Marcel widened her eyes. “What if I fall off?” she whimpered.
“If you are holding onto the bridle of the mule, it will help you keep your seating,” he insisted.
“Why can’t Trapper Dan do it, while I drive the mules,” she asked.
“Because you are not as experienced in driving the mules through the water. If any of the mules balk or get excited, it could cause the rest of them to get frightened. This is the only way if you want your belongings to get to the other side of that river,” he informed her.
Marcel changed her clothes with shaking hands and mounted Pebbles, positioning herself on the other side of the head mules from Raven. Then they slowly started to move the wagon out and into the swirling water.
There were three islands in the middle of the river. The river was about 800 yards wide where they were crossing, so they guided the wagon to each island, crossing over it and then back into the river again until they reached the next island.
By the time the soggy wheels of the huge wagon reached the other side of the river, Marcel could finally take an easy breath. The whole time, as the water swirled around her legs, she kept remembering her last experience in crossing a river on horseback.
Raven kept encouraging her when he saw the dread in her eyes. He was proud of her bravery and continued to be impressed with her tenacity. He felt Marcel was the only woman he could imagine becoming his wife, only he wasn’t ready to live a white man’s existence, the same way she refused to join his Indian tribe.
Once the wagon pulled to the other side of the river, Raven suggested they camp for the night and start fresh in the morning. Marcel happily agreed. She was thankful that her piano and none of her other belongings had gotten wet during the crossing. However, the ordeal had worn her out and she just wanted to collapse onto her cot. Trapper Dan offered to cook the meal, seeing how tired Marcel looked.
Nothing seemed to get any easier as they traveled forward. Marcel did not have the strength to leave her cot, the next morning, and Trapper Dan suggested she rest until she was feeling more chipper. She lie there thinking of Josiah possibly going to California, leaving her on her own in Oregon. She worried about Trapper Dan and Raven leaving her after they built her a shelter. She began to wonder if it was worth it all? Even with all her treasured belongings, she knew she could not be happy if her brother and her only friends were nowhere near her in Oregon.
She started to shake with frustrated tears, wondering what she would do if she ended up all alone in a place she knew nothing about? She didn’t even know how to farm. She had lived in a townhouse with her grandparents most of her life with servants doing most of the work. If Josiah was not there to farm their newly acquired land, how was she going to survive? Even if he ended up in Oregon too, he was getting a different plot of land than she was getting. There would be no one there to help her.
In the middle of her feeling sorry for herself, she suddenly drew in her breath. It occurred to her that she could not remember the last time she had her monthly course. She started adding up the days since she had first allowed Raven to take her completely and a chilling dread started to wash over her. The thought frightened her more than living in Oregon by herself. What would she do if she discovered she was carrying Raven’s child? She knew she would never tell him. If she did that, he would probably force her to come to his village and become his wife. Even if he didn’t, and agreed to remain with her in Oregon, she felt it would be motivated by his sense of obligation and he would resent becoming a part of her world. He would blame her for putting him in that position. She knew how much he hated what the white man was doing to his people. Living near them would only remind him of all he and his people were forced to give up at the hand of the white man.
Marcel thought of the trappers that married Indian women. They lived right alongside the Indians. The Indians didn’t seem to care that their women chose white husbands. However, if it was the other way around with her living among others in Oregon with an Indian husband, they would probably shun both of them. It would not be fair to Raven. She knew that was another reason he could never become a part of her world.
Then the thought came to her, that once she had a half-breed baby, even without Raven at her side, she would be shunned, not only because she had an Indian child, but because she would be having it out of wedlock. No matter how she looked at it, her future appeared bleak. She didn’t know if she could face it?
The rocking of the wagon made Marcel feel nauseous. When Trapper Dan offered her food to eat she turned him down. All she wanted to do was sleep and pretend that none of this was happening. Suddenly her ambitions to make sure her grandmother’s heirlooms came safely with her to Oregon, did not compare with her sudden fear of what was going to happen when she finally got there? Even the dangers of the journey did not frighten her as much as the thought of her condition and an empty life once she got her plot of land.
She would have to survive the winter, and if her calculations were right, in the middle of that winter she would have a second mouth to feed. And what of having a newborn? There would be no one close by to help her with that either. Besides, whatever neighbors she did manage to have would be busy starting out fresh on their own land. Even if they were willing to help, the moment they discovered her condition and the fact she wasn’t married, would be topped of with the stigma of giving birth to a half-breed. The very thought unnerved her. It was almost more frightening than going to live in a Sioux village with Raven.
Marcel was aware of someone shaking her awake. She didn’t want to open her eyes. She didn’t want to face the world. If she wasn’t aware of it, it wouldn’t frighten her so much, she thought, as she refused to wake up.
She wanted to dream of soft green grass and river water lapping around her, while Raven’s arms held her to him, making her body feel alive, pushing away any dark future that may lie ahead.
“I think she’s plumb worn out,” Trapper Dan said when he couldn’t wake Marcel. “I suppose we should jest let er sleep till she gains her strength again.”
Raven nodded. “Are you sure it is only her being tired?” he asked.
