by Jesse Wiley
A river!
It might be the Little Wind River, but you are too disoriented to know for sure. It’s much tamer now that the storm has passed. You walk down to the bank, drink your fill, and wash your face. You’ve found a section that is very narrow, with stones protruding from the water. If only your wagon train had come this way. You hush the thought and carefully step on the stones to cross the river.
There’s no time to waste. You need to keep moving, even if being lost in these mountains feels hopeless. You have no idea where your wagon train is at this point. You’ve got to get back on the Oregon Trail.
You head northwest. With the sun leaning to one side of the morning sky, you know to move in the opposite direction. You hope you’ll catch up with your wagon train in the mountains. Traveling alone, you don’t need to worry about hauling heavy wagons and teams of tired oxen. You’re moving at a quicker pace.
With a newfound determination, you take one last drink from the river and gather two good handfuls of wax currants. You roll them up in aspen leaves and put them in your pockets. You start off on your journey again.
You’ve walked for several hours, stopping whenever you see berries or currants. Out of the blue you hear a bone-chilling howl nearby. It sounds like your dog, Snap. Should you investigate further or avoid it?
To investigate the howl, turn to page 99
To avoid the noise, turn to page 128
Return to page 138
While you want nothing more than to reach Oregon City to reunite with your parents, you’re still very weak and sick. You can hardly sit upright, much less travel in a bumpy wagon.
You turn to Tatsa. “I think . . . I think I shouldn’t go anywhere. I need to stay here. At least for a little while.” Your speech is slurred.
Tatsa nods solemnly. “I agree. You wouldn’t make it another mile the way you are.”
When you tell Smith’s wagon train that you won’t be going with them, they’re confused, but not terribly disappointed. You can tell they don’t want to be traveling with someone who’s injured. You can’t blame them. You watch their little wagon train disappear into the trees.
“You shouldn’t feel like you have to stay behind for me, Tatsa.” You frown and look at the ground. “I know you want to see your family again. And we’re . . . so close. You should go on. If you want to.”
Tatsa reaches for your hand. “I won’t leave you. I will stay until you recover.”
You’re grateful for her companionship.
While you’d hoped that resting in the Tenino village would help you fully recover, you become progressively weaker. Your dreams of reuniting with your family in Oregon City are squashed.
THE END
Return to page 131
The best option is to travel back East with this wagon train to Independence, Missouri. From there, you’ll continue back home to St. Louis to find your uncle Benjamin and aunt Sally. They were heartbroken when you and your parents decided to move West. You are very lucky to have them. They’ll take you in when you get back.
Still, you feel lost without your parents. In a last-ditch effort, you ask Sam if he’s seen any other wagon trains passing through this area within the past week.
He shakes his head. “Can’t say I have, I’m afraid. We’ve gotten pretty turned around ourselves more than once. If your parents were looking for you, they might’ve gotten lost in the mountains nearby north, or maybe just kept going.”
That settles it. You return East with the wagon train to reunite with your other relatives. You can only hope you’ll see your parents again someday.
THE END
Return to page 62
You decide to stand your ground, even though you want to turn tail and flee into the woods. But it’s better to stay facing a predator head-on and challenge them if you can. You strike your walking stick firmly into the ground and glare at the wolf closest to you.
The three wolves still draw closer. But then, the leader pauses. He snaps his fangs and snarls.
You don’t move.
An agonizingly long moment passes. One strike and you’re dead meat. In the distance, you hear the cry of the elk. It looks like those wolves got their meat. Maybe now they won’t want you.
Finally the wolves turn away and retreat into the woods.
You let out a slow sigh, feeling the beat of your heart pounding against your chest. You thought you were a goner.
Just as you think the coast is clear . . .
A blur of copper-and-white fur bolts into the clearing. You can hardly believe your eyes. It can’t be.
“Snap!” you cry. Your beloved pup stumbles in between you and the wolves, barking wildly. You’re horrified to see that one of his legs is bleeding.
Just as the wolves are slinking off into the woods, one turns its head at the sound of Snap’s yelping.
“Snap, quiet!” you hiss frantically. “Shush!”
The wolves trot back and close in on you and your dog. You know it’s over.
THE END
Return to page 128
You help the woman and her family.
“I can’t carry more than one person with me, ma’am.” You gesture toward your horse. “Not safely, anyway. I can take one child, but it would be better for you if I hurried to get a doctor in Oregon City. It’s not far.”
She fervently shakes her head. “No, no! By the time the doctor comes back, my husband will be dead—and so will my children! You must take us with you!”
“I can’t—”
“Then take my youngest!” She heaves up her youngest child toward your saddle. “At least one of us should make it!”
You awkwardly grasp the coughing little boy in your arms. He starts to cry and tries to wiggle back for his mother.
