Chapter 5
Getting into the rhythm of travel was more difficult for some than others: what to cook, how to cook, packing and repacking the wagons, harnessing the ornery mules and the oxen teams, driving the livestock—every gram of energy focused on making it through the day to collapse exhausted at night.
Driving the wagon was almost as tiring as walking alongside, and with Pa and Ian and Danny mostly occupied with driving the cattle, this job fell to Kate and her mother.
Mostly Kate, really. Unless the going was easy and the team just followed the wagon in front of them, Ma didn’t quite have the gumption to call the mules, and she really didn’t care to try.
You had to show them you were in charge or else they wouldn’t listen to a word you said.
Kate watched the other pioneers and cringed.
Many of them had no clue what they were doing, judging by the overloaded wagons and the number of accidents and runaways that had already happened mere days on the trail.
These dreamy-eyed farmers had clearly never handled teams of mules before, let alone these green broke, third-rate beasts they had likely been duped into buying at exorbitant prices by skinners in St. Joe claiming they were from the finest mares and biggest jacks in town.
Kate was proud of her pa. He may not have sold the most mules, but he had a reputation up and down the Mississippi of only selling good, well-broke stock.
She had even helped train them the last few years, much to her mother’s chagrin.
But Kate was a good driver, Pa said, saying that he couldn’t be leaving the team and all their worldly possessions in more capable hands.
Her father entrusting her with such a responsibility made Kate nearly glow with pride, although it didn’t quite stop her from longing to buck her responsibilities and go riding with her brothers.
On the back of a horse: that’s where she truly belonged.
Kate stood at the back of the wagon, musing over the first days on the trail and gently mixing the beginnings of a biscuit dough.
The wagon tongue folded down into a rough but convenient workbench for cooking and cleaning, and it was currently occupied with flour and rendered animal fat.
She measured the lard, scraped it into the bowl of flour and baking soda, and plunged her hands into the mixture, combining the ingredients until it crumbled like handfuls of oats.
Then she added water and a bit of fresh milk still warm from old Winifred, and the mixture began to look like something edible.
At least this was one womanly skill she excelled at, one thing that she might actually accomplish up to her mother’s standards.
Kate realized she was pounding the dough in frustration and eased up before it became so tough the biscuits would bake into bricks.
Ma came up to the bench and glanced at Kate’s work. “Good heavens, Katherine!” she exclaimed. “How do you expect us to eat all those biscuits? They’ll be stale before we get to the end of them!”
Kate bit her lip, realizing that she hadn’t even thought to ask Ma about the idea she’d come up with that morning.
And she had gone ahead without thinking!
Kate gave her mother a tentative glance and began haltingly.
“Well, Ma, they’re … they’re not all for us.
” Ma frowned and opened her mouth to respond but Kate rushed on.
“You know the Leightons? The young couple with the curly-haired little boy and another on the way? Well, they look like they’re havin’ a tough go of it, you know, with a little one to take care of and all.
So I thought maybe we could bring them some biscuits to help them out.
” Kate held her breath, preparing for another lecture.
But Ma smiled and said, “What a sweet idea, Katherine. Let’s get the first batch on the fire quick and they can have them for supper this evening.” She turned back to the fire but called over her shoulder, “Looks like they could use a touch more flour.”
Well, at least she could do one thing right. Kate smiled wryly and reached for the flour.
The steam from the basket of hot biscuits filtered through the cloth and warmed Kate’s hand as she tentatively approached the Leightons’ wagon.
Suddenly her idea seemed presumptuous. What was she thinking?
They were practically strangers, and here she was trying to feed them as if they were destitute!
They were sure to be offended. Kate nearly turned back but remembered that these golden biscuits would go to waste if she didn’t share them.
Praying that they wouldn’t be insulted, Kate walked into their camp.
A cacophony of sounds greeted her. James Leighton noisily rooted through the back of the wagon, holding up pots and pans and bowls for the inspection of his wife, obviously attempting to find the right items needed to cook supper.
Meanwhile Maria, with her olive skin flushed in exasperation and wisps of black, curly hair escaping her bun, stood by the fire shouting yay or nay to each piece while frantically trying to calm her crying son.
Kate would’ve laughed at the scene were it not for the looks of exhausted frustration on all three faces.
Compelled into action, she set the basket by the fire and went to the weary mother and said gently, “Here, let me take him.”
Maria glanced around in surprise, and a look of relief washed over her face. “It’s Kate, right?”
Kate smiled reassuringly. “Yes, and you’re Maria, and this handsome little man is Davie.
I couldn’t forget a face as cute as this!
” James’s head was still buried in the wagon.
“Please, let me take him.” Kate leaned in and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper with a smile and a nod toward the wagon.
“Looks like your husband could use a little help.”
Maria laughed and responded over the sounds of clattering pots and her whimpering child. “You don’t mind? I know I could use an extra hand, or ten for that matter.”
Kate nodded and took the proffered eleven-month-old in her arms. Davie paused in his crying, obviously confused with being handed over to a stranger.
His face reddened as he readied himself to let out another gusty wail, but Kate quickly fished out the wooden cross she wore around her neck and dangled it in front of his tear-streaked face.
He paused again, then broke into a sudden smile, grabbed the wooden pendant, and shoved it into his mouth.
Maria heaved a sigh as Davie happily gummed his new toy. “He’s going to chew that to pieces.”
