Alone on the Oregon Trail (3 page)

It took me a long two to three hours to remove my husband’s leg from his body and I could never bring myself to talk about it again. It was the most horrifying thing I have ever done and could never do that again.

I cleaned him up, wrapped him up and did everything he had told me to do, and I was again waiting in agony to see what would happen. I never left his side and could not even get up for fear that he would die.

He slept through the night and he awoke the next morning very weak and not able to talk much. Although he would tell me that he was doing well, I could see that he was not.

A week or so went by as we waited to see how he would be, and each day drug by. I continued to keep him clean, fed him and took care of him and one day he was able to sit up, and a few days later he was able to stand.

He was slowly getting better with each passing day. My heart was filled with joy and such hope that I was lifting my heart in praise of such a merciful God. How easy it was for me to forget that I had doubted this God that had brought my husband through.

It began to look like my husband had made it through the dangerous part and that our life would go on. My heart was filled with terror at the thought of him losing a leg as well. I could not bring myself to accept that fact and I was handling it worse than Nathaniel was.

He tried so very hard to lift up my spirits but each time he would look at things positively, I would shoot it down with the negative blows. I am sure that I made it very hard on Nathaniel as he was trying to recover, but my weaknesses began taking over. I could never quite climb out from the dark hole I had fallen into.

I watched his eyes of tenderness upon me as I would toil away now doing jobs that he would have normally been doing. I could see he had his moments of guilt burden his heart and he tried desperately to make up for how hard I had to work.

As I look back now I know that it was not the physical work that had me in such despair, it was the fear of the unknown that ate away at my soul. With every lift of my hand at manual labor, I would be worrying about everything and anything I could. Nathaniel had always been the rock in our relationship and I was failing miserably trying to take his position over.

I sometimes wonder now if I would have let him continue to be the rock and not try so hard to replace him, maybe I could have relieved myself of some of the heavy burden. It seemed I thought I had to take it all on my shoulders and I was not able to.

Each day brought a new surprise to us whether it would be a spark of energy that would surge through his body or whether it would be some delightful attitude that was so contagious, it came like rolling thunder tears through the skies. He would wake up one morning and be filled with so much energy and it would set my heart on fire with hope.

The next day he might lie there all day looking into the empty space of the entire day, and I would be left trying to figure out what just happened. It was a roller coaster ride every day until the day my husband took his final breath.

I had no medical training so I was not aware of what was happening. I found it so odd then that the times when he was so functional mentally were the days when he would teach me about the wilds. Every time he would be energetic he would also have a lesson for me to learn and frankly, I was tired of listening. I so wanted him to get up on his feet and do things himself and to take back his role of caring for me. I was not made to be the provider and protector, and I certainly was not capable by this time to be the spiritual leader either. I honestly felt like deserting the entire situation.

A couple of times as he lay sleeping into the late morning hours, I would wake from some place I had ran off to. I would open my eyes and find myself even a mile away from him, where I had taken off alone to be by myself. I think my mind wanted to run, to run as far from him as I could.

It was not because I did not love him so, but because I just felt like I could not take anymore and I wanted to desert the whole idea, the whole reality of it all. I would catch myself further away from our camp each time and one day I finally realized how serious this could have been, and I found my way back to camp.

It wasn’t long after the last time I had caught myself running, that my husband looked into my eyes and whispered “autumn is just around the corner, do you see it Brooklyn, I see it; and it has a golden glow waiting for you,” and then he closed his tender eyes and his breath became shallow.

I watched my husband’s last breath escape his precious lips and then I laid my head upon his still warm shoulder and wept way into the night. The stillness of his now resting body wrapped me with a memory that I would carry for the rest of my life, and often I think of that last day and I can still smell the autumn rains the way in which Nathaniel used to describe them.

For a young man to never have experienced a true autumn rain in the prairies, he sure had found his way through his senses. For my husband, he found the autumn rain he was looking for in the last moments of his life and I believe now that God gave this gift to Nathaniel before he died, for I have never heard anyone describe it quite like he did.

