As we bump along in the stagecoach, everyone's nerves start to get a little frayed. It's hotter than it has been for a long time, and I soon find myself shrugging out of my shawl and wishing I'd worn a lighter dress. Tobias is starting to squirm- I can imagine that it must be horrible for an energetic little boy to have to sit for hours on end. Lavinia has snapped at him several times, and Mrs. Reed hasn't said a thing about it. The only person who doesn't seem to be having trouble is Maudie- she's just perched on my lap, looking out the window with wide eyes. Every so often, she'll tap me and point something out- the fattest cow I've ever seen, a stray chicken beside the road. Animals seem to fascinate her.
We stop for a quick dinner at a rather rough-looking place along the road, and although Tobias, Lavinia, and especially Mrs. Reed seem slightly appalled at the small dinner of vegetable soup and thick brown bread, Maudie wolfs it down. Being so little, she scarcely cares what it is as long as it tastes good to her. But it's better than anything I've eaten in the past few weeks, and I scarcely leave a drop of soup remaining.
All too soon we're herded back into the stagecoach for several more long hours. As we're riding, it begins to rain- not heavily, but just enough that it creates a nice, light noise that drown out the rumbling noises of the road.
As we're riding, the woman across from us smiles hesitantly me. “That stew back there was wonderful,” she says, looking at me hopefully, as if she's doesn't have a conversation soon, she'll die.
This surprises me. I'd assumed she was a wealthy girl that had never eaten something like that, and, like the Reeds, turn up her nose at such a simple meal. But looking at her now, I notice that her shoes have several holes in them, and the hem of her dress has a tear in it. She clutches her dingy white shawl like it's the last thing she owns, and a wisp of her hair has escaped, dancing around her head madly in the breeze. She looks wistful- like the end of this unbearable ride will bring her a new life. I wonder if my expression is the same.
“It was, wasn't it? Absolutely delightful,” I say, smiling back at her. “I very much enjoyed the potatoes in it. I thought they were fantastic.”
“Of course,” she replies, “and I really enjoyed the carrots.”She begins to play with a string coming off of her shawl.
Mrs. Reed looks over at me, like she's trying to decide if it's a good thing I'm having the conversation or not. But Lavinia taps her arm, and her attention is directed back to her daughter.
“So where are you going?” I ask the girl, and she looks up, tucking a wisp of golden hair behind her ear.
“My husband owns a store in Independence, Missouri,” she replies. “My father is accompanying me there.” She pats his arm and smiles up at him, but he just offer's her a stony glance.
This girl's surprised me again. She looks a few years younger than me- sixteen, or seventeen at the most- and she already has a husband. Then again, I must be considered an old maid- twenty is quite old to not have a husband, and I suspect that my beautiful wedding dress from the Emmerson's will never be put to use.
“You're married?” I ask, before I can stop myself. That's probably considered a rude question- but I don't care. I'm too curious.
She nods solemnly. “It was a year last month. He moved out to Independence half a year ago to start a store, and then he sent for me.”
I bite my lip, but my next question somehow slips out of my mouth. “Excuse me for asking, but how old are you?”
She laughs. “I know, I look quite young. I've been told.” She giggles again. “I was seventeen on my last birthday.”
“Ah,” I say. “I must be an old maid, then.”
“What's your age, then?” she asks, looking me up and down.
“Twenty years.”
“Surely you have a husband,” she says, smiling at me again. “You're pretty enough. You've not a beau, either?”
“Never,” I tell her, ignoring the fact that that's the second time I've told that lie. “I'm likely to become an old maid.”
“Of course not!” she gasps. “Twenty’s young enough. And you're still pretty, and strong-looking. You'll snatch a man up in no time.”
“Well, I-”
“Miss Slate,” Mrs. Reed interrupts from the other side of the coach, “Do you really feel that this is an appropriate conversation?”
My stomach twists at the chastisement. For a minute, I feel slightly nauseous. I don't want to be in Mrs. Reed's bad graces this close to the beginning of the journey. I bow my head down. “My apologies, Mrs. Reed. Please excuse me.” I watch her carefully to see if she does anything, my wary eyes fixed on her stony look as I shiver a little from anxiety. “Please, Mrs. Reed, I promise to do better. I, I'll-”
Mrs. Reed lets out a short, mirthless laugh- a dry, barking noise. “I'm not going to take your job away, Miss Slate. It would take more than that. But see that it doesn't happen again.”
“Of course,” I say, and unwrap my hand from my skirt that I was clutching in nervousness.
I can practically see the gears turning in the other girl's head. She has a look of confusion in her eyes as she turns back to me. But I can tell she's too polite to ask, so I answer for her what I know she wants to ask. “We're also headed to Independence. We'll be traveling on the Oregon Trail this summer. I'll be a caregiver of sorts for these children.”
