The Search for Soaring Hawk Page 19

  “You’re right, son,” Stonem agreed. “Well, the Indians intended to take their revenge on the trappers. We had to intervene or they would’ve gone after all the whites passing through their land. We got ’em settled down, but it’s still a tense situation. When you all leave here, be careful how you hunt and how you take care of the kill. They’re watching close now.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” Garrett said. “We’ll be sure to take care.”

  The lieutenant then invited Garrett and Sam to eat with him. Garrett added Gus, Todd and the Tuckers to the guest list with the officer’s approval.

  During the meal, the lieutenant reiterated his earlier warning for the sake of Cody and Walt. They also discussed the fact there had been no rain for weeks. While that had made travel in the wagons easier as the ground was firm, Sam knew good prairie grass was essential for the feeding of the oxen and horses. Now the grass was beginning to dry out. This could prove to be an insurmountable obstacle to the travelers. As long as they were near the river, water wouldn’t be a problem. But the only grass would be near the banks of the river, and would be overgrazed by the buffalo.

  Sam feared this could also set the stage for further tension with the Indians, as they wouldn’t welcome the competition for grazing with the wagon train’s herds. Sam had the feeling the easy days of travel for the train were about to end.

  As the group was leaving, Stonem handed a leather packet to Garrett, “Letters for your people.”

  Garrett thanked him and gave the pouch to Todd, asking him to deliver the contents to the travelers.

  Later that evening as Sam, Gus and Garrett rested beside their wagon, Todd returned. Wolf lay at Sam’s side.

  “There’s a letter for you, Sam,” he said, holding out a rectangular envelope.

  “What?” Sam looked up in surprise. “Who’d be writing me?”

  Garrett removed the pipe he had been smoking. “Only one way to find out. Open it.”

  Sam took the letter from Todd. He broke the seal, opened the letter and looked at the bottom signature.

  Your friend, always, Nils.

  Sam’s heart stopped. He stared at the missive with his mouth open.

  “Somethin’ wrong?” asked Gus.

  Sam half shook his head, still staring at the name at the end of the page. “’Scuse me,” he said, rising and walking away.

  “Sam?” Garrett said, concern showing in his voice.

  “It’s all right,” Sam replied without looking back, not wanting to say more, or show the emotion he was feeling. He walked around the corner of the wagon and slumped against the side. Wolf followed him and sat down, staring up at him. After a time he unfolded the letter once more.

  Dear Sam, I hope you and Wolf are doing well out there. I came here to Laclede’s looking to find you. Miss Mary at the hotel told me you had taken the wagon train to California and that I could write to you.

  First off, I miss you something terrible. I know you said I was a man of honor by staying by my promise to marry Sally. I guess maybe that’s true, but it don’t keep me from wishing things had been different for us. I just wanted you to know that.

  I wanted you to know that Sally and I had a baby. It is a girl. We named her Sarah. If it would have been a boy, I wanted to name it after you. That’s why I came looking for you. To let you know that. That, and to let you know I miss you.

  You stay safe out there. Maybe we can see each other once in a while when you come back. Miss Mary says you and the men you are with come back in the winter. I sure hope so because I miss you. I guess I said that a lot of times. But it’s the truth. I could probably get over here to this side of the Mississippi about once a month. I hope you like that idea.

  I am going to sign this with the words I feel. I love you. Your friend always,

  Nils Sam stood for a long time, just staring at the letter. He dropped to his knees and pulled Wolf to him. Molly’s pup responded by licking the warm tears from Sam’s face. Sam could see himself and Nils, Molly and Wolf, laughing, working, building, playing, loving.

  Nils, Sam said in his mind. Nils, Nils. If only…now it’s too late for us. We’re worlds apart.

  Sam composed himself and went back to the group, the letter folded in his pocket. His three companions looked up as he rounded the corner of the wagon. He sat down.

  “Well,” said Todd, “who’s the letter from?”

  Garrett took the pipe from his mouth, and, turning in Todd’s direction, raised an eyebrow. Gus glared at Todd.

  “What?” said Todd. “I just asked…”

  “Hush!” Gus admonished.

