The Lost Wagon Read online

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Independence

  The last hour the Towers spent at their old home was a time of bustlingconfusion and great activity. Joe shook hands with all the men, andstood awkwardly while all the women kissed his cheek and wished himwell. The women gathered about Emma, and tears flowed as they embraced.Joe gulped, more than ever realizing the enormity of the task they hadundertaken and what it involved. The people gathered about were thefriends of a lifetime, and living together had cemented more thansuperficial friendship. There was love too, and respect, and Joe had asudden wild desire to ask everybody to go with him. He tried not to lookat the weeping Emma, and knew a lighter moment when he saw Tad, knife athis belt, swaggering before the younger set. Then he saw Helen Domleywith Carlyle in her arms and turned away so no man would see the tearsin his own eyes.

  Under no circumstances could Joe have described exactly how they startedfor Oregon; he saw the over-all picture but not the details. He did knowthat the mattresses, the last articles to go into the wagon, werecarried there and placed exactly right by an army of willing workers.The same army literally overwhelmed and hitched the mules, and tied theplacid cow to the wagon's rear. Joe's four younger children, stillsleepy, promptly went to sleep on the mattresses. Tad, who had alreadyasserted his determination to walk all the way to Oregon, refused toride and Mike stayed at his heels. Barbara walked hand in hand withMarcia Geragty, and Emma was in John Geragty's wagon. Nobody else wasgoing to Oregon, but the Towers would have plenty of company for atleast the first part of their journey. Not everybody could see them off,for some had to return to their work. But most went.

  The mules, overawed at being caught and harnessed by so many expertmuleteers, were completely tractable. They strained willingly into theirharness when Joe gave the order. Ahead, behind, and one both sides, rodeor walked the people they were leaving. One by one they had to turn backand start in the other direction, and the last to turn was MarciaGeragty. Though Joe could not be positive about many other details oftheir leave-taking, he was never to forget the parting of his daughterand her best friend.

  They were walking ahead of the wagon, still hand in hand but notshoulder to shoulder. They were not looking at each other. Suddenly, andJoe thought that no word passed between them, they stepped off the roadand embraced. Joe stopped the wagon so Barbara could climb in, andbecause he did not want her to know that he saw tears in her eyes, hestared straight ahead. Emma came from John Geragty's cart to climb up onthe wagon seat beside Joe and the last thing the Towers heard from anyof their Missouri friends were the Geragtys shouting,

  "Good luck, and God bless you!"

  Except for the stubborn Tad, who obviously intended to make good hisboast that he would walk all the way to Oregon, Joe's family was in thewagon. The accustomed routine of the youngest children had beeninterrupted sufficiently to keep them sleepy and subdued. The othersspoke little, for Joe, Emma, and Barbara, had stayed up until the danceended. In addition, for the first time each in his own way was beginningfully to realize that they were definitely on the way. They thought ofall they had left behind, and wondered about what was to come. Thereseemed so much to wonder about. Yet everything they might expect to findhad only a vague shape in their minds. Emma reflected, as she moved withthe jogging motion of the wagon, that to wonder vaguely about a vaguefuture is in itself a tiring thing, more tiring even than a hoedown.

  At the first night's camp there was much to do, and all of them tooweary to do it. But Joe did cut wood for a fire, and chain the mules sothey couldn't break away and go home, and tether the cow in a placewhere she could find good grazing, and feed Emma's poultry. He was gladthat he had to do no more. Emma spread out some of the remainders oflast night's feast, but no one had much interest in eating. At the sametime no one regretted any part of last night. A rousing hoedown was theright way to take leave of your friends.

  The little ones nodded over their food and then, with the familiar facesof Emma and Barbara hovering over them and the familiar arms of Emma andBarbara holding and hugging them, they snuggled down into their placesin the wagon as if nothing here were in any way new or different. Joemade a pallet for Emma and one for Barbara, and then he and Tad rolledup in their blankets and lay down a few feet away.

  Tad fell asleep in an instant, and slept so deeply that he snored alittle, something he did only when he was completely exhausted. Theoccasional snort, emerging at intervals from the bundle of blanket thatwas Tad, brought a smile to Joe's face as he lay beside him. That youngone was going to live this trip to the hilt, every minute of it. For amoment Joe felt good that Tad was to have this tremendous adventurewhile he was still so young. But the good feeling gave way almost atonce to a medley of thoughts that shouldered each other out of the wayfor his attention--thoughts of possible accidents, and plans to bemade--plans that would be revised from day to day according to thehazards and needs of the moment. As the land beneath them changed, theywould all need to change, to make the best of whatever might come, toadapt themselves to each day's demands on them. The older ones wouldhave to fend for the younger ones. He thought of Emma and Barbara andTad, and his heart warmed at the thought of their courage and theirloyalty. And then his heart froze at the thought of the dangers thatmight overtake them. And so, with this turmoil of feelings in hisbreast, Joe Tower slowly, reluctantly, unwilling to leave his problemsunsolved, dropped off into an uneasy sleep.

