Donners of the Dead

Chapter Three

For the second night in a row I didn’t sleep a wink, and yet I felt as awake as the crowing rooster with one cup of Aunt June’s coffee coursing through my system like gunpowder. I don’t even know how I held it together, but even with jittery nerves and shaking hands I somehow saddled up my horse Sadie and got her outfitted with the packs I would be using.

“Don’t be nervous,” Aunt June whispered in my ear. We were standing outside the house, just by the road, and waiting for everyone else to show up. As our place was the last before the wilderness, I would be the last part of the party to join them. I gripped Sadie’s reins tightly while her dark gentle eyes seemed blissfully half-asleep. I didn’t want to mount up until I absolutely had to—it felt like the moment I sat in the saddle, the real commitment would begin. A small part of me believed that as long as I stood beside Aunt June and Uncle Pat, just holding onto my horse, I didn’t really have to go anywhere.

I gave my aunt a look. “I’m not nervous.”

She smiled. “Avery will be with you. He’s a kind, smart, strong lad. He’ll protect you. And Donna will make polite company. You’re in good hands. These men just want some answers and they believe in you.” I waited for her to say a kind word about believing in me too but knew she would never say anything like that in front of her husband.

I looked over at Uncle Pat. Though the sun was just rising in the east, making everyone’s skin grow gold and beautiful, he had his hat pulled down low and a stern expression on his jowly face. Dawn’s glow couldn’t touch him.

I smelled the horses at the same time that Sadie did, her nostrils flaring and ears perking up, finally awake. They were here.

Moments later the sound of hoofbeats came down the road, a full, lively sound that made my heart beat wildly. There was drama and adventure and danger in that cadence, and the promise of something new.

I could finally be useful.

But as promising as that sounded in my head, as excited as a part of me was getting, that quickly turned to fear as soon as the party reached us.

Avery and Donna were there at the back of the group, the pack mule Ali loaded up and tied to Avery’s dapple-grey horse, Pigeon, taking up the very rear. But in front of me were the rugged and suspicious faces of five strange men, most staring down at me with a mix of doubt and contempt. I did what I could to ignore the piercing stare of Mr. Snarl and focused right on Tim.

Luckily, Tim was at the front and the one who spoke first. “May I just say, Ms. Smith, that we are darn lucky to have you joining us. Ain’t that right, boys?” Isaac nodded and the fatter one made a noise that I think was agreeable, but everyone else stayed silent, never breaking their stare. Tim leaned forward on the saddle horn and nodded at my horse. “That’s a find looking ride there. Appaloosa? I think I see some roan and freckles on her flanks.”

I swallowed hard and tried to stand up straighter. “This is Sadie. She was my…she’s been in my family for a while. She’s a good horse.” I rubbed down her neck and her eyes drooped in response. I was never good at small talk.

He sat back. “Good to know. Well, I’d say we all sit around and get acquainted, but to tell you the truth, there just ain’t much time. I suppose you already know that, knowing the weather and the seasons ’round here.”

And so here it was. Time for me to go.

I took in a steadying breath, and while Aunt June held onto Sadie (which was completely unnecessary since Sadie wouldn’t go anywhere without me saying so), I put my foot in the stirrup and swung my leg over into the saddle. Somehow I was able to do so without my petticoats and pantaloons flashing everyone, which would have been a mortifying start to the adventure.

I looked down at my aunt and uncle and then over at the house. Though Rose was still sleeping as she did late into the mornings, I could see my mom at the window, her face pale through the glass.

“Tell my mother I’ll miss her,” I told Aunt June. “Tell her goodbye and I’ll be back. Make sure you take good care of her.”

She nodded, and I could have sworn her eyes got a little misty. I think it was the most I’d ever said about my mother to her.

“Oh, and say goodbye to Rose,” I said. “Tell her she’s free to take over my chores if she wishes.”

At that she smiled, both of us knowing that Rose would never have to work a day in her life.

I gave Uncle Pat a little wave which he barely acknowledged, and then coaxed Sadie out toward the group, hoping that the other horses were friendlier than their riders were. I started heading toward Donna and Avery when Tim called out.

“Actually, I would rather if you rode up here with me and Jake,” Tim said.

Was he being serious? I halted and looked over my shoulder at him. Mr. Snarl’s name was Jake and Tim wanted me at the front with him?

Tim raised the brim of his hat to see me more clearly. “You’re the tracker after all. You need to be at the front with us at all times. Otherwise, how in the heck are we supposed to find anything?”

