Coffin To Lie On (5 page)

Each day there will be a
duty roster posted for the men. Some of you will have herd duty,
driving during the day and watching the cattle all night. Others
will have guard duty around the wagons through the night. Duty is
for two hours at a time. There's plenty of men to switch off. If
you find yourself ailing, ask someone to switch shifts with
you.

You folks need to
understand we'll be like a small city of strangers, traveling
together for months. There's a charter of laws we abide by. You
will be given a copy and asked to sign a sheet that you understand
the laws. Anyone breaks the law, you will be tried before a jury of
men from the train. You will be sentenced just like by a town jury.
Only thing is I'm the judge, and I decide what your punishment will
be. If the crime is of a serious nature like murder, the person is
held captive and turned over to the law at the next town we come
to. Is all this understood?”

Everyone nodded, and many
said yes.

“
I can
legally marry couples on the trail and say a piece over a grave for
a funeral if need be. Unless we have a preacher on the train that
wants to do the job. Any takers?”

A medium built man, in a
black suit, stepped into the middle of the circle. He peeled his
black bowler hat off his head and spoke loudly. “I'm Parson Thomas
Claymore. I'll be glad to perform weddings and funerals. I'll even
preach a Sunday church service.”

“
Sounds
good to me, Preacher. We'll have to talk about that Sunday service
so it fits in with traveling. We'll be moving seven days a week.
We'll have to travel hard to make it to Oregon in four
months.

I've learned some
doctoring, but I don't know near enough. If anyone needs a doctor,
you better hope we aren't too far from a town so I can send for
one. Men, you're welcome to take off on your own for town if we're
in an area safe from Indians. You and the doc can catch up to us.
If the scout isn't busy I'll send him along with you so you don't
get lost.

Coopersmith pointed to a
small lopsided table. “Men, line up to pay for the trip fee at that
table. I have to mark down your names and age and the same
information for each of the people in your wagon.

We'll move out in two days.
There's another paddle wheel docking tomorrow. I don't want to go
off and leave families that want to join the train for
Oregon.

This time will give you all
a chance to get acquainted with other folks in the train. If you
didn't stop in town for supplies before you parked your wagon, it's
time you went after them. That's all I have. If you have questions
ask while you're signing up.”

The line grew long as men
headed for the sign up table. Miranda leaned toward Sarie Lee. “We
might as well take the little boys to wait by the wagons in the
shade.”

As they stood by the Mast
wagon, Sarie Lee studied the women walking toward them. “Ya seemed
to know them women.”

“
Yes,
that's my neighbors from Minnesota,” Miranda
said.

Sarie Lee gasped. “They
sure don't have friendlies with y'all for being
neighbors.”

“
Since
your wagon and ours is next in line to those women you should know,
I've never considered them friends,” Miranda
said.

Sarie Lee nodded at the
approaching group.

“
Tell me
about them.”

“
The
tall, raw boned woman in the lead is Brunnhilde Fjelde. She's
Oskar's wife, and the hardest worker I've ever
seen.”

“
I'd say
she looks like it, but that's good,” Sarie Lee
approved.

“
The
younger one, walking with her head down, is Prudence. Her husband
is Hjalmar Sorenson. She's so timid you'll be lucky to get half a
dozen words out of her at one time.”

“
Once I
get acquainted with her, I'll likely talk up a storm. She won't
have to say much. I better warn you my husband says no one gets a
word in edge wise when I'm around, and that includes him,” Sarie
Lee said.

Miranda giggled. “See the
woman with her nose in the air. That's uppity Birgit. Her husband's
Florian Bjornson. She thinks she's better than other people. She's
not.

The heavy set woman is a
hypochondriac. Gretchen Krebsbach is Jacob' wife.” The thought
occurred to Miranda there wasn't too much difference between
Gretchen and her. Except she supposed Gretchen thought she really
had her ailments. Miranda knew her ailments were fake.

Sarie Lee puzzled, “Where
be that country?”

Miranda giggled. “The word
means she thinks she thinks she has ailments all the time. Probably
Gretchen's way of getting attention and sympathy. Whatever you do,
don't ask her how she's doing. You won't get away from her in less
than an hour. It usually takes that long for her to tell all her
ailments.

Jacob is strict ruler of
that household. The poor woman is so brow beaten she doesn't know
which end is up unless she asks Jacob.

Florence, Clarence
Swensen's opinionated wife, is the one to get on the good side of
and cow tow to or stay out of her way all together,” Miranda
whispered harshly.

“
My, my! It sure don't sound like she's on
yer list of likeables,” Sarie Lee said.

Miranda shook her head.
“She's not. Florence is bossy. She always sways the other women to
her way of thinking. I think they're afraid of her. I never was so
she doesn't like me. Since Florence doesn't like me, the other
women don't, either.”

“
Why
would anyone not like y'all. I just met you. I like you already,”
Sarie Lee said.

“
Thank
you, dear. There's a history between me and these women. They have
known me for years, and they aren't about to change their opinion
now. Main thing is I wouldn't bow to Florence. I have a friend back
home that says Florence reminds her of a vulture, ready to pounce
on her prey.”

Sarie Lee studied the stern
face woman marching their way. “That sounds right from the looks of
her. Much oblige for filling me in. How come y'all don't talk
funny?”

“
My
husband and the others came from Sweden and settled in Minnesota.
My family moved there from Illinois.”

After sign up, Wilbur and
Anselm talked to their wives. Anselm sounded as if the trip was
going to be a cake walk. “Dat four months vill go by fast enough.
You vill see, Miranda. With any luck, ve should be in de valley by
late September.

