A Dream for Tomorrow

by Melody Carlson

  “No.” She shook her head. “Not yet.” And now she pulled out the letter. “I have received word from my sister-in-law in Oregon…all is not well.” Then she proceeded to tell them, without sparing any details, about what Malinda had written. “Here,” she handed Will the letter. “Feel free to read it for yourself.”

  Both Will and Hugh looked slightly stunned. And suddenly she felt guilty. “However, Captain Brownlee is at our camp right now, telling my family there is no cause for concern. He thinks this is all simply routine…the price we pay for civilization.” She frowned. “But I felt it my duty to share this grim news with you. Perhaps you and your families will want to reconsider your plans now.”

  “Do you mind if we share this letter with our families?” Hugh asked her.

  “Do as you see fit,” she told him. “Although I’m not sure I will be reading it to my own children. I do not want to give them nightmares.”

  Will nodded. “Sensible.”

  “I’m very sorry to have to be the bearer of bad news,” she said.

  Will put a hand on her shoulder. “And it seems this has taken its toll on you too, Elizabeth. What will you and your family do?”

  “I’m not even sure.” She sighed. “Although my father seems to agree with the captain—he keeps saying we will continue as planned.”

  “Thank you for telling us,” Will said.

  “I just wished I’d received this letter sooner.” Now she excused herself and, feeling a little less vexed at the captain, returned to her own camp. Matthew and Brady were there now. And from what she could surmise, they were still discussing the contents of Malinda’s letter.

  “So what do you think of this new development?” she asked Matthew.

  “It’s not surprising.” He simply shrugged. “Although I am sorry to hear of John’s passing. I hadn’t expected that.”

  “But you are comfortable taking your new bride into hostile Indian territory?”

  “Oh, Lizzie.” Matthew shook his head. “Isn’t that overstating it a bit?”

  “Wait until you read Malinda’s letter.”

  He stuck out his hand, but she explained that she’d given it to Hugh and Will. “It seemed only fair they should know. They still have time to change their plans.”

  “What about the others?” Matthew asked. “The ones on the Applegate Trail?”

  But now the chokecherry pickers were returning, loudly boasting about how many berries they had collected and who had found the most. Elizabeth was grateful to be distracted with the making of the cobbler. She poured the juicy chokecherries into the Dutch oven and then layered the cobbler crust evenly on top, finally getting it placed just so on the hot coals. “It should be done in about an hour,” she told Ruth as she stepped away from the fire.

  As they gathered around the table, waiting for Asa to say a blessing, Elizabeth no longer felt quite as upset as she had earlier. Then, as Captain Brownlee amused them with tales of adventure on the Western frontier, she slowly began to accept that, yes, they were going to a place that would be fraught with peril. There would be challenges and hardships. Perhaps some of her loved ones would perish. But how was that different from what they were doing right now? As the captain was just pointing out, the most difficult and dangerous days of travel were yet to come. Elizabeth recalled the Bible verse she had Ruth and JT memorize before starting on this journey. Perhaps it was time she reminded herself of its meaning.

  Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

  Matthew 6:34

  Chapter Nineteen

  It seemed that nearly every day, as they traveled along the Snake River, Elizabeth was reminded that the line “sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof” could not be more true. Each traveling day seemed to bring new challenges. The rugged terrain and hot August weather only added to their travails. Broken wagon wheels, cracked axles, split harnesses, injured animals…everyone on their train seemed to be suffering in one way or another. No unit was spared. And yet they pressed on.

  The demands of the trail made it difficult to have much meaningful interaction with the other travelers. In a way, this seemed a blessing. Elizabeth was not eager to hear Lavinia’s thoughts on the letter from Malinda. However, as it turned out, Lavinia had not been privy to it.

  “Hugh and I spoke to Captain Brownlee about your sister-in-law’s letter,” Will told Elizabeth a few days later when they crossed paths while fetching water. “He reassured us that we should not be troubled by it.”

