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

by Murata, Victoria

  Emily looked at Brenna carefully. “I got a letter at Fort Laramie from the woman I had always thought was my mother. She’s actually my stepmother.”

  “How horrible!”

  “Yes, but it’s worse.” Emily drew in a deep breath. “Brenna, my real mother was one of my father’s slaves in Virginia.”

  Brenna gasped. “What?!”

  “Nellie and Abel are the only ones who know the truth—and now you.” Her eyes were entreating. “You’ll keep my secret, won’t you Brenna? I don’t know why I told you except that I feel close to you and hope we can be friends.”

  “Of course I’ll keep your secret, Emily. You’re still the same person you’ve always been.”

  “No, I’m not. Everything has changed, Brenna. If people find out the truth about me, I will be ruined. Do you understand?”

  Brenna looked at Emily, a beautiful young woman. “You mean if people knew your mother was a Negress they would shun you?”

  “I would be shunned by white people and Negroes. No one would accept me, Brenna.”

  “That’s not right!” Brenna exclaimed.

  “No, it’s not, and that’s why you have to keep my secret.”

  Brenna leaned over and took Emily’s hands. “Your secret is safe with me, Emily.”

  The young women spent a few more minutes looking over the books. Brenna picked up a heavy one. “How about this one?” The title said Ancient History.

  “That’s a great book! I think you’ll like it. Keep it as long as you want. Do you want to take another?”

  “No, thanks. I think this one will keep me busy for a while.”

  “Can I ask a favor while you’re here?”

  “Sure, Emily—what is it?”

  Emily looked down at Buster, who cocked his head and looked back at her.

  A few minutes later, they had Buster in the creek up to his ears. He squirmed and whined trying to escape, but Brenna held him firmly while Emily soaped him from head to tail. When Emily was scooping up water and rinsing him off, he gave a final effort.

  “Oof. Don’t let him go, Brenna!”

  “I can’t hold on to him!” Brenna exclaimed and then laughed.

  “He’s getting away!” Emily yelled. They tried to grab him, and Brenna ended up face first in the creek. Emily laughed until tears ran down her cheeks. Brenna climbed halfway out of the water, grabbed Emily’s dress, and pulled her in. Both women were thoroughly soaked and laughing hysterically. Buster sat on the shore regarding them solemnly.

  “I’m wet to the skin!” Emily gasped climbing out of the water. “At least we got the majority of the buffalo dung off of Buster.”

  Brenna followed her and sat on the creek bank catching her breath. “He smells better anyway.”

  Kate Flannigan looked at Brenna’s bedraggled dress and dripping hair when she walked into camp minutes later. “You should undress to take a bath, Brenna.”

  They both laughed and Brenna explained her appearance. “That little dog is strong and slippery when he’s soaking wet!” She watched Kate building up the fire. “Do you miss Ireland, Ma?”

  Kate looked up, surprised. “Where is this coming from?”

  “Emily and I were talking. I think she’s had a pretty sheltered life. I started thinking about my life compared to hers—all the places I’ve been and things I’ve seen. I was just wondering if you ever miss Ireland.”

  Kate’s face suddenly had a tortured look. “Oh, Brenna! I miss it terribly!” Her voice broke.

  “Ma!” Brenna looked alarmed. “I’m sorry!”

  “No, it’s alright, Brenna. It’s just that when you said you’ve seen a lot in your life, it made me think about how true that is. You’ve seen more than any girl your age should ever see—all the poverty, the brutality, the misery, and people dying before your eyes. No girl should see that.” Kate wiped her eyes with her apron. “That part I don’t miss at all. But I grew up in a different Ireland, Brenna. I was raised in the same place my parents and theirs were raised. I knew every family in the county. There were always celebrations and dances where everyone would get together. Even wakes. Everyone was like family.”

  Kate looked wistfully at Brenna. “That’s where I met your father and where we were married. The whole county was at the wedding. It went on for three days! You and Conor were both born and baptized there. You might remember some of the good times we had when you were young.”

