The Promised Land (Destiny's Dreamers Book 2) (17 page)

He stopped to hold out the bone implement in his hand for admiration. “Found a beauty, I did! Maybe I can try it out when we finally get to where we’re going.’’

For once Maggie ignored his offering.

“You are not a mother, Jamie, and will never be a mother. Only a mother could truly understanding the feeling of loathing that arises when she watches a human baby being deformed.’’

“It wasn’t
that
bad, Ma.’’

“Did you see the look in the mother’s eyes? As if most of her thinking powers had been squeezed out by the pressing? These people must be destroying their minds.’’

“Jehosephat.’’ Jamie sauntered in front of her, his hand busily tucking the new treasure into a pocket. “You weren’t even this upset when Pa rescued you from the Pawnee.’’

Maggie stared at her son, trying to think of something more to say on the subject. He was acting unnaturally grown up. Had his childhood been just another thing lost along the trail over the past six months? She scratched at the back of her neck absently.

“You’re looking mighty strange, Ma.’’ He came closer, and dropped his worldly-wise attitude. “And your dress has taken on a different hue, more gray-like than blue. The cloth couldn’t change colors from your upset, could it?’’

Maggie glanced at her skirts, then looked in horror at Charlotte seated next to her. Her little dress was different, too. Almost as if it were moving.

Jamie came closer still and reached out a hand.

“Ma! You’re crawling all over!’’

Maggie leapt up, and dragged the baby with her. In an instant she realized she
was
crawling all over. She reached out her hand, and found it covered with fleas. She turned to inspect the boulder they’d been seated upon. It was swarming with the creatures. Seeing clearly now, she knew it was not a black rock at all.

Maggie jumped up and down in a mad dance, shaking herself and her daughter. She forgot her own discomfort and focused her attentions on Charlotte who had begun to scratch and cry. She ripped off the baby’s clothing, right down to her skin. Small wonder the little Flathead infant had been lying in his press naked, his mother only half clothed beside him in this cool weather. At least they could see the fleas that way.

What to do? She couldn’t strip herself down to nakedness. It wouldn’t do for the wife of the train’s captain to go running hysterically naked through even this tiny village. But that was what she wanted to do with all of her might.

Maggie handed Charlotte to Jamie. She jiggled and shook till about ten percent of the new population had left her presence. It wasn’t enough. She grabbed the baby back.

“Jamie! We need help! Run ahead fast and find your father. I’ll come right behind with the baby.’’

All three of them ran for Johnny and the wagon, Jamie sprinting ahead.

Johnny was waiting for them, worry on his face. Hazel was waiting, too. She grabbed for Charlotte.

“I’ll just give Charley a bath, Maggie. You’d better attend to yourself!’’

Johnny dragged Maggie into the tiny caravan. He carefully shut the door and burst out laughing. Right in her face.

Maggie lost her temper. “You unfeeling, inconsiderate, tactless
male
! Johnny Stuart! This is
not
a laughing matter!’’ She was still jiggling up and down, unsure where to begin.

“Your tongue, Meg, your tongue! Such words do not become your womanly charms.’’ He was still laughing, holding his sides now. “How could you do such a stupid thing to yourself?’’

“You’ll find out, and in much broader language, if you don’t help me instantly!’’

Johnny swallowed his mirth and began stripping his wife, throwing each item outside the door as soon as it was freed. Maggie was down to her skin and beginning to loose her hair when there was a discreet knock at the door. Johnny poked his head out carefully.

“Yes?’’

“It’s just me,’’ said Gwen. “I was boiling some water anyway for the dinner, and thought you’d need it worse right now.’’

Johnny took the offered bucket. “Exactly what the doctor prescribed. Thank you kindly.’’ He firmly shut and bolted the door and returned to his wife.

“Never let it be said that Johnny Stuart passed a naked lady without offering assistance.’’ He grabbed a cloth and began to bathe his wife’s body, starting from the toes up. Maggie worked on her hair with a brush from above. They met about breast level.

Johnny was still chuckling. “Fifty scalps have been taken. The enemy has flown in complete defeat. I believe I deserve a reward for unusual bravery on the field of battle.’’