“She doesn’t have a fever an she seems ta be sleepin’ peaceful enough,” Trapper Dan told him. “We’ll jest give er some time ta get back ta her regular self.”
When Marcel had not gotten out of her cot by that evening, Raven started to worry.
“She wouldn’t sleep this long unless there is something wrong with her,” he insisted.
He climbed up beside her in the cot, trying to roust her.
Marcel opened her eyes. Raven jiggling her made her stomach turn and the next thing she knew she was losing what little food she had in her stomach.
“She’s sick,” Raven stated. “I need a damp cloth to clean her up,” he called to Trapper Dan.
Trapper Dan tossed him the cloth, and Raven removed Marcel’s soiled nightgown and washed her. Then he put her back under the covers, feeling her head for signs of a fever.
“She’s still cool. It must be something she ate,” Raven reasoned. “Only we’ve all been eating the same thing and neither of us are sick.”
“Nothin’ for it but ta wait an see what happens,” Trapper Dan suggested. “When we start out tomorrow, we’ll see how she’s feelin’.”
That night Raven held Marcel in his arms. She only stirred a couple of times, opening her eyes to look at him briefly.
“You are here,” she murmured.
“Yes,” Raven smiled.
“Don’t leave me alone, Raven,” she begged. “Josiah has left me. You can’t leave me too.”
Raven felt torn. She was trying to get him to promise to remain with her when she knew he had to return to his own people and try to pick up his life where it left off before he ever heard Marcel playing the piano.
“You are safe,” is all he said. He would have to find Josiah and impress upon him how important it was for him to care for his own sister.
Marcel closed her e
yes again.
“Keep me safe,” she mumbled before she was carried away where she didn’t have to face the truth about her life.
By morning, when Marcel refused to open her eyes, Raven forced her awake. “You have to eat, Marcel. You will never get your strength back if you just sleep all the time and don’t even eat.”
He picked her up and brought her to the campfire where Trapper Dan was cooking eggs the hens had laid.
The smell of the food only made Marcel feel sick, but Raven was pushing food into her mouth so she had no other choice but to swallow it. She realized eating made her feel better, so she continued to allow Raven to feed her.
Marcel managed to keep her eyes open as she looked at Raven’s handsome face. She wondered if her new child would look like him? Just thinking the thought made her fear that Raven would be able to read her mind, so she tried to think of something else.
“Where are we?” she asked. “How much longer before we get to Oregon?”
“We’re commin’ inta Fort Boise. It’s mostly full of Injuns. The Injuns thar are poor an don’t have much clothes ta wear. Fort Boise is a ten-year-old port fer the old Hudson Bay company. They have mostly furs thar ta trade. It’s part of Idaho territory. I’d say Oregon is a good four or five-hundred miles away still.”
“It will take us forever to get there,” Marcel cried. “It took us over two weeks to go two-hundred and fifty miles to Independence and that was easy traveling.”
“Yep. I figure we’ll show up in Oregon sometime round the last of June or the first part of July,” Trapper Dan predicted.
“Do we have any more rivers to cross?” she asked.
“Most likely. Thar are a lot of rivers atween hare an thar. We’ll hafta go down the Dalles towards the last leg of our trek. No crossin’ it, though. We ken take a barge all the way down the river ta Oregon City. Thar’s no trail along the Columbia River past the Dalles, so it is the only way ta get thar. Jest buck up, girl. Hopefully, ye’ll get used ta crossing rivers, bucha niver know.”
Marcel was starting to feel better, now that she had something in her stomach and she realized it was because she had not eaten that she had felt so tired and nauseous. She was going to have to force herself to be brave. She had come this far and there was no turning back now, she told herself firmly.
Fort Boise was just another replica of all the other forts along the way, made of adobe with thick walls enclosing crude dwellings, storage sheds, shops and overnight shelters. There were about 2,000 sheep, 70 pigs, 17 horses, with 27 head of cattle, all offered at a price. Two acres of the land was being cultivated to grow crops, the other land to the north was a large plains land, which Trapper Dan said usually was covered with grass. However, it now stood barren because of a drought. Many of the Indians that lived near the fort, subsided mainly on roots and fish. Like Trapper Dan had explained, they were so poverty stricken that they barely had a stitch of clothing on their backs.
James Carigie was the superintendent in charge. He came out to warn the three of the dangers of Indians ahead. He glanced at Raven.
“Don’t know if you are friends of the Walla Walla or Cayuse, but they are very hostile towards whites and have threatened to attack any white people entering their country. Their weapons are primitive, though, and they use clubs and knives, along with their bows and arrows. However, they do have a few guns. I’d advise you to wait for more groups to cross with. The Indians will feel more intimidated by a large group following along. There are a lot of rocky canyons and thickly wooded areas where the Indians could ambush you.”
“We don’t have time ta wait fer more companies ta show up. Besides our wagon is so large it cain’t keep up with the other wagons, an we’d jest get left behind anyways,” Trapper Dan mumbled. “Guess we’ll jest hafta take our chances. We’ll be countin’ on Raven ta talk em out of attackin’ us.”