  Barbara looked up at the stars and at the soft depth of the night sky.She thought there was something eerie and yet wonderful about sleepingin the open with her whole family around her. Tonight we are God'schildren, she thought. We are closer to God here, with no roof betweenus and Him. How fragrant was the night air! How mysterious and beautifulwas the soft rustling of grass and brush, stirring in the gentle summerbreeze! The scratching of a field mouse, the chirp of acricket--everything was full of life and promise for the future. Shestretched luxuriously, thinking of great mountains and wide, wildrivers, and of vast western plains where they would meet strappingfarmers and ranchers, some of them, perhaps, with tall handsome sons,sons with strong arms and laughing eyes. She grinned at herself then,and curled into a ball and dropped off to sleep, wondering whether thegrass would be as fragrant in Oregon.

  Emma lay staring into blackness. Without a familiar tree or rooftopsilhouetted against it, the sky was a vast and awesome thing. It waslimitless, remote and indifferent. Her family was a few scattered scrapsof humanity, fallen down here to rest on the unfriendly ground under thedistant, disinterested sky. She twitched when a cricket chirped and,shivering, drew the blanket closer around her. She wanted to go to Joe,and to lie close to him, but she dared not show him that she was afraid.From this point on, for the children's sake, she must be the woman theythought her to be--endlessly resourceful and forever serene. Her eyesached with staring, and she hungered for the familiar walls of theirlittle room, or failing that, at least a familiar fence, a familiartree, a familiar anything. Then she thought of the babies, of their dearfamiliar faces now placid in slumber. She thought of Barbara's familiargrace as she walked beside the wagon, of Tad's familiar bounding andleaping as he led his dog a merry chase. And she thought of Joe, of hisfamiliar voice as he talked to the children, of the strength of his armsas he helped her down from the wagon, and of his willing, unstintingdevotion to all of them. She knew then that all the dearest and mostfamiliar parts of her life were right here, all around her.

  Tears welled into her eyes, and she let them run down over her cheeks,and she prayed that she would be strong enough and brave enough, andthat they would reach Oregon alive and well and that, on the new land,they would all be happy and at peace.

  By the next morning the passing of time had already started to healtheir wounds. With baby Emma and little Joe beside her, Emma chose towalk for a while. Alfred and Carlyle, swelling with pride at beingelevated to a place of such importance, rode on the seat beside Joe.Barbara danced down the trail, filling her arms with summer-bloomingflowers. With Mike alway
s at his heels, Tad left the road for the moreexciting country on either side. He would disappear for an hour or more,but he always reappeared, sometimes waiting ahead of the wagon andsometimes running to catch up with it.

  After three days and a few hours on the road, they came at last toIndependence. Everybody except Tad chose to ride.

  Joe took a little firmer grip on the reins, and he felt a growingtension that he tried to conceal. He had been born only five miles fromTenney's Crossing, and until now, never in all his life had he been morethan forty miles from his birthplace. He knew Tenney's, Hammerstown, andthe other settlements and he felt at home in them. But he had never beento a city. Joe smiled nervously. Maybe, if a man realized all theimplications in all the decisions he made, he would decide some thingsdifferently. It was one thing to decide to go to Oregon, but quiteanother to go, and Joe was honestly frightened because he had to passthrough a city.

  He set his jaw and growled inwardly to himself. He had no quarrel withanyone in Independence. There was no reason why anyone there shouldquarrel with him, and whoever minded his own business usually got alongall right. But he had never seen, or imagined, such imposing buildingsor so many people living near each other. A little excitement stole hisnervousness and he said to Emma,

  "Quite a place, huh?"

  Her voice was shocked, "Joe, did you see what those women were wearing?"

  "Nope."

  "I never heard of such a thing! I'm glad we're not going to live here!"

  "Don't worry," he said gently. "We're not going to live here. The tightpants some of those men got on wouldn't last too long if they got off inthe brush, huh? Don't the place smell sort of funny?"

  "Yes it does. And isn't it exciting?"

