I have to confirm what Will already knows. Webb knows it too, though I think Will shielded him from the worst parts. I don’t know how long Will kept them hidden, cowering among the rocks, waiting to feel safe enough to run for help, but it was a good while if the Binghams’ wagon had time to burn.
“I don’t know how long,” Will says when I ask him. “But when it happened, it wasn’t much past noon.”
It’s nearing four o’clock now.
“We gotta find Naomi and baby Wolfe, John,” Webb whimpers.
“I know. And I will. But I need your help now.”
We pile rocks onto the overturned wagon box to weigh it down and then line the sides with the same, creating a monument of stones to mark the spot. From pieces of the undercarriage, I create a cross and bury it deep so it stands upright.
“We need to say something or sing a song,” Wyatt says. His jaw is tight, and he wears the calm stupor of disbelief. I am grateful he won’t ever have to see what his brothers saw.
“We need Ma to sing,” Webb says, and his face crumples.
“I can do it,” Will says, his lips trembling but his shoulders squared.
He sings a song I know, a song Jennie used to sing about grace and the sweet sound it makes. Will’s voice is clear and true like Winifred’s, but he starts to cry when he begins the third verse, and Wyatt and Webb have to help him finish. I can’t sing, but I say the words with them.
The Lord hath promised good to me;
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be
As long as life endures.
When we are through, I unharness my mules and change the rigging on my wagon to accommodate William’s oxen, and then I gather them so I can yoke them in. Not far from the watering hole, I find some blood and a loose page from Naomi’s book. She was here when they surprised her. A cluster of tracks—unshod ponies—lead away from the area. At least I have somewhere to start.
“Why are you yoking the oxen?” Wyatt asks. “The mules will be faster. If we’re going after Naomi, we want to go fast, don’t we?” He and his brothers have culled through the Mays’ provisions and pulled out the things they can save, and they’re piling them in the back of my wagon.
“I can’t follow those tracks in a wagon, Wyatt,” I say.
“We’re leaving it here?”
“No. I’m going after Naomi and Wolfe, and you’re going to take this wagon and your brothers, and you’re going to follow the ruts until you catch up with Abbott and the train.”
“No, no, no. We’re going with you,” he says, shaking his head emphatically.
“Wyatt.”
Wyatt shakes his head again, and his mouth trembles. He’s close to breaking down, and I need him to hold on.
“You can do this, Wyatt. You have to. You remember what your ma said to you when we made it back to camp after my animals were scattered?”
“No. I don’t remember,” he chokes.
“She said you were a man now. She got to see that. And you are, Wyatt.”
“It’s easy to be tough when I’m with you, John. But I don’t think I can do this by myself.”
“I have to go find Naomi, Wyatt. And I can’t take Will and Webb. You know that.”
He groans, fisting his hands in his hair.
“You’ve got money in the wagon. You know where I put it. You’ve got oxen. You’ve got supplies to get you through, and you’ve got people in that train who care about you. You keep on that westbound route until you find them. They’re only a day ahead. Then you stick with Abbott. He’ll get you all the way to California, and when I find Naomi, I’ll come find you and your brothers.”
“Do you promise?” He’s crying now, and I want to cry too. But I’m too afraid to cry.
“I promise you I will. I don’t know how long it’ll take me, but I promise I will.”
“Okay,” Wyatt whispers.
I’ve watered my animals. They’re ready to go. I might need the dun, and I’ll need a few mules, but I leave Kettle and a mule for each of the boys, securing them to the sides. They might need them. I help Webb and Will into the back of the wagon, and I tell them what I’ve told Wyatt.
“I can’t go with you. You gotta take care of each other so I can take care of Naomi and Wolfe,” I say. “Listen to Wyatt. Mind him. Webb, you take care of Kettle and the mules. They’re May mules now. Will, you keep looking after Webb.”
Webb throws himself into my arms, and I reach out for Will, who is pale and quiet. His tears have dried and his eyes are hollow, but he lets me take his hand.
“All of this is my fault, John,” Will says. “I killed one, and that’s why they attacked us.”
“You can’t take the blame for what other men do. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know the why of it. But I know this—you saved your brother, and you kept your head. I’m proud of you.”
“I hate them. I hate Indians,” Webb cries, his voice muffled by my shoulder.
“Do you hate me?” I ask quietly. “I’m an Indian.”
“No. I love you.”
“And I love you too. There’s good and bad in all kinds of people. Indians and emigrants alike. Do you remember when Mr. Caldwell set my animals loose?”
“Yeah. I hate Mr. Caldwell too,” Webb sobs.
“Do you remember my friend Hanabi? And Charlie? They helped us. Without Charlie . . . Wyatt and I wouldn’t have made it back to you and the others,” I remind him. “So you be real careful about who you hate.”
Webb is quiet, and I ease him back from my arms.
“It’s time to go now,” I say.
“I’m scared, John,” Will says.
“I know. I’m scared too. But we all have jobs to do. And we’re going to do them.”
I watch as my wagon pulls out, lurching from side to side, Wyatt prodding the oxen along with his father’s staff, Webb and Will staring back at me, framed by the oval opening in the wagon cover.
16
NOWHERE
NAOMI
Wolfe sleeps, and I stagger. For miles and miles, I stagger. I am accustomed to walking, but I am not accustomed to being dragged, and the pace we’ve kept is mild for the horses but bruising for a woman with a child in her arms. My skin is slick and my dress damp with sweat. The cut beneath my eye stings, and my head throbs in time with my steps, but like everything else, the sensation is distant; I recognize it, the way I recognize that the sun has moved in the sky and there is a pebble wedged into the hole in my shoe. I keep my eyes forward, on the trail of black feathers one Indian wears in his hair. They extend all the way down his back to the top of his leather leggings. I have not looked behind me. No one follows, and I am afraid that if I turn my head, I will fall and will not find my feet again, or worse, Wolfe will be taken from my arms.
Ma says the things we fear most tend to find us. Just like Job from the Bible. People think the Lord was testing him—and Ma said He was—but she said that wasn’t the only thing to be learned from Job. For the thing which I greatly feared is come upon me, and that which I was afraid of is come unto me.
“Some trouble can’t be avoided. Some you must face. Job was the best of men. Yet trouble still came.”