The Rocky Mountains were looming large in front of them as they began seeing more and more trees and green grass.
“We should be comin’ up on the crossing point soon, within the next couple hours the way I figure it,” Homer told Elmer.
“You been thinkin’ how we’re gonna get across that river?” Elmer asked.
“Can’t be that hard,” Homer answered, “Others have crossed there lots of times.”
“An’ others have drowned there, lots of times,” Elmer added, being careful not to let Angie hear his concern.
“You been mighty uppity lately,” Homer glanced over at his brother, “You think you know more than me?”
“Sometimes, I think I do,” Elmer responded.
“Don’t challenge me, Elmer,” Homer threatened, “I’ve a mind to put you in yer place as it is! I think after we get this girl delivered to her folk, you and me best go our separate ways. Don’t want to come to blows with you, Elmer, but it seems to be headin’ thataway.”
“Seems to me that might be best too,” Elmer agreed, “I’m gonna head back to Missouri, see if Gertie will marry me anyhow.”
Homer shot Elmer a sharp glare and then said, “Sometimes, I think you were born with only half a brain, Elmer. No woman is worth marryin’.”
“Well, that’s where I differ from you,” Elmer smiled to himself, “I think Gertie is, and I think she just might have me.”
“She’ll just leave ya, just like ma did,” Homer told him.
“Yeah, well, don’t forget, pa left too,” Elmer added. “But Gertie’s different. She didn’t leave her man. He went and died on her. She’s true blue. I just know she is!”
“Not worth the pain and sufferin’,” Homer shook his head, “You’ll regret it. Ya can’t even trust family!”
The closer they neared the river, the colder the air became.
“After we cross the river, we’ll head straight for Fort Hill, Idaho and then along the Humbolt River through Nevada and we’ll be in California in a couple weeks. Sacramento about a week after that,” Homer thought out loud.
“Three more weeks,” Elmer said thoughtfully.
“Better than that if we can push the mules a little harder,” Homer suggested, “Travel a few more hours a day.”
Elmer nodded his head, “Should be able to do that.”
“Are you really going to go back to Missouri?” Angie asked Elmer.
“Where’d you hear that?” Elmer asked her.
“I heard you talking to Homer,” Angie answered, “You want to go back and marry Gertie.”
“Well, ain’t you got big ears,” Elmer smiled. “Yep, I’m headin’ back just as soon as we get our money from this here trip.”
“If I don’t like my aunt and uncle, can I come with you?” Angie asked.
“Come with me?” Elmer looked surprised, “Why on earth would ya want to do that?”
“I miss Elma and George,” she answered, “I want to go back home.”
“Sacramento’s gonna be yer home,” Elmer said gently.
“Please?” Angie begged, “Please promise me?”
“Well, we’ll just have to see when we get there, won’t we,” he answered her, but not promising anything.
The rain began to come down, just a sprinkle but it was enough to dampen Homer’s attitude.
“That’s all we need,” Homer fumed, “more mud.”
“There’s the river,” Elmer said as they approached the Green River. It was overrun with water rushing over huge boulders, “This must be Red Butte. Where we gonna cross?”
“Seems like a good spot down there,” Homer pointed a little farther upstream.
“The water seems a little high,” Elmer said as he studied the river, “Moving awful fast.”
“Aw, not that fast,” Homer scowled at Elmer, “Come on, let’s get this wagon across.”
When they arrived at the spot that Homer had chosen, Elmer yelled over the sound of the rushing water, “Angie, get in the wagon! You’ll be safer in there!”
She did as Elmer told her to, and Homer climbed onto the front of the wagon to drive it across. Elmer agreed to tread water and lead the mules by their bridles, just in case they spooked.
“If it gets too deep, just climb up on one of them mules,” Homer instructed. Elmer nodded in agreement.
“Git up!” Homer yelled at the mules. They hesitated but Homer kept driving them forward with Elmer pulling on their bridles, “Come on ya stubborn beasts, move!”
The mules were strong and pulled away, put Homer and Elmer fought with them until they began to move out into the river. The deeper they went into the water, the more the mules began to become alarmed. The strength of the water pushed them off balance and the slippery rocks under their hooves only added to the turmoil. Elmer struggled to keep on his feet as he fought to keep the mules moving forward. Homer kept yelling at the mules and the wagon was rocking violently in the river. Angie began to get scared and soon became frozen with fear.
