The Wagon Train Trek

by Jesse Wiley

  Your raft spins out of control. Supplies fly everywhere. You hear shouts of surprise and alarm. You tumble off the raft as it flips over, tossing everyone into the rushing river. The current is too strong and pulls you under.

   THE END

  Return to page 127

  While the Barlow Road will be expensive and difficult, the alternative option sounds much too dangerous. Given the stretch of bad weather and the fact that the Columbia River is already hazardous enough, you don’t want to risk losing more food or livestock.

  Mr. O’Neil shakes his head sadly and motions to his broken arm. “I don’t think I can travel right now, Doc. Think we’re gonna have to stay here for a few days until I can start to feel a bit better. You understand.”

  Pa nods. “Of course. I’m sorry you can’t come with us.” He gives Mr. O’Neil some medicine to help with the pain. In the end, the Masons and the Whittakers stay with your wagon train, but the Joneses remain with the O’Neils. You’re sad to part, but you’re relieved that the O’Neils won’t be alone in these mountains.

  * * *

  The next morning, you’re on your way to the Barlow Road. The oxen still haven’t fully recovered from the previous day’s difficult travel. Your journey is slow through the rocky mountain terrain. You pass The Dalles and stop in the pleasant Tygh Valley. You rest for a full day before moving onward. You wish you could’ve stayed longer, but you know that your supplies are starting to run low. You have to reach the tollgate before the snows get too deep.

  You emerge from the valley and wind your way through more mountains and snow-covered pine trees. Mount Hood finally comes into view, rising above the rest in a magnificent peak. As you climb higher, the snow gets deeper and thicker, and everyone grows more and more exhausted. You have to stop to let the oxen rest more often than you ever have.

  To make matters worse, one of your wagon axles snaps. Mr. Whittaker helps you and Pa replace it, but that was your last spare axle. You’ll have to spend even more money to buy a new one.

  About a week later, you reach the tollgate station late in the afternoon. Your oxen are so tired from the steep climb that one of them collapses to the ground. It doesn’t get up again, even when Pa and Mr. Whittaker rush to help it back up again, tempting it with water and food. It dies from pure exhaustion.

  Now you’re short one ox, and you still have to pay the exorbitant toll. But Pa returns from the station operator sooner than you would’ve thought.

  “The price has gone up.” Pa shakes his head. “It was five dollars per wagon and ten cents an ox. Now it’s six dollars a wagon, because of the large number of wagons passing through this year. They know people don’t have another safe route to Oregon City, and it’s cruel.”

  “So how much would we have left, if we pay the toll?” You exchange worried glances with Ma.

  “Not enough,” he says. “We’ll have to sell off some supplies or two of our oxen.”

  “But we just lost one.” Ma stomps the ground.

  “I’m not sure what else we can do. With the way we’ve been rationing food, we need at least twenty pounds of food each.” Pa cleans his spectacles with his kerchief. “What do you think?”

  If you try to make it through without selling your oxen, turn to page 127

  If you sell your oxen, turn to page 101

  Return to page 150

  Most of your money was lost downstream. With what little you have left, you and your parents decide to trade what supplies you can spare for two new oxen.

  “It’s a loss, but we need to keep our current pace.” Pa sighs heavily. “We can’t afford to go slower than we are now.”

  As Pa goes to find two new oxen, you and Ma go into Big Springs’ general store. The store owner, Mr. Dixon, warmly greets you. You tell him of your current situation.

  “We see many pioneers come through here.” Mr. Dixon adjusts his suspenders. “Some with much, some with very little. We’re not a big fort or trading post, but we do what we can to supply travelers’ needs.”

  Ma smiles. “It’s a beautiful town. I can see why you settled here.”

  “Oh, it’s not a large town, but a good one.” He smiles. “That I can promise you. Folk are friendly.”

  “Pa’s a doctor.” You step up to the counter. “You wouldn’t happen to need one of those, would you?”

  Mr. Dixon’s eyes widen. “Matter of fact, we do. Desperately. If y’all care to stay around, we’d be more than happy to have you.”

  Pa returns empty-handed, telling you that the other families are already planning on heading back to Independence. When you tell him of Big Springs’ need of a doctor, his whole body loosens up. You may not be continuing on the Oregon Trail, but Big Springs is as good a place as any to settle down.

   THE END

  Return to page 143

  While stopping is not the best idea, you know that Pa feels guilty about the wagon train splitting up once already.

  You convince him to go to Salt Lake City. “We’ll still get to California. But it’ll be better if we stay together, don’t you think?”

  Pa and Ma agree with you.

  “We’ve already let some people down.” Pa’s brow creases. “I’d hate to disappoint anyone else in our train. I’m sure it won’t be too much out of our way. Can’t hurt to stock up on more food and water while we’re there too.”

  The remaining three wagons in your train start out early the next morning. It’s roughly two hundred miles southeast to Salt Lake City. The journey is mostly uneventful. You’re tired and dragging your feet by the time you arrive. But this sprawling city isn’t like anywhere you’ve been before. It’s surrounded by majestic snowcapped mountains that tower miles above the buildings and streets and trail off into the distance. For a moment, you don’t want to leave this beautiful place.

