“And thanks to Uncle Tom’s Cabin, we followed your lead.” Clara pointed at her husband. “Asa, you know good and well that it was the right and Christian thing to do. So don’t be complaining about it now, even if it does make farming harder.”
“Peter had been considering going west,” Matthew told his father in a quiet tone.
“That’s true,” Elizabeth agreed. “He and James spoke of it many times. He didn’t like that so many newcomers were moving to Kentucky.”
“I do recall him expressing frustration over how Selma was changing… growing too fast.” Clara got a wistful look. “Perhaps it’s unfortunate he didn’t go west before the cholera outbreak.” Her brow creased. “But we discouraged him then…”
“Many families are going west,” Elizabeth continued. “Each year, it seems that more farms are being divided…more farmers are struggling to get by. Look at you, Father. Your farm has been divided so many times, there’s hardly enough land for Matthew to support a family anymore.”
“That’s only because you children are third generation in these parts.” Asa waved his hands. “When your grandparents came to this land there was plenty to go around.”
“That’s what we’re saying, Father. There was enough before, but what about future generations? And right now our government is offering 320 acres of prime agricultural land. Beautiful and rich land, free for the taking. Can you imagine such bounty?”
“But this is our home,” Asa insisted. “Your ancestors carved out a fine way of life right here. We have good solid houses, big barns, well-bred livestock, corrals and fencing and wells…You have a nearby town and friends and family. A church, a school, a community. We are comfortable, are we not?”
“Yes, Father, we are comfortable. But what is there for Jamie and Ruth to look forward to here?”
Asa frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I’m glad Kentucky is enough for you, Father, but what if Matthew and I and the children need more?”
He shook his head. “What more could you want?”
“John and Malinda wrote letters describing the beautiful and fertile land in the Oregon Territory. They say anything can grow there. Livestock thrives, roaming free year-round. They wrote of rivers and streams full offish. Forests with abundant timber. Serene lakes and a majestic ocean. It’s a new land…and it’s a future.”
Asa ran his hand over his head in frustration.
“Think about this, Father. What if your ancestors hadn’t decided to go west? What if they had been content to stay in England?”
“They had cause to come here. Remember, they came for religious freedom.”
“But what if they hadn’t come, Father? What if they had stayed behind? Would you be happier there?”
Now he looked confused.
“I want an adventure,” Matthew declared.
Asa shook his finger at Matthew. “You want to run away!”
Matthew slammed his fist onto the table so soundly that the teacup jumped on the saucer. “What if I do want to run away? It’s my life. Should I not have the freedom to do as I choose? What about life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness?”
Now the room grew quiet, but Elizabeth could tell that emotions were not only sitting on the surface but raw as well. There were still words left to be said, but it was getting late.
“Father and Mother,” she said gently, “I never meant to introduce this controversy on Christmas Eve. And I am sorry if it grieves you to think your only two living children are considering such an adventure. But when Matthew told me he wanted to leave, I couldn’t sit silently. I knew I had to express my true feelings.”
“Elizabeth Anne,” Asa asked slowly, “are you honestly telling me that you think you are strong enough to endure the rigors and hardships of traveling for months? That you are capable of making a home for you and your children? That you can provide for them? Out there in the wilderness?”
“John and Malinda are there,” she reminded him. “And James’ parents too. They’ve all settled in a fertile valley just a day’s travel from the Pacific Ocean. They have already started a school and a church. And their description of the climate sounds ideal. I suspect if I write to them, they would have land already picked out for me to settle on by the time I got there. So you see, it isn’t as if I would be alone when I arrive.”
“And I would be there to help her too,” Matthew pointed out in a voice that sounded more like the brother she knew and loved.
Elizabeth looked directly at him. “It could be a grand adventure.”
He nodded. “I am in need of a grand adventure.”
“Oh, my.” Clara shook her head. “I am in need of bed.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “It’s late. Again, I apologize for putting you two through this tonight. It had not been my intention.”
Asa stood, helping his wife to her feet. “Don’t you worry,” he told her in a conspirator’s tone. “They will probably have changed their minds about this by morning.”
Elizabeth just laughed.
“I do have one question,” Clara said before leaving. “Do you two plan to tell anyone else about your outlandish ideas?”
Elizabeth glanced at Matthew, and he simply shrugged.
“Because there is the Christmas service at church tomorrow. And then there’s the annual gathering at your grandparents’ home afterward. Do you plan on mentioning this to anyone tomorrow?” Clara looked truly concerned.
“I don’t even plan on attending either of those functions,” Matthew said.
“But Matthew, it’s Christmas.” Clara frowned.
“I do not blame him in the least,” Elizabeth said. “You know how conversations will go.”
“She’s right,” Asa agreed. “Matthew doesn’t need to be subjected to that.”
Matthew stood to face his mother. “Please, make my apologies to the grandparents.”
Clara simply nodded.
“And I will not say a word about our migration plans,” Elizabeth assured her.
Clara sighed in relief and then bade them both goodnight.
“Mercy!” Elizabeth said after their parents were out of earshot. “I had not planned on any of that.”
