Chapter 2
April 28 - Half a day from Spanish Springs
Adam stood at the open tailgate of the O'Hara wagon staring at the tiniest pair of feet with the ugliest collection of blisters. Rheta O'Hara, six-years-old, had been crying all morning about her feet hurting. While it wasn't a new complaint from any of the younger children, her tears had been a little more distressing than usual. Adam had let her ride on the wagon seat most of the morning, crammed in with himself and her other two sisters.
Now he knew the reason for her complaints. One of two.
"Where are your stockings?"
Rheta looked away from him.
"Did you lose them?"
The little foot was yanked out of his hand and Rheta tucked her foot under her skirts, out of sight, out of mind. "Rheta.." Adam put a little more heat into his voice, then looked behind her in the wagon, shifting the blankets and cooking things around until he found a tin cup with a wad of cloth stuffed into it.
Adam held up the ball of cloth and a second later the smell came to him. He did his best not to gag or toss the offending articles into the lunch fire. Rheta gave him another guilty look and he could see tears welling again. They were by a river, and they had soap and a wash board. Adam wasn't sure washing would successfully rescue the stockings, or that rescuing the tattered garment was even worth it.
He took the cup and the stockings to the river anyway and at least rinsed the cup out before putting it in the pile of dishes to be cleaned and rinsed with boiling water. On his way past the collection of men and children cleaning up lunch he muttered, "I think we need a laundry detail. And baths...once a week."
He missed Bucky, Joe and Fovey sniffing their own armpits in confusion, but heard laughter behind his back and assumed something he'd said had been misinterpreted. Didn't matter. He still had to deal with Rheta.
"First, young lady. If you have to potty, you tell me, or one of your sisters. You use the chamber pot or you go to where we dig a potty place each night. Understand."
She nodded.
"If you make a mistake, you tell one of us right away. None of this...hiding soiled stockings in a cup business."
She nodded again. Her face was solemn and she knew she was in trouble. Adam wasn't sure if he needed to explain what a rash of cholera would have done to the family, or the whole train for that matter, had he not caught the situation in time.
"Second, you need to wear stockings on your feet. And you need to wear your feet in the right boots." Adam picked up the tiny boots, already well worn. He took Rheta into his lap and explained about "L"s and "Rs", and "hayfoot" and "strawfoot". He marched her feet on his knee, saying "Hayfoot, Strawfoot" into her ear until she started laughing. Then he pointed out how her buckles formed a number "7" on each shoe, and what the "7' should look like when each shoe was on the right foot. With the help of one of the older girls in the train, Adam had Rheta dressed in fresh underthings, shoes on the right feet, and the whole train back on the trail in an hour.
That evening, after the stock had been watered, and supper cooked and eaten, Adam organized all the girls into a laundry detail at a distance upriver of the train. He had Little Joe and Hoss stay with that group, then gathered every boy in the train, and Wilson and Bucky, and organized a communal bath for the boys downstream. It was tricky with the infants, and not a permanent solution, but by nightfall there were lines of clean clothing drying between each of the wagons, and each of the boys were scrubbed clean and in fresh clothes. The girls would be given the morning to see to their own bathing while Adam and the boys got breakfast going.
That night the Cartwrights stood for a few minutes at one of the banked night fires, sipping last cups of coffee before Joe went on night duty and the other two turned in.
"You remember...bath night, when we was little?" Hoss asked. Joe and Adam both popped grins onto their faces and started chuckling.
"I think Pa tried that in the house only once or twice, before it got moved permanently out onto the porch." Joe said.
"Bath night wasn't an institution until you came along, Lil Joe. It didn't need to be an institution until you came along."
Joe shoved Adam, hard enough to spill some of the coffee in his cup, but Adam stepped into the shove and rescued the liquid smoothly.
"I was thinkin' about...how Pa kept tryin' to figure out the perfect order to go in. I remember he tried Joe first, then me, then Adam. But by the time Adam was done, Joe would be dirty again. Then when he tried to do Joe last, lil' fellar would fall asleep in the bath and nearly drowned himself." The brothers laughed.
