True Sisters (13 page)

“You are the candle of my eye. Do you think with the wife I have, I would ever want another? Why, no woman would measure up,” he said. Then he added, “Where is the woman who would agree to have
you
as her sister-wife? There is no woman alive who could best you.” And they both laughed again.

Of course, she had thought a little about it, and eventually, she told John that if he ever brought home another woman, she would take the children and return to England, and no one could stop her. “No court in the land would rule in favor of such barbarous conduct,” she said.

But John assured her that on that score, she could ease her mind. “I have never wanted any woman but you,” he said, then added for emphasis, “and I never will.”

Knowing he spoke the truth, Anne had said, “Now, if your church would rule that a woman might have more than one husband, I might look more favorably on it.” But instead of laughing, John had frowned, as if she’d asked that the laws of creation be repealed, and Anne said no more about it. Still, she thought to herself, with two husbands, I might have stayed home in England with one of them.

She hurried now to catch up with John and push the cart, because Joe would be tired and want to run off across the prairie. He was a dear little boy, always helpful and full of fun, and while she blamed God and the Mormons for Emma Lee’s death, she was grateful that Joe and Lucy had been spared. And there was the little one inside of her. Anne hoped that if the baby was a girl, John would agree to name her Emma Lee.

*   *   *

Jessie knew that Maud’s ankles were rubbery and her back hurt from helping heft the sack of flour onto the cart, but the old woman didn’t complain. In fact, she was in fine spirits as she walked along the trail beside Jessie, who was pushing the cart.

Earlier, the two had stopped while Maud advised a woman who had asked about a bowel complaint, since it was known among the Saints now that Maud was as good as any doctor. Maud had told her about a concoction that would give her relief and promised to mix it for her after they camped for the night. The woman went back to her cart, and Jessie and Maud dawdled, looking out over the prairie in search of herbs to add to Maud’s dwindling cache.

“So many grasses and plants I’ve not seen before. Each has its purpose, if only I knew what it was. Look at that yellow flower as tiny as a gnat. I know God didn’t create it just to be pretty. You ask Him what I can use it for,” she muttered. Jessie didn’t have the least idea, and if she asked God for help, she wouldn’t waste the request on a flower. But then she realized the old woman was talking to Robert. Maud did that sometimes when she thought no one was listening. At first, Jessie had thought Maud’s mind was half-cracked, that she had gone dotty. But the younger woman rather liked the idea that Maud’s husband was watching over his wife. It appealed to Jessie, because nobody had ever watched over her.

As the two women caught up to the cart, Jessie saw that one of the wheels wobbled, and that the wheel shook even worse as they descended a hill. Ephraim, who was pulling, announced they would stop near a ravine, where there was shade for the women to rest. The Cooper vehicle was not only made of green wood but had been hastily constructed, and the brothers, Ephraim and Sutter, had to stop often to make repairs. It was a pity they had not taken Maud’s cart, but by the time she joined them, her cart had been claimed by others.

“I must say, I don’t mind stopping for a few minutes,” Jessie said, and the two women sat in the dirt while the brothers examined the wheel. “It’s the infernal dust. At home, I could take a bath whenever I wanted, as often as once a week, if I felt like it. But here with so many people, it is difficult. I wonder if we will bathe before we reach Zion. I can’t hardly stand to camp near someone because of the smell of all the unwashed bodies.”

“When the weather turns cold, it won’t be so bad,” Maud replied.

“It’s the axle,” Sutter called, and the two women stood, because the cart might have to be unloaded.

Just then, a Saint pulling a cart stopped beside them and offered to help. “I’m Brother Addison Gray, a carpenter by trade, and I have my tools. I believe we can strengthen your axle enough so that you can reach camp. Then we’ll take the cart apart and repair it,” he said. When the brothers protested that they could do it, the man told them, “Three will make light work of it. Besides, my wife, Sophia, is tired, and she would like a chance to rest.” He smiled fondly at the woman beside him. So the women unloaded the cart. Then, while the men turned it over and began to work on the axle, Sophia stood beside them, watching, and so did her daughter, Emeline, a pretty, solemn girl of about thirteen.

“You are tired,” Maud told Sophia.

The woman nodded. “I do poorly. I have had a hurting in my breast since before we left England, and I pray that I can reach the valley before I die.”

