The days started to run into each other. Angie’s foot was much better and she began walking most of the distance each day. Her boots began to form to her feet and become more comfortable. Margaret was her faithful companion full of interesting stories, most of them from her imagination, but she helped the day pass and was someone Angie could relate to, making up stories from her own fantasies. When their stories became too outlandish, they would both look at each other and burst out laughing.
Besides storytelling, the girls grabbed pieces of wood that others missed and tossed them onto the tarps that hung under the wagons. Margaret would help Angie fill her tarp and Angie helped Margaret fill her tarp in return. If they couldn’t find any wood, they would collect buffalo chips and pretend that they were collecting huge nuggets of gold to avoid the realization of what they were really handling.
“By the end of this day, we’ll be rich!” Margaret declared.
“Look how much gold I have in my tarp!” Angie agreed.
“We’ll be able to buy our own castle and have servants and sleep in grand beds with silk covers and wear fancy gowns!” Margaret added.
“And go to fancy Balls with handsome princes and everyone will want to dance with us!” Angie laughed.
“And marry us!” Margaret squealed.
Their fairy tales always brought Angie and Margaret many hours of happiness.
Suddenly, they heard a scream from behind them. They turned to see people running to one of the back wagons on the trail. Margaret and Angie ran to join the others, curious to see what had happened. As they neared the wagon, they heard more screaming and crying.
As they peered in between the crowd, they saw a little girl lying on the ground, motionless.
“She fell out of the back of the wagon!” someone said to another.
“Is she dead?” Angie asked Margaret.
“I don’t know,” Margaret responded.
The little girl’s mother was sobbing as her husband was trying to get a response from his daughter.
“Get back to the wagon!” Angie heard Homer’s voice behind her. She immediately turned and began walking back where Elmer was standing, holding the reins to the mules. Margaret was with her.
“What’s goin’ on?” Elmer asked her.
“A little girl fell out of a wagon!” Margaret was eager to tell him.
“Is she alright?” Elmer asked the girls.
The girls shrugged their shoulders and waited for Homer to come back.
After a short while, Wagon Master Taylor rode by them on his horse, heading back to the front of the wagon train. He looked grim and yelled, “Everyone, get ready to move on!”
Homer arrived soon after that.
“Is the little girl alright?” Elmer asked him.
“She’s dead,” Homer answered, “Her parents are staying behind to bury her. They’ll wait and join the oxen wagon train when they catch up to ‘em.”
Angie and Margaret stood silent for a moment, trying to absorb the news.
“She’s dead!” Margaret whispered to Angie.
“I know,” Angie said, “I feel bad for their family. I know how they feel. It really hurts.”
“I never saw anybody dead before,” Margaret confided, “Have you?”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Angie told her and started walking with the onset of the wagon train, resuming the journey.
Around the campfires that evening, the death of the little girl was the main topic everywhere. Angie was beginning to get sick to her stomach, just thinking about it, and covered her ears. Homer droned on and on about others he heard of dying on the wagon train trails over the past years.
She rose and said, “I’m going to bed now.”
“Go, go!” Homer waved her away.
“See ya in the morning, little lady,” Elmer smiled to her.
As she covered herself with her blanket and sunk down into the mattress, she could feel tears starting to run down her cheeks.
Stop it! She angrily chided herself, Crying won’t change anything! People live, people die. It just happens that way. After a few minutes of containing her emotions, she stared out the back of the wagon at the light from the campfires, the stars in the sky, and the moon that was in its full glory.
Dear God, she prayed, if I die tonight, help me not to be afraid. I miss my momma and daddy and Billy. Please take good care of them until I get there and then I’ll help you. I know it’s hard to take care of so many people. Get lots of rest and I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Good night God. Love, Angie Owens. Amen.