Jenny's Wish

by Indiana Wake

  Jenny’s Wish

  Pioneer Brides of the Oregon Trail

  Indiana Wake

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  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Honey’s Grace Preview

  Also by Indiana Wake

  About the Author

  Introduction

  It is 1866, twenty-three years after the great migration that saw 1000 pioneers head west.

  Oregon is a vibrant town and the next generation are grown and making their own mark. What difficulties will they face? Does the great journey still loom over their lives, are new settlers still coming to town? Do old resentments still linger?

  Find out how 5 families that settled in Oregon deal with the new life they have and how the next generation grow up to find love and happiness in this wonderful new series.

  Each book is a standalone story and can be read in any order. The books are

  Suki’s Heart

  Amanda’s Hope

  Katie’s Courage

  Jenny’s Wish

  Honey’s Grace

  If you wish to read the stories of love on the great migration of 1843 grab these wonderful bestselling romances:

  Trinity’s Loss

  Carrie’s Trust

  Josie’s Dreams

  Polly’s Choice

  Charlotte’s Wedding

  All books are FREE with Kindle Unlimited or just 0.99

  Chapter One

  “What are you doing, Jenny?” Polly Swain asked dubiously. She already knew very well what her daughter was doing.

  “I’m going off to camp, Mama.” Jenny smiled lightly, hoping her mother wasn’t going to kick up a fuss. “It’s such beautiful weather and it’s only for one night. You know I don’t go far, even though I’d like to sometimes.” Her mother visibly shuddered at the thought. “Mama!” Jenny finished with a sigh.

  “You know I don’t like it, Jenny. How many other girls do you know who wander off on their own like this?”

  “None. And I’m not a girl, Mama, I’m a young woman. I’m nineteen, nearly twenty, unless you’ve forgotten.” Jenny’s smile was becoming strained; her mother’s fears for her seemed to reach into every part of her life.

  If this kept happening, Jenny would end up a prisoner—she was sure of it. It might be in the form of the gentlest and most loving prison in the world, but prison was still prison, nonetheless.

  “It doesn’t matter how old you are out there in the world; it doesn’t mean you won’t come to harm. Really, I don’t get a wink of sleep when I know you’re out there all by your lonesome under the stars.”

  “Maybe you should try it, Mama. It’s wonderful out there.”

  “I’ve already done it out on the Oregon Trail. Never again, thank you very much.” Polly Swain laughed finally, the combative tension easing away. “I just wish you could find other ways to amuse yourself. There’s the barn dance for one.”

  “I already go to the barn dance, Mama. I go with my friends and I love to go. But I love to go out and camp, too. It makes me feel like I’m seeing a different side of the same place.” Jenny sighed but continued to load up her little traveling pack with supplies. It was such a thoughtful gift from her father to help make her little excursions a bit easier.

  And they were tiny travels—never more than a mile or so from home. That was the only rule that her father had set down; that she not be camped overnight anywhere so far away that she couldn’t run home if something occurred. What on earth did they think was going to happen in this quiet little community? And when were they going to realize that she was a grown woman who might just choose to up and walk away from their stifling rules one of these days?

  She had to admit to herself that her father was much better at letting go than her mother. Jenny was certain his rules were only in place to placate her. When Jenny asked about New York—where her father had come from—he always told her happily, making the place sound so exciting that she really wished to see it one day.

  But her mother could hardly ever be convinced to talk about her former life in Missouri for fear that her daughter would just up and go one day, intent on seeing some place other than Oregon.

  Mother and daughter were like chalk and cheese. Polly Swain had a fear inside her, a fear for her daughter she never truly talked about. Jenny, on the other hand, had a wanderlust so strong that it was almost something she couldn’t fight.

  Ever since childhood, Jenny had dreamed of far-off places with names she could hardly pronounce. It didn’t have to be beautiful or magical, just different. Just somewhere she’d never been before. That was what it was all about for Jenny.

  “I’d always hoped you’d grow out of this, honey,” Polly went on, wheedling to some degree.

  “What, Mama? My own personality? I’m not sure any of us should grow out of who we are.” Jenny was beginning to feel as though the walls of prison where closing in on her.

  She wondered sometimes if her lust for travel had been born of her feelings of being trapped; of being over-protected. It made Jenny feel guilty just to contemplate it, for she knew her mother’s fears for her were based in the strongest love. But could she live her life like that? Keeping a lid on her own wants for fear of her own guilt? No, that was no way to live and Jenny knew it.

  “Not your personality, Jenny,” her mother said, moving to make a pot of tea.

  As she set the pan of water on the stove, Jenny knew that her mother meant for them to take tea together. Her camping trip was going to be delayed, that was for sure, and Jenny had no doubt in her mind that her mother was attempting to put an end to it altogether.

