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

by Murata, Victoria

  “What about Miss Emily’s wagon?”

  “It was brand new when they left Independence. I’ve looked it over and it’s in good shape.”

  “I feel so badly for her. She’s all alone now.”

  “If we were closer to Independence, I think she would go back to her family, but she’s going to have to go on with us to Oregon now.”

  “What will she do once we get to Oregon?”

  “She can go home next spring, or maybe she’ll find a new husband.”

  Brenna’s brow furrowed as she thought about the prospects of a young widow alone in a frontier town. She didn’t know how close the Hintons had been, but she couldn’t imagine finding a new husband so soon. And yet, what other options did she have? Brenna drew her shawl closer against the night chill and shivered. Ben noticed and put his arm around her shoulders.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, just chilly.”

  “Don’t you go getting sick, now,” he said huskily and tightened his hold as they walked to the Flannigan’s wagon.

  Two days later the wagons made camp next to a beautiful creek and close to some hot springs. Everyone was exhausted from pushing hard. Six more people had died from cholera since they had buried Ernest Hinton, the Bakers, and little Hope Walters. The captain had made the decision that the wagon train wouldn’t stop when someone got sick. Usually if someone got cholera, he or she was dead within twenty-four hours. He appointed a watcher who would stay back with the sick traveler. After the person died, the watcher would dig the grave, bury the body, and then catch up with the wagon train.

  Dinner had been quiet in the Benson camp.

  “Thomas, the little ones are asleep. We’ll be back shortly.” Ruth gave her husband a peck on the cheek and she, Rebecca, and Mary headed in the direction of the hot springs. Some of the other women had the same idea and took their laundry. The day had been warm, but it was cooling off. The men knew to stay clear since some of the women had indicated that it would be a good place to get a bath—the first hot bath they’d had since leaving Independence. The hot springs looked inviting as the women dumped their belongings on the rocks.

  “Mary, take everything off. Here’s some soap. Scrub yourself good,” Ruth Benson said as she stripped her grimy threadbare clothes from her body. She stepped gingerly into the steaming water. It was so hot it took a few minutes before she could sit down. Then when the warmth enveloped her, she sighed deeply and sank in up to her neck. Other women and girls were doing the same. No one spoke for a few minutes, and the evening prairie closed around them. Ruth felt the tension leaving her. All the stress of the last few days melted from her body as the water gently massaged her aching muscles.

  “Mary, let me wash your hair,” Rebecca’s voice seemed to float up quietly from the watery depths. Ruth’s eyes were heavy. She hadn’t realized how tired she was. Tomorrow morning she would bring Annie and Deborah here and give the youngsters a bath. But tonight she felt totally relaxed, and she didn’t want to get out of the pool. What a luxury! What bliss! She was floating in a warm cocoon, weightless and unencumbered. Soft voices drifted around her, but she didn’t want to join in any conversations. She felt gentle hands on her head, taking apart the braids.

  “Your turn, Ma.” Rebecca worked the soap into a lather in Ruth’s hair.

  “That feels so good. Thank you, Rebecca.” The head massage was bringing Ruth back to the present. “I almost forgot how wonderful it is to be clean. I feel so much lighter!”

  “Yes, I’m sure we’ve scrubbed off pounds of prairie dust,” Rebecca replied.

  “What’s Mary doing?”

  “She’s washing the clothes.”

  “She’s really growing up, isn’t she?”

  “She is. But I’d better help her or we may be missing some things in the morning.” The two women chuckled. Mary was helpful, but not always thorough.

  A few minutes later, Ruth sighed deeply and sat up. It was getting late. She would help the girls finish the laundry and then it would be time to get back to camp.

  “It’s done, Ma,” Rebecca said.

  “Thank you, girls. I lost track of the time.”

  “It’s okay, Ma,” Mary piped. “You looked so relaxed. We didn’t want to make you get out.”

  The others were leaving the water and putting on dry clothes. They gathered their laundry and slowly walked back to camp, refreshed and clean. Thomas, the boys, and James were talking quietly around the fire. They looked up when the women and Mary walked into the camp.

