Summary: \u00a0The first weeks after the death of Inger Cartwright, as seen through the eyes of young\u00a0Adam. \u00a0The time and location of her death correspond to the Heritage of Honor series, which differs to a minor degree from the series.<\/p>\n
Word Count: 2680 \u00a0\u00a0Rating: K+<\/p>\n
Heritage of Honor Series<\/strong>:<\/p>\n A Dream Deferred Heritage Companion<\/strong><\/p>\n Never Alone<\/a> <\/p>\n Never Alone<\/strong><\/p>\n I don\u2019t see how I can go on, but what else is there to do?\u00a0 Put one foot in front of the other, then bring the back one forward and take another step.\u00a0 Walk, walk, walk\u2014it\u2019s all we ever do.\u00a0 When we first left St. Joe, I would run through the spring grass, picking flowers, chasing my friends, but now . . .<\/p>\n Now, even though that puny sun shines in a clear sky, it\u2019s like a dark cloud hangs over us, Pa and me, as we drag through the sands along the Humboldt.\u00a0 It\u2019s not the kind of cloud that cools you off, though maybe that\u2019s the last thing we need on this cold October morning; it\u2019s the gray, gloomy kind that makes your heart heavy, the way mine has been since . . .<\/p>\n She could always send the clouds away.\u00a0 She was sunshine, all sunshine and smiles, and she had a laugh that rippled like circles spreading out on the Missouri when I\u2019d toss in a pebble, rippled out and drew us all into a circle of happiness.\u00a0 Wish I could hear it now . . . wish even more that Pa could.<\/p>\n I look up into his face, hoping he\u2019ll look down at me.\u00a0 When it was just the two of us, before, he\u2019d always just know somehow when I was looking at him, and he\u2019d smile down at me.\u00a0 I never felt alone then, but now . . .<\/p>\n Now, when I look up at Pa, he never looks back, just stares straight ahead, and I don\u2019t even think he sees what he\u2019s looking at . . . just puts one foot in front of the other.\u00a0 I guess that\u2019s all there is to do.<\/p>\n I wish it was different.\u00a0 I wish the sunshine still walked beside us.\u00a0 I wish . . . oh, what\u2019s the use in wishing?\u00a0 She\u2019s gone . . . just like my real mother . . . except she was<\/em> my real mother, the only one I ever knew.<\/p>\n I\u2019ll never forget that first time I saw her, there in the store at Petersburg, Illinois.\u00a0 I didn\u2019t pay her much mind at first.\u00a0 I was sick, and though Pa had told me to stay at the wagon, I just couldn\u2019t.\u00a0 I needed him.\u00a0 Pa could always make me feel better, even when I was tuckered out or when there wasn\u2019t enough to eat.\u00a0 I knew all I had to do was tell him I felt bad and he\u2019d take care of me, the way he always did.<\/p>\n Then I felt her cool hand on my forehead and heard her soft voice saying, \u201cMy goodness, child, your head feels warm,\u201d and all at once I knew what it must be like for kids that had a mother, the way I never had.\u00a0 I didn\u2019t dream then that someday she\u2019d really be my mama, but I knew before Pa did\u2014really, I did.<\/p>\n Pa didn\u2019t like her much at first\u2014well, maybe he did, but he didn\u2019t act like it\u2014fussed at her, even, for letting me listen to my mother\u2019s music box.\u00a0 I should\u2019ve known better than to ask.\u00a0 Pa was always funny about my mother\u2019s things, my first mother, I mean.\u00a0 I used to wish he\u2019d tell me more about her, but he\u2019d go all gray in the face when I asked, like it just hurt too bad to remember.\u00a0 He looks that way again now, and I\u2019m starting to wonder if I\u2019ll ever get my pa back, the way he was when she was with us, or if he\u2019ll be like he was when we got to Petersburg, all beaten down and worried and growly over little things, like that music box.\u00a0 Still don\u2019t see why I couldn\u2019t play it, unless . . .<\/p>\n It\u2019s an old worry, but it\u2019s hard to shut out sometimes.\u00a0 I was about four when Pa finally told me my first mother had died when I was born\u2014or right after, I think he said.