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  Farrington touched his hat to Ellie and Liza, then dismounted. “Greetings, ladies. Ready to pull out?” He rubbed the neck of his faithful Appaloosa.

  “Oh, my, yes,” Liza said. “Abe and I’ve been awake most the night planning how to get our grandchildren ready and into the wagon by sunup.” She squinted at the horizon. “And I think we’ll just about accomplish our goal.” Then she laughed and added, “Of course, the only reason we’re up and moving so early is to get that coveted first place in line.” She winked wryly at him. Everyone knew the first day out, at least, that coveted place belonged to the captain and his family.

  Liza gave Ellie a quick embrace and headed across the circle to the Barrett wagon. Alexander turned his attention to Ellie. The strain that had been on her face during the long weeks of planning and rendezvous was still there. She was a fragile woman, and though she scoffed at his worry, it didn’t stop him from thinking about what this trip might take from her. Since she’d been carrying this new baby, she hadn’t been well. He knew she tried to keep her weariness from him, but he could sometimes see the pain in her face, and it troubled him.

  He loved Ellie. Oh, how he loved her! She was as slim as a meadow reed, with a fragile beauty that sometimes took his breath away. Though he never told Ellie so, he took pleasure just watching her, especially at night by the fire. Maybe it was her gentle spirit that caused him to feel so protective. Many times he wanted to gather her into his arms to hold forever, safe from whatever it was that caused her weariness.

  Alexander looked at his wife in the brightening of the morning. She smiled at him, and his heart lifted when he saw the light in her eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched her settle onto the wagon bench. The twins were atop their ponies, Buttercup and Gingerbread, waiting to follow their father. His daughters watched him expectantly, the rising sun striking their rosy faces.

  Ellie would be all right. They would all be all right. For he was leading his family to a golden land kissed by the setting sun.

  The captain mounted his Appaloosa and made sure Meg and Sarah were following, and the three rode to the front of the company.

  He lifted his rifle and fired once into the air. It was the signal to move out.

  “California! Ho!” shouted the twins in unison at the top of their lungs. “California! Ho!” came the thundering reply from the rest of the Farrington train.

  The long caravan of wagons stretched out across the grassy landscape, rows of canvas sails against the purple-blue sky. Rolling, creaking, dust billowing, children whining, cattle bawling, families laughing and talking, children whining some more.

  Once they’d moved onto the trail, Ellie walked beside her oxen team, holding the long reins in one hand and wielding the goad or popping the whip in the other whenever the beasts stubbornly tried to go their own way. Meg and Sarah played under the shelter of the wagon cover, their ponies now tied behind.

  The sun was already too warm, and a new, almost desperate weariness threatened to melt Ellie’s limbs. But she couldn’t stop to rest. None of the company could stop. Not today. Not for a hundred days.

  There was still an eternity to go.

  “Git up, there! Haw, come on, git up!” The cries echoed through the company then were repeated again and again.

  Around Ellie dust stirred and billowed, blotting out the sun. The pounding of cattle and horses’ hooves thundered and vibrated the ground.

  “Push on. No rest now. This is it,” she whispered in rhythm with the creaking wagon wheels. “It’s just the first day, but this is it.

  “Ho! for California! We’ve finally begun.

  “Don’t stop. Don’t look back.

  “Push on,” she whispered. “Push on!”

  TWELVE

  Cherokee Trail

  Spring 1857

  The late-spring runoff filled the tributary to the Arkansas River as it hurried over bits of rock that had been tumbled smooth in the turbulent waters. Near shore, a rock-strewn sand bar was as visible as though seen through glass, but as it stretched to the center of the mighty river it disappeared into the dark churn of the water.

  At the river’s edge, the Appaloosa gelding stretched its neck to the water to drink. Captain Alexander Farrington leaned back in the saddle and surveyed the crossing. It had been nearly two weeks since the wagon train had pulled out of Crooked Creek, and the long caravan was making its way along the south bank of the sidewinding river, pushing northwest along a little-known trail that would eventually join up with the Oregon-California road. The guide for the company would be hired when they reached Fort Laramie; until then Alexander was both captain and scout.

