The Traherns #1 (3 page)

CHAPTER THREE

Even as my mind was registering
this, three arrows hit the off-side leader and he fell in his traces, a good
mule now dead; effectively stopping our wagon since the other mules couldn't
move. Uncle Dem jumped down, knife out, cutting the traces with one hand as he
used his pistol with the other.

The guns were all there next to
me. There were three of them, fully loaded, for Uncle Dem knew a gun always
loaded was a sight safer than an "unloaded" one.

I grabbed my father's Sharps and
sent a bullet through an Indian who had ridden up behind Uncle Dem, his lance
held high. The boom of that gun should warn the train and perhaps send help. I
next caught up Uncle Dem's shotgun and blasted two braves who had sprung up out
of the grass and were almost in the wagon seat. They fell backward, the blast
of the shot knocking them away and splattering me with blood.

Uncle Dem had the dead mule cut
free by now and grabbing my pistol I shot again at a savage trying to lance the
lead mule on the other side. The Indian was lying low on his horse—they
were more wary now—but this was my squirrel shooting gun and what I shot
at, I hit.

I lowered the pistol just long
enough to crack the whip over those mules and get them moving. Aunt Edith still
had the reins gripped in her hands. The mules were following where the rest of
the wagons had cleared the rim and disappeared, and I figured that, trail broke
as they were, they'd keep on following even if Aunt Edith didn’t have the
strength to guide them.

 I had seen Uncle Dem swing
into the saddle and could only hope he was coming too. He had an arrow in his
back but it didn't seem to be slowing him down any. I looked over and saw only
one other Indian, riding alongside the wagon, trying to get a shot at my mules
and I shot him off his horse. Probably didn't kill him, but I sure slowed him
down some. It took me three shots to get him, the wagon was bouncing so hard my
aim was spoiled.

Clearing the rim of the depression,
I spotted five riders coming toward us from the rest of the wagons. The terrain
was rocky and dry, covered with sagebrush, and the wagons must have been strung
out over a quarter mile. The lead wagon—Cordell Knast's—had swung
wide off the trail circling around the top of a small knoll to give the train
the added protection of higher ground, but in so doing had exposed everyone
because the knoll hadn't been close enough.

But like the body of a centipede,
the rest of the train followed suit, the animals lashed into a frantic run
until the circle was finally complete, each wagon facing slightly inward, the
teams left in harness but tied to the tail of the wagon in front.

The riders passed me, then fell in
behind as the Indians rode away, unwilling to continue the attack against those
odds.

I slowed the team down and pulled
up next to the circle. There had been no spot left open for me, but if the
Indians had have killed my mules there wouldn't have been no need for an
opening.

Axel Gunther went to my lead mule.
It was injured and had been staggering the last few yards and Axel and Barney
unharnessed it. There was an arrow deep in its side; the poor beast must have
been running on courage alone. It lay on its side, moaning loudly, and Axel had
to kill it.

Web dismounted and climbed in with
me and Aunt Edith. I still couldn't get the reins out of her hands, and looking
closer I realized she was dead. She had the look my mother had, of absolute
stillness, the life gone from her body. She must have died instantly and for
that I was thankful. I doubt she even knew she'd been hit.

Web was looking me over and
worriedly wiping the blood from my face. "It's not mine," I told him
and mentioned the shotgun. He wanted to know what had happened, and I told him,
quickly, asking if Uncle Dem had made it. I couldn't see him although his horse
was there.

"Not really. He made it back,
Mallory, but we were holding him in the saddle and he died as we took him
off."

It hit me hard, probably because I
had so recently buried my folks and Uncle Dem had been so like Pa. Both had
been tall men with a quick sense of humor and a ready laugh, kind and generous
to all. Both had taken the time to point things out to me, giving me advice and
training that I would need. Now I was alone.

Pa had wanted a son and got me
instead, then Ma got too ill to have another child and so I was on the
receiving end of all the knowledge he wished to share.

Now most young’uns don't want to
be bothered with what their elders want to teach them, but Pa was a natural
teacher and made things plumb interesting, and I was born curious, so we made a
pair. He'd taught me to shoot since there was no boy to do the hunting, and his
lessons had stood me well during the past few minutes.

I had reloaded the Sharps and the
shotgun while the mules were running, and now broke open the pistol and
reloaded it. I wasn't even thinking what I was doing, but I always reloaded
after firing and did so even now.

The Indians had pulled back,
vanishing into the high grass. The first to attack had been on foot, which was
why we hadn't seen them; then the riders charged in after the first group of
arrows were shot. They were a small band and I had put at least five out of
action and I know Uncle Dem hit two.

They were not about to charge up
to circled wagons after meeting that kind of resistance. If they could've cut
us off quick enough, and if Uncle Dem hadn't been able to cut the mule free, my
hair might be adorning the bridle of one of those braves. It was not a
comforting thought.

I was shaking with reaction but
finished putting the shells in before the trembling swept over me. Web didn't
say anything, just helped me set the guns back in the wagon and gave me time to
recover.

Axel came up with Hedda and helped
me down. First time I'd ever been helped in or out of a wagon, but my knees
weren't any too steady right then.

I hadn't known them long, but
Uncle Dem and Aunt Edith were kin and had taken me in without any hesitation
and had showered upon me all the love they had in 'em.

Aunt Edith had had children, a
pair of boy twins and one baby girl, all wiped out when smallpox hit. She had
almost lost her mind at that time. Uncle Dem had explained it to me when he saw
me trying to figure out why she was carrying baby clothes west with them. He
said my being there helped her. If she'd lived longer, she might've been able
to let go of those memories.