In the middle of the river, the mules lost their footing, reared up and began braying in panic. They pulled away from Elmer and thrashed through the water. Elmer yelled for help as he was washed downstream, with Homer losing grip of the reins.
Angie knew they were in trouble, and could hear the wood of the wagon cracking and breaking. The water under the wagon was beginning to shake the wagon violently and move it swiftly through the rapids. There was no more control and she felt helpless feeling the wagon hit the boulders along the river.
As the wagon began to break up, Angie called out, “God help me! Please help me!”
Her blanket was close by, so she grabbed it and pressed it close to her for comfort.
The next thing she knew, the wagon was tipping over and onto its side. She screamed as the water began rushing inside. The canopy tore from the ribs of the wagon and possessions began to pour into the river.
She felt the water trying to suck her out of the wagon. Noise from the wood breaking all around her was deafening along with the sound of rushing water. She was being tossed around forcibly as what was left of the wagon spun and twisted through the river. She fought to keep her head above water and held onto the side of the wagon with one hand and her blanket with the other. Through her screams she kept praying for help. Suddenly, the river began to ease, and then she realized that she was drifting, holding onto only a few boards, what was left of the back of the wagon. Then she felt herself stop, the wood caught between several boulders on the side of the river.
It took her a few minutes to catch her breath and to realize that she had reached the shore unscathed. She dragged her blanket, heavy with water, upon one of the boulders and then used all the strength she had left to pull herself out of the water and on top of another boulder.
She looked around her as she waited for her heart to stop pounding. All she could see was the wreckage from the wagon and most of their belongings washing away with the currents.
Where was Homer and Elmer? Where were the mules?
“There you are!” she heard from behind her.
It was Homer, walking down the bank toward her.
“Come on, help me collect these here boards,” Homer ordered, “We need to make a raft.”
“Why?” Angie questioned.
“Cause the mules are on the other side of the river, ya dumb girl, and we’ve gotta go get ‘em,” Homer answered, frustrated and drenching wet.
“Where’s Elmer?” Angie asked.
“Last I seen him he was bein’ washed down river.”
“We need to find him!” Angie became alarmed.
“No sense in doin’ that. He’s long gone by now.” Homer told her.
“But he may need our help!” Angie tried to reason with Homer.
“Don’t be stupid, girl,” Homer snarled, “If the rocks haven’t killed him, the currents surely have!”
“Don’t you care about Elmer?” Angie argued. “He’s your brother!”
“Don’t do no good to get emotio
nal,” Homer was getting even more agitated, “Can’t bring him back. Come on now, help me get these boards.”
Angie shook her head ‘no’ and refused to move.
“You stupid, stupid girl!” Homer was extremely irritated by now, “If I wasn’t to get the other half of my money when I get you to California, I’d leave you here to die!”
“Go ahead!” Angie challenged him as she picked up her wet blanket and carefully made her way over the boulders and onto the shore.
“Just shut yer trap and help me,” Homer ordered.
“Help yourself because I’m not going to help you!” Angie said as she found herself a place to sit down.
“Why, you little brat! You’re tryin’ my patience!” Homer was furious, “You need a good paddlin’ and I’m just the one to give it to ya!”
“I’m not afraid of you,” Angie set her jaw and looked stubbornly away from his stare.
Homer grunted, “You’ll get yours later” and then angrily began dragging the boards he could reach out of the water.
After he had an ample collection of wooden planks, Homer began to look around for something to tie the boards together with.
Angie could see four of the mules farther on down the other side of the river grazing on fresh grass with the tongue of the wagon still attached to the back of them. Everything else had been washed down the river, including the fifth mule. She hoped that Elmer and the mule survived and that they found each other, and Elmer was riding to meet up with the wagon train.
Homer swore as his frustration grew trying to find vines or anything that would suffice as rope.
Suddenly, his face lit up as he spotted Angie’s blanket.
“That’ll do!” Homer said as he approached her and snatched up the blanket.
“What are you doing?” Angie feared as she grabbed for her blanket.
Homer took out his pocket knife and cut the end stitch and began to unravel the knots.
