Sophie's Journey - Chapter 30
Into Ash Hollow
After the meal, the captains called for the company to move. Ellen Cantwell's cry remained in the air over the handcarts. Even the work of repacking felt quiet and uneasy. The captains warned that the climb into the bluffs would take time. They could not waste daylight. The trail was not straight. Marsh by the river forced them inland. Cliffs blocked the way. They would have to climb, twist through the hills, and drop down to Ash Hollow.
Sophie took her place at the cart with Peter next to her, while Marianne managed the younger children and the bundles. The bugle sounded, and they began to pull.
The climb started at once. The path rose through loose rock and sand that slipped underfoot. Sophie's lungs ached. Her shoulders ached. At every step, the cart became heavier, as if the bluffs wanted to push them back.
Someone yelled from in front. Sophie looked up and saw trouble ahead. The path got steeper, zigzagging over the bluff. One team could not move their cart. Two groups joined, four people pushing while another cart waited behind.
When it was their turn, Levi Savage offered to assist. He moved next to Peter without saying anything, and they pushed the cart as Sophie pulled.
The sun was bright, but the air stayed cool. Sweat ran down Sophie's back. Her hands, wrapped in cloth, burned against the coarse wood. She fixed her eyes on the path and counted her steps to forget the pain.
“One. Two. Three. Four.” Peter grunted as he pushed. His face was serious, older than his years. Sophie wanted to tell him to stop, but she needed his strength. He knew it too.
At the first switchback they stopped, gasping for breath. Below, the river curved through the valley, shining in the sun. Sophie saw the nooning place far behind and the trail they had climbed, cutting back and forth up the bluff. From here, it looked impossible, as if they had scaled a wall.
"Not much farther now to go," said Captain Savage, although his breathing showed that he was more comforting himself than them. "After that it's a descent into the hollow, where there are real trees, cedar trees, as they say."
Sophie nodded, saving her breath. They adjusted their grip and pushed on.
Marianne moved up behind them, one hand placed against her side and the other pulling at a bundle which had fallen from the cart. "If this is the road to Zion," she said, breathing hard, "then Zion must be beyond a difficult climb."
Sophie managed to give a faint smile. "Save your breath, Marianne; you'll need it before we come to the next bend."
"I tell you, I have none left to save," said Marianne. "My feet are as rocks, my back is on fire, and that cart has become wicked since this morning; when we loaded it, it was lighter, I promise you it was."
"Then we'll teach it to obey," Sophie said, tightening her hold on the cart. "Bit by bit."
The climb dragged on for hours. The path zigzagged over uneven ground, skirting cliffs that fell into hidden valleys. They passed through a grove of cedars, the first real trees Sophie had seen in weeks.
They started down, the carts sliding on the loose gravel. Ropes and every bit of strength the company had held the carts back. Sophie walked backward, boots digging in, arms shaking. Peter did the same on the other side, his expression pale and set.
Ash Hollow opened before them, broad and filled with grass and trees. The North Platte shone in the distance. The detour had cost them daylight and strength. The river ran close to the bluffs, but the low ground was boggy. To avoid it, the trail climbed the broken bluffs and dropped into the hollow.
That morning, Levi Savage had warned they would need to double up for the climb. He was right. The broken bluff forced them to turn and climb in stages, pulling ropes and pushing their bodies against the carts. What should have been an easy road by the river became a half-day fight through the hardest ground yet.
When darkness fell, they set up camp. No one spoke for a long time. Sophie barely had the strength to raise the tent. Peter and Emma gathered wood. Sophie sat on the cold ground and coaxed a fire from damp tinder. Anne fussed in her lap, perceiving her mother's weariness.
Marianne collapsed beside Sophie. Dust lined her face. Her bonnet had slipped back. "Now, Sophie," she said, forcing a thin smile, "if there was ever a day meant to humble us, this was it. The hill caught my feet, my bundle broke in the dust, and little Otto cried as if his heart would break. More than once I thought I should sit down and let the rest go on without me."
Sophie warmed her hands over the small fire. She did not look up. The faint glow of the fire showed Anne's sleepy eyes and Peter's hunched shoulders. "I am grateful it is over," she said quietly. "Not because it was kind, but because it cannot ask anything more until morning."
"Over," Marianne echoed, letting out a breath that was not quite laughter. "No one ever told me anything like that before. My limbs are still on the bluff, moving and struggling. When the cart jerked, I thought we would all go down together. I meant to weep, but it was no use, and there was no time."
Sophie put her hand over Marianne's. "It’s ok to cry," she said, trying to smile. "All day I have said bold things and believed only half. This small fire feels like a kindness tonight."
Marianne lowered her head. For a moment, both women were silent. The hollow sank into darkness, filled with soft voices, coughing children, and the sound of wagons cooling in the evening air.
"Someone's missing," Peter called. When he came back from the river with water, his face was troubled. "Sister Stewart; they noticed it at the camp, and her footsteps went off in that direction." He indicated the trees, for it was there that the hollow became thick with shadow.
Sophie looked where he pointed. The hollow seemed open at first, but brush and broken ground lined the sides.
"You could go a little way and lose your sense of direction," Peter said. "It's getting dark, and the captain says we cannot send anyone else until morning.
Marianne focused her gaze at the end of the hollow, where the searchers' lanterns had disappeared. She spoke quietly, "I talked a great deal about the difficulties I had when I was coming down." "Now I feel ashamed of that. Here I am by the fire, and the children are within easy reach. At least we have been spared that."
Sophie gave Marianne's hand a single press before releasing it. "Yes," she said. "The walking is over for tonight, the cart is still there, and the Lord has allowed us to sit together. Although I have very little strength left, I am grateful for it."
Sophie thought of Ellen Cantwell lying in the wagon. Sister Stewart was lost in the trees, maybe hurt, maybe wandering as the cold set in. Sophie pulled Otto and Anne close and looked into the dark where the searchers had gone.
When the searchers returned, their faces told the story before they spoke. Mud caked their boots. Branches stuck in their hair. Their eyes looked hollow with failure.
"I couldn't find her," Brother Oliver said. "I followed her trail to the creek, but then lost it. It's now too dark, and there are too many places she might have gone."
Captain Willie stood next to the fire with his shadow looming large over the bluff face. "We'll start the search again at first light," he said, "and keep posts throughout the night in case she manages to find her way back."
Sophie closed her eyes, but she couldn’t calm her thoughts. Her children pressed close for warmth. Lying awake, she listened to the night sounds. Somewhere, Sister Stewart was alone in the dark, maybe calling for help, but no one could hear.
Otto coughed in his sleep, a wet sound that made Sophie worry. She pulled him closer and felt his ribs move under her arm. She closed her eyes to pray.
“Lord,” she prayed silently, “if Thou wilt not take this burden from us, then lend us strength enough to bear it. Keep Sister Stewart through the night, whether she walks or lies still, and let some mercy find her before the morning. Lay Thy healing hand upon Ellen Cantwell, and draw the poison from her wound if it be Thy will. Watch over my children, over Peter's weary hands and Emma's valiant heart, over little Otto's breath and Anne's sleep. And if there is courage left for me, help me find it when the light comes again. Amen.
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