Lord’s blessing and guidance through the journey ahead, to guide them to a new land of hope and beginning, as He had Moses lead the Israelites to their Promised Land.
Then Hawk hopped into the saddle on a black gelding. “Stay safe, folks!” he shouted, and with a wave of his hat the scout galloped ahead.
A loud cheer rose from the throng as the first two wagons pulled out, carrying the supplies for the crew.
Many of the other drivers were inexperienced city dwellers who had never handled yoked oxen or a mule team, so there was a great deal of confusion and chaos when a team would balk or a wagon would bump into a tree or some other obstacle.
Clay sat shaking his head as he watched the confusion. “Are you sure you’ll be able to handle this team?”
“Of course.”
“Have you ever driven a mule team before?”
She’d be darned if she’d let him intimidate her into lying. “No, but I’ve driven a horse team enough times in my day.”
“They’re nothing alike.”
“I”ve always had a way with animals,” Rebecca said airily.
She trembled with excitement as Number Fourteen was finally called. It actually had a horse-drawn carriage attached to the rear. Two women and a young girl and boy waved from it as they joined the line.
Rebecca waved back, and then Jim Peterson called out Number Fifteen. Her heart seemed to jump to her throat.
Clay leaned over to her. “This is it, Rebecca.” To her shock, he placed a light kiss on her lips, then he smoothly maneuvered the wagon into the moving queue.
Her lips tingling, she turned her head and looked back for a final look. Behind lay the only kind of life she’d ever known. She turned ground and looked ahead. Ahead lay the future.
Rebecca stole a glance at the stranger sitting beside her. His light kiss had caught her by surprise. But in a way, it was kind of sweet. What part would he play in this future she looked toward?
By the time the ninety-eighth and final wagon had joined the line, the front of the train was over a mile ahead.
Garth rode up to them. “Clay, Scotty wants you to ride about a quarter of a mile off the right flank. See you later,” he called as he rode away.
“It’s all yours now,” Clay said, handing the reins over to her. “Don’t keep too loose a rein on them, or they might tend to stop on you. Same’s true if you pull them tight.” He jumped down from the slow-moving wagon, unhitched his horse, and rode off toward the north.
Rebecca had to admit that handling six mules was considerably different from driving a two-horse team. Even though the pace was much slower, there were more reins to hold and control. And Clay’s gift of the gloves were a godsend; otherwise her hands would have been bruised and blistered from the reins. By the time they halted at noon for lunch, Rebecca was confident she had the situation well in hand.
There was no sign of Clay or Garth, so when Rebecca finished eating a sandwich and orange for lunch, she walked over and introduced herself to the family in the wagon ahead of her.
Howard and Helena Garson were a middle-aged couple from a small community in Ohio, heading to California to try their luck out West. Howard had served in the Union army during the war. A shy and soft-spoken man, he appeared to be carrying the weight of the world on his stooped shoulders, curved from long hours of planting and harvesting crops.
His wife was just the opposite. Stocky in stature, Helena was cheerfully outgoing, with a booming voice and laugh that seemed to resonate from the depth of her ample bosom.
The Garsons had three children: a sixteen-year-old daughter, Henrietta, fourteen-year-old Alden, and nine-year-old George. Howard’s mother, Eleanor, was also accompanying them.
A much older couple, Otto and Blanche VonDieman, occupied the wagon behind Rebecca’s. They had a cow attached to the rear of their wagon and some chickens in a coop. They were Dutch and, despite speaking halting English, were very
Then Hawk hopped into the saddle on a black gelding. “Stay safe, folks!” he shouted, and with a wave of his hat the scout galloped ahead.
A loud cheer rose from the throng as the first two wagons pulled out, carrying the supplies for the crew.
Many of the other drivers were inexperienced city dwellers who had never handled yoked oxen or a mule team, so there was a great deal of confusion and chaos when a team would balk or a wagon would bump into a tree or some other obstacle.
Clay sat shaking his head as he watched the confusion. “Are you sure you’ll be able to handle this team?”
“Of course.”
“Have you ever driven a mule team before?”
She’d be darned if she’d let him intimidate her into lying. “No, but I’ve driven a horse team enough times in my day.”
“They’re nothing alike.”
“I”ve always had a way with animals,” Rebecca said airily.
She trembled with excitement as Number Fourteen was finally called. It actually had a horse-drawn carriage attached to the rear. Two women and a young girl and boy waved from it as they joined the line.
Rebecca waved back, and then Jim Peterson called out Number Fifteen. Her heart seemed to jump to her throat.
Clay leaned over to her. “This is it, Rebecca.” To her shock, he placed a light kiss on her lips, then he smoothly maneuvered the wagon into the moving queue.
Her lips tingling, she turned her head and looked back for a final look. Behind lay the only kind of life she’d ever known. She turned ground and looked ahead. Ahead lay the future.
Rebecca stole a glance at the stranger sitting beside her. His light kiss had caught her by surprise. But in a way, it was kind of sweet. What part would he play in this future she looked toward?
By the time the ninety-eighth and final wagon had joined the line, the front of the train was over a mile ahead.
Garth rode up to them. “Clay, Scotty wants you to ride about a quarter of a mile off the right flank. See you later,” he called as he rode away.
“It’s all yours now,” Clay said, handing the reins over to her. “Don’t keep too loose a rein on them, or they might tend to stop on you. Same’s true if you pull them tight.” He jumped down from the slow-moving wagon, unhitched his horse, and rode off toward the north.
Rebecca had to admit that handling six mules was considerably different from driving a two-horse team. Even though the pace was much slower, there were more reins to hold and control. And Clay’s gift of the gloves were a godsend; otherwise her hands would have been bruised and blistered from the reins. By the time they halted at noon for lunch, Rebecca was confident she had the situation well in hand.
There was no sign of Clay or Garth, so when Rebecca finished eating a sandwich and orange for lunch, she walked over and introduced herself to the family in the wagon ahead of her.
Howard and Helena Garson were a middle-aged couple from a small community in Ohio, heading to California to try their luck out West. Howard had served in the Union army during the war. A shy and soft-spoken man, he appeared to be carrying the weight of the world on his stooped shoulders, curved from long hours of planting and harvesting crops.
His wife was just the opposite. Stocky in stature, Helena was cheerfully outgoing, with a booming voice and laugh that seemed to resonate from the depth of her ample bosom.
The Garsons had three children: a sixteen-year-old daughter, Henrietta, fourteen-year-old Alden, and nine-year-old George. Howard’s mother, Eleanor, was also accompanying them.
A much older couple, Otto and Blanche VonDieman, occupied the wagon behind Rebecca’s. They had a cow attached to the rear of their wagon and some chickens in a coop. They were Dutch and, despite speaking halting English, were very
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