South Pass Brides

by Sterling Scott

  Not bothering to reload the rifle, Thomas drew his revolver and joined the charge of the other men as they chased the remaining Indians towards the mill pond. Trapped, they surrendered.

  As the fighting subsided, Olga pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders and walked back to the Mission House. Mr. Chapman ran to join her, but Olga blocked him from entering the house.

  “She’s not here,” she said. As the color drained from his face, she realized that she had left the impression that she was dead. “She’s not hurt,” Olga clarified. “Chief Five Crows took her to his lodge to protect her.” She swallowed. “But I don’t know where that is.” He spun around as though he could discern the direction himself. “I’m sure that she is safe,” Olga reassured him.

  As dawn broke, Olga and Mary Ann helped them sort out which Indians were the actual perpetrators, and which had not participated in the massacre.

  “How did you know to come save us?” she asked Thomas.

  “One of the men working for Dr. Whitman hid under the floor of his house during the fighting, and escaped after dark. He ran through the night and the next morning to Umatilla. Henry Spaulding was his name. He reported what had happened, but he knew nothing of your fate. Several men gathered and we dashed here as quickly as we could. We arrived in the early evening, but waited until we could identify exactly where you and the other women and children were being held.”

  He glanced away from her eyes.

  Dropping his voice to a whisper, he continued, “I crept up to the building, with the intent of spying on them when I saw what that Indian did to you. I desperately wanted to help you, but had to wait until the time was right.”

  She hugged him. “I’m all right. Other than the beating, he didn’t hurt me.”

  “Yes, I saw.” He chuckled. “I saw that you got the better of him.” He held her tightly while they kissed. He stroked her hair. “I dare say,” he continued, “that had you not rendered the one Indian helpless, I would not have been able to take all three at once.”

  Olga looked away, not wanting to relive the brutal memory. “What are we going to do now?” she asked.

  “They are going to take the Indians to Fort Walla Walla,” he pointed toward the men guarding the bound Indians. “I guess that you should go with them while Mr. Chapman and I search for Beth.”

  Olga reluctantly agreed, but she did not want to be separated from him again. Fortunately, her concern was soon alleviated. Before Thomas and William Chapman could ready their mounts for the search, Chief Five Crows and Beth arrived.

  “Ah, Mr. Meyer, it is such a pleasure to see you once again.” The Indian shook hands with Thomas, and then helped Beth down from her pony. She ran into William’s embrace. “I would be honored to guide you to Wallula, it that is where you are intending to go,” the Indian chief continued.

  “We left our belongings in Umatilla, and need to get there. I would appreciate the loan of your ponies and some assistance in hiring a boat from Umatilla to The Dalles.”

  “Ah, if it is a boat ride you intend to take, I suggest that you go to Wallula. There is a boat there now that will be heading downriver soon. I will find you some ponies, and we can leave right away. That will be the fastest way.”

  An hour later, the party mounted their horses. Catherine rode with Thomas on his stallion. Olga, William, and Beth each rode ponies provided by the Indians. Five Crows, with two of his braves, directed their mounts west, along the Walla Walla River.

  Riding side by side Olga spoke quietly with Beth. “Are you all right? Did he treat you well?” she asked, nodding toward Five Crows.

  Beth swallowed and composed her answer. “He wanted desperately to marry me. He became rather forceful at one point and I thought I had leapt from the frying pan into the fire. I told him that I was promised to Mr. Chapman and eventually Five Crows relented.” Beth sighed. “He didn’t hurt me,” she concluded.

  Olga was glad that they had made the correct choice. She said nothing of her own nearly disastrous fate.

  After two hours of riding, they arrived at a small mission chapel.

  “Is there a priest here?” Thomas asked the Indian chief.

  “Yes, his name is Father Broulliet.”

  “Let’s stop here for a rest.” Thomas dismounted and entered the chapel. While the others were dismounting, he returned with the priest. “Olga,” he said, “this is Father Broulliet and he has consented to marry us. I don’t want another day to pass without you as my true wife.”