He had a point, and one I didn’t even think of before. I looked over at Donna with her neatly-tied bonnet and kind eyes, and Avery’s sculpted face, but they both stared back at me as if this was a good thing. I had kind of hoped that Avery would have insisted in being at the front too, to keep an eye on me, but he just smiled encouragingly.

I sighed and steered Sadie around, taking her past the three other men—Isaac, Mr. Scar Face, and the plump one—until I was right beside Tim, Jake on the other side of him.

“For safety’s sake, Jake will go first. You second. And I’ll be right behind.”

Safety’s sake? I’m sure the question was all over my face because Tim said, “Jake was in the Texas Rangers with me. We fought Monterey together. He’s the best shot I’ve ever met, the best horseman, and—if you believe the rumors—has killed a bear or two with only a pocketknife.”

As I took my place behind him, I actually could believe the rumors. With his broad, burly frame, scarred hands and rows of shotgun shells across his weathered vest, he was both manly and terrifying. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was such a man, a mounted time bomb of testosterone, that made him terrifying or if it was the other way around.

Maybe it was that up this close, his skin smelled warm and good, like toasted pine.

I made a sound like a squeak, immediately hating myself for being so noticeably intimidated. It didn’t matter. Jake had already turned around in the saddle, taking those fathomless eyes with him. With a barely perceptible motion, he signaled to his horse and we were off at a brisk trot.

For most of the ride that morning, as we left the small settlement of River Bend behind, the only home I’d ever known, Tim was chatting away in my ear, making introductions to everyone else in the party. There was, of course, Isaac, who was sitting right behind him. Then there was Mervin Meeks, the pot-bellied fellow, whom Tim said was a well-respected man who put up most of the money to fund the expedition. He’d been Isaac’s childhood friend and was always there to help. The rest I could figure out for myself. He was loud and boisterous, joking with Isaac most of the time. With Mervin in the group, silence was rare.

Then there was Mr. Scar, whose real name was Hank O’ Doyle, a man that scared me more than Jake did. Maybe because Jake never looked behind at me, yet every time I turned my head to make eye contact with Avery, Hank’s leering gaze was right there with his dead, grey eyes. It made me feel like I had centipedes crawling on my skin. The fact that Hank had a face like a badger and was ugly as sin didn’t help.

Tim kept Hank’s introduction short, saying that he rode with them in the Rangers and was crucial to many skirmishes. My guess was that if they ever needed someone ruthlessly killed behind closed doors, Hank was the one to do it. That didn’t make me feel any better.

I wished more than anything that I was riding in the back with Avery. Then I could at least be myself and not worry about saying or doing the wrong thing. While Jake never spoke, Tim asked me a million questions.

“What river is this here?” he asked as we rode along a path worn smooth by elk, aspen trees showing their early autumn gold on one side, the rushing dark water on the other.

“The Paiute Indians had another word for it, but I believe it’s now known as the Truckee River. At least, that’s what we had been told a few years ago. Named after Chief Truckee.”

“Paiute, huh?” Tim said. “Is that what you are?”

“It’s the tribe my father belonged to, yes.”

At that, Jake turned his head to the side and eyed me, as if he had to make sure I was in fact half Indian.

“Fell in love with a white girl, did he now?” Tim commented, almost to himself. “Well, it’s happened before. Just ain’t so common down where we’re from. See, in Texas, the Comanche and Cheyenne Indians…they aren’t always so friendly.”

Jake’s jaw stiffened before he turned back around, guiding us around a boulder.

I didn’t want to talk about my parents. Their relationship was beautiful and tragic and very private.

“Your pappy is dead, ain’t he?” I didn’t have to say anything. He continued, “I’m sorry about that. What happened to him?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “One day he set out on a trek, trying to track a few cows that had escaped our neighbor’s farm. He never came back.”

He fell silent. In fact, everyone fell silent; even the river seemed to reduce down to a gurgle. I suppose our conversation could be heard down the line.

Soon enough though, Meeks started yapping away again, this time directed at Donna and Avery, and the attention was lifted off of me. Tim managed to cease with the questions, and I was able to just try and enjoy the ride.

The sun was shining and high like a gold penny in the sky, and there was a light breeze that rustled some of the loose leaves. I had worn one of my winter dresses and was glad for all the layers of flannel—the air was growing colder by the minute, though I needn’t reach for my thick shawl yet. I had been right about yesterday being the last hot day, especially as we made our way toward the mountains. I knew that realistically we wouldn’t get through them without some snow, I was just hoping it wouldn’t be the severe amount that trapped the Donner Party.

