“Outlaws and highwaymen, wild savages, ice under the boiling hot ground, water that tastes like beer or lemonade,” Faith said, her lips curved into a faint smile. “I should have brought more writing tablets. What other wondrous surprises do we have in store for us?”
“Plenty,” Steals Pony said, no humor in his words. “Believe when I say that the worst is still ahead of us.”
Faith cut her eyes to Preacher. He nodded his head. “He ain’t lyin’ about that. These past weeks has toughened up you ladies quite a bit. I know you think I been rough on you, and I have, but I done it for a reason. You’re gonna need all the strength you got ’fore we get to the coast. We got mountains, ragin’ rivers to cross, and there’s still Indians to fight. It’ll turn cold ’fore we get there, so we’ll have to fight our way through winter storms. When we get to the Snake…” He paused. “Well, there ain’t no way to describe that. You got to see it to believe it. Then we got the Blue Mountains to cross. And beyond that it’s two hundred and fifty miles either raftin’ down the river or goin’ over and through the Cascades to get to the valley. I ain’t gonna sadden you no more. But the country behind us was a church eatin’ on the grounds compared to what’s ahead. Get some sleep, ladies. It gets worser and worser from here on in.”
8
The way was every bit as tough as Preacher and the other mountain men had promised…and more.
South and slightly west of South Pass, Preacher halted the wagons early and told the women to make camp. They were going to rest up and fill every barrel and container they had with water. Preacher had had them gathering up twigs and sticks and buffalo chips for a week. “’Cause if you think it’s been slim pickin’s so far, just wait ’til you see this trail.”
“Hell,” Faith summed it up the middle of the next day, fanning herself with her hat.
It was a fairly apt description, for the sun was beating down mercilessly and the powderlike dust whirled under the hooves of the animals and the wheels of the wagons.
“It gets worser,” Preacher said, riding up to end the short break. “Let’s go.”
When they made camp for that night, after having traveled about fifteen miles, the women were furious with Preacher because he would not let them use one drop of water for anything other than cooking and the taking care of their animals. He even rationed the drinking water.
“We are filthy!” Faith told him. “I positively reek!”
“You’ll get reeker,” Preacher informed the indignant lady. “Whatever that means. Beat the dust offen you with your hat and quit gripin’ about it.”
“Ohh! You insufferable ass!” Faith said, then wheeled around and stalked off.
“You lost a little ground there that time, Preacher,” Blackjack said. “You keep on like that, you’ll never get that woman ’tween the blankets.”
“She’ll get over it,” Preacher replied. “Eudora’ll settle her down.”
Whether the tall and handsome New England woman settled her down or not, Faith did stop her complaining and rode stoically on westward, grimy hands, dusty face, disheveled hair, and all. But she didn’t speak to Preacher for the next four days.
Which was sort of a relief for Preacher. Faith Crump could be a real pain in the butt when she took a mind to be.
“Green about five miles ahead,” Steals Pony informed Preacher, reining up in a cloud of fine dust.
Preacher rode back to Eudora. “Keep a firm hand on them reins, ladies. The mules and oxen will be smellin’ that cold, clear water in a minute, and they’ll try to run.”
“I certainly wouldn’t blame them,” Faith said, more ice in her voice than it took to cool off a barrel of beer.
The other men were riding up and down the wagons, warning the drivers to keep a tight rein on the mules and the drovers and prodders to grab ahold of the oxen and try to hold them back when they smelled the water.
“The Green’s fed from the snow up yonder in the mountains,” Preacher said, Faith’s words not fazing him one bit. “She’s cold and sweet and once you’ve drunk your fill, y’all can move upstream a bit and take shifts a-bathin’. But wait a time so’s you can wash down the livestock. They deserve a good bath, too. They sure earned it.”
“I certainly concur,” Eudora said. “They have performed magnificently.”
“We bathe the animals before we bathe ourselves?” Faith questioned.
“You take care of what’s the most important on the trail first,” Preacher said with a straight face, then rode on back to the head of the long train, leaving Faith sputtering and Eudora smiling.
The drivers and drovers tried their best, but they could not contain the animals’ excitement when they smelled the cold fresh water of the Green. Mules and oxen broke into a lumbering trot when the river was near. After days of savage heat and choking, blinding dust, the animals headed for the river despite everything that could be humanly done to hold them in check, which included a lot of fancy cussing by the ladies. And Preacher discovered that Eudora really knew how to sling the four, six, and eight letter words around. One wagon overturned, but suffered only minor damage, the driver sustaining nothing more than a few cuts and bruises and loss of temper.
The overturned wagon was righted and checked for damage and declared trailworthy. The driver had her scratches tended to and her temper calmed. Although it was only midday, Preacher told the ladies to make camp. They all needed to rest and they sure needed a good bath.
“How far is it to this Soda Springs?” Rupert asked.
“’Bout a week, I’d say,” Preacher told him. “’Bout fifty miles past that, they’s a tradin’ post. Belongs to the Hudson’s Bay Company. We can stock up on provisions there.”
“A few folks have taken to callin’ that the split-up post,” Snake offered. “Just past the post is the trail—if that’s what you want to call it—that leads to Californy. But it’s a killer, I tell you. I wouldn’t lead no wagons crost it.”
“What’s that like?” Faith asked, walking up to join the group with a few other ladies. Faith had her writing tablet in her hand.
“Hot and dry,” Preacher told her. “Rocks, sagebrush, dust, and alkali water. That place ain’t fit for man nor beast. Hell on earth is what I call it.”
“And the route we’ll take from the post?” Eudora asked.
“As we have tried to tell you all,” Steals Pony said. “It’s very dangerous. It’s, well, difficult to describe. At the Columbia, I suggest rafting the final leg. But Preacher is the only man to ever take a train through the mountains. Is that the way this train is going, Preacher?”
“That’s my plan now. We’ll just have to wait and see the condition of the women, the wagons, and the livestock when we get there. And let’s don’t forget Bedell. We still got him and his scum to deal with. Despite all the misfortune the ladies has gone through, we been lucky so far. Real lucky.”
“Lucky!” Faith blurted.
“Yes,” Blackjack spoke up. “You see, Missy, what them people from back east didn’t tell y’all, is that they’s been several wagon trains ’fore this one that just vanished on the trail. I mean, no trace of them has ever been found and no trace of them ever will be found. All we had was a few minor run-ins with the Injuns. We got that to face on the next leg of this journey. Plus Bedell and his trash. You’ll see. All of you. You’ll see just how lucky you’ve been so far.”
Faith scribbled in her journal for a moment and then lifted her eyes to Preacher. “The animals have been watered and bathed, your dictatorship. May we now take our baths?”
“Have at it, Missy. Just do it in shifts with ample guards all around. When y’all are done we’ll take our spruce-ups. Take your time a-splashin’ and a-soapin’ and a-rubbin’ this and that.”