“All of them?” Maggie asked when Reverend Swain told her. She was incredulous. “All of the men have deserted us?”
“It appears that way,” Joseph said.
Mary, standing nearby, gasped, and the others stared open-mouthed.
“Joe and I searched the camp, but there is no trace of them,” William continued. “Their belongings are gone, and they took several horses, along with as many of our supplies as they could carry. They probably would have taken Miss Madrid’s horse, but he was tied close to where she slept. Besides, I believe they feared her wrath,” William said.
“It is your wrath that frightens them,” Joseph told him.
“Perhaps, but I could not stop myself. He called the girl a darkie whore.” William’s face was twisted.
“I understand. We are both charged with protecting the women.”
William looked off into the distance for a moment, oblivious to the others. “I should not have been so rash. I offended the Lord. At times it seems as if I am not myself.”
Joseph put his hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder. “Do not trouble yourself over it. The man committed a sin against the girl and against God. You did what was right. I hope, if called upon, I would have the courage to do that same thing.”
Penn put her arm around Maggie and held her close. “You will be all right,” she said, and Maggie understood all too well what Penn had gone through with Asa and his brothers. She was grateful for Penn, who had moved her quilt to Maggie’s side and stayed with her through the night.
“We are in a precarious situation,” William said. “We cannot proceed without the men.”
The rest of the women were gathered around the ministers now. The entire camp was aware of what had happened to Evaline, and it sickened them. They were shocked that such a man as Green Holt had traveled with them for months, and Maggie believed that each must wonder what would have happened if she had been alone with the teamster.
Evaline blamed herself. When Maggie went to see her after sunrise, she had said over and over again, “I am sorry, Mrs. Hale. I did wrong, and you were hurt, too.”
“You did no wrong,” Maggie said, taking the girl’s hand. “He is an evil man.”
“If you had not come…” Evaline whispered. She plucked at a thread on her fresh nightdress. Maggie had seen the remains of the torn gown in the campfire. Evaline’s face was bruised and scratched, and it appeared she had rubbed it raw. “He spit on me. It felt like a burn on my face,” she said.
Maggie nodded. Evaline clutched her arm. “Stay,” she begged. So Maggie remained beside Evaline that morning until the girl went to sleep, then slipped outside.
Now she stood with the other women as William declared, “We cannot go on alone.”
“We will have to go back to Great Salt Lake City and find other men who want to travel with us to California,” Joseph said. “We will ask for Mormon men. I believe they are more trustworthy.”
“How could you find them now when you did not before?” Mary asked. “Besides, backtracking would cost us weeks, and Reverend Parnell complains we are already late.”
“Why don’t we join another train?” Penn asked.
“Would they take us?” Sadie wondered. “Who wants thirty-seven extra women?”
“Surely there are men traveling in twos and threes who would join us,” Caroline said.
William shook his head. “Have you studied those men? Several have asked to accompany us already because they are sick or out of supplies. I fear they would be little help, and even if they were healthy enough to do the work, we could not trust them not to rob us and be on their way, just like Green Holt and the others.”
“Then we cannot go forward,” Joseph said.
“I am afraid that is so. We must return to the Salt Lake and wait there. We will start out again in the spring.”
Maggie glanced at Penn, whose face was twisted. She knew the girl was thinking of Asa’s brother. Neither Penn nor Maggie was convinced that Reed Harvey would die or be hanged. What if he got away and found Penn in Great Salt Lake City? He would kill her. If the company went back, she might never leave the Mormon settlement alive. Returning could consign Penn to death.
Mary took Penn’s hand. “I do not intend to wait a year to reach California.”
The other women muttered their agreement.
William shrugged. “There is no other way.”
“There is another way,” Mary said, as the women quieted and stared at her. “We will go on alone.”
“Without men?” William asked.
“Why not?”
“We cannot allow it,” Joseph said.
“We know how to drive the oxen and how to make camp. We have learned how to repair the wagons and doctor the animals,” Maggie said.
“What if Indians attack?” William asked.
“We are up to the mark with our guns. After all, we held off the Indians before,” Maggie told him. “Mary can shoot as well as any man. So can Penn. I say we are as good as the men who deserted us. Maybe better.”
