Journey of Hope: A Novel of Triumph and Heartbreak on the Oregon Trail in 1852

by Murata, Victoria

  “I need to know everything about you, Emily. After all, you are going to be my wife. You will have no secrets from me.” He bent over and picked up the letter from where it lay on the ground.

  “That letter belongs to me, Mr. Brown.” Emily put out her hand.

  Abel ignored her. He folded the letter and put it in his breast pocket.

  “This letter will be in my safe keeping. I’ll take care of you, Emily—better than Ernest ever could.” Then he smiled, tipped his hat, and exited the tent. The two women stared after him. Nellie could barely make herself look at Emily, afraid of what she would see. When she finally did, instead of defeat, she saw determination on Emily’s face.

  “Emily, I know that look. What are you thinking?”

  Emily took a deep breath. She straightened her back and folded her hands calmly in her lap. She gazed at Nellie for an instant. “Go back to your wagon, Nellie, I’ll be fine.”

  “Emily! No!”

  Emily’s generous mouth tightened. She reached up, gathered her riotous hair, and began to pin it up methodically. When she looked at Nellie again, her eyes were cold.

  “I’m afraid Mr. Brown is right. There really is no other solution to my problem.”

  On the evening of September 1 at Fort Boise, almost four hundred miles to the end of their journey, Reverend Mueller conducted a short ceremony uniting Emily Hinton and Abel Brown in matrimony. Only a few of the travelers knew about the wedding and gathered around. Mary Benson had picked wildflowers and strewn them about.

  “Here’s a bouquet for you, Miss Emily,” Mary said, handing her the yellow and gold blooms. Emily looked confused and preoccupied. Mary picked up Buster who had been underfoot, and he licked her face.

  Emily frowned at the flowers in her hands. “Thank you, Mary; that was very thoughtful.”

  No one felt that Emily was remiss in not mourning her dead husband the proper length of time. Everyone understood that these were special conditions, and a single woman of Emily’s caliber would not make it on the trail alone. No one except Nellie was aware of the drama that had unfolded a few nights before—not even Reverend Mueller. No one knew about the letter and its contents.

  Nellie cried during the exchange of vows. Her husband, Reverend Mueller, thought it was tears of happiness for Emily. Abel held his right hand over his heart—a seemingly sincere gesture. He felt the letter in the breast pocket under his hand, and he smiled confidently. He always got what he wanted.

  He looked down at his new bride. Her eyes were lowered and her dark lashes shadowed her cheeks, hiding her expression. She wasn’t happy, he knew, but that didn’t matter. He was a wealthy man, and now he would have a well-bred wife. It didn’t matter to him that she was a Negress, as long as no one discovered her secret. He was already plotting their future in Oregon and California. Yes, things were looking up.

  Dinner Invitation

  Chapter Twenty-One

  La Grande Ronde

  Sept. 15, 1852

  Mile 1530

  “Here’s some beef for our dinner, Kate,” Michael Flannigan said as he walked into camp.

  “Wonderful!” Kate exclaimed. Fresh beef was a luxury on the trail, where salt pork was the usual fare.

  “The Cayuse were willing to trade buffalo meat for the fish hooks I fashioned a while back. Oh, and I’ve invited Emily and Abel Brown for dinner. I happened to run into them on my way here with the beef. I hope that’s alright.” It was unusual to have company for dinner, but since there was plenty of fresh beef, Kate readily agreed.

  “Besides, I want to get to know them better,” he said.

  They were camped in La Grande Ronde, a beautiful valley. To the west were the Blue Mountains. They would have been more beautiful if the overlanders didn’t have to cross them. As it was, they simply looked foreboding. Although the days were still warm, the nights were cold and everyone was hoping to cross the mountains before it snowed.

  Kate was touched to see that Emily had taken pains to look her best for dinner. Her lustrous dark hair was beautifully coiffed, and her wine-colored dress was tailored perfectly to her slender curves. Abel was darkly handsome in his usual black attire. They made a striking couple, and Abel seemed aware of this fact. Buster tagged along, close to his mistress.

