store and the directions to Salton. That’s all.”
A short while later she saw smoke rising in tendrils over the prairie and followed it to a tar-papered cabin and a spreading farm.
Thank you, Lord. She reined the mare and called out to a beanstalk of a man hoeing in the cornfield. “Morning, sir. Any general stores around these parts?”
The man pushed back his battered straw hat. “There’s a little mercantile up that road a piece. Hardly enough to call a town, just the store and a saloon, mostly. But you can get yourself some basic foodstuffs, if that’s what you’re needin’. Where ya headed?”
“We were on the Oregon Trail, but we’re on our own now. How far is it to Salton?”
The man whistled. “Good thirty, forty miles north of here.”
So a three-day journey. Well, at least that gave her some idea. She’d ask more specifics at the store. “Much obliged.”
“Anytime. We were strangers on the trail once too.” The farmer grinned, showing a friendly gap in his teeth. “Anything else I can do for ya?”
Lark spotted some plump chickens scratching between the chicken coop and the house. “Now that you mention it . . . would you be willing to sell a chicken?”
Half an hour later, Lark rode into the “town” with a fat young rooster tied to her saddle. She swung down and tied Starbright to the hitching post. Inside, the supplies were simple but well stocked. She bought more beans, cornmeal, and salt to replace what they’d given the Pawnee, and a few treats to tempt Forsythia’s appetite—cheese and some dried apples to stew. Also soap to scrub down the Durhams’ wagon once Sythia grew well enough to leave it. With all the extra laundry, they were running low.
She and Starbright trotted back into the camp before sunset laden with goods. “Look what I got.” Lark slid off the horse and held out the chicken. Then she stopped short.
Forsythia reclined on a makeshift pallet by the campfire, wearing a clean, dry nightdress and propped up on pillows against a box. Though her face was still pale, she smiled when she saw Lark and held out her hand.
“Sythia.” Still clutching the chicken, Lark handed off Starbright to Lilac and fell to her knees beside her sister. “You’re better?” Tears of relief choked her throat.
“Dr. Brownsville says so.”
