Journey of Hope: A Novel of Triumph and Heartbreak on the Oregon Trail in 1852

by Murata, Victoria

  “Da! You startled me!”

  “How is she doing?”

  “No change, except that she might be resting a little easier.” Brenna opened the pocket watch. “It’s time for her third dose of aconite.” Brenna carefully measured a drop of the liquid into the tin cup containing a small amount of water. She lifted Mrs. Mueller’s head and held the cup to her parched lips. She slowly poured the contents into her mouth, and Mrs. Mueller swallowed. Brenna poured more water into the cup, and Mrs. Mueller drank again. “I think she’s thirsty, Da.”

  “Give her as much as she will drink. The fever is drawing the fluids out of her.”

  After another drink, Brenna carefully laid Mrs. Mueller back against the pillow and made sure she was comfortable.

  “You’re a good nurse.” Her father looked askance at Brenna and frowned slightly. “Brenna, we all know that you’re doing everything you can for her.” He paused, and Brenna knew what he was thinking.

  “Why did Grandmother die, Da?” she asked.

  Michael Flannigan looked at his daughter, and then he looked at the ground. He sighed deeply. “Everyone who was old or very young died, Brenna. There wasn’t enough food in Ireland to nourish people, so only the strongest survived. Your grandmother had been weak, and the last fever was too much for her.”

  “Did she have cholera?”

  “No, no she didn’t have cholera, although many people did.”

  “Do you know what Father O’Brien told me, Da? He said that when death comes, it will not go away empty.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard that before.”

  “I saw Grandmother tonight,” Brenna blurted out.

  Michael studied his daughter and said gently, “Did you now?”

  “Yes, I’m sure of it. I was looking for Mrs. Mueller, and right before I found her, I saw Grandmother. She led me to Mrs. Mueller, Da.” She looked beseechingly at her father. “Do you believe me?”

  “Aye, I truly do.”

  “Sometimes I feel like Grandmother is so close to me. I miss her so much!”

  “I know you do, Brenna.” Michael sighed again. “This trip has been hard on folks. Mrs. Mueller is old, and she may not have the strength to…” Brenna put her finger to her lips.

  “Shhhh. Better not to speak the words else the Bean Si’ will hear you and come for her. Mrs. Mueller’s resting now, and she’ll awaken soon.”

  Michael Flannigan looked at his daughter. Where does she get her strength, he wondered. Perhaps his mother was close by, watching over her. She had always had a deep affection for Brenna.

  “Right, well I’ll go back to my bed, Brenna, unless you want me to sit with her for a while. You could get some rest.”

  “Thanks, Da, but I’m fine. I want to be here when she wakes up.” Michael smiled at his daughter. He bid her goodnight and silently retreated into the darkness.

  Before the next dosing, Ben Hansson kept her company for a while. He told Brenna about his mother.

  “She was beautiful. She had long yellow hair that she used to brush out at night, and she had the brightest blue eyes—like your eyes, Brenna. She would tell me stories and read to me from the Bible. What I remember most about her was her smell. She smelled like fresh baked bread.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “She died when my little brother was born. He died too.”

  “I’m so sorry, Ben.”

  “It was a long time ago. I was young, but I still remember certain things about her. She used to do her sewing in the evening, and I would crawl into her lap for attention. She would always put her needle and thread down and hug me and tickle me. I know my dad misses her. He keeps a picture of her and I catch him looking at it sometimes.”

  “It would be hard to lose your spouse.”

  “Yes, when you love someone it’s hard to let them go.” He looked at Brenna a long moment. Then he smiled and said, “Try to guess what I’m thinking of.” They spent the next half hour playing twenty questions and trying to stump each other. She finally told him he wasn’t playing fairly when he started thinking of tools she had never heard of before. He laughed.

  “I have to win, Brenna. Don’t you know that about me yet?”

  Brenna gave Mrs. Mueller the next dose, and Kate Flannigan showed up. She watched Ben and Brenna bantering back and forth for a while, and then Ben said goodnight.

  “He’s a nice boy, isn’t he?”

  “Ma, he’s not a boy.”

