Oregon Destiny

by Rachel Wesson

  “Yes, dear.” Mrs. Thompson handed her husband a bottle before coming toward the couple.

  “Captain Jones, on behalf of my husband and myself, thank you for saving our daughter. We welcome you with open arms to the Thompson family.”

  “Now I wouldn’t go that far, Della.”

  “Drink your whiskey, Paddy.”

  With his arm firmly around Becky’s waist, Scott moved forward through the crowd of people congratulating them. “I must see Paco.”

  “Johanna is with him. It will take time but he is going to recover.”

  Becky took Scott’s hand pulling him toward where Paco was waiting.

  “Took your time. She will share blanket. Yes?”

  “Yes, my brother. She will and you will be there to see it.”

  “Della, did he just invite the Indian to their wedding night?”

  “Paddy Thompson, will you drink your whiskey and whist.” Everyone laughed as Mrs. Thompson continued. “He invited him to the wedding.”

  Scott checked Paco’s injuries while filling him in on what happened with Medicine Man and Ahmik.

  “I am sorry boy is gone, too, but it is better for tribe. Now we may have peace.”

  “I hope so, my brother.”

  Before they could say anything else a baby wailed.

  “Milly! I forgot she was having her baby.” Becky ran toward a wagon closely followed by Johanna and their ma. The men stayed where they were. Having babies was women’s business. Scott took the opportunity to talk to Paco. Paco explained how he had come across Mitchell and how he had suspected Ahmik but couldn’t get away to warn anyone. Scott thanked him for helping Becky before telling him the rest of the story.

  “Milly has a beautiful baby boy. Both are healthy but Stan could do with some whiskey,” Johanna called out to everyone.

  Scott and Paco exchanged smiles. Then Almanzo and Walking Tall joined them.

  “You became a man today, Almanzo. Thank you for your help.”

  Scott ruffled Almanzo’s hair as he blushed bright red from the praise.

  “I almost forgot. The Chief said to tell you he was going home but would expect you to visit in a few days when you bring Paco home. He will speak with you then.”

  Scott nodded. He had to speak to the Indians, but first, he had business to resolve here. Family business.

  Chapter 56

  Becky returned after mother and baby had been washed and were resting. She had some tea for Paco and water for Scott.

  “Go, talk to feisty lady. She has things to tell you.”

  Scott looked at Becky who nodded. He took her outstretched hand. She asked Johanna and Rick to follow them.

  When the four of them were clear of the others and could speak in private, she explained what had happened when she had first been kidnapped by Mitchell.

  “I tried to help Mr. Price, I thought he was ill but he was faking. As soon as I went near him, I was grabbed and taken away.”

  “Price was with Mitchell.”

  “Yes. He was horrible. Said he wanted to find you and teach you a lesson.”

  Rick pulled Johanna closer, sliding his arm around her waist.

  “He’s dead now though. Killed by an arrow.”

  “Oh poor Almanzo. I wonder where Mrs. Price is?”

  “Judging by the way Price looked and acted, I think he was riding with Mitchell for some time. I would guess she is dead too.”

  “What will we do?” Johanna looked to Rick for answers.

  “What we always planned to do. Keep the boy with us. There’s no need for him to know what happened to his pa.”

  “I disagree. I think it’s important you never keep secrets. They have a way of coming back and causing problems. Tell him. He is old enough to understand and he believes them dead anyway.”

  “I agree with Scott. He will only try to find them or expect them to come to Oregon looking for him. This way, its final. It’s all over.”

  Johanna exchanged a look with Rick before she moved to embrace Scott and Becky.

  “I hope you two will file a claim near us. Be happy.”

  She then took Rick’s hand. “We best get back to the others and leave those two to work out where their future lies. Last time I heard, Becky was going back to live in Virgil.” Johanna and Rick walked away leaving Scott staring at Becky.

  “Don’t look at me like that. You didn’t want me, I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t stay here without you.”

