Boone's Lick

In the afternoon Ma told us to start packing the wagon, a tiresome chore.

We had stuff scattered from one end of the boat to the other. Some of the utensils we had started out with must have been flung overboard, like Granpa. Many were never found, but we had a pretty full wagon anyway.

Aunt Rosie decided not to get off in Omaha--her intention was to stay on board until the boat reached Council Bluffs.

"What's wrong with Omaha?" Ma asked. "The name--what does it mean?" Rosie asked. "Oh, it's a tribe," Uncle Seth informed her. "I've met several Omahas."

"Well, it's not my tribe and besides, I've heard Iowa's pretty," Aunt Rosie said.

"Any place can be pretty if the sun's shining bright," Uncle Seth said.

Aunt Rosie's decision to stay on board a little longer made at least one person happy: Joel.

"I believe he thinks he can talk her into marriage between here and Council Bluffs," Uncle Seth said. "I don't think he's aiming that high,"

Ma said. "But he is aiming."

Ma was tapping her fingers on the railing of the boat. It was a habit she had--she tapped her fingers when she was trying to make up her mind.

75

Father Villy and Charlie Seven Days were pla

"All right, Seth," she said suddenly. "What's the verdict? Do we get off here, or do we go on upriver?"

I had never seen Ma look at Uncle Seth quite as hard as she looked at him then. If her eyes had been nails he would have been nailed tight to the boat.

"It's your trip, Mary Margaret--why should I be the one to say?" he replied.

At that point people sort of melted back, toward the far side of the boat--all except me. I wanted to know what it meant that my mother was looking at my uncle that hard.

"Because you know where Dick is," Ma said. "Or if you don't know exactly, you can get us in the neighborhood."

"How would I?" Uncle Seth countered. "I ain't seen Dick in fourteen months--he could be anywhere."

But he seemed nervous, which wasn't his usual

way at all. Usually Uncle Seth's words just flowed right out and kept flowing.

"Because you'd know if he had a woman--an Indian woman," Ma said.

Everybody melted farther away--but Ma wasn't whispering, and I expect they heard.

"You better not play me false, Seth," Ma said. "I need to know where Dick Cecil is. I've already lost my own father because of this. Don't you play me false."

There was a silence so long and so tense that I considered just jumping in the river, like Joel had. Ma had Uncle Seth pi

Aunt Rosie couldn't stand the strain.

"Just tell her, Seth," she said. "My Lord, she's his wife."

Just then we eased up to the Omaha docks, and Uncle Seth answered Ma's question by deciding to get us off the boat.

"Let's get this wagon off the boat," he said. "Sherman, you take charge of the extra mules. October's a fine time of year to be traveling on the Platte. If we travel steady I believe we can make the new forts by Christmas."

In only minutes we had the wagon and the livestock unloaded. Father Villy helped, plodding through the mud barefooted. Charlie pla

When it came time to say good-bye to Aunt

76

Rosie, she cried, Ma cried, we children cried, baby Marcy cried, and the boatmen cried, even though she wasn't leaving them. With so many of us crying the boatmen couldn't keep from joining in.

But Ma and Aunt Rosie hugged one another the longest--you could see that it was a pain for the sisters to part.

Finally Ma crawled up onto the wagon seat, clucked to the mules, and we were all soon slogging through the Omaha mud. Aunt Rosie waved and waved, and we all waved back. When we went over the first hill Aunt Rosie was talking to Joel--they were both just dots on the river,

Neva and I would have liked to spend some time in Omaha--we had never seen brick buildings before, and Omaha had plenty of them. G.T. was sulking for some reason. We did stop at a big general store long enough to get a few supplies and replace some of the utensils that had washed overboard. Uncle Seth bought G.T. and I good strong hunting knives--he said we would need them soon. Neva got a new bo

"Well, there'll be balls and such," Uncle Seth said. I think his feelings were a little hurt by her refusal. "Remember how you used to shine at balls, Mary Margaret?" he said.

I guess Ma did remember--she softened to him a little, when he said that.

"I was a girl then," she said. "It's been such a while since I was a girl, Seth."

"It don't mean you can't still shine," Uncle Seth said--but he didn't buy the shawl. Instead he bought several sacks, which puzzled me, because we didn't have anything to put in them.

Charlie Seven Days caught up with us just before sundown, which was a relief to Ma--she had come to put a lot of trust in Charlie's judgment.

The little sorrel horse he had bought wasn't much taller than a big dog.

This amused Uncle Seth no end.

"My God, Charlie, that horse ain't big enough to fart," he said.

"Seth, watch your talk," Ma said.

That night we made our first campfire in Nebraska, using driftwood we found along the Platte River. Father Villy sat up late, teaching Neva French songs, of which he knew a bunch. Uncle Seth would usually jump into any sing-along, but this time he didn't. All evening, while the fire crackled, he hardly said a word.

"The stars are brighter in Nebraska," G.T. said. "Some of those stars look as big as rocks."

Ma kept her eyes on Uncle Seth--I think she may have felt that she had been too hard on him. At one point she offered him more coffee, but he 77

just shook his head. I think that tussle of wills, between the two of them, had fairly worn him out.

5 I HAVEN'T seen a tree since Wednesday--nearly a week," Ma said. "I never expected to be in a place where I wouldn't see a tree in a week.

It's spooking me, Seth."

It was spooking me too, and Neva and G.T. as well. When we first left Omaha there were plenty of trees along the Platte, but after ten days or so they began to thin out. Then we seemed to have passed the last one.

All we could see in any direction were little round, bumpy hills, covered with brown grass. There were bushes and reeds along the Platte--but that was all. G.T. had yet to catch a single crawdad in it, or even a good-sized frog.

"Rest your mind, Mary Margaret," Uncle Seth said. "There are trees farther west--plenty of them."

"How much farther west?" Ma wanted to know.

"Six weeks should put us in some good thick trees," Uncle Seth said.

"Let's just plug along and get to Fort Laramie. Then we might need to study the maps."

"Do you think Dick will be there?" Ma asked.

"No, but that's where we can pick up some useful news," Uncle Seth said.

"There's be somebody at Fort Laramie who can help locate just about anybody you might name."

Ma didn't press the matter. After her set-to with Uncle Seth in Omaha they had soon got back on good terms--better terms than they had been on for a while, we all thought. At night Ma and Uncle Seth would still be sitting by the fire together, talking, when the rest of us got too tired to stay awake. That was how it had been at home, for most of our lives--