“Just go! Hurry!” She slaps your horse’s flanks and you gallop off toward Oregon City. You hold the little boy tightly with one arm and the reins in the other. You feel uneasy balancing on the horse. Then, you notice a rash on the little boy’s face.
When you reach the city later that day, you’re exhausted and feverish. You find the doctor and he immediately puts you both to bed. He assures you that another doctor will ride out to help the boy’s family.
You sleep for a long time. Your fever and cough only get worse. A few days after that, you’re covered in the same red spots as the little boy. You made it to Oregon City, but you never find your family. A case of measles gets the best of you.
THE END
Return to page 105
As much as I’d like to stay here, we need to keep moving on. I’ve got to cross the mountains along the Barlow Road soon. I’m still hopeful that I’ll catch up with my family there.”
Tatsa nods. “It’s been a welcome respite, but I am anxious to rejoin my parents too.”
You and Tatsa pack up the supplies provided by her family: blankets for the cold weather up ahead, a map found on the Trail, and lots of food, like dried meat, chokeberry pies, dried salmon, and plenty of camas roots to boil. Aunt Bawagap has even gifted you with a brand-new beaded buckskin tunic, leggings trimmed with rabbit fur, and soft moccasins for the remainder of your journey. “Aise! Aise!” You thank her profusely in Shoshone—Tatsa taught you—grateful that you’ve made such kind new friends.
While the village can’t spare any horses, you’ve grown so used to walking and don’t mind much. You and Tatsa say goodbye to the Shoshone village and start alongside the Salmon River. It is a barren landscape with nothing in sight but sandy brown hills and cliffs covered in scrub brush. It’s damp and chilly, even in the middle of summer, and the wind whips your clothes. You both wrap your new blankets tightly around you.
You and Tatsa stop to fish for fresh salmon and trout from the river to roast over the fire.
As you walk, the tree-capped hills grow barren and dusty. The country flattens into a wavy, desertlike brown landscape. You look at the map and wonder if you’ve passed Fort Boise already. You think you might be near Three Island Cro
ssing, but you’re not sure. Then, you finally see it: a winding river in the near distance.
“Snake River!” Tatsa rushes off toward the water, Snap bounding at her heels. “Come on, slowpoke!”
You start after her, but as you turn to survey the landscape, something catches your eye. You squint in the sun and gasp. You can hardly believe your eyes. It’s a wagon train!
Your heart leaps. Is it your wagon train? You start running to meet them, not realizing Tatsa has stopped behind you.
As you draw closer, your heart sinks. You scan the following wagons—none of the people are your parents. You swallow your disappointment and wave back as the wagon train captain calls a halt.
“Hello there!” the wagon train captain calls. He dismounts the wagon and his feet hit the ground. “I’m William Smith. What are you doing out here alone?” He eyes your clothing curiously.
“We’re trying to reach Oregon City to find our families. I was separated from my wagon train back near South Pass, and Tatsa lost most of her family due to sickness.”
“You’ve made it all this way alone?” William’s eyebrow arches.
“The two of us, yes.”
He puts his hand on his hip. “You can’t be older than . . .”
“Twelve, sir,” you say. “Thirteen later this year. But . . . you wouldn’t happen to have met a John and Anna Winters on the Trail, would you?”
He shakes his head slowly. “Can’t say that I did.”
“What about a loud guy named Buck Sanders? Their wagon train captain?”
William frowns. “Sorry.”
You bite your lip, disappointed.
“Well, hey,” says William. “It’s not safe for you two to be out here on your own. Any number of foul folk are taking advantage of pioneers on the Trail. What say you come with us?”
You turn to Tatsa. “That might be nice?”
Tatsa takes you aside. “Listen. The Shoshone have always been friends to any travelers that pass through our lands, but I can’t risk getting sick. I lost Dommo and almost my entire family—I barely made it. You can go, but you will have to go on without me. I just don’t have a good feeling about this.”
Traveling with a wagon train might be safer. You wouldn’t have to worry about hunting food as much as you do. Maybe you’d catch up to your wagon train? But you trust Tatsa and her instincts. Should you ride along with the wagon train or keep traveling with Tatsa?
To go with the wagon train, turn to page 42
To keep traveling with Tatsa, turn to page 36
Return to page 118
You join Smith’s wagon train this time. Despite your weeks-long fatigue and recovering injury, you’re desperate for your chance to make it to Oregon City, and you decide to take it.
“I have to try, Tatsa.” You look her in the eye. “I wish you would come with me.”
She’s already shaking her head. “No. I’d rather not. I am doing just fine without a wagon train.”
“You’re okay going on alone?”
“Yes. Also, several Tenino people have said they are going to try to make their way in Oregon City themselves. I will travel with them until I find my family.”
You wish you could go with them, but you want to travel by wagon. Your legs are exhausted, and your wound still throbs. “I’m sorry we have to part like this. But I hope you find your family.”
