Ruth, p.11
Ruth, page 11
Too soon, time came to do it all over again, beginning each new morning with him wiggling her foot.
On the afternoon of the sixth day of June, the column came to an abrupt halt. Ruth walked out a ways but couldn’t see any reason for the stoppage. Eventually word came from the wagon in front of them.
“Indians. Big raiding party.”
Logan grabbed his long gun and trotted past her then stopped and spun around. “Get your father’s short gun out. Make sure it’s loaded. You and Star stay put until I get back.”
With her heart thumping her ribs like a redheaded woodpecker, she nodded then found a bit of voice.
“Yes, sir. We’ll be right here. Be careful.” She looked around. Star stood by the wagon, holding her brother. Ruth’s heart sank, then her cheeks flushed.
Why had she seen fit to wake him? He’d just need to be changed and want his nummies. It’d be practically impossible to shoot an Indian nursing a baby.
“What should we do, Miss Ruth?”
“Your father said to stay here. Get back in the wagon and change your brother but try not to wake Julia.” Her voice carried more angst than she intended, but the girl shouldn’t have gotten Noah up.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, Miss Ruth. Do you think they’ll try to steal me?” Terror filled the child’s eyes, and her lower lip quivered. “I don’t want to be some savage’s squaw.”
Hurrying to the girl, she wrapped her arms around her, careful to not squeeze the baby. She patted Star’s back and rubbed the length of her hair.
“Your Pa and the other men will not let that happen, sugar. We’ve got guns, and they only have bows and arrows.” She put her hands on her shoulders and held her out but being so near the baby make her milk come down.
“Unload the rocker and get my short gun, just in case. I’ll change your brother and feed him. Still, please be careful not to wake Julia if you can. You know how fussy she is if she doesn’t get her nap out.”
“Yes, ma’am. How come you aren’t scared?”
“For one thing, I don’t want my milk to upset the babies. If they know I’m anxious, then they’ll get fussy and miserable.”
Why wasn’t she afraid though? She really wasn’t. There’d been concern when she first heard. Could it be because Logan had rushed to her defense?
“Besides, there’s no need to be afraid. Your pa would never let them hurt us.”
“Do you think he’ll be okay?”
“Of course, he will, Star. Don’t you worry about that. We have a total of over seven hundred folks in the train, and three hundred or so of that number are grown men with guns, backing your father up.”
“Can you shoot?”
“I can, but not with the babies. The ladies who can’t fire a gun can at least load. It’d have to be a mighty big bunch of red men who would even dare think about attacking us.”
“Do you think I should go help load?”
“No, I do not. There hasn’t been a shot fired so far, and your Pa will be back soon. Now get my rocker, please ma’am.”
“I will, and where’s your short gun?”
“In its box with my books. You can load it for me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Soon enough the girl had the rocker down and held her weapon at her side. She handed the gun over as soon as Noah got settled. Julia woke before the baby boy had his fill. Bless God, for the more the two nursed, the more milk the Lord gave her.
Twenty minutes or so passed with no arms being fired. Did that mean there would be a peaceful resolution?
Oh, Father God, please let it be so.
“Miss Ruth, why do the Indians want to kill us?”
“We don’t know that they do, sugar. I guess some are wicked and evil and want to kill men, but surely the majority of them are kind and know good from evil. They must fall in love, marry, and have babies just like we do.”
“So they’re regular people?”
“Well, yes, I’m sure. The men go out to hunt and provide food for their families, and the women cook and sew and keep their tents clean. Don’t you think?”
Grinning up at her, Star raised her brows. “I suppose so.”
She spotted Logan hurrying toward the wagon. As soon as he drew within hollering distance, he cupped his hand beside his mouth and shouted.
“Star! Gather some buffalo chips, but don’t go far. They’re starving.”
The girl handed her brother back, snuggling him into Ruth’s free arm, freshly burped. Her little eyes were full of fear again. She beseeched her Pa. “Will you come with me?”
He obviously considered her request then trotted on into camp.
“Sure, I’ll help. Ruth, as soon as you’re through there, can you get some cornbread going? Evidently, they haven’t eaten in several days. Gantt said if we feed them, they won’t steal from us. Captain Burnett agreed.”
It didn’t take too long to have a big pan of cornbread ready and some fried fatback.
The men’s plan made sense to her, and if those men were hungry, feeding them was the Christian thing to do. She’d never thought God saw much difference in the color of men’s skin.
Even if they were savages . . . except were they? She didn’t know them.
That first Thanksgiving, the Indians fed the starving Pilgrims. They ate together and got along fine. If the story she heard was true, the Indians became friends to the white men.
Perhaps word would spread among the tribes that the wagon train had helped the red men, and if ever the train needed help, they would come to their aid.
That evening after things settled down, Logan said Captain Burnett had ordered the night sentries doubled. According to Logan’s report, the mounted Kansas and Osage warriors with painted red faces were barbaric after all.
Logan had seen it with his own eyes—a Pawnee scalp with ears and a cheek attached.
Ruth vowed to stay awake through the night but dozed off only to be woken by rolling thunder.
