Land of My Heart (19 page)

Swallowing hard, Trenton replied, “Good morning, Captain.”

Seager shook his head. “Not so good, son. We had a bit of trouble last night at one of the supply houses.” Trenton stiffened and waited for the man to continue. All the while he tried to watch beyond Seager to see what was happening at the bank.

“But that’s not why I’ve stopped you. I wondered how your mother and family were doing. Have you heard anything from them?”

Trenton shook his head. “No. But then, I haven’t really expected to. We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.”

Seager nodded. “This war has made it difficult for most families. I’m sure your mother worries that you’ll meet with harm once you join up.”

Trenton pulled his gaze from the bank and looked to Seager. “Join up?”

“Well, that’s the real reason you remained behind, is it not?”

Trenton didn’t know how to reply. He could hardly tell the man he’d stayed in New Madrid to wreak havoc upon the Union Army. “Well, I can’t really tell you why I stayed. I didn’t feel the West calling to me, I can tell you that much. Ma had her heart set on moving in with her brother, and I just didn’t feel the same.”

Seager eyed him sternly. “Perhaps that’s because deep inside you knew your country needed you more than your family did. You come by later today and we’ll talk about getting you signed up.”

Trenton’s anger resurfaced as if newly born. “Why would I ever do that? The Union killed my Pa just as sure as they kill Confederates.”

“Son, your father was killed in an accident—no one knows whose bullet took his life. For sure, no one on the Union side wanted to see him dead. He was a good man. I was sorry to see him die.”

“Not as sorry as my little sisters or my mother,” Trenton replied, his hands balled into fists.

“Now look, Chadwick—” Gunshots rang out. Trenton and Seager turned to see Robbie jump from the back of his horse and run toward the bank.

Seager immediately pulled his own pistol. “Stay here,” he ordered.

Trenton gripped the handle of his revolver. His feet felt like they’d been nailed to the boardwalk as he watched the scene unfold in slow motion. There were more gunshots and then silence. Seager crossed the street and reached Jerry’s horse just as he emerged from the bank with Sam in tow. Both men had handkerchiefs tied across their faces, concealing their identity. Sam’s shirt revealed blood trailing down the sleeve.

“Halt!” Seager demanded.

Trenton mounted his horse, still not knowing what to do. He wanted to be there to help Robbie in case the gunshots meant that his father had met with harm. At the same time, he’d never been more afraid in his life.
I’m not a coward,
he told himself.
So stop acting like one,
his conscience seemed to argue back. He’d just turned his horse toward the fracas, however, when Seager called out again.

“Drop your weapons and put down those bags!”

Trenton reined back and watched as Jerry raised his pistol and shot Seager before the older man could react. The shot hit him square in the chest. Seager dropped his gun and clutched his coat as if to hold himself upright. Without waiting another second, Jerry fired a second shot, then jumped on his horse and sped off down the street. Sam followed suit, pausing only long enough to fire his own bullet into Seager. He was not to be outdone by his brother, after all.

Trenton saw people emerge from the stores and it was only another moment before a patrol of soldiers came rushing toward him.
I have to leave. I have to get out of here before they think I had something to do with this
.

But he did have something to do with it. And there were Robbie and his father to consider. Trenton knew he should go to his friend, but he couldn’t seem to manage movement of any kind. The horse pranced in a sidestepping manner as the soldiers rushed by. Someone emerged from the bank and declared they’d been robbed and that Andrew Danssen had been shot.

Trenton thought he might very well be sick again. He gathered his wits and directed his horse down a side street.
What do I do?
He walked the horse in circles around the back streets.
How do I just leave Robbie there alone?

The reasonable thing to do would be just to leave. Ride out of New Madrid and never return. Never face Jerry and Sam again. Never have to break the law in order to stay alive. But Trenton wasn’t thinking clearly, and reasonable reflection didn’t seem possible. Robbie might have escaped town and returned to the cabin to avenge his father. It was the kind of thing he could imagine his friend doing in the heat of the moment. The very thought of it caused Trenton’s blood to run cold. Robbie wouldn’t stand a chance against Jerry or any of the others.

He’ll need my help
.