  He had ridden out early, ahead of the company, to find a suitable crossing. Now, with the caravan and its accompanying cattle herd less than a half-mile behind him, he looked out again across the river, his eyes measuring the distance to the sun-scorched grassland on the other side. The river was wide, certainly more than a stone’s throw, but it didn’t appear an impossible ford for the wagons. The slope of the bank and the lay of the river rock seemed right.

  He urged the Appaloosa into the water. The rock gave the bottom a solid feel beneath the gelding’s feet. Alexander glanced both upstream and downstream for signs of quicksand. Often it couldn’t be seen until it was too late. But the rocky sand bar stretched in both directions. And where the current would lift the wagons and stock, mud wouldn’t matter. The wagons would float easily enough with their watertight linings of rawhide and tallow.

  Water covered the captain’s boots now as he coaxed his horse farther out from shore. The current grew swifter as the Appaloosa moved with determined spirit toward the river’s center. Alexander could feel the chill of the water now reaching his thighs and the strength of the river pushing hard against both him and the horse. Now the Appaloosa was swimming, its head up, its body a trembling ripple of muscle and resolve. He rubbed the gelding’s neck, coaxing the horse on, and headed him into the current to avoid being swept downstream.

  Suddenly the muddy river bottom dropped away, the churn of the water stirring up mud so thick the depth couldn’t be told. The captain spoke to the Appaloosa, urging it on with the press of his thigh. The horse swam, then found its footing on the other shore. It climbed the bank and stopped to shake the water from its body.

  Alexander let the horse rest, enjoying the heat of the sun on his shoulders for a moment as he looked back across the river. In the distance, the first of nearly a thousand head of livestock rounded the bend. The cattle moved along the river’s edge, bawling and complaining as the cowhands cracked their whips and called out to keep them from stalling at the water.

  Now the caravan was snaking down the long, gentle slope toward the river. Kicked-up dust clouds drifted toward the east, causing the folks who were walking to keep west of their wagons. The train was so distant Alexander couldn’t make out faces, only shapes of bright color: the women in poke bonnets of reds and oranges and yellows with skirts of browns and greens billowing in the wind, and the men’s shirts appearing white instead of gray in the sun’s glare. Even the hooped canvas stretched above the wagons shimmered an unnatural white.

  He was proud to be leading this company west. And for a moment he took in the beauty—patches of color below an azure sky—of the caravan moving slowly toward the green river, which sparkled in the sun.

  As the wagon train wound its way toward the river, Alexander could see Ellie sitting in the front of the lead wagon. She’d asked for the place in line that would be first to cross the river. He had started to disagree until he saw the fierce determination in her eyes. Then he’d conceded.

  It was time to get the Appaloosa to the other side to sound the signal for the crossing. “Come on, old boy,” he said to the horse after a minute. “We’ve got some folks to move.” He reined the gelding toward the water, and this time they hit it full bore.

  “How deep you reckon it is?” Abe Barrett had asked when Alexander joined him at the river. He had ri
dden ahead of the train to join his friend at the crossing after the signal was fired.

  “Deeper than it looks. We’ll have to float the wagons. I’m afraid the current might take the teams and the whole works if we don’t send them across separately.” Alexander glanced at Abe, measuring his reaction. He had never known a man with better sense.

  The captain went on, “How about tying a line to a wagon, having a rider take it across, then hitching the line’s other end to a team—maybe three or four yoke—on the other side? If the team’s on solid ground they’ll pull a floating wagon easy, even with the current being what it is.”

  “Wheels off?” Abe looked skeptical.

  “We’ll just hoist them into each wagon—and rebolt them on the far bank. We’ll need a crew on each side just for the taking off and putting on.”

