Emma's Journey (3 page)

Chapter Three

A flock of startled crows screeched and scattered as a clap of thunder resonated through the quiet morning air. Flat landscape with its waving grass and hidden dangers rolled on as far as the eye could see. Overhead, gathering clouds grew darker, threatening another downpour common to this part of the country. Small animals scurried over fallen branches, seeking shelter from predators soaring high above them. Predators that had the instinctive competence to make them its next meal.

Wind from the encroaching storm whipped Emma’s skirts, plastering them against her legs. She wrapped her arms around her middle, and stared at the body wrapped in cloth and tied with rope. A deep hole next to it gaped, dark and damp, like a beast ready to receive its quarry.

She bowed her head as Jeb read a passage from his Bible. Abigail and Sarah stood on either side of her, both with fingers pressed to their mouths. Tears slid down Emma’s cheeks, but she refused the handkerchief Elizabeth held out, preferring to use the corner of her apron.

“And now, let us bow our heads and recite the Lord’s Prayer.” Jeb’s deep, comforting voice rumbled over them.

Emma barely heard the words of the other mourners, as anxiety cut through her grief. What would become of her with Peter gone? Here she was headed to a place she didn’t want to go to begin with, and the husband who had insisted on it was about to be lowered into the ground. She inhaled a shuddering breath. Returning to Indiana was the only solution. She would tell Ezra as soon as possible that she would leave the group and head home.

As soon as Jeb finished the prayer, he nodded at Abigail, who turned to Emma and took her arm. They walked her away from the sound of shovels of dirt being dumped on Peter’s lifeless body. Emma shivered, the sound so final, so lonely. He would be left here, miles from his home, with only the crude cross someone had fastened for company.

“I think a cup of tea would be good.” Sarah gently took Emma’s other arm. “Let’s go to my wagon and I’ll make some.” Emma nodded and walked with her, feeling like a sleepwalker guided back to bed.

The slow walk toughened her resolve. She pushed aside the panic at the thought of retracing their three week trip alone. Maybe Ezra would allow one of the scouts to accompany her. Yes. She would
insist
he provide a guide. It wasn’t her fault he had so little control over his horses that one had killed her husband.

Once they reached Sarah’s wagon, Emma settled on a log as her friend and Abigail prepared the tea. After a while Elizabeth Preston joined them, speaking in a low voice to the other women. Stephen toddled over to his mother and hung onto her skirts. With the perception of the young, he sensed something was wrong with the adults, and needed comfort. Despite the efforts of the women to keep Emma occupied with trivial chatter so she didn’t hear clumps of earth filling the grave, she continued to shiver as each shovelful covered Peter’s body.

Shortly before noon, Jeb and Ezra joined the group of women around the campfire. Both men removed their hats and glanced briefly at Emma. Ezra cleared his throat and twirled his hat in his hands. His normally pale face flushed a deep red, the ruddiness rising from beneath his plaid wool shirt to his hairline.

Emma had just opened her mouth to make her request for a scout when Ezra spoke.

“Miz Thorpe.” He ran one meaty finger around the inside of his collar. “You know how sorry we all are for your loss.”

Emma closed her mouth, and stared at her fingers in her lap, pleating the white cotton of her apron.

“I know this is a bad time for you, Miz Thorpe, and I apologize if I seem uncaring, but since we’ll be continuing on our journey tomorrow, there is something I need to ask.”

Emma acknowledged Ezra with a nod, but continued to keep her eyes downcast.

“Ma’am, as you know when Mr. Thorpe was, ah, injured.” Ezra’s voice stumbled.

Emma raised her head, tears standing at the edge of her eyelids, threatening to spill over. “He was killed, Mr. Franklin. Not injured. Killed. By one of your horses.” Abigail’s warm hand covered Emma’s cold one.

“Ah, yes, Miz Thorpe, I do know that, and very sorry I am, but what I wanted to ask you is, well, since y’all are the only one in your wagon now…well it just seems right Christian-like for you to…what I mean to say is..” His voice faded, as he moved his mouth, and no sound came out. He turned to Jeb, his eyes pleading.

