It is 1865. People are moving westward along the Oregon Trail, searching for freedom, land, and wealth. Sarah sets out with her new husband, Johnny, only to find he has been damaged in the Civil War. He abandons her and chases rumors of gold in the Black Hills. A young Indian finds her and takes her to his village. She is accepted on the condition she teach them language skills necessary to cope with the onslaught of white settlers. Sarah has no choice but to stay. She learns to appreciate their culture and their dilemma, is torn between that and white civilization as she knows it. The Indian chief, Makhpiya Luta, goes to Washington D.C. to make peace with President Grant, taking Sarah in his party. He returns to his lands, leaving Sarah to make her way in a world to which she no longer belongs. Boarding schools for Indian children open up possibilities for her. The experience of teaching in these is disillusioning. She goes back to live among and teach her adopted people.

Long Road Home

By Virginia van Druten

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2010 Virginia van Druten
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4520-3246-7

Chapter One

Liberty, Missouri, 1865

When Johnny came home to Liberty, Missouri, he was a damaged man. It was nothing that could be seen or touched, the scars were inside what some call the soul. The war had messed with his thinking. He couldn't put his mind to working the family farm or courting the girl he had returned to at home. Everything else had changed, maybe she had also.

"Sarah," he said one night, sitting with her on the porch, his arm stretched across the back of the swing, "I no longer belong here. The war turned me around, I can't find my direction." He peered at the ground beyond the farmyard, beyond the stubble in the harvested fields, his booted feet shuffling as though already on the move. "The sky here's too heavy, it weighs me down. I have to see what's out west, search until I find somewhere I fit."

Sarah hesitated, waiting for his next words. She studied his face, and gazed at the spot where a rebel bullet had parted his dark hair. The urge to touch the place nearly overcame her restraint. This was the man she had loved since they had been children.

"We'll marry, if you'll make the journey with me. No promises. No guarantees, except that I'll be with you."

Sarah glanced over her shoulder, where her parents sat in the parlor, saw Pa nodding over the accounts, and Ma mending socks on a wooden darning egg. She clasped Johnny's hand, followed his gaze into the dim twilight. Was this really the man she wanted to marry and follow wherever he might take them? She breathed a heart-felt, "Yes."

His pent-up hope escaped in a heave of relief.

"It won't be easy," he said, "there's a lot to get ready."

"I know," though she couldn't really picture what was involved.

"My buddy from the army, Josh Lipscomb, is emigrating with his wife and baby, wants me to meet them in Independence. Plans to leave in early spring. We could be gone from here after crop planting, and never see harvest."

"But that's only five months away. I haven't even told Ma and Pa." She shifted her position on the swing ever so slightly and looked at him. His face held a new resolve. It was now, or lose him.

"I have my mustering out pay, and I've been saving up since I got home."

Sarah nodded in agreement as he rushed on, laying plans for their future.

"The land out there isn't fenced in, and nobody can keep me off."

* * *

All the next morning, Sarah worked alongside her mother, setting the house in order.

Few words were exchanged, but from time to time she caught Ma glancing speculatively in her direction. While folding the sheets from the clothesline, they approached and retreated as in a dance step.

The family gathered together at midday for dinner. Pa came in from the fields and joined Ma, Sarah, 11 year-old Ned, and 15 year-old June. Ma prepared the meal of cornbread and chicken, set it down with the last of the string beans and tomatoes from the garden.

Following the blessing, Pa looked at Sarah from above his wire-framed eyeglasses. "Johnny stayed late last night, the two of you talking. Anything you want to tell us about?"

Sarah stared down at her plate as though the potatoes were the most interesting item in the world. She felt the rising heat color her cheeks. Ma leaned forward.

"He asked me to marry him."

Ma relaxed. "That's nothing new. I thought that was settled before he went away to fight the rebs."

"It was. It is. But last night Johhny told me he wants us to go away. West with a wagon train."

Pa's sharp intake of breath through his teeth was audible. "Well, what did you tell him?"

"I told him I would." Sarah stood abruptly and ran away from the table to hide her agitation, taking refuge in the room she and June shared. She would be leaving everyone and everything she had ever known-her past, and, she had thought, her future.

Ma should have followed her, should have cuddled and consoled her. But she didn't. Sarah couldn't remember a time when her mother was a comfort to her, only a judge of right and wrong. Sarah sighed with the imposibility of pleasing her.

Ma eventually came into the room, her eyes icy pools and her lips stretched in a thin line. "If that's what you intend to do, then go. Don't give a thought to how you could be a help to us. You made your bed, you lie in it."

Closing the door firmly behind her, Ma returned to the kitchen to clear the dishes, muffling Sarah's convulsive sobs in the pillow.

Later that evening, awakened from fevered dreams, Sarah overheard her parents whispers.

"Did you hear what she said?" her mother's voice carried through the puny wall. "She wants to leave us."

Her father answered, sensibly enough, "It's only right that she wants to be with Johnny."

