Westward Hearts (15 page)

“Are you part of that family that’s going to the Oregon Territory?” a tall, dark-haired woman asked Elizabeth.

“Yes,” Elizabeth told her. “We’re the Martins.” She introduced herself and the children.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Florence Flanders.” She extended her hand. “My kin and I are headed for Kansas City and the Oregon Trail.”

“I’m so pleased to meet you.” Still clasping Florence’s large, rough hand, Elizabeth stood and looked directly into her gray eyes. She looked to be a few years older than Elizabeth. “Do you have children too, Florence?”

“My friends call me Flo. And I sure do have children.” Flo nodded toward the door. “Them being so excited to explore this big ol’ boat, I ain’t even sure of their whereabouts now.”

“Oh…” Elizabeth tried not to appear too concerned.

“We all boarded last night from Columbia. It was pert near midnight when we got on, but I insisted everyone go direct to bed. Now I s’pect them youngins are running about the place like a buncha wild Injuns.”

“Mama says the riverboat is no place for children to run unattended,” Ruth proclaimed like a wise little old lady.

Flo laughed. “Oh, well, I’m sure no harm will come of it.”

“It’s just that there are some…well, shall I say unsavory types on this boat.” Elizabeth made an apologetic smile.

Flo nodded. “I know just what you mean. We noticed some of them unsavory types when we boarded.” She frowned. “Two gamblers got into a big ol’ brawl. Land sakes, I thought for sure that one of them was going to be killed right before my own eyes!”

“Oh, my!” Elizabeth was shocked. “And they say they don’t allow gambling.”

“Well, the cap’n threw them both off.”

“He threw them overboard?” Jamie asked with wide eyes.

“No, he made ’em get off while we were still docked in Columbia. But I’ve heard tell of folks bein’ thrown off, right into the Missouri River—that is, if they’re overly misbehaving,” she said somberly.

“What ages are your children?” Elizabeth asked, mostly to change the subject.

“My eldest is eighteen and the baby just turned eight.”

“I’m eight,” Ruth said proudly.

“Same age as my Tillie,” Flo told her.

“You have a girl? And she’s eight like me?” Ruth’s eyes lit up.

“I’m sure she’ll be pleased to meet you.” Now Flo turned to Jamie. “And my boy Walter, he’s eleven. I’ll wager that’s about your age.”

“I’ll be twelve soon,” he told her.

“How many children do you have?” Elizabeth asked.

“Five altogether,” Flo told her. “Mahala’s nearly eighteen and Ezra’s sixteen but big as a man. Hannah’s thirteen but dependable. And, as afore mentioned, Walter and Tillie.” She waved to a large bearded man just coming into the room. “And that there’s my Bert. Come on over here and meet our new friends,” she called to him.

After introducing Elizabeth and the children to Bert, Flo inquired about Elizabeth’s husband.

“I’m a widow,” Elizabeth told her.

“A widow?” Flo’s thin brows arched. “You’re taking youngins to Oregon country all on your own?”

Elizabeth quickly explained about her brother and parents.

“Oh, well, that’s a relief. For the life of me, I cannot imagine how a lone widow and youngins would fare on such a journey.” She shook her head. “I still can’t fathom how my Bert talked me into this scheme. But the youngins were raring to go. And then, of course, there’s the lure of free land.”

Before long, the Flanders’ children began wandering in, and the schoolwork was set aside as more introductions were made. Ruth and Tillie seemed to hit it right off. But Walter and Jamie barely spoke. Then Jamie spied his grandpa and asked to be excused to go help with the livestock. “I promised Uncle Matthew and Grandpa I’d help with the livestock this afternoon. Grandpa wants to walk them around some. We’ll do it every day until we get to Kansas City—so they can stretch their legs.”

“That’s a very good idea,” Elizabeth told him. “You run along now.”

“Walking the livestock?” Flo looked confused. “Are you folks working for your passage on the river?”

“No…” Elizabeth smiled. “Jamie is helping to tend our own animals. And I’m afraid this long trip might be taking a toll on them. As far as I’m concerned, we won’t deport from this boat one day too soon.”