"You remember the night he got so fed up that he did it in the horse trough." Joe said.
"I remember bath night going for seven nights in a row once, because the two of you found some...little friends out behind the bunkhouse."
Hoss and Joe gave him confused looks before Hoss' face brightened. "The stripey cats."
Joe started laughing. "That's right, stripey cats. They were cute, too."
"I've never smelled skunk since without being reminded of you." Adam said fondly, batting his eyes.
"You should write about bath night, in the book tonight, Adam. Minus the skunks." Joe said.
Adam laughed and nodded and Joe finished his cup before slapping his big brother on the back and heading for night guard.
That morning the The Young Ladies Wagon Train Cleanliness Society was born. The girls marched off down river, with a red faced Hoss and Bucky carrying blankets that would be hung up to provide some privacy. The men and boys were tasked with making breakfast, getting the little ones dressed, hitching the teams and cleaning up the camp. The thoroughness of the Cleanliness Society, and the haplessness of the boys, ended the unspoken race in a tie that delayed the train an extra hour.
That evening at Spanish Springs, Martha, Jane, Maudie and 15-year-old Catherine Davis, the founding members of the YLWTC Society met with Adam and his brothers to discuss the most expedient way of making sure the children were regularly clean, and clothing washed.
"If we can learn to drive mules, them boys can learn to wash clothes." Was Martha's solution. The other girls agreed firmly, and as bachelor sons of a widowed father, Adam, Joe and Hoss had no problem with the idea.
"Let the gender revolution commence." Adam commented.
May 3 - Pyramid Lake
"Gentle strokes, there lad, gentle strokes. Ye are tryin' to get rid of the dirt, not the clothes themselves." Catherine's voice rang out by the edge of the lake. The string of five boys that she had bent over wash boards, hands and fingers wrinkled from the water and soap, grumbled to themselves, but didn't dare voice complaints loud enough for their taskmaster to hear, primarily because they knew it would get back to Jane. "And cheer up...I'm trainin' ye up to be fine young husbands. Think of what a catch ye are, knowin' how to clean and cook, as well as rope and ride."
Joe, who had elected to set an example by doing some of his own washing at the water's edge, commented under his breath, "And if you prefer to stay a bachelor, you won't need to put up with a woman to have clean clothes."
The boys laughed at the comment, then fell silent at the whip-like crack of Catherine's stick against a boulder. She gave the boys the fish eye, her face blooming into a blush when her eyes met Joe's, before she whirled around to avoid his eyes.
The washing class continued on into the afternoon, a reprieve from the trail that came of a busted wagon wheel. Adam, Hoss and Fovey were fixing the wheel, Wilson and Bucky were watching the head and tail of the train and the many children involved in various tasks around the campfires. The YLWTC Society had been encouraged to take advantage of the ready water, and the time, and Catherine had taken the first shift.
Given that they were stopped for the day Adam planned a general inspection of the other wagons and all eight teams, knowing they would be heading into Paiute country the following morning. He also planned to open the lock box in the Cartwright wagon that contained ammunition and long rifles. He and Hoss had talked at length that morning about arming the older boys. There were few towns in the area from which to get news about whether or not the Paiute had been a problem lately, and there was no way of knowing if their travel would go completely unheeded, or if they would struggle each day to make ten miles for the raids.
Adam and Fovey had at least developed a sort of 'indian attack safety drill' for the kids to practice. This involved circling the wagons, tucking the smaller kids into the wagon beds, where they could be shielded by furniture, and having buckets of water ready at all times in case of flaming arrows. The last bit had come from Fovey's vivid memories of his family's trip west.
May 4 - Enroute to the Paiute Nation
"More than anything else, keep your eyes and ears open. We may not see a single Paiute, or we may see many that are just interested in gettin' about with their lives. We don't speak their language, and they probably don't speak ours, so we'll communicate with them by keepin' our distance. You older kids, make sure you know where the youngin's are at all times. Don't nobody wander." Hoss' voice carried easily from one end of the train to the next from where he stood on the Gruber wagon. "Ever'body understand?" He asked.
