Steaming! We’re steaming!”
“What?” Amanda opened her eyes, momentarily blinded by bright sunshine. How had they slept so late?
“Look at everything, Mandy,” Sarah insisted.
With a yawn and a stretch, Amanda lifted the drenched tarp and sat up. Fragile wisps of mist floated upward in the confining interior of the wagon bed from the scattered tarpaulins and blankets. Rising, she untied the drawstring and leaned out.
The sodden earth sparkled in newly washed glory. Beside them, the rushing stream and a thousand puddles reflected the last puffs of cloud and the blue sky. And Sarah was right. The whole wagon was steaming in the warmth of the brilliant sun. So were the hobbled mules, unharmed and grazing contentedly nearby.
“See if any of that last wood you gathered is still dry,” Amanda said. “We’ll have hot tea to go with our breakfast. While the water heats, we’ll open the sides and set things out to dry.”
Sarah stripped down to her drawers and chemise, then rooted through the piles of damp supplies to find the wood she’d wrapped in blankets. “It’s not wet at all, Sissy.”
Within an hour, the bushes in the surrounding area sported a colorful array of blankets, linens, and articles of clothing, and the soft spring breeze wafted over them while the girls sipped mugs of tea. The temperature warmed considerably, inching higher and higher, the opposite extreme from the previous day.
Alas, the soggy rutted road ahead looked less than hopeful. The ground remained spongy to the foot, much too soft for travel. Amanda knew they’d be stuck here for at least a couple of days, but if nothing else, they’d have ample time to sew.
In the middle of the third lazy afternoon, Sarah laid aside the sunbonnet she’d finished and stretched a kink out of her spine with a sigh. “Know what I’d love right now?”
“What?” Amanda recognized that particular spark in her sister’s eyes.
“I would absolutely adore a bath.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all. I’m dying to wash my hair.”
“But the stream is still swift and muddy from the rain.”
“I know, but we can stay near the edge, can’t we? And we can rinse off with rainwater from the barrel. Wouldn’t you just love to be clean again—all of you, instead of just washing up?”
“That water was freezing cold when we did our clothes. And besides, we’re out in the open.”
“So? We haven’t seen a living soul since we crossed the river on the ferry. And anyway, we can leave our drawers on.”
Amanda searched all around and beyond, as far as she could see. There truly wasn’t anyone in sight. For all intent and purpose, they were the only two people in this part of the world. And she had to admit, she did feel grubby. What harm would there be in taking a quick dip, so long as they stayed in shallow water? “Well, I suppose we could try it.”
“Oh good!” Sarah all but tore out of her shirtwaist and skirt and undid her hair ribbon. Grabbing a cake of rose-scented soap and a towel, she dashed, shrieking, into the rushing water.
Amanda, not far behind, gasped when she stepped into the frigid flow. This was going to be the quickest bath in history. But once she was completely wet, the water didn’t seem quite so cold, and the sunshine blazing down on them felt incredibly warm. A sudden splash drenched her.
Sarah giggled.
Turning, Amanda met her sister’s playful grin. “So that’s how it’s going to be, eh?” Leaning down, she skimmed the surface of the water with her palm, directing an arc of water at the younger girl. It cascaded down her face, and over her shoulders.
“Enough, enough! I’m sorry!” Hand upraised in a gesture of defeat, Sarah acquiesced and began wetting her hair.
Amanda followed suit. But seeing her sister bent over at the waist with her behind in the air as she rinsed her long hair was too much to resist.
A little shove, and in Sarah went, headfirst. She came up sputtering, ready to reciprocate.
Instead, she froze, eyes wide.
Amanda whirled.
In the distance, a small band of Indian braves on ponies rode straight for them.
Her mouth went dry. “Back to the wagon! Hurry!” Though what security the two of them would find there, she could only question.
After they clambered up into the back, they seized blankets and wrapped themselves up, then perched fearfully on the seat.
Any remaining doubts Amanda may have had regarding the lunacy of this westward venture now vanished. Everyone knew the sad fate that had met Narcissa Whitman and her doctor husband, Marcus, last November. Missionaries to the Cayuse Indians of the Far Northwest, they had been brutally massacred in their mission home by the very tribe with whom they had labored faithfully for several years.
Now Amanda’s dreadful realization that she and her younger sister would soon join Ma and Pa in the hereafter dropped with a thud. She prayed the end would be swift, if not merciful. Please, Lord, help us to be brave.
Sarah Jane’s expression was no less fearful, but she hiked her chin. “Well, if I’m about to die, I at least want to go happy.” She darted into the wagon bed and returned with her guitar.
