Chapter 19
NINETEEN
ZINNIE
I’d desired pennyroyal for power over my womb and to decide life. Now life had separated me from my sister, leaving her on the other side. Not one of my herbs or roots could bring her or that innocent baby back.
It was painful beyond belief when Ella and I pried Lovie’s children away from her earthly remains left there in Nebraska in a deep hole covered by rocks to prevent scavenging beasts.
My one consolation was knowing they may not have made it to Wyoming territory, but Lovie and her baby were forever free.
“Why didn’t I know what to do to save them?”
I’d hurled that question at myself until my heart split.
Still, I had no acceptable answer. It didn’t matter that Lovie had laid in that oxcart bleeding mightily before Juniper was awakened by her labored breathing.
There should have been something in my midwifery skills to prevent those tragedies.
But there was nothing. Now, I wore a cloak of guilt and loathed my ignorance.
My soul oozed contrition.
“Mama, can we play with the new children?”
Annabelle’s inquiry interrupted my endless misery. I looked at my eldest accompanied by Juniper and marveled at little bits and their ability to move beyond grief. That wasn’t to say Lovie’s children—or mine—didn’t mourn her passing. They did, immensely.
There were tears and nightmares and a tug-of-war of fear.
Her oldest boy, July, grew sullen, quiet.
Juniper could go from bawling like a baby to mothering her two younger siblings who didn’t fully understand and constantly asked when their mother was coming back.
Seeing Juniper interested in something other than sorrow was pleasing.
I looked from Juniper to Annabelle to the gaggle of red-haired children from the red-haired family that had arrived late to Winter Quarters looking bug-eyed up at me.
They got there two days before Lovie…
“We won’t go off the trail, Aunt Zinnie. We promise.”
I looked at the ginger-topped youngsters again, deciding they were too young to know they were supposedly superior.
This warped, depraved beast of slavery permitted children of different races and social positions to play together until they came of age, when such companionship was no longer condoned or needed.
But even in play at their young age their stations in life could surface, leaving children like mine in subservient roles and positions.
In the face of their innocence, it stung that such little ones could one day own and misuse mine at will.
They’re harmless enough for now, Zinnie.
Their youthfulness, and this new family seeming quieter than the others, gave me a smidgeon of ease.
The mother was as tiny as the father was burly.
I wasn’t sure if they were converts fresh in the throes of rebirth or hailed from some part of the country where all being created equal actually meant something, but they’d offered a soft, gentle “good morning” since joining the caravan.
More importantly, they didn’t appear to own other humans.
They’re just being kind because you lost your sister.
Maybe. But unlike the Tollivers and the plantation people whose consideration hadn’t lasted more than a day, theirs seemed genuine.
“That’s fine but stay in front of me. And if I call for y’all, come running.”
The children offered a “yes ma’am” before skipping ahead on the trail, through the cluster of livestock I was herding, staff in hand.
I adjusted Hattie on my chest, envying their resilience.
These blazing summer days had me carrying Hattie on my chest again so I could keep her little head covered and protected.
I disliked my littlest bit being exposed to the summer sun versus riding beneath the cowhide covering, but she was cutting teeth.
Runny nosed. Fussy. Riding in her basket tended by her siblings wasn’t soothing.
Even with my grief, she preferred my presence.
“Gonna chew those fingers right off if you don’t stop.
” I rubbed her back as she gnawed her chubby little hand for relief from the pains of teething.
I felt guilty for failing to have any clove in my root stash.
“I wasn’t ready for you to be cutting teeth earlier than your sisters did.
” Hattie was developing quickly, even trying her best to sit up already.
My being unprepared for her teething was one more thing to add to my failures as a root woman.
“Care to come up here?”
I looked over my shoulder to see Buck holding his wagon back at a slower pace than normal.
His uncustomary lagging was easier to do with additional Mormons in the caravan, creating a larger gap between us and the Tollivers.
He’d taken to allowing his conveyance to lag near the rear since leaving Winter Quarters, citing a myriad of reasons.
Dislodging a stone from an ox’s hoof. Needing to readjust the wagon’s load.
Or claiming his team of animals were older and not as fast-moving as the others.
I saw it as little more than a ruse to keep an eye on me.
“I’m fine, Buck. I don’t need your pity.”
“I wasn’t offering any.”
I waved a hand towards his slow-moving wagon. “What do you call all this?”