  The sun still lay low in the eastern sky, but already it was taking on a white-hot shine. Nearby a ground bird skittered through the brush, and overhead the squawking of jays rose in the air. Grasshoppers sawed their legs in the tall grass while the heat lifted the smell of dirt from the earth.

  Alexander took off his hat and pulled out his kerchief to wipe the sweat first from his forehead then from the inside band of the hat. He waited for Abe to speak. “Well, go on and say it, Abe,” he finally goaded. “I can tell you’ve got more on your mind than wondering how we’re going to pull off the wheels.”

  Abe grunted, still seeming lost in his thinking.

  “I been noticing how the current changes,” Abe finally said, squinting and looking across. “See there, underneath, Alexander. It’s moving unpredictable and swift. Not a good combination.” Abe took off his hat and scratched his head, then went on, “I’m wondering what’ll happen if the rope hitched to the wagon breaks.” He frowned, his eyes still on the river. “That’ll leave folks with nothing between them and a swift float back to Fort Smith.”

  “You’ve got a better way?”

  “First of all, I’d leave the wheels on. It’ll be easier for the folks to get their rigs in and out of the river.” Abe went on, explaining his plan.

  When he’d finished, Alexander slapped his friend on the back. “You just got yourself into a job, friend. You’re in charge. Forty wagons and 137 souls are in your keep. But don’t let it worry you. Like you said, if any break loose they’ll just float on back to Fort Smith—once they get through the falls.”

  Still laughing, Alexander mounted the Appaloosa and headed for the train. He looked back to see Abe galloping his horse along the water’s edge. He reached down as he rode and scooped a hatful of water, drenching his head. After a few minutes, Abe was whooping and riding like lightning to catch up to Alexander.

  But right now the captain had eyes only for the wagon train as he rode toward it. Ellie’s outfit was still first in line. Directly behind her wagon was Hampton and Sadie’s rig, and following them was the family’s supply wagon, driven by Alexander’s younger son, Billy. His plainspoken wife, Bess, was at his side, a wide smile on her freckled face.

  Ellie raised her hand and waved then smiled as he rode up to her wagon. He pulled alongside to ride beside her the short distance to the crossing. The twins, leaning through the canvas opening at the front of the wagon, called out to their father, waving and giggling.

  Ellie’s red poke bonnet had fallen to rest on her shoulders, and strands of her dark hair lifted in the wind against her sun-browned cheek. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes shone with the challenge of crossing the river.

  The sun shimmered hot above the landscape. From atop her wagons front bench, Ellie shaded her eyes with her hand and squinted as she gazed across the river. Beside her, Alexander rode the gelding in comfortable silence, lost in his own thoughts.

  She sighed as she popped the whip above the oxen and thought about the terrain on the far side of the river. Until now the wagon train had wound its way in and out of patches of pine and oak, mostly along the river. The forests brought a sense of home, smelling of dust and pine and decaying leaves. But after the crossing there would be nothing between her and that wide, blue expanse of sky.

  Ellie looked forward to it. She drew in a deep breath, thinking it would bring her closer to heaven than she’d ever been. Even the thought of the tall prairie grasses brought her joy. She imagined how they would roll and bend in the wind, a silver-green ocean shimmering under the white-hot sun.

  Oh yes! God’s sweet earth, solid and warm and joyful, spreading all the way to eternity.

  The wagon hit a rut and swayed a bit. Ellie caught her balance and cracked the whip to keep the oxen moving. But she needn’t have bothered. The team was moving faster now, excited by the smell of water and pushing on without much prodding. Alexander caught her gaze and grinned. They were almost to the crossing.

  Now only the river lay between her and that prairie. She wanted to be first across the river, first to see that magnificent open sky.

  As if reading her mind, Alexander looked over and asked, “You sure you want to do this, Ellie?”

  “Do what, Mommy?” Sarah asked from her place behind Ellie.

  “What’s Mommy want to do, Papa?” Meg called out at exactly the same time.

