Sophie’s Journey - Chapter 24
No Margin Left
The morning was gray and quiet. Sophie woke up before the children. Her body ached from a restless night, listening for the buffalo or some other trouble. She gently moved Anne's arm and got up, leaving the girls still asleep. Outside, everything looked different.
The grass was flattened where the buffalo had run. Dust hung in the air, making the sunrise look pale. People stood in the trampled field, staring at the empty ox pens.
Thirty oxen were gone. The news had spread through the camp during the night. Now, Sophie saw what it meant. The supply wagons stood still, their yokes empty. The teams had run off with the buffalo.
Sophie found Captain Willie by the biggest wagon. He looked tired and worried. He was talking to a man Sophie had never seen before. The man wore buckskins and looked like someone used to living in the wild.
"Rockwell's his name," said a voice beside her. Peder Mortensen stood with his arms wrapped around his own thin body. "Porter Rockwell. They say he can track anything that breathes."
"Can he find them?" Sophie asked.
Peder did not answer. His silence was answer enough.
By midmorning, Rockwell came back. Sophie saw him walking with Captain Willie, shaking his head. The search party returned in small groups. Their horses were tired, and their faces showed defeat. The cattle were gone, lost in the wild herds.
A meeting was called for noon. The whole company gathered in the trampled field, standing with their families. Even the children were quiet, feeling the seriousness of the moment.
Captain Willie stood on the wagon tongue so everyone could see him. He looked smaller than before, weighed down by worry.
"Brothers and sisters," he said, and his voice carried the roughness of a man who had not slept. "The Lord has seen fit to test us. Thirty of our oxen are gone, run off with the buffalo herd. Brother Rockwell has done all that mortal man can do, and I thank him for it."
Rockwell stood at the edge of the crowd, his face unreadable beneath the brim of his hat. He did not look like a man who accepted thanks easily.
"Our remaining cattle must pull the supply wagons," Willie continued. "The milk cows. The beef stock. We have no other choice."
The crowd murmured. Sophie felt afraid. The milk cows gave them just enough to keep the children from starving. The beef cattle were their backup, meat for when the flour ran out.
If we use the cows to pull the wagons, they will stop giving milk. They will get too thin for meat. We have to pick one hard choice or the other.
"Then what do we choose?" The voice came from the back, sharp with desperation.
Captain Willie looked out at them, his eyes moving from face to face. "The wagons cannot carry all that remains," he said. "The flour must come off. One hundred pounds per handcart."
One hundred pounds. Sophie quickly did the math. Her cart already held everything they owned: bedding, a cooking pot, spare clothes. Now she had to add one hundred pounds of flour.
"That's too heavy," someone said. "The women cannot pull that."
"The women will not pull it alone." Willie's voice hardened. "Every able body pulls. The strong help the weak. We have covenanted to travel together, and together we will travel, or we will not travel at all."
Sophie looked at her hands, covered in blisters and calluses from the long walk since Iowa City. Emma's cheeks were thin from too little food. Anne was still small, and Peter tried to act grown-up. Little Otto would not understand why she was too tired to pick him up at night.
"We leave at first light," Captain Willie said, his voice carrying clearly across the camp. "The food must move with the people; it is our only hope of reaching Zion. We will leave the wagons behind, saving the remaining space for the sick. Make your preparations tonight, and may God have mercy on us all."
As the crowd scattered, Sophie gathered her children and led them back to their small camp. She was already thinking about how to rearrange the handcart so she would have room to carry flour sacks.
“They want us to take the flour,” Peter said, not looking up from his work. “Don’t they, Mother?”
“Yes,” Sophie said, her hand resting in the small of her aching back. “We have to.”
“I can pull more, Mother,” Peter said, stepping beside her. He looked small against the bulk of the cart, a child trying to play the part of a giant. “I’m strong.”
Sophie didn't tell him he was too young. She reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder. “We pull together, Peter. We don’t stop. Do you understand?”
Marianne stood by the flour sack, not helping. Her hands hung at her sides. Since the stampede, she had changed. Now she only followed along. Sophie saw she would have to carry more. Marianne was giving up.
Sophie worked all afternoon, sorting and weighing their things. Emma and Peter helped quietly. They knew they had to grow up fast. Otto wandered off twice and had to be brought back.
By evening, the handcart was loaded. The extra flour sacks were on top. Sophie could hardly move it, even on flat ground.
"We'll manage," she told the children, though she was not sure she believed it. "We've managed worse."
She did not say what everyone knew. Things would get harder now. The buffalo had taken more than cattle. They had lost their last bit of safety; they had no margin left. The journey would be harder. Some would not make it.
The buffalo had taken their cattle. Sophie knew what would come next. The milk would run out. The beef cattle would get so thin they couldn't eat or work, and then they would die. The flour would run low. The carts would get heavier. There was nothing left to spare. When the snow came, wanting to survive would not be enough.
That night, Sophie sat by the fire while the children slept. She watched the stars come out. Somewhere, the thirty oxen ran with the wild herds, not caring about the people who needed them. Ahead, the mountains and the snow waited.
"Mama?" Emma's voice, small and frightened, came from the blankets. "Are we going to be ok?"
Sophie went to her daughter and held her close. She could feel how thin Emma was.
"I don't know," she said, because she would not lie about this, not even to comfort a child. "But I know we are ok today. And tomorrow, we will walk. And the day after, we will walk again. That is all we can do, Emma. That is all any of us can do."
She held her daughter close until the little girl drifted off to sleep. Afterward, Sophie sat by herself and listened to the wind moving through the tall grass. She remembered what Levi Savage had said about the dangers ahead. For the first time, she felt fear settling in, realizing they had no margin left.
.jpg)
No comments:
Post a Comment