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Erin took an unprecedented trip to town later that spring but only because she’d broken a blade off her plow trying to plow a field her father and brothers had given up on. It was too rocky, and that was how she’d broken the blade. She had a small smithy out at the farm—her brother, George had worked it, and she knew how—but she had no extra metal to make her own repairs right now, so she had to go to town to get a new blade. She hated to take the time. She also hated the stares, but it was a necessary evil. Molly had even given her a list of things they could use from the mercantile as she also had no desire to go to town. She hated the women who always lamented the fact that she hadn’t found a good man yet. It had seemed to intensify lately, possibly because it had been two years since her parents’ deaths, and her period of mourning had to be over.
Leaving Molly’s list at the general store, Erin walked over to talk to the town smithy who’d been a friend of George’s. He looked at the blade she had broken, shaking his head. “You broke ‘er good, didn’t ya?” he commented, smiling with his two good teeth. The rest looked brown and rotting as he aimed and spat out some tobacco juice. It hit the bucket he had been aiming for with a satisfying ‘ping.’ “Been plowing rocks?”
She smiled but didn’t answer. She knew most people didn’t think she had any business running a good farm, and they were certain she’d run it into the ground. She didn’t tell him she’d gotten a full acre in that field plowed, removed the rocks for a fence she was building, and was now trying to get a second acre done. She’d do it too, by the end of the season as she waited for her other crops to mature.
“I can fix this one. Ya shore you want a new one?”
“I’d like you to fix that one,” she answered, trying to keep her English proper. As Molly had pointed out, practice did make perfect. “but I don’t want to wait for it. I’ll come back to town next week for it, and in the meantime, I can use the extra blade.”
The smith rummaged around and came up with the extra blade, which he sold her. “I’ll have this one fixed and ready for ya,” he promised.
“What’s that?” she asked, looking at a contraption he had in the corner of his shop.
“Oh, that,” he said dismissively. “It’s supposed to be for cutting sods out on the prairie or somethin’. I didn’ realize it weren’t no good for ‘round here when I traded fer it.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.
Erin’s heart beat hard. She knew what it was. She’d seen it in a catalog. New, it was more than she could afford, except in her dreams. “Looks like it has some good metal on it,” she commented, rubbing the handle almost reverently.
“Yeah, I’ll have to melt it down, I guess,” he lamented somberly.
“Would you trade for it?”
“Trade? Who’d trade fer it?”
“I would. I could use the metal around the farm,” she lied.
“Well, I could melt them down and use some of them pieces,” he hedged.
She shrugged, as though she weren’t that interested in it, but she knew her smithy...anything to make a buck.
“Whall, I might just let it go, if the trade were good,” he conceded.
They dickered back and forth. Finally, when he thought that Erin wasn’t as interested as she had been originally, he agreed to trade it for a couple of chickens and a few bushels of vegetables, much more than she had intended. He helped lift it in the back of Erin’s wagon.
“I’ll see you next week with those chickens and vegetables, and I’ll pick up my blade,” she promised.
“What are you gonna use it for?” he asked, curious. “I don’ think it’ll get through them rocks any better than what you’re doin’ now.”
She smiled wryly at the gibe. She had no plans of using this plow for that; she was doing just fine with things the way they were. She didn’t want to give out her plans. “I’ll find a use for all this metal,” she assured him and left it at that.
She returned to the general store and paid cash money for the things Molly needed. The store gave credit to everyone who shopped there except Erin and Molly. They probably would have extended it to her because she owned a farm, but after the way they treated Molly when her folks died—not extending her a dime of credit for necessities—Erin had refused to buy anything without paying for it outright. Most farmers lived on credit from harvest to harvest, but not Erin. She found she’d rather do without until she could pay for what she needed. It had made Erin and Molly tighten their belts a couple of times, but the principle was sound. Erin’s farm was owned clear. The merchants would be happy to lend her things on credit against it and charge interest, but she refused. If something happened to her, she didn’t want the town merchants or the bank to take the farm from Molly. They’d cheated Molly on her parents’ place, and they both knew they would cheat her on this farm too, if Erin didn’t keep it free and clear.
