Chapter Six

THE PLATTE

THE TRIP HAD BEEN TRYING from the very beginning, but it got worse. A plague of green-headed flies and large, flying gnats hit. By day, they were relentless, and hordes of mosquitoes took over at night. The insects attacked Lucille more than they did Jacob, but no one had immunity. They made sleeping nearly impossible, and even some of the livestock whimpered with them.

Some of the people applied mud to their faces and exposed skin to help keep the bugs away, but Lucille refused to do so. Personally, Jacob thought the mud she could wash off would have been better than the red welts she couldn’t, but he knew better than to voice his opinion.

One morning Lucille mixed some pancake batter. She went to the back of the wagon to get the molasses and when she got back, the batter had become black with mosquitoes. She skimmed as many as she could off the top, and cooked the rest. She knew if she made more, the pests would just cover the new batter before she could get the pancakes fried.

“I’m going to cook eggs from now on, as long as the insects are this bad,” she told Jacob. “I hope the chickens keep laying.”

“Don’t worry,” Jacob said as he gobbled his breakfast down before more landed, “they taste pretty good with a little extra meat added in.”

Lucille gave him a cutting look. She didn’t take it as the joke he’d meant it to be.

If insects didn’t cause enough problems, the sun either baked everything within sight, or the storms the heat brought in bellowed with thunder, lightning, rain, and hail. Then, the trail turned into mud-ways, which were nearly impassible until the sun baked them dry again. When wagons did go, they made ruts in the rain-softened soil deep enough to be canals for the next rain.

In fact, the furrows in the road were so deep, the wagons swayed and tilted until they almost toppled on their sides. Some of the wagons tried to detour around the worst of them, but, by this time, the grasses were getting high, which made it difficult to see what lay beneath them.

One particularly bad hail storm struck them one night not long after Jacob had crawled into his tent. There would be no sleep until this blew over. It sounded as if artillery shelled the encampment. Jacob sat back from the opening and watched the hail bounce off the ground, some for more than a foot.

“Jacob, Jacob!” he heard Lucille call.

He threw a folded piece of canvas over his head and ran for the wagon. He didn’t take time to pull on his boots, but he still had all his clothes on. Despite the canvas, he felt the hard knocks of the ice balls.

He jumped into the wagon as quickly as he could. “What’s wrong?”

Lucille pointed upward. The hail had torn apart the covering on the wagon, and it had two layers. Rain poured into the wagon and drenched everything.

“Come with me. The tent seems to be holding up, so far.” He guessed the daily sun had weakened the wagon canvas.

He helped Lucille down from the wagon, shared the tarpaulin with her, and they ran for the tent. It seemed awkward with one arm around Lucille’s back, the other hand trying to clutch the canvas, and their sides bumping as they ran. So far, there were no leaks in the tent, but the rain had begun to run underneath it.

He snatched up the bedding before it became soaked and had Lucille spread the piece of canvas on the high corner of the tent before he spread the bedroll back out. By now, the tent seemed to be swaying from the gusts of wind. He hoped it held.

“Here you go. Rest here.” He indicated for Lucille to use the bedding, but he realized she couldn’t get down that low without great difficulty, so he helped ease her down.

“Thank you. I’m getting quite unsightly, I know,” she said.

“Honey, you couldn’t be unsightly if you tried, and you’re still beautiful.” However, he didn’t know how she’d make it until July if she kept getting bigger. This was only May.

The storm finally played out. Lucille had been lying back, listening to the sounds.

“Go on to sleep here,” Jacob told her. “I’ll have a look at the wagon and try to find some dry bedding, while the tent drains out some more. If I can’t find anything dry, is it all right if I lie down beside you until morning?”

“Yes, if you need to.”

All the linens in the wagon seemed drenched, but he couldn’t do much about it tonight, so Jacob went back to the tent and scooted in beside Lucille. She seemed to be asleep, although she could have been pretending.

After feeling so tired, Jacob felt sure he would drop off immediately, but sleep wouldn’t come. His wife’s warm body beside him toyed mercilessly with his thoughts, and he found himself mulling over what else he might do to bridge the gulf between them.

Everyone had damage, and much of their cargo needed drying out, so the council voted to stay where they were for another day. The women began by laying out the things that had just gotten wet and not dirty. Then they washed the dirty clothes and muddy things. It helped, although everything came out more dingy than usual from the muddy river.

