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

  Copyright © 2012 Victoria Murata

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN:

  147523144X

  ISBN 13:

  9781475231441

  eBook ISBN:

  978-1-62345-593-4

  Dedicated to Daisy, Judy, Mary and

  Michele–your enthusiasm is inspiring.

  Thank you for the hours spent

  reading my pages. Your encouragement

  every step of the way kept me going.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One, The Beginning

  Chapter Two, Second Night

  Chapter Three, Indian Encounter

  Chapter Four, The Crossing

  Chapter Five, The Letter

  Chapter Six, The Dream

  Chapter Seven, The Long Night

  Chapter Eight, The Invitation

  Chapter Nine, A Revelation

  Chapter Ten, The Legacy

  Chapter Eleven, Ben and the Indians

  Chapter Twelve, Emily’s Sacrifice

  Chapter Thirteen, The Lie

  Chapter Fourteen, Kate’s Gift

  Chapter Fifteen, New Life

  Chapter Sixteen, Wedding Day

  Chapter Seventeen, Three Island Crossing

  Chapter Eighteen, The Loss

  Chapter Nineteen, Cholera!

  Chapter Twenty, Bad News

  Chapter Twenty-One, Dinner Invitation

  Chapter Twenty-Two, The Promise

  Chapter Twenty-Three, The Trade

  Chapter Twenty-Four, The Confidante

  Chapter Twenty-Five, Training

  Chapter Twenty-Six, A Proper Suitor

  Chapter Twenty-Seven, Bear Encounter

  Chapter Twenty-Eight, Medicine Bag

  Chapter Twenty-Nine, Grief

  Chapter Thirty, Confessions

  Chapter Thirty-One, Shivaree

  Chapter Thirty-Two, Birthday Gift

  Chapter Thirty-Three, Lost and Found

  Chapter Thirty-Four, Down River

  Chapter Thirty-Five, Rapids

  Chapter Thirty-Six, Home

  Chapter Thirty-Seven, The Card Game

  Chapter Thirty-Eight, Reckoning

  Chapter Thirty-Nine, Discovery

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Sunnyvale

  Ohio

  September, 1851

  “Under no circumstances should this be seen by anyone until my death.” Henry Lawton sighed deeply as he passed the papers he had just signed to Michael Pound, his long-time friend and lawyer. Henry was a vigorous man. He, his sons, and a dozen hired hands ran all of the operations the large farm required. His dark hair was just turning silver at the temples, but his youthful body belied his middle age.

  “Of course, Henry, but you must understand the implications of this decision for your wife Edith,” Michael cautioned.

  Henry looked at Michael darkly. “She is the only other person who knows the truth about Emily, and even she doesn’t know all of it. If anything happened to me, I’m not at all certain she would do the right thing by Emily.”

  Michael Pound regarded his friend and client quietly. He knew Henry had considered his decision carefully, but he could only imagine the devastating effect these papers would have on his family. “Henry…” he began tentatively.

  “No, you won’t change my mind, Michael. If I die before Edith, Emily will be at her mercy. This document will protect her.”

  “Protect her? Or harm her?”

  Henry noted the concern on his friend’s face and sighed deeply. “That’s a risk I’m going to have to take. Emily is strong. She can weather this. You and I have known each other for over eighteen years, Michael, since Emily was a baby. You’ve served me well all this time. I know I’m asking a lot of you, but I am going to compensate you very well.”

  “Yes, of course,” Michael responded absently. He was thinking of Miss Emily. He had watched her grow up into a confident, beautiful young woman and now she was newly married. She was so young! Perhaps years from now she would have the age and experience to be able to accept what he would be required to divulge. Michael looked up from his thoughts.

  “Henry, I hope I will never have to deliver these papers to Miss Emily, but rest assured that I will do my duty by you if that is what you desire.”

  “I know I can count on you, Michael.” The two men stood up and shook hands.

  The sound of horses outside drew their attention to the large window.

