THE FIRST MONTH passed with the telling of many more fantasy stories between Angie and Margaret, which became a pleasant distraction from the more than half a dozen deaths that had occurred. Most of the accidents were due to falling under heavy-laden wagons, rattlesnake bites, and one childbirth death. Even though grief ran through the wagon train, the growing death toll became less and less shocking and more and more common.
The wagon train was making good time. The trail was well worn from the thousands of pioneers who had made the trek in the past 13 years before them. What used to take five months to cross the nation, could now be walked in 2 to 3 months, if the weather was good. New, easier trails had been found and ferries had been built across rivers. It was important to cross the mountains before the snows fell, and everyone was pushing hard because of their late start. This would be the last wagon train crossing the mountains this year. Along with the fast pace and poor feeding conditions, the trip was beginning to take a toll on the horses and mules. The plan was to reach Fort Laramie as quickly as they could so that they could get fresh replacements.
At Fort Laramie, horse traders would buy the spent animals and sell healthy animals in their place. The horses and mules would then be properly fed and rested until they were returned to good condition, and then sold to the next wagon train to come through their area. Oxen could usually make the trip across country without needing to be traded out, but were a lot slower in making the journey.
Angie looked up at the sky and was bothered by how dark it was growing for mid-afternoon. The air felt unusually warm and the winds were picking up speed.
“A storm is coming,” Margaret told her.
“We need to keep movin’,” Homer instructed. “Gotta find shelter.”
Soon Wagon Master Taylor directed the wagon train away from the main trail and over closer to the base of the rolling hills.
“Circle up and hunker down!” he instructed, “Tie your livestock to your wagons. Tie down your belongings and get inside or under your wagons!”
The travelers hurried to get themselves situated and Elmer lifted Angie up into the wagon.
“Stay there,” Elmer instructed as he left to help Homer.
Angie crawled under her blanket and could feel the hot wind coming through the back of the wagon. The wind was getting blustery and the temperatures were uncomfortable. It was but a few moments when the rain began to fall and soon became a heavy torrent. The muddy water drove Homer and Elmer out from under the wagon and they climbed inside to keep dry. Homer covered the openings with tarps to keep the rain out. It was crowded, and with the three of them huddled together, the air inside the wagon felt humid and stifling.
“Don’t have time for all this rain,” Homer complained, “We’re losin’ time. I’m tired of this wagon train. It’s takin’ way too long to get there. I shoulda never hired on for this job.”
“Here,” Elmer said handing Homer a piece of jerky, “have somethin’ to eat.” And then he gave Angie a piece to chew on.
“I’m not just jawin’, “Homer said to Elmer. There’s gotta be a faster way to get to Sacramento. I’m running outta patience with only twenty miles a day. We can make it faster on our own.”
“I don’t think that’s safe,” Elmer told him.
”Safe?!” Homer remarked, “People’s dying all round us every day!”
The wind began to blow harder than before, shaking the wagon violently. Angie felt fear flow through her, praying that the wagon wouldn’t tip over.
Elmer wanted to change the subject. “Angie, ya ever heard the song ‘Sweet Molly McQueen’?”
Angie shook her head ‘no’.
“It goes somethin like this… ” Elmer smiled and then sang Angie a silly song that made her laugh.
“Teach me the song,” Angie begged.
Elmer and Angie spent the next hour singing and changing the words to the song which made the tune even sillier.
“That’s ‘nough!” Homer exploded. “Can’t take no more!”
The silence was sudden, and only the sound of rain and wind could be heard.
“Best take a nap,” Elmer whispered in Angie’s ear. “Not much else to do ‘til this storm passes.”
Angie laid her head against Elmer’s arm and closed her eyes.
The storm stayed through the night, and by early morning, the muddy roads made it difficult to get started.
When Elmer saw Angie struggling to walk through the mud as the wagon train began to move, he trudged over and picked her up, placing her up on top of the mule that was trailing in the back.
Homer went to say something, but Elmer cut him off, “She’s riding! Don’t want to hear a word about it!”
Homer glared at Elmer. “You’re forgettin’ yerself Elmer! I’ll square with you later!”
Elmer ignored him and went back up to the front to help pull the tired mules through the mud.
The further the wagon train moved, the more Homer complained. The roads were beginning to dry out, but the mud was caked on the mule’s feet and wagon wheels. After they stopped for the night, Homer sat chipping the dried mud from the mule’s hoofs, swearing under his breath and cursing his decision to take on the journey. “No money’s worth this much sweat and blood.”
“Wagon Master Taylor says we’ll be in Fort Laramie tomorrow.” As Elmer worked on the wagon wheels, he tried to encourage Homer, “We can get a warm bath and a hot steak there. An’ some fresh mules.”
Homer just grunted and Angie knew better than to get in his way.