Leaving Independence (24 page)

Abigail leaned her head over on Melinda’s shoulder. “I’m scared, Melinda.”

“Scared of what, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know.” But as soon as Abigail said the words, she did know.

Back in Independence, she had thought to travel with this group of people only for the sake of safety and convenience. She’d seen this train as a vehicle meant to take her back to her husband, to the man she belonged to, so she could try to repair damage she had caused by not supporting him.

It had not occurred to her then that she would grow to love the people on this train. But she had. In fact, she now felt a stronger sense of community with this small group of people than she had felt with the whole town of Marston, where she had spent her married years.

This was the first time Abigail had ever picked up the reins of her own life. She’d had nothing to do with the place where she was born, nothing to do with where Robert had lived. But the bonds she had formed on this journey were hers, a result of choices
she
had made. And they felt good. She wasn’t ready to give them up, especially not for a man who had abandoned his family.

“This is all we’ve got, Melinda,” whispered Abigail. “That lumpy mattress, one bag of buggy sugar, those dirt-clumped floors. We left everything else behind, and this is all we’ve got.”

Melinda squeezed her. “It’s all any of us got, sweetheart. And each other.”

Abigail raised her head up and looked at her. “That’s just it. That’s what I was going to say. It’s enough—better than enough. We’ve got each other. But when we get to Fort Hall, I’ll lose you.” Her voice cracked. “At first I was scared Robert didn’t love me anymore, or that I wouldn’t love him when I found him. Now I’m scared of losing you . . . the Dotsons . . . this sense of belonging. I don’t want to have to start all over again on Robert’s terms.”

“Is there not any chance he’ll come with us?”

“I don’t know.” Abigail looked into the deepening shadows of the creek bank. Crickets and frogs had begun to serenade them. “Lieutenant Coatman says he’s opinionated and stubborn.”

Melinda cocked her head. “You’ll have to be persuasive, then.”

The corners of Abigail’s mouth curled. “You can always make me smile, Melinda Austelle.” Mimi had that quality, too.

Abigail rubbed her forehead. “Maybe I’m worrying over nothing. Yesterday, when I was driving the wagon and Lina was on the seat beside me, she asked, ‘Ma, aren’t you happy?’ And I said, ‘Of course I am, sweetheart. What makes you ask?’

“And she said, ‘Your eyes look sad.’”

“That child,” said Melinda. “An angel if there ever was one.”

“I told her I felt nervous in my heart and that I was sorry I wasn’t doing a good job of hiding it. She said, ‘Why would you try to hide your heart?’

“‘Because I don’t want my worry to make anyone else worry,’ I said. ‘Especially not you.’

“‘You don’t think I’m old enough to help?’ she asked. I told her she did help—that she was the best help I had, and that when I looked at her I knew somehow that everything would turn out like it should.

“But I lied to her, Melinda. When I look at my children I wonder if I’m doing right by them. First I worried that I shouldn’t have brought them out here. But it turned out to be the best thing I’ve ever done for any of us. Now I don’t know whether I’m meant to join Robert or whether we ought to keep going.”

Melinda shook her head, thinking. After a while she said, “I can’t tell you what to do or how it will all turn out, but you’ve got them no matter what. You’ll always be where you’re supposed to be as long as you’re with those children.”

“You’re right. I better go get them ready for bed.”

As she and Melinda walked back to the wagons, Abigail remembered the feeling of Lina’s sticky little hands reaching up to her face yesterday, and the words she had whispered up to her:

“Look at me more.”

CHAPTER 22

From the rocks and ground around the train

July 9, 1866

Today we crossed the Platte for the final time. It is a unique river, shallow and muddy, nearly two miles wide. It felt like we were Israelites crossing the Red Sea. Several times I looked behind me to see if the Egyptians were coming.

Abigail was walking with Marnie Sutler. The train had reached Mitchell Pass and the foot of the Black Hills. Aspens and evergreens dotted the landscape, a welcome sight after the flat monotony of the prairie. The women had just begun feeling the ascent in their legs—legs that had grown strong from three months of travel—and the oxen and mules leaned into their yokes and harnesses.

A large shepherd mix belonging to the Schroeders barked and darted toward a stand of cedars as a faint
zzziipp
whispered past Abigail’s ear. Lijah Sutler, who was driving the nearest wagon, cried out in pain. Abigail looked over to see a black-tailed arrow extending from his arm. She watched in horror as a second arrow from the thicket caught the dog in the throat, cutting his snarls short.

