TRAIL OF DREAMS

by Courtnee

Chapter Nine

"Hah!"
The slap of leather reins on furry hide cascaded throughout the wagon train. The jerky movement of the heavy wagons set in motion a routine that changed very little over the first weeks of travel.

Their day began before dawn spread her fingers over the rolling plains. And ended after such glory had relinquished her claim to the night. Breakfast was a nourishing meal, prepared to sustain the emigrants through an exhausting day. Shortly after was the mad rush of getting the camps broken down and the wagons ready for travel. With the hundreds of hooves and wheels crossing the prairie, the dust was thick, almost impenetrable at the back of the wagon train.

Hours of steady traveling would follow until they were given their mid-day stop. At which time, a simple lunch and a rest were gifted them. Shortly thereafter they were back on the trail, bringing their 15 miles of travel to a relieved close at around 6 o'clock.

Most of the emigrants enjoyed this part of their routine. The women soon had hot suppers cooking over the open campfires. The lively sound of a fiddle floated throughout the camp nearly every evening. The children, refreshed in the ways only the young can be, played games long after they should have been tucked soundly in bed. Small groups of men went out each night in search of fresh meat.

Not long after the huge train left Ft. Kearny, it divided up into two columns. Cow column was the slower of the two. It consisted of the oxen and mule drawn wagons and the herds of cattle. The light column was made up of horse drawn wagons. Although it was faster, this column was also smaller. Most of the immigrants chose oxen or mules for their teams. In the end the cow column usually overtook the light column, as the horses were worn out and malnutritoned later into the journey.
Many life-long friendships were forged between the emigrants along their journey. When travel was rough and emotions were rubbed raw from days of unchanging and exhausting work, the presence of friends lifted their suffering spirits. The wagon train ceased to act only as a means of protection and guide, but expanded into a caring community of family and friends.

After three weeks of travel, the train pulled into a lovely spot known as Ash Hollow. Up until this point, no fresh water had been available to the travelers. They had relied only on the barrels of water they'd carried with them. As a result, laundry had been left unattended to. The little water they had left was contaminated with dirt and insects.

The train camped here for two days, taking the time to catch up on neglected chores and rest. The valley was littered with trees for hundreds of miles. Rose bushes and jasmine flowers perfumed the air with their tantalizing scent. Grapevines laced the area, tempting the immigrants to pick barrelfuls to carry with them.
Regrettably the stay at Ash Hollow ended too soon. Once again they were back on the trail. At this point, the appeal of riding in the wagons, along with the heat the vehicles contained, was lost to the children and women who were not driving the wagons. As a result they chose to walk beside the train. The dust wasn't as thick and to the children offered the irresistible lure of adventure, for the wagons were very dull and boring.

But this held a degree of danger as well. Many deaths were contributed to children tripping and falling then being ran over by the lumbering wagons. Very few survived under the piercing hooves and heavy contraptions. Snakes, wolves, and bears also were a threat.

The landscape began to change a couple of weeks later. The first landmarks were Courthouse Rock and Jail Rock. They were stunning sites. Both were natural occurrences, which many trains went out of their way to see. Bears and wolves prowled this area rather thickly.

Chimney Rock, the next landmark, was a spire of rock that reached nearly 425 feet above the plains. It was considered to many of the immigrants as the most spectacular landmark on the trail.

The Scotts Bluff marked the end of the geological sites. It held the appearance of an old fort, ready for battle. The amazing beauty of it enlisted the immigrants to raise their hands in a salute. But most tampered the desire, embarrassed.

After six weeks of no sign of civilization, Ft. Laramie came into view. Mountains rose up in the background, surrounding it on three sides. Their white-capped tips seemed to touch the clouds. Laramie sat at the base of a mountain. The fort marked the gateway into the Rocky Mountains, giving the people a great morale lift. The fort was an adobe building, built for fur trading. But in 1849, was bought by the army, in order to protect the immigrants from increasing Indian attacks. Ft. Laramie grew into a large military complex as a result.