  Olga leapt into his arms. “Oh yes, oh yes, I will,” she said as tears welled in her eyes.” I will marry you—now.”

  The priest rang a bell and within half an hour several men and women settlers arrived. After exchanging a few words with them, the women set to work while the men took Thomas and William aside. One man supplied a bottle of whiskey for all to share.

  “We are going to be married, too,” William proudly told them, hugging Beth to his side.

  The two men congratulated each other as the women took Olga and Beth into the chapel. A blanket had been strung up to create a partition. Olga and Beth were escorted behind it. The local women decorated the two brides’ hair with flower wreaths and placed veils over their heads. Lacking bridal gowns, they tied ribbons of blue and red to adorn their necks and waists. Their scuffed shoes were replaced with white slippers. Young Catherine’s hair was also adorned with flowers. She would be each woman’s bride’s maid.

  The bell was rung again, and the church door opened. Olga heard the men folk enter the small chapel.

  “What do I do first?” she heard William ask.

  “Surely, get married,” she heard Thomas answer with a chuckle.

  The blanket was pulled aside and the two young women walked along the aisle to the altar.

  Father Broulliet was dressed in his finest robes and began the ceremony with passages from the Bible pertaining to marital advice. Olga suppressed a giggle as she remembered having heard this same advice only six months earlier. She knew from experience that Thomas would be a firm husband and her bottom tingled with the expectation of future spankings. She also knew that he would be kind and caring, and that he would lovingly keep her safe all the days of her life.

  When the vows began, she paid close attention and clearly articulated, “I do,” at the appropriate time. This time, she really meant it.

  “And now you may kiss the bride,” Father Broulliet proclaimed.

  Olga turned toward her new husband. She tilted her face up and looked upon his chiseled face and smooth chin. She wondered when he had shaved as she pursed her lips. Thomas Meyer lifted her veil and leaned down to bring their lips together. She closed her eyes.

  Then, she and her new husband kissed as though they had never kissed before.

  Stepping aside, they watched as the priest repeated the vows for Beth and William. With the ceremony completed, the gathering went outside. As though by magic, a spread of sweets and beverages had been assembled.

  After the merriment ended, the traveling party remounted their horses. The well-wishers shouted cheers as they rode away, continuing their trip to Wallula.

  Following their wedding, the two newlywed couples had little time for a proper honeymoon. Thomas thanked Chief Five Crows for his help. To show appreciation, he gave him the Hawken rifle.

  “Ah, thank you, Mr. Meyer. I am the proudest Indian in Oregon to own such a fine rifle.” The Indian chief beamed.

  That night, the women slept on tables in a small lodge while the men slept on the ground. In the morning, Thomas traded his horse for passage on a boat down the Columbia River. The forty-foot long, flat bottom Bateaux boat was loaded with furs and crewed by five Chinook Indians. When they stopped for the night at Umatilla Landing, Olga greeted Grace and Marjorie, and collected her trunk.

  Olga smiled. Thomas and the Merry Widows are together once again.

  “I sold everything as you directed,” Grace said. She handed him a small purse, partially full of coins. �
�While many people wanted to trade, few had any real money. Sadly, I mostly gave the things away.”

  “Mr. Meyer,” William Chapman said, “we are going to part company with you here. We are going to keep Beth’s wagon and take it over the Barlow Road to the Willamette Valley. So, we will see you there.”

  “Most likely not. You see, Olga and I are continuing on to California by sailing ship after we find Catherine’s family. We may well have already left Oregon City by the time you arrive.”

  As quickly as the merry widows had reunited, they split apart. They were not so much Thomas’s merry widows any longer. Only Grace remained unmarried. Beth and William took Grace’s belongings in their wagon while she joined Olga and Thomas in the boat. The friends hugged each other and bid their final farewells. Olga cried as the boat drifted away from the landing.

  “I’m going to miss you!” she shouted to Beth. “I’ll write you from California.”