  "It's a real big place. Lots of houses."

  "Oh yes, and--I don't know, Joe,--it makes me feel crowded."

  "Is this Oregon?" Alfred wanted to know.

  A high-piled heavily loaded wagon drawn by six oxen came up the streetthey were going down, and two women riding side saddle swerved aroundit. Next came a cart--Joe had never seen one just like it--driven bywhat must be a dandy of the town. The cart was pulled by twohigh-stepping perfectly matched bays and trailed by two black and whitedogs of a curious breed. They looked somewhat like hounds, but theyweren't hounds. Mightily Joe wished that Percy Pearl or Les Tenney wasalong to explain these wonders to him. Joe gasped,

  "Oh my gosh!"

  He was too late. The two coach dogs swerved from the cart to take Mike,one on either side. There was a shrill yelp as Mike slashed the firstone, and a scream of pain as he got the second. The two dogs streakedback to their cart and the driver made a U turn that brought him upbeside Joe's wagon.

  "Is that your dog?" he demanded furiously.

  "Now, see here. Your dogs tackled--"

  "Is that your dog?" the other repeated.

  Joe's anger flared. "Yes! What do you aim to do about it?"

  "Give you a horsewhipping."

  He took a ridiculous little whip from a socket in his cart and shook itthreateningly. Joe caught up the long-lashed bull whip that he sometimesused on the mules.

  "If you want to play--"

  The lash snapped within an inch of the other's ear and the mules jumpednervously. With a practiced hand, Joe held them in. He faced thedandified youngster in the cart.

  "Smart thing for you to do is leave me alone, stranger. Your dogsstarted the fight."

  "You barbarians from the back country--!"

  "That'll be enough too."

  Without another word, the outraged young man wheeled his cart and droveon. Joe started the mules, and for a second he remained furious. Then hechuckled.

  "Give me a horsewhipping, huh! He couldn't break a soft-shelled egg withthat little switch!"

  Tad came alongside the wagon and looked into it, grinning andstarry-eyed. "Gee, Pa, that was great! Why'nt you tease him intofightin'? You could of cleaned his clock like nothin'!"

  "There'll be no fights anywhere if I can help it. Speaking of that, keepyour dog on a rope while we're in Independence. It might save trouble."

  "Aw, Pa--"

  "You heard me." Joe tossed the youngster a length of rope. "Use this."

  Joe drove on and all except Mike, who sulked under confinement orrestriction and who was doubly offended now because there were plenty ofdogs on the street, marveled at the sights and sounds of a bustlingmetropolis like Independence. There were more ox, horse, and mule teamson any one street than passed through Tenney's Crossing in threemonths. Joe didn't like the place because he preferred the open countryand villages, and he'd be just as happy when he got out of it. But itwas interesting, and since they had to go through anyway, they might aswell look. Somewhere was a ferry that would take them across theMissouri, and Independence was the last great city they'd see. Exceptfor Salt Lake City--and the Oregon Trail did not go throughthere--everything between Independence and Oregon was still settlements,missions, and army and trading posts.

  They passed the houses and a row of shacks, and beyond them came to thecorrals. The stock traders of Independence did a thriving business, formany of those going over the Oregon Trail came to Independence by riverboat, horseback, stage, or on foot. Then they bought the wagons thatwere to carry their goods over the Trail, the beasts that were to pullthe wagons, and in some instances goods to carry in them. Some of thosewho came from the east did not know how to handle stock, so thatfrequently it was footsore or sick by the time they arrived atIndependence. Thus they had to replace their animals anyway.

  However, most of the wagons started over the Oregon Trail in spring,with the first ones leaving as soon as the grass was green enough tofurnish good grazing. Naturally the heaviest stock sales occurred whenthere were the most emigrants wanting to buy, and now some of thecorrals were empty. But there were still more oxen, horses and mulesthan Joe had ever before seen in one place.

  He halted his team abruptly as a man holding one end of a rope in hishand raced into the road. On the rope's other end was a big,dappled-gray, fighting-mad mule. Just as the man stumbled and fell, Joehanded the reins to Emma and leaped from the wagon.

  The gray mule was pounding toward the fallen man when Joe came betweenthem and seized the lead rope. Instantly the mule transferred its angerto him, and Joe dodged aside. He shortened the rope as he did so,getting closer to the gray mule. It was, he saw, as much frightened asangry and Joe spoke soothingly. At the same time, his anger rose. Somemen should never handle mules, and obviously the man now picking himselfup out of the road was one of them.