  Brenna nodded.

  “And I miss the country: the green of it, and narrow lanes, small villages, the smell of the sea.” Kate paused and blew her nose.

  “I miss Aunt Chloe and Uncle Donald,” Brenna said.

  “Yes, I do too.” Kate paused in thought. “It’s hard to explain, Brenna. It’s everything—the land, the people, the customs. But what I really miss is more than that, and it’s something I don’t have here in America.”

  “What is it, Ma?”

  “It’s home.”

  “A home?”

  “No, not a home—it’s the feeling of home. I don’t have that here yet.”

  Brenna nodded sagely. “That’s why Da wanted to come to Oregon, isn’t it Ma? He wants to try to get that feeling back.”

  Kate smiled at her daughter. She was so wise! “Yes, Brenna. That’s the truth.”

  Training

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Before the Blue Mountains

  Mile 1639

  James Cardell found Michael Flannigan working on his wagon. “Hello, Mr. Flannigan. Hard at work as usual.”

  “Good morning, James.”

  The camp was having a lay-by in preparation for the trip over the Blue Mountains. They had heard that it was a difficult ascent through heavy timber. The deeply rutted and often muddy roads wound through outcroppings of rock. The descent on the other side was also treacherous. The men were making necessary repairs on the wagons. Some of them went hunting with the older boys for pheasant and prairie chickens. Others were dickering with a couple of Cayuse Indians for some beef.

  “I want to thank you again for your help in the trade yesterday. Thomas is very happy with the horses.”

  “I’m glad I was able to help you, James.”

  “I was hoping you would be able to help gentle the colt, Mr. Flannigan. None of us has had much experience with that.” James waited while Michael finished the repair on the tongue of the wagon.

  Michael straightened and wiped his brow with his sleeve. “To be truthful, James, I don’t have the time, and I’m not the best one for the job anyway. If you want someone who is really in tune with horses, you’ll want to ask Brenna. She has a gift, and no one can gentle a horse like she can.”

  “Brenna?” James was surprised.

  “Aye, I’ve never seen anyone like her with horses. They seem to know she means them no harm, and they always cooperate. She’s the best horsewoman I’ve ever seen. Ask her.” He went back to checking over the wagon.

  James walked to the back of the wagon where Brenna and Kate were kneading dough to bake into bread.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Flannigan. Morning, Brenna.”

  “Mr. Cardell, I heard you made a good trade yesterday.” Kate smiled at him.

  “Thanks to your husband.”

  “Michael knows horses, and that’s the truth.”

  “I hear Brenna knows horses, too,” he said, smiling at Brenna.

  “Aye, that she does—in a different way. Michael knows the bones, joints, and muscles. Brenna knows the heart of the horse.” Kate looked at Brenna, who flushed with pleasure. “I think she can talk to them, and they like it!” They all laughed.

  “Brenna, your father thinks that maybe you would help gentle the colt. He can be a handful, and I’d like to see him gentled before he gets any bigger,” James said. “All the children want to ride him, and I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  Brenna smiled broadly. There was nothing she would rather do. It was true she had a knack with horses. She loved everything about them, and from the time
she was a little child and had crawled up onto a fence and slid onto the back of a horse grazing in the pasture, she knew she was at home. She looked expectantly at her mother, and Kate smiled and said, “Go. You won’t be any good to me if you have horses on your mind, now will you?”

  “Thanks, Ma.” Brenna gave her mother a quick hug and happily accompanied James to the Bensons’ wagon.

  Brenna looked at the colt standing in front of her from the end of his lead rope. He stared back at her expectantly. He seemed to know that this girl was going to ask something of him. She had already spent some time rubbing him all over with her hands. She paid attention to every part of his body. He seemed to like the attention, but when he went to playfully nip Brenna’s arm, she reprimanded him quickly.

  “He needs to know that I am not a horse. I am his boss, and he needs to respect me.”

