by Barbara Goss
“It will work, I know it will,” she said.
“There are so many reasons why it'll never work, Caroline. But let’s say we did, what happens when we get to Oregon?”
“You go your way and I’ll go mine.”
“I’ll think about it, but that’s as much as I can promise right now. I’ll buy your breakfast tomorrow morning, and we’ll talk some more.” He paid the waiter, and left with a simple wave.
That night in bed, Caroline thought about her conversations with Simon. She wondered if he would accept her idea. She thought it could be a lark, and his being handsome wouldn't exactly pose a hardship. Not only was he attractive, but also his kindness and sympathetic nature had drawn her to him. Only a descent man would go out of his way to help her, and even buy her a few meals.
Simon tossed and turned in the tent bed he'd set up next to his wagon. What sort of problems might Caroline’s “arrangement” cause? He'd felt sympathy for her and her dilemma because she had no family, and he knew she didn't have any money.
She reminded him of his sister, Caroline, and maybe that’s what was behind his strong desire to want to help her. He'd want someone to help his sister if she were in need.
Bottom line was that he was just glad Caroline had asked him instead of some other man who might have taken advantage of her situation, but how could he possibly help her with the idea she'd concocted? Could it even work?
He finally dozed off before coming to a definite decision.
When Simon walked into the hotel dining room the next morning, Caroline smiled at him, wearing the same, hopeful expression as she had the night before. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. He sat down across from her and returned the smile.
“Well?” she asked eagerly.
“Well, good morning to you too.” Simon replied with a grin.
“Sorry. Good morning, Simon.”
“Do you like eggs and ham?” he asked.
She nodded. After he'd ordered their meal, she asked, “Well?” again.
Simon rubbed his forehead. “I’ve given your arrangement a lot of thought, and I can only foresee one big problem with it.”
“If we say we met and married here, in Independence, everyone will think we're newlyweds, and they'll expect us to act affectionately toward each other, and to sleep in the same tent.”
“Oh,” she said. “I hadn’t thought that far into the plan.”
“However,” he said, as their breakfast was served, “there is another way. No one has seen us together, other than having a meal here, something any married couple would do. Does anyone that’s going to Oregon know you traveled here with your friends?”
“Miranda’s father signed with the wagon master for the three of us, but he already canceled all of us, thinking I would return with them. Miranda and I didn’t go along. We stayed here at the hotel, so no one from the train would have seen us. Why?”
“Good,” he said. “We could pose as a not-so-newlywed couple, say, one that's already been married for a few years, or something.”
Caroline clapped her hands silently. “Yes! That would absolutely work!”
“Hold on! There'll have to be strict rules."
Caroline’s smile suddenly turned to a frown. “Such as?”
“You'll carry out all of your domestic duties, and we'll definitely sleep apart, and keep our relationship friendly, but not romantic. And when we reach Oregon, we each go our own, separate ways.”
“I agree with those rules,” she said. “How soon can we leave? When my friends leave for Indiana, I won't be able to stay here, at the hotel, any longer.” She blushed. “I’m out of funds.”
“I’m not staying at a hotel. I'm bunking out in a tent near my wagons.” He rubbed his forehead, something he always did when thinking.
“The only thing I can offer you,” he said, hesitantly, as if he thought she’d react negatively to his suggestion, “is my tent. I can sleep under the wagon.”
“Wouldn’t it look strange?” she asked. “A married couple sleeping like that? Also, it’s still quite chilly at night.”
Simon rubbed his forehead again. “Let’s take it one step at a time for now. Maybe one of us will think of something. My appointment with the wagon master is today, so I’ll add you to his roster as my wife, and find out when the train is set to leave.”
Caroline smiled at him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Simon. I’m so grateful.”
He stood, and held up his hand in warning, “Don’t thank me yet, Caroline. Your job on the trail will be no Sunday picnic. I expect you to pull your weight by cooking, keeping the wagon with the personal supplies orderly, doing laundry and dishes, collecting firewood, and sometimes helping with the animals.”
