From the Relief Society Magazine, July 1950 –

Through Thick and Thin

Nellie Iverson Cox

Daybreak on the plains began with a faint, golden glow in the east that spread until it suffused the whole big, blue bowl of sky. From numerous campfires along the river arose the smell of cooking food, and especially tantalizing were the odors that were wafted from the direction of the log-walled trading post, where fresh buffalo steaks simmered.

Tina and Mercedes awoke together, as they did most things, and sniffed the fragrant air. At first they could not remember where they were, and then came the memory of the long miles they had traveled behind the slow oxen in this strange land of America. Hurriedly, they arose from their hard couch and began to roll up their bedding.

Their mother was half stooped over the fire where she had been preparing breakfast, but something in the tenseness of her attitude cause their eyes to follow the direction of her gaze, and they saw their big red ox standing with slackened tether and closed eyes, unmindful of the clumps of grass which his team mate was eagerly cropping.

“Something ails Bolly,” said June Bolton in her clipped English voice, indicating the beast with his drooping head and hollow sides.

“Oh, Mother, will he die”

“Most of them do,” she replied, “if they once get sick.”

The two children looked at each other horrified, each face mirroring the distress that was in the other. To have tragedy strike when they had come so far on their journey and were so near their goal was more than they could well bear.

“Well, well,” came a dry voice behind them, “it looks like ‘Thick’ and ‘Thin’ are rarin’ to go.”

The girls grimaced a trifle distastefully. They were not sure they liked Mr. Galloway, with his handle-bar mustache and his affinity for sobriquets.

Because of Tina’s plumpness and Mercedes’ thinness, Mr. Galloway had dubbed them Thick and Thin when he had first joined the company back in Iowa.

They remembered the first time they had seen him. They had accompanied their mother to the stockyards, where she had gone to purchase animals for the journey across the plains. Mrs. Bolton had spoken up decisively when a large, red ox had been led out, “That one will do, and that one with the white face.”

“The little lady knows her oxen,” an amused voice had drawled.

“That she does, Mr. Galloway,” agreed the dealer.

So they had learned his name and also that he must be a person of some consequence. It was at the feed yard where they had gone to buy grain for their animals, that they had seen him next.

“No offense, Ma’am,” he had said politely, doffing his huge, western hat, “but surely you aren’t going alone across the plains!”

“Indeed, I’m going,” their mother had replied, “but I’ll not be alone.”

The girls knew that she meant that God would be with the, but Mr. Galloway did not seem to know that, for he had said, “Oh, you are traveling with a company, I know, but you are a woman, and there will e difficulties that you do not dream of, fierce Indians, breakdowns, lack of food, thirst, sickness. Why don’t you wait until the railroad is completed? Haven’t you friends you can stay with?”

“There is no reason for you to be disturbed on my account; I can take care of myself,” replied their mother shortly. Indeed, she had taken care of herself and her children, too, since their father had left and never returned from a voyage. There had probably been no finer seamstress in derby than the Widow Bolton, as she had been called.

After buying the oxen, she had completed her purchases, which were placed in the large, canvas-topped wagon, together with the few articles they had brought from England and the supplies that must do them on the journey. Then they had returned to the campsite to be ready for an early start the following morning.

The two girls wondered that their mother showed so little surprise when Mr. Galloway’s wagon had pulled into the caravan ahead of their own just before starting time. They learned that he was on his way to Oregon. The handsome horses he drove testified of his prosperity, ut he wore no airs because of that, but, on account of his friendliness, he made himself liked by all. At night he camped a stone’s throw from their own camp and sometimes strolled over, generally with some little gift, a sweetmeat, or a bit of food left from his own ample meal. He was jolly and seemed anxious to be friends, but, copying their mother’s attitude, the girls maintained a distant, aloof manner.

Mrs. Bolton turned from the fire with the bowl of cornmeal mush she had just dipped out. “Good morning, Mr. Galloway, I presume you are ready to travel?”

