The Librarian

Episode 9 - Remembering

The sight of the outlaw created a shockwave, and she stood shivering as the horrible memories coursed through her mind.

The wagon train made regular stops each night, and it was then families caught up with chores like washing and bathing when possible. Sometimes they got together and sang or told stories, shared dreams and information about the new land to which they were headed.

During one particularly long and difficult day, the husband noticed one of the horses favouring a hind foot and decided to stop by a river they were crossing to take a look. The wagon master said it wasn't a planned halt, and advised against it. The rest of the train would be making use of the last of the daylight before halting. They wouldn't be waiting for them.

The husband told him his horse had come up lame and needed tending. Assured by the father that they wouldn't be that long and would catch up without difficulty, the train moved on. The shoe had come loose and was digging into the hoof occasionally causing the limp. It was repaired in good time and the family gathered fresh water, preparing to leave.

The husband saw them first and grabbed his rifle, calling to the women to stay down in the wagon. The outlaws appeared suddenly, too late to prepare any kind of defence, and the father, after returning some initial fire, managed to hit one before he was gunned down, sprawling awkwardly in the dirt. The mother screamed as two of the men jumped from their horses, wrestling her out of the wagon and to the ground.

The child also began crying, and Harriet pushed her back behind the trunks then jumped from the wagon and tried to reach the rifle beside the father's body. One of the men grabbed her and shoved her against the wagon. She reacted, punching and kicking as her top was stripped away, then she broke free and threw herself at the mother's attackers, wrestling one to the ground and getting hold of his pistol.

He laughed and called her a wildcat, stopping abruptly when the barrel came up under his chin, and she fired. Stunned, the other outlaws were slow to react and Harriet quickly loosed off more shots at the group then scrambled for the rifle again.

There was more gunfire, shouting and yelling and then silence. Two of the four outlaws were dead and two were wounded, one from the father. She hurried to the mother, keeping the rifle aimed at the wounded men, and found her barely conscious and bleeding from several cuts and scratches.

When she stood again her eye caught the sight of the child at the back of the wagon and she gasped a horrified breath, knowing what she looked at was true. The child's dress was a mass of blood and her little hands reached out as she toppled off the back onto the ground, lying still, eyes open to the sky. Her brief life taken by an errant bullet in the gunfight.

Harriet angrily lashed the two wounded men together to a wheel of the wagon, ignoring their complaints and threats, and left them overnight while she worked tending the mother's injuries. By midnight it was obvious that the mother would not survive either, and she broke down, sobbing and railing until she fell asleep, exhausted.

Upon slowly awakening, the previous day's events crept back with growing clarity, and she stared at the mother's pale corpse beside her. The lantern had burned itself out, and another groan drew her attention. With the rifle, she climbed out of the wagon to find one of the men had died of blood loss and the other was begging for help.

Ignoring him, with tear filled eyes, she carried the child's body from behind the wagon and tried tidying her blood soaked clothes, sobs coming in choking waves. Without a glance at the pleading outlaw, she looked after the horses that had been hitched to the wagon all night. Next, still sobbing and moving machine-like, Harriet buried the family in one makeshift grave. A marker with their names and the manner of their deaths stood unsteadily over the spot.

Three hours later she had washed herself, discarded her torn, filthy clothes and forced herself to make something to eat. By mid afternoon, everything was squared away, and she cut the wounded man free of the wagon wheel but left him tied and tied his legs as well so he couldn't stand.

Without a word she climbed onto the driver's seat, took the reins and prayed the horses knew what to do when she gave them a jerk. With a huge sense of relief, she felt them pull ahead and hold a steady pace. Behind her as the wagon drew away, she caught the terrified screams of the abandoned outlaw.

The wonder and excitement she had embraced, now diluted with the horrendous event, and warnings from her family, brought an ache to her heart . . . but she didn't cry again.

****

The following morning, a small cluster of cabins appeared ahead of her and when she finally pulled into the compound they surrounded, she found she had reached a depot for the overland stage. Later she learned that it would pass through the town to which she was headed. The wagon train had gone a different route.

Harriet shared her story with the station managers, who promised to send word about the attack to the county Marshal. In exchange for a hot meal, accommodation, some money, and a ticket on the next stage, she traded the wagon, horses and the family's belongings, keeping the rifle and a small Derringer from the mother's purse.

With the arrival of the stage, she found she reluctantly had to retell the whole incident to the driver and the three male passengers while they waited for a change of horses. Finally the stage pulled out and one of the men graciously joined the driver up top, allowing Harriet half the coach across from the two remaining.

Grimly satisfied she had survived the scrutiny of the people at the station and her fellow passengers, Harriet chose to sleep and let the random bumps and jars allow her to drift off. Their next big stop was Black Creek station, in two days time.