excited watchmen. I could hear only part of what was being said, but it was clear there were Indians camped not far from us. By this time most of the adult men had armed themselves, and they and their wives had gathered around to hear what the captain had to say.
At John’s request I helped him join the meeting. He held the quilt around his lower half, but his chest was still bare except for the bandages. We stood at the back of the group, his right arm draped over my shoulders for support. It didn’t feel awkward. In fact, I felt proud to be there with him, to be helping him. I was beginning to think of him as John now, but the looks I got from several people made me realize that not everyone approved of my budding relationship with our half-breed scout.
“They’re camped over that hill yonder, Mister O’Hara. What should we do?” one of the men who had been standing guard duty asked anxiously.
“Most likely it’s just a hunting party. They probably won’t bother us. And, even if they do try to get a closer look at us, they won’t come around now that it’s dark. Just keep watch as usual. If they don’t move off in the morning, let me know, and I’ll go have a talk with them,” John told them. It was the most any of us had heard him say at one time, and everyone listened with great interest.
“You heard what the man said. Now go on to bed and try not to worry,” Captain Baker announced, and the group slowly dispersed, but not before several of the women gave me and John dirty looks.
Mary Cranmer stepped over and whispered in my ear, “Can’t you get him to put on a shirt? It’s indecent him walking around like that.” And then she hurried to her husband’s side, and they went to their wagon on the other side of the big communal campfire.
While I walked John back to our wagon, I tried not to look at his chest, a task I had managed rather well, at least up until the time Mary had reminded me of it. Now I had to force myself to concentrate on his face. He didn’t seem worried about the Indians being camped so close by, but then he never seemed worried about much. “You don’t think they mean us any harm?” I asked quietly, staring at his profile.
“Naw. They’re probably just curious,” he replied, and I had a feeling he’d already said as much on the subject as he intended to say, so I let it drop.
* * * *
As John predicted, the Indians didn’t bother us, and the next morning they were gone. And so was he. Our scout had great recuperative powers, and it wasn’t long before he was staying out all day long on horseback, just as he had before the bear attack, checking the way ahead for rockslides, swollen rivers, and other obstacles. I missed seeing him during the day, but at least the setting sun usually brought him riding into camp each night, and I was able to catch glimpses of him standing tall in the company of the men as they enjoyed an after-dinner smoke. Since he’d risked his life to save the children from the bear, John’s value had risen among the people of the wagon train. Although there were still those who distrusted him simply because he was part Indian, I was happy to note there were many more now that saw him as an equal.
John had been gone for two days when Captain Baker called us all together one evening in mid-August. I was worried as to what news he might have. Had John met with some sort of accident? My heart was in my throat.
“Listen up, people! Tomorrow before high noon we will reach the Raft River, and right now, she’s swollen from the summer rains. Last spring several people drowned trying to cross her, so I won’t lie to you; this isn’t going to be a picnic.”
“Do we have to go thata way? You know some of us have small children who can’t swim,” Mr. Rutledge pointed out.
“I can’t swim,” Mrs. Able admitted just loud enough for some of us to hear her. “I never learnt,” she added apologetically.
“The women and children won’t cross in
At John’s request I helped him join the meeting. He held the quilt around his lower half, but his chest was still bare except for the bandages. We stood at the back of the group, his right arm draped over my shoulders for support. It didn’t feel awkward. In fact, I felt proud to be there with him, to be helping him. I was beginning to think of him as John now, but the looks I got from several people made me realize that not everyone approved of my budding relationship with our half-breed scout.
“They’re camped over that hill yonder, Mister O’Hara. What should we do?” one of the men who had been standing guard duty asked anxiously.
“Most likely it’s just a hunting party. They probably won’t bother us. And, even if they do try to get a closer look at us, they won’t come around now that it’s dark. Just keep watch as usual. If they don’t move off in the morning, let me know, and I’ll go have a talk with them,” John told them. It was the most any of us had heard him say at one time, and everyone listened with great interest.
“You heard what the man said. Now go on to bed and try not to worry,” Captain Baker announced, and the group slowly dispersed, but not before several of the women gave me and John dirty looks.
Mary Cranmer stepped over and whispered in my ear, “Can’t you get him to put on a shirt? It’s indecent him walking around like that.” And then she hurried to her husband’s side, and they went to their wagon on the other side of the big communal campfire.
While I walked John back to our wagon, I tried not to look at his chest, a task I had managed rather well, at least up until the time Mary had reminded me of it. Now I had to force myself to concentrate on his face. He didn’t seem worried about the Indians being camped so close by, but then he never seemed worried about much. “You don’t think they mean us any harm?” I asked quietly, staring at his profile.
“Naw. They’re probably just curious,” he replied, and I had a feeling he’d already said as much on the subject as he intended to say, so I let it drop.
* * * *
As John predicted, the Indians didn’t bother us, and the next morning they were gone. And so was he. Our scout had great recuperative powers, and it wasn’t long before he was staying out all day long on horseback, just as he had before the bear attack, checking the way ahead for rockslides, swollen rivers, and other obstacles. I missed seeing him during the day, but at least the setting sun usually brought him riding into camp each night, and I was able to catch glimpses of him standing tall in the company of the men as they enjoyed an after-dinner smoke. Since he’d risked his life to save the children from the bear, John’s value had risen among the people of the wagon train. Although there were still those who distrusted him simply because he was part Indian, I was happy to note there were many more now that saw him as an equal.
John had been gone for two days when Captain Baker called us all together one evening in mid-August. I was worried as to what news he might have. Had John met with some sort of accident? My heart was in my throat.
“Listen up, people! Tomorrow before high noon we will reach the Raft River, and right now, she’s swollen from the summer rains. Last spring several people drowned trying to cross her, so I won’t lie to you; this isn’t going to be a picnic.”
“Do we have to go thata way? You know some of us have small children who can’t swim,” Mr. Rutledge pointed out.
“I can’t swim,” Mrs. Able admitted just loud enough for some of us to hear her. “I never learnt,” she added apologetically.
“The women and children won’t cross in
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