by Barbara Goss
Losing the paper with the directions to Carrie’s family would not deter Simon. How many people could there possibly be in Oregon City? He’d find her if it took him another five months to do so. He rented a place in which to store his wagon, still containing his household furnishings. He decided it would be better not to sell them. He had enough money, and he and Carrie could use it to furnish the house he’d build for them.
He smiled. He could hardly wait. As yet, there wasn’t a jewelry store in Portland, but the hotel manager told him about a man a few blocks away who made and sold jewelry from his home, and who expected to eventually move into a shop eventually. Simon went to him to pick out a gold band and a beautiful, sapphire ring to match Carrie’s eyes.
Simon had sold the empty wagon, but couldn’t part with Daisy. He'd ridden his horse and pulled Daisy behind it, all the way to Oregon City.
He stopped at a barbershop for a haircut. Everyone there was talking about the upcoming election between Lincoln and Douglas. While in the barber chair, the mustached barber stated, “If Lincoln wins the election it could mean trouble for the South. He wants to contain or abolish slavery.”
“I've heard just a bit of the rumors. I’ve been traveling for six months and haven’t heard any recent news.”
“It’s going to be a close election, I fear, because of the popular issue. South Carolina's threatening to secede if Lincoln’s elected,” the barber said as he snipped at Simon’s hair.
“Now, I heard about that before we left, and the men on the wagon train talked about it a lot. I’m in favor of abolishing slavery,” Simon said. “No man should be able to own another man.”
“Well, let’s hope he wins,” the barber said.
Wanting to know more about the election, Simon bought a newspaper, The Weekly Oregonian, on his way back to the hotel. He couldn’t wait to read about Lincoln and his platform, and so he opened the paper, and read it as he walked. As he stepped off of the wooden walk to cross the street, a wagon sped around the corner at high speed. The wagon hit him, and pinned his leg beneath one of the wheels.
9
Caroline stood fascinated by the decorations and colored oil lamps surrounding the perimeter of the area. When mixed with the fall-colored leaves all around them, it gave the evening a sort of festive ambiance. A sheltered area stood off to the side of the square with tables beneath it laden with small sandwiches and several punch bowls. Local women took turns serving and pouring. People entered the area from every direction, men in clean pants, flannel shirts, and slicked down hair, and the women with their fancy cotton dresses and hair ribbons, flapping behind them. Caroline could feel the electrifying mood in the air, and it was contagious. Hattie, Ben, and Caroline stood by the refreshments holding tin cups of punch, gazing at the scene.
“Is it like this every fall?” Caroline asked Hattie.
“Ever since we’ve been here. Each year it seems they add more decorations than the year before. This is the first year for colored oil lamps. Oh, look, they're hauling in the wooden dance floor.”
About ten men worked to carry a huge wooden floor that they laid in the center of the square.
Excitement continued to build all around, and Caroline could feel it grow. Her new life had begun, and she meant to enjoy it.
When the fiddlers started playing, she tapped her foot to the music. People weren’t shy, and they dashed to the dance floor, pulling their mates behind them. People stood in a circle and danced a few steps with their partners, before switching partners with the couple directly across from them, dancing a few steps, and then switching partners with the couple on the left, then the right. The result was that they were left laughing, sometimes after grabbing the wrong partner.
It wasn’t more than a few minutes before Hattie and Ben were out on the floor, too, leaving Caroline on the sidelines, sipping punch, and tapping her toes.
“Would you like to dance the next one?” a male voice coming from behind her said.
Caroline spun around. The young man appeared thin, with slicked down dark hair, and a thin mustache.
Despite her dislike for mustaches, she smiled. “I’d like to,” she hesitated, “but I’ve never danced before.”
“Never?” he asked with a smile. “If you follow along you’ll do fine, and if you make a mistake… heck, no one here cares. Many of us are pretty new to country dances, having come from cities back east.”
She smiled. “I’ll try it then.”
“My name’s Ezra Schaeffer.” He held out his hand.
“Caroline Goodwin.” She put her hand in his, and he led her to the dance floor where a new round dance had started. It seemed confusing at first, but she soon got the hang of it. After that dance, she never sat down again until her ride home in the wagon—she’d danced with so many different men, she’d lost track.
The next day, when Ben returned from the lumber camp, he remarked to Caroline, “You sure made a splash at the square last night.”
“Why?” Caroline and Hattie said at the same time.
“I had at least six fellow workers ask if she were single and available.”
While Caroline felt flattered, she also felt a bit overwhelmed, and sat there, stunned.
“Carrie! I knew you wouldn’t last long single. Out of all of them, which one did you like the best?”
“What?” Caroline asked. “I don’t recall—”
“No one man stood out?”
“No. I really hoped to make some female friends first.”
“There aren't many single females around, which is why the hounds are sniffing.” Hattie laughed.
If Caroline couldn’t have Simon, she wanted to at least try to find a man like him. “Is there a church around here that I could go to?” she asked.
