Bright Morning Star (17 page)

Claire trudged alongside her parent’s wagons, relieved to see Henry walking beside his own. She noticed he moved, head-bowed, steps slow. Mary Anne sat on the seat guiding the team and Tim took care of prodding Henry’s lead oxen.

She still felt sad when she looked at him, still felt the guilt. But like she told Mother, she refused to let it weigh her down any longer. They cleared two hills, saw the ten soldiers that had been left behind by Calum to escort the two wagon trains into the next fort. Father Wimberley rode up beside the lead wagon, four teams in front of their own, but the man refused to push his oxen any faster. For the first time today, Claire felt her father’s disappointment.

The other wagon train was just getting harnessed and ready to pull out. If they had pushed, they could have taken the lead. In most places on the trail, there was no passing. She could tell from the motion of her father’s shoulders how much passing the other train had meant to him.

By the time they reached the pass, the other train was filing onto the trail and they had to halt and wait. Father rode back to them. “Let’s use the time folks. Wash and refill the water barrels, look for firewood. Any men who want to try it, this would be a good time to fish or hunt. Ladies, chance to wash out some of the clothes. Let’s just not sit here and wait.”

He turned, rode up to Henry. “I need you to be on guard duty while the women are near the river.”

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Claire sat in the morning sunlight, her skirt hiked to show her petticoat but not reveal her legs. She had the hem caught twice at her waist to secure it and keep it from getting muddy. Mother had her dress fixed the same way. Mary Anne was barefoot, her dress and petticoat caught like Claire’s when she was riding. As quick as a water sprite, the little girl was laughing as she chased silvery minnows in the shallow water. Tip and Tyler barked and raced along the bank, mirroring the little girl’s actions.

The twins stood next to two of the would-be miners, all four were mid-river with pants rolled and shoes sitting on the bank as they cast lines into the water. None had had a bite.

When father rode up, he looked at the angry Henry and smiled. Good, at least the man was back among the living. “Okay, load ‘em up, let’s keep up,” he said. As he rode up the bank, he saw a couple of soldiers watching the women as they stood to struggle with the basket of wet clothes. He wasn’t surprised to see Henry sigh, but stand to carry the clothes before the suitors or soldiers could make the offer. It would take time, but he was confident Claire would reel in her fish.

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It was the next day that the Wimberley wagon train entered the fort. Father was upset when he had to wait at the gates as the larger mule train departed. There would be two days between them again, since many of the wagons that had joined him and the Lamptons needed to restock. Impatient to be gone, Father rushed to restock what they had consumed and did a little bit of business with his tools and wagon parts in trade. Claire and Mother kept Mary Anne with them as they explored the store and the main street.

The boys took off and Father Wimberley sent Henry Lambton after them. The man grumbled, but quickly pursued the route of the boys. When he found them trying to peek over the saloon doors, they backed into him and he grabbed them by the shoulder. “Father Wimberley wants you to stay with us.” The boys fell into step with him before one of the boys said. “There are women in their underwear back there, but the men are all dressed.”

Henry stopped, released them. “Stay here.” The boys stood there, giggling as Henry walked back and peered over the door. There were two women visible, one about three hundred pounds, the other maybe one hundred. They wore soiled white petticoats and torn chemises. None of the men drinking and playing cards seemed to pay any attention to them. Disgusted, he turned back to see the giggling twins and smiled as he caught up to them. “You had to make me look, didn’t you?”

As he listened to their chatter he saw the Wimberley women leave the little grocery store and take the time to store their new purchases. Despite the dirt and bustle of the army base, they looked clean and wholesome. Mary Anne was jumping around, pointing to the Indians and the animals wandering in the street. Claire caught her little finger and hushed her. Annoyed, he looked the other way. He tried to call up all the hurt and rage he felt the day Barney died, but all the hurt was already healing over.

That evening a small wagon train pulled by oxen entered the fort. There were five wagons left, one had been taken, another burned and the oxen stolen from both wagons.

When one of the members of his own party laughed at the unfortunates, making fun of them for dragging the half-destroyed wagon along, Father Wimberley reprimanded him. “The Indians would have done the same to us, if we didn’t have the troopers riding along.” The Raglon boy looked as though he was reconsidering.

Father Wimberley was already gone, walking over to meet the members of the other train. Minutes later he had made a deal for them to join his party and sent the remaining wagons over to join the camped wagons. Sixteen would make a lot of difference, since every gun and able man helped to protect the others. He called the twins away from a game of horseshoes and together, they moved the half-burned wagon down to the stables where he could use the blacksmith’s tools.

He sent the owner of the wagon to search for lumber while he and the boys dismantled and removed the burned part of the wagon. He sent Tom back to his wife with the burned canvas and orders to use the spare tents. Using two of the four tents that had been stocked with the wagons Father and Henry had sold, she and Claire cut away the burned half and were able to piece out and begin to sew a replacement top. When the wife of the wagon owner came by, Mother and Claire put her to work sewing beside Mary Anne.

Tom carried back his carpenter’s tools. By nightfall, the wagon had been repaired. There were only the black boards on one side and the front box to show it had been attacked. One of the officers from the fort came by to observe the work and talk, if not, they would have finished even sooner. The boys reloaded the goods that hadn’t been burned and the man thanked him profusely.

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There was no palisade to separate the fort from the rest of the town, but there was a row of decks along the railroad line in front, a rock wall behind and sentry posts along each end. There were the usual ‘tame’ Indians with teepees along the edge of the fort between those posts. At the other side, the two merged wagon trains circled up. The saloons and red light district were beyond the fort on the wild, or Indian side.