The curious thing about the Donners was that they never came through River Bend. If they had, I was sure Pa or someone else would have warned them about the long winter ahead. They would have been loaded up with supplies and urged to stay in town, and the whole tragedy could have been avoided. I’d heard they’d lost half the pioneers they were traveling with, that wagons had been left behind in the deserts of the Utah Territory before they even reached the Sierra Nevadas. Entire families were wiped out. And yet here we were, setting out after them with a team of eight, hoping to find…something.

What’s out there.

What’s out there?

I suppressed the shiver that threatened my backbone and tried to ignore my mother’s words. Still, the only reason we knew about the Donners and their respective parties on the wagon train was because they were eventually rescued, and by people out west of the mountains. California. According to Isaac, George Clark would have come from the east. And why would Clark set out after them in the first place if they’d already been rescued? I filed that thought away for later.

We rode until dinnertime when Tim told Jake that the “hired help”—meaning Avery, Donna, and I—looked famished. We tied the mule up to a pine and let the rest of the horses graze loose in a field of brown grass while Avery showed off his fishing skills by catching some trout in the Truckee with nothing but a homemade fishing pole.

Though it felt good to be off the horses, we didn’t stay for long. We fried up the fish over a small fire, filled our canteens with the clear, cold river water, and then continued on our way. Tim wanted us to ride as far as we could while we still had the afternoon. Supper would most likely be had in the dark of the looming woods with some of the jackrabbits that Jake casually picked off with his revolver from time to time. He really was a good shot, shooting the animals that even I could barely spot, their tanned hides matching the dry ground.

I barely had a chance to talk to Avery and Donna while we ate, but they seemed to be in good spirits. Avery had enjoyed a tall tale competition with the inventive Meeks, while Donna never stopped remarking on the beauty of the day and God’s blessing. Her talk of the Lord started to annoy a few of the men like Hank and Isaac, but I enjoyed listening to the sing-song quality of her voice, even if my religious views weren’t as strong as hers. I guess like the true half-breed I was, my own beliefs combined Christianity with the spirits and stories of my father’s people.

Everything was fine until an hour or two before dusk, when we entered the forest and began the gradual ascent up the foothills. Having the tall trees block out the dying sun and periwinkle sky made me feel hot under my collar, like I couldn’t breathe and the woods were out to suffocate me. I fell very quiet, no longer listening to Tim’s stories about his time in the Foreign Legion, and instead doubting myself for coming along. Strange how easily I flipped to one side, but I couldn’t quite ignore that terrible feeling that something bad was going to happen.

You’re probably blaming it on the muskrats, I thought to myself. A week ago I’d gone for a ride with Avery and came across a muskrat den close to Lake Bigler. My father had taught me to predict the winter by the thickness of the muskrat’s walls. I couldn’t really tell if the walls were thick or not, but it was a large den and planted that tiny seed of doubt that this could be a tough winter after all.

We eventually stopped in a small clearing by a stream just before night plunged us all into darkness. I helped Donna unsaddle the horses, feed them, and hitch them up for the night, while the men built quick lean-to shelters out of fallen logs, branches, and neighboring boulders. For a troop that appeared to pack so light they hadn’t needed a pack mule until now, I was impressed at the amount of items they had with them. Canvas tarps, muslin sheets, even pillowcases they quickly stuffed with foliage all emerged from their oilskin satchels. Soon, we had a temporary camp complete with shelter, roaring fire, and jackrabbits roasting over a spit.

It turned out that Jake was not only the resident hunter but the resident cook as well. Just as he had handled the trout, he was roasting the rabbits to perfection and boiling beans with pork fat until the mouth-watering smell was overtaking the camp. Donna even looked a bit put out as she sat beside Avery and me on a felled log, having assumed that she would have been the “wife” of the camp, I’m sure.

Tim must have caught me staring because he said, “Jake’s been keeping us well-fed most of the journey, though the deserts were mighty tough on us. You can expect him to take care of the party now that we’re back into fresh game.” He uncorked a bottle of what looked like moonshine and passed it over to Avery. “It would make me happy if you had some.”

Avery took the bottle and a huge swig, nearly coughing most of it up. The men laughed and even I couldn’t help but smile at how terribly enthusiastic he had been. Then he passed the bottle to me.

