One True Love Page 9

  An hour before dark, Richardson reined up. He faced the weary riders, and Copper wondered if she had ever seen such raw emotion on any man’s face. “We’re due back.”

  Some argued; to leave the child out on a night like this would be a certain death sentence.

  Richardson was so much like Josh that it both broke and strengthened her heart. Someone had to be strong. Someone had to say when to stop, and the agony of leadership was imprinted on the faces of both men.

  Quietly turning their animals, the small party rode back to camp. As they galloped past the four wagons, Copper noted they’d waited. The Negro slave bent in the steady rain to coax the fire where fat slabs of beef struggled to sizzle.

  After supper, Josh led a prayer service for Carrie Snider. Copper’s heart ached when he asked for comfort for the grieving mother and father. Every person in the group knew that when the train pulled out in the morning, the little girl was lost forever. Prayerful vigil had not produced results.

  “How can this be?” a distraught mother called softly from the sidelines when Josh admitted that he didn’t always, if ever, understand the ways of the Lord. But he stated again, with an air of certainty that seemed almost cruel under the circumstances, that he only understood that they were to trust and accept, regardless of how painful the situation.

  He shook his head, rain dripping from the brim of his hat. It was as though the angels were crying tonight. “I wish I knew the answer, Mrs. Bellows. Good Lord knows I wish I knew.”

  Copper wiped her eyes, recalling the way the toddler was always hungry. She seemed a bottomless pit, always asking, “Num, num,” her word for hungry. And she loved books. Oh, how she loved books. No matter how many times Mr. Bear and the Moon had been read to her, she always wanted to hear it again.

  Talk quietly centered on erecting a small marker in the toddler’s name before the train pulled out the next morning.

  Josh ended the service with a prayer for trust and guidance, and then asked that every man present stay for a brief meeting afterward.

  The women departed, heading for dry wagons, while the men gathered in the center of the corral. Adele’s rig was parked directly in front of the meeting place, so when Copper stepped upon the box into the wagon she could hear the men’s conversation.

  Redlin spoke. “You’ve all noticed the wagons following us?”

  “Yes, what’s that about,” a fellow asked.

  “I had a talk with them this morning. A man, his wife and daughter, and some slaves. Seems they hail from Shreveport, and I didn’t ask where they were heading. They don’t like rules and regulations. I invited them to join up, but they prefer to remain on their own. We’ll be coming to the river soon. The question is this; do we help them across or let them fend for themselves?”

  “How are they going to get four wagons across a river? This rain will have the water roiling by morning.”

  Josh again. “That’s the purpose of this meeting. They won’t get across, not without help.”

  “One family? Why four wagons?”

  “I understand a couple of them hold supplies and the daughter’s dresses and furniture.”

  Copper could imagine the men’s reactions. Adele and Sadie were sitting with Carrie’s mother, so she had the wagon to herself. She drew the curtain to block the light, and began to unbutton her rain-soaked dress, ear still tuned to the men’s exchange.

  “What’s our choice?” someone asked.

  “We can help or we can move on and let them go it alone.”

  “You invited them to join up?”

  “Twice. Left the invitation open, but I told them if they don’t join up they need to stay two days ride behind us.”

  “They weren’t planning on that this morning. Their wagons were hitched and ready to roll when we rode out looking for the girl,” Richardson said.

  “I say we take a vote,” a gruff voice called.

  Redlin’s voice followed. “All those in favor of helping when we come to the river, call out.”

  Dead silence followed.

  “Those who want to grant their wish and let them go it alone?”

  The ayes rattled Adele’s wagon. Copper slipped into a warm nightgown, proud of their stance. Stupidity bothered her, and the Newsomes had a terminal case. She didn’t wish the family harm, but they’d been given a choice and refused help. She’d have to hand it to Josh. He had handled the situation with empathy but with strength and wise judgment. She would have started a war if she’d been left to deal with the high-and-mighty family.