The horrible had happened and my greatest fear that had trapped me into an encampment of self-destruction.

He was gone.

My most precious husband had left me behind to carry on without our new and fresh love we had found and there was nothing I could do about it. I knew that for the rest of the world, life would go on, while I would be expected to succumb unto a life of nothingness, a shell of a human being; and it sickened me.

It angered me to the bare bones of my soul. I heard my soul cry out unto a God that I had forgotten. To me, this God was not merciful, and I soon began to think of Him no more.

I was left alone in the middle of a wild country I knew nothing about and my teeth would grind against each other day after day. My stress had become so intense that my throat would throb with wrenching agonizing pains. A person who has been under stress for such a prolonged time in their life knows of this pain in their throat. I would grab at it with hands of claws, and my head would itch so intensely that I would scratch it with my fingernails or whatever I could find until blood would pour from under my long blonde hair.

The smell of death stayed upon me, as my hair was stench filled with a smell I detested. It was as if my hair had been on fire and had all died away. I would try to wash it daily and that was not good enough. I would find all kinds of flowers and soak them in fresh water, trying desperately to find an aroma to wash into my hair.

I would lie at night and my hair would wrap its smell around my nostrils and the smell would remind me again of Nathaniel’s passing. I had tried everything except cutting off my hair and about the time I was about to cut it completely off, something came over me and stopped me from doing that.

The memory of Nathaniel’s love for my hair would not allow me to cut it and throw it into the fire where I felt it belonged. I could not go against my husband’s wishes, knowing how he would not approve. So, I laid the knife down and burst into tears.

For now, I would have to tolerate this horrible stench and deal with the intense itching of my scalp. I felt I had already disappointed Nathaniel enough in my failures to pull the load. Cutting my hair off would have to wait, until I at least had lost my mind completely and I knew I was not there yet.

After Nathaniel had died, I found some inner strength to dig a grave for him to be buried respectfully and as I lifted and dragged my husband tenderly to the grave, I kissed him and sat with him for an hour or so, speaking words I wish I would have said long ago.

Then I lowered him into the hole and very slowly covered him with a linen cloth. I then was expected to cover him with earth and that part did not come my way easily. It took some discipline to make myself cover his grave and I shed many tears as I could see the puddles of my teardrops as they fell across the surface.

I never knew that teardrops could spread out so large upon the earth. They looked button sized and I may not have counted the drops, but when I was finished, there was a full coverage of button drops all over my husband’s covering. I left a part of myself that day with him and as I moved on I knew that my teardrops would lie over my husband as he rested, waiting for Jesus to resurrect him on that great day.

I told myself that I left a bit of comfort for my husband, leaving my teardrops on his grave, as they would soak down into the earth that was lying so close to his body, but I knew deep down that the comfort was actually for me, so that I would feel a part of me withered away with him and that my teardrops would serve as a footprint in the sand.

I gathered our belongings, Nathaniel’s and mine back into the wagon and I tried Nathaniel’s famous whistle to the team but sadly, the horses just stood frozen in place. This brought tears, sobs and outbursts filled with anger from my lips.

My dear husband had a way with the team of horses and they did not recognize my commands for they were not Nathaniel’s voice. It must have taken ten minutes for me to get those horses to budge from the spot and I wondered later if they too could not bring themselves to leave Nathaniel behind.

They finally gave in to the crack of the whip upon their backs and we shoved off down a lonesome trail. I finally would find out just how bitter silence was and it was never golden for me again. There is a silence that no one enjoys and it comes with the silence of loss. There is nothing calming about it, that kind of silence is what can drive people mad.

This madness followed me for miles on that dusty forgotten road. I barely remember a thing from the time I laid Nathaniel to rest until I must have traveled another twenty miles. Even the team seemed to be irritated with me as I sat upon the seat rocking back and forth, pulling them back and forth with each sway.

