Dream Of Echoes

by Karen C. Webb

  “I sure miss that little cabin,” I grumbled as I added more wet, hissing wood to the fire.

  “I do too, John. But I’m sure we will make it through just fine. And then we’ll build our own cabin.”

  That brightened my mood. I pictured it as I sat there, white smoke from the fire drifting up around my face. Our own little cabin in a green, green valley. Horses and cattle grazing across the green hills. Maybe we could even get ourselves a nice dog. And a milk cow. How wonderful a big tall glass of cold milk would have tasted right now. I could see our future together as we sat there. Working and loving together on our own place. “Yeah, it’ll be good in the Willamette. We’ll make our own Garden of Eden,” I told her.

  Chapter 29

  Kate watched the smoke drifting around John’s face as he huddled over the fire. She was cold and wet and miserable too. Sleeping on the cold ground had started a cough and her lungs felt painful when she took a deep breath. She had never been one to complain; she mentioned none of it to John, but she was a little worried too. She felt sure they would be fine if they could just make it to the warmer valley, but a strange sense of foreboding was hanging like a cloud over her again. Much as it had at the mission. She couldn’t put her finger on anything solid, it was just a feeling that passed over her from time to time. She shook it off as she watched John; she knew he was picturing their future together as he sat there. That’s what she should be doing too, instead of being such a worrywart. She tried picturing the green valley and their own cabin as John had described it, but she hadn’t seen the valley before, as he had. Try as she might, she couldn’t really see it in her mind.

  We didn’t see any game that day and we had no luck with fishing. We probably made fifteen or twenty miles and we were too exhausted when we camped for the night to care about our empty stomachs. We chewed on a bit of the cold jerky and huddled together in our blankets. Just a few more days, I kept telling myself.

  Kate was uncharacteristically quiet and I wrapped the blankets around both of us as we huddled in front of the fire.

  “We will make it,” I told her. “I know it’s tough right now, but we’re going to be okay.”

  “I know, John Baker.” She turned her face up to me and gave me a smile. It lit up her face and brightened my day, but it almost seemed to me that the smile hadn’t quite reached her eyes.

  I dreamed of Kate as we slept on the cold, hard ground. I was chasing her through the Columbia Gorge. We were underneath the trees and running between the huge green ferns. She was laughing and spinning as she ran ahead of me. The sun was shining through the tall trees and it dappled the ground here and there. Kate seemed brighter to me with each patch of sunlight she passed through, then her coloring washed out as she reached the darkness under the trees. She was happy and laughing as she looked back at me. She ran on and on, laughing and twirling through the forest, getting deeper and deeper into their shade, until the darkness of the forest swallowed her and she disappeared.

  I sat up with a start. It was pitch black and cold; the fire had died and the stars were shining brilliantly against the black sky. I put my hand up to my face. I was sweating, even though it was so cold out there. Kate rolled over on the hard ground, grumbling and pulling at the blankets. I had pulled the blankets off her when I sat up. I lay down again, pulling the blankets back over her, my mind filled with the strange dream.

  We got on our way early the following morning, preferring the hard walk to sitting around on the cold ground. And at least when we were moving, it got the blood flowing and kept us warmer. Kate coughed occasionally, covering her mouth and turning her head, as if she didn’t want me to hear.

  “You alright?” I asked her each time she coughed.

  “I’m fine, John,” she insisted. “It’s just from sleeping on the cold ground.”

  “You better not get sick again.” I unrolled one of our blankets and wrapped it around her shoulders as she walked.

  “Really, I’m fine John. And I’m warm enough.” She started to pull the blanket off, but I wouldn’t let her.

  “That’s what you said the last time, too.” I wrapped it back around her.

  The sky was overcast and heavy. Not even a morning sun to warm us as we kept moving, my free arm around her shoulders to provide a little more body heat. It was a hard walk along the river; we were hunting as we walked and following the river instead of the trail. It was either deep sand or mud and every step seemed to be harder than the one before. We still didn’t scare up any game and, after a couple hours, we moved back up to the Oregon road, where wagons had worn a better trail.

  A chilly spring wind came with the afternoon. The day had only warmed slightly by then, but whatever comfort we’d enjoyed quickly diminished as the wind wicked away our body heat. We had no luck with scaring up any game either. We had no choice but to camp early and find any shelter we could from the wind. We built a small fire underneath the trees and heated more of our jerky soup, then turned in early, snuggling together in the blankets. I wrapped both arms tight around Kate and pulled her warm body into my chest. “As hungry and miserable as I am out here with you,” I whispered to her, “I still wouldn’t trade it for my old life.”

  Kate kissed the hand of the arm I had wrapped around her. Her head rested on my other arm and, I wasn’t sure, but I thought I felt a tear run slowly across my forearm.

  We woke up to a bright morning sun peeking through the clouds. While the air was still frosty, I felt sure we would have a warmer day as the sun climbed higher. We set off with higher spirits after a small breakfast of mostly hot water.

  “Today is going to be our day,” I said emphatically. “It’s going to be a beautiful day and we’re going to find some game.”

