Everywhere she looked she saw snow-capped peaks, gray and purple mountains, their sides deep green with fir trees. They moved along mountain roads that nearly stopped her heart with their height. The view from their path was spectacular, and she realized that none of the descriptions she had heard about this land had been completely accurate. How could any man fully explain its grandeur? It had to be seen to be believed. She prayed Josh would see it also.
After several days the wagon train reached a point where the wagons would have to be lowered over a cliff by rope, while the animals would be herded down a road too steep and narrow to take the wagons. The dangerous project took all day, straining men’s muscles to the limit. That night women rubbed linament into their husbands’ backs and arms, and Marybeth wished Josh was here and she was doing the same for him. Under normal conditions his virile strength would have been a big help on a day like today; but she told herself she must be prepared for the possibility he would never be that strong and vital again.
On and on they journeyed, ever farther from Josh, putting three weeks between themselves and Fort Hall. The nights got colder and colder, and ice formed a thin crust on top of the water supplies so that the women had to break through it every morning to get water for cooking and washing. Finally they moved down out of the mountains and into wide, open land, welcomed by all. Marybeth could see more mountains far, far to the west. That night when they made camp, Cap made the announcement that brought joy to everyone’s hearts, but a strange sadness to Marybeth’s, for this was a moment she had planned to share with Josh.
“Folks, we’re in Oregon Territory,” he told them. “We’ve got about a month to go now before you’re where you want to be, but at least you can say you made it to Oregon.”
Cheers went up, and a few men broke out some whiskey. That night harmonica and fiddle were brought out again, and the weary, tattered travelers, many of them still grief-stricken by graves left behind, sang and danced and celebrated. Marybeth watched the dancing, imagined Josh sweeping her around in his arms.
“We’re here, Josh,” she said softly as she watched the others. “We made it to Oregon.” In another month we’ll be home, she thought. Home, like we talked about so often. Oh, how I wish we could share this moment together. Please be alive, Josh. Please hang on for me.
She felt a sudden wave of warmth move through her, as though his arms were around her. “He’s alive,” she whispered aloud. She put her face in her hands. “I just know it. He’s still alive.”
They camped near a river that roared so loudly it was difficult to sleep. The emigrants had traveled for two weeks through mostly flat land. Now they were into rolling foothills and headed closer to mountains again. Tomorrow they would cross a wild river on rafts fashioned by Cayuse Indians who charged exhorbitant prices for their services. Marybeth decided that whoever said Indians were ignorant didn’t know what they were talking about. These Indians were as clever as the best white businessman, although their wild appearance frightened her, after the encounter with the Crow that had nearly destroyed Josh.
Indians were a mystery to her. Some could be wild and murderous, others, like Devon, nearly like white men. Now there were these Cayuse, looking wild and untamed, but harmless, except for robbing the emigrants blind with fees for getting them across the river.
Ella again came and asked for Danny, but Marybeth hesitated. “We’re in Oregon now, Ella. Mac could ride off with him and steal him away from me if he wanted.”
Ella stiffened with what was left of a pride that was once strong in her soul. “I will not let it happen, even if he would beat me to death. I promise, Marybeth. I just want to be with my grandson for a while. Please.”
Marybeth sighed, feeling sorry for the grief in the woman’s eyes, finding it impossible to deny her a few hours of pleasure with Danny. “Just an hour or two then. Bring him back here to sleep.”
The woman nodded, smiling a rare smile when she took Danny, who went to her readily and called her “Na-na.” Marybeth watched the woman walk off with him, thanking God that she was out from under the ugly, frightening shadow of Murray and John MacKinder. But it was all thanks to Joshua Rivers. She hoped she could continue to be strong against Mac, even without Josh to back her.
Morning brought bright sunshine, and people readied themselves for the trip across the river. Animals were unhitched, and women took from the wagons a few clothes and precious belongings to carry in case everything else should end up in the river.
