#266
Abby put Bruce and Donny in her wagon, wrapped in blankets and out of the wind. They had heated rocks in the last of the morning campfire, to try and stop the almost uncontrollable shivering the men were doing.
Cold and wet was not the best scenario for healing, and both men gratefully cuddled with the hot rocks.
Because she had been driving very carefully, to keep from jostling the men in the stiff straight axel wagon, Pricilla had to step up her hustle, to keep up with Abby and Jerry as they hard pounded the trail.
Several times they passed westward bound wagons and the people looked interested in stopping to talk; but Abby and Jerry kept a punishing pace, so Priss waved and continued to follow. Several times she thought it wouldn't have hurt to stop and talk, but the two lead wagons kept hustling on. It took two weeks of this exhausting travel to get close to the river and the work-for-passage ferry.
Bruce had not complained, but as thin and stooped over as he was, he was plenty bruised by laying on the wagon bed as it went from bump to bump.
Donny had given up and pleaded to get back on his horse, he told Jerry he wasn't man enough to take the bouncing as Bruce was doing.
They camped in the outskirts of town, while Abby and Priss cooked meals to bolster Bruce's stamina. Suddenly the reason for the rapid punishing pace was clear. Bruce was rested for a week, before the men went into town to see how much work would be required to earn passage for the three wagons.
News that Bruce was a doctor ran through the settlement like wildfire. Almost immediately, he was put to work, and Donny was dispatched back to camp to have Abby or Priss come in and be his nurse.
Priss agreed and Donny escorted her into the makeshift first aid tent. Jerry was on the ferry, helping to pull the wooden raft back and forth. He was busy, straining with the hard work, and wondering why the owners didn't use horses, as they had done in St. Louis when the clan crossed.
The crossing fee had been set at three weeks work; and it was seven days a week, dawn to dusk. On Sunday of the end of the first week, Jerry was groaning with the muscle strain, Bruce looked shell shocked with the amount of sick and injured people he had helped, and the line was already forming for the next morning.
Abby had been cooking, Donny was security and Priss thought she might throw up if she had one more infected boil to lance.
Finishing supper almost too tired to eat, Jerry had an idea. "What if," he ventured, "we consider selling the four horse team and small wagon to the ferry operators and install a horse pull, rather than using man power. If we keep the two big wagons and six up teams, there is room for all of us and we would get on the road two weeks sooner."
There was a long stretch of silence as thinking was done, and then Jerry asked, "who does the wagon and team belong too, I guess that's the first order of business."
Priss spoke up. "The wagon and team belonged to Phoebe and Seamus. I guess by default, they belong to the three of us now."
Jerry nodded. He liked dealing with Priss, she didn't dither, and came to mostly correct conclusions in a swift hurry. "Then it's up to the three of you, if you are in agreement or not, to sell and speed up the crossing."
"It suits me fine," Bruce said quietly. Long hours and short nights had the good doctor in sleep deficit, and his whole body was protesting.
Donny nodded his agreement, he basically didn't care one way or the other. He was out of the jolting wagon and off his horse as he slowly healed from the clawing. But, he was anxious to head South, the weather was just cold, too cold.
Priss was agreeable. She already knew that they had boils, splinters and a burn to treat tomorrow, so anything to help move them out quicker was Ok in her book.
It was agreed upon and Jerry was dispatched the next morning to do the deed.
The ferry owners were agreeable, no one crossing had been willing to sell horses, but the owners were interested and the transaction completed. By Tuesday morning, they were on the ferry inching across the big muddy.
Priss was scared to death, kept her face hidden in the crook of her arm as they creaked and jerked through the water. Lots of prayers were sent heavenward, and when they reached the solid land, more prayers for the deliverance from the river terror were prayed.
"So, where do we go now?" Donny asked as they settled inside the wagons. Abby and Jerry drove one, and Priss with the two maimed men.