  “I certainly hope you’re right, John Baker. Our jerky is never going to hold out at this rate, to make it all the way to the Willamette.” Kate sounded better today; she was coughing less and her eyes were brighter.

  “Yeah, I know.” My stomach grumbled angrily as she reminded me of how little we had eaten. We had to be looking like a couple of dirty, ragged, starved orphan children.

  We did scare up a rabbit about midmorning. The rabbit surprised us as it popped out from underneath a bush several yards ahead of us. I was walking with the Bowie knife in my hand and I brought it up and threw it in one swift motion. But the rabbit had took off so quick and it zig-zagged back and forth as it ran, causing my blade to whiz right by. The rabbit was out of sight in a second and I heaved a sigh as I retrieved the knife. I felt even hungrier after having come so close to having a meal. We saw no more game that day and we were resigned to shaving off a little more of our jerky into a pot of water for dinner. I even tried fishing while Kate set up our camp, but I had no luck there either. We had been so many days without a proper meal, indeed, so many weeks now without a proper meal, I felt as if my body—which had been feeling so strong and fit—was weakening without proper nutrition.

  We hunted as we walked the next day. We had skipped a morning meal in hopes that we could catch some early morning game on the move. We still saw nothing and I’d had no more luck with the fishing, but I knew we had to be coming close to the Indian village again and I was willing to beg, barter or steal a meal. We still had some of our jerky, but it wasn’t going to last long at this rate.

  We were walking along the ridge of a small brown hill, looking over the beauty of the Columbia, when I saw a movement in the water.

  “What is that?” Kate asked.

  I didn’t answer as I saw it disappear, then pop back up. I dropped the pack off my back and took off down the hill at a dead run. I kept my eye on the dark spot in the water as it disappeared, then resurfaced a little further down, the current pulling it away from me.

  It was a young Indian boy, probably seven or eight years old, and he disappeared under the water again as I reached the edge of the river. I jumped in, clothes and all, and saw him resurface a little further down, coughing and sputtering. The current was pullin
g him downriver away from me. I swam through the icy water as hard as I could, grabbing him around his chest. He immediately pulled my head under the water in his panic and I felt the strength seeping from my arms and legs from the near-freezing water. I held him out at arms-length and made my slow way back to the bank, barely keeping his head and my own above the surface as I paddled one-handed. The cold sapped my strength even faster than the struggling child. Each stroke I swam toward the shore was harder than the one before. Meanwhile, the current pulled us both further downstream, away from Kate.

  Kate ran downriver, carrying both our packs, and met us at the bank. She reached for the boy’s arm and pulled him onto the bank, where he lay, shivering and exhausted. I crawled out of the water, literally crawled on my hands and knees, my body gone weak and numb from the cold. I felt so weak, I thought she was going to have to pull me in too. I dropped down onto my stomach on the bank and waited for my heartbeat to slow and some strength to return to my arms and legs. I think I was beyond shivering; I felt only numb and weak as I lay there panting. Kate raced around, gathering wood for a fire. I crawled to it as the flames curled higher, dragging the small boy with me. He hadn’t moved from where she had put him on the bank. He lay there gasping for breath, his little chest heaving. I held him in front of me by the fire while Kate pulled our blankets out, wrapping them around both of us. We sat and shivered for a while, but slowly dried out as Kate continually fed the fire. I could feel my strength slowly returning as the heat seeped through my wet clothing.

  Kate heated hot water and we sipped it as we sat there. I could see color returning to the boy’s face as he warmed up. As he grew warmer and began to dry out, the boy chattered at us in his language. There wasn’t one word we understood, but we nodded along while he chattered.

  “He must be from the village nearby.” Kate offered.

  “I guess. When we’re completely dry, I guess we can take him there and see.”

  The kid bounced back quicker than me, he was on his feet once he was dry and waving at us to follow him.

  “Okay, okay little dude,” I told him as he beckoned.

  We put the fire out and followed him on down the trail, where he did indeed lead us to the village. It was the same one where Kate lost her horse to the mountain lion and we had traded off the wagon. I think some of those men might have recognized us when they came out of their lodges. That little dude raised such a ruckus, he roused the whole village. I saw one man making straight for me, a stern look on his face as the little boy chattered. The man moved so fast toward me and had such a look on his face, I was contemplating pulling the Bowie from my leg. I hadn’t forgot about all those people getting killed at the mission. But when he grabbed my forearm and clapped me on the back with his free hand, I knew the boy must be telling him how I had saved him from the river.

  “Thaa..nk yo..u,” the man said slowly, drawing the words out as if he wasn’t used to using them. “Come, eat.” He motioned putting food in his mouth and we followed him to his fire, where the boy was already surrounded by the women of the village, getting hugs all around as he chattered.

  “How do you shut this kid up?” I whispered to Kate. She only smiled, amused by the whole ordeal. I think those people were regarding me as a hero. They dished up bowls of food for both of us as we sat by their fire and the men brought chunks of deer from a small pit near the lodge. They had been roasting the whole deer on coals in that pit and it was the most tender, delicious meat I’d ever had in my life. Of course, when you’re starving, I guess anything would’ve tasted wonderful. I’m not sure what was in the bowl, some kind of stew I think, but it was wonderful too. Whatever it was, it had vegetables in it, something we had been in need of for a while. I could feel my strength returning as I ate the hot food.

