by Kit Morgan
As to Jack and Sam, she couldn’t say. Partly because they were also used by Mr. Kinzey for guard duty or other help, mainly because they avoided her like she was cholera.
Did they actually steal from people? She might never know. Jefferson had questioned them both, but they denied it. Duncan, meanwhile, had asked questions about Pete Smithers, who also began to avoid her and her family, including Jack and Sam. She’d seen them speaking with Mr. Smithers on several occasions early in their journey, but little since they’d left Fort Bridger.
And Jefferson? She couldn’t complain and her heart didn’t either. Now she found she was in a pickle. Over the months of dust, danger and day-to-day drudgery, Honoria had truly fallen in love. The question was, had he?
He hadn’t been any more attentive after their argument over Jack and Sam months before, or any less. She’d caught him stealing glances at her several times and wondered what he was thinking. She still felt bad about voicing her accusations so rudely, and deep down she was scared – scared their marriage wasn’t going to work, that eventually Jefferson would tire of her and seek companionship elsewhere. That women were scarce out west gave her hope – that was one of the reasons he’d wanted to marry her in the first place – but only so much.
After almost a thousand miles of wondering what the future would bring, she’d largely stopped her fretting. It was a waste of energy, something she barely had enough of anyway. She needed to shepherd her strength for the last leg of the journey. They were deep inside Oregon Territory, but it was more than four hundred miles to the end of the trail at Oregon City. And Fort Boise was one of the last stops between here and there.
“The soldiers at Fort Bridger weren’t very friendly,” Harrison said. “I hope the ones here are nicer and talk to me.”
“I don’t think the men at Fort Bridger were soldiers,” she said. “Not in the conventional sense. They didn’t have uniforms.”
“There were a few. I saw them, Mother.”
“Did you? I didn’t see a one.” But of course she didn’t – she’d been too worried about her relationship with Jefferson to notice. Something kept nagging at her that she had to try harder at being a wife. How, she didn’t know. She’d learned to cook decently, mend things, wash clothes, keep the camp as orderly as possible. But domestic duties weren’t everything a wife was. There was the marriage bed – was she pleasing to him? Jefferson didn’t seem any different, but …
“Do you think I have enough money for a knife?” Harrison asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“Knife?” she said, a little worried. “Darling, what do you want a knife for?”
“For hunting, what else? I need something to gut and clean game.”
Honoria shuddered. Was her youngest turning into a scraggly backwoodsman? “I’m not sure, darling – I don’t hunt. Ask Jefferson, he’ll know.”
They stopped near the fort and set up camp. As soon as the livestock were taken care of, Jefferson, Harrison, Sam and Duncan went to see about supplies. Honoria stayed behind to prepare supper. She was surprised when Jack showed up with a load of wood and a bucket of water. “Jack, did your father tell you to get all that?”
“No, ma’am – just thought ya’d be needin’ it ‘bout now.” He dumped the wood near the fire. “Where do ya want the water?”
“Set it over by the wagon wheel, thank you.”
He set down his load, brushed his hands together and looked around the camp. “Has everyone else gone to the fort?”
“Yes, except Colin. He’s with the Wallers … or is it the Dunnigans?”
“The Dunnigans. I saw him over there.”
She smiled at him and, to her delight, he smiled back. “Aren’t you going to the fort?”
“Maybe later. I can help here if ya want.”
She smiled again. This was a first. It was also one of the few times she’d seen Jack without his brother. She decided to set any suspicions aside for the nonce. “You can help me peel potatoes.”
Jack shrugged. “Okay, where are they?”
She pointed to a burlap sack near the fire. “I just put the paring knife on that rock. I’ll get you a bowl.” She went to the back of the wagon, where Jefferson had already hauled out the cooking chest of pots, pans and other cooking implements. She got what she needed and returned to Jack by the fire. “With both of us working we’ll get things done in no time.”
