Journey of Hope: A Novel of Triumph and Heartbreak on the Oregon Trail in 1852 (19 page)

A chuckle escaped from John’s mouth. “How about this evening, Nellie? Will you marry me this evening?”

“John, what are you saying?”

“The captain of the wagon train that pulled in is also a judge. He can perform legal ceremonies. Nellie, we don’t have to wait for Oregon City!”

“Oh, John!” They embraced happily.

“After the evening meal, Captain Burnett will come over and perform the ceremony. Is that enough time for you to get ready?” He suddenly looked anxious, realizing that women liked to have a lot of time to prepare for things like weddings.

Nellie laughed. “Yes, John, that’s enough time.”

That evening in the half light, Captain Burnett joined Nellie and John in matrimony. Nellie looked like a younger version of herself. She had bathed and washed her hair and Emily had fixed it in an elegant coiffure. Emily had also given Nellie a beautiful peach colored dress to wear. They were nearly the same size, and a few nips and tucks had made it fit perfectly. Nellie’s face was slightly flushed and shining. John’s mother, Emily, and Ernest Hinton were the only attendees to the ceremony. It was short, and when it was over and John had kissed his bride, a loud cheer went up. Startled, John and Nellie looked behind them. The whole wagon train—every man, woman, and child—had witnessed their vows from a respectable distance and was cheering for them. After that, they could not avoid the party.

Mrs. Mueller took Nellie’s hand. “I couldn’t ask for a better daughter-in-law!”

Emily gave Nellie a hug. “I’m so happy for you, Nellie.”

“Thank you, Emily. Our wagon will be next to yours the rest of the way to Oregon, and I intend to help you like I promised your daddy.”

“Nellie, I can take care of myself and Ernest. You have a new family now.”

“Nothing has changed, Emily. I am still responsible for you, and I want to help you. You have always been like a daughter to me.”

The two women embraced tearfully. Soon, everyone came up and hugged the newlyweds and gave them their best wishes. There was music and dancing well into the night.

“John, these people love you,” Nellie said later, after they had danced many dances.

“They love us, Nellie. I feel so honored. I can’t believe word got around the camp so quickly. Are you happy?” John asked, looking into her radiant face.

“More happy than I feel I have a right to be.”

“Nellie, you have the right to anything you want. I intend for us to be happy for the rest of our lives.”

Nellie’s heart was full. She had thought she could never love again, and she had been so wrong! She realized that love has no boundaries, and she had enough love to give to everyone. In fact, it felt like the more love she gave, the more she got back.

Hand in hand, they went to the Muellers’ camp, Nellie’s new home.

Three Island Crossing

Chapter Seventeen

Aug. 20, 1852
Mile 1398

James Cardell stood in the dawn light at the back of his wagon with a worried crease between his eyes. He was uneasy. It was August 20, and he had come nearly fifteen hundred miles with his fruit trees. Today would be a difficult crossing. The Snake River was never easy, and with all the recent rain, the river was full and the banks were muddy and slippery. It was divided by two islands into three branches at this point. It was fordable, but the last branch was over a half mile wide with a strong current. Yesterday several of the men had made numerous attempts to swim their cattle over, but none were successful, and several beasts were swept down river and drowned.

So far, he and his wagons had made every other river crossing, although there had been a few close calls. The wagon train had made camp yesterday afternoon, but most people decided to wait until today to cross the river in hopes that the mud would dry up a bit. He and Slim, his hired hand, had just finished checking the fruit trees, and he was pleased that they were thriving. He had nursed these trees for months, making sure they were watered and pest free. His hope was to duplicate the efforts of Henderson Luelling, who had made the same trip with his trees six years earlier in 1846. He had heard that Luelling’s orchards in Oregon were doing very well.

James was a dentist by trade, but his passion was gardening, and when he heard the story of Henderson Luelling, he had been consumed with ideas of starting his own orchards in Oregon. He had apple, cherry, pear, plum, and black walnut trees in two wagons that were full of dirt. Most of the other travelers had been by to see the odd sight—some of his trees were sticking out of the sides. Many people were skeptical, but he knew they would change their minds once his orchards were planted.

His parents had been against his going west. He remembered his father’s disappointment. “You’re a dentist. You have a thriving practice. Why would you want to leave it all to go out west where you don’t know anyone?”

“I can’t explain it, Dad. It’s a dream I have, and I have to go.”

“I forbid you to go. Your mother and I sacrificed to send you to school. Your practice is only a few years old, and look how well you’re doing. Forget this foolishness. If you want to grow fruit trees, you can grow them in the garden.”

“It’s not the same. I don’t want to be just a gardener, Dad. I want to be a farmer.”

James shook his head slightly, remembering the arguments. His father had encouraged him to become a dentist, and James had dutifully gone to school in Maryland, but it wasn’t what was in his heart. He loved the earth, the rich black smell of it, and the feel of it in his hands when he dug into it. He had a green thumb, and ever since he was old enough to walk, he had spent the greater part of three seasons in the family’s large garden. Everything he planted thrived. He learned when to plant the carrots, potatoes, onions, and turnips and when to harvest them for the best flavor. His mother spent most of the summer and fall putting up his harvest for winter rations. Her pantry was full of jars of pickles, beets, and beans.