  “Wow! Mary looks three shades lighter,” Sam said jokingly.

  “That was heavenly,” Ruth said.

  “You look great,” James said, staring appreciatively at Rebecca’s rosy cheeks and shining chestnut hair.

  “It was wonderful, James. I feel so refreshed. Will you walk with me?” The two linked arms and walked out of the firelight. Thomas and Ruth shared a knowing look.

  “Stay close by now,” Tommy called after them teasingly. “And no kissing!”

  Sam guffawed loudly, and Tommy collapsed into giggles.

  “You two can get yourselves a bath,” Thomas said sternly, but he could barely contain the smile threatening to give him away. Mary went into the wagon to put things away and check on Mattie. Then it was just Ruth and Thomas left by the fire. Thomas drew his wife close and put his nose in her hair.

  “You smell nice.”

  “I feel so relaxed.”

  “Soon we’ll be in Oregon City and you can have a bath every night if you want.”

  Ruth sighed into Thomas’s arms. “This is the first real bath I’ve had in months. I hope we camp by more hot springs.”

  “I don’t want you getting spoiled now!” Thomas said gently, kissing the top of Ruth’s damp head. She turned her face to look at Thomas.

  “We’ve done the right thing, haven’t we Thomas?” Her eyes searched his in the light from the fire. “We’ve done the right thing to leave Iowa.”

  Thomas cocked his head to the side. “What’s troubling you, Ruth?”

  “It’s just that we have the largest family in the wagon train, and all of us are still here. I almost feel guilty when I look at the women who have lost children or husbands. We haven’t lost anyone to cholera, Thomas. I feel like we’re very lucky, or maybe we’re just foolish to think that we will all make it to Oregon City.” Ruth’s voice was edgy.

  “Shh,” he put his finger on her lips. “Don’t get yourself all riled up now. You’ve had a nice bath, and you’re warm and clean.” His arms tightened around her. “Don’t you worry, Ruth. We’re all going to walk into Oregon City together.” His voice was quiet and confident. “I’ve taken care of this family just fine up till now, and nothing is going to change that.”

  Ruth snuggled into Thomas. She felt safe in his arms. She felt like he was telling her the truth. If anyone could protect this family, he would.

  “Thank you, Thomas,” she said softly.

  Later when Rebecca and James walked back into camp, Ruth and Thomas were still nestled together, companionably watching the dying embers of the fire. Thomas stretched his arms and stood up.

  “I think it’s time to kick those boys out of the bath. Come on, James. Our turn.” The two men walked into the night.

  Rebecca sat next to her mother. After a few moments she sighed, and then she confided, “James and I are in love. He’s going to ask me to marry him.”

  “It’s taking him long enough,” Ruth replied.

  “Ma!”

  Ruth laughed. “I’m kidding, Rebecca.” She turned to her daughter and enfolded her in her arms. “I’m so happy for you. Your father and I both think James is the perfect match for you. We’ve known for a long time that you two would be married.”

  “Oh, Ma, James makes me happy. I love him so much!”

  “He’s a good man, Rebecca. When will he talk to your father?”

  “Soon, Ma.”

  Ruth felt a deep sense of satisfaction as she leaned ba
ck against the wagon. She felt clean for the first time in months. Rebecca, her oldest, would soon be a wife and then a mother of her own babies. Her children were healthy. Soon they would be in Oregon, and a new chapter would begin. Life was good. She closed her eyes and smiled. The smile was still on her face when Thomas woke her from her sleep and helped her to their bed.

  Bad News

  Chapter Twenty

  Mile 1427

  Emily Hinton stared disbelievingly at Abel Brown from the chair where she was sitting. Her heart raced in her chest. What he was telling her couldn’t be true!

  “Emily, do you understand what I’m trying to tell you? Your father is dead. Ernest got word of it at Fort Kearney, but he wanted to wait to give you the news.”

  Emily shook her head as if to clear it. This was impossible. Ernest had just been buried, and now Abel was telling her that her father was dead? Her eyes welled with tears.

