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Authors: Rosanne Bittner

BOOK: Walk by Faith
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Chapter Twenty-One

June 28, 1863

Lawyer Burkette has left us, choosing to travel south with a regiment of soldiers headed for Denver. He feels he can do well there, and most of us are glad to be rid of him, because he often caused problems for Mr. Clements.

C
larissa breathed another sigh of relief to have Burkette off the train. He stayed behind when they left Fort Laramie, and no one missed him, although Clarissa felt sorry for his mouse of a wife.

She leaned back against the side of the wagon, keeping a quilt over her knees and writing by lamplight. They were moving into ever-higher country now, and the nights were much cooler.

The trail since leaving the fort is much rougher, and we are not always close to the river, so we now are more careful how much water we use. We climb much higher hills, which slows us down so that we are not making as many miles a day as we did coming through Nebraska. We are moving through what Mr. Clements says is the southern end of the Black Hills, not high enough to call mountains, but certainly high enough to cause great exertion on oxen and people alike. There are thick pines and cedars here. The smell is wonderful, but the journey has become harder.

Dawson seemed to be everywhere, in front of them, behind them, beside them, ever watchful for possible Indian trouble.

We are in Sioux country, and at any time wild Indians could come upon us and demand supplies. Mr. Clements says we must put on a good show of firearms and not allow them to bully us into giving up more than we can afford; however, we must try to be friendly. Will Krueger and his brother now must keep a closer watch on their cattle, since Indians sometimes steal them for meat.

We will stay on this trail to a place called Red Buttes, and then to Independence Rock, where I plan to carve my name as one of the earliest settlers headed for Montana. From there we will leave the common Oregon Trail and head north, following the Powder River into Montana. Mr. Clements says that will be the most dangerous part of our journey because of both mountains and Indians.

She stopped writing when she heard what sounded like arguing from the direction of the McCurdy wagon. She heard a woman scream, “Get out!” Then came what sounded like a slap, then a woman sobbing. A man started cursing profusely, and Clarissa set her diary aside, frowning with worry. Sophie slept with Lena and Carolyn tonight. If there was going to be some kind of trouble—

“So, there you are!”

Clarissa gasped when Samuel McCurdy suddenly appeared at the back of her wagon and was already half climbing inside before she could climb out. “What on earth—?”

“You think it's fun, don't ya?” Sam told her, his face beet red and making his hair look redder than normal. He'd grown a beard since beginning their journey, and lately he'd been drinking.

“What are you talking about?” Clarissa said, scooting away from him.

“I'm talking about the way ya entice the men on this train, us knowing you keep company with Dawson Clements while the rest of us got wives that won't give us the time o' day!”

Astonished, Clarissa moved her hand under a quilt to grasp a handgun Dawson had given her for use only in case of an Indian attack. “You're drunk!” she seethed. “Get out of my wagon!” she screamed.

He just grinned. “Sure, 'n' first I'll be gettin' what Clements gets! My wife ain't given me no relief in all these weeks!” He leaped for her, shoving her down into the quilts and grasping at her.

“Stop it!” she screamed at him, turning her head when the drunken man tried to kiss her. “I have a gun!”

“You'll not use no gun, missy,” he groaned, “on account of you're wantin' this as much as me. I know how you intend to make a livin' when you reach them minin' towns in Montana.”

Desperate, Clarissa put the gun in his side. Suddenly someone grabbed the man off her, and in the turmoil her gun went off. She heard Sam cry out and saw him being literally thrown out of the wagon at the same time. She heard a scuffle outside, heard several hard punches.

She lay in shock as she heard other men's voices now. “Stop it, Dawson! He's been shot!”

Clarissa looked at her gun. She'd shot a man! But what else was she to do? She didn't mean to pull the trigger. She was going to warn him again first. The gun simply went off.

“Okay! Okay!” someone else yelled. “Let's handle this the right way.”

It sounded like Ben Gobles, Sam's brother-in-law.

Now she heard a woman sobbing. “He was drunk,” she cried. “He hit me and left the wagon.”

That was Sam's wife, Sue. Now Clarissa heard a child crying, probably one of their children.

There came more talk of “frontier justice” and holding a hearing about what just took place—to see who was really guilty of what. Did some of them actually think
she
was guilty of something? She sobbed, sitting up, shivering at the memory of Sam accosting her. She looked down at the gun, then raised her gaze when Dawson climbed into the wagon, dark rage in his eyes.

“Clare! What did he do?”

Bewildered, she looked at the gun again. “I didn't mean to shoot him. It just…went off. He—” She looked at Dawson again. “He kept touching me…saying ugly things. He was…drunk.”

Dawson moved closer, carefully taking the gun from her hand. He sat down and pulled her close. “It's all right. You didn't have any choice, and you only wounded him in the thigh. He'll live.”

Clarissa curled against him, relishing the safety of his arms. “He said terrible things, Dawson…about you and me.”

He held her tighter. “He's drunk and he's angry with his wife. We all know they've fought before and he's got an Irishman's temper. What he said was all in his drunken head, Clare, but I assure you, he's off this wagon train.”

“But what if others think the same thing? Maybe they do.”

“We'll straighten it out.” He kissed her hair. “Tell me he didn't…get far.”

She buried her face in her hands. “No. Dawson, why does it have to be this way?”

“It doesn't. McCurdy and his family will be left behind tomorrow. And if his sister- and brother-in-law don't like it, they can stay behind, too. This might not have happened if he wasn't drunk, but I don't intend to take the chance again.”

“Clarissa!”

Dawson turned. “Look,” he told her. “Here's Carolyn. I'd better get out of this wagon. Carolyn will help you.”

