Oregon Dreams

by Rachel Wesson

  “Sheila, what can I do?”

  “Nothing but pray. It’s all any of us can do.”

  Johanna pulled the girl into her arms as Sheila broke down sobbing. Looking over her shoulder, she caught sight of her ma coming holding a bottle in her hand. She watched as Mrs. Freeman gave Joey some laudanum. Quite a lot of it. She caught her ma’s gaze but her ma gave a slight shake of her head.

  “What happened?” Johanna asked, more to distract Sheila than out of curiosity.

  “Joey fell and the wagon rolled over him. Pa couldn’t stop it in time.”

  At Johanna’s intake of breath, Sheila shuddered. “Why Joey? He hasn’t done anything to anyone. If he’s dying, why let him suffer? Why couldn’t he have been killed straight away?”

  “I don’t know, love. Do you want to come for a walk?” Even as she asked, Johanna knew nothing would have kept her from Stephen’s side if, God forbid, something similar had happened to her brother. But Sheila was different. She had been sickly at school and her parents had cosseted their only daughter to the point she could barely make a decision for herself. But Ma always said it was at times of great trial that people’s real character showed through. Sheila gave Johanna one tight hug, wiped her eyes and then walked steadily over to Mrs. Freeman and Gracie who had just arrived on the scene.

  Sheila drew the older woman into her arms comforting her just as Johanna had done for Sheila a few minutes before. Johanna couldn’t bear to stay near the family. Joey’s labored breathing and cries of pain were enough to drive anyone mad. The fact that he was only a year or so older than herself didn’t help. What if it had been Rick lying there?

  She knew she was being selfish thinking of Rick at a time of such sorrow but what if he died on this trip without them ever getting the chance to be together. She was tempted to go to him and tell him of her solution to his problems. She would marry him. But that was too forward. Anyway, it was total madness to even be thinking like this when a school friend lay dying. What was happening to her? She climbed into her pa’s wagon and started praying for a quick relapse for Joey.

  It took almost two hours for Joey to die. It seemed like nobody in the whole wagon train moved during that time. She couldn’t remember it ever being so quiet, well apart from Joey’s groans and Gracie’s sobs.

  “Johanna, come out here and help me prepare some food for the Freeman's and Mr. Bradley. There is no way Gracie or Mrs. Freeman will be cooking tonight.”

  “Yes, Ma.”

  “It’s a horrible business losing a child. Not right. It’s against the laws of nature for a parent to bury their own child.”

  “Ma, what will Gracie do now? She was practically engaged to Joey. Everyone knew they would end up married when we got to Oregon.”

  “Gracie’s young. She’ll find someone else eventually but, in the meantime, she will need a good friend. Sheila too.”

  Johanna nodded. She couldn’t imagine how she would feel if Rick were to die. She only knew him a few weeks. Gracie had grown up with Joey. She set about her chores hoping by keeping busy it would make her too tired to think.

  Joey was buried later that evening. Captain Jones said the prayers in the absence of a man of the cloth. Johanna rubbed a wet cloth over her face and tidied her hair before taking her place at the graveside. She watched with sadness how Sheila supported her ma while her pa stared dumbstruck into the grave of his son. Gracie’s reaction worried her the most. She wasn’t sobbing anymore but looked stricken staring at the ground.

  Johanna caught Rick’s eye above the crowd and they exchanged a sad smile. She now had an inkling of how much pain Rick had been in, losing his sister and nephews. Johanna hadn’t ever lost someone close to her before. She had good memories of Joey making her and her sisters laugh. She was determined that was how she would remember him.

  It was time for the train to start moving again. Someone had spotted Indian tracks and they were keen to put some distance between the wagons and any tribes on the warpath. Captain Jones insisted the wagons roll over the burial site so by the time the last wagon rolled out, there was no sign of Joey’s resting place.

  “I used to think he was very disrespectful when he first told us to drive over the graves,” Becky said to Johanna as they gave one last look back at where their friend now lay. “But it’s to stop the Indians from digging up the body and taking the clothes.”

