Read Online Where the Trail Ends: American Tapestries by Melanie Dobson - Free Book Online
Authors: Melanie Dobson
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again, barely a whisper, the thought so incredulous that she could barely form the words.
“Are they—” She thought she might retch. “Is he killing our dogs?”
At Papa’s nod, anger blazed through her skin and her mind raged. “But the men—you said they had to vote before he can kill our animals.”
“We did vote.” His gaze traveled over to their fellow travelers. “It was nine to eight.”
Boaz sat up, nuzzling her dress as if he could sense her devastation. She placed her shaky hand on his wet coat. How could nine men vote to kill their guard dogs? Their shepherd dogs.
Their pets.
She understood why Titus Morrison would vote to kill the animals that killed his wife, and it was clear the captain no longer wanted the animals with them. But the other men...
She knew they were afraid of being ostracized, afraid of the captain’s wrath, but how dare they affirm the man’s insanity? And it was insanity.
She reached into the wagon for her gun.
“It’s more than the barking,” her father tried to explain. “The men at Fort Hall said—”
She didn’t let him finish. “They aren’t touching him.”
“It’s not our choice to make.”
“Not our choice?” Her voice escalated. “He’s our dog. My dog!”
She’d cared for Boaz for four years, from the time Papa brought him home as a puppy barely weaned. She’d coddled him, probably too much, as she raised him, but he’d been a good dog, fiercely protective of Micah and her. Boaz wouldn’t let a bullet or a man touch any of them, not without a fight, and she wouldn’t allow any of the men or their bullets to touch him. He hadn’t been the one to cause the stampede, nor had he been up barking last night.
“If we don’t allow this, they’ll leave us behind,” Papa pleaded, trying to make her understand. “And if they leave us behind...”
His voice trailed off, but she’d heard the stories about those who’d attempted to travel this journey alone. At Fort Hall, the traders had told them that no pioneering family could survive this trip without a caravan. Not only was there the threat of hostile Indians and wild animals, there were storms and fires and all sorts of strange illnesses. Hunger and thirst, raging rivers and steep mountains, broken axles, and exhausted oxen.
They needed each other—and their animals—to make it to the Willamette. Surely the captain wouldn’t leave them behind.
But as she examined her father’s face, she realized that he thought Captain Loewe would make good on his threat.
When Hiram Waldron and the other men signed the laws of their wagon train, they’d agreed to reasonable laws about what time to rise, a day of rest on the Sabbath, no swearing or drinking alcohol on their journey west. No one had said anything about killing dogs.
She pulled Boaz closer to her side, his wet head nuzzling her arm. “They aren’t shooting him.”
“Samantha—”
“You know it’s wrong, Papa.”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “Of course it’s wrong, but there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“But Boaz...he’s like family.”
Papa’s gaze traveled over her shoulder, and she knew that someone was behind her. She didn’t dare turn around.
Her finger tightened around the barrel of her gun. If Papa couldn’t stop this man, she would have to do it alone.
“Miss Waldron?”
She turned slowly, defiantly. Captain Loewe was several steps behind her, his gray eyes crazed with power. She couldn’t kill an animal, but the captain—
He glared down at Boaz as if he’d instigated all the trouble. “We need your dog,” the captain said, his voice a steely calm.
“My dog’s name is Boaz,” she said, matching the calm of his voice. Then she stepped in front of her pet to shield him from the captain and his pistol. “And he bites.”
Chapter Six
“Speak some sense into your daughter,” Captain Loewe demanded as he looked between father and daughter.
Samantha didn’t waver. One of her
“Are they—” She thought she might retch. “Is he killing our dogs?”
At Papa’s nod, anger blazed through her skin and her mind raged. “But the men—you said they had to vote before he can kill our animals.”
“We did vote.” His gaze traveled over to their fellow travelers. “It was nine to eight.”
Boaz sat up, nuzzling her dress as if he could sense her devastation. She placed her shaky hand on his wet coat. How could nine men vote to kill their guard dogs? Their shepherd dogs.
Their pets.
She understood why Titus Morrison would vote to kill the animals that killed his wife, and it was clear the captain no longer wanted the animals with them. But the other men...
She knew they were afraid of being ostracized, afraid of the captain’s wrath, but how dare they affirm the man’s insanity? And it was insanity.
She reached into the wagon for her gun.
“It’s more than the barking,” her father tried to explain. “The men at Fort Hall said—”
She didn’t let him finish. “They aren’t touching him.”
“It’s not our choice to make.”
“Not our choice?” Her voice escalated. “He’s our dog. My dog!”
She’d cared for Boaz for four years, from the time Papa brought him home as a puppy barely weaned. She’d coddled him, probably too much, as she raised him, but he’d been a good dog, fiercely protective of Micah and her. Boaz wouldn’t let a bullet or a man touch any of them, not without a fight, and she wouldn’t allow any of the men or their bullets to touch him. He hadn’t been the one to cause the stampede, nor had he been up barking last night.
“If we don’t allow this, they’ll leave us behind,” Papa pleaded, trying to make her understand. “And if they leave us behind...”
His voice trailed off, but she’d heard the stories about those who’d attempted to travel this journey alone. At Fort Hall, the traders had told them that no pioneering family could survive this trip without a caravan. Not only was there the threat of hostile Indians and wild animals, there were storms and fires and all sorts of strange illnesses. Hunger and thirst, raging rivers and steep mountains, broken axles, and exhausted oxen.
They needed each other—and their animals—to make it to the Willamette. Surely the captain wouldn’t leave them behind.
But as she examined her father’s face, she realized that he thought Captain Loewe would make good on his threat.
When Hiram Waldron and the other men signed the laws of their wagon train, they’d agreed to reasonable laws about what time to rise, a day of rest on the Sabbath, no swearing or drinking alcohol on their journey west. No one had said anything about killing dogs.
She pulled Boaz closer to her side, his wet head nuzzling her arm. “They aren’t shooting him.”
“Samantha—”
“You know it’s wrong, Papa.”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “Of course it’s wrong, but there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“But Boaz...he’s like family.”
Papa’s gaze traveled over her shoulder, and she knew that someone was behind her. She didn’t dare turn around.
Her finger tightened around the barrel of her gun. If Papa couldn’t stop this man, she would have to do it alone.
“Miss Waldron?”
She turned slowly, defiantly. Captain Loewe was several steps behind her, his gray eyes crazed with power. She couldn’t kill an animal, but the captain—
He glared down at Boaz as if he’d instigated all the trouble. “We need your dog,” the captain said, his voice a steely calm.
“My dog’s name is Boaz,” she said, matching the calm of his voice. Then she stepped in front of her pet to shield him from the captain and his pistol. “And he bites.”
Chapter Six
“Speak some sense into your daughter,” Captain Loewe demanded as he looked between father and daughter.
Samantha didn’t waver. One of her
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