Before he could stop himself, Trenton had urged the horse back in the direction of the river hideout. Maybe between the two of them, Trenton and Robbie would be able to stand up to the rest of the gang.

Maybe then they could leave once and for all.

Jerry was tearing into the bags of Union gold when Trenton came through the door. Trenton’s presence didn’t even cause a stir. The Swede was on guard duty down the road, and if anyone approached who wasn’t supposed to be in the area, the Swede would take care of business.

“We’ve hit the bonanza, boys!” he declared. He looked up and met Trenton’s gaze.

“Where’s Robbie?” Trenton asked, his voice low and tight.

Jerry laughed and poured the sack of gold onto the table. “Burying his old man, for all I know.”

CHAPTER 13

Fort Laramie

M
EASLES CLAIMED MANY MORE LIVES IN THE WAGON TRAIN
, including two of the Showalter children. Griselda was an unmovable wall of self-composure as they gathered to bury her children.

“Do you suppose she doesn’t care?” Dianne whispered to Zane as they joined others for the funeral. “I haven’t seen her shed a single tear.”

“Everybody grieves differently. She’s probably in a state of shock,” her brother replied.

“Mama sure didn’t act like that and she had more reason to be shocked than Mrs. Showalter.” Dianne watched as Griselda ordered her weepy husband and children to sit and be silent. The woman’s attitude was almost disturbing. She was a rotund general with her little army— barking orders, frowning her displeasure.

Zane leaned over closer. “Mama sought her solace in a bottle of laudanum. Mrs. Showalter seems to find hers in running things.”

As if to offer further proof, the large woman grabbed hold of Reverend Hammond and seemed to be instructing him on something— probably how she expected the eulogy to be delivered. Dianne thought it all very strange.

The funeral was a sad state of affairs, and Dianne would be glad when it was over and she could escape back to their camp. The Showalter children weren’t the only ones to die, although they were among the youngest. Little Brian was only four and Laurabelle was only five. The growing number of mourners put a heavy spirit of despair on the camp. Every day the travelers gathered to bury someone. Dianne figured that with today’s count, the number of dead had reached at least fifty, and folks continued to get sick.

Even Daniel Keefer had contracted some form of summer complaint. He stayed in his bed for more than a week before the weakness finally passed. Someone thought he was afflicted with the ague, others said it was nothing more than a cold. Either way, it changed his plans for a quick departure.

Dianne was actually glad for the delay. The area around the fort was pleasant and the summer weather was enjoyable. And, in spite of the rampant sickness, she felt safe here. Safe from the Indians and safe from the dangers of the trail. She almost wished they could stay here forever instead of pressing into the vast unknown.

Reverend Hammond and his wife had their hands full with tending to the sick. Even Levi worked faithfully at their side, leaving him little time to visit Dianne. The Hammonds were a great comfort to those whose loved ones were suffering. The pastor would pray with people and encourage them, while Charity tended them with her nursing skills and tender love. Even Daniel Keefer benefited from their ministerings and asked the reverend to conduct a regular Sunday service for the entire wagon train.

Dianne wasn’t sure what to think of the frontier style of worship. It wasn’t like the quiet, reverent worship of their church back in New Madrid. Here on the plains, the need and enthusiasm of the pioneers gave church a spirit of anticipation. They sang hymns and prayed with great gusto, and some even offered up comments about how God had seen them through. After this was concluded and everyone ran out of things to share, Reverend Hammond would step up onto the back of a wagon and open his large black Bible.

Now Betsy snuggled close to Dianne, yawning in indifference. Dianne had no doubt Betsy would rather be off running in the fields or playing with puppies.

“The good Lord has a plan for your life,” the pastor began. “He sees His people in their suffering, just as we are now. Some of you are mourning the loss of loved ones. Some of you are sick and feel too poorly to go on. Some of you are just discouraged and want to head back where you came from.”

Dianne definitely knew those who felt that way. She’d heard them grumbling for the last few days, and it was more than the routine complaints. Many of her fellow travelers were losing hope—losing sight of the goal. Hopelessness spread over the camp. Hopelessness that was fed on the worries and fears of the travelers.

