Read Online Love's Long Journey (Love Comes Softly Series #3) by Janette Oke - Free Book Online
Authors: Janette Oke
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clouds appeared and the whole wagon train seemed to be holding its breath in unison. It was soon apparent that this storm would not pass over with just a shower. Still, the team drivers and their apprehensive womenfolk entertained the hope that the rain would not last for long. The animals seemed to sense the approaching storm too, and by the time the thunder and lightning commenced, they were already tense.
The rain came lightly at first. The women and children scrambled for cover, but the men wrapped themselves in canvas slickers and drove on through the storm.
As the day wore on, the intensity of the storm increased. The dark clouds overhead seemed angry and invective as they poured down their waters from a sodden sky. Soon the teams were straining to pull the heavy, high-wheeled wagons through the deepening mud. Those fortunate enough to have extra horses or oxen hitched them also to their vehicles.
The wagon train guides ranged back and forth, watching for trouble along the trail. It came all too soon. One of the lead wagons slid while going down a slippery, steep slope and bounced a wheel against a large rock. The wooden spokes snapped with a sickening sharpness. The wagon lurched and heaved but did not tip over. Mr. Calley somehow kept the startled horses from bolting.
The teams following had to maneuver around the crippled wagon, slipping and sliding their way down the rocky hill and onto even ground. As soon as the last wagon was safely down the badly rutted hillside, Mr. Blake ordered a halt. They should have done many more miles of traveling before stopping, but it was useless to try to go on. The Big River would have to wait.
The wagons gathered into their familiar circular formation and the teams were unhitched. Some of the men went back up
58
the hill to help the unfortunate Calley family. Their wagon could not be moved until the broken wheel was mended. The men labored in the cold rain, trying to raise the corner of the wagon piling rocks and pieces of timber underneath to level it. The Calleys would have to spend the night in it, in spite of its location.
While Willie and Henry were gone, Missie wrapped a heavy shawl tightly about her and went in search of firewood. The other ladies and children were seeking dry material for their fires as well, and there was very little to be found. Missie felt cold and muddy and cross as she scrambled for bits and pieces of anything that she thought might burn. At one point she heard a commotion and then a hoarse voice shouting, "You tell Jessie Tuttle thet once a body is headin' fer a stick of firewood, thet body is entitled to it." Missie smiled in spite of herself. They were at it again!
Only Mrs. Schmidt did not have to join the searchers. Her ever-abundant supply of dry wood was unloaded from under the wagon seat. Missie wondered why she hadn't had the presence of mind to plan ahead as well.
Missie finally had what she hoped would be enough to cook a hot meal, then sloshed her way back through the wetness to her wagon. The fire was reluctant, at best, but Missie finally coaxed a flame to life. It sputtered and spit and threatened to go out, but Missie encouraged it on. The coffee never did boil, but the reheated stew was at least warm, and the near-hot coffee was welcome to shivering bodies.
Missie cleaned up in a quick, half-hearted manner, with Willie's help, and they crawled into their canvas home to get out of their wet clothing and into something warm and dry. It was far too early to go to bed, even though the day had been a strenuous one. Willie lit a lamp and settled down beside it to bring his journal up-to-date. Missie picked up her knitting, but her fingers were still too cold to work effectively. At length she gave up and pulled a blanket around herself for warmth. Willie stirred, noticed her shivering, and started fretting again.
"Ya chilled? Ya'd best git right into thet bed--don't want ya pickin' up a cold. Here, let me help ya. I'll go see what
The rain came lightly at first. The women and children scrambled for cover, but the men wrapped themselves in canvas slickers and drove on through the storm.
As the day wore on, the intensity of the storm increased. The dark clouds overhead seemed angry and invective as they poured down their waters from a sodden sky. Soon the teams were straining to pull the heavy, high-wheeled wagons through the deepening mud. Those fortunate enough to have extra horses or oxen hitched them also to their vehicles.
The wagon train guides ranged back and forth, watching for trouble along the trail. It came all too soon. One of the lead wagons slid while going down a slippery, steep slope and bounced a wheel against a large rock. The wooden spokes snapped with a sickening sharpness. The wagon lurched and heaved but did not tip over. Mr. Calley somehow kept the startled horses from bolting.
The teams following had to maneuver around the crippled wagon, slipping and sliding their way down the rocky hill and onto even ground. As soon as the last wagon was safely down the badly rutted hillside, Mr. Blake ordered a halt. They should have done many more miles of traveling before stopping, but it was useless to try to go on. The Big River would have to wait.
The wagons gathered into their familiar circular formation and the teams were unhitched. Some of the men went back up
58
the hill to help the unfortunate Calley family. Their wagon could not be moved until the broken wheel was mended. The men labored in the cold rain, trying to raise the corner of the wagon piling rocks and pieces of timber underneath to level it. The Calleys would have to spend the night in it, in spite of its location.
While Willie and Henry were gone, Missie wrapped a heavy shawl tightly about her and went in search of firewood. The other ladies and children were seeking dry material for their fires as well, and there was very little to be found. Missie felt cold and muddy and cross as she scrambled for bits and pieces of anything that she thought might burn. At one point she heard a commotion and then a hoarse voice shouting, "You tell Jessie Tuttle thet once a body is headin' fer a stick of firewood, thet body is entitled to it." Missie smiled in spite of herself. They were at it again!
Only Mrs. Schmidt did not have to join the searchers. Her ever-abundant supply of dry wood was unloaded from under the wagon seat. Missie wondered why she hadn't had the presence of mind to plan ahead as well.
Missie finally had what she hoped would be enough to cook a hot meal, then sloshed her way back through the wetness to her wagon. The fire was reluctant, at best, but Missie finally coaxed a flame to life. It sputtered and spit and threatened to go out, but Missie encouraged it on. The coffee never did boil, but the reheated stew was at least warm, and the near-hot coffee was welcome to shivering bodies.
Missie cleaned up in a quick, half-hearted manner, with Willie's help, and they crawled into their canvas home to get out of their wet clothing and into something warm and dry. It was far too early to go to bed, even though the day had been a strenuous one. Willie lit a lamp and settled down beside it to bring his journal up-to-date. Missie picked up her knitting, but her fingers were still too cold to work effectively. At length she gave up and pulled a blanket around herself for warmth. Willie stirred, noticed her shivering, and started fretting again.
"Ya chilled? Ya'd best git right into thet bed--don't want ya pickin' up a cold. Here, let me help ya. I'll go see what
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