“There’s a Methodist church in town. We go often in the winter, but we're too busy during planting and harvesting,” Ben explained.
“Why do you ask, Carrie?” Hattie said.
“If I'm to meet men and possibly get married, then I want a church man, a man who'll respect a woman and who prays.”
“We can all go this Sunday, if it'll make you happy,” Hattie offered.
Simon lay in the local doctor’s house, his leg hanging from a sling, hooked into the ceiling. Even with all the newspapers and magazines Doc had brought him, he was bored and restless. Worst of all, he wasn't able to start his search for Carrie and he couldn't help thinking about her, day and night. He daydreamed about their cozy nights in the tent on the trail, the ‘what ifs,' constantly filling his mind.
The doctor, whose wife had died a few years earlier, lived over the barbershop. He'd quite generously offered his extra room to Simon when he'd learned that he had no family or friends in Portland. Doc had said his leg, while not broken, had a hairline fracture, which, as best he understood, was a fine crack in the bone. Doc put his leg in a splint, so he couldn’t bend it, but told Simon that, after a week in bed, he'd be able to walk with it. When he was able, each day he walked farther and longer than he had the day before.
“How’s the patient today?” Doc asked, sticking his head inside the bedroom door.
“Bored,” Simon replied. “How soon before I can take this splint off?”
Doc scratched his head. “A few weeks.”
“Like I told you before, it’s urgent that I get to Oregon City.”
“I don’t recommend traveling for a while."
“I’d like to try.”
“Well, we’ll see. Another two weeks and we’ll try having you walk without the splint.”
“That’s the best you can do?”
Doc nodded, and then changed the subject. “Did you hear the good news? Abraham Lincoln has been elected president!”
“That is good news."
“Yep, I voted for him. It should be in tomorrow’s paper.” Then Doc disappeared as fast as he'd appeared. He had a maid, Mrs. Jordan, who did his cleaning and cooking, and she seemed to love spoiling Simon.
All Sim
on had to do from morning until night was worry about finding Carrie. He also worried that by the time he'd found her she’d be scooped up by one of those ten to one ratio fellas. He did a lot of praying
10
“I really don’t want to go, Ben,” Caroline said firmly.
“Why not?” Ben asked. “Ezra Schaeffer’s one of the richest men around. He came to me and asked me outright if he could court you. Of course, I said I’d have to ask you first.”
“I don’t feel ready. How exactly does one court out here in the wilderness anyway?”
“He wants to take you for a ride in his new buggy.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all. It’s a good way to get acquainted.”
Hattie cut in and said, “Are you sure Ezra’s trustworthy, Ben?”
“I haven't heard he wasn’t.”
“It'll be fine, Carrie,” Hattie soothed. “It'll be good for you to get out for a while, besides.”
As Caroline dressed for her ride with Ezra Schaeffer, she wished she hadn’t agreed to it. She felt awkward and uncomfortable going with a man she barely recalled meeting. Though she wanted to make an effort to begin life without Simon, she felt uneasy about it, nevertheless.
When he finally arrived, Caroline felt even more trepidation. It wasn’t his looks, but his forward manner that bothered her. He'd grabbed her hand as soon as he walked in the door, and practically dragged her out to his buggy.
She studied him as they drove through the countryside. She thought she might remember him from the dance as the first man who'd approached her. He kept turning his head, winking at her or staring. She wondered how long the drive would last—she had mending to finish.
They drove all the way to town, and he parked the buggy along the Williamette River, overlooking the distant falls. It was a beautiful sight, but a bit chilly, and she was glad she’d worn her heavier cape.
“So Caroline,” he turned toward her, “tell me how you came to be in Oregon.”
“I came with a wagon train," she said simply.
“Oh.” He squirmed around and Caroline realized he might be as nervous as was she.
“I came to be with my cousin, Hattie. She's the only family I have left.”
“Ahhh.” He picked a piece of lint off his coat. “How do you like it here so far?”
“Well enough, I guess.” Caroline yawned discreetly, bored with the conversation. She wanted to go home. “I thank you for the lovely ride, but I really need to get back home now, if it's all right with you, that is. We arise at the crack of dawn, and by now I’m usually ready for bed."
“I thought we might get better acquainted,” he started. “You don’t feel comfortable with me, do you?”
“Not really,” she told him.
Then Ezra Schaeffer proceeded to tell her his life story, and she found herself trying to keep from yawning.
When he finally returned her home, he walked her to the front door, and leaned toward her with puckered lips.
“What are you doing?” Caroline cried as she backed away from him.
He cursed, said a curt good night, got into his buggy, and rode away.
No one had ever kissed her except for Simon, and Ezra had cursed, besides! Caroline had never heard Simon curse, even in the worst situations on the trail. Ezra surely wasn’t a man of God. No wonder she didn’t care for him. She needed to find a man like Simon.
