Angel Train (17 page)

“What is it?” Tremayne demanded quickly.

York shook his head. “I think,” he said regretfully, “it may be cholera.”

“I hope not. That could be bad.”

* * *

THE CHOLERA HIT THE train suddenly. The first victim was Nolan Cole. He died a hard death. Marzina stayed with him, and Dr. Wingate did all he could. When the man drew his last breath, Wingate looked with sadness at Marzina, “I’m sorry I couldn’t save him, Marzina.”

“He was an unhappy man,” she whispered. “He would never look to God, and now he’s gone to give account.” Tears came to her eyes, and Wingate wanted to put his arms around her and comfort her but knew that was not the thing to do.

“You’ll have lots of help, Marzina,” he said gently. “We’ll all help you.”

“I feel so alone, Dr. Wingate!”

“I know. I feel the same way.” He touched her arm. “We’ve both lost something, but we’ll help each other.”

* * *

CHOLERA ALSO CLAIMED ELIZABETH Douglas, ten years old, and Tom Brand, age fifteen. It also took Konrad Dekker and his wife, Minna. Several others had it, including Jack Canreen, but lived through it.

Helga Studdart, daughter of Karl and Freida, died the second day after getting sick. Charity was with her when she died. She had been bathing her face with cool water, and Helga began crying. “I never had anything. I never had a husband. I never had babies. My whole life is gone, and I’ve never done anything.”

Charity felt tears in her eyes. Later she told Tremayne, “She was so sad. Crying out because she had missed out on everything. I think she liked Ringo Jukes.”

“Poor girl,” Tremayne murmured. “So pretty.”

“She wanted so much and got so little.”

“Well, there are people who say eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow you may die, but I don’t think that’s any way to live.”

“No, it’s not. Helga’s parents were afraid that she was going wild, but she was like all young girls. She was interested in young men and in marriage, courtship, and things like that.” She found her eyes filling up with tears. They were at the edge of the camp now, and it was dark. There was a bright moon but no stars. Suddenly, the thought of the young girl full of life only two days earlier but now cold and dead moved her. She began to weep.

Casey stared at her for a moment and saw the depth of her suffering. He knew she was a woman of intense compassion. He simply stepped forward and put his arms around her. “I know it’s hard. Life is hard.” He held her until she stopped crying.

When she looked up, she said, “Don’t—don’t take advantage of me, Casey.”

“I’d never do that. I think you’re the best woman I ever knew. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

Charity was very much aware of his arms around her. She knew her will was weak and that if he held her tighter, and even if he kissed her, she wouldn’t be able to resist. His words comforted her, but she was unprepared for his question.

“Do you think you could ever consider me as a man you might learn to care for and want to marry?”

Charity couldn’t answer. She looked up, and his face was coated with the silver light of the moon. His eyes were piercing, and there was a gentle expression on his face, “I know you won’t give yourself to a man who doesn’t know God.”

“No, I couldn’t.”

“I can’t hunt for God just to get you. That would be like trying to trade with God. I can’t do that. It would be a lie.”

“No, you can’t do that, but you need to seek God no matter what happens with me or any other woman. Seek Him, Casey, please.”

She turned and walked blindly away, and when she got to the wagon, she undressed and went to bed, but she lay awake, looking up at the canvas overhead and thinking of what Casey had said. And the question burned in her mind:
Could you consider me a man you might learn to care for?
She suddenly knew that had already happened, but she saw no good ending to this situation.

THE ANGEL TRAIN REACHED Fort Boise, and the animals were in such poor shape that Tremayne decided to rest them. There were livestock traders at the post, and many of the Way traded their sore-footed animals for fresh ones. It was a common practice on the trail, for many trains arrived there in poor condition.

Later that afternoon, Tremayne started into the fort to buy a new knife because he had broken his. He paid for one he liked, and when he stepped outside, he saw Charity accompanied by Bronwen and Meredith.

“Well, ladies, it’s good to see you. Have you been shopping?”

