1 “End”-of-day”!---Begin…night-respite!
“Circle tight, the wagons, Uncle Will!” Bram called his nightly ’oft repeated but, wholly unnecessary,
direction to the driver of the wagon immediately behind his own.
Will let go a long,
thin stream of brown tobacco juice which found purchase in a one-inch layer of
thick prairie dust trying, unsuccessfully, to nourish a nettle weed to
flourish.
He laughed, heartily, observing his
wasted attempt to “help” nature in a futile gesture.
“’Bout as much chance of survival for
that ole weed as there is that Bram
might just forget to warn me about the tightness of our wagon circle some
evening---None!” He thought the
words.
But, aloud, for Bram’s hearing benefit, he said, politely, “Yes! Sir! Master Bram! Sure
thing.”
Bram swung his
matched pair of white geldings twenty-feet shy of the bank of a swift flowing,
though shallow, crystal-water cascading river flow and pulled up; no point in
tempting nature by getting too close and suffering a tragic “flash” flood
during the night.
Uncle Will guided his team of horses close behind the leaders rig leaving
just enough room to unhitch the beasts, Billy
and ole Tom. They weren’t as young
and flashy, maybe, as once they had been, but what they now lacked in
conformation-appearance they more than made-up for in exactness and excellence
in performance. Will was quite proud
of the pair and spoiled them.
If and when the tribe happened on a
farmer’s garden of big, juicy carrots, when the farmer wasn’t paying close
attention, Will would liberate a dozen, or two, of the orange
treats for the horses; the pair always got the thickest canopy of leaves above
their heads if rain threatened.
One of his favorite sayings was, “For
women, kids and horses, it’s the little
things that matter.” Will was a Good man, a kind soul and an exemplar
spirit; everybody loved him.”
Finally, after twenty minutes, or so,
the teamsters had formed a protective
circle of wagons.
Cousin Jonathan, eldest of the group of some twenty children, quickly
gathered rounded river rocks from the stream and set them in a five-foot radius
circle perfect enough to make an army private jealous of the preciseness of the
completion; inside the enclosure he laid dried grass from along the riverbank
and covered the tinder with smallish twigs and then bigger branches which the
children gathered from under the trees.
Once satisfied with his creation, he fired the nest utilizing a flint struck against a
steel delivering sparks to the dried mound. As the flames grew, he added larger
logs around the perimeter of the fire and then topped the conflagration with
dry wood. Right away, cousins, brother and sister, Avery and Suzanna,
delivered a blackened kettle stand and its equally fire- discolored cook vessel
to the site. In a few minutes the pot was being filled with river water.
The women unwrapped food parcels in a community effort to procure the evening
food fare; each pitched in, offering their special talents toward a bountiful table-spread and good eats.
The horses were tethered to a heavy rope
picket line after the boys and girls of the party had led each to the stream
for a good drink. The children curried the animals, settling the critters “in”
for their night respite. These horses were very valuable to the collective and
got good care.
“Looks to be a pretty fair night.” Bram opined, sipping hot coffee from a
tin cup while leaning back against a fallen log and peering toward the heavens
as murmurs of agreement whispered.
As the tribe finished their evening
meal, Bram offered a Prayer-of-Thanks for their bounty and safe travel; the throng added a
heartfelt “Amen” to his benediction.
Then, he laid out the plans for tomorrow;
with continued luck and the Lord’s
blessing, they’d make another 20 miles.
The musicians
soon broke out their worn instruments and as a reddish-golden sun bid Adieu to its passing day, the group
softly hummed spiritual hymns in peaceful harmony occasionally breaking out in
a joyful Gypsy-spirit “Whisper”-wind serenade. Amen!
The end
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