They tolerated me for quite some time until they finally came to a halt as if they were confused on which way to go and how to proceed forth. I could not even drive the team right and had caused a set of horses to fall into confusion and they refused to go any further.

This made me angry once more and I jumped off the wagon and found myself screaming at the only hope of survival I had left. As I caught myself with a switch in my hand coming down upon the sweetest set of brown eyes, I felt as if a hand grabbed me firmly, yanking my arm back down until the switch came across my top part of my thigh. This sent a sting of fire across my leg and I cried out in pain.

I collapsed to the ground in front of my team and as I looked up, all I could see was four of the most beautiful, compassion-filled eyes I had ever seen. The whipping I had brought myself to give to these innocent animals slapped me hard in the face through the eyes of forgiveness, and it brought me to my knees in horrible shame.

I grabbed hold of one of the team’s bridles and pulled myself up and shoved my face in between theirs and my tears soaked their brown haired manes. After that day I knew the love an animal can give to its owner and where no one else can touch a person’s heart that has been shattered, an animal dares to go, and that is one day that proved this to be so true.

God sends to us blessings and gifts that can and will go unrecognized for sometimes a very long time, but when the reality hits your heart of what you have received, the warmth of God’s love will surround you like a blanket. It took a long time for me to fully realize the work God did on me through the life of two animals who were suffering loss as well as I was, over Nathaniel.

Chapter Three

(Trail Of Tears)

Bringing myself to the realization that animals as well as humans suffer an unspoken pain and they too feel the loss of someone they have loved and they clearly loved Nathaniel as much as I did. Getting over this hurdle gave me the will to stand again against the odds of survival and quickly realizing that these two precious animals were also in a world of hurt and in need of surviving, sent a message to me that it was time to shove forward and I climbed back onto an empty seat, which my husband once shared.

As I gently gave a small quieted whistle, the horses in front of me somehow accepted the fresh voice that had replaced the familiar one, and they in unison took their first step ahead. Alone, but not so alone; I drove on down the leaf covered trail, and as I kept my eyes downward, I soon began seeing colorful leaves along the way.

I had not seen the autumn orange crisp color that Nathaniel spoke of, but I was seeing a change of colors among the leaves, and I found a first smile spread across my face. “If Nathaniel was here,” I thought to myself “he would be saying autumn is just around the corner” and I nestled into memories of his soothing voice and it seemed to rock me to and fro inside my mind.

I was no longer throwing my body from side to side, confusing the team on which direction to go. It was a sway in the heart that was taking place and I could feel a warming comfort come over me. The footing of the team became sure of itself and their ears again began to perk up, fully alert of their surroundings and we were on our way as best we could.

This part of my story I call the trail of tears because there were tears for every occasion. I would cry and weep for Nathaniel, and weep over weakness and failures; and I would cry for the team as they would seem to fall into certain sadness. I began to wonder how many before me had suffered their own hardships and losses that were as big as mine.

How did they overcome all odds as they traveled along, and how many were not able to find their way alone on such a journey? Had they peddled through blindly such as I do at times, and did their hearts break so hard that it caused them to be sick to their stomachs?

Did they have children who had to endure the pain as well? Looking along the trail I felt like I could almost see the faces of those travelers before me and I began imagining the footprints as well as the tears alongside of me.

Pictures came into my mind and with each passing mile, it took my mind off of my own heartbreak and I found myself being filled with compassion for the remains of those who had traveled on alone or had not made it through.

Your senses come to life all on their own as you are out in the wild, and I began learning how to make my senses very keen. I began discovering that I could hear the birds fluttering through the air above me as well as the tiny animals as they would come and peek from the brush as we would pass by.

I saw many sets of little eyes popping in and out along the trail of tears and many times they would be brave enough to make themselves known, as if they were interested in me. I would catch myself bringing the team to a slow crawl as I watched the rabbits hop and play and even watched two beavers as they were building a dam alongside of the banks of the stream.

At this point I had no reason to fear because I was being taught about the beauty in my surroundings. I could now hear the soft breezes as they would blow through the tops of the trees and how the acorns would sound as they fell from their branches, hitting the ground for their new resting places.

