The Wagon Train Trek

by Jesse Wiley

  “Just keep going!” Pa shouts.

  The riverbed beneath you is murky and thick. Mud seeps into your shoes. One shoe is pulled off as you struggle to cross to the other side.

  “No!” You hear a wail from Mr. Mason, and a loud crack!

  You glance back to see his second wagon tipping over in the current. Supplies and valuables float down the river.

  By the time the four wagons cross, you’ve lost several hundred pounds of food, several sets of clothing, and multiple boxes of ammunition. Two of your six oxen are gone.

  “We should have waited.” Mr. Whittaker’s eyes flash. He’s lost his only set of carpentry tools.

  You swallow hard. You feel as though this is all your fault.

  Pa frowns. “It’s too late to lay blame now. We have to keep going.”

  Before Big Springs comes the difficult terrain of an enormous hill called Hogback Ridge—or more infamously, Devil’s Backbone. Crossing this steep terrain costs you more time than you anticipated. Your exhausted team of oxen barely makes it up the hill.

  Big Springs isn’t exactly what its name implies. It’s hardly more than a church, a small general store, and a few small houses in the town circle.

  You need supplies and new oxen, but you don’t have much left to trade. Should you stock up on food or try to trade for two new oxen?

  If you stock up on food, turn to page 36

  If you trade for new oxen, turn to page 57

  Return to page 155

  The rest of the wagon train is worried about their own families’ proximity to the young man. And while Pa does have medicine, the young man will likely have more of a chance of surviving if he’s in a proper bed at the fort.

  “Maybe they’ll have more medicine, too, Pa,” you reason.

  “I’m sure they’re better equipped to deal with this than we are, out here on the Trail,” Ma agrees. “Let’s go back. It’s not terribly far.”

  You tell the other families your plan. The Whittakers agree to stay and wait for you, but the two other families decide to follow the Masons and go on without you. You’re disappointed that your whole wagon train won’t wait for you, but there’s nothing you can do about it. You can only hope that you’ll eventually be reunited. Then, you start to wonder if this was the best decision to make as the wagon-train captains. Splitting up your wagon train is never a good idea.

  You understand why Pa has to make this difficult choice. Being a doctor can often require sacrifice, even if it means separating your wagon train.

  You and your parents place the sick stranger in the back of your wagon and start off for Fort Boise. He becomes progressively worse, despite your family’s best efforts. By the time you reach Fort Boise, he’s passed away. You sadly bury him with the help of some soldiers at the fort. You start back on the Trail, hoping you can catch up with the others before it’s too late. Fur trappers at the fort had just come from Flagstaff Hill and mentioned how snowstorms can come on without warning and completely decimate a wagon train.

  You haven’t been traveling for more than half a day when the clouds gather and snow falls in thick blots from the sky. Before you know it, your wagon is stuck in mud and wet snow. Without help from your fellow wagon-train families or a way to get back to the fort, you and your family are soon swallowed up in the snowstorm, never to be heard from again.

   THE END

  Return to page 39

  You slip out of your tent and rush across to your parents’ tent.

  “Pa, wake up!” You pull off his blanket. “Coyotes nearby!”

  Pa races to the wagon. He loads his gun quickly and orders you to rekindle the fire. “The fire will keep them away!” He starts shouting at the coyotes lingering around the corral. “Hey, get away!”

  Your dogs growl angrily into the darkness, and the other families come running to help.

  You throw some buffalo chips onto the dying embers of the giant campfire and carefully blow on the ashes. The fire roars to life. After a tense standoff, Pa and the others chase the coyotes off into the hills.

  Pa comes to warm his hands near the fire. “Good thing you woke me. They almost had Trixie.”

  You shiver. It’s only gotten colder here in the mountains. Even in the darkness, you see the faint spots of snow falling around the campfire. You remember people at Fort Boise telling you that snowstorms and avalanches are common disasters that can strike at any time in the Blue Mountains. You hope that doesn’t happen to your wagon train.