  “Listen to me, woman, and listen good. There hasn’t been a day that has passed since we first met where I didn’t want you. Whatever plans you have for returning to Virgil you can forget about right now.”

  “Really. Who says you are in charge?”

  “The law. As your husband, I will tell you where to live. As of now, that happens to be on a horse ranch somewhere in Oregon. No arguments.”

  “And what if I do want to argue?”

  He brought his lips down to hers, kissing her so soundly her whole body tingled.

  “You were saying?”

  “I have no idea but please do that again.”

  “This?” he said before claiming her lips again.

  In answer, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  When they finally broke apart, she whispered, “I never argue with my destiny.”

  Epilogue

  After the events of the last few days, their group decided Oregon City was not the home for them. They moved on toward Portland, where there was less competition for land. The town was also more civilized with more merchant-style stores than saloons and business catering for other needs.

  They filed claims next to one another so soon the entire area was owned by members of their wagon train. The men worked together to build a house on each property, having agreed in advance everyone would get a basic homestead. Each family unit could build onto it as required in the following spring/summer when they would have more time. For now, it was important to provide shelter for the winter months.

  The locals were friendly, although they had laughed at Ma’s spinning wheel. There were few sheep in Oregon so she wouldn’t have the wool to spin.

  “We tried spinning the hair from the wolves. We have plenty of those but it didn’t work out too well. They aren’t as obliging as sheep,” one nice woman joked. “Don’t look so worried. The local store provides cloth for women’s clothing. There’s some suitable for men too, although your menfolk may prefer to wear buckskin like the old mountain men.”

  Becky wasn’t sure her pa would be one of those men but she didn’t say so. Pa was still smarting over the fact he couldn’t afford to pay six dollars for each glass window, especially as Rick had ordered them for the house he was building for Johanna. Ma said she didn’t care. They could get a shingle roof and glass windows next year. For now, they had arrived safely and that was all that mattered.

  The first Sunday in October found everyone in their group at the local church. If the minister was surprised to find various Indians in his congregation, including a chief wearing his full headdress, he didn’t comment. In front of him stood four couples.

  “We are gathered here today to witness the marriage of…” Nobody laughed as he took out a sheet of paper from which he had to read the names.

  “Johanna Thompson and Rick Hughes, Rebecca Thompson and Scott Jones, Jessie Chambers and Sheila Freeman, and Mrs. Long and Mr. Bradley.”

  The couples smiled at each other as the minister gave them the vows which they had to repeat in front of everyone. Nobody made any mistakes which was unusual given the number of people involved. The minister was just about to pronounce them as married when Carrie piped up.

  “Are you going to ask them to share blankets? They must be very cold as everyone keeps talking about it.”

  Even the minister laughed before he pronounced them married in the sight of God. Then he added they should go home and party before they settled down with the shared blankets.

  Ma Thompson stood watching her
twins walk proudly down the aisle on the arms of their respective husbands. She sniffed a tear back.

  “What are you crying for, woman? They’re happy, aren’t they?”

  “Aw leave me be, Paddy Thomson. You never warned me that this was our destiny. To reach Oregon and lose all our girls before we even had a roof on our home.”

  “We haven’t lost the girls, Della. We gained three new strong strapping sons. Now our roof will be the best and biggest in the whole of Oregon. Just you wait and see.”

  He offered her his arm and walked her down the aisle as proud as he’d been at their own wedding all those years ago.

  Historical Note

  The attacks on wagon trains by men masquerading as Indians didn’t start until the late 1850s and early 1860s. There were witnesses to two horrific attacks. These happened in different years but at locations quite close to one another. In both cases, some of the emigrants survived. They identified white men who were trying to disguise themselves as Indians. These men seemed to lead the attack which included the Shoshone and Bannock tribe members. People believe these men were so called Land Pirates, intent on stealing valuables and cash from the emigrants.

