ANGIE REALIZED SHE had fallen asleep with the rattling of the wagon. She rubbed her sleepy eyes and gazed about her. Sitting up, she spread out her blanket and wrapped it around her. She wasn’t cold. She just needed to feel comforted. She felt tears begin to form in her eyes again, but she fought them back.
I won’t cry, she told herself, I’m strong like my daddy. I won’t cry!
Other than her blanket, everything surrounding her looked foreign. She examined the worn canvas of the old prairie wagon above her and the rusty lantern that swung from the wooden ribs that held the canvas from falling. The old wooden planks that held the wagon together smelled strange and the rattling of the wheels over the road sounded even stranger. She could hear the men talking to each other from the front of the wagon, but she didn’t pay any attention to what they were saying. She wasn’t sure she liked them anyway.
Pulling her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them, and then laid her head down on top of her knees. Angie wondered why all this had happened to her. Why did she have to go to California to live with relatives she didn’t really know? Why couldn’t she stay with Elma and George where she felt safe? Why did her family have to die?
She reached over to her bag and pulled out the Bible Elma had given her. As she ran her hand over it, she felt a wave of peace flow over her and she let the words inside the book calm her fears. She couldn’t understand many of the words that the scriptures held, but the ones she could read helped her relate to her past, to her parents reading to her in the evenings, to their soft and gentle voices, to better times.
The wagon rounded the corner of the road and headed down a side dirt trail that was well rutted. As it came to a stop in front of an old farmhouse, Homer yelled back at Angie, “We’ll be stayin’ here for the night!”
Angie peered out at the farmhouse and the woman who came out the front door. She was short and a bit round with gray streaked hair and a face that was beginning to wrinkle.
“Why, Homer and Elmer!” she smiled as she held out her arms to them, “It’s so good to see you. What in the world are you up to?”
The brothers jumped down from the wagon and she gave them both a big hug.
“Howdy, Gertie.” Homer answered, “We here’s just passin’ by on our way to meet up with the wagon train in Independence. Hopin’ we can spend the night here.”
“’Course you can, ‘course you can,” Gertie answered. She noticed Angie watching her from inside the wagon and asked “Well, who’s your traveling companion?”
Elmer helped Angie down out of the wagon, “This here’s a Miss Angie Owens. We been takin’ her to Sacramento to meet up with her aunt and uncle.”
“Well,” Gertie smiled at Angie, “isn’t that nice. Are you hungry, girl?”
Angie nodded her head, a little hesitantly.
“We all is hungry,” Homer agreed.
“It’ll take me a moment or two to fix up some flapjacks. They ain’t much, but they’re filling!” Gertie said as she headed back up the old creaking steps to her front door. She turned and said, “Come on Miss Angie Owens, come make yourself comfortable.”
As Angie entered the old farmhouse, she looked around at the bare necessities that laid about the room. The windows were open to allow the cool evening air clear all the stuffiness away and allow the crispness in.
Gertie was firing up the stove and talking about how long it had been since she saw the Smith brothers.
“I’ve known those two for going on 8 years now,” Gertie told Angie. “They used to work for my husband, caring for our horses and mules.”
“Speakin’ of mules,” Homer said as he entered through the door, “we’ll need to buy two or three mules from ya.”
“Buy?!” Gertie looked surprised, “You have money, Homer?”
“I surely do,” he smiled and threw some paper money on the table.
“Don’t wanna know where you got it from,” Gertie laughed, “long as I can spend it!”
“How’s life treatin’ ya, Gertie?” Elmer asked as he came in from putting the mules away for the night and sitting himself down at the small kitchen table.
“Could be better,” she answered as she began frying the flapjacks. “Been a might lonely here these past couple of years without my Henry.”
“He was a mighty good man,” Elmer offered.
Gertie nodded, “None finer.”
“Maybe I’ll marry ya myself,’ Elmer smiled. “On our way back through, I’ll stop and see if you’re obligin’.
“Elmer Smith, you’re just an old fool!” laughed Gertie.
Angie was amused by the banter between Elmer and Gertie, but Homer was not.
“Stop actin’ like an old fool, Elmer!” Homer scolded. “You’re embarrassin’ us all!”
“Miss Angie Owens,” Gertie said as she set a plate of flapjacks down in front of the little girl, “you can share my bed tonight. Been a long time since I had someone to keep me company.”
“I have a mattress in the wagon,” Angie objected, not wanting to be that close to Gertie.
“Suit yourself,” Gertie smiled and then placed a plate of flapjacks in front of Elmer.
After dinner, Angie sat at the table and watched the other three play poker. She didn’t understand the game and was growing increasingly bored with the whole evening. Her eyelids were getting heavier and heavier and her head began to nod.
“Homer and Elmer Smith!” Gertie laid down her cards. “This little girl’s falling asleep. It’s way past her bedtime and you’re keeping her up!”
“One more game,” Elmer suggested.
“After you put her to bed,” Gertie agreed.
As Elmer escorted Angie out to the wagon, she noticed the two pup tents set up next to the wagon and realized she would have the wagon all to herself. She was grateful for that and allowed Elmer to lift her up into the back of the wagon.
“Crawl into bed, missy,” Elmer said. “We’ll be out in a bit.”
“Good night, Elmer,” Angie said as she made her way under her blanket.
She heard the front door slam as Elmer went back into the house and then the familiar sounds of the night caught her attention. She could hear the crickets nearby, and the hoot of an owl far away. Once in a while, she heard a muffled laugh from inside the farmhouse, and the wind began to blow through the trees over the wagon. The rustling leaves began to lull her to sleep and the warmth of her blanket sank her deep into her dreams.
* * * *