  “Here are Emily and Ernest now. They’ve come for dinner, and I hope you’ll stay, Michael. Emily will be happy to see you.”

  “I’d love to stay, Henry. Thank you.”

  “I have to warn you, though, that the conversation may get a little uncomfortable.” Henry sat heavily in his chair as Michael stowed the papers in his briefcase.

  He looked out the window and watched as Emily and Ernest dismounted and handed their reins to the groom. “I’m still trying to convince that fool Ernest to abandon his plans to take Emily to Oregon.”

  Michael’s face brightened. “Oregon, is it? I’ve heard lots of conversations from folks about the wagon trains leaving out of Missouri. It sounds like a great adventure.” Then Michael’s face clouded. “Why would Ernest want to do that? Isn’t he set to inherit land from his father?”

  “Yes, he would inherit a good portion, but I hear tell that he’s been listening to a stranger in town—a man of questionable background—who has been filling his head with stories of the ‘wild west’ and the opportunities available there.”

  Michael looked suddenly worried. “Henry, the trip takes six months! It’s not an easy thing for a man, much less a young woman!”

  “I know that!” Henry said bitterly. “That’s why I must convince Ernest to change his mind! I’ve seen this with young men before— thinking that the grass is greener somewhere else, and I hear he and his father have had a falling out. That won’t make matters any easier.”

  Michael leaned forward in his chair. “Henry, do what you can, but don’t alienate Ernest. He’s a high-minded young man. Keep him close if you can, for Emily’s sake.”

  Henry regarded Michael’s sincere expression. He was a good friend—the kind who could speak freely to him, and he appreciated Michael’s candor.

  “Yes, I need to tread carefully here.” Henry shook his head sadly. “She’s not my little girl anymore, Michael. She belongs to another man now, and that’s a hard pill to swallow.”

  “Whatever happens, Henry, Emily is a strong woman. She’ll be all right.”

  Voices from the hallway carried into the room.

  “Here they are. Let’s have a drink, Michael.” Henry poured amber liquid from a crystal decanter into two tumblers. “Perhaps this will give me the steadiness of purpose that I need this afternoon.” He handed one glass to Michael.

  “To your success, Henry.” Michael lifted his glass. “And as far as the other matter,” he said, glancing at his briefcase, “may it stay locked safely away forever.”

  Henry raised his glass and looked soberly at Michael. “Yes. Let’s hope for the best.”

  Earlier that day…

  The softly rolling hills stretched for miles across the Ohio landscape. Patches of trees wore bright autumn garments and robust haystacks dotted the fields, waiting for the wagons that would travel down the rows and collect them.

  Emily and her husband Ernest Hinton cantered the horses through a copse of yellow trees and scarlet s
hrubs, the mare and gelding in sync, each making sure the other wouldn’t get ahead. Emily skillfully kept her chestnut mare, Calliope, in check, appreciating the youth and friskiness of her favorite mount. She was more comfortable on horseback than on her feet, having been riding since the age of three. Ernest was also a skilled equestrian, but more heavy handed than his petite wife. His bay gelding was enjoying the outing and would have been off at a gallop if not for Ernest’s verbal cues and constant adjustments of the reins. Emily laughed gaily as Ernest reined in the large horse and slowed to a trot.

  “He’s definitely a handful!” Her smile brightened the already brilliant afternoon.

  “Nothing that time and miles won’t take care of, Emily,” he said, admiring her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. Her unassuming beauty often took him by surprise.

  They walked their horses toward a stream that meandered through the countryside, dividing the land into fields and forest, and dismounted in a clearing next to a pool made by an eddy in the stream. The horses drank thirstily and Emily adjusted her hat, reattaching the long hatpin that secured it firmly to her thick, dark hair. Its brim sheltered her creamy complexion from the sun, but Ernest noticed her smile disappear as she surveyed the vista before her.

  “What is it, Emily?” he asked, putting his fingers under her chin and turning her face towards him.