“Ezra is doing a bad job of asking for something, Emma.” Jeb sat and took her other hand. “He would like to know if you will take the other man who was injured in the accident into your wagon, and nurse him since yours is the only wagon with room.” Jeb tilted his brow, looking at her uncertainly.

Emma’s head shot up, and she regarded Ezra, her eyes wide, heat from the anger in her belly rushing to her face. She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart, and spoke in a calm, but deadly voice. “Ezra, surely you understand I can no longer continue on this journey? With Peter gone, I plan to return to my parent’s home in Indiana.”

Jeb rubbed his chin with index finger and thumb. “We know with Peter gone you probably feel the only alternative is to return to Indiana, but Emma, there is no way you can do that.”

“What do you mean?" Emma jumped up and almost knocked Jeb off the log. “Don’t any of you understand?” She glared at the group, hands fisted at her side. “I never wanted this to begin with. Now Peter’s gone, and I’m going home.” At the last part of her outburst, she covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Sarah hurried to her side, and gently guided her head onto her strong shoulder. She patted her back, and murmured softly, rocking her as she would one of her children.

After a few minutes, Jeb took Emma by the shoulders, and eased her away from Sarah. He led her back to the log, and she sat, sniffling in her handkerchief.

“Emma, please listen. There is no way you can return to Indiana, at least not now. You can’t just take your wagon and start for home. We’re in the middle of nowhere. You have to continue on to at least a place where you can make arrangements to go back with another wagon train or an escort.”

He searched Ezra’s face. “Ezra, how far do you reckon we need to go for Emma to be able to travel back?”

Ezra rested his hands on his hips. “To Oregon country if I want to be honest.” He sighed and added, “Miz Thorpe, you would need to travel back with another wagon train headed east. A woman by herself trying to make it back to Indiana is looking for big trouble. That’s why your husband came to me, since I know the trail, and I’ve done it before. I’m not comfortable telling you something that you most likely don’t want to hear, but I can’t in good conscience let you leave us until we reach Oregon country.” He mumbled the last part, shook his head, and glared at Jeb. “Hell, you talk to her.” Yanking on his hat, and nodding to the ladies, Ezra stomped away, leaving Jeb to continue the discussion. Emma had a strong urge to cover her ears with her hands and hum like she did when she was a small child.

“Don’t bother, Jeb,” Emma said, her voice rising “I’m going home and that’s that.”

“We all know you’re hurtin’ and for that we feel very sorry.” He darted a glance at his wife. “But you can’t travel by yourself from here back to Indiana. Be reasonable, it’s just not possible. If Ezra has to tie you up in your wagon, then I’m afraid he’ll do just that. He took on the responsibility for your safety when your husband contracted with him.” He faced the women. “Please talk to her, she needs to understand the dangers she would face.” Jeb squeezed Emma’s shoulder and left the group.

Emma stared after Jeb’s receding back, her eyes narrowed. Once he disappeared behind a wagon, she turned to the women. “I’m going back to Indiana. I want to leave this god forsaken place and go home.” She stomped her foot, arms crossed over her chest. “They can’t make me stay.”

Sarah sighed and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Promise me you’ll give this some time to consider. Just think it over for a day or two.”

“Fine.” Emma said. “But nothing is going to change my mind.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ezra had announced a day of rest for the travelers since the funeral for Peter had eaten up a good portion of the morning. Emma used the time to brood. Once or twice Sarah stopped by to check on her, but Emma assured her she was fine. Anger had taken over her grief.

After a cold supper of beans and hard bread from the night before, she visited a nearby creek and washed her hands and face, and cleaned her teeth. Not wishing company this night, she bypassed Sarah’s campfire, and returned to her wagon. She slipped on her cotton nightgown, and brushed and braided her hair. With a deep sigh, she pulled out the bedroll and, changing her mind, dragged it into the wagon, and arranged a sleep space. It was tight, but more secure with Peter no longer there with her.

