by Barbara Goss
Caroline wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, feeling puzzled.
“Why not travel to Portland and try to find this Simon yourself? That way you could find out, one way or another, if he feels the same way. If the feelings are not mutual, it will help you finally forget him and move on. One way or another, you need to solve this and move forward with your life.
Caroline nodded tearfully. “I could do this. I know I could.”
Now she had to tell Hattie and Ben, because without their help, she’d never be able to travel to Portland.
“If he loved you, he’d be here,” Hattie said. “I see no sense in traipsing all the way to Portland to chase after a man who probably isn’t interested.”
“Oh, don’t say that, Hattie,” she cried. “It’s really my own fault, because I didn’t let him know how I felt. I even hid my feelings from him because I thought it would scare him away.”
“I can’t leave, Caroline. I have my job and the kids here,” Ben said.
Hattie rubbed her temples, reminding Caroline of Simon, who'd always rubbed his forehead when he was thinking. “If we traveled to Portland, just you and I, and you found out how Simon felt, would that really end it for you?” she asked, sounding skeptical. “Would it give you the push you needed to get on with your life, and put more energy into outings with all the other men wanting to court you?”
“I’m sure of it, Hattie. I have to know.”
“We’ll go then, right after Christmas. I couldn’t possibly leave before then.”
Caroline hugged Hattie. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Simon paced as well as he could, and with a noticeable limp. “Doc, I can walk. Can I leave now?”
“If I let you go now, Simon,” the doctor said, cleaning his glasses, “That leg isn’t going to heal right, and you’ll limp the rest of your life.”
Simon punched the wall. “I don’t care if I end up with a limp. I just want to find the woman I love. Oh, why did this have to happen now?”
“That may be, but as your doctor, I have to treat you to the best of my ability. I took an oath, and all that.” He scratched his head. “Tell you what: I’ll let you go off to Oregon City after Christmas. It'll give you another few weeks to really let the bone heal. Is it a deal? And you won’t ride a coach or a horse—you'll take a steamboat. It's faster, anyway.”
“If you say so, but I’m going crazy here with nothing to do.”
Doc winked. “There are some pretty gals down at the saloon who'd love to spend a few hours with you at night, and it wouldn’t hurt your leg none.”
“Not interested, Doc. There's only one woman I’m interested in, and she’s in Oregon City. If I don’t reach her and tell her how I feel, it'll be too late. Maggie at the hotel told me there are ten or more men for every woman out here.”
“True enough,” he muttered. “Some men are even resorting to mail-order brides."
“Unbelievable,” Simon said. “Marrying someone they don’t even know?”
Doc nodded. “I have an idea: why don’t you mail a letter to your woman?”
“I thought about that, but I’m not sure I could put my words on paper. Besides, I don’t know exactly where she is in Oregon City. Believe it or not, I can’t remember the name of her cousin, either. She wrote it all down on a piece of paper, but I never even glanced at it. I put it in my pocket, and now I can’t find it."
“Then how in the world do you expect to find her?”
“God help me, I will find her. I just pray I find her in time.”
Christmas was a quiet affair at the Ansell home. Everyone exchanged a homemade gift. Hattie gave Carrie a lovely handmade bookmark. Carrie wasn’t sure how she’d use it when she didn’t yet own a book. Her next gift, presented by the children, appeared to be a printed cloth, tied with a ribbon, around herbs that contained the most beautiful fragrance. “It’s to put with your clothes,” Eliza said.
She opened Ben’s gift last. It was a book. She turned it over so she could see the title. It was a Bible! Carrie squealed with delight. She now had her very own Bible, and she knew exactly why Hattie had crocheted the beautiful bookmark for her.
Christmas was even quieter for Simon. The housekeeper cooked a lovely meal, but there were no gifts, at least, not until Doc came in. “I have a present for you, Simon.”
Simon looked up from his newspaper.
