She said no more and was grateful because Tad and Barbara said nothing.
The four youngest children knew only that the fire was going out. They
did not know that a blazing fire can be seen a very long way at night,
and who could be sure what savage beings prowled this lonely land?
Tad tied Mike to the wagon, and Emma knew why he was doing it. Some
nights Mike was apt to go prowling, and that was all right as long as
Joe was with them. Nobody worried then, for nobody doubted that Joe
would hear, in time, any danger that stalked them. But tonight Mike must
not prowl, for they depended on him to warn them.
Emma let the drop curtain fall and took Barbara and baby Emma on her
side. She peered around the curtain to see Tad, who had chosen to sleep
near the partly open flaps, arranging the powder horn and bullet pouch
where he could reach them in an instant. The rifle he laid beside him.
In the night, when none of her children could watch, Emma's hand stole
forth to grasp a long-bladed knife. She took it to bed with her, and
only then did she pray.
She lay sleepless but unmoving in the darkness. The wind rustled the
wagon cover, and she heard the cow moving about. A leaping fish splashed
in the river. The coyotes began their chorus. These were all familiar
noises and they could be dismissed as such. Emma waited tensely for the
one sound she hoped she would not hear; the dog's challenging bark. She
whispered through the curtain,
"Tad?"
"Yes, Ma?"
"Go to sleep now."
"Yes, Ma."
Tad stopped his restless wriggling, sorry because he had kept his mother
awake. Very carefully, not making a sound, he rose and peered through
the back flaps. He couldn't see anything, but he thought he saw
something and cold fright gripped him. He lay down, knowing that he must
not sleep and wishing mightily that Joe was here. Everything always
seemed so safe and secure then, but everything was so terrifying now. He
leaped at a noise, then identified it as Mike's grunting. Tad nodded
sleepily, and he was half awake and half asleep when he heard the
thunder of horses' hoofs. They were sweeping down on the wagon; and
opening the back flaps, Tad saw them coming. There were at least forty
of the Indians, and even though his father had told him not to defend
the wagon, he had to defend it now. He shot, saw the leading warrior
pitch from his horse, and reloaded the rifle to shoot again. Trembling,
he came completely awake and lay shivering for a moment. What he had
heard was only the wind plucking at the wagon cover. Now lulled by the
sound, Tad settled back into bed. He thought of Buster Trevelyan, back
in Missouri, and hoped that some day he would see Buster again so he
could tell all about his hair-raising adventures on the Oregon Trail. He
heard a night bird call, fought himself to wakefulness, then went to
sleep with his cheek on the rifle.
After an eternity, morning was upon them. Cloud banks surged in the sky,
and the sun could not break through them. The north wind seemed keener
and colder than it had been before. Emma dressed the babies, glanced at
Tad to make sure that he had dressed himself warmly, and took up the
duties of the day.
She made the longest possible ceremony of breakfast. Even so, after it
was all done and the dishes washed, the endless day faced her. She
glanced wistfully at the river, and thought of all the clothes that must
be washed. However, this was not the time for washing. There were more
important affairs.
Her children about her, shadowed by the rifle-carrying Tad, she walked a
little way down the Oregon Trail. But she did not walk very far because
Carlyle's legs would not carry him far. As slowly as possible she
returned to the wagon, and the youngsters shrieked with delight as Mike
bounced after a jack rabbit that speedily left him behind.
Emma built up the fire while Barbara organized a game of hide-and-seek
among the children. Emma took her needle and thread and mended some of
Joe's trousers, and she took some small comfort from this much contact
with him.
Even though she dreaded it, she was glad when night came again. All day
long the youngsters had had to be kept busy and happy, and there were
only her own and Barbara's resources upon which to draw. Though she
feared what the night would bring, at least the youngsters would sleep.
Emma put them to bed, and again, in the darkness, she took the long
knife in bed with her. She whispered of her weariness and terror to Joe,
and hoped that, somehow, he would hear her and come back. Grimly she
fought exhaustion, and set herself to listen as she had listened all
last night. It was still dark inside the wagon when she heard Mike's
challenging bark.
She awoke in sudden panic, terrified by the thought that she had let
herself sleep. The knife clasped tightly in her hand, she sat up in bed.
Barbara awakened.
"What is it, mother?"
"Hush!"
She heard the back flaps rustle, and she peered around the curtain to
see Tad, rifle in hand, climbing out of the wagon. Emma slipped past the
curtain and stepped carefully over her still-sleeping sons. It was still
dark inside the wagon, but dawn's first faint light had come. Emma
leaned over the rear.
"What is it, Tad?"
"Stay in the wagon!" he hissed.
She saw him crouching, holding Mike's muzzle so the dog could not bark
again and peering intently in the direction the dog was looking. Emma
tightened her grip on the knife and made ready to fight for her
children's lives.
She did not weaken, or feel herself go limp, or give way to tears, until
she heard Tad's happily shouted,
"It's Pa! Pa's come back!"