  If only she could explain to her mother how such maneuvering made her feel. If only her mother could feel that strange sense of being gently, but relentlessly, squeezed into submission.

  “But that is my personality, Mama.” Jenny sighed and took a seat at the large round kitchen table; why did everything feel like a foregone conclusion?

  “I don’t want you to be someone else, honey, I just want you to let go of some of the things that put you in harm’s way.”

  “I’ve never been in danger out camping, Mama. Let’s face it, I’ve never been further than the woods or the riverbank.” She decided to do a little manipulating of her own. “It’s not as if I’m making my way back east, is it? I mean, the railroad will soon be done, won’t it? It’s not like I’d have to cross the Oregon Trail the same way you did.” She could see the effect it was having on her mother. “Even now, I could sail.”

  “Well, then, I thank God you don’t have any real money, Jenny. At least I know you couldn’t afford your passage by sea!”

  It seemed that there was no way for Jenny to win. Working on her father’s farm really did mean that she had very little money of her own. Not that she wanted for anything, she only had to ask. But how did any of this give her independence? And how would she ever be able to go anywhere outside the little boundary of the gentle prison without her own income from another place altogether?

  More than ever, Jenny needed to get out of there. She needed her night under the stars to think about this new problem. Where would, or could, she go to find work and make her own money? Money that was paid directly to her. Money that she didn’t
have to ask for.

  “So, life is never to change for me?” Jenny asked angrily, feeling slighted at her mother’s jubilance at the idea she couldn’t afford to go anywhere, ever.

  “Of course, it will change!” He mother laughed lightly as if talking to a child who was in a mood over nothing at all. “One day you’ll settle down and marry, maybe to a rancher or even a farmer who’ll take this place on, too. That’s life’s true adventure.”

  “I’m not denying that it is life’s true adventure for some, but we are not all the same, Mama. What made you happy isn’t necessarily going to make me happy.”

  “When you find the right man…”

  “I think I’m just going to go.” Jenny got to her feet. She wasn’t going to play the game her mother’s way, anymore.

  She could sit and drink tea by herself, instead. Jenny wasn’t going to have her one night of camping held back a moment longer, certainly not so that she could be patronized like a child.

  “I wish you wouldn’t. Wait until your daddy gets in from the farm and see what he says,” Polly said, still trying, despite surely seeing it was a losing battle.

  “Daddy already knows I’m going to camp by the riverbank, so there’s no need for me to wait.” Jenny felt a wave of fury that was only tempered by the guilt of seeing her mother’s expression.

  Jenny knew that her attempts at control were something that Polly Swain couldn’t let go of. She loved her daughter and had held on to all the fears a mother has for a child; fears which should have been let go of years before. But it was stifling Jenny, and she knew that she shouldn’t have to put up with it. What good is all that love and care if all it does in the end is stop a person from being themselves? From being happy>

  “Well, at least have some tea.” Her mother began to hurriedly tip barely boiled water into the pot.

  “No, Mama, thank you. I don’t want tea, I want to go out into the last of the sunshine, set up my tent, and be myself for a while. You’re just going to have to let me go.” Jenny felt her throat go tight and heard her voice wobble with emotion.

  She was torn between the deep frustration of being controlled and the gutting sensation of hurting a mother she loved deep down to the core of her being.

  Once again, Jenny realized that there really was no way to win.

  Chapter Two

  “You seem to be taking to the barges real well, Arlon,” Ted Wallace said when the two of them took a short break.

  “I guess there’s not much to it. It’s just moving stuff from one place to another. Lifting, fetching, and carrying.” Arlon laughed; he’d summed up the life of a bargeman to just a few short words.

  “I mean the constant movement, Arlon. Never sticking in one place for more than a day or two. It’s not for everyone.”

  Arlon had been working on the barges on the Willamette River ever since he’d arrived in the Oregon territory two months before. It still seemed fresh and new to him, and why wouldn’t it? After a lifetime living in the same dirty old town in California, this was like Heaven to him. Fresh air, no coal dust. There was just the river, the birdsong, and the sun. Of course, Summer was just perfect for this kind of life. No doubt Winter would put a different slant on things. But Winter did that everywhere, didn’t it?

  “I like the constant movement. I wouldn’t mind if I never saw the same place two days running.” He laughed again and pushed his thick blonde hair back from his forehead. The energy and movement of the last two hours, the constant lifting and shifting, had made him sweat a little. “I mean, we’re only running up and down the same old bit of river, aren’t we? We’re stopping at the same places along the way. I guess there’s a kind of rhythm to it.”

  “I guess. But it’s a long stretch of river. We’re covering a couple of hundred miles here on this route,” Ted went on.

  “Wouldn’t you ever like to travel clear across the country?” Arlon asked suddenly.