“You can make plans to travel to Oregon City next week.” He then gave him specific instructions on how best to care for his leg on the trip. “And promise me you’ll see me as soon as you get back.”
11
For several days after Christmas, Caroline pestered Hattie to plan the trip, until finally, Hattie sat Caroline down in the kitchen over a pot of tea and explained her dilemma.
“We can take a steamboat to Portland very easily and get there in five hours. But—don’t you love the word ‘but’?—but the price is twenty-five dollars per passenger. My passage alone is more than Ben makes in a week.”
Disappointment surged through Caroline. “Are there any other forms of transportation we can use?”
“Horseback or wagon, and it’s a rough trip this time of year, especially for two women.”
“I have to find a way to Portland.”
“Carrie, you’ve told us you fell in love with a man named Simon on the wagon train, but exactly how acquainted with him were you? You didn’t—”
“No! He hugged me a time or two, and we kissed good-bye." Caroline never told them the circumstances under which she traveled with Simon.
Hattie sighed with relief. “I hate to mention the other alternative. I know you don’t like Ezra Schaeffer, but when Ben mentioned our trip, he offered to drive us in his fancy new buggy.”
Caroline grimaced.
“He isn’t bad looking, Carrie, and he is quite well-to-do.”
“He curses and he wears a mustache,” Caroline said. “He tried to kiss me! He turns my stomach.”
“Many men curse, Carrie. Ben says it’s all he hears at work. Some of the lumberjacks have quite the vulgar vocabulary.”
“Those aren’t the kind of men I want to associate with.”
“I’d be along with you, so I doubt he'd try kissing you again. Maybe nerves made him act hastily. Everyone makes mistakes, especially on their first outings together.”
“Does Mr. Schaeffer know the reason for my trip to Portland? That I hope to be reunited with the man I love?”
“Yes, he does.”
““What to do, what to do, what to do…” Caroline murmured.
After several more days of pondering her situation, Caroline agreed to let Schaeffer drive them out of desperation, but she stipulated that Hattie sit beside him.
Simon boarded a steamboat heading down river to Oregon City. He couldn’t believe that in a few hours, he might see Caroline again.
Two days after the conversation with Hattie, they were riding in Mr. Schaeffer’s buggy on their way to Portland. It was cold, and the ruts on the dirt roads were frozen, making the trip feel as if she were on the wagon train again. They rode on, and didn’t talk much for the first few miles. They were cramped in the buggy, as it looked to be modeled for only two, but luckily, Ezra was slim, and so were the ladies. They all fit, but snuggly so. Caroline felt relieved that she’d opted for the end of the seat and not the middle next to Ezra. The buggy had a hood to protect them from rain or snow, and the ladies had a blanket over their laps for warmth. Around noontime, the temperature grew warm as the sun beat down on them.
They stopped along a wooded stretch of road to stretch their legs. Hattie had packed them a picnic lunch. Caroline unpacked the basket, while Hattie excused herself and skipped off to the woods for a nature call. Alone with Ezra, Caroline became increasingly nervous.
“I’d like to apologize for my behavior that night,” he said. “I was nervous. There aren’t many women around, and it’s been ages since I’ve been on an outing with a one.”
Caroline l
ooked at him, speechless.
“Am I forgiven, then?”
“I suppose.”
“So what's your Simon like?”
“He’s a perfect gentleman, and a Godly man.”
“So why is he in Portland, and you in Oregon City?”
“Business,” she answered, relieved that Hattie had returned.
They ate a quick lunch of homemade pickles, and fresh-baked bread slathered with butter and strawberry jam. Hattie had also packed a jar of lemonade for them to drink.
When they finally drove down Portland's main street, Caroline gasped. How would she ever find Simon? The town appeared to be larger than she’d ever imagined. Despite dirt roads, wooden sidewalks, saloons, and livery stables, the town had large new buildings, made of brick and cast iron. The town had been planned so that the main street ran parallel to the Williamette River.
