Wagon Train Sisters. Shirley KennedyЧитать онлайн книгу.
“Why the fuss? There’s fifty-four wagons in this train. She could be visiting in any one of them.”
Ma ignored her less-than-lovable daughter-in-law. “I’m worried. I think we should start looking.” She looked at her husband. “Don’t you think so, Frank?”
Pa gave an elaborate shrug. “I think we should wait. She’s bound to turn up.”
Sarah could tell her mild-mannered father was concerned and trying not to let it show. As if he didn’t have enough problems. For years, he’d led a quiet life running his newspaper in Fort Wayne. When he wasn’t working, he read books, wrote poetry, went fishing, and enjoyed his family. Sarah couldn’t remember her parents ever arguing. Ma kept the household running and disciplined the children. Pa earned the money and gave wise advice. A perfect arrangement, but it didn’t last. Ma’s health had never been good, but this past year, she’d grown ever more frail. Pa’s newspaper began to lose money. His worry over going bankrupt created constant anxiety in what had been a comfortably happy family.
How lucky Joseph died. The irreverent thought often popped into Sarah’s head these days. At the age of twenty-two, she’d married Joseph Gregg and moved to his farm. At the age of twenty-eight, she became a widow. Childless, she moved back home, soon discovering how much she was needed, even more so now.
Since they left Indiana, her parents had changed, and not for the better. Pa, the respected newspaper owner, had always been elegantly dressed in frock coat and brocade vest, never without his walking stick, watch, and top hat. Now he was hard to recognize in his flannel shirt, baggy pants, and scraggly beard. Ma, too, had always dressed in the height of fashion. She wouldn’t have been caught dead in the plain dress, sturdy boots, and white apron she was wearing now.
A look of sudden awareness crossed Ma’s face. She slammed a hand to her heart. “It’s almost dark. Where is that girl?” She leaped to her feet. “Florrie would never stay out this long. Something’s wrong. We’ve got to find her.”
Sarah put her plate aside, rose, and placed a comforting arm around her mother. “You’re right. I’m worried, too, but I’m sure she’s just gone visiting and isn’t aware of the time.”
Pa and Becky remained seated and unperturbed, but Hiram quickly got to his feet. “I’ll start looking. We’ll find her.”
Becky sniffed with disdain. “She’ll show up, Hiram. Sit down and finish your supper.”
Why did he marry her? Sarah had long since grown accustomed to her sharp-tongued sister-in-law’s selfish attitude, but there were times she’d like to give her a good shake. Ma and her brother were right to be concerned. “I’ll come with you, Hiram. Let’s each take half. We’ll ask at every wagon.”
Parked in a meadow by the stream, the wagons of the Morehead wagon train were positioned in a big circle. Starting with their own wagon, Hiram went one way around the circle and Sarah the other. “Have you seen Florrie?” she asked at every campfire. Always the answer was no. No one seemed concerned, and humorous suggestions abounded.
“Maybe she’s playing hide-and-seek.”
“Maybe the wolves got her.” That was said with such an unfeeling giggle Sarah’s temper flared. Couldn’t they see how worried she was?
When Sarah asked when Florrie had last been seen, nobody seemed to know. No wonder. Who would notice her sister? Everything about her was unremarkable, from her plain looks to her dull conversation. Not until Sarah reached the wagon master’s campfire did anyone take her seriously.
Dissension reigned in many of the wagon trains, but so far the Morehead train had traveled without major conflicts, thanks mainly to its leader. A tall, gray-haired man of about fifty, Albert Morehead always maintained a calm, reasonable attitude and was admired by all. When she asked if he’d seen Florrie, he replied, “No I haven’t, Sarah. Have you asked around?”
“I’ve stopped at every wagon, Mr. Morehead. Nobody’s seen her.”
In the gathering darkness, the wagon master cast an apprehensive glance at the thick woods surrounding the meadow. “I’d hate to think she’s lost in those woods, what with—” He clamped his lips. “If she doesn’t turn up, say, in the next hour, we’ll form a search party.”
The wagon master’s unsaid words increased her uneasiness. Since the train left the monotony of the plains and started toward the mountains, the eerie howling of wolves had kept her awake each night.
Hiram appeared, shaking his head. “I asked at every wagon, but nobody’s seen her.”
“That settles it.” Morehead nodded decisively. “We’ll start searching for that young lady right now. Come on, Hiram, let’s gather the men. Sarah, get back to your mother. She’s going to need you.”
At her wagon, Sarah found her mother wringing her hands, pacing back and forth in front of the campfire. Both Pa and Becky were trying to calm her, but she wasn’t listening. “It’s dark,” she cried. “Something’s happened to Florrie! I know it has. Oh, Sarah, what are we going to do?”
Sarah told them about the search party. “Florrie must have been in the woods and lost her way, but surely they’ll find her.” After Pa went to join the search party, Sarah led her mother to a seat by the fire. “We’ll wait right here. It shouldn’t take long.”
Becky busied herself making coffee. She slammed the pot down with obvious annoyance. “I’d wager Florrie’s doing this on purpose, just to get some attention. You know how she is. She’ll show up when she gets hungry enough.”
Shut your mouth, Becky. Sarah’s sister-in-law loved to give her so-called expert opinion on every subject. Usually she was wrong, and now was no exception.
“I don’t think so, Becky. Florrie has always been afraid of the dark. There’s no way in the world she’d hide in the woods at night by herself.”
“No, she wouldn’t.” Ma spoke in a voice both fragile and shaking. “Florrie must be very frightened by now. Alone…in the woods…. Soon the wolves will start howling….” Tears filled her eyes. She could not go on.
The three sat waiting as twenty men or more fanned out from the meadow into the surrounding woods. Soon night fell. All they could see were lights from the searchers’ lanterns eerily bobbing among the trees. “Florrrieee…” came hollers from all directions. “Florrrieee…” The sounds drifted farther away.
“How kind of them to search,” Ma said. “They didn’t have to.”
Sarah agreed. A grueling day on the trail left everybody exhausted, yet these men had given up their evening of rest for a girl they hardly knew.
After an hour of anxious waiting, rain began to fall. In minutes, they were caught in a drenching downpour and had to run for cover. Becky ran to her and Hiram’s wagon, parked next to theirs. Sarah led her mother to their own wagon, helped her inside, and pulled the canvas flap back so they could keep an eye on the campground. “They’ll soon be back, Ma. No one can search in this.”
Sure enough, Pa and Hiram appeared shortly after, accompanied by Albert Morehead, all three cold and drenched to the skin.
“Any sign of her?” Sarah called.
Grim-faced, Hiram shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Oh, God, my baby’s lost!” Ma let out a heart-wrenching wail and started to rock back and forth. “She’s out there in the wet and cold. You must go back. You must find her.”
Pa took her hand. “We’re doing all we can, my dear. Surely she’ll come home soon.”
Home? In the middle of the wilderness? What irony. If they hadn’t found Florrie by now, she could be gone forever. Sarah kept her bleak thoughts to herself. For her mother’s sake, she must appear optimistic. Florrie might be twenty-three, but she was the youngest, the baby of the family, and Ma’s favorite child. Sarah never minded. She was