TRAIL OF DREAMS
TRAIL OF DREAMS© Courtnee
Rachel relaxed against the wall of the wagon. The suffering woman
was finally asleep. She closed her eyes against the sight of the dieing mother.
Her thoughts traveled to the daughter. The sad little girl must be terrified,
but Rachel didn't know how to comfort her. What could she say to child who had
lost her parents? Who was hundreds of miles from any place that resembled her
home, far away from any family that could take care of her? Where would she
go?
"Rachel?"
She looked toward the rear of the wagon, where Lou was standing, her head and
shoulders inside and the rest of her outside. "Yes, Louise?"
Lou stepped into the crowded room, the schooner rocked slightly as she kneeled
down beside her friend. "I thought you might be hungry."
Rachel nodded her head, her nose sniffing at the aroma.
"It ain't much, just some left over beans and rice."
"It'll do, Louise. Besides I ain't all that hungry." Rachel accepted
the plate, mumbling a thank you as she wolfed down its contents.
Louise stayed silent until Rachel set aside the empty dish. "Are you feelin'
alright? You look a little washed out."
Rachel smiled, exhaustion evident in her eyes. "Oh, I'm alright, I guess.
Doin' as well as a person can in this situation."
"Teaspoon's worried about you. It was all I could do to keep him from comin'
for ya."
Rachel chuckled; the sound was out of place. "Teaspoon's a good man, he…"
She let her head fall to her chest, every ounce of strength in her body fled
into the night. "Oh, Louise! This is all such a horrible mess! I don't
know if I can take it much longer. All the death, the sickness, the heartache…"
helplessly she flung her arms into the air.
Momentarily, Louise was taken aback at her friend's outburst, but as the surprise
was outweighed by compassion, she reached for her hand, "Rachel, why doncha
go get some rest. I'll take care of Mrs. West."
Rachel scoffed, shaking her head. She ignored the suggestion from Louise, "You
know, they keep praying to God, asking him to stop this madness. But he ain't
even listenin', Lou. He don't care."
"Rachel, I ain't a religious person, but it seems to me they need to pray.
They need to fight it in their own way. I don't think He is doing this as punishment
for our sins. Maybe it could be worse."
"Worse than this?" Rachel turned her haunted gaze on Lou, "What
could be worse than a child losing all her family out here, in the middle of
nowhere? What could be worse than the endless hours of pain these poor people
are suffering through? What about Charlie?"
Louise dropped her head, blankly staring at the empty plate that had once held
Rachel's supper. She didn't know how to comfort her friend. What words would
give her peace? What answers would give her hope? What could she say to make
everything better? She didn't know. So, instead of stumbling through explanations
and reasons, she simply took Rachel into her arms and held her. Held her in
a tight embrace, rocking her as a mother would her ailing child. She offered
Rachel her attention, her silence, and she gave Rachel her love.
For several minutes there was silence in the wagon. Rachel regained her composure,
taking several deep calming breaths before sitting back. She gave Louise a smile,
"I'm sorry Lou. I shouldn't have said all that. I guess it just got to
me, all of this."
Louise shook her head, "Oh no, Rachel. I don't want ya to go apologizen'.
It helps to get it all out in the open, sometimes."
"Miss Rachel?"
The raspy voice startled both women. Rachel was the first to recover, and quickly
crawled to Mrs. West's side. "How you feelen', honey?"
The sickly woman slowly shook her head, "My time… is short."
She tiredly stumbled through the words, "I…need...ta ask…ya…something."
"Anything."
She gave a weak smile, "Abigail…my daughter…she needs a…a
place ta go. We… don't have any…anybody else…"
Rachel dipped a handkerchief in a pot of warm water then she gently wiped the
sweat from Mrs. West's brow. "Shush, honey, don't you worry about that
right now."
Sarah roughly shook her head, wincing at the pain the motion enlisted, "You
don't understand…Miss Rachel. I… have to know…she'll have a…good
home to go…to. Nice people to…to love her."
