Journey of Honor A love story (24 page)
*****
When Giselle woke up, she looked across to see Trace busily working on something at Petja’s table. She could see willow sticks and strips of leather or rawhide, and he worked at whatever it was with a determined focus. She lay there and watched him for a while, marveling at how lucky she had been in finding his train to come across with that July day months ago. He was definitely not your average male, and his character traits and knowledge had been gifts to her time after time on this journey.
She slipped silently out of the blankets and knelt to say her morning prayers, knowing that giving thanks for Trace would be a good part of her prayer. He had grown to be the most important part of her life. She stood up and took her clothes into the back cave to dress quickly, mentally going over what she needed to be doing today to get ready to leave as soon as the weather broke.
*****
As Trace worked on his snowshoes, he heard a sound and looked over at the bed to see Giselle kneeling there in her white nightgown. She almost looked like an angel in spite of her dress, and he watched her for a moment in fascination. Even through months of the trail and sickness and hardship, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, both inside and out, and she amazed him sometimes that she had been able to stay that way through it all. The hardships had made her even more beautiful to him in a way, because he knew of the substance and character strength that lay beneath the beautiful bone structure and figure. She stood up and he looked back to his snowshoes.
He knew this last leg of the journey was going to be the most trying of all, but still he wished their time together wasn’t almost gone. For about the ninetieth time, he wondered if there wasn’t some way that they could stay together, but it always came down to the fact that he had committed to going all the way to California and was not a man who went back on his word. And she had given up everything in her whole life to make this journey to the Mormon Zion, and he wasn’t a member of her Church anyway. At least not yet. Maybe he could come back to her valley next spring and she would still be unmarried. The very thought of her married to someone else, especially as a second wife, made him feel as ornery as that darned rogue mule.
That day, Trace finished moving all but the last few things that they’d need out of the wagon and stored them inside the cave. They took the money out of the false bottom, packed it securely in a leather bag, and stuffed it down into a bag of dried beans for the trip. Then Trace began to painstakingly wall off the back section of the cave with the chunks of rock that lay nearby. He finished the snowshoes, made a rough cloak for her out of the elk hide that Many Feathers had given her, and then fashioned packs for the mules and both of them to use on the walk out. He made her some fur lined mittens and rough boots for both of them out of the bear hide. They weren’t beautiful, but they would keep them from getting frozen feet at least.
Giselle finished the long awaited stockings, and they laughed together at how funny they looked before she packed them away and did a last washing of their clothes. She was going to have to leave most of her things here in the cave, and some little quirk of her personality demanded that she leave them all clean in case they didn’t stay packed in the back cave as they hoped. The idea of someone getting into her under things was very troubling to her. She washed everything, then took her underclothes out and hung them from the hoops of the wagon cover so she didn’t have to face Trace weaving in and out of her undies hanging inside with their outerwear. He laughed at her again when he realized what she was doing out there. By that evening, they were dead tired, but ready to go except for the last few things they’d need right up until the last minute.
Somehow, both of them knew this would be their last night together there in the peace and warmth of the cave, and primitive as it was, it had been a happy home for them for these seven days. They’d been warm and snug and more together than they’d been the whole journey because of the days spent lounging and reading and talking. That night there was almost a feeling of melancholy as they banked the fire and blew out the candle. Even though they knew they would be saying goodbye soon, both of them snuggled together tightly for this last precious time of just the two of them. They didn’t talk much after they prayed together, just lay there together like spoons for a long time before finally dropping off to sleep.
*****
The silence of the cave was almost eerie after the constant wind of the last week. The crack in the ceiling was a stark, bright line and they knew the storm had finally blown itself out. With the clear skies, the temperature had plummeted and the cave was colder this morning than it had been since they’d been there. Trace lit their last fire and began milking the cow. Giselle went out to the wagon to gather up the last of her laundry she’d left hanging there.
She climbed the wagon wheel and slung a leg over the wagon box and pushed through the flaps to come face to face with Many Feathers. He was standing there with one of her chemises in his hands and all thought of thanking him for his help in finding the caves disappeared in outrage at finding him there with her lingerie. She went to snatch the chemise out of his hands and he evaded her grab. It made her hopping mad in an instant. She tore into him and went off like a little, Dutch stick of dynamite.
She snatched at the chemise again, and this time, she caught it and began whacking him with it as she gave him a piece of her mind. How dare he be in here with her underwear! He didn’t say anything, didn’t even change his expression, and it made her madder than ever and she actually went to hit him with her hand. Still without any change in his expression, he caught her arm before she connected and just held it so that she couldn’t hit him. She didn’t think she could get any madder, but having him control her ticked her off even further and she \ stomped her foot at him in fury.
In that moment, Trace stuck his head inside the wagon flaps and looked at the two of them, wondering what in the world was going on. Giselle started to tell him about this incredible travesty of having this savage rummaging through her undies, but Many Feathers turned to Trace, and still holding Giselle’s arm so she couldn’t hit him, he quietly spoke to Trace. Then dropped her arm, and without changing his expression, hopped out of the back of the wagon. Without looking back at her, he strode to his horse, mounted, and kicked the horse into a trot, and rode off.
Giselle was completely nonplussed when Trace began to laugh. He laughed and leaned over and rested his hands on his knees and laughed all the harder. He looked up at Giselle and laughed again so hard that tears started up and he couldn’t seem to help himself. He laughed like he’d never heard anything so funny in all his days. Now Giselle was even getting mad at him. What did he think was so amusing?
She put her hands on both hips and gave him the look and he went off busting up again. This time she stomped her foot at him and he laughed until he could hardly breathe. Then he turned and headed back into the cave, still laughing like he had heard the funniest thing in the world. Giselle couldn’t help herself and had to smile at him as she gathered up her underpinnings. What had Many Feathers said to Trace to crack him up like that?
