Wagon Train Sisters (Women of the West) by Shirley Kennedy

only got one small desert to cross and a few mountains to get over and we’ll be in California.”
    They passed a tangle of blueberry bushes loaded with plump, ripe berries. Sarah darted to the side of the trail to pick a few. As Hiram’s wagon passed, she heard Becky say, “Hiram, look, blueberries! Climb down and get us some.”
    Hiram handed the reins to Becky. “Be right back.” The wagon rolled at a steady pace as he rose from the seat and stepped onto the tongue. Not a safe thing to do, but nothing to be concerned about. The young and agile made a common practice of leaping clear of the wagon without the oxen breaking stride. Hiram started to jump just as the wagon gave a lurch. Sarah froze in horror. Instead of landing safely, her brother fell to the ground beneath the wagon. Before he could move, two heavy wheels ran over his legs.
    * * * *
    It was the suddenness of it all that was so shocking. One minute, Sarah was walking with her mother, thinking what a beautiful day it was. The next, Hiram was lying on the ground writhing in pain. That night, when Sarah finally had a moment to herself, her brother’s screams still rang in her ears. She had a blurry recollection of how she’d run and knelt by his side. His left leg was only bruised, but she’d gasped at the sight of his right leg, his pant leg torn away, blood gushing, a jagged, broken bone sticking through his skin. The train came to a jolting halt. Everyone came running. After Becky took one look, her hysterical screams blended with her husband’s. Someone led her away. Thank goodness, a doctor and his family were part of the train. Dr. George Webster knelt by Hiram’s side and shook his head at what he saw. “Bad break. Got to set it. Let’s hope gangrene doesn’t set in.”
    Now Sarah sat by the campfire with her father, both exhausted after the horrible day. She’d finally persuaded her distraught mother to go to bed. Becky, too, thank God. Her sister-in-law had proven totally worthless as far as helping her husband was concerned. Wrapped in her own turmoil at seeing her husband so badly injured, all she could do was wring her hands and wail. The worst part of the day occurred when Dr. Webster set Hiram’s leg. Thank God, Jack hadn’t left yet. He and three other men held Hiram down as the doctor set the bone in place and splinted it with two sticks and strips of cloth. Despite the strong dose of laudanum, Hiram didn’t stop screaming. Jack and the others held fast, offering calm encouragement.
    Pa sat with his head bowed, his body slumped in despair. “First Florrie, now Hiram. I wish to God we’d never come on this journey.”
    Sarah had to bite her tongue. This was your idea, Pa. We didn’t want to come . “The doctor thinks Hiram will be all right.”
    “If he doesn’t get gangrene. Even if he does get well, he’ll never be the same. He’ll walk with a bad limp.”
    How could life be so cruel? She’d never forget her last image of Hiram’s final moment before he fell from the wagon—her golden-haired brother, so tall and lean, so very handsome. Now he’d be a cripple for the rest of his life—if he lived.
    Her father threw up his hands. “What are we going to do? I can take care of the oxen, but I can’t drive both wagons, and Hiram will be laid up for weeks, I suspect, completely helpless.”
    She’d driven the wagon occasionally, just for fun and only when the trail was flat and easy. She dreaded the thought of driving across the Humboldt Sink, the treacherous forty-mile desert that stretched ahead. Beyond that lay the mountains, but now wasn’t the time to let her apprehension show. What choice did she have? “I can do it, Pa. I’ve driven the wagon before.”
    Pa shook his head. “No, daughter, it’s too much for you. I won’t have it.”
    “Then how about Becky?”
    The vision of selfish, incompetent Becky driving the wagon to California brought about the only laugh of their grim day. It didn’t last long. They