“No,” William said. “The worst part of the journey is ahead of us. It is too much to ask of you.”
“If it was not too much to ask us to make this journey, why do you refuse to let us complete it?” Maggie asked. “If you do not care to go, then we shall continue without you.”
“I believe we could do it,” Caroline said, raising her chin. “Time will turn back before we will.”
Joseph looked at her in shock. “You would go on without me?”
Caroline blushed. “Not willingly, Joseph, but I cannot desert these women. I believe God wants me to attend them.”
Joseph stared at his wife. “Against my will?”
“Perhaps it is God’s will.”
Joseph turned and looked at the mountains to the west. Then his shoulders fell in defeat. “I believe we have been bested, Willie. The women will not go back, and we cannot stay here. We have no choice but to go on.”
The women cheered at that, but William cautioned them. “It will not be easy. You will be challenged as you have not been yet. More of you could die.”
“We might just as well die if we went back,” Mary countered, glancing at Penn. Then she added, “We will put it to a vote. If more than five vote no, we will return to the Salt Lake.”
The women looked at each other. Joseph and William, too, exchanged glances.
Maggie saw the look and added, “Only women vote.” She raised her voice and said, “All wishing to go on, vote yes.”
There was a chorus of yesses.
“Those who wish to return, vote no.”
One or two opened their mouths as if to speak but did not, and in the end, the vote was unanimous.
“Let us move out,” Winny called.
William held up his hand. “It is not so easy. With the men gone, we must leave at least one of the wagons behind, and that means lightening the loads again. You must go through your belongings once more.”
Maggie suddenly realized what they were asking of themselves. Many of them were already exhausted. A few were sick. Still, Maggie would never vote to go back.
In the end, the company abandoned the two poorest wagons. The women searched their trunks and discarded items they had once thought indispensable. Mary took out her mother’s teapot, touched her finger to the tiny pink flowers, and set it gently on a rock. Maggie stared at the teapot, and when Mary walked away, Maggie picked it up and hid it among her things. She would carry it in her apron if she had to and give it to Mary when they reached California.
Bessie refused to abandon her apple trees but added her rocking chair to the pile. Maggie placed the doll she had made for Clara among the discards, then turned away, tears in her eyes. She had nothing left that had belonged to either of her children. Winny, touched by the sacrifice, wrapped it in her spare dress, and in the doll’s place, she left a framed drawing of her parents.
By late afternoon, the remaining wagons were packed, and William gave the order to move out, although they would not go more than a mile or two that day. The women were apprehensive, but they were excited, too, and proud of themselves. Not until they made camp late that afternoon did they realize how much work they had taken on. They were tired, and their muscles ached more than ever, and there was still supper to prepare, the animals to take care of, and wagon wheels to be greased and repaired. They were surprised at how much work the men had undertaken, work that now fell on them. Mary had already done men’s chores, and she instructed the others. The women were silent, overwhelmed, as they realized what they had agreed to do. They had voted to continue, however, and they would not be deterred. In just a few hours, the excitement of going ahead without the men had worn off. Maggie understood now what it meant to be on their own.
Mary began greasing a wagon hub, but Maggie came up to her and gently shoved her aside. “I can handle this,” she said. “You have done too much already.”
Penn, watching, approached. “I shall help you,” she said.
Winny heard the exchange and went to Dora, who was stirring a pot of beans. “My turn to cook.”
“It is not,” Dora said.
“Then let me do it because I want you to save your strength for the trail ahead.”
The bond they had formed earlier was back. Maggie hoped the hardships ahead would not break it. She knew it would take all of them together to make it to California. Did she have a man’s strength? So far she had proven herself, but California still was a long way off, and Reverend Parnell had said the journey ahead was harder than anything they had experienced. Well, she would try. She would tax herself to carry her share of the burden and more. There was no choice. Either they would work together or they would never make it to the gold diggings.
EVALINE HAD RIDDEN in the wagon all day, hiding herself under a quilt. That evening when the train stopped, she tried to get up. “I must be about supper,” she said. “Surely it is my turn.” She started to climb down from the wagon but stopped when she saw the women looking up at her. Their faces were open and friendly, sympathetic, but still she hesitated.