If you could watch you would see the squirrels as they waited for the acorns to fall so they could scoop them up and run to a new spot to hide them for another squirrel in need later. How wonderful this seemed to me that squirrels will find food and bury it for other squirrels to find when they will need to survive.

I thought to myself “wouldn’t it be wonderful if people were that kind, to help one another as well?”

I kept in mind what my husband had taught me about traveling as far as we could and then stopping for the night early enough that I would be well settled in by the time dark would come, and I chose a place to stop for the night close to the stream banks with some coverage being offered by some trees.

I knew as the nightfall would come that I would be alone and that I would have to be strong. Always before, I had Nathaniel by my side and it relieved much of my fear, but now I would be facing the dark all alone and I was not looking forward to that. I found a place under the shade of some trees and released the team so that they could graze nearby and be able to drink from the stream.

I planned to make me something to eat that would be fairly quick and easy to prepare, and I grabbed me some bread I had made and some jam and that would satisfy my hunger through the night.

As I was preparing my meal I decided that from now on, I would only prepare something to eat during the daylight hours as I was traveling. This would not only save time, but it would save me from having to get supplies out during the night and I could stay in the wagon. I also decided that I would always leave one of the horses unhooked from the wagon in case I would have to take off in an emergency.

That way I could just jump on him and get out quickly. Nathaniel had taught me to ride along the way and I was not afraid of leaving my wagon and riding a horse if I had to. I kept a small bag on my saddle as well with some supplies I may need in case I got away from my wagon, which would help in case of an emergency exit.

I enjoyed my bread and jam and found myself crawling inside my wagon and sitting in a corner. We had shotguns, so I pulled them over close to me and I prayed I would never have to use them, but they gave me some relief as well. I am not sure when I finally fell asleep in the night, but I recall waking up with a shotgun spread out beside me with my arm wrapped around it.

It is amazing the things you can do when you need to and I found it odd that you can sleep with a gun without endangering yourself, and this pleased me indeed.

My first night alone went well and there were no emergencies, but I took quite some time to fall into a peaceful sleep. Every sound I heard I was on alert and spent much time peeking from the covered wagon. I guess my body finally became tired enough to pass out from exhaustion.

I knew one thing that morning and that was that I would be so glad to get to where I was headed. The strange thing was, by now, I did not even know where I was headed. All I knew was our destination was Nebraska and Nathaniel had changed his mind along the trail, saying that it would be a very good choice because we could look for work on a cattle ranch, or we could settle down on a farm as well.

Nebraska had beautiful land and much to offer newcomers and this is where I was heading. What I would do when I got there, I was not sure since Nathaniel was no longer here and he was the one with all the ideas.

I supposed that when I did get somewhere, it would be better than out here alone in the wilderness on a trail to nowhere. My husband’s excitement kept me going much of my traveling alone. I would sit and drive the team, thinking about things Nathaniel would talk about and his excitement would give me the strength to carry on a few more miles at a time.

I did find that I could travel just as many miles alone as I did with Nathaniel and that helped I suppose. I felt like the less I had to stop, the better off I was. At times I had to keep in mind that the team needed to stop just as much, if not more than I did.

Sometimes I think I could have just kept going and going, but I would remember that the team needed to get drink, rest and eat; and I would pull off to stop for them.

Day after day I would arise from the wagon with a refreshed sense of courage and each night I would lay down crying myself to sleep. I had used all my courage up throughout the day and then somehow as I slept I would find a renewing of the mind and body. I started each morning with prayer and ended each night with prayer.

I still had not given myself back to the Lord fully, but I was finding my way back to Him. It took a beating that I nearly gave my horses to bring me to my knees and I hoped that would be the ending of my pain and anger.

It was still lingering ‘round and I could feel it at times as it would try to surface. I wanted someone to blame for Nathaniel’s death and for leaving me alone to the elements and the wild.