  Johanna shuddered.

  Chapter 13

  Captain Jones led them to a beautiful spot beside the river. The water flowed clear and fast and tasted wonderful. There was plenty of grass for the cattle and oxen to graze. He suggested spending a full day here. The men would use the time to grease the axles and make sure the iron tires were fitting properly. The wagons had to be in the best possible condition for the trip over the mountains.

  Early the next morning, most of the men had headed out to hunt so the families could stock up on their provisions. Dried meat being better than nothing. Ma and a few of the other women had taken some laundry down to the river where the children were enjoying a swim. There were only a few women and children remaining in the camp, catching up on chores and rest.

  “Johanna, come here. Now,” Becky squeaked.

  Johanna came out of the wagon where she had been trying to find some thread to mend the rip in her skirt. She stared at Becky who was looking white faced into the distance. She followed her sister’s gaze to discover about twenty Indians had ridden into camp. She faltered as she tried to climb out of the wagon, her limbs were shaking so much.

  “What do they want?” Becky whispered out of the side of her mouth.

  “I don’t know, Becky, but there is no war paint.” Johanna hoped it meant they were just visiting.

  “Go find Ma and the others and tell them to stay by the stream,” Becky said walking slowly toward their visitors.

  Johanna wasn’t about to let her sister go alone. She spotted Julia standing looking at the Indians, a star struck expression on her face.

  “Julia, run down and tell your ma and mine to stay by the stream. You stay with them until we come and get you.” Johanna hoped her school teacher’s tone would make Julia do what she said without asking questions. It didn’t work. Julia kept staring at the Indians. “What are you going to do, Johanna?”

  “Julia, move now.” Johanna gave her a hefty push in the direction of the stream. She made sure the little girl was running in the correct direction before she followed Becky.

  The Indians dismounted as they approached. By a use of broken English and sign language they asked about their train and where the men were.

  “Nearby,” Johanna lied. “Gone to the stream to fish for supper.” She mimicked the actions of fishing causing more than one Indian to laugh. Some of the Indians broke away and started to look curiously inside the wagons. They didn’t seem to be looking for anything in particular. Then a brave spotted a corset on a bush where the owner had left it to dry. He tried it on his head making his friends laugh loudly. Johanna had to hide a smile as its owner, Mrs. Newland, who hadn’t endeared herself to anyone because of her constant complaining turned bright red.

  “Jo, what do you think they want?”

  “I don’t know, Becky, but if they were going to do anything, they would have done it by now. It’s obvious the men aren’t here.”

  The Indians seemed in no hurry to leave. They tasted the food the women had been cooking by dipping their fingers into the pots. If it pleased them, they shoveled the food into their mouths with their hands. If they didn’t like the taste they turned the pot over in disgust. When they did this to Mrs. Newland’s cooking, she hit one Indian with her ladle.

  Johanna and the other woman held their breath as the angry looking Indian held his wounded hand up to his mouth taking a threatening step toward Mrs. Newland. A couple of words from their leader were enough to make him walk away.

  “He is sorry, he make mess. Not right to waste food,” the leader said. “Indian squaw be mad too.”

&nb
sp; “Becky, what if we get some biscuits or cookies? Maybe then they will leave.” Becky nodded before she moved toward their wagon to see what Ma had available. Johanna went to follow but what she saw unfolding made her blood run cold. She had read about Indians taking young girls to become slaves and then wives. She hadn’t noticed Carrie sitting by her uncle’s wagon. Now an Indian was standing over her, examining her as a horse trader examined his animals. Instinctively, Johanna moved toward them. She watched the leader as he rubbed young Carrie’s face. He seemed to be trying to get her freckles off. Johanna moved closer not wanting to upset the Indian but also determined to get between him and Carrie. The poor child was struck dumb with terror, her eyes wide blue pools in her pale face. Maybe the Indian was just curious. He seemed to be looking at Carrie’s freckles.

