A Light in the Wilderness Read Online Free Page A

whenever she saw the blue, rose madder, and yellow of Sarah’s dress. Miss Sarah did love to dress up. The fullness of the design covered the reason for Sarah’s morning sickness.
    “You bought new needles.” Sarah said it like a charge.
    Artemesia must have told her of the purchase. Letitia nodded yes.
    “Mr. Bowman’s shirt needs repairing. He tore it loading that churn. It’ll get worse if it’s not fixed. Would you be so kind?”
    “You have the threads?”
    “Well, yes. I have thread.” She wrinkled her nose. “But the baby needs changing. I’ll be glad when this baby understands his call and doesn’t need napkins anymore. So I thought you could . . .”
    “Yessum, I use my thread.”
    A slow seethe boiled within her as she drew her needle through the cloth. She knew as soon as she finished, the baby would need changing again and then it would be her turn. She would always have the next turn whether she was ready for it or not.

    The cluster of people with all their belongings packed in wagons was a colorful sight to Letitia. The journey would bring new ways to do things, she could see that now. Fixing meals, tending children, milking cows would all blend in to unknown landscapes that Davey Carson and others had described. She felt a lift to her steps with the unexpected and hoped she could straddle the uncertainty that new paths brought. Children tried to play, but parents shouted to keep them close. Dogs barked and scratched; a few growled, staking new territory. Oxen hung their heavy heads, long tongues licking the damp air.
    Tied to the back of the Bowman wagon, Charity raised her headand her brown eyes welcomed Letitia. She patted her cow’s neck. There’d been a discussion about her cow being allowed to come, with Sarah standing up for the animal’s right to be along. “We can use the milk.” The milk would be a portion of what Letitia would pay for the Bowmans “keeping” her on the journey. After all, there was a cost to bringing her—as Sarah reminded her often.
    Smoke from cooking fires rose then flattened in the heavy overcast sky, causing soft coughing in the midday mist. Letitia kept a close eye on the Bowman children while she bounced young William on her hip, allowing Sarah to catch her breath.
    “I declare if I am puny all the way to Oregon I will surely die.” Sarah pressed her hand against the wagon and lowered her head to rest it, flattening the front of her bonnet as she did. She’d been sick twice since they’d arrived at the gathering site. She stood, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’ll take William now. You dump the thunder bucket, Letitia. See if you can rinse it out too, and before you go, find me a bit of dried fruit to take this puny taste from my mouth.”
    Letitia did as she was asked. Or ordered.
    As she was on her way to the makeshift latrine with bucket in hand, Sarah’s brother shouted at Letitia to help his mother wrestle a barrel lid. No reason he couldn’t help his own mother ’cept he was a man, busy dealing with man things.
    “I’m tendin’ Missus Bowman right now, suh.” Letitia lifted the thunder bucket so he could see.
    “You can do more than one thing, girl,” he said, a bite to his words as he passed her by. She wasn’t supposed to have priorities, or if she did, her priority was well down on anyone else’s list.
    Yes, she could help more than one person at a time, and did, with the two of them lifting the lid to cover the flour.
    “Thank you, Letitia,” Sarah’s mother said. A child cried in the nested quilts in the back of the wagon. “Oh, could you watch James for a bit while I catch my breath. I declare I’m too old for this birthing.” Sarah’s mother had a newborn while her daughterdealt with morning sickness. The older woman sank back against the wheel.
    James cooed in Letitia’s arms, his mother sighed, and she heard Sarah calling for her. Here was the truth of it: Both women headed west. Both gave orders.