“You’re transporting your own livestock by riverboat?” Bert rubbed his chin. “That musta cost someone a pretty penny.”

“We’re farmers,” she explained. “And I suppose we’re rather attached to our animals. Also, bringing our own teams allowed us to bring our loaded wagons from our homes.”

“You got fully loaded prairie schooners on this here riverboat?” Flo asked in disbelief.

Elizabeth nodded. “Yes. We debated over this a fair amount among ourselves. But eventually it seemed the best plan. Hopefully we won’t regret it.”

“Surely y’all know you can purchase whatever you need in Kansas City.” Bert studied her with a creased brow. “You jus’ jump off the boat and there are wagons and teams and tools and mos’ anything you want. Right there. You load ’em up and head on out. Nice and neat. That’s what we plan to do.”

“Yes, my brother might have agreed with you on that, but as I said, we were already farming our land and fairly well set with livestock and wagons and such. It seemed senseless to sell everything and then be forced to purchase the exact same things all over again.” She smiled at him. “Tell me, Mr. Flanders, how do you make your living?”

“Bert is a blacksmith,” Flo said proudly.

“Now that’s a wonderful skill to bring on an overland journey. I do hope that you folks will be joining our wagon train. My father and brother would be so glad to know a blacksmith is in our party. We’ll be traveling with Captain Brownlee.”

“Captain Brownlee?” Flo repeated the name thoughtfully. “Do we know what party we’re going with, Bert?”

He scratched his head. “Nah, we’ll figure it out when we get there.”

Now they began to discuss their final destination, and it seemed that the Flanders had not completely made up their minds about that either.

“’Ceptin’ we do want to go all the way west,” Bert assured her. “From what I heard, the best land is way out there in the far West, and we don’t plan to settle for less than the best.” He grinned at his wife. “Do we?”

Flo shrugged as if uncertain. “I jus’ want a nice patch of lush green land and some big ol’ shade trees to sit under. I s’pect that’s not too much to ask for…once we get out West.”

“I don’t think that’s too much to ask,” Elizabeth assured her. “From what I hear, there’s plenty of that to go around.”

W
hen it was time to unload the wagons and livestock, Elizabeth was more thankful than ever that Brady had come with them. The task ahead seemed daunting, and an extra pair of hands would be invaluable. It was somewhat reassuring that her father and brother appeared unconcerned. They had decided to hold back from unloading, allowing anxious passengers, including the Flanders family, to rush from the boat like scared rabbits. Dashing off in pursuit of prairie schooners and teams and supplies, they gave the distinct impression that there might not be enough to go around. This made Elizabeth somewhat uneasy.

And with the unseasonably warm day and spring sunshine, Elizabeth worried that some of the wagon trains might already be hitched up and ready to roll away on the prairie by now. They all knew that the only thing stopping overland travel was the lack of good grazing land for livestock. And the only thing stopping good grazing land was bad weather. Despite it being late March, they hadn’t had bad weather for nearly a week now.

Asa’s plan had been to bide their time today, waiting until things quieted down on the riverboat so they could unload their wagons and livestock in a controlled and careful manner. It had seemed a good plan last night, but standing here in the sunshine today, Elizabeth felt her patience wearing thin.

“When can we get off?” Ruth asked as the three women watched from an upper deck.

“Soon, I hope.” Elizabeth peered down to where a large piece of machinery was slowly but steadily being unloaded from the cargo hold. “I told Grandpa we’d wait until he gave us the go-ahead.”

“And then will we go on the Oregon Trail?” Ruth asked.

“Not right away,” Elizabeth told her. “First we have to find our group.”

“How will we find them?”

“Your grandpa has it all figured out,” Clara assured her. “Don’t you fret.”

Elizabeth patted the note in her skirt pocket. Her father had given her the names and details of where they would eventually meet up with their group this afternoon. Finally, after the unloading appeared to have slowed down significantly, Asa called up to announce they were about to start hitching up the teams. “It won’t be long now,” he promised.