She was like that, always briskly self-sufficient, never fawning nor asking favors, thought Tina and Mercedes, who hoped to be like that themselves, some day, but right now, Mr. Galloway’s little gifts proved very diverting on the tiresome journey.

“Well, now, it doesn’t take much getting ready for a lone fellow like myself, “Ma’am,” this in reference to the fact that his wife had died back East. “Say, what ails that ox?” He peered intently at the beast which had lain down and was breathing heavily and with difficulty.

“He is dying,” replied Jane Bolton calmly.

“Dying!” he exclaimed. “What will you do, now?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, “but the Lord will take care of us.”

Te man looked at her, speechless for a moment, too aghast at her serenity in the face of tragedy, to answer. Then he slowly and unbelievingly shook his head.

“You will need more than just faith if you’re left here on the plains with only one ox,” he said, looking directly at her. “I’ve a good team of horses and room for some of your stuff. Better forget Utah and come on to Oregon with me.”

Tina and Mercedes held their breath waiting for their mother’s reply. She had got them safely out of many tight places since they had started for Zion, but they had never been stranded on the plains before.

Mrs. Bolton gave him look for look, proud and unafraid. “I finish what I start and ask help of no man,” she told him. “If I lose an ox, I’ll . . . .”

“You’ll what?” he asked, his eyes on her face.

“I’ll purchase some Indian ponies and break them to pull my outfit!”

Mr. Galloway threw back his head, and this time he was not merely amused, for his roar of laughter rang loudly above the various noises which reached them from the other camps.

”Ma’am, if you aren’t the beatenest,” he exclaimed unbelievingly.

“Don’t you know there’s not gold enough in the whole company, outside of myself, Ma’am, to get an Indian’s horses away from him, and if you did, how would you get them broke to pull your wagon. I ask you. Ma’am, how would you?”

Old Bolly gave a last agonized groan and rolled over on his side. The girls looked with streaming eyes at what was left of their faithful friend, but their mother’s eyes were dry.

“When I was a girl,” she said softly, “I helped train horses for my grandfather in the North of England. I’ve tamed the wildest of them.”

Mr. Galloway’s face was more respectful now, but he still insisted, “Even if you were able to get some horses, it would take days, weeks, months, even, before you could trust them to pull your outfit. What would you live on meanwhile? You’ve no gold left. No, better consider Oregon.”

“Good day, Mr. Galloway,” said Jane Bolton.

The last wagon was but a dot in the distance when they finished their meager meal. The other members of the company had reluctantly agreed to leave the widow and her daughters at the trading post, with instructions for them to join the next company, which, it was expected, would have extra animals. So they were left at a lonely Indian trading post among strangers. If Jane Bolton thought of the lovely cottage and the many friends she had left behind in England, it was but momentarily that her eyes misted, for almost immediately her mind began working on the problems before her.

“Did you mean it, Mother, about getting some ponies? How can you? We’ve no gold.”

“When I was baptized,” Jane told them, “Brother Spencer said that the Lord would take me safely to Zion, and he told me to be self-reliant and courageous and to trust in the Lord. Now, my darlings, don’t worry, but come help me unload our goods.”

Wonderingly, the two girls obeyed. At last, several boxes were deposited on the ground and numerous wrappings removed.

“We’ll open a trading post of our own,” said their mother, “right here adjacent to this other one.”

“You mean all of our things – our bedding, and clothes, your dishes? Surely not the beautiful willowware that Daddy gave you when you were married? You said you would never part with that.”

A nod of the head was the only answer the girls were given.

It had been a slow tedious job wrapping each fragile cup and saucer and each dainty pitcher, along with their precious Bible and other family treasures, in many layers of soft rags so that they would be safe from harm on the long journey. Unwrapping them now near the edge of civilization on the great plains, the girls were sober as they tried to have faith as great as their mother had.

