Westward Hearts (18 page)

“Look, Mama.” Ruth was pointing at a store window.

Elizabeth peered out the back of the wagon to see. “What?”

“That!”
Ruth ran to the window of a music store and pointed at a beautiful wooden guitar.

“Oh?” Elizabeth wasn’t sure what to make of this.

“Can we get that for Jamie?”

“For Jamie?” Elizabeth stowed the last parcel beneath the bedding.

“For his birthday,” Ruth insisted.

Elizabeth eased herself down from the wagon.

“Jamie told me he wants a guitar,” Ruth explained.

“When did this happen?”

“On the riverboat. Remember? We saw those men playing music. Jamie liked the sound of the guitar, and he told me he wants to learn to play too.”

Clara went over to peer at the guitar in the window, and Elizabeth, now curious, went to see for herself. “His birthday is only a week away,” she admitted as she looked at the shiny amber instrument. It really was beautiful. “Are you sure your brother really wants a guitar?”

Ruth nodded eagerly.

“But he doesn’t even know how to play.”

“I know, but he wants to learn, Mama. Maybe Uncle Matthew can teach him.”

“Uncle Matthew plays the fiddle.”

Ruth just shrugged. But then she began hopping up and down, pointing at the guitar. “Look, it has our name on it, Mama!”

“What?”

“Down in that hole. Look!”

Clara and Elizabeth both bent down to peer inside the hole in the front of the guitar. Illuminated by the sun coming in the window, Elizabeth saw it too. “My word!”

“Well, that settles it.” Clara stood up straight, nodding firmly. “That’s what Jamie is getting for his twelfth birthday. Let’s go.”

Elizabeth started to stop her but then wondered why. Instead, she and Ruth followed her into the music store, where without further ado Clara asked the salesclerk to remove the guitar from the window.

“It’s beautiful,” Elizabeth said as she ran her hand over the sleek front of the guitar.

“That’s spruce and rosewood,” the salesclerk told them. He pointed to the glistening circle. “And that’s abalone and ivory. This is a real nice instrument, ladies. Made by CF Martin in Nazareth, Pennsylvania.”

“That’s our name too,” Ruth told him. “Martin.”

He smiled. “Maybe you’re related.”

“Maybe.” She nodded. “What does CF stand for?”

“Christian Frederick.”

“My brother’s name is James Theodore,” she told him. “He’ll be twelve on his birthday.”

“Is this guitar too nice for a boy his age?” Elizabeth asked with uncertainty.

“Not if he is a musician.” The clerk pointed to the guitar. “CF Martin started making musical instruments when he was only fifteen.”

“Goodness.” Clara shook her head.

“I began playing piano when I was six,” the clerk told them. “And Mozart was a musical genius as a child. It’s possible that your boy is a protégé too.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Clara said with confidence. “And I wish to purchase this CF Martin guitar.” Before they left the music store, the savvy clerk talked Elizabeth into purchasing spare guitar strings, a music book, a tuning pipe, and a case.

Elizabeth knew the gift was extravagant and probably much too fine for the Oregon Trail, but she was glad her mother had gotten it. She just hoped that Ruth hadn’t gotten mixed up about this. It would be a sad waste if Jamie had no interest in a guitar.

Next they went to a haberdashery. There, Elizabeth pulled out the list Matthew had made for her and handed it to a clerk. “We need sturdy, serviceable clothes that are fit for the Oregon Trail and a working man.”

Before long, the clerk had a good-sized parcel wrapped up for Elizabeth, and Clara had even selected a few items for Asa. With their purchases made, they were ready to go have some lunch.

“This has been fun,” Ruth said as they finished up their lunch with pie. “But I’m ready to go back to our wagon train now.”

Clara and Elizabeth laughed.

“I like camping,” Ruth said in defense.

“I’m glad you do,” Elizabeth said as they got up to leave. “And I hope you still feel that way a few months from now.”

Clara wanted to look in a dry-goods store before they left. “Just to see if they have anything new or interesting,” she told Elizabeth. “This might be our last chance…”

Although Elizabeth felt like Ruth about returning to their camp, she knew her mother was right. It might be the last time they’d see a store like this for a very long time. And so they walked around the store and managed to find a number of things that they felt would be useful on the trail and in the far West.

“Now I’m ready to go home,” Elizabeth said tiredly. The crowds and noise and busyness were starting to wear on her nerves.

“Home?” Clara sounded startled.

“Home to our wagon train,” Elizabeth clarified as she released the wagon brakes and shook the reins, clicking her tongue. “Home is where the heart is, Mother.”

“Let’s sing,” Ruth said happily.

Elizabeth pretended to be enthused as they sang, but she was really trying to stay focused on driving the wagon. There seemed even more wagons and horses and shoppers than this morning. If she never had to come back to Kansas City again, she would be only too happy. After what seemed like several hours, but was probably only one, she was turning the wagon by the sign that said Captain Brownlee’s Party. “Here we are,” she said with relief. “Almost home.”

As they went past the entrance, Gertrude came out and peered curiously at them. Elizabeth, not wanting to make an enemy of this woman, just smiled and waved. “Good afternoon,” she called out in a cheerful tone. If nothing else, Gertrude should be pleased to see that Elizabeth not only had a wagon and a team but that she could drive them too.

But Gertrude simply scowled.

Elizabeth suspected that nothing would please that woman. She hoped they would be distanced well apart in the train.

Brady must have heard them coming because he was ready and waiting, eager to help Elizabeth park her wagon between the other two. It took a little maneuvering, but eventually they got it right.

“I’ll take care of the team,” Brady told her.

“Thank you. And we’ll start on supper.”

