The Fugitive Son (16 page)

Chills spread up Elsie’s arms, and she felt as if the wind had been knocked from her. “Yes, that pretty well describes Isaac,” she admitted faintly. “Do you know where they took him?”

“Looked like they were headed west, but I don’t know of any slave markets out that way. Less they were hoping to return him to his owner for a reward.” He stopped and considered. “Did folks generally know he belonged to you? Maybe they figured he’d run away from a little slip like you and were planning to bring him back for a ransom?”

Elsie hoped that was true. She told him about the suspicious-looking men Isaac had seen. “Would they have been following us, figuring he’d try to escape?”

“And when they saw him tearing across the prairie on your horse, they decided to capture the runaway and hit you up for a nice chunk of change. My guess is they’ve caught up with the wagon train and are trying to find you on it.”

Elsie let it all sink in. What would they do with Isaac if they didn’t find her? She had no choice but to tell this man the truth. “The thing is, Isaac is a freedman. I freed all our slaves when Papa died. It’s what Papa intended. Isaac volunteered to escort me to my brothers. He’s really like another brother to me.”

Her new friend looked at her shrewdly. “I hope he has his papers well hidden. It’s not beneath some of these bounty hunters to tear up the papers and sell a freedman back into slavery.”

Elsie shuddered and tears welled up in her eyes as she silently prayed once again for Isaac’s safety. “He’s in God’s hands now,” she said. “I’m of no use to him sitting here in a broken wagon and no way to catch up with the train.”

“Not to worry,” the man assured her. “This is where the Santa Fe and Cherokee trails meet up, so it’s a busy route, with several wagons and carriages coming along here nearly every day this time of year. Yesterday was a Sunday, so most of the trains would have stopped to rest and refresh their animals.”

“Except the miners, who are in such an all-fired hurry to reach the gold fields, they don’t stop for anything!” Elsie murmured.

“I can relate to that,” he agreed. “By the way, my friends all call me Trip. That’s short for Triple A, and a good description of what I do for a living. I’m a freighter under contract to Ben Holladay, making trips back and forth along the Santa Fe Trail.”

Elsie smiled. “Very descriptive name. So why are you out here with an empty wagon and not in a hurry like everyone else?”

“Just unloaded a bunch of supplies at the stagecoach stop back a ways, and decided since I was this far along the route, I’d just mosey over to Kansas City and carry back a big load. No sense taking an empty wagon across the prairie.”

He walked over and looked at her wagon. “So what’s the problem? Looks like a new wagon.”

“It is. I bought it in Kansas City, and we’ve only been on the trail a few days. Something broke under the carriage structure.” She handed him the piece Isaac had left behind.

Trip examined the sheared end. “Broken strap. Did you bring any spare parts?”

Elsie shook her head. “We checked in the parts box. There wasn’t another one like this.”

Trip smiled. “Not to worry. Sometimes I carry spares for such occasions. Let me see what I’ve got.”

As he rummaged through his parts box, Elsie felt the ground rumble. What on earth? She looked back and witnessed a spectacle unlike anything she’d seen before. A huge wagon train, with wagons, stock, and horses – as far as her eye could see – rumbled toward them, shaking the ground with the magnitude of their wheels and hooves.

Trip looked up and whistled. “Must be the Fancher-Baker Party. Everybody up and down the trail has heard they were coming. News among the immigrants and freighters along the trail travels fast. I’ve heard so much about this huge train, I feel like I already know the Fanchers. According to all the gossip, they’re prosperous ranchers and cattlemen from northern Arkansas, and it’s the biggest, richest convoy ever to head West. I heard rumors that the wagon master, Captain Fancher himself, is toting thousands of dollars in gold coins in his fancy wagons, and they’ve got a heap of guards and soldiers riding shotgun along the train. Seeing safety in numbers, smaller trains have been joining them along the way.”

As the train drew nearer, the wagons within Elsie’s sight were indeed something to see. The lead wagons were specially adorned and even at this distance, she could tell they were expensive vehicles, not ornate but the type of quality that spoke of money. Three fancy carriages flanked the wagons.

“If they’re so wealthy, why are they going to California?” she asked. “Most people are going there to get rich in the gold fields.”

Trip laughed. “Heard tell they’ve got relatives out there. ‘Sides, most rich people want to get richer. They never have enough. But I ‘spect they’re just looking for a new life for their family. Can’t blame them with all the talk of war back East. Somebody said they’re bringing huge herds along to sell to the miners and in ‘Frisco. Probably more money in that than all the panning you could do in a lifetime.”

The lead wagons pulled within walking distance of Elsie’s broken-down conveyance. A tall, slender gentleman, looking nothing like the rough wagon masters she had seen, approached them. He held out his gloved hand. “Looks like you folks are having some trouble. I’m Captain Alexander Fancher, and these are my family and friends from Arkansas.” He gestured toward the enormous train of wagons, from which children of all sizes and ages were spilling out for the unexpected break. “Can we be of help?”

Trip briefly explained Elsie’s predicament. He showed Captain Fancher the metal strap he’d found in his tool box, along with the broken one. “This is the closest I have, but I don’t think it will do the job.”

Captain Fancher took the broken strap and looked it over. “We have a whole wagon full of spare parts. Let’s see if we’ve got one that matches this.”

As the two men headed to the supply wagon, several women came over and introduced themselves to Elsie. “You poor dear.” An older lady patted Elsie’s shoulder lovingly. “I’m Cynthia Tackitt. This is Eloah Jones, my daughter.” She pulled a young mother into the conversation, then took a toddler up in her arms.