  “Well and I suppose you’re right. He’s eighteen, isn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “You two seem to get along well.”

  “I like Ben. He’s funny.”

  “It’s too bad he isn’t a Catholic.”

  “What does that have to do with anything, Ma?”

  “I’m just saying you two seem to be getting close, and I think it’s a shame he isn’t Catholic.”

  Brenna looked at her mother incredulously. What was she getting at? It was time to change the subject.

  “Ma, how do you make your bread pudding? Mr. Benson was raving about it the other night.”

  Kate was flattered and spent the next minutes instructing her daughter on how to make her famous bread pudding. Then she said goodnight and went back to their tent.

  It was nearing three o’clock in the morning, and Brenna was alone again. The stillness was deep, but she was not sleepy. She was filled with a calm and serene peace. She dipped the cloth into the water and wrung it out. As she put it on Mrs. Mueller’s forehead, she noticed that the heat from her head was much diminished, and she seemed to be sleeping peacefully. “Now that your fever’s broke you can rest and get strong,” Brenna said quietly. Mrs. Mueller’s eyes opened.

  “Hello, dear,” she said weakly, looking at Brenna curiously. “Why are you in my wagon?”

  “You’ve been sick, Mrs. Mueller. I’ve been taking care of you. I’m so happy you’re better! We’ve all been worried about you!”

  “Oh, I’m sorry I am such trouble. I remember not feeling well. You look tired, dear. You need to get some rest. Why don’t you go to bed? I’ll be fine, now.”

  John came out of the darkness smiling broadly. “Mother, you gave us a scare tonight. Thank goodness for Brenna. She’s been your nurse and brought you back to health.”

  “Yes, she’s been very good to me, but now she needs to go to bed. I feel so much better—just tired. I want a drink of water, and then I’m going to sleep myself. It looks like the morning isn’t too far off.”

  Relief flooded over Brenna. It was so good to see Mrs. Mueller’s twinkling eyes smiling at her, even if her face was paler than usual.

  “Let me give you the last dose of your medicine and some more water. Then I’ll let you sleep, and I’ll come back in a few hours and make your breakfast if you’re hungry.”

  Brenna gave Mrs. Mueller the last dose of aconite and a good drink of water. She made sure the old woman was comfortable and then said good night. John thanked her warmly again, and she walked the short distance to her wagon. In spite of her fatigue, her feet felt light. She looked up at the night sky. A million stars spread across the heavens. Her heart was overflowing with joy.

  “Maybe I made a difference tonight, Grandmother,” she said softly.

  Just then, a star broke away and trailed its light across the night sky. Brenna’s breath stopped. She closed her eyes. A gentle breeze caressed her cheek. “Thank you, Grandmother,” she said softly, and she climbed between her blankets and slept peacefully until the dawn.

  The Invitation

  Chapter Eight

  Scott’s Bluff

  Mile 596

  One evening after dinner as Emily Hinton and Nellie were reading in their tent, Ernest came in.

  “Reverend Mueller is here. He’d like to visit with you ladies.”

  It hadn’t taken Nellie long to make the acquaintance of the reverend and his mother. Mrs. Mueller reminded her of her own mother who had emigrated from Germany when she was a young unmarried
woman.

  Emily’s eyes lit up. “How lovely! By all means, show him in. Nellie, please fix the tea.” Emily’s southern upbringing had prepared her to be the perfect hostess. She stood up, and Nellie went to get hot water for tea. Ernest opened the tent flap and Reverend Mueller entered. He looked momentarily surprised at the fine rug on the ground and the two chairs carefully placed next to a small ornately carved table, but he quickly hid his expression and smiled warmly. He was always taken aback at the beauty of Miss Emily. She wasn’t your average pioneer woman.

  “Reverend Mueller, how kind of you to visit.” Emily held out her hand and Reverend Mueller took it, bowing slightly.

  “Miss Emily, it is a pleasure to see you again.”

