“So you’ll be helping the Flanders and McIntires and Schneiders?”
“Along with all the others.”
“Oh…” She nodded. “Well, that makes sense.”
“Does it?” Eli was looking intently into her eyes, and she was having difficulty holding back the tears.
“Certainly. For the sake of our friends, I’m glad you’re going to help them.” Unwilling to let him see her tears, she turned to look away.
“And for your sake?” He reached over and, taking her chin in his hand, turned her to look back at him.
“My sake?”
“You seem very sad, Elizabeth. Did I do something to hurt you?”
“It’s just that…well…we had become friends. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.” She felt lost as she looked into his eyes. This was not at all how she had intended this to go. What had happened to all her strong resolve?
“I don’t know if I’m ready to say goodbye either.”
She felt a flash of hope, but in the same instant reminded herself that she had no right to hope. She knew better. Eli was an independent man. He had no roots…he wanted none. And then he leaned down and kissed her. And despite all her sensibilities, she kissed him back.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he let go of her chin.
“Sorry?” She felt flustered…and unexplainably happy…and sad.
“I didn’t mean to do that.”
“You didn’t?”
He looked away with a faraway and worried look.
Now she felt angry. How dare he—to kiss her like that and then act as if it were a big mistake. She stood. “I suppose I didn’t mean to either,” she said with irritation. “And now if you’ll excuse me, it’s getting late.”
“Wait.” He reached for her arm. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I didn’t handle that right. I’m not good at these sorts of things.”
She stood up straight, glaring back at him. “Nor am I.”
“I just didn’t want us to part like this…not saying a proper goodbye.”
She squared her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Eli. Goodbye. I wish you Godspeed and safe travels.” Now she turned away, hurrying back toward the train.
“And not like that either,” he said as he caught up with her.
She didn’t say anything but just kept walking as fast as she could without actually running. Why had she allowed him to lure her off like this? What kind of a fool was she? And what if someone had seen them? What would her family say? What would her children think?
“Elizabeth.” He caught her by the arm, forcing her to stop. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” she asked in a defiant tone.
“I’m sorry that I’m not very good at this.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “You said that already. I’m sorry too, Eli.” She reached out and took his hand, firmly shaking it with finality. “It’s been a pleasure to know you,” she told him stiffly. “I wish you well. And now I must go see to my children. Good night and goodbye.”
This time when she turned from him, she actually ran, and she only slowed down when her wagon came into sight again. Then, despite the merry sounds of music coming from her parents’ campsite, she climbed into the back of her own wagon. And in what little privacy the rounded canvas walls could provide, she quietly cried.
But when she was done, she wiped her eyes and blew her nose and headed out toward the sound of the happy music. Thankfully, many tears were shared at this impromptu going-away party. Many were unwilling to part ways after going through so much together. Hugs and farewells were exchanged all around. And no one was the wiser as to the real reason for Elizabeth’s tears.
Except Brady. When they said good night later that evening, he looked at her with a somber, knowing expression—as if he truly understood her anguish. She knew she could trust him.
Chapter Seventeen
Being the lead unit in the wagon train was always a privilege, but according to Asa it was about to become an earned privilege. “I forgot to mention this yesterday…” he told them at breakfast. “Captain Brownlee said that for the remainder of the trip, the order of the wagon train will be determined by the performance of the units.”
“What do you mean?” JT asked.
“The units with the fewest breakdowns will lead the train. Those with the most will be at the tail.”
“So we don’t have to wait for them anymore?” Ruth said.
“We’ll still wait for them when we make camp,” he explained. “But if they lose precious time on the trail, the whole train won’t have to suffer with them.”
“I feel sorry for the units who get stuck in the back,” Elizabeth admitted. “Is it fair?”