  “Thank you so much for the invitation,” Emily said, clasping Kate’s hands. “It’s so kind of you to invite us to dinner. I understand your husband traded with the Cayuse today.”

  “Yes! It’s been awhile since we’ve had beef. I’m so glad you could come and share it with us. Plus, we haven’t had a chance to properly acknowledge your marriage,” Kate said to them both, carefully avoiding the subject of Emily’s husband’s death.

  Brenna couldn’t help comparing herself to Emily. They were a little over a year apart in age, but they were centuries apart in experience. She looked at Emily’s perfect hair and dress and at her own simple homespun frock covered with the apron she wore most of the day. She quickly removed her apron and tried to smooth her curly hair. Emily turned to Brenna.

  “It’s so good to see you again, Brenna.” Their eyes met, and Brenna could see that Emily was sincere. She’s changed, Brenna thought.

  “Thank you, Miss Emily. It’s good to see you too.”

  They all arranged themselves on the makeshift benches while Brenna dished up the beef and bean stew. Seasoned with salt and the wild sage Kate had collected and dried, it was very tasty. There were the usual biscuits to go with it. Abel took a silver flask out of his pocket and offered it to Michael.

  “Real Kentucky bourbon.”

  “No thanks, Mr. Brown, but you go ahead.” Abel tilted the flask and took a long swallow.

  “I do love beef,” Michael said, diving into his stew. “I’m going to raise some cattle on our farm in Oregon.”

  “My daddy raised cattle,” Emily volunteered. Then her eyes clouded over. “You may not know that he passed away six months ago.”

  “I’m so sorry, Emily,” Kate said. “Was it sudden?”

  “Yes, he took a fall from a horse and hit his head. I miss him more knowing that I will never see him again.”

  “Emily, we should talk about something else,” Abel admonished. “You don’t need to get yourself all upset now, do you?”

  “Of course. I’m sorry.” Emily’s flawless complexion colored.

  Kate looked embarrassed. “It’s alright, Emily.”

  “What sort of trade will you have in Oregon, Mr. Brown?” Michael queried, changing the subject.

  “I intend to deal in land, Mr. Flannigan. Emily and I will apply for our three hundred twenty acres, and then I will buy up all the land that so many of these small-time farmers don’t have the means or the skills to keep.” Abel had a self-satisfied look on his face. He did not disguise the contempt in his voice. The others were quiet.

  Emily noticed the silence. “Mr. Brown, I don’t believe…”

  “Emily, don’t pretend to know what I’m talking about,” Abel interrupted. Then in a conciliatory tone to Michael he said, “I swear, the prettier they are the less they have up here,” and he pointed to his head. Michael dared not look at Kate, but he did catch Brenna’s dark look.

  Abel smirked and took another drink from the flask. “Just because land is free doesn’t mean that any man who gets it will know what to do with it! No, I believe that most of these so-called farmers will bite the dust—so to speak!” And he laughed at his small joke.

  “Is it true, Da?” Conor asked. Michael put up his hand in Conor’s direction. He leaned forward with his forearms on his knees and looked intently at Abel.

  “What makes you think this will be an easy thing for you to do, Mr. Brown?” He asked coolly.

  “Because I know human nature,” Abel replied confidently. “I know how greedy men are. They see the word FREE and they can’t wait to get it, whatever it is! How many of the people on this wagon train do you think are going to claim their one hundred sixty acres?”

  “Most of th
em, I would say,” Michael replied.

  “And in a year’s time, how many do you think will still have it or want it? Be honest now, Mr. Flannigan.”

  “I really couldn’t say, Mr. Brown.”

  Emily was mortified by Abel’s lack of manners in the dinner conversation and by the fact that he hadn’t touched his stew. Instead, he kept his flask in his hand and took frequent swallows.

  “I’ll wager that fifty percent of these overlanders won’t be able to make it. They don’t know what they’re doing! They don’t know the first thing about farming. Look at Mr. Cardell. He’s a dentist for God’s sake. He should have stayed in Illinois pulling teeth. He’d be better off. And how about Clem Morris?” Abel guffawed loudly. “Do you seriously think he’ll be able to manage or afford a farm—even when it’s free?!” He chortled with glee.