Back in the cave, she began to fold her laundry and asked, “What did he say?” At her question, Trace went off again; holding his sides like they hurt from the humor. Giselle came over to him and put her hands back on her hips. “Trace Grayson, what did he say to you?”
Struggling to control his laughter was still hopeless and it was several seconds before he could even breathe, let alone tell her. Finally, he wiped his eyes and pulled her to him in a hug and started, “He said… ” He busted up yet again and she had to wait one more time until he could speak. “He said that he’d changed his mind and that I could have you!”
Trace tried to keep his composure but it was hopeless, and he finally leaned over with his hands on his knees again and laughed until he cried, and she finally laughed with him. “Aaah, you two were the funniest thing I’ve ever seen!” He turned aside and went back to making breakfast, but every few minutes he’d belt out laughing again and say, “I can have you.” And then shake his head.
When they went to eat, he still couldn’t even pray without busting up, and Giselle had to take over mid-prayer. When he finally got control of himself, he sighed and said, “It’s a good thing you have that hot, little, Dutch temper! He’d have followed us right into the valley and stayed with you there, and I was starting to seriously consider selling you.” He paused and then mused, “I wonder how many horses he’d have gotten up to if you hadn’t gone off on him out there.” She gave him another look and then he laughed yet again.
They finished breakfast, packed up their gear, said a prayer to ask for help on the trip, and as they went out the cave opening, he hugged her to him again and said, “Come, Giselle, my little, Dutch spitfire. We must take you home to Zion.”He shook his head again and laughed. “I can have you.” Still chuckling, he took her mittened hand in his and then took the lead line to the stock in the other and they set out across the pristine, white snow.
At first the snow was deep and the mules and cows struggled so much that Trace eventually let go of her hand so she could stay clear away from their floundering. Soon, however, they reached a windblown area and Trace helped her onto the trustworthy mule’s back and then climbed up behind her. The rogue mule held their bedding and camp gear and the chickens had been strapped to the milk cow. The calf struggled far more than the others because it was shorter, even though Trace had left it free of any pack to reserve its energy. Dog, who was light enough to stay on top of the snow, brought up the rear.
Looking back over their ragtag pack string, he laughed again near her ear. “We’re the strangest group I’ve ever seen, I’m afraid.”
She leaned back into his arms. “Strange is fine, just as long as we’re making progress.”
He hugged her. “It’s going to be a hard trip, Elle. We may have to either eat them or leave them all behind, but I promise you that at least you and I are going to make it safely to your valley.”
She thought about that and said, “You know what, Trace? I absolutely believe you. I’ve never doubted that since the time you told me we’d make it even if we had to walk. I should never have worried. I’ve always been safe and secure with you.”
It was a hard day. From time to time, they had to walk across the snow on their snowshoes. Sometimes they rode, and for a long time, they even rode along in the little stream that flowed down the valley. It was free of snow and shallow, and except for when it got too brushy, it was the easiest route of all. They were still in a country of rolling sage-covered hills, but the valley they traveled was slowly getting higher-walled as they progressed.
By the time the sun began to sink in the west, they were all exhausted and when they finally stopped for the evening, the animals just stood with their heads hanging while they started a cook fire and dug a cave-like hole into a drift. At first Giselle was afraid they’d freeze or that the snow would collapse on them, but Trace pulled her close and prayed with her and, when he went right to sleep, she was reassured and snuggled over and followed suit. In the morning when she woke up, snug and warm beside him, she was frankly pleasantly surprised.
The second day was harder. There were more places that they had to slog through the deep snow, and by that night, both humans and beasts were completely drained. They slept in another snow cave, and then the next morning, Trace stopped where the wind had blown some grass clear and let the stock graze for more than an hour. After another grueling day, they found a small cave near the creek bank and built a fire in the mouth and spread out their bedding inside.
It wasn’t as warm as the snow caves, but still Giselle liked it better. The snow caves made her feel like she couldn’t breathe for some reason. Giselle asked Trace that night if they were making the headway he had wanted, and he hesitated before he answered, “Yes and no. I knew it would be hard, and we’re going to have to give the stock more time to feed when we find it, but we’re doing okay. I had hoped to be able to go faster, but we can only do our best. We’re still going to be fine. We are.”
As they hiked or rode along, she watched the skies, wondering when they’d get hit with another storm. They actually had clear skies for most of four days before the low, gray clouds blew in. The temperature wasn’t so bitter cold, but the wind blowing the snow in their faces was miserable, and when they came upon a cut bank that backed up to the wind direction, Trace stopped for the night even though it was only mid-afternoon. He tied the stock near the stream where the feed was plentiful and set about building a lean-to up against the dirt bank.
Cooking dinner seemed to take forever in the swirling gusts, and they eventually just ate their biscuits and beans half cooked and crawled into bed. It was still cold, even close together, and they shivered the whole night through. It was still snowing when the sun came up and they probably would have just stayed put except that they were too cold. They got up, packed, and headed out. It was warmer on the mule’s back where its body heat seeped up into them.
The canyon they were traveling through became narrower and deeper, and while it was more protection from the wind, the drifts were sometimes almost impassable. They dug into a snow bank that night and it was much warmer. They slept better and longer and were far more refreshed when they got back up, which was good because it was another blustery day. They traveled in the stream water again to avoid the snow drifts. It was longer because of the meandering, but it was still faster and easier than bucking the drifts. They could almost see the livestock losing weight and the mule they rode was definitely getting bonier.
On the sixth day, they made it out of the narrow canyon and had to cross a wide intersecting valley. They entered another canyon on the side. It wasn’t as steep or narrow, but it must have been higher in elevation because the snow became markedly deeper.