Journey of Hope: A Novel of Triumph and Heartbreak on the Oregon Trail in 1852 (30 page)

“I know she is with God, and I know she is happy, but I miss her and I wish she was still here,” Mary cried as she wiped her face on her sleeve. “Sometimes it feels like she is still here. Sometimes I think about the day she died, and it’s like it’s happening all over again, and I think that if I had done things differently she wouldn’t be dead now. Like maybe it’s been a dream and I’ve woken up and Deborah is sleeping next to me.”

Rebecca gasped from across the campfire. “I’ve had a dream like that, too. I dreamt that I listened to Deborah when she told me her toe hurt. I gave her a big hug, kissed her cheek, and promised to look at it when we finished with the horse. When I woke up, it took me a few minutes to realize that I had been dreaming and Deborah was still gone.” Tears trickled down Rebecca’s cheeks. She hadn’t shared this with anyone, and she was amazed with herself that she was talking about it. She reached for James, and he wrapped his arms around her.

“But she would still be here if it wasn’t for me!” Mary cried. “I lied to you about Deborah.” She looked from her mother to her father. Ruth and Thomas looked aghast. Mary continued. “She wanted to come with me and Tommy to dig onions, but I told her she couldn’t. I sent her back to the wagon and we ran away from her! I laughed about leaving her here! Now she’s gone forever!” Mary’s voice had reached a fever pitch and she stood and covered her face with her hands.

Ruth looked incredulous. She could hardly take it in. Mary had been blaming herself. She stood up, walked across the campfire to where Mary huddled within herself, and took the small girl in her arms. “Mary, don’t do this. It’s not your fault. It’s my fault. I sent Deborah away because I was busy—too busy to pay attention to her. You didn’t do anything wrong, Mary.”

Tommy had been trying to keep himself in control, but watching his mother comfort Mary was too much. He stood up. His face was tortured. “I saw her sleeping in the back of the wagon,” he cried. “I snuck away so I wouldn’t have to put up with her whining. I didn’t tell anyone where she was, and she died. She would still be here if I had told you where she was. There would have been time to save her!”

Thomas watched his family falling apart before his eyes. He looked from one to the other, feeling their pain and his own. His wife clung to Mary, and Rebecca had taken Tommy in her arms. Tommy was crying softly.

“What have you done, Reverend?” Thomas’s voice was angry. “Why did you have to bring up Deborah? We were getting over her and now you’ve stirred everything up again.”

Before Reverend John could reply, Ruth turned on Thomas.

“How dare you! You’ve kept this family quiet and desperate because you haven’t wanted to talk about Deborah, and we have all needed to talk. I’ve felt responsible for Deborah’s death, and now I find out that these children have kept their guilt within them since she died. What is the point, Thomas? Why?”

Thomas looked stricken. He felt like an outsider as he watched his family comfort one another. He had never heard such harsh words from his wife. “Ruth, I thought you blamed me. I thought you all did,” Thomas looked at his family. “No one did anything with Deborah that we hadn’t done a hundred times over. I don’t know why she died. I should have prevented it somehow. I promised you I would keep this family safe and I’ve let you down.”

Ruth’s face filled with compassion as she heard the tortured words from her husband. She walked over to where Thomas was standing. He looked lost and vulnerable. She took his hand in hers and said softly, “Thomas, you are the head of this family, but that doesn’t mean you can do everything. We have to help each other now. You don’t have to try to be strong anymore. We know you’re strong. We need you to grieve with us.”

“Dad.” It was thirteen-year-old Sam, who had been very quiet since Deborah’s death. “Dad, you told me once to not be so hard on myself, and now you’re doing it. I haven’t been able to talk to you about anything lately—or to anyone else. Everyone has been so closed up. All of you have been blaming yourselves for Deborah.” He looked around at his family. “It was an accident, Dad.” Sam’s eyes searched his father’s.

“I’m so sorry, Sam.” Thomas’s voice broke. He hugged his oldest son. “I thought it would be easier if we didn’t talk about Deborah. It hurts so much to talk about her.” Thomas looked at Reverend John. “I don’t know where to begin, Reverend.”

Reverend John looked around the campfire at the grieving faces of this family. There was a lot of work to do, but he knew they were strong enough and loved each other enough to do it. “Thomas, I’m going to leave you to your family and your dinner. If it’s agreeable to all of you, I would like to come back tomorrow evening and we can talk some more.”

“Thank you, Reverend. I think we would all appreciate that,” Thomas said as he looked at his family. Ruth’s eyes were hopeful and more alive than they had been since Deborah’s death. Rebecca and James stood together, arms around each other, and Mary, Tommy, and Sam looked relieved.

Thomas realized that he was indeed the keeper of this family. They had all been silent because he had wanted it that way. Reverend John extended his hand to Thomas, and Thomas took it, drew the Reverend into his arms, and embraced him. He felt something let go inside of him—a hardness that he had been carefully nurturing, and in its place, his tears finally came and he didn’t try to hide them or stop them. The two men stood for a few moments holding each other. When they parted, Reverend John said, “You’re going to be alright,” and Thomas believed it was true.

Mile 1819

A few days later, Tommy and Mary Benson were walking next to the wagon. Sam and Thomas were driving the team, and Ruth was in the wagon with Mattie. The baby had been fretting all morning.

“I wonder why Mattie’s so upset,” Tommy said.

“Ma thinks it’s just colic and she’ll get over it when she gets a little older,” Mary replied.

“Do all babies get colic?”

“All the babies I’ve ever seen have had it.”