Web got the reins free and they
lifted her out and laid her beside Uncle Dem. The prairie claimed a heavy toll
and no one knew who was going to have to pay it.

The men got out the shovels and
started the graves right then. There was no time to waste; everyone wanted to
get the burial over and move out of the area and I didn't blame them.

I felt all hollow inside, with an
emptiness that grief had created and only time could heal. Mr. Hayes read the
words and the train started up again, with Barney Ashley riding beside me.

We were running short on men and
no longer had one to a wagon. Calvert Smith was driving his own rig after Joe
Peters had dropped the wagon on himself trying to change a wheel. It had busted
up his foot and he had to keep it up high to keep infection from setting in.

Owen Madison had been drowned
crossing the Kansas River although he had two boys, Gavin and Gareth, to keep
their family going. Gavin was married to Kate, a nice girl, eight months
pregnant, who seemed to get on well with her mother-in-law, Glenda. Gareth was
twenty years old, a hard worker and a good shot.

And during this attack Uncle Dem
and Aunt Edith had been killed and Duncan Ashley was injured when his horse
stepped in a hole and threw him as the wagons were racing for the knoll. Barney
was with me now, but I knew I couldn't ask him to do Uncle Dem's work; with his
father injured he wouldn't even be able to give much help to Axel.

I was going to have to do my own
work somehow. The years of working Pa's farm would help. I was as strong as you
could expect out of a girl, but not brawny and there was only so much I could
lift. Given time, I could do most anything; using ropes and tackles I had
always managed at the farm. But these folks wouldn't want to wait for me. And I
had no money to hire a man to help me even if there had been a man for hire in
the wagons.

Watching the four mules pulling
the wagon, I realized that I had to do what Aunt Edith wouldn't...empty out
excess weight. They were pulling fine now, but the road was smooth and hard.
That oak wagon was sturdy, but heavy all by itself. It could be used as a
freight wagon if need be, and Uncle Dem had mentioned earning himself some
spending money in Oregon hauling freight.

If I wanted both wagon and mules
to make the rest of the trip, I'd have to lighten the load. The heavy furniture
would have to go. And I'd give those baby clothes to Kate Madison if she wanted
them.

Mr. Hayes rode up on his large bay
gelding and motioned for Barney to leave. "Your Pa needs you," he
said, and waited for Barney to run forward before moving his horse in close to
where I sat.

I waited for him to speak; by the
looks on his face it wasn't anything I wanted to hear. "Barney's going to
be busy enough without helping you, Miss Buchanan. You're going to have to take
care of yourself, best you can. I don't want you calling on the other menfolk
for help either, their wives won't like it."

"I've been trying to think
what to do—"

"Be best if you got married.
That way there'd be no problems, no hard feelings."

"Oh, but—" That
was a drastic solution. And not one I cared for. I didn't even know the young
men on this train very well. None of them had paid me no notice, wrapped up in
Pa's blue coat as I'd been with that old hat and scarf on...they probably
hadn't even noticed I was young.

"You think about it. Out
here, a woman without a man don't last long. Country's too hard."

"I'll make it. I can do the
work myself." I was determined to stay independent.

"See that you do. I want no
trouble on this train."

He rode off and I watched him go,
riding away with his back ramrod straight. I wouldn't get any help from him and
I wouldn't put it past him to keep others from helping me.

My words had scarcely left my lips
when we arrived at another river crossing. They were all deep with the spring
rains still in them. A few were wide and shallow, but most were swift and
dangerous. I was still in the end position which gave me time to get ready for
the crossing.

Before, with Uncle Dem, Aunt Edith
and myself working together, it took us no time at all since each of us had
certain jobs we would do. Now I had to do it all and it took time to figure out
the things Uncle Dem had done. I had trouble blocking up the wagon bed to the
top of the standard, but made it unaided.

It looked like I was going to make
this journey at the tail end of the line, because there was no way the rest
were going to wait for me every time we had to cross a river.

Of the four mules the new leaders
were small and when they hit swimming depth all I could see were their heads. I
felt the wagon pulling them sideways downstream and urged them onwards. They
were giving their all, but not going to make it, when Cordell Knast swam his
horse up close and tossed me a rope to tie onto the wagon's side.

He was using a western saddle and
wrapped the rope around the horn and swam upstream enough to help my mules make
it across. Even then we missed the main landing area, but fortunately came out
at a spot with enough slope we could get the wagon out. For sure I had to off
load some of Aunt Edith's things.

Nothing was lost by anyone, but
that was one of the smaller, tamer rivers and I pondered how I was to cross
anything larger. We made camp fairly late that night and I had my next
challenge. The men usually unhitched the mules and then pulled the wagons close
together by hand. There was no way I was going to be able to pull that wagon
even a few feet.

Knowing this, I'd thought it out,
how to do it, earlier. I stopped as close as I could and unhitched the onside
leader and the offside wheeler. That way there were still two mules left to
help pull and I could lead them sharply to the side and forward into the slot.
It worked slick and I could see some of the men figuring out that that weren't
too bad an idea.

By the time the mules were
unhitched and led out to be herded onto the tall grass, I was all in. There was
still supper to make; it would have to be cornmeal mush, something quick and
easy...maybe start some beans to soaking for tomorrow. But first I climbed into
the back of the wagon and looked at the furniture.

Uncle Dem had wanted to leave many
of the pieces of furniture behind, but Aunt Edith wouldn't do it. I didn't have
a sentimental attachment to any of it, however, and decided to take the heavy
dining room table and leave it behind. It took up the most space and it would
be easier to build another table than a dresser. Of course it would not be a beautiful
one like this one, with it's dark polished wood, smooth as velvet to the touch,
but it was important to make room for food and water barrels and lighten the
load for the mules.