Never Look Back (54 page)

The day after the broken axle they made camp that night at Willow Springs where there was pasture for the animals. As several of the children on the train were sick, Captain Russell said they would lay up there a whole day to rest which would give the men a chance to go hunting for badly needed fresh meat.

Matilda woke very early the following morning and crept out of the wagon to watch the sun rise. Everyone else was still asleep, the sound of gentle snoring was coming from every direction, even Treacle didn’t move from his position under the wagon.

The sky was still very dark, just a pink and yellow glow in the
east, and it was deliciously cool. Matilda reached back into the wagon for a towel, thinking that perhaps she could take the opportunity to bathe in the stream, and when her hand touched the gun, she took that too, just in case there were snakes.

As she passed by the ashes from last night’s fire in the middle of the circle of wagons, she could feel a little warmth coming from them still, and it reminded her oddly of mornings in New York when she would creep downstairs at dawn to coax the stove into life again and enjoy the tranquillity of being alone while everyone else still slept.

She tiptoed through the wagons on the stream side of the circle, stopping as she saw elk drinking on the far bank, less than forty yards from her. Not wishing to frighten them, she shrank back against a wagon to watch. She had seen these large deer before on the trail, but only at a distance, and she hadn’t known that they were even taller than her and that their antlers were so huge. For a moment she just watched, awed by their beauty, expecting that they would sense her presence any moment and run, but perhaps the wind was in the wrong direction because they didn’t even lift their heads from the water.

Suddenly she remembered Captain Russell’s words last night about the desperate need for the men to go hunting. Hunting parties had not been very successful up till now, for the men on the train were mainly farmers, and few could shoot straight. The thought of killing one of these magnificent animals was abhorrent, but there were many sick children on the train, and Tabitha had informed her she thought many of the families had no food left at all, indeed she’d even suggested giving away the last of their hoarded bacon.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered as she lifted her gun to her shoulder. ‘I wouldn’t kill you if we didn’t need food so badly.’ She got the largest one in her sights and fired.

He staggered for a moment as the rest of the herd scattered, then he fell heavily to the ground.

All at once the whole camp awoke, dogs barked, horses whinnied, men came leaping out of wagons and from under them, mostly wearing only their underwear.

‘Is it Indians?’ someone shouted, and with that, before Matilda had a chance to move or speak, Captain Russell was striding bare-chested through the circle, a pistol in his hand.

‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ Matilda called out. ‘I just shot an elk.’

Later, as she told Tabitha how it all came about, they both laughed at the thought of Captain Russell rushing out imagining Indians were about to attack and finding Matilda in her white night-gown, clutching a rifle. But at the moment he came towards her she wanted to hide herself from him and all the other male eyes on her.

The Captain splashed through the stream and bent over the elk to check it.

‘Where in tarnation did an English woman learn to shoot like that?’ he called back.

Matilda ran away then, back to the wagon to dress herself. She had a strong feeling she would be the sole subject of today’s gossip.

At noon Matilda was sitting in the shade of the wagon making some alterations to the dress she’d been given, enjoying the peace which had fallen over the camp in the last hour. Earlier it had been a scene of frantic activity, women washing clothes, airing bedding, children shouting to one another as they fetched water, men hammering and banging as they repaired rock damage to their wagons. Some had taken off their wagon wheels to leave them to soak in the stream, for the dry heat shrank the timber, and if left, it could cause the iron rims to fall off. But it was quiet now, most people resting under the trees by the creek, and there were delicious smells of meat stewing slowly on the many camp stoves.

Tabitha came running back with Treacle and the pair of them flopped down on the ground beside Matilda, panting with the heat. Tabitha’s sun-bonnet was dripping wet, just a few days ago one of the scouts told her he kept cool by soaking his hat in water and she’d copied him. Matilda thought it might work with a leather hat, but not with a cotton bonnet.

‘Everyone’s talking about you down by the creek,’ Tabitha said excitedly. ‘Mrs Jacobson, she’s the one with nine children, said I ought to be real proud of you.’

‘I don’t really know if you should be, Tabby,’ Matilda replied with a smile. ‘I thought it was an awful shame to kill such a noble creature.’