“I don’t remember Annie being so crabby. Did she have colic?”

“Yes, and Deborah did, too. I remember Ma wondering if Deborah would ever stop crying.”

They both paused. They hadn’t mentioned Deborah in any conversation except when they purposefully discussed her death with Reverend John and the family.

“Tommy! I just talked about Deborah and it didn’t hurt!”

Tommy looked at his sister. She was smiling but tears rolled down her face.

“Why are you crying then?”

“Because I’m happy, Tommy. Don’t you see?” Mary said excitedly. “I want to talk about Deborah because that way she will always be close to me. It’s hurt so much to talk about her and think about her, but just now, I didn’t think about the sadness. I was just remembering her, and that makes me happy.”

Tommy looked at his sister doubtfully. How could someone cry and be happy? Maybe this is what Dad meant when he said he never would pretend to understand women.

Inside the wagon, little Mattie had finally fallen asleep. Ruth had overheard Mary and Tommy’s conversation, and she cried softly. Someday she hoped she would be at the place where Mary was. For now, she followed Reverend John’s advice and just took every day as it came. She tried not to look back or look ahead. What had he said? She searched her memory.

“The past is gone and the future doesn’t exist. All we have is right here and now.”

It had taken her awhile to wrap her head around that thought. She understood the first part. She knew she couldn’t change the past, but the wisdom of the second part eluded her. She remembered when Sam had objected to Reverend John’s statement.

“But there’s always a future. We’re living in yesterday’s future.”

That had seemed to make sense, and Ruth had looked at Sam with admiration. He was such a smart boy!

Reverend John had smiled. “I know it seems that way, Sam, but yesterday you didn’t know you would cut your finger with your knife today, did you?”

“No,” Sam agreed, looking at the cut on his index finger wrapped with a bit of cloth.

“The future is not a place or a thing. It’s nothing except what we make of it, and so it’s different for everyone. The only thing that is real is right now. Do you understand?”

“I’m trying, Reverend John.”

“Just try to remember that the only time you can do anything about is right now.”

Ruth looked down at her sleeping infant. Mattie looked angelic. She smiled in her sleep and Ruth’s heart melted. She suddenly realized the truth of Reverend John’s statement. Just a few moments ago, Mattie was crying and Ruth felt frustrated. How quickly she had forgotten her frustration when she was just now watching her daughter smile so sweetly. The past was just a memory. What happens in the next moment, hour, or day doesn’t exist yet. She felt lighter. What could she do right now? She could love her daughter and enjoy holding her small body next to hers, and that was a great comfort to Ruth.

Shivaree

Chapter Thirty-One

September 30, 1852
Mile 1833

The night was softly falling when Reverend John took Rebecca Benson’s hand and placed it in James Cardell’s. For a moment, the only sounds were the cricket songs and the lowing of a cow in the distance. Rebecca looked into James’s eyes. He looked so serious. She smiled at him and squeezed his hand lightly, and he visibly relaxed. He thought she had never looked so lovely. The sun had set behind her and the prairie sky was a palate of reds and oranges. It lit her chestnut hair on fire. Mary had made her a wreath of wild flowers to wear in her hair, and the yellows and golds framed Rebecca’s young face. Her dress was fresh and her moccasins new.

“Dearly beloved,” Reverend John began. There was an almost audible sigh of relaxation from the onlookers. As the stars appeared one by one, all seemed right in the universe. Everyone present had watched the love blossom between James and Rebecca. Though hardship and tragedy had visited often, the two young lovers had supported each other, and now everyone had gathered to support them.

The ceremony was short, and night had settled in when Reverend John said, “You may kiss your bride.” Tears glistened on Ruth’s cheeks. Thomas squeezed her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. She was so happy for Rebecca.

Everyone cheered as James complied with the pastor’s request. Then there were many well wishes, a few small gifts, and much singing, dancing, eating, and merry making. Emily hugged Rebecca warmly. “You and James are perfect for each other, Rebecca. I know you’ll be so happy.”

Brenna and Ben came up, grabbed the two newlyweds, and engaged them in a lively dance. They finally collapsed in laughter and exhaustion.

“Let’s get out of here,” James whispered into Rebecca’s ear a little while later. Rebecca giggled as they sneaked off into the shadows and made their way to their tent. They stopped at the entry and James swooped Rebecca up into his arms. She squealed delightedly. He stood holding her for a few moments.

“I wish this was a proper house.”

“Wherever you are is the only home I need,” Rebecca replied softly.

James ducked through the entry, carrying her into the tent. Once inside, they both drew in a breath. Someone had gone to great lengths to make the meager tent look like something out of
The Arabian Nights
. Dark tapestries and lengths of fabric hung around the interior. Candles of various sizes cast warm shadows from their flickering lights. There was even an oriental carpet spread out on the ground.

“Oh! It’s so beautiful!” Rebecca exclaimed with pleasure.

James looked from the decorations to Rebecca’s face. “It’s nice,” he said, smiling, “but you’re beautiful.”

“I’m so happy, James.”

He set her down gently and put his hands on her shoulders. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Rebecca. I promise I will always take care of you. I love you so much.” He bent to kiss her tenderly when a great racket commenced from outside the tent. They both jumped at the raucous noise, which then was joined by many voices singing boisterously.

“What in the world…” Rebecca said.

James drew back the tent flap and saw what appeared to be fifty people all banging pots, pans, and various tools together. He and Rebecca stepped outside the tent and the noise stopped. Everyone grinned at the newlyweds.

“What’s going on here,” James said, laughing.