Where the Trail Ends: American Tapestries (8 page)

Captain Loewe glanced down at her soaked dress with a bit of scorn as he repeated his command. “We need your dog, Miss Waldron.”

“What are you going to do if the children get too loud at night?” She glanced back at her father. “What if Micah wakes up with
nightmares, screaming in the darkness? Would you let this man kill him too?”

The captain shook his head. “That’s ridiculous.”

She turned back to the captain. “Boaz is a member of our family too.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Do you know what rabies is?”

She stiffened. “I’ve heard the stories.”

“If a rabid coyote bites one of our dogs and then that dog turns on the rest of us...” The captain paused.

“What does this have to do—”

“There’s no cure for rabies.”

She couldn’t bear to look toward where the men had shot the animals. “Have any of our dogs been bitten?”

He pounded his hand into his fist. “This is the reason why women are not allowed to vote.”

“Because they might make sense?”

His eyes were still on her even as he threatened her father. “If you don’t force her to obey, Hiram, there will be consequences.”

Papa didn’t respond. Nor did Samantha cower.

The others might not stand up to this man, but she wouldn’t back down. Loewe might force their family to leave the train, but he couldn’t keep them from following close behind. And if they had to, the Waldron family could make it through the wilderness alone.

The thought crossed her mind of a bird separated from its flock. A hawk’s choice prey.

She shook her head, refusing to entertain the thought. Saving Boaz and the remaining dogs was the right thing to do, and her father knew it. So did the rest of the men who were watching the confrontation between her and the captain.

“I’m taking your dog.” The captain’s words sounded more like a growl.

She glanced at her father, and he gave her the slightest nod of his approval. He didn’t want them to kill Boaz either. “No, you’re not.”

“What are you going to do?”

She lifted her rifle. “I told you I knew how to use a gun.”

“You’re going to shoot me?” His head bent back, laughter punctuating his words.

“Not if you leave Boaz alone.”

He eyed her for a second, as if gauging whether she was telling the truth. His eyes remained on her as he spoke. “Doyle, come here.”

Her stomach turned as she watched Jack tread slowly toward her. She wished for the man who used to wink at her around the campfire when Papa was telling one of the many stories about Samantha’s antics as a child, the man who’d brought her flowers when he returned from scouting trips, the man who traded a buffalo hide for a loaf of sugar at Fort Laramie for her family.

Jack was twenty-eight, two decades younger than the captain, but he was strong and smart. Surely he would stand up to this lunacy.

She rolled her shoulders back, facing him, but Jack wouldn’t look at her. His hat dipped over his hazel eyes, covering his wavy brown hair and handsome face. He was built for this journey, his arms and back strong, but despite his strength, his voice was resigned. “Yes, sir.”

The captain’s gaze remained on her. “Miss Waldron, here, won’t relinquish her animal.”

Jack looked down at her, and she silently pleaded with him, begging him with her gaze to rescue her dog and her family from harm. Jack’s eyes weren’t harsh like the captain’s, nor were they wild. They were concerned. Conflicted, even.

Surely she had an ally in him.

Instead of speaking out, Jack looked back at Captain Loewe. “I’d like a moment to speak with Samantha.”

The captain shook his head. “Talking to her is not gonna do you a bit of good. She doesn’t listen to reason.”

Her eyes were on the captain when she stepped forward. “C’mon, Boaz.”

Her dog stayed close at her side as they moved away from the wagons, as if he was the one who needed to guard her from the guns. On the other side of the wagons, she heard the shouts of children as they returned with their mothers from the stream. Some of them were laughing, oblivious to what awaited them. There may not be as much barking tonight in the camp, but she guessed there would be crying.

There were no trees or rocks for her and Jack to hide behind, not so close to the wagons. With Captain Loewe and Papa watching them, Samantha’s voice dipped to a whisper. “Were you one of the nine?” she asked.

Jack’s gaze dropped to the worn toes on his boots. “I wish you’d trust me to do what is right.”

Her back stiffened. “What is right, Jack?”

“It’s right to protect the women and children in our care from harm.”

She refused to back down. “It was one dog who started the stampede, not all of them.”

His eyes met hers, but this time they didn’t make her heart flutter. “This is dangerous territory, Samantha. Dogs could cause another stampede or scare away some of our livestock or—”

“Or they make us lose a little sleep at night.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “This isn’t because we lost sleep.”

“Maybe something was out there last night. The dogs could have been warning us.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “All it takes is one dog to disrupt our entire company.”

“Or one child.”

“It’s more than the stampede, Samantha. One of the dogs had been bitten by a coyote at Fort Hall earlier this summer. They thought he had rabies.”

“I understand shooting a rabid dog, Jack, but the captain—” She huffed. “He said none of our animals have been bitten.”

“But think of what could happen if they were.”

“You and the others, you’re afraid of what you don’t know.” She paused. “You’re afraid of what the captain might do even though you know he’s wrong.”

She leaned against Boaz, who was standing as still as a statue beside her, and her lips shook as she fought back her tears. Her father had wavered in the authority of the captain, and now Jack wouldn’t stand up to him either. “You’ve got to stop him,” she said.

“I can’t stop him,” Jack replied with a shake of his head. “We have to keep the peace until we get to the Willamette. Then we’ll go our separate ways. At least most of us will...”

She didn’t allow herself to linger on the implication of his words. How could she marry a man who wouldn’t fight for the dog she loved? Who wouldn’t fight for her?

“You have to stop him, Jack, or I can’t—”

He shook his head, backing away. “I only want to protect our party, Sam. I don’t want to hurt your dog.”

“Boaz,” she whispered. “My dog’s name is Boaz.”

