by Emily Woods
“Sarah's not,” she retorted before she could stop herself.
Now Louise sighed deeply. “Do you want your sister to be miserable, Margie? I know you are unhappy, but no one told you to drink water that hadn't been boiled.”
The worst thing about being sick was the knowledge that she'd brought it on herself. She hated thinking about how defying such a small direction had caused her to become so helpless. Their captain had told them to drink only boiled water, but it was always so tepid, and she preferred it straight from the river, refreshing and cold.
Now she was suffering the consequences.
“I know that, but it's hard to hear others being so bright and cheerful when I can barely sit up.” She knew that complaining wasn't helpful, but the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could think to stop them. When her mother gave her another look, she mumbled an apology. “Sorry, Mother. You're right. This is my fault entirely. I don't know why I was so arrogant in disregarding the captain's orders.”
“It's not unlike you,” her mother murmured back with a hint of teasing in her voice. “You can be very strong-willed at times.”
Margie wanted to refute the comment, but of course her mother was right.
“It just didn't seem reasonable,” she contended. “We don't get our water from the main river, so how could it be polluted? The smaller streams run into the river.”
Louise sighed and wiped her daughter's brow again. “I'm not a scientist, dear, but I'm guessing that bacteria don’t always follow the flow. In any case, you won't be doing that again, will you?”
After another sip of water, Margie took some of the medicine her father had concocted out of the ingredients they'd purchased at Fort Hall the week before. The remedies were difficult to swallow, but she didn't protest in the slightest. Not only had her father spent good money on the items, but she knew that they would restore her health.
“Good girl. Now, just hold on for another hour or so, and we'll be taking a break. Do you want another book to read?”
Their father had numerous books, but they were mostly medical. She wasn't particularly interested in such things, but time passed so slowly that she'd taken to reading them.
“No, that's okay. I still have this one.” She held up a book on contagious diseases.
“Alright then. Call if you need anything.”
Her mother jumped down from the moving wagon and the flaps fell back into place. Margie hated that more tears sprang up and raced down her cheeks, especially since she wasn't even sure what she was crying about anymore. She was just tired of feeling unworthy, tired of feeling angry, and tired of being ill. There was nothing in her life but misery, and every now and then, she wished it would all just end.
After walking around the wagons one time, lightly leaning on her sister's arm, Margie was feeling refreshed. She lowered herself onto the blanket that her mother had put on the ground.
“You're looking better,” Louise commented as her father knelt down to take her pulse.
She didn't reply, but tried to smile.
“Still a little weak, but better than yesterday,” Adam Taylor announced. “Keep taking the mixtures and exercising. Eating well is important too.”
She knew that to him eating well included the dreaded pickles, another item that Captain Holt insisted on. Her mother sliced them very thinly and put them on the bacon sandwich she handed Margie, but all that did was make the whole sandwich horrid. Margie peeled back the top layer of bread, scooped up all the pickle bits and forced them in her mouth, chewing and swallowing quickly.
“They're not as bad as all that,” her mother scolded lightly as Margie pulled a face.
“Not to you,” Margie answered. “But I can't bear them.”
Sarah handed her a cup of water that was lukewarm. She tried hard not to pull a face as she drank it down. How she missed the cool water of the river, but she wouldn’t defy the order again. The first time she'd done it two months ago, nothing bad had happened, so she figured the captain was just being overly cautious. However, for whatever reason, her luck hadn't held out.
“You seem to have more energy today,” came a comment from her right. Margie looked up to see Grace and Hope Riley. Hope had become good friends with Sarah, and her mother was often seen chatting with Grace, but as for her, she'd formed no attachment to either woman.
“I suppose,” she replied and then took a large bite of her sandwich to prevent further conversation.
“And you have your appetite back,” Grace observed. “That's always a good sign.”
Margie nodded, her mouth full of dry bread.
“It's nice today, isn't it?” Hope remarked, taking a seat on the blanket next to Margie. “Not too hot.”
The younger girl's face tilted up to bask in the midday sun. Margie did the exact opposite, shading her pale skin from the harsh rays. Discreetly, she glanced at Hope and felt a stab of envy. Here was another beautiful woman with a steady beau. The youngest of the Morris brothers had given up on his plans to go to California because he wanted to go to Oregon with Hope and her family. Michael, the second oldest, was likewise traveling to Oregon instead of California because he'd fallen in love with Beth, George's sister. And now George and Sarah were a couple. Almost every young person had a partner except for her.
The only other single young people were Lily Howard, Thomas Phillips, and Henry Morris. The first two were barely twenty, if that, but Henry Morris, Michael and Gabriel’s brother, was hardly a young person, not that she was overly young herself. However, she thought that he might be more than five years older than her twenty-three years. She guessed the man to be nearly thirty and of no interest to anyone. Not only was he stubborn, loud, and bossy, but he had become extremely sullen as of late. She suspected it was because he was to head off to California on his own in a few days.
“Henry must be in poor spirits,” Margie commented to Hope. It wasn't kind, but she wanted to erase the smile from the girl's face so that she would have company in her own misery.