  “You’re lying!” she exclaimed, her voice breaking. Buster whined when he heard his mistress cry out. He stood on his hind legs and put his front paws on Emily’s knees.

  Abel reached into the breast pocket of his coat. “Here’s the letter from your…mother, Emily.”

  Abel held out an envelope. Emily recognized her mother’s precise script. She took the envelope with trembling hands.

  “Emily, I’m sorry to burden you with this when you’ve only just buried your husband, but time is short, and decisions have to be made.” His eyes looked at her intently, but she had barely heard what he had said.

  “I’ll leave you alone to read it, and then we need to talk.” Abel turned and left the tent.

  Emily stared at the envelope for a long moment. It was addressed to Mrs. Ernest Hinton, Independence, Missouri, April 13, 1852. Someone else had added, “Overland Trail to Oregon, Captain Wyatt’s train,” underneath the address. Her mind reeled as she realized she and Ernest had probably just missed the letter in Missouri. She hurriedly removed the two thin sheets of writing paper. Her mother’s words blurred on the page, and she had to blink continuously to clear her eyes.

  Dear Emily,

  I am sorry to have to bring you the news of your father’s death. It was sudden and unexpected. He took a fall from his horse and hit his head. He never regained his senses, and he lingered for two days, delirious, until he slipped away in the early morning of March 22nd.

  Your father’s lawyer, Mr. Pound, will read the will soon…I know everything has been left to me. Your father was happy with your marriage and confident that Ernest will take good care of you. I and your brothers will continue to run the farm until your brothers are of an age to take over. At that time, I will deed the farm to them and live on here until I join your father.

  There is another matter. There is no easy way to tell you this, so I shall just write it out and hope that you receive this letter somehow.

  I am not your mother. Your real mother died after your birth. She was one of your father’s slaves in Virginia. She was a mulatto, and since you had such fair skin, your father decided to pass you off as white. He thought your life would be easier if you could avoid the scandal and live as a white woman.

  He and I married a year later, and he made me promise to keep this secret and raise you as my own daughter. Shortly after our marriage, we moved to Ohio. All these years I have kept my promise, but now there is no point. I thought you should know the truth.

  You and I were never close, Emily. I resented the way your father doted on you. Perhaps he was trying to make up for the fact that I could not be a real mother to you. I feel certain that I will never see you again. Now that your father is dead, there is no tie binding us together. You may consider this my last correspondence. Godspeed and good fortune to you and your husband in the west.

  Sincerely,

  Mrs. Henry Lawton

  Emily could barely read the last paragraph. Her tears spilled from her eyes and wet the paper in her trembling hands. Her husband’s death had numbed her, and this news was heartbreaking. Visions of her father filled her. He had been the most important person in her life, and she could not bear the thought of never seeing him again. On top of that, the woman she had always thought of as her mother was not related to her! The letter slipped to the ground, and she bent her head to her hands and sobbed. Buster licked her hands and whined.

  The tent flap parted and Nellie rushed in.

  “Emily, my dear, I’m so sorry! Mr. Brown just told me.” She held Emily in her arms and rocked her like a little child. Emily cried piteously for a long while, and Nellie patted her back and made soft soothing sounds.

  “My daddy’s dead, Nellie.”

  “I know, Emily. I’m so sorry.”

  “He’s gone, Nellie, gone forever!”

  “Shhh, Emily. You just cry, honey. You’ve had quite a shock. Your daddy loved you more than anyone in this world. He told me once when you were real sick that if anything ever happened to you, he would die himself.”

  “I don’t know what to do, Nellie.” Emily’s shoulders shook with her sobs.

  “Well, you’ll just have to go back to Ohio. I’m sure your mother will need your help. There’s nothing and no one for you in Oregon.”

  Emily suddenly stopped crying. She sat up and looked at Nellie with red-rimmed eyes. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, and her hair, usually perfectly groomed, had come undone. It cascaded over her shoulders in frenzied tumultuous dark locks.

  “You never knew?” she asked, hiccupping.

