Savage storm (28 page)

"You must not make yourself ill with regret, Sam. The past can't be changed. We will simply have to do the best we can to see that Amanda survives and then it will be up to you to make the best of your opportunities." That word nearly stuck in her

throat because she was suddenly overwhelmed by thoughts of Jason. Were she to fall ill and die he would never know that she had loved him, but perhaps that would be best. Then her loss would not hurt him so deeply and he'd have none of the regrets which plagued Sam now.

When he'd eaten what little he could of his own supper, Jason gathered up the blankets he'd collected and walked out to the Duffys wagon. Gabrielle saw him coming and called out, advising him to stay away, but he walked right up to her anyway to hand over the blankets he'd promised to bring.

"How is she?" He glanced toward the wagon.

"No better, I'm afraid. Sam's still with her, but I'll try to encourage Johanna to sleep out here with us tonight."

Jason had never felt so helpless. Unlike Indian braves, this enemy was invisible and had no respect for the courage of its victims. He'd had the worst afternoon of his life trying to reason with people who wanted to flee, not realizing they could be the next to fall ill. No wagon master worth his pay would agree to dropping off wagons so capriciously. He'd told them repeatedly that cholera could be defeated, but not by abandoning those who were ill and letting them fend for themselves. He'd said he'd use his rifle if he had to, but no one was going to leave the wagon train while he had any means to prevent his departure. "I'll come back in the morning, and again at noon. If Amanda has survived this long, she just may make it."

"Oh, I hope so." Gabrielle seized the note of hope in his voice as reason enough to be encouraged. "Sam seems to be overburdened as it is. I don't think he could face raising his children alone."

Jason was not tempted to comment on the man's abilities as a father or otherwise. "Just try to get a good night's rest and I'll talk with you in the morning. I won't leave you all behind; they can't make me do that."

His glance was so serious Gabrielle asked softly, "But that has been suggested?"

"Are you surprised that it has?"

*'No, I suppose not. But I know youMl do what's right.** Gabrielle had every confidence in him for he'd shown himself to be the best of leaders in all manner of trying situations.

"Now you have decided to believe in me? At the worst of times?" Jason could not understand her sudden expression of trust after the many bitter rejections he'd received. Dismayed, he started back toward the circle of wagons, wondering who'd be waiting to see him when he returned to his tent.

Gabrielle watched him go with no more than a faint smile, for she'd always believed in him, in the kind of man she longed for him to be. "Good night, Jason, and God bless you," she whispered.

Then she turned back to the three children who were watching her with rapt attention. "Let's find a good spot for these blankets, we're going to sleep upon the ground tonight instead of inside the wagon so your mother will be able to rest more comfortably."

She got them ready for bed and then told them a story until all were yawning and she knew she could bring the tale to an end. She'd had little experience with small children but things seemed to be going along all right. The fires of the other wagons appeared to be very distant, and once the sun had set she felt very much alone. The journey was turning out to be very different from the one she had anticipated, but she'd have no complaints as long as they all survived.

Johanna climbed out of the wagon and walked about to exercise her cramped muscles. She spoke quietly to Gabrielle. "If Mr. Royal recommends fluids and warmth then we've been doing all that could be done all day. I had hoped to be useful here, but I had not expected something so severe."

"Would you not have come had you known?" Gabrielle asked in a hushed whisper.

"Oh, I would have come. It is just that I would have liked to have known what the situation really was. I know some of the others. Iris in particular, think me a bit peculiar, but I hope

you do not think I am the sort who does no more than read her Bible when the chance to be of some real service presents itself."

"Frankly, I am enjoying the chance to avoid Iris* company for a few days, and I never once thought that you were not sincere in your beliefs. We'll have more time to talk tomorrow. I think you should try to sleep for a while, don't you?" Gabrielle was tired and she knew Johanna had to be as well.

"Yes, I should. Til do no good if I am falling asleep when my patient needs me. She seems to be resting more comfortably and since Sam is sitting with her I think I will lie down."