Since Lucille had a hard time bending over to do the washing, Jacob gathered up their laundry and headed toward the stream. Pride wouldn’t keep him from helping out and doing their laundry.

“Here, give those things to me,” Lena said when she saw him. “You go on back to your wagon and start unpacking the things that need drying out.”

“I don’t want you to have to double your washing. I can do ours.”

“Now, I know you can, and it’s to your credit that you want to, but I don’t have all that much. Besides, I’m sure Faith Allen will lend me a hand. She seems to like helping others, and she’s a worker, that one is. You probably haven’t met her, because her aunt and uncle keep her on a tight tether, if you know what I mean.”

“All right, if you’re sure. I do appreciate it. Lucille’s already so big that it’s hard for her to stoop over.”

“Never you mind, now. I’m tickled to do it.”

Jacob walked back to the wagon and began sorting out their wet things, which needed sunning, and Lucille walked over and spread them out on the tall, thick grass. The grass grew so high now, that she didn’t have to bend much.

“Just leave my trunks,” she said, “and I’ll do them after we eat. I can sort through them, while you take care of your personal things and the tent. I checked in the trunks earlier, and all seemed dry, except for a few damp things on the very bottom. I’ll unpack them and let you carry the trunks out to sun.”

After Jacob carried Lucille’s trunks out to dry, he stripped the canvas off the wagon. Someone needed to repair the rips.

“I don’t suppose you sew, do you?” he asked Lucille.

“I can do crewel work, but I’ve never made or repaired clothing.” She must have seen the puzzled look on his face, because she added, “Crewel work is embroidery, decorative needlework. Why’d you ask?”

“We need to repair the wagon covering.”

“I can try and see what I can do. At least I can thread a needle, and I do have needles, thread, and a thimble.”

Jacob smiled. Lucille had made progress. At one time she’d have refused to lift a finger, and now she was willing to try.

He put her in a chair beside the wagon and brought the second cover to her. Since it had been underneath the other, it hadn’t torn as much. Mr. Staton’s man in St. Louis had outfitted the wagon with double coverings. The wagons with just one had not fared as well.

Lucille worked slowly, but she’d managed to finish half of the repairs on one canvas when Lena came up. She handed him the basket with their laundry all washed, dried, folded, and stacked.

“The sun is out so strong today, it didn’t take the clothes but a couple of hours to dry,” she said.

“Harlan helped me with the drying out, so I’ve got all my things taken care of for now. I thought I’d return these and come lend you a hand.”

“You’ve already repaired your wagon cover?” Jacob asked after he’d taken the laundry and thanked her.

“Sure did. I just took it over to Faith’s wagon, and she and I worked together. She and her aunt had already sewed theirs up. That Faith sure is a worker, but her aunt and uncle won’t let her out of their sight if they can help it. I worry about that girl; I sure do. Do you know they made her stay at their wagon during the celebration our first night? Her aunt fixed her a plate and took her.” Lena shook her head in disgust.

Lena took a look at the top cover Jacob brought up. “You got any heavy cloth or lightweight canvas we can use to patch some of these biggest holes?”

“If it’s in too bad a shape to repair, we can just use the one cover,” Jacob told her. “Lucille has it almost fixed.” He looked at his wife and gave her a smile he hoped conveyed how proud he was of her.

“Land’s sake, no,” Lena said. “This one’s not nearly as torn up as Faith’s. I expect theirs had some age on it to start with. No, Lucille and I’ll have this one put back together in no time.”

While the women sewed, Jacob gathered up their things, which were now dry, and put them back in their place. He placed Lucille’s trunks in the wagon, but he’d let her repack them. He got the idea she didn’t want him to touch her things.

“You got you a real good man there, young lady,” he heard Lena say to Lucille. “He’s mighty nice to look at, too.”

“He is a good man,” Lucille replied. “He’s handsome, too, but I’ve never been partial to dark hair. I do like his blue eyes, though. So many men, with hair as dark as his have brown eyes.”

“Well, I think you two make a striking couple. Now, when’s this baby due?”

“Sometime in July, I think.”

“You sure are showing to be no farther along. Do you think it could be twins?”

“I’ve wondered as much myself. I think maybe with all this walking, I’ve lost some weight, which makes my belly appear larger. Twins would be okay, though, a boy and a girl.”