“Just for a few things.” Charity smiled. She feared Casey would reveal something about their last encounter—when she had wept and he had embraced her—but he said nothing, and she drew a deep sigh of relief.

Meredith piped up, “You know what, Tremayne? You ought to get married.”

“Why should I do that?”

“Because you need a little girl just like me.”

Meredith’s answer delighted Casey as most of her remarks did. “Why would I need a little girl just like you?”

“Because little girls like me are pretty and smart.”

Charity laughed. “Well, you’re not broke out with modesty.”

“No, you’re not!” Bronwen snapped. “Why don’t you be nice?”

Meredith hit Bronwen on the arm. “I am nice. You’re the one that’s always causing trouble.”

“Wait a minute. Let’s not fight about it,” Tremayne said.

“Why don’t you get married?” Meredith insisted.

“Why, I don’t think I could find a woman who would marry an ugly fellow like me.”

“You ain’t ugly,” Meredith said. She looked at Tremayne carefully and shook her head. “You’re not very pretty, but you’re not ugly.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

Meredith glanced at Charity. “I know. You can marry Charity. She don’t think you’re ugly, do you, Charity?”

Tremayne was amused, and Charity was flustered. “Well, come on, out with it. Am I ugly?”

“Don’t be silly and don’t listen to this foolish girl!” she said.

“I’ll tell you what. Suppose we go in that restaurant over there and get us some store-bought food?”

“I want some store-bought food,” Meredith said.

“Come along then.” He led them into the café, which was fairly rough, but the food was good. They had beef stew, boiled potatoes, and green beans along with biscuits and apple pie.

During the meal Meredith had been talking about things she wanted to do when she got to Oregon. “Are there any bears in Oregon, Tremayne?”

“You mustn’t call him Tremayne. Call him Mr. Tremayne.”

“All right. Mr. Tremayne, are there bears in Oregon?”

“I think so. Black bears and grizzly bears. Why?”

“I’m going to shoot one. I had a storybook about a girl who shot a bear so I’m going to shoot one. Will you let me use your gun?”

“Well, Miss Charity or your father will have to talk to you about that. Maybe you can start shooting something easier like a porcupine.”

Charity listened, amazed that anyone as hardened and as tough as Casey Tremayne could make himself at home with a six-year-old. Meredith doted on him and so did Bronwen. Finally she said, “Well, it’s getting late. When will we be leaving, Casey?”

“Probably day after tomorrow. This is the last chance if you want to buy anything.”

“No, I guess we’ve got everything. What’s at Walla Walla?”

“Just another military post, but we’re not going there. I decided to skip that and go on for the Dalles.”

“The Dalles? What’s that?”

“It’s a little settlement on the Columbia River. We’ll have to camp out there while we build rafts.”

“Why do we need rafts?” Bronwen asked. “Are we going to fish off of them?”

“No, I don’t think so. You see, Bronwen, there’s no way to get to Oregon City except down the river. The mountains are too steep, and there are no trails for wagons. So we’ll build rafts. We’ll put the animals and the wagons on them, and we’ll float down.”

“Won’t that be fun!” Bronwen said.

“Well, if the river is low, it will be. If it’s high, might be a little bit too much fun.”

“Is it dangerous?” Charity inquired.

“It can be. Depends on how high the river is.”

He paid for the meal and they left. When they returned to the wagon, Charity said, “You girls get on to bed. I’m going to get ready for breakfast.”

Meredith came over and said, “You can kiss me good night, Tremayne.”

“Well, I’ll just do that.” He leaned over, kissed her cheek, and then said, “What about you, Bronwen?”

“No, I’m too old for that.”

“I guess you are. Well, I missed my chance. Good night, girls.”

“There’s some coffee left,” Charity said. “Let’s heat it up on the fire. I hate to go to bed this early. I’m afraid I might miss something.”

“Not likely to miss anything out here.”

She heated the coffee, and he sipped his while she prepared the elements for breakfast. Then she sat on a box next to him. “That was so good for my sisters, and for me too.”