Marybeth hung on to Danny, and Delores clung to Marybeth as the two women were oared across the river in a canoe by a dark Indian whose skin was greased not only against the cold but to protect him from icy waters should they end up in the river. The Indian’s skill in handling the canoe against the mighty waters was nothing less than amazing, and Marybeth decided that these natives of the land at least earned their fees. She clung to Danny with one arm and to the edge of the canoe with the other, as water splashed against the side of the boat and sprayed them with its chilly beads.
She ducked and prayed, feeling Delores’s fingers digging into her arm, while the canoe lurched and tipped and threatened to roll them all into the water. When they finally reached the other side, Marybeth was never more relieved to step on dry ground again. Of all the rivers they had crossed, this one seemed the most dangerous. Once ashore, she and Delores joined several other women and children who had already crossed. Others came over, some of the children crying from fear of the churning white water.
Marybeth watched for Ella, but the woman was not among the rest of the women who came across. Men were herding animals and wagons onto rafts, preparing to bring across two teams and two wagons at a time on four separate rafts. It was then Marybeth heard Mac’s shouting, and she strained to hear him over the roaring waters. She could see Ella standing beside him, and saw him facing Cap.
“…no goddamn Indian—get near my wife,” Marybeth made out. “…savages killed my John!…ride over—wagon—raft’s good and sturdy…stays with me and the wagon!”
“Mac won’t let poor Ella come over in a canoe,” Marybeth said to Delores.
“I think he enjoys being obstinate and having his own way, even if it puts a family member in danger.”
Cap was shouting back, then waved the man off. “…your own damn way then,” Marybeth heard him say then. “I’ll be glad—rid of you—another couple of weeks…biggest pain in the ass…” The man rode off to help some others.
Several rafts came across safely. Then came the MacKinder team and wagon. Marybeth watched Ella climb into the wagon, which was then rolled onto one of the rafts. Mac helped herd his oxen onto another raft, and both rafts were pushed into the waters. Strong, experienced Indians worked with poles and an excellent knowledge of the river’s currents to steer the rafts safely.
Midway across one of Mac’s oxen panicked. Against orders to stay calm, Mac began cursing at the animal, snapping at it with his whip when it kicked at him. The ruckus stirred up the rest of the oxen, and the Indians guiding the raft were shouting something to Mac in their own tongue. One of the oxen stumbled and knocked one of the Indians into the water, the ox falling in after him.
The entire incident happened before Marybeth’s eyes like a living nightmare. Without the second Indian, the first one could not hold the raft. It began swirling away from him, and then Mac fell into the water. The raft and the struggling, swimming ox both slammed into the raft carrying the MacKinder wagon, and the rest of the oxen slid off. Two of them scrambled desperately to climb onto the raft that carried the wagon, tipping it slightly. Marybeth heard a scream from inside as the wagon rolled forward into the water.
Everyone stared helplessly as both rafts, the wagon, the oxen, Indians and the MacKinders bounced and bobbed down river, the humans trying to grasp onto rocks, the wagons and rafts smashing into the same rocks and splintering. To everyone’s shock it took only seconds before everything, humans, animals, wagon and all, disappeared under water. Marybeth re
membered Cap saying that not far ahead the water was even more turbulent, and churned into a steep waterfall.
“Dear God,” she muttered. She felt no great remorse for Mac, but still, it was a terrible way to die, and her heart ached for Ella. For several minutes there was no movement, no talking. People just stared. Marybeth put a hand to her stomach, watching the churning waters in disbelief. Two of the Indians, adept at mastering the river, managed to swim to safety. Some of the men helped pull them to shore, and Bill Stone quickly borrowed a horse and rode with Devon downriver to see if they could find the MacKinders. Two Cayuse Indians followed.
Delores put an arm around Marybeth. “Are you all right?”
Marybeth’s heart pounded with a mixture of emotions. Gone! So quickly gone! Poor Ella, her whole life wasted, not one moment of it happy, except for the few precious moments she got to share with Danny. “I don’t know,” she answered Delores.