As she finished loading her salt, flour, and sugar, she thought again about the sorghum mill she wanted to build. She hated having to buy sugar, and if they raised their own sorghum they wouldn’t need to buy store-bought. Well, maybe out west things would be different. She looked up from tying down the tarp over her purchases to see an oxen-driven wagon being slowly led through town. A man out front walked the two oxen, and a woman on the wagon despondently held a whip. She looked tired, beaten, and flat worn out. Erin caught herself staring, then quickly looked away. She herself garnered stares; she didn’t want to do that to others. She wondered where they were going. They were heading east toward town. The man stopped the large wagon and oxen, and he hitched up his trousers as he made his way around horse patties and headed towards the store.
“Ma’am,” he said to Erin, tipping his hat to her. She started in surprise. Most people addressed her as ‘sir’ since she normally wore overalls, and she wondered what had given her away. It was then she realized her bun had come slightly undone and thick tendrils of her hair were hanging over her suspenders on her shoulders. She reached up and pulled her hat off, so she could fix it. She glanced out of the corner of her eyes at the woman, who was looking forlornly where the man had gone. She wondered what their story was but decided it was no business of hers. Staring at the large wagon thoughtfully, she got up on her own wagon and chirruped to her horses, heading out of town for home.
She was unscrewing the blades from the plow she had traded for, carefully wrapping and putting them in a leather bag she had made for just such things, when Molly emerged from the woods at the far side of the house. Waving madly, she looked around as though her dress were on fire, and Erin wondered if she should get her gun. But King was running out before her, so she knew there was likely no danger. He didn’t look alarmed.
“What is it?” she asked as the woman came running up.
“W...w...wait,” she gasped, holding her ribs from the stitch in them. “Let...me...get...my...breath.”
Erin continued to pull apart the plow, laying one of the long handles alongside it but looking curiously at the out of breath Molly.
“I...was...picking...berries,” she got out, showing the pail nearly full of raspberries. Erin mentally told herself to dig up some of the best berry roots to take with them. “You...know, on...old...Picket...Road?”
Erin stopped working, waiting patiently for Molly to regain her breath, so she could tell her what she was so fired up about.
“I...met...” she took a deep breath, blinked, and then seemed able to go on without gasping, “some people coming down the road. They didn’t realize it wouldn’t take them to Melville to catch the train.”
“They were on Picket Road and thought it would take them to Melville?” Erin laughed. Picket Road wasn’t going to take anyone anywhere but out to one of the best fishing holes around. Although, she did remember that the best raspberry thickets were on both sides of that road.
“Someone misdirected them,” she added, getting her breath back enough to go on. “So, I got to talking to them, and it turns out they were in a wagon train and lost everything!” She sounded excited.
Erin frowned at her, wondering if they were the same people she had seen with the big wagon in town. She didn’t understand why Molly was so excited though. That sounded terrible.
“I was talking to them, and it turns out they’ve got nothin’. He tried to trade one of his oxen in town for some food and fixins and that old thief wanted both oxen. ‘What’s a wagon without somethin’ to pull it with,’ I asked. He said, ‘Exactly.’”
“So, what are they going to do...try to trade it down in Melville?” She was wondering if she should loosen another bolt that was holding the plow together. Maybe if she reached for the other handle....
“You aren’t listening,” Molly pointed out, seeing that Erin was already distracted. “I invited them here to dinner.”
Erin looked up at that, surprised. They were watching all their pennies, and her friend generously invited strangers to dinner? “Why’d you do that?”
“Don’t you see? We need a wagon, one of them big Conestoga wagons. They have one,” she said, to make it obvious for Erin.
“But we can’t afford to buy–”
“I know that, silly. Maybe they’ll make a trade or somethin’.”
Erin blinked, realizing how smart Molly really was. But then, she’d always been better in school. “You think they will?” She was starting to catch Molly’s excitement.
“Sounds like they are desperate. We will have to see. There they are,” she pointed at the end of the drive where the two emaciated oxen plodded along wearily. The large wagon they were pulling had seen better days. It, like the owners, looked battered and beaten.