“Captain Brownlee hopes that it will force all the units to take this last part of the journey very seriously. He said the trail is about to become very rugged—some of the worst terrain we’ve seen. We’ll be crossing through mountains, dense forests, raging rivers and deserts where water is scarce. He said some wagons will still need to lighten their loads. He also said we need to make sure we’ve got enough food supplies. There won’t be many places to restock between Fort Hall and Fort Boise. After that, civilization will be even more scarce.”
“Maybe we should have taken the Applegate Trail instead,” Elizabeth said.
“They’ll have troubles of their own,” Asa told her. “And once we make it to the Columbia River, we’ll travel by rafts and make better time.”
“We’ll need to restock our pitch pots,” Matthew told him.
Asa nodded. “You and I will sit down and make a new supply list before we get to Fort Hall tomorrow.”
Again, Elizabeth was hit by the seriousness of this leg of the journey. It wasn’t as if the miles behind them had been easy. They most certainly had not! But thinking that the roughest part still lay ahead filled her with dreading. Yet for the sake of her children, she knew she must remain brave. She also knew she needed to put all thoughts of Eli behind her—far behind her. Perhaps the demands of the trail would help her to do this.
They arrived at Fort Hall at midmorning, learning that the California section of their train had made their stop in Fort Hall the previous afternoon. “They’re making good time,” Clara said as she and Elizabeth walked with some of the other women into the fort.
“I miss Flo,” Elizabeth admitted.
“And I miss Tumbleweed Tillie,” Ruth said with longing.
“I miss Fiona,” Jess added.
“And Julius misses Mahala,” Lavinia told them. “He even wrote her a letter last night, although where he plans to send it is a bit of a mystery. I suppose he’ll just wait and hand it to her in September.” The couple had announced their engagement at the farewell party just two nights ago. The plan was for them to have a wedding next summer. Time enough for Julius, with the help of his family, to get a small cabin built for them. But first, as Hugh and Lavinia had pointed out, Julius needed to help his own family to get settled.
Fort Hall, which was owned by the Hudson Bay Company, was said to be better stocked than some of the forts, but Elizabeth and Clara were dismayed at what they found. They hoped the men were faring better.
“Why don’t we part ways?” Clara suggested as she tore her list in two, giving half to Elizabeth. “Jess and I will look for these items while you and Ruthie look for those. We don’t have much time, so perhaps we should simply meet back at the train.”
“And I need to stop by the post office too,” Elizabeth reminded her.
With Ruth’s help, Elizabeth managed to find most of the items on their list and even some that weren’t. Elizabeth couldn’t be more pleased than when Ruth found a burlap bag of potatoes nearly hidden on a low dark shelf. However, Elizabeth nearly got into a tussle over them when a bossy woman from another unit attempted to pry the potatoes out of Ruth’s arms.
“Excuse me,” Elizabeth said firmly, taking the bag from both Ruth and the rude woman. “I’ll carry those for you, Ruthie.”
“Oh!” The w
oman glared at Elizabeth. “I didn’t know the little girl was really a shopper. I thought she was just playing with the potatoes.”
“She is my shopping helper,” Elizabeth told her. “And she found the potatoes.”
“But that’s the only bag of potatoes,” the woman pointed out.
“Perhaps they have more in back,” Elizabeth told her as she set the potatoes with their other items, waiting for the shopkeeper to tally the goods.
“Grandpa will be so pleased about the potatoes,” she told Ruth as she counted out her money. “That was a good find.”
They had a lot to carry now, but Elizabeth felt it was well worth it. Fortunately, she spied Jess and Clara coming their way. And since they weren’t as loaded down as Elizabeth and Ruth, they shared the load among themselves.
“There’s the post office,” Clara pointed out. “You run in and check for mail while we wait.”
“But hurry,” Jess reminded her. “We don’t have much time, and we’re in unit one.”
“That’s right.” Elizabeth ducked into the post office, quickly explaining who she was and inquiring about mail.
“You’re with Captain Brownlee’s train?” the man asked.
“Yes. That’s right.” She told him her name again.
“Let me go check on it.”