“I’ll do my best,” she said, startled at the change in his manner.
“No,” he said sternly. “Your best isn't good enough. I expect you to do your jobs perfectly and without complaint—it’s part of the rules.”
She stared at him in surprise. “All right,” she answered meekly.
“Good day, Mr. Miller,” greeted the wagon master, who sat behind a large desk. His “office” was in the rear of the general store. “I’m Jesse Flint and I’ll be leading this trip.” He nodded to the chair on the other side of the desk, “Have a seat, won’t you?”
“Good day, Mr. Miller,” greeted the wagon master, sitting behind his large desk. His “office” was at the rear of the general store. “I’m Jesse Flint. I’ll be leading this trip.” He nodded to the chair on the other side of the desk. “Have a seat, won’t you?”
Once seated, Simon examined the man carefully: he was stocky, but not fat, probably about forty, with slight graying around the temples. His complexion appeared leather-like due to sun exposure. His mannerisms showed him to be a man accustomed to taking charge. His muscular body and attitude led Simon to believe the wagon train would be in capable hands. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Flint.” They shook hands.
“It will be a long journey together, so we might as well start out on a first name basis. You can call me Jesse. You are Simon Miller, correct?”
Simon nodded. “I’ve heard nothing but the best about your leadership, sir.”
“Thank you,” he replied. “Now, how many are in your party?”
Simon cleared his throat. “I have three wagons. One is personal, and the other two are freight. There is my wife, and I’ve hired two men to drive my wagons and help with the animals. I’m also bringing along ten cattle, twelve oxen, and a milk cow.”
“Good! Good. You’re driving the third wagon, I take it?”
Simon nodded.
“I’ll need an itemized list of your freight, and the full names of your party,” he said, scribbling into a logbook.
Simon took a paper from his shirt pocket, and read, “Jake McGrew, Henry Greenlee, and my wife, Caroline.” He pulled out a second piece of paper, a longer document, from his pocket, “Here's an itemized list of my freight.”
“Ah, a man who comes prepared,” Jesse remarked. “You’ve probably taken this trip before, then?”
“Yes. This will be my second trip.”
Jesse nodded. “Then I take it you’ve already marked your animals, and you've ensured your wagons are sturdy and well-built? I’ll be inspecting them all tomorrow. If the wagons aren't strong, they'll never survive the journey. I also have no need to remind you of the perils along the way, since you already know about them all.”
Simon nodded. “I even had Mr. Murphy make me several extra wagon wheels, which I’ve secured to the underbody of my wagons.”
Flint looked pleased. He nodded. “Excellent! Murphy’s the best.” He sighed. “I wish every family prepared as well as you have. We only have a few more days left in April, and I'd like to start before May, if at all possible. I’ve set the roll date as Friday, unless there are complications.”
After signing all the documents, Simon left, feeling extremely guilty about having lied to Flint. He’d been raised in a home wher
e they'd read the Bible every evening, and church was rarely missed. He told himself that God might overlook it, since his lying was to help an unfortunate person in her time of need.
Flint had said they'd be leaving on Friday. Today was only Tuesday. What would he do with Caroline until Friday if her friends left before then?
It rained the following morning. Simon donned a wide-brimmed hat and set out for the hotel. He had an idea. He hoped he’d find Caroline in the dining room again, but she wasn’t there, much to his chagrin. He couldn’t recall her room number, either, but he thought perhaps the hotel desk might be able to direct him. When he reached the hotel lobby, there Caroline sat, on a bench in the far corner, large knapsack at her side. He hadn’t even noticed her on his way in to the hotel, but he approached her now and said, “Good morning,” to her, quite cheerfully.
“It is not,” she said sadly. “Miranda and her father left this morning, it's pouring rain out, and I haven’t anywhere to go.”
“That is sad news,” Simon said. “Maybe my news will cheer you up some.”