  His ears were turned towards her, but when he heard the sound of a mule hee-hawing in a noisy protest behind him, his right ear swiveled to the back. When he determined that the mule was not a threat, he focused both ears back on Brenna.

  “He’s listening to me closely. He wants to be friends, but he wants to make sure that he can trust me first. He already figured out what was happening behind him.”

  “But he didn’t turn his head around to look,” Mary said.

  All the Bensons were watching intently. Ben Hansson was there, too. He had seen Brenna and James Cardell walking purposefully toward the Bensons’ wagon, and he wanted to find out what was going on. He marveled at Sweet Brenna, who had taken on a whole different demeanor as soon as she stepped in front of the colt. Now she stood resolutely before this large and untrained animal, loosely holding the lead rope that was attached to the rope halter around his head.

  “He doesn’t need to turn his head to see behind him. He can see all around himself because of where his eyes are on his head.”

  “Yes!” Mary exclaimed. “I see they’re more on the sides of his head than ours are!”

  Brenna took the slack out of the lead rope and put some pressure on it. Instantly the colt leaned back against the pressure. Brenna didn’t pull on the rope, but held it steady. After a few moments, the colt shifted his weight subtly forward and Brenna instantly relaxed her hands on the lead rope.

  “He doesn’t like pressure, and when he figures out how to get away from it, he will because it’s more comfortable for him.”

  “What do you mean by pressure, Brenna? You didn’t even touch him,” Sam asked.

  “I’m keeping steady pressure on the lead rope. I’m not pulling on it, but there’s no slack. When he leans away from me, he feels pressure from the halter on his head and he doesn’t like that. As soon as he leans forward, the pressure releases. I want him to walk up to me, and eventually he will. He just has to figure out that that’s what I want from him.” Again, she took up the slack in the rope and tightened it. The colt again leaned back, but then he moved slightly forward, and Brenna released the pressure by relaxing her hands on the lead rope.

  “Good boy,” she said. The colt’s ears and eyes were on Brenna.

  “But he didn’t do anything,” Tommy said.

  “Oh yes, he did a great thing, Tommy. He gave in to me. Just a little, but that’s a start.”

  Brenna again took up the slack and put pressure on the lead rope. This time the colt did not move back. He seemed to be stubbornly holding his ground, but then he shifted his weight forward, and he moved his right front foot one small step. Brenna instantly released her hands on the rope and praised him.

  “So you pressure him, and when he gives in a little you give him release,” Thomas said.

  “That’s right, Mr. Benson. Horses like food, comfort, and companionship. The best way to train them so that they don’t get resentful is to use pressure and release a little at a time. Once they understand what it is you want them to do, they will do it for you, but they have to trust you first.”

  Brenna showed Thomas how to hold the lead rope and how to ask for what he wanted from the colt. It wasn’t too long before the colt was responding to the pressure on the lead rope by walking up to them. At one point, he got a little too enthusiastic and almost ran over them. Brenna showed Thomas how to encourage the colt to move back by vigorously shaking the lead rope from side to side.

  “He doesn’t like this action, and he will move away from it because it makes him uncomfortable.”

  Ben watched Brenna, transfixed. He had never seen her take charge so confidently. She obviously was very good with this colt. Better than he would have been, he realized. He tended to try to muscle horses into doing his bidding. Brenna’s technique looked effortless, and the colt was listening to her intently.

  “Now I am going to ask him to move backwards.”

  “That’s easy. We’ve seen him move backwards,” Tommy said.

  “Oh yes, he can move backwards all right. But will he move backwards when I ask him to?”

  Brenna walked up to the colt and stood a foot away. She rubbed his face gently with her hand, and then she placed her palm on his nose halfway between his nostrils and his eyes and under the halter. Slowly she squeezed her thumb and fingers on either side of the long bones of his nose creating pressure on the sides.

  “I’m not squeezing hard, but he’s very sensitive here. I’m also using steady backwards pressure and I’m focusing behind him now.”