  The five of them, Thomas, Olga, Catherine, Grace, and Marjorie sat atop the piles of hides while the Indians propelled the boat swiftly downriver. When the landing was out of sight, Olga dried her eyes and faced her future westward.

  After so many months of hard travel, Olga enjoyed the boat ride. After walking alongside oxen for so many miles, she relished watching the Indians paddle them down stream. She was disappointed that they had left the lush green Walla Walla valley behind, and were once again in a near desert land. She watched the sparse juniper trees and sagebrush covered hillsides drift by.

  As the boat rose and fell with the rough water, she nestled tightly beside her husband. Olga marveled at how happy she was. It had not been her wish to leave her family in Cincinnati, and she had never wanted to travel the Oregon Trail. However, she would not have ever wished to be anywhere else than in that boat with Thomas.

  Arriving at The Dalles, the small party of travelers carried their belongings among the throng of immigrants struggling to get their wagons down the narrow, muddy pathway around the Celilo Falls. Olga watched several natives using hand-made nets and spears fishing along the edge of the riverbank. They sold their catch of salmon to the immigrants camped bedside the river.

  The Chinook Indians packed their boat’s cargo on horse-drawn carts. The five Indians hoisted the boat on their shoulders and carried it along the footpath. On the other side of the falls, they reloaded the boat and they continued the trip down river. Along this section of the river, sheer basalt cliffs rose sharply from the banks. There was not the slightest sign of a riverbank. There was no possibility of livestock or men walking along the river. Those traveling by wagon had to disassemble them and load them onto boats. Their livestock were herded along an overland trail on the slope of Mount Hood. Oxen and wagons were reunited at the Cascade Rapids where the wagons were reassembled and driven along a narrow path around the rapids. In places, logs were laid across the muddy path to create what was known as a corduroy road. In other places, the path was a foot under water. At the bottom of the rapids, the wagons were once again disassembled and loaded on barges to take them downriver to Portland.

  Departing The Dalles, Olga, Thomas, and the others continued the boat ride through what was known as the Gorge. The powerful arms of the Indians propelled the boat past the barges drifting with the current.

  “It is gorgeous,” Olga quipped, as she hung on for dear life.

  “This stretch through the gorge is eight miles long. Sorry to say, but most of it is a rough ride,” one Indian said. “The gorge is five miles wide and four thousand feet from the top to the water.” He gestured to the rim of the cliffs high above their heads.

  With each mile they traversed down the river, the scenery changed dramatically from scruffy, yellowish-brown rocky hills to lofty mountain sides covered with lush emerald-green trees, shrubs and ferns. Olga stared in awe at the magnificent sites and the grand vista she saw unfolding before her eyes. Steep, towering waterfalls tumbled down the mossy-draped mountain cliffs. Mist rose from the dense arboreal canopy. Olga had her first view of a real rainforest. Some of the trees were huge and she imagined them to be ancient, wise overseers of the forest.

  Suddenly an enormous snowcapped mountain loomed to their left. She had seen many mountains on this journey, but none so dramatic as Mt. Hood rising sharply from the valley floor. It was almost a perfectly shaped cone. Olga could hardly see the mountain's peak, reaching high into the wispy clouds.

  The entire vista was breathtaking in its beauty. It was a visual feast, and the travelers felt satiated.

  When Olga and the others reached the Cascade Rapids, they walked around the white, churning water. Thomas had been correct. They traveled much faster without the burden of the wagon—they had no need of it. As she had done so many times with Peter, she held one side of the trunk while Thomas held the other. Mrs. Clarke and the two girls each carried their belongings inside of a sack fashioned from spare canvas. After the mile and a half walk, they camped and ate fried salmon. The oily fish softened the hardtack. While the meal was simple, it was hot and filling. During the chilly night, they huddled close together under the buffalo hide.

  Chapter 14

  September 24, 1848

  Oregon City

  The following morning, Thomas hired a boat to complete their journey to Oregon City. Despite their sidetrack to the Whitman Mission, they arrived ahead of the others who had been in Major Jamison’s wagon train.

