THE JOURNAL OF CALLIE WADE by DAWN MILLER

Author:DAWN MILLER
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: POCKET BOOKS
Published: 2001-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

Friday, July 8

Stem galloped into camp this morning as we were packing up. He came to tell us that several of the people in the party traveling ahead of us had taken sick with the cholera. He said that one woman had died already and her husband is very near death himself. He said that they are planning to leave him, that the men of the company have commenced digging the poor fellow’s grave right in front of him so as not to lose time.

“How far ahead of us?” Captain Belshaw asked then, wiping the sweat from his face.

“By wagon, a half day at the most,” Stem replied. “But, they’ll be pullin’ out soon, anyhow. Grave’s almost dug.”

“Single-minded bastards,” Quinn said suddenly, and I watched him stalk over to his horse and mount up. “Have one of the men see to my wagon,” he called to Stem. When he looked my way, I saw my own feelings of horror and disbelief mirrored in his eyes. He didn’t say a word to me as he turned his horse toward the trail ahead. He didn’t have to.

I knew. I knew that he was going after that sick man just as sure as I knew the sun would shine again on another day. As I stood there watching him ride off, I suddenly felt as if everything had gone still, becoming sharp and vivid: the blue canopy of the sky cut up by the tall, jagged bluffs, the caw of the crow overhead, even the sounds in camp, laughter, a woman softly crying—was it Bess Mercer? Quinn glanced back at me once, and I recognized the look in his eyes, a look that wanted to make promises but knew better than to.

When he finally faded out of sight, I couldn’t help remembering the night before and the way he kissed me, and the sound of his voice when he told me to never forget. Rose had slipped up beside me then and placed her hand in mine, and when I looked down at her, her smile was warm and comforting, reminding me of Mama. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to lay my head down on her shoulder and cry. Instead, we headed to our wagon to pack away what was left from breakfast. I saw Jack standing near the wagon, one oxen yoked while he pinned the bow and spoke to its teammate. He looked worn out, his smile more like a grimace when Rose walked over to him.

How much will this trail take from us?—Quinn, always trying to make up for the past that haunts him; Jack, with dreams broken by Pa’s death; me with my fears. How much more?

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