Matthew threw a couple more logs on the fire and then sat down in his father’s chair, stretching his legs out in front of him with a quizzical expression, as if their conversation was still sinking in. “Are you really sincere about this, Lizzie? Would you truly take Jamie and Ruth on the Oregon Trail like you said?”
She thought hard about her answer. “I have been praying for God to lead me in regard to this strange dream,” she said quietly. “If I am convinced that God is the one doing the leading, then yes, I would go to Oregon.”
He just nodded.
However, Elizabeth also knew that she would never have broached this volatile topic, especially on Christmas Eve, if not for her brother’s unexpected broken engagement. Common sense told her there was still a chance that Matthew might change his mind about going west after the initial shock of Violet’s coldhearted betrayal wore off. Perhaps in a week or two. And she certainly hoped it would wear off because Violet Lamott hardly seemed worth such emotional pain and suffering. If that were to happen, and if Matthew decided to forgo this trip, Elizabeth wondered if she would continue to pursue this somewhat foolhardy dream. Was she strong enough to attempt something like this on her own steam? And yet, if she didn’t go, she might be sorely disappointed too. Truly, it was best to leave it in God’s hands.
Chapter Five
As promised, Elizabeth did not breathe a word of her westward dreams on Christmas Day. Instead, she was polite and congenial, if not slightly bored, as she visited with her female relations following the Christmas service at church. And certainly it was better to be with the women than to be subjected to the heated political argument going on in the next room. As usual, the debates were over secession and Northern oppression and slavery and abolition and all the other controversial topics
of the day. Elizabeth had opinions on all these issues, but she knew the men would not care to hear them. Nor was she inclined to express them.
And to be fair, it wasn’t that cooking or sewing or child rearing were of no interest to her. Normally, she engaged in these housekeeping conversations. It was simply that she was distracted. Instead of listening to Aunt Belle describing her latest quilt-top pattern, Elizabeth secretly daydreamed of how she was about to embark on an exciting journey. Fresh ideas for this adventure had been fueled by reading one of her father’s newspaper stories. She’d discovered it the night before after everyone else had gone to bed. As a result she’d stayed up until she finished it.
The story was written by an explorer who had crossed the continent four times! And it included a dramatic engraving of an overland crossing through the mountains. The author certainly did not downplay the hardships of such travel. But at the same time, he painted such a romantic and vivid picture of the vast and ever-changing landscape, the Indians, and the interesting characters he’d met along the way that Elizabeth felt somewhat enchanted by the time she’d gone to bed.
So much so that all she could think about during the Christmas gathering at her grandparents’ house in town—although she feigned interest in Cousin Phoebe’s recipe for candied yams—was her eagerness to get back home and open up the “dream box” that she and James had used to store letters and lists and all the information they had gathered about Oregon. She could not wait to reread them.
At last the party was wearing down, and Elizabeth could tell that Jamie and Ruth were worn out, so she thanked her grandparents for their hospitality and said her goodbyes to aunts, uncles, cousins, and finally her parents.
“I realized at church this morning that your talk of going to Oregon was only an attempt to help your brother,” Clara whispered to Elizabeth as they walked outside together. “You are a good sister, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth tried not to register her surprise at this comment. Did her mother truly think that all that was said the night before was only to lift Matthew’s spirits? If so, perhaps it was for the best.
“Merry Christmas, Mother.” She kissed Clara’s cheek and then turned to herd the children and the dog into the carriage. “Take the reins,” she told Jamie. “But not too fast.”
As Jamie drove the carriage home, Elizabeth imagined him behind the reins of an ox team towing a heavy prairie schooner behind it. Or would that be too much for a boy his age? Perhaps she would ask Matthew to look into this for her, assuming Matthew was still interested in Oregon. And if he was not…well, she didn’t have to think about that yet.
Ruth slipped her mittened hand into Elizabeth’s. “You seem happy, Mama. Did you have fun today?”
She squeezed Ruth’s hand. “Yes. It was a good day. Did you enjoy playing with the cousins?” Most of the relatives were second and third cousins—offspring of Clara’s siblings. And most of them were older than Ruth.
Ruth’s expression was hard to read. “I wanted to play with Victoria… but…”
Elizabeth could tell something was wrong. So she waited.
“Are we rich, Mama?”
“Rich?” Elizabeth laughed. “Is that what Victoria told you?”
Ruth nodded. “But she said it in a mean way.”
“Some of our cousins think we’re rich,” Jamie said quietly.
“We are not rich,” Elizabeth declared.
“But we have more land than most of the cousins,” Jamie said.
“That’s true. But it’s because your father’s family had more land. The cousins at Great-Grandma and Grandpa’s house are a different side of the family. Those are your grandma’s folks. Do you know how many brothers and sisters Grandma Dawson has?”
“How many?” Ruth asked.
“There were fourteen children in Grandma’s family,” Jamie answered.
“Fourteen?” Ruth sounded shocked. “Is that true, Mama?”
“It’s true. Grandma had eight brothers and five sisters. But not all of them are alive now. And some of them moved away. But many of them live in town.”