  But those times didn’t fit with my story so I borrowed some history instead to explain some of the backstory for Scott Jones. Sometimes my imagination goes wild after reading real life accounts of events. The fact the Indians were blamed and massacred in retaliation had me in tears. Yes, Indians did attack wagon trains but in reality there were far fewer emigrants killed than Indians. And you could say, I suppose, the emigrants were trespassing on Indian lands.

  If you would like to read more about the Oregon Trail, there are many books written by the people who traveled. These include these books.

  Almanzo’s story

  Almanzo’s story is now published - Oregon Discovery, the first book of the series Oregon Orphans. In this new series we will meet up with the children from the Oregon Trail as they reach adulthood.

  Chapter One

  The sun was already hot despite it being early morning. Matilda Masterson, or Tilly as her friends called her, eased her feet into the sparkling cool water. It was decadent and delicious at the same time. She giggled as the small fish nibbled at her toes, imagining her deceased mother’s reaction to her eighteen-year-old daughter wading with her skirts tucked up around her knees, her bonnet, shoes, and stockings on the bank of the small river.

  She looked over at her friend Fiona. She didn’t share Tilly’s reservations having been used to being barefoot until she joined the Masterson household at the age of fourteen. She grinned back at her mistress. “Feels heavenly doesn’t it?”

  “Yes Fiona, I feel human again for the first time in ages. This was such a good idea.” Tilly bent down dipping her hanky in the water to wash her neck and face. She really wanted to strip down but they didn’t have time for that. They were late starting today due to having to fix a wagon axle which broke yesterday. The other women were doing some laundry further up the river near the campsite but Tilly had wanted it to just be the two of them. She had taken two horses, one for herself and one for Fiona, so they could ride back a little bit to the small sheltered creek. They were still within shouting distance of the camp, not far enough to cause alarm yet enough distance for her to spend time with Fiona in peace.

  “Tilly, you can come help me do the laundry anytime you like,” Fiona replied grinning at her friend. “Just don’t tell Master Richard I was the one who suggested it.”

  Tilly scowled. “Don’t ruin our morning by talking about him. Did you see him last night? He and father had some disagreement and he strutted off to his wagon. He looked like a cockerel only twice as nasty.”

  Fiona grinned at the description. “Why were they arguing?”

  “I have no idea. Father rarely talks to me anymore. Not that he ever told me anything he considered important. He believes women should look decorative. Our sole aim in life is to please our menfolk and produce an heir. Anything else is against God’s wishes.” Tilly’s face screwed up as she repeated what her father had drummed into her for as long as she could remember.

  “I can't see why God would want you to marry someone nearly three times your age,” Fiona replied heatedly.

  Tilly splashed her friend, “He’s old but he’s not over 50.”

  “You sure about that? He acts older than your father and he’s ancient.”

  “Fiona Murphy is that any way to speak to your employer?” Tilly asked in a voice reminiscent of her mother.

  “Forgive me, Miss, it's my Irish temper. Always gets the better of me,” Fiona replied in a thick Irish accent making them both laugh. Tilly didn’t see Fiona as a servant but as an equal, a fact she had to hide from her father and her fiancé. Fiona Murphy was the only friend she’d ever known and she was so grateful the Irish girl had agreed to come on this godforsaken trip.

  Tilly had no idea why they had to leave San Francisco and head to Oregon. Her father didn’t see fit to tell her. He expected total obedience and if he didn’t get it, she paid a heavy price as she had learned in the past. When she had refused to marry Richard, her parents had locked her in the attic. They told her she would get food and water when she came to her senses. If it hadn’t been for Fiona sneaking up water as often as she could, Tilly didn’t think she would have lived through that week. In the end, she hadn’t agreed to the engagement, but her mother’s sudden death meant her father had to produce her in public. Ironically, by dying her mother had done something to help Tilly for the first time in the young girl’s life.