  Ellie laughed. “One at a time, now, girls. We’re going to be first to cross. And yes, Alexander, I’m sure.” She tilted her chin toward him and smiled. “I wouldn’t miss this chance for the world.”

  “Yeah, Papa, we wouldn’t miss it for the world either!” Meg said, nearly jumping up and down in excitement.

  “Phoebe thinks so too!” Sarah said, jumping her doll up and down on the back of the wagon bench.

  “I believe I’ve got the bravest family in the company,” he said. “I’m proud of you all.” Then he reined the Appaloosa closer to the wagon. “But you girls need to mind your mama, you hear?”

  They nodded solemnly.

  “You must sit perfectly still.”

  “We will, Papa,” Meg nodded. “We promise.”

  “Even if the wagon starts rocking and swaying in the river, I don’t want to see you stand up or get excited. You must sit still and let your mama handle the team.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  “And no screaming or giggling. The team’ll be skittish. You might cause them to panic. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  “All right, then. There’s one thing you can do.”

  “What?” Meg asked. They both smiled up at him, their dark braids gleaming in the sun.

  “You can blow me a kiss when you pass me in the river.”

  Sarah wrinkled her nose. “You’re gonna be in the river?”

  “I’ll be waiting out on a sand bar to help out if any wagoners need me. It’s about halfway across.”

  “Here’s one now,” Meg said, blowing him a kiss. “In case we forget later.”

  He grinned at his daughters and gave them a small salute before turning the Appaloosa toward the river.

  Ellie laughed suddenly. “Stop right there a minute, Alexander. I’m counting on you and Abe. I hope you have this thing figured out down to a gnat’s whisker. Believe me, I’m not about to halt this team in the middle of the river while you two are scratching your heads wondering what to do next.” She pulled her poke bonnet forward to shade her face then looked up at him and smiled.

  From her wagon bench a few teams back, Liza Barrett called up to Ellie with a hoot, “That’s the way to tell him, sweetie! Maybe you and I should be out there in the middle of the river, simply directing folks as they cross. Seems a bit of a lah-tee-dah kind of job to me, compared to driving these unruly beasts across!” Some of the other women joined in the laughter as Alexander and Abe rode off, shaking their heads.

  A half-hour later, the captain stood facing the company at the top of the inclined riverbank. Ellie watched with pride as he called out for the families to gather around him.

  The rear wagons had now pulled forward to join the rest, most of the oxen slowing to a halt without command. Downstream, the herd was
nearly across; the few remaining head were swimming hard against the current, moaning and bellowing to the sky as they went. The sounds carried across the water and mixed with the shouts of trail hands and the cracking whips that kept the animals moving through the muddy water.

  He explained how each rig would ford, then asked Abe to supply the details. The sun was straight overhead, and Ellie pulled her bonnet closer to her eyes. As Alexander and Abe talked, she noticed that most of the men seemed to listen without emotion, their dusty faces resolute. The women, on the other hand, openly showed their feelings ranging from fear to anticipation. The children, wading and splashing at the water’s edge, seemed only to care about life’s small joys, giggling with abandon, unaware of the dangers of the crossing.

  After Abe finished, the captain headed the mare to the sand bar in midstream, where the current seemed to ebb. Abe stayed at the water’s edge to help the families as their wagons plunged into the river.

  By now most of the livestock had climbed up the bank on the far side and were taking their fill of grass in the fields beyond. Some of the cowhands, the Prewitt boys and the Mitchell brothers, began to make their way back to the other side of the river, where the wagons waited to ford.

  Ellie moved her rig forward to the edge of the incline. Behind her, the remainder of the wagons pulled into their places in line. While they awaited their turn, they tied down trunks, furniture, and supplies, readying their belongings for the float.

  Ellie met Alexander’s gaze and gave him a nod that she was ready. She sat very still, whip in hand. The unusually quiet twins were sitting just behind her, watching through the front opening. As Joel and Lawson Mitchell tied tethers to each side of the wagon, she waited silently until the job was done.

  Finally, Abe Barrett gave the signal.