  The Newsomes had chosen unwisely. Somewhere in the Good Book it said, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom,” and that family seemed not to have any of either. And the servants. Had Newsome given them a choice to leave, or had he failed to mention that the war was over, and slavery was abolished.

  She hopped to her pallet, wincing when she encountered a smattering of soda cracker crumbs on the wagon floor. Adele. She had the messiest eating habits. Copper brushed away crumbs, too weary to sweep up. It could wait until morning.

  Outside, the crowd dispersed. Several of the women, including Adele and Sadie, were still with an inconsolable Lil Snider. Copper had spotted Carrie’s father sitting beside the wagon, coiled fists to his eyes.

  Sighing, she dropped the laudanum under her tongue, and then blew out the light. Not only had this been the most tragic period of her life, they’d lost yet another day’s travel. It seemed God didn’t want her to reach the fort.

  Crawling beneath cold sheets, she stretched out, and then suddenly froze. With a yelp, she rolled to the wagon floor and sucked in her breath when the injured foot struck the end of Adele’s rocker. The pain reminded her of the abuse she had forced on her ankle all day.

  Something was in her bed. Something rather large. And foreign.

  Snake? Her heart hammered, and logic sat in. How would a snake get into her pallet? A snake would not be warm!

  With trembling fingers, she struck a match and relit the lamp and then cautiously eased the blanket aside.

  Carrie sat up, blinking her eyes.

  Copper sagged with relief. Easing to her knees, she smothered the toddler with a bear hug, delirious with relief. “Where have you been, sweetie? Your parents have been looking for you all day!” Hadn’t the child heard them calling. Shouting? If she had, she had chosen to ignore the summons.

  The little girl, still drowsy from sleep, blinked innocently. “Weed.”

  Weed. Weed? Read! Copper spotted the mound of books. Mr. Bear and the Moon was lying on top. The child had attended every noon school session, and books fascinated her. Somehow she had climbed on top of the box step after Adele and Sadie left, into the wagon, and had spent the entire day huddled on the bed looking through the picture books or napping. Everyone was so preoccupied with the search or tending the stricken parents, they hadn’t thought to thoroughly search the wagons.

  The little girl said, “Num, num.”

  “You’re hungry? Of course you are!” Copper recalled the patch of crumbs that she’d blamed on Adele. With only soda crackers to eat all day, the child must be thirsty and famished.

  “Stay right here, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.”

  Copper hopped through the pile of cracker crumbs and parted the back canvas. “Hey everybody! I have a hungry little girl in here!”

  If Copper had ever once doubted that there was a God, he’d shown himself tonight.

  Chapter 13

  For some reason when the train pulled out the next morning, Copper was ruminating not on the Newsomes, who were still following, but on angels. Despite the answered prayers of finding the lost child, it seemed the angels were still weeping. Of course, now they were weeping for joy. Not that angels, as far as she knew, had human emotions. Nor would they need them to fulfill their role as God’s messengers. With Carrie tucked safely in her folks’ wagon, the rain did not seem nearly so menacing.

  “Guess the old saying doesn’t hold true,” Copper rem
arked.

  Adele maneuvered the wagon into line. “What saying, honey?”

  “About when it’s raining the angels are crying. Nobody in this train is sad this morning.” Only relief and prayerful gratitude filled this party. Little Carrie was firmly enthroned on Lil’s lap, cradled by a strong right arm. Last night’s celebration had lasted well into the evening, and this morning the travelers had found it a mite hard to climb out of bed. Yet the moment Copper opened her eyes, she breathed a prayer of gratitude; the Sniders’ nightmare had ended as they had all prayed it would. Once again Copper’s morning prayer centered on her own healing and relief from pain as soon as possible.

  The rain let up enough for the daily school lesson at noon, but it soon intensified again. Copper had grinned when little Carrie had brought her picture book Mother Goose and climbed on the teacher’s lap as the session ended. Copper barely had time for more than a few hurried pages before Redlin called for the wagons to move out.