Erin looked hard at the wagon. She had noticed it in town, of course. But other than noting its size and the woman on it, she hadn’t realized what it was. Now, she stared at it, realizing the immense size of the thing. The two oxen were slow, pulling it along unenthusiastically. It would take them forever to get anywhere.
“I better get dinner started,” Molly said excitedly as she rushed into the house carrying her berry pail.
Erin was left to greet their visitors, nodding to the man who was up on the high wagon. Apparently, he didn’t need to lead the oxen now that they weren’t in town. “How do?” she asked when he pulled the oxen to a halt.
“How do?” the man said, raising his hat jauntily, no sign that he recognized her from town. “I’m Rand Johnson, and this is my wife, Emily.”
“I’m Erin Herriot. I believe you met my friend, Molly Pierce?”
“Oh, I thought she lived here?” he began, sounding flustered at his possible error.
“She does. We share the farm,” Erin told him. “She said she invited you to dinner.”
“She said we could water the oxen here?”
“Yep,” Erin nodded. “I got a pond out back of the barn where they can graze and water.”
“That’s mighty kind of you,” Rand said as he hopped down and then turned to help his wife climb down from the high seat.
“If you want to go in, Molly’s in the kitchen making dinner. I’ll help Rand with the oxen.”
“Now, you don’t need–” began Rand.
“That’s fine,” Erin cut him off. She noticed Emily walking unsteadily towards the back door and wondered what their story was. Rand, attempting to be friendly, started to tell that story. Apparently, they had set out last year to join a wagon train. Someone had taken their horses for these two oxen, claiming that horses couldn’t make it across those prairies. They had grossly underestimated the costs. Then the merchants had inflated their prices, and they had run out of money and supplies. Turning back, they’d only made it this far and had nothing left but their oxen and wagon. They’d sold everything to survive this far.
Erin felt bad for him, but from what Rand said, he hadn’t planned very well. The move had been impulsive, he hadn’t prepared in advance, and the money hadn’t meant anything to him until he didn’t have it anymore. “If I can just get back to my wife’s folks’ place in Vermont, I know they’ll give me a job in their store,” he said dispiritedly as they watched the oxen eagerly lap up the water and begin grazing.
“They’ve seen better days,” Erin admitted, looking at the bones protruding from the animals’ backs.
“That’s what that merchant in town said. And he wouldn’t let me trade just the one; he wanted both. And then, what was I supposed to do with the wagon, I ask you?” He shook his head. “He didn’t even want them for their meat.”
Erin supposed not. The two barely had any meat on their bones. Whatever the storekeeper had offered, it probably wasn’t much. Rand was right, it wouldn’t make sense not to have the yoke of animals, and what good was a wagon without something to pull it.
“How far did you get before you turned back?” she asked as they began to walk back to the farmhouse.
Rand told her about a litany of ills that befell them. From fever and ague, to accidentally burning their canvas cover, which had to be replaced. He told of the unscrupulous people he had met and how many thieves were out there. He stopped dead when he saw King, who hadn’t been in the yard when he pulled in. The shepherd-looking dog sat in the barn entranceway looking at him intently. “Now, with a dog like that no one would have bothered us.”
All through dinner, Rand told them of the ills of traveling on a wagon train. It didn’t sound like they had gotten too far, spending their money foolishly. “Now, we have to try and get a decent trade on what little we have left. I’ll probably have to take a job if we can get to Melville.”
“How much you want for your wagon and oxen?” Erin asked conversationally, not showing her interest in the least.
“Well they have to be worth–” he began, but Emily spoke for the first time, interrupting him.
“What they are worth, and what someone will pay in their condition, are two different things.” She looked at Erin and Molly with gratitude. “That’s the first meal we’ve had in days. I thank you.”
“We do appreciate the vittles,” Rand put in, realizing how rude he had been in dominating the conversation.
“What are you going to do?” Molly asked, exchanging a quick glance with Erin.
