Chapter 9 #2
I wiped a tear from my face seemingly pulled from the depths of my being. Buck’s playing was always evocative, but tonight it seemed even more so, wrapping me in a blanket pure as the butterfly miracle I’d witnessed.
Firelight cast an angelic aura about him as Buck humbly ducked his head in acknowledgment. “Appreciates the compliment. Anybody gotta request?”
One of the drivers stood and stretched his sturdy body, ridding himself of kinks from traveling. “Sure would like another melody, but I’ma go get whatever rest I can. Dawn’ll be here ‘fore we know it.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Miss Tandy agreed. “Daytime’s long in the tooth, but night leaves in a blink.”
I jumped up when she tried to rise with Hattie in her embrace. Alretha was closer and quickly assisted, smiling at my sleeping infant with something like affection.
“Night ain’t gonna tarry. Let us call on our Creator.
” Sometimes Miss Tandy’s voice quivered with age, but never when she prayed.
She did so now, her face raised. “Heaven keep us ‘til we meet again. If not on earth, then freely in heaven.” She touched Hattie’s forehead.
“And if You see fit, give this precious one the joy that comes with freedom.”
My body was weary, but my heart was full with Miss Tandy’s blessing.
Her kindness had me missing Mama Ruth. I thanked her, kissed her cheek as she returned Hattie to me.
Tenderly, I snuggled my baby, burrowing my nose in the sweetness of her neck.
I stayed that way even while watching the gathering saying their good nights before returning to their respective resting places.
Kissing Hattie’s forehead, I noted only the adults from our homestead remained.
I hummed my made-up lullaby as my baby burrowed against me as our group sat a spell listening to the cattle lowing in the distance.
Each was corralled within the circular formations created by the caravan’s many wagons.
Those circular formations not only separated the herds by owner but provided protection against nocturnal predators.
“Sounds like Tessie needs milking.” Ella sneezed in rapid succession while standing from the upturned crate where she’d been sitting, looking slightly less miserable than she had that morning. Relentless rains might’ve ceased, but they’d negatively impacted my dear friend.
“You drink that elderberry and garlic tea I made you this morning?”
She grimaced. “Yes, Zinnie. My stomach’s still tumbling. You keeping me from getting sick is ‘bout to send some stuff out the back end.”
My laughter blended with Buck’s and Lovie’s briefly before the healer in me took to chastising. “I’d rather that than you catching consumption, pleurisy, or some other unholy ailment. Salt Lake Valley’s far away. Can’t none of us afford to be getting poorly.”
Including me.
I had young daughters to fend for and tend to, as well as other travelers whose weary woes fell on me to remedy.
Since leaving Mississippi my store of healing roots had been called upon by our entourage.
A plantation child whose arm puffed up from a bee sting.
A Mississippi Saint who’d been clipped upside the head by a rock kicked up by the ox pulling his wagon.
A woman cramping severely from her monthlies.
And Miss Norene. Her husband may have silenced her complaints, but she still wanted a pound of flesh for my Bible-dropping incident.
The uneven terrain took the blame for the travel sickness she suddenly developed. But I knew better. Running me ragged was her pleasure.
Rub some salve on my aching knees. Brew some headache tea. Give me something for my upset stomach. I want more cushion on this rough seat. Find my knitting needles. The children need bathing. My girls’ hair needs plaiting.
She sent a scout for me so often since that Bible incident that I hated seeing one headed in my direction.
Her wants were wearying. Yet whenever summoned by her or anyone else, I thanked my mother-women for teaching me the power of endurance and the earth’s healing properties.
“Tessie ain’t gonna milk herself. I best get moving.” Ella shivered, looking bone-weary.
“Gon’ and get some sleep. I’ll do it.” I swallowed a tired sigh and shooed away her objections as she sneezed in triplet.
“Bless you, Zinnie. Want me and Lovie to take Hattie?”
I studied my slumbering baby by the light of the moon, wishing the world would offer her only gentle embraces, same as I did. I’d nursed her after supper and knew she’d sleep a good while. “If y’all don’t mind.”
I kissed Hattie’s head and handed her to Lovie.
Even after they’d gone, I stayed seated on the massive tree limb that had fallen to earth God knew when. I stared at the flames of our campfire, conjuring energy enough to get up and milk Tessie before I could head to sleep.
Thoughts of sleep had my eyelids fluttering. Next thing I knew, I was drifting.
“You alright, Miss Zinnie?”
Buck’s voice startled me awake. I offered a smile and nodded. “I’m fine. Just catching my breath.”
I fell silent, feeling that odd sensation that happened whenever it was just the two of us, which wasn’t often enough.
We’d both worked outdoors on the homestead.
He, in the fields or the shed blacksmithing.
Me, in the garden, or with the laundry. Every now and again he was summoned indoors to repair whatever needed fixing—bringing us into each other’s atmosphere while I cooked or cleaned.
The farm’s workforce took meals together.
But Buck was sometimes gone—hired out to folks in the vicinity, using his expert blacksmithing, which earned Master Ryland extra money.
“That was a nice piece you played, Brother Buck. When you play, I hear angels singing.”
A bashful look crossed his face. “That’s the sweetest compliment I’ve ever had.”
“Nothing but the truth, Brother Buck.”
“I’d rather you call me Buck. We ain’t formal. We’re friends. Been knowing each other more than a decade.”
I nodded at the truth of his words. “You take away miss from my name and I’ll do the same.”
“You been calling me miss without my knowing it?”
Our shared laughter floated upward, easy as the fire’s smoke.
“How you faring on this trek, Buck?”
“Can’t complain about the trail itself, but I’m not keen on being where I didn’t ask to be.
” Firelight flickered across his hardened features.
“This world ain’t never gave us a place to call home.
Just living, breathing when, where, and how we’re told.
Now, what little we knew as familiar’s gone.
Life keeps teaching us don’t get comfortable. Soon as we do, we’re uprooted.”