Coffin To Lie On (8 page)

When they reached Ft. Hall,
Idaho, Miranda saw the log walls plastered against the clear blue
sky. She remarked that was what a fort was supposed to look
like.

The travelers were relieved
they were on the last leg of the journey. Miranda wasn't about to
celebrate yet. She had a dire feeling what was to come was just as
bad in its own way as the country they had traveled
across.

After the wagon train left
the fort, the trail became steep. They had to cross over a mountain
range. Everyone had to get off the wagons and what excess weight
they hadn't left in the desert had to be unloaded now.

Anselm told Miranda her
sideboard had to go if the wagon was to make it up the steep
incline. She hated hearing the news, but after she watched the men
strain to help oxen push each wagon up the steep grade she knew
Anselm was right.

He eased the sideboard out
of the back of the wagon and rolled it over to the side of the
trail along with other discarded items from the wagons ahead of
them.

Miranda studied the highboy
bureaus, claw feet lamp tables, pianos, grandfather clocks, iron
cook stoves and trunks. She felt like crying and knew many women
ahead of her had felt the same way.

All the hard work, pushing
the wagons up the grade, paid off with only a few minor accidents
like harness breaks and broken wheels. The day came when wagon
master Coopersmith relayed the word that Portland, Oregon was
around the bend.

At Portland, Oregon, Anselm
drove his wagon on a paddle boat and parked along with the other
travelers headed for the Willamette Valley. In town, he bought
supplies and filed a land claim. Besides the supplies, he filled
every vacant space in the wagon with two feet tall cherry, plum,
apple, peach and pear trees.

“
My,
that's a lot of trees. Why do you need so many?” Miranda
asked.

“
Dey are
all different kinds of fruit. Vhen one quits bearing another vill
start. Dat vay we vill haf income all summer long from de fruit
once de trees bear,” Anselm explained.

Miranda walked along the
boat deck to Sarie Lee and Wilbur's wagon. He was reloading their
wagon for the trip to Willamette Valley.

Sarie Lee was reading a
letter from her relatives. She looked so sad.

Miranda asked, “Everything
all right at home?

“
Yes, I
wrote home about Bobby Lee's passing when we reached the fort in
Idaho. Our kin just wanted to send us their sorries.” Sarie Lee had
tears in her eyes. “It sure makes me plum sad to think about
leaving Bobby Lee in the desert.”

“
There
aren't any words that will help you get through this loss. Only
thing that makes the loss bearable will be time. Maybe now and then
a hug will help. I have plenty of them to share with you,” Miranda
said as she put her arms around Sarie Lee.

When the paddle boat eased
away from the dock, the settlers were on the last leg of the
journey to where they wanted to settle. The trip on the Columbia
River was three hundred and twenty miles long.

When they reached the spot
to disembark, the boat pilot parked as close as he dared to the
bank, before he released the gang plank. The settlers hitched up
the wagons and drove the oxen down the plank and through the
shallow water to land.

The farmers that brought
cattle to Portland had to keep the herd together when they were
unloaded from the boat. Anselm was on horseback with the cattle
while Miranda drove their wagon to shore.

From there the wagons took
a trail through one of the snow capped mountain ranges. The land
was thick with aspen trees, Douglas firs and spruce. Miranda was so
glad to see the last of flat, grass lands filled with sagebrush and
large boulders. The trail was steep and narrow with a view over the
edge of the mountain that sometimes made Miranda wish she hadn't
looked.

Tall Ponderosa pines
covered the Cascade mountains. The green timber and white mountain
tops touching the sky could be made out from miles away. Anselm
told Miranda the Oregon Mountains bordered on the west of the
valley and the Calapooga mountain range on the south
side.

Traveling down the mountain
trail was just as scary as the climb up. Anselm spent a lot of time
using the brake to keep the wagon from running over the slow oxen.
What a relief when the settlers reached the base of the mountains.
They scattered out to find their piece of land. Miranda felt a
great weight lifted from her as she looked around. The area was
nicer than she had imagined after what she'd traveled through. This
flat land would make for easy traveling.

Chapter 9

It took from early May until the
end of September to reach this flat valley from Independence,
Missouri. Anselm sorted out his cattle. When he headed the herd
across the valley, Miranda gave Sarie Lee and Jefferson Davis one
last hug and drove the wagon away from the rest of the settlers.
Anselm traveled until he found the land that was their
claim.

It was almost dark when Miranda
parked the wagon in a grove of black hawthorn trees. She climbed
down and walked around to limber up.

Anselm tied his horse to a branch
and came to her. “I believe dis iss de place to build de log cabin.
De trees vill be shade from the sun. De flat land around de grove
vill make a good place for de orchard. De nearby creek vill furnish
plenty of water all year long until I dig a vell. Vat do you
dink?”

“
I agree.
This is a good place. I can have a vegetable garden near the house
and the water is handy when I need it,” Miranda agreed as she
studied the black hawthorn trees.

She wasn't familiar with them.
Fruit the size of buckshot covered the branches. Miranda reached up
and picked a hand full of sweet black berries. They only had one
seed so they were easy to eat and fairly tasty. She'd figure out
how to make jelly and cobblers with the berries.

Anselm pitched a tent he bought in
Portland close to the wagon for their shelter until they had a
house. Miranda said it would be a time saver to quit taking the
camp apart every morning.

Miranda set her cast iron kettle
and coffee pot on the ground near the fire Anselm built. The fall
night air was cool. The fire felt good. The kettle was still half
full of rabbit track soup left over from lunch. She heated the soup
and pulled it away from the fire.

Anselm cut enough wood poles to
build a make shift corral to hold his cattle and horse. When he was
about ready to stop for the night, Miranda placed the kettle on the
fire to warm.