He got confirming nods from each of the wagon seats, and from Fovey and Adam who were on horseback that day. That morning each of the adults had been given ammunition and rifles, with more ammunition tucked into the backs of each of the wagons, just in case. The furniture had been moved around in each wagon so that there was a protective spot into which the youngest of children could squeeze in a hurry. Aside from inviting along a detachment of cavalry, Adam figured they were as prepared as they would ever be.
The train moved out into the high desert plains, following a narrow river that meandered through the mountains before dumping into Pyramid Lake behind them.
Joe sat on the wagon seat of the James wagon. Eight-year-old Axel sat next to him with a hand carved toy gun tucked into his belt. His hands clung to the seat of the wagon to avoid being bounced off, but Joe suspected that the slightest shadow on the landscape would be interpreted as an indian that he needed to pull his gun on. Axel's ten-year-old twin sisters walked to Joe's left by the wagon, talking and giggling, completely at ease. A particularly loud laugh from one of them had Axel leaning forward and peering at them in disgust before he sat back and crossed his arms.
"Them girls. All they do is talk."
Joe smirked. "They do other things. They cook and clean. They help you when you get stuck on your numbers and letters." Joe said, naming the things he'd seen from the James sisters each of the times he'd driven their wagon.
"They don't do important things, though." Said Axel. "Like stand guard, and shoot indians."
"Those things are only important some of the time." Joe said, propping a foot up on the mud guard.
"Do you got sisters, Mister Joe?"
Joe smirked and shook his head.
Axel thought for a minute, then asked, "Do you want a couple?"
Joe let out a guffaw that drew the attention of the twins, and he clamped his mouth shut. "Why are you tryin' to get rid of your sisters?"
"Can't I trade 'em in for brothers?" Axel asked, drawing one of his boots up to the wagon seat and tucking it under him. "Brothers is more fun. They can play ball, and chase, and cowboys and indians."
"Girls can do that."
Axel snapped his head to look at Joe in astonished disbelief.
"Sure they can. When was the last time you asked your sisters to play chase?" Axel's gaze fell a little and Joe could see him worrying at his lip. "Or cowboys and indians?" Axel had his other boot up and was playing with the buttons.
"When we stop for lunch, you ask your sisters if they want to play with you. See if they don't take you up on it right away." Joe suggested. He watched Axel's hatted head bob for a bit before the frowning face turned up to his, squinting at the sun.
"If they don't play with me, will you?"
"Course I will." Joe grinned.
He glanced briefly over his shoulder to the Davis wagon directly behind him. He could hear baby Edgar fussing already and Catherine's clear voice loudly singing a lullaby over the creak of the wagons. Axel's sisters dropped back a spell and in minutes the crying had come up closer to the James' wagon, one of the twins holding the fussing baby, their conversation completely uninterrupted.
"Whether you like it or not, they sure are good at talkin'." Joe said.
Axel rolled his eyes.
Hoss had watched the transfer of the baby from the wagon seat to the hands of one of the James girls with his heart pounding. They had done it so quickly and easily, apparently completely unafraid that they might drop the child. Hoss had been about to stop the whole train but Edgar had swapped hands and it had been done with, before he would have finished shouting the command.
Hoss looked to ten-year-old Rhody Gruber sitting next to him and shook his head. "I tell you, them gals are fearless sometimes."
Rhody smiled at him and let out a string of German that Hoss couldn't understand, but it ended with "Herr Hoss". Hoss just smiled and nodded and slapped the backs of the mules. Much as he was fond of little Alma, and her brothers Boris and Rhody, they'd discovered early on that there was a language barrier. The children didn't speak any English at all. Given that none of them spoke German except for Adam, and Adam only very little, the children mostly kept to themselves, instead of joining the others in their age groups in play.
As soon as they got to a size-able town Adam planned to pick up an English-German translation dictionary, no matter the cost, just so that they could use words instead of gestures and body language. If the children had turned out to be wee hellions it would have been worse, admittedly, but it bothered the Cartwrights, and Bucky especially, to have four children with whom no one could communicate. The fourth was fifteen-year-old Harry. He was deaf, didn't speak, and didn't know sign language.