A scream rose up from one of the wagons, followed by the wails of a child. Samantha blinked back her tears, turning away from the man she thought she would marry.

The Captain. Jack. Even Papa, whom she adored. These men didn’t know what they were doing in not consulting the women before they proceeded with this deplorable action. The husbands might be afraid of stampedes and disease, but they were clearly more
afraid of their wives. Otherwise they would have told them of the decision and allowed them to say their good-byes.

She’d heard three shots as she was coming from the stream. Colt, she guessed, and two other dogs were no longer members of their party. What would happen to the remaining dogs?

The sound of crying grew louder, and a woman began to yell hysterically. She tightened her hold on Boaz’s neck. It was too late to remedy what had been done. A chasm had been chiseled through their community. “This is going to destroy us,” she whispered.

Jack’s gaze wandered back to the circle of wagons, his voice resigned. “I’m afraid you might be right.”

And it could destroy her and Jack.

The captain was gone when they returned to her family’s wagon. Her father was quietly setting up the tent beside it, Micah helping him. Micah rushed to Boaz, wrapping his arms around the dog’s neck. Papa nodded to Jack before Samantha climbed into the safety of the tent. She didn’t know where Jack went, and at that moment, she didn’t particularly care.

No more dogs were killed that night, but the dark shadow of despondency descended over the party as they ate their evening meal. No one sang or played music as the blazes of the campfires cooled into beds of coal. She doubted any of the company would sleep well either.

Papa let Boaz sleep in the tent, between Samantha and Micah.

“No barking,” she whispered as she wrapped one of her arms over Boaz. If he caused any sort of ruckus, she would never be able to convince the men of their need for him.

Her brother reached for her hand and squeezed her fingers. “Thanks, Samantha.”

She held on to his hand until his breathing stilled. Then, through the flap in the tent, she looked out at the wide sky and breathed a thank-you to the God of the wilderness for rescuing her dog.

Jack’s face, so handsome and stalwart, flashed through her mind. What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t marry him, not if he was one of the nine, but she didn’t know how she could make Papa understand. Her father loved Boaz, but not like she did. He would think that she was being foolish if she didn’t marry Jack on account of a dog.

Someone cried in one of the wagons, and she heard two other people shouting at each other.

Tomorrow their company would have to mend the chasm that cut through them like the Snake had cut through the canyon. Tomorrow they would have to continue their journey on to Oregon as a community.

Then, when they got to the Willamette, they would do as Jack said and go their separate ways.

Chapter Seven

“What do you mean, he left?” Alex exclaimed, slamming his fist on the desk.

The eleven-year-old boy in front of him jumped, and the low buzz of voices in the schoolroom stopped as the eyes of all the children focused on him.

Ever since McLoughlin left Alex to run the fort, it felt as if everything were collapsing around him. The laborers were behind in building a new warehouse for their furs to replace the one that burned down last year, the women were having trouble keeping up with the demand to make a thousand nails a day, the trading post was eerily slow this week in its business with the natives, and now the schoolteacher had disappeared.

The palisades remained stalwart around the fort, but with everything else falling down inside them, he wouldn’t be shocked if they collapsed as well.

Everett stepped back. “I don’t mean anything else by it, sir. I just—I saw him walking out the gate last night.”

Alex took a deep breath as he tried to calm himself. He needed to concentrate on housing and inventorying this next shipment of furs instead of worrying about the school, but he had promised McLoughlin that he would make sure the children were in school. This promise was impossible without a teacher. Perhaps their Mr. Calvert had simply overslept after his late night on the other side of those gates or was ill in his bed.

“Was he carrying any sort of satchel?” Alex asked.

The boy glanced at his toes and then looked back up at him. “He was carrying a knapsack...and a couple of blankets.”

Alex tried to swallow the anger that pressed against his throat. He’d suspected that Calvert was interested in a young Chinook woman who often came to the trading post with her father, but the teacher had never done anything that Alex would deem inappropriate. As long as Calvert did his job well, teaching the fort’s growing bounty of children, and didn’t interfere with the delicate balance of their relationship with the local Indian tribes, there had been no reason for Alex to complain.

“Return to your seat,” Alex said, pointing to one of the roughly hewn desks.

He scanned the faces of the twenty-three students who ranged in age from six to fourteen years old. Many of them had the copper skin of their Indian mothers and the unkempt hair of their fur-trading fathers.

McLoughlin insisted that every one of Fort Vancouver’s children receive a good education, and he’d hired Calvert for the position until the new teacher arrived with the next ship from England. McLoughlin and his wife were still traveling with the fur-trapping party, and if the fort’s teacher had indeed snuck out during the night, Alex didn’t have any idea what to do about the school.

He glanced out the window of the schoolhouse, examining the wide gate that opened each morning and closed at night. There was much more pressing business to attend to, but he’d promised McLoughlin that he would make sure the children attended school.

Then he looked back at Everett. “Why didn’t you tell me before they locked the gate?”

“I—I figured that he was just going to see, er, a friend or someone else outside. I thought he would be back by morning.”

Alex—and most of the students, for that matter—knew exactly what the boy was implying. None of the men went out at night to visit mere friends. But if he had left... No, Calvert couldn’t possibly leave all these schoolchildren waiting for him. It was ludicrous.

Alex opened one of the few books on the man’s desk, a copy of
Robinson Crusoe
.

His leaving may seem ludicrous, but there
was
a bit of idiocy in Calvert. He had traveled all the way from England to make his fortune in fur trading, but when he failed miserably at trapping, he’d come knocking on McLoughlin’s door in June, asking about a position. They needed laborers to help erect new buildings outside the fort, but Calvert apparently believed that he was much too educated to be a common laborer.