Maggie laughed at last. “Oh Johnny, it was so silly of me. I was worked up over a poor little Indian baby having its head flattened. I saw nothing else, save the river upstream from which I expected Gentry and his Danites to fly into view at any second~’’

They roared together like idiots. Only slowly did Maggie and Johnny sober in each other’s arms, further scalp-taking forgotten.

Maggie emerged from the wagon a new woman. Johnny staggered out behind her. He squinted at the bright light, pulled his shoulders back, hiked up his trousers and went off whistling.

Maggie stood sniffing the crisp autumn air about her. It was filled with the smells of cooking, and she was ravenous. Gracious, what was happening to her! She had no fire, and her family still needed to be fed!

Gwen walked over, twinkling, to inspect her friend. “There never was a case of fleas with such an ending. I guess you didn’t need the ointment Grandma Richman left on your steps after all. Come and get some dinner. Hazel already did for the children and the dog.’’

Maggie was blushing. “How wonderful to have someone else in charge for a change.’’

“I guess we all learned a few things about giving and sharing and growing on this journey, Maggie Stuart. My cooking may still not be up to yours, but I’m not afraid to offer it anymore.’’

Maggie took Gwen by the arm and impulsively gave her friend a hug. “Gwen dear, it will taste like nectar from the gods. Lead on.’’

Gentry’s bateau reached the Chutes as the sun rose from the east behind, ending the foul weather of the previous day and night. They’d run through the night on purpose. Gentry knew his companions were ready to drop from fatigue, but his purpose would not allow anyone to rest. They would have all the rest they needed when the Stuart Party was within their sights.

Hoskins shouted over Gentry’s shoulder through the roar of the Chutes. “It sounds like a bad one. We ought to pull over and portage it.’’

Gentry waved a rough no.

“They’ve too much lead. We’ll chance it.’’

Hoskins’s face showed confusion. Confusion changed to outright fear as the rocks and spewing water of the rapids came closer. Gentry was overdoing it. What benefit to the Mormon cause to have seven brothers drownded? Their leader’s mind, however, could not be swayed. Hoskins gripped his paddle and readied himself for the plunge.

Jack Gentry helped the last battered, sodden comrade from the waters of the river. He turned to study their craft which had grounded at the base of the Chutes. It could be worse. A few repairs would be necessary, but it would take on the river again. Gentry joined the men who were shivering around a small fire. It had been started on a hearth left by their recently departed prey.

“They’ve not much of a lead on us. We’ll rest and make repairs until tomorrow.’’ The glimmer of anger and distrust grew in the six sets of eyes facing him. Gentry casually added, “We’ll portage at the Dalles.’’

Incipient thoughts of mutiny were quelled in general relief. Gentry himself went to unload the emergency barrel of tar strapped down in the boat.

The Stuart Party’s rafts left the Dalles the next morning, and reached their final portage, The Cascades, that evening. They accomplished the portage but had to hold up the next day because of dangerously high winds.

Finally they were on the Columbia again, drifting through a totally new world. The mountains rose majestically around them, fiercely, freshly green after the world of dun sands, sagebrush and desert left behind. Slowly the magnificence made way for views of greater glories in the distance~the virginally pure, snow-capped cones of Mount Hood to the south, and Mount St. Helens to the north, sun glinting sharply from their icy surfaces.

Maggie sat in front of the raft now, on a long log Johnny had positioned there for this very purpose to keep them from the wet at their feet. Charlotte was in her lap. Jamie was closely at hand. Hazel and her children rested next to them.

Since the flea incident Maggie had given up worrying over Gentry. Life was too short, and it wouldn’t help anyway. Best to just enjoy what the moment offered. She sighed in contentment, feeling almost free again.

“It never ends. One wonder outweighs the next. Just think what it will be like, Hazel, jumping from bed each morning~every day for the rest of our lives~looking out the door and seeing those mountains before us.’’

Hazel pulled out a handkerchief and snuffled softly into it.

“Why, whatever is the matter?’’

“They’re so
different
from the hills of Pennsylvania! My mountains were sort of run down at the edges, softened like. They had a comforting look, as if telling me that my father, and his father had helped to tame them. These mountains . . . only God could tame them!’’ She blew her nose.

Maggie would have put an arm around Hazel if she could have spared one.

