Chapter Twenty-Two
The morning after the wedding, the wagon train broke camp at dawn to try and get in some traveling before the hottest part of the day.
Already, the air was warm and still. It was a little strange how the weather seemed to work on the frontier.
Grace was no stranger to warm weather, having endured the South’s hot summers, but the heat in Lexington was wet and heavy thanks to the humidity.
This was a dry heat, oppressive in a different way.
Grace was miserably hot, even in the shaded wagon.
She passed the time by doing some mending alongside Emily.
When she had worked through all of it, Grace reached into her trove of books and retrieved the serviceable, if water-stained, copy of Little Women.
She read it aloud to Emily until the girl grew restless, at which point Grace set about reviewing numbers with her daughter.
By the time it was nearly lunch, Grace had begun to hear a low rumbling. Water, she realized.
She ate a small meal of salted ham and cornbread, both shared with Emily. Her father insisted gruffly that he would wait until dinner to eat his share, continuing to focus on driving. Then, the wagon came to a stop.
Grace peered outside and could have sworn that her heart stopped beating.
The first thing she heard and saw was the wide, powerful river in front of them with its rushing rapids and many sharp rocks jutting out from beneath the roaring water.
A jolt of fear shot through her, and she clung to the edge of the wagon so strongly that her fingers ached.
That was when she saw how they would have to cross the river.
It was a thin bridge—although the word ‘bridge’ seemed charitable—made of wooden planks nailed together that was just barely wide enough for a wagon.
Grace’s entire world narrowed to just that river and the bridge.
Surely they were not going to cross that rickety old thing. Surely.
Grace looked back at Emily, who stared ahead at the river with wide eyes.
Emily had been so brave after falling into the river that horrible night.
She had continued on as though nothing had happened, and Grace had marveled at her daughter’s swift recovery.
Now, though, the truth of the matter unfolded before Grace’s very eyes.
Emily had not recovered from the incident completely.
The poor thing was, in fact, terrified of the roaring river in front of them.
Grace wrapped her arms around her daughter and hugged her tightly.
She tucked Emily’s head beneath her chin and took a great, shuddering breath.
“Are…are we going around?” Grace’s voice didn’t sound like her own. Surely she had never sounded so uneasy and hesitant before. “Please, tell me we’re going around.”
“No, we aren’t, I’m afraid.” Her father’s voice was gentle. “But it will be fine, Grace. It’s not as frightening as it looks.”
The wagon inched forward in line, and a small whimper escaped from between Emily’s lips.
Grace buried her face in her daughter’s hair and squeezed her eyes closed.
She was Emily’s mother. She needed to be strong for her little girl.
She needed to assure her that everything would be fine.
But Grace’s own body trembled at the mere thought of crossing that bridge.
How could she be strong when she was shattering to pieces, and worst of all, keenly aware of it yet seemingly powerless to pull herself together?
“Richard!” Ethan’s voice was like the calm center of a hurricane, quieting all her worries for just a moment.
Grace hesitantly raised her head and saw him standing by the wagon. Their eyes met. Ethan looked calm and utterly in control, while Grace’s heart hammered like a caged bird against her ribs. She must have looked like she’d had a fit.
“What is it?” Richard asked.
Ethan jerked his head towards the bridge. “Amos thinks we ought to lighten the wagons as much as we can for the crossing. I thought Grace and Emily might want to go on foot. I’ll walk alongside them.”
On foot? Grace peered at the rushing current.
Everything inside her longed to shrink away and hide inside the wagon, but she knew that, rationally speaking, crossing on foot would likely be safer.
There was barely enough room for the wagons, but there was ample room for a mother and child.
It would be less weight to stress the creaking wood, too.
“If that’s what Amos says, fine,” her father replied.
Grace took a deep breath, trying to fill her lungs with as much air as possible. Her chest ached as she stepped down from the wagon. “Come along, Emily.”
Tears gleamed in Emily’s eyes as she slowly inched towards the edge of the wagon. “I don’t want to.”