Darkness had enveloped the wagon train, all the campfires now extinguished, the scent of their woodsy smoke still lingering in the air. The hum of conversations had died out, leaving Emma alone and tossing and turning in the wagon. The floor of the wagon was warmer, but no softer than the ground. Hours passed, but her racing thoughts kept sleep dancing out of reach.

She couldn’t believe Ezra expected her to not only continue with the wagon train, but to actually take that arrogant Mr. Davis in her wagon and nurse him back to health. Guilt pricked her since she had no reason to believe the man was arrogant, since the few times she’d passed him by, he always treated her with respect. But thinking that made her feel better about refusing to help. Indeed most definitely unchristian like, she wished he had died instead of Peter. She quickly uttered a quick prayer at the thought.

Emma rolled from one side to the other and yanked the blanket up to her shoulders. That she couldn’t just abandon the wagon train right here and now had slowly sunk in since her conversation with Ezra and Jeb earlier in the day. As much as she ached for her parent’s comfort and her home, Emma knew in her heart there was no way she could find her way back alone. And since she’d refused to help Mr. Davis, it didn’t seem likely Ezra would give her a guide to accompany her.

“Damn this wagon train, and Ezra, and Mr. Davis and everyone else,” she groused as she thumped her pillow. She flushed at the use of a cuss word, then flipped to her back, hands laced over her stomach. Her gaze roamed the inside of the wagon, and settled on the canvas stretched across the top. The way things stood, she had no choice but to continue on, and most likely take Mr. Davis along with her as well.

“The Christian-like thing to do, indeed.” She turned over once more and tried desperately to relax her body enough to get some sleep before the sun came up over the horizon. Tomorrow would be another horrible day in an endless string of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Miz Thorpe. Miz Thorpe?” Emma shadowed her eyes with her hand as she stuck her head out the back of the wagon and regarded Ezra standing no more than two feet from her. His stance assured her of his determination, and that he hadn’t changed his mind since yesterday.

She sighed, and flipped her braid over her shoulder. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry to wake you, Miz Thorpe, but I came to re-arrange your wagon so we can make room for Davis.”

He sure didn’t waste any time. “Fine, Ezra, just fine,” she snapped. “Just give me a few minutes to dress.”

Emma backed into the wagon, and quickly pulled off her nightgown and slipped into a petticoat and dress. “Can’t even give a body time to dress and make herself presentable,” she grumbled as she rolled black cotton stockings on and laced up her boots.

Her eyes felt gritty, and her mouth like old cotton. She ignored Ezra as she marched past him on the way to the creek. He immediately began pulling things out of her wagon to re-arrange them. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered to her right now. All she wanted to do was get to Oregon so she could turn right around and go back to Indiana.

“I made enough room for Davis, ma’am,” Ezra said as she returned. “Me and a couple of the others will bring him over shortly.” Emma nodded and began her morning duties. She started a fire like she saw Peter do and fixed coffee and bacon for herself. Tears came to her eyes once more, as a sense of loss enveloped her. She missed Peter’s chatter and good morning mood. They’d only shared breakfast for five months, but her heart ached knowing they never would again, and he was gone from her life forever.

Once more guilt washed over her as she recalled the harsh words she’d hurled at him before he went off to die under the hoofs of a panicked animal. Emma leaned her head back and stared at the cloudy sky. “Peter, you know I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m scared. More scared now that you’re gone. I love you.” She brought her shaky fingers up to her lips and swallowed useless tears.

A man’s shout yanked her from her thoughts. She stood and took a deep breath, clearing away the remnants of her breakfast.

“Be careful, men. Don’t hit the side of that wagon. Boy, pay attention!” Ezra and two other men headed in her direction, dragging a travois behind them. The still form of Mr. Davis rested there, either asleep or unconscious. Turning her back on them, she washed the dishes from breakfast, slamming pots, clanking metal utensils. With that done, she kicked out the fire, and stomped over to the bushes to take care of her necessities.