Wild Horses

The heat from the sun out on the open prairie was nearly unbearable. That day there was not a cloud in the sky to give shade, nor a wind in the air to blow past. Treva thought it felt like a desert. Or, well, she would have if she knew what a desert felt like.

She was sitting in the back of the covered wagon, watching the world fall behind them as they traveled for days. To Treva it felt like an eternity. And the heat wasn't helping. She had thought sticking inside the covered wagon would have provided shade from the blistering sun and protection from the heat, but it found a way through the cloth material hanging overhead. She could practically feel the sweat trickling down her back from the nape of her neck as she crouched in a rather uncomfortable position. The Dawns didn't have a lot of things with them - mostly blankets, food, and water for the journey to Montana, considering there wouldn't be too much room on the ranch to store all their furniture. Anything else was decided upon as being very valuable to the family. But even with how little supplies they had, the wagon seemed unbearably small.

"Mother!" Treva called out, sticking her head out of the back of the wagon. Clarisse was leading the horse they had bought along with the ox and wagon, while her father, John, sat at the front, leading the oxen.

"Yes, Treva?" Clarisse answered, slowing down until the wagon pulled ahead so she could see her daughter.

"It's too hot to ride in here. Can't I go sit up by Papa?" Treva asked.

"Honey, you know there's no extra room for you up there. Why don't you climb out of there and walk?"

Sighing, Treva groaned. "Mother, I don't want to get my shoes dirty..."

"Oh please, Treva. Don't be so difficult. You're going to have to get used to living in the outdoors and getting a little dirty when we get to the ranch," Clarisse said, feeling almost exasperated.

"Well there's...there's snakes and other things, Mother!" Treva tried to explain, thinking of some way to sit up by her father. Though the snakes and other beasties in the tall grass did frighten her a great deal, and she would rather not come across one anytime soon.

"Treva, honestly. If you're going to complain about walking, then why don't you ride the horse?"

Eyes opening wide, Treva tried to hide the look of fear on her face at the mention of the horse. From the very moment she had first seen it, she had been afraid of it. Sure, she had been around horses back in the city - they pulled the buggies around the streets. But never had Treva been so close to one, and they just looked so big, towering over her. She'd rather walk than get on the back of that great beast, so while heaving a sigh, Treva climbed out of the wagon and jumped down to the grass.

The heat was a bit easier to handle out in the open rather than inside the stifling covered wagon, but Treva still wasn't happy. Though, she wasn't really thrilled with the entire idea of moving in the first place. She didn't even know why her family was even moving until the day before, when she had finally asked her mother.

Clarisse had told her that they had lost all the money they owned because her father's business has failed. Treva didn't know how that was even possible - for as long as she was alive, her parents had always been wealthy. She didn't understand how they could just not have money anymore. In any case, the Dawns had sold their house and all the furniture and things they couldn't bring with them, took the money they made off the transactions, and ran.

Clarisse had known that her family was going to be in trouble financially weeks before it had fully happened, back when their money was only fading slowly. That was when she got in contact with her old friend Maria again. The two had often sent letters back and forth after the Bakers had moved out to Montana, and upon hearing of the Dawn's distress, Maria had graciously welcomed them to come live with her family on the ranch. Seeing no other option, Clarisse knew it was time to leave the city and start anew.

At least thankful she had kept one of her hats to block the sun from her eyes, Treva tromped her way through the tall grass behind her mother and the horse. She had to keep swatting at gnats and other small flying insects that kept attacking her. But what she dreaded most was how long it was going to take them in addition to the straight week of traveling they'd already endured to get them to Billings. It was already mid-July, and John had told his family that it could take until late August or even early September, depending on the weather and the heat. At that point, Treva didn't care where they were going, she just wanted a bed in a nice cool house to fall into and just relax.

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Night had fallen, halting the progress of the Dawn family at least until the sun rose once more. The same thing happened every night - day would fade into darkness and they would set up camp finding a nice place to start a small fire for warmth, and settle down for the night. Treva almost disliked that part of the journey as much as their traveling through the day. She had to sleep on the cold, hard ground, shivering as ants and other little creatures crawled through the grass all around her and under her.

Treva could never fall asleep, even when her father was snoring only feet away. As soon as her body would become numb to the uncomfortable packed dirt of the ground, some noise off in the distance would sound off - maybe a night owl in a nearby line of trees or a stealthy nocturnal predator searching for its next meal. Whatever it was, each noise would yank Treva back from her almost unconscious state, leaving her wide away with no hope of ever sleeping through the night.

Even with leaving her very comfortable and up-kept home back in Manhattan, Treva was pushed farther toward impatience of reaching Montana. As much as she didn't want to live there for the rest of her life, she knew it would beat living out of a covered wagon on the endless stretch of prairie. She would at least have a place to sleep, and decent food to eat.

At least it would be better than the wilderness.