De trip iss around
twenty-two hundred miles long. Clarence says we vill haf plenty of
time to help each other put up cabins and a meeting house before
snow comes if we all work at it together.”

Miranda had never been more
than twenty miles from home when they went to Redwing. Anselm went
by that two thousand miles plus so fast like it was a short trip.
Thinking about the miles she'd have to travel in the wagon over
rough ground made her anxious. To her it seemed like a mind
boggling feat.

She was ready to changer
her mind, but she saw no way out of this trip now that they had
sold the farm and traveled this far. No doubt other pregnant women
had made the trip and endured the hardships.

She just hoped this one
time Clarence and the wagon master knew what they were talking
about. At that rate once they got to Willamette Valley, she'd still
have close to two months before the baby came to get settled in a
warm house.

Chapter 6

The jaunt to Fort Kearney
turned into a long six weeks. At first, the trail was ground packed
hard by other wagon trains. They made fifteen miles a day from dawn
to dusk which was good for oxen.

The land as far as Miranda
could see was thick blue stem switch grass, waist high to her. Here
and there was a bush of some sort and scrub trees. Such different
scenery from Minnesota with all its lakes and timbers.

When Anselm rode his horse,
Miranda drove. It wasn't hard to keep the oxen in line with the
Mast wagon in front of her. The oxen just plodded along after the
other wagons.

One evening, there was a
gentle spring rain all night. Anselm suggested they bed down in the
wagon. He didn't want Miranda to get a chill from sleeping in damp
bedding.

Anselm made his pallet on
the floor, and Miranda slept on her coffin. She'd been right to
think she'd be so tired she wouldn't concern herself about what was
her bed. The soft patter of rain drops on the canvas lulled both of
them to sleep.

When the rifle shot woke
them the next morning, the sky was overcast, but the air was cool
and sweet. The rain was enough to settled the dust that had choked
them for days.

The cheerful singing of
meadowlarks, blackbirds and sparrows mingled together with
whippoorwills at dawn while Miranda started breakfast. She listened
to the cheerful bird songs and missed her home.

After the ground dried out,
Miranda wore one of Anselm's kerchiefs over her nose and mouth. The
wagons ahead of them pulverized the soil into fine dust. The strong
wind kicked up the dust and blew it around the wagons. The air was
so thick Miranda found it hard to breathe even with her nose
covered.

When the train came to the
Platte River, the wagons stayed close to the muddy water, knowing
that would lead them to the fort.

Anselm and some other men
hunted often, bringing in ducks and geese. Anselm shot more game
than Miranda and he could eat so he shared with the other families
in the wagons nearest them.

Water birds sailed over the
train in large flocks, headed for the river. Whooping cranes
deserved their names by loudly announcing their flight path.
Majestic eagles soared over head along with red tail hawks and
other birds Miranda couldn't identify. They landed in the
cottonwood groves along the river.

One sultry day, black
clouds rolled toward the wagon train from the west. Miranda
listened to loud rumbles of thunder. As the thick clouds shut out
the sun, the wagon master came racing by to let them know the train
was stopping for the night.

Miranda didn't think it was
time to stop. The storm's darkness just made it seem that way. She
imagined Mr. Coopersmith saw how threatening the sky looked and
wanted to wait it out. Even she could tell they were in for a
soaker.

It was always a slow go to
make a large circle with that many wagons. While Anselm and Miranda
waited for their turn to stop be-hind the Mast wagon, lightening
streaked violently across the sky from several directions. The
thunder's rumble caused an awful vibration to shudder the wagon.
The hair on the oxen backs actually stood up. Thunder storms scared
Miranda, and she'd never seen one so peculiar and
violent.

Anselm and Miranda slept in
their wagon that night, listening to the hard rain pound the
canvas. The motion of the roaring wind shook the wagon. That
movement reminded Miranda her boat ride on the Mississippi
River.

She flinched as sharp
forked lightning lit up the wagon's interior. Knowing what was
next, she steeled herself for each deafening boom of lightning.
Never had she been in such a terrible thunder storm as that one in
Kansas. She hope that kind of storm didn't happened where they were
going to live.

The next morning, the storm
was still as strong as when they went to bed. Miranda handed Anselm
three cold biscuits out of the larder. There was no way she could
start a fire to cook breakfast.

Before the wagons moved,
Miranda unpacked two black rain slickers and gave one to Anselm.
The slickers helped protect their clothing, but the pelting rain
stung their faces and hands as the oxen plodded along.

Anselm glanced at Miranda.
Her drenched bonnet bill droop heavily over her eyes. She visibly
shivered. “You need to get in de wagon. Cover up vit bedding until
dis rain lets up. You vill get sick if you stay here vit
me.”

“
Maybe
you're right. I'm chilled to the bone,” Miranda agreed as she
climbed over the seat. She chose to sit on the pile of bedding
stacked on a crate of kettles rather than sit on the
coffin.

The train traveled through
the morning in rain until they left the storm behind. By that time,
there was a foot of water on the ground that couldn't soaked away
fast enough. The laggardly oxen had trouble moving the wagon
through the deep ruts. The mud sucked up around the wheel spokes to
slow their travel.

Anselm twisted to look in
the wagon. “De storm is over. You feel all right?”

“
Yes,
much better now that I'm warm and dried off,” Miranda
said.

“
De sun
is shining. It might do you good to come back out here and warm
up,” Anselm surmised.

“
I'd like
that. It's no fun sitting in here where I can't see the country
side,” Miranda said, climbing over the seat.

She lifted her face to the
sun and pleasured in its warmth. It was good to finally have
sunlight as the wagon labored through the muddy ruts.