Bubbles On the Horizon

Bubbles on the Horizon

The wagon master, Mr. Marcy, traveled with his new scout trying to catch up with their lumbering wagon train snaking across the grassy Nebraska prairie.

As they approached the line of canvas covered wagons looked like bubbles silhouetted on the horizon. Each wagon was like a little bubble world all of their own floating in a sea of the unknown tethered together with others for survival.

The Indian scout wasn't one for talking so the leader's thoughts wandered back to the spirited charmer he had to leave behind. They needed time to get to know each other better before deciding to marry. Before that happened he must devote his full attention on getting this rolling wagon train village safely beyond unknown perils awaiting them on this long trek to the coast.

After getting the scout settled his first order of business was visiting each individual wagon to check on how things were progressing in his short absence. He had already stopped at several of them. The next visit to the family of Mormons was sure to be an interesting one. Time was so close to circling up for the evening the trail master thought he would wait and pay their campsite a visit after supper.

He explained to Fred, his second in command, the dilemma he had discovered while talking to the Reverend McCoy and invited his love-forlorn friend to accompany him. There was extra commotion and activity in the Morman camp this evening. Fred wanted to back out and not disturb them. Marcy wouldn't hear of it and pressed forward.

“Hello, Folks. Hope we aren't disturbing you too much. We are just out paying our respects this evening.” Mr. Marcy opened. “I'm the Wagon Master, as you recall, and this is Fred Rogers, my right hand man. He was filling in for me while I was away on some business. I wanted to let people know I am back and see if everything is going as hoped. How is your family faring?”

A powerful looking man, Brother Morgan arose from sitting next to a young girl to reach out his hand to the gentlemen.

“Just grand I assure you!” while shaking their hands, “So nice to have you back, Brother Marcy. You are just in time to help us celebrate Emma Mae's sixteenth birthday. Even more exciting we will have a marriage feast tomorrow night you'll be sure to want to attend. I'll be wed to this pretty miss in about twenty-four hours and I find it hard to wait!” As he talked he pulled her to her feet and draped his arm around her shoulders tugging her close to him.

Timid and shy, Emma Mae kept her head hung low. She looked incredibly young all swallowed up in new grown-up garments but no wonder at turning sixteen only today! Perfectly legal marrying age. And her late-forties 'father' was eager to be the one to claim her as his own.

Marcy apologized, “Sorry, we aren't acquainted with all your religious customs but we thought the young lady was your daughter. We are aware you can have more than one wife but is it also permitted to take your own daughter as one of them?”

“Oh, ha-ha, Brother Marcy. Of course, I wouldn't be marrying my own flesh and blood daughter but I can understand your misunderstanding. Let me introduce my family more fully to you both.”

He went from person to person touching them in some fashion as he talked about them. “This is my number one wife, Dear Hannah,” He tilted her chin up with his fingers toward his face and planted a kiss on her forehead. “She bore me these three fine sons, Zeke, who will soon be a man at eighteen and the twelve-year-old twins here, David and Jonathan.” He gripped each young man's shoulders in turn.

“Next I took Ruth as my wife. Her first husband was an elderly man who left her as a widow with an eight-year-old daughter, Emma Mae, whom I raised along with the boys. So since she is not my own blood it is perfectly within my rights to take her as my fourth wife.” He gave each of them a side hug and kissed Emma Mae on the top of her white-capped head.

He lifted a small girl off a young woman's lap to hold and pulled her to her feet. “My Sarah, here, is wife number three. She has borne me little Elizabeth, age three,” who wiggled and giggled as his beard tickled the cheek he planted a kiss on so he lowered her to the ground. “As you might guess she is carrying one more, hopefully another son.” He adoringly traced his fingers along Sarah's lovely, soft cheek.

“Dear Hannah had such trouble delivering the twins she never was able to have more children and poor Ruth just never did conceive again so I am delighted of course with my Sarah being so proliferate.” He gently rubbed her Buddha belly.

“I am looking forward to sweet Emma Mae being another blessing. A man is judged by the produce of his loins to be sure. Many wives with children sealed here in this lifetime will provide a kingly kingdom in heaven to be sure.”

Dear Hannah, a fading beauty, appeared to be in her early forties. Poor Ruth was probably in her mid-thirties and plain looking. My Sarah couldn't be more than twenty-two and could readily turn a man's head with her comely looks, that is without the current condition she was in which loudly bespoke she was spoken for. Sweet Emma Mae was very easy to look at as Fred had suggested earlier to Marcy if she would only raise her eyes off the ground so she was easier to look at.

