Sarah sighed and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Promise me you’ll give this some time to consider. Just think it over for a day or two.”
“Fine.” Emma said. “But nothing is going to change my mind.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ezra had announced a day of rest for the travelers since the funeral for Peter had eaten up a good portion of the morning. Emma used the time to brood. Once or twice Sarah stopped by to check on her, but Emma assured her she was fine. Anger had taken over her grief.
After a cold supper of beans and hard bread from the night before, she visited a nearby creek and washed her hands and face, and cleaned her teeth. Not wishing company this night, she bypassed Sarah’s campfire, and returned to her wagon. She slipped on her cotton nightgown, and brushed and braided her hair. With a deep sigh, she pulled out the bedroll and, changing her mind, dragged it into the wagon, and arranged a sleep space. It was tight, but more secure with Peter no longer there with her.
Darkness had enveloped the wagon train, all the campfires now extinguished, the scent of their woodsy smoke still lingering in the air. The hum of conversations had died out, leaving Emma alone and tossing and turning in the wagon. The floor of the wagon was warmer, but no softer than the ground. Hours passed, but her racing thoughts kept sleep dancing out of reach.
She couldn’t believe Ezra expected her to not only continue with the wagon train, but to actually take that arrogant Mr. Davis in her wagon and nurse him back to health. Guilt pricked her since she had no reason to believe the man was arrogant, since the few times she’d passed him by, he always treated her with respect. But thinking that made her feel better about refusing to help. Indeed most definitely unchristian like, she wished he had died instead of Peter. She quickly uttered a quick prayer at the thought.
Emma rolled from one side to the other and yanked the blanket up to her shoulders. That she couldn’t just abandon the wagon train right here and now had slowly sunk in since her conversation with Ezra and Jeb earlier in the day. As much as she ached for her parent’s comfort and her home, Emma knew in her heart there was no way she could find her way back alone. And since she’d refused to help Mr. Davis, it didn’t seem likely Ezra would give her a guide to accompany her.
?
?Damn this wagon train, and Ezra, and Mr. Davis and everyone else,” she groused as she thumped her pillow. She flushed at the use of a cuss word, then flipped to her back, hands laced over her stomach. Her gaze roamed the inside of the wagon, and settled on the canvas stretched across the top. The way things stood, she had no choice but to continue on, and most likely take Mr. Davis along with her as well.
“The Christian-like thing to do, indeed.” She turned over once more and tried desperately to relax her body enough to get some sleep before the sun came up over the horizon. Tomorrow would be another horrible day in an endless string of them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Miz Thorpe. Miz Thorpe?” Emma shadowed her eyes with her hand as she stuck her head out the back of the wagon and regarded Ezra standing no more than two feet from her. His stance assured her of his determination, and that he hadn’t changed his mind since yesterday.
She sighed, and flipped her braid over her shoulder. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry to wake you, Miz Thorpe, but I came to re-arrange your wagon so we can make room for Davis.”
He sure didn’t waste any time. “Fine, Ezra, just fine,” she snapped. “Just give me a few minutes to dress.”
Emma backed into the wagon, and quickly pulled off her nightgown and slipped into a petticoat and dress. “Can’t even give a body time to dress and make herself presentable,” she grumbled as she rolled black cotton stockings on and laced up her boots.
Her eyes felt gritty, and her mouth like old cotton. She ignored Ezra as she marched past him on the way to the creek. He immediately began pulling things out of her wagon to re-arrange them. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered to her right now. All she wanted to do was get to Oregon so she could turn right around and go back to Indiana.
“I made enough room for Davis, ma’am,” Ezra said as she returned. “Me and a couple of the others will bring him over shortly.” Emma nodded and began her morning duties. She started a fire like she saw Peter do and fixed coffee and bacon for herself. Tears came to her eyes once more, as a sense of loss enveloped her. She missed Peter’s chatter and good morning mood. They’d only shared breakfast for five months, but her heart ached knowing they never would again, and he was gone from her life forever.
Once more guilt washed over her as she recalled the harsh words she’d hurled at him before he went off to die under the hoofs of a panicked animal. Emma leaned her head back and stared at the cloudy sky. “Peter, you know I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m scared. More scared now that you’re gone. I love you.” She brought her shaky fingers up to her lips and swallowed useless tears.
A man’s shout yanked her from her thoughts. She stood and took a deep breath, clearing away the remnants of her breakfast.
“Be careful, men. Don’t hit the side of that wagon. Boy, pay attention!” Ezra and two other men headed in her direction, dragging a travois behind them. The still form of Mr. Davis rested there, either asleep or unconscious. Turning her back on them, she washed the dishes from breakfast, slamming pots, clanking metal utensils. With that done, she kicked out the fire, and stomped over to the bushes to take care of her necessities.
Ezra squinted against the sun and met her in front of her wagon as she returned. The empty travois sat outside her wagon, where she assumed Mr. Davis was now settled.
“Miz Thorpe,” he began “I have Davis’s saddlebags here. I’d like to put them in the wagon with him, but I wanted you to know about it.”
Emma drew herself up, her chin in the air as she viewed the worn brown leather bags with distaste. “If those saddlebags contain any spirits, I’m telling you right now I’m dumping it out before we leave today. I will not have drinking going on in my wagon.”
Ezra’s lips twitched. “Ma’am, from what I’ve seen, Davis is not a drinking man, but you’re free to look for yourself.”
“And so I will.” Emma nodded at Ezra and turned back to her work. It was time to load the things she had used for breakfast. After gathering everything up, she tossed it in the back of the wagon at the sound of Ezra’s retreating footsteps.
She stopped and watched her unwelcome guest lying in the wagon, his eyes still closed. He needed a shave and his clothes were none too clean. She wrinkled her nose, and shifted her gaze. That wasn’t her problem. She’d agreed to nurse him, but nothing else.
Emma cautiously slid the saddlebags toward her and pushed open the flap with one finger. She viewed some clothes, a knife, and a jar of some type of ointment. After moving them aside, she turned up gloves, a banged up canteen, some jerky, a shaving razor, a little bit of money, a cup, some eating utensils, and a jacket. No bottles of spirits.
“Find what y’all are looking for?” The raspy voice caused her to jump.