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there, nothing but a few buffalo chips, far out on the prairie. Everything
close by has been used."
"What about the Indians?"
"If they want you, they'll find you. I say load up with fuel. From here on
you'd better sling a canvas underneath your wagon. Let your wife an' boy walk
behind an' pick up buffalo chips "
"Pickthem up?With ourhands ?"
"Yes, ma'am.They're dry ... if you're careful which ones you pick, an'
they'll be the only fuel you'll have for miles. You sling that canvas
underneath and when they pick up the chips they can toss them into the canvas
along with any sticks they can find. You'll beneedin ' fuel."
The sun was up now, although just above the horizon. The sky had hazed over
and a wind kicked sudden gusts that flapped their canvas top and blew the
horses' manes.
DuncanMcKaskel walked beside his mules, andVallian rode close to the wagon
seat, near Susanna. "That was a good thought, he had,"Vallian commented,
"telling them the buffalo would come. Injuns set store by medicine men. Him
carrying on with the Bible like that ... they'll think he's a preacher."
"And if the buffalo do not come?"
Vallianchuckled. "Now, ma'am, that never unsettled no medicine man, nor
preacher, either! He can just say it was their fault, that there was sin in
their village,that there was no faith."
"You are a cynic."
"No, ma'am, but when a miracle doesn't come off you don't just expect to set
by, do you? You got to have a reason. Sin's the reason they'll buy ... you can
just bet, ma'am, that somebody was doing something he shouldn't have, so
they'll blame him, not the prophet."
"Why did they charge us like that?"
"Scarin' you.Seein' if you had backbone.They weren't a war party ...
justtravelin ' with their folks. You got to judge them according to their
lights, ma'am. Injuns think different than us, but that doesn't say they are
wrong ... just different."
"It would have taken all we had to feed them! Why, there must have been a
dozen of them!"
"No, ma'am, there was eight, but when it comes to Injuns that's too many.
They'd have taken all you had,then searched your wagon. If you'd let 'emhave
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it all, they'd have taken it all and everything else they wanted, but when we
stood fast and showed our guns, they werewillin ' to talk. They're good folks,
ma'am, but they just don't think like we do. You got to allow for that."
Twice they stopped to rest the mules. At theirnooning ,Duncan said, "Susanna,
I think you and Tom had better walk some more. The mules are making hard work
of it."
"Throw out that chest,"Vallian said, "or the dresser. You're going to kill
them mules."
"I will do no such thing!" Susanna said sharply. "Why, the very idea! My
grandmother owned that dresser! She had it from her husband's mother. Why,
it's been in our family for years and years!"
"Maybe,"Vallian commented dryly, "but it sure won't pull your wagon when
those mules are played out, and the way you'reusin ' 'emthose mules won't last
another week ... maybe ten days. And in ten days, ma'am, you just aren't going
to be anywhere. Not anywhere at all!"
LostSpring was nowhere. It was bald prairie all around, not a stick of wood,
not even a buffalo chip. There was not a bush or a tree anywhere within sight.
During the night the wind blew hard and before daylight it began to rain. It
was a spitting, doubtful rain at first, then after an interlude, a brisk but
brief shower.
Duncanled the mules to water, then the horses. Tom helped to make camp. It
was not easy in the rain.Vallian scooped out a small hollow in the earth,
gathered a few stones, and using dry wood from the tarp slung under the wagon,
he got a fire going.
With a canvas over the fire they broiled some antelope steaks and ate their
small meal and drank coffee standing in the rain.
"How far to the next camp?"Tom asked.
"Sixteen miles ... maybe a shade less.There's wood there, and grass. It's a
good camp."
"Well, that will be a help. At least, we can pick up some more wood
tomorrow."
"Not you."
They turned their heads to stare at him.Vallian returned the look.
"Youain'tgoin ' to be there tomorrow.Maybe not the next day."
"What do you mean?" Susanna demanded sharply.
"Your mules are tuckered. They just made it to here, and when you come in it
was dry. Tomorrow those wheels will becuttin ' into mud. With luck you'll make
that camp on Cottonwood Creek in three days."
"Three days!For sixteen miles?"
"Maybe not even then.Maybe not at all."Tom's face was white, and for a moment
Susanna thought she would cry.Duncan stared then looked at the ground, feeling
empty and sick.
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