Maud frowned. “You should not have made the trip.”

“And died in England? I would not deny my husband and daughter a home in Zion.”

“I have herbs to help.”

“Nothing will help me.”

“For the pain.”

Sophia nodded and closed her eyes.

“She did not complain much,” Jessie said softly.

Maud whispered, “Look at her face. She hasn’t long, perhaps only days.”

As Jessie stood to look at the woman, she glanced back up the trail and gasped. The others turned quickly and saw a cart rushing down the hill toward them, out of control. Its owner had slipped and fallen between the wheels of the vehicle, which passed over him, and with nothing to stop it, the cart gathered force. It wasn’t much of a hill, and the cart was not going fast, but it hit a rut and was tossed into the air, smashing into the Gray cart. There was a long scream and a splintering of wood, and the women hurried over, while the Saints behind them rushed forward to help. Addison lay crumpled on the ground. Sophia crouched over him, while Ephraim was sprawled in the ravine, his left arm cradled in his right hand, agony etched on his face. “I fell on my arm. It’s broke,” he said. Sutter went to his brother and tried to examine the wound, but Ephraim groaned and shoved him away with his good elbow.

“If it’s broke, the arm’s got to be set, and it will pain him some,” Maud told him. “Let me have a look at it. But first, I’ll see to Brother Addison. He must be dazed.”

“He’s not moved,” Sophia said. She herself had been hurt when the cart fell against her, her dress torn, but, out of concern for her husband, she refused to let Maud examine her.

Maud raised Addison’s head and pushed back his eyelids.

“Is he all right?” Sophia asked, wringing her hands. “He’s as healthy as the fresh wind. It’s such a little accident. The cart just knocked him over. He ought not to be lying there like that.”

“I believe he must have hit his forehead on a rock. See it here in the road, as big as a loaf of bread.” Maud laid the man’s head back down and felt for a pulse, then put her ear to Addison’s chest. By now, the Coopers were gathered around the prostrate man, even Ephraim, who was supporting his broken arm. And a growing number of the brethren had stopped their carts and were offering to help.

“He’ll come to, won’t he?” Sophia asked. “I’ll pray. Emeline and I will pray.” She knelt down beside the cart, her daughter next to her, folding her arms and bowing her head.

A woman took a small mirror from her cart and gave it to Maud, who held it to Addison’s mouth. “I fear not,” Maud said sadly. “I fear he’s with the Lord.”

Some of the Saints gasped, and a few knelt in the dirt and prayed. Sophia, her hands pressed together in front of her, slowly looked up at Maud. “But he was talking to these men not more than a minute ago. He can’t be…” She swallowed. “He can’t be dead.” Sophia shook her head. “The accident was of no consequence.”

“It happens that way sometimes,” Maud told her.

Sophia looked from Maud to Jessie and said, “But you saw him. Didn’t you hear him say he’d help fix the cart when we camped? Addison always keeps his word.”

The woman might have said more, but all of a sudden, Emeline, who had not uttered a word since she’d stopped with her parents, took her mother’s arm and tugged at her. “Mama, he’s gone. He’s no more with us.”

At that, Sophia broke into tears, and Emeline, like a little old woman, comforted her, patting her on the back and leading her away from the body of Addison Gray. “He’s in Zion, Mama. He’s waiting for us there.”

Sophia shook her head. “I’m the one who is not supposed to make it to the valley. Who will take care of me? Who will take care of Emeline if something happens to me?”

Maud started to say that she would, but she stopped, because she could do nothing for the woman unless the Coopers agreed to take her on. She looked at the brothers, realizing then that she had forgotten about Ephraim, who was pale now, perspiration running down his face. As she stood up to attend to Ephraim, Maud glanced at Jessie, hoping she would speak.

But before Jessie could offer, Emeline said, “I will, Mama. I’ll take care of you. I’ll pull the cart, and you can push. Brother Martin will assign others to help. And if God wills, then I will take care of myself.”

“You’re just a little girl,” Maud told her.

“I’m strong. I’m as strong as a boy, and look at how many boys are pulling carts.” She ducked under the crossbar of the Gray cart and stood between the traces. “Can you push a little, Mother?” she asked.

“We must load your father onto the cart,” her mother said, although Sophia herself could barely stand up.