“A store-bought meal is good after cooking on a campfire.”

“No, I mean it was good for them to spend time with you.”

“They’re fine girls. All you Morgan girls are fine. Are you like your mother?”

“They say so. She died when Meredith was born, but I remember her. She had a good singing voice, and she was always ready to listen to my troubles.”

They sat quietly for a time, and finally, she said, “Have you thought about God since my father’s sermon?”

“Yes, I have. It got to me.”

“I think God is after you, Casey.”

“You make me sound like a varmint somebody’s trailing with a dog.”

“Well, in a way that’s true. Jesus said, ‘I’ve come to seek and to save that which was lost.’ So, Jesus is on your trail, I think.”

“Well, I’m ready to be caught.”

Their silence continued. She thought with amazement,
It’s like we were an old married couple
. “You asked me if I thought of you as a man I might care for and marry. What kind of woman are you looking for, Casey?”

“Well, a man gets pictures in his head, Charity. He sees one woman who is beautiful, another who is sweet, another who is smart, another who is clever. He sees all these things in different women, and out of all of them, he makes a woman up in his head. That’s what he’s looking for.”

“That’s not very fair to the woman,” Charity said in a sprightly tone.

“Well, most of us take what we can get, the good with the bad.” He rose and said, “It was a good evening. You looking forward to getting to Oregon?”

“I suppose so. It’s what we set out to do.”

“It’ll be hard. Hard getting down the river. Hard finding a place, building cabins, putting in crops, clearing land—a lifetime of work.”

“I know that’s so, but I’m just glad to be this far along.”

He leaned over and put his hand on her cheek. He didn’t say a word, but she saw something in his eyes that kept her quiet. His touch thrilled her, and then he said, “Good night, Charity,” straightened up, and left quickly.

She watched him go and wondered what sort of mental picture he had about her.

* * *

YORK WAS WALKING ALONGSIDE the oxen and daydreaming when he heard the call come out for nooning. “Whoa, Jesse!” and the oxen obediently stopped. He began to water them and feed them. Then he heard his name called. He turned to see Marzina approaching quickly, holding David in her arms. “What’s wrong?” he said.

“It’s Benjamin. He’s got a fever.” She was frightened and she whispered, “It can’t be cholera. It just can’t be.”

“Let me have a look.” He walked to her wagon and stepped inside. Benjamin was lying on his back, and his face was flushed. York felt his pulse and his forehead and then jumped down from the wagon. “It’s not cholera. I’m almost sure of it.”

Relief washed across Marzina’s features, and she said, “Thank God. I thought—”

“I know. We always think the worst about our children. I’m already the same way about David. I worry about him when there’s nothing really to worry about. I’ll tell you what. Let me get my bag. I’ve got a tonic that might help Benjamin a little bit, and then you need to keep his fever down with cool cloths. I’ll show you how.”

Ten minutes later the two were back in the wagon, and York gave the tonic to the boy. He then began to show her how to wet the cloth in the coolest water available and put them on the boy.

“I think he’ll be fine,” he said.

Wingate covered her hand for a moment, and when she withdrew it, he tried to smile. “You’re a wonderful woman, Marzina. Your husband doesn’t know what a treasure he had.” Marzina watched him walk away. His words had given her hope. She picked up David and held him close to her heart.

TREMAYNE AND JACK CANREEN were riding ahead of the train. They had seen no game, and for most of the time, the two had hardly spoken. From time to time, Tremayne glanced at his companion’s expression. Canreen’s face was blunt, brutal, and battle scarred around his eyes from barroom fights and other quarrels. Tremayne was somewhat surprised at the behavior of the big man. He’d had him pegged from the first as a troublemaker, and there had been trouble between them at the beginning of the journey. But especially since Canreen had overcome cholera, a silence had fallen over him almost like a curtain. Tremayne never asked him about it, but now as their horses moved ahead at a slow walk, Canreen suddenly began speaking.

“You know, Casey, I nearly died with that cholera.”