"Good night then." Gabrielle lay down upon the blanket she'd placed near the children and despite the hardness of the ground she was sound asleep within minutes. But long before dawn she was awakened by Sam calling her name.

"Miss MacLaren," he whispered, his voice choked with tears. "It's got me too, miss, I feel like my insides are on fire. What are we gonna do?"

Rising quickly, Gabrielle took the man's arm and led him over to a spot close to the remains of their fire. She spread out her blanket and patted it lightly. "Lie down right here. You'll be warm and I'll brew some more tea for you to drink. I'm sorry you've fallen ill, and I know you're going to feel dreadful but we'll see you pull through." She had no idea why she was so optimistic, but her words seemed to help the man. She busied herself with building up the fire and heating the kettle. Then she climbed into the wagon. Satisfied that Amanda was still breathing, she returned to Sam and tried to convince him to drink all he could.

"I don't want anything to drink, my stomach hurts I tell you, it hurts something awful," he complained through a fresh torrent of tears.

"I know it must hurt, but if I must hold your head back and pour this tea down your throat I'll do it!" Gabrielle meant the threat too, for it was obvious to her that people couldn't survive an illness so severe if they refused all liquids.

No sooner had she gotten Sam to cooperate than Mary Beth began to cry and Cabrielle hurried to the little girPs side. She seemed to be burning with fever one moment and then shaking with a chill the next. Soon Johanna was awake and they hurriedly devised a plan for treating their rapidly growing number of patients. With little discussion they agreed the children would be Gabrielle's responsibility while Johanna would continue to care for Amanda and now Sam as well. In less than an hour Suzanna awoke and began complaining of a stomach ache, but Timothy slept through his sisters high-pitched cries and when he awoke at dawn he still felt well.

"I am so happy to have your help, Timothy." Cabrielle looked at his two sisters who were wrapped snugly in their blankets, for the time being resting between bouts of nausea. "I know this will be a difficult time for you, but I want you to find what firewood you can as your sisters and parents will need plenty to drink and I want to boil all their water first.'*

"Sure I know how to look for wood. Til find something,'' he promised. But other than the sagebrush there was little in sight.

"Good. Now how about some breakfast?" Cabrielle had fried some bacon and she insisted he eat some before he went out on his errand. "If you feel dizzy or the least bit ill, you come right back, Timothy. Don't sit down and think you can wait a minute until you feel better. You come right back immediately, do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." He started off then, eager to be of some use when their situation seemed such a desperate one.

When Jason arrived that morning, he listened quietly to Cabrielle's report and then told her the disease had broken out among three more families. "I'm moving their wagons out here but I want you to stay with the Duffys. Don't think you can nurse everyone who has fallen ill or you'll become exhausted and none of your patients will survive."

"What wonderful encouragement!" she responded quickly. Then she apologized because she knew she was already

overtired. '*Vm sorry, none of this is your fault but the girls are dreadfully ill and there is so little I can do."

*'Do you recall telling me our fate is in God's hands?" Jason offered philosophically.

Cabrielle remembered that conversation all too well, "Yes, I said that and I believe it too, but that doesn't mean Til just sit here and watch those sweet little girls die!"

'That's not what I meant, Gabrielle," Jason replied impatiently. "We can all do only so much. You mustn't think you have failed if their fate is not the one you would have chosen. We can expect no more than half to survive and that's if we're lucky, damn lucky."

"Well, fortunately, I seem to thrive on adversity, Mr. Royal, and I intend to see all the Duffys live to see Oregon City no matter what you think their chances might be." She could not help but think he wanted her to choose between them somehow. With four of the Duffys ill and only she and Johanna to tend them, it was obvious they could not provide optimum care for everyone. Who deserved to live, the babies who had all their lives ahead of them or their parents who had just recently rediscovered the love they'd once had for each other? It was not a choice she could, or would make.

Jason had to agree with Gabrielle's assessment of herself. She was an orphan who had lost her childhood sweetheart in a tragic accident, still she had more courage than any woman he'd ever known. He was tired too, but he tried to smile. "Just do the best you can. Keep everyone clean and warm, and force them to drink all they'll hold. I'll bring over another barrel of water when I come back at noon."