“And this,” she said proudly, “is my grandson, 18-month-old Felix. Isn’t he a darling?”

Eloah smiled a greeting at Elsie, sweeping her arm as if to encompass the wagon train. “Somewhere around here are my husband and daughter.”

“I’ve got six other children on the train and two more grandkids,” Cynthia added. “My son Pleasant is the train’s pastor. When I heard they were all coming, I decided I was up for an adventure.”

“Pa died a few years ago,” Eloah explained. “So Ma had no reason to stay in Arkansas. Besides, my oldest brother is already in California. He’s waiting for us to join him.”

Before long, Elsie had been introduced to a number of young women and their children, so many that her brain couldn’t remember them all. When yet another group of women and children approached, headed by Captain Fancher’s wife, she laughed. “I declare, you must have brought half of Arkansas with you!”

“Not quite. Many of the people on the train are related in some way or another to our two families, or at least good neighbors and friends.” Cynthia laughed, a rich, hearty chuckle that would lift anyone’s spirits. “When the Creator told mankind to go out and replenish the earth, I don’t think he meant the Fancher and Baker clans had to do the job all by ourselves. But seems like we’ve been trying!”

Captain Fancher came back to where the women were chatting. “Looks like this will take awhile. Why don’t you ladies go ahead and stir up something to eat, and we’ll make this a late-afternoon or early dinner break.” He looked around the well-watered area with its abundance of fresh grass. “In fact, I think we’ll just make this our resting place for the night. Looks very good to me.”

The travelers busied themselves by getting ready to eat and preparing their wagons for a night’s rest while Captain Fancher and Trip enlisted a few of the wagon guards to help repair Elsie’s wagon. When they were finished, the captain dusted off his gloves. “Shipshape! This should hold for the rest of your journey.”

Trip agreed. “But unless we can find a train for her to join, she won’t be going anywhere. Could she possibly join yours?”

The captain considered it. “We’d certainly be the safest way for her to go. And we’ve picked up a lot of others along the way. But didn’t you say she’s heading toward Santa Fe? We’re following the Cherokee Trail through Kansas and then north up to the Oregon Trail to South Pass.”

“At least that would get her safely through Kansas,” Trip said. “If she can get to the Cimarron Cutoff, she should be able to catch another train heading to Santa Fe.”

“We’ve got so many wagons attached to us now, one more couldn’t hurt, I reckon. And some of our people are looking at taking the cutoff and heading down to Texas, so she could continue a bit farther with them.” Captain Fancher tipped his hat to Elsie. “Welcome to the train, missy. This is a family train, so there’s no drinking or gambling or bad sorts allowed. You should be right at home with us.”

Elsie was ecstatic to hear the news. Surely the good Lord was hearing and answering her prayers! Not only had he provided safety, but a group of lovely ladies whose friendship she would enjoy on the long, arduous journey. And maybe, just maybe, God would help her find Isaac along the way. Until then, she had to trust him to keep Isaac safe from harm.

Utah Territory

T
HE LONG
horseback ride north gave Andy much time to think and reflect on life in Deseret. More time than he wanted, actually. Much more. He felt like his head was spinning as he vacillated between faith and disgust and anger. What kind of religion would force someone as sweet as Aunt Hettie into a life of such hardship, without even a real husband to share it with her and to help out a little? She deserved so much better.

And how in the name of religion could grown men mutilate young boys and destroy them in their prime? Deny them love and romance with pretty young girls of their choice? He’d been taught that the principle of polygamy was a glorious one, given to the Prophet Joseph Smith by God himself. And hadn’t the patriarchs in the Old Testament practiced it? What about King David, said to be a man after God’s own heart? Solomon? Abraham? The Bible stories of the greatest polygamists of all time raced across his mind. Stories he’d had drilled into him for years.

If God had allowed it with the beginning fathers, why wouldn’t he condone it now? And he had heard Brother Brigham teach that Jesus had practiced polygamy. That Mary Magdalene and the sisters Mary and Martha were among his wives.

He remembered the things Pa had taught him about the wonders of this new religion, back in the days when Pa had truly been a father, spending time with him, teaching him, even boasting about what a fine son he was. What had happened along the way? Pa sure didn’t have that kind of relationship with Aunt Hettie’s children. He couldn’t even remember their names. And he surely didn’t take time to teach them the things a father needed to pass on to his sons and daughters.

Andy pulled up to the side of the stream alongside the road between Parowan and Great Salt Lake City. Dipping his hands in for a cool, refreshing drink, he thought of Pa’s excitement when he had explained the principle to him the first time. As a young boy about to enter puberty, it all had sounded perfectly logical, and even very spiritual. “The women in the church far outnumber the men,” Pa had explained. “By allowing the men to take extra wives, it will guarantee that every woman has a husband to look after her on the frontier and to call her up on Resurrection Morning. It also will help build up Zion faster, giving a man a much bigger passel of offspring to populate his eternal kingdom, as well.”

Andy was familiar with the church teaching regarding the eternal kingdom. Every man could aim to become a god himself, coequal with Heavenly Father. He could eventually create an earth-like planet and populate it with his own children who would be tested before returning to him.

Celestial marriage with a forever family had been appealing to a young man who had grown up without much of a family of his own. A mother who was desperately ill, trying to take care of seriously sick babies; a father who was traveling to proselyte for the true church. Andy’s most treasured dream had been to marry Anne Marie, get married for eternity in a temple, and reign and rule over his own kingdom forever.