Westward Hearts (6 page)

The story was written by an explorer who had crossed the continent four times! And it included a dramatic engraving of an overland crossing through the mountains. The author certainly did not downplay the hardships of such travel. But at the same time, he painted such a romantic and vivid picture of the vast and ever-changing landscape, the Indians, and the interesting characters he’d met along the way that Elizabeth felt somewhat enchanted by the time she’d gone to bed.

So much so that all she could think about during the Christmas gathering at her grandparents’ house in town—although she feigned interest in Cousin Phoebe’s recipe for candied yams—was her eagerness to get back home and open up the “dream box” that she and James had used to store letters and lists and all the information they had gathered about Oregon. She could not wait to reread them.

At last the party was wearing down, and Elizabeth could tell that Jamie and Ruth were worn out, so she thanked her grandparents for their hospitality and said her goodbyes to aunts, uncles, cousins, and finally her parents.

“I realized at church this morning that your talk of going to Oregon was only an attempt to help your brother,” Clara whispered to Elizabeth as they walked outside together. “You are a good sister, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth tried not to register her surprise at this comment. Did her mother truly think that all that was said the night before was only to lift Matthew’s spirits? If so, perhaps it was for the best.

“Merry Christmas, Mother.” She kissed Clara’s cheek and then turned to herd the children and the dog into the carriage. “Take the reins,” she told Jamie. “But not too fast.”

As Jamie drove the carriage home, Elizabeth imagined him behind the reins of an ox team towing a heavy prairie schooner behind it. Or would that be too much for a boy his age? Perhaps she would ask Matthew to look into this for her, assuming Matthew was still interested in Oregon. And if he was not…well, she didn’t have to think about that yet.

Ruth slipped her mittened hand into Elizabeth’s. “You seem happy, Mama. Did you have fun today?”

She squeezed Ruth’s hand. “Yes. It was a good day. Did you enjoy playing with the cousins?” Most of the relatives were second and third cousins—offspring of Clara’s siblings. And most of them were older than Ruth.

Ruth’s expression was hard to read. “I wanted to play with Victoria… but…”

Elizabeth could tell something was wrong. So she waited.

“Are we rich, Mama?”

“Rich?” Elizabeth laughed. “Is that what Victoria told you?”

Ruth nodded. “But she said it in a mean way.”

“Some of our cousins think we’re rich,” Jamie said quietly.

“We are not rich,” Elizabeth declared.

“But we have more land than most of the cousins,” Jamie said.

“That’s true. But it’s because your father’s family had more land. The cousins at Great-Grandma and Grandpa’s house are a different side of the family. Those are your grandma’s folks. Do you know how many brothers and sisters Grandma Dawson has?”

“How many?” Ruth asked.

“There were fourteen children in Grandma’s family,” Jamie answered.

“Fourteen?” Ruth sounded shocked. “Is that true, Mama?”

“It’s true. Grandma had eight brothers and five sisters. But not all of them are alive now. And some of them moved away. But many of them live in town.”

“Like Victoria,” Ruth said.

“Yes. The reason I’m telling you this is to explain why they might think we’re rich. With so many children in Grandma’s family, they had less land and fewer farms to share.”

“But Grandma and Grandpa have a nice big farm,” Ruth contended.

“Yes, but that came from Grandpa’s side of the family. And that farm used to be bigger, but it’s been divided too. Not as much because Grandpa only had two brothers.” She didn’t tell them how much larger the farm had been fifty years ago. She wasn’t even sure why she was telling them this now, but that she wanted them to understand. She knew there was land envy among some disgruntled family members, and although it was unfair, she did understand. But it was unfortunate that cousins like Victoria were unkind.

Elizabeth thought about James’ brother and wife again. John and Malinda had five children. The youngest, as far as she knew, was around four now, and the oldest was probably thirteen. If Elizabeth took the children to Oregon, they would have several school-age cousins living nearby. And there would be plenty of land for everyone. Not that she planned to mention this to her children. Not yet anyway.

“Looks like we left just in time,” Elizabeth said as snow began to fall. She put her hand on Jamie’s arm. “But don’t try to hurry. We’ll be just fine.”

Jamie just nodded, keeping his gaze straight ahead and the reins secure in his hands. So much like a man…and yet he was still a boy.

“Can we sing Christmas songs again?” Ruth asked.

“Certainly!” And so, as Jamie carefully guided them toward home, they all sang Christmas songs. But by the time they pulled in front of the house, the snow was falling hard and fast.

“Hello, hello!” Brady called as he rushed out to help. Wearing his new coat and a big grin, he helped Elizabeth and Ruth down from the carriage and carried their bags up to the door. “Let me take care of the horses for you, Mr. Martin,” he said to Jamie.

“Thanks, Brady.” Jamie handed him the reins and then pulled out a box to carry into the house.

“I made you a fire, ma’am,” Brady called as Elizabeth reached the top of the porch steps.

“Thank you, Brady!” she called back.

“Thank
you,
ma’am!” He jutted a thumb toward his new coat. “Nice and warm!”

“You’re more than welcome,” she called as she opened the door.

It wasn’t until household chores were done and the children put to bed that Elizabeth pulled out the “dream box.” She hadn’t opened the small oak box in nearly a year…not since she’d slipped the last letter from John and Malinda into it. And even then, she hadn’t taken time to reexamine the rest of the contents. Until now, the items in that box had seemed both mocking and threatening. But now, sitting by the crackling fire, she opened the box and removed everything, one by one, laying them out on the side table by the chair. Letters and lists and addresses and advertisements…all pertaining to an overland journey and the final destination of the Oregon Territory.

