Lost in the Rockies by RodG Lost - Flash Fiction writing prompt entry |
All night Anna fought the bitter cold and snow with a feeble fire. But the last red ember winked out, and her husband died soon after. Now, stiff-legged and numb, she watched the sun spill over a distant ridge. "Vertoren," she muttered. "We are not lost," said Greta Hoffmann, an older woman also from Germany. She placed a tattered blanket around the new widow's shoulders. "See those wagon ruts? We can follow them all the way to Deseret." "No, it is like Papa predicted. He strongly objected to our plans to come to America. 'Remember, Anna,' he said. 'Your family makes you what you are. Without it you are lost, and if you leave us you will have none.' Hans is gone. I no longer have family. I am lost!" Greta smiled. "God tests us every day, Anna. Yes, we have little food, and more than a hundred of us have died thus far. But we are Mormons. We shall prevail." Anna glanced briefly at the blanket-covered mound between the handcart's wheels. "Must I leave him here?" Greta nodded. "The men will bury him . . . like the others." Then she cupped Anna's face with her hands. You are not lost. Your family is all of us here and those waiting for you in His city." * * * Anna and Hans Mueller were newly-weds in Heidelberg when they read The Book of Mormon the Church of Latter Day Saints recruiters had given them. Hans insisted they join the Kingdom of God in the far western desert of America. Anna, having vowed to be a good Mormon wife, followed her husband. The Church had loaned them the money to get to Iowa and lease a handcart. In late July they joined a company of Mormons heading west. Hans usually pulled the rough-hewn cart with iron-rimmed wheels while Anna walked beside him. They'd almost lost what few possessions they owned crossing the swollen Sweetwater River. Following the Platte River was easier as both grew accustomed to the daily regimen. By the time they reached the Rockies and Ft. Bridger, it was October. Both the terrain and weather drastically changed. The bitter cold and steep inclines took their toll. Hans' strength and stamina waned. Anna's feet ached constantly. Striving to pull their cart toward the crest of a mountain range, Hans collapsed, and a sudden storm buried the whole party in snow. Food became scarce, and many damaged carts were abandoned. Hans became so sick he mostly slept. Anna searched for scarce wood to keep their fire going. Since others shared what little food they had, Anna fed Hans a thin gruel when he was awake. As the relentless winds blew, she lay beside him, trying to keep him warm. Long before sunrise, she heard the death rattle in his chest, watched it heave once . . . twice . . . not at all. * * * Anna kneeled by the cairn of rocks. "Oh, Hans, your dream--ours--will come true. I--I'll get there."
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