Jack said nothing. He sat, grabbed a potato out of the sack and got to work. Honoria pulled up a camp stool and did the same.
After a few minutes of silence Jack finally spoke. “Pa says I’m gonna help with the plantin’ when we get our new land ready.”
“Oh?” She said. “What will you plant?” Though she already knew – Jefferson had shown her his store of seeds.
“Wheat and corn.” He continued to peel. “But I wanna plant some apple trees.” He looked at her. “It’s supposed to be good country for it. And I like apple pie.”
“Pie,” she said nervously. “I’m afraid I’ll need a lesson or two before I can bake those.”
He smiled shyly. “I’ll test ‘em for ya. I don’t care if the crust’s a little burnt.”
She laughed. “Well, let’s hope I don’t destroy them completely. You know what a disaster I am when it comes to cooking, let alone baking.”
Jack laughed too, put his potato in a bowl and reached for another. “I think ya cook fine, Honoria, real fine. Better than our ma.”
“What’s this? I wouldn’t call my cooking better than your mother’s.”
“Well …” He made a face. “Our ma weren’t the best cook either. She didn’t try to learn like you have. And she stopped cookin’ at all a few years ‘fore she died.”
Honoria could only stare. “What happened? I knew she was ill, but …”
He frowned and stopped peeling. “She was ill in … in the head, like. I think she forgot how to cook. At the end, she even forgot who we were.”
Honoria gasped. She’d heard of this sort of thing happening, but never knew anyone who’d experienced it. “I’m so sorry, Jack. I didn’t know.”
He shrugged and went back to peeling. “Pa don’t talk about it much. Makes him sad.”
“I would imagine it makes all of you sad. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. Pa prob’ly hain’t told you how mean she got. She’d throw things at us and say nasty things – to Pa ‘specially. It was awful.”
Honoria didn’t think, only acted. She rose from her stool and gave Jack a hug. “I’m so sorry you went through that. It must have been horrible for you and your brother, not to mention your father.” She straightened and looked at him. “Thank you for sharing it with me. It helps me understand.”
“Understand what?”
She returned to her seat. “Why it’s taken so long for you to sit and talk with me,” she said with a smile. “I wish Sam would do the same.”
“Sam hates everyone right now. He’s even mad at Pa for …” He snapped his mouth shut and kept peeling.
“For marrying me?”
His eyes met hers and he nodded.
She nodded as well, in understanding. “I hope he’ll come around eventually. As soon as he stops hating everyone, I suppose.”
Jack smiled. “Hope so. Dunno how long it’ll take, though.”
She watched him a moment. “Are you willing to wait? I am.”
Jack glanced at the potato in his hand and back. “If you can, I can.”
Honoria smiled again and got back to work. Hope was good, but it wouldn’t get the potatoes cooked.
My dearest Benedict,
Why won’t he say the words? We’re deep in Oregon Territory now and I have yet to hear Jefferson say what I long to hear. Perhaps he’s not a man to voice such things, and would rather show me instead. But his actions have been the same since the beginning of our journey, though he is more sensitive than when we first started. Will it be like this once we settle in Oregon City? Or will he change, become a different man
and a different husband?
I’ve changed a great deal. You would be proud of me – I can cook, sew and wash with the best of them. But have I told him that I love him? No. For I am still afraid. The part that’s terrified he won’t say it back.
Is it foolish of me to hope for such simple words when actions mean more? Yet, after nearly six months, one would think one of us would’ve said it.
Honoria put her pen, ink and diary away in her satchel and stared at the horizon, pondering her future with Jefferson Cooke. Three words, three little words had her fretting and thinking the worst. But she couldn’t bring herself to say them, for fear she’d never hear them returned. Would he ever say them? Would she? She pictured them settled in Oregon City, living a life of day-to-day chores, eating, sleeping and not much in between. The thought made her belly tighten.