  “You might be surprised, Mr. Brown. Having the will to do something is half the battle.”

  “Have you ever heard the expression ‘don’t look a gift horse in the mouth’? It’s an American expression, so I imagine you’ve never heard it before, being foreigners and all,” Abel said smugly.

  “Yes, I’ve heard the expression. How does that have anything to do with farming in Oregon?” Michael asked testily.

  Abel spread his arms wide and said condescendingly, “Well, that’s what all these folks are doing. The free land is the gift horse, don’t you see? If they looked closely, they would see that this gift comes with more responsibility than they are prepared for. That’s where I step in, Mr. Flannigan. For a fair price, I will take the land off their hands when they have realized their folly. It’s a win-win proposition as I see it.”

  “And of course you wouldn’t be of a mind to encourage them to sell, would you now, Mr. Brown?”

  Abel’s stew slipped off his lap and spilled in the dirt. Buster, who had been asleep, quickly awakened and wasted no time in wolfing it down.

  “Oh, my!” Emily exclaimed.

  Kate could see the direction the conversation was going and the tightening of Michael’s jaw. She stood up quickly.

  “It’s alright. Don’t fret about it, Emily. This is a fascinating conversation, but women’s work is never done! Would you gentlemen excuse me while I do up these dishes? Brenna, Emily, I could use your help.”

  “That’s right, ladies. I’m sure you’re bored to death with this conversation. Next time we’ll talk about sewing and doilies,” Abel said, and he laughed aloud and clapped Michael on the back.

  “Da, I’m going to help Mr. Meeker,” Conor said, and left the campsite.

  “Ezra Meeker—there’s another one. I’ll be buying his land from him next year!”

  Kate took the hot water from the fire and stepped to the other side of the wagon. Brenna and Emily followed with the dirty dishes.

  “Brenna, you wash. Emily, you dry. I’ll put away.” They busied themselves for a few minutes before Kate said, “Well. It sounds like Mr. Brown has your future planned out for you Emily.”

  Emily looked at Kate with large luminous eyes. “This is the first I’ve heard of these plans, Mrs. Flannigan. Abel doesn’t share much with me.”

  “But it’s your future too,” Brenna said.

  “If the truth be told, I haven’t given much thought to my future.”

  “It’s been hard to think of anything except surviving each day out here in the prairie, but when we get to Oregon City and civilization, things will change,” Kate said.

  Brenna cleared her throat. “Miss Emily, I understand you have some books with you. Would you consider lending one to me? I miss reading, and it would be nice to pass the time with a book.”

  “Of course!” Emily couldn’t hide her pleasure. “Come by tomorrow and you can go through my box. I had to leave most of them in Independence, but I kept my favorites. And please call me Emily. I dare say you make me feel positively matronly.” They laughed together easily.

  The women finished the dishes in easy conversation, and then Emily and Abel took their leave.

  “Thank you so much, Mrs. Flannigan. I hope we can return the invitation soon,” Emily said graciously, and they walked in the direction of their wagon.

  Kate turned to Brenna. “Will you get some water from the river for the morning?”

  As Brenna left with the bucket, Kate looked at Michael. “Well! That was interesting!”

  Michael released his pent-up emotions. “What a crook! I don’t believe for one minute that he’ll offer a fair price for land. He’ll most likely swindle their land away from them in a poker game, and poor Emily. What will become of her?”

  “I feel badly for her.”

  “He’s got her under his thumb. She can’t even think without his permission.”

  Kate looked worried. “I wish we had stepped forward and offered to help when Mr. Hinton died.”

  “She had offers, Kate. The Muellers were willing to take her in, but she declined. She told them Abel Brown had proposed and she had accepted. She has her reasons for the choices she’s made.”

  “I guess it’s not for us to judge her for what she felt she had to do.”

  Emily and Abel walked in silence to their camp. Emily retired to the tent and Abel joined Dan Christopher at his fire close by. Dan owed Abel a considerable amount of money in gambling debts, and he was working it off by doing chores for the Browns.