The other girl nods. “Beautiful children,” she murmurs, exactly how she knows she's supposed to. I can see Lavinia practically gleaming, and Mrs. Reed beside her looking extraordinarily proud of herself for birthing such gorgeous children.
“But,” the girl continues, “aren't you frightened to be going on the Oregon Trail? My friend's brother and sister-in-law died on their way to Oregon, like you'll be doing. My sister-in-law got ill from a sickness travling around, and my brother passed after being stampeded by runaway oxen. Apparently it's quite dangerous out there. Many people die, I've heard.”
Mrs. Reed gasps a little and tries to cover Lavinia and Tobias' ears at the same time. Lavinia repeats her mother's strangled little gasp, but Tobias just looks at the girl with interest. Maudie, with no clue as to what's going on around her, tugs on my sleeve to point out a lone horse wandering along the side of the road.
“Really,” Mrs. Reed says, “I'd prefer it if you girls would stop your inappropriate conversations. There are children here. Miss Slate, you should be paying attention to your charges instead of- excuse me, miss- a complete stranger. I am, after all, paying you to take care of my children.”
I feel slightly ill, and I realize that I need to end my conversations with this girl if I want to stay in Mrs. Reed's good graces. “Of course. My apologies,” I tell Mrs. Reed, but she still stares at me stonily.
“See that it doesn't happen again.” she says grumpily.
“Absolutely.” I say, and turn to play a hand-clapping game with Tobias.
*************************************
That night, we stop at a little place beside the road for supper and to spend the night. Mrs. Reed is still a bit upset with me for talking to the other girl in the coach about things she deems “inappropriate”. I have a stomachache from upsetting her- the last thing I need is to lose this job. Although she assured me that it would take more than an “inappropriate” conversation to fire me, I'm still quite concerned. I head down to supper, my body aching.
The supper is simple- chicken and brown bread. The Reeds look at it disdainfully once again, but I'm happy to have meat after such a long time without it. My meal is soon gone, washed down with a glass of water.
Lavinia picks at her chicken, alternating small bites with large gulps of water. When I ask her if she isn't hungry, she replies, “I need to keep my figure small.” She looks disdainfully at my large hips and the excess blubber on my stomach. I'm not upset. Lavinia will learn once she's married that as soon as she gives birth, her body will never be the same, either.
Tobias eats quite a bit, swallowing his meal almost as quickly as I do, and Maudie seems absolutely enchanted with the bread. “Good! Good!” she squeals as she breaks apart pieces and stuffs them in her mouth. I gently take her slice and divide it into tiny chunks, making sure that she doesn't have too much bread in her mouth at a time.
After supper, we retire to our rooms- Mrs. Reed decided that it would be best for the children and her to share a room, while I got my own. “Are you sure?” I asked her, reaching for my pocketbook. “I-I'll pay for my own room, if you'd like.”
She waved her hand in the air. “No, no. You're my employee. I'll pay for your own room.” And we didn't share another word about it.
Now, sitting on my bed all alone, I wonder if her kindness was just because she didn't want me near her children. My head begins to pound. What if she does want to fire me?
I get up and pace around a bit, to clear my head. No, I reprimand myself. She wouldn't do that. She assured me she wouldn't. She can't be that cruel. Besides, I just made a simple mistake- talking to a strange girl about odd topics. If I don't do it again, I'll be fine. My job is NOT in jeopardy.
I pace a bit more until I realize that I must go relieve myself. Sighing, I realize that the nearest place to do so is the outhouse far beyond the building. Wrapping my longest, thickest shawl around my nightdress, I step out of my small room and into the hallway, praying that I don't run into anyone. It would be incredibly embarrassing to have someone see me with my hair down, in my nightdress. Hurry I tell myself as I walk quickly and quietly down the hallway.
As soon as I step out of the door, I want to curse myself. I forgot my shoes in my room- I'm barefoot, and the dewy grass is creeping up my feet, brushing against my ankles.
I figure that since I'm already outdoors, I should just go, instead of heading back to my room to retrieve my shoes. Besides, I don't want them getting wet. I shrug my shoulders at myself and continue on to the outhouse.
As I step quickly over the moist ground, I find myself wishing that I had a lantern. Although I can make out the faint outline of the outhouse, I find myself nearly tripping on several occasions. Chastising myself for stumbling over my own feet, I continue on, happy to almost be there.
I'm about twenty feet away from the outhouse when I suddenly feel a sharp pain in my foot. I let out a sharp yelp and lean against a tree, craning my neck to see what happened to the bottom of my left foot.
“Are you alright?” a soft voice asks from in front of me, and I shriek again, this time in surprise.
The voice laughs. “It's fine. You're the girl from the stagecoach, aren't you? The one going on the Oregon Trail. Here, let me see your foot.” She gently picks up my ankle and strains to look at it.