  “This rain is shore going to affect the river,” Adele fretted.

  “Maybe by tomorrow it will be over.” Copper settled snugly under the blanket. She’d done what she promised herself she wouldn’t do. Moments before the wagon train moved on, she’d snuck a dropperful of laudanum, and now the medicine had begun to counteract the persistent inferno in her right foot.

  Soon, Lord. Soon. Let this be finished with the best possible outcome. I’ll accept whatever you will, but I cannot imagine how I can live in this pain forever.

  Did God care about one woman’s anguish? Copper believed that he did. Without that belief she couldn’t have mustered enough strength to continue this journey.

  “Those wagons are still following us,” Adele noted.

  Copper, too relaxed to talk, murmured, “I told Josh that he should have let me handle it.”

  “Josh, is it?”

  “Redlin, then.” She yawned. “The Grand Potentate.”

  “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  She yawned. “I am.”

  By mid-afternoon the downpour slackened to a faint mist. Redlin gathered the travelers for a short meeting.

  “We reach the river tomorrow. Mike tells me it’s running pretty hard but crossable. That’s the good news. We should have all the wagons across by late afternoon.” His gaze sought Copper’s. “We’ll reach Fort Riceson by mid-afternoon the next day. I’m going to stay behind with Miss Wilson until she’s well enough to make the return trip to Thunder Ridge.”

  “You’ll take her back?” Sadie asked.

  “Dyson will provide an escort. It’s only a few days’ ride to Thunder Ridge on horseback.”

  “What about those snobs behind us?”

  “What about the Newsomes?”

  “They’re still on our tail.”

  Redlin removed his hat and drew a hand through thick reddish hair streaked by the sun. “I’m well aware they haven’t left us.”

  “What do you intend to do about them?”

  “Nothing. They’ve made their choice. We’ll cross the river and move on.”

  Copper seriously doubted his commitment to the plan. This much she knew about Josh Redlin; he had a heart as big as all outdoors. The only way he’d ignore the needs of those fancy pants was if the good Lord struck him blind.

  When they reached that river, there’d be trouble. Copper didn’t have a doubt in her mind.

  At eight A.M. the wagons rolled out, and by mid-morning Copper could hear the faint sound of rushing water. Anxiety about the unknown began to build inside her.

  Directly ahead, the Buffalo was out of its banks and running fast. Swallowing hard, she studied the sight. Scant hours beyond the turbulent barrier lay relief, the end of this constant, grating hurt.

  Redlin halted the wagons several hundred feet back from the rising waters. Grass grew rank along the roadside.

  Several men climbed from wagon seats and joined Josh and Richardson at water’s edge.

  This morning Adele’s wagon traveled mid-center of the pack. Copper leaned out of the seat to peer back at the dozen or so wagons following. In the distance she spotted the Newsomes’ party.

  Copper whirled, lips firmed. “Those people are planning to cross with us.”

  Adele shook her head. “Wanting and doing are two different matters. Redlin warned them to stay back.”

  “Yes, but it’s one thing to issue a warning and another to carry it out.” If it was up to her, she’d make that pampered Milly Newsome get out of bed and swim across the river with those frivolous dresses strapped to her back.

  But then she wasn’t as caring as Josh, actually. The thought gave her pause. She was selfish. Willful. She didn’t care for the sudden comprehension, but short of shooting the Newsomes, Copper didn’t see how Josh could stop them. He didn’t have to give protection but he couldn’t prevent them from following in their wake. Her temper churned.

  The intruders’ lead wagon gradually drew near. A black man reined up behind the last Redlin wagon and wrapped the lines around the brake. Climbing off the seat, he walked to the water’s edge and approached the wagon master, hat in hand.

  Copper reached for her crutches. “Come on, Adele. And hurry.”

  “Oh Lordy me. I knew I shouldn’t have got up this morning.”

  By the time the two women reached the men they were deep into conversation. Josh’s deep timbre remained collected. “I told Mr. Newsome that he’s on his own.”