  “So, Dan, tell me about this farm you’re going to have in Oregon,” Abel said, taking another swig from his silver flask.

  The Promise

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Mile 1573

  “I’m tired of you holding this over my head, Mr. Brown. How can you be so cruel?” Emily’s voice came from inside the tent.

  “Emily, you have no idea.” Abel laughed coldly.

  Brenna Flannigan stood outside the Browns’ tent. She had finished her evening chores and had come to borrow a book. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but she stood frozen, listening to their harsh words.

  “Sometimes I think I would be better off letting my secret out. Then at least I would be free of your unreasonable demands and restrictions.” Emily’s voice was strident.

  “You could do that, Emily,” Abel said coolly, “But you know what would happen, and I don’t think that’s what you want. Besides, you’re my wife. You belong to me. You’ll never be free of me, Emily.”

  “You’re a monster!” Emily cried.

  Abel’s laugh followed Brenna as she hurried away from the tent. When she was close to her camp, Ben Hansson caught up to her.

  “Hi, Brenna, I’ve been looking for you. What’s wrong?” he asked when he saw her face.

  “Nothing, Ben. I’m fine.” Brenna knew she didn’t look or sound fine. She just wanted to be alone so that she could sort out what she had just heard. She carefully composed her face and turned to Ben. In spite of her efforts, her voice was shaking. “Ma and I had a little quarrel, but we’ve patched it up. I have to help her now so I’ll see you later.” She turned and walked into her camp.

  Ben watched her as she walked away. He was certain that Brenna was not fine, and that this was the first lie she had told him. A worried look crossed his features. What would cause her to be so deceptive? Maybe she didn’t trust him like he thought she did.

  Two days later, they were camped in a pine forest next to a creek. There had been no water for the past two days, so everyone was filling containers and boiling the water “to kill the wiggle tails,” as Captain Wyatt had told them. Brenna hadn’t talked to Ben since she had been so short with him, and she thought he was probably avoiding her. She regretted treating him so badly, but she was piqued that he wasn’t more understanding.

  She looked across the circle and saw Ben talking animatedly to Betty Stewart. Betty was a pretty blonde girl who was obviously enjoying the attention. Something he said made her laugh, and the sound of it carried over to the Flannigans’ camp. Brenna scowled.

  “Brenna, are you gathering the firewood?” her father asked as he walked up b
ehind her. He followed her gaze across the circle to where Ben and Betty were conversing. “I see young Ben has another follower,” he said cheerfully.

  “Da, don’t tease me,” Brenna retorted.

  “You’re not worried about that one, are you now?” he queried.

  Brenna was silent but her face told her father the truth.

  “Och, she’s just a little diversion. Have you and Ben quarreled?”

  Brenna sighed. “Yes. No. I don’t know. We haven’t spoken for two days.”

  “Well, you love him, am I right?”

  Brenna’s eyes filled with tears. “I do, Da.”

  “Then you have to fight for him. There’s nothing a man loves more than to see a woman fight for him. But do it after you gather the firewood.” With that, Michael Flannigan walked back to the campsite.

  Later that night after dinner and chores, Brenna walked to the Hanssons’ wagon. She found Ben sitting by the fire on a bench he had made with a board and two rocks. He was busily repairing a wagon part.

  “Hi, Ben.”

  He looked up briefly and then down at his work again. “Hello, Brenna.”

  She stood watching him for a few moments.

  “You haven’t been around for a couple of days,” she said.

  “No, I haven’t,” he replied, applying oil to a metal piece.

  “I saw you talking to Betty Stewart earlier.”

  Ben looked up at her. “Yes, I was doing some work for her father.” He paused. “She’s a nice girl. Real friendly.” He looked down at his work and picked up a wrench.

  Brenna sat on the long bench next to him. “What are you working on?”

  “This is part of Mr. Stewart’s wheel. It was coming apart so I’ve repaired it. I’ll take it to him in the morning.” Ben paused. “Maybe I’ll have a chance to visit with Betty again,” he said casually.

  Brenna took a deep breath. “Ben, I want to apologize for my behavior the other night. I was upset. I shouldn’t have been so short with you.”