“Do you know how many hotels there are in Portland?” she asked Ezra.
“Only two reputable hotels that I know of, though there may be a few more since I was here last. As you can see, the town is growing rapidly. Last time I traveled here I stayed at the Warren House, over on the corner of Oak and Front streets. Of course, most of the saloons have rooms also, so we might have to search those, too.”
Caroline nodded. “Let’s try this Warren House, then.”
“The other,” said Ezra, “is a log cabin hotel. It’s small, but it’s just down the street. Want to try that one first?”
After the women agreed, Ezra helped them from the buggy, and whispered to Caroline, “We’ll find your man. Don’t you worry.”
Caroline wondered if he were being sincere. He had to be, she thought, to drive all the way to Portland to help her find the man she loved. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she’d thought. She’d have to give him a fair chance, she decided.
As they entered the small hotel, Ezra took charge. “You ladies have a seat on the sofa, and I’ll do the questioning.” He turned to Caroline. “What's Simon’s last name?”
“Miller.”
He spoke to the person behind the small desk. When he returned, he was shaking his head. “No, they have no one named Miller here. Shall we try the Warren House?”
They pulled up in front of the Warren House, and Caroline thought that it was exactly the type of place Simon would select if he'd gotten a good price for his flour. The establishment was a great deal larger than the log cabin, and even had a small dining area.
“We might as well have our meal here, ladies. I’ll get us two rooms for the night.”
“Why, thank you, Ezra,” Hattie said. “How thoughtful.”
After about fifteen minutes he returned with two hotel room keys, and led them into the dining area. “Well, I do have news, but it isn’t what you wanted to hear, Caroline.”
Caroline gave him her full attention.
“It seems Simon Miller stayed here in October. The manager remembers him because he made quite a killing selling his flour. He said the last time he saw him was the day of the accident.”
“Accident?” Hattie and Caroline said in unison.
“Yes. It seems he was hit by a speeding wagon as he crossed the street.” He turned and patted Caroline’s hand. “Caroline, I'm afraid he's dead.”
12
Simon walked down the main street in Oregon City, wondering where to begin. Being a church man, he thought that might be a good place to start. He came upon a small, white church and walked inside. It was empty, being a weekday, but he found the church to be familiar ground for him in a strange town. He walked up to the small altar and knelt before it. He prayed silently, and then he stood and started walking toward the door.
“Hello,” a welcoming voice echoed through the empty building. A bearded man approached Simon with his hand out, and Simon shook it. “My name is Reverend Hobbs. I'm the minister here. And you are…”
“Simon Miller,” he replied, gazing around. “This is a beautiful church.”
“Thank you. You’re welcome on Sunday. Services start at ten.”
“If I stay that long, I’ll be here.”
“Are you here on business?”
“Of sorts. I’m looking for someone, and this town is much bigger than I’d imagined. I don’t know where to look first.”
“Ah,” Reverend Hobbs nodded. "There’s a hotel down the road. You might want to stop at the nearest farm as you head out of town—the farmers usually know all the families. What is the family name you are looking for?”
“That’s my problem. You see, I was given the name on a piece of paper, and I lost it. It’s urgent I find this person.” He thought of telling him her first name and what he knew about her, but Caroline was not a church person, so he doubted the minister would know of her. “Being a Christian man, I thought I’d start here.”
“Well,” Hobbs said, “I’d surely help you if I knew the name of the family you were looking for.”
Simon dropped into a pew and sat with his head in his hands. “I’m such a fool to have lost that paper.”
“Seems like an impossible mission, Mr. Miller. Our population grows with each new wagon train arrival."
Simon stood. “Well, I’ll be on my way to start the search. Thank you for listening. I might see you again, in church on Sunday.”
