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now, and there seemed no point in fretting over it. At least Mrs. Taylor was walking. A small consolation, but it was something. Perhaps Captain Brownlee would talk some sense into them before the river crossing.
    With one eye on the gathering clouds and occasional flashes of lightning, and the other eye on the backs of her faithful team, she continued to speak to Bella and Beau as she always did on the roughest parts of the journey. Praising their good work, she used her voice to calm them and offset the rumbles and booms of thunder, which steadily grew louder and closer. She knew that the elegant black Percherons were by nature sensible horses, and as long as they remained calm and steady, the less predictable mules should follow. Not all teams were this dependable, especially in thunderstorms.
    Elizabeth was relieved that her children had become somewhat accustomed to these mountain storms now. JT actually enjoyed them. And for her brother’s sake, Ruth tried to appear brave. The captain had assured everyone that they were just as safe outside their wagons as hunkered down in back. Perhaps more so. As long as they avoided standing under a lone tree, their chances of being struck by lightning were slim to nil.
    Elizabeth’s wagon began turning into a switchback. She usually didn’t allow herself to look down at the raging river below them. Nor did her team seem too interested. Thankful that the surface of this road was still dry and somewhat stable, she looked ahead in time to see that the Taylors’ wagon was just approaching the next switchback.
    As usual in these challenging climbs, the Taylors’ wagon was moving awkwardly. It lurched and jerked, moving forward a bit and then stopping abruptly. It even rolled backward at times, which meant that Mr. Taylor wasn’t handling the brake correctly and that the team was stressed. Hearing the constant crack of Mr. Taylor’s whip, whether it was on the backs of the animals or just over their heads, was unsettling. In her mind’s eye she could see the nervous mules jerking and pulling against each other, sweating and stumbling, with their ears pressed flat and the look of fear in their eyes.
    Despite her anger at the Taylors, she felt pity for their overworked animals, and with her focus back on her own team, she began to pray. She asked God to help those poor mules to survive their foolish owners’ ignorance. Elizabeth had been raised to respect livestock, particularly equines. Certainly she knew animals were not superior to humans, but she took her responsibility of caring for them seriously. And certainly, being a farmer, she also understood that animals were expendable. Cows, sheep, pigs, chickens…all were sources of food and income, and when the time came to butcher, she didn’t weep or cringe. However, she did insist it be done humanely.
    Elizabeth was distracted from her own team by a woman’s loud scream. When she looked up, she could not believe what she was seeing in front of her. The Taylors’ wagon was teetering on the outer edge of the switchback with two wheels hanging over the side and crumbling rock falling down the ravine.
    “Dear God!” Elizabeth snapped the reins, urging her team forward.
    “Help us!” screamed Mrs. Taylor as she lifted her black skirt, running toward the wagon as it slowly tumbled over the edge of the road and disappeared with a loud crash…and then an eerie silence.
    “Oh, dear God!” Elizabeth continued pressing her team forward at a steady pace. “Please, help poor Mr. Taylor!”
    When she reached a safe stopping place on the road, Elizabeth firmly pushed on the brakes, tied off the reins, and jumped down, running breathlessly to Mrs. Taylor, who was standing on the edge of the precipice, peering down with her hands clasped to her chin and a look of horror in her eyes.
    “Oh, no !” Elizabeth peered down to the bottom of the gorge to see a jumble of broken wagon and debris spread along the rocky bank of the fast-flowing