Perusing the papers, she knew she should consider going to bed because the morning would come soon, especially considering her late night the previous evening. But she did not feel the least bit sleepy. Instead, she felt compelled to read all she could about what was beginning to feel like an impending journey.

She was just reading Malinda’s most recent letter, written in the summer of 1855, when she heard a noise.

“Mama?”

“Jamie?” She blinked in the dim light, spotting her son at the foot of the stairs.

“My tummy hurts.”

She dropped the letter and rushed over to him, immediately putting her hand to his forehead to see if he was feverish. Ever since the cholera, she had been extremely careful about sickness. However, his head did not feel hot.

“Come over here.” She led him over to the fire and lamplight, where she examined him more closely. First she checked his skin for any sign of a rash. Then she had him stick out his tongue. “You look all right. Where exactly does your stomach hurt?”

He put his hand on his midsection and groaned.

“What did you eat and drink today?”

Now he began to list off all that he’d eaten, and the list went on and on…finally ending with chess pie. “I had two pieces,” he confessed.

“Oh, my.” She touched his forehead again and then smiled. “No wonder you have a stomachache.”

He peered over at the box and papers spread across the table. “What’s that?”

“Oh, just letters and whatnot.”

He picked up a supply list and frowned.

“How about if I make you some warm peppermint milk for your tummy?”

He nodded. “That might help.”

She picked up a woolen blanket, draping it over his shoulders like a cape, and tucked him into the chair by the fireplace. “Don’t get chilled,” she warned as she lit another lamp, taking it with her. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” As she went to the kitchen she realized he would probably be curious about the papers she’d been studying. But as she stoked the coals in the cookstove, she realized that perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing. After all, Jamie was almost twelve. If she took on this daunting challenge, which was still uncertain, she would need his full cooperation.

When she returned with a mug of warm peppermint milk, Jamie was setting one of the letters back down. “Here you go,” she said as she gathered up the papers, placing them back in the oak box.

“Why are you reading those?” Jamie asked as he leaned back in his father’s chair.

Elizabeth sat down, pondering her answer. “Uncle Matthew and I were discussing something yesterday,” she began. “Something that your father and I had considered doing a long time ago.”

“Going to Oregon?”

“Yes.” She didn’t know why she was surprised. “But we were only talking about it. And mostly because Matthew was so sad.”

“About Violet and Walter?” She nodded.

“I never liked Violet very much.” He took another sip.

“I wasn’t too fond of her either. But Matthew was.”

“Does Matthew want to go to Oregon?”

Elizabeth considered this. “I’m not sure. He seems to want to go, but it’s possible he’s simply looking for a way to escape.”

“Because of Violet?”

“Maybe. It was unkind of her to run off like that, especially with his best friend.”

“I’ll say.” Jamie shook his head with a wise look that belied his youth. “I would never do something that low-down to a friend. Not even to an enemy.”

“You are a good man.” She smiled and then pointed to her own upper lip. “With a milk mustache.” He wiped it off, and she almost wished he hadn’t. It looked so like a little boy. And now she wondered about how much she should burden him with.

“Pa wanted to go to Oregon.”

“We had been making plans.” She closed the box. “But that was before…”

He nodded to the box. “Those letters make Oregon sound like a great place.”

“But it’s a long, long way away.”

“How far is it?”

“About two thousand miles.”

His dark eyes grew wide.

“And a prairie schooner can only travel about twelve miles a day. Some days even less.”

Now his brow creased. “That’s more than a hundred and sixty.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“About five months,” he said somewhat absently.

“Your arithmetic is good.”

“I’ve read about Thomas Jefferson in history,” he told her. “His dream was to make our country bigger by opening up the West. And I’ve read about men who explored the West. The Lewis and Clark expedition.”

She smiled. “You’re getting a good education.”

“Why didn’t we go to Oregon with Uncle John and Aunt Malinda?”

Elizabeth wasn’t sure how much to say now. But if Jamie was going to be her right-hand man, he deserved to know. “I was with child,” she confessed. “Your father worried that the journey would be too difficult. As it turned out, I lost the baby anyway.”

“You mean because of the cholera? When you and Pa and Uncle Peter got sick?”

She shook her head. “No, the cholera came nearly two years later.”

Jamie frowned. “You mean you lost
two
babies?”

She nodded sadly.

“Oh…” Jamie looked troubled, as if he was trying to grasp all this.

“You weren’t even school-age when I lost that first baby, Jamie. There was no reason for you to know about it.” She peered at him. “How’s your tummy doing?”

“I think the milk is helping.”

“Oh, good.” She felt a rush of relief. “You know how I always get worried if I think someone I love is getting sick.”

“How did you and Pa and Uncle Peter get cholera?” he asked. “I know you went on a trip. And Ruth and I stayed with Grandma and Grandpa. But that’s about all I know. What happened, Ma?”

She thought back to that time. “It was late summer,” she began, “and we’d had a pretty good harvest of corn, and your father and uncle wanted to take it to Paducah to get a better price.” She sighed. “And to look at wagons…”

“What kind of wagons?”

“Your father was thinking about going to Oregon again. Planning for the upcoming spring.”

“Oh.”

“I wanted to go with them to Paducah. I thought it would be fun to do some shopping and city things. It sounded like an enjoyable trip. And it was. We sold the corn for top dollar and did some shopping. We went to the theater and stayed in a fancy hotel. The next day we looked at wagons. Your father had almost decided on one, but Uncle Peter had heard about a wainwright down by the river. It was a family-owned business with some innovative-looking prairie schooners, and we spent the whole afternoon with them. We had no idea there was a cholera outbreak. We ate with them and drank lemonade…” She sadly shook her head. “Later on, we realized that the lemonade had probably been contaminated…infected with the cholera. But how would we know?”