He reached up to touch the brim of his hat as he often did, his jaunty salute strangely comforting, and Gabrielle called his name, drawing him back for one moment more. "Jason, I , . . well, that is . . ." The sun was already high in the sky, the day was going to be another hot one, and she could not bring herself to say she loved him at such an inappropriate time. Although she wanted him to know before it was too late, she

could not force herself to speak the words.

"Yes? Is there something else?" he asked curiously.

"G>uld we borrow that small tent of yours? I was thinking of using it as an awning to provide additional shade.'' The idea had come to her suddenly when she realized she'd have to say something or appear a complete fool.

'Til bring it. You and Johanna will need a change of clothing loo. Anything else I might have forgotten?"

"I'll let you know if I think of something more."

Gabrielle watched him walk away, her sorrow as deep as if they'd parted forever. The v/ords I love you^ had come so easily to her lips with Beau, why were they impossible to speak to Jason? She knew the answer without a second's pause: Beau had said them first to her. He had made her feel loved in so many ways that Jason did not even seem to suspect existed. Thinking herself foolish for daydreaming at such an inopportune time, she returned to the little girls, soothing their fevered cries as best she could with a thoughtful word and a warm hug.

The disease continued to spread until at least one person was ill in fifteen of the fifty wagons. Inspired by Gabrielle's and Johanna's example. Erica went to help the stricken families and she was soon followed by Barbara, Margaret, and Marlene. Not impressed by their unselfish example, however. Iris did not even consider offering to help those who had fallen ill. Instead, she used her time to get to know Jason Royal better, but he was so distracted by the emergency she often found herself sitting alone with Clayton Home. Fortunately for her, he proved to be a most charming companion and she did not complain when Jason was unable to join them.

Gabrielle had no such amusement since all her days were exhausting. But each morning when she and Johanna awoke to find their patients still breathing, no matter how weakly, they considered their efforts a success. Timothy had remained healthy, and his parents and sisters, although pale and weak, had survived the worst ravages of the disease. However, more

than two weeks passed before they could sit up and tolerate eating something more solid than clear soup and weak tea. While they had no idea how many had fallen ill or how many had died, Sam and Amanda Duffy were convinced they owed their own lives and those of their children to Gabrielle and Johanna, and they missed no opportunity to say so.

When there had been no new cases of cholera in five days, Jason began making plans to move on to Fort Hall. They had fallen way behind schedule, but he considered that concern a trivial one when so many of the emigrants had lost members of their families. When Gabrielle asked him for a final count, there were tears in his eyes as he replied.

"Sixty-one were stricken and of those twenty-four died. We didn't lose half after all, but I think that was more due to the efforts of you and your friends than to luck. Sam Duffy was devoted to you before, but I imagine he will be impossibly loyal now.

''Speaking of shadows, I feel no stronger than one. I have not even thought about Sunny, and I doubt I'll have the energy to ride for several days. Is he all right?"

"He complained bitterly each time I brushed him, so I'd say he's missed you quite a bit." Jason scuffed the top of his moccasin in the dust. "Don't try to ride him until you're sure you can handle him easily. I'd hate to see you escape catching cholera only to die of a broken neck."

"What a touching sentiment, Jason." Gabrielle brushed her hair back from her eyes, sorry he would not admit he'd missed her himself. Of course he had come to check on her patients each day, but he'd gone to each wagon where someone was ill so she knew she'd gotten no more attention than anyone else. Too often she'd seen him with a shovel in his hand and had known he'd been out to bury someone less fortunate than the Duffys. Chilled by that thought, she shivered slightly and he looked up in alarm.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes. This has been difficult for all of us, but I think you've

had the worst of it. Will you tell me the truth, does anyone hiame the Duffys for this tragedy?*'

''Because Amanda fell ill first? No. That was mere chance. I don't think anyone would accuse her of bringing the sickness to us, and should anyone be so damn stupid I'd put a fast stop to it. It's pointless to blame someone for another's death; it won't bring any of them back."