I carried on taking the day and stretching it out as long as I could. I did not want to stop traveling because I was so afraid of the nights and the darkness. I kept telling myself that the further along I got, would somehow make the nights less frightening.

I found out that it did not matter whether I was left to the dark for a couple hours or for six hours, the fear was the same, overbearing. Inch by inch turned into mile after mile and I began feeling better about traveling along until early evening and would settle in for the night, giving the horses more time to rest between travels.

Tears were beginning to fall a little less often and I would find myself being somewhat content as I sat upon the wagon seat alone. I would enjoy conversation with the horses, as well as little animals that passed by. I guess the hardest part of losing Nathaniel that day was beginning to soften some, but I still found myself having either little tears roll down my cheeks or I would have bouts of crying spasms that would last a few minutes.

I knew the pain would never go away completely and I found comfort in that as well. Keeping him fresh in my mind and deep in my heart was part of how I intended to live the rest of my life, and tears are not that bad anyhow.

I thought of how many families that traveled before me must have dumped their tears in places where mine fell and I would find myself trying to imagine what pain was felt along that trail.

After being on this trail, the chances at being stricken with an accident or a disease was high, and I knew that I may never get off that trail myself, but I kept traveling along believing that I would make it off the trail and onto whatever life would be left for me.

I must have been traveling alone for at least a month when I awoke to the neighing of one of the team and I grabbed my shotgun and peeked out the back of the wagon. Surprised to see a small bear cub standing sniffing the nose of one of my horses, I laughed like a school girl. He was so adorable and just when I was about to step out of the wagon I quickly remembered Nathaniel telling me that if we were to run into a cute bear cub, to stay away from it, because its mother was not far away.

I quickly got back into the wagon and just hoped the little thing would just wander off. I must have sat for a good hour or so, waiting for the cub to run off, and then finally I heard it. It was the scariest sound I had ever heard.

The mama bear had come into camp to collect her cub and it was hollering with all its might. I sat as quiet as I could and prayed for the lives of my horses, holding my gun and prepared to shoot the bear if I had to.

I was not going to stand by to watch it kill one of my horses. Nothing happened with the bear and I sat counting my blessings. She was able to call her cub over to her and she gave one huge long growl again and then they disappeared off into the woods.

I was grateful that I didn’t have to shoot a bear that morning and even more grateful that my team was not hurt. But, I realized that I then had a bear story to tell someone if I ever got off this beaten path.

I noticed one evening that my food supply looked to be running low and not being sure how far I had to go yet, I realized it was time to try my hand at catching animals for food. I first had to get over the fact that I would be taking the lives of small living things and it took me a few days to accept that.

Then, I had to gather myself up to go into the woods to get the critters, and when I found them I would find myself sitting there and not being able to pull the trigger. This went on for a couple of weeks. I could not bring myself to shoot anything, and it looked like I would be left to use up the rest of my food and then starve to death.

One afternoon as I sat under an old Maple tree, a larger animal came into my view. I believe the Lord sent me a larger one for starters thinking it would not bother me as much to take the life of a larger animal, rather than some tiny one.

This animal looked to be a buck deer, with antlers and all. If I was ever to try a shot, it had to be now while it was a larger animal. As the deer weaved its way around a line of trees, I sat as quiet and still as I could.

I was not sure if I was even breathing. I brought the shotgun up to my face and I sat very still watching the deer to see what his movements were. He had a pattern of walking a pace and then pausing for a few seconds and I realized this would give me the time in which to shoot. I tried to tell myself to aim for the head so he would not suffer, but I quickly was content with hitting him anywhere and then I would handle the next step of putting him completely down with another shot to the head when the time came.

As I sat there, the opportunity came to me when he had walked to the right for a time and then he took a good long pause, only lifting his head a few times as he settled in eating something from the ground.

I slowly and gently allowed myself to squeeze the trigger and the shot rang out through the air leaving me with a stinging in my ear and an arm that felt it was hit by a train. The job was done and I managed to put him down with a single bullet.