Westward Hearts (34 page)

Hushing the dog, Elizabeth lifted her hand in a halfhearted wave and stopped walking.

“Tillie and I want to go pick flowers over there.” Ruth pointed eagerly to where some bright yellow blooms were growing profusely to the south of them. “Can we, Mama?”

Elizabeth looked at Hannah. The girl was only thirteen and small for her age, but she was as responsible as most grown-ups. “Only if Hannah goes with you—and stays with you too.”

“I will, ma’am. I promise,” Hannah told her.

“And take Flax along as well.” Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder to see that Mrs. Taylor was nearly there now. “And remember I’m going over by the creek to look for strawberries, if you want to join me after you pick some flowers.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“And don’t venture too far off, and do keep an eye on the wagons,” she warned.

They all gladly agreed to her conditions, and before Mrs. Taylor joined her, the three girls and the yellow dog bounded happily off into the May sunshine. Elizabeth wished she was running freely with them. Instead she forced a smile for Mrs. Taylor’s sake, congenially greeting her.

“Good afternoon to you too.” Mrs. Taylor sounded a bit breathless as she fell into stride with Elizabeth. The older woman was obviously trying to catch her breath.

“Isn’t it a perfectly beautiful day?” Elizabeth said cheerfully. “Just glorious.”

“It certainly started out fair enough, but Mr. Taylor tells me there’s weather coming our way. He says he can feel it in his bones.”

“Oh…” Elizabeth just nodded.

“I saw you out here walking, and I felt moved by the good Lord to come and join you.”

“How thoughtful.” Elizabeth switched the small gathering basket to her other arm.

“I wish to speak to you regarding our church services,” Mrs. Taylor announced in an important tone. “I’m just certain you can help me.”

“Oh?” Elizabeth pressed her lips together.

“Yes. It seems silly to have two church services going at the same time. Two different services in one small unit of only twelve wagons. Tsk-tsk. Such a waste, don’t you think? Not to mention how it divides our unity, separating the brethren from one another. Downright sinful if you ask me. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“But many towns have different denominations and churches, all living happily side by side. It stands to reason that some congregations enjoy one sort of service and others appreciate something completely different.”

“That may be so. But we are not a town, Elizabeth. And what with our ability to provide fine music and my husband’s excellent training as a minister, and after all, we do worship the same God, do we not?”

“I certainly hope so.” Noticing a small breeze picking up, Elizabeth paused to retie her prairie bonnet strings more securely.

“So when I saw you out here, I thought perhaps you were just the one to fix our little problem.”

“To fix it?” Elizabeth blinked. “How so?”

“I thought perhaps you would encourage your father to combine our two worship services into one service this Sunday.”

Elizabeth paused to carefully consider her response. “I will admit that it does seem a bit silly to have two separate services, Mrs. Taylor.”

The older woman nodded firmly. “Precisely my thinking. I felt certain you would understand and agree.”

“And I feel certain that my father would gladly welcome your group to come and worship with us if you’d like. His sermons aren’t as long as Mr. Taylor’s, and our music is a bit different with the fiddle, guitar, and harmonica, but we do have such a good time. Everyone seems to enjoy it, even the young people.” Elizabeth turned and smiled directly at her. “Please, do come and gather with us on Sunday, Mrs. Taylor. We would love to have—”

“Well, I—no, my dear, that’s not what I had in mind. No, not at all. I thought your group would wish to come join us. Like I said, we have the piano. My husband is a man of the cloth. If anyone is fit to lead a church service, it is us. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Elizabeth knew there was no easy way to put this. “I do appreciate the invitation, Mrs. Taylor, and I can only answer for myself and my children, but we so enjoy my father’s services, I doubt we can be lured away.” She gave her a sly grin. “And think about it, how would my own father feel if his own flesh and blood attended a different service? Certainly that would divide our family’s unity.”

“But I thought your father and the rest of your family would come as well.”