“Like Victoria,” Ruth said.
“Yes. The reason I’m telling you this is to explain why they might think we’re rich. With so many children in Grandma’s family, they had less land and fewer farms to share.”
“But Grandma and Grandpa have a nice big farm,” Ruth contended.
“Yes, but that came from Grandpa’s side of the family. And that farm used to be bigger, but it’s been divided too. Not as much because Grandpa only had two brothers.” She didn’t tell them how much larger the farm had been fifty years ago. She wasn’t even sure why she was telling them this now, but that she wanted them to understand. She knew there was land envy among some disgruntled family members, and although it was unfair, she did understand. But it was unfortunate that cousins like Victoria were unkind.
Elizabeth thought about James’ brother and wife again. John and Malinda had five children. The youngest, as far as she knew, was around four now, and the oldest was probably thirteen. If Elizabeth took the children to Oregon, they would have several school-age cousins living nearby. And there would be plenty of land for everyone. Not that she planned to mention this to her children. Not yet anyway.
“Looks like we left just in time,” Elizabeth said as snow began to fall. She put her hand on Jamie’s arm. “But don’t try to hurry. We’ll be just fine.”
Jamie just nodded, keeping his gaze straight ahead and the reins secure in his hands. So much like a man…and yet he was still a boy.
“Can we sing Christmas songs again?” Ruth asked.
“Certainly!” And so, as Jamie carefully guided them toward home, they all sang Christmas songs. But by the time they pulled in front of the house, the snow was falling hard and fast.
“Hello, hello!” Brady called as he rushed out to help. Wearing his new coat and a big grin, he helped Elizabeth and Ruth down from the carriage and carried their bags up to the door. “Let me take care of the horses for you, Mr. Martin,” he said to Jamie.
“Thanks, Brady.” Jamie handed him the reins and then pulled out a box to carry into the house.
“I made you a fire, ma’am,” Brady called as Elizabeth reached the top of the porch steps.
“Thank you, Brady!” she called back.
“Thank you, ma’am!” He jutted a thumb toward his new coat. “Nice and warm!”
“You’re more than welcome,” she called as she opened the door.
It wasn’t until household chores were done and the children put to bed that Elizabeth pulled out the “dream box.” She hadn’t opened the small oak box in nearly a year…not since she’d slipped the last letter from John and Malinda into it. And even then, she hadn’t taken time to reexamine the rest of the contents. Until now, the items in that box had seemed both mocking and threatening. But now, sitting by the crackling fire, she opened the box and removed everything, one by one, laying them out on the side table by the chair. Letters and lists and addresses and advertisements…all pertaining to an overland journey and the final destination of the Oregon Territory.
Perusing the papers, she knew she should consider going to bed because the morning would come soon, especially considering her late night the previous evening. But she did not feel the least bit sleepy. Instead, she felt compelled to read all she could about what was beginning to feel like an impending journey.
She was just reading Malinda’s most recent letter, written in the summer of 1855, when she heard a noise.
“Mama?”
“Jamie?” She blinked in the dim light, spotting her son at the foot of the stairs.
“My tummy hurts.”
She dropped the letter and rushed over to him, immediately putting her hand to his forehead to see if he was feverish. Ever since the cholera, she had been extremely careful about sickness. However, his head did not feel hot.
“Come over here.” She led him over to the fire and lamplight, where she examined him more c
losely. First she checked his skin for any sign of a rash. Then she had him stick out his tongue. “You look all right. Where exactly does your stomach hurt?”
He put his hand on his midsection and groaned.
“What did you eat and drink today?”
Now he began to list off all that he’d eaten, and the list went on and on…finally ending with chess pie. “I had two pieces,” he confessed.
“Oh, my.” She touched his forehead again and then smiled. “No wonder you have a stomachache.”
He peered over at the box and papers spread across the table. “What’s that?”
“Oh, just letters and whatnot.”
He picked up a supply list and frowned.
“How about if I make you some warm peppermint milk for your tummy?”
He nodded. “That might help.”
She picked up a woolen blanket, draping it over his shoulders like a cape, and tucked him into the chair by the fireplace. “Don’t get chilled,” she warned as she lit another lamp, taking it with her. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” As she went to the kitchen she realized he would probably be curious about the papers she’d been studying. But as she stoked the coals in the cookstove, she realized that perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing. After all, Jamie was almost twelve. If she took on this daunting challenge, which was still uncertain, she would need his full cooperation.
When she returned with a mug of warm peppermint milk, Jamie was setting one of the letters back down. “Here you go,” she said as she gathered up the papers, placing them back in the oak box.
“Why are you reading those?” Jamie asked as he leaned back in his father’s chair.
Elizabeth sat down, pondering her answer. “Uncle Matthew and I were discussing something yesterday,” she began. “Something that your father and I had considered doing a long time ago.”
“Going to Oregon?”
“Yes.” She didn’t know why she was surprised. “But we were only talking about it. And mostly because Matthew was so sad.”
“About Violet and Walter?” She nodded.
Westward Hearts Page 4