She reminded herself not to worry. At least she’d grown closer to Jack recently. He helped her when he could, and they conversed throughout the day. Sam was still cold toward her, silent and unyielding, but now he was alone in that. She didn’t know if Jack spoke with him about it, but if he did, it wasn’t doing much good. Regardless, she’d soldier on and hope for the best. She’d made a commitment to Jefferson, his sons and hers. She would make this marriage work even if she never received the love she desired.
She began her trek back to camp. She’d been wandering further each morning, her privacy becoming more sacred, but the entries in her diary were becoming shorter, as if she was slowly letting go of the past, of Benedict. Perhaps writing in her diary wasn’t giving her the same satisfaction it had. Maybe it was time to find something else that did.
“Jefferson says we’re crossing the Snake River today, Mother!” Harrison said excitedly.
“Yes,” she sighed. “I remember him mentioning that.” They’d been riding along the southern bank of the Snake for weeks – it had become a constant companion, not to mention a handy water source. Crossing it meant they were getting ready for the final drive to Oregon City.
“And he’s going to let me drive one of the wagons across!”
“What?!” Eyes wide, she scanned the area for her husband. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I am. I wouldn’t make up something like that.”
“Oh, but darling, I don’t know if you can …”
“Of course I can, Mother,” he insisted. “If Jefferson says so, then I can!”
She pressed her lips together to keep from arguing further. Harrison would be thirteen in December, not the child she once knew. He was becoming a fine young man and she would have to get used to it. Besides, Jefferson had been a good judge of his abilities so far. “Right then. Perhaps I’ll ride with Duncan.”
Harrison laughed. “You can still ride with me if you like. I don’t foresee the wagon tipping over, even though Jefferson did tell me how swift this river is, or that there are signs of it having rained in recent days. I’m not worried,” he added proudly.
“Very well, my darling,” she conceded. “I’ll decide what to do when we get there.”
He grinned and scrambled onto the wagon seat.
She didn’t feel like sitting and decided she’d walk alongside instead. She felt oddly pensive this morning. Perhaps she was just tired. She’d lost weight, as most of them had with food supplies running low. The only ones that still had plenty were the Dunnigans. But the rest had barely enough to get to Oregon City, and it was nearly October, so they wouldn’t have the chance to plant once they got there. The days were changing as well, and soon the going might be a wet one.
Duncan trotted up on Pip. “Mother, would you like me to saddle Juliet?”
“No, my darling, I’d rather walk for a time. Let her rest. I suspect the crossing today will be harder than normal. She’ll need her strength as much as the rest of us.”
He studied her a moment. “You look weary, Mother. Are you sure?”
“Oh, darling, I’ll be weary whether I walk or I ride. It’s okay.”
“Very well,” he said, still concerned. “I’ll check on you later.”
She smiled and waved as he went. He often patrolled near the rear of the train to make sure no Indians followed. Other than a few minor encounters, they hadn’t seen many – Mr. Kinzey said it was unheard of. A miracle, really.
“Are you ready?” Jefferson asked behind her.
She turned and noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the bones sticking out. From the ragged looks of her little family, they could all do with a week’s sleep once they reached Oregon City. But that wasn’t going to happen – there would be too much to do. “Yes. You?”
He closed his eyes a moment and nodded. Both of them knew he meant the river. Losing another wagon was everyone’s great fear, especially after the Whites lost theirs with all their food and most of their belongings. Everyone did their best to pitch in to feed them – Fanny Fig put up a fuss, but after a few waves of Irene Dunnigan’s ladle, she donated several pounds of flour. And Irene gave them supplies free of charge – another miracle.
“Would ya like to ride with me?” Jack asked as he came around one of the wagons.
Honoria smiled in surprise. “Thank you, Jack, but I think I’ll walk a while.”
“Suit yerself.” He turned to leave, stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “But lemme know if ya change yer mind.”
Her heart warmed. Miracles were abounding, it seemed. “I will.”