''I know that." Gabrielle looked out over the plain, her thoughts on another time and place, on a young man so full of life she'd thought he'd never grow old. Well, he hadn't gotten the chance to age, no matter how gracefully he might have done it. "A lot of people have died on this trail haven't they, Jason, of one thing or another?"

Jason was already so depressed he could scarcely stand it. He didn't need Gabrielle to start reminiscing about Beau. ''Yes. Too damn many have died and I've buried more than my share of them in the last two weeks." He was ashamed of himself then, for that had sounded as though he were complaining about the work involved rather than the tragedy. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

Gabrielle laid her fingertips gently upon his arm. "I know what you meant, Jason. I've stayed mostly with the girls from my wagon and the other brides, but you know each person in every single wagon by name, don't you? Don't tell me it's your responsibility to know them either, because you do so much more than what your job requires. I'm sure we'd all say too many have died, but many more have survived and I think that's due in large measure to your guidance. You certainly convinced me we could save the Duffys with no more than boiled water and blankets, and I'm sure you did the same for everyone else."

Jason just shook his head, dismayed that she would wish to compliment him when his contribution had been so slight compared to hers. She had worked tirelessly when her only reward might well have been death. "I had no idea you thought me worthy of any praise. Are you sure the fever hasn't touched

you?" He reached out to caress her cheek as if he meant to do no more than check her temperature.

"Since you do not appreciate my compliments, I will cease to pay them." Gabrielle turned away, thinking herself a fool for having tried once again to reach him. "Good night."

"Good night," he answered softly, but a sly smile lit his handsome features. Maybe it wasn't as impossible to impress Gabrielle as he'd thought. Walking on to the next wagon, he began whistling to himself, his mood suddenly a surprisingly optimistic one.

"i^Aa/Uejo 3UJ

It was not until they arrived at Fort Hall and Clayton mentioned how pretty Iris Stewart was and how beautifully she had survived the rigors of their travel that Jason took a good long look at her and the other brides. Of the twenty-one young women, six in Gabrielle's wagon had nursed the victims of the cholera outbreak and five from the other two wagons had also volunteered. It was easy to pick those eleven out from the others for they still showed obvious signs of their exhausting labor. While their companions were slender, they were now painfully thin. They still had dark circles beneath their eyes, and they moved so slowly when they walked about the camp to pay calls on their former patients he was afraid their weariness might be causing them real pain. He'd written down their names, meaning to commend them somehow, but Clayton's remark was so insensitive he was outraged.

"It is no wonder Iris is attractive, she's done nothing more strenuous than lift her fork to her mouth since this trip began. I know how some of the girls look; they look as though they've sacrificed a great deal of themselves in an attempt to save the lives of near strangers. I think they're the best of the lot and I'll damn well tell our friends that too!"

Shocked by the ferocity of Jason's anger, Clayton needed a moment in which to find his voice to respond. "I did not realize

you would take my compliment for Iris so adversely."

Jason was nowhere near finished with the tirade heM hegun and he continued in the same harsh tone. "I warned you how difficult this trip would be for the girls when you first approached me with the plan to bring mail-order brides over the Oregon Trail. I should never, never have consented to so dangerous a scheme! We're going to remain camped here at Fort Hall until every one of these young women is the beauty she was when we left Independence. I'll put some weight back on them if I have to make them drink cream, but by God, I'll not have anyone tell me Iris looks good when she's no more than the image of pampered self-indulgence and those who look like walking death are some of the most courageous young women I've ever known!"

Clayton still had no idea why his remark had angered Jason so greatly. "You're taking yourself rather seriously, aren't you? A few days' rest will help your mood too. That Iris didn't choose to risk her life needlessly was merely prudent, not selfish. I mean no disrespect to those young women who did put in so many long days to nurse the sick. Of course their efforts are commendable."

Disgusted that Clayton would still ignore the truth, Jason turned away, but he decided right then to make sure that the young women he thought were the most beautiful became the prettiest as well. Rummaging through his belongings, he found his sketch pad and, taking pen and ink, went to find a few girls who wouldn't mind being his models for an hour or so.