“No. Just send Sophie over. I'll be all right. I just want to hold my little girl and pretend this never happened.”

Dawson kissed her forehead, and with a sigh of anger he climbed out of the wagon, telling Carolyn to get Sophie and bring her over.

“Tie him up!” he told someone. “Then pour some whiskey on that leg wound and bandage it. Tomorrow we'll have a hearing about this, but I can tell you right now, nothing anyone says will change my mind. Sam McCurdy is off this wagon train! Tomorrow he gets left behind!”

“No! We've come so far!” Sue objected.

“Your husband is a drunken troublemaker,” Dawson told her. “I don't want the worry of this happening again.”

“Then kick Clarissa Graham off the train!” Sue McCurdy yelled at him. “
She's
the troublemaker! You shouldn't have brought a single woman along, and the things you two do are no worse than what my husband tried to do. It isn't fair to have a pretty single woman flaunting herself in front of the men.”

The air hung silent for a moment.

“Ma'am.” She heard Dawson speak up then. “Never in my life have I given one thought to hitting a woman, but you sure make it tempting. Get out of my sight!”

“You're a cruel, unreasonable, demanding, unfair man, Dawson Clements!” the woman screamed at him. “My husband and I will
gladly
leave this wagon train!”

There came a moment of silence.

“I want to know right now if any of the rest of you are thinking about what that woman said,” Dawson demanded. “And I'm telling you for the last time that Mrs. Graham has done absolutely nothing wrong. She's a fine, moral woman, and it takes guts to come out here alone like she's done.”

“That's so,” Michael interjected. “I've known Mrs. Graham for a long time, and she's not got a sinful bone in her body. This ugly mess is not fair to her.”

Clarissa felt sick. Now poor Michael had been dragged into this. Were people claiming she was sleeping with him, too? How cruel and disgusting!

“We're putting an end to this,” Dawson announced. “Tomorrow we will record what happened, talk about it and then take a vote. Either Sam McCurdy will be off this train, or I'll leave
all
of you behind and go on alone with Mr. Harvey and his wife and Mrs. Graham. Either way, I am asking Mr. Harvey to marry me and Mrs. Graham tomorrow. Maybe
that
will put an end to the sinful and unfair visions some of you have conjured up in your dirty minds!”

Marry!
Clarissa's eyes widened in amazement. How did he know she would agree to such a thing? Was the man crazy?

“We don't all think that way, Mr. Clements, please believe us.” Wanda Krueger spoke up. “I like Mrs. Graham very much. She's been a big help, nursing cuts and bruises on the children and helping watch them and all. I assure you we've never seen you or she act disrespectfully. You mustn't judge all of us by what a drunken Irishman and his angry wife have done and said.”

“Nevertheless, what's done is done. The idea has been planted, and I won't have it! We'll be married tomorrow and that's all there is to it! Now, take care of that drunken excuse of a man and get some sleep!”

Clarissa heard the crunch of gravel beneath Dawson's boots as he walked away. Then the wagon rocked slightly as Michael climbed onto the wagon gate. “Clare, are you all right?”

Clarissa swallowed, still stunned over every unexpected action that had taken place. “I…didn't mean to shoot him, Michael. Please pray he doesn't die.”

Michael smiled. “He won't die. I saw the wound. It's just through the flesh of his thigh, and I don't doubt he deserved worse. What about you?”

Clarissa shook her head, running a hand through her hair. “I don't really know. I need time to absorb all of this.”

“I'm so sorry, Clare. Maybe my wagon should be between yours and Carolyn's, instead of in front of hers. That way I can hear better what's happening with the both of you.”

“You have enough to worry about. I'm the one who's sorry. I've been a burden to practically everyone, especially you and—” Her eyes widened and she moved closer. “Michael, did you hear what Dawson said?”

“About marrying you?” He rubbed at his eyes. “Of course I did.”

“Do you think he means it?”

“I expect he does.”

“But I don't
want
to marry him. At least not now, not this way, for all the wrong reasons. What on earth makes him think I would do such a thing?”

Michael shrugged. “Well, now, I guess you'll have to ask
him,
won't you?”

“Michael—”

“Carolyn is here with a very sleepy Sophie,” he deliberately interrupted. He took Sophie from Carolyn and lifted her inside. Clarissa took her and laid the girl into the quilts.

“Mommy,” Sophie said drowsily before falling right back to sleep.

“Clare, are you okay?” Carolyn asked, her brown eyes full of concern and sympathy.

“Yes, I'm fine. I'm so sorry, Carolyn, to be the cause of all this commotion.”

“Nonsense! You weren't the cause. That drunken Irishman was. You get some rest now. We'll pray about this and we'll all talk in the morning, honey.” She stepped up on a footrest and leaned farther inside the wagon. “Are you going to marry him tomorrow?”

“No! The man must be out of his mind!”

Carolyn smiled. “I think he knows exactly what he's doing. Goodnight, Clare.” She left before Clarissa could reply, as did Michael.

Frustrated and angry and embarrassed and completely sickened over what had just happened, Clarissa pulled the cord that brought down the canvas flap over the back opening of the wagon and leaned against the side of it again.

“Dear God,” she prayed. “Forgive me for shooting that man, but I can't believe it's wrong for a woman to defend herself against such ugliness. Why do these things happen to me? Why, God? Why did Chad leave me? Why do people turn on me just because I'm without a husband? All I want is to get to Montana and make a new life for my Sophie. I never asked for Dawson Clements or any other man to come into my life. I just want to be left alone.” The tears came. “Lord Jesus, help me know what to do.”

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