Emma's Journey (Oregon Trail 1)

Chapter Three

A flock of startled crows screeched and scattered as a clap of thunder resonated through the quiet morning air. Flat landscape with its waving grass and hidden dangers rolled on as far as the eye could see. Overhead, gathering clouds grew darker, threatening another downpour common to this part of the country. Small animals scurried over fallen branches, seeking shelter from predators soaring high above them. Predators that had the instinctive competence to make them its next meal.

Wind from the encroaching storm whipped Emma’s skirts, plastering them against her legs. She wrapped her arms around her middle, and stared at the body wrapped in cloth and tied with rope. A deep hole next to it gaped, dark and damp, like a beast ready to receive its quarry.

She bowed her head as Jeb read a passage from his Bible. Abigail and Sarah stood on either side of her, both with fingers pressed to their mouths. Tears slid down Emma’s cheeks, but she refused the handkerchief Elizabeth held out, preferring to use the corner of her apron.

“And now, let us bow our heads and recite the Lord’s Prayer.” Jeb’s deep, comforting voice rumbled over them.

Emma barely heard the words of the other mourners, as anxiety cut through her grief. What would become of her with Peter gone? Here she was headed to a place she didn’t want to go to begin with, and the husband who had insisted on it was about to be lowered into the ground. She inhaled a shuddering breath. Returning to Indiana was the only solution. She would tell Ezra as soon as possible that she would leave the group and head home.

As soon as Jeb finished the prayer, he nodded at Abigail, who turned to Emma and took her arm. They walked her away from the sound of shovels of dirt being dumped on Peter’s lifeless body. Emma shivered, the sound so final, so lonely. He would be left here, miles from his home, with only the crude cross someone had fastened for company.

“I think a cup of tea would be good.” Sarah gently took Emma’s other arm. “Let’s go to my wagon and I’ll make some.” Emma nodded and walked with her, feeling like a sleepwalker guided back to bed.

The slow walk toughened her resolve. She pushed aside the panic at the thought of retracing their three week trip alone. Maybe Ezra would allow one of the scouts to accompany her. Yes. She would insist he provide a guide. It wasn’t her fault he had so little control over his horses that one had killed her husband.

Once they reached Sarah’s wagon, Emma settled on a log as her friend and Abigail prepared the tea. After a while Elizabeth Preston joined them, speaking in a low voice to the other women. Stephen toddled over to his mother and hung onto her skirts. With the perception of the young, he sensed something was wrong with the adults, and needed comfort. Despite the efforts of the women to keep Emma occupied with trivial chatter so she didn’t hear clumps of earth filling the grave, she continued to shiver as each shovelful covered Peter’s body.

Shortly before noon, Jeb and Ezra joined the group of women around the campfire. Both men removed their hats and glanced briefly at Emma. Ezra cleared his throat and twirled his hat in his hands. His normally pale face flushed a deep red, the ruddiness rising from beneath his plaid wool shirt to his hairline.

Emma had just opened her mouth to make her request for a scout when Ezra spoke.

“Miz Thorpe.” He ran one meaty finger around the inside of his collar. “You know how sorry we all are for your loss.”

Emma closed her mouth, and stared at her fingers in her lap, pleating the white cotton of her apron.

“I know this is a bad time for you, Miz Thorpe, and I apologize if I seem uncaring, but since we’ll be continuing on our journey tomorrow, there is something I need to ask.”

Emma acknowledged Ezra with a nod, but continued to keep her eyes downcast.

“Ma’am, as you know when Mr. Thorpe was, ah, injured.” Ezra’s voice stumbled.

Emma raised her head, tears standing at the edge of her eyelids, threatening to spill over. “He was killed, Mr. Franklin. Not injured. Killed. By one of your horses.” Abigail’s warm hand covered Emma’s cold one.

“Ah, yes, Miz Thorpe, I do know that, and very sorry I am, but what I wanted to ask you is, well, since y’all are the only one in your wagon now…well it just seems right Christian-like for you to…what I mean to say is..” His voice faded, as he moved his mouth, and no sound came out. He turned to Jeb, his eyes pleading.

“Ezra is doing a bad job of asking for something, Emma.” Jeb sat and took her other hand. “He would like to know if you will take the other man who was injured in the accident into your wagon, and nurse him since yours is the only wagon with room.” Jeb tilted his brow, looking at her uncertainly.

Emma’s head shot up, and she regarded Ezra, her eyes wide, heat from the anger in her belly rushing to her face. She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart, and spoke in a calm, but deadly voice. “Ezra, surely you understand I can no longer continue on this journey? With Peter gone, I plan to return to my parent’s home in Indiana.”

Jeb rubbed his chin with index finger and thumb. “We know with Peter gone you probably feel the only alternative is to return to Indiana, but Emma, there is no way you can do that.”

“What do you mean?" Emma jumped up and almost knocked Jeb off the log. “Don’t any of you understand?” She glared at the group, hands fisted at her side. “I never wanted this to begin with. Now Peter’s gone, and I’m going home.” At the last part of her outburst, she covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Sarah hurried to her side, and gently guided her head onto her strong shoulder. She patted her back, and murmured softly, rocking her as she would one of her children.

After a few minutes, Jeb took Emma by the shoulders, and eased her away from Sarah. He led her back to the log, and she sat, sniffling in her handkerchief.

“Emma, please listen. There is no way you can return to Indiana, at least not now. You can’t just take your wagon and start for home. We’re in the middle of nowhere. You have to continue on to at least a place where you can make arrangements to go back with another wagon train or an escort.”

He searched Ezra’s face. “Ezra, how far do you reckon we need to go for Emma to be able to travel back?”

Ezra rested his hands on his hips. “To Oregon country if I want to be honest.” He sighed and added, “Miz Thorpe, you would need to travel back with another wagon train headed east. A woman by herself trying to make it back to Indiana is looking for big trouble. That’s why your husband came to me, since I know the trail, and I’ve done it before. I’m not comfortable telling you something that you most likely don’t want to hear, but I can’t in good conscience let you leave us until we reach Oregon country.” He mumbled the last part, shook his head, and glared at Jeb. “Hell, you talk to her.” Yanking on his hat, and nodding to the ladies, Ezra stomped away, leaving Jeb to continue the discussion. Emma had a strong urge to cover her ears with her hands and hum like she did when she was a small child.

“Don’t bother, Jeb,” Emma said, her voice rising “I’m going home and that’s that.”

“We all know you’re hurtin’ and for that we feel very sorry.” He darted a glance at his wife. “But you can’t travel by yourself from here back to Indiana. Be reasonable, it’s just not possible. If Ezra has to tie you up in your wagon, then I’m afraid he’ll do just that. He took on the responsibility for your safety when your husband contracted with him.” He faced the women. “Please talk to her, she needs to understand the dangers she would face.” Jeb squeezed Emma’s shoulder and left the group.

Emma stared after Jeb’s receding back, her eyes narrowed. Once he disappeared behind a wagon, she turned to the women. “I’m going back to Indiana. I want to leave this god forsaken place and go home.” She stomped her foot, arms crossed over her chest. “They can’t make me stay.”