"EL DORADO WEST" [PG] - Chapter Fourteen
The following is Chapter Fourteen of my story about a pair of free black siblings making the journey to California in 1849:
Chapter Fourteen - A Fine Romance
May 29, 1849
Today proved to be an exceptionally pleasant day. More than pleasant, if I must be honest . . . but I will touch upon that matter, later. After several days of rain, our wagon train encountered bright sunshine and blue skies. The positive change in the weather seemed to have improved everyone’s mood and led to good behavior. For once, Benjamin was able to spend all day without complaining about any unladylike behavior I might display - well, most of the day. Even Clive Anderson and Marcus Cross managed to spend the entire day without exchanging one hostile word or glance. A miracle indeed.
I might as well confess. The weather, the scenery and the lack of conflict made the day pleasant for me. But what made this day more than pleasant were the hour or two spent in Mr. Wendell’s company. Mr. James wanted to spend some time with Benjamin - to reminisce about old Mr. Whitman, I suspect. Our intrepid guide lent me his horse, a handsome chestnut gelding named Spirit. Frankly, I welcomed the chance to ride Mr. James’ horse. The latter reminded me of the mare I had left behind in Cleveland. And sitting on a wagon buckboard for hours could be strenuous on my lower back.
No sooner than I found myself on Spirit, Mr. Wendell appeared by my side and asked me to ride with him, as he scouted the trail ahead. A deep suspicion appeared in my mind that both Mr. Wendell and Mr. James had arranged this. We soon found ourselves cantering several yards ahead of the train. I told him about the Flemings and my childhood back in Cleveland. He told me about his childhood in a town called Frederick in Maryland. Mr. Wendell’s parents had been slaves before their emancipation just weeks before the outbreak of the second war against England. He was the youngest son and the fourth child in a family of five. After meeting Mr. James and Mr. Whitman, Mr. Wendell left his family at the age of sixteen to head West.
Mr. Wendell’s family background seemed very intriguing to me. But I remained curious about whether he had been the runaway slave being hunted back in Missouri. I meant to question him on the matter, but Mr. Wendell suggested that I follow him, as he rode further ahead of the wagon train. Although reluctant to follow him at first, a feeling washed over me that he could be trusted. So, we both rode further ahead, until the wagon train disappeared from our view.
The handsome scout led me to a small bluff just southwest of the wagon train, where we dismounted from out mounts. The bluff overlooked a sight that left me completely breathless. Not only was I able to spot our own wagon train rambling westward, I also saw several other trains that traveled ahead and behind us. The entire horizon seemed to team with canvas-topped wagons. I exclaimed that all of North America seemed to be traveling west.
“Maybe,” Mr. Wendell replied. “I’ve never seen this many wagons on the trail. Not in the twelve years I’ve spent out west.”
As we continued to eye the view below us, I spotted what seemed to be a wide stream or narrow river in the western horizon. Mr. Wendell informed me that was the Platte River. It did not strike me as an impressive body of water. Mr. Wendell added that the water tend to be brackish. “With all of these trains using the water, I reckon it must be a lot worse, now.”
Mr. Wendell remained rooted in the same spot for several minutes. Before I could control myself, I leaned back against his chest, finding the contact warm and very reassuring. I finally realized what I had done and quickly removed my head from his chest. Mr. Wendell gently grabbed hold of my shoulders and turned me around to face him. A languorous settled between us and I felt certain that he would kiss me. Instead, Mr. Wendell merely stared into my eyes before suggesting that we mount our horses. As we rode back to the wagon train, I felt a sense of disappointment that he did not kiss me.
Later that evening, Mr. Wendell informed everyone else that we should be reaching the Platte River within days. No one said a word about my early afternoon excursion with Mr. Wendell . . . except for Benjamin. My dear brother lectured me about being alone with a man, claiming that it was improper for a young woman like me to be alone with any man other than himself. Benjamin also ordered me never to leave the train alone with Mr. Wendell or any other male member of the train. I did not respond, for I promised myself that I would disobey him the first chance I got. At least as far as Mr. Wendell was concerned.
End of Chapter Fourteen