"First my Jeremy, then my Tommy, then my George! They--! All of them
have bloody noses!"
"They called me a hayseed," Tad muttered grimly.
The woman turned on her heel and strode away. Tad stood expectant but
defiant, awaiting the punishment he knew he would get. His eyes widened
when Joe said quietly,
"Wash your face and come have some lunch, Tad."
"But, Pa--"
"When it's three to one," Joe explained, "it's not entirely sensible.
But neither is it assault. Besides, didn't they call you a hayseed?"
Emma controlled a smile.
The days passed, and because there was little to do, Emma began to find
them tedious. She still cherished a desire to shop in Independence, but
she had given up hope of doing it, for Joe was working all day long and
there was no one else whom she would trust with the children. Because
Barbara knew how her mother felt, she contained her own crushing
disappointment and said nothing. Then the bomb exploded. Joe came to
lunch, but instead of rising and going right back to work, which was his
usual routine, he lingered at the table.
"Your afternoon off, Emma," he said cheerfully. "I'll wash the dishes."
"But--"
"I'm going to let the mules rest this afternoon," he ran a hand through
his shaggy hair, "and I've been doing some pondering. I pondered that
you and Bobby might like to see some of Independence. Go ahead. Take
some money along so you can buy yourselves something."
Emma felt a leaping excitement which immediately conflicted with a
strong sense of duty. She wanted desperately to go even while she
thought of numberless reasons why she should not.
"Go ahead," Joe laughed. "It's all planned."
"Well, if you're certain--"
"I'm certain, and I'll take care of the kids. Now hurry up and get
started."
Emma put her arms around Joe's neck in a quick, tight hug. Barbara,
astonished at the unusual show of emotion, giggled, and then followed
suit.
Emma and Barbara dressed in the wagon, and for the first time Emma
regretted desperately the fact that she had not brought one of her
prettier dresses. But she did the best she could, and her heart leaped
when Joe looked admiringly at her. Emma glanced at her daughter, radiant
in a simple brown dress, and pride swelled within her.
"Have a good time," Joe called as they departed.
Emma was completely in the grip of excitement. Firmly she clutched her
purse, in which five dollars reposed. She would not put it beyond city
people to snatch a woman's purse if they could. Then she began to worry
about her appearance. She felt awkward and out of place, and when a
young man stared hard at her she blushed, for she decided that she was
betraying her rustic upbringing. Then she knew that the young man was
merely exercising the right of all young men when lovely girls are
present, and that he was staring at Barbara.
They stopped before a store in whose windows a variety of groceries were
arranged, and after a moment they entered. Emma began to feel more at
ease. The man who came forward reminded her of Les Tenney.
"Is there something I may do for you?" he asked.
Emma murmured, "We thought we might just walk about and--and not decide
for a while." She looked him firmly in the eye and he bowed, and moved
away. Reassured by the success of her first encounter, she held her head
high.
They passed a glass counter that was divided into compartments, and each
compartment was filled to the top with candy. Then they went down the
other aisle and out on the street again. Emma gave herself wholly to the
spirit of the thing. There were stores in which nothing except drugs
were sold, others that dispensed only clothing and shoes. They examined
a hardware store and when Emma looked at the gleaming new tools she
thought wistfully of Joe, and how he would love them. She envisioned
Barbara in a dazzling gown that sold for the staggering price of
thirteen dollars. Carefully they examined the latest in kitchen ware and
utensils.
Then their day was done. They had spent an afternoon in Paradise and
their souls had been lifted. Their eyes had been filled with visions of
beautiful, incredible things. They had had a glimpse of another way of
life, and it was exciting, but it was not their own. Emma knew that they
would have to stock up on provisions before they left Independence. But
as they trudged wearily wagonward, they went again into the first store
they had entered and Emma made her only purchase of that day.
"Give me," she said, pointing at a mound of horehound candies, "five
cents' worth of those."
* * * * *
Finally Joe's work was done. With the six mules in harness and Jake
Favors riding beside him, he took a heavy wagon through Independence.
Joe turned the wagon where Jake wanted it turned, halted the mules when
that was desired, backed them, made them trot and canter. Back at the
corral, without a word of protest, Jake Favors paid him in gold and
looked him squarely in the eye.
"Want to stay and work for me?"
"Can't. I have to get to Oregon."
"It's late in the season, and almost 700 miles to Laramie. You'll have
to have smooth going all the way to get there ahead of the fall storms.
If the storms don't get you, the Indians might. There won't be anybody
else heading out this late in the year. You're all alone, a lost wagon."
"We'll get there and we're not lost."
"I'll make it thirty dollars a mule and promise you work all winter."
"Have to get to Oregon."
"You emigrants for Oregon," lamented Jake Favors, who had grown wealthy
selling them horses and mules, "don't have a lick of common sense among
the lot of you!"
The Towers broke up camp, and returned to Jake the boards and chairs
they had borrowed. Barbara scoured the camp site for toys and scraps of
clothing the young ones might have dropped in the grass.
Emma stood quietly for a moment looking at the charred stones of the
fireplace where she had prepared so many meals in the past three weeks.
She reflected that the spot where a woman prepares meals to feed her
family has the oddest way of becoming precious. Even though she wanted,
just as much as Joe did, to move on now to their final camping site, to
the land on which their new home would stand, she had a queer little
hankering to stay on here under these trees.
When the wagon began to move away from the apple trees, she looked back,
winking angrily to dispose of the tears that came into her eyes. Joe,
without turning to look at her, laid his hand, just for a moment, over
hers.