“Kindness.”
I sucked my teeth and continued forward with Hattie flat-out fussing. She articulated her pain so strongly that I had to raise my voice to be heard when responding to Buck. “You know I gotta walk. I can’t be riding like Lovie.” That slipped from my lips before I could catch it.
I looked at the oxcart in the rear expecting to see my beloved stowaway but saw only Ella goat herding. I stared at the emptiness Lovie left, before facing forward, avoiding her absence.
Hattie wailed as I walked in silence before making an admission. “My head knows she’s gone, but my heart’s having trouble catching up.”
I eased Hattie’s fingers from her mouth, curved mine and eased one in, hoping more soothing was found in my rougher skin.
“Can’t nobody fault you for that, Zinnie. Your sister was a good woman. Never should’ve been walking to begin with,” Buck concluded beneath his breath. Yet I heard him.
I’d had similar thoughts since leaving Mississippi. No woman in a family way should’ve been required to walk anywhere, let alone across the world to Salt Lake Valley. I blamed myself for not making her stow away the moment the journey began.
I couldn’t control the elements or their extremes, but I could’ve spared her the hardship of torturous miles on all manner of terrain. If I had, she’d still be here. “I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t say it, Zinnie. Whatever it is.” Buck and his wagon had moved parallel with me and my straggling sheep. His angry expression mirrored what I felt. “This wasn’t your doing.”
My eyes burned with unshed tears. “But I—”
“But nothing! Tolliver and those dimwits had Lovie walking. Let them deal with the devil and the consequences.”
I swiped away the tear that escaped and focused on the trail ahead.
Buck continued in my silence. “I’ve never seen a breed of people so hell bound on evil.”
I sighed and resituated the cloth draped over Hattie’s head, thankful that she’d quieted. “They’ve been an intolerable inconvenience my entire existence.”
“Like a nest of vipers delighting in meanness. Yet, they so holy they got us rushing west like somebody turned these wagons into chariots. Can’t even get Sundays to ourselves no more, they so hot in the heels for Salt Lake.”
When leaving Winter Quarters, the heads of the caravan had decided to sacrifice Sunday rest in lieu of getting to our destination, long before winter set in.
August had begun and such concerns felt foolish, but I suppose they held merit.
I knew nothing of the terrain ahead but traveling anywhere in winter wouldn’t be ideal.
“Hopefully we’ll get our Sundays back once we get there. How much farther we got to go?”
“Some area in Salt Lake called Holladay-Cottonwood. They say it ain’t but weeks, a month or so away. How’re the brogans?”
I glanced down at my oversized, well-worn men’s shoes and felt a shadowy smile touch my lips. “They’re the nicest footwear I’ve ever had.”
“Those beat-up things?” He laughed. “We need to get you something fancier than that.”
“I’m talking about the generosity. Not the fanciness.”
“You deserve nice things, Zinnie.” His voice turned low, serious. “Maybe… one day I’ll be the one to give ’em to you.”
I was too torn up over Lovie to be feeling anything.
That didn’t keep something from fluttering in my heart region.
Thankfully Hattie was finished with gnawing on my finger instead of hers and launched into a pain-filled fit, keeping me from losing my good sense.
I lagged back ostensibly to nurse her when in truth I needed to catch my breath.
Those brogans might not’ve seemed like much to Buck but I’d never been offered anything nice by someone of his sex.
Him saying he wanted to keep on giving me such things was alarming.
Intoxicating. There was no time to linger on the idea.
Hattie was too upset to even take my breast. She rejected me, discolored in the face, squirming and wailing.
“Come, now, little bit. That’s enough of that.” She didn’t accept my caution or any comfort I offered and escalated her sounds of distress.
“Hand her to me.”
I looked up to see the wagon loaded with household goods stopped several feet ahead with Buck twisted sideways, looking back at me. I frowned at him, wondering what made him think he could soothe my child when I couldn’t.
“This heat’s enough to make the good Lord scream. Hand her to me, Zinnie.”
I hesitated before slowly closing the distance and lifting Hattie into his outstretched arms.
“There now, Miss Hattie. I hear you and agree. It’s hotter than ten witches’ tits out here.”
The corner of my lip lifted slightly as I looked on, amazed at Hattie settling herself in Buck’s care. He held her securely while unfastening his canteen. “Here. Have a cool drink.”