  “Not paint. On skin.” She pushed Carrie behind her and showed the brave some freckles on her arms. He rubbed her arm and grunted when the freckle stayed the same. He spat onto his hand. She took her arm back quickly in case he meant to use his spit to wash her clean. That was a mistake as it made him look her in the face.

  He said something in his own language before he reached up to her hair and pulled her braid loose. Her heartbeat raced as he slowly pulled the pins from her hair making it flow around her shoulders. His actions attracted the attention of some of the other braves. They moved closer. And closer. Johanna’s heart raced. She felt Carrie loosen her grip on her skirt. The child moved quietly. Johanna stared at the brave but he didn’t seem to notice the young girl slip away.

  Chapter 14

  Johanna held her breath as the Indian’s scent filled her nostrils. He obviously didn’t bathe regularly but it was more than that. He smelled like an old bear rug someone back in Virgil had made. She hoped her stomach contents wouldn’t make a reappearance. She couldn’t help taking a step back as he came closer. Then he yanked a knife from his pocket. Johanna froze while a couple of women screamed. He moved closer holding the knife. She wanted to back away but her feet couldn’t move.

  Instead, she stared at his eyes. He didn’t look angry or fearsome but curious. She didn’t know what he wanted but instinctively knew he wasn’t going to hurt her. The blade made a singing noise as it glided close to her scalp. He stood back grinning, his hands holding a long tress of her hair. “For my squaw.”

  Then he whistled and all the Indians made a run for their horses, mounted and rode off. They were gone as quickly as they had come. Johanna hadn’t moved. She stood in the center of their camp frozen to the spot.

  The camp turned into uproar with women and children crying. Becky kept asking her if she was all right but she couldn’t speak. She wasn’t capable of anything but simply stood where the Indian had left her. Her limbs started shaking, she saw people coming toward her but she couldn’t say a word.

  The smell of mint filled her nostrils as he came up behind her and placed a rug gently around her shoulders.

  “Come on, let’s get you back to your wagon,” Rick spoke softly. “Can you walk or will I carry you?”

  “I can walk, if you give me your arm.” She took hold of his arm as her legs felt like jelly. She wanted her ma.

  “Is Ma back?”

  “She’s at the wagon. Your sister thought it best for her to wait there.”

  Johanna didn’t answer. She guessed Becky was giving her a couple of minutes to compose herself before she frightened their ma. “Ma will be upset he cut…” She shuddered thinking of the sun glinting off the blade.

  “Don’t think about it. He didn’t mean to hurt you. They aren’t used to seeing such golden hair. He probably wondered whether it was as silky as it looks.”

  Johanna wondered if they were still talking about the Indian. She glanced up at him to find him staring back at her.

  “Carrie told me you saved her life.”

  At that Johanna laughed. “Your niece has a flair for dramatics. I did no such thing. He didn’t want to hurt her, he just wanted to see why her freckles, which he thought was paint, wouldn’t rub off.”

  “You didn’t know that, not for certain. So thank you on her behalf.”

  They reached the wagon. With a sob, her ma launched herself at her. “My baby, are you hurt? Becky told me how brave you were.”

  “I will leave you to it, good evening, Miss Thompson, Mrs. Thompson.”

  And he was gone. Her ma fussed around her but Johanna couldn’t help wishing he had stayed.

  Chapter 15

  Everyone was keen to leave the campsite despite the pretty location. The visit from the Indians, although pretty harmless, had spooked them all. A couple of the men had boasted how they would have shot the braves dead if they’d been there when the visit took place. Johanna was very glad the women had been left alone as otherwise a massacre could have taken place. They had no way of knowing how many Indians populated the mountains but it was easy to see they knew their way around better than the white emigrants.

  The cattle were well grazed and they’d had a chance to fill their water containers and get some laundry done. As they pulled out of the campsite, Johanna couldn’t help wondering what the Indian squaw had thought of her present. If Rick came home to her with another woman’s hair as a gift, she would throw him out of the house and make him sleep in the barn. She colored despite the fact nobody else could read her thoughts. Good thing too. She barely knew Rick Hughes.

