While at the wagon, she lit a lantern and pulled out their well-worn map, carefully unfolding it and tracing her finger over the distance they’d already gone. It was impressive to see they’d traversed most of the continent by now. And it made the distance they had yet to go seem a bit smaller.
She pulled on her shawl and folded Ruth’s sweater over her arm, blowing out the lantern to conserve kerosene. Then as she was leaving her wagon, she heard a rustling sound nearby. As always, she paused and listened intently and waited, prepared to grab her gun if necessary.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She peered through the dusk darkness to see Will Bramford cautiously approaching. “Oh, hello,” she said with relief. “I thought perhaps some kind of wildcat was about to leap.”
“It is wise to be careful this time of night. I was walking, and thought I saw a light over here—and then it went out. I thought perhaps you’d gone to bed, although it seems a bit early.”
She reached for the lantern again, taking a moment to strike a match. “I was trying to conserve lamp oil,” she admitted. “But I think I’d rather have the light.”
“Have you noticed how it’s getting darker earlier? Those nice long days will get shorter and shorter as fall gets closer.”
“So it’s not just my imagination.”
“What’s that?”
“I felt like fall was in the air. But it’s not even the middle of August.”
“We’re farther north now,” he reminded her. “Probably close to the forty-fifth parallel. Back in Kentucky, you were below the fortieth parallel.”
“I can barely remember latitudes and longitudes from geography,” she admitted. “And I even had to teach it in school for a while…before I got married.”
“You were a teacher?” He looked both surprised and amused.
“Not for very long.” She smiled shyly. “James didn’t think it proper for a married woman to teach school. I was only seventeen when I took over teaching for my friend Malinda when she got married…” She sighed sadly.
“The same Malinda who was recently widowed?”
She nodded. “Yes. She’s a year older than me, but we were close the whole time growing up. Then we married the Martin brothers, and it was as if we became sisters.”
“You must have missed her when she left.”
“Oh, I did. I missed her dearly.” Elizabeth reached back into the wagon, feeling around for the map again. “Anyway, I’m trying to remember where the longitudes and latitudes go.” She unfolded the map, spreading it on the tailgate near the lamplight. “My map doesn’t seem to have those marks on it.”
Will reached past her, tracing his finger through the middle of the country, from just above Kentucky to California. “That’s about where the fortieth parallel goes,” he explained. Now he drew another imaginary line a bit higher up. “This is probably about where the forty-fifth would be. So you can see it’s quite a bit higher. That would account for longer nights in summer and shorter days in the winter. Where we’re heading in Oregon is about the same latitude as where we lived in Boston.”
She nodded. “Well, thank you for the lesson.” She folded up the map again. “How is it you know so much about geography?”
“I suppose it’s not so much to do with geography as politics.”
“Politics?” She was confused.
“The Kansas–Nebraska Act of 1854…forty degrees is where they drew the line dividing those states…the difference between North and South.”
“Oh…” She nodded. “You mean if the country were to be divided. North and South.”
“The country is already divided.” The conviction of his words startled her.
“Well, I suppose it is. But surely it’s something that can be worked out by our government.” She fiddled with a shell button on Ruth’s sweater.
“You truly believe our government, which is as divided as our states, can resolve this peacefully?”
“I don’t rightly know. But I’d like to think they could.”
“I wish you were right, Elizabeth, but I feel certain that this is going to be settled through bloodshed…similar to what happened in Kansas.”
“So perhaps we’re not really leaving civilization behind us after all?” She studied his creased brow. It was clear he was frustrated over their country’s condition. “I mean, if states were to truly take up arms and go to war against each other…” She attempted a laugh. “Although I find that unimaginable.”
He just shook his head. “I hope you’re right.”
“And since we have enough challenges of our own to consider out here in the untamed West, I suppose it’s easy to push thoughts of a war like that out of one’s mind.” She smiled. “As the good book says, ‘Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.’”
Now he smiled. “I like the way you think.”
She suddenly grew uneasy about being out here like this, alone with Will in the dark. What sort of an example was she setting for her children? Or for his? “Perhaps you’d like to walk me to my parents’ campsite,” she suggested.
“Thank you,” he told her. “I would like to.”
“And if you’re truly hankering after a political discussion, I am certain my father can accommodate you. I assure you he has plenty of opinions on this subject,” she said as they strolled. “Sometimes he can argue quite brilliantly against slavery. But other times he can go on and on about the oppressions of the North. That’s when the womenfolk tend to sneak away.”
“Asa sounds nearly as divided as our country.” Will laughed as they entered her parents’ campsite. “I’ll have to think twice before I start talking politics with—”
“Politics?” Asa looked up from where he was sitting by the fire, working on a broken piece of harness. “You want to talk politics?”
“Well, now…I’m not so sure.”
“See what you started.” Elizabeth chuckled as she took the sweater over to Ruth. “I thought you might need this.”
“What kind of politics did you want to discuss?” Asa asked Will.
“Will was just telling me about the fortieth parallel and how it’s becoming the dividing line between North and South,” Elizabeth told Asa.
