Gabriel's Atonement (18 page)

Jo flipped her braid over her shoulder. Would they encounter any of the red-skinned natives? Did they still collect scalps? She shivered at the thought. Obviously, she hadn't fully considered what participating in the land rush meant. She had to leave Caldwell, the town where she'd mostly grown up and attended school. Leave Alma Lou and her other friends, and the stores she enjoyed walking through and dreaming of what she'd buy if she were rich. At least she had the hope of seeing charming Mark Hillborne again. She sighed. What a handsome man he was. And wealthy, from the look of his clothing.

If Grandpa was fortunate enough to get land and it wasn't too far from the Guthrie Station, perhaps she could get a job working in Mark's store. Wouldn't that be a delight! Rubbing elbows and spending all day in the presence of the comely man would be a dream come true. And to think, even though he was older than Lara, he thought she was pretty. She still found it hard to imagine that he knew what color best suited her—blue. It had always been her favorite, next to purple, but her sister rarely bought new fabric, and on the rare occasion she did, Lara purchased bland colors—to help hide soiled spots.

Jo tightened her knees and held on to the saddle horn as Sunny slogged out of the water and up the hill. Grandpa drove the wagon several yards ahead and stopped under a tall oak tree. Stomach grumbling, she nudged Sunny to a trot and hurried to join her family, glad it was finally time to set up camp and start supper.

As she hobbled the horse in a patch of fresh grass, she gazed back across the wide creek they'd just crossed. She'd never been this far south before. Part of her wanted to jump back on Sunny and ride for Caldwell, but another part was still excited about the race and the prospect of winning land. If they did, they could build a proper house, with wooden floors and a roof that didn't allow critters and mud to fall on them. And she could have a real bed to sleep in, possibly even a room of her own. Oh, how heavenly that would be.

“Hurry up, Jo. I'll need your help preparing supper.”

“I have to unsaddle Sunny and groom him,” she shouted back at her sister.

She loosened the cinch. “Jo, do this,” she mumbled. “Jo, do that.” Why did Lara have to hurt her hand? It just made more work for
her
.

Footsteps sounded behind her, and she spun, her heart pounding. She relaxed when she realized it was Grandpa, leading the mule, and not Lara. He had trouble hearing somewhat, so it was unlikely he'd heard her murmuring.

“Go on and help your sister. I'll tend to the animals.”

“But I like working with them.”

Grandpa lifted his hat and looked at her. Wrinkles creased his face, and his expression revealed a tired man. “Lara wouldn't ask you if she didn't need your help. It's not her fault that she hurt her hand. She bears a heavy burden for this family, and you should respect her more.”

Jo's eyes widened. Grandpa rarely scolded her. She wanted to offer a rebuttal, but she knew he must be exhausted, and the last thing she wanted was for him to have another swamp fever attack and not be able to ride in the race. “Yes, sir.”

As she moseyed toward their campsite, she dragged her feet. She loved her sister, but why did Lara have to be so bossy? If she'd been born first, she would have treated her younger sister more kindly.

Jo blew out a sigh. In all fairness, Lara was never unkind. She just worked all the time and didn't know how to relax. Even in the evenings when all the chores were done, dinner was over and the dishes washed, her sister would mend clothes until she ran out of daylight.

Jo hopped over a rut in the grass as she plotted how she would marry a wealthy man. Then she could hire a maid and no longer have to be an indentured servant with no deadline to her servitude.

B
y the time Lara had Michael in bed for the night and put away all the supplies, several dozen tents had gone up around theirs. Campfires dotted the darkness. The soft buzz of conversation blended with the trill of tree frogs and the distant hum of a fiddle. With so many people crowding into the area, Grandpa had moved the animals closer to the wagon and plopped his mat alongside them to be nearby in case anyone decided to steal one of them. She'd argued that he should sleep in the tent and not outside in the cool night, but he said if anything happened to any of their animals, they'd be in trouble. And she couldn't argue with that.

Lara relaxed against a tree trunk. Her hands felt empty without the mending she normally tended to. She looked across to the camp next to them and saw Jo sitting beside Melinda, the daughter of Bill and Emma Jean Parker, whom they'd met earlier. Leave it to Jo to make friends so quickly. Lara envied her sister's easygoing manner. But then Jo didn't have the weight of the family on her shoulders. Grandpa being healthy again certainly helped soften her load, but his malaria could flare up at any time, putting him flat on his back again. She hoped he didn't have another attack until after they staked a claim.

She yawned and checked on Jo again, wishing she'd take her leave and come back so Lara could go to sleep. Morning would come far too quickly. Grandpa wanted them up by sunrise and rolling shortly after, in hopes that they could get a spot right on the border. The better their position at the start of the race, the more likely he was to get a claim.

She closed her eyes and imagined the perfect place for a home. A small bluff near a creek. A place with a view but also with fertile flatland for farming. Though the promoters of the land run promised millions of acres of good farmland, she'd heard cowboys in town saying that some places were too sandy for growing crops and other sections had no water source. They needed water to survive, for their animals and garden. They
had
to find a place with a creek or large pond. In the beginning, they'd probably have to build a soddy to live in, but she hoped that one day they could have a two-story clapboard house with lots of windows. But that dream was years away.

She'd never pictured Tom in the house of her dreams. That seemed odd now that she thought about it. Had she had a premonition that he would die—or was it simply because he so rarely came home? Jo, although too young, would have been a better match for her adventure-loving husband. Lara wasn't the best wife. Maybe if she'd tried harder to please him…

No, she couldn't travel down that path. She'd tried her best, but Tom had itchy feet.