  Bit by bit, never making a fast move and always sure of himself, Joecalmed the mule. He got his hands on the halter's check strap, andcontinued to utter soothing words with his mouth the while he talkedwith his hands too. He did not look around when the man who had beenmishandling the animal said defiantly, "I quit!" and stalked off downthe road. His departure seemed further to reassure the gray mule.

  "Howdy, friend."

  Joe turned to face a man as tall as he was, and as wide through themiddle as he was tall. He had sparse hair, shrewd eyes, a pudgy nose,and flabby lips behind which gold teeth flashed. A frayed, unlightedcigar was clutched firmly in his teeth, Joe said,

  "Howdy."

  "You're a mule man, huh?"

  "Just wanted to keep that idiot from getting killed."

  "You shouldn't have bothered; sooner or later he'll get killed anyhow.He told me he could gentle some mules."

  "He must have used a club."

  "He did. You Oregon-bound?"

  "Yup."

  "You'll never make it this season."

  "I know that."

  "How about taking the job you just saw left vacant? I'll pay you well.My name's Jake Favors."

  Joe said, "I'm Joe Tower and I'm on my way to Oregon."

  "And I have to get some mules gentled. Tell you what, if you can breakme in a team of six, I'll give you ten dollars a head."

  Joe grinned. "Have to get to Oregon."

  "How muc
h do you think it's worth?"

  "Fifty dollars a head."

  Jake Favors raised both hands in mock horror. "Man! I can't sell mulesfor fifty dollars a head!"

  "You must be a mighty poor salesman."

  "Tell you what. I'll lose money on it but I'll give you twenty fivedollars a head for breaking in a team of six that will work together."

  Joe hesitated. Certainly a hundred and fifty dollars more would be agodsend. It would assure them of enough money no matter what happened,but it took time to break mules properly. However, it would take lesstime if Joe could choose his own mules. He looked at the corral fromwhich the gray had come.

  "That your stock?"

  "That's part of it."

  "And I pick my own mules?"

  "Any you want."

  Joe said doubtfully, "I could wagon break six, but somebody else willhave to polish 'em off."

  Jake Favors looked narrowly at him. "What do you mean?"

  "I'll break six to harness and teach them to pull together, gee, haw,stop, and back. It'll take more practice before they're really a fineteam."

  "Why can't you make 'em fine?"

  Joe looked him straight in the eye. "I haven't got time."

  "Do I pay you before you start or after you finish?" There was more thana trace of sarcasm in the question.

  Joe said grimly, "After I finish. But I also want a clean place to campand feed for my stock."

  Jake Favors said, "You've made yourself a deal. Drive into the meadowbehind the corrals and make camp. There's a good spring rising under theapple trees, and it's far enough from the corrals so you won't get muchsmell."

  Joe swung his team off the road and onto the dusty, dry ground adjoiningthe corrals. A little way farther on the wagon wheels ground cleangrass, and Emma looked nervously back at the city. Independence had itsallure, but she had her children to think of and who knew what evillurked in a place like this? She asked,

  "How long do you think it will take you, Joe?"

  "I'm going to try to make it in three weeks, but it might take longer."

  "Isn't that cutting our time very short?"

  "I doubt it. I figure that we can make thirty miles a day. We'll be inLaramie well before the fall storms hit and we certainly need themoney."

  Emma moved uneasily and murmured, "Yes, we need it."

  Because it was secluded and out of the city, she was less nervous whenJoe swung the team into the grove of apple trees. There were eight ofthem that had had no attention, and as a consequence they bore knottylittle apples that clung tightly to the branches with a few ripened oneson the ground. But the place was clean, and the spring that rose in thecenter of the trees and trickled itself into a reed-bordered rill, wascold.

  Joe got down from the wagon seat and turned to help Emma. Leapinggracefully from the rear, Barbara turned to catch the younger childrenin her arms. Carlyle looked with intense interest at a red apple thathad fallen from one of the trees and lay gleaming in the grass. LittleEmma smoothed her dress and Joe looked soberly about. Alfred turned adisappointed glance on his parents.

  "Is this Oregon?" he wanted to know.

  Emma said, "It's a long ways to Oregon, Ally."

  The youngster wandered down to the rill, and stooped swiftly to catch agreen frog in his hands. He cupped it there, and the rest gatheredaround to marvel at this prize. Tad said impatiently,

  "Let's make camp, Pa."

  Joe warmed to his freckle-faced son, so unpredictable and wild one hourand so dependable the next. He reflected with a sense of gratificationthat Tad had been no trouble whatever on this trip. Maybe the trek wasalready beginning to take some of his wildness. Joe looked around at thecamp site.