Like the first night outside Independence, Father ordered a joint meal and dance to celebrate their safe arrival and to allow everyone to meet and make friends with their new traveling companions.

The dinner began with a long prayer of thanks for their safe arrival and a memorial for those precious lives lost already on the journey to their new homes. “None of us knows what really awaits us out west. We’ve sold our homes, uprooted our lives from all we’ve known, in the hope for a brighter future. It takes a special kind of courage, a desire for adventure and a richer life than the one we’ve left behind. Let us ask God to protect and guide us on our journey, amen.” The last word was echoed by all those in the crowd.

Claire stood, head still bowed. The prayer had brought tears to her eyes. The way Father had described Bella and Barney brought their image back to her. Then there had been the special prayer for Bonnie and to protect Lieutenant Douglas and his men in their search. For the first time she realized how much danger Bonnie’s younger brothers, Shawn and Ian were in. Both were boys, only a few years older than Lynne’s twin brothers. Claire had Mother and Father, but she always thought of her dear friends Lynne and Bonnie as sisters. Their siblings always called her Aunt Claire. They were as near and dear to her as family.

Someone nudged her shoulder and Claire looked up, embarrassed to be caught crying in public. It was the Brewer cousins, Dorothy and Faye, who she had visited with and shared suitors with before Bonnie disappeared and her life became one of endless chores. “Are you ready, come on, don’t you hear the fiddler sawing? It’s time to sing for our supper.”

Claire straightened, pulling her hankie from her sleeve to blow her nose and wipe her tears. When she looked around, she saw Henry, his pale blue eyes wet as well. Her mother made a waving motion at her and Mary Anne was already on her feet doing strange little hops into the air. The leprechauns were pulling the girl’s shoes Bonnie would have said.

Well, this might be the last time for celebration. Father was right, they had no idea what waited ahead of them on the long trail to Utah. Smiling, Claire stood and let the girls pull her forward to be lifted onto the flat wagon bed first, followed by the other two. The memory of Bonnie’s brassy voice singing with them clouded her eyes for a second. How she wished she could hear her friend’s loud, strong voice once again? Had she really thought it sounded like a braying mule at one time?

Tom and Jim looked up at her, Tom passed her up a cup of water and yelled, “Sing the song from the other night, the one about the dreamer.” Jim asked for
Buffalo Gals
, and other people called out requests. When the man with the banjo looked to them, she whispered,
Beautiful Dreamers
. It was a slow, sweet song and some shook their heads, wanting more pep, but Claire stiffened her spine and cued the girls beside her. In harmony, they sang the song together and the fiddlers both tried not to hide the girl’s sweet melody.

After a rousing round of applause there were calls for faster tunes and she picked
The Yellow Rose of Texas
, and all the couples began to dance. The men playing the instruments joined in singing the next songs as one by one the girls were lifted down from the wagon. Claire’s first partner was the Lieutenant who had pestered Father all afternoon, asking silly questions about how he knew what to do to repair the wagon. The man was polite and was from Connecticut. Claire easily talked with him about the bustle and activity back in the civilized part of the world. She wondered why he was here if he missed it so badly.

Next, she danced with each of the would-be miners who had been on the wagon train since Missouri. Although she had talked and walked with each before, always with a chaperone, none had seemed promising to her in any way. When she looked up as the players were joined by a harmonica player and changed the song to a Virginia reel, she saw Henry Lambton being drug onto the rough dance floor by Faye Brewer.

He had seemed sad minutes ago, now he was actually blushing as the two girls seemed to fight over which would get to dance with him. Mother and Father had already joined the dancers. Mary Anne had danced with her brothers and the young boys on the wagon train. Claire noticed there was a little redheaded boy who seemed the same age, about seven or eight, who was trying to catch her eye. He was one of the new members of the wagon train and she planned to tease the little girl later if she danced with him. She could see the lovely child looking his way as she got ready to dance with her brother Tom.

Claire’s new partner was a tall man with sergeant’s stripes on his uniform who was gushing about how she was the prettiest little thing he had ever seen. She gave the man a bright smile and together they led off the swirling reel. During the wild dance, she seemed to dance with each of the suitors again, as well as the Connecticut Lieutenant and her own Father. It was the Sergeant who led her through the arched arms and back to the beginning while others danced through.

As soon as the dance ended, the sergeant lifted her back onto the wagon bed. “Sing the
Rose of Killarney
, darling, just for me. She would have refused, but the harmonica man played the opening bars and one or two in the crowd clapped. As sweetly as though she had sung solo her whole life, Claire sang the lilting Irish song. When she stumbled over some of the words, the fiddler player beside her would call out the next line. Somehow she managed to finish it without too much embarrassment, but she certainly had no gift for memorizing music the way her Irish friends did.

On the last words, “Sure I love you,” she was lifted roughly from the stage by Leray Raglon. She could smell whiskey on his breath and it was clear he had been down at the other end of town.

“Come on, you’ve danced with everyone else. Now it’s my turn. Play us a good one boys,” he yelled at the men on the wagon.

Claire pushed at his hands on her waist and shook her head. “I don’t dance with drunken fools, let go of me.”

Instead he leaned in, trying to force her head up to kiss her. She screamed at him and the soldiers in the group rushed up to take him in hand. Claire stepped back between her parents, struggling to keep from crying. The girls who had sung with her at the beginning crowded in and Claire suddenly shook her head and smiled.

“It’s alright, I’m all right now. Come on girls, let’s sing another song for these nice people.”

This time it was Dorothy who called the tune and the girls sang,
Shall We Gather At The River
. They closed with
Goodnight Ladies
as Father reminded everyone they would be leaving early in the morning.