The obdurate men formed a stiff line, making it clear that the women had no say. The wagons would go on as decided at last nights vote. Those who had lost a loved one to the sudden mysterious illness best make a hasty goodbye.

The leader, chosen by a vote of hands by the men a few weeks back, took a step forward. He uncrossed his arms sending a puff of dust into the air before it settled around his worn boots. The simple act of removing his filthy hat and drawing it to his heart in a tender ceremony stirred the grieving widows to listen. His broad shoulders dropped to his elbows and he held his eyes to the ground as if taking responsibility for the loss of six fine men and one woman. The toe of his leather boot pushed at a pebble, never realizing his large dirt-encrusted hand crushed the hold on his hat. “We’ve got to keep moving. Don’t know what brought on this sudden and deadly sickness but we can’t stay here and let it claim any more lives. Beside, we’ve got to reach California or Oregon, which ever place you’ve chosen, before the weather turns. If you need to sort it out further talk it out with God as we make our way west. He’s the only one that’s got the answer to this unfortunate loss.” His usual deep tone had been softened by the swig of whiskey taken in secret moments ago, allowing his final words to wash over the group and imitate a soothing breeze.

“I’ll grant you ten more minutes before we head out.” He jabbed his hat back on his head.

A small woman stepped forward with knotted fists. Her dark eyes smoldered and caught the leader’s eyes for a brief moment. “That’s not enough time to say a proper goodbye to my Charles.”

He touched the brim of his hat. “He won’t know the difference.” The whiskey had worn thin.

Her small, clenched hand came up to strike his face.

“Make it count, if it will help.” He took a step closer, violating a proper distance between them.

She dropped her hand. It wouldn’t help. Nothing could bring him back she realized, shuffling to the unmarked grave of her husband. Not even a flower to pick or plant to grace the spot. Only time enough given to flatten the site with the wagon wheels in hopes others crossing the trail, as well as coyotes, don’t dig it up.