However, Hope's face just became thoughtful. “He's certainly not happy to be splitting up with his brothers, but he has no reason to go to Oregon. The only thing that fills his mind is the thought of getting rich in the gold mines.” She sighed a little. “Michael and Gabriel have tried to talk him out of it, but he won't see reason.”
“And what is that?” Margie replied sharply. “Why is it reasonable for him to give up his dreams just because his brothers have changed their minds?”
All four women turned their head in her direction, giving her concerned looks.
“Do you want to get out of the sun?” her mother asked directly. “I think perhaps you've had enough.”
Margie's face flushed. Why had she jumped to Henry’s defense? She couldn’t care less what he did with his life. It had little to no effect on her.
Even though she was embarrassed, she answered coolly, “I'm fine, Mother. Thank you. I just happen to see things a little differently from Hope. That's all. It's only reasonable that we would disagree given the discrepancies in our…perspectives.”
Hope's face tightened a little, showing that she was aware of Margie's intended meaning. Being the daughter of a doctor put Margie, as well as Sarah, in a different class from the preacher's daughter. Still, Hope remained gracious.
“Yes, I suppose it is reasonable. Well, my family prays for your recovery every day. I'm glad to see our prayers are being answered. Now, if you'll excuse me.”
She didn't give any reason for wanting to be excused, and Margie felt a grudging respect for that. Many women gave some kind of pretense when they wanted to pardoned from present company, but Hope did not.
“I suppose we should pack up,” Grace added calmly, rising from the blanket and shaking out her skirts. “I hope you continue to improve, Margie, and that this afternoon ride will not bump you around overly much.”
As soon as the mother and daughter had parted, both Sarah and her mother turned on her.
; “Why do you have to be so hard on them?” her sister asked. “Especially on Hope? She's never done or said a single thing against you.”
Margie sniffed. “And why should she? I haven't given her any reason to do that.”
“Yes, daughter,” her mother returned solemnly. “You have, but she forgives your slights each time. I thought perhaps this sickness was God's way of taming your tongue, but it doesn't seem to have worked.”
Margie was surprised, not so much as her mother's chastising, but more at her mention of God. The Taylor family wasn't ungodly, but neither did they speak of such matters so openly.
“I am feeling tired after all,” she replied rigidly. “I think I'll lie down before we head off. I should rest as much as possible so that I will be able to walk before we reach the mountains.”
The wagon party would be starting to travel towards the most difficult part of the trail, the Blue Mountains. That particular climb was still a week off or more, but the captain said that they would begin to feel a difference very soon. Margie hoped to be much better by then as she couldn't imagine lying in the wagon as it went up the mountain range.
Banishing all other thought, especially those regarding her behavior towards Hope and her mother, she returned to the wagon and lay down, willing herself to sleep.
2
The afternoon turned muggy and the captain decided to camp a little earlier than usual. He encouraged the everyone to get a good night's rest because the next day, they would have to cross Raft River. Henry Morris looked at his two brothers, neither of whom wanted to meet his eye. As soon as they crossed the river, they would part ways. He would be going south, and his brothers would be continuing west to Willamette Valley.
Although they weren't bickering about the decisions that had been made anymore, there was an uneasy tension that filled their every moment. It was as though none of them wanted to bring up the issue for fear of creating more conflict.
“River's a bit low, captain says,” Gabriel mentioned to his brothers. “Shouldn't be too hard to cross.”
Michael and Henry grunted a little. Gabriel hated conflict more than the other two. It was clear he was trying to make conversation of a neutral sort.
“So, Beth and Hope's family are willing to take your gear and whatnot, right?” Henry asked tersely. The words were hard to say, but Henry knew that they had to talk of practical things.
“Yeah,” Michael replied, and Gabriel nodded. “They have room now, what with half their supplies gone.”
They were four months into a five or six-month journey, so it was reasonable that more than half of the food staples had been consumed.
“Preacher Riley said the same,” Gabriel agreed. “No problem. And of course, you'll be taking all the equipment, so…”
They had purchased a number of mining items back in Missouri where the prices were much lower than in California. Henry had done significant research before setting out and found out that the cost of everything was unbelievably high in California. Some commodities were fifty to a hundred times more expensive there, so they'd stocked up on essentials such as boots, clothing, blankets, tools and other supplies they’d need. They'd also loaded their wagon up with as many staples as they could, things that wouldn't go bad over time such as sugar, coffee, and canned goods, much of which was still in their wagon.
And of course they still had money with them. Henry knew that they'd need it to buy a claim and pay other cost of living items.
“Should divvy things up tonight,” he informed them in a formal voice. He was trying to hide his emotions and doing a very poor job of it. “Morning might be rushed.”
“We can do it on the other side,” Michael responded, equally reserved. “No need to rush. Probably won't do much more than cross the river tomorrow.”
Henry knew that was true, but part of him just wanted to get things over with now.
“I'll start sorting things out in the wagon,” he informed them as though he hadn’t heard what Michael had said.
