Journey of Honor A love story (5 page)

Waking in the cool darkness before the sun came up, he lay there for a minute wondering about the dream he had had… that she was sleeping next to him… and then she moved in her sleep and he sat up so fast that he whacked his head on the wagon bottom above. In a rush it came back to him, and he looked in wonder over at her there in the dark. Jehosaphat! It was real. He hadn’t dreamed last night.

She was beautiful asleep. Both the regal bearing and the sweet sense of humor were gone and there was only the raw beauty and simple vulnerability that emanated from her. Some innate sense that was a remnant of the primitive male within him made a need to take care of and protect her rise in him like hunger or thirst would. It was a basic, primal instinct that was as vital as the need for air. He looked at her for another moment and then got up. He had to get busy or he was never going to make it all the way across this land with her. Already, she was mixing up his head.

He went through his morning’s tasks in record time, and when he came back with a pair of mules twenty minutes later, he was surprised to see that her bed was gone and there was no sign that she had ever been there to muddle his brain like she had. He turned to find her bending over the fire stirring something in a pot, her hair neatly braided around her head again and dressed and ready for the day.

Not only was she ready to go, but his breakfast was too. On approaching her at the fire, she handed him a bowl of corn mush and a plate of eggs and bacon, and said, “We haf already ask a blessing over it.” He’d noticed the cage of chickens that was strapped to the back of their wagon, but he’d never had an egg while out on the trail. The tall glass of milk that she offered was the final treat. He dug into his breakfast with relish. Maybe this marriage situation was going to be great!

Trace automatically started out in the lead of the train with the VanKomen wagon next and then Mose’s, followed by their other drivers. They established an unspoken system of protecting her between them. It was doubtful that Filson would approach the train in broad daylight, but just in case, they would be ready. At any rate, there would be a buffer zone between Josiah and his family and the other, rougher element who followed in the rear of the train.

That day passed quickly, although the infernal dust had already begun to boil up around the wheels of the wagons. Being at the front helped, but it was an early reminder of the misery that this trail could inflict. They paused at midday and ate the lunch the women had packed and let the stock graze for a few minutes before heading out again. The midsummer weather, albeit hot, was good for making progress and they pushed on steadily.

That evening, Trace helped Josiah stake out the troublesome mule and things went better with the stock. Dinner was ready for them once again when they were through with the animal chores, and Trace thought again that he could get used to this in a hurry. He was sitting by Mose as he ate and he wondered when Mose was going to say something to him about last night’s sleeping arrangements. They’d hardly spoken all day through the long pull, but he expected something now that they were seated and had a moment. He knew Mose too well to think he was going to let last night pass without some kind of ribbing.

Actually, when it came, there wasn’t much tease to it. Mose just looked at him with a grin and asked, “Ja get any sleep last night? After your company arrived?”

Trace grinned back. “I did, actually. Well, after a while.” He paused as they ate. “Never dreamed she’d do that, but it wasn’t too bad.”

Mose looked off into the distance, and the grin died out of his face. At length he said quietly, “Sleeping beside Callie was the greatest peace I’ve ever known.”

Trace didn’t answer that. In the first place, he didn’t understand. Last night was the only time in his life thathe’d slept anywhere near a woman. And in the second place, what could you say to a friend who had watched his wife die so tragically? He knew that, even after more then three years, Mose mourned.

His smile had finally come back, although it had taken a while, but there were still times Trace knew Mose was thinking about her. Trace had never had a woman he cared about the way that Mose had adored Callie. He’d have almost thought it was weird except that his parents loved each other that way. In a way he was a little jealous of his friend even though Mose had lost his love. It must be nice to have a friendship like that with your wife.

The two of them sat there like that for a while. In spite of the differences in color, or perhaps because of it, there had never been two closer friends. They considered each other a brother, but what they had went far beyond mere brotherhood. There were times that they read each other’s minds. Lots of times. That uncanny link had been the catalyst to many a good business deal, and more than once, it had saved each of their hides.