“You came pretty close, Jack.”

“I’ve heard stories that I thought were lies about people dying who looked over and saw something on the other side. I never put no stock in that sort of stuff. I never had any reason to.” He fell silent and then turned to face Tremayne. “I ain’t saying I had any kind of a vision like that, but I was so weak, I couldn’t even lift my head, and I thought I was going to die.

And the one thing I thought of was how I lived my whole life, and I’ve not done one good thing.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“Well, why shouldn’t I? God was going to be hard on me. At least, that’s the way I felt. I wouldn’t want you to know some of the things I’ve done.”

“The same here.”

Canreen studied Tremayne carefully and said, “Well, not as bad as me, I reckon. Anyway, while I was lying on that bed as weak as a sick cat, expecting to be before the judgment any minute, I got scared. Never was scared of much, Casey. Too dumb to be scared, I guess.”

“I know the feeling. I’ve done things that looking back on them give me the shivers. I wouldn’t do them now. It’s funny how the less life we have in front of us, the more we seem to value it. You take when I was a young buck, seventeen, eighteen—nothing scared me. Why, I’d put myself in situations where there wasn’t any way to get out, and I didn’t think anything about it.”

Canreen laughed shortly, “I know what you mean.”

“Well, I don’t need the cholera to cause me to be afraid of God, Jack. I’ve always been afraid of God. I’ve tried to cover it up, of course, but you know, lately I’ve been thinking a lot, the more I look around me and see the way the world is. Those mountains over there, those clouds, the way the world turns around every twenty-four hours, night and day, seasons coming and going. It’s all like a big clock, and all I can think is clocks don’t make themselves. God had to have made all of this.”

“I figure you’re right about that.”

The two men felt an unusual camaraderie. Canreen’s openness surprised Casey. He hadn’t expected Jack to have any
thoughts of God, judgment, or salvation, but it seemed he did.

Maybe all men did.

“We’re going to make it, aren’t we?”

Canreen’s remark broke into Tremayne’s thoughts, and he took his eyes off the horizon. “Yes, we’re almost to the Dalles. I’ve got hopes.”

“The warden will be surprised, won’t he?” Canreen grinned suddenly. “I bet he thought you’d have to shoot me and some of the others before this was over.”

“I never thought that.”

“Yeah, well, I planned to run away.”

“I thought maybe you would. It surprised me when you stayed put.”

“Funny thing, Casey. I don’t dream much, but I had a dream about running away. It was way back about the second week we were out, I think. I dreamed I got up, took a horse, left camp, and rode away, and I rode until the horse couldn’t go no more, and I lay down and went to sleep. And then when I woke up, there you were, standing over me with a gun at my head.”

Tremayne laughed. “I didn’t know I was a boogeyman like that.”

“It was a pretty real dream. Kind of knocked running away out of my head because I know you would have done exactly that. You’d have followed any one of us to the end of the world rather than let us get away.”

“I guess I would.”

The two turned and headed back toward the caravan. “Well, we’ll be in the Dalles in a couple of days. Then we float the river, land in Fort Vancouver, and move on to Oregon City.”

“What then, Casey?”

“Why, everybody will split up. These folks want homesteads. Free land!”

“You gonna do that?”

“Why, I don’t know, Jack. I doubt it. I don’t know what I’m going to do. What about you?”

“I haven’t got an idea in my head except I’m not going back to that prison. They’ll have to shoot me first.”

“Good idea to stay away from that place,” Tremayne said.

“I just don’t know what to do with myself, I guess.”

There was such a plaintive note to the big man’s voice that Tremayne realized that under the toughness there was loneliness. Maybe all men had a loneliness like that, men like him and Canreen, wandering around without roots. He said without thinking, “File a claim, Jack, then find you a good woman. Marry her and have kids.”

Canreen’s eyes opened wide. “Me?”

“Why not you? You’re not all that old. You got a lot of life left in you. You remember old Abe Cartwright?”

“Yeah, I knew him in the mountains.”