“Well, when your time comes, you have Jacob fetch me. I’ve delivered many a baby back in Kentucky.”

“Thank you, I will. It worried me when I heard no doctor came on this wagon train, so I’d appreciate your help.”

Another storm hit the next night, but this one didn’t contain the ice pellets. The rain came down in torrents, however, and, although the thunder and lightning moved off, a steady rain lasted most of the night.

Jacob slid his bedroll into a high corner again, although the ground lay pretty level on the plains. He was glad they’d repaired the wagon cover, but, considering the way the rain came down, it might still leak. Lucille didn’t call for him this time, however.

Lord, give me the patience I need. I find myself wanting things to be right between Lucille and me now. I’m finding it hard to wait. Help me to be patient and wait on Thy timing. Show me Thy will and direct my paths, I pray. Amen.

The next morning, the road had turned extremely muddy. Some of the wagons got stuck in the mud that oozed up the wheels. They cut tall grass and lay it in front of the wheels, while someone urged the team forward to pull the wagon from the muddy grasp intent on holding it. The wagon train only inched forward, if it moved at all, but they’d already been delayed by the hail storm, and they needed to continue.

Jacob felt sorry for Lucille. Her heaviness and awkwardness made it hard for her to trudge along beside the wagon with him, and she tired quickly. Yet, the jolting wagon made it almost unbearable for her. She did take a break from walking by lying on her cot in the back, but she never stayed for more than an hour. Even that jarred her too much.

“If I stay in that moving wagon, it’s going to shake the baby from me,” she said.

Some of the women sewed pebbles into the hems of their dresses to prevent the wind from blowing their dress tails up. At first, Lucille refused, but, after struggling all day to push her skirt down, she gave in and added the weight to her two plainest frocks.

The other emigrants had started getting up and down from moving wagons long ago. The oxen moved so slowly, it wasn’t difficult, but Jacob always stopped his wagon for Lucille. In her unwieldy condition, she needed his assistance. He hurried to get back to moving, so no one would be held up, and he soon had the gap between his wagon and the next one narrowed again.

Some of the children had been injured by falling and being run over by the wagon. One little boy, just six years old, had fallen beneath the wheels and died when the wagon ran over his head. He had been an only son, and his family was devastated—another tragedy of the trail. Jacob was glad he hadn’t witnessed that scene.

The wagon train entered the Platte Valley. The river still lay to the north, but, since it ran northeast until it hit the Missouri, they would come to it soon enough and have to cross it several times.

Trees became scarce in this part of the prairie. They would likely go buffalo hunting soon, but that would mean the possibility of hostile Indians. They’d probably see Pawnees first, because they roamed farther east in the valley. Jacob dreaded any encounters.

The days were so endlessly tiring and monotonous, everyone became more irritable and tempers flared. One family had had enough, and they turned their wagon around and headed back. In the council meeting, Wayland Marshall said they probably wouldn’t be the last of the “turnarounds.”

Since the man in the turnaround family had been on the council, the travelers elected Rex Caulder to fill his place. Jacob hoped the man didn’t still hold a grudge, but by the look on his face, he did.

“We’ll be at the Platte River tonight.” Marshall rode by and hollered the news.

“That’s good,” Jacob said to Lucille, although he didn’t think she heard because she gave no indication. “Our water barrel needs filling.”

The Platte didn’t look anything like Jacob expected. Sometimes this muddy river would be wide enough to have islands dotting its middle as it cut a vertical brown line across the prairie. A few spindly willows or cottonwoods often grew along the banks. Here, high, green grass surrounded the wide, muddy river. Silt and debris churned in its waters, and they were supposed to drink this? It barely looked fit for the animals, much less human consumption.

He met Lena going to the river with her buckets. “I guess we’d better let this stuff set overnight, so some of the dirt settles out. How’s Lucille doing?” she asked.

“I’m worried about her. She’s so uncomfortable, whether she’s walking or riding. She’s started staying in the wagon more, but that’s hard on her, too.”

“Are you raising the bottom of the cover to give her some air?”

“I am, but she still stays miserable.”

“Don’t worry. Many a woman has given birth on the trail. It’ll all be over soon enough.”

“Not soon enough for me, and she’s still got about two months.”