“We will do that,” Jessie told her. “We’ll take your husband’s body on our cart, and we’ll prepare it for burial once we reach camp.” She examined the Gray cart and pronounced it in good condition, although the handcart that had crashed into it was smashed, and one of its wheels lay in the road.

The owner of the broken cart went to Sophia then and told her he would push her cart if he could load his things onto it. He introduced himself as Brother Prime.

Jessie knew Brother Prime and did not like him much, because he was quarrelsome. He had started the journey with his brother, who had an inflammation of the lungs, and Brother Prime had complained about having to bear an unfair share of the work. Jessie had heard him say he would not have agreed to the trip if he had known he would have to do the labor of two. Eventually, the brother could not take Prime’s complaints and sat down beside the trail, announcing he would go no farther. He died in the night, and learning of his brother’s demise, Prime had thrown away the man’s belongings, which included a photograph of the brother’s family, who were still in England, and a half-finished letter to his wife.

Now Jessie wondered whether Brother Prime would help the newly widowed woman or simply appropriate her cart. But she knew she must attend to Ephraim, so she turned away from Sophia.

Ephraim was sitting in the dirt beside the Coopers’ cart, Maud leaning over him while she examined his arm, for it was indeed broken. The ends of bones poked through the flesh. She prodded a little, nodding when Ephraim winced. “It’s a bad break. I can move the bones into place, but I must do it now, and it will hurt. There isn’t time to find whiskey to dull the pain.”

Sutter sat down beside his brother while Jessie found a stick and told Ephraim to bite on it as Maud probed with her fingers, adjusting the bones until the ends met. Ephraim grimaced, his teeth sinking into the stick as the old woman worked. When she was finished, Maud told Jessie to tear a strip off a sheet to bind the break.

“We have none,” Jessie replied.

“Then a piece of petticoat will do,” Maud said, and Jessie raised her skirt and tore off a strip of white.

Maud placed two sticks against the arm to keep the bones in place, then wrapped the whole in the strip of petticoat. “You mustn’t use your arm,” she said.

“Then how can I push the cart?” Ephraim asked.

“We’ll push it. You can ride on top,” Sutter told him.

“It’s only one arm. God gave me two,” Ephraim replied, but his face was flushed and damp. He got to his feet clumsily, then nearly fell over in a faint.

“Ride, or we’ll leave you behind,” Jessie said. So Ephraim hefted himself on top of the cart and lay down next to the dead man. Then Sutter pulled and Jessie and Maud pushed the cart with its loose axle to the evening’s campsite.

*   *   *

The Saints buried Addison Gray that evening, wrapped in a blanket that Emeline had stitched into a shroud, and when the service was finished, Maud told Sophia, “You must rest and warm yourself against the night chill.” She turned to Emeline. “Did Brother Addison have a coat? Fetch it for your mother.”

Emeline went to the cart, then returned empty-handed. “Papa’s things are gone. That man—Brother Prime—must have throwed them out.”

“Or kept them for himself. I wager he’s wearing the coat,” Jessie said.

Sophia started to say something, then coughed and fell backward onto the ground, knocking off her sunbonnet. Maud noticed for the first time that the woman’s face was badly bruised, her hair bloody, and there were cuts on her face that had started to bleed.

“I never asked her if she was hurt. She’s in a bad way. She’s lost blood and is losing more, and I ought to bandage her head,” Maud told Jessie, then whispered, “She was already in a bad way. I worry she will last the night.”

Jessie raised her skirt. “I’ve got what’s left of my petticoat.” She unbuttoned the garment, which was ragged from the strips she’d ripped off to bind Ephraim’s arm, stepped out of it, and handed it to Maud, who knelt and ministered to the woman, Emeline beside her, whimpering, “Mama. Mama.” The girl was as pale as wax, her eyes wet with tears. “It’s not fair, Papa gone and her dying after she walked all this way. God wouldn’t do that, would He? She’ll be all right, won’t she?”

“We’ll do everything we can. It might help if you prayed,” Maud told her. Emeline moved a little so that she was on her knees, but she would not leave her mother.

Sophia weakened, and after a time, she did not respond when Maud prodded her. Jessie went in search of an elder to administer to her, but the man looked at the woman and declared he did not have faith enough to raise the dead, then left.