“I ran across him a few years ago. He wasn’t but about fifty years old. Didn’t have any teeth. He was weak, eating his meat raw because he was too lazy to cook it. He was a good mountain man at one time, but he was alone. That’s a bad thing for anybody. I think I knew from the time I saw him I wasn’t going to wind up like that.”

“That’s what you got on your mind? Finding a woman? Getting a claim?”

Tremayne didn’t answer for a long time. He straightened in the saddle, looked out over the distance, and then faced Canreen. “I’ve always wanted that, Jack.”

“Well, I hope you get it, Casey.”

* * *

EVAN WAS EXCITED ABOUT being a farmer, but he was wondering if he could handle it. He knew little about farming, only enough to raise a garden perhaps. He knew mining, but he vowed he’d never set foot underground again. He walked beside the oxen; the creaking wagon wheels and the yelping dogs made a symphony. He saw Zamora, who had been riding her horse. She tied the mare to the back of her wagon, turned, and saw him.

She smiled, “Hello, Evan.”

“Hello, Zamora. Been riding?”

“Yes, I get tired of walking and tired of riding in the wagon, don’t you?”

“I guess so.”

Zamora didn’t say more, but she moved closer and rubbed her shoulder against him. “Tell me something, Evan. Why do you never come around me?”

“Why, I see you every day.”

She shrugged impatiently. The afternoon sun caught the blackness of her hair, and it made her dark eyes seem brighter. “I mean, you never try to put your hands on me. Why, you’ve never even kissed me or tried to.”

Evan blinked and turned to face her. “Why, there are too many fellows after you, Zamora. I guess I wouldn’t have a chance.”

“You’re too shy, Evan. You’re a good-looking fellow. Besides, no one can tell what a woman may do.” Amusement showed in her expression, and her lips broadened in a smile. “No telling what I’d do. Why, I might fall in love with you, marry you, and become a farm woman.” The thought amused her, and
she laughed aloud. “We could have ten children and grow old together until we didn’t have any teeth and our hair was falling out.”

Evan laughed too. “I can’t see you like that.”

“Would you like it?”

“Why, sure.”

Suddenly Zamora realized she was not accustomed to Evan Morgan’s seriousness. There was goodness in him too. She realized he didn’t understand her teasing. “Well,” she said quickly, “it’s just as well you don’t come around after me.”

“Why’s that?”

“What would you do with a Gypsy woman? You need a woman who can skin squirrels. All I can do is tell fortunes, dance, and sing.”

“Wouldn’t be bad having a good-looking woman like you dancing and singing.”

Zamora laughed again. “Why, I declare, I think you’re about to propose. But while I was doing all that dancing and singing, who would cook your meals and wash your clothes?”

“I guess I would.”

“You know you ought to pay more attention to Alice Brand. She likes you, and Kirsten Dekker too. They’re both good-looking girls.”

“Which one should I pick? I wouldn’t know how to start.”

She pushed his hat down over his eyes. When he shoved it back, she laughed and said, “I’ll pick one for you, and I’ll put a Gypsy spell on her, and you can marry her.”

“You like any man in the train?”

“Sure. I like Tremayne, but he doesn’t need a Gypsy woman either. He’s a strong man. I like that, but he’s got a little bit too much of a Puritan in him.”

“What does that mean?”

“Why, he’s almost as backward as you are where I’m concerned. Can’t figure that man out, but I’m going to keep trying. So long. Remember I’ll be thinking about which girl you should marry.”

Evan laughed. “I’ll pick my own bride, Zamora. Don’t fret yourself.”

* * *

THE DAYS ROLLED ON, and the wagons were close enough to reach the Dalles within the day, but two of the wagons broke down. The wheels had become dry, and the spokes fell out. The whole train had to stop while they were repaired.

Tremayne approached Gwilym Morgan and said, “I think I’ll ride on and see what it’s like up ahead.”

“I need to get some exercise,” Charity said. “Could I ride with you?”

“Sure. That all right with you, Gwilym?”