Simon walked a mile in each direction, stopping at several homes along the way. The people seemed friendly, but thought him a dolt, seeking out this nameless person. “Her first name's Caroline and she’s somewhere between nineteen and twenty one, has long, brown hair, and big, blue eyes. She's this tall,” he demonstrated with his hands, “and she has a tiny build. We came across on a wagon train together, and she lost a lot of weight. Of course, she was tiny to begin with…" He wanted his description of her to be as detailed as possible, but the people only stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. He was on, as Hobbs had said, an impossible mission.
Caroline screamed, “No!” when Ezra announced Simon was dead. “That can’t be! It must be a mistake.”
Ezra put his arm around her shoulders, but loosely so. “I’m so sorry. The hotel manager said Simon asked him where he could find a jeweler, and the manager gave him directions. He said Simon often sat and talked to him, so he definitely remembers him.”
“If he is dead,” Hattie said, “where are his belongings? Are they still in his room? How long ago was this accident?”
“Someone, a man, came and removed Simon’s things and paid his bill. The manager said the accident happened near the end of October.
“I’ve secured two rooms for the night. Shall we eat first?” Ezra asked.
Caroline shook his arm from hers. “Can I have our key, Ezra? I’m not hungry,” she said, tears running down her face.
Once in her room, Caroline threw herself onto the bed and sobbed.
In the morning, Ezra prepared to take them back to Oregon City. “No sense in staying around here,” he said.
“I agree,” Hattie said. They both looked to Caroline who stood, staring straight ahead, with swollen eyes and a red nose.
“I’m staying,” she announced. “I want to talk to everyone who knew Simon. I need to know about his last few days. I want to find who picked up his things, and if he'd ever mentioned me. I can't ever get on with my life without knowing.”
Ezra tried to coax her into leaving. Hattie seemed to understand Caroline’s need for closure.
“I’ll stay with her. You can go back, Ezra. If this is something she needs to do, then we have to let her do it.”
“But you can’t,” Ezra argued. “How will you get back home if I leave?”
“We’ll find a way,” Hattie said. “Perhaps you can return for us in a few days?”
Ezra grew angry and argumentative. “The man is dead! What else do you need to know?”
Caroline backed away from him. “Good day, Mr. Schaeffer,” she said, and walked over to the desk clerk to order another night at the hotel.
Ezra left, agreeing he’d be back in a few days for t
hem. Caroline didn’t care if he ever came back. She didn’t like him, and she couldn’t figure out why he was so angry because she wanted to stay.
“There's something very odd about Ezra’s attitude,” she told Hattie at breakfast the next morning. “Why would our wanting to stay upset him so much?”
“Seems like he's just a temperamental person, but he's gone now, and we can find out everything we can about Simon’s last days. We can even find out where he's buried and bring him some flowers." That only made Caroline cry again, thinking about the only person she ever truly loved, buried in a cold grave, instead of in her warm arms.
Caroline’s first stop was the hotel manager’s office. She approached his desk and asked if she could have a word with him.
“I came here to find Simon Miller,” she said, “but our escort said he died in a carriage accident. Can you tell me everything you remember about him? I loved him,” she sniffed into her handkerchief, “and I need to know about his last days.”
The manager stood and walked over to her. “Dead? Who said he was dead?”
“Why, our escort, Mr. Schaeffer,” Hattie explained. “He said you told him Simon Miller was killed by a racing carriage.”
When the manager shook his head, Caroline’s jaw dropped and she cried out, “He’s not dead?” Her heart raced as she awaited his answer.
“I’m sure he didn’t die. I didn’t tell your friend he was killed; I just said he’d been in an accident. It happened right outside of the hotel, so naturally, I went out there. Simon’s leg was pinned underneath one of the wagon wheels. Passersby were helping to lift the wagon, and I ran over and helped pull Simon out, so there's no way I would tell anyone he was dead. I have no idea why the man would tell you such a thing, either,” he said.
“Please tell me what happened next,” Caroline said. She was holding onto the desk so hard her knuckles were white.
