The Lost Wagon Part 57

"When we're settled and have a roof over our head, Joe--"

He waited.

She added softly, "I'm going to miss the open sky and the stars."

Morning brought mists that swirled upward from the creek and spread like gossamer spirits over the meadow on both sides. The mules and the placid cow were half hidden by it, and the air had a distinct chill. Joe rose to throw more wood on the fire, and when he walked over to see if Emma was awake he found her staring at him.

"How is the baby?" he whispered.

"She had a difficult night," Emma said softly, "but she's sleeping now.

Joe, I'm--"

"Yes?" he asked.

"I'm afraid she won't be able to travel for a while."

Joe looked toward the other side of the creek. The three cow elk, sure that the night was a cloak of safety, were grazing unconcernedly. Joe looked at the tall gra.s.s that could have grown only in fertile soil. He thought of last evening. Barbara and Ellis had gone wading in the creek.

Barbara's legs, bare to the knee, had flashed in the setting sun, and through the clear water small stones that either were white or appeared to be white due to some trick of the water's reflection were plainly seen on the bottom of the creek.

Out in the meadow, a meadow lark piped its greeting to the rising sun.

The lark was Joe's totem bird and always a symbol of good luck.

He said with sudden decision, "She won't have to travel. This is the place we came so far to find."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The Farm

A hundred and sixty-five measured yards from the big pine in the meadow, there was an icy spring. It bubbled out of sand so white that it seemed to have great depth, and the overflow made its own little watercourse that trickled into the creek. The spring was four feet wide by two and a half deep, and Joe and Ellis made the watercourse a dividing line to separate the land they took for themselves.

Joe went to the south, so that the great pine was on his property, and he chose very carefully. A man needed enough land, but not too much and Joe fronted his hundred and sixty acres on the creek. He wanted eighty acres of the meadow for crop and pasture land, and he ran his property back to the top of the slope so that he had eighty of timber. In addition, he allowed ten acres for the road that would one day parallel this creek. Snedeker had been right. The creek headed out two and a half miles away and throughout its length was natural meadow land that needed no clearing. Emigrants hadn't claimed it as yet because of the Indian danger, but nothing could keep them from coming here when the threat subsided. Some, sure of their ability to defend themselves, might come anyway.

Ellis laid out his claim just as carefully, with a judicious selection of meadow and timber, and between the two of them they owned a half mile of timber and a half mile of meadow. It was much more land than they needed for the present and as much as they were likely to need in the future.

Joe worked with a happiness and contentment he had never known before, and his pleasure was complete when baby Emma made a slow recovery. She remained frail and she could not be as active as the other children, but Emma nursed her carefully and watched her closely. She might have traveled on, but all of them had lost all desire to travel. They had chosen their home and they were happy with it, and the fact that it meant working from the time the sun rose until it set again was accepted as a part of things. There was a vast amount of work and never enough time. However, next season there would be only routine farm tasks and more leisure.

He stood back on the ridge and chopped cleanly a slender pine whose ruffled top towered fifty feet above him. Joe chopped the last strip of wood that held the pine erect and rested his ax on the needle-carpeted ground while the pine swayed on its stump and fell. He wiped his sweating brow. A little distance away he heard Ellis chopping a tree, and Joe grinned.

There were as many trees as anyone could possibly want, but many were centuries-old giants with ma.s.sive trunks. They were too big for two men to handle or for mules to drag, and splitting the trunks would mean a great deal of work and require a lot of time. There was simply no time to spare, so they had to search through the forest for trees that needed no splitting.

Expertly, knowing precisely where to strike, Joe trimmed the branches from his tree and cut the trunk in half. He fretted as he did so, and wished that he were two men so he could do twice as much. They were still camped in the meadow and a house was of the utmost importance. But crops were necessary too, and every day at two o'clock Joe had stopped all other work so he could plow. He let the felled tree lie where it was and went to seek Ellis.

Joe had distrusted this slender young man at first, but he had come to love him as his own. Ellis was still inclined to be reckless and impulsive, but reckless impulse was the birthright of youth. However, Ellis rose when Joe did and worked until it was too dark to work any more. Ellis was striving toward a cherished goal. He and Barbara had set no definite date but they wanted to be married before the summer was over. But rather than build two houses when there was so much to be done, it had been agreed to build just one with a room for the young couple. They'd build a house for Ellis and Barbara when autumn brought some relief from other work.

Ellis was tr.i.m.m.i.n.g another pine when Joe found him. For a moment Joe watched, taking sheer delight in the supple rhythm of the youngster's physical efforts. Ellis had the rippling grace of a cat, and Joe thought of his lovely daughter. Their marriage was right and good, as it should be. Ellis turned to Joe and grinned.