  They crossed a couple of streams as they made their way forward. The ground was rough going due to the number of rocks in their path. Most people got out of the wagons to walk rather than be jolted like milk in the churn.

  “They call this place the Devil’s Backbone. Captain Jones has scouted ahead looking for the best route down.”

  “It’s pretty though, Pa, isn’t it?” Johanna commented as they looked around their surroundings. “It looks like an artist painted the snow on top of those hills.”

  “They aren’t hills, Johanna, that’s the mountain. They may look pretty but I am not looking forward to crossing them. You can see from here how sparse the vegetation is. Our cattle will struggle.”

  Johanna guessed her pa was right, but she didn’t want to fill her mind with gloomy thoughts. She waited with the rest of the wagons until they got the signal to move forward.

  “We only made ten miles today but the animals are tired. I don’t like the look of those clouds so let’s get the shelters up as soon as possible.” Captain Jones’ orders were passed down the trail from one driver to the next. Johanna looked at the sky hoping they wouldn’t be in for more thunder and lightning. She had just got down from the wagon when the first hailstone hit her.

  “Ouch, that hurt.”

  “Quick, girl, get under the canvas with your ma.”

  “But what about our chores, Pa?”

  “They can wait. Do as I say.”

  Johanna watched from the canvas opening of the wagon as the women huddled in the wagons and the men in tents taking shelter from the hailstones. They were bigger and rounder than any she had seen back in Virgil.

  “Why don’t you bed down here, girls. Looks like that storm won’t pass now till morning.”

  “Aw, Ma, I’m hungry.”

  “You are always hungry, Stephen. There are cold biscuits by your head. Eat one of them.”

  Johanna was too tired to eat so took her ma’s advice and settled down to sleep. She thought it would be impossible given the noise of the stones on the canvas but she underestimated how tired she was. When she woke again the storm was over, the sun rising on a beautiful but slightly colder day.

  Chapter 16

  The next few days proved difficult. The continuous light rain made traveling more uncomfortable. Pa was worried about his animals—the grass was sparse and of poor quality. “The oxen won’t be much use to us in the mountains if they lose too much weight now.”

  “Don’t fret, Pa. There will be better grazing. Captain Jones said so,” Becky commented as she stirred something on the fire.

  Pa didn’t
reply. He had fallen asleep on the fold up chair he sometimes used.

  “Your pa and the rest of us are exhausted. I think Captain Jones should make camp at the next suitable spot and let us all catch up on your chores and our sleep.”

  “I’m sure Captain Jones knows what he is doing, Ma, he has done this before.”

  “You watch your tongue, young lady. You are not too big to feel the back of my hand.”

  Becky rolled her eyes at Johanna but made sure her ma didn’t catch her. Later when their parents were asleep the girls lay under the tent, listening to the soft rain against the canvas.

  “Jo, do you ever wonder what it will be like in Oregon?”

  “Sure, don’t you?”

  “Sometimes. But often I just wonder, will we ever see it?”

  Johanna sat up. Becky, while impulsive and often foolhardy, was usually the positive person in the family. It was unlike her to be so glum.

  “Are you feeling all right, Becky?”

  “Doesn’t it get to you? Every day we pass them.”

  “Pass what?”

  “The graves. Some days I count upwards of eight or nine.”

  Johanna put her arm around her twin. “Of course it upsets me, but I try not to think about it. We have been very lucky so far. We haven’t lost many people.”

  “We’ve lost enough. Mrs. Ellis and her children. I know they weren’t with us from the start but they still died. Mr. Long and Joey were really nice people. Why did they have to be the ones who died?”

  “Becky, you got to stop thinking like this. We don’t know why some die and others don’t but we have to keep going. We have to believe we will end up in Oregon. I will be a teacher and you will be a farmer’s wife. Although I still can’t get used to you wanting that. Back in Virgil, you wanted nothing more than to be the banker’s wife and have a large clothing budget. Have you really changed so much?”