The wind howled, and rain poured down over the canvas in sheets. She found herself blessing God for Logan. He’d waxed the canvas again just the other day. The man certainly took care of his business.
Unlike the other storms they’d encountered, that one didn’t pass over quickly.
It sent the Indians home—at least she guessed that’s where they went, to get dry in their teepees. She lay staring into the dark, her gun under her pillow. Tomorrow would be miserable traveling with all the mud.
The whole of the seventh of June, the train spent hunkered down. That afternoon, word spread that the river was rising, and everyone needed to move to higher ground.
Poor Logan. He wouldn’t hear of her helping.
“No need in both of us getting soaked.”
She almost spoke the words ‘I love you’ as he turned to go. It seemed a natural thing to say.
Did she love the man?
Once relocated, away from the river to higher ground, the wind laid some, but the rain continued all day long and into the evening. Logan rearranged the inside of the wagon to make room for himself in the back, but it didn’t appear very comfortable.
The poor man couldn’t stretch out his legs; there was nowhere for them to go.
Several times, she started to invite him to share the pallet with her, Star, and the babies. Would that go against decorum? Who would know or care out there in the middle of nowhere?
If he stayed all the way over on one side with Star next to him, then the babies, she’d be all the way over on the other side . . .
Could it hurt anything?
It would make the space tighter for everyone, herself included, and mean the babies couldn’t browse as easily during the night, certainly only one at a time, facing the side of the wagon with her back to the crowd.
Star would probably enjoy him snuggling in next to her.
Late that afternoon after a meal of jerky and apples in the back of the wagon, a drip hit Star on the nose.
“Pa, the rain’s coming in. Do something.”
Chapter Fourteen
Ruth shook her head. The poor man. It was always some such thing. He studied the wagon’s roof for a bit then raised the back flap and climbed out. Half a dozen drops later, it stopped.
What had he done? He stayed outside another fifteen or twenty minutes. Every once in a while, the wagon swayed with his shifting weight. Finally, the back flap rose, and he climbed in, taking off his hat and leaving it on a hook at the back.
The top of his hair looked dry, but from there all the way to his boots, the poor man was soaked.
“Thanks, Pa. We’d all have been wetter than you in no time.”
“You’re welcome.” He hugged himself. “Strange to be so chilly in June.”
Ruth scooted over, reached around the cornmeal barrel, and put her hand on his arm. “You’re shivering. You need to get out of those wet clothes.”
“I—I—I’ll be fine.”
“Pa, if you need to change, we can look away.”
“She’s right, Logan.” She motioned to his daughter.
“Come on, Star. Let’s face the front and we’ll play I Spy.” She turned back to him. “Now you get some dry clothes on, and I don’t want any arguing! We can’t have you getting sick, Logan. We can hold up our blanket behind us, but I can promise we will not peek.”
Shortly, he gave the all-clear.
“Want our extra blanket?”
“Sure you don’t need it?”
“No, sir. We’re fine. Here, take it, Pa.”
“I take it your bedroll got wet.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How’d you fix the leak, Pa?”
“Tied my slicker over the wagon.”
Smart man. Was there anything about him Ruth didn’t like?
Star asked about the red men, but there wasn’t anything new. They’d ridden off, and that was that. The topic of weather got batted around, but only God could change that.
Everyone else could only talk about it. Ruth was certain she wasn’t the only one praying for it to move on. It made everything dismal.
The daylight—what little there had been all day—dimmed as night fell. The little magpie had been carrying the conversation, so Ruth decided to ask about Logan’s childhood. She loved listening to the man talk.
He lit the oil lamp. “Well now, I was born west of Memphis; same doc delivered me as brought Star into the world.”
“Yep! Doctor Lightbody. That was his name, wasn’t it, Pa?”
“That’s right. My father taught me what he knew. He sharecropped all week and preached the Gospel on Sundays. Learned my letters so I could read the Bible. Knew a lot of it from him before I could read it for myself. That man knew God’s Word frontwards and backwards, lived it, too.”
“Is he still alive?”
“Don’t know. Ma died the year before he apprenticed me to Mister Gable, then it wasn’t long before he struck out. Said the Lord had called him west to the mission field and that he was going to preach the Good News wherever the Lord led him.”
“Have you heard from him at all after that?”
“Got a letter every year for a while, but they stopped. I met Francesca and pretty much gave him over to the Lord. Wouldn’t be surprised to have him show up one day.”
“Sounds like something God would do, doesn’t it, Pa? Like bringing Miss Ruth, right? I’d enjoy meeting my grandfather, and he could come and live with us, couldn’t he?”
So, the girl still credited God for bringing her, but every now and again, when her father wasn’t around, she’d use that sarcastic tone with her and act like she didn’t want her around. She’d murmur something about hired under her breath, too, loud enough for Ruth to hear.
“It would, and yes, my little darlin’! God does wonderful things like that.” He looked into her eyes. “I don’t know what we would have done without you, Ruth.”
“Oh, I’d have found us another goat or a good cow, Pa.”
He gave Star the eye, and his look silenced her. She looked at the blanket and played with a loose thread on it.
“Might not be until I get to heaven before I see Pap again though.”