Mouth agape, Amanda could not respond.
The Indians were almost upon them now. Their skulls were shaved but for a thick strip of dark hair running from front to back that was roached into an upstanding comb. Naked, except for leather clothes worn about their loins, they also sported vermillion face paint applied in lurid rings about their eyes.
As if completely oblivious to the approaching uninvited audience, Sarah Jane strummed a few chords of introduction, then sang at the top of her lungs:
“Oh, don’t you remember sweet Betsy from Pike,
Who crossed the wide prairies with her lover Ike,
With two yoke of cattle and one spotted hog,
A tall shanghai rooster, and an old yaller dog?
“Sing too-ral-i, oo-ral-i, oo-ral-i-ay,
Sing too-ral-i, oo-ral-i, oo-ral-i-ay.
“They swam the wide rivers and crossed the tall peaks,
And camped on the prairie for weeks upon weeks…”
The young braves reined in their pinto ponies and sat motionless atop them, staring dumbfounded as Sarah completely destroyed the tune of the comical song.
Amanda didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as her sister continued belting out verse upon endless verse:
“They soon reached the desert, where Betsy gave out,
And down in the sand she lay rolling about;
While he in great terror looked on in surprise,
Saying, Betsy, get up, you’ll get sand in your eyes.
“Sing too-ral-i, oo-ral-i, oo-ral-i-ay,
Sing too-ral-i, oo-ral-i, oo-ral-i-ay.”
Still moving nothing but their dark eyes, the Indians passed curiously astonished looks among themselves. They maintained a safe distance as Sarah launched into another four stanzas.
“…Long Ike and sweet Betsy got married of course,
But Ike, getting jealous, obtained a divorce;
And Betsy, well satisfied, said with a shout,
Good-bye, you big lummox, I’m glad you backed out.
“Sing too-ral-i, oo-ral-i, oo-ral-i-ay…”
Amanda, not entirely recognizing some of the ridiculous lyrics, wondered inanely if her younger sibling had penned some of them herself. She was almost relieved when the final phrase ended. Moments of heavy silence ensued. Even the Indian ponies stood as if frozen, except for the occasional flick of a tail.
Amanda had to force herself to replenish her lungs.
“I suppose I should sing a hymn, too, as my last song.” Sarah Jane drew a fortifying breath:
“I’m just a poor wayfaring stranger,
While trav’ling through this world of woe,
Yet there’s no sickness, toil or danger
In that bright world to which I go.
“I’m going home to see my father,
I’m going there no more to roam,
I’m only going over Jordan,
I’m only going over home.
“I know dark clouds will gather round me,
I know my way is rough and steep.
Yet beauteous fields lie just before me,
Where God’s redeemed their vigils keep…”
As the last note of the fifth stanza died away, Sarah moistened her lips and stood the guitar in the wagon bed, then bravely raised her chin.
Amanda herself had yet to move. She could feel her heart throbbing, her pulse pounding in her ears. Now, awaiting her own most certain demise, she could only wonder what form of torture the two of them faced. How sad that someone so young and pretty as Sarah would meet such a tragic fate, would never find the dashing husband she dreamed of most of her life. If only Amanda could wake up and find this whole foolish idea had been only a dream. Independence could probably have used some good seamstresses… there were far worse places for the two of them to live.
After an eternal moment, the brave in the center gave an almost imperceptible signal, and en masse, the band turned their mounts and galloped away. Without even looking back, they crested the top of a near rise and vanished from sight. “D—do you think they’ll come back, Mandy?” Sarah asked in a small voice.
Amanda, as befuddled as her sister, merely shrugged.
A ridiculous phrase of off-key singing burst from behind the hill. Then a howl of laughter.
Sarah loosened her soggy blanket and stood. “Humph. They don’t even know good music when they hear it!”
At this, Amanda, too, exploded into a giggle, then laughed hysterically until tears coursed down her cheeks. Though her sister joined halfheartedly, it was easy to see she didn’t quite see the humor of the moment. Amanda suddenly realized the Indians had thought her sibling was possessed by some strange spirit… one they were hesitant to anger. It made her laugh all the harder.
Finally regaining control of her shattered nerves, she turned to Sarah. “Well, Sissy, we can thank the Good Lord for His protection this day. We could easily have made our entrance through the pearly gates.”
Sarah paused in the process of stripping off her wet under-things. “I suppose you’re right. God definitely is looking after us.” But she leaned out, peering in the direction the Indians had taken, just to be sure.