| |
Erin had waited until the Indians passed her hidey-hole. They were a relatively small raiding party, and she was grateful the horse didn’t struggle and the sheep, eating as much as they could as fast as they could, weren’t bleating. One of the Indians would have been sure to investigate if either of those things had happened. Once she determined they had passed, she let the stallion up. He indignantly got to his feet and shook himself. She ground hitched him as she took the second rifle and her powder horn and bullets from the saddle and crept up out of the hollow to look towards the wagon train. What she saw scared the heck out of her. They were heading directly for her own wagon, or so it looked from where she stood. They split off at the last minute to execute a cute maneuver that had them all on the near sides of the horses, using the bodies of the ponies to block any shots. The round of shots came from the settlers anyway. Someone was smart enough to hold off, and as the leader popped back up to fire an arrow, a shotgun went off, killing the man. Erin wanted to cheer.
Knowing that stray bullets didn’t differentiate, she headed down the rise to the west a little, out of the line of fire and towards the riding Indians. Using her two rifles and handgun, she aimed carefully, making it seem there were more of her than there really were. The Indians were confused because the gunfire was coming from the prairie and not from the wagon train. After the second round when Erin had reloaded, aimed, and shot, they broke up and gathered what wounded they could, pounding off towards the north once again. Erin ducked down, so they wouldn’t see her, last year’s growth helping to hide her. She slithered back down and went to get her horse, dog, and sheep.
By the time Erin remounted and worked the sheep out of the depression, she had found two more of the sheep and rejoiced. She got back on the more level prairie, only to realize the wagons had already moved on. They shouldn’t be hard to follow, but something compelled her to ride out well in front of Queenie herding the flock and look at the few dead Indians that remained, although they’d carried off their dead where they could. She knew it was probably a tinhorn move, but she gathered several knives and bows and arrows. Remounting, she swept her arm to head Queenie and their little flock towards the wagon train, one of the last wagons just faintly visible as she hurried after them.
It took a few hours, but she finally caught up to the herd and passed them with her little flock, a few sheep shy of the morning.
“Ma, look! It’s Pa!” Tabitha told her, grabbing her arm to point out onto the prairie.
Molly nearly pulled on the long leathers keeping the horses and oxen pulling the wagon as she excitedly looked for Erin. She was riding the stallion and he, for once, looked tired. Queenie looked in fine form, panting in the hot, spring sun, clearly proud of herself. King even looked up from his spot on the wagon seat. He was still a little out of it, which was why Molly hadn’t let him walk. Each of the children peeked from their vantage point in the wagon to see their pa.
“He’s even got most of the sheep,” Theo said, taking a count while walking with their four sheep. He waited for the wagon to pass before herding them across the path of the following wagon, causing their horses to snort in alarm as he darted across.
“Whoa, there!” the owner called distastefully, clearly angered at the boy for pulling such a dangerous stunt.
Theo didn’t mind him as he herded the sheep towards the other flock. The sheep, seeing their lost companions, happily joined up with them. Theo petted Queenie, who clearly enjoyed the attention.
“Want a ride?” Erin asked, knowing it was always an iffy thing with the stallion, which was why she didn’t like riding two on him. She halted the horse, kicked her boot from the stirrup, and leaned down to pull the boy up far enough that he could use the stirrup to spring up onto the back of the horse. When he was securely behind her and holding on, she put her boot back in the stirrup.
“Pa, we weren’t sure we’d see you again,” Theo told her importantly.
“I weren’t...wasn’t too shore...sure you’d see me either,” Erin told him, trying to keep her grammar correct and failing. She was still a bit excited by the day, and the adrenalin surge was slowly depleting her reserves of strength, tiring her. She knew she wasn’t as sharp as usual and hoped the wagon train would halt for the night soon. She looked ahead and saw them heading down into a stream, knowing they would cross it before they even considered making camp. Looking up, she saw thunderclouds on the horizon and knew the camp needed to be made sooner rather than later.
“We didn’t lose too much, did we?” the boy continued happily.
“We lost enough,” she admitted, trying to concentrate on the conversation while looking about and studying the endless sea of grass, which looked greener for some reason as the new growth outgrew last year’s. That was why it had been such tough going when she searched for the animals. Still, she looked at it optimistically. They wouldn’t be feeding the animals any more grain; they had plenty of grass to eat now. She looked towards the wagon, seeing all the children and Molly gawking at her. She smiled across the expanse of grassland, hoping to convey her delight at seeing her family.
Molly got the message. She’d been trying to get Erin’s attention, but it was tough with the sheep, the boy, the horse, and the building storm clouds all catching her eye. Molly finally saw the smile she so desperately needed to see. She had been more frightened today than she could remember being in her entire life. Even the bank telling her she had to vacate her parents’ home, the one where she had been born, hadn’t frightened her nearly as much as this day and the thought of losing Erin. She looked again at their children, grateful they were alive and healthy.