  Emily moved her head away. “It’s nothing we haven’t discussed time and again! I know you have made up your mind to leave, but I’ll miss this so much,” she exclaimed, gazing out over the soft hillsides.

  Ernest sighed. “Emily, where we are going is lush and green like this. You’ll come to love it just as you love it here,” he said confidently.

  “You’ve said that. But I keep wondering why we’re leaving here to go somewhere that’s like this.” She frowned. “I mean, why must we travel across the country through savage Indian territories to a place that’s like this when we could just stay here?”

  The horses finished drinking and turned to graze on the grass growing next to the stream.

  “Emily, we’ve been over this,” Ernest drew his light eyebrows together. “I know what’s best for us. We’ll have a fresh start in Oregon.”

  Emily eyed Ernest carefully. She had been schooled in proper decorum and she knew it wasn’t her place to question his decisions, but she felt he was concealing something. “You’ve never told me the entire conversation you had with your father. What exactly transpired between the two of you?”

  Ernest looked uncomfortable recalling the hot words that had passed between him and his father. “He and I disagree on a number of things, Emily. Suffice it to say that he isn’t happy with my decision to go west.”

  “You and he haven’t spoken since you told him of our plans,” Emily reminded Ernest.

  “Yes, but he’ll come around, I’m sure. Let’s mount up,” Ernest said shortly, wanting to avoid further discussion. “Your father is expecting us.”

  “Ernest, you know Daddy is going to try to talk you out of this.”

  “Like he does every time I see him. At least he’s still talking to me,” Ernest said wryly, his handsome face barely concealing his discomfiture.

  They mounted their horses and proceeded at a brisk trot, traveling the remaining few miles to Sunnyvale, Emily’s childhood home.

  As Calliope’s easy gait carried her closer to home, Emily thought about the turn her life had taken. She was newly married to a handsome man who came from a good neighboring family. Their life had looked so promising. Ernest would be given a large tract of land to farm from his father’s ample acreage. They would live close to her family and she would see her daddy often. It had looked like the perfect marriage.

  Did she love Ernest? She glanced sideways at him as the horses trotted side by side. His trim physique sat easily in the saddle. His straight nose hooked slightly, but it was softened by full lips and a strong chin that could almost be called obstinate. Dark golden hair was neatly contained beneath his riding hat. He was certainly handsome. He was a good and kind man, if not practical, she was discovering. No, she didn’t love him, but love would come in time. At least that’s what Nellie, her nanny, had told her, and she was closer to Nellie than she was to her own mother.

  Emily sighed. If she had known before the wedding about his wanderlust, she never would have agreed to the marriage. Now it was too late, and she would have to honor her vows and follow him to Oregon. For better or for worse. She had lost much sleep over this. Why does the woman have to make all the concessions? she wondered. She and Ernest had argued many times, but nothing would change his mind. In spite of his affection for her, this longing to go west was strong, and she didn’t know how to fight it. Her tears, although obviously disturbing to Ernest, did not weaken his resolve. He was convinced that a better life was waiting for them out west and that Emily was too young and naïve to realize it.

  She sighed deeply, and when the mare’s ear flicked back in response, she patted her neck.

  “Never mind, Calliope,” She murmured, dropping behind Ernest and his gelding. “We are mere females, and we need to remember our place.”

  Calliope snorted and Emily smiled ruefully.

  “I know,” she said, scratching the horse’s withers. “I don’t like it either. Maybe it will be different out west. Maybe women aren’t bound by such strict conventions in Oregon.”

  Emily looked up and saw Sunnyvale in the next valley. Her heart swelled at the sight of her childhood home. On a whim, she turned to Ernest and said, “Race you to the gate!” As she gave Calliope her head and squeezed her calves into the mare, Calliope leaped forward, joyfully stretching her legs into a full gallop. Ernest, at first startled by the horse, quickly followed suit. The pair, forgetting their earlier disagreement, abandoned themselves to the joy of the race like children who never concern themselves with what lies ahead. But like the seasons, life always changes, and the wind in their faces had a promise of the winter to come.