  Since they were going to be here for some time, and not just overnight,they could have more comfort than overnight camps afforded. There werestones lying around and a good fireplace might be fashioned from them.He said,

  "How about gathering stones for a fireplace, Tad?"

  "Sure."

  The youngster went willingly to work, and after she had tied the cowsecurely, Barbara helped him.

  Joe unhitched the mules and staked them. His eyes lighted on two chunksof wood that had been cut from a felled apple tree. He pointed them outto Emma.

  "Suppose I borrow some boards from Jake Favors and lay them across thosechunks? We'd have a passable table. Plenty of wood around. Might make ussome benches, too."

  Her heart leaped at the thought of a real table again, but she subduedit quickly. "You don't want to take time for that, Joe. A table's thelast thing in the world we need to bother about."

  He looked at her sidewise and winked solemnly, and she was caughtbetween laughter and tears. His look told her more plainly than wordsthat he knew what the small domestic comforts meant to her, and that hedidn't intend to be prevented from wasting an hour for her comfort.

  Barbara and Tad had collected a good heap of stones, and Joe startedbuilding a fireplace. Emma knelt beside him.

  "Let me do this."

  "Aren't you tired?"

  "I've done nothing except ride for three days," Emma said scornfully."You can leave the camp to us."

  "Well, if you're sure you can make it--"

  Emma's eyes twinkled, "We're sure."

  Joe left and walked to Jake Favors' dingy office. The stock dealer roseto meet him.

  "Wonder if I can borrow boards to make a table and benches?" Joe asked.

  "Sure," Jake Favors agreed. "If chairs would do as well as benches, Ihave some."

  "They'll be fine."

  "Don't you be wasting your time with them, though. I want you to work onmules." He bellowed, "Sam!"

  The biggest, slowest-moving colored man Joe had ever seen shuffled intothe office. When he smiled, gleaming white teeth flashed in an enormousmouth. He rolled friendly eyes at Joe.

  "Sam," Jake Favors directed, "make a table for this gentleman's familyand take some chairs down. If they want anything else, you get it. Allright?"

  There was a long pause and Sam said, "Shu-ah." For a moment Joe wastorn. He'd wanted to build Emma that table with his own hands. Then herealized that time was a precious thing for all of them, and he'd dobest to leave it in Sam's hands.

  Sam ambled off toward a lumber pile and Jake Favors turned to Joe. "Youwant a free hand, huh?"

  "Yup."

  "Well, you've got it."

  "I'll take a look at your mules."

  Joe strode toward the corrals. Wagon and pack stock was worth whateverthe dealers could get for it, and what they could get depended on howmuch prospective purchasers knew about what they were buying. A good,well-broken work mule was worth a hundred dollars or more. Because theydidn't know any better, some emigrants paid that much for any mule atall. Harnessing them after they parted with their money was theirproblem, but obviously Jake Favors knew someone who wanted six goodmules. It was also evident that whoever wanted them had no intention ofbuying unbroken stock; he must know something about mules.

  For three hours Joe did nothing except study mules in various corrals.Mules have a wide range of temperament; some respond swiftly to handlingand some remain stubborn. If Joe could choose six that were gentle, histask would not take so long. But there were other considerations. Sincethese mules were intended to work as a team of six, they must beintended to pull heavy loads and no mule is fitted for heavy work untilit is five years old. Also--Joe felt that he was being fairly paid andwas conscious of his obligation to do a good job--a matched team wouldprobably be easier to sell than an unmatched one.

  With extreme care he selected the animals he wanted.

  * * * * *

  Emma looked covertly up from the fireplace she was building to see whereJoe had gone, and when she discovered that he remained within sight ofthe camp, she felt a rising relief. Reason told her that there wasnothing to fear in Independence, but she was afraid anyway. Her wholelife had been spent in sparsely settled country; she had never been inany town bigger than Tenney's
Crossing. Here she felt hemmed in. Evenso, and in spite of fears, she was excited. Emma mulled over a plan thatwas forming in her mind while Barbara and Tad brought more stones.Barbara knelt beside her mother.

  "I'll help you."

  "All right, dear."

  For a while they worked in silence, fitting the uneven stones so thatthey made a solid fireplace. Then Emma voiced her plan,

  "Barbara, before we leave, you and I are going shopping in some of thesebig stores."

  "Oh mother! Really?"

  "We'll go."

  The girl sighed, "That will be wonderful!"

