Westward Hearts (11 page)

“And then all the way across here?” Ruth traced her finger from Kansas City to the Pacific Ocean.

“Your finger travels fast,” Elizabeth told her. “But that’s the longest part of our trip. We probably won’t arrive in Fort Vancouver until September.” Elizabeth pointed to the spot on the map and reiterated her father’s plan. “From there we will travel by ship on the Pacific Ocean down to a place called Cape Arago.”

“How long will we be on a ship?” Ruth asked with wide eyes.

“About a week, I think your grandpa said.”

“And then we’ll see Uncle John and Aunt Malinda and Grandma and Grandpa Martin,” Jamie announced. “And our new home.”

Elizabeth nodded, trying to appear confident. However, she realized there was still the chance that her letter might not reach her in-laws. Despite Jamie’s admiration of pony express riders, she suspected that mail was sometimes lost and sometimes stolen. For that reason, she had decided to write several letters, and she planned to send them from various points along the way. After investing so much effort and expense into this monumental overland journey, she did not want to catch her in-laws by surprise.

A
s their departure day drew closer, Elizabeth wondered how she ever imagined she could have accomplished this feat on her own. And she was ever so thankful that her brother and father were helping out with the wagons as well as handling most of the travel arrangements. Between overseeing the selling of their properties, sending numerous telegraphs and letters, and making a couple of trips to Paducah to secure various traveling supplies, Matthew and her father seemed to be managing this trip with intelligence and enthusiasm.

“I got the Barrons to agree to a fair price that includes most of the furnishings and farm implements,” Asa informed her one morning. “I’m certain they realize they are getting the best part of the bargain. But that comes from selling property with short notice.”

“Yes…it’s too bad we hadn’t started this last summer.”

He grinned. “Well, as I just reminded your mother, we aren’t getting any younger. There’s no time like the present.”

She laughed. “How true.”

“Now, I came here to warn you that there was one little condition in the selling price. Mrs. Barron insists on being allowed to walk through your house one more time.”

“One more time? She’s already seen it dozens of times. And now it’s rather…well, look at it, Father.” Elizabeth waved her hands toward the disheveled parlor.

“I don’t believe she’s coming to inspect your housekeeping, Lizzie. She knows you’re preparing to leave.”

“Well, I suppose it shouldn’t matter so much. Except to my pride.” She pushed a box with the toe of her boot. “And I’ll ask Brady to move some of these crates out to the barn.” She pushed a strand of hair away from her face and sighed loudly.

“You’re not having regrets, are you?” He peered curiously into her eyes.

“No, Father.” She made a tired smile. “Not at all. In fact, I am counting the days until we leave. I’m so eager to be done with this and on our way. So are the children.”

He patted her back. “I told your mother that all this sorting and sifting and cleaning and packing and moving of things will make us all stronger—more fit and ready for the physical demands of the journey ahead.”

“I’m sure you’re right. But I must admit I’m looking forward to a peaceful and relaxing riverboat trip.”

“I just hope we don’t all get too fat and lazy on that leg of the journey.” Asa frowned. “I told your mother that we will have to get out and walk around the decks for our daily constitutional.”

“Yes, that would be wise.”

“Well, I’d best let you get back to your chores and packing,” he said. “And I s’pect Mrs. Barron will soon be here.”

Asa’s wagon had barely left when Mrs. Barron arrived in her carriage. Flax greeted her with loud barking, but Mrs. Barron did not appear to appreciate the welcome. Wearing a feathered hat and a frown, she came onto the porch where Elizabeth was waiting.

“Don’t mind the dog,” Elizabeth told her. “He thinks he’s just doing his job.”

“Yes, well, your father told me I could come and look around again.” With her head held high and dressed as if she’d been invited for a tea party, she walked into the house and immediately began to look around.

“I apologize for the disorder,” Elizabeth said as she followed her into the parlor. “I’ve been using this room to sort through—”

“Does this stay with the house?” Mrs. Barron pointed to a rug that Elizabeth had rolled up and pushed against the wall.

“Actually, I had planned to take that. I thought it would be useful on the trip and when we get there.”

“It seems too nice to take to the wilderness.”

“I felt it would be a comfort to have some special pieces,” Elizabeth told her. “Although it’s difficult to choose. And the wagon is only so big.”

Naturally, this seemed like an open invitation for the older woman to advise Elizabeth on what should go with her and what should remain with the house. Elizabeth was tempted to ask Mrs. Barron on what she based these opinions—had she read much about the Oregon Territory? But it became more and more obvious that Mrs. Barron only had her own tastes and desires in mind.

Finally, Elizabeth felt she couldn’t tolerate one more question as to the age and condition of another piece of furniture, or why Elizabeth should not take the ladder-back dining room chairs to the wilderness.

“I invite you to walk around as much as you like,” Elizabeth finally told her. “If you have specific questions, feel free to write them down.” She handed her a slip of paper and the stub of a pencil. “But I have much to do in preparation for our upcoming trip, so if you’ll please excuse me.”

Mrs. Barron appeared slightly miffed by this, but Elizabeth suspected she would be even more insulted if Elizabeth remained with her and honestly spoke her mind, which she was sorely tempted to do. Instead, she went back to the kitchen, where she was carefully wrapping dishes between linens and packing them into a small barrel. She hoped she would finish before Mrs. Barron popped in and insisted that those dishes were too fine to go to the wilderness!