She leans forward to hug you. “When you reunite with your family, come and find us. You will always be welcome in our home.”
You swallow back tears. You depart with Smith’s wagon train the next morning, a new uneasiness settling over you. Most of the wagon train members resent your presence. They avoid you, as none of them want to catch the infection. In addition, the wagon’s bumpiness only makes your leg pain worse. You have to stop often to adjust your bandages.
Despite many days of rest, your tired body gives out to exhaustion in the end. Your trek on the Trail ends here.
THE END
Return to page 131
You ignore what your body is telling you. Your leg throbs with every step, but you know Tatsa is right about moving on. You’re getting so close to Oregon City. Maybe if you walk it off, it’ll be fine. When Tatsa casts you an odd look, you shake your head and wave her off.
“I’m fine. We are so close. Let’s keep going.”
She studies you. “Are you sure? You don’t look like yourself.”
You smile weakly. “I’m fine, Tatsa. Really. I just need to keep moving.”
“You hardly ate anything. You said you were hungry. We should rest here longer,” Tatsa says.
“No. No, let’s move on.” You feel dizzy. Tatsa jumps up and grabs your arm. Snap yelps.
You wrap a blanket around your shivering body. You haven’t felt this weak in a long time.
You continue into a lush green valley surrounded by rocky hills on either side. Your feet sink into the ground with each step.
Finally, you can’t continue on. Agony overtakes you, and you double over into the grass. Tatsa shouts in alarm as you collapse to the ground.
“Why did you not say something earlier?” She touches your clammy forehead. “You are gravely ill!” You admit that you didn’t want to feel like a burden. When you tell her about your leg wound, she cleans it and wraps it in a bandage.
She places her hands on her hips. “This wound does not look good.”
You soon fall into a feverish state. Sadly, your journey West ends here.
THE END
Return to page 51
You decide to cook the animal. At this point, you’ve been foraging for food well into the afternoon. You and Snap are both starving. Eating something that’s been dead and rotting for a while is dangerous, but your appetite takes over. You use one of your last matches to strike up a fire and roast the animal over a spit. It didn’t smell good before, but the odor of rotted, burnt carcass is even less appetizing.
Still. It’s food, and you need to eat. You and Snap devour what’s left of the deer.
As you drift off to sleep, nausea rises up in your gut. Within hours, you’re so ill that you can’t even lift your head. Your search for your family and Oregon City ends here.
THE END
Return to page 31
You investigate the howl. The whimpering echoes through the trees, sending a shiver down your spine. It could be an injured wolf . . . or it could be Snap. The two of you got separated days ago. Maybe he was swept down the river too. Maybe he’s hurt.
You go and look—carefully. You take your small knife out of your pocket just in case. Gently pushing through the brush, you back up against a large pine tree. Whimpers and sounds of scuffling nearby make you hesitate. You start to second-guess your decision.
You hold your knife tightly and peer around the tree. You gasp when you see the creature struggling in a thorny thicket.
“Snap!”
Your beloved dog looks up at the sound of your voice and barks happily. You rush forward, ignoring the thorns scratching at your clothing and arms, and kneel to hug Snap. He whimpers and covers your face with licks.
“I’ve never been so happy to see you.” Tears prick your eyes. “I’m so glad I found you.”
You’re not alone anymore! You don’t recall ever feeling such elation or relief in your life.
“Don’t worry.” You try to calm him down. “I’ll get you out of this.” You gently unwind the vines from around his ear and carefully pull out several thorns. He whimpers but doesn’t move. “We need to find you water. C’mon, boy. Let’s go.”
Even though Snap’s heavy, you pick him up and set him down once you’re safely out of the thicket. You find a tiny brook running through the rocky forest terrain. You wash his torn ear, tear off a strip of your sleeve, and bandage it.
After eating the last of your wax currants and sipping water from the brook, you’re still so hungry. Snap licks his own chops.
Time to hunt!
You’ve hunted rabbits and prairie do
gs with Snap before. He’s got a keen sense of smell when chasing down quick jackrabbits.
You follow Snap as he trots through the rocky terrain, his nose to the ground. Then, he lifts his head, his nose and floppy ears twitching. A flash of gray darts across the forest floor. He bolts!
You want to race after him, but your legs are tired. You trust Snap. He’s a determined hunter, and in the end, the rabbit is just too slow for him.
You build a fire using tree resin and one of your matches after gathering kindling and small sticks. You hang the rabbit hide out to dry to use as a waterskin—your canteen is lost in the river somewhere.
After a short rest, it’s time to travel on. You extinguish the flames—the last thing you want to do is start a forest fire. You continue on your journey. As the afternoon wears on, you realize that you’ve passed the same oddly shaped tree twice now. You’ve been walking in circles. Should you hike to higher ground to see where you are, or start following the nearby brook downstream to lower ground?
To get to higher ground, turn to page 24
To go to lower ground, turn to page 111