Gabrielle was the only one who had known Jason had made the sketches of the bachelors until he asked Erica to pose for him that day. Soon he was surrounded by curious young women who were all amazed to find the wagon master so accomplished an artist. With a careful glance and a few deft strokes he created such a stunning portrait of Erica the others were all eager to have him draw them as well.

"I plan to do a sketch of each one of you, ladies," Jason explained with a smile. ''I know the first few days we're in

Oregon City you'll need time to rest and to see to your wardrobes, so my drawings will have to keep the bachelors satisfied until you're ready to see them yourselves. I am certain the men are as curious about you as you are about them, but it won't hurt to keep them waiting if they have at least some idea of how lovely you all are."

Gabrielle watched from the sidelines. She had seldom seen Jason in so charming a mood, and her companions positively glowed with the warmth of his many compliments as he drew their portraits. While at first she thought he was selecting his subjects at random she soon noticed there was a pattern to his choices. He was taking those among them who had served as nurses and she knew how dearly that selfless service had cost them. None of them had come down with the disease, but they all looked as though they had been ill. They were pale and thin and their hair was as brittle as straw while those who had done no more than sit in the shade of their wagons and chat while the cholera epidemic swept the camp were the picture of health. Yet Gabrielle had heard not a single complaint from the women who had done the most, not one word spoken in regret. She was proud to think that none of them thought their looks too high a price to have paid for the lives they'd saved. That Jason clearly thought so too was so dear of him. She loved him all the more for it. He was such a complex individual, passionate, but caring deeply about others. She knew better than to mention how much she admired his purpose, however, and pretended to be surprised when he asked her to come and sit down with him so he could make a sketch of her.

Jason tried to suppress his smile; he knew his expression would give away the depth of his regard for Gabrielle should anyone look closely. He still thought her the prettiest of them all, but her beauty was difficult to separate from her vivid coloring and he swiftly grew discouraged. "I am sorry. Miss MacLaren, but I simply can't do you justice with pen and ink and I have no paints with me."

*'Do you enjoy painting too, Mr. Royal?" Gabrielle asked

curiously, wondering why he continued to deny his talent was an extraordinary gift.

"I have had little opportunity to do any painting, hut I like it well enough." Jason stopped to look up at her again, he had the planes of her face correctly positioned, the delicate curves accurately drawn but without being able to provide the glorious red for her hair or the bright clear blue for her eyes he felt totally frustrated. When two men from their group approached him, he was glad for the excuse to take a break and lay his pen aside. "Is there something you need, gentlemen?"

Jesse Martin cleared his throat nervously before he spoke. He had not expected to find Jason surrounded by pretty young women, but it did not occur to him to ask to speak with the wagon master in private. "Me and Elmer was up at the fort just now, and we heard some men talking about taking the trail to Gilifornia."

When he paused Jason guessed the question Jesse was about to ask and he rose to his feet to respond. "Yes. There's a trail which leads south. It cuts above the Great Salt Lake, then heads west. I wouldn't recommend that you take it now though. You'll reach the Sierra Nevada range too late in the fall and you might end up like the Donner party did last year. I know you don't want to risk that."

Elmer Radford frowned, clearly confused by that reference. "I heard the name, but I don't recall what happened to them. Was it bad?"

Jason glanced over at the young women who were listening with such rapt interest. He'd thought they would have heard of the tragedy, but apparently several had not for they looked only curious rather than ill.

"It was as bad as possible," he replied softly. "In late October the Donner party was trapped by snow storms so fierce that passage through the mountains was impossible. The men were too weak to raise cabins so their families had to survive as best they could with no more than tents half-buried in snowdrifts for shelter. Their livestock froze to death, and

finally they had no choice but to consume human flesh rather than starve. Help didn't reach them until March, and by then only forty-five of the eighty-seven who'd been in the Donner party were still alive, and barely alive at that. I imagine all of them will havenightmaresfor the rest of their days. Now if you want to try to reach California, by all means go. But don't say you weren't warned of what to expect if you do."