  He’d never have spoken out like this if he hadn’t come to know Ted. Ted was the kind of man a fellow could talk to without the fear of being ridiculed if he said something that didn’t conform to everyone else’s idea of what was good and wholesome.

  “What for?” Ted looked confused by the sudden leap in topic.

  “I don’t know, just to see it. Just to see what was there and then move on to the next place.”

  “You sound more like a world traveler than a man working the barges on a couple of hundred miles of the Willamette.” Ted laughed. “But I guess I wouldn’t mind seeing some place else.”

  “I spent so long in the same place that it felt like I was tied to a post.”

  “I’ve never been to California. I’d heard it was a fine place to be.” Ted sat down on one of the boxes that the two men would have to start shifting again the moment their impromptu break was over.

  Their boss generally left them to it; they were a hard-working team of two and he’d never had a minute’s trouble or true laziness from either of them. The result was that they could stop for a few minutes and not fear their boss’ sudden appearance from out of nowhere.

  “It depends where you are, I guess. It’s fine if you like coal dust in your nostrils and laundry hanging everywhere.” He felt a pang of pain when he thought of his mother’s entire life spent getting coal dust out of everyone else’s clothing and sheets. “But when the time came for me to go, I knew I wanted to strike out far beyond California.” He laughed. “I realize Oregon isn’t such a distance, but it’s far enough to be going on with. It’s a start.”

  “So, you’re not planning on settling down then?” Ted, his hair as dark as Arlon’s was fair, chuckled. “World travel makes finding a wife kind of tricky, I reckon.”

  “It’s not for me, that life. Or not yet, at least. I want to see something of the world first.” He peered across the shining water of the Willamette River. “Or America for now. I guess there’s plenty to see in a country this size.”

  “You remind me of my Uncle Herbert’s old dog. Tied to the porch for years, he was, so as he didn’t go bothering all the female dogs and siring pups all over the place. But when my uncle reckoned he was too old for such things, he let the dog wander at will.” He began to chuckle again, clearly amused. “And that old dog just took off and never came back.”

  “I can’t say I blame him.” Arlon stretched his arms high above his head. He’d picked up a little pulled muscle in the last day or two. “But I’m not so sure I’m happy to be compared to an old dog on a porch, Ted.” Both men laughed heartily.

  “I guess we’d better get on with it. Only an hour or so and I reckon we’ll have all this down on the dock.” Ted was the first to rise.

  “I think I’ll take a walk after we’re done here.”

  “Best of luck,” Ted said and shrugged apologetically. “Gus wants us to rearrange the boxes for the next drop to make room for whatever it is we’re supposed to take on board here tomorrow.”

  “Is it our turn again?” Arlon asked as Ted nodded. “That comes around quick.”

  Already, life on the barges had a kind of flow and familiarity to it. In many ways, it was soothing and reassuring. Every working man liked to know what he was doing, not to mention when he would be getting paid. But Arlon had the nagging feeling that it would become commonplace all too quickly. After all the years tied to the one place, just like Uncle Herbert’s dog, Arlon couldn’t bear the idea of mind-numbing familiarity ever again.

  He was just twenty-years-old and already he felt as if he had lived a lifetime in his hometown. His mother had never had a choice, of course, and it was only her determination to look after her one and only child which had forced them to stay where they were.

  Katherine Hurst had been left to look after her baby boy when the man who had fathered him had died, not that Travis Hurst was in her life much after he found out she was with child. He’d married her and spared her the shame of bearing a child out of wedlock, but that was as much as Katherine Hurst had to thank her husband for. />
  His smooth talking and subsequent lack of responsibility had sentenced poor young Katherine to a life of perpetual hard work and poverty—two things which should never, ever go together.

  Widowed before Arlon was old enough to remember his daddy, Katherine Hurst had been forced to wash the sheets and shirts of coal miners for the rest of her life, even when the illness which finally took her had begun to steal her energy and strength. Arlon had helped, of course, finding work wherever he could to make his mother’s life a little easier. But whatever work he picked up didn’t pay well, and his beloved mother had been determined that her son never go down into the mines and spend every beautiful day in darkness.

  More than once, he’d wanted to do just that. He wanted to make her life better. But each time he’d tried, he had seen his mother’s heart start to break. How she’d loved her boy and always put his needs before her own. In the end, it had been at the cost of her own life, he was sure of it.

  “You all right, Arlon?” Ted asked when his friend had been quiet and unmoving for some minutes.

  “Yes, just thinking is all.”

  “And what are you thinking about this time? The Rocky Mountains? A sea voyage to England? A long hike to China?” Ted was smiling at him and already had a heavy box nestled neatly on his broad shoulders.

  “Nothing so drastic,” Arlon lied by necessity—how could he tell his new friend of all the things which ate at his soul and kept him awake at night? “I was thinking I’d get up early and have a walk about the place in the morning, is all.”