  The next morning, you wake up still exhausted from the danger of the night before. Your feet feel especially heavy and drag through the freshly fallen snow. Even the oxen are slower than usual, barely making it up the slushy mountains.

  Your wagon starts to slip backwards down the hill. Ma lets out a frightened shout, holding tightly to the reins. Pa attempts to calm the oxen, whose hooves slip in the muck. You rush to grab the other side of the yoke. Eventually you both manage to stop the oxen and reroute their path up the mountain.

  When you finally reach the top, you look down and discover that some supplies have fallen out in the chaos and slid down the hillside. It’s too dangerous to retrieve anything in the steep slush.

  Your wagon isn’t the only one to lose supplies. One of the Masons’ wagons loses an ox, and Mr. O’Neil breaks an arm wrangling his wagon up the mountain. Pa has to set Mr. O’Neil’s arm in a makeshift sling.

  It will be a miracle if everyone in your wagon train makes it to Oregon City. So far, you’ve lost only animals and supplies. But there are still treacherous roads and rivers ahead.

  That evening, two Cayuse men named Ya’ka and I’mes pass through your campsite. Ya’ka is injured from fighting off a wild mountain lynx. Pa treats his injuries. In thanks, the men offer helpful information.

  “Ya’ka and I’mes told us there’s bad weather near The Dalles.” Pa takes a seat. The men have already departed into the mountains. “The river can be high this time of year—and the storm has only made it worse. Let’s rest for a day or two, especially with Mr. O’Neil’s arm.”

  Mr. O’Neil grimaces. “Won’t be easy makin’ it the rest of the way, Doc. That’s for sure.”

  “What if we take the Barlow Road instead?” Mrs. Mason steps in. “We’ve lost so much already in these mountains—time . . . supplies. Who knows how much we’ll lose if we try to raft down the Columbia River?”

  “Don’t think I can afford the toll.” Mr. Whittaker pats his pocket. “That last stop at Fort Boise set me back more than I wanted. I still need to buy new supplies in Oregon City.”

  Mr. O’Neil agrees, as does your pa.

  “What if we trap rabbits and hunt around here?” you say. “That way the oxen—and Mr. O’Neil—can rest for a bit.”

  “The Barlow Road isn’t that far from here,” Mr. Mason argues. “We can make it.”

  Pa and Ma look at each other, uncertain. You know Mr. O’Neil isn’t in good shape to travel right now. But you do need supplies. What should you do?

  If you take the Barlow Road, turn to page 53

  If you hunt for food, turn to page 45

  Return to page 135

  You hesitate, but Pa is right. Nervous oxen are dangerous oxen. They could get scared and run off, trampling someone—including you! It’ll be dark in a couple of hours too. If the oxen are scared now and run off, it’ll be a disaster trying to find them in the dying sunlight.

  “Yes, Pa.” You sigh, and watch Annie and Matthew running away toward the river. You head back to help Pa and Ma unhitch the oxen.

  You hear Mrs. Whittaker calling for her children to return to their wagon. “Annie and Matthew—it’s not safe by the river!” You see little William crawling after her. “Get back here, both of you!”

  The Whittaker siblings reluctantly return, their heads hung low. Still, you grin at them as they pass. They smile in return. You know you’ve just made some fast friends.

  As night falls on your camp, thick clouds cover the stars, and thunder rolls
across the plains, rustling and whistling through the trees. Lightning flashes in thick purple streaks, and you jump under your blanket. Fear tugs at your heart. A spring storm is the last thing you want before crossing a difficult river. You lie in your tent as the wind howls and rain lashes down, followed by thundering balls of hail. You sleep very little.

  The next morning, you wake up to discover that your wagon’s canvas top has been damaged in the storm. A bag of flour has been torn open and spilled all over the ground.

  “We needed this flour.” Ma sighs. “We’ll just have to stock up in Big Springs.”