She waited for what seemed a long time, and he returned with a letter. “Mrs. James Martin,” he read the front of the envelope. “Ten cents due.”
She gladly pulled out a dime, handing it to him.
“Here you go, ma’am.” He handed her the precious letter.
“Thank you so much!” she declared. Then she hurried out to where her family was still waiting. She waved the letter in the air to show them.
“Is it from Aunt Malinda?” Ruth asked eagerly.
“We should start walking back,” Clara said. “We don’t want to be late.”
“I assumed it was from Malinda, but now I’m not sure.” Elizabeth examined the yellowed envelope. “Oh, dear! It’s not from Malinda at all.”
“Who’s it from?” Clara inquired.
“It’s from Mrs. Thomas Barron.” Elizabeth frowned. “All the way from Kentucky!”
“From the Barrons who bought our farm?” Ruth asked curiously.
“Yes.” Elizabeth shook her head in wonder.
“What did she write?” Ruth asked.
“I don’t know.” Elizabeth slipped the letter into the basket she was carrying. “But it will have to wait. We need to hurry.”
“That’s right,” Clara agreed. “We’re unit one now. It wouldn’t do to be late.”
“That’s for sure,” Jess said. “Not on our very first week of leading the train.”
Fortunately the men were already at the wagons, and it looked like they were nearly ready to go. Elizabeth hurried to stow her basket of goods in the back of the wagon, but seeing the letter, she pulled it out and tucked it in her pocket. Although she was disappointed it wasn’t from Malinda and John, she was curious as to why Mrs. Barron had written to her. She hoped it wasn’t to complain about the farm.
“You wanna drive now?” Brady asked from where he was adjusting a harness.
“No, you and JT can continue to drive. We’ll switch after the midday break.”
He nodded, climbing slowly into the seat.
“Wagons ho!” Captain Brownlee yelled from the lead wagon. Sometimes the captain rode one of his horses. Sometimes he rode in the wagon with the cook. But once he yelled “wagons ho,” everyone knew it was time to move.
Elizabeth began walking quickly, wishing to get ahead of the train as she and the other women had been doing lately. Walking up front wasn’t merely invigorating, it allowed them to avoid eating trail dust. But to her surprise, none of the other women were walking up there. Perhaps they were either riding or just farther behind. All the same, she continued walking at a good fast pace, hoping to gain enough distance to walk more leisurely so she could read this mysterious letter from Mrs. Barron. Hopefully there was no bad news.
Finally, satisfied that she could slow down, she pulled out the letter and carefully opened the envelope. But to her surprise, it simply contained another envelope. She examined the inner envelope to see it was addressed to the farm in Kentucky, but it had Elizabeth’s name on top—and the handwriting was familiar. She flipped it over to see that this letter was indeed from her sister-in-law Malinda. There was also a short note on the back that appeared to be written by Mrs. Barron, informing her that this letter had arrived shortly after Elizabeth and her family had departed from the farm in March.
Elizabeth thought back to that momentous day. It seemed like another lifetime. And indeed it had been nearly five months ago. Had it really taken five months for this letter to catch up to Elizabeth? And why was it sent to Fort Hall? She flipped the outer envelope over again, seeing that it was indeed addressed to Fort Hall.
Feeling slightly confused, she opened the second envelope, the one from Malinda. Why on earth hadn’t Mrs. Barron forwarded this letter to one of their earlier stops so that she might have picked it up weeks and perhaps even months ago? Elizabeth had left her a full list of dates and places for mail forwarding. Perhaps Mrs. Barron had lost it.
