A cloud of dirt obscured the wheels of
a covered wagon that headed west towards Oklahoma, along with six
horses and two goats in tow. After traveling what seemed like
hundreds of miles the troupe of five people arrived in Missouri,
having started the journey from New York state. The land out west was
majestic but in a different manner than the Adirondacks. Of the five
people, only one was a woman, anxious about traveling through the
wild open country, anxious about one of the men on board who was ill
and in need of some special medicine that would cure his illness. The
woman sat behind the two men at the front, steering their way down
the red and yellow hued roads. An ambivalent feeling came over her as
she heard the ill man behind her, a sound not quite like a grunt,
which made her head jerk in his direction. The man's amber eyes fell
upon her face as he craned his neck to see what she was doing. Self
conscious of the dust from the road on her green dress, she brushed
it off, raised her eyebrows and sighed. The ill man beckoned to her
but before she could rise and crawl over to him, she pulled a small
bottle from the cotton purse tied at her waist, opened it and tossed
a small beige capsule into her mouth and followed it with a swig of
whisky. The ill man looked at her in a disparaging way.
“I know, Tom. Pretty ironic that
you're the one needing medicine while I am busy self-medicating,
huh.” The woman let out a tiny, demented laugh as she sank in the
back of the covered wagon by his side. Her anxiety soon passed and
her breathing rhythm changed. Tom's right hand reached out to gently
stroke her long, wavy bronze hair. “Is the wagon spinning?” she
sleepily asked. The last thing she remembered seeing was Tom's dark
hair, a stray ringlet covering his forehead. But he smiled and shook
his head at her.
“No, it isn't spinning my dear Julie”
he replied, in his familiar and reassuring gravelly voice. His eyes
looked deeply into hers.
“Oh that's good.” Julie leaned back
against a pillow and tried to get some sleep after lunch. Tom was
able to force down some hot stew which Julie lovingly fed him,
periodically offering him a bite of bread. She turned her face
towards him, watching his look upwards, the fabric and beams forming
the safe and cozy shelter of the wagon. “That's good,” she
repeated, as she closed her eyes and began to doze off. Julie
listened to the faint voices of the two men up front, while the third
man rode a stallion ahead of the covered wagon. She was glad the days
were longer, traveling during the summer month of July. The hot
weather did not bother her too much, and the nights cooled down
considerably. The troupe was to make one more stop over the next few
hours before they shacked up for the night under the clear skies.
Nothing eventful was anticipated, and there were no Indian tribe
attacks since they began their journey. Hopefully it would stay that
way, and safety was of utmost importance with Tom in their midst.
Julie was protective of him although the other men advised her to
give him some breathing room, to which she ignored. What if he were
to die during their journey? The last thing they could handle was a
young woman, too emotionally attached to a dying man. Tom did not
seem to be concerned with them, for all he cared about was their
getting him to their destination. Of course he appreciated the
comfort and aid from Julie but there was something about her Tom
could not quite figure out, and of course he was very patient with
her – maybe too patient. Perhaps it was his hoping that she might
confidentially impart what he was seeking to know about Julie. Tom
decided to wait though at the present time and let her sleep after
she spent the entire previous night awake keeping an eye on his
failing health.
To be continued...
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