  “At least Mr. Whittaker can help repair our wagon.” You look at the enormous hole.

  “Oh, no,” Ma says dryly. “You can help me with that. Come on. We should have a spare piece of cloth somewhere.”

  Together you stitch the canvas back together. It’s almost as good as new!

  “It’ll have to do,” says Ma. “Hopefully we won’t encounter another storm like that again.”

  You agree, remembering how frightened you were last night.

  After helping with the morning chores, you follow Pa down toward the river, where he talks with Mr. Whittaker and the banker, Mr. Mason. The riverbank is steeper than you expected: a mixture of thick, squishy mud and limestone. The river rushes below.

  “It’s too high,” says Mr. Whittaker grimly. “I was asking around the junction, and this riverbed is exceptionally thick and muddy, making it difficult for wagons to cross. If we tried to ford it, we’d be taking a risk. We should caulk the wagons to seal them so they can float. Then, we’ll tow them across and up the other bank. Once the river settles down, that is.”

  “Caulk the wagons?” Mr. Mason shifts his weight. “And how long will that take, may I ask?”

  Pa crosses his arms. “The storm last night was bad. You think crossing the river as high as it is now is a good idea, Mr. Mason?”

  Mr. Mason pauses to wipe his brow. “Well, fine. Let’s hurry up and do what we need to do. No time to lose.”

  Mr. Whittaker shakes his head. “No. Not until the river is lower. We’d never make it across. We should wait at least a day.”

  “We can’t afford to lose any more time!” Mr. Mason turns red. “We have to get to Big Springs to restock.”

  You exchange bewildered glances with Pa and Mr. Whittaker.

  “You have not one, but two wagons for your family, Mr. Mason,” says Mr. Whittaker. “You can’t be running out of supplies already. Not when we only left Independence a few days ago. You have no children. You and your wife should have plenty of room for food and other necessities.”

  “Most of what is in our wagons just so happens to be important valuables!” Mr. Mason bellows. “We didn’t have room! And this storm damaged one of our wagons nearly beyond repair. It’ll be a miracle if it makes it to Big Springs.”

  “Gentlemen, please,” Pa says. He takes you aside. “What do you think? We may need supplies soon too.”

  What should you do?

  If you ford the river soon, turn to page 143

  If you wait until the river is lower, turn to page 111

  Return to page 31

  You stare down at your mismatched feet. “I’d like to stop at Fort Vancouver, Pa.”

  Ma looks at your feet. “I didn’t even realize—where did your shoe go?”

  “The river wanted it more than I did.”

  Pa shakes his head. “You can get sick very quickly without shoes. Especially in this cold, rainy weather.” Ma digs around in one of your satchels until she finds a thick hunting knife, a piece of buckskin, and a sewing kit. She cuts off a strip of the buckskin and wraps the piece around your foot. “At least we can try to wrap it up in something until we can get you a new pair.” She sews your foot into the buckskin.

  Mr. Whittaker clears his throat. “Doc, not to interrupt, but none of us has much money left. You really think stopping at Fort Vancouver’s the best idea when we’re so close to Oregon City?”

  Pa fumbles with his pocket knife. “It’s a group decision. I’d like to see if I can get a better splint for Mr. O’Neil. It’s still a good stretch downriver to Oregon City . . . A short respite would do us good.”

  The group is silent for a moment around the campfire.

  Finally, Mrs. Mason says, “Well, Dr. Howard, you’ve led us this far, and we’ve all survived, which is more than most wagon trains can say. So I think I can speak for the group that we’ll agree with whatever decision you make.”

  Everyone else nods eagerly.

  Pa swallows, and you see tears in his eyes. He wipes off his spectacles and clears his throat. “I couldn’t have done it without my family.” He smiles at you and Ma. “But thank you, everyone. We’ve been honored to be your wagon-train captains this far. We’ll make it the rest of the way together, we will.”