  You’ve barely spent a few hours here wandering the streets and trading for supplies when Pa hurries up to you and Ma. His spectacles are crooked.

  “I just learned that there’s a bad cholera outbreak that’s sweeping this city.” Pa adjusts his spectacles.

  Ma gasps. “That’s horrible. What should we do?”

  “The local doctor passed away from the cholera only a short time ago. They have no one else to help them. I’m wondering if I should stay to help, if I can.”

  “But aren’t we supposed to keep moving on?” you ask. “We’re still the wagon-train captains. What will the others say?”

  Pa shakes his head. “I’m not sure. What do you think we should do, then? Should we stay and help, or keep passing through?”

  You don’t like how torn he looks. You know he wants to stay and help those in need. But you’re also the leaders of your remaining wagon train. What should you do?

  If you stay to help the community, turn to page 91

  If you want to keep passing through, turn to page 109

  Return to page 106

  You’re not sure if hunting this herd of buffalo is a good idea. Then again, the O’Neils have more mouths to feed than anyone else in the wagon train. You feel guilty having so much more food available.

  “Maybe we should let him,” Ma whispers to Pa. “He might not have much food left.”

  Pa scratches his face. “We have been traveling a mighty long stretch without stopping at a fort or settlement. If there’s a problem, I suppose we’ll deal with it.” He turns to Mr. O’Neil. “All right, I suppose you can hunt one buffalo. Just one. Make it quick.”

  Mr. O’Neil’s face clears with relief. “Thank you, Doctor. I won’t waste the meat, I promise.”

  He slowly slips down into the valley, armed with his gun. But no sooner does he shoot and kill a buffalo than the five Arapaho men rush to meet him. Pa runs down to see what’s going on. Soon, you can hardly hear anything above the shouting. But you know that Mr. O’Neil has made a terrible mistake—one that could cost you more than you thought.

  The thunder of hoofbeats alerts you to the arrival of a platoon of soldiers. The captai
n jumps off his horse. After everyone has calmed down, you learn that things are worse than you could’ve imagined.

  “You’ve broken a very serious treaty with the Arapaho Nation.” The captain points at Pa and Mr. O’Neil. “They have a right to this herd of buffalo. Now that you’ve killed one of them, you’ll have to pay a fine.”

  Pa rubs his chin wearily. “How much?”

  Pa grows pale when he hears the amount.

  “But that’s all the money we have!” Mr. O’Neil protests.

  “Then perhaps you’ll be more careful hunting buffalo in the future,” says the captain coldly.

  Pa sighs. “You’re right. Very well. We’ll pitch in to help you, Mr. O’Neil.”

  But only you and the Whittakers agree to help the O’Neils pay the massive fine. The Masons and the Joneses refuse to pitch in, saying that they had nothing to do with it. Now, the O’Neils have no money left. And neither do you.

  “We won’t be able to buy more supplies.” Pa kicks the dirt. “I don’t even know if we would have anything valuable to trade.”

  Ma looks at you. “So what should we do? Should we keep going? Or should we try to go back to Big Springs? It’s a small town. Maybe they need a doctor. Perhaps you could get some work there, at least for a short while.”

  “The O’Neils have nothing left either. They may try to return to Independence.” Pa takes your hand. “What do you think? We could try making it through by hunting, maybe selling off animal hides and dried meat along the way.”

  Should you try to hunt as you travel the Oregon Trail and attempt to make money off animal skins, or go back to Big Springs?

  If you keep going on the Oregon Trail, turn to page 25

  If you go back to Big Springs, turn to page 86

  Return to page 71

  The young man doesn’t look like he’d last more than two minutes in your wagon. In addition, you don’t want him near the rest of your food. He might contaminate it with the highly contagious sickness.

  “He should stay here, Pa,” you say. “We can help him here at camp.”

  The day wears on as Pa carefully treats the young man. You rush to and from the nearest stream, helping Ma boil water and washing soiled blankets and linens. As night falls on your wagon corral, the young man is only getting sicker and weaker. To make matters even more complicated, the weather takes a sudden turn for the worse. Clouds coat the sky in a darkening gray shroud. The wind whips through your tents and wagon canvas, nearly blowing out your campfires. You shiver. It’s gotten much colder all of a sudden.

  Pa emerges from the young man’s tent and shakes his head. He wipes off his spectacles. “I don’t think he’ll last another hour. I’ve done everything I can to help, but it hasn’t done much good.”

  You bite your cheek and glance up at the dark sky. “Weather doesn’t look too good either, Pa.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” He frowns. “We might get a snowstorm.”

  That’s the last thing you need. The other families have already been debating about whether or not they should leave; now you’re certain they’ll go on without you. Sure enough, thick, fat snowflakes start falling, covering the ground in seconds. The wind whistles through the grass.

  Mrs. Whittaker rushes over to your family. You have a feeling that something is terribly wrong.

  “It’s my husband.” Her cheeks are pink. “He’s sick. Vomiting and feverish. And Annie says her stomach is hurting her now too. Dr. Howard, you have to help us. Is it cholera?”