“Stop it! Don’t do that! You’re ruining my blanket!” Angie screamed as she tried to pull the blanket from his grasp.
Homer shoved Angie down onto the ground while retaining the blanket in his grasp. As he continued to unravel the blanket even more, he said, “Don’t give me no more trouble, ya hear? We need this here yarn to tie up the raft. You can have it back when we reach the other side of the river.”
“I hate you for what you’re doing! That’s all I have left of my family!” Angie yelled at him.
“Don’t make no difference to me whether ya hate me or not,” Homer responded. “What’s gotta be done, has gotta be done.”
Angie refused to help Homer bind the boards together with her yarn. She would only sit and glare at him. Her many months of working hard on her blanket, her blessings, all unraveled, all gone. She ached inside and wanted to cry but she was too angry to cry.
“Come on,” Homer said when he launched the raft into the water, “Get on. The river’s pretty peaceful here. We should have no trouble gettin’ to the other side.”
Angie got up and gathered up what yarn Homer had not used and then boarded the raft, sitting down on the front as Homer sat toward the back of the raft, using a fairly long plank to row with. No words were exchanged as Homer steered the handmade raft to the other side, just down from where the mules were eating. One mule looked up at them with curiosity and then went back to eating.
“Come on, girl. Let’s get them mules and find the trail. Maybe we can find the wagon train again. With no wagon to pull, we should be able to make good time and catch ‘em,” Homer said. “Got no food or water. We’ll need the wagon train to help us now.”
Angie knelt down to untie her yarn.
“Whatcha doin’?” Homer became irritated again.
“Getting my yarn,” Angie answered as she began untying the string from the boards.
“We don’t have time for that you stupid girl! We gotta unhitch these mules and catch that wagon train!” Homer said impatiently.
“Not without my yarn,” Angie continued to untie each board. “You said I could get my yarn when we got to the other side.”
Homer grabbed Angie by the arm and yanked her to her feet.
“Come on!” Homer began to drag her away from the raft.
But Angie began pulling away in the other direction trying to reach the raft, yelling at the top of her lungs, “No, let me go! You said I could have my yarn! Let go of me!”
The ruckus caught the attention of two Shoshone braves who had been out hunting. The yells of the little girl sounded like cries for help and the Indian men rode their horses down the bank of the river until they came to the opening where they saw a white man pulling a little girl against her will. They assumed she was in trouble and approached Homer and Angie.
Homer was startled to see them and exclaimed, “Injuns!”
He pulled his knife out of his pocket and threw back his arm in an attempt to throw the knife at the two strangers, but one of the braves was able to toss his spear before Homer could release his knife. The spear hit Homer square in the chest, taking Homer down to the ground. As Homer fell, he lost his grip on Angie’s arm and she ran immediately back to the raft and began untying her yarn from around the boards again.
One of the Indians dismounted his horse and checked Homer, only to find him dead, and then they both looked at Angie feverishly gathering her yarn. They looked at each other with surprise and were puzzled at the little girl’s behavior. Was she crazy?
The brave who was still standing next to the dead white man went over to Angie, knelt down and began to help her untie and gather the yarn. He did not understand her fierce desire for this colored string, but he knew it was important to her and he would help her. She looked at him gratefully as she continued her work. The other brave covered Homer’s body with branches, leaves and dirt.
As Angie stood up with her arms holding huge heaps of yarn, the Shoshone braves helped her gather the last of her yarn and walked her to their horses. Angie somehow knew she must go with them and never questioned the thought as survival was her only concern now. She rode in behind one of the braves, the other brave leading the unhitched mules behind his horse.
As they rode along the river, Angie looked back at where she last saw Homer. She hadn’t fully comprehended yet the fact that he was dead, and that Elmer was probably dead as well. She looked at her huge armload of wet yarn in front of her and the long black hair running down the back of the man in front of her. Again, that feeling of familiarity, combined with the feeling of unfamiliarity was overwhelming her.
She then became aware of the cold against her wet clothes, causing her to shiver. She wished her blanket was dry and whole again. She wanted to wrap it around her and feel its warmth one more time.
My blessings, she thought, All my blessings are gone. I’ve got to put them back together again. I will, I promise you momma. I’ll crochet the blanket back together and put all the blessings back into it. And it will keep me warm.
The Village