Corinne felt something foreign and grabbed a pair of thin pliers. She kept her finger on the object and used her other hand to guide the pliers. Andrew lost his nerve a moment and a louder grunt escaped. He squirmed a bit more. Corinne, after a few attempts, had the foreign object clasped in the jaws of the pliers. She pulled it out slowly and saw immediately what it was.
"Looks like cloth. Part of his shirt?" Clive asked, fascinated by this young woman's skill. She nodded and attempted to dry her forehead while leaving her hands where they were. Lucas used a free hand and dried her forehead for her with a towel.
She poured a little more water on the wound and patted it dry again. She dreaded going deeper but knew she had to remove the bullet. She pushed deeper into the wound and ignored her husband's squirming. Deep in the muscle her fingertip hit upon a hard edge. The blood flow was too heavy to see into the wound so she moved around the hard object to make sure it wasn’t bone or a tendon. She realized she had found what she was looking for. The round shape was now unmistakable, she grabbed the pliers again and using her finger as a guide she found the bullet. This was the tricky part, to grab the bullet without pushing it further into the damaged tissue. She opened the pliers and on the first try got a grip of the offensive bullet. With a tug it was out and everyone including Andrew gave a sigh of relief. Corinne flushed out the wound and following a ritual from her Grandmother Trudie, she used a clean cloth with a few drops of lavender and a new oil from Australia.
"What are you using on me?" Andrew was so much happier now that she was no longer inside the wound but still a bit apprehensive of her plant extracts.
"My grandmother passed along the information about the oil of lavender and the tea tree plant from Australia. She loved reading the medical journals and came across a story about Aborigines who used the leaves to stop infection in cuts and wounds." Corinne washed her hands, grabbed a thin sewing needle, and began to thread it with strong black thread. She kept talking to keep everyone calm while she stitched the wound back together. A few grunts escaped Andrew as she handled his tender wound as gently as she could.
"The Aborigines would cut up the leaves and use mud to hold it on a wound. The word spread from a British navy captain who met these Aborigines and the medical community started taking notice. If you distill the leaves it creates oil and it is wonderful at many applications. It is difficult to purchase but I do have a small supply that I procured in Boston. I save it for emergencies. We don't want this to get infected." Corinne tied off the last stitch and was satisfied. She applied another dose of oil around the stitched area and then bandaged the wound.
"Andrew, it's done. I trust that as a veterinarian you know how to treat a wound. You stay still for at least a day. I want your word. Infection out here is a killer." Corinne watched him nod like a child. He was still a little worn out from the procedure and the alcohol.
"You rest." Corinne ordered.
Clive and Lucas silently helped her cleanup the area and they slipped out the back of the wagon.
As Corinne exited the wagon all her nerves hit at once. She was overwhelmed and needed to sit.
"Rest here, my dear." Clive pulled up a stool and helped her into it.
Corinne laughed nervously, "I always get nervous afterward. I can handle the pressure during but it nearly knocks me over when I'm done. I will be fine in a minute." Corinne's heart melted a little to see both Clive and Lucas so concerned for her. "I used to help my mother all the time. There were always skirmishes in the Kentucky hills. Indians, farmers, and wildlife often collided. My grandma would say that men had to be wild to prove they were men." Corinne knew she was nervously prattling.
“I think she was right." Clive chuckled and nodded. "Your mother would be proud my dear. You handled yourself magnificently." He patted Corinne's shoulder affectionately.
"I can't believe what you just did. Corinne you are amazing!" Lucas said with obvious sincerity. She felt a little jump in her stomach.
"I have never seen a young lady that calm under pressure. I am so proud of you, my girl." Clive gave her shoulders a squeeze.
The night went smoothly with only a few times with Andrew trying to get up for reasons outside necessity. Corinne could see his patience for being still was going to be an issue.
The wagon boss, Mr. Walters, came by to check the status of Andrew's wound and was pleasantly surprised. Seeing a good man taken down by accidental misfire was a terrible shame, watching him die from it was a tragedy.