  The Beginning

  Chapter One

  Independence, Missouri

  April 27, 1852

  “I refuse to leave even one of these books behind, Mr. Hinton. How am I going to spend all of the long and lonely hours on this journey if I don’t have my reading material? I will surely go mad!” Emily Hinton’s voice was strident. She had become increasingly difficult the nearer they came to departing Missouri on the overland trail to Oregon.

  “Emily, the wagon is too heavy. Some things will have to be left here.” Ernest Hinton sounded exasperated. He was looking at a few boxes packed with books.

  “All of these books were gifts from my father. They are priceless to me!”

  “Emily, are you listening to me? Can you understand what I’m saying?” Ernest was losing patience.

  “Oh, I understand very well, Mr. Hinton. My books must be left behind to make more room for your tools.”

  “We are going to need these tools in Oregon, Emily. The tools are necessities.”

  Brenna Flannigan leaned against her wagon close by and watched the little drama unfold as Emily Hinton stomped around the boxes and pieces of furniture spread out in the dirt. Ernest followed her with his arms outstretched, imploring her to listen to reason. Brenna eyed the accumulation and couldn’t see how they would get it into the already packed wagon’s four by ten foot interior.

  She had met the Hintons a few days earlier when they pulled their wagon in and camped next to the Flannigans. Emily was a very pretty young woman not much older than Brenna was, but she conveyed a superior attitude, and her deep brown eyes had appraised Brenna’s plain and practical dress.

  “I’m happy to make your acquaintance,” Emily said, squeezing Brenna’s hand lightly with her gloved fingers. Her beautiful green dress was the finest Brenna had seen since leaving New York, and her dark brown hair was swept back into a flawless chignon under a matching bonnet.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Brenna replied.

  “This is my husband Ernest and
my companion Nellie.” Emily’s deep-set eyes critically surveyed Ernest, who looked more like he was dressed for church than for wrangling stock and preparing for a two thousand mile journey. She lightly brushed dust from the lapel of his tailored tweed coat. Ernest bowed slightly, tipping his hat.

  “Miss.” His lips smiled slightly, but the smile never reached his eyes. He was eight years older than Emily and good looking. His features were angular and his expression was serious—almost intense—and Brenna’s cheeks flushed under his scrutiny.

  Nellie, a small wiry woman about the age of Brenna’s mother, glared at Brenna, not bothering to disguise her distaste. Brenna’s smile froze on her face and she glanced at Emily and Ernest, wondering what she had said or done to displease Nellie.

  Emily spoke shortly to Nellie. “Please get my wrap. The evening air is a bit chilly,” and Nellie promptly disappeared into the wagon.

  “Pay no mind to Nellie,” Emily said cursorily. “She’s not in favor of this undertaking, and I’m afraid the whole ordeal has affected her manners.” She looked pointedly at Ernest, barely concealing her displeasure. “I’m inclined to agree with Nellie, but my husband insists that we go to Oregon.”

  Brenna mumbled something about how she thought the journey might be exciting, and Emily sniffed.

  “It’s time for tea, Ernest,” Emily said, and she took his arm and they walked through the dust and back to their wagon.

  Brenna remembered the icy looks from Nellie over the next few days. They weren’t just for her—the rest of her family had remarked on the obvious unfriendliness of the woman. Everyone else they had met since setting up camp in Independence was cheerful and helpful. The Flannigans had spent many evenings with the Bensons after the day’s work was finished. They were a large family from Iowa. The oldest daughter, Rebecca, was Brenna’s age, and a couple of the boys became fast friends of Brenna’s younger brother Conor. Brenna’s father Michael and Thomas Benson were both farmers and liked each other immediately. They had spent hours discussing tools, methods of farming, and farm animals.