Hoke, who was riding near the front of the train, slapped the white filly’s rump and wheeled around sharply.

Marnie ran toward Lijah as Hoke yelled, “Circle up!” Then he grabbed the reins of the first wagon—driven by Phillip, the oldest Sutler boy. Lijah’s wagon had been second in line. Hoke turned the team and swung them around to start to form the outer circle. Rascal, always near the heels of Hoke’s horse, had a hard time keeping up.

They had talked about what to do if they were ever attacked but had hoped they would never need to act on the plan. The lead company was to swing away from the attack to form the first half of the outer circle; the second company was to swing in the same direction for the first half of the inner circle; the third company would fall in behind the first company to close the outer loop, leaving space for the fourth company to pull in and close the inner one. The last wagon would close in the gap. Women and children were to take cover inside the inner-circle wagons, and the men were to go to the center of the ring—Dotson’s command post—to receive instructions.

Thankfully, the train wasn’t as spread out as usual. Dotson had been keeping them tighter since they left Laramie, knowing this was Indian country.

Abigail helped Marnie pull Lijah into the back of the wagon, then grabbed the reins and led his team into formation behind Phillip’s. They were the first two wagons in Company D, which had been leading the train today. Hoke nodded to her.

“Sutler!” shouted Hoke to Phillip, who had secured his own team. “Get back here and tie this team. Go on down the line as they come up.” He pointed at Abigail. “Get back to your family!”

Hoke’s chest swelled with pride at Abigail’s quick actions, but he wanted her inside the loop so he wouldn’t have to worry about her.

Company A was in the rear, which meant that the Kensington sisters were in the last wagon and would need help. Hoke rode back through the line shouting instructions to the drivers.

He saw Abigail jump down and run toward her own wagons. Company C was second in formation.

More Indians had leapt from the trees. Arrows zipped like sideways rain. It was hard to tell how many there were; everything was happening so fast. The Indians were on foot. They had emerged from the rocks and ground around the train.

Charlie got in line behind James, their two wagons forming the first part of the inner circle. Abigail saw him hand the reins to Corrine and climb into the back to get the rifle. James hobbled the lead team, then ran back to help Corrine tie her horses to the back of his wagon.

“I’ve got ’em!” she yelled. “See if Jacob needs help.”

“All right,” said James, “but get inside as soon as they’re tied.”

Abigail jumped in the back of the wagon just as Charlie’s feet cleared the buckboard on his way out. “Charlie!” she called. But he was gone.

“Oh, God, watch out for him,” she prayed, knowing Charlie had never heard her.

Her hands trembling, she clawed for the box that held the pistol—a .36 caliber Navy Colt exactly like the one Sue Vandergelden had used. Robert had wanted her to have something small that she could handle but still powerful enough to get the job done.
It got Sue’s job done
, she thought with a shiver.

She broke the gun open and checked. Five shots. Robert had said to leave it resting on an empty chamber with the children around. She closed the cylinder and clicked it over so the gun was ready to fire. She grabbed another box of cartridges and percussion caps and stuffed them in her skirt pocket. She looked around. Was that everything she needed?

Outside the wagon there were shouts and cries, then an eerie high-pitched whooping. That had to be Indians. Of course it was Indians! They were under attack. Hadn’t she seen the arrow in Lijah’s arm? She’d begun to react before the truth of the situation had really sunk in. A reckless thrill shot through her chest followed by a sinking fear. It could just as easily have been one of her boys who’d been shot.

Would they lose anyone? Everyone? Where were her children?
Lina!
Cold fear flooded her chest again. Lina had been at the back of the train with Josephine Jenkins in Company A.

Corrine was still working to tie the reins to the wagon in front of her, the mules pitching their heads wildly. The wagon jerked and Abigail was flung to the side, but she held on to the pistol. Corrine snapped the leather in frustration. “Settle down!”

“When you get them tied, come in here,” yelled Abigail, scrambling to get her balance. “I’ll bring Jacob and Lina to you. Stay in here with them—no matter what happens.” She climbed over the back and dropped to the ground.

Jacob was just pulling their second wagon into formation. Abigail reached for him as James took the reins to tie. The mules were wild with fear and hard to handle, but Jacob had done it. His face was white from the effort.

“You did so well!” Abigail gave him a squeeze. “Get inside with Corrine. I’m going to get Lina.”

Abigail spun around, taking stock and counting. Company A would be about fifteen wagons back. The attack was coming from the northwest, at the front. Her children were on the southeast side.
Thank God!
She could see Colonel Dotson stationed at the center of the circle, directing the men.