"The day has gone well," he said, "the river crossing was nearly perfect but there were two accidents and the wagons are going to need repairs." Mr. Walter’s voice was a little hoarse from yelling all day. "No one was hurt but a horse got spooked and ran off. The scouts are out trying to find it." Mr. Walters stayed at their campsite and enjoyed a cup of coffee before heading off to talk to the other groups. He shared the good news. They would be resting for a day to allow the wagons to be repaired and Andrew to recuperate.
That night Corinne broke the rules and helped Angela with the laundry down at the creek. They talked and laughed like friends again. It made Corinne forget about the hard day. Clive came by the campfire before dinner with a pair of scissors and a soft cloth around his neck.
"I do believe you promised me a haircut. I figure if you can pluck a bullet from a man's arm a haircut is not beyond ya." His mood was jovial and it spread around the Temple outfit like a calming breeze. Corinne trimmed his hair and Angela heated a towel with hot water and gave him a barber style shave. All the men begged for their services for the next day. The girls were flattered and agreed.
The meal around the fire was very relaxed and Cookie shocked everyone with a story of his younger days as the second son of a fisherman.
"I never found my sea legs." He stated with his gruff voice and a smile in his eye. "It was a terrible disappointment to my family who had been seamen for more than ten generations. The years I spent aboard my father's fishing vessel were torture for everyone, especially me." He held his mouth and shook his head, just remembering the never relenting rocking of the boat.
"I learned so much about the sea from my family but never gained the ability to live aboard a rocking boat. I used my knowledge to open a seaside restaurant on the New Jersey shore when I was nineteen. I got fresh fish from my family’s boats and started getting a loyal following of customers. A few years of serving affordable fish and chips and my business grew. Then suddenly everything went sour. Competition came in and things got ugly. They had supporters that wanted me to leave town. They were the kind of people you didn't say ‘no’ to. I felt my life was better served being alive than owning a small restaurant. The threats worked on me and I closed my place."
Angela and Corinne both sighed after hearing his story and felt badly for his loss.
"No worries my ladies, I found jobs working in other restaurants and in a few hotels. I may not look it, but I am a well known chef in New Jersey now." Cookie straightened his shoulders and looked younger for a moment.
"I hear California is the place to start over. I plan on rebuilding my restaurant on the coast." The girls all cheered and declared they would visit his restaurant someday.
The warm night and the starry heavens created a pleasant mood for all. Corinne visited Andrew's wagon before she headed off to bed. The bandage was clean and the area outside the wound was cool, no sign of infection. Corinne was relieved. Andrew asked for more water and after she retrieved it she was dismissed. He had yet to thank her.
Chapter Fourteen
April 26 1848
Another week of fair weather traveling got them 130 miles further on their journey. Corinne continued with her 'plant lady' duties and not much more. Andrew had successfully avoided contact with Corinne as much as possible. He endured her prodding about his gunshot wound until the fear of infection was no longer a worry.
Clive rode next to Corinne a few mornings a week when he was nearby. He was only on-call for scouting
duties on this trip if needed. He wasn’t hired as a scout, but he was a very experienced one. He was traveling with Chelsea and her family to help them along. Clive and Chelsea had sort of adopted Corinne and wanted her to be safe and cared for like a family member. Corinne felt the same about them, too.
The wagon train was full of hardy families and some single young men who were hired on for a multitude of tasks, wagon handlers, scouts, caretakers of the animals and more than one cook. There were a few women who were outspoken about their dislike of the journey. The other wives either agreed with their men's needs to go West or knew enough to be quiet about their dislike.