Elizabeth realized that wagons had to be packed carefully and that too much weight in the wagon could determine the fate of the journey. So she was being careful. But at the same time, some items simply seemed necessary to family life. However, she had heard stories of some pioneers being forced to unload wagons along the way. Usually it was the large pieces of furniture left behind—headboards, cabinets, even pianos! She’d also heard of some Mormons returning to the Oregon Trail after settling in Utah in order to collect the valuable pieces of debris from alongside the trail. Whether fact or hearsay, she thought it was clever.

At the same time, she hoped that she and her family would pack their wagons sensibly enough not to endanger themselves or be forced to cast off family heirlooms to be salvaged by strangers later. It was bad enough letting Mrs. Barron walk through her house, picking at her furnishings like a vulture. Elizabeth consoled herself with the thought that Mrs. Barron would soon be someone from the past.

“I do not see how you can simply pick up and leave like this,” Mrs. Barron said as she came into the kitchen and glanced around. “Not that I’m complaining. You know that Mr. Barron and I have hoped to purchase this property for some time.” She sniffed. “Although I did expect it would be in slightly better condition than this.”

Elizabeth put the lid on the barrel and looked up. “It usually is in better condition. And I promise you that when you and Mr. Barron take occupancy, it will be in apple pie order. It’s just that you caught me at a bad time.” She waved her hands. “So much to do. I’m sorry the house doesn’t look as tidy as you would like.”

“I do have some questions.” Mrs. Barron held up her piece of paper.

“Feel free.” Elizabeth moved the kettle to the center of the stove. “Perhaps you would like some tea.”

Nearly two long hours later, Mrs. Barron was finally on her way…and somewhat satisfied with Elizabeth’s answers, although the greedy woman clearly wanted everything she could get her hands on. If Elizabeth had been forced to endure one more “You’re taking
that
to the wilderness?” question she might have canceled the entire transaction. The mere idea of that pushy woman becoming the lady of this sweet old house grated on her so badly that she was tempted to announce the house was no longer for sale. Of course, she could not do that. And so for the sake of her parents and brother and her children, she had bit her tongue.

But truly, the sooner this was all over and done with and the sooner they were on their way, the happier she would be. Her one consolation was that this house had been in James’ family, and James had always wanted them to go to Oregon to join the rest of his family. So despite her ill feelings, Elizabeth prayed that God would bless the Barrons with this house. The sooner the better.

On Saturday, Elizabeth and the children headed for her folks’ house for dinner. “Grandpa told me he has a surprise for me,” Jamie told Elizabeth as he drove the carriage.

“What about me?” Ruth asked with dismay.

“I don’t think you’re old enough for Grandpa’s surprise,” Elizabeth told her.

“Do you know what it is?” Jamie asked.

Elizabeth just smiled and unbuttoned the top of her coat. Although it was early February, the weather was unseasonably warm. If this held out, they might be setting out on the Oregon Trail sooner than usual. However, the weather was always unpredictable this time of year.

“Just think,” Jamie said eagerly. “One week from now we will be leaving Selma for good.”

“Just one week?” Ruth’s eyes lit up. “And we’ll get to go on the riverboat?”

“We’ll spend one day in Paducah, shopping for some supplies. And then we’ll board our first riverboat.” Elizabeth could hardly believe how quickly the past few weeks had flown by. With the departure date so near, she felt a mixture of nervousness and excitement. Was this really happening?

Her father was waiting for them on the porch with a twinkle in his eye. “Ruth, you go inside and help your grandma,” he instructed. “Elizabeth and Jamie, you come with me.” Then he led them back behind the barn, where he had set up what appeared to be a shooting range of sorts. Elizabeth knew that Asa planned to teach Jamie how to shoot, but she was surprised when her father presented Jamie with a very large gun. “This is a Colt shotgun,” Asa told Jamie. “But not any ordinary shotgun. This is a revolving shotgun with four chambers, which means you have four shots.”

“Oh, Father.” Elizabeth frowned. “That’s too much gun for a boy.”

“Please, Ma?” Jamie looked longingly at the long gun.

Asa winked at Elizabeth. “I’m fully aware that this gun’s a little big for Jamie, but he’ll grow into it. Besides, you can both use it if need be. I ordered the thirty-inch barrel, which is the shortest they make. It’s an excellent gun, patented in 1850, but only made available this past year. I was lucky to get my hands on one.” He turned back to Jamie. “And I expect you to treat it with great respect, son.”

Jamie nodded as he smoothed his hand over the sleek wood stock. “Is it really mine? To keep?”

“That’s right.” Asa grinned. “I s’pect we’ll want to do some hunting on the trail. And it’s possible you might need it to protect your family someday.”

Elizabeth was still uneasy. “Are you sure he’s old enough to handle a firearm like this, Father?”

Asa laid some ammunition on the board he’d set up as a table. “Of course he’s old enough, Lizzie. I was Jamie’s age when I got my first gun. But it was nothing like this beauty.” He handed it over to Jamie now. “That stock is walnut.”

Elizabeth hoped he was right. “But why did you want me to come out here?” she asked. “Shouldn’t I go help Mother with—”

“No.” Asa firmly shook his head as he removed a square piece of gray wool cloth to reveal a smaller gun. “I want you out here as well. You’re both going to learn how to shoot.”

“I know how to shoot,” she told him. “I’ve fired James’ shotgun dozens of times.”

“But do you know how to shoot this?” He handed her the handgun.

“What is it?”

“This is a Colt Dragoon. Forty-four caliber with six shots.”

She felt the weight of it in her hand. Much smaller than a shotgun or rifle, but still heavy. Now she lifted the gun up, peering down the barrel like she would do with a shotgun. “Like this?”