“We’ll sleep in the wagon again and head out for Melville in the morning,” Rand put in. “Is it okay if I leave the oxen in your field overnight? I won’t have to watch them for the first time since we set out.”
“Those oxen ain’t gonna make it to Melville,” Erin mentioned musingly, sitting back in her chair and watching the pair. “They are too tired, and that wagon is too heavy.”
“There isn’t anything left in the wagon for them to pull, but all we got is that wagon,” Rand exclaimed.
“Yeah, but they are down to bone and gristle. They don’t have the strength anymore. Maybe when they were fresh they could pull it with whatever you had in it, but not now.” It was testament to how emaciated the oxen had become that the poor animals couldn’t pull. Normally, a team of oxen had tremendous strength.
“You wouldn’t want to buy our oxen and wagon, would you?” Randy put in dispiritedly. “I’d give them to you, but we have to get something for them.”
Erin glanced at Emily, who looked hopeful before looking down at her hands again. Erin glanced inquiringly at Molly, who gave one short nod before looking away, rising, and beginning to clear the table. Emily rose to help her. “Tell you what, I’ll give you a ride in my wagon down to Melville. It’ll take half a day to get there. You look around, find out what kind of job you can get, and we’ll see what kind of deal we can work out.”
“Really? You’d do that for us?”
Erin nodded, not letting on that she might be getting the better part of the deal. The oxen just needed fattening up. This fool had probably not let them graze every night when he stopped. They had walked off all their muscle and fat and would need time to recover. Erin had both the time and the grazing land.
Erin left before daybreak, having taken apart the rest of the plow and carefully storing the pieces in leather and placing those in potato sacks, the long handles protruding out. It was wisely put aside in the barn for when she would need to pack it away for their trip.
She drove the couple south, away from the town where they had been about to make a disastrous trade and away from whomever had misdirected them. She thought of Molly fortuitously meeting them and redirecting them to their farm. God would provide, indeed. Perhaps, it was God, and perhaps, it was fate. Either way, Erin was prepared to buy the couple train tickets in trade for their wagon and oxen, if it wasn’t out of her reach.
It took most of the morning to get to Melville. They ate an early lunch as they drove along that Molly had thoughtfully packed. Erin was glad to get them to the train depot, find out the tickets weren’t as pricey as she had thought, and then leave them. Rand had never stopped talking, complaining really, about his disastrous plan to take a wagon trip out west. Molly had told Erin that Emily confided it hadn’t been so bad, but Rand had compounded his failures with even worse decisions in his panic. There was a lot to be learned from that misadventure, and Erin thought about it on her way back north to their farm. She drove by the orphanage, gazing at the few children playing behind the high fence and wondering if they would ever be adopted. She wondered if they could pull off their plan to adopt one or two. She envisioned Molly, holding an infant to her bosom, and it gave her a warm feeling. She couldn’t give the love of her life children of her own body, but she could fulfil Molly’s desire to raise a child. Erin would do everything in her power to make that dream come true.
As she pulled back in the yard to their own farm, she was relieved to get home. She and Molly used the horses to push and pull the large wagon into the barn and out of sight. While listening to the sounds of the pups squeaking in their whelp box, Molly and she examined the wagon. They were joined by the dogs and barn cats, who gave it a thorough sniff.
“I don’t think he ever greased the axle,” Molly commented, looking underneath at the dust and rust she could see.
“That goes for the box too. He never sealed it,” Erin sighed as she looked at the work necessary to make the wagon fit for a journey.
“Didn’t he say he bought it all new?”
“Yes, he probably thought he didn’t need to maintain it because it was new. Those poor beasts,” she nodded towards the back of the barn that led out to the field where the oxen were grazing with their milk cows and beef cattle.
Fortunately, there was nothing left in the box other than the hardware and boards. They took down the canvas and put it aside. There were a few rips and tears that Molly would repair in record time, but the box, the wood needed some filling and sealing, and they would do this over the next few days, making the box of the wagon watertight against their travels. It was a lot of work, and just when Molly thought they were done, Erin sealed it all a second time. This time, she put sheets of iron on the bottom of the box once it had dried.
