A Journey for Lona by Carroll-Bradd Linda

Author:Carroll-Bradd, Linda
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: inked Figments
Published: 2024-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

May 2, 1860

Departure day proved as chaotic as Captain Chadwick predicted. The process of getting thirty teams and wagons, plus loose livestock—some travelers brought along cows, sheep, and horses, in addition to their oxen teams—onto the ferries and across the Missouri River involved much waiting. As soon as Lona realized how much time would transpire before their wagon’s turn arrived, she collected her sketch pad. This would have been a good day to be holding the pennant that marked first position in the line.

After she sketched the ferry’s setup and jotted notes about its operation, Lona dug around in her trunk for The Prairie Traveler to see what Captain Marcy said about river crossings. She cringed at the illustration of a man clinging to a horse’s tail as the animal swam toward the opposite shore. Such a method would not be her first choice…and probably not the animal’s, either.

Mal pointed. “Lona, look, there goes a Pony Express rider.”

Lona stood in the driver’s box to catch a glimpse of the fast-moving rider.

Along Mal’s side of the wagon galloped a slight man on top of a horse. He laid forward with his head below the level of the horse’s. A locked leather pouch with deep pockets hung over the saddle and sat snug behind his bent leg.

“I read about this extension of postal materials already traveling on trains.” After she lost sight of the rider, she turned toward mal. “Just think mail now crosses the country from New York to San Francisco in only ten days.” She couldn’t imagine riding for seventy-five to one hundred miles on several changes of mounts before entrusting the valuable mail pouch to another rider. The newspaper article didn’t mention if they rode through the night.

Today, she debuted the split skirt she created using Amelia Bloomer’s practical pants and tunic as a guide. Ardys, the big chicken, still wore her regular skirts. The original version was fitted tight around the ankles, but Lona determined while that construction might be good to keep out dust, it might cause too much disruption among the fellow travelers. So, she cut a big V out of a regular skirt of homespun fabric and sewed inseams that landed several inches above her knees. The loose “legs” allowed better air flow than through her petticoats. She was happy to pack those at the bottom of her trunk, not to be needed until journey’s end.

“Next wagon. Drive forward.”

The voice shook her from her reverie. The team rolled the wagon off the eastern riverbank and onto the floating wooden platform.

Workers set blocks against the bottoms of all four wheels and double-checked the knot on the reins securing Roscoe to the wagon’s tailgate.

Mal joked with the workers from his place next to the lead ox, Red, at the left front of the four animals.

Lona stood at Ace’s right shoulder, gripping the goad—a short stick used to direct the oxen—unsure if she could actually use it to prod any animal. She rested her left hand on the wooden yoke.

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