  Elizabeth studied his expression. Unless she was mistaken, he was not convinced of his own words. “What do you think?” she asked.

  He sighed. “As you know, I’m a city boy. A city boy who was bent on having an adventure in the wild frontier. I suppose I’m worried I may have bitten off more than I can chew.”

  She smiled. “I appreciate your honesty.”

  “You do?” Will’s frown transformed into a hopeful smile.

  “I got aggravated at Captain Brownlee the other night,” she confessed. “He’s a good man, but his bravado and pompous speech about how bloodshed was how the West would be tamed and the price we pay for civilization…well, I found it rather unsettling. Then I reacted, and he made a comment about female sentimentalities.” She let out a big sigh.

  Will chuckled. “Oh, my. I’m glad the good captain wasn’t giving his speech to my daughters. They would want to twist him by the ears.”

  “Your daughters are too well mannered to do that.”

  “Yes, but they would be just as vexed as you. As I mentioned, I have given them the vote…that leads to all sorts of troubles.” He grinned.

  “Speaking of the vote, have you asked them to vote in regard to the events my sister-in-law described in her letter?”

  “Hugh and I gathered both of our families together last night. We didn’t actually read the letter to them. But we did explain these new developments, tempered with what Captain Brownlee told us. We tried to paint a very fair and realistic picture of what lies ahead.”

  “What did they say?”

  “Lavinia had some questions. First, she wanted to know what your family planned to do.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Well, I’d had an interesting talk with your father just that morning. He assured me that your family was not changing your plans.”

  “That’s true,” Elizabeth confirmed. “My mother actually helped me to see this situation in a whole new light. She pointed out that poor Malinda will need us now more than ever. Malinda was my best friend before she and John moved to Oregon. Now I’m eager to be by her side and to comfort her and to help her with her children. I can hardly wait to see her.”

  “So I told Lavinia that you folks were pressing on. Then, of course, Julius was concerned about Mahala. He told us that even if we chose to remain in Portland, he would continue on to meet up with Mahala.”

  “He would be welcome to travel with us.”

  “That’s not necessary. When put to the vote, it was unanimous. Even Lavinia, after first voting to oppose, eventually came around and voted to go.”

  “She did?”

  “Well, you heard that she already sent the letter to the shipping company, didn’t you?”

  Elizabeth nodded.

  “Lavinia is worried if she doesn’t go, she will never see her goods again.”

  “Oh.”

  “And she is fond of you and your family too.” He smiled warmly at her. “We all are.”

  Elizabeth looked down at her buckets of water, still sitting by the creek. “I must get this back to my mother. We were nearly out of water.” He helped her to hook them onto the water yoke, pausing to push a stray piece of hair away from her eyes.

  “There you go.”

  She thanked him, and despite the heavy load, her feet felt lighter than they had in several days. She wasn’t sure if it was because of relief—that the Bostonians had
n’t been scared off by Malinda’s letter—or because of Will’s sweet attentiveness. However, these kinds of thoughts toward Will simply reminded her of Eli. And the thought of Eli and how he had kissed her that last day…well, it was enough to scorch her cheeks with unwanted heat. Once again, she pushed all thoughts of that wandering man far to the back of her mind. Perhaps someday when she was an old woman, sitting by her fireplace in the winter, she would allow thoughts of Eli to sneak back out. But in the meantime, she planned to bury them deep.

  “I am so very weary,” Mrs. Taylor told Elizabeth at the end of an especially trying day. “I looked down in that steep canyon, down to that river below, and for a moment I thought it all looked very inviting.”

  Elizabeth tried not to show her shock. The canyon walls towered far, far above the river. The only way down there was to fall. “Inviting?”

  “I thought to myself…if my foot stumbled…if I went tumbling down…well, it would be the end of my suffering.”

  Elizabeth put a hand on Mrs. Taylor’s shoulder. “Perhaps you should go lie down in the back of my wagon.” Mrs. Taylor had been staying with Elizabeth’s family for the past several days. “Rest while we prepare supper.”