It wasn’t long until the others arrived. As promised, they brought additional oxen as well as a pair of sturdy-looking draft mules. Elizabeth went out to inspect the livestock, but she could tell at a glance they weren’t as good quality as their own animals. She wanted to question her father on this but couldn’t think of a gracious way to ask.

“I know what you’re thinking, daughter.” Asa frowned.

“Really? What am I thinking?”

“These animals are second-rate.”

She studied him. “Are they?”

“Second-rate compared to our stock. But compared to what’s out there…well, they’re far and above superior.”

She shook her head grimly. “Imagine if we had not had the foresight to bring our own teams from Kentucky.”

“I don’t like to think of it.” He sighed. “The wagons for sale were pretty picked over too. And the prices…
oh, my.”
He rubbed his chin. “The riverboat trip and the additional freight costs weren’t small, that’s for sure. But compared to what we would have paid out here, I’d say it was more than equitable. And I’m not even talking about quality now.”

“I’m glad to hear that, but I should go help Mother with supper.”

Asa made an uneasy chuckle. “I s’pect you can’t wait to tell your mother about this. I hope you womenfolk won’t be rubbing our noses in this.”

She laughed. “Not at all, Father. But you can’t blame us for being happy. And, if it makes you feel any better, we will be feasting tonight.”

He smacked his lips. “That makes me feel much better.”

Naturally, Clara enjoyed a good laugh over this recent turn of events, but she promised not to gloat over it. “Better to simply be thankful,” she said as she turned the ham spit over the fire. “And now I must ask your permission to break a rule,” she said quietly.

“Break a rule?” Elizabeth was confused. “You mean a wagon train rule?”

Clara chuckled. “No, nothing like that.” She glanced around. “I know that Jamie’s birthday isn’t until next week, but right now we have more free time on our hands, and I would so love to give him his birthday present early.”

Elizabeth nodded knowingly. “So he could learn to play some before we’re on the trail?”

“Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“I do believe that’s a good idea, Mother.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Not a bit. It seems certain that we’ll be on the trail by his birthday. No telling how exhausted we’ll be by then. Why not celebrate now?”

They worked happily together, enjoying the variety of foods they’d found in town and putting together what turned out to be a veritable feast of ham, potatoes and gravy, green beans and bacon, buttermilk biscuits, and cherry cobbler with cream for dessert. Once again, the biscuits were scorched in places and a little underdone in others. But the cobbler, cooked in the cast-iron dutch oven, appeared to have turned out just right.

“You may not have known, but this is a celebration dinner,” Clara said as she dished out the cobbler.

“What are we celebrating?” Matthew asked.

“Well, it’s a little bit early…” Clara winked at Ruth, the prearranged signal that Ruth was to go and fetch the guitar case from the back of their wagon. “But Jamie has a birthday next week, and we decided to celebrate it tonight.”

Jamie looked surprised. “My birthday?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth told him. “I hope you don’t mind.”

He just shrugged.

“Here you go,” Clara handed him a hefty serving of cobbler.

Ruth came out carrying what looked like a large burlap bag. As she got closer, she began singing “Happy Birthday” loudly. Everyone else joined in, and Jamie looked slightly embarrassed by this unexpected attention.

“This is from Grandma and Grandpa,” she told her brother as she held out the sack.

“And you and your mother too,” Clara reminded her.

Ruth nodded. “Yes. Some of it is from us too.” She pushed it toward him. “Open it, Jamie.”

Jamie reached for the bag and slowly opening it, reached inside. But before he pulled it out, his brown eyes got big. “What is this?” He pulled out the case and set it on his knees, fumbling with the latch. Finally, he opened the case, and Elizabeth thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head. “A guitar!” he cried. “A real guitar!”

Everyone laughed and clapped as Jamie attempted to play the instrument, although it sounded as if he had some work to do. Or perhaps just some tuning.

“There are a few other things in the bag,” Elizabeth told him. “To help you learn to play.”

“And I’ll try to help you too,” Matthew promised. “Although the guitar is probably a lot different than a fiddle.”

Jamie happily thanked everyone, and after they finished dessert, the women cleaned up while Jamie and Matthew attempted to tune the guitar. Finally, after everything was cleared and put away, the fellows decided to have another musical session. Tonight Matthew played the fiddle, Brady played harmonica, and Jamie played the guitar as best he could. As Elizabeth tapped her toes to the music, she knew that not every night on the Oregon Trail would be this merry or energetic. She knew that there would be hard times ahead…times when no one would feel like singing. But for now, she intended to enjoy it!

T
he next two days passed without incident, but it was clear that fellow travelers were getting antsy. “When will we leave?” were the four most common words throughout the Brownlee camp. The problem was that no one seemed to know the answer. However, there were rumors circulating that other trains were departing. And this led to more anxiety as the waylaid travelers imagined that all the prairie grass would be devoured by the other trains before their train even made it out. The other big question was, where was Captain Brownlee? It seemed that no one had actually seen him.

“I know that Captain Brownlee knows what he’s doing,” Asa assured their camp at breakfast on the third morning of waiting. “I have complete faith in him.”

“Have you ever met him?” Matthew asked with impatience.

“Not in person. But we corresponded with letters.”

“You mean when you sent him your money?” Matthew asked.

“I did send him half of our payment,” Asa admitted.

“What if Brownlee isn’t even here?” Matthew questioned. “What if, after all our work to prepare for this trip, Brownlee has simply taken our money and run? What if we’re sitting here while everyone else is on their way?”

“Hello to the camp!” boomed a loud voice.

They all looked to see a tall man wearing a dark-blue jacket approaching. “Is Asa Dawson here?”

“I’m Asa.” He stood and went to meet the man.

“I’m Captain Brownlee.”

Elizabeth nudged her brother with her elbow.