They made camp a short time after they passed the stream in advance of the oncoming storm. Molly got down immediately to begin unhooking the animals from the wagon, handing off the first team to a waiting Tabitha, who took them to be watered. Theodore was dropping down from the stallion as Erin came up and dismounted.
“You okay?” she asked her wife, knowing the worry she must have caused her.
“I’m fine,” she answered, and they both knew there was a lot of meaning in that four-letter word. They’d discuss it later when the children weren’t watching and waiting.
Erin turned with a nod and handed the reins of the stallion to Theo. “Untie the mare and take her too. Her wound will make her thirsty, but don’t let her drink too much.” Theo nodded importantly as he hurried off. Erin began to take down the cages from the sides of the wagon, carrying the far ones inside the wagon circle. She nodded to several people who were staring pointedly at her. When she had all the cages on the ground, she began to pull the posts for the fold from the wagon. The long grasses were flattened by the cages, but the ducks, geese, and chickens were hungrily poking at the grass anyway. Near the wagon, she began to erect the temporary fold for the sheep. Tommy rushed up with the sledge hammer, and Theresa and even Timmy walked up with the posts she had pulled out. One by one, he handed them to her as she pounded them into the ground. Finally, Tommy brought up the rope and they tied it around the small fold. Erin had watered the sheep as they crossed the stream, so they didn’t need to water them again. She released Queenie from her guard post and had her bring the grazing sheep inside the circle and the fold.
“How’s King?” Erin asked Molly as she went to take the box of their things out of the wagon. Theo and Tabitha had taken the oxen to water.
“He was a little rattled all day, but I think he’ll be fine. A good night’s sleep will help enormously.”
Erin could tell by the short answers and the stiff body language that Molly was angry with her. There was nothing she could do about it as they made camp, so she started their own small fire and began to make supper for the children. King and Queenie were panting under the wagon, their pups playing with Timmy. Tommy and Theresa made sure to dip down small buckets of water to fill the birds’ dishes, then filled the dogs’ bowls with water and food. The cats cautiously climbed out of the wagon to sample at both before disappearing into the grass, knowing they probably had until sunup to hunt.
“Herriot?” a voice barked as Erin helped Molly prepare dinner. Standing up slowly, she looked squarely into the hostile eyes of Pat Wallace.
“Wallace?” she returned, wanting to sound cocky but knowing it probably came out as cautious. She was tired, very tired and not willing to argue with anyone about her actions that day.
“I want to thank you for your assistance when the Indians attacked. Whitman here says you were the guns on the other side of their attack.”
She nodded warily, unsure at the unexpected thanks. “Well, it seemed prudent to let them think there were others attackin’.”
“It broke their attack,” Whitman added with a smile, his old, leathery face wreathed in smiles as he held out his hand in thanks.
Erin shook the proffered hand. “I have some of their bows and arrows if you want to take a look,” she suddenly remembered, having forgotten them in the work of the day and catching up with the wagons.
“I’d sure like a look at ‘em,” Whitman admitted.
“I would as well,” Wallace answered, for once being cordial to the tall, lanky, younger man.
Erin stopped her cooking and went to where she had placed their saddle, pulling out the arrows and knives and unhooking the bows she had gathered. She showed them to the men, who fondled them, looking over the intricate designs and craftsmanship, admiring them.
“What are you going to do with all these?” Wallace asked, enjoying the weight of one of the knives.
“Probably trade them,” she admitted. “I need another saddle and I’ve lost stock.”
“Yeah, I saw you didn’t return with all your sheep. How many head of cattle did you lose?”
Erin told him, and they continued discussing the day. Wallace was finally appreciating the work the man had put in for the benefit of the train that day. Nodding at one comment he said, “I think I know where I can get you another saddle. We can’t replace your stock, but when we get to the fort maybe you can trade for some.”
Erin nodded, pleased with that idea as the men left. The atmosphere had changed that day. Instead of merely being tolerated, she now felt like she was a member of the wagon train, and it surprised her that it felt so good. She turned to see Molly skewering the plucked goose and putting its gizzard and other innards in a small pan beside the fire. She set Tommy to turning it every now and then, so it would cook evenly.
“What was that about?” Molly asked, looking at the knives and arrows and shuddering at what they could have done and where Erin had gotten them. She hadn’t seen the men in the wagon train being friendly.
“I think the tide is turning,” Erin admitted as she put the Indian things aside and reached for the first of the two tents she would put up. Once they were up, she put down a rubberized groundsheet and then rolled out their bedrolls. She had seen that a few of the men had blankets by the fire, but she felt it was still too cold for that. She knew that tonight, she would need a good night’s sleep. The thin mattresses Molly had made and stuffed with fresh hay from the prairie once the snow was completely gone, the quilts, and the blankets made a difference.