Orchids in Moonlight (8 page)

"Now let's roll," he said to no one in particular, dismissing her as he brushed by.

Jaime and the others in her wagon giggled as one of the prostitutes leaned out to needle Mrs. Turnage. "Don't worry, lady. We've seen your husband. Satan himself couldn't make me take a tumble with
him."

With a red face, Wilma Turnage angrily scurried back to her own wagon.

#

Excitement and tension was in the air as everyone awaited the signal for departure.

Cord rode up and down the line of wagons, making sure they all were in position.

Most people were planning to walk beside their wagons, especially as they left Independence. With relatives and friends lining the road out, some carrying flags and waving banners, it would be quite a parade to the edge of town.

Jaime could hear her own heart pounding as she sat inside the wagon. The others had joined the caravan walking, but she did not particularly long to be with them. So many emotions were churning within her that she relished the time alone to try and sort them out.

What if she didn't make it and died en route as some people did? If anything happened, no one would ever know what became of her. But did it really matter? After all, her father could already be dead, and she could arrive in California to find herself truly alone, destitute, with nowhere to go. She had the map but it might be worthless. Ultimately, she might become desperate enough to marry any man willing to give her a home.

But I won't let that happen,
she vowed. Somehow she would find a way to take care of herself. Meanwhile, she was going to taste life and experience all it had to offer.

Too long, she had been sheltered and restrained, but no more. This was truly the start of a great adventure.

Free.

Dear Lord, she had never felt so
free.

A gun fired, exploding the stillness.

With whoops and hollers, outriders galloped far ahead, unleashing some of their pent-up impatience. Reins popped, and oxen and mules began to plod forward.

The cries rang out.

"God bless!"

"Farewell!"

"May the Lord have mercy!"

"Good-bye!"

"Godspeed!"

The sun made its final leap from the horizon. There was not a cloud in the bright blue sky. A cool breeze assaulted, rippling the canvas tops.

It was a motley scene. Some wagons had cows tied behind. A few had pigs. There were crates of chickens fastened on the sides. Children skipped along happily, hand in hand, the womenfolk following, some carrying babies and the ones too little to walk. There were banjo and guitar players. Someone even had a flute.

"Oh, I wish you could be up here with me, Jaime," Hannah called. "It's so exciting. But I can tell lots of people are scared. I just saw another wagon pull out and turn back. And some folks are crying. But for the most part, I think everybody is happy. I know I am. How about you? Any second thoughts?"

"None at all." Jaime drew back as she spotted Cord up ahead. The horse he was riding was magnificent, sleek and black.

Suddenly, the animal reared up on its hind legs, forelegs pawing the air as though it, too, wanted to share in exultation over the trip's beginning.

Hannah said, "Look at him. He's quite a rider, isn't he? But then, I've got a feeling he's also quite a man. I think we're in good hands."

With a strange tremor rippling through her, Jaime drew even farther back in the wagon.

* * *

Cord took off his hat to give a final wave to the cheering onlookers. It was time for the wagons to cut toward the trail that would lead northwest to Nebraska and the Platte River.

The wagons passed carrying the future brides, and the one called Hannah waved at him. She was big-boned, appeared healthy, and Cord figured she would make some prospector or farmer a good strong wife. But there was always the possibility she and some of the others might fall out at some village or post along the way. He'd been told that usually happened with a few.

Suddenly the image of the one with the golden hair came to mind. He laughed out loud to think again of that crazy night in his hotel room. And, once again, he could not resist thinking how nice it might have been if she were along.

Maybe
too
nice.

He spurred his horse to gallop forward, wanting to position himself to observe the crossing of a small creek just ahead.

There was no time to dwell on what might have been.

* * *

"He's laughing."

"Who?"

"Captain Austin. He waved at me and sort of chuckled. Wonder what that was all about. I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen him smile. He's always so serious." Hannah was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Jamie, what
really
happened that night you went to see him? You never told us any of the details."

"He just said I'd made a mistake, that's all." Jaime hedged, not about to tell her the truth. "And then when I asked could I come along, he said I was too small, like I told you before."

"Well, it doesn't matter." She dismissed her interrogation of Jaime. "You're here, and by the time he finds out about it, he'll have to accept it. We're on our way now."

Jaime settled back, feeling as though every bone in her body were rattling as the oxen pulled the wagon down the first bumpy path.

Her new life had begun, she told herself, in blended emotions of anticipation and fear, and nothing would ever be the same again.

Chapter 5

The reached the river known as the Big Blue on schedule.

Cord was relieved to find the water level was down, enabling the wagons to ford rather than be ferried. The trail then carried them into Nebraska to meet the Platte River, where they turned west to follow its south bank.

Farther away, the land began to creep upward in cliffs of sandstone, which became higher and broke apart as they moved deeper west.

They marveled at the terrain, so different from the forested regions of the East, but were even more awed by the wildlife they saw from time to time—antelopes and coyotes, grizzlies and black bears, prairie dogs, rabbits, and buffaloes.

The day they saw buffalo for the first time, Cord spread the word for the women to join the men at the nightly meeting after supper. When the usual problems and complaints had been dealt with, he drew disgusted cries with his announcement that the ladies should carry baskets and pick up buffalo dung as they walked alongside the wagons during the day.

