Chapter 20
LeavingAshHollowfeltlike leaving home all over again. Proctor had released his iron grip of efficiency for the brief respite of one day, and on the clear morning after this necessary yet insufficient rest, the travelers moved with reluctance, the packing of their things accompanied by many sighs and pauses. The fever that had swept the train had finally burned out, leaving behind a group of people burdened with grief. Eleven of their loved ones joined the thousands buried in shallow graves on the side of the trail.
The train once again lurched forward, soldiering on, honoring the dreams of those who now lay under the mounds of soil. It wound its way up onto the barren plains, leaving behind the sparkling springs and cool, green shade. Kate closed her eyes. She could still taste that water. So cold and clear! Nothing like the silt-filled sludge of the Platte that had been their constant companion these past weeks.
Kate craned her neck around the wagon mast to catch a last glimpse of that oasis, but it was already lost amidst the craggy barrenness of the towering bluffs. She sighed and turned back around. Even though hundreds of wagons had packed the valley bottom between the towering walls of the bluffs while they rested at this important waypoint on the trail, in the idyllic picture of her mind’s eye, she only saw the cottonwood fuzz dancing lazily in the warm shafts of sunlight slanting through the cedars and smelled the rich, damp earth wafting from the shade of thecreek. After the trial and grief of the past weeks, Ash Hollow had been her own little Garden of Eden. She closed her eyes and dreamed of paradise.
“I don’t think I can sit up with you today.”
She glanced quickly at her mother. Ma, her graying hair pulled back into a tight bun, and her corset snugged firmly around her small waist, as it had been every day since Kate could remember, sat rigid and straight-backed on the wagon seat beside her, but the effort it took was palpable. A deep-seated tiredness lined her face. It had been weeks since her fever had retreated, but all the vitality had been sucked out of her, leaving her exhausted by the smallest tasks. Kate had taken on almost all of her mother’s work.
“Sure, Ma. You go on back and get some rest.”
“Thanks, love.” She smiled, but her eyes remained listless.
Kate called the mules, making sure they didn’t feel neglected. Delilah tossed her head in annoyance, and Kate scowled. She didn’t like that mule, and Delilah knew it. Max simply flicked his long ears in response. Good boy. Kate settled, holding the lines with just the right amount of tension to let the team know she was still in charge.
A shift had happened. The fever had brought harsh reality crashing down on their adventure, rendering the journey to a dreary, numbing trudge. Kate saw it when her mother had to sit down to rest after walking from the wagon to the fire. She saw it in the haggard faces of her fellow travelers as they gazed unseeing at the horizon. The land was a mirror, reflecting their sorrow, turning from something young and fresh and green to something dry, withered, bitter. Even the sky seemed weary of brightness, content to simply exist in its lifeless, pale blue day after day after day. Hopelessness settled over their days like the caking dust that blanketed every one of their possessions. Life consisted solely of the desperate, bone-weary toil of dragging one’s existence across the continent.
Kate rubbed her aching neck, struggling against the waves of exhaustion that coursed through her limbs. She forced herself to sit up straight. She thought of what would happen if she gave up, if she succumbed to the despondency gripping her heart. Her mother couldn’t manage without her. Who would make meals for her family? Who would share the burden of grief with Maria, stricken with the anguish of losing her child? Kate had to keep going, for their sake.
So she kept working, caring, toiling, until she fell exhausted onto her pallet every night, until she was too tired to be haunted by nightmares of her attack at Fort Kearney, too tired to think about the fact that Jacob had barely looked in her direction since that morning when he set her world on fire with a kiss. She pushed the thoughts away. That didn’t matter anymore. Her little heartbreak paled in comparison to what others were going through. Besides, Ma always said that giving to others helped heal our own hearts. She should visit Maria, bring her comfort somehow, let her know that she wasn’t alone.
At the midday break, Kate found Maria sitting on an upturned pail, her black, curly hair falling unkempt down her back, her olive skin pale and drawn as it had been since her sickness. Her hands sat lifeless in her lap, palms facing the dreary sky. She looked like she was waiting for someone to place a bundle in her arms. Tears sprang up behind Kate’s eyes. She fought them away and laid the gentlest hand on Maria’s shoulder, as if she might crumble into dust and shift away on the wind.