\u00a0 Every time after that when Pa\u2019d get cross with me, I\u2019d think maybe he was mad \u2018cause I killed her.\u00a0 I asked him once, \u2018cause Pa always said I could ask him anything, and he squeezed me so tight it hurt and said it wasn\u2019t so.\u00a0 Still . . . there\u2019s times it grabs at me, like a cat with sharp claws.<\/p>\n I\u2019m not to blame this time; the Indians are.\u00a0 Mama said not to blame them, though; she said they were just hungry and meant to shoot our cow, not her.\u00a0 I try to feel like she\u2019d want me to, but it\u2019s hard.\u00a0 Deep down, I do blame them, the way I think Pa might blame me about my mother.\u00a0 No, don\u2019t think that.\u00a0 Pa said it wasn\u2019t so; I gotta cling to that.<\/p>\n There\u2019s not much else to cling to now but memories, good ones and bad ones all mixed together.\u00a0 We made some good ones, Pa and Inger and me, all the way from Petersburg to St. Joe, then across the Missouri and along the trail toward California.\u00a0 Will we ever get there?\u00a0 Does it even matter anymore?\u00a0 Pa doesn\u2019t talk about the dream now, doesn\u2019t talk about anything much.\u00a0 I wish he\u2019d talk to me.\u00a0 I wish I could crawl up in his lap and tell him how I\u2019m hurting, but I can\u2019t.\u00a0 It\u2019ll make him hurt worse, so I gotta keep it to myself.\u00a0 It\u2019s tearing me to pieces, though.\u00a0 Wish there was someone I could tell.<\/p>\n A loud squall rips through the still air.\u00a0 Boy, there\u2019s someone who never gives a thought to keeping it to himself when he\u2019s unhappy!\u00a0 Pa stops and eases the cradleboard off his back, so he can see what\u2019s making my noisy little brother holler this time.\u00a0 Probably hungry again.\u00a0 That Hoss could eat night and day, I\u2019m convinced, and it\u2019s hard to fill him up now with Mama gone.\u00a0 Our cow gives less and less every day.\u00a0 Pa says it\u2019s \u2018cause she\u2019s not getting enough water.\u00a0 Well, nothing to do for that but keep putting one foot in front of the other and pray we reach the Carson River before the cow goes dry.<\/p>\n For once, Hoss isn\u2019t hungry\u2014it\u2019s worse.\u00a0 His diaper\u2019s in serious need of a change, and I do mean serious!\u00a0 While Pa puts him in a fresh one, I hold the soaked, smelly thing at arms\u2019 length as I run down to the muddy Humboldt to rinse out the poop.\u00a0 An awful job, but it\u2019s gotta be done.\u00a0 Can\u2019t throw anything that stinky in the wagon!\u00a0 I know Pa needs my help, so I don\u2019t complain.\u00a0 Don\u2019t see why I always gotta be the one to get the worst chores, though.<\/p>\n When I come back, there\u2019s Hoss, grinning in Pa\u2019s lap, and Pa smiling at him, bigger than he ever smiles at me these days.\u00a0 Makes me mad for a minute.\u00a0 Hoss is where I want to be, but it\u2019s stupid, being jealous of a baby, and here I am carrying on like one.\u00a0 Still, Pa hasn\u2019t held me but once since it happened, and bad as it hurt to cry so hard, I felt better.\u00a0 I want to cry now, but I can\u2019t, not without Pa\u2019s arms around me, and they\u2019re full.\u00a0 Guess they\u2019re likely to stay that way, with Hoss needing him so much, but I wouldn\u2019t take the world for my little brother, even if it meant I could have Pa to myself again.\u00a0 My best friend Billy, who lost his, says all little brothers are special, but Hoss is even more special to me right now.\u00a0 He\u2019s part of her, and I can see her sunshine in his eyes.<\/p>\n There\u2019s a little trading post close by, and the train\u2019s stopping so folks can get supplies they need.\u00a0 Pa says we don\u2019t need any, so him and Hoss are just gonna rest awhile by the wagon.\u00a0 I\u2019m going up to the post with the Thomases.\u00a0 Not to buy, \u2018cause I got no money; just need to see something besides my own feet dragging through the sand.\u00a0 Pa said I could go.\u00a0 Wish he was coming, too, though.\u00a0 Ain\u2019t he ever gonna want to do anything again?