"What on earth for?" Wilma Turnage screeched above the immediate wave of disgust. "Why would we want something so nasty?"

"You've seen the prairie," Cord said, glancing about to note almost everyone shared her revulsion. "Wood is scarce. It's going to get worse. Dry dung—chips, they're called—makes good fires. We'll eventually reach a point where chips are all you have to cook with, and you will use them or go hungry."

"I won't do it," Wilma cried.

A murmur of support rippled through the other women, with a few men also chiming in. The thought of cooking their food over animal excrement was repulsive.

Ignoring the protest, Cord went on to explain how buffalo chips were also used in smudge spots to fend off mosquitoes and gnats. "This pleasant spring weather we've been blessed with since leaving Missouri won't last. It's going to get hot, and we're going to have rain. You'll be eaten alive by bugs at night unless you have the smudge pots going. You ladies suit yourself. If you're too squeamish to take my advice, you'll suffer the consequences.

"You'd be wise to stock up now." He raised his voice above the displeased mutterings. "We'll hit some trails when we get farther southwest, where both trees
and
chips are in short supply. The only fuel then will be mesquite roots, and looking for them would take time we might not have. You all know we've got to keep on schedule if we're to make the Sierras before the first snows."

Cord was standing on the open tailgate of the supply wagon. Wilma maneuvered her way forward to glare up at him. "You should have told us all this ahead of time, Captain Austin. Seems to me you've got a little surprise for us most every day. Like yesterday– the Lord's day. Captain Wingate told us we wouldn't have to travel on the Sabbath. It'd be our layover day. We agreed if we had time for a devotional service, we'd spend part of the day working—laundry for us women, and catch-up chores for the men. But you!" She scowled. "You made us do fifteen miles just like it was any other day of the week."

His face void of expression, Cord advised, "You can do a lot of praying while you're covering those fifteen miles, Mrs. Turnage.

"All of you"—he swept the crowd with a commanding gaze—"had better get this straight once and for all: I don't intend for anybody or anything to hold us back. It's my job to get you to California, and I intend to do it. We'll take layover days only after a rain to clean and air the wagons and dry bedding and clothing. Otherwise, we keep rolling."

He broached the other reason he had requested the ladies' presence. "I've noticed some of you ignored the packing list you were given back when you first signed on, and you're overloaded. In another week, we're going to have to cross the south and north forks of the river. After that, we're out of flat country. We've got a sharp uphill climb, then twenty miles or more across a tableland before the trail drops into the valley of the North Platte."

He described the steep drop, how special care was needed to take the wagons down. Wagon wheels would have to be locked by chaining them to the wagon boxes, then slowly skidded by ropes down to the bottom of the forty-five-degree grade. "If a wagon is too heavy and breaks the rope, it hits the bottom in splinters. To keep that from happening, the wagons have to be as light as possible. This is a good time for you to lighten your loads and get rid of some things you were told not to bring anyway."

Wilma was fast to challenge him. "Like what?"

"Your sheet-iron stove, Mrs. Turnage." Then, having to raise his voice to be heard above her shouted protests, he went on to tell Amy Dunbar to abandon her claw-foot table; the Ward family, as well as the Proctors, needed to unload anvils. Reading from the list he'd made, he called out other names, other possessions: crates of china, books, other heavy pieces of furniture.

Fury shot through the crowd like a bullet. Cord was adamant. Either they discarded heavy pieces or they risked losing their wagons. Eventually, a few men saw the wisdom of what he was saying and agreed to cooperate. The women, however, remained reluctant to give up their precious possessions.

In the midst of it all, Wilma shouted, "What about the whores, captain? What do they have to give up? We didn't even know they were coming along till the last minute, and that wasn't right. I'd never have agreed to me and mine being in the company of strumpets."

Several of the women chimed in to agree.

"Have any of them bothered you, Mrs. Turnage? Or bothered your family?" he asked evenly, though he could feel himself tensing as she continued to try his patience.

With a sneer, she fired back. "They know better. They think they're too good to walk anyhow, so all they do is sit in their wagon and primp all day. But if we got to get rid of some of our belongings, they've got to give up theirs too."

"They only have their clothes. They aren't bringing furniture," he told her.

Amy Dunbar snickered. "Why should they? All they need is a mattress."

The crowd broke into gales of mocking laughter. Cord could see the prostitutes standing at the rear and noticed they were exchanging glances of annoyance. Crammed into one wagon, they were uncomfortable enough without being singled out for ridicule and scorn. He watched as they all drifted back into the shadows except for the spunkiest of their number– Imogene Newby.

Cord groaned inwardly as Imogene started pushing her way forward. Hoping to avoid a scene, he announced the meeting was over.

But it was too late.

Imogene stepped in front of Wilma Turnage and jabbed at Wilma's bosom with an angry finger. "For your information we'd rather be outside walking. It'd be a damn sight better than bumping our butts every time the wheels hit a rock. But we stay inside to keep out of trouble, 'cause we're sick of the hateful remarks you make every time you think we can hear you. You leave us alone, and we'll leave you alone."