  “Please sit down, Reverend.” Emily indicated one of the chairs next to the table. Reverend Mueller sat in one chair, and Emily sat in the other. Ernest made his apologies and exited the tent, on his way to discuss business with Abel Brown. Emily smoothed her dress carefully and smiled at the odd little man. He was short and slight, and his hair was on the long side, but he was clean-shaven and dressed neatly in spite of the dusty day they had just had.

  “I declare, one more day like today and I will just dig a hole and burrow in like a rabbit until this wind stops.” The wagons had been forced to converge into a single line at Robidoux’s Pass and the going seemed much more slow.

  “Yes, it was hard today; very windy. Perhaps the weather will improve for tomorrow.”

  “Tell me, Reverend Mueller, why this place is called Scott’s Bluff. I have read many accounts of travelers stopping here for the night, but no one mentions why it is called what it is.”

  “I understand it was named for a fur trapper named Hiram Scott.”

  “So he named it for himself?”

  “Not exactly, Miss Emily. The story goes that he was left for dead sixty miles away and crawled this far before he actually did die.”

  “How horrible!”

  “Yes, there’s no lack of tragic stories on this trail.”

  “That poor man. It must have taken a long time for him to crawl sixty miles.”

  Nellie brought in a teapot and poured each of them a cup. No tin cups here, Reverend Mueller noted. These were fine white china cups with small pink roses decorating their sides.

  “How do you manage to keep these cups from breaking on this rough trail?”

  Emily smiled and looked at Nellie. “Tell Reverend Mueller how you do it, Nellie.”

  Nellie blushed and said, “I put them into the flour, and I haven’t had one break yet!”

  “That’s a good idea, Miss Nellie!”

  The three of them laughed and sipped their tea in silence until Reverend Mueller spoke.

  “I have a purpose for visiting tonight. Of course, I’ve wanted to visit with you both again. What with the busy days and nights, time slips away. But I also have a favor to ask of you, Miss Nellie.”

  Both women looked bemused.

  “What is the favor, Reverend?” Nellie asked.

  “As you know, my mother is traveling with me. Ever since my wife died of cholera some weeks past, my mother hasn’t been herself.”

  Emily and Nellie expressed their condolences.

  “Thank you kindly. This journey did not agree with Greta. She had been sick from one thing or another ever since we left Ohio. At one point, I suggested we turn around and go back, but she wouldn’t hear of it. I miss her very much, and my mother misses her too. She especially misses the conversations they used to have in the mother tongue.”

  “The mother tongue?” Emily asked.

  “Yes, they would converse in German. My mother speaks English, but she very much enjoys speaking her first language, and now…” he paused.

  “Do you speak German, Reverend Mueller?” Nellie asked.

  “No, I don’t. My parents wanted me to speak only English. They would not speak German in front of me. They wanted me to be an American and not a German immigrant. I was so young when we came over from Germany, and as soon as I was old enough to go to school, my parents made sure I attended, and I picked up English quickly. They learned English too, and we spent long hours in the evenings practicing. My parents thought it would be best for me if I forgot the German I knew, and it didn’t take long for that to happen.”

  “And the favor you are requesting?” Emily prompted.

  “Yes. Miss Nellie, I understand you speak German. I was hoping, if you have the time,” and he glanced at Emily, “that you would come to our wagon and visit with my mother. I think it would comfort her. She was sick a couple of weeks ago. I think it would do her a world of good to be able to carry on a conversation with you in German.”

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea!” Emily said enthusiastically.

  “Oh!” Nellie exclaimed. “Well, I haven’t spoken the language for quite some time.”

  “I’m sure it would come back to you. Please, Miss Nellie. It would mean a lot to me.”

  Nellie looked at Reverend Mueller. He looked so sincere, and she wanted to help him and his mother.

  “I’ll come by tomorrow evening if it’s convenient, Reverend Mueller.”

  “Thank you so much, Miss Nellie. I’ll let my mother know we have a visitor coming. I know she’ll be excited.”

  The three of them spent the remainder of the hour discussing the trials and tribulations of the journey west.

  June 19

  The next night they camped close to the Platte River. The trail had been good, but in spite of the lessening of the wind, it was dusty, and they had only made nine miles that day. Emily was in a bad temper, and she and Ernest were having another argument. As Nellie left and made her way to the Mueller wagon, she heard Emily accusing Ernest.