  Nellie looked at her alarmed, searching her eyes. “Knew what, honey?” Emily bent down and retrieved the fallen letter. She handed it to Nellie. Nellie could barely tear her eyes from Emily’s face. What she saw there frightened her. Emily sat rigidly in the chair as Nellie read the letter quickly and then again more slowly. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the thin paper.

  “My God!” she whispered softly. “I never understood why your mother was so cold towards you. This explains it! I guess you won’t be going back to Ohio.”

  Emily regarded Nellie soberly for a few moments. Suddenly she threw her head back and laughed. Her laughter was mirthless, and soon it escalated into a high-pitched wail. Nellie dropped the letter, grasped Emily’s shoulders, and shook her.

  “Stop it, Emily!”

  Emily stopped laughing as suddenly as she had started, but when she spoke, her voice trembled. Her eyes were wide in her face. “Nellie, I’m a Negro. I’m a widow. I have no family to turn to. What will become of me?”

  Nellie squeezed her eyes tightly shut. She had to think. If news of this got out, Emily would be ruined. She would no longer be accepted in white society. What would she do? Where would she go?

  “Listen, Emily. No one is to know about this, do you hear me? This is between you and me.” Nellie watched Emily’s eyes—beautiful deep brown eyes. Her dark brows furrowed over them. Her nearly black hair contrasted against her creamy skin. Her full lips quivered slightly under a nose that was straight and slightly broad. Now that she knew Emily’s mother was a Negress, she looked at her features intently. Nellie had always thought Emily was beautiful. Her looks were slightly exotic, and she looked nothing like her father. She looked like an aristocratic southern belle.

  The tent flap parted and Abel Brown entered. He was tall and slender in the black pants and coat he always wore. It gave him a debonair look uncommon on the trail. He regarded the two women calmly.

  “I believe I have a solution to your problem, Emily,” Abel said confidently.

  Emily and Nellie looked at him. Emily’s expression was wary. Nellie looked expectant and hopeful.

  “You and I will be married,” he said matter-of-factly. He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled thinly. Nellie gasped, and Emily’s mouth twitched. She looked precariously close to hysterical laughter again.

  “That’s hardly a solution to her problem, Mr. Brown,” Nellie stated crossly. “She’s just lost her husband and her father.”

  “Nevertheless, it’s the only po
ssible solution, and it will be beneficial to both of us. Emily needs a husband. She has no assets and no prospects. I need respectability. I’ve made a name for myself, but unfortunately, it’s not a good one. As my wife, Emily will bring me credibility. She and I will enjoy social circles that wouldn’t otherwise be open to me.”

  Emily looked at Abel’s smug smile. His roguish good looks did not hide the feverish ambition that always played underneath the surface of his seemingly calm demeanor. Her palm itched to slap the smile from his face.

  “I have plenty of money, Mr. Brown, and no thank you, I won’t be needing a husband.”

  Abel’s caramel colored eyes looked at her appraisingly. “You have no money, Emily. Everything your husband once owned is now mine. I have receipts and I.O.U.s to vouch for this. Ernest was very indebted to me. I’m afraid your husband was not a very good card player.”

  Emily’s face paled. She remembered all the nights Ernest had spent with Abel Brown and some of the other men. Her husband had told her they were discussing plans for Oregon.

  “Ernest wouldn’t squander our savings!” she cried.

  Abel laughed scornfully. “Oh, he always hoped to win it all back—and more. Every time we played he was confident, but he just got deeper in my debt.”

  Nellie put her arm around Emily’s shoulders and looked at her earnestly. “Don’t you worry, Emily. You’re coming with me and Reverend Mueller. We’ll sort everything out once we get to Oregon.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t do, Mrs. Mueller,” Abel interjected. “Like I said, my solution is the only workable one, and that’s the way it’s going to be.”

  Nellie started to protest, but Abel held up a hand and said conspiratorially, “The three of us are the only ones who know Emily’s secret. We know what her fate will be if that ever gets out.” His voice lowered and he looked at Emily. “Now I want the best for you, Emily, but who knows what will happen if I’m not around to protect you?”

  Nellie noted the barely veiled threat in Abel’s voice.

  Emily gasped. “You read the letter! That’s my private property!”