Ezra called on the Ansells many times afterward, asking for her to go out riding, but Caroline politely refused. She didn’t understand why he hadn't given up and moved on. She couldn’t spell out her indifference any clearer. Her experience with Ezra woke her up to the fact that finding a man like Simon would not be easy.
Ben and Hattie didn’t try to talk her into going out with Ezra again, but they did mention his persistence. Hattie had even said he seemed almost obsessed with Caroline.
On Sunday, the family got dressed up and rode to the little white church in town. As Caroline entered the building, and everyone smiled and greeted each other, she felt instantly at ease. Hattie led them to a seat at the back of the church. An altar stood at the front of the chapel, shiny candles flickering. In the middle of the altar stood a large, wooden cross, with a sparsely clothed man hanging from it. In front of the altar, a podium had been placed. Along the right side, men and women carrying books soon filled the empty seats. She later discovered they were the choir. A man sat before an upright piano and played the first song. The choir led the congregation in an opening hymn. Caroline, too much in awe to sing, simply watched and listened. It all appeared beautiful, and left her in awe. Several people sniffed into handkerchiefs when the congregation sang a song about a rugged cross. Caroline wondered if they meant the wooden cross on the altar.
She didn’t know any of the songs. Hattie shared a music book with her, but she preferred to look around instead, as she didn’t want to miss anything. They sang several more songs before the minister came out. A tall, thin man with a salt and pepper beard, wearing a long, black robe approached the podium. Caroline thought he looked almost fatherly. He addressed the congregation, saying, “Let us pray.”
She listened to his prayer, and again, she was reminded of Simon. Here she was, trying to forget Simon and get on with her life, but everything she saw or heard reminded her of him.
The minister prayed for God to bless the day, and all of the people there. He thanked God for dying on the cross for their sins. And then everyone chimed in with an “Amen." She wondered how God could have died for their sins? If he were dead, how could Simon have prayed to him? She felt the strong urge to learn more.
The sermon helped Caroline to understand a little more about God and his son--who'd died--not God, but His son. The minister said in the sermon that they were one and the same.
How confusing.
She’d have to get herself a Bible. She felt that if she could become closer to God and if she were able to pray, she’d feel closer to Simon. Even if she never saw him again, at least she’d know his God.
After the sermon, as the people filed out of the church, the minister greeted everyone and shook their hands. When Caroline’s turn came, she couldn’t resist expressing her feelings. “This was my first time in church, and I want to learn more. How can I learn more about God?”
The minister, who she later learned was named Reverend Hobbs, took her hands in his and said, “I would be more than happy to help you. You’re living with the Ansells, aren’t you?” When she nodded, he said, “I’ll stop by one day this week, and we can talk about it.”
Caroline’s mood had changed after she'd visited the church. Hattie joked about it, saying, “If I’d known how happy church would make you, I'd have taken you sooner.”
As promised, two days later, Reverend Hobbs came for a visit. Hattie served tea, but the minister asked to have a private conversation with Caroline. Hattie left the room with a questioning look. Once alone, the minister turned to her and asked, “Have you really never been to a church before?”
“Never,” she said, and proceeded to tell him about her upbringing.
He nodded often, and when she finished, he said, “I'll come here every week about this time, and I'll teach you all you want to know.”
“You would do that for me?” she asked. “Will it cost money?”
“Certainly, I will.” He laughed, and his kind eyes twinkled. “No money needed. My child, you may not believe this, but I’ve been preaching for fifteen years now, and I've never had the opportunity to teach someone who had no knowledge of God at all, and who so sincerely wanted to learn. I consider this the epitome of my career.”
Reverend Hobbs began that day at the very beginning, telling Caroline how God created the heavens and the earth, and how it took six days, and that on the seventh day, he rested. Now Caroline understood why the wagon train families had been upset about having to travel on Sunday, their day of rest.
Each week, Caroline soaked up all the Biblical knowledge she co
uld, like a dry sponge. She learned how to pray, and did so every single day. She prayed for something she probably shouldn’t have—that Simon would eventually come for her. Since she wasn’t having any luck forgetting him, she felt she had to try. Learning the Bible and talking to Reverend Hobbs had at least given her hope.
One day, during her lessons with Reverend Hobbs, she asked him, “Does God always give you what you ask for in prayer?”
“No, not always.”
“Why ask then?” she said with sudden disappointment.
“What you want may not be what God thinks you should have. Only He knows what’s best for us. Why do you look so crestfallen? Are you praying for something so impossible?”
“Perhaps,” she answered, and a tear fell unexpectedly, and rolled down her cheek.
“My dear! Whatever are you asking for that has you so upset? If you care to tell me, that is.”
That’s when she confided her love for Simon. She told him her story. He nodded here and there, but kept silent until she’d told him the whole story. When she was done, tears flowed freely down her face.
The minister had remained silent for so long, Caroline feared he wasn’t going to speak. Then he patted her hand, and told her, “Sometimes we need to extend ourselves in order to meet God—sort of meeting him halfway. This is not scriptural, but my own words. You can’t win a contest or race if you don’t enter.”