  “It’s all right,” Sam said with a wan smile. “It was a letter from a friend, a friend from before we met, a friend from a different life.”

  “You want to write back?” asked Garrett.

  “Don’t think so. No.” He sighed. “I don’t think so.”

  * * * The next day was spent relaxing. Sam could see the travelers had needed the break. Aside from tending the animals and fixing meals, everyone took advantage of the time away from the march by just sitting, or taking long naps beneath their wagons. The soldiers had stopped looking for whiskey and were now avoiding the train. This was mostly as a result of Reverend Rayburn’s repeated calls to repentance and salvation, which rang out whenever one of the soldiers ventured near.

  That night Todd and Sam were on night watch. As they rode slowly around the circumference of the grazing herd, they talked quietly.

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever been happier,” Todd was saying. “I got three good men to love me and love back. I feel like I’m doin’ somethin’ important helpin’ these folks get to their new homes. How about you, Sam? You feel the same?”

  Sam did not answer him immediately. Was he happier than he had ever been in his life?

  He was happy and for the same reasons as Todd, but happier than any other time in his life? As he stared out across the prairie grass, waving slightly in the light late spring breeze, several scenes flashed across Sam’s mind. He saw himself at his father’s side learning to fish, he thought of the first moments he had been with Lean Bear and the flood of emotion that had cascaded over him. Then he thought of Nils and of the nights they shared in the lodge they had built for themselves. He reached down and felt the letter still folded in his pocket. Before he could answer Todd, something caught his eye. On the far horizon there was a flash of lightning and then the wind began to stir.

  * * * In the morning, the sky was overcast, but no rain had fallen. Garrett, Sam and the men got the wagon train up and ready to depart. They said their goodbyes to the lieutenant, thanking him for his hospitality and advice. They set out onto the trail, hoping the clouds would bring the needed rain, which would revive the grasses and sustain the animals for their journey. They traveled for three days beneath the cloudy sky, but no rains came, only the rumble of thunder in the distance.

  Screams roused Sam and Garrett from sleep in the back of the wagon before dawn on the fourth day. Sam sat up and could see a strange orange glow through the canvas.

  “Fire!” Garrett yelled as he leapt to his feet. The men scrambled to pull on their pants. Not bothering with shoes or shirts, they raced to the area inside the circle of wagons. One wagon was on fire. Men and women were running around aimlessly, crying out in fear and terror. Garrett took charge immediately. He ran back to his wagon, got his gun and fired it into the air. The frantic settlers stopped and looked at him. He ordered some men to push the burning wagon out of the circle, away from the others. He commanded people to get buckets and fill them with water from the barrels. Yet others he told to get canvas or burlap and beat out the flames. The men and women obeyed, but the flames, fanned by the wind, threatened to spread to another wagon. Garrett ordered them to push that wagon out of the circle.

  Just when Sam thought all was lost, a crash of thunder drowned out the shouts of the people and the roar of the fire. The skies opened and a deluge began to fall. The welcomed downpour quickly br
ought the inferno under control. Cries of joy and thanks poured forth. Everyone was jumping and dancing in the pouring rain. Garrett got Sam’s attention and the two men began to inspect the camp for damage and injuries.

  The fire caused minimal damage, aside from the one wagon, which was almost completely destroyed. A few of the company had suffered minor burns. As the downpour continued, the celebration ceased and everyone sought shelter from the pounding rain. Sam and Garrett returned to their wagon. Once inside, Sam looked at Garrett. Water dripped from his face and thick moustache. His body hair was plastered to his skin. He was breathing heavily. Sam’s admiration for the man’s authority had increased at seeing him take control of the situation. Garrett wiped his forehead and sighed. It had been a close call.

  Sam leaned forward and took the man in his arms. He could feel Garrett’s heart pounding against his chest. He shuddered as Sam held him. Garrett was human after all.

  * * * The heavy rain lasted for over an hour. Finally, it lessened. Garrett and Sam emerged from the wagon. They roused the settlers and began to make preparations for leaving. The Tuckers, Gus and Todd returned to camp driving the oxen before them.