As she's looking, I recognize the girl from earlier today, the one who I was talking to in the stagecoach. Squinting in the faint light, I see that she's also in her nightdress, with her hair down. I guess my praying didn't work- I did run into someone, even if it turns out I needed to.
Suddenly, there's another pain in my foot, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out. The girl straightens up once again, holding something small between her fingertips. “There. It was a thorn that went in pretty deep. But it's out now.” She tosses it as hard as she can into a tangle of shrubs. “What were you doing out here?”
“Going to the outhouse, same as you, I suspect. Thank you for pulling the thorn out. I really must be going.” I don't really want to talk to the girl anymore, after Mrs. Reed got upset with us for conversing.
“Oh, you don't want to talk because of that woman, right?” the girl asks. “The one who got angry with you. Don't worry, I could tell that she won't make you lose your job.”
“How could you tell?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
She scoffs. “Because you're the only choice she has. You're the only girl who'll work for that witch of a woman. I can tell that she won't be easy to deal with for the rest of your journey. Best of luck with that.” She pats my arm. “I won't talk to you anymore, either. I wouldn't want you to lose your job, even though you won't. I can tell.” With that, she spins on her heel and begins to walk away. “Have a good rest of your journey. I know you'll make it to Oregon fine, though. None of you will pass away on the trip. Your group will have a good run of it.”
“But how do you know?” I call after her.
She turns and grins. “Before my father married me off and made a respectable woman out of me, I used to work as a psychic. I actually made a fairly good living. I can tell futures, and fortunes and such, and I can tell that you won't lose your job.I had to stop working as one a few years ago, when my father got fed up with me. I still am one- I just don't tell fortunes or futures for money anymore. I'm not supposed to tell anyone, though. It'll ruin my reputation, my father and husband say.” Her grin becomes wider. “I'm not jesting with you, either. I know you don't believe me. But try to, because I tell the truth.” She turns and walks away farther. “Have a good journey!” she yells before she disappears into the blackness of the night, back toward the lodge.
I stand, staring at the spot where she stepped a moment earlier. Poppa told us never to believe in psychics, but Momma once admitted to me that she did. And Rosalind, a little while before she left, told me she'd secretly seen one who was traveling through town. “Do you believe it?” my young adolescent self whispered. “Of course I do,” she replied, before walking away.
I shake my head, and continue to the outhouse. I suppose it couldn't hurt to believe this strange girl, could it? She was right about one thing- I probably am the only girl who'll willingly work for Mrs. Reed. I breathe a small sigh of relief. I suppose my job is safe, after all. I head back to the lodge, a strange sense of calm coming over me.
********************************
In the middle of the night, I wake up to a strange pounding on the roof. Startled, I sit straight up, clutching my blankets, until I realize that it's just heavy rain. I settle back into my bed, the most comfortable bed I've slept in my entire life. Twenty years of laying on a flimsy mattress has toughened my back, and I almost wish for a harder surface- I'm not used to a nice mattress atop a real bed. But I snuggle myself in between blankets and a pillow, and soon I'm fast asleep once again.
**********************************
In the morning, I wake up fairly early. I pull on a different dress than yesterday, praying that I'll have the chance to wash all of my clothes in Independence. After tightly wrapping a shawl around my shoulders and pulling on my shoes, I pin back my hair and sit down on my bed, unsure what to do. Should I wait for the Reeds, or just head down to breakfast? I sit with my legs crossed under me, Indian-style, as Momma would call it- most unladylike- and contemplate what I should do.
I don't have to wait long- soon after that I hear a knocking at the door. I pull it open to reveal Mrs. Reed with Maudie and Lavinia. “Thank goodness you're up,” she says, shoving Maudie into my arms. “Dress her, and then help Lavinia fix her hair. I need to help Tobias.” She presses Maudie's clothes into my hand, along with a fistful of hair pins. She lightly pushes Lavinia into the room, and then disappears into her own room.
I set Maudie on the bed and dress her, which is not an easy feat. She squirms and giggles as I attempt to pull her dress on. Finally, she's dressed for the day, and I turn to Lavinia.
She's perched on the end of my bed, with her ankles neatly crossed and her hands folded into her lap. Her beautiful lavender frock is crisscrossed with multiple raspberry-colored ribbons, and I can tell it must have been quite expensive. I find myself wondering if she owns any real travel clothes, or if this dress is one of the most casual ones she owns. If it is, then she'll be in for a big shock- I know it won't last the journey without getting dirtied or ripped beyond repair- like all of her dresses, I suppose.
Her hair is still in it's rag curlers, and I assume that taking the hair out is what my task will be. I carefully pick up a section and beginning pulling it out.
After all of her hair is out of it's curlers, the brown ringlets falling perfectly about her face, I ask Lavinia, “What would you like me to do with it know? Just pin the front bit back, or all of it?”
