Free Love's Long Journey (Love Comes Softly Series #3) by Janette Oke Page A

had been even higher, he maintained. He then turned to the waiting wagons and ordered the first one over.
    Murmured complaints about Mr. Blake were passed through his group of watching drivers--"Here we been a-sittin' when we coulda been days away from here."
    The women and children joined the men on the bank to watch the first wagon cross. If it had no trouble crossing, they felt they might all be free to go.
    Mr. Blake did not choose to watch. With a look of defeat, and a few well-chosen words directed at the other wagon master, he spun on his heel and marched off.
    It seemed for awhile that all would go well with the wagon; and then, to the horror of all of those on the bank, it suddenly hit the deeper water and the current lifted it up and swirled it about. The horses plunged and fought in their effort to swim for the distant shore, but the churning waters were too strong for them. When the driver realized his predicament, he threw himself into the murky deep trying desperately to fight his way to the shore. The wagon, weaving and swaying, was swept downstream as the frantic horses neighed and struggled in their fright. The pitching canvas cover gave one last, sickening heave and then toppled over on its side. The sinking wagon and team were carried downstream and out of sight around a bend in the river.
    Meantime, the driver was fighting to keep his head above water. At one point he managed to grab a floating bit of uprooted
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    tree that was also being carried away by the muddy current. A cheer went up from the shore, but the next instant a groan passed through the entire group--the tree struck something under the surface and flipped in midstream, jarring the man loose and leaving him on his own again.
    The riverbank became alive with activity as men ran for their horses in an effort to reach near enough to at least throw him a rope. The observers watched the bobbing spot of his dark head as the water swirled him around the river bend. A young woman in the group from the other train collapsed in a heap as the man disappeared, and some of the ladies who travelled with her bent over her to give her assistance.
    "Poor woman," Missie gasped. "It must be her man!" She covered her face with her hands and wept.
    The body was pulled from the river about a half mile downstream. All attempts to force some life back into the man were futile. The horses and wagon were never seen again.
    The following day the travelers from both wagon trains met together; a grave was dug and a service held for the drowned man. His widow had to be helped away from the heaped-up mound that held the body of her young husband. A feeling of helplessness and grief settled over both camps. Respect for Mr. Blake mounted. Eyes were averted when the other wagon master passed by.
    A new determination passed through the Blake train: they would wait. They would wait if it took all summer! Horse and wagon were no match for the angry waters.
    After breakfast one day a week later, someone in the camp drew their attention to a hill across the river. There on their ponies, faces painted and headdress feathers waving in the wind, sat several Indian braves. The almost-naked bodies glistened in the morning sun. In silence they gazed across the river at the ring of wagons; then, at a signal from their leader, they moved on and out of sight over the hill. Missie shivered as she wondered what could have happened if the swollen river had not been between them. Maybe this was one fulfillment of God's promise, "Yea, I will help thee."
    After four weeks of patient and not-so-patient waiting, the
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    river finally did recede. Mr. Blake, who had carefully watched it each day, crossed it on his horse before he allowed any wagon to put a wheel into the water. When he felt satisfied, the order was given to move out.
    It took the whole day to make the crossing. The women and children were taken across on horseback to await the coming of their menfolk and temporary homes. Some of