  “Jesus, Garrett,” Gus clamored, “we saw what was happening, but we couldn’t leave the animals. With the fire and the thunder, it was all we could do to keep ’em from stampeding.”

  “It’s okay, Gus. You did the right thing,” Garrett answered. “How the hell did this start?”

  Garrett looked around at the charred grass and the flame scars

  on the wagons. “Dry grass and someone not being careful to put out their cookin’ fire probably.” He sighed. “Get everyone over here. We’ve got to talk before we get goin’ again.”

  Sam and the others helped the men yoke the oxen and then called the settlers together, so Garrett could address them. When most of them had assembled, he spoke in his strong voice.

  “We nearly had a tragedy here. Someone almost brought the whole train down by not followin’ the rules about the fires at night. ’Specially with the grass being dry as tinder.”

  Those gathered looked uncomfortably from one to the other. “Now we got us one wagon gone. There’s folks that’s lost everything. We’re gonna need to share with them so they can make it to Fort Laramie. Maybe they can get a wagon there and some supplies.

  “Carter,” Garrett said addressing the man whose wagon had burned, “you get what you can from your burned out wagon. You can use our wagon for storage and sleepin’.”

  Sam saw Gus scowl. He chuckled to himself. He knew Gus was thinking of the loss of private sleeping quarters and the activities that privacy afforded.

  Garrett was continuing. “Now finish up because we need to be on our way.”

  “In the rain?” came a voice Sam was only too loathe to recognize.

  “Yes, in the rain, Reverend,” said Garrett, turning to face his adversary. “We’re lucky we can move on. We need to make time. Momma Nature don’t play no favorites, and she may let this rain go on for a while.”

  “Don’t you mean the Almighty?” Rayburn retorted.

  “Call it what you will, Reverend. We’re movin’ out as soon as we can.”

  “I say we wait,” the reverend continued his challenge.

  “You jist hush your mouth, Reverend,” Carter, the man who’d lost his wagon, interjected. “It was your cookin’ fire that weren’t put out. You caused this whole mess.”

  Rayburn flinched as if he had been struck.

  Garrett glared at the man. “’Nough said. Let’s head ’em up and move ’em out.”

  For the next three days, the rain was unrelenting. That which had once been the train’s salvation became its enemy. Progress slowed to a crawl. The trail became a quagmire. The wheels of the wagons sank deep into the ruts. Often they had to stop altogether to push or pull a wagon to freedom. Frequently heavy items were removed from the wagons and tossed aside to lighten the loads and get them moving again. Among the discarded jetsam was the barrel of china and the large oval mirror Sam and Garrett had helped load into the wagon back in Independence. Sam marveled at Garrett’s patience and ability to keep from lashing out with epithets proclaiming he had warned them not to overload the vehicles.

  Frequently, the train had to stop while the men worked to replace a wheel wrenched from an axle by the sucking mud.

  There was one disaster during this time. One young boy, pushing a wagon from behind, slipped in the mud. The oxen of the following wagon trampled him. He was crushed instantly, and they buried him along the trail where he fell. Garrett did his best to comfort the devastated parents.

  On the fourth day, the rain slowed to a drizzle, then a mist, and finally ceased altogether. By afternoon, the sun broke through the clouds. Although Sam knew Garrett wanted to keep moving forward, the trail boss ordered the train to a stop to let the travelers air out their soaked belongings and get some much-needed rest.

  They were still following the course of the Platte River. Cody Tucker returned to camp to report that the river was swollen and overflowing its banks.

  Garrett took the grim news in stride. “Let’s hope the South Platte’ll be down when we get there and have to cross,” was all he said.

  That turned out not to be the case, however. Intermittent rain over the period had kept the wagons from moving very fast. When the slow moving train arrived at the river after four weeks of arduous travel since leaving the fort, the tributary was above its banks. Although it was not the raging torrent they had feared, it still would be a formidable crossing. Just below the ford, Sam could see the river deepened considerably.