“I’ll tell you what divides North and South,” Asa began. “The North fails to appreciate that it needs the South.”
Will sat down on a barrel across from Asa. “I agree with you on that.”
Asa looked up from the harness in surprise. “You do?”
“I certainly do. Not only that, but I have to confess that I think the North sometimes acts superior to the South.”
Asa nodded. “You got that right. Just because we Southerners are mostly farmers is no reason for Northerners to treat us as if we’re inferior.”
“So you consider yourself a Southerner?”
“Well, not anymore.” Asa grinned. “But I am a farmer.”
“So do your sympathies lie with the South?”
“I’m not rightly sure.” Asa set the harness strap down. “But I fear Kentucky will be caught in the middle of the mess. And the more I think of it, I’m not sorry I won’t be there to witness it. Nor do I want to choose sides.”
“What would you do if you were forced to choose?” Will asked.
“Well…as you know, my family and I oppose slavery, which might make one think we were aligned with the North. But I’ll be the first to admit I wasn’t always in that camp. I owned slaves and felt justified in doing so.”
“What made you change your mind?”
Asa glanced over to where Elizabeth was warming herself by the fire. “My children. It took me a while, but I finally came around.”
“Did you know that Massachusetts has been abolitionist since 1780?”
“I reckon you folks don’t have much in the way of agriculture either.” Asa tied off a piece of leather, pulling it tightly with his teeth. “Now on account of me being against owning slaves, you might think I’m leaning to the North. But
the truth is I do understand why plantation owners feel they need slaves. And I know some slave owners, including myself when I kept slaves, who treat their coloreds with more human kindness than some Northerners treat their own labor force.”
“Perhaps, but our laborers up north are free to come and go at will. At the end of the day, they go to their own homes and families,” Will pointed out.
“I’ve read about small children working up there in your Northern mills,” Asa said with conviction. “I’ve heard tell of how them little ones toil away such long hours that they never see the light of day. I reckon that’s not much different from slavery.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more.” Will nodded. “I have lobbied for labor laws to protect children.”
“Will Bramford!” Asa chuckled. “How am I to argue with you if you keep agreeing with me on every cotton-pickin’ thing?”
“Now you just wait a minute. I’m sitting here listening to an abolitionist with Southern sympathies…I think you can produce a spirited argument all by yourself, Asa.”
Asa slapped his thigh and laughed loudly. “You’re welcome to my fire to talk politics anytime!”
After Fort Boise, where everyone tried to gather enough food supplies to get them through the next leg of their journey, they entered into some very rugged but handsome terrain. According to the captain, they were now in “real Oregon country,” complete with mountains and forests and rivers and streams. Beautiful to the eye but difficult to travel—especially with a wagon.
“It’s no wonder that mountain men travel light,” Elizabeth said to Lavinia as the two of them walked up ahead of the train on the trail. “I’m sure they make much better time than we do with our wagons.” She was thinking of a pair of trappers they’d seen earlier that day while waiting to ford a small river. The trappers had made a few jokes at the emigrants’ expense and then had simply led their mules across the river and disappeared from sight.
“I can’t imagine being able to live very comfortably with only what I could carry on the back of a mule,” Lavinia said.
“Sometimes I think I could.”
“Really?” Lavinia peered curiously at her. “Are you turning into a wild woman, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth laughed. “I certainly hope not. It’s only that I am so weary of the snail’s pace we seem to travel in these parts. Waiting for the wagons to cross a stream that is easily passed over on foot. Watching with fear and trepidation as wagons are pulled by ropes up a steep ravine. Sometimes it feels so tedious and never ending. And just to get our goods to our destination. Do you not ever see the folly in it?”
Lavinia firmly shook her head. “What would you cook with if you didn’t have pots and pans? Where would you sleep without bedding? And how would you build a house if you didn’t have tools?”
“Yes…I suppose you are right.” Even as she said this, Elizabeth wondered what it would be like to live like a mountain man. Was it really so different from what they were doing now? If anything, it seemed easier.
“Some of our fellow travelers are traveling lighter,” Lavinia said quietly. “Have you noticed how many children are shoeless? Or how many women are wearing what appear to be rags? Do you think they didn’t pack enough goods? Or have they simply ceased to care about appearances?”
“I fear it’s both.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “Sometimes I feel guilty and want to share goods with others. But my parents warn against this. My father is a generous man, but he says if I begin to give to some, how will I justify not giving to others?”
“Asa is a wise man.”
Elizabeth sighed. “And my mother reminds me that what I’ve packed is for the welfare of my own children.”
“That’s true.”
“But as good Christians, shouldn’t we extend our hand to the poor?”
“Jesus said the poor would be with us always.”
Elizabeth frowned.
“Besides, don’t forget how your father and brother share game and fish with others in need. And Hugh and Will and the boys will be eternally grateful for all the hunting and fishing lessons your menfolk have given them. Do not underestimate the benefits your family has shared with many. Even Captain Brownlee uses you folks as examples of how to live successfully along the trail.”