The only part the immigrants were interested in, though, was the trading post. Fortunately very few had the need to purchase supplies, for the prices were outrageously high. In fact, most realized, as the trail was growing more treacherous with each mile, that they had too many supplies. This was very dangerous; weight was their greatest enemy. If a wagon was too heavily burdened a simple slope on the trail could cause it to capsize. Precious supplies would be lost as well as the wagon itself. This would mean death to the unlucky immigrant, as the others could not spare much outside of their own family.

The day was half over when the train pulled to a stop outside of the fort. They would not stay long, as the need to get through the South Pass before the first snowfall closed off access. The pass was still hundreds of miles away. But they would stay the night here, making trade possible to those that required it.

Teaspoon, Rachel, Lou, and Kid made the trek into Ft. Laramie. Buck stayed with the wagons, watching after the children. Jeremiah begged to go with them, but the constant danger of moving wagons and rowdy soldiers forced Lou to deprive him of the luxury.

They had no need to purchase goods, but relished the change of routine. The trading post was stocked with provisions. The never-ending sounds of haggling shop owners with customers rang in their ears, mingling with the sounds from the livery close by.

This was their destination. Kid, Teaspoon, and Lou had come to the conclusion that the mountain horses would make a fine addition to their prairie-bred horses. The mountain horses were born and raised to be sure-footed. The prairie horses had speed and endurance. Bred together, they would produce fine horseflesh, desired by many; undoubtedly providing a good way of living.

An aging short fellow owned the livery. He was, obviously, unfamiliar with the existence of a razor. His beard, thick and wiry and laced with gray hairs, hung down his chest. But he was pleasant, and knew how to care for animals. Instantly they all liked the little man.

"Howdy, mister." Teaspoon said by way of an introduction. He slowly tipped his head forward.

"Name's Zeb."

"You can call me Teaspoon. This here is Rachel, Lou, and Kid." He waved his hand toward each of them as he called out their identities.

Zeb nodded his head in acknowledgement, his eyes lingering on Rachel. There were not many women at the fort. The ones that did live here held the position of either being a wife or a call girl. And to a man who had yet to leave his legacy by way of children, took any available means to obtain a wife. "What can I help ya with?"

"We's interested in acquirin' a few horses, mares is what we need." Teaspoon opted to be their spokesman.

Zeb led them to the corral where a dozen horses grazed the lush land. Three mares caught Kid's attention. One was a sorrel, with a white face, mane, and tail and three stockings. Her lines were solid, and her beauty undeniable. The second was a black and white paint. She also had solid lines, but her manner is what assured her purchase. Immediately upon hearing the approach of the humans she trotted up to them, demanding a neck rub. The last mare was a gorgeous buckskin mare. She was a big horse, with an air of wildness about her that gave her a beauty that was irresistible.

Kid leaned over to Lou, comparing her choices with his. They both agreed, as did Teaspoon. With their decisions made, and the purchase underway, Kid and Lou entered the pen, halters and lead-ropes in hand. The sorrel and the paint were easy to catch. Lou had their ropes firmly attached and in hand before Kid had even trapped the buckskin.

Finally, they led the three mares from the corral. Teaspoon joined them and proceeded to go over each one. He circled them one at a time, lifting up their legs, checking their hooves for any signs of lameness, and then he opened their mouths to observe their teeth. The number of teeth in their mouths could decipher a horse's age.

Next he looked for signs that they had been ridden with a gentle hand. He ran a hand over the horse's side to see if there were bumps and marrs, a consequence of spurred kicks. With a keen eye he searched the corner of their mouths, then felt to see if they were hard, another effect from rough handling. A gentle hand raised a dependable horse. Rough riding made them angry and mean. They needed harsher measures to obey simple commands. In an untamed land where split second decisions either saved lives or ended them, a light touch was vital.

Satisfied with the mares' conditions, Teaspoon hooked his thumbs in his suspenders and moseyed back over to Zeb. "I'm mighty thankful you help us out. It seems ya know your business well."

Zeb nodded his approval; he wasn't one to dispute an appraising comment.

Kid and Lou led the horses back to camp. They had parted ways with Rachel and Teaspoon, leaving them still talking with the livery owner.

"Lou, what do ya think about givin' Jeremiah the paint horse? It's high time the boy learned some responsibilities."