“I don’t think God wants them tamed, Hazel. They show a different side of His glory . . . not stern exactly, but tall and deep, with ragged edges of power. A lot like the people come West to pass through them. We’re not the same as when we started, Hazel. We’re not nicely rounded anymore. We’ve picked up a few jagged edges.’’ Maggie paused. “I think it’s a good thing, too. We’re going to need those edges to survive, to teach our children to survive in this new country.

Hazel wiped her eyes on a sleeve. “There’s something I have to say, Maggie.’’

Maggie dragged her eyes away from the glories around her.

“What is it?’’

“It’s hard to express, but I mean it from my heart.’’ She caught her breath, then exhaled.

“Meeting you was about the best thing that happened on this journey. Besides your helping to save my life. A woman needs a friend to talk to. Max promised me~just last night it was. He promised to take up his land allotment not too far from where you and Johnny get settled. Close enough so’s we can visit when we feel the need.’’

Maggie freed up her arm now and gave Hazel that hug.

“It will be a great comfort to me, too, Hazel. I’ve never before had proper women friends. Only my mother. We were so isolated on our farm. And when Johnny and I took to travelling after our wedding, well it was always `here one day, gone the next.’ We had time to meet a few friendly faces, but not to keep them. I’m praying now that Johnny’s wanderlust will stop right there in the Willamette Valley, that we’ll have a real home for ourselves and our children at last. And real friends to treasure.’’

Both women took in the healthy children surrounding them, the mountains and river beyond. They’d come so far, yet had managed to hold on to the most important things. Surely their remaining wish would be granted to them.

The afternoon passed as in an idyll, a dream. But by late afternoon the dream was beginning to change before their eyes. Heavy clouds had descended from nowhere, blocking out first their view of the great volcanic mountains, then the diminishing Cascade ridge itself. High winds rose and began to buffet them. The children were hustled into the safety of their wagons, and Maggie, after seeing that her own two were securely tethered inside, braved the still increasing winds to visit Johnny at the rudder.

“What’s happening?’’ Her voice rose to challenge the sudden tempest around them.

Johnny opened his mouth, but his words were blown away from him. He struggled visibly with the unwieldy rudder and tried again.

“Get back to the cabin! At once! We’re coming to Cape Horn. It has sudden storms like its namesake!’’

Maggie fought the winds a moment longer. “Will you be safe?’’

Johnny checked the rope he’d tightly drawn about his waist.

“Like a baby!’’ But his grin was strained. “Get inside so I can stop worrying over you. Please!’’

Maggie turned to do his bidding, then changed her mind and fought the winds to look at Johnny again. Her eyes took him in, then went beyond, to the river they’d already traversed. Between the haze coming off the water and the dark clouds lowering from above remained a short, clear space of clarity. What she saw within that space made her stomach roil.

“Johnny!’’

He caught her gesture, if not her voice, and spun to look.

Gentry and the Danites had caught up with them at last. One of Fort Walla Walla’s bateaux was following them, coming ever closer. Johnny almost thought he could see the look of grim determination on Gentry’s face at the prow.

“Get back, Meg! To the children!’’

Maggie stared one more time, then strained against the wind the few yards to their little cabin. When she reached for the door the force of the wind almost blew it from its hinges. She struggled to pull it tightly closed again and fell into the wagon, heaving from the effort, from the sudden shock of seeing Gentry after she’d allowed her defenses to drop.

Bacon was moaning. His lament was higher pitched than usual, almost like a keening. It could be heard above the wind. Maggie pulled herself up and stroked the coyote’s fur. Finally she turned to her children.

“Mama. Papa? . . . Mama! Cold!’’

Maggie gathered Charlotte into her arms and stood by a window next to Jamie. Her son put an arm around her waist, snuggling as close as he could. They watched the scene unfolding before them in tense silence.

The wind had whipped the river into a gray froth. Coming up ahead was a new bend, with a towering cliff on its north shore. The rocks of the cliff dove straight into the river, with a force of boldness that was awesome to see. Waves dashed upon these rocks as ocean must against its shore. Maggie had never seen an ocean, but looking, she knew.

She could also see several of their fellow rafts in front of the cliff, bravely trying to steer away from those rocks. A wrong move would mean certain disaster. The raft and all aboard would be turned into splinters in split seconds. Maggie watched as one veered entirely too close. Then she could watch no longer. She closed her eyes and prayed. Jamie had not the same compunctions. He began to shout above the din, narrating the scene with frightened relish.