Lena nodded with sympathy. “Is your marriage getting any easier, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Jacob looked at the woman beside him. He needed to talk to someone, and she’d kept his secrets so far.

“Not really. Things are not as contentious as they were at one time, and Lucille seems more resigned to going to Oregon, but we’re no closer than we were. She has asked me to be patient and said she hoped things would get better after the baby comes.”

“Well, maybe that means her intentions are good. That’s a start, don’t you think? I’ll just keep praying for you both. God always answers prayers in one way or the other—either yes, no, or wait.”

“I’ve been praying, too, but it doesn’t seem to be doing much good.”

“Are you asking or telling God what to do? Many Christians want to serve God but only in the role of advisors.”

Jacob couldn’t help but smile at the caustic comment. It held a lot of truth, though.

When Jacob went for the team the next morning, they were grazing near the river. Flocks of geese took to the sky from the banks. Their wings cut through the air and beat against their sides making a loud, rushing noise. He would bring his gun to the river the next morning. A goose roasted on a spit sounded mighty good. He needed to be carrying his gun anyway in case Indians appeared.

They nooned beside a prairie dog town. The critters looked cute as they darted in and out of their holes and stared at the travelers, as if they were as curious about the people as most of the people were about them.

Jacob had guard duty that night. Obadiah told them to be especially vigilant, because the Pawnee could appear at anytime, and they loved to steal horses or mules. During his watch, he noticed more lanterns and movement in the camp than usual. When his replacement came to relieve him, the man said that sickness had broken out, and, with the symptoms of vomiting and diarrhea, they were afraid it might be cholera.

Cholera, a dreaded word and a horrible, messy illness that killed many and held families at its mercy. Lord, protect us all, especially Lucille. He couldn’t imagine the consequences if Lucille came down with the disease in her condition.

The next day, a single Pawnee brave rode into camp. He slowly traveled around the inside of the circle of wagons, as if he wanted to be on parade, or maybe he wanted to look for someone.

The striking figure sat on his horse proudly with his back straight and his muscular legs gently guiding the animal. In his left hand, he held a coup stick decorated with mink and weasel skins and feathers of many different birds. He looked cleaner than Jacob had expected, and he looked every inch a regal leader.

He stopped beside Jacob’s wagon and stared at Lucille. By now a curious crowd had gathered.

“Don’t you worry none,” Obadiah said. “He hain’t up to no trouble, not iffin he rid in here all by his lonesome.”

The brave dismounted in one fluid motion and walked up to Lucille. He reached out and picked up a stand of Lucille’s hair with his right hand. She cringed and instinctively drew back. He frowned.

The Pawnee said something in a guttural language. “He likes the looks of her hair,” Obadiah translated.

Well, that was obvious. Jacob rather liked her strawberry blonde hair, too.

The brave put out his hand and gently tilted her chin up so he could look into her eyes. He spoke again.

He likes her green eyes too, Jacob translated to himself before Obadiah did. Anyone could see that this man liked the looks of Jacob’s wife. Jacob didn’t know of a man who didn’t, but he didn’t like the way this Indian acted so familiar with Lucille. Surely he wouldn’t try anything since he’s so outnumbered.

The Pawnee lightly rubbed Lucille’s protruding belly. “No,” Lucille said and jerked back.

“This has gone far enough,” Jacob said. “Tell him to leave.”

The Indian and Obadiah had a rather lengthy conversation with Obadiah talking in the strange language and his hands flying all over the place.

“He wants to trade fer your woman,” the old man said. “I tried to tell him you wouldn’t, ’cause that’s not ar ways, but he insists I make you his offer. He offers you fifty horses. Hit’s an unheard of price.”

Lucille gasped and clutched Jacob’s arm so tightly his circulation must have been cut off. Surely she didn’t think he’d ever consider such a thing. He would have laughed if the situation didn’t seem so serious. Fifty horses indeed! What a ridiculous offer!

“No,” he said firmly and shook his head.

The brave said something quickly.

“A hundred horses,” the scout translated.

Jacob just shook his head. “Tell him she’s not for sale, not for any amount. He can’t have her.”

“Give him somethang fer comin’ in here and makin’ the offer,” he said. “We don’t want him bein’ insulted and comin’ back with a war party.”

“What should I give him?”

“An animal, some food, or something nice of your wife’s.”