“Oh, don’t you worry. I don’t mind in the least.” Kate grinned down into the boy’s big brown eyes, her heart completely taken.
“Maria! Is this it?”
They turned to see James holding a Dutch oven aloft, his eyes desperate and imploring.
Maria laughed and took the pan from his hand.
Kissing him on the cheek, she said playfully, “Yes, dear husband, this is it.” James grinned, grabbed her free hand as she turned, and pulled her in for another kiss.
Kate looked away, embarrassed by their open affection but secretly intrigued.
What would it feel like to have a man look at her the way James looked at Maria?
“Where are your manners?” Maria exclaimed, pulling Kate from her reverie. “Jimmy, you remember Kate McGrath?”
“Sure do,” said James, offering a hand in welcome.
Kate switched Davie to her left hip and clasped his hand. “Pleased to see you again, Mr. Leighton.”
James waved a hand. “Mr. Leighton’s my pa. Please, Miss McGrath, just call me James. Besides,” he added, “anyone who can get this little guy to stop his squallin’ is a friend of mine!”
“All right, James, but then you must call me Kate. But I think it had more to do with his new toy than any skill of mine.” On cue, Davie squealed and waved the necklace, nearly boxing Kate in the nose. They shared a laugh.
“You’re Aaron McGrath’s daughter, right?” James inquired.
“Sure am.”
“Maybe you could send my thanks back to your pa?”
“How’s that?” Kate asked, confused.
“Well, I guess you could say he’s the reason we’re out here.
You see, I met him at the stockyards in St. Joe last spring, and he talked so much about headin’ west, and well, we thought it’s now or never.
” He gave Maria a smile, which she returned warmly.
“He gave us the courage to turn our dreams into reality. And he sold us our mules! He’s a good man, your father. ”
“Aye, that he is,” Kate said with a smile, mimicking her father’s brogue. “I’ll be sure to thank him for you.”
“Much appreciated.”
“Well, now that we all know each other proper, would you like to stay for supper?” Maria offered.
She looked down at the Dutch oven in her hands and frowned at it.
It was almost as big as she was—Maria barely came up to Kate’s shoulder.
“Although, to tell you the truth, it’ll take a while.
I still haven’t figured out how to use this blasted thing.
If we were at home, I would make a puttanesca that would transport you!
Some olives, some capers, a little ditalini, mmm!
It would be magic. But out here? Likely just burn it all to ash. ”
“Oh, right!” Kate turned quickly and grabbed the forgotten basket with her free hand.
“Actually, I brought you somethin’. We had extra, and I figured it’d be tough to start this journey with a little one, and well, I thought maybe you’d like some.
” The smell of fresh-baked biscuits wafted from the proffered gift.
Maria set the Dutch oven down and took the basket, lifting the cloth.
Kate waited anxiously, not able to read her new friend’s expression.
She continued on in the silence: “Please, I meant no offense, I was just wantin’ to be neighborly. ”
Maria looked up, tears glistening on her dark eyelashes but with a smile of gratitude brightening her face, and she came up to Kate and gave her a fierce hug around her squirming, curly-haired son. “Thank you!” she said earnestly into Kate’s shoulder. “You have been such a blessing today!”
Kate returned her hug, happy tears springing up in her own eyes. “You are most welcome.” The two young women parted and looked at each other, smiling through their tears, knowing that they were instantly friends.
“Will you stay then?” Maria asked.
Kate looked out and saw the twilight deepening. She sighed. “I had better get back. I should really be helpin’ Ma get supper on.”
“Then one of these days we’ll return the favor.” She reached out and took Davie into her arms as Kate gently tugged her necklace out of his chubby fist. “Even if I can’t use that blasted thing.” She sent a dark look in the direction of the Dutch oven.
“That sounds wonderful! And maybe I can give you a few tricks for that ‘blasted thing.’” Kate replied with a smile. “’Til next time, then!” Waving, she turned back to her family’s camp, radiant with the treasure of newfound friendship.
Her father sat checking over a harness by the fireside as Kate skipped up behind him and flung her arms around his neck. He smelled wonderfully of leather and horse and pipe smoke.
“Thank you, Pa!”
“What are ye thankin’ me for, my bonny lassie?” She could hear the smile in his voice.
“For givin’ me a friend.”
“And how I did that, I’m not sure, but I’ll gladly take credit for somethin’ that makes you so happy.”
Kate kissed his red-bearded cheek and released his neck to plop down beside him. Danny and Ian were noisily washing up by the wagon, and Ma stirred beans over the fire. Remembering her promise, Kate continued, “James Leighton says thanks too, for givin’ him the courage to come out West.”
“So he’s with us! I thought I recognized him. I’m glad. We’ll be sure to look out for him and his family. He’s a good man, James is.”
“He said the same thing about you!”
“Did he now?” Pa puffed out his broad chest and continued with a twinkle in his eye. “We great men, we’re not afraid to admit the greatness in others.”
“Will the ‘great man’ please put his tools away and wash up for supper?” Ma eyed Pa with an arched eyebrow.
He stood up with affected dignity but whispered to Kate under his breath, “I suppose we great men must also do as we’re told.” Kate snorted a laugh.
“Katherine, ladies do not snort like pigs in the mud. Now go fetch some more water. I’m afraid we won’t have enough for coffee.”
“Sure, Ma,” Kate said, suppressing a sigh, and she turned out into the twilight.