<\/p>\n * * * * *<\/p>\n Kinda wish I hadn\u2019t gone.\u00a0 Wasn\u2019t much to see and I heard more than I cared to.\u00a0 Grownups got a way of forgetting kids are around and saying things they never would if they knew we was listening.\u00a0 Mrs. Thomas was whispering to her husband, but I was right behind them, and I heard every word.\u00a0 \u201cIt\u2019s like he\u2019s lost all will to live,\u201d she said, and I knew she was talking about Pa.<\/p>\n Did she mean Pa might up and die on me, too?\u00a0 He can\u2019t; he just can\u2019t!\u00a0 I\u2019ll die for sure if he does.\u00a0 When we were through at the post, I hurried back to camp and gave Pa a good look-over.\u00a0 He was sad, real sad.\u00a0 That was easy to see, but he gave me a little smile and asked if I\u2019d had a good time.<\/p>\n I said it was okay, but they didn\u2019t have much.\u00a0 I wanted to ask him if he\u2019d quit wanting to live, like Mrs. Thomas said, but I just couldn\u2019t.\u00a0 Stuff like that, that comes from way down deep, is just hard to say, somehow, so I only told him I wished he had come, and he said, \u201cMaybe next time.\u201d\u00a0 Next time<\/em> . . . that means he\u2019s gonna live, don\u2019t it?\u00a0 He\u2019s gotta live for there to be a next time.\u00a0 I\u2019m taking it as a promise, and Pa never breaks a promise.<\/p>\n * * * * *<\/p>\n Bones and bodies all around us, far as the eye can see.\u00a0 Not that I can see far, with it being the middle of the night, but when the pale moonlight hits those bones, they look . . . what\u2019s that word I saw in my reader the other day . . . eerie, that\u2019s it.\u00a0 The word itself makes you shiver, and so does everything I see tonight\u2014and smell.\u00a0 The smell is worse than any diaper I ever rinsed for that little mess-maker sleeping in the wagon.\u00a0 It\u2019s the smell of death; we\u2019re walking through a desert full of death.\u00a0 Oxen, mules, even horses\u2014hundreds of them lying out there . . . bloated, giving off an odor so strong I want to puke.\u00a0 But I can\u2019t.\u00a0 I\u2019ve got to be strong this time.\u00a0 I let Pa down once before, when we made the dry drive across Sublette\u2019s Cutoff\u2014whined like a baby \u2018cause I got so tired, but there\u2019s a real baby to think about this time.<\/p>\n The Humboldt\u2019s petered down to nothing, and we\u2019ve got to get to water soon or it\u2019ll be our bones in the moonlight, our rotting bodies turning folks\u2019 stomachs, our innards those vultures I hear flapping above us will be picking at.\u00a0 Shuddering, I huddle close to Pa\u2019s leg and feel his hand come to rest on my shoulder.\u00a0 \u201cIt\u2019s all right, son,\u201d he says, and there\u2019s comfort in his voice.\u00a0 \u201cThey\u2019re just dead animals; they can\u2019t hurt you.\u201d<\/p>\n I know that, and I\u2019m not scared\u2014well, not much\u2014not for myself, anyway.\u00a0 Pa and me can probably make it across this Twenty-Six Mile Desert between us and the Carson River.\u00a0 It\u2019s Hoss I\u2019m worried about, and Pa is, too, I can tell.\u00a0 We gotta keep that cow giving milk or my little brother will die, and I can\u2019t take anybody else dying on me.\u00a0 There\u2019s just plain too much death behind me already, and the death around me only makes me think of all I\u2019ve lost.<\/p>\n I\u2019m not losing any more!\u00a0 So I\u2019ll walk all night through this stinking desert of death, and I won\u2019t whine once about how tired I am.\u00a0 I\u2019ll do it for Hoss, and I\u2019ll do it for Pa\u2014and, yes, for Mama, too, because she\u2019s in Hoss, and losing him would be like losing another part of her.\u00a0 I can worry about me later.\u00a0 For now, I\u2019m just glad of Pa\u2019s hand on my shoulder.\u00a0 I don\u2019t feel quite so alone, quite so scared of what\u2019s ahead, when I feel him touch me.\u00a0 He\u2019s doing that more tonight than he has since . . . no, don\u2019t think about death . . . especially not hers.\u00a0 It\u2019s too soon; it hurts too much.