Beside the young infant who died under a wagon wheel, there had been total of five deaths so far this journey. One man drowned during a river crossing when he got impatient and crossed in an untested area. His horse got caught in quicksand and spooked and tried to get out, the man fell off his horse and hit his head on an underwater rock. Men tried to fish him out but minute later he was gone. Another was an elderly woman who started the journey sickly and could not handle the jostling of the wagon or the walking. She died in her sleep a few nights ago. Two children, under the age of five, died of a strange fever that scared everyone. They weren't in the same family and everyone was holding their breath lest there be an outbreak that spread, but the boy and girl were the only ones to have the high fever. They died last night. Corinne had gone to each family with feverfew tea and some white willow bark but the fever was quick and unmerciful. The children were quickly buried and the train moved along. Two weeks didn’t seem such a long time normally but it felt like this traveling group was somehow becoming a large family, sharing each other’s burdens and burying their dead together.
Corinne tried to harden her heart to the reality of death on the trail but she had failed so far. She had cried over the many grave markers they passed more than a few times a day. She would always go walking with Chelsea and Brody when she got too overwhelmed. Chelsea had such a healthy way of looking at life and it usually rubbed off on Corinne quickly.
They train was buzzing about getting to Fort Kearney within the week. Corinne wasn’t sure about the food supply for the Temple outfit but she heard several women complaining about how quickly they were going through the supplies. There was a pony express station there and for money, you could send off a word to family.
Corinne had written a letter to her Aunt about the journey so far. She kept Andrew out of it though, no need to upset the applecart. Just the night before they finally had a battle of words that had been brewing under the surface. Corinne asked politely for him to lift the ban on her being able to help with the chores. His response was ignoring her. He did give her a glance but Corinne was tired of taking orders from him.
* * * * *
"You don't understand Andrew. I am a woman, not a doll. You are learning new things by going off with the scouts and I wish to contribute, too. I am a grown woman and want to do my share." Her voice was raised and her face was turning pink from embarrassment and anger.
"I thought I made my instructions simple, dear girl. If you want to raise a racket feel free to do so. But remember the consequences." He looked over at Angela who was helping Cookie prepare dinner.
"You are the most insufferable man. You take delight in having power over people don't you?" Corinne was more than a little pink now. She heard a snicker beyond the wagon outfit and she realized they had an audience.
"Well I can be happy within myself knowing I was right about you Corinne, a spoiled child who huffs and puffs to get her way. No wonder your Father left you behind. I feel sorry he will have to put up with you when I'm done with you." Andrew was so flippant with his insults. He went back to his mug of coffee and barely noticed the stunned tears of his young wife.
Corinne knew she had lost. She had tried to reason with him but not only failed but had been knocked down a few more pegs for her trouble. She would do as she was told and behave as the lady he commanded her to be.
The Grant family, who was always nearby, spent days with Corinne trying to cheer her spirits. Clive was the best at it and would have her nearly smiling, but they noticed the smile never reached her eyes.
Four days of rainy travel had everyone's spirits low and families were sharing more than a few sniffles and colds. Corinne herself was fighting off a small fever but kept it to herself. She wanted to stay out of Andrew's attention and being sick was miserable enough without his words cutting her down to size. Corinne rode Clover during the day and stayed quiet at night. She had a routine and was sticking with it.
Chapter Fifteen
May 1 1848
Angela stooped down gathering twigs and anything that would work as kindling. The area was starting to get sparse of firewood materials and the next step was to look for buffalo chips to burn. The rain had been off and on for days so finding anything dry was difficult. Angela kept her mind on task and focused on her search. After more than an hour she was certain she had enough to satisfy Andrew.
There was a firewood box full in each wagon but he insisted on her daily going for kindling. Even in places that it was sparse. Ah well. He was the boss. She thought to herself.
She missed her friendship with Corinne. The days were filled with work and silence. The other women got to enjoy camaraderie and the chatter of womanly friendship. She was watched carefully and threatened whenever she attempted to chat with Chelsea while doing the wash together at the creek. Andrew came by, taking Angela by the arm, and gave her the 'You are the hired help' speech. Chelsea gave Andrew a glare and a lecture after he returned her, saying that Angela was pleasant company and to stop being such a bulldog.
