Angie of the Garden

Chapter Twelve-1

Hollis came down with a severe case of the flu several weeks after his breakthrough with Gregory. As always, his immediate concern was for his patients. Olivia kept reminding him that he had now become one of them. The only way to resume his sessions, she repeated over and over again, was to get well again. Hollis initially resisted her advice, but then became so ill the effort required by his wife to convince him that he needed rest was minimal. He did not leave their bed for two days.

Hollis managed to sit at his desk on the third day. He was still weak but was determined to keep a vigil for the patient who constantly occupied his thoughts. The psychiatrist's effort was rewarded when he saw the soft iridescent glow that could always be seen in the garden just before she appeared. Angie had visited him three times in the last month, but on each of those occasions refused to continue her story. Doctor Simms had decided to use the only leverage he had over the stubborn spirit to force her into revealing the undisclosed details of her journey. The psychiatrist picked up her diary, putting it in the pocket of his coat. Then he walked outside. Angie was pacing back and forth as usual. She smiled when the doctor said hello.

"I recently made a trip to Boston," he told her. "I walked through the Boston Commons, and along the Charles River."
Hollis suddenly felt very unsteady on his feet. He sat down on the rock before his rubbery legs gave way.
"Did you, indeed," Angie replied with a heartfelt smile. "I especially remember the Boston Commons from my childhood days. We used to run around for hours at a time there. I've never felt quite as free since then."
"I visited a friend of mine while I was there. He gave me this."

Hollis took out the diary. Angie stared at it with an intensity the doctor had seldom witnessed in the eyes of another human being, living or dead.

"You brought it back for me. That was very kind of you, Hollis. Bring my diary to me, please."

Angie had always been reticent to leave the confines of the garden. Hollis wondered if he could manage to walk the distance between himself and the apparition. Yet that was an academic question at the moment, given his plan. The doctor had decided to bribe his patient.

"I did so with an ulterior motive," he told her. "I want to make a bargain with you. If you'll tell me about the rest of your trip to San Francisco, I'll return your diary to you."

Angie glared at him for a moment. The menacing expression on her face made Hollis suddenly realize that this specter might possess the power to take the journal by force. He feared for his safety, but did not reveal this to the woman from Boston. To his relief a faint smile suddenly appeared on her lips.

"You are a rare scoundrel, Mr. Simms. You're bargaining with something that is not yours. Why is hearing about the rest of my journey so important to you?"
"You've told me about most of it. So now I feel like someone who had to leave the theater before the play was finished. I'm anxious to know what happened after you left the fort."

Angie paced for a few moments before answering. Hollis was on tether hooks. Her diary was the only thing that might entice the entity to tell her tale. Angie looked up at him with weary eyes. Hollis knew this expression. He had seen it countless times on patients who had decided to unburden themselves to him.

"I'll tell you about it," she somberly said. "Even though I know you'll think less of me when my story is finished. I decided to take a shortcut."

Angie began her narrative with the Crawford Party arriving at Fort Bridger. The majority of the settlers looked forward to the brief respite from their travels, while those who were traveling with Cassia only thought of getting better care for her. There was a doctor at Fort Bridger, yet he could do little more than Fletcher had done. Still he did try to be encouraging.

"She seems to be recovering," he told them. "But only time will really tell. When do you leave for California?"
"Crawford says we have to go in four days," Wyatt told him. "He wants to cross the mountains before the snows come."
"You'll be taking a mighty big chance if you let her travel in this condition," the doctor told him.
"How long does she need?"
"Two weeks, at least. I'll check in on her later."

Cassia had fallen asleep so Wyatt and Angie stepped outside. They walked through the gate in the wall that protected the fort. The rugged landscape looked intimidating enough to these two healthy individuals. Neither one of them could envision someone in Cassia's condition traveling on the unforgiving terrain.

"I guess we'll be here for a while," Wyatt told her. "We might even settle here if the two of us get the notion. There's good farm land and plenty of people."
"I can stay here until the spring," Angie told him. "That would give Cass plenty of time to get well. Then I'll go to San Francisco."

Wyatt looked at Angie without speaking for some time. Then he smiled and took her hand in his own.

"You're truly the best friend anyone could have," he told her. "But if I let you wait around for my wife to get better she'd never forgive me. You've got to find Tom Shanahan, Angie. I can take care of my Cassia."
"I can't leave her," Angie said as tears began to run down her cheeks. "After all the three of us have been through I have to make sure Cass gets well."

Wyatt hugged her. Angie knew he was right, though her loyalty to Cassia still argued against his reasoning.

"She won't think less of you for doing what you've got to do," Wyatt said softly. "You have to leave for California now."

Angie met Ed Black later that day. He was what the people of her time referred to as a mountain man. Black lived off the land while traveling throughout the west. A big, burly individual, he projected a fearlessness few people possessed.

"Ed says that we can reach California much faster if we ride over the salt plains," Jake said after introducing them.
"You can't ever be sure about snow in the Sierras," Black told her. "The mountain passes might be closed by the time you reach them if you take the Hastings Cutoff. You could get trapped in the mountains. If you go over the salt plains you'll be there with time to spare, ma'am."
"What does Mr. Sanders think about that?"
"Who?" Black asked her.
"Sanders works for Crawford," Jake explained. "He's leading the people who are going to California, while his boss goes with the people who are settling in Oregon." "I'm sure he's a good man," Ed said. "But he's just going to do whatever Silas Crawford tells him to do. And Crawford only knows one way to get to California. There's another way."

Black squatted down to draw a map in the dirt. Angie watched attentively as he did so. She could clearly see that his proposed route would require traveling a shorter distance, yet the drawing did little to help her decide. Angie did not know what the terrain would be like on either route, and this was the issue foremost in her mind.

"I have to see about getting mules for you and Knowles," Ed said to Jake. "Let me know if the woman wants one."

Ed Black lumbered off leaving the two alone.

"You're going on mules?" Angie questioned him.
"Yep. I always thought people looked better on horses, but these salt flats are supposed to be mighty rough."
"But do you think it's worth the risk?"
"The way I look at it there ain't any easy way to get to California. So if Black's shortcut turns out to be a little tougher, what the hell? At least it will be over sooner."