“Of course, it’s possible that others will want to come. That’s not for me to say. You would have to ask them about that yourself.” She held up her empty basket. “Now if you’ll kindly excuse me, I heard that I might find some wild strawberries down by the creek that runs over there. I do believe I’ll go and take a look.” She waved and then quickly turned, hurrying off back toward the train, where she ducked behind her own wagon, which was being driven by Brady and JT. What she said was true. She had hoped to gather some berries, but she felt childish and guilty for her hasty departure.

And she knew that it was rude not to invite Mrs. Taylor to join her in strawberry gathering. But she also knew that invited or not, Mrs. Taylor’s persistent nature might push her to follow Elizabeth in the hopes of persuading her to change her mind about attending their church service. Fortunately, she did not. Of course, she probably knew by now that gathering alongside the moving wagon train meant walking quickly and bending frequently as one kept pace with the wagons—not an easy task but very rewarding when you returned with berries or mushrooms or, even more valuable, dry firewood for the cook fire.

Walking at a fast clip westward, Elizabeth saw little sign of ripened strawberries, but she was finding some good twigs and branches, and her basket was quickly filling up with the kind of fire fuel that was always more welcome than buffalo chips. Then, just as she decided it was time to check on the girls, she noticed how the southeastern sky had darkened in a strange and sinister way. A rush of fear swept through her as she saw the tall, slender shadow of a twister moving menacingly toward them. Clutching the basket to her chest, she ran back toward her wagon, calling out to Brady and JT. “Where is Ruth? Have you seen her?”

When they both shook their heads, she pointed out toward the rapidly approaching twister moving directly toward the field of yellow flowers. “Ruth was with the Flanders’ girls. Right over there.”

“Whoa!” Brady said loudly.

Elizabeth tossed her basket into the back of the wagon, and as it was coming to a stop, she untied Molly.

“Want me to saddle her?” Brady yelled as she led the horse to the front.

“No time. Stay here with JT.” Elizabeth climbed onto the wheel hub and rearranged her full skirt. Straddling the horse, she took off toward the field of yellow blooms. The twister had moved even closer now, not very large but dark and foreboding. She had to warn the girls. She spotted the tops of their heads bobbing in the tall grass as they continued to pick, apparently oblivious to the menacing cone coming directly toward them. Elizabeth dug her heels into Molly’s flanks as she yelled out to them, trying to warn them of the impending danger, telling them to grab one another’s hands, to grab anything. But before she could reach them, the air turned brown with whirling dust, and Elizabeth could no longer see the girls—or anything else.

“Ruthie!” she screamed as the horse continued to gallop through the dust. “Dear God,” she cried, “help those girls! Please, please, protect them!” Then as the wind grew fiercer, she bent down, clinging to Molly’s neck, still praying.

And then, just like that, it was past her. She still couldn’t see very well, but she nudged Molly to continue moving forward. “Ruthie!” she screamed again. “Ruthie! Tillie! Hannah!”

The air was eerily quiet as she walked Molly toward where she felt they’d been. “
Ruthie!”

“Mama!”

“I’m coming!” With relief, Elizabeth slid down from the horse and, leading Molly toward where she’d heard Ruth’s voice, called out again. “Where are you?”

“Here, Mama!” Ruth sobbed out. “Over here.”

Now the dust was settling, and Elizabeth could see Ruth and Hannah and even Flax, all coated in thick brown dust. “Oh, sweetheart!” Elizabeth threw her arms around Ruth. “You’re all right.”

“Tillie!”
Ruth cried. “She got taken away.”

“What?”

“She’s gone!” Hannah had tears streaking down the dust on her cheeks. “The twister took her.”

“I had hold of her hand,” Ruth cried, “and we were holding on to this rock.” She pointed to a boulder. “But Tillie’s hand slipped out of mine, and now she’s gone!”

“No!” Elizabeth declared. “That can’t be. We’ll find her.”

Holding hands, the three of them searched the area, all of them crying out for Tillie, but Tillie didn’t answer. By now some of the young people who’d been walking alongside the wagons had run over to help, and Elizabeth quickly explained the strange situation.