Grace felt like someone had reached inside her chest and ripped out her heart, but she tried her best to give Emily an encouraging look. “I know, darling. But you must be brave. I know you can do it.”
“Emily.” Ethan crouched down so he was eye-level with her once she’d reached the ground. “I promise you everything will be just fine. I’ll be right there with you and your sister the whole time.”
Emily looked at him with wide eyes and twisted her skirts in her hands. “I don’t want to fall in again,” she said in a trembling voice.
Ethan smiled gently. “I will do everything I can to make sure you don’t, but even if you did, I promise I’d save you.”
Grace looked at the river again. With its strong current and menacing rocks, Grace knew Ethan would not be able to save Emily if she fell in. She swallowed down the lump in her throat and nodded, though, not trusting herself to speak.
“You’ll walk with us?” Emily asked hesitantly, still in that trembling voice.
“I’ll even carry you,” Ethan assured her.
Grace inhaled sharply between her teeth.
Even if Ethan was strong and dependable, a man she trusted, a bolt of alarm still shot through her at the thought of him carrying Emily across the bridge.
What if he tripped and fell with her daughter, and they both perished?
She would never be able to live with herself.
She shook her head slightly, trying to chase the morbid thought from her mind. Grace had to cross the river. She would cross it. This was the way to her new start with Emily, their new and better life.
Before Grace could protest Ethan’s plan, Emily wrapped her arms around Ethan’s neck and buried her face in his chest. Grace fought to control the tide of panic rising within her.
“Grace,” Ethan said. “I’ve got her.”
She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes.
She didn’t want to look at anyone, or for anyone to look at her.
Some of the travelers had said from the start that she was too weak to survive this journey.
She didn’t want to see them realize she was proving them right.
So Grace didn’t look to see if they were watching her and waiting for her to crack, but a shiver still traced a path down her spine.
She just wanted her little girl to be safe.
“Grace, you can do this,” Ethan said, his voice warm and confident. “I promise.”
He placed a tentative hand on her elbow, waiting, she supposed, for some sign that she was ready.
Grace slowly nodded and let him guide her over to the bridge.
Every step brought her closer to that wretched river, and her chest was so tight and choked with terror that she could barely breathe.
Dimly, she thought that Ethan must be moving very slowly to stay at her side.
Grace had the fleeting thought that this feeling, this overwhelming storm of emotions in her chest, must be what criminals felt when they were condemned to hang.
“Relax,” Ethan murmured as they reached the bridge. “I’ve got you and Emily.”
He did have her. His hand was still on her elbow, steady and present. Grace curled her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms until they ached. She took her first step, her eyes fixing on the churning water she glimpsed between the slats of wood.
“Don’t think about the water,” Ethan told her firmly. “You are fine. You will be fine.”
Emily sobbed.
The sooner Grace crossed the river, the sooner Emily would as well, and the sooner they would all be safe.
She took another step. Then another.
Her breath came in loud, uneven gasps, but she forced her body to move, step by agonizing step.
“You’re doing so well.” Ethan’s voice sounded very far away, but she still clung to it like a lifeline. “We’re almost there, Grace.”
Were they? She dared to look down again and guessed that she had four steps left before she would be safe on that beautiful grassy bank. Grace took another step.
Three.
Her eyes darted to Ethan, Emily still clinging to him with her face buried in his shirt. I am a failure, thought Grace. My little girl should never have wandered away without me noticing. She should never have fallen in the river. She should never have had to know such fear.
Two.
Grace rolled her shoulders back and tried to straighten her spine. She was so close, but being near the bank sent a hum of anxiety rushing through her. What if she came right to the edge of the bank, only to trip and fall?
She was on the verge of fainting by the time she stepped onto the grass, joy leaping through her at the familiar sensation of her boots sinking into solid dirt.
Her knees gave way once they were firmly on land, and Grace sank down thankfully onto the firm, warm earth. Ethan crouched down beside her.
“Here we are,” he announced.
Emily slowly uncurled from around him and rubbed her eyes with her hands. Grace threw her arms around her daughter and held her close, her own vision blurring with tears.
“Thank you,” she choked out.