Marcy risked the man's wrath as he inquired, “A splendid fine family, Brother Morgan, but forgive my curiosity for asking since it is clearly not my business but why do you need to be the one to marry Emma Mae? She is still so young and many younger men would certainly be attracted to her gentle spirit and beauty as is my unattached friend here.”

“That is indeed a bold question, Brother Marcy. We will be entering a wild new world and she could fall among wolves such as your brave friend here ready to devour her. She needs my protection.”

“Wouldn't your son, Zeke, nearly a man, be a suitable choice for her? A bride could be difficult for him to find out here.” Fred tried to deflect his own interest in her.

“He has no means of support other than from me, his father. So why have a middle man? She will remain under my roof. But thank you for your unwarranted concern.”

“Well, like we said, it is none of our business. We wish you all the best and God's grace.” The men shook hands and tipped their hats to the ladies as they said good-bye.

“Well, I think we are lucky to get out of there intact.” Fred said when they were out of hearing range. “I wish you hadn't mentioned my interest in the girl. I will be forever in his sights. I won't be able to talk to any of them.”

“Don't let it worry you too much. They'll turn off at the Salt Lake so will be gone from the train soon. Let's stop by Rev. McCoy's wagon and let him know the marriage can proceed as planned. I still think it is a travesty. Did you see the way Zeke kept looking at her the whole time? And she kept peeking up towards him, too. I think they have had more than a brother-sister interest in each other for some time. That lecherous old man is probably ruining their lives. Why would any man need four wives?” Marcy ts-tsked.

“One for every decade evidently,” Fred intellectualized.

The wedding went on as planned. A fine feast was provided by the wives. Zeke was tasked to set up a tent complete with a bedstead laid out in white linens a short distance from the family wagon for the newlyweds' use their honeymoon night.

The strutting peacock, Brother Morgan, scooped up his new bride with obvious delight and carried her across the threshold of the tent opening.

Dear Hannah recognized how distraught Zeke appeared, put her arm around his shoulder and led him away. There would be no joy in the rest of Morganville tonight.

*~*~*~*

Sometimes Marcy was the most beloved person on the trip, other times the most despised. Only a wagon master could wear as many hats as he had to all at one time. He was the travelers' counselor, judge, doctor, teacher, and commander. They were the backbone and soul of this struggling nation forging the way into new land with nothing but what they could lug along in an eleven-foot by four-foot farm wagon under a canvas balloon.

Missing his girl, Marcy was gazing up at the clouds one blustery day watching them take different shapes thinking he recognized her face several times when he suddenly realized the clouds were getting darker and ominous looking. The sky had taken on a greenish cast to it. He chided himself for not noticing sooner. It was too late to circle or take any evasive action. No shelter was to be found anywhere on the open prairie. He shouted to warn the walkers to take shelter in low lying areas as they were already trying to do. A violent twisting wind was upon them seemingly without warning. Wagons, animals and people were picked up and tossed about like children's toys. Would anything survive? He was thrown to the ground. Everything blacked out around him...

*~*~*~*

...Coming to I was...dazed. Wh-where? Nothing around me seemed normal. Blazing white light blinded me. Murky strange critters were milling around me poking and prodding my limbs and torso. Feeling exposed and vulnerable, I needed to get away before they tore me apart.

But I was strapped down. Try as I might I could not break the bonds that held me fast to this cold, hard slab of whatever it was. An examination table a doctor might operate on? Was I being operated on? I was naked and they definitely were curious about every aspect of my anatomy. I tried to assess my condition. Did anything hurt? Was anything broken? No, I thought I was fine other than their probing explorations.

My eyes started adjusting to the extreme brightness. What kind of light could even make things so bright? Was something on fire? I couldn't smell anything burning. I couldn't clearly see the creatures working me over. They were sort of ethereal, kinda ghostly, like you could see straight through them. Big black holes where there should be eyes. If they were talking I could not understand anything.

Then something else came to my awareness. I was not the only specimen laid out being examined. On a table next to me was a horse and then one with a cow. On the other side of me was definitely a woman. She was attracting a lot more attention and exploration than I was. Fortunately, she still seemed to be unconscious otherwise she would surely be screaming. Hopefully, she was still alive. It was my job to protect the people of the wagon train. How was I supposed to save them from whatever this calamity was?