\u00a0 Think about life, life for Hoss, especially, but for Pa and me, too.\u00a0 Think about California; think about the dream; think . . . and take another step.<\/p>\n * * * * *<\/p>\n I plunge beneath the rushing waters of the Carson River and come up, shivering and slicking my hair back out of my eyes.\u00a0 It\u2019s really too cold for a swim, but the water feels good, anyway.\u00a0 I\u2019m so coated with dust that it\u2019s a pure pleasure to get clean, even if it does mean splashing around in icy water, and while squishing my toes in the mud sends goose bumps up my legs, it relaxes my tired feet from all that walking.\u00a0 I can\u2019t stay in long, though\u2014just too cold for that.<\/p>\n We made it here to Ragtown about ten o\u2019clock this morning after walking all night through the desert, and I\u2019ve never seen a prettier sight than those cottonwoods along the bank.\u00a0 I could see them a mile or more before we got here, just about the time our livestock caught scent of the water and ran for it.\u00a0 One of our oxen gorged himself too fast on the cold water and died, but Pa doesn\u2019t seem too upset.\u00a0 Me and Pa think alike on this:\u00a0 we could spare the ox, but not the cow, not if we\u2019re to keep Hoss alive.\u00a0 She made it through, and she\u2019s still giving milk; that\u2019s all that matters.<\/p>\n It\u2019s been a long, rough haul down the Humboldt Valley, but we finally made it.\u00a0 This is a nice spot.\u00a0 I wish we could stay here longer, but we\u2019re moving on again tomorrow.\u00a0 Just this one day to rest up and wash our dirty duds, though they really are little better than the rags this place is named after.\u00a0 That\u2019s what me and Pa came down to the river to do, him to wash the clothes and me to watch that butterball brother of mine.\u00a0 A kind lady from the wagon train offered to scrub the clothes, though, so Pa said I could swim and he\u2019d watch Hoss.\u00a0 They\u2019re just down the riverbank from me, and Pa looks more at ease than he has since . . .<\/p>\n Pa just waved at me!\u00a0 After almost three weeks of feeling like he scarcely knew I was here, he\u2019s actually looking at me\u2014and he\u2019s smiling.\u00a0 He looks real peaceful and dreamy, too.\u00a0 If Pa\u2019s dreaming again, everything\u2019s bound to be all right, after all.\u00a0 It won\u2019t be the same as if Mama was here, but we\u2019ll still build that big house with tall trees all around, just like she wanted.\u00a0 I know it now.\u00a0 I should\u2019ve never doubted.\u00a0 Pa promised it to her, and Pa never breaks a promise.<\/p>\n Bad as I hate to get out, I can\u2019t stand the cold much longer.\u00a0 I take one last dive under the water.\u00a0 As I come up, I see the water spreading out in ripples, like it did on the Missouri, only this time I\u2019m the pebble.\u00a0 The sunlight plays with the ripples making circles around me, and I hear her laughter inside me again.\u00a0 More than just inside, though; it\u2019s like she\u2019s all around me, and I\u2019m standing right in the center of the happiness she brought into our lives.\u00a0 She\u2019s still with me, in a way, and I guess she always will be, even if I can\u2019t see or touch her anymore. I come running out of the river, shaking water droplets from my hair, and race toward Pa.\u00a0 His arms open wide, and suddenly I know:\u00a0 with her inside me and Pa here to hold me, I\u2019ll never really be alone.\u00a0 You just can\u2019t be alone when there\u2019s so much love around you.<\/p>\n \u00a0The End<\/p>\n June, 2000<\/p>\n Heritage of Honor Series<\/strong>:<\/p>\n A Dream Deferred Heritage Companion<\/strong><\/p>\n Never Alone<\/a> <\/p>\n Tags:<\/strong> Adam Cartwright, Ben Cartwright<\/p>\n
\n<\/a>A Dream’s First Bud
\n<\/a>A Dream Imperiled
\n<\/a>A Dream’s Darkest Hour
\n<\/a> A Dream Divided<\/a><\/p>\n
\nCentennial! A Journey of Discovery<\/a><\/p>\n
\n<\/a>A Dream’s First Bud
\n<\/a>A Dream Imperiled
\n<\/a>A Dream’s Darkest Hour
\n<\/a> A Dream Divided<\/a><\/p>\n
\nCentennial! A Journey of Discovery<\/a><\/p>\n