Sarah followed in his wake. “It’s not too bad, but we’ll have to remove the wheel to fix it,” Milburn was saying. “Another hour and a half and the sun’ll set. Let’s circle up. It’ll be a hike to the creek, but we can manage one night.”
When the teams were unhitched, Eli took the heavy jack and went to help Milburn. As Sarah started a fire with wood from the possum belly, a sling that hung under each wagon, Rice began the quarter-mile walk to the creek to replenish the supply.
A shout of alarm caught Sarah’s attention. People ran toward the broken wagon, and Sarah found herself moving with them. Over their heads, she could see the top of the wagon, twisted at an awkward angle. Pushing through the last of the crowd, she found Milburn on the ground, Eli kneeling beside him. Sarah’s mind rebelled, and she looked away, seeing instead the smashed jack under the corner of the tipped wagon box. She turned from that, as well; it looked too much like Milburn’s legs.
“I sent a couple fellas to unload the supply wagon,” Eli said.
Sarah watched a distant figure move toward them for a full minute before recognition penetrated her foggy brain. “Rice!”
“Don’t let him see Pete till he’s under a blanket.”
Sarah nodded and started across the prairie. Rice’s long legs carried him toward her with alarming speed. She walked slowly, stalling, if only a few minutes.
“Hey, Miss Sarah, what are you doing out here?”
“I have to talk to you,” she said.
“Sure,” he replied, expecting her to follow as he continued toward the wagons. When she didn’t, he stopped. “What’s wrong?”
“Rice,” Sarah began. “There’s been an accident.” She had to tell him; blunt seemed the best way. “Mr. Milburn was hurt.”
The boy stared at her, his mouth shaping his boss’s name. Suddenly he dropped the wood and turned to run. Sarah caught his arm, aware that manners stopped him, not the strength of her hand.
“Give Eli some time to make him comfortable.”
Face white with horror, the boy whispered, “How bad?”
Sarah swallowed. “Bad.”
“He’ll want to see me,” he said.
“Of course, but give him a few minutes. And we’ll still need the wood.” Together they gathered up the sticks and walked silently to camp.
Reverend Fleenor and Mr. Williams were climbing out of the supply wagon as they approached. Nodding to Sarah and Rice, the reverend said, “We moved Mr. Millburn inside. Mr. Eli is with him now.”
His grim face wasn’t encouraging.
“Better call out before you go in,” Sarah said, nudging Rice forward.
She watched Rice make his way through the clutter of unloaded supplies and turned her attention to the meal she had started, not so long ago. She wished Eli would come and scold her for spoiling the supper, tell her there wasn’t enough wood, anything to make things seem normal again.
Rice came out and sat by the fire. At her questioning look, he shook his head. Supper was ready, but neither wanted to eat. The camp was as quiet as midnight by the time it was fully dark.
Finally Eli left the wagon. He went directly to the fire and dipped up a bowl of stew. “Eat,” he said, handing the bowl to Rice. “Both a ya.” He didn’t speak again until they had begun to eat. “I give him some laudanum, and he’s asleep. Soon as ya finish eatin’, turn in. Ya’ll be walkin’ back and forth to that crick most all day.”
“Yes, sir,” Rice responded between mouthfuls.
When Sarah began to clean up after the meal, Eli told her to leave the coffeepot and went to check on Milburn. He returned in a few minutes and refilled his cup. When the rest of the dishes were put away and Rice had fallen asleep under the wagon, Eli suggested Sarah turn in, as well.
“It’s your chance to sleep while Milburn does,” Sarah said. “I can wake you if he stirs.”
Eli shook his head. “I wouldn’t sleep.” Sarah knew he spoke for her, as well. Silence stretched between them before Eli spoke again. “He won’t make it, ya know.”
Sarah glanced at the shadow where she knew Rice slept.
“Ol’ Pete’s been a friend long as I can remember,” Eli continued softly. “If I cut off his legs he might live, but probably not. I ain’t got the heart to do it.”
Sarah didn’t trust her voice. Eli didn’t seem to expect an answer anyway.
* * *
With the first dim light of dawn, Sarah watched the camp come slowly back to life. Eli returned from one of his frequent trips to the supply wagon and made a fresh pot of coffee. Rice awakened and was sent to the creek for wood. Sarah tried to concentrate on breakfast preparations.
Shortly after breakfast, Reverend Fleenor came, but Eli’s scowl discouraged him from asking to see Milburn. He mumbled his concern and hurried away. Sarah watched him try to get a gathering for Sunday service, but several families were slower than usual with their morning chores. Also, the pastor had competition. “What’s going on?” Sarah asked Eli, tilting her head toward a knot of travelers.
Eli studied them with narrowed eyes and grunted. “I reckon they’ll be letting us know soon enough.” He sent Rice for water and went to the supply wagon. Sarah could only wonder if he knew something she didn’t.
She had the first batch of bread mixed when Eli sent her to find Rice. Wiping her hands on her apron, Sarah ran to the creek. Rice barely gave her time to explain before he headed for the wagon.
Sarah returned to camp just as Fleenor started his service. There were fewer attending than the week before. The reverend’s words didn’t carry so well this morning, and Sarah hoped Eli wouldn’t comment on what little they could hear. The other gathering, whose purpose was still a mystery, had grown during the few minutes she had been gone.
At the fire, Eli sat watching this latter group. A deep scowl creased his leather face. He showed no sign of noticing her presence so she didn’t speak. She kneaded the bread, her mind following the words of the hymn.
“Wouldn’t take no more of the laudanum,” Eli said abruptly. “Didn’t want to sleep through what was left of his life.” Eli glanced toward the supply wagon. “I suspect once he’s had his talk with the boy he’ll take some.”
Presently, Rice came out of the wagon, pale and shaken. He seemed to want to say something to Eli, but the old man only clapped him on the shoulder as he hurried past.
Sarah had quit working to watch him, and Rice took it as an invitation to join her. “He says he’s gonna die,” Rice said.
Sarah slowly nodded and turned to her baking. She didn’t want Rice to see how much her heart ached for him.
Rice paced near the wagons, squatting occasionally by the fire or standing close to watch her work. He came to quick attention when Eli climbed out of the supply wagon.
“He’s asleep” was Eli’s reply to their unspoken question. He took the seat he had vacated a few minutes before and went back to staring at the travelers across the camp. When the benediction was pronounced, the group, swelled by a few of the worshipers, made its way toward them, Bull Gaines in the lead.
“Say what ya come to say.” Eli stood like a watchdog prepared to protect its master.
“We’re moving out in the morning.” Gaines put his hands on his hips, and Sarah understood how he got his name.
“But, Bull, I ain’t so sure.” A man tugged at his sleeve.
“Shut up, Herman. You ain’t never been sure about nothin'!”
Herman looked hurt. The poor man was clearly