  Sam, Gus and Todd stood a bit back from the flow as Garrett stood with his hands on his hips, surveying the scene. Gus explained they were at the point where the watercourse was normally at its narrowest, the place where they usually forded the stream with relative ease. Garrett took off his boots and rolled up his pants. He waded out into the current. He walked back and forth, stopping every now and then, it seemed to Sam, to probe the riverbed with his foot.

  Wading back to the bank, Garrett said, “Well, the bottom’s still solid. The current’s not over bad. We should be able to make it. Hate to waste more time. We’ll hit snow for sure. We’re way behind as it is. Damn rain!”

  That evening Garrett once again gathered the pilgrims together. In the light of the setting sun, he spoke to them of the morning’s enterprise.

  “Tomorrow we’ll be crossing the river. I’d like to wait a bit for the river to go down, but that’s not possible. The time we’ve wasted because of the rain is gonna make for problems farther along if we don’t move on now.

  “We’ll be crossing one wagon at a time. There are twenty-five of us. It will take all day, maybe two. So, let’s get the rest we need.”

  The next morning they assembled the train a few wagons at a time. Garrett explained to Sam and Todd that the wagons would be brought to the water’s edge. The horses or oxen would be unhitched and led across the river. They would tie ropes to the wagons and the animals would pull them across from the opposite side. The men would walk beside the wagons and steady them as they could. If a wagon started to tip, it was to be let go. There was no way the men could keep it upright. They brought Garrett’s wagon to the bank first. Before they unhitched the horses and led them into the flowing water, the Reverend Rayburn stepped forward.

  “Hold on there, Taylor. I’m going to offer prayers for a safe crossing.”

  This took Sam aback. Even the rigors of the trial and his guilt at starting the fire had not dampened the man’s arrogance.

  Garrett, however, nodded. “That’d be good, Reverend. We’re gonna need all the help we can to cross safe.” He removed his hat. Those gathered on the bank with him followed suit.

  This time Rayburn’s prayer was simple and, Sam felt, more sincere than he had ever heard from the man. Maybe something had changed in him after all.

  When the reverend’s “Amen” was echoed through those gathered, Garrett and Gus
led the horses across the river. The rest of the company watched in tense silence. The water came only up to the animals’ hocks. Nevertheless, Sam could see they struggled to keep their footing in the current of a river deeper than normal for fording. Sam was cognizant of the deepening of the bed just beyond where they were crossing. If the river pushed a wagon just a few feet in that direction, disaster could strike.

  Sam felt himself exhale as Garrett and Gus safely reached the bank. He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath as he watched the men cross the river.

  Next, two yoke of oxen were led across. Gus and Garrett tied ropes to the beasts, and they pulled the first of the wagons into the water. Sam and several of the men walked beside the wagon. Todd held the tongue. Progress was slow and steady, and Sam could feel the force of the current against him, feel the wagon strain against it. He sensed the key was to keep the wagon moving. If it were to stop, the force of the moving water could overpower the vehicle and it would be lost.

  The success of the first crossing acted as a tonic, and Sam sensed a lessening of the anxiety among the group. One after another, the wagons were brought to the opposite shore. Garrett, Sam and Gus crossed and re-crossed the ford, helping lead the animals, giving instructions to the men, while Todd organized the teams for pulling. The women and children walked across upstream of the wagons for their safety. They placed the young expectant mother on the back of one of the horses and she was carried across, as were some of the smaller children. Wolf prowled the banks, barking occasionally and nipping the heels of the oxen reluctant to enter the water.

  All was going well until a sudden strong wind came up in the afternoon. It blew in tandem with the flow of the water. The wind gusted at its strongest just as the wagon belonging to the widower and his son was in mid-crossing. The wagon’s canvas covering acted as a sail as it caught the wind, increasing the force on the wagon, unbalancing it as it made its way to the opposite shore. Things happened too fast for Garrett to give the order to drop the canvas from the bows. The boy carrying the tongue must have forgotten Garrett’s admonition to let the wagon go if it tipped. He hung on and was pulled into the river as the wagon was swept away into deeper water. His father let out a cry and tried to follow after his son. The men restrained him.