They forced themselves to eat and
were ready to go to bed right after Miranda cleaned the dishes.
Anselm took the time to whistle the whippoorwill tune to see if he
received an answer. When he did, they were both thrilled. It was
like something familiar from home was with them when they heard the
birds answer.

After they crawled under the
covers, Miranda said, “Anselm, I have something to tell
you.”

Anselm yawned loudly.
“Wat?”

“
We're going to have a
baby,” Miranda said quietly.

“
Dis iss good,” Anselm said,
sluggish with sleep.

“
You don't mind?” Miranda
asked.

Anselm bolted upright. “Vat did you
just say?”

Miranda giggled at how thunder
struck he looked. She repeated slowly, “I am going to have a
baby.”

“
Ven?”

“
Maybe seven or eight weeks
from now,” Miranda said calmly.

“
So soon. Vhy didn't you
tell me dis before now. Ve haf to hurry up and build de house
before de baby comes,” Anselm exploded.

“
Calm down. Everything will
be all right. You said Clarence was going to make sure everyone had
a roof over their heads. It will happen,” Miranda said
calmly.

“
Ja, dat iss right.” Anselm
laid down and closed his eyes. Suddenly, he bolted up again. “I
don't know anyding about birthing. Vat vill ve
do.”

“
That's taken care of
already. Sarie Lee said to get her when the time comes. She will
stay with me until I can manage alone.”

“
Dat iss good.” Anselm
gathered her in his arms and closed his eyes.

Miranda was happy for the first
time in a long time and full of hope for her expanding family. They
had so much to look forward to now. A baby topped the list. Anselm
was full of dreams and eager to begin their new life in Willamette
Valley.

The first night on their new land
didn't start as they would have liked. Anselm was tired when he
stopped for supper. He tied his horse to a low limb on a hawthorn
tree and forgot to put him in the corral with the cattle. Most of
the time that wouldn't have been a problem.

About midnight, a gut wrenching
scream woke them. Anselm bolted up. “Vhat vas dat?”

Before Miranda could answer, the
horse let out a high pitched neigh. “Anselm, something has happened
to the horse.”

Another scream sounded so very
close. Anselm grabbed his rifle. “You stay here.”

After the rifle went off twice,
Anselm came back to the tent. “De horse iss gone.”

They went back to
bed, but Anselm tossed and turned as he waited for daylight. Now
Miranda leaned against the covered wagon and listened to Anselm
whistle
Old Dan Tucker
as he trotted across the prairie after his runaway
horse.

When her husband disappeared from
sight, she went over in her mind what he told her to do while he
was gone. He warned her he might be away for some time. He said she
shouldn’t make a fire after dark. Even a day time fire shouldn't be
very smoky. That would disclose her location if Indians happened to
be in the area.

If only the horse
hadn’t run off,
thought Miranda. She
rubbed a few strands of brown hair back along side her head as she
took in her surroundings. She liked what she saw better than any of
the countryside they had traveled through.

At least, it was a sunny day full
of bright promise. Miranda busied herself doing laundry in the
creek which she spread over some bushes to dry.

She made a cake in the camp fire
oven while she waited for Anselm. Toward evening, she held her hand
over her eyes and studied the distant horizon, hoping she'd see
Anselm with the horse in tow. That was when she plan to start
supper.

By the time dark took over, Miranda
decided Anselm probably camped out somewhere until morning. That is
if he caught the horse yet. No need to start a fire to cook. She'd
worry about fixing a meal when Anselm came back.

Anselm heard in Portland the valley
had its share of wild animals. Since they tended to prowl at night,
Anselm told her to get in the wagon before dark and stay there
until he came back or until daylight. Which ever came
first.

Twilight set off the whippoorwill
cries. Such a lonesome call they seemed to make now that she was by
herself. In the middle of nowhere and alone, Miranda felt as
lonesome as those whippoorwills.

For the first time in a long time
an overwhelming homesickness came over her. She had second thoughts
about this trip. She longed to see her family again. She wished she
hadn’t agreed so quickly to pick up stakes and leave Minnesota.
Perhaps after the other farmers left, Anselm would have lost his
desire to go west. Now she would never know for sure.

Four months was long enough for her
to be away from her folks. She wondered if her mother and father
were well. Were they missing her? They would be so proud to know
she was having their grandchild.

After a walk around the grove,
Miranda watched the western horizon fill with red streaks as the
sun sank. It would be dark soon so she'd better take Anselm's
advice while she could still see what she was doing.

She started for the wagon and froze
when she realized how close she was to the source of their problem.
Stretched out in the grass lay a cougar, teeth bared in an ugly
grin and eyes sightless, with a gaping, bloody hole Anselm had shot
in his side. She felt sorry about that beautiful animal’s death. If
the large cat had only stayed away from the clearing for the night,
he’d be loping among the trees now, searching for a
meal.

Just the sight of the dead cougar
made a frightened knot in the pit of her stomach. They were asleep
in the tent, which wasn't a very safe place, when that hungry
cougar was on the prowl. He might have picked them to prey on,
before he was through hunting.

The remembrance of his blood
curdling scream as his long, sinewy body lunged out of the tree on
to the back of the dozing horse was enough to bring Miranda and
Anselm out of a sound sleep.

Anselm shot the cougar before he
injured the horse, but the bay's fright was enough to make the
horse break loose and run away.

Just the thought of that wild
animal's horrifying scream hasten Miranda's climb into the wagon.
She eased down on the pile of quilts, hugged her legs to her, and
relaxed back in the small space between the coffin and stack of
canned food. She untied her bonnet and slipped it off her
head.