farms stretched all along their path, the other men agreed with Rod that camping and cooking their own food was both cheaper and safer than stopping to eat ready-made meals. However, Rod did inquire for news of Indian movements along the trail ahead.
A week later, the party came upon a fork in the trail, and Rod pointed out to Julia the branch angling off toward the northeast.
“That there’s the road to Oregon. There used to be a sign here, telling folks which way was what. It was mostly a joke.”
“But we don’t go that way?”
“Nah. We take the left fork, keep going west until we hit the Arkansas River.”
“Looks easy to follow, Rod.”
“Should be. This trail is over forty years old. I reckon we could hold to the road in a snowstorm. The tracks are worn deep and wide.”
“How come there is more than one trail going to the same place, like over there?” Julia gestured toward another track 50 yards away.
“I’ve been told folks would strike off on a path to one side, or where the grass was thicker for the stock. All the trails go to the same place—Santa Fe.”
“I like the trees along here. They remind me of home.” She pointed to a stand of oaks interrupting the waves of blue-stemmed grass.
“Enjoy them now, woman. There’s a long stretch ahead of us without trees at all, and it goes for hundreds of miles. Jonathan said folks call it the ‘Great American Desert’. That’s where all them buffalo are supposed to cover the land from one horizon to the other.”
“Rod, ain’t there no trees in the Colorado Territory?”
“We’ll have trees, Julie. I promise you we’ll have trees if I have to plant ‘em myself.”
“That’ll take years, Rod. I’d hanker for shade.”
“You’ll have it. I didn’t bring you out here to pioneer forever. We’ll have all we had back in the Shenandoah, and more. I figure to make a heap of money. I aim to have my share of this country, especially since the Yankees took as much of mine as they did. If I’ve got to start over, I mean to end big.”
“Rod.” Julia changed the subject. “I’ve been watching that dust cloud out there on the horizon, and it’s growing mighty fast. Somebody’s in a powerful hurry.”
Rod studied the dust for a moment, noting how it boiled up out of the distant roadway. “No telling what trouble that could be. We’d best get off the road and circle the wagons.”
Rod directed his team off the road, and the others followed him, wondering what was causing the delay. At Rod’s explanation, they drew the eight wagons into a tight circle, unhitched the teams, and led them into the center along with the extra livestock. Then they found their rifles and waited as the dust cloud drifted nearer.
A few minutes later, a loud thundering sound accompanied the dust. Soon, the nervous watchers made out a dark, bulky shape, like a covered freight wagon, bearing down on them at high speed.
As it drew closer, Rulon called out to his father. “Pa. I reckon that’s the mail stage.” He walked nearer, and continued in a lower voice. “I reckon I forgot to tell you it was expected about now.”
Rod expelled a lungful of air, and looked at his eldest son. “No harm done, I guess. Next time I send you to a stage stop for information, it would pleasure me if you would tell me all you dig up, boy.”
“I’m sorry I forgot to give you that word, Pa. I reckon I ain’t a boy no longer, though. Not with a wife and young’uns.”
“You’ll always be my boy, Rule. That’s the way of fathers.” Rod suddenly focused on his son’s face. “Wait a minute. You said ‘young’uns’?”
“You been preoccupied, Pa. Mary and me, well, Mary, anyway, is a-brooding chick number two. We reckon it’ll hatch just before spring.”
“That’s why she didn’t want to come west. A gal gets mighty particular about her nest during these times. Is she taking this traveling well, son?”
“Well enough. Look at
A week later, the party came upon a fork in the trail, and Rod pointed out to Julia the branch angling off toward the northeast.
“That there’s the road to Oregon. There used to be a sign here, telling folks which way was what. It was mostly a joke.”
“But we don’t go that way?”
“Nah. We take the left fork, keep going west until we hit the Arkansas River.”
“Looks easy to follow, Rod.”
“Should be. This trail is over forty years old. I reckon we could hold to the road in a snowstorm. The tracks are worn deep and wide.”
“How come there is more than one trail going to the same place, like over there?” Julia gestured toward another track 50 yards away.
“I’ve been told folks would strike off on a path to one side, or where the grass was thicker for the stock. All the trails go to the same place—Santa Fe.”
“I like the trees along here. They remind me of home.” She pointed to a stand of oaks interrupting the waves of blue-stemmed grass.
“Enjoy them now, woman. There’s a long stretch ahead of us without trees at all, and it goes for hundreds of miles. Jonathan said folks call it the ‘Great American Desert’. That’s where all them buffalo are supposed to cover the land from one horizon to the other.”
“Rod, ain’t there no trees in the Colorado Territory?”
“We’ll have trees, Julie. I promise you we’ll have trees if I have to plant ‘em myself.”
“That’ll take years, Rod. I’d hanker for shade.”
“You’ll have it. I didn’t bring you out here to pioneer forever. We’ll have all we had back in the Shenandoah, and more. I figure to make a heap of money. I aim to have my share of this country, especially since the Yankees took as much of mine as they did. If I’ve got to start over, I mean to end big.”
“Rod.” Julia changed the subject. “I’ve been watching that dust cloud out there on the horizon, and it’s growing mighty fast. Somebody’s in a powerful hurry.”
Rod studied the dust for a moment, noting how it boiled up out of the distant roadway. “No telling what trouble that could be. We’d best get off the road and circle the wagons.”
Rod directed his team off the road, and the others followed him, wondering what was causing the delay. At Rod’s explanation, they drew the eight wagons into a tight circle, unhitched the teams, and led them into the center along with the extra livestock. Then they found their rifles and waited as the dust cloud drifted nearer.
A few minutes later, a loud thundering sound accompanied the dust. Soon, the nervous watchers made out a dark, bulky shape, like a covered freight wagon, bearing down on them at high speed.
As it drew closer, Rulon called out to his father. “Pa. I reckon that’s the mail stage.” He walked nearer, and continued in a lower voice. “I reckon I forgot to tell you it was expected about now.”
Rod expelled a lungful of air, and looked at his eldest son. “No harm done, I guess. Next time I send you to a stage stop for information, it would pleasure me if you would tell me all you dig up, boy.”
“I’m sorry I forgot to give you that word, Pa. I reckon I ain’t a boy no longer, though. Not with a wife and young’uns.”
“You’ll always be my boy, Rule. That’s the way of fathers.” Rod suddenly focused on his son’s face. “Wait a minute. You said ‘young’uns’?”
“You been preoccupied, Pa. Mary and me, well, Mary, anyway, is a-brooding chick number two. We reckon it’ll hatch just before spring.”
“That’s why she didn’t want to come west. A gal gets mighty particular about her nest during these times. Is she taking this traveling well, son?”
“Well enough. Look at
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