  The small town was bursting at the seams with emigrants. After having been on the wide open prairie for such a long period of time, Olga was mesmerized by with the sight of civilization. Thomas was only able to secure a tent for their shelter. Fortunately, it had a wooden floor and stove for heat, and they managed to fit five cots inside. In the morning they inquired at the claim office where the Sager homestead was located, and on the following day Thomas rented a horse and buggy to take Catherine to her uncle and her new home. Along the way, Olga admired the Willamette Valley with its green fields dotted with yellow flowers.

  It’s just as I dreamed.

  Thomas and Olga remained in Oregon City one more day to assist Grace as she secured a position as a clerk in a dry goods store. “He’s a widower,” Grace whispered, and winked. “And he has a daughter a year older than Marjorie.” The position came with the use of a room over the store and Marjorie enrolled in the school. “I’m sure that he will ask for my hand before the winter chills his bed.”

  Olga delighted in how the barroom prophecy of Fort John had come true—each of the three widows had found new husbands and new lives. They were now the three merry brides who had crossed the South Pass together.

  She and Thomas each wrote letters to their parents. Olga told her mother that she was safe in Oregon and that she had married Thomas Meyer. She related only a few details of her adventure on the Oregon Trail, and nothing of what had transpired at the Whitman Mission. She finished her letter saying that she was bound for San Francisco and would write again when they were settled.

  Then, the newlyweds bought tickets for the steamboat Beaver to take them to Astoria, further west on the Columbia River. In the port city, they secured passage on a schooner bound for San Francisco. As partial payment for their passage, Thomas helped load the ship’s cargo of logs and agreed to assist as a crewmember.

  Olga stared at the billowing, white sails and remembered her trip across the Atlantic so many years earlier. With a tear in her eye, she remembered how she had enjoyed watching the prairie schooners sail across the sea of grass. While this had been only four months earlier, it seemed to her as though it had been another lifetime.

  Is this the journey’s end?

  She recalled her family and wished that she could hug them. She stroked her cheek, summoning the memory of the tickle her father’s beard left when he kissed her. The sound of her mother’s voice, cautioning her to be careful echoed through her mind. She chuckled with the memory of her childhood, playing with her sister Ida under the watchful eyes of her brothers.

  Riding the Pacifi
c Waves

  At long last, Thomas and Olga were alone in their tiny stateroom. While the cabin had two bunk beds, they slept together in one. Entwining naked, in passion and love, they finally consummated their marriage.

  Still panting from his explosive climax, Thomas opened his eyes to look down upon his bride. Not wanting to crush her, he strained to hold his weight above her. The heels of her feet remained tight against his buttocks and he kept his cock buried within her.

  “I love you,” he said, and kissed her.

  As his erection faded, he slipped out of her channel and Olga relaxed her grip on his butt.

  “Mmm, I love you too,” she replied and kissed him back.

  He rolled onto his side and attempted to spoon with her, but Olga eased from the bed to stand in the confined space of their stateroom. He smiled, watching her. He had never seen her naked before.

  “You are very beautiful.”

  “Thank you, my handsome husband.”

  She glanced over her bare shoulder with a coy smile of her own. He watched the curves of her bottom tighten as she bent over her trunk. She squatted and fished deeper among the clothing.

  “What are you looking for?” he asked.

  “A nightgown.” And then, she pulled the white cotton fabric free of the trunk.

  “Oh no, not tonight. I want to feel all of you as we sleep tonight. I want to have your naked skin touching mine.”

  She turned, clutching the gown to her neck. It concealed some of her charms.

  “All right, but just this one time. I'm not sure I want to sleep with no clothes on.” She allowed the gown to float to the floor. “Do you really like me, just the way I am?” She inched her arms open, dropping them to her sides, until her breasts were fully exposed.

  Thomas took a long moment to study her womanly features. He gazed up and down her nude body, from the tip of her nose, her firm nipples, her dark brown bush, and all the way to her dainty toes.