The wagon rolled easily over the sagebrush-covered hills on the trail, passing Malheur Butte and a sulfur spring. Then it continued on to Birch Creek where they decided to camp for the night.
The next morning found them crossing over a succession of hills and then camping that night on Burnt River, near a lone pine tree. The bends of the Snake River had been left behind and now, they would be following Burnt River instead. They followed it for several days. The wagons before them had managed to blaze a trail so it made it easier for them to cross over the thick brush than the wagons proceeding them. Marcel could see where the thick brush had been hacked to make a path for the wagons to follow.
It turned out that they did have to cross the Burnt River several times as it wound back and forth, but the crossings were shallow and easier than any other rivers they had crossed up until then.
They continued followings streams, going through valleys and over hills on rough winding trails until they finally reached Powder River. Beyond Powdered River, Trapper Dan looked up and pulled the wagon to a halt, pointing to a ridge ahead. There, dressed in war-paint, hundreds of Walla Walla Indians stood, looking down on their approach.
CHAPTER TEN
hey all watched as a small group of Indians separated from the main group, making their way down to where Marcel’s wagon was. Raven told them to just sit still until they discovered what the Indians wanted. He knew sign language and knew other Indian dialects only he claimed he had never spoken to the Walla Walla or Cayuse tribes before.
When the group arrived, they stopped in front of the wagon. It was easy to recognize both the Walla Walla Chief and the Cayuse Chief who seemed to be in charge, by how they were dressed differently than the warriors. They wore war bonnets and carried decorated lances. The group dismounted and casually sauntered around the wagon, as though examining it, or sizing it up for some reason. Raven dismounted as well, extending his hand to the Chiefs, who hesitated momentarily, consulting with their warrior officials, then assuming a friendly guise, accepting Raven’s hand.
It surprised Marcel that one of the Chiefs could speak English, even though he seemed to be mixing his words with some of his Indian Language as well. He asked Raven what their business was and why he was riding with the white man across Walla Walla and Cayuse land? As he spoke, the others with him, poked their heads into the back of the wagon to see what was inside.
“We only cross to get to land that belongs to the American Government,” Raven was trying to explain. “I came to protect this magic woman, who has special magic stored in her wagon.”
The Chiefs lifted their eyebrows in interest. Then the Cayuse Chief spoke up. He claimed that even if the land of the whites was on the other side, this was Indian land, and Raven should know that. He reminded Raven of how generous and friendly the Redman had been to the Americans, giving them land to settle on, but the Americans had not shown friendship to the Indians as they said they would. They had not invited the Indians to their villages and if a warrior brave approached one of their wigwams, he was chased away with guns. He claimed the Americans did not understand the Indian’s ways. They said insulting things to them and called them dogs or other bad names. When the Indians tried to trade with the Americans they would not trade fairly. Now the white man wanted the Indians to act more like white men than proud Natives of the land they had owned before the Americans ever invaded. So why did a proud Sioux ride with someone who did not respect the Indians or their ways, he asked?
Raven glanced at Marcel and then Trapper Dan.
“These are my friends,” he told the Chief. “Trapper Dan saved me from a white man’s trap when I was a young boy. This woman has magic in her fingers. If you all sit down, she will demonstrate.”
The Chiefs looked at each other, wondering what could be magical about Marcel’s fingers, but they nodded and then indicated that everyone should be seated. Raven lifted the side of the wagon canvas and pointed to the piano.
“This is a magic box that only this woman knows how to bring to life. Once you hear what her fingers can do, you will know the great Spirit approves of her.” He nodded
to Marcel and she sat at the piano.
When Marcel started to play, the whole group gasped in surprise. They stood up and came closer to see how Marcel made the magic box play such unusual music. When she finished, the Chiefs stood speechless.
“It is true magic,” the Cayuse Chief agreed.
“We have gifts for you,” Raven continued. “Come to the back of the wagon and receive them.”
When they gathered, Raven told Marcel to scoop out a small bag of sugar and coffee for each Indian, from their supplies. As she did so, she handed the bags to Raven, who distributed them among the group.
“Go tell your warriors they do not have reason to fight us. We are willing to pay for our passage across your land. Let them come down and hear the sagebrush serenade that my friend draws from the magic box, so they can see for themselves, that we wish no disrespect to you.”
The Chiefs nodded and sent one of their warriors up to bring the others down to surround the wagon. Once everyone had gathered, Marcel began to play. Each time she stopped, the Chief insisted she play more. The Indians did not seem to tire of listening, and as she ended up repeating some of the songs when she ran out of new ones to play, some of the warriors began to hum with the melody, to remember the magic music that she played. It was late into the night, and still, they insisted she continue to play. The group built fires and some, who brought drums, began to beat their drums along with the beat of the music.
Trapper Dan smiled in pleasure and winked at Raven. “Smart thinking’,” he mumbled.
Trapper Dan made a huge pot of coffee and passed around several cups for the warriors to share, as they listened. When the pot was empty, he made some more.
Finally, Marcel told them the magic box was out of music for the night. They all insisted they remain gathered around the wagon until morning so Raven and his friends could safely travel through their land the next morning.
Sagebrush Serenade Page 11