  “Don’t tell me you and Mr. Brown are discussing business again, Mr. Hinton. I don’t want to hear that you have been playing cards!”

  Nellie crossed to the other side of the circle of wagons, and after a little searching, she found the Muellers’ camp. She felt instant irritation when she saw the Irish girl, Brenna, bent over the fire. She knew it was unreasonable, but she couldn’t get past the fact that Brenna and her family were Irish, and she hated the Irish. Brenna glanced up and was mystified at the look on Nellie’s face when their eyes met.

  “Good evening, Miss Nellie,” Reverend Mueller called happily when he saw her.

  Nellie quickly rearranged her face. “Good evening, Reverend.”

  “Please, come up and sit here by the fire. This is Brenna Flannigan, a neighbor. She’s making us some tea.”

  “We’ve met, Reverend Mueller. Good evening, Miss Nellie,” Brenna said.

  Nellie inclined her head stiffly and sat by the fire next to the reverend’s mother.

  “Mother, you’ve met Miss Nellie. She’s come to visit for a while.”

  “Good evening, dear, how nice of you to visit an old woman.”

  “Guten abend, Frau Mueller.”

  Mrs. Mueller’s eyes opened wide. She smiled happily. “Sprechen sie Deutsch?” she asked excitedly.

  “Yes, Mrs. Mueller, I speak German, but please be patient with me. I’m not sure how much I remember.”

  They spent the next hour happily conversing in German with only a few lapses into English by Nellie. She was pleased with how the language came back to her. Reverend Mueller sat with them for a while, but he couldn’t join in, so he busied himself with small chores. At some point in the hour, Brenna bade them goodnight. Mrs. Mueller hugged her warmly, but Nellie barely acknowledged her.

  Soon Nellie said it was time for her to go, and she promised to return the next evening. Mrs. Mueller thanked her profusely, her merry eyes glistening with tears.

  “I’ll walk you back to your wagon, Miss Nellie,” Reverend Mueller said.

  As they walked companionably back to the Hintons’ wagon, Reverend Mueller covertly studied Nellie’s profile. She was a small, fine-boned woman with a sharp nose and a pointy chin. She looks almost fragile, he thought. Her warm brown
eyes softened her features and her smile warmed an otherwise pinched expression. She’s had sorrow in her life, he mused.

  “I think you’ve made my mother very happy,” he said.

  “I enjoyed talking to her. She’s had a lot of experiences, and she tells a good story.”

  “Yes, she loves telling stories—both truth and fiction. Sometimes she entertains some of the children with fairy-tales. Even Brenna loves to hear those stories.”

  Nellie stiffened slightly with the mention of Brenna’s name. Reverend Mueller noticed, but he made no comment.

  “I hope you’ll come back, Miss Nellie. My mother enjoyed your visit so much…and so did I.”

  Nellie felt her face warming and was glad it was dark. “I’d like that, Reverend Mueller, and please, just call me Nellie.”

  “I will, Nellie, if you will call me John.” They wished each other a good night, and Reverend Mueller returned to his wagon.

  He thought about Nellie before sleep came. She was a kind woman. What was it about Brenna that distressed her? Maybe they had quarreled over something. Oh well, he never claimed to understand women.

  A Revelation

  Chapter Nine

  Fort Laramie

  June 22, 1852

  Mile 650

  “My Goodness! I can’t believe how high these prices are,” Ruth Benson complained to her husband Thomas as they perused the goods for sale at the Fort Laramie trading post. The trading post was a small adobe building, like all the buildings at the fort, and it was situated inside the high walls of the palisade. All of the travelers were purchasing vital supplies that had dwindled over the past two months.

  Kate Flannigan was holding eight pairs of Indian moccasins. “Our shoes are nearly worn out,” she told Michael, who was balancing sacks of flour, beans, and tea.

  Emily Hinton looked dismayed. “Oh, how I wish there was something different in the way of food! I’m so sick of biscuits, beans, and bacon!”