  “No.” Mrs. Taylor shook her head. “I will do my part.”

  Still, it bothered Elizabeth to think that Mrs. Taylor had considered taking her own life like that, because she knew that was what she was saying. But at the same time, Elizabeth felt a smidgeon of relief to think that Mrs. Taylor had confided in her. Perhaps it was time for them to finish the talk they’d had weeks ago, after Mr. Taylor’s untimely death. To that purpose, after the supper dishes were cleaned and put away, Elizabeth asked her mother if Ruth could sleep in their wagon tonight. “I think Mrs. Taylor needs to talk,” she whispered.

  Clara glanced over to where Mrs. Taylor was sitting in a chair, simply staring out into empty space. “Yes, I think you’re right,” she whispered back. “Ruthie,” she called out, “why don’t you spend the night with Grandma and Grandpa tonight.”

  Naturally, Ruth was pleased to oblige, and fortunately, Asa didn’t complain about having to sleep outside of his wagon. Mrs. Taylor seemed oblivious. Or perhaps she simply didn’t care.

  Due to the demands of this difficult leg of the journey, most of the emigrants were turning in early at night. They hadn’t enjoyed a musical evening for a week. Elizabeth was relieved to tell her family good night, and Mrs. Taylor had already gone to be bed. As Elizabeth walked to her wagon, she silently prayed, begging God to give her some kind of help or direction for poor Mrs. Taylor. She was obviously miserable. But what could possibly make her feel better? Part of her hoped that Mrs. Taylor would be asleep. Perhaps all she needed was rest. Didn’t they all?

  Elizabeth tried to be quiet as she climbed up the tailgate. Without even lighting the lantern, she unbuttoned her blouse, hoping that the even breathing she heard meant that Mrs. Taylor had already drifted off. But by the time she slipped into the bed, barely moving, Mrs. Taylor spoke up.

  “I thank you for sharing your wagon with me,” she said in a gruff voice. “I know I’m at your charity.”

  “You’re welcome,” Elizabeth said stiffly. Sometimes it was hard to react graciously to the way Mrs. Taylor said certain things. “And I know you didn’t intentionally put yourself in a position to need our charity.”

  Mrs. Taylor simply humphed.

  “But I do think it’s good for myself and my family…as well as everyone on this train to practice charity. Don’t you agree?”

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  “Mrs. Taylor,” Elizabeth tried to be gentle. “I know you are hurting inside. I know that you’re still grieving the loss of your husband.”

  “That too is true.”

  “But I’m concerned at what you said to me earlier…about ending your suffering.”

  Mrs. Taylor sniffed.

  “However, I think I understand.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes.” Elizabeth sighed. “I remember my dark days of despair. I was buried in grief after losing my husband. I remember moments when I did not wish to live. But then I thought of my children…and I realized I had no choice. I had to live.”

  “You are blessed to have children, Elizabeth. And your family.”

  “I know. I’m sorry you don’t have those same comforts.”

  “I did have children…once…” Her voice trailed off.

  Elizabeth was shocked. It had never occurred to her that Mrs. Taylor had been a mother. “You did?”

  “Miriam would have been twenty-seven…Jane would be twenty-five. Both of them were born in summer.”

  “You and Mr. Taylor had two daughters?”

  “Mr. Taylor was not the father.”

  “Oh?”

  “My first husband…Ephraim Miller. He was their daddy.”

  “You were married before Mr. Taylor?”

  “Yes. That was before Mr. Taylor. Ephraim and I married long ago…when we were both quite young.” She sighed. “We were so very happy in those days…back in Virginia. Miriam was born about a year after we were wed. Jane about two years later. Oh, such a pretty pair they were. Blue eyes and blond curls and pink cheeks…just like their daddy.”

  Elizabeth’s imagination was stretched to its limits as she attempted to imagine Mrs. Taylor as a young energetic woman with two pretty little daughters. “What happened?” she asked meekly.

