Part 32 (1/2)

”Better get in.”

”I aim to walk. I'll keep up.”

Joe felt his anger rise, but he held it in check. Tad had been mighty brave and mighty helpful and he was ent.i.tled to be treated with respect.

”We're going to make time, Tad. We've got to now.”

Tad was silent, and the struggle he was undergoing showed plainly on his freckled face.

Suddenly, without a word of comment, he climbed into the wagon and settled himself where he could watch out the back end. Joe's heart swelled with pride. Emma had told him that his daughter had grown up, and now he knew that his son was growing, too. Fiercely proud, Tad had fully intended to walk all the way to Oregon. But he had seen the need, and had placed the family's welfare above his own.

Joe said, ”Keep your eye peeled for antelope, will you? Holler if you see any and I'll hand you the rifle.”

”Sure, Pa. You want buffalo too?”

”Can't stop to butcher a buffalo right now.”

Joe kept the mules at a fast walk except on upgrades and trotted them on all the down slopes. The mules were big, but their hoofs were slender and much smaller than a horse's. Therefore, though this light fall did not bother them, they would have harder going than horses found should there be deep snow.

Clouds ruled the sky until almost noon, then they broke and the sun shone for a few hours. There was little warmth in it and the north wind still blew. But all the snow melted, leaving them a clear trail, and there had not been enough snow so that its melting left mud in its wake.

That night they stopped half an hour before their usual stopping time because, though speed was important, gra.s.s was just as necessary and there was rich gra.s.s at this spot. The mules and the cow could eat their fill and be ready for a long trail tomorrow. The next day they started at dawn, and the day after that. On the seventh day after the first snowfall they met a rider coming east. Joe looked around to see where his children were, and he made sure that the rifle was in reach. Then they drew nearer and he saw that the rider was a white man.

He was small, not much taller than Pete Domley, and his horse, a clean-limbed sorrel, seemed huge in comparison. The man wore a wool cap, a buffalo skin coat with the hair still on, and cloth trousers that were tucked into high-laced moccasins. A luxuriant black beard fell a third of the way down his chest. He carried a long rifle crosswise on the front of his saddle, and strapped behind was a small pack.

Joe sat forward on the seat and he felt Emma move with him. The children crowded forward, staring with frank curiosity at this, the first man they had met since they were a couple of days out of Kearney. There might have been others near the trail, but if there had been any, they hadn't met them. Now they were going to meet, and for a little while the country seemed neither so lonely nor so vast. Joe halted the mules and the rider stopped his horse beside them. Though he was small, his voice was loud and blasting,

”Migos.h.!.+ Emigrants! What'd you do? Get lost?”

”Yep!” Joe laughed for the sheer joy of laughing and because it felt so good to meet someone else. ”Plumb lost!”

”You must have. Do you know how far behind the rest you are?”

”We left late.”

”You don't figure on gettin' to Oregon this season, do you?”

”Just to Laramie. How far is it?”

”A piece up the Trail. I left there yesterday at midmornin'.”

”Then we should make it in tomorrow?”

”I don't know,” the rider said doubtfully. ”You could if you was ridin'

horses, but you'll have to make them mules step some with a wagon behind 'em.”

”It's almost noon,” Emma spoke up. ”Why don't we lunch here and ask Mr.--”

”Gaystell, ma'am,” the rider swept off his hat and bowed to Emma. ”John Gaystell, and I'll be right proud to join you in a bit of lunch. I didn't expect to see any white folks this side of Kearney.”

Joe stepped down, turned to help Emma, and stood aside as Tad and Barbara alighted. Joe caught the younger children in his arms and helped them down; they could descend without his help but this was faster. He was swinging Carlyle to the ground when he heard Emma say,