  Emma worked on, secretly relieved and at the same time puzzled. She hadthought that she understood her daughter thoroughly, but apparently shedidn't. Emma herself wanted desperately to shop in Independence, butknew that she'd never dare go alone. She'd expected Barbara to be alittle afraid too, and thought the two of them might lean on each other.But there had been only happy and eager enthusiasm in the girl's voice.Barbara had a self-confidence and self-assurance that Emma had neverpossessed, and that was good.

  "Ahm heah to help you, ma'am."

  Emma turned, a little startled, but when she saw the enormous coloredman, she smiled. She had an instinctive perception that enabled her tounderstand people, and there was no harm in the colored giant. Emmalooked at the load of boards, a load that any ordinary man would havefound difficult to carry over his shoulder, that Sam held almosteffortlessly under his arm. The Negro said,

  "Ahm s'posed to make you a table, ma'am."

  "Well, let's see," Emma smiled again. "We shouldn't have it too near thefire. How about over there under the first tree?"

  "Shu-ah, ma'am."

  At a snail-like pace, the colored man carried his load to the shade ofthe first tree and began building a table. Tad came with more stones andEmma told him,

  "That will be plenty, Tad."

  "Can I help you, Ma?"

  "There doesn't seem to be anything to do right now."

  "Can I go up by Pa? He might need help."

  "Yes, but be careful."

  "I will," and Tad raced off with Mike leaping at his heels.

  Emma glanced at her younger children, who were still occupied with theircaptive frog. Somewhere they had found a discarded jar, put wet grass init, and were keeping their pet there.

  Little Emma said, "Now we must give him some bread."

  "They don't eat bread!" Joe said scornfully. "Frogs eat worms and bugs."

  Little Emma said, "Ugh!"

  Emma and Barbara took the mattresses from the wagon, laid them on canvasbrought along for that purpose, and arranged comfortable beds. The bigcolored man came to stand beside them again.

  "Ahve got youah table an' chaihs."

  Emma looked up, a little surprised. She had noted the pace at which Sammoved, and decided in her own mind that they would be fortunate to havea table within the first week, but it was all built and the chairs stoodaround it. Emma smiled her delight.

  "I do thank you. That's a real fine table."

  The colored man smiled back. "Ah'll fetch you some fi' wood."

  He ambled off while Emma and Barbara busied themselves arranging cookingutensils and the wooden dishes on the table. Emma shook her hair back.She recognized, with a trace of shame, that she was far more contentedhere, even in this strange spot, than she had been while traveling. Theroad was a gypsy life. Even though they slept under the stars and cookedand ate in the open, for at least a short time this was home. Emmaplanned in her mind the meals she would make.

  Barbara suddenly exclaimed, "Mother!"

  Emma followed her daughter's anguished gaze, and she suppressed a gasp.The rooster and six hens hadn't been out of their crate since they'dbeen put into it, though Joe had cleaned the crate every day. Now,somehow, the crate had come open and the six hens were scuttling aboutthe grass while the rooster flapped wings that longed for exercise.

  Barbara said, "We must catch them quickly!"

  "No," as always, Emma rose to the occasion. "Leave them alone and donothing to frighten them. They'll roost somewhere tonight and we cancatch them easier."

  She kept an anxious eye on the chickens as she mixed bread dough. Thechickens were very precious and Emma did not know whether or not theycould be replaced. But she would not let her children know that sheworried or they might be troubled too. Barbara got a pailful of waterfrom the spring and started peeling potatoes. Emma cut a generous chunkfrom the ham Yancey Garrow had given them and got it ready for baking.Sam returned with a huge armload of wood.

  "You want a fi'?" he asked.

  "Oh, thank you. If you will, please."

  The Negro built a fire in the fireplace and Emma dismissed him. Tired ofplaying, the younger children had cached their treasured frog somewherenear the spring and were lying listlessly in the grass. Twilight came,and with immense gratification Emma saw the chickens go back into theircrate. It was a good thing, for certainly they could not ride all theway to Oregon without being out of the crate, and if they would go backof their own accord they could be freed every night.

  Not until twilight started to fade into night did Joe and Tad return.

  "By gosh!" Joe exclaimed. "You really have a camp set up!"

  Emma said, "The colored man helped a lot. Anybody hungry hereabouts?"

  "Hungry as a bear and three cubs."

  "Good."