Caroline looked hopeful.
“I have a tent and wagons. I’ve cleaned up my personal wagon, so you can sleep there, while I sleep in the tent.”
Caroline almost smiled, then a sudden thought occurred to her, dampening her spirits. “Won’t it look strange for a married couple to sleep apart?”
“Not if she's afraid of outdoor things like critters or insects. Or perhaps she can’t tolerate the hard, cold ground—we’ll think of something.”
Caroline brightened. “It might work.”
“It might.” He smiled at her, and she felt a tug at her heart. She thought it must be due to his kindness.
“So, Mrs. Miller, may I escort you 'home'?"
3
Caroline’s first peek at her new quarters did not impress her, but she felt grateful. It would be compact, but she’d make do. While enough room for her to stand up, Simon had to bend a bit. He’d pushed all the trunks and crates to the front and side, leaving her enough room to sleep on the right side. He’d placed a thick comforter on the wagon floor for her to sleep on with another warm looking blanket folded at the foot of the “bed." When she stepped out of the wagon, she stood amazed. Covered wagons lined up as far as the eye could see in both directions.
“I didn’t notice this many wagon’s when I picked up my things from Mr. Griffin’s wagon the other day. How can we travel with so many wagons?”
“They were probably still in the process of lining up. I imagine Jesse Flint will break them off into several smaller trains. It’s the safest way to travel because there are all sorts of Indians out there. Some still attack wagon trains, but only the small ones. Every wagon on this train is equipped with guns and they know it. They don’t usually mess with the large trains. Yet, having too many wagons together makes it hard on the leader. They have to be parked in a circle each night with all the animals in the center. It would be hard to coordinate with sixty or more wagons. So they usually break them up into several smaller trains that ride together. The train I rode on two years ago, rotated the wagons so each wagon had a turn being first in line.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see, the dust!”
“Oh.” She bit her lip. Now she had another worry. She didn’t lie about being able to cook, but she’d never cooked over an open fire.
Simon looked so proud of his accomplishments. Caroline had to compliment him. “It’s perfect.”
“I’ve even made room for your sack of belongings on the large trunk.”
Caroline smiled. “When do we leave?”
“Jesse, said Friday.”
“Today is Wednesday, so what will we do until then?”
“Relax and get acquainted.”
“Now,” he instructed, “let’s get back in the wagon, so I can show you where to find everything you’ll be needing.”
Caroline grew a bit overwhelmed when she saw the huge barrel of wheat flour, and other supplies in such large quantities. “Will we need this much?”
“We can only hope it lasts,“ he said and pointed to the meats. Here is ham, smoked beef, smoked salmon, herring, and sardines. You won’t have to cook these; those only need warming.”
Caroline felt relieved to hear that.
“And over here are soup tins, cheese tins, olive oil and nuts. Make sure the containers are closed tightly so nothing spoils.”
Caroline nodded, speechless.
“And there is rice, beans, peas, crackers and soda biscuits in these crates and tins,” he pointed. “In this corner, are the dried fruits.” He looked at her closely. “We’ll have enough food to last six months if we don’t waste any, and are careful and conservative. We have to feed Henry and Jake too.”
“And now,” her lips formed a weak smile, “you have yet another mouth to feed.”
He smiled patting her shoulder. “I think we can manage.” He helped her down from the wagon and announced, “Now we’ll visit the animals.”
The sleeping arrangement worked out better than Caroline thought. Simon’s tent stood right outside the wagon, so she felt safe. He slept with his rifle at his side.
When she woke the first morning, she dressed and stepped out of the wagon to a serious Simon.
“Where’s breakfast?” he asked flatly.
“Breakfast?” she asked sleepy-eyed.
“You know the first meal in the morning…”
Caroline looked around and saw each wagon up and down the row had either women cooking over a hot fire or the family sitting around the fire eating. “Oh.”