“Just do it how it was yesterday,” she replies tartly, “or do you not remember?”
“I remember perfectly,” I tell her, which is the truth. I pin the front pieces back from her face and fluff the hair a bit. “There. Done.”
She glances into a mirror that's sitting above a crudely made vanity. “Not as good as Mama does it. But I suppose it'll have to do.” She lets out a long sigh, and looks at me disdainfully. I just smile at her.
*******************************
Breakfast is leftover brown bread with some of the most delicious strawberry jam I've ever had- much better than the lone strawberries I used to mash up on top of my rolls.
We set out soon after that- our second day bouncing around in the stagecoach. The one man got off at the lodge last night, but he was replaced by another man who got on at the lodge this morning.
It's quiet inside the stagecoach, except for Tobias, who's incessant whining is starting to get on everyone's nerves. He didn't eat much for breakfast, complaining that the bread was “disgusting” and “too dry”.
“I'm hungry,” he whines, for at least the tenth time. “Mama, I'm hungry.”
“There's nothing I can do about it, Tobias,” Mrs. Reed snaps at him. “You'll just have to wait until dinner. You should have eaten more at breakfast.”
He scowls and sticks his lip out.
“Wait a minute,” I say suddenly, reaching in my pocketbook. “I'd nearly forgotten. Here.” I pull out the peppermint candy sticks that I bought from the Emmersons yesterday and hand one to Tobias. “I bought these for you children yesterday, and I forgot to give them to you. Here you are.” I pass one to Lavinia, and pull the last one out of Maudie's mouth, unwrapping it and then handing it back to her. “It tastes better with the wrapping off, dear.”
Mrs. Reed looks over. “I'm not sure it's wise, Miss Slate, to give the children candy this early in the morning. They'll be very energetic from all of the sugar.”
“I'm sure it will be fine,” I shoot back. “Tobias was hungry, and this solved the problem.”
Mrs. Reed shrugs, and looks away.
A shiver of anxiety washes through me. Did she think that was rude of me? What if she wants to take away my job, after all?
The girl sitting across from me catches my eye. Your job is fine she mouths. Don't worry. I give her a small nod to show her I understand, and she gives me a reassuring smile back.
I'm starting to believe this girl's “psychic” abilities, although I pray she isn't just telling me all of this to be kind and make me feel better about myself. But something about her just makes me want to believe her.
************************
When we stop for dinner at a small place along the road, we sit down to a small meal of potatoes and trout caught from a nearby lake. It's about noon, and although you'd usually expect sunshine at this time of day, the sky is gray, and it looks like it will start to rain any second.
As forks clink against the plates, the clouds seem to open up. Rain starts to pour down, thundering against the roof and dripping down the windows in fast streams.
A group of people from a different stagecoach come rushing in, dripping wet from the rain. The driver from their stagecoach pulls our driver aside, into another room. The second group of people start to try to dry themselves off as we hastily offer them our seats.
Our driver enters back into the room. “Bad news, folks,” he says sullenly. “The roads, starting about a mile southeast of here, are covered in mud from the rain last night and this morning. It's impossible for any coach to go through. We'll be stuck here for several days, until they dry out.”
Several groans sound out around the room, and my stomach sinks. I can't stand the thought of spending more time than I have to cooped up with these people. I already know that these will be some of the longest days of my life.
*****************************
We spend the next two days in the lodge we ate lunch at. I play endless games with the children while Mrs. Reed “rests.” Frankly, though, I believe she just doesn't want to have to deal with the children any more than she has to.
Friday morning, our driver finally announces that he's heard that the roads are now dry enough for us to travel on. We pack up our things as quickly as possible and file into the stagecoach once again.
*******************************
We travel for several more days, until, finally, the next Thursday, we arrive in Independence- three days after we had planned. I don't mind it that much, but Mrs. Reed seems horribly put back by our lateness.
“It was terrible,” she told Mr. Reed as soon as we met up with him at the boarding house we're staying at until we set out. “Some of the worst days of my life.”
As soon as we arrive at the boarding house in the late evening, we each eat a roll and retire to bed- the Reed's sharing a room, while I get my own again.
As tired as I am, I sit in the chair in my room and stare out my window at the town of Independence for a while. I'm nervous- no, scared is more like it. Tomorrow, I meet Mrs. Reed's sister's family, and our guide- the people I'll be spending the next several months with. I hope we get along, and that I'll manage to remember my place.
But tonight, there's nothing to do but worry, so I blow out my candle and pray for the best.
*****************************
First of all: Shattered Trail now has over 250 reads! Thank you to everyone who has voted, commented, and read!
This chapter was kind of choppy and had some very short, jumpy scenes- sorry! My apologies! The next one will be better, I promise!
And also, sorry, this was kind of a filler chapter, but in the next chapter, Antonia gets to meet all kinds of cool people! Yay! :)
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