Delores led her to a campfire, and people watched with their hearts in their throats as the undaunted Indians brought over the rest of the wagons and animals, a day-long project. People came up to Marybeth and told her they were sorry, everyone secretly feeling the loss of Murray MacKinder was no great tragedy, yet understanding that they were after all kin to Marybeth, and that Ella MacKinder’s life had ended as tragically as it had been lived.
In spite of feelings for the MacKinders, people were overwhelmed with shock at what they had witnessed, and nerves were close to breaking. Cap walked around camp that evening, assuring everyone that they had mastered the last great danger of the journey. “There was a time when The Dalles was the biggest danger of all,” he told them, referring to a stretch of the Columbia River all travelers once had to traverse to reach the Willamette Valley. “A man named Barlow lost family there—made it his personal project to see that a road got built to by-pass The Dalles. We’ll be takin’ that road.”
People breathed easier, but the experience still left them shaken, and the shadow of death again hung over the group of travelers. Marybeth went to bed full of fear again for Josh, feeling the hand of death had come much to close. Would it also grasp Josh?
“Holy Mary, Mother of God, Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of death,” she whispered over her rosary. “If there is any way to forgive Murray MacKinder of his cruelty, please do so and accept him into your Kingdom, Lord. Perhaps there was a reason for his actions that only You understand. And bless and be with Ella. Give her the peace and happiness she has so long been deprived of.”
She fell asleep in tears, thinking about Josh, holding her last prayers for her most beloved. Was he calling for her? Was he being properly fed and looked after? How she hated this helpless, helpless feeling.
In the morning Bill Stone and Devon returned dragging travois behind their horses, two bodies wrapped and tied to the travois. No one needed to ask who they were.
“They were bashed up pretty bad,” Devon told Cap. “The Cayuse took their own back to their village. They said we were lucky to find the bodies at all. Many who fall into the river are never found.”
Again graves were dug. Marybeth found it difficult to believe they were for Mac and Ella. In spite of her feelings for them, it seemed so tragic to have come so far, to be so close to the end of their journey, never to reach their destination.
Gone! All the MacKinders were gone. A chill moved through her at the realization of how much had happened since she first left Ireland the unwilling bride of Dan MacKinder, leaving those first sad graves behind her—her mother’s and father’s. There had been so much death and heartache since then, and her only bright light, her only happiness besides Danny had been Josh Rivers.
She stared at the dark holes as the bodies were lowered. Was someone lowering Josh’s body into a grave? The thought seemed absurd. Not a big, strong, vital man like Josh Rivers. Not her Josh! Others prayed over the MacKinders, but Marybeth prayed for Josh, realizing with sudden shock that she truly was alone now. Much as she would not have wanted to depend on the MacKinders again, the fact remained there was no one left but her and Danny. Somehow, if Josh never came to her, she had to find a way to survive in this new land. She couldn’t depend on Aaron and Delores or Sam and Florence forever.
She felt a flutter in her stomach, remembered the life that was growing there. In a few months not only Danny would depend on her, but a new baby—Josh’s baby. He or she could be all she had left of the man she had loved with such exquisite passion.
The sound of a shovel brought her back to the present, as Aaron threw dirt into Ella’s grave. Two more people and another wagon were gone. Bill Stone wept from the shock of losing two people with whom he had traveled closely over some three thousand miles. Marybeth felt her own tears coming then, not for Murray MacKinder, but for Ella, who had never known the kind of love Marybeth had known in Josh Rivers’ arms.
Josh lay in a sweat, finding it incredible that bending his arms to lift the rocks in them could be such a strenuous task. Frank had brought him the rocks, and Josh was determined to start rebuilding his strength. Because of constant sickness since the wagon train left, he had not eaten anything but broth for a month. Today was the first time a piece of bread had stayed in his stomach, but pain was still a constant companion. There had been moments when he literally begged God to take him, moments when he truly wanted to die. But in those moments, Marybeth’s face would come to mind, her green eyes crying, her ruby lips forming the words to beg him to get well. Her auburn hair cascaded over creamy skin, and her hands were always reaching out to him for help.