“The good Lord has a plan for your life,” Reverend Hammond again reiterated. “Some of you don’t think much of the trip so far—you even doubt that God cares. I’m here today to tell you that He does and that He hears the cries of His people.”

Dianne wished He’d hear her cries. Her fears weren’t based on the measles or the Indians or any other concern of the trail. No, she was afraid of what was happening to her mother’s mind and body. One minute her mother seemed perfectly normal and the next confusion overwhelmed her. Sometimes she forgot that Ardith was dead, like the night of the Independence Day celebration. Other times, she knew only too well and cried and sobbed, begging for more laudanum. The bottle supplied by the doctor had long since been used. Morgan and Zane had discussed the possibility of breaking into the case they’d brought. After all, what could it hurt to give her another bottle and ease her pain for a little longer?

Dianne thought it a bad idea, however. They’d already sold a portion of the laudanum to the fort doctor and also to some of the folks on the train. At this rate, they wouldn’t have much of anything left should one of their own party get hurt or sick. Their mother might be grieving and wish to escape from the truth of what had happened, but was that truly the best way to handle the situation? Laudanum was dangerous medicine. Dianne had heard the doctor’s warning as he instructed Charity in her care of the sick.

“Laudanum can be a tremendous benefit, but too much can also kill,” he had told Mrs. Hammond.

How much is too much?
Dianne couldn’t help but wonder. After all, their mother had used an entire bottle. Would their mother now die from having taken so much of the medicine? Why hadn’t he been more specific? Dianne grew more fretful as she watched her mother’s health deteriorate. What would they do if their mother died? How would the family survive and find Uncle Bram?

The pastor’s voice broke through her thoughts. “I know some of you are tired and discouraged. I know you don’t want to go on. You’re afraid of what’s to come and you’re afraid of what’s behind. But you don’t have to be afraid. Your Father in heaven is watching over you. He has not forgotten you. He wants to offer you shelter from the storm and hope for tomorrow.

“Maybe you’re wondering how you might have that hope.” He opened the Bible and held it up for all to see. “The Good Book says, ‘If thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.’ ” He closed the Bible and smiled down compassionately. “Coming to the Lord isn’t another difficult task to add on to your already overtaxed lives. Coming to the Lord requires only a confession of your heart. It requires that you believe in something bigger than yourself—that you believe in God and what He has done for you.”

Dianne tuned out the words again. She’d heard such things since she was small. She knew all about God and Jesus, and she didn’t want to hear the same thing over and over again. What she did want was an answer. An answer for what she was supposed to do in order to make things right again. An answer that seemed to elude her.

Later that afternoon, Charity Hammond stopped by to check on Susannah. Dianne and Betsy were seated on the ground beside the wagon when she arrived. Dianne had been showing Betsy how to sew a straight line and the little girl was quite pleased with herself.

“Look, Mrs. Hammond, I can sew!”

“I see that,” the older woman said, lifting up the piece of cloth. “What fine tiny stitches you’ve made.”

“Oh, and you know what else?” Betsy’s animated voice was a song on the air.

Dianne got to her feet and admonished her sister. “Now, don’t be bothering Mrs. Hammond.” No doubt Betsy wanted to tell her something about the puppies or the horses she’d gotten to be with earlier in the day.

“She’s never a bother,” Charity said, leaning down. “Now, what do you want to tell me?”

“When Pastor Hammond was praying, I asked Jesus into my heart,” Betsy said matter-of-factly.

Dianne couldn’t have been more surprised. Betsy hadn’t even mentioned this detail until now. Dianne said nothing but watched as a huge smile spread across Mrs. Hammond’s face.

“Why, that’s wonderful news, Betsy Chadwick. I’m so glad you shared that with me.”

Betsy fairly glowed under Charity’s comments, but Dianne thought the whole thing rather silly. “Betsy, you’re only six years old. What do you know about such matters?” The child’s countenance immediately fell.

“Don’t be getting after her,” Charity admonished gently. She straightened to meet Dianne’s gaze. “Jesus said to let the little children come unto Him. She’s not too young to hear the voice of God in her heart. We’d all do well to listen for Him so intently—and to act on that voice.”