Judging by the date on Malinda’s letter, she had penned this shortly after receiving Elizabeth’s letter announcing that they were migrating to Oregon. Elizabeth smiled to herself, thinking of how excited Malinda must have been to learn she had family coming to settle nearby. But as Elizabeth began to read what felt like a very hastily penned letter, she realized that something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
My dearest Elizabeth,
I was so very surprised to read your letter and so very taken aback that I had to read it twice and then thrice. Now I am writing to you with shaking hand and as quickly as my pen can move. Do not come to Oregon, Elizabeth. I beseech you, do not come. This is no place for you and your children these days. And this is no place for your aging parents either. Do not come! I realize my advice must be shocking to you because I have written such glowing praises of this gloriously beautiful but violent land. I wrote to you only of the splendor of this country because I did not want to discourage you or cause you to worry about our family and the travails of living on the frontier. I felt compassion for how you suffered when you lost your beloved James. I did not wish to trouble you with more sorrows. And I never dreamed that you, a widow with small children, would try to come.
I understand your bereavement even more now that I am widowed also. John died of influenza in November. His death was not the result of an Indian raid. However the Indian wars have been numerous and violent these past several years, starting with the Coquille Massacre in the fall of 1851 when five explorers were murdered. This was followed by another bloody battle where fifteen Indians were killed as retribution. On it has gone, killing and bloodshed. Just last week we learned of the most recent incident at the Applegate River Camp, where Dr. W. Myers was killed. I am weeping as I write this, Elizabeth, because the good doctor did not deserve to die. Especially as this frontier has such great need of doctors. Perhaps my own John would still be alive if we’d had a doctor nearby. I pray this letter reaches you in time to deter you from making this most dreadful mistake. Even now I must decide if I should bring the children back to Kentucky. Perhaps we can stay with you on your lovely farm. I do hate to give up on John’s dream. And it will be difficult to leave our home and this beautiful but treacherous land, but I fear the price is too high. I would write more, but I must get this letter posted as soon as possible. Please, dear Elizabeth, do not come. Stay where you are safe. Count your blessing that you have a home where people are civilized.
Most sincerely, your sister by marriage,
Malinda Martin
Elizabeth’s hands were trembling as she read and reread this horrifying letter. It seemed too horrible, too frightening to be true. For a moment, Elizabeth thought perhaps she was simply asleep and suffering from a ghastly nightmare. Sometimes she
had them, suffering fearful images of frontier tragedies. And yet here she was with the sun on her head and the ground beneath her feet…and this letter in her hand. She stared at it, wishing it were untrue or perhaps a cruel hoax. But the handwriting was clearly Malinda’s. Perhaps the penmanship was not as smooth and controlled as usual, but considering the circumstances, that was understandable.
Elizabeth turned to look at the wagon train steadily moving toward her, followed by a low cloud of brown dust. Everyone she loved was represented in that slowly moving train—pressing onward step-by-step toward their final destination. Would they be met with bloody Indian battles, sickness, and perhaps even death?
Tears were streaking down her cheeks now. What had she done? What had she gotten them all into? Why had she ever encouraged her family and her new friends to follow such a dangerous path? Her stomach twisted as if she would be sick. And suddenly the sad news of James’ brother’s death overwhelmed her. John was dead! Both brothers had died of illnesses—within four years of each other.
Poor Malinda, like Elizabeth, was now a widow, trying to maintain her farm and raise her four young children in the midst of Indian battles on the Oregon frontier. It was all too unimaginable. Oh, why had Elizabeth been so persistent to pursue such a hopeless dream? Why had she involved so many others?
She pressed a fist to her mouth as she stared at the wagon train, which was quickly catching up with her. She didn’t know what to do. Everything in her wanted to rush back to the wagons. To run to her father and insist that they must stop moving westward, to tell him that they must turn their wagons around and head eastward and return to Kentucky as quickly as possible. But that wasn’t possible. Turning back like that would be to invite another sort of disaster—a deadly race against weather and provisions. Oh, what had she gotten them all into?
Instead of running back to the wagons, where she would have to divulge the awful truth, she continued to walk forward. And putting one foot in front of the next, she began to pray, fervently begging God to help her to sort out this unfortunate mess, begging him to lead her family to safety, begging for a miracle.
A Dream for Tomorrow Page 17