Outside the wind howled, and an early mountain storm was dumping wet snow on everything. Josh hoped the wagon train had made it through and everyone was safely in Oregon and out of the mountains. A month had passed already. It seemed impossible, and he found it hard to realize how far away Marybeth was now. Sometimes she seemed like some distant dream, something that was not real at all.
He laid the rocks aside, panting for breath, wondering if the day would ever come when he would be normal again. Frank came inside, carrying a cup of hot coffee. “How did you do,” he asked, always jovially trying to encourage Josh.
Josh closed his eyes. “Not so good. I bet you don’t believe I used to be a strong man.”
Frank came closer and handed him the coffee. “Here. Drink this.”
Josh looked at it and breathed deeply. “Set it beside me there. I can’t even lift a damn cup of coffee till I rest my arm. How in hell am I going to ever get back to normal, Frank?”
The man grinned. “I’ve seen that woman of yours. You’ll get back to normal, all right. And I do believe you were a strong man. Cap told me all about that fight you had with some big Irishman who’d never been beat. I’d sure like to have seen that one.”
Josh smiled ruefully. “Yeah. Well, I couldn’t fight a kitten right now.”
Frank pulled back the covers and checked the bandages. “We’ll have you fightin’ mountain lions come spring.” He pressed around the wound. “I don’t hear any screams.”
“It doesn’t hurt so bad any more when you press on it.”
“That’s good. Means most of the infection is gone.”
“How come everything inside still hurts when I move around then?”
“Well, I expect there’s still some infection deeper inside—and you’re just plain sore, Josh, muscle sore from that bullet rippin’ through you—maybe some damage to your nerves. Hell, I’m no doc. I’m just guessin’. But as long as that fever says down, you’re sure as hell gettin’ better.”
Josh rubbed at his legs, feeling nothing. “Maybe so, but I’ve got a long way to go, Frank. First I’ve got to get the strength back in my arms so I can use some crutches. Then I get busy on these legs.” He looked at the man. “You think the life will ever come back into them?”
Frank sobered. “Who knows, Josh? Like I say, I ain’t no doc. I expect your own determination will have a lot to do with it. But I’ll help all I can.”
Josh nodded. “I’m
obliged to you. You’re a hell of a friend, to Cap and to me. You didn’t need to volunteer to put up with this—me being so sick all the time.”
“Well, I figured what the hell? Out here things get pretty boring come winter. Fact is, I brung along a deck of cards, thought you might be interested. Got some good cigars and a little whiskey, too. None of them things can do you much harm. The whiskey will help kill the pain, the cigar will relax you, and a little card game will keep you primed up for when you get to Portland and play against some of them fancy gamblers there.”
Josh managed a grin. “All I want to do when I get to Portland is find Marybeth. I’ll have a lot more on my mind than cards.”
Frank chuckled. “I reckon so. Well, how about it? You want to try some cards? I’ve got me a bag of dried beans here we can use in place of money—till you’re better. Then, my friend, we play for the real thing.”
Josh grinned. “Why the hell not?” He reached over and picked up the coffee, sipping some of the strong, hot brew. The howling wind outside only enhanced his feelings of terrible loneliness, and he wondered how Marybeth was holding up. It tore at his heart to think of her arriving in Oregon without him, spending a lonely winter not even knowing if he was dead or alive. “I could use the company,” he said aloud. “It gets awful lonely in here.”
Frank laid the cards beside him and walked over to stoke up the fire in the potbelly stove that sat in the corner of the room. “Well, the storms up here can get pretty bad. I think I’ll move my bed and gear in here for a couple of months so’s I’m right nearby if you need me or if the fire goes out. I would have sooner, but sometimes when a man’s as sick as you was, extra commotion only makes him feel worse.” He pulled a table over next to the bed. “Now, deal up them cards. It will give you some practice usin’ them arms and hands. Before you know it, we’ll have you dealin’ them cards with your toes.”
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