“Do you need me to help with the wagons?” Elizabeth called back.

“No.” He shook his head. “But we do need you womenfolk to disembark now. Like I told you last night, I want you to go on ahead of us. Follow the directions I gave you. Get to camp and find Captain Brownlee. Tell him we’ll be there soon, and ask him where we should park the wagons for the night. Then you head back on down the same road, and we shouldn’t be more than an hour or so away. You can lead us into camp, Lizzie.”

Taking Ruth’s hand in hers, Elizabeth nodded to her mother. “Here we go.” They walked down the gangway, and as happy as she was to be finished with the
Princess Annabelle,
Elizabeth gave the boat a quick salute before they happily continued on their way. Once they were on the dock, Elizabeth pulled the paper from her pocket, peering at the hand-drawn map. “Looks like we go that way.” She pointed to her right.

“The ground feels funny.” Ruth stumbled, and Elizabeth gripped her hand more securely.

“Oh, my!” Clara tipped to one side. “I’m afraid we need to get our land legs beneath us now.”

“Land legs?” Ruth looked confused.

“From being on the boat,” Elizabeth explained. “Remember how you felt it rocking when we first got on it? And how you had to get used to it? Now you need to get used to the solid ground again.” Tucking her note securely into her pocket, she grabbed her mother’s hand too. “We’ll help steady each other.” They laughed as they tottered along, slowly making their way down the dock and onto a crowded street.

“Look at all the people,” Ruth said as they began to make their way through the throng.

“Just like a herd of cattle.” Clara sniffed. “And nearly as smelly.”

Ruth laughed.

Elizabeth looked at the frantic people scrambling about from stores to vendors, some carrying bags, some looking lost. “I’m so thankful our wagons are already loaded,” she said to her mother.

Clara just nodded. “I hope the livestock are fit enough to get the wagons and the men off the boat safely.”

An unwanted image flashed in Elizabeth’s mind—confused horses getting spooked and an overturned wagon. Someone could be hurt. She stopped walking, and looking at her mother and Ruth, she said, “Let’s pray for them to get safely off the boat.” And so, standing right there in the middle of a busy street, the three of them bowed their heads and prayed. Feeling somewhat consoled as they said amen, Elizabeth looked up and saw the name of the street ahead. “That’s Oak Street,” she told them. “We’re supposed to go north there.”

“Which way is north?” Ruth asked.

Elizabeth looked back toward the river and then at the sun’s angle, finally pointing to her right. “That way.”

They walked past more stores and through more crowds of people, and the farther they got from town, the more covered wagons they saw. There were hundreds of them—some parked, some on the move.

“My word,” Clara said. “Will you look at all those prairie schooners!”

“All that white canvas reminds me of when the sky is full of clouds,” Elizabeth observed.

“I think it’s pretty,” Ruth said.

“We go down this street for about a mile,” Elizabeth told them. “Then we should come to a road. We take a left on it and stay on that road for another mile.”

“Two more miles to walk?” Clara sounded surprised.

“There’ll be a lot more of that once we start on the trail,” Elizabeth reminded her.

After a good hour, they finally found a sign that gave Elizabeth hope. “Read that,” she told Ruth.

“Captain Brownlee’s Party Ahead,” Ruth proclaimed.

“That’s our party,” Elizabeth told them.

“How many wagons do you suppose will be in our group?” Clara asked.

“Father said it would be around fifty.”

“Fifty wagons!” Ruth’s eyes got wide. “That’ll be a long train.”

“I doubt that they’ll all be going to the far West,” Elizabeth explained as they walked through the camp. “But just imagine,” she said quietly, “these people you see right now—out here working on their wagons, mending harnesses, feeding their animals, fixing food, doing their washing—these same people will become our neighbors, Ruth. Like a big traveling town.”

“You women lost?” a heavyset older woman demanded as she approached them, wiping her hands on a grubby apron.

“No, but thank you,” Elizabeth replied. “We’re looking for Captain Brownlee.”