"Loafing again, huh?"

"If you did half as much work as I do, the house would have been finished yesterday."

"You and Hercules!"

"That's right," Joe agreed. "How about hauling some of this timber while I work a bit more on the foundation?"

"Sure thing."

Axes swinging from their hands, they left the timber and descended into the meadows. They had already selected the site for both houses, with Joe's and Emma's on one side of the spring and Ellis's and Barbara's on the other. However, due to the slope it had been necessary to level the sites and the only tools they had for such work were picks and shovels.

Joe glanced down at his new farm.

Since this was to be a permanent home, and not just an overnight stop, Emma and Barbara had busied themselves making it a comfortable one.

They'd rearranged the fireplace, made a table from a log Joe had split for them, and even cus.h.i.+oned the chunks of logs that served as chairs.

Now, while the children threw stones into the creek so they could watch the resulting splashes, Emma and Barbara were planting more vegetables in the garden Joe had plowed. Tad, Joe thought wryly, was probably fis.h.i.+ng.

A vegetable garden had been first in order of importance because there was little need to worry about the animals. The gra.s.s was tall and rich and their discarded beds, thoroughly dried, as well as other gra.s.s Joe had mowed already made a respectable hay stack. As soon as they got time, if they ever did, Joe and Ellis would cut more. This season the mules, the horse and the cow, could winter on hay. Next year there would be grain.

Joe had plowed his vegetable garden near the creek, and it had been a back-breaking job. First he had mowed all the gra.s.s as short as possible, let it dry, raked it up, and added it to the hay stack. Then it had required all the strength in Joe's arms and all the power the mules had to turn the tough sod. Joe had plowed and cross plowed, turning the sod under. But all the labor had been worth while.

The earth was rich, with very few stones, and already seedlings were sprouting in it. Joe had purposely made the garden big enough not only to supply his family, but also to provide a surplus which he hoped to sell at Camp Axton. He couldn't imagine Major Dismuke planting any gardens. Regulations didn't cover them.

Joe and Ellis walked down to the garden. Kneeling in the soft dirt, patting a hill of corn in with her hands, Barbara might have been some lovely young wood sprite as she glanced up at Ellis. Joe left them alone--young lovers are not partial to sharing even one moment with anyone else--and walked over to Emma.

There was something new about Emma, a deep and enduring quality rising from both strength and happiness. She had conquered her shattering fears, and her face showed the sweetness of her new self confidence. Joe smiled down on her.

"By this time next week, darling, you'll be a housekeeper again."

"Oh Joe! I can hardly wait!"

"The logs are all cut. We can start building this afternoon. Of course the furniture will be rough at first; Ellis and I will have to make it.

But if our crops are good next year, and I don't see how they can fail here, we'll go into The Dalles or Oregon City and buy everything new.

That's the money Elias Dorrance would have had if we'd stayed in Missouri."

She said, dazedly, "It's--it's hard to believe, isn't it? We've been through so much, and now we're _here_! We're here, Joe--all of us!"

He bent to kiss her. "Well, this isn't building a house. I'd better get busy."

He turned back toward the building site and as he did Ellis went to bring the mules in. Joe felt a little sorry for him. Remembering his own courting days, he knew that nothing was as fascinating or as important to Ellis as Barbara, but Ellis was aware of the necessity for getting things done. He was young in years but he had a sense of responsibility.

Joe caught up his pick and shovel and went to work.

They had planned a combined kitchen-living room and three bedrooms; one for Ellis and Barbara, one for Tad and his brothers, and one for Joe and Emma. Baby Emma would share with her parents until Barbara and Ellis moved into their own house. Then she would have their room.

The main room would be in front, facing the creek, and the only door would also be there. The rear would be divided into bed rooms. Until there was time to lay puncheons, the floor would necessarily be dirt and Joe had taken a cue from Snedeker's post. Though they would not have Snedeker's advantage in looking through small windows from a raised floor, the windows would be small and so placed that everything around the cabin could be seen from them. Thus, in the event of an attack, they would be able to shoot in any direction.

They had dug into the slope at the rear and leveled it out to the front, but it was not exactly level. Joe drove stakes at either end, stretched a cord between them and laid his level on the cord. He loosened dirt with the pick, scooped it up in the shovel and threw it down the slope.

Ellis came with a drag of logs, left them beside the excavation and went back for more. Joe got down on his hands and knees, leveled a small hump and was satisfied. He leaned his pick and shovel against the wagon, took his ax out of the tool box and began notching logs.