Lou stopped in mid-stride. She had thought the same thing. Besides he'd love to have his own horse, and one that resembled Kid's horse, Katy, to boot. "Kid, that's a wonderful idea! His birthday is approaching. Can't think of a more fittin' gift."

Kid puffed his chest out, reveling in his wife's praise. "I think we've a spare saddle that'll do for his seat."

Lou reached out her free hand and grabbed her husband's. Sometimes she felt like the love she felt for him might swell up and overwhelm her. It was so considerate the way he treated her siblings. Do'ya think Teaspoon'll mind?"

"Already talked to 'im about it, before we left. He don't care." Kid gently squeezed Lou's hand.

The three familiar wagons came into site as the two people and three horses topped a hill. Because the wagon train consisted of close to 70 wagons, the train was split up into several smaller circles. The circled wagons offered protection against Indian attacks or prowling animals, but also doubled as a corral.
Lou added the buckskin and the sorrel to the herd, while kid waited outside the ring, one wagon blocking him from view. Buck came up to check out the new additions.

He stood for several minutes, and then gave a satisfied grunt, obviously impressed. Jeremiah and Theresa, who led Noah by the hands, followed shortly. Theresa kept her distance, but Jeremiah showed no such compulsion.

Lou placed a hand on his shoulder. "Jeremiah there's somethin' I wanna show ya. Follow me."

They rounded the wagon, Kid waited with a huge grin spread across his face. "It's high time you took on a few responsibilities 'round here, Jeremiah. We'll expect ya to work along side Gus and Charlie, working the livestock."

Jeremiah was rooted to the ground, his eyes riveted on the paint. It was the most beautiful horse he'd ever laid eyes on.

"Now, this mare here, she'll be your mount. You'll be 'spected to care for her." Kid wasn't sure Jeremiah had listened to a word he'd said. "A decent man can be wagered by the look of his horse."

Kid placed the rope in Jeremiah's trembling hands. For the first time, the boy ushered a response. "Don't you worry none, Kid. I'm gonna take care of her the best you ever seen. I give ya my word." Jeremiah was afraid to lift his hand to rub the mare. Afraid he'd wake up and realize this was all a dream.

"There's one condition, Jeremiah. We bought her for the purpose of breeding her with our stallion." After a quick nod from the boy, Kid went on. "The first three foals will belong to the ranch. After that, she's yours."

Once again Jeremiah simply nodded his understanding. He was still dumbfounded.

Lou stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm. "Happy birthday, Jeremiah. I know this doesn't make up for all those I missed out on. I want ya to know how sorry I am, though."

Jeremiah threw his arms around his sister. He understood what the circumstances had been, and he didn't hold her responsible. He loved her and all that she was doing for Theresa and him. "I love you, Louise."

"I love you too, Jeremiah." She sniffed, discreetly swiping at a tear. "I love you too."

"Story has it that a single cow wondered away from a wagon train, and walked straight into an Indian village. Now the Sioux, well, they were starvin', what with the white men killing off their buffalo and all. So, the Sioux kilt it and ate it. Well then there was a Lt. Gratton that ran this here fort." Teaspoon motioned behind him in the general direction of Ft. Laramie, pausing only momentarily in his story. "After Gratton caught wind of what was going on, he took about 30 of his men and rode out to the village. I heared he was a real bad sort; rode with vengeance as his companion. Anyway, he rode into the village and demanded the cow back.

"Now the Indians, they'd already ate every inch of the cow. But they realized their mistake and offered ta repay the family with a horse. Lt. Gratton was aimin' for a fight and wasn't interested. So, he ordered his men ta fire on them Sioux. But the Chief told his warriors to withhold retribution. Gratton wound up killing the Chief and most of his people. So's that's why we're gonna need ta be more careful, there's a war going on now. The Indians are might angry with us white folks."

Buck jumped to his feet and headed off into the twilight. Something was definitely bothering him.

"Buck?"

Teaspoon reached out a restraining hand, "Let 'im go. Sometimes a person needs ta be alone to wrestle with their demons."
Rachel kept her eyes glued to the spot where Buck had dissolved into the dusk. She worried about him the most. He was like a closed book; no one knew what secrets covered the pages of his life. Especially from the last two years. He had not spoken a word about them.

No one noticed when Theresa slipped away, discreetly following the mysterious rider.