  She put the food on the table, cutting generous slices from the ham andserving the children first because Joe wanted it that way. There wasmilk for them, coffee for Joe and herself. Emma placed a heaping plateof fluffy biscuits beside the potato dish. Joe ate in silence, noticingthe new gaiety in Emma's face and manner, and he thought that maybe nowshe was feeling better about the whole trip. He finished, leaned back inhis chair, and sighed happily.

  "I've got the six picked."

  "Did you have any trouble?"

  "Nope. Just had to look over a lot of mules. Got me six blacks, alike assix peas in a pod. Put 'em together in a little corral, and there won'tbe a prettier six-mule team in Missouri."

  "Ma," Tad spoke up. "Pa says it's all right with him if I go into towntomorrow."

  Emma said doubtfully, "I don't know--"

  "He'll come to no harm," Joe assured her.

  "Well, if your father thinks it's all right, you may go."

  "Oh gee! Good!"

  Emma put little Emma to bed and washed the dishes while Barbara tookcare of the other children. Barbara sat alone, dreaming, and for alittle while Joe and Emma sat side by side before the dying fire. Theirhands met, and they did not speak because speech was unnecessary. Joewas thinking of Oregon, of good land, free for the taking. And Emma wasthinking how good it felt to be camped in this one place, and to knowthat they would be in the same place tomorrow evening again. The livecoals cast a bright glow over them.

  The next morning, shortly after sun-up, Joe left for the corrals. A halfhour later, with Mike on a leash, Tad set out to explore Independence.Emma worried, but reassured herself. If Joe had said that Tad would beall right, he would be. She heated water in her dish pans, emptied itinto a tub, and scrubbed the clothes they'd been wearing. This was afine opportunity to catch up on all chores such as washing and mending.Emma wondered how she would do her washing on the trail ahead. But therehad to be a way and she would find it. Barbara, brushing out the wagon,leaped lightly to the ground and unwrapped the cloth that bound herhair.

  "There was dust half an inch thick," she grimaced. "I don't see how wepicked all of it up in this short time."

  "It will gather," Emma said thoughtfully, "and I don't know what we cando except clean it out."

  "What are you going to do now, Mother?"

  "There doesn't seem to be anything." Emma, who must always be busy, knewa feeling of disquiet because there was no task at hand. "Let's take thechildren for a walk."

  Joe and Alfred scampered ahead, overturning stones and picking up wormsfor what was probably the best-fed frog in Missouri. Little Emmagathered daisies
, wove them into a chain, and proudly presented it toher mother. Carlyle stared, wholly entranced, at a horde of brightorange butterflies that clung to a wet place on the ground. Barbarastrolled gracefully beside her mother while they talked of events to be.Then it was time to get lunch. Joe came, but there was no sign of Tad.He'd been permitted to explore the town on condition that he be back forlunch.

  "Do you suppose he's in trouble?" she asked worriedly.

  Joe muttered, "He just forgot. Doggone that kid! I'll--Say! What thedickens!"

  Across the meadow came a large and determined woman whose right handhad a firm grip on Tad's right arm. Mike sulked behind, ears flattenedand tail drooping. Emma gasped. Blood crimsoned Tad's upper lip and hadspattered from there onto his shirt. His nose was still bleeding. Thewoman approached the group at the table and pushed Tad toward them.

  "Is this your little beast?" she said fiercely.

  Joe knew a rising concern and a quick flash of anger, but he controlledhimself. "This is my son."

  "Keep him here or I'll have him jailed for assault!"

  Joe asked wonderingly, "Who did he assault?"

  "First my Jeremy, then my Tommy, then my George! They--! All of themhave bloody noses!"

  "They called me a hayseed," Tad muttered grimly.

  The woman turned on her heel and strode away. Tad stood expectant butdefiant, awaiting the punishment he knew he would get. His eyes widenedwhen Joe said quietly,

  "Wash your face and come have some lunch, Tad."

  "But, Pa--"

  "When it's three to one," Joe explained, "it's not entirely sensible.But neither is it assault. Besides, didn't they call you a hayseed?"

  Emma controlled a smile.

  The days passed, and because there was little to do, Emma began to findthem tedious. She still cherished a desire to shop in Independence, butshe had given up hope of doing it, for Joe was working all day long andthere was no one else whom she would trust with the children. BecauseBarbara knew how her mother felt, she contained her own crushingdisappointment and said nothing. Then the bomb exploded. Joe came tolunch, but instead of rising and going right back to work, which was hisusual routine, he lingered at the table.

  "Your afternoon off, Emma," he said cheerfully. "I'll wash the dishes."