“A lady of God doesn’t drink,” Donna said, her voice chirping loudly like a bird.

I felt the eyes of all the men on me and Avery looked bug-eyed as he held the bottle out, second-guessing his hospitality.

But I took the bottle from him, looked Donna in the eyes, and said with a dry smile, “Then it’s a good thing I’m not a lady.”

I took a small swig, fully prepared for the burn. I’d had alcohol from time to time, usually Uncle Pat’s whisky that Avery and I used to pilfer from his hiding place in the barn on lonely nights. I managed to keep it down, though I was sure it belonged in a nurse’s kit and not in someone’s stomach, and neatly wiped my mouth. I could feel Donna staring at me in shock and Meeks let out a hearty clap.

“Seems like you got the right tracker, right Tim?” he hooted.

Well, I guess that might have earned me a smidge of respect among them, though I was sure Donna was quickly working out all the ways she could save me from damnation. As a joke I passed the bottle to her to which she staunchly refused and then handed it to back to Tim.

He raised the bottle to me. “There’s no greater woman than a woman that can hold her liquor.” Then he let out a grizzled old laugh.

That was most likely a Texas saying, but I took a strange pride from it anyway.

Everything was pretty upbeat and cheery after that. The jackrabbit tasted delightful and eased my aching stomach which wasn’t used to riding for so long. The fire was hot and bright, making the shadows of the dark forest look far away, and Tim had brought out his harmonica and began playing us a lively tune. If I stretched my mind for a second, I could have believed I was on a trip with a bunch of old friends and not strangers hell-bent on finding a hopeless search party.

Pretty soon, we all wound down for the night. The men had been kind enough to build a separate lean-to for Donna and me, complete with our own fire. From where our blankets were lain down on the soil, soft with pine needles, we looked straight off into the night, as if there were only two of us there. Though I loved my privacy, there was something a bit unsettling about not being able to see the men and their fire. I hoped Avery would have stayed with us, but I supposed that Donna wouldn’t have allowed something so scandalous anyway.

With the chill of night creeping along my bare flesh, I quickly got undressed and into my flannel undergarments and nightgown, and huddled under the layers of buckskin and animal hides. It was strange to have Donna sleeping right under the blankets beside me, even though she was keeping to herself and reciting the Lord’s Prayer over and over again. Somehow, that made me feel alone.

I must have dozed off for a solid amount of time because when I came to, our fire had dwindled down to small, crackling flames and the darkness had crept in. But that wasn’t the reason I was awake.

I rolled onto my back, my nose exposed outside the blankets and growing cold as I breathed in deeply. There was a strange scent around us, like the smell of rotting flesh and something else I couldn’t quite pinpoint. I lay there, listening to Donna’s heavy breathing and wondering if that was the odd, sickly smell that had awoken me, when I heard Sadie whine softly, followed by the stamping of hooves.

Something was disturbing the horses, perhaps a bear or wolves. Maybe that was the smell. I knew it was unsafe for me to go out there, that I should have woken up Avery or Tim, but I wanted to make sure. I quickly climbed out of bed, careful not to let the chill in under the blankets, and slipped on my boots and my heavy wool shawl, wrapping it around my head and all around me so that only my hands were exposed. It was a pity that I didn’t have a knife to protect myself, or even a gun, though I never knew how to shoot one. I could only hope I knew how to scream loud enough.

I stepped out, my eyes quickly adjusting to the shadows beyond the fire, and slowly walked toward the horses, careful not to spook them.

I saw Sadie first. She was looking at me with her head raised high, pulling back on the lead as far as it would let her, the whites of her eyes shining wildly in the dim light.

“Easy girl,” I murmured, keeping my movements still and my voice low. She lowered her head slightly, though the uneasiness in her eyes never left. “What is it?” I whispered.

I started stroking her lightly along her neck, hoping to calm her, but she wouldn’t have any of it. I frowned at her, wondering how the rest of the horses were fairing or if my horse happened to be the neurotic one, and walked under her neck to the other side.

I collided with a large, hard man.

I’m not sure how I kept my scream from escaping and waking the whole camp, but I did. It sat frozen in my throat as I got a whiff of toasted pine and tobacco. It was none other than Jake.

“Going for a midnight stroll?” he asked gruffly. I backed away from him a step until I was up against Sadie’s shoulder. He struck a match and it illuminated his rugged face in orange as he lit the long cigar that was dangling from his lips.