  The colt jerked his head up but Brenna kept her hand on his nose. Then the colt jerked his head sideways. Brenna kept her hand in place, using her other hand on the lead rope to bring his head back to center and keep him from moving forward. When the colt leaned back from the pressure, Brenna instantly released. After a few moments, she again applied pressure to his nose. This time he took a small step back, and Brenna released the pressure. Soon he was taking five and six steps back with very light pressure before Brenna relaxed her fingers. She always praised him and rubbed his nose after each try.

  “You want to always rub the spot where you were applying pressure. It lets him know you are friendly. He’s beginning to understand me now. He knows that I won’t harm him, but I won’t let him get away with any shenanigans either. He’s beginning to see me as the boss. Now you do it, Thomas.”

  They worked with the colt for another half hour, asking the colt to step back by shaking the lead rope like they did when he got too rambunctious. At first, the shaking was vigorous, but soon the colt was taking multiple steps backwards with just a hint of a shake on the rope. Then Brenna said it was time to stop.

  “But he’s doing so well. Can’t you keep working with him some more?” Mary asked.

  “It’s very important to stop the training while he still feels good about it, Mary. If you push him too hard, he’ll resent you for it. You want to keep it fun for him, too.”

  “Oh I get it,” Mary said. “It’s like when mom wants me to keep doing my sums when I am tired and I can’t think straight.” Everyone laughed.

  “That’s right, Mary. This colt is tired now. It’s a good time to stop because he just did something right. He’ll remember that next time we work with him, and we should work with him every day now, even if it’s only for half an hour.”

  “Can I work with him tomorrow, please?” Mary implored.

  “He needs to get to know all of you, but I think you should practice on Molly first. Remember, he’s just a baby mentally, but he’s big and strong like an adult horse. I may make it look easy, but until you learn how to work with him properly, it’s best to let me and your father gentle this horse.”

  “Me too,” Tommy said enthusiastically. “I want to learn how to do it.”

  “Both you and Sam should learn these techniques. We’ll teach them to you using Molly.”

  Sam smiled happily. He loved this new colt and he wanted to spend a lot of time with him. He thought he could be as good with him as Brenna was. He had been watching every move she made, and he thought he would be able to duplicate her actions. He wanted to make this colt his.
He rubbed the colt’s ears and whispered in his ear, “We’re going to be best friends,” and the colt nickered and vigorously nodded his head up and down. Sam smiled delightedly.

  “Dad, let’s name him Rascal.”

  Thomas thought about it for a moment. “That’s a fine name, Sam. Rascal it is!”

  A Proper Suitor

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ben walked Brenna back to her wagon. He put his arm around her shoulder. “I didn’t know you were such a hand with horses.”

  “You don’t know everything about me, Ben Hansson.”

  “What else don’t I know about you, Brenna?”

  “Well…you don’t know my middle name, do you?”

  “Yes, I do.” He looked at her solemnly.

  Brenna looked surprised. “You do?”

  “Of course I do. It’s Brunhilda.”

  They both dissolved into giggles. Kate Flannigan watched her daughter and Ben Hansson approaching from where she was standing at the back of the Flannigans’ wagon. She frowned slightly as Brenna gave Ben a playful shove and squealed in delight as he chased her. It wasn’t that Kate didn’t like Ben. He was a well-mannered young man, and he certainly had a good future ahead of him. But he wasn’t a Catholic. She sighed as she checked on the bread baking in the Dutch oven. She heard Brenna laugh uproariously at something Ben said.

  “Michael,” Kate called. “We need to talk.”

  Later that evening Michael and Kate were enjoying a cup of tea in a rare moment of peace and quiet. Brenna was visiting the Muellers, and Conor was at the Meekers’ camp helping Ezra with his chores. Kate broached the subject.

  “Have you taken notice of your daughter and young Ben Hansson?”

  Michael gave her a sideways look. “Aye, I notice them both every day.”

  Kate looked pointedly at Michael. “Have you noticed how they are together?”

  “As opposed to how they are when they’re apart?”

  “Michael! You know what I mean!”

  Michael smiled. “They seem to get along together well enough.”