Rachel paused in her task, the decision was made, "Honey, I'll take her.
Now, don't you worry about this anymore."
Sarah closed her eyes as a single tear slid down her cheek. It was the best
she could hope for. "Thank… you…Miss… Rachel." She
struggled to lift her hand.
Rachel took it, giving it a gentle squeeze before Mrs. West slipped away quietly
into the night. She died with a pained, but contented smile on her lips.
Abigail West crawled beneath the wagon, dragging her doll behind her. She curled
up against one of the wheels and hugged her knees to her chest. There she fell
asleep, with tears on her cheeks.
And that was where Rachel found her. The small child most likely had cried herself
to sleep, as was evident in the dried trails on her flushed cheeks. Rachel couldn't
bring herself to wake her up, instead she gathered the girl into her arms and
carried her back to the express wagons. She placed Abigail into her own bedroll,
tucking the covers around and under her.
For several long moments, she studied the girl. She would have to tell her about
her mother soon. She could only hope the girl would survive this tragedy. It
would be hard passage these first few months. But maybe her young age would
aid in her healing.
Rachel lifted her eyes from the child and gently pulled herself away from the
wagon. Theresa and Jeremiah was asleep, but maybe Teaspoon would still be up.
She found him at the campfire, lost in the dancing flames.
"Teaspoon?"
He glanced up at her; his eyes spoke volumes. Louise must have already apprised
him of the situation. He held out his arms to her. She didn't need much coaxing
to curl into his arms. She let the tears fall, unchecked. She didn't have to
hide anything from this man.
"She's just a child, Teaspoon. She can't be any older than 6 or 7. To lose
her whole family in just one day…"
"Hush, Rachel. If there's one thing this family knows how to deal with,
it's orphans." Teaspoon softly stroked her hair.
Rachel sighed; this was, in fact, true. The express had been run by orphans,
which made this situation no better, only easier to deal with. They could all
relate to her; age mattered not. "Lord, Teaspoon, this trip is only half
way finished and so far we've almost lost Theresa, Charlie died, and now this
orphaned child. I'm almost afraid to wonder what's gonna happen next."
Teaspoon sighed; he knew they'd face many hardships. Hell, his whole life had
been one trial after another. Of coarse, he'd learned quite a lot because of
them, and he could handle almost anything now, but he sure hated to see Rachel
down in her cups. He was starting to realize how much he really loved this amazing
woman. How much he'd regretted not finding her when he was younger. For once,
Teaspoon opted not to give one of his lectures. He simply listened to her fears
and tried to comfort her with his silence.
Finally Rachel calmed down enough to retire to her bedroll. She quietly joined
Abigail in the warm blankets, snuggling close to the sleeping child. Regardless
of all that had happened that night, Rachel fell instantly to sleep, pushing
her thoughts to the back of her mind, and slept deeply until morning crept upon
the ravaged immigrants.
The second day of the epidemic was much like the first. But by dinnertime no
new cases had sprung up. The wagons of the dead were burned along with the blankets
and clothes of the sick. The last of the dead were buried. Ragtag crosses were
fashioned and shoved into the shallow graves, with exhausted love. None of the
immigrants left alive were unaffected by the scourge. They had lost either loved
ones or friends.
On the morning of the third day after the outbreak, the wagon train pulled out
once more. The train had lost over 15 wagons and many more immigrants. A feeling
of relief, among other equally strong emotions, was almost a tangible thing.
But, they had none of the cheerfulness that usually accommodated the weary travelers.
The wagons bounced along the bumpy route, the children were silent, even the
animals felt it sacred to release any of their usual defiance or complaints.
It was this way for nearly 4 days, though little by very little, they seemed
to regain a small amount of their former selves. On the 5th day of this numb
journey, the immigrants received a much-needed lift in their spirits. They were
given the chance to put an end to their suffering hearts; a celebration was
in hand.