‘No one else feels that way.’ Tabitha grinned. ‘Lots of the other
people had nothing to eat. Mrs Jacobson said her children went to bed hungry last night, and if the men didn’t get something today she didn’t know what she was going to do. One of the men said he reckoned they could have been out all day hunting and still come back with nothing.’

Matilda rolled her eyes, she hadn’t shot the elk with the intention of saving the men from doing their duty as providers.

‘I bet they aren’t helping their women instead,’ she said dryly. ‘Lazy devils!’

‘No, they’re all talking about you and wondering how an English lady learned to handle a gun like that,’ Tabitha said gleefully. ‘But I stopped to speak to Mrs Donnier, she’s the one whose children are sick. She was making some broth for them with the meat, she said she hoped it might make them better. I told her you knew a whole lot about sick children too, and she asked if you’d come and take a look at them and see if you know what’s wrong with them.’

Matilda had been quite enjoying her new-found fame, but at that she turned to the child in horror. ‘Oh Tabby, I can’t do that,’ she said. ‘They might have something catching.’

Tabitha looked stunned. ‘You sound like Mama,’ she said accusingly. ‘She was always scared of catching things. I thought you were braver.’

That retort was like having a mug of cold water thrown over Matilda. For not only did she realize how selfish and uncaring she must have sounded, but suddenly after so long she actually understood the primitive instinct behind Lily’s fear of disease.

‘Your mother, my girl, had a great deal of courage,’ she said sharply. ‘If she was afraid of disease it wasn’t for herself, but you. I can see that now because I don’t want to take any risks that might harm you, the baby inside me, or myself for that matter, because I’m the one who has to look out for us.’

‘But Mrs Donnier looks so tired and worried,’ Tabitha said, her dark eyes welling with tears. ‘No one else is helping her, and I was so sure you would.’

Her words were like hearing Giles speak, and immediately Matilda was shamed. She got to her feet and held out her hand to the child. ‘You’d better show me the Donniers’ wagon then. But mind you keep well away, just in case.’

Even before she got to the wagon Matilda heard the tell-tale dry coughing of measles. Knowing that neither she nor Tabitha was likely to get it a second time made her feel somewhat easier. As the mother came towards her wringing her hands on her apron, Matilda’s heart went out to her.

She had that same grey, defeated look that many of the women in Finders Court had, a combination of poverty, too many children, hard work and poor food. She was probably only twenty-four at most, but she looked far older, thin and stooped, with blackened teeth, and even her brown hair was lifeless, like dull wire.

‘I sure am beholden to you, Mrs Jennings,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t have troubled your little girl to fetch you, but she said you might know what ails my children.’

‘Their coughing sounds like measles,’ Matilda said. ‘But let me see them.’

There were five children lying huddled in the bed in the wagon, the youngest just about a year old, the eldest around seven. Matilda crawled in beside them and felt their heads. All of them felt far too hot, and their skin dry, just the way Tabitha had been when she had it. It was hard to see if they had a rash, for the canvas on the wagon made it dark.

‘I’m pretty certain it is measles,’ Matilda said as she crawled back out. ‘Give them plenty to drink. And sponge them down with cool water too, but you must protect their eyes from the light, so tie something round their eyes when you bring them outside.’

She went on to explain about keeping their ears and eyes clean and using boiled salt water, but even as she spoke her heart was sinking. They had almost lost Tabitha, and she’d been in a real house with the doctor calling every day. Worse still, these children had probably had contact with many others in the past two or three weeks, so there would be more children and adults going down with it before long. She realized too that the child who had been sick soon after they set off from Independence had probably been the carrier, yet that mother hadn’t told anyone what her child was suffering from, and the two other child deaths that were put down as ‘ague’ by Captain Russell were most likely measles victims too. She resolved she would have a word with him about that later, but first she felt compelled to help
sponge the children down, for their mother looked too exhausted to do it alone.

Over two hours later Matilda went back to her wagon, but although she was tired from fetching water, lifting the children and helping their mother wash soiled covers on the bed, she was too angry to rest.

