Apparently the talk had come around to Opal, who had become colder and more distant. Losing the woman’s companionship hurt more than anything. She wished she could explain. Surely Opal had seen how it was Clarence who made all the advances, had seen how hard she had tried to avoid the young man. But then Clarence was Opal’s nephew. What person would believe a stranger over family?
Clarence had done a perfect job of exacting revenge and keeping her outside the family circle. Now besides Clarence’s staring eyes, she had to put up with scornful looks from the rest of the Jennings clan. There were five unmarried men besides Clarence among the travelers, plus Hap Dearing and his four men, about whom she knew little. All of them seemed to take delight lately in gawking at her.
Sometimes she felt as though she was walking naked alongside the wagon, and she was utterly miserable, wondering how she was going to make it all the way to Nevada under these conditions. She was sure the Jennings family were beginning to look at her as some kind of sinful harlot who had been tempting poor, innocent Clarence. They no longer seemed to be impressed by the fact that she had shot an outlaw, but rather were beginning to use the experience as proof that she was not the pure and saintly woman they originally thought her to be. One evening at prayer, the reverend had asked God to forgive her for bringing violence against another human being, even though it had apparently been in self-defense. She thought how hypocritical they were to praise her for what she had done only until they began to think she was some kind of wayward woman herself. That made the shooting suddenly a bad thing.
They had been on the trail nearly a month now, and the past week had been miserable, both in weather and her emotions. Until today, the weather had been cold and rainy for five days, daily drenching those who had to walk. The wagons had gotten buried in mud more than once, and little Sara had taken sick. Miranda herself did not feel well. Even though today it had warmed and things were drying out, her throat hurt and her muscles ached. Walking several miles every day had at first given her terrible leg cramps and swollen feet, but now it seemed her body was getting more used to the strain and her feet did not hurt quite so much; but overall she remained in misery from emotional turmoil and loss of sleep.
At first she had shared a wagon with Opal and little Sara, while the rest of the children slept in the second wagon and all the men slept outside. The past few nights Opal had not spoken to her at all, a complete change from their long nightly conversations when they’d first started out. She claimed she was just too tired now to talk, but Miranda knew the real reason. The woman no longer wanted her friendship.
Miranda felt desperately alone, as if no one were traveling with her at all. She trudged through mud and high prairie grass, sometimes helping Loretta gather a few wildflowers, putting some into the belt of her dress just to make herself feel better. She still thought of Jake often, sure he would have been easier to talk to than these people who called themselves Christians. Jake would not be so quick to judge, certainly not the type to hold a supposed “sin” over someone’s head. The worst part was being judged for something she had not done at all. She had been so sure these were the perfect people with whom to make this long journey. Now she found it ironic that she would rather be traveling with an outlaw.
Night was falling, and Dearing finally rode up to Reverend Jennings and told the man they would make camp for the night along the river. Miranda breathed a sigh of relief. It had already been decided that the women would be allowed to bathe tonight. Blankets would be hung tent-style beside the river so the women would have a place to undress. It had been ten days since any of them had done more than wash their hands and faces, and Miranda had never felt so uncomfortably grimy. She felt like cursing the brother who had brought this misery on her, but then Wesley had not asked her to come to Nevada. It had been her own decision, and now she was trapped. How could she go back? She certainly couldn’t do it alone, and the wagon that carried her trunk belonged to Reverend Jennings. She had paid them a good deal of what money she had left, leaving her little to pay anyone else to take her, and how could she trust just any stranger that came along?
Somehow she had to bear up as an outcast until they reached Nevada, and she fought to hold her chin high and not let her emotional abandonment get her down. If she let herself give in to this agony, she felt she would lose her mind completely. Reverend Jennings would probably declare her mad and go on without her. The old stubbornness that had gotten her through most of her losses and grief was still there to hold her up, along with nightly prayers.