"That'll be better. That'll be a lot better."
Tad gazed with mingled admiration and awe at this man of the west who
had met them on the Trail. Barbara and Emma peppered him with questions
which he was trying gallantly to answer. Was Laramie a big place? Yes,
it was quite a fort. Were the houses good? Good as you'll find anywhere.
Were there any white women at Laramie? Yes, John Gaystell looked
roguishly at Barbara, and a whole passel of young soldiers. What were
the women wearing? He stumbled on that one, but finally declared that
they were wearing dresses.
Joe's spirits mounted. For long, lonely weeks his family had seen only
each other, and at times it seemed that they were the only people in a
huge world. Living in close intimacy, everybody had long ago learned not
only what the rest were going to say next, but almost what they were
going to think next. Meeting a stranger, someone with a different
viewpoint, was a stimulating and heady as a glass of sparkling wine.
John Gaystell had been in Oregon, and as soon as he completed his
mission in Independence, he was going back. It was, he told them, a
wonderful country where the Towers might have their choice of land, and
they could find it as close to or as far away from neighbors as they
wished. The Trail was long but not too difficult, and they had already
covered a lot of it. If they started from Snedeker's as soon as the
grass was green enough to provide food for their stock, they should get
to Oregon in time to plant some crops. There was perhaps some danger
from white men but little from Indians; though there were rumors of
another uprising, none had materialized and John Gaystell thought none
would. The Indians were not inclined to bother people who minded their
own business and stayed on the Oregon Trail. They might, however, become
angry if what they considered their private hunting grounds were
invaded. Joe must be careful where he went. They could ford the Laramie
River, the Trail crossed about a mile below the fort, and they could
rest at the fort. Snedeker's was a few miles west of Laramie.
John Gaystell looked longingly at the last three biscuits on the plate
and licked his lips.
"Have another one?" Emma invited.
"No thank you, ma'am," he refused politely.
"Let me butter them and you take them along for your evening meal. We'll
have fresh ones tonight, anyway."
"Well, ma'am, if you want to do that--Those biscuits are better than any
cake I ever tasted!"
John Gaystell mounted his horse, waved good-by, and rode east toward
Independence. The entire family watched him go, until he was out of
sight. Joe hitched the mules and drove on up the Trail. Now, and at
last, he knew where they were and they were very near Laramie. If they
did not get in tomorrow, they certainly would the next day.
That night they camped very close to the river, and in the middle of the
night Joe awakened to a sense of wonder. Either something was present
that should not be, or there was something lacking that should be, but
not until he had lain for a moment did he deduce that the wind had died.
It was a weird thing; for weeks the north wind had been their constant
companion. Very quietly Joe parted the back flaps and looked out.
The wind had stopped but the snow had started. The ground was already
white, and huge, feathery flakes whirled earthward so silently that they
did not even rustle against the taut wagon cover. Joe went back to
sleep. This was going to be more than a dusting. Probably it was the
season's first heavy snowfall, but there was no reason to worry. They
were near Laramie and they could reach it.
Joe was awakened a second time by Emma's light touch on his shoulder,
and he opened his eyes to find that dawn had come. He sat bolt upright,
looking into his wife's troubled face, and without being told he knew
why she had roused him. It was the fever again, the mysterious malady
that plagued baby Emma. Joe dressed, heartsick and afraid. There was
nothing he had been able to do before for his daughter, and there was
nothing he could do now. But always before baby Emma had been in a safe,
warm house. Here they were far out on the plains, and facing a storm. He
peered through the curtain to see the child in her mother's arms. Joe
whispered,
"There's sure to be a doctor at Laramie."
He threw wood out the back flaps, climbed after it, and built a fire.
He brought the cow in and milked her. Her coat buttoned tightly around
her, Barbara prepared breakfast. Tad came to the fire, and Barbara took
food to the younger children. When she returned, her eyes were clouded
with worry.
"Mother wanted only some milk."
"Do you think you can keep those youngsters busy today, so they won't
bother your mother and sister?"
"Yes."