It was late afternoon when the Indians began to string in to the post, bringing buffalo hides, deerskins, moccasins, and beads to trade for the white man’s goods. They were, for the most part, a peaceful tribe who lived near the trading post. They had had considerable dealings with the whites and were fast changing their diet and their manner of dress for the habits of the paleface.

Jane Bolton stood a short distance from her camp holding up a beautiful, hand-pieced quilt that had belonged to her mother. Tina and Mercedes held out various articles that they thought might catch the eyes of the red men. Most of the Indians dismounted by the trading post, but one squaw, on a spotted pony, accompanied by a brave on a handsome black horse, came steadily on toward them.

“Pray, girls,” murmured their mother, and they silently asked their Maker to soften the hearts of the Indians.

“I want two horses,” said Mrs. Bolton, holding up two fingers and pointing to the two ponies at the same time and including her goods in a sweep of her other arm toward the new arrivals.

“Ugh,” the man scowled his refusal.

Tina and Mercedes prayed silently.

Ugh,” said the brave again, and turned as though to ride away, but a gesture from the woman stopped him.

She slowly dismounted while the girls’ hearts seemed to stand in their mouths. Advancing a few steps, the squaw peered first in one box of goods and then in another. She lifted out a dainty blue cup, then a large platter, a bowl, a pitcher. Suddenly she turned, seized the man by the foot, and pulled him to the ground. Pointing to the box of dishes, she spoke commandingly in deep gutturals. Very reluctantly, the brave picked up the box. The squaw then placed the rawhide tethers of the animals in Jane Bolton’s hand and strode away on foot, followed by a very disgruntled Indian carrying a heavy box of dishes.

There was an astonished snort behind them that nearly stampeded the two ponies. In their intense concentration in the drama that was taking place, none of them had noticed Mr. Galloway’s return to the trading post. His tired horses and his wagon were back in his camp ground of the night before.

“Strangest thing I ever saw! Wouldn’t have believed it! I never heard of an Indian taking orders from a squaw before!” His eyes held dazed unbelief. “Maybe there is soething in this faith of yours, after all.” He shook his head in bewilderment. “But still, Ma’am, how are you and your girls going to eat while bringing to pass the next miracle, while you are breaking those animals to work?”

“The Lord will take care of us,” again affirmed Jane Bolton.

There was a sudden commotion at the trading post. An anxious looking man whom they knew to be Mr. Babbit, the trader, ran out, pushing aside the few remaining Indians. He panted to a stop where Mrs. Bolton stood, still holding the ropes of her recently acquired horses.

“You Mrs. Bolton?” gasped the trader. “I need a woman quick. My wife is sick before her time, and I don’t know what to do. Her mother is coming with the next company, but I need someone now. Hurry! I’ll pay you anything you ask, only hurry!”

The pioneer woman threw the tethers to him. “Take care of my horses; pen the up and feed them.” She started on a rapid run to the big log building.

Tina and Mercedes began to repack the remaining boxes of goods for loading again into the wagon, unmindful of the intent stare of Mr. Galloway.

Suddenly he burst out, “Strangest thing I ever saw. Faith – that’s what she has, beautiful faith like my mother used to have.” His voice was humbly pleading as he addressed the two girls, “I know your mother won’t need any help, but do you think she would mind if I sort of waited around and helped speed up the breaking of those horses and then went on to Utah with you when the next company comes through? I want to learn more about a faith like your mother has.” He waited meekly for their reply.

“Why, Mr. Galloway, we wont’ mind at all, will we Mer – Thin?” asked Tina.

“No, and Mama won’t either, as long as you aren’t exactly helping her. She is awfully independent, isn’t she Tina – er Thick?” answered Mercedes.

“There’ll be no more talk of Thick and Thin,” promised Mr. Galloway. “I shouldn’t have teased you that way.”

“Why not?” asked the girls. “Mama says the Lord will be with us through thick and thin, and he’ll be with you, too, Mr. Galloway, fi you’ll let him.”

“I guess maybe he will,” agreed Mr. Galloway, walking slowly toward his own wagon.