  “To Fort Vancouver, then!” Mr. Whittaker raises his coffee cup.

  You wish you didn’t have to get back on the raft, but knowing that you’ll stop only shortly ahead makes the next several miles downriver much easier. The weather has also gotten better. It’s finally stopped raining, and the sun is beginning to peek through the clouds.

  * * *

  When you reach Fort Vancouver, you dock your rafts and decide to take turns watching the supplies while everyone gets what they need. The fort is a British fur-trading post filled with soldiers, Native Americans from all different Nations, and hordes of other pioneers on their way to Oregon City.

  It’s much more crowded than you anticipated, but you manage to squeeze through the masses of people to stop and trade. You come across a Nez Perce woman, who introduces herself as Tayam, selling beautiful leather moccasins—the perfect size for your feet. After you and Ma pay and thank Tayam, you slip them on and breathe a sigh of relief, wiggling your toes. You’ve never had shoes this comfortable before in your life!

  Annie and Matthew are also eager to get off the raft and explore.

  Matthew stares down at your moccasins, wide-eyed. “Those look so nice. Almost as nice as mine.” He stares down at his heavily patched-up shoes with a rueful grin.

  The three of you laugh.

  “I’m sure you can get some new shoes when you get to Oregon City,” you say.

  He just shrugs. “I just really want some candy.”

  Before you leave Fort Vancouver, you share a meal with your family at the local tavern with the money you saved by avoiding the Barlow Toll Road. You haven’t had a nice steak with potatoes or such a big piece of pie in months. Now you can hardly wait to get to Oregon City and have meals like this almost every day!

  When you leave Fort Vancouver the next morning, you thank your invaluable guide Ow-hi and continue on your rafts down the much smaller Willamette River. On either side is beautiful, lush green country. You’re surprised, and pleased, to finally see columns of smoke rising from small farmhouses dotting the landscape.

  You can hardly believe it when you see the busy port of Oregon City. You haven’t seen a real town or city this big since leaving Independence. You want to pinch yourself, you’re so excited. But what’s more incredible is that your entire wagon train has made it here. There have been damaged and lost supplies—even broken bones—but considering all the many dangers you’ve faced on the Oregon Trail, it’s a wonder that everyone in your wagon train is alive.

  Everyone in your group lets out a sigh of relief and a cheer of joy when you finally get into Oregon City. Some families depart right away, looking to claim land and settle their livestock. You and the Whittakers remain in town to board your oxen temporarily while you find something to eat and rest at a nearby inn.

  “Guess what?” Annie skips excitedly down the road alongside you. “Ma just told me we’ll be nearby! Our pa is going to be helping to build a new courthouse right next to your pa’s practice!”

  You’re all joyful and relieved, knowing you’ll have one another as good friends in this new and unfamiliar city. Now more than ever, you’re excited to explor
e your new surroundings—and with the Whittaker siblings around, everything will be that much more adventurous and fun.

  You can’t wait to start your new life in Oregon City. You know that all your months on the Oregon Trail have been worth it for this. You’ve successfully led a full wagon train and completed your long journey West—together.

   THE END

  Return to page 95

  Guide

  to the Trail

  You are about to embark on an incredible journey as one of the 400,000 adventurous and daring pioneers who are trekking West between 1841 and 1870. You will be traveling roughly 2,000 miles (3,200 kilometers) along the Oregon Trail with everything you own tightly packed into a covered wagon. There will be dangers and adventures that you’ve never experienced before.

  * * *

  What do you have to look forward to when you get out West?

  A square mile of land for your family on which to build a house

  New opportunities to start a new life away from crowded cities

  Fertile land and plenty of rain for farming crops

  PACK YOUR WAGON

  Your ten-foot-long covered wagon will carry your supplies for your new life in the Oregon Territory. There won’t be room to ride in it, so you’ll have to walk. Don’t forget to buy six healthy oxen to pull your wagon!