  Pa hurries over to their tents. You’re terrified that Mrs. Whittaker is right. Pa returns some time later, his head hung low. “The Whittaker family and now two members of the O’Neil family have contracted cholera. I’ll need your help—and your ma’s—now more than ever.”

  Only an hour later, you find Pa collapsed just outside his tent. You shout for Ma. She’s been helping the Whittaker family, but she now runs back at your call. The two of you cover Pa in blankets. He’s shivering and very pale.

  “What should we do, Ma?” You know he’s contracted cholera.

  “I should go get help at Fort Boise.” Ma pulls on her bonnet. “I don’t think we’ll make it with everyone getting sick like this.”

  The snow is already piling up outside, showing no signs of letting up. You’re worried Ma might not even make it to the fort. What do you do?

  If you try to get help at Fort Boise, turn to page 23

  If you wait out the snowstorm, turn to page 88

  Return to page 39

  Cholera sounds like a risk you don’t want to take. It’s a disease that isn’t easily cured. Most people die within a day, even if they were perfectly healthy several hours earlier.

  “We should try for the Santa Fe Trail,” you suggest. “We’ve barely started out on our trek, Pa. If we get sick . . .”

  Pa doesn’t seem entirely convinced. “But the practice is waiting for me in Oregon City—”

  “I’m sure you can start your own practice in Santa Fe,” Ma says. “The practice in Oregon City will understand.”

  Finally, Pa agrees with you and Ma. “All right. We’ll try it out in Santa Fe. Hopefully they need as many doctors as Oregon City.”

  After a wagon-train discussion, only you and the Whittakers decide to head for Santa Fe. The other three families in your wagon train argue that taking the Santa Fe Trail does not guarantee safety.

  “Safety in numbers,” says Mr. Jones. “Splitting up is not a good idea, Doctor.”

  Pa shakes his head. “I have to do what’s best for my family. I know you’d do the same.”

  You watch the other wagons disappear over the horizon and an uneasiness settles in your stomach. You hope your family made the right decision. Bandits are common on the trails, and fewer people means it will be harder to keep watch at night.

  You and the Whittakers start off on the Santa Fe Trail, heading south. One night, you wake to the sound of shouting. Bandits surround your tiny makeshift corral. You’re forced to give up all your money and many valuable supplies—and your dreams of ever getting to Oregon City.

   THE END

  Return to page 11

  Thank you,” you tell the trader, “but I think I’ll check with my ma first.”

  The man glares at you and stomps out of the general store.

  Ma waves you over. “Tajé Mi and Ke Wák’o were just telling me that that man’s a notorious swindler. The authorities have been trying to catch him for months. They just went to warn the soldiers outside to have him arrested.”

  You’re relieved you didn’t buy anything from him!

  “I told him I was going to ask you first,” you say.

  Ma smiles. “I’m proud of you for that. It was a wise thing to do.”

  You and Ma stock up on supplies: you get four hundred more pounds of food, including flour, more bacon, and even sugar.

  “Maybe I’ll even make a fresh apple pie tonight,” Ma rubs her belly.

  Your mouth waters.

  When you and Ma reunite with Pa outside in the town square, you find him treating one of the soldiers in a small platoon.

  “Hard to keep a wagon train together.” The soldier waves his arms. “Disease . . . starvation . . . arguments, even . . . I’ve seen wagon trains come and go. Most don’t make it without losing at least a few folk.”

  Pa frowns. “Well, we haven’t lost anyone so far. I know we’ve hardly begun, but I think we can make it if we stay together.” He finishes wrapping the bandage around the soldier’s leg.

  “Stay together, Doctor,” says the soldier. “Most important thing you can do.”

  Later on, Pa tells you that the soldiers have been very helpful in pointing out the best direction. “They said the path ahead up to Fort Caspar and Fort Hall is crossing difficult terrain. But they have treaties with the Pawnee and Arapaho Nations in this region. We should take care to ration food before the next settlement.”

  After two days of rest, your wagon train starts moving on the Trail agai
n. You’re sad to leave the pleasant little town of Big Springs, but then you think of Oregon City and that fuels your will to travel on.

  You trek for miles and miles. You make sure to ration your food from fair to meager portions. You miss having more than one piece of bacon, but you have to conserve as much food as possible.

  * * *

  One afternoon, you come across a herd of buffalo grazing in a valley. One family calls out to stop. It’s a family of farmers, the O’Neils. They have five little children, all younger than you. Like you and Pa, Mr. O’Neil hunts for jackrabbits and antelope on the plains when you stop to rest. But he has more mouths to feed than Pa, and wild game is scarce.

  “’Scuse me, Dr. Howard.” Mr. O’Neil approaches your wagon “Those are mighty fine buffalo. Shame to let all that meat go to waste when it’s just sitting there.”

  Pa pushes his spectacles up his nose. “They seem to be herded already. Notice how they’re encased in a valley.”

  “Exactly!” Mr. O’Neil licks his lips. “My family and I could use the meat, not to mention all those buffalo chips for building a fire.”