  The Negro man worried his hat in his hands. “Yes sir, I heard it myself, but Mr. Newsome says I’m to tell you that he’s ready to join up now.”

  Join up? Of all the—Copper bit down hard on her tongue. If Redlin agreed, she would personally wring his neck!

  Josh shook his head, and then after a moment said, “Tell Mr. Newsome that he’s welcome. We’ll get him and his family safely across.”

  The black nodded, then turned and nodded to the women.

  Copper’s jaw dropped. She confronted Adele. “Did he say what I thought he just said?”

  The older woman nodded. “Unless my hearing’s going, along with everything else.”

  The men broke up and Copper hobbled to Redlin, heat creeping up her cheeks. “How could you!”

  Settling his hat on his head, Josh kept walking. “Better find something to occupy your time. We got a long day ahead of us.”

  She trailed along behind him, so angry she was nearly speechless. “How could you let those…those people do this when you clearly told them to keep their wagons back.”

  “I haven’t got time to argue with you, Copper. Go find something to occupy your time.”

  She was in his face now. “You promised, Josh. You promised to take care of this situation. Those wagons will delay us.” And the pain in her ankle didn’t permit her to accept even the slightest hitch in plans.

  He snapped, “Go to your wagon.”

  “You promised—even God would object to this.”

  He paused. Then turned and met her eyes. “Your God or my God? My God is a God of peace.”

  The remark stopped her short. Of all the—Her faith had never been questioned. “As is my God.” Her God was just as big as his God, but God had rules. Didn’t Redlin have rules? Rules he kept?

  “Then go to your wagon. We’re about to cross the river, and we’ll need your cooperation.” He walked away, leaving her to stew in her own juices. And yet guilt filled her, the spiritual kind that stings the conscience. The kind where you know you’re wrong and the other person’s right and your behavior has just shown you are no better than the person you’ve condemned.

  She didn’t like the emotion. She didn’t like the feeling or herself in general. And she sure didn’t like Redlin for his part in causing the sensation and not keeping his word.

  Getting what now had grown to thirty-two rigs—counting the three families the soldiers had added—across the roiling Buffalo was more difficult than she had allowed herself to imagine. As she studied the turbulent current she suddenly realized, with he
r heart more than just with her head, that lives might be lost in the next few hours. The river was still rising. By evening the river would be up so much that crossing might be impossible. For the first several yards of the passage the water was only knee-deep, but it was anybody’s guess how bottomless it was in the middle of the stream.

  The men unpacked cross saws and cut down enough thick, sturdy trees growing along the riverbank to build a raft that could hold one wagon and two horses. That was all that could be taken across at one time. If a family had four horses, two were unhitched and made to swim across. The raft was drawn close to the bank and a rig and team were driven on board. Some of the horses refused to step onto it and had to be unhitched and replaced.

  Several men worked to pull the raft across the river by ropes attached to the opposite shore. Two men would stand on the front part of the platform and get a firm grip on the rope. Turning their backs to the opposite shore, they would start walking toward the back. As soon as they reached the stern two more men would do the same thing. This arduous relay was repeated until the raft reached the other side.

  Copper sat on the bank all day, watching the activity, still seething inside at the Newsomes’ waiting rigs.

  Once, the black man started to the river to help and Newsome summoned him back with an angry retort. By late afternoon most of party was across, with only Adele’s and the Louisiana rigs waiting to cross. Adele told Josh to get the Newsomes’ wagons across before she lost her mind. They’d wait to cross last, grateful for the silence.

  Granted, it was getting near suppertime and no one had much extra patience, but Milly Newsome was a disgrace. Shortly after lunch she tired of the slow crossing procedure and began to complain loudly and often.

  Around four she demanded that the Negro servants build a fire and cook thick steaks and fire-roasted potatoes, while the Redlin party, hungry, tired, and wet, grunted and hauled wagons across the water. Reginald Newsome stood back with one hand in his watch fob pocket and watched the activity.