Elizabeth knew that was true. But she also knew that they could probably do more to help others. Lately she had felt torn. She’d see a painfully thin child, and if no one was looking, she’d slip the hungry waif a biscuit left over from breakfast. Then she’d beg the child not to tell anyone of her generosity—not because she was trying to do good deeds in secret as the Bible said, but because she was worried that she’d soon have a whole lineup of ravenous children begging from her. If that happened, she would be putting her entire family at risk. Life on the Oregon Trail wasn’t only exhausting, it was a balancing act between generosity and survival.
Chapter Twenty-Two
They reached the mighty Columbia River on the third week of August. This was a crossroads where once again travelers would part ways. About half the wagons would cross the river and, led by Jim McCall, continue heading north. The rest of the wagon train, led by the captain, would continue west, following the river down to Dalles City. There they would transfer their wagons to a raft, which would transport them all the way to Fort Vancouver.
Mrs. Taylor planned to travel north with the Petersons and to eventually reach the mission near Fort Nez Percé, which was known to some as Fort Walla Walla. With her bundle on her back and her group readying to cross the river, Mrs. Taylor came to say her final farewells to Elizabeth and her family. With tears in her eyes, Mrs. Taylor hugged each one of them—a display of affection that surprised them all. Then she thanked them for their kindness and generosity, and finally she went to board the raft, where the Petersons were waiting for her.
Elizabeth watched Mrs. Taylor, silently praying that God would watch out for her and help her along her way. She admired her courage but was concerned about how a single woman would fare in a mission that was expecting a married couple. And then, just as the men were preparing to untie the raft, Mrs. Taylor, with her bundle still in hand, leaped off the raft and ran lickety-split back to where Elizabeth and her family were still gathered.
“Oh, please,” Mrs. Taylor breathlessly begged Elizabeth. “May I travel with you? Might I join you on your journey to southern Oregon? I want to go to Elk Creek too!”
Elizabeth glanced at her father, but he simply smiled and nodded.
“Of course,” Elizabeth grasped her hand. “You are part of our family now.”
“Truly?” Mrs. Taylor blinked with tears in her eyes. “You mean that?”
“Certainly.”
So Mrs. Taylor ran back to the raft, calling out to them that she had changed her mind and telling them goodbye. As the raft began to move, she remained there, a lonely figure in a dusty black dress, just watching and waving as the Petersons and their wagon were ferried away from her. Elizabeth wondered if Mrs. Taylor was also saying goodbye to her dreams of being a missionary.
Traveling along the south shore of the Columbia River had benefits as well as challenges. The benefits included plentiful game, good fishing, and easy access to water. The challenges were in the terrain. Uphill and downhill…again and again. And the air in these parts was dusty and hot and dry. But knowing the end of the trail was only days away, they pressed onward.
“Why can’t we float down the river right now?” Ruth asked one afternoon. “Why do we have to wait until Dalles City?” Their wagon was stopped, waiting for their turn to cross over a stream that rushed into the river. But stretched out beside them, the river looked enticingly calm and peaceful and serene…inviting.
“Grandpa said there are some treacherous waterfalls ahead,” Elizabeth explained. “Falls that would wreck our raft, and that would be the end of our trip.”
“Oh.” Ruth nodded with a serious expression.
Before the day was over, they saw Celio Falls for the
mselves. Thundering majestically over a cliff of rocks, they were loud and white and frighteningly beautiful. “See why we’re still traveling on land?” Elizabeth asked Ruth.
She simply nodded. But they all stood there for a while, watching with interest at the way the barely clothed Indians speared and netted salmon among the rocks there.
“Looks like there’s good fishing in these parts,” Asa said. “Once we’re on the river, we’ll have plenty of time to catch some.”
A day and a half later, they reached Dalles City and enjoyed a lively celebratory party that lasted all evening, complete with music and dancing and good food. But the next day they learned the unfortunate news. Although Captain Brownlee had prearranged for their transportation down the Columbia River, he was dismayed to discover that most of the rafts he’d commissioned, as well as the men to pilot them, had already gone downriver. Someone else had offered them more money.
“When I spoke to the captain this afternoon, he was fit to be tied,” Asa told his family the next evening after supper. Mrs. Taylor and Ruth had gone to the wagon to read, but the rest of them were still gathered around the campfire, eager to hear Asa’s report.
“Captain Brownlee told me that the wagon master who commandeered those rafts used to be a friend of his. And he said that this overland transport business is turning into a money-grabbing, cutthroat industry. In fact, he declared that this might be the last train he leads west.”
“Poor Captain Brownlee.” Clara shook her head as she refilled Asa’s coffee cup.
“What about poor us?” Elizabeth said. “How will we make it to Fort Vancouver before our ship sets sail now?”
“Don’t go flying off the handle,” Asa told her. “Being that we’re still the lead wagon, the captain assured me that our unit will get the first available raft. However, he also informed me that the raft is only large enough to accommodate six wagons. And he mentioned how a smaller raft is more maneuverable in the rapids.”
A Dream for Tomorrow Page 21