  It wouldn’t be done for a Masterson to miss her Mother’s funeral. Her father had introduced Richard as her fiancé to all the mourners. Tilly was just as determined as ever not to marry the hideous man but she had yet to figure out a way out of her predicament. Running away, although attractive, wasn’t a practical option as Fiona so rightly pointed out. It was far too dangerous for two young women with no money. They had to think of another plan.

  “Fiona, what do you think Portland will be like?”

  “I have no idea, Tilly. Same as all the other places we’ve lived, I guess. One rule for the rich and another for the poor.”

  “Fiona Murphy, how are you so cynical at such a young age?” Tilly was just about to splash her friend again when they heard what sounded like gunshots. Then a scream. Fiona pulled Tilly to the ground, half in and half out of the stream

  “What was that?” Tilly’s voice quivered.

  “Shush Tilly.”

  Lying beside Fiona, she could feel her friend’s heart beating fast. Tilly raised her head to see if she could see anything but Fiona wasn’t taking any chances. She pulled her back down.

  “We can’t be seen if we keep our heads down. The men will fight them off and then we can go back to the wagons,” Fiona said, her confident words not matching her trembling voice.

  Tilly was shivering, the combination of fear and wet clothes wasn’t a good one. More gunshots and then the sound of horse hooves. She pushed Fiona to one side and risked taking a look over the ridge of the stream. She saw her father racing towards their spot. Before she could do or say anything, a shot rang out and he fell from his horse. The animal continued running but didn’t come anywhere near their hiding spot.

  From this distance, Tilly couldn’t see if her father had survived or not but she saw a few riders circling the wagons, aiming their guns at the adults. Her heart beat so fast as she saw the people they had traveled with gunned down mercilessly. She couldn’t see any faces but the men shooting appeared to be Indians.

  As she saw one racing after a child, she bowed her head. Fiona pulled her back down out of sight, the two of them cuddled together, both holding their hands over their ears. Each praying they would not be discovered. The noise of the attack grew louder. It seemed like another group of men on horseback had joined in. A couple more shots and then everything fell silent.

  Tilly and Fiona lay still, too scared to risk looking up again.

/>   “Do you think they will come looking for us?” Fiona asked.

  “Father and Richard will find us when it’s safe. For now, we best stay here quietly.” Tilly whispered back to her friend. She wasn’t going to tell Fiona she’d seen her father shot. That news could come later.

  She was trying to be brave for both of them given she was a year older than Fiona. She was also Fiona’s employer and her mother had lectured her for years of the importance of being a good mistress. Although her mother had taken the view servants needed to be kept in their place and not given expectations beyond their station in life, Tilly preferred to think her mother would have expected her to protect Fiona.

  The sun rose higher in the sky. Where they were afforded them little protection. Tilly regretted taking off her bonnet. The sun's rays combined with thirst were making her feel lightheaded. Fiona had closed her eyes but whether she was sleeping or had passed out, Tilly wasn't sure. She moved slightly closer to her friend, intending to check on her when she sensed something behind her. She turned to look. The last thing she saw was buckskin before she passed out.

  Read Oregon Discovery Now

  Acknowledgments

  This book wouldn’t have been possible without the help of so many people. Thanks to Erin Dameron-Hill for my fantastic covers. Erin is a gifted artist who makes my characters come to life.

  The ladies from Pioneer Hearts who volunteered to proofread my book. Special thanks go to Nancy Cowan, Marlene Larsen, Cindy Nipper, Marilyn Cortellini, Sherry Masters, Janet Lessley Robin Malek, Meisje Sanders Arcuri and Denise Cervantes who all spotted errors (mine) that had slipped through.

  Kirsten Osborne, Cassie Hayes and the incredible group of people who make up Pioneer Hearts, a Facebook group for authors and readers of Historical Western Romance. Come join us for games, prizes, exclusive content, and first looks at the latest releases of your favorite historical western authors. https://www.facebook.com/groups/pioneerhearts/