Mr Donnier hadn’t lifted a finger to help. He’d sat in the shade with a group of other men playing cards, the only time he spoke was to ask when his supper would be ready.

Marie Donnier was not the brightest of women, she reminded Matilda of the oxen, plodding along, unaware of anything except what was right in front of her. Like the oxen she would work until she dropped, and doubtless her brutish husband would only take notice when she failed to give him supper.

Marie had said she was married at sixteen, and she’d lost two babies already. They’d lived in Indiana, Ohio and Missouri, she said her husband was never happy in one place for too long.

Captain Russell was talking to a group of men who were rubbing salt into the hide of the elk. When he saw Matilda he broke off and came over to her, grinning fit to bust.

‘Howdy, heroine,’ he said. ‘You’ve gone from the hermit to the lady everyone wants to talk to, in just a few hours.’

She ignored that remark and laid right into him, accusing him of covering up the two child deaths as ague when it was measles.

‘Well, I didn’t know,’ he said with a look of alarm. ‘I ain’t no doctor, ma’am. I took the mother’s word for it.’

‘I take it you know measles is highly infectious?’

‘Of course I do,’ he said, frowning with anxiety. ‘We’ll have to move the Donniers’ wagon right away from the circle.’

‘It’s too late for that now,’ she said. ‘Just as it’s too late for poor Marie Donnier to do anything about that useless lump of buffalo dung she’s married to.’

He laughed.

‘Don’t you laugh at me,’ she snapped. ‘It’s bad enough every time we have a rest day seeing the women flogging themselves half to death while the men sit around like lords, but that man didn’t even get water to sponge his sick children down. He should be horse-whipped.’

To her surprise he agreed with her. ‘You’re right, Mrs Jennings. Since taking out wagon trains I’ve surely seen how unfairly
women get treated. There’s been many a man I wanted to horsewhip for neglecting his duty as a husband and father. But you tell me what we should do about this measles to prevent it spreading any further.’

Her irritation at him vanished. He was honest enough to admit he didn’t know everything, and it felt good to be treated as his equal. ‘There isn’t much we can do except find out which children have been playing with the Donniers’ little ones, and tell those parents not to let them mix with anyone else until they are in the clear,’ she said.

He nodded agreement. ‘I’ll do that now. But you take it easy, ma’am, I shouldn’t want to see you get sick too.’

‘I’ve already had measles,’ she said. ‘And nursed Tabitha through it. I’ll be fine. the person I’m worried about is Mrs Donnier. She’s worn out already and the chances are some of her children won’t survive. You could make that oaf of a man realize his wife needs some help, and some sleep.’

Captain James Russell watched as Matilda walked away. He had been intrigued by her right from the first day she came to him asking to join the wagon train. He was always reluctant to take any woman travelling on her own, for that usually spelled trouble, especially if they were as pretty as Mrs Jennings. On top of that she was English, and the few English women he had taken out West were all a pain in the rump, always complaining or praying, and he didn’t know which was worse.

All the time Matilda was making her preparations to leave, he watched her from a distance, and he couldn’t help but be impressed. He liked her firm but gentle way with both animals and children, and the way she didn’t flutter her eyelashes at any men to get their help, but did everything herself.

Then on the final night in a saloon in Independence he’d heard the story about the English minister who’d first lost his wife in childbirth and then got himself shot. According to what he’d heard, the man was very special, caring for everyone like they were his own, standing up against slavery, supporting the Indians, taking folks into his own home after the flood.

The local men spoke equally warmly of the woman who had come to Independence with him and his wife, and lived with them like a sister. They said she hadn’t sent the minister’s child back to England but was intending to bring her up herself.

James guessed right away that this woman had to be the English Mrs Jennings he’d agreed to take to Oregon, and he assumed at first she had adopted the role of widow just to prevent anyone taking liberties with her.

It was only a week into the trail that he began to suspect she was carrying a child. He watched her lifting two pails of water one evening, and just the careful way she straightened up reminded him of his wife’s movements when she was that way. Belle, like the minister’s wife, died in childbirth, while he was off soldiering, and a part of him died too then, because he should have been there.