“What are those for?” Molly asked, frowning at the additional weight. She knew it was going to be a long trek, and the animals pulling it couldn’t haul everything if they had too much in there.
“Well, I thought instead of hauling the cast iron stove you want, I’d build you one when we got there,” she answered as she fit the sheets. “We’ll need a host of other things too, and we can buy the iron cheap here, so we will have it when we get there. It also balances the wagon better.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“Smithy in town when I went to pick up the fixed plow share.”
“Anyone noting the weight is gonna think we have gold in that wagon,” Molly teased.
“Maybe I should paint this gold?” Erin teased in return, grinning at the idea. She wished it was gold. She wanted to give Molly the world.
“No, thanks. I don’t want to be killed over iron sheets.”
Erin stopped smiling, thinking about the seriousness of what they were planning. Putting one of the last sheets down, she looked up and saw where Molly was standing on a box, so she could look in the tall box of the wagon. She looked worried. “Maybe we are foolish to take on this journey. A lot of people don’t make it.” Despite his foolish talk, the fact was, Rand and many others hadn’t made it.
Molly’s brown eyes relaxed, realizing Erin was worrying about her, not the trip. “We can’t stay here; we both know that. It’s only a matter of time until someone realizes what we are to each other. They won’t buy the old spinsters living together story we concocted. Heck, they won’t allow us to be old spinsters.”
“If only you weren’t so pretty,” Erin teased, but really, that was only part of the problem. Molly was pretty, young, and nubile, and any man would be lucky to have her as his mate. That she had chosen to remain with Erin, made her feel very lucky. That she loved her, was more precious than any amount of gold. Erin looked at her, gazing at the red-brown locks she had pulled back and remembering how she had looked bathed in the lamplight and wearing a towel from her bath.
Blushing from the compliment, Molly attempted to change the subject. “Do you think we’ll be able to get everything in here? You planning on bringing an anvil?”
“Just the small one. I can put that in a stump and maybe find some hardwood to help with some of the work I’ll do.” She thought for a moment. “We will have to choose what trunks to bring. I want to line them with coated canvas, so they can’t get wet if this doesn’t hold.” She gestured to the wagon bed that she had carefully sealed twice.
“Besides the seeds I’ve been putting aside, what else do you want to take?”
“I’d like saplings from the orchard, and we’ll dig up the blueberries that didn’t do so well here. Then, I want to get some of the best raspberry bushes and dig them up too. I don’t know what will grow out there. We’ll have to see, but better to have it with us than to try and order it after we get settled and not be able to get it.”
“Won’t it all already be growing there if it was meant to?”
Shrugging, Molly dismissed the question. “I’d rather have it and try to grow it in case it ain’t out there.”
“How will they survive?”
“We’ll wrap them in potato sacks and then keep those wet when we can. I’ll maybe make bands and attach barrels along here, here, and over there,” she said, pointing to the corners of the wagon box.
“Why not along here,” Molly indicated the long sides of the box.
“I want to try hanging coops along there, so we can take the ducks and chickens along. Some we will eat, of course, but we need stock to start out there. I want to get some geese too. Maybe after harvest I can trade....”
“I know Mr. Ferndale has a gander and his wife keeps threatening to cut its head off cause it’s so mean,” Molly mentioned.
“Why don’t you have a talk with Mrs. Ferndale and tell her how much you admire that gander,” Erin hinted with a grin.
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll trade her for it, and then he won’t be so angry over losing their attack goose.”
Erin started chuckling, imagining an attack goose. It wasn’t too funny. She’d seen some ornery ganders in her day, and she’d heard about the Ferndale gander once or twice. The stories about him were legendary, and he was supposed to be vicious. Still, if they could get him cheap....
“We’ll tie the cows back here, and–”
“We’ll be a regular Noah’s Ark,” Molly put in, clapping her hands together in her joy and excitement as their plans were finally coming together.
“Then, maybe we should christen it Naamah’s Ark,” Erin grinned, referencing Noah’s wife from the Bible.
They shared a laugh as they made their plans.