Camp Dance

a Western Short Story by A.E. Jackson

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Along the dust covered trail, fox and quail sprinted between golden aspen. Fall swept into the rendezvous camp meeting with the bear covered trappers, and rugged mountain guides of the Rocky Mountain west. Among them, Jedidiah Cleveland.

"There ain't no reason to bring Pa into this I reckon," Mary Elizabeth Cleveland said. Her blonde pigtails bobbed up and down as she sat beside her mother on the wagon bench. Above her an arch of bent wood and weathered canvas. In the bed of the wagon her six year old little brother, Abraham Jonas Cleveland slept. He had been awake since before dawn, helping their father break camp and pack for the rendezvous.

"Your father makes the decisions. He'd tan my hide like one of his antelope were I to cross him," Sue Ellen Cleveland said. She was a modest woman of Boston heritage. Mary Elizabeth could recall her mother's tales of their families part in the Revolution almost as well as she at this point. Not that much of that mattered on the path to Oregon. The trail West. A new life awaited them all.

"But Mama, it isn't fair," said Mary Elizabeth. "The rendezvous dance is just one night. I'll help with the skins and gathering the dry goods. You know you can count on me. And Papa always has Abraham. I can't do nothin'!"

"Now stop that fussing, girl," her mother said. The scold came with a quick swat on the lap, and a nod of her bonnet. "I said he makes the decisions. But she who holds the reigns drives the horse. Heeyaa!" She pulled the dark brown leather strap in her right hand back with a sudden jerk. The horses turned, and the wagon followed. It jostled and bounced off the rutted path. They came to rest, one among a ring of campsites around the red bonfire of the rendezvous.

Abraham Jonas Cleveland, known as AJ to his family, awoke at the sudden jolt of the wagon leaving the trail. Had they arrived? Or was there trouble. Hope hoped deep in his soul there wasn't trouble they had seen in St. Louis. That was a awful mess. A thing, he reckoned, boys his age ought not to have seen. But he had. And the color of that blood in the streets had tinted his dreams since. He pushed the blanket away from his face, and sat up.

"Mama, are we there?," he asked.

"We are dear. Now hop up and go help your father," said Sue Ellen. She stood at the gate of the wagon looking in at her small boy. Mary hitched the horses to a post driven at the outer rim of the caravan circle and left these two to talk. "You were a big help this morning, and I expect you've got a speck of work left in you yet. Git now." She lifted AJ with two arms that were stronger than they looked. She set him down and watched as he ran off toward Jedidiah's horse.

In the distance, Sue Ellen could tell her man apart from all the others. Silhouettes rode back and forth across the blazing bonfire. Tall, thin guides swallowed by stout, round trappers. Animal heads bobbed in a dance of the strangest sort. A coon skin cap scampered past the open jaws of a black bear which turned its gaze to the approaching fox. Nothing close to the tame nature of the reverie Mary wanted to partake in later. And why shouldn't she get to enjoy time with the other young people. God knew there were so few out here in these wild lands.

She did love these open, untamed, life filled expanses so much more than the streets of Boston. Or St. Louis for that matter. How her heart fluttered when she met Jedidiah Cleveland year ago. She was just a child no older than Mary. In fact, hadn't she been two years her junior when they met for the first time. He was down from French Canada with furs which her father purchased. He was certain they would fetch a fine price, and the stranger on the horse was eager to be rid of them. The dead things stunk worse than any refuse in the rain soaked alleys of Boston. But her young heart carried her high above the stench on wings of love. She was smitten with this stranger at first glance.

"Won't you join us for supper," her father said. He motioned above the shop to their small apartment. "My wife has prepared cabbage with ham. It is Saturday, and you can come along with us to church in the morning."

Stay the night, she thought, with excitement and terror. Her heart's wings faltered and she dropped a bit. Was her room clean? Was her dress mended? She reached for her loose and frayed strands of hair. "Oh!" Her outburst caught the stranger's attention. Until this point he was oblivious to her presence. Surprise and fright at being seen swept over her and she bolted for the stairs.

T H E E N D

© 2018, A.E. Jackson. All rights reserved.

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