Her brother had been the same. Jack was almost seventeen when their parents died. He'd taken their deaths hard, like Jo. Grandma and Grandpa had tried to help him through his pain, but when Grandma died suddenly after a cut became severely infected, less than a year after their parents' deaths, Jack left. He'd said he couldn't stand to watch someone else he loved die. Lara knew he'd always wanted to be a cowboy on a big ranch, and imagined that's where he was. They received a few sporadic letters from him the first few years but none in a very long while. He'd be twenty-eight by now. Was he even still alive?

She blew out a sigh. Was Gabe Coulter the same type of man? Did he also crave adventure? She couldn't remember him ever stating what kind of work he did, although it really was none of her business. Her stomach swirled at thoughts of the kindhearted dandy with the dark, twinkling eyes. It made no sense why he wanted to help her so much. Did he simply see her as needy? She glanced down at her worn dress—a castoff Mrs. Henry had given her several years ago. The brown striped fabric had faded to the color of dirty dishwater, and the cuffs and hem were ragged, but if she raised the hem any more, the length would be indecent. No wonder he found her lacking. She exhaled a loud breath. It hardly mattered. She would never see Gabriel Coulter again.

Late afternoon on their second day of travel, Lara guided the mule behind Grandpa, who rode Sunny, weaving the wagon through the tents that had already been pitched. As far as she could see in both directions, campsites, buckboards, covered wagons, and buggies littered the plains with horses, oxen, and mules grazing alongside. She wanted to camp on the outskirts of the massive tent city, but he insisted they needed to try to get as close to the border as possible.

An elderly woman smiled and waved, while a man she passed frowned at them. Finally, Grandpa motioned for her to stop in a tiny clearing.

She set the brake then stood and looked around as she rubbed the aching spot in the small of her back. If she hazarded a guess, she'd say there were more people here than still in and around Caldwell. How could the nearby creeks supply enough water for so many people?

Michael tugged on her skirt. “Can I get down, Mama?”

“Yes, but stay close.” If he wandered off, finding him would be nearly impossible in such a mass of humanity.

Jo hopped off the end of the wagon and walked around to the side, reaching up for Michael. “C'mon, Shorty.”

Grandpa tied Sunny to a sapling and looked around. “I hadn't counted on so many folks bein' here already.” He scratched his head behind his ear. “The goats may be a problem. No place to pen them up, and they don't like bein' tied for long.”

“What if they chew through the ropes?” Jo leaned against the wagon wheel.

“They didn't last night, so maybe we'll be okay for another night. They're most likely worn out from all the walkin'.” He untied Bad Billy, led the goat to another small tree near the mule and tied him to it. “Good thing there's shrubs and grass here similar to what they're used to eatin',” he said as he untied the female goats. “We won't have to worry about them bloating.”

Lara nodded. “That's good. One less thing to be concerned about.” The makeshift fence they used for the goat pen back at the soddy had been packed into the wagon, serving as the sides that kept the crates from falling out. Once they settled somewhere for more than a night, they'd have to rebuild the pen. The goats certainly could be a noisy nuisance when traveling, but their milk was a blessing—if they gave any after their long trek.

Lara slowly climbed down, stiff after sitting on the hard bench seat for so long. With the land rush still a week away, at least they'd have time to work out their stiffness before moving on. At the rear of the wagon, she pulled the crate with her cooking utensils toward her then looked for her sister. “Jo, come and help me unload this, please. It's rather heavy.”

Jo did as requested, but Lara could see the stiffness in her shoulders. Why did her sister resent helping so much? One day she'd have her own place and need to know how to cook and sew. And Lara did say please.

Together, they lifted the crate. “Let's put it over in that clearing. I'll start a fire with the wood I collected today,” Lara said.

“I told Grandpa I'd groom Sunny.”

Lara searched for Michael and found him lying across Mildred's back. She turned back to her sister. “I wondered if you might want to go find some water. I know we filled the barrel this morning, but with so many people around drawing from the same water source, I'd like to keep it full if we can.”

Jo perked up. “I can do that after I groom Sunny.”

Lara nodded. Her sister jumped at any opportunity to get away from home—or camp—and be around other people. Lara was happy at home and had never understood her sister's need to wander and visit. At least Jo could meander around while doing something useful.

“Howdy, neighbor.”

She spun around to see a portly red-faced woman waddling toward her. Lara smiled and nodded. “Good day.”

“It is at that. I'm thankful the weather isn't too cold for this time of year, because it can be.”

“That's true. I'm Lara Talbot.”

“A pleasure to meet ya. M'name's Betty Robinson. My brother Lester Biggs and his boy, Sam, are around here somewheres. Probably off jaw-jacking with some other fellows about the land rush. Isn't it all so exciting?”

Lara smiled at the friendly woman with kind blue eyes. She figured the woman was probably in her fifties, judging by her partially grayed hair. “Yes, it is, although I wonder what will happen to those who don't get land. Surely there can't be enough for everyone.”

“There's millions of acres. More than I can imagine. I reckon if some folks don't get land, they'll go back where they came from. We came from Nebraska, but before that we lived in Arkansas. How 'bout y'all?”

“We just traveled from Caldwell. Not anywhere near as far as you.”

“We been here for a week now. There was some other folks camped where you are, but they gave up and went back where they came from. Said what you said—too many people to compete against. Course, they had family they could live with.”

Lara peeked at Michael, who was sitting on the ground next to Grandpa, then refocused on her neighbor. “Seems a shame to come so far and not even try to get land.”

“I know. I told Lester the same thing. Say, why don't y'all take supper with us tonight? I made a huge pot of duck stew.”