  “The summer when Jane was five and Miriam was three, a new family had come to town—a widowed mother and her little boy. They’d come to our church seeking help. They were poor and in need. Ephraim and I decided to take them into our home. No one knew they were carrying typhoid fever. Not until it was too late.”

  “Your daughters got typhoid?”

  “All of us got it. Ephraim, Miriam, Jane, and myself.”

  “Oh, my.” This was familiar…painfully so. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I lost everything that summer.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Taylor, I am so very sorry. I had no idea your sorrows and suffering ran so deep.”

  “I didn’t think I’d ever recover from that loss.”

  “I can scarcely imagine.”

  “About ten years after losing my family to typhoid, a missionary came to speak at our church. And when I heard him speaking of reaching out to the less fortunate, of preaching to savage Indians in the wilderness, I felt as if I had been awakened. As if something dead inside of me had risen from the grave. I decided that I wanted to do that too.”

  “Was that Mr. Taylor?”

  “Yes. God sent Mr. Taylor to bring me back to life.”

  Elizabeth sighed. “And now you’ve lost him too. I’m so sorry.”

  Mrs. Taylor let out a choked sob. “And do you…do you want to know the truth, Elizabeth?”

  Elizabeth didn’t answer.

  “The truth is that I’m to blame for all their deaths. All of them.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Taylor, I don’t see how—”

  “Ephraim did not want to take the widowed mother and her child into our home. He insisted from the beginning it was not a good idea. But I had already offered this to the reverend at our church. I had told him that we had plenty…plenty of food and plenty of room, which wasn’t completely true. Even when Ephraim advised me against it, I stubbornly insisted upon taking the two in. I was too proud to back down, Elizabeth.”

  “You wanted to help them.”

  “No, I wanted to put on the appearance of helping them.” Mrs. Taylor was crying harder now. “I wanted everyone to see what a good Christian I was by taking in these poor people. It was my pride…my foolish pride. And the same was true with my piano. My foolish pride insisted on holding onto that piano…the same piano that crushed the last breath of life from my beloved Horace.” Now she was crying loudly.

  With a lump in her own throat, Elizabeth just let her cry, knowing it would be pointless to say anything at this point. Just let her purge her grief with her tears, and perhaps this confes
sion would help her to heal these old wounds. Finally, the sound of a lonely coyote’s howling made Elizabeth realize that Mrs. Taylor had ceased to cry.

  “Are you awake?” Elizabeth whispered.

  “Yes.” She sniffed.

  “I do understand you better now,” Elizabeth told her. “How you must be suffering. But I’m going to tell you what I told you before…I believe that God is just waiting to forgive you of these things. And I believe that until you let him do this, you will not be able to forgive yourself.”

  “How is that possible? How will I ever be able to forgive myself?”

  “Perhaps you’re getting the cart ahead of the horse,” Elizabeth said. “Perhaps you just need to do your work of confessing your transgressions to God. If you truly believe that your pride caused these troubles, why not confess this to God…and ask him to forgive you?”

  “You make it sound so simple.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know.”

  “Then ask God to show you, Mrs. Taylor. So that you will know.”

  “Oh, Elizabeth…you always give me so much to think about when I stay in your wagon.”

  “Are you saying you don’t like spending the night in my wagon?” Elizabeth tried to insert some lightness into her tone.

  “I must be a glutton for punishment…because I must admit I look forward to these times.”

  “Do you know what?” Elizabeth asked her.

  “What?”

  “The more I get to know you, the more I hear of your struggles and your mistakes and your weaknesses and your pain, the more I truly like you, Mrs. Taylor. All of this makes you seem quite human. And I think if you let others know you in this way, you would find yourself surrounded by a lot more friends.”

  “I’ve been trying,” she said weakly.

  “That’s all you can do.” Elizabeth let out a tired yawn.

  “You go to sleep, child. And I promise I will think on all you’ve said.”

  Two things remained with them for the next few days. The trail remained rough and rugged and cruel, and Mrs. Taylor remained Elizabeth’s guest by asking if she could lengthen her stay for a few more days.