“That’s fine. You take care of her, Tremayne. I can’t afford to lose this girl.”

“I’ll do my best.”

The two rode away, and Charity enjoyed the scenery. Tremayne started telling her how Canreen had changed. She listened intently. “I’m glad to hear it. He was a pretty bad man, wasn’t he?”

“Pretty bad. I think he’s ready for a change though.”

“Are you, Casey?”

He looked at her and grew serious. “Yes, I told you I am. I don’t know how it will happen though.”

They rode along for some time, and then abruptly she asked, “Do you have any feelings about Zamora, Casey?”

He laughed. “Why would you ask me a thing like that?”

“Well, I saw you kissing her that time at Independence Rock.”

“She’s a pretty girl. She wanted to be kissed. I wouldn’t have been considerate if I hadn’t helped her out.”

“Do you have feelings for her?”

“No, not the kind you mean.”

“I can see how you would. She’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.”

“Yes, she is, but she would never make a farmer’s wife.”

“Why not?”

“Well, the Gypsy life is hard, but she’s told me—and so has Stefan—how it’s exciting too. Always new places, new scenes, new people. A farmer’s life is not like that. Maybe he sees some old friends at church on Sunday, or a stranger comes by, and he meets somebody new. But mostly it’s pretty dull.”

“Is that what you want to do, be a farmer?”

“No, I want to do something else.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t want to tell you. It’s a secret.”

She reached out and pinched his arm, and he yelped, “Don’t do that! It’ll leave a blue mark.”

“Tell me what you want to do.”

“I worked in a sawmill for two years. I liked it. I learned a lot about it. I’d like to find a place with a good stream, with a nice fall, and build a sawmill. I like the smell of wood, the sound of the saws biting into it. I don’t know why. I just liked it.”

“That would be different from what you have done. You’ve been a wanderer, haven’t you?”

“Most of my life. Even when I was with the Indians, we wandered. I never had any roots.”

She was quiet for a while, until both stopped their mounts.
He turned in the saddle, reached out, and touched her hair. “You’ve got the prettiest hair I’ve ever seen,” he said.

“I hated it when I was younger. Other children always made silly songs about my red hair.”

“They were jealous.”

She laughed. “I don’t think so.”

He let his hand drop to her shoulder. He squeezed it and said, “Did your mother have red hair?”

“Just like mine. It didn’t get dull even when she got older.”

“Yours won’t either.”

“You don’t know that.” She gave him a direct look. “Would you like to have roots?”

“I never had any. It’s hard to say.”

“Well, I hope you find what you want.”

He grew very serious, and his hand tightened. “I know what I want. I want you, but you’re not for me.”

“Why would you say that?”

He had trouble answering. “I’m one of the rough ones, Charity. You deserve better.” He turned away quickly and called out, “Come on. Let’s get back to the train.” She kicked her horse in the sides, and the mare picked up a gallop. She knew he was running away from her, and she understood why. The feelings between them were mysterious and still unexpressed. She couldn’t explain it but knew their mutual attraction went below the surface.

* * *

THE NEXT AFTERNOON GWILYM saw Tremayne and Charterhouse come back from a scout. They drew up the horses, and Tremayne could barely contain his excitement.

“There it is, Gwilym, the Dalles.”

“The Dalles,” Gwilym breathed. “We made it, Casey. We made it.”

“Yes, we did. Some didn’t get here, but most of us did.” His eyes went to Charity who was beside her father.

She smiled at him. “You still thinking about that sawmill?”

“More than ever. I’ll let you help me run the first log through.” He let out a yelp, turned and spurred his horse down the line, shouting, “We made it, folks! We made it!”

“What’s that about a sawmill?” Gwilym asked curiously.

“That’s what he wants to do, build a sawmill.”

“And he wants you to help him?”

“He was just being foolish.”

Gwilym Morgan looked at his daughter. She was the image of his dead wife, and it gave him a pang to look at her, but he only said, “A sawmill isn’t a bad thing for a man to have.”