As they quietly sat there, Giselle came and took her bedroll out of the wagon and set it back under Trace’s and then disappeared for a moment. She reappeared and rolled the bedding out and then did the same thing she had the night before: shook out her hair, said her prayers, and took off her robe to lie down. She appeared to go to sleep within minutes again and Trace wondered at her ability to drop off so quickly under new and strange circumstances. He knew she had worked hard and for long hours these last two days, but after her admission that she had never slept outside, he’d expected some little period of adjustment.

A few minutes later, Mose got up and gave Trace a wide grin and said “Nighty night” before heading off to his own blankets.

Trace hesitated for a few minutes until he realized he was doing it. When he admitted to himself that he was a little tentative about going over to sleep beside her, he shook himself. Men the world over would trade him places in a heartbeat. What was he worried about? He was married to her for heaven’s sake.

All of his life he’d dreamed of someday finding a beautiful, sweet girl to play house with. So they weren’t necessarily playing house, at the very least he could enjoy being by her. So far she’d been really great. He got his bedroll and spread it out beside her, being careful not to wake her. She was as pretty tonight as she’d been this morning, and he lay down next to her with a sigh.

It was good that he was tired to the bone. As he closed his eyes, he was inordinately pleased that Henry Filson hadn’t shown up again tonight.

Sometime deep in the night, when Dog growled, he realized he’d had that thought too soon. He reached next to his head and grasped his revolver, the sound of the hammer cocking back loud in the still night. Giselle opened her eyes and looked at him. Silently he mouthed for quiet and went to get up, but Mose’s voice sounded out before he moved.

It was almost conversational. “Trace, you know that galoot you threatened to shoot on sight a couple nights ago? I’ve got him here by the throat. You want me to just throttle him or you want to come out here and shoot him as promised?”

Trace smiled at Giselle to calm the fear he saw in her eyes and sat up to put his boots on. He answered in the same conversational tone. “Save him for me to shoot. There are those who would come after you for wringing a white’s neck. I’ll be right there. Take him out to the edge of the flat. I don’t want to get blood on any of our gear.”

He got up and shrugged into his shirt and strapped on his gun belt and walked toward the sound of Mose’s voice. What to do with this fool? He ought to shoot him, but the physician side of him would rail at that unless he had no choice. So then, what? What would make this slob yearn for a different clime?

Approaching Mose, one of the others arrived as well, leading a saddled horse. Mose truly did have the guy by the throat and he was all but blue when Trace encouraged him to let go. Trace nonchalantly began to unsaddle the horse and said over his shoulder to Filson, “Start shucking those clothes, you piece of coyote bait. I’m going to make you wish I’d shot you long before I actually do it.”

Still gasping for breath, Filson whined, “What do you mean?”

Turning from the horse, Trace grasped the front of the heavy Missourian’s shirt and literally jerked it off of him. “I said exactly what I mean. Take ’em off. All of ’em. Right down to your dirty, fat hide. Now!”

Filson’s eyes looked more frightened than ever and Trace said, “All I’m going to do is make you ride this razorback of yours the thirty something miles back to St. Joe without the comfort of any padding. I’m going to give you a running start before I start shooting. It might be thirty yards, it might be a hundred. You never know.

“You’ll just know that you’re gonna be riding for your life and hope you make it out of range before I hit your big, gleaming, white backside. But this is the last time I’m gonna give you a break. Next time, I truly will be aiming for your heart, and I’m a good shot.”

By this time, there were nine men standing together in the dark and one of them asked, “Trace, you gonna hog all that shootin’ to yourself? Or can any of us take a crack at his glowing hiney?”

Trace turned. “Y’all boys want in?” Several of them answered in various styles to the affirmative and Trace smiled. “There’s not going to be any prize for whoever gets the best shot. Other than knowing that you’ve done all of Missouri a favor. You’re sure?” More interesting yeses followed and Trace said, “All right, but let him get out there a ways. No sense in spoiling the sport o’the deal.”