Then I heard a buzzing sound. It came from the direction where the cow was splayed out. They, the doctors or scientists or tradesmen or whatever unidentifiable creatures, were taking some kind of a spinning piece of equipment I had never seen or heard of and aiming it at the animal's head. Without much effort at all the instrument sliced through the cow's head and they extracted the brain and laid it on a platter. Next they mutilated the torso to remove the heart and other innards and went on down to the reproductive organs and helped themselves to those parts as well. Oh, great! So that's what they have planned for all of us. How am I ever supposed to fight against these odds?

Fortunately, if I could save anyone, I had a little more time to formulate a plan. The workers' attentions were focused on the amazing new toys they had just removed from the hapless cow. Surprisingly, they seemed astonished the cow could no longer go on being a cow. Those must have been vital elements they took out of the strange earthling. Maybe they couldn't be as reckless with their other prizes. They seemed to agree they would proceed with more cautionary measures. Haste makes waste in whatever world you live in.

O, Lord, what world is this and how do I escape and save the woman?

Of all the hats a master of a wagon train had to wear I didn't think I had one in my arsenal for what I was up against now. I only had my wits and had to hang on to those tightly. Was I going crazy? I could see well enough to look around me now and try to figure out what kind of craft we were in and what would be my first move if only I could get loose. What I saw was in no way familiar to me. It certainly wasn't a wagon or a train. Not a ship either, at least not one that sailed the oceans. What was it and was it in motion?

Maybe I was already dead and this was the afterlife. These creatures didn't seem to know anything about their passengers. An all-knowing God would understand everything about us and if they were demons one would think they would also have knowledge about the ones they were always seeking to devour. All I could do was ask the Good Lord to give me knowledge, strength and help to defeat these obvious enemies. If I couldn't communicate with them there was little hope of turning them into friends.

Maybe that is what I should pray for. Wisdom to understand and communicate with them to let them know I don't present a threat. I would be willing to teach them the things they wanted to know. Maybe they really didn't want to hurt us other beings but were only curious.

I decided I would project positive thoughts about these assailants and hope they could somehow pick up on those thoughts. I meant them no harm and wanted to be friends with them. So...I smiled a lot.

I got another surprise when I heard a 'swoosh' sound and a piece of the floor opened up. Workers had strapped up the gutted cow carcass and were lowering it through the portal. With my limited movement and vision I thought they were returning it to the ground. Maybe we were close to where we were snatched. Was there a chance we may be lowered back down, also, be it alive or gutted? Oh, please don't gut us, friends. We need all our body parts. I'll try to teach you about our strange funny looking forms. How can we come to a satisfying closure for all of us? Not everything has to be taken apart to make sense of it. Life needs to move on. Got to keep my sanity to get through this weird journey.

Uh, oh. Sounds were coming from the woman as she was regaining consciousness. I smiled over to her and tried to reassure her. “Please don't scream. These creatures are curious about us but they may not mean us harm.”

Yes, she heard me but so did the seekers. They crowded around me in wonderment. Was it wise to make more sounds? I only expressed friendly ideas to them. “We are quite weak and can not harm you. We think your forms are very beautiful and you have high intelligence. Much more than we do. An amazing ship you have here. We have nothing that compares to it. We drive simple wagons. Would you like to go look at one and learn about our method of travel? We would be happy to show you.”

In a sweet melodic voice the woman started singing a hymn. “Nearer my God to Thee...” They were intrigued and tried to imitate the sounds she made. They seemed to enjoy it. Oops! Would they want to keep her around just as a source of amusement?

They undid her restraints and stood her up. I was finally able to identify her. She had a beautiful figure as the Good Lord had created all women to be pleasing to a man. Part of His genius to keep the species reproducing.

Her plain face was quite pretty when she smiled at them. Her long unpinned hair floated about her shapely form making her even more attractive. It was Poor Ruth, second wife to Brother Morgan, the one unable to conceive since Emma Mae was born. Perhaps a problem if that turned out to be the intent of these good problem solvers.

Thankfully, that wasn't the motivation. Instead they affixed some sort of tag to our ears. They undid my restraints and the horses' also. Our captors strapped us all up and lowered us through the opening to the ground. What a shock! But we were both as naked as the day we were born.

Luckily, the saddle was still on the horse with a blanket under it and another one rolled up behind it. We covered ourselves, climbed aboard the horse and started searching for our lost wagon train, bubbles on the horizon.

We never did figure out this event. But life moves onward. Funny thing, though, for years I had a reoccurring dream I was being probed and examined on a cold metal slab.