“My mother died young, too. It was just me and Papa for the longest. I was lost when he passed.”
“That’s like me and Pa now, isn’t it? Except we’ve got Noah, too.”
Was that Star’s way of saying that Ruth should butt out?
Noah woke first. While she saw to Logan’s son, the man dozed off. Just as she got the baby boy latched on, Julia stirred, wanting to be seen to. Star helped by getting her dry, then with Ruth and the babes settled, the girl quickly made her little sleep sounds.
The night crawled on, storm raging. She could barely turn over but moved both sleeping babes back to center.
Between the worst of the rain and wind, she caught a few winks.
Day broke, but the heavens still wept. Had the Lord sent the storm to try all the pilgrims’ grit? Was He testing to see if those genuinely wanting a new life in a new land were willing to pay the price?
He said in the world people would have troubles and trials. All that rain certainly made it difficult to be of good cheer though.
Perhaps since He had overcome the world, He expected everyone else to as well.
Of all the souls who set out from Independence, how many would pay with their lives for the opportunity?
That morning, Logan—ever the gentleman—gave Ruth and Star plenty of time to take care of their business using the wagon pot. Shame he got so wet again.
He, his daughter, and Ruth ate apples and jerky again for breakfast, then for dinner, and supper, too, that most miserable day. Surely less had driven men mad. The three of them took turns reading aloud. Logan chose the Bible. She and Star picked one of Ruth’s books and read from it.
Logan’s turn came the third time half an hour or so after it had gotten dark. Ruth held out the oil lamp. He took it then looked off.
“Hear that?”
“What? I don’t hear anything.”
His daughter’s eyes widened. “Is it the Indians again?”
“No. Listen. The rain’s stopped.” He handed back the lamp. “I’ll be right back.”
A few minutes passed then he crawled under the flap. “A few clouds are still drifting past the moon, but it looks to me it’s over.”
“Think we’ll move out in the morning?”
“Don’t know. Most roads take a day or two to harden back up, but we’re traveling over prairie. There’ll be mud a plenty, but we might make a few miles.”
“Anything will be better than being stuck here.” She handed him back the lamp. “It’s your turn to read.”
“Right.” He took the lamp, found his place, and continued reading the story of King Saul.
That man was so prideful and bad. The only reason she liked his story was that it led up to King David’s life, and he was her favorite Bible character. Of all the men of God, the son of Jessie won her heart early on, but he was only a man.
If only he hadn’t seen Bathsheba and lusted for her, then summoned her, then had her poor husband killed in battle.
Star gave it up while her father read. After the man finished that chapter, he suggested it might be a good idea to get some sleep themselves.
Ruth agreed and soon fell fast asleep.
A girl sized hand shook her shoulder. “Miss Ruth! Wake up! There’s something wrong with Pa.”
Icy darkness engulfed Logan. He’d had a fire. Had the rain drowned it out?
Where was his bed roll? Maybe it had washed away in the storm. He hugged himself, but he couldn’t get warm.
The shivers worsened. His breath made a steamy fog that turned to crystals and fell to the ground in a pile.
Movement would surely warm him, but his bare feet wouldn’t budge. They were stuck deep in the mud. He strained, but the harder he pulled, the tighter the muck gripped him. “Oh, Lord, help me.”
In an instant, he lay in his feather bed, the one he and Francesca had started keeping house with, the best bed he ever had. But it wasn’t his wife in bed with him.
“Ruth? Is that you, my love?’
“It’s both of us, Pa. You were shivering so bad, we moved you over between us.”
What a pleasant dream. Warmth engulfed him. Wonderful, blessed warmth. “Thank You, Lord.”
He fell into a deep wonderful sleep and dreamed he and Ruth were married, husband and wife, and living a wonderful life in a beautiful place. Need pulled him awake.
The new day was sure enough dry and lit, not with a full-blown sunup yet, but enough light to see he was on the pallet between his two favorite ladies who slept soundly.
The babies were on the far sides.
How had that happened?
He sat up.
Was he still dreaming, only back to present time? Remembrances of a happy life lingered, but that had been a dream. How could he ease out over Ruth? He didn’t see a way, but he needed to visit the bushes.
Carefully, he lifted the quilt then one leg over her, he put his hand on the far side of her chest, careful not to touch, and eased himself up.
Dead over her, moving ever so slowly, he watched her face, holding his breath.
The lady’s eyes opened. She smiled and whispered, “Good morning. How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” Though everything in him wanted to lean down and kiss her, he went on over then crawled out the back. The ground was saturated. It’d be muddy, but maybe they could make a few more miles toward Fort Hall.
With no dry wood to start any fires, Ruth served another cold breakfast of apples and jerky. Praise God for the apples. Captain Burnett passed the word to be ready to roll at ten. The train only made a bit over five miles at the end of that day.
Lots of time got spent helping those who got stuck get their wagons out of the mud. Hopefully, the next day would be better.
The bright sunshine—certainly more typical for the time and place—along with a brisk breeze dried the prairie more each day. The storm and its misery faded for Ruth, but not Logan calling her his love.
Could a man think to lie in a situation like that? Still in the grips of a fevered sleep and whatever it had been that chilled him so?