Angela walked back into camp with her sticks and kindling as well as a small bag with buffalo chips. Dinner was nearly ready and Angela's stomach growled in appreciation of the smells coming from the fire. Looks like someone had a successful fishing adventure.
Reggie gathered her items and added them to the wood box for Andrew's wagon. Andrew strolled over purposefully and examined Angela's offering.
"Angela, this is not what I expected from you. I wanted a full bag. There are barely ten chips in there. There are certainly more to be had." He paused for a moment and reflected on the look of disappointment on her face. "My Father used to say to his servants who had been lazy, 'If you don't want to work. You don't want to eat.'" Andrew nodded and handed her the bag back and pointed to the open field.
"Andrew the sun is going down. There is no moon tonight. It is too dangerous for her alone out there." Reggie protested gently. Corinne stomped over and made her presence known as well.
Angela stepped away with her bag and swallowed her pride. Andrew was always right. She chanted to herself to make it seem better. They will all argue but she still had to do the work. Andrew had taken a dislike to her when they first met and she would bear it until he was no longer her charge. She heard Reggie volunteer to go with her. Corinne's voice got louder as she argued with Andrew about her friend's safety. Angela was determined to fill the bag as quickly as she could in the failing light of dusk. Within ten minutes of heading away from the wagon outfit Reggie brought her a lantern. He apologized but she just nodded and kept silent. No need to make a fuss.
The area had been pretty picked over and she knew she was in for a long walk to find any chips or firewood.
* * * * *
She passed the time as usual, thinking about her brother, Sean, and wondering what he was doing with his life. The work orphanage in Boston had not been pleasant for him. He was three years older than her and she knew the boys there were a rough lot. He'd had a black eye by the end of the first day. Their mother had always told them that fighting was a last resort; patience and kindness is the first thing to do. It didn’t work well for him. He ran away five years later, thirteen and on the run. She received a letter from him a few months later. He was working as a farm hand in Vermont. A nice family had taken him in. He said he liked it there better than the orphanage, b
ut the work was hard. Angela had always wondered the what if questions about Sean the most. He had been so smart in school. Math and science were his specialty, she could've seen him in a bank or as a scientist working with doctors. What if her mother had lived on, would Mr. Lankarski have happily kept them all? Mother had only been married to Stan Lankarski for a year when she passed away carrying a full washtub down a flight of stairs while eight months pregnant. One misstep and the tub flipped and caught her momentum in a deadfall to the bottom. Angela had been the one to yell for the neighbors to get help.
They had shared a pretty two-story home in a nice neighborhood. Stan owned a thriving lumberyard business and everyone enjoyed each other. Three weeks after the death, Stan called Angela and Sean to the dining table. They had not seen him in several days and they had been left with the housekeeper. "Children, I am getting remarried. Her name is Alice. She will be coming here to live with me. I have found a great place for you to live where you'll have lots of great friends your own age." Stan with his sweet smile and charm had them so excited.
For two days Angela barely slept, thinking they were moving to a wonderland. They had no idea that their new home was a workhouse with over fifty children under sixteen years of age. Angela met Alice the day they left. Alice was well along in pregnancy just like her own mother had been. It took Angela a few years to put all the pieces together about her stepfather Stan. Her mother had picked a second husband poorly.
Angela pushed her memories aside as she found some decent firewood selections behind a briar bush. She used her elbow to hold the thorny branches aside as she knelt down to reach her find. After she pulled it loose she tried to release the thorns. It didn’t work as easily as she hoped. She left some skin behind and part of her shirt. Her arm was now itchy and bleeding a little bit, she laughed at her foolishness and kept marching. She looked behind her occasionally to keep her sense of direction intact. She didn’t want to get herself lost in the middle of the untamed wilderness; Indians, wolves and insects would take advantage. She laughed at the image of insects carrying her away. The swarms she pictured were large but she had never seen them carry a person away. Her smile lasted a few minutes while she kept on searching.