He waved the match until it went out and flicked it into the woods before taking a large drag of the cigar. His face went back to being in the shadows, though I could still see the ember’s glint in his eyes and the way his dark, arched brows knit together in a permanent frown. At first I thought that was just the way he looked at me, then it became clear he looked at everyone that way. He viewed the world like it was a hostile beast.

He wouldn’t have been wrong about that.

“What’s a matter?” he prompted. His voice was very low and gravelly, like he smoked too many cigars in his life, and its roughness did funny things to the flesh at the back of my neck. I tried to place his age but came up empty-handed. Twenty-five, thirty, I didn’t know. He was strangely ageless. “Injun girl don’t speak English?”

No matter his age though, he was a rude bastard.

“Of course I speak English,” I snapped, refusing to be intimidated. “You’ve been hearing me speak all day.”

He scratched at his sideburns. “I tend to tune out when a woman’s speaking.”

I leaned further into Sadie, as if that would help me escape his chauvinism. “That’s probably because a woman’s never said a good thing about you.”

He let out a puff of cigar smoke directed at my face but a light breeze whipped it up into the forest boughs before it could engulf me. “You’re damn right about that.” He cocked his head and looked me over. “Except where it counts, if you know where that is, and judging by what you’re wearing to bed, I reckon you don’t.”

I peeked down at myself and noticed my thick flannel nightgown was showing. I quickly wrapped the shawl tighter around me. “No woman would be foolish enough to wear anything less than this to bed in these mountains.”

He grinned at me, his eyes deeply creasing. “Seems that you care what I think about your apparel.”

“I don’t care about what you think or anything about you,” I said hastily. I held my head high in the air but I couldn’t hide the shakiness that came through in my words.

“Careful, child,” he warned. “I may be the only one left to save you out here.”

I scoffed. “Save me? I don’t need saving. None of us do. Or will.”

He grew silent, taking another long puff. His eyes watched me in the darkness, the wheels in his brain turning. I noticed that without his hat on, he had thick, shiny hair that curled at the back of his neck. “You say that but I don’t reckon you believe that.”

I frowned at him. “This is a search party made up of capable people, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” He took a step closer to me. “Are you capable? If you ask me, I think inviting you along was the worst idea Isaac ever had, and the whole thing about you being a great tracker is a load of horseshit.”

I flinched. I rarely heard anyone use profanity. Oh, Avery sometimes had cussing contests with Uncle Pat, but that was entirely different.

“You more shocked by my mouth or what I just said about you?”

“Both,” I replied quickly. “Both were uncalled for. I never claimed to be a good tracker.” I was getting flustered and hated it. “I can’t help what the people in River Bend think of me. My father was the best, the one everyone used. I’m sure they all think I take after him. I’m sure they think I eat pine nuts for dinner, too.”

He let out a puff of smoke. “Interesting,” he said slowly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“How quickly you downplay the very thing that Tim and Isaac hired you for. If you ain’t a great tracker, then why you here?”

I swallowed thickly. “Because. I didn’t have a choice. My uncle wanted the money.”

“You always have a choice. Either you are a good tracker and believe you can help, or you’re being a lovestruck filly bent on keeping her man close to her.”

I blinked dumbly and he went on, “That Avery kid. You two betrothed or somethin’?”

“He’s just my friend,” I exclaimed in a hush, as if Avery could hear me. I could feel my cheeks getting hot. For pity’s sake, was I really that obvious?

“Well if that’s true, then I guess you are a good tracker. Did your skills bring you out here just now?”

It took a moment for me to remember why I’d gotten out of bed in the first place. “I heard the horses.”

“So did I. Thought I smelled something a little peculiar, too.”

“Rotting meat,” I said absently, thinking back.

He nodded. “Something like that.” He puffed on his cigar and watched the smoke sail up into the darkness. “Huh, I guess you have a lot more Injun blood in you than you look. Might as well be good for something.”

That did it. I was wasting my time talking to this loathsome man when I could have been sleeping. “I think I’ve had just about enough of you,” I told him as I started to leave.

“Oh, darlin’. You’ll never get enough of me, I promise you that.”

“I say goodnight,” I added curtly, leaving him alone with the horses like the animal he was. I crawled back under the hides and hoped my anger would dissipate enough so that I could get some sleep.

Instead, I lay awake till the air became fuzzy and grey, thinking about all the unladylike ways I wanted to punch Jake McGraw in the face.