Chapter 25 #3
“Hold on. Lemme make sure nothing was left behind.” I rushed into the house, shut the door, and pulled the cheesecloth from my apron pocket.
I unwrapped beloved content dried beyond recognition.
Unable to shake a premonition of separation, I used a rock to quickly grind my daughters’ water sacs into powder for my consumption.
I mixed it with water in the tin cup I’d intentionally left and choked down the sludge until those water sacs were part of me again.
“Lord, I got an ugly feeling about this journey. Please don’t let my children be taken.” I hurried back into the night, belly filled with them, cradling my daughters safely within.
“I got combs and buttons! Candlesticks and pans.” Peddler Pete stumbled down the road disoriented and empty-handed. His mind had begun to fail him, but he was harmless.
“Get that stupid drunk away from here!” Master Ryland mounted his devil horse and directed it towards the front of the caravan as Pete fell on his face.
“Yes, sir.” I assisted the peddler to his feet, whispering in his ear as I did, “Can you give Missus Allen a message when she returns? Tell her we’re headed to Texas.” He wasn’t drunk. He was aging. His mind was touched. Right then, he was my only hope. “Tell her I’m sorry.”
Coraline would understand we hadn’t left by choice. Still, my soul ached knowing her boys would be devastated. I wanted my friend to know I shared their heartbreak. I mounted the wagon as the peddler stumbled away hawking absent wares as we left like we’d never existed.
We made it to the Santa Monica mountains before Mother Nature interfered.
Rain fell like heaven had a vendetta. Pathways gave way.
Roads became pits with mud thick as molasses.
Mister Peterson was of a mind to let the weather pass.
Master Ryland argued for more distance between us and what they were fleeing.
He won. We pressed on. And he paid the cost.
I never befriended that silver-eyed horse of his but losing its footing and plummeting down an incline with its rider on its back left my mouth open.
Its squeals of pain were so unbearable I was saddened yet relieved when—cussing up a storm once freed from beneath the beast—Master Ryland put it out of its misery.
I looked away when the man cried like he’d lost his best friend before acting like he had good sense.
“We ain’t going no farther today. We’ll wait out the weather.”
For three days Mother Nature remained relentless. When she finally eased her fury, we were further delayed. Alretha was having her baby.
She’d healed from so many injuries that God had mercy and allowed her child to enter the world without complication. “You were with me just like you promised, Miss Zinnie.”
“It was my joy to be.” I placed that precious newborn in her mother’s arms and wrapped the birthing sac in cloth.
I intended to give the new mother instructions on its care but was interrupted by a ruckus outside the makeshift tent Buck erected for us before he and another man were sent off.
They were to search for a safe, passable way down the mountain despite the frosty night and obscured visibility.
I tucked that cloth bundle in my apron pocket, sensing something horrible was unfolding.
I covered mother and child beneath a cowhide blanket and ordered Alretha not to move as I exited the tent. I ran towards the ruckus without thinking, instinctively calling my children.
“Mama!”
Abigail’s terrorized scream sliced the night. I pivoted towards her only to be caught about the waist and lifted off my feet. I kicked and twisted, bit the arm of my captor, and screamed.
“Senora Zinnie! Cállate. Por favor!” Recognizing the voice of one of Mr. Bayard’s vaqueros, I stilled instantly. “Come with me.”
“My babies!”
I didn’t understand his rapid-fire Spanish, still I followed as we ran through the night until we reached a wagon. “Abigail! Juniper!” I climbed aboard so quickly splinters pierced my hands and knees. My girls clung to me. “Where’re your siblings?”
“We don’t know,” Abigail whimpered as Juniper pointed into the night.
“Mr. Bayard!”
I turned to see our beloved friend hurrying towards us with Alretha holding her newborn, both safely in his arms. Hattie clung to his belt, as did Lovie’s middle bits. Ella and her boys were in tow as well.
My heart might’ve exploded with relief except part of my family was missing. “Where’re Annabelle and July? What’s going on?” I shifted, making space for the others.
“They’re coming. They’re with Beltram and the sheriff.”
“Sheriff?”
“I’ll explain later. Where’s Buck?”
I advised he’d been sent on a path-finding expedition.
“We’ll find him. Right now, we need everyone out of here.” Distant gunfire punctuated his sentence.
“Hurry up! Get in.” I helped the others onto the wagon, even while screaming for July and Annabelle.
“I’ll get ’em to you. I promise.” He swiftly spoke Spanish to the driver and hit the side of the wagon before running towards the disturbance, gun drawn.
My fragmented family huddled together. Some cried. Others prayed. I rocked back and forth, craving my husband and my missing children as the wagon hurried away.