  Everyone in the village began pulling roasted chunks of meat off the deer and it turned into somewhat of a party. The Indians ate, then smoked long pipes as a few people began dancing. Some of the older ones sang and chanted as the young ones danced and stomped their feet, while the children ran around the circle of people, laughing and playing. I caught their excitement as I watched them enjoying themselves. I pulled Kate up from the ground and we joined in the dancing, doing some of the moves I’d taught her. Those Indians stopped dancing and watched us; they seemed completely amazed by the moves. They laughed and pointed until a few of them even tried the moves themselves.

  We had ourselves a wonderful time until late into the night, then the same big Indian came to us and pointed toward one of the lodges. “Sleep,” he told us. I bowed my head at him and we went inside. It was a crude building, but warm and comfortable and we were happy to be indoors for the night. It felt like a year since we had slept inside, dry and warm, our appetites happily sated. We had really eaten very little. Our stomachs had shrank from near-starvation until we could really hold very little.

  Chapter 30

  Kate had enjoyed her day immensely. From watching John rescue the young boy in the morning, to dancing with him around the fire in the evening. He never ceased to amaze her as she watched him leap into the river and rescue the boy and accept the Indian man’s thanks with an embarrassed nod. John had jumped into action without hesitation from the time they met. From saving the two of them from bandits, to sitting with her in the river to break her fever, she couldn’t have dreamed up a better man to spend the rest of her life with. And, spending the evening with these kind and interesting Indians had been a fun experience too. After months of holing up in the cabin alone together, dancing with a group of people had been wonderful. She had seen so much love and laughter in the eyes of the Indians, she would almost be sorry to leave them. Kate smiled in the dark and sighed heavily as she snuggled closer into John’s chest and felt his arm tighten around her.

  We were on our way just after sunup the following morning, after the same big Indian took my forearm in what I guessed was a handshake and bowed his head to me.

  Several people from the village came out and waved and one of the women brought a haunch of venison and bowed her head as she handed it to Kate.

  “Thank you,” Kate said as she bowed her head in return.

  We made our way back up to the trail and the little boy I’d saved came running up the hill, waving and chattering at us as he kept pace alongside us. It had been an interesting adventure, and one I knew I would never forget. To have made a village full of friends in this wilderness was not something either of us had counted on. I was a little confused as I thought about it. How was it possible that the Indians had massacred those folks at the mission, when the ones we’d run across had been so helpful and kind?

  We’d soon left the village behind and the day was slowly warming as the sun peeked through the clouds.

  “Look there,” I said to Kate. There were a hundred or more fat Indian ponies grazing across the hills on the north side of the river. “It’s called Horse Heaven Hills in the future,” I told her. “I guess now I understand why.”

  “They’re beautiful,” she said quietly. “I wish we had a few of them.”

  “Or even one. A pack horse would be helpful.”

  “Poor Nip. I hope he found a good home.”

  “I’m sure he did. Maybe the men at the fort took him in.”

  We stopped for our noon break on a rise overlooking the Columbia. I got a fire going and then shaved the bark off a couple sticks with the Bowie knife. We impaled chunks of venison on the sticks and held them over the fire, keeping them slowly turning. We had enough of the deer to get through at least a couple days if we were careful.

  After lunch, Kate took her mother’s jewelry box from her pack and opened it, showing me the contents. She pulled out a string of pearls and held them up. “I think I can use these to trade for seeds and a plow to start our farm,” she said thoughtfully.

  “No Kate, I don’t want you to let go of your mother’s jewelry.”

  “I don’t think she’d mind, John. She would be happy that we were finishing the jo
urney that she and my father began. And we’re going to need something to get us started.”

  “Maybe I should take on some sort of job for a while.” I scratched the stubble on my face as I thought about it. “We’re going to need plow horses and furniture and a barn. We’ve really got our work cut out for us, little one.”

  “I know, John Baker, but we can handle anything.” She jumped into my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck.

  I buried my face into her neck as I held her tight, breathing in her sweet scent. “Yeah, we can handle it,” I told her. “As long as we’re together, we can do anything.”

  I described the Columbia River Gorge to her as we walked. “You’ll see it soon,” I told her. “The fir trees are so tall and it stays so wet and rainy through there, even the things that should be brown are green. Even the trunks of the trees are green with moss. There’s literally moss growing on every surface.”

  “It sounds beautiful,” she said excitedly. “We saw so much brown and barren crossing the Great American Desert. I can’t wait to see it.”

  “There’s also a waterfall that’s over six hundred feet high. And there are huge rocky cliffs that hang out over the water.”

  “Oh, it sounds amazing, John Baker.”

  “I’ve always been amazed by it. It seems almost mystical when you go through there. Like something out of a fantasy movie. No matter how many times I’ve passed through it, I’ve never grown tired of the drive.”

  She took my hand as she bounced around me happily. “Tell me about the Pacific ocean.”