No matter how hard Joe tried to teach him what he remembered, Harry didn't seem interested. He loved to tend the animals, loved to sit and watch the sun set, and was always handy when there was work to be done. Harry had latched onto the Grubers, and the Grubers to Harry, but Adam didn't even know what part of Europe his family had come from. He had no surname, no origin. A boy like that could get lost in the world, Adam knew. It was this communication gap that had put the Gruber wagon so close to the Cartwright wagon at the back of the train.
And Adam made a point of spending a few minutes a day checking in with the boy. He'd learned over the years that success in a dangerous or difficult situation was often decided by how well the people involved knew each other. Though they were children, each of the individuals on the train had something to add to the strength of the group. Sitting his horse at the top of the rise where he wanted the train to stop for lunch, Adam continued to scribble his thoughts in the journal.
"The young ladies are frequently called upon to be mothers, nurses, cooks, laundresses, seamstresses. Yet they are ready and willing to teach the boys how to do these tasks. Jane and Martha are as confident with the teams as Sewell, and Catherine has begun driving her own wagon. I think more of the older girls should learn to drive, and more of the older boys should learn cooking and washing. Imagine the crowd of well-rounded, mature children we might deliver to Portland, Oregon. Graduates of the Cartwright Trail School of Hard Knocks."
That afternoon, after the meal had been served and cleaned up Adam noted that they were no longer alone on the trail. The young brave was following them by leading. Adam spotted him each time he rode ahead, and once the brave noticed Adam, he would take off until the distance put him out of sight once more. Adam deemed it a case of boredom and curiosity, but let the rest of the men know that evening. He described the horse the brave rode, and the blanket on over the horse's back, and suggested that if a different man should show up the following day, it might mean more than just a bored teenager.
On the afternoon of May 5th Joe mentioned that he'd seen the same brave, on the same horse, but that he'd been joined by two others. They played the same game of watching from in front. Hoss went back across their trail at least a mile and reported that no one was following them.
"Just seeing what we're up to, I think." Adam said.
"How do you know they ain't gauging our strength?" Fovey asked, jumpy whenever the topic of natives came up.
"They haven't actually seen the wagons," Adam pointed out. "They take off every time our scout comes in sight of them. The kids are all watching for indians from the wagons. If they had come anywhere near the train I think we'd know about it."
Fovey shrugged and backed away from the conversation and Adam rolled his eyes. "We should practice our safety drills tonight before the kids bed down, but I don't want anyone to tell the kids we've seen a Paiute. We'll have sightings of attacking indians behind every rock."
The drill, practiced with only a modicum of sincerity, was completed in good order, but it unfortunately charged the youngest in the group with energy, instead of tiring them out. That evening Joe, Bucky, Wilson and Adam participated in a grand foot race with any child with legs big enough to clear the rocks on the ground. The race wore down the energy reserves of the children, and practically killed the adults. Bucky and Wilson went on guard duty, sore and exhausted and were downing gallons of coffee the next day to stay awake.
Adam decided that drills should be done in the morning, if at all, when it took him three tries to get up into the wagon seat.
On May 6th they reached a large lake. The washing classes and cooking classes commenced that afternoon, and the children were given a few hours to play. To Joe's delight, Axel found out that girls really could play chase. He also discovered how much faster his sisters were than himself, and lost most of the time.
Toward evening Adam spotted their tails on the opposite side of the lake, just inside the tree line. The men, four now, sat their ponies and watched until darkness made them invisible. Adam spread the word to the adults to keep a sharp eye and decided that he would stay up most of the night to keep guard.
The cool, tense night passed slowly, making Adam and the others all the more tired when morning came. Adam figured it was the exhaustion that caused him to miss the footprints leading up to the Washington wagon from the bank of the river. There on the side of the wagon, the Paiute had left a message, written in recently dried blood. A single, crimson handprint staining the wood.