He turned to Filson who actually was almost glowing in the moonlight, naked as he was. “Get on up there, man. Before one of these boys goes to jumping the gun, so to speak.” After several ridiculously ungainly tries, Filson finally made it onto the ribby steed, at which point Trace calmly reached and took the bridle off. “Good luck, Filson, you’re gonna need it.” He gave the horse a resounding slap on the rump and it took off on a lunging run with Filson bouncing and scrambling to hang on.

When he was forty yards out, Trace raised his gun, and to a man, the others followed suit. At his word they all let loose and the fleeing rider kicked the horse up to a frantic pace. After an ongoing volley of shots, the pale bouncing figure disappeared into the night and the remaining teamsters headed back to camp, laughing and slapping each other on the back as they went.

Mose shook his head and chuckled. “One day you’re gonna have to quit fooling around and shoot him, Trace. Much as you hate the idea. Your little wife truly isn’t safe until you do.”

Trace sighed. “I know. Actually, I was hoping that one of those boys didn’t know me well enough to know that I was just scaring him. But I think he got away. Next time.”

Mose threw a big arm around his shoulder. “Think positive. Maybe one of us at least winged him.”

“Winged or not, he’s not going to want to ride a horse for a while. Maybe we’ll have a day or two to get further out.”

“Probably not, but we can hope. We should get back. Your little Dutch girl thinks you just had a man shot to ribbons in her behalf. You got some ’splainin’to do, son.”

Trace elbowed him. “Quit pretending to not be able to speak correctly. You did better in school than I did. And I’m a doctor. Son.”

Mose elbowed him back. “Yes, Massa.” At that point Trace tackled him in the grass, and within about a minute, Mose had him tied in a knot and then laughed, “Quit horsing around. Giselle is going to be upset.” He stood up and offered Trace a big hand.

They walked into camp and went their separate ways. Trace ducked under the wagon and started to take off his boots. Giselle was lying there, big-eyed, and he lay down with a sigh and then turned and leaned on an elbow to tell her what happened. “We didn’t really shoot him. We never intended to, but he didn’t know that.” She breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Looking at her steadily, he continued, “But I’m going to have to if he comes again, Giselle. And I think that he will.” She nodded silently. Trace rolled back over muttering. “Stupid idiot. I’m a doctor not a gunfighter, but at some point I have to make a stand. I probably already should have done it.”

She put a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m sorry to have brought you so much trouble, Trace. If he comes again, I will shoot him myself. That is too much to ask another to do. But remember that God feels it is okay to take a life in defense of life and liberty. It is better that one man perish, remember?” She was right and he knew it. It just went against the grain to spend part of his time trying to heal people and then turn around and shoot someone.

He was almost back to sleep when she asked, “What did you mean you’re a doctor not a gunfighter?”

He yawned and replied, “Nothing, Elle. I just don’t like killing. Ruins my whole day. Ya’know?”

“I would imagine so.” She sounded more asleep than awake. “Thank you again, Trace. Good night.”

Chapter 3

Within just a few days the train had fallen into a routine. The stock settled into the pull and the people learned to work together to get the cavalcade on down the trail. Giselle seemed to be getting used to the journey, and the milking that had obviously been exhausting when she first started appeared to have become much easier over the past days. Houses and farms became more scarce, and it wasn’t long before civilization was left further and further behind.

Five days out, in the middle of the night, Dog growled again. Trace reached for his gun and glanced over at Giselle’s bed before he cocked it. Her bed was empty, and his breath caught.
Had Filson made it into camp and gotten away with her without anyone even knowing?
Trace took the gun and ghosted into the night toward the sound of the dog growling. Mose was gone from his bed as well, and Trace suspected that Filson had already been apprehended. His big friend was like an Indian at times. He could move through the dark with no more sound than a ghost.

Without yet having located Filson or Mose, Trace realized Giselle was sitting in the brush in front of him with a rifle raised to her shoulder and rested on her upturned knee. Before he had a chance to get to her, the big gun went off, the concussion shattering the silence of the night. She quietly lowered the gun and slipped back into the darkness, and though he tried to follow, he couldn’t see which way she went.