“Beckett, get over here,” he yelled. “Put your gun away; get your notepad and pencil. Charlie here is a marksman with a .44 Henry. I’m sending him to the far right front by Sutler. Write that down. Listen for his shots and when he gets to six, let me know.”

He turned to Paddy Douglas. Paddy had stuck pretty close to the colonel since the children had played games at the river’s split. Paddy had followed Colonel Dotson to the center when the attack started. “You know where we put that ammunition in my wagon? It’s the one Baird’s driving today. Run and get as much as you can carry in your shirtfront. Hold your shirt up like this and cradle it—your pockets won’t be big enough. Don’t worry about your coon, he’ll hold on. Bring that ammunition right back here to us—powder, balls, grease, and some paper cartridges. Secure ’em good. Don’t drop ’em. You’re a fast runner—don’t think I forgot.”

“Son!” said Dotson, as one of the Sutler boys ran up, “go find Harry Sims and relieve him of his wagon. He’ll be at the back of Company D, over there. Tell him I need him on the front.”

Everyone appeared relatively calm, but Abigail’s heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would rip from her chest. She saw Jacob climbing in the back of their first wagon with Corrine like she’d told him to do.
Good.
She didn’t need him trying to be a man right now. It was enough to have Charlie to worry about. Where had Charlie gone? She looked around and found him: there he was with John Sutler, in a firing position behind one of the Sutlers’ wagons.

Emma Austelle ran past her with one of the Schroeder twins on her hip. “Get in the wagon with Corrine and Jacob,” instructed Abigail, pointing to it. She tried to count the moving wagons again to locate the front of Company A.

Where was Lina?

Shots rang out and the whoops grew closer. Her heart was gripped with fear for her youngest daughter.

Hoke had needed only a moment to take it all in. He’d counted fifteen Indians but didn’t trust his number; they darted in and out of the brush so fast. It was smart of them to attack just as the train hit a steep part of the ascent. The Indians were on foot, so they probably just wanted horses. But it didn’t make sense for them to attack in the daytime like this—they’d have had a better chance at the horses after dark. Who had been on scout duty? Why hadn’t he noticed any sign of the imminent attack? Hoke blamed himself for not having been more vigilant.

Everyone had been quick to respond to the crisis, he noted with pride, and was staying pretty calm—at least for now.

Rudy Schroeder yawed his team to the left and swung around in formation. His wagon was on the outside, the first of Company B to get in place. As soon as the team halted, Rudy grabbed his shotgun and jumped from the seat, handing the reins to his wife. Then he began making his way down the line, instructing and lending a hand to each of the Schroeder wagons as they pulled up, helping the men restrain the livestock and getting the women to inner-circle wagons, telling them to hunker down.

Few of them did. They were rummaging for guns and extra ammunition and poking children’s heads down when they bobbed up, the children’s eyes filled with wonder.

“Faramond!” barked the colonel. “You got that repeating rifle ready? Send your nephew there and run it over to James Parker. Bring back his Winchester and reload it for him. Duncan, you keep track of Michael Chessor.”

Hoke smiled at the colonel. He’d been paying attention and was putting each man on a task he was well suited for. The Schroeders weren’t marksmen, but they were cool under pressure, so he’d put Schroeders on reloading and restocking from the middle. Where was Gerald Jenkins? he wondered, and then realized he’d be back with Company A, still getting them into formation. Hoke knew the colonel would want Jenkins in the middle.

“I count fifteen! All on that northwest slope!” yelled Hoke to Dotson as he charged past on his way to get Jenkins.

Someone yelled, “Women and children to the inside!”

Men continued running toward Colonel Dotson as soon as they got their teams tied, then running off to wherever he’d directed them. The men with guns threw their shoulders against the wagon wheels and fired at the elusive attackers who kept leaping out, then disappearing again into the brush.

Hoke spotted Nichodemus Jasper. “Come help these sisters in the back. They’re last in line and need to close the gap.” Then he swung back up the line, continuing to shout instructions and oversee the train. He really needed to get off the filly.

Doc Isaacs ran to the colonel. “What can I do?”

“Get over to the Sutler wagon. One of their boys was hit. Stay there so we’ll know where to find you if anyone else goes down.”

Hoke saw Abigail standing between the outer and inner circle with a Navy Colt in her hand. She was turning from side to side, counting wagons. He’d seen Emma Austelle climbing into the back of the Baldwyn wagon, one of the Schroeder babies in her arms. Corrine and Jacob had been pulling her in. But where was Lina?