How different the reaction to Evaline’s attempted rape was from what it might have been in Chicago, Maggie thought. There the girl would have been blamed, or she would pretend it had not happened. The trail was a different place, however. One of their number had been ill-treated. They all knew it, and they all shared Evaline’s anger and resentment. “Come and help with the bacon,” Maggie told her, taking the girl’s hand.
But Evaline could not move. The others might want to take on her shame, but she kept it for herself. “No. I cannot face them,” she murmured and slid back into the wagon, hiding under a quilt.
“She should be up. It does her harm to stay hidden,” Sadie said.
“Working has helped me,” Maggie put in.
“No. Leave her be,” Bessie told them.
“You do her no favor. It will be harder tomorrow and worse the day after if she is left to brood,” Sadie said.
“I cannot help it. She is a child.”
“She is a woman, but I shall not interfere,” Sadie told her, shaking her head.
Maggie and Sadie turned to the campfire. They all pitched in to prepare supper. Since Dora had already set a pot of beans on the coals, Penn mixed up cornbread. Their coffee grinder had been discarded, and Winny ground coffee beans by placing them on a rock and hitting them with a hammer. Maggie put slices of bacon into a frying pan.
Other groups were preparing their suppers, too, although a few of the women were so tired that they had already wrapped themselves in quilts and were asleep.
Maggie heard a commotion at another campfire. There was a clattering of tin dishes, and a woman yelled “Shoo!” Maggie turned to see what the noise was about and spotted a small black dog running away with something in its mouth.
“Catch him. He took my salt pork,” a woman called, racing after the animal. Sadie reached for the dog and held him fast, but he had already consumed the food.
“Useless pup!” the woman said as she went back to her campfire.
“What is a dog doing out here?” Dora asked.
“Probably ran away or was left behind by someone who did not want to feed him anymore,” Mary answered. “Look, there is a rope still attached to his neck.”
“He has been following us. I saw him in the morning,” Maggie told them.
“We shall have to get rid of him,” said the woman whose salt pork the dog had stolen. “Perhaps we should shoot him. What if he is mad?”
“I do not think so,” Maggie told her. “Look at him wagging his tail. He is friendly.” She held out her hand, and the dog came close. “Poor thing. He is starving.” She took a piece of bacon out of her pan and blew on it to cool it, then held it out to the dog. He snatched it out of her hand and ran off to eat it. He came back, and Maggie stroked his fur. “He is a tiny little thing. I believe he is a puppy. How could he survive out here, tagging along after wagon trains? I would think a coyote or a wolf would have gotten him.”
“You had better put him out, or he will follow us all the way to California,” someone said.
“How could we?” Maggie asked. “He will die if we do not take him in.”
“Who wants him?”
“I know who will take him,” Maggie said. She looked toward the wagon where Evaline was hiding, then coaxed the dog to her and began picking burrs and twigs from his coat. She untied the frayed piece of rope from his neck. “Tomorrow, when we reach a stream, I shall give you a bath, but for now, you will do.” She rose and went to the wagon and climbed in with the dog. For a long time she sat and petted the dog while Evaline peered out from under her quilt. In fact, supper was eaten, the dishes put away, and the women sitting around the campfires singing before Evaline finally asked, “Who is that?”
“He is a mutt who has been following us. He has no name. I do not know what to do with him. One of the women suggested we shoot him.”
“Shoot him?” Evaline rose up on her elbow.
“It is only a suggestion. Still, no one seems to want him. A bullet would be a more merciful death than letting him be attacked and eaten by a wolf or left to starve.”
“You cannot kill him.” The girl was horrified.
Maggie shrugged. “But who will care for him?”
“I will.” Evaline put out her arms, and the dog jumped into them. She held the animal close, her tears falling on his fur. “I had a little dog at home. Whitey, we called him. We had to leave him behind. I shall name this one Blackie.” She smiled. “Do you think Clara would have approved?”
Maggie watched for a time and then climbed out of the wagon. She went to Bessie, who was sitting beside the campfire. “Evaline will be all right,” Maggie said. “The healing has begun.” There was healing for her, too.