The Trail by M L Dunn

Author:M L Dunn [Dunn, M L]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2015-08-11T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Anyone watching the big wagon from afar might have thought its attendants were in no rush – the wagon’s slow pace naturally lent that impression, but Caleb could not have been less inclined that way. He found that he could keep up with the wagon on foot and he liked that because his legs and back were becoming increasingly sore when forced to ride for long periods of time.

The next morning, Joe stood looking back at the tracks the wagon had left behind them - he was unable to shake the feeling that something was following them. He said as much.

“My son, probably,” Mr. O’Hara answered. “That or a war party come to free us from our scalps.”

“I’ll go back and see,” Jonas said.

“Either one is likely to see you before you see them.”

Jonas started back and it wasn’t long before Mr. O’Hara’s son was waving at him from the top of a small knoll.

“I, I, figured you was look … looking for me,” Patrick stuttered as Jonas rode up to him.

Jonas pointed directly behind the boy. “Fort Dodge is that way.”

“I … I know.”

“Then why ain’t you headed there?” Jonas asked, knowing there was no point to it. He felt like a man, who after a night of arguing with his wife, where all kinds of harsh things were said, awakes to find her acting as if nothing had happened between them.

“I did …did for a …while,” the boy said.

“Your pa told you not to follow us.”

“He, he didn’t mean it.”

“I believe he did,” Jonas said. “What if you had never caught up to us?”

“You, ca, can , all, always… catch up to my pa, he, neh, never travels very… fast.”

“Well it’s too late to now. Climb up behind me,” Jonas said, reaching out to the boy.

“I’ll wa, walk,” the young man said, and Jonas found he did not care to argue any further with the boy.

A day later they forded the Cimarron at a place where the river was shallow and underneath was but bogging sand. The plain stretching out in front of them looked mostly flat, but in places it was carved by ravines or thrust up into small bluffs. Further south the tall grasses gave way to sagebrush and pockets of squat post oak and prickly plants, what grass grew there was shorter and sparser and drier. Most every plant was sharp and protruded defenses of tiny thorns or burrs. The wind was often a mixture of air and earth and the heat of the day lingered well into the night. Small clouds of dust rose up and passed ahead of them and vanished suddenly like ghosts crossing the plain. The only shade was that but which could be manufactured under a hat. Only the early morning hours before and a little after the sun was slung over the horizon could be said to be comforting. Each day, the sun rose quickly before stalling and spilling its contents of heat that could be seen washing over the ground.

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