  "But--"

  "I'm going to let the mules rest this afternoon," he ran a hand throughhis shaggy hair, "and I've been doing some pondering. I pondered thatyou and Bobby might like to see some of Independence. Go ahead. Takesome money along so you can buy yourselves something."

  Emma felt a leaping excitement which immediately conflicted with astrong sense of duty. She wanted desperately to go even while shethought of numberless reasons why she should not.

  "Go ahead," Joe laughed. "It's all planned."

  "Well, if you're certain--"

  "I'm certain, and I'll take care of the kids. Now hurry up and getstarted."

  Emma put her arms around Joe's neck in a quick, tight hug. Barbara,astonished at the unusual show of emotion, giggled, and then followedsuit.

  Emma and Barbara dressed in the wagon, and for the first time Emmaregretted desperately the fact that she had not brought one of herprettier dresses. But she did the best she could, and her heart leapedwhen Joe looked admiringly at her. Emma glanced at her daughter, radiantin a simple brown dress, and pride swelled within her.

  "Have a good time," Joe called as they departed.

  Emma was completely in the grip of excitement. Firmly she clutched herpurse, in which five dollars reposed. She would not put it beyond citypeople to snatch a woman's purse if they could. Then she began to worryabout her appearance. She felt awkward and out of place, and when ayoung man stared hard at her she blushed, for she decided that she wasbetraying her rustic upbringing. Then she knew that the young man wasmerely exercising the right of all young men when lovely girls arepresent, and that he was staring at Barbara.

  They stopped before a store in whose windows a variety of groceries werearranged, and after a moment they entered. Emma began to feel more atease. The man who came forward reminded her of Les Tenney.

  "Is there something I may do for you?" he asked.

  Emma murmured, "We thought we might just walk about and--and not decidefor a while." She looked him firmly in the eye and he bowed, and movedaway. Reassured by the success of her first encounter, she held her headhigh.

  They passed a glass counter that was divided into compartments, and eachcompartment was filled to the top with candy. Then they went down theother aisle and out on the street again. Emma gave herself wholly to thespirit of the thing. There were stores in which nothing except drugswere sold, others that dispensed only clothing and shoes. They examineda hardware store and when Emma looked at the gleaming new tools shethought wistfully of Joe, and how he would love them. She envisionedBarbara in a dazzling gown that sold for the staggering price ofthirteen dollars. Carefully they examined the latest in kitchen ware andutensils.

  Then their day was done. They had spent an afternoon in Paradise andtheir souls had been lifted. Their eyes had been filled with visions ofbeautiful, incredible things. They had had a glimpse of another way oflife, and it was exciting, but it was not their own. Emma knew that theywould have to stock up on provisions before they left Independence. Butas they trudged wearily wagonward, they went again into the first storethey had entered and Emma made her only purchase of that day.

  "Give me," she said, pointing at a mound of horehound candies, "fivecents' worth of those."

  * * * * *

  Finally Joe's work was done. With the six mules in harness and JakeFavors riding beside him, he took a heavy wagon through Independence.Joe turned the wagon where Jake wanted it turned, halted the mules whenthat was desired, backed them, made them trot and canter. Back at thecorral, without a word of protest, Jake Favors paid him in gold andlooked him squarely in the eye.

  "Want to stay and work for me?"

  "Can't. I have to get to Oregon."

  "It's late in the season, and almost 700 miles to Laramie. You'll haveto have smooth going all the way to get there ahead of the fall storms.If the storms don't get you, the Indians might. There won't be anybodyelse heading out this late in the year. You're all alone, a lost wagon."

  "We'll get there and we're not lost."

  "I'll make it thirty dollars a mule and promise you work all winter."

  "Have to get to Oregon."

  "You emigrants for Oregon," lamented Jake Favors, who had grown wealthyselling them horses and mules, "don't have a lick of common sense amongthe lot of you!"

  The Towers broke up camp, and returned to Jake the boards and chairsthey had borrowed. Barbara scoured the camp site for toys and scraps ofclothing the young ones might have dropped in the grass.

  Emma stood quietly for a moment looking at the charred stones of thefireplace where she had prepared so many meals in the past three weeks.She reflected that the spot where a woman prepares meals to feed herfamily has the oddest way of becoming precious. Even though she wanted,just as much as Joe did, to move on now to their final camping site, tothe land on which their new home would stand, she had a queer littlehankering to stay on here under these trees.

  When the wagon began to move away from the apple trees, she looked back,winking angrily to dispose of the tears that came into her eyes. Joe,without turning to look at her, laid his hand, just for a moment, overhers.