“You don’t have to thank me. It was the least I could do,” said Ethan. “I’ll fetch your father next.”
Grace nodded, then pressed her forehead to Emily’s hair and fought to calm the hitches in her breath. “We’re fine,” Grace said, both to herself and to her daughter, her voice watery. “We’re fine.”
Emily sobbed.
“We’re fine,” Grace repeated, as if speaking the words would soothe her rattled nerves and racing heart.
Wagon wheels and hooves thudded across the bridge, and Grace lifted her head to watch.
Ethan walked alongside the oxen, keeping them soothed while Grace’s father manned the reins of the family wagon.
Once her father was on the bank, they would all be safe together.
Hope fluttered in her heart. This terrible section of the trail would be over soon.
The wagon reached the middle of the bridge without issue, and then—
Everything happened so quickly that it seemed to take an eternity for Grace to understand it. One moment, the wagon was moving steadily across the bridge. The next, one of the wheels slipped off the side.
“No!” The scream tore from her throat as the wagon lurched violently towards the edge of the bridge, threatening to plummet into the river below.
The oxen bellowed in protest as Ethan seized their harnesses, trying to calm the panicked animals. Richard fell forward, pitching from the wagon and onto the bridge with a crack that split the air like gunfire. Grace hurried a half-step forward, her instincts screaming at her to help.
“Stay back!” Derek shouted, running onto the bridge.
Stay back. She froze as if struck, thinking suddenly of Emily, who was behind her, crying in earnest now.
The oxen lurched forward and the wagon jolted ahead, one of the back wheels rolling over Grace’s father.
His scream cut through the air, so loud and full of suffering that she could hardly believe it came from him.
Grace covered her mouth with her hands, unsure if she was trying to keep herself from screaming or trying desperately to conceal her horror at the scene unfolding before her.
More men raced onto the bridge—Amos, Jonathan, Bill, Zachariah— all of them pulling at the wagon and trying to heave it back onto the bridge.
The wagon lurched forward again, rolling off her father.
Hot tears fell down Grace’s face. Her father lay prone on the bridge, unmoving. Was he dead? No, he couldn’t be—
If he was dead, it would be all her fault. She was the one who’d resolved to take on the Bozeman Trail.
The wagon was finally straightened, and Derek clambered into the driver’s seat. A knot twisted in Grace’s chest, growing tighter and tighter as Ethan and Derek brought the wagon across the bridge. She could no longer see her father. Was he alive?
When Ethan brought the wagon onto the bank, their eyes met. “Grace, I am so, so sorry,” he said, his voice choked with emotion.
Why was he sorry?
She searched his face for hints, but had difficulty in determining what precise thing might have caused that apology.
Grace saw some of her own sorrow reflected there, and she pulled Emily into her arms again, as if she could shield her poor, weeping daughter from the sight of Grace’s indomitable father lying, as she saw him once more, so very still.
“Is he…?” She couldn’t make herself form the words.
Ethan looked over his shoulder.
“Broken ribs!” Bill announced from where he was leaning over the man. “He’ll be fine!”
“How does he know?” asked Grace.
She had already dared to imagine what might happen to her if he was wrong. Grace couldn’t survive without her father. There wasn’t—
There wasn’t even anyone who could drive the family wagon. Despite her lesson with Ethan, there was no way Grace could drive it all the way along the rest of the trail! She and Emily would never make it to the end without her father.
Despite the fact that she had initially planned to take to the trail without him, Grace didn’t know how she would live anywhere without her father.
He had always been the biggest source of stability in her life, a steady, reassuring presence who was there for her no matter what.
The thought of him being dead, and because of her, made Grace wish the earth would swallow her whole.
“Probably because he used to work on a ranch,” said Derek, bringing her mind back to what Bill had proclaimed. “Bill said he used to see a lot of injuries.”
Jonathan and Amos helped her father up, supporting most of his weight as they brought him across the bridge. Grace sniffed and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. Her father was okay, for the most part.
He was alive.
He was alive, but he was hurt. And it was all Grace’s fault.