“Take Hannah back to the Flanders,” she instructed Belinda. “And tell them that Ruth and I are out looking for Tillie.” She moved Molly over to the boulder the girls had clung to, and climbing on it, she hoisted Ruth and herself onto Molly’s broad back. “We’ll follow the trail the twister took,” she called out as she turned the horse to the south. “Send some others on horseback to join us. We’re going to find her!”

“Will we find her?” Ruth asked in a shaky voice.

“We’ll sure try, Ruth. You pray like you did when Jess fell in the river. You ask God to help us find her.” She nudged Molly faster. “And hang on tight to Molly’s mane.”

She cantered the horse, following the same path that the twister had taken. Although there seemed no sign of the twister nearby, or any others, she realized it might be dangerous out here. She also knew that they’d soon be out of sight of the wagon train, but she didn’t know what else to do. A little girl was out there somewhere.

“Tillie!” they both yelled again and again. “Tillie, where are you?”

Just as Elizabeth was about to give up and go back to the wagon train for more searchers, Ruth let out a scream. She pointed down to what looked like an animal cowering on the ground. “
There,
Mama!”

Elizabeth squinted at the strange-looking, bear-like brown creature. “What is it?”

“It’s Tillie!”

Elizabeth blinked to see that it was indeed Tillie. She was covered in brown dust and wearing only her chemise and bloomers and a wild-looking head of hair.

“
Tillie!
” Elizabeth cried as she slid off her horse, helping Ruth down. Then they both ran over and hugged the little girl.

“I knew God would help us find you,” Ruth declared.

“Are you all right?” Now Elizabeth knelt down to peer closely at the frightened child, checking her for bleeding or broken bones. But other than being filthy, Tillie seemed to be just fine.

“I flew like a bird,” Tillie told them with wide eyes.

“In the sky?” Ruth asked.

Tillie nodded. “And I went spinning round and round too. Just like a top.”

“Were you very scared?”

“At first I was scared. Then it was all over with. I landed right here on my behind.” She rubbed her backside. “That hurt a little.”

Ruth hugged her again. “I’m so glad you’re all right. But what happened to your clothes?”

Tillie looked down and laughed. “The twister took ’em.”

Now Ruth laughed. “You should see yourself, Tillie. Your hair looks just like a tumbleweed.”

“Tumbleweed Tillie,” Elizabeth said as she used her handkerchief to clean some of the dust away from Tillie’s eyes. Just then she heard the sound of horses’ hooves and looked up to see Jessica and Matthew quickly approaching them.

“We found her,” she called out to them as they joined them. “Jessica, why don’t you put Tillie on your horse and run her back to the Flanders. Poor Flo must be sick with worry by now.”

“And Ruth can ride with me,” Matthew offered.

Seeing his horse was saddled and probably safer, Elizabeth gladly agreed. She gave Ruth a boost, helping to hoist her up in front of him. “Thanks, Matthew. I’ll meet you back there.” She pointed at Ruth. “And even though it’s not Saturday, tonight will most assuredly be bath night.”

It wasn’t until they turned and rode off that Elizabeth realized there was no handy rock or log or wagon wheel hub to climb onto and help her up onto her tall horse. And without a saddle and wearing a dress, there was no way she was going to make it up there. And so she simply walked, leading Molly back toward the wagons, which were at least a mile or two off. She hoped she’d find something along the way with a bit of height to it. However, the grasslands were flat and mostly barren. Great for wagon travel, but not very helpful when one needed something to step onto. Consequently she was greatly relieved to see the dust from another rider approaching. Perhaps it was Matthew returning to check on her and she could ask him for a boost. But she was pleased and surprised to see Eli Kincaid instead.

“I heard about your adventures,” he said as he dismounted his horse.

“I forgot to ask the others whether any of the wagons had been hit by it,” she said. “But I think we followed its path, and it seemed to have missed the train.”