"But does that mean she has to go away? Why can't they stay here, fit in like neighbors? We could be of help to one another."

"Johnny says he has to find his own path, and there's no stopping him."

Sarah could imagine her mother's tears, muffled against her father's shoulder as he said, "I wouldn't stop him, even if I could. We can't understand all that he saw in the war, and how that got to him" Her mother's tears escalated into sobs. Pa could be heard trying to comfort and quiet her. "Shh, now. She'll hear you. Remember how your folks didn't want you to leave home to marry a sodbuster."

Sarah held her hands over her ears and drifted again into sleep. Dark of night muted the room.

With the coming of morning light, she opened her eyes to see June sitting in a corner, rocking the chair with her toes, watchng her.

"Good, you're awake. Is it true you're marrying Johnny and going away?"

Sarah nodded. "I guess I am."

"Then is it all right if I give you a present now? I made it for your hope chest."

June knelt beside the bed and pulled out a box of her private belongings. She opened it, and held out a piece of embroidered linen.

"It says 'God Is Love.' Took me a long time, what with pulling out the threads on places I made mistakes."

"I'll treasure it. Thank you," Sarah hugged her sister tightly to ease the ineviitable separation. Sarah sat, smoothed the cloth over her knees, and folded it. Together she and June bent to open the chest that sat at the foot of her bed. About four feet long, more than a foot wide and nearly two feet high, Johnny had crafted this before going to war and presented it to her along with his marriage proposal. Scent of cedar wafted around her head, reminding Sarah of the bright dreams she and Johnny had shared and disturbing thoughts of the those she'd be leaving. The chest was nearly full of linens, collected and hemmed during the long wait for his return. Sarah placed June's offering with them.

Several times over the next few days, Sarah caught the disapproving looks and long silences from her mother She even restrained herself when Ma hissed, "Remember, when you wish yourselves back here, that I told you not to go.

Finally, tired of his wife's muttering, her father spoke out in exasperation. "Our daughter is going to have a proper send off. No one can say we stinted on her wedding." He lowered his chin, and with it his voice. "After all, we probably won't ever see her again in this lifetime."

* * *

The following February, after the frost left and the ground was plowable, and after the seeds were sown, the whole town gathered in the chapel. They came in families of six and seven, to see Sarah and Johnny married. It was on a Wednesday, due to the preacher's busy itinerary on weekends, traveling as he did between congregations. Flowers had not yet come into abundance, and the chapel was bare.

"Doesn't she look nice," a matron leaned forward in the pew and whispered in the ear of her friend. "I heard she handsewed her dress over the winter."

"Hmpf, wonder if she has a right to wear that white veil?"

"Shush." hissed her husband.

"Well, she wouldn't want to be in a family way while they're traveling a hard road."

The matron touched a hanky to her eyes. "Just think, leaving her folks in a lurch like that."

Reverend Hughes strode to the chancel rail and raised his arms, the wedding couple stepping forward to face him. "Who gives this woman in marriage?"

Sarah's father stood, briefly, his shoulders still slumped. "I do," said Pa, his voice forced through the lump in his throat.

"Is there anyone present who knows of any just cause that this couple should not be married?"

The silence was disturbed by rustling as people in the congregation looked around.

"Do you, John Butler, take this woman, Sarah Parker, as your lawfully wedded wife? And by placing this ring on her finger promise to love and protect her?"

"I do."

"You, Sarah, do you promise to love, honor and obey your husband, and, forsaking all others, keep you only unto him so long as you both shall live?"

"I will."

Johnny took Sarah's hand and placed a plain band of gold on her ring finger.

Not a breath of air moved. "I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride," continued the minister.

Johnny lifted Sarah's short finger-tip veil and kissed her, a chaste toucing of lips before all this company. She dreamed of more. She longed for the strong pressure of his mouth to draw her forcefully into his dream.

Out of the church, past Braun's General Store and Post Office, past the Dexter twins' boarding house, Aunt Helen led the party on a brief walk through town to her house, her tall, stout, figure parading up the steps and inside to where a table was spread with sandwiches and cookies. In the middle stood her best milkglass pitcher containing lemonade. Aunt Helen frowned on drinking. For anything stronger, the men retired to the outside porch and added whiskey from their pocket flasks to their cups while the ladies were busy crowding around the bridal gifts.

Sarah fixed a smile on her face, postponing the thought of leaving all these friends. Johnny looked eagerly over his shoulder, and watched her expression as she opened their presents, one by one.

Mr. Parker strolled inside, fortified by alcohol, put his arm around Johnny , and announced, "Include among the gifts, fifty pounds of bacon. I hear that's what folks need to take with them heading west, and I figure that's what you have coming, son, after helping me slaughter the hogs last fall."

"That's very generous, sir, it will come in handy."

Sarah opened a large package and found it contained bags of sugar and salt.

"That's from sister and me," said Thelma Dexter, "The salt will help preserve food and give tang to your cooking."

"Sugar will add sweetness," chimed in her twin Selma.