He nodded and continued on his way.
She sighed, put her satchel in the back of the wagon, then stood and waited for the train to depart.
When they stopped at midday at the river’s edge, everyone seemed quieter than normal. The crossing was next, after which they’d dry off as best they could and set up camp for the night. For most of the journey, summer nights were pleasant, so this wasn’t a problem. But now it was autumn and Honoria wasn’t looking forward to the constant rain Jefferson and Mr. Van Cleet told her was the daily state of the western half of the territory. If they were lucky they’d have good weather, but October was unpredictable.
Shouts echoed down the line of wagons, and with a tired sigh Honoria prepared to put one foot in front of the other.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Mother, you look worried,” Duncan commented as he saw her horrified expression.
Worried was an understatement. The Snake River was narrower at the crossing site, but looked as swift and dangerous as the Mississippi. How was this going to work? The sun was still high, but once they crossed it would be late afternoon, and there was only a small clearing on the other side, not big enough for all of them. They’d make camp a little farther on, in a nearby meadow Mr. Kinzey knew about.
Mr. Kinzey barked orders to the settlers as several of his men prepared for the crossing. She watched the others, noted their anxiety, but knew they’d make the crossing nonetheless.
“Would you like me to fetch Juliet?” Duncan asked.
Honoria wiped her hands on her skirt and nodded. “Please do. Straightaway if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” He dismounted from Pip. “Here, hang onto him for me – I’ll be right back.” He handed her the reins and hurried to the third wagon where Juliet was tethered.
She sighed, checked the back of the wagon and turned to Jefferson as he joined her. “Are we going to have to raise the wagon bed? It looks like things will get wet if we don’t.”
He watched as one of Kinzey’s men, Mr. Mattson, attempted to ride across the Snake to check the depth. He was fighting getting swept downstream, which didn’t bode well as far as Honoria was concerned. But she had little say in the matter. Mr. Kinzey had made up his mind that they would cross here and that was that.
“Here you are, Mother,” Duncan said as he exchanged Juliet’s reins for Pip’s. “Would you like a leg up?”
“Yes, thank you.”
He helped her mount. “I can ride with Harrison if you like.”
“No, darling, Jefferson is going to.” Thank Heaven. If thin
gs went wrong with the wagon, Jefferson would keep a cooler head than she would.
Duncan laughed. “Harrison is beside himself with excitement. Don’t worry, he’ll do a good job, especially with Jefferson with him. He wants to please him.”
“I know,” she said with a smile. She wanted to please him too, but wasn’t sure if what she did was working. He seemed so stoic of late, so far away. Or maybe he was just tired too. She didn’t know what to think.
“Right, then,” Duncan said. “I’ll make sure Colin has everything he needs, then ride Pip across.”
“Very well, darling. Do whatever you think is best.”
Jefferson walked by and tapped Duncan on the shoulder before he could mount. “I’ll drive with Colin. You’re riding across?”
“Yes, sir,” Duncan said.
Honoria gasped. “What? You’re not driving with Harrison?”
“Nah, he’ll be fine. Jack and Sam will be right behind him, and Colin and I behind them.”
“But Jefferson, I thought …”
Jefferson put his hands heavily on her shoulders. “Honoria, let the boy do this. He’s ready.”
She glanced at Harrison high on the wagon seat, the gleam of anticipation in his eyes hard to miss. “If you say so. But…” She picked at her apron. “… but I’ve changed my mind. I’ll ride with him. Duncan, will you lead Juliet across?”
He glanced at Jefferson and back. “Of course, Mother. Best join him, then – the first wagons are already crossing.”
She looked, and sure enough, Mr. Kinzey was ushering the third wagon into the water. She took a deep breath and let it out, her nerves twanging as she realized that none of them had the same strength as at the beginning of the journey. “Off I go.” She went to the front of the wagon and climbed up with Harrison’s help. Duncan mounted Pip and led Juliet away.