Maria just stared at her empty hands. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” she whispered.
“Oh Maria,” Kate breathed, falling to her knees beside her friend.
“I don’t know if I can keep going.” Her voice was a dry, hollow husk.
Kate clasped her friend’s cold hands. Maria lifted her gaze to Kate, and the despairing sorrow she saw in her eyes set a vise around Kate’s heart.Lord, what can I possibly say to give her comfort?
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I can’t imagine the pain of what you’re goin’ through. I wish there was somethin’ I could do to help you bear it, to carry this grief for you.” She bit her lip.Lord, what can I say?An achingly familiar verse came to her mind:Trust in the Lord with all thine heart.“Our world is broken. And terrible things happen. The Lord doesn’t promise to keep us free from pain, but He does promise to be there, right there with us. To carry the burden for us. And He knows, Maria. He knows exactly what it’s like to lose a son.” Maria squeezed her eyes shut, tears seeping out, running unchecked down her face, and dripping off her chin to the backs of Kate’s hands. “He knows our sufferin’ and gives us the strength and courage to keep goin’.”
“How?” Maria asked in an agonized whisper. “How can I keep on living?”
Kate’s heart wrenched, her own tears welling up and spilling over. She reached out and placed a trembling hand on Maria’s middle blossoming with child under the limp folds of her faded gingham dress. “Because there’s more than pain in this world. There’s beauty. Life.” To punctuate her words Kate felt a fluttering kick press against her palm.
Maria’s eyes flew open, and she gasped. “That’s the first time, the first kick since …” Her breath was quick and tears still fell, but a tremulous smile had eased some of the pain away as she gazed in wonder down at her swollen belly. “I thought maybe because I was so sick, something had happened.” She put a trembling hand to her mouth.
Her shoulders started to shake with sobs, and Kate gathered her dear friend in an embrace. She prayed out loud, struggling through her own tears. “Thank you, Lord! Thank you for this little miracle! Thank you for being here right beside us in our sorrow and our joy.”
Kate held her, knees filthy in the dirt, until Maria’s shoulders stilled and her breathing slowed. She pulled back and looked at Kate. “Thank you, Kate. You don’t know how much.”
Kate gave her hands a squeeze. “I’m here for you. Always.” And with a final fierce hug, she took her leave, making sure she could get back before the wagon train started moving again.
Walking back to her wagon, the joy of Maria’s renewed hope was slowly replaced by a cloud of heaviness. Kate had a hard time lifting her feet. She kept stumbling on tufts of grass and clumps of mud.Lord, I’m thankful that I have the strength to be there for my friend, to care for my family. But I’m so tired of being strong! Is there no one who can take care of me? I feel so alone.
There was one person who had taken care of her. But she had pushed him away and had lost him now too. Fighting back tears, Kate wrestled with her errant thoughts. It was selfish to wallow in self-pity while others had real trials to bear. She packed away her heart's desires down deep in her heart and, taking a long breath, she marched up to their wagon, ushered her mother to a seat, and took over packing up the remnants of the midday meal, ignoring the ache in her muscles. The relief in her mother’s eyes was evident.
“Thank you, Katherine. Honestly, I didn’t think I could stand much longer.” She brushed a wisp of graying hair back into her bun with a trembling hand. “You are so kind to me, dear daughter,” she murmured, her eyes closing. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Of course, Ma. It’s nothin’,” Kate said, hoping her mother couldn’t hear the forced lightness in her voice.
Supper was a silent and somber affair. Nothing but beans and biscuits. Again. The food stuck in her throat like ash. Pa, his brow furrowed and eyes unfocused, was thinking, she could tell, or praying. The undulating shadows cast by the fire sank into the creases around his eyes, making him seem like an old and gnarled tree. Then he smiled, as if remembering a forgotten treasure, the lines and shadows softening. He looked up, caught her eye, and started to hum.
She cocked her head to one side, trying to put words to the familiar yet elusive melody. She hummed along. What is that song? A warm smile brightened her weary face, and she began to sing.
