20. Opportunity #3
He sighed, keeping his eye on his line. “I told Bill Russell as much, sat him down when he was still in Independence, where Paps and I wintered. Bought him a drink, told him about the people I lose in a good year, talked his ear off, but he didn’t listen, the damned fool.
People are raring to go, and he wanted the money. ”
“Russell?”
“Idiot trail boss; he started with fifty wagons, too many already in my opinion, then after leaving Independence he let the two Donner brothers, and a few others join too, more’s the fool.
Russell was trying to get around the summer sickness by going late, like we’re doing, but the rains had already started.
I told him the rivers would swell, making it hard to cross, slow them down too much to get over the mountains before the early winter hit.
They got snow bound.” He ran a hand over his eyes. “It was a bad way to die.”
Jed looked up at the sky, considering. “But Two Bears swears this year is different. Swears I can get back to her… get back to California a second time this year, and winter there. It’s the only reason I agreed to take a second group leaving this late.
Two Bears has never been wrong, as far as I know: this time either, so far.
If the good Lord’s willing and the creeks don’t rise, we’ll get across in eight, maybe nine more weeks. ”
Clem noticed the gender change. “Two Bears is Shoshone?”
“Paiute.”
Both and Neither? While prospecting in California, she’d heard about special people of the Shoshone, both male and female at the same time, some of them respected leaders.
“They understand nature in a way we don’t,” she said, vague on purpose, pulling in her twelfth fish.
Unhooking it, she slipped three of hers onto Jed’s twine.
Picking up a beautiful pailful, she said, “I’ll speak with Kizzy, and let you know before sundown, how’s that? ”
“Fine,” he answered, not looking at her, focused on his jiggling line. “I’ll get your gear back to you then.”
Clem walked back along the lakeshore considering the offer.
“Do you want to do it?” Kizzy asked over fish stew with dumplings.
“I won’t lie, it feels good that he asked, considering my behavior last trip.” She grimaced. “He’s right, Kizzy, you’ve civilized me.”
Kizzy looked over. “Lordy, lordy, what were you like before?”
“Never you mind,” Clem laughed. “With any luck, you’ll never find out.” She shrugged. “I’ll give it a try. Not as a job, more as a favor. I’m sure everyone will help out when they know how quick we can get there if they cooperate, how slow and dangerous it’ll be if they don’t.”
Kizzy smiled as she rose to check their laundry drying on a line strung from their wagon to a nearby tree.
“You’ve got a nice way with folks. You’ll get everybody working together.
” She kissed the top of Clem’s head while passing.
“And I will enjoy not having dust in my face as we travel!” She started pulling down the dry clothes, singing psalms as she worked.
Later that night after speaking with Jed and being introduced to Donald and Mara Flannigan, Clem lay awake long after Kizzy fell asleep.
Thoughts about who she used to be and who she was becoming chased each other like playful children in a sunny meadow, skipping after fleeting dreams and never imagined possibilities.
Everything had been a struggle her whole life.
She fought for her father’s attention every damned day and never won it.
She loved sports because she could compete, fight, win, and beat boys at their games.
Clem needed to be on top, but never felt like she was.
She trained hard to win awards that were dusty a week later.
Even after her articles went wide, it was a hollow victory that may have caused her father’s stroke.
She pushed and shoved, fought, and argued, seduced, and bewildered everyone over everything.
If she didn’t matter, no one else did either.
Until Barney. When Clem became his friend, that’s when she started to, what?
Care.
A memory crashed in hard, of Barney handing her a whiskey-soaked bandana to wear over her nose and mouth before they buried three more from Typhoid.
“Wear it, you damned fool,” he yelled at her, shoving it in her face.
“We can’t get sick.” His voice had choked on a sob.
“People need us, and… you’re my only friend, Clem, I can’t lose you.
Too many are dying. Don’t die. Just don’t fucking die.
” He had another bandana in his hand he tied around his own face, then tucked into his shirt while buttoning the collar.
“I read about doctors who do this when around sick people. It can’t hurt,” he’d looked at her with terrified, agonized eyes. “Please, try not to die.”
He cared about her. Oh, Barney cared about everyone, he was that kind of guy, but he cared what happened to Clem, right then and there.
She hadn’t even cared what happened to her with so much death and misery all around them.
She expected to die, but he didn’t. He expected her to live because he needed her.
And she needed him. Barney was a real brother; they survived as a family.
He’d kicked her ass plenty since then, and she’d kicked his, because they cared.
Kizzy sighed and turned over in her sleep.
And now Clem had a wife, one she more than cared for, she loved.
She had been with plenty of women, but never knew she could feel like this about anyone.
Kizzy was what she’d wanted all along; she knew it because the moment she entered her life, Clem stopped struggling, worrying, competing, or chasing.
She wanted nothing more than to make Kizzy happy.
They’d get across fast, and keep as many people safe and healthy as possible along the way. They didn’t have to make the same mistakes, lose so many to illness; they could avoid it if they were careful.
Kizzy couldn’t get sick; she wouldn’t let herself get sick, either. Clem would kick every greenhorn’s ass until they crossed into California if she had to, but she’d get them through alive.
She rolled over on her side, rose on her elbow, and gazed at the sweetest face she’d ever known.
Kizzy was her heart and soul, what connected her to all of mankind; the entire world revolved around her. Everything of Clem’s was hers because Kizzy gave her everything worth having; a whole new life, and a reason to thrive.
Easing from under the covers, Clem rose, lit a candle stub, and wrote a letter to Jim Burdock, one that couldn’t wait on this dangerous journey. The next time they reached an outpost, she mailed off her last will and testament.