"Thank you, ladies," said Sarah, bestowing a fond smile.

Clarissa, her best friend since childhood, picked up a small white package and shyly handed it to the bride. Sarah tore it open, eager to see what it held. Out of the wrappings spilled a rainbow of ribbons.

"They're to wear in your hair. Wherever you go, don't forget you're a pretty girl."

Clutching the bouquet of ribbons in one hand, Sarah buried her face in her friend's neck.

"Don't forget me," Sarah's whisper was lost in the murmur of the guests.

Zeke Blodge tugged at Johnny's arm, pulling him away. "The wagon's packed and ready outside. Guess you can't wait to get on the road. Wedding night, and all-"

He stammered over what he was going to say. Johnny's fingers clenched and opened as he fought for a civil answer. After all, Zeke probably meant no insult. The group trouped outside to the wagon , a simple wagon with a pair of powerful draft horses, that had seen much usage around the farm. Now it was loaded with all their worldly goods for starting a new life.

Pa patted Sarah's shoulder and spoke roughly to hide his tender feelings. "Now remember what the Good Book says, 'Wives be subject to your husbands.'"'

She tried to smile, but the quivering of her lips made it unconvincing. "I will."

June launched herself at Sarah, hugging her like she would be blown away, and cried, "I'll miss you. What will I do without you?"

"Grow up, be someone to be proud of." Looking to where her brother stood apart, Sarah called, "Bye, Ned. Mind Pa. You're second in charge now."

Johnny looked Pa in the eyes and said, "Goodbye, sir. I'll take good care of Sarah." A promise passed between them in the firm handshake. Then Johnny lifted his bride onto the seat of the wagon which would carry them to Independence, Missouri, and beyond.

Chapter Two

Shadows lengthened with the closing day. Sarah felt the tension rising in her chest with each passing moment. A feeling of regret threatened to spill over in tears. Saying good bye was sad. It had been perhaps the final parting with friends and family. At last she and Johnny were alone, together. She lowered her eyes and studied the gold band on her finger. They were married, after all.

"You never told me how you came by this wedding ring," she asked shyly, turning it with her hand extended for an approving look.

"Took a gold coin off a reb soldier," Johnny said, his voice heavy with thought. "Had it melted down and made into a ring just your size."

Sarah thought for a moment, then said, "Beating a sword into a plowshare, would you say?"

Johnny looked quickly in her direction. "Something like that."

"It seems to me that sums up what we're headed for, finding a place of peace and making a new life out west."

They lapsed into their own thoughts.

He was the first to break the silence that was beginning to feel comfortable. "First we have to find a place to stay tonight. Let's stop someone passing and ask directions."

Sarah fidgeted and finally confessed, "I'm nervous about people staring at us, this being our wedding night. How are we supposed to act?"

Johnny's smile slowly spread from the corners of his mouth. "Like any other married couple, I guess." His grin made Sarah blush.

Soon they saw a rider coming toward them "Hello, there," Johnny called. The farmer pulled his horse to a halt and pushed a shapeless felt hat back on his head, mopping his brow with a forearm.

"Can you tell me where we might put up for the night? Tomorrow we intend to go in to Independence and hook up with a wagon train going west."

The stranger ran his eyes over their rig, let his gaze settle on Sarah, regarding her youth and slight stature. "Sure that's what you want? Beggin' your pardon mister, but there's a long row to hoe going west-rivers, deserts, mountains-and that's not to mention the wildlife. Lots of bears and wolves." His voice dropped. "And Indians-even them that's friendly are threatening emigrants taking over their territory."

Sarah sat up straight on the wagon bench. Johnny studied her with sidewise regard, and a message passed between them. . "We've made our decision," he said firmly. "But we need a bed for the night."

After a pause, the man nodded. "You can follow me home if you like. We have a spare room, and Edna always cooks too much food for us to eat since our son left. I'm Jeb Turner, by the way."

"I'm Johnny Butler, and this here's my wife, Sarah."

Pleased to meet you, ma'm." He shoved his hat back on his head, covering the baldness and line of sunburn.

Johnny turned their wagon and fell in behind him.

They went along a rutted road through a field of growing corn, came to a cleared plot, and glimpsed a farmhouse built of weathered planks: two storied, if one counted the dormers on each end, chickens scratching in the dusty yard next to the hen house. To the rear was a barn painted ochre, and a fenced pen for pigs. Above all this the arms of a windmill rotated slowly, catching the occasional breeze. Water from an underground well dripped down a wooden sluice to be deposited into a barrel-staved storage tank.

"Whoa", Jeb said as he pulled the horses to a stop. Pride of ownership shone on his face as he walked back to Johnny and Sarah. "This is it. Been here ten years, and it's producing nicely. I'll take your horses and turn them out to graze." His smile broadened. "There's Edna, my wife. Bet she'll be surprised to see we have company."

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Long Road Homeby Virginia van Druten Copyright © 2010 by Virginia van Druten. Excerpted by permission.
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