Henry stacked his dinner plate on top of the others and headed to the wagon. It was still light enough to see everything inside, and he just wanted something to keep him busy so that he didn't have to think about what would happen the next day.
An hour passed, and he'd pretty much separated all their belongings. He stepped back and viewed the items with a heavy heart. Was he really going to say good-bye to his brothers tomorrow and most likely never see them again? It didn't seem possible.
When he stepped down from the wagon, he saw their campsite was empty. Both his brothers had taken to going to the preacher's for an evening Bible study. Henry never saw the point of so much Bible learning. His parents had taken them to church when they were young, and that was enough for him. God made the heavens and the earth, sin entered the world, separating man and God. Then Jesus came, died on the cross, and provided a way for man to have a way to get to Heaven.
He knew all these things and believed them in a tangential way, but none of it affected his daily thoughts or actions. It didn't seem relevant somehow. As best he could, he lived a good life, didn't indulge in vices overly much, respected his elders, and didn't take advantage of women. Except for the occasional drink like what he'd had at Fort Hall, he’d considered himself next door to a Puritan.
But then he'd heard of the opportunity in California and felt that he deserved to give it a shot. Hadn't he basically been the parent to his brothers over the past ten years since their mother had died? He'd only been sixteen when that had happened and their father, so overcome with heartache, had hardly been able to function after that. He understood. She'd been the most amazing mother and wife to walk the earth, and they all missed her terribly. However, if he hadn't stepped up to make sure his brothers ate, bathed, and went to school, they might have starved or become wild.
Thankfully, money hadn't been much of an issue as his mother's parents had left her an inheritance, but it had only been enough to sustain them, nothing more. There hadn't been any extras, and their father barely made it into haberdashery where he'd once been a manager. The owner hadn't had the heart to fire him, even though he spent most of his time in the backroom instead of waiting on customers, but merely demoted him to salesman.
Finally, when it became clear that their father was utterly unproductive at the store, Mr. Setters, the owner, had come to talk to Henry. Because of his generous nature, the man had invited him to work in his father's place. The two of them went into the store every morning, but Henry was the only one who worked.
He'd been eighteen at the time.
Seven years went by like this until their father had passed away in his sleep, clutching the only picture they'd had of their mother. He was only fifty-four at the time.
Since the other two were grown by that point and had jobs of their own, they'd managed a decent burial. When they pooled their resources, they found they had enough to start fresh somewhere new. One day, a customer came into the store to tell Henry about the gold rush in California, and he thought it was the opportunity they’d been waiting for.
The other two hadn't been as keen, but they knew that Henry had given up his youth to care for them, so they'd given in. However, after finding love, they couldn't indulge him any longer.
So, he would go to California alone and make his fortune.
The sun was just starting to set, and Henry decided to take a short walk down to the river. The waning light reflected off the water and sent colors shimmering off its surface. For a moment, he thought he saw gold in the river.
It was just a trick of the light, he knew, but he decided to get his gold pan anyway. Returning to the edge of the river, he scooped up some rock and practiced sifting it. Nothing turned up, but he found the action relaxing.
“Are you expecting to find your fortune here?” came a female voice from directly behind him. He turned to see Margie, the elder of the doctor's two daughters, walking toward him with the aid of some kind of crutch. Ordinarily, he didn't talk to wo
men on the wagon train, and they didn't talk to him, so he was at a loss.
“No,” he mumbled. “Just practicing.”
She came a little closer, her gait slow and careful. Glancing up at her, he noticed that she'd lost weight. Her clothes hung off her slight frame. Dysentery would do that to a person.
“Can I watch?” she asked, her voice a little forlorn.
Shrugging first and then nodding, Henry continued to sift the rocks, but it was no longer relaxing. He felt her eyes on him as strong as the midday sun.
“Want to try?” he offered, more as a way of distracting her than because he wanted to share the activity. To his surprise, she nodded.
“If I find something, do I get to keep it?”
He laughed a little. “How 'bout we split it, fifty-fifty, since it's my pan.”
She started to kneel down, but he could see that she was unsteady, so he offered her his hand. She grasped it and then let go as soon as she was beside him.
“I just scoop up the rocks from the edge?”
With great patience, he showed her what he'd learned from the men who had once searched for gold in Georgia. They hadn't found much, but they knew what they were doing.
For several minutes, she just lifted the pan and sifted as he showed her.
“I know I'm not going to find anything,” she remarked. “But the prospect is kind of fun.”
He nodded. “Just imagine doing this in a place where men have actually found gold the size of your fist.”
Eyes widening, she looked at him intently. “Really? Who told you that?”
A trickle of irritation ran through him. “I've done some research. The gold is there, but a man has to be willing to go. I don't know why my brothers can't see that. Women will always be there. The gold won't.”
He felt, more than saw, Margie's demeanor change. “It's no wonder that you're alone,” she declared coolly, pushing herself up off the ground with her crutch. “You don't seem to have any idea what it takes to be in a relationship.”