He had studied flowers and had the most beautiful flower garden in all of Illinois. People would come from all over town to marvel at the different blooms and the glorious colors. Nothing gave him more pleasure than watching his garden grow and sharing the bounty with friends and neighbors.

He thought of his mother now. She had been as upset as his father had, but she didn’t get angry—just quiet. At first, she had tried to reason with him.

“James, you’re such a good dentist. Think of all the people who depend on you.”

“There are other dentists, Mom, good dentists who love their work. I can’t do this. I have to follow my heart.”

When she realized his mind was made up, she resigned herself to the idea, even though he knew she didn’t like it. He remembered when she looked at him sadly and said, “James, all your people are here.” He had given up trying to explain what he finally came to understand was impossible to convey. How could you explain in words the fire inside of you? How could you explain why you would leave a thriving practice in a town where you knew everyone to travel across an unknown country and start fresh in a place you had never been? No, they didn’t understand. Only one person really did.

He looked across the way to where the Benson wagon was parked. Most of the family was bustling around getting ready for the day. He spotted Rebecca bending over the fire, and his heart swelled. He could talk to her and she always listened attentively. She knew more about his dream than anyone else did, and she was supportive of him. He watched her stir the pot of porridge, stopping briefly to wipe the face of a small sister.

He had met the Bensons shortly after the wagon train left Independence. Rebecca had come looking for the dentist because her father had a terrible toothache.

“How long has the tooth been bothering him?” James asked the comely young woman who had come to find him.

“For a few days now, but the pain was pretty bad last night,” she had replied.

“Let me get a few things together and I’ll take a look.”

James peered into Thomas’s mouth and probed around with a long handled instrument.

“Argh!” Thomas said when James hit a sensitive area.

“You have an infected tooth, Mr. Benson. It needs to come out. Is there any whiskey?”

Rebecca looked at James, astonished.
Does he need a shot of whiskey to pull my Dad’s tooth?
She was wondering.

James saw her look and smiled. “It’s not for me, Rebecca. It’s for your dad—to numb the pain a bit.”

Rebecca blushed prettily and said, “Of course.”

After Thomas Benson downed a few shots of whiskey to numb the pain, James made short work of the matter, deftly pulling the tooth with his ivory handled tooth key. Thomas looked very much relieved once the troublesome tooth was gone.

“Let me pay you, James,” he said blurrily.

“No, Mr. Benson, there’s no need. I’m happy I was able to help,” James said, smiling at Rebecca.

“There must be some way I can repay your kindness,” Thomas asked.

James thought briefly. “I could use your help at some of the river crossings, if that’s agreeable to you.” Thomas Benson readily agreed, and the two men shook hands.

Rebecca invited James to dinner shortly after that, and their friendship blossomed. James became a regular at the Benson wagon almost every evening, but he never came empty handed. He had dried and preserved fruits and vegetables that he was more than willing to share.

He was also knowledgeable about medicinal plants, and he had made a habit of collecting herbs and plants he found along the way. Mary Benson often tagged along with him, and she was full of questions. On one occasion, he had been making a strengthening tea for Ruth Benson, Mary’s pregnant mother.

“What are you putting in the tea?” Mary asked inquisitively.

“Well, I’m adding a little slippery elm to this chamomile tea. It should help your mother to feel better.”

“What about dandelion root?” Mary asked, remembering how James had added it to other teas.

James looked at Mary appreciatively. “That’s a good idea, Mary. I think you have a head for herbs and medicines. You’ll make a good nurse.”

“I don’t want to be a nurse. I want to be a doctor,” Mary pronounced emphatically.

“A doctor, is it? Well, if anyone can become a doctor, I believe you can.”

Now Ruth sipped tea that Mary had made from nettles and red clover flowers. James had shown Mary how to brew the strengthening tea that Ruth needed since the birth of Mary’s little sister Mattie. The baby had been born almost a week ago, and both mother and daughter were doing fine. Rebecca had taken on most of the work her mother had been doing, with the help of Mary, Sam, and Tommy.

James liked the Bensons. They all pitched in when they needed to. Even the little sisters sensed that no foolishness would be tolerated, and they were on their best behavior. Little Annie and four-year-old Deborah missed their mother, and Ruth made sure to give them attention when the baby was asleep.

Rebecca Benson looked up from stirring her porridge and smiled when she saw James. Then she saw his face and knew he was worried about the crossing. She had tried to reassure him the day before, but in truth, she was worried too. This crossing had a reputation for being the most difficult of the river crossings along the trail.

After Rebecca made sure everyone had their breakfast, she took a bowl of porridge to James. He was finishing watering the oxen, and when he saw her walking towards him, his preoccupied look turned into a smile.

“I brought you some porridge, James.”

“Thank you, Rebecca, it looks very nourishing. Fact is I’m not hungry at all.”

“Eat it anyway, James.”

James looked at her determined face and smiled. “Yes, Ma’am.” He leaned against the wagon wheel and spooned porridge into his mouth. Rebecca was right. He would need all of his strength and wits to get his wagons and teams across the river today.

“Pa said we’ll get your wagons across first, and then we’ll take ours. He said you could hire Indian pilots if you want more help.”

“No, I don’t want to risk my trees to Indians. I think between Slim, me, and your pa we’ll be okay.”

The Indian pilots charged the travelers to help them across the river. James had heard about these pilots, and he figured they were good with stock, but he was pretty certain they had never attempted to get wagonloads of fruit trees across.