“I’ll give you a break today,” Simon said, “but from now on, you have to start the fire before dawn. Our lives depend on it. We have to get over the Rockies before the snows. The whole trip we will always be pressing for time. Time is of essence.” He looked at her worried face. “What’s wrong now?”
Caroline picked at her cotton frock, “I don’t know how to build a fire.”
Simon shook his head… “But you said…”
“I’ll learn,” she said interrupted.
“I’ll show you, once. Do you know how to make pancakes or something edible?”
She shuffled her feet. “I’ll learn.”
Simon rolled his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I will learn. I promise.”
Caroline watched Simon build the fire. While he fanned the flames, she strolled around the wagons and sought out the friendliest looking woman. Thankfully, for Caroline the woman happily showed her how to make a pancake batter from the unbolted wheat flour. “I thought flour was white,” commented Caroline.
“Back home it is,” the woman informed her, “but white flour diets don’t agree with the body for 6 months of travel. This wheat flour is more nourishing too. It doesn’t make a smooth bread like we’re used to, but you’ll come to appreciate it.” The women looked at Caroline and asked, “Where’s your apron?”
“Apron?”
“All the women wear aprons. We only have so many dresses and aprons help keep them clean as possible." She whispered, “It cuts down on the laundry too.”
Back at the wagon, Caroline pulled out the ingredients she needed and mixed her batter as she’d seen the woman mix it. She found a skillet tied to the outside of the wagon and thought herself all set. She looked at Simon, who stood watching with hands on his hips. “What do I put the pan on?” she asked meekly. “Surely it doesn’t sit right on the fire.”
“A problem on my first trip, but this time I came prepared.” He went to the opposite side of the wagon and returned with a metal appliance that fit over the fire, and pots could be hung from it and on the side was a flat piece for setting pots. He set it over the fire. “Be careful when you put this tripod away after meals. It will be extremely hot. Use this,” he pointed to a thick cloth he had hanging from the side of the wagon. “You simply lift it using this cloth and hang it on the hook on the other side of the wagon.”
Caroline poure
d the batter and waited for the cakes to bubble. While she waited, she decided to wash in the bucket of water Simon must have fetched. When she came back to turn over the cakes… they were a quite brown. Food never browned that fast on their stove at home. She flipped them and hoped Simon wouldn’t notice how black they were. She’d put them on his tin plate upside down.
Simon ate his cakes without a remark, but he seemed to drink more water than usual. Caroline had to admit, the charred cakes tasted strong and bitter.
“Is there no way to make coffee?” she asked.
“Some do,” he said, “but it’s more trouble than it’s worth, but there is tea.”
“Where do I wash the dishes?” she asked.
Simon pointed, “There is a creek sprouting from the river yonder. It’s where I got the bucket of water. It’s also your job. First job of the day is fetching water, then building a fire, after that cooking.”
Caroline put her hands on her hips. “And what will you be doing while I do all that?”
“I’ll be harnessing the team, checking all the wagons, listening for warnings and feeding my animals.”
“Oh,” she said, but thought, this life is not for me. I’ll never adapt. It’s not too late to go back to town.
Simon gave her the first smile since she saw him that morning. “Don’t worry, I’ll help as much as I can.” Then, he took on a more serious demeanor. “There is much to do. You'll see. It’s a tough life. If you don’t think you can handle it, I’ll take you back to town and you can make a nice life for yourself there.”
Doubtful herself, she didn’t give him an answer but grabbed the dishes and skillet and sped to the creek to wash them. She attacked the pan with vigor. I’ll never be able to do all those chores! She reminded herself the choice had been hers, and she could still go back to town. She’d had plenty of housework to do for her aunt and uncle, but nothing compared to these rugged chores. Could she handle it? Did she have a choice?
She hung the clean skillet on the hook alongside the wagon and put away the tripod as Simon had instructed. She noticed Simon watching her as he oiled a harness. “Carrie,” he called. “Come sit with me a minute.”