Jacob looked at Lucille. “Go get one of your silk dresses you don’t like much—the fancier and brighter the better.”

She came back with a red silk ball gown he remembered her wearing to a Christmas dinner. It hadn’t suited her as well as most of her dresses did. Jacob took it and gave it to the brave.

While Obadiah explained the gift, the Indian smelled the dress and smiled. He nodded to Jacob, stared at Lucille, and mounted his horse with a single jump. He put the dress in front of him, holding it down with his thigh. He held his coup stick up and rode out. Jacob had never seen anyone who looked more in control than this Indian.

Jacob had just turned to see to Lucille when a guard came running in. “They’re gone,” he gasped. “The Injuns done stole some of the horses, ’bout a dozen near as I can figure.”

“Did you see them?” Marshall asked.

“Not soon enough. We seen the Injun ride in here, and we wuz lookin’ this away.”

“Those sneakin’ no-good scum!” Obadiah exclaimed. “This here wuz jist a die-version soins they could snatch the animals.”

“What can we do?” John Brenner asked.

“Not a solitary thang, unlessin some of you’re willin’ to go after them, and I guarantee hardly a one will be a comin’ back.”

Lucille gave a deep sigh and leaned against the wagon. She looked unusually pale.

“Are you okay?” Jacob asked as he put out his hand to help steady her.

She nodded. “Just a little weak. I can’t imagine what horrors would have befallen me if that savage had taken me.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” he told her. “None of the men would.”

She breathed in another deep breath and nodded. He helped her into the wagon, but the image of the undaunted Pawnee warrior stayed with him.

The McCraes, Faith’s aunt and uncle, were the first the cholera killed. Lena had helped Faith take care of them, because the illness hit both the older couple at the same time. According to Lena, “Only God knows how Faith has managed to avoid the sickness, but thank the Lord she has, so far, anyway.”

They buried the older couple on Friday. Lucille felt so bad, and Jacob worried about her, so he didn’t go. He did meet with the council at noon, and they decided to lay-by until Monday. Too many were either sick or tired from tending to the sick to move on now.

Time slipped away, and some worried they were behind schedule. Everyone remembered hearing of the Donner Party and what had happened to them when they became trapped in the heavy snows of the western mountains. Some of them had turned to cannibalism to stay alive. Jacob hoped this group of wagons could make up some of the time they’d lost in the days ahead.

A small group of Pawnees came up that afternoon. They had apparently come to trade, but when they learned of the sickness, they quickly left.

Lucille became seriously ill that night. At first, Jacob thought she might have cholera, but when she exhibited few of the symptoms, he realized her labor had begun.

He still worried, because it was much too early, and the baby would be at risk. “Lord, please be with Lucille and our baby. Keep the baby from coming too early, and keep them both safe,” Jacob mouthed as he hurried to get Lena.

Lena had come down with cholera, too. “Go get Annie Fischer,” the sick woman told him. “She’s just had her fifth child, and she knows what to do.”

Annie, a robust, middle-aged woman had a no-nonsense way about her. She seemed reluctant, but she left instructions for her oldest daughter to watch her baby and followed Jacob to his wagon. She checked on Lucille and gathered some things she would need later.

“It’s going to be a while,” she told Jacob. “The first one usually takes longer than the others. You keep some water boiling and come get me again when the pains get closer together and more severe or her water breaks. It’s fine if she wants to get up for a spell. In fact, that might speed the process along. If I don’t hear from you by morning, I’ll come back and check on her right after breakfast.”

Jacob didn’t like the fact the woman just left. He didn’t feel capable of helping Lucille now. Perhaps, if they were closer, it would have been different, but he felt incompetent, alone, and lost.

Lucille refused to get up. “The pain’s too bad,” she said. “My backbone feels like it’s going to break into pieces.”

“Should I call Annie back?”

“No, this pain is all the time and not coming in spurts. The contractions seem mild compared with my other pain. Even my legs ache. I’m scared, Jake. I’m afraid I can’t do this.”

“You’ll do fine,” he tried to reassure her. “I’m sorry you have to go through this, but just keep your mind on the end, when you’ll hold our baby in your arms.”

But, he worried, too. Was all this pain normal? Being the youngest child, he didn’t know much about all this. How could he reassure her when worry wanted to envelop him too?