Chapter Two

MISSOURI

“PLEASE SAY WE CAN STAY here instead of leaving for Independence tomorrow,” Lucille begged. “You know I’m not going to be suited to life on the trail. Why, I’ve never even boiled water before.”

She moved close to Jacob, put her arms around his neck, and looked up at him with big, pleading eyes. She only acted interested in him when she wanted to get her way.

“I plan to farm in Oregon Territory, Lucille. You knew that when we married.” They’d had this argument over and over again, since arriving in St. Louis, and Jacob had grown tired of it.

She stomped her foot as if she were killing a spider and backed off. Her pretty face twisted into a grimace. “You just don’t love me.”

Jacob could have said the same thing to her, but he didn’t. His marriage certainly hadn’t worked out the way he’d hoped.

Lucille had been very cordial until they were married, but, from their wedding night on, she’d turned cold and unresponsive. Had Lucille wanted to marry someone else, perhaps someone her parents didn’t approve of? Well, he’d agreed to marry her and made his vows before God, and he intended to live up to them. It would be futile to speculate about the past. He just didn’t want her to regret marrying him and hoped she still wanted him as her husband. The way things had been going, however, that didn’t look promising.

He turned his back to Lucille and looked out the window. If he were honest with himself, he’d been willing enough to marry her. In fact, he’d been flattered and proud to marry the belle of Virginia. The wedding had certainly been the most lavish affair he’d ever attended, and Lucille had taken his breath away. Now, she only used her wiles on him when she wanted something.

He turned around and looked at her sitting on the edge of the bed pouting. No doubt she had always used her beauty to get what she wanted. If she’d been a more willing partner, he would have probably spoiled her rotten, too. He tried to tell himself she had been a victim of circumstance just like him, but the longer they were married, the less amicable she became. He feared the arduous trip to Oregon would fast make them enemies, for, as things looked now, he expected Lucille would fight him all the way.

“Well, can we at least go to the opera tonight? I hear the touring group is quite good for a backwoods village.” She spit the words out like the venom of a snake.

“I’d hardly call St. Louis ‘a backwoods village,’ and we’ll need to get an early start in the morning.”

“But this is the last chance for culture, perhaps in my whole life.” Her voice sounded resigned and didn’t carry her usual whiny tone.

“Very well, if it would make you happy, we’ll go, but you know I don’t enjoy opera.” Sometimes giving in took more valor than refusing to concede.

“Thank you for your generosity.” Now the words dripped with sarcasm and made him regret agreeing to go.

He sighed and hurried to dress, as she began to choose a gown. That could take a long time depending on her mood. He would get dressed, while Lucille kept her eyes averted—her choice not his. Then, he’d go downstairs to the hotel lobby and wait, because Lucille would have a hotel maid help her dress, and she wouldn’t want him there.

The wagon trip across Missouri to Independence had been as strained as Jacob had feared. Lucille remained upset the whole time and rarely spoke. If Jacob thought she’d been cold before, she now seemed frozen through and through. He’d done all the cooking and chores, because Lucille had refused to lift a finger to help.

He looked over at her. “Honey, let’s make the best of things. It’ll be easier on both of us if we choose to be positive.”

“Be easier for you, you mean. What do you expect me to feel when you lead me across Misery, and things are sure to get worse?”

She’d almost made a joke by twisting the state’s name. He looked at her hopefully, but her face still frowned in displeasure.

“I can’t eat this stuff.” Lucille dropped her plate of ham and beans on the ground and stomped to the wagon.

“I know I’m not the best cook,” Jacob told her, “but you’re welcome to do the cooking if you can do better.”

“I’ve never done menial tasks, and you know it. You could have at least taken the slave Father offered to send with us. I have no intention of being your servant on this trip.”

“You know how I feel about slavery.” Jacob actually almost regretted not bringing the Negro. For her help along the way, he could have freed her when they got to Oregon. That would have only delayed things, however, because Lucille would still need to work on the farm when they got there, and he wouldn’t be able to hire anyone to help her until they got well-established.

“I don’t understand you,” she continued. “You were born into a family who depends on slaves, just like mine. You grew up with slavery. What’s wrong with it?”

“I think everyone should be treated with respect and not be someone’s property. Besides, there’s to be no slavery in Oregon Territory.”

“Pooh, all the more reason not to go there. Don’t think I’m going to do the housework for you. Be smart, and turn back now. We don’t even have to go back to Virginia. I’d be happy to build our life in St. Louis. Why, there’s plenty of opportunities there for an intelligent young man like you. With me by your side, it’s no telling how far you could go. I could probably make you governor eventually.”

“I’m not interested in politics, Lucille. I want to farm. Charles will inherit our plantation, but I want to own a farm of my own.”

“I hope you’ll reconsider. We could go on to Independence, sell our outfit for a profit, come back on a packet, and begin anew in St. Louis. I’d be ever so grateful.” She looked at him pleadingly and batted her lashes. Didn’t she know how obvious her ploys were?

If he thought she’d be a loving wife in St. Louis, then he’d take her back there, but he knew better. She had shown him over and over again that when he gave into her wishes her pleasure wouldn’t last long. If he had to resign himself to a loveless marriage, he might as well do what he thought best. “I’ll re-examine the situation when we get to Independence.”

“That’s better than nothing,” but she looked skeptical. She was learning him, too. “Why didn’t we plan to take the packet from St. Louis to Independence? It’s still too cold to be camping out.”

“Your father’s friend would only outfit us in St. Louis, and I thought it would be good to get familiar with a wagon and camping before we left for the West. You know, it’s been mild for the last few days. Perhaps we’ll have an early spring. In addition, your father approved of me taking you to Oregon.”

“I can’t understand that at all. It’s almost as if he were trying to get rid of me, punish me or something. I’d like to give him a piece of my mind.” Lucille pursed her lips as if she felt she’d said too much. She had become such a complicated puzzle to try to figure out.

“Perhaps he thought a change would be good for you.”

“He just knew if I stayed there, I’d come running to him when you were unreasonable, which is most of the time. Really, Jake, you’re so selfish.”

She only called him Jake when she became upset. She knew he preferred Jacob. Come to think of it, she always called him Jake, except when she wanted to cajole him, and then he became Jakey. He hated that one even more.

He cleaned up from supper and spread out his bedroll underneath the wagon. He would have preferred to share the warmth of his wife, but he certainly wouldn’t be welcome inside tonight, if ever again. Before morning he would probably regret not pitching the tent, but he felt too tired and frustrated to worry with it now.

 

 

“What in tarnation? Have you ever seed the likes of this?” Uncle Jed looked out at the sprawling city of Independence, Missouri, and the bustling people.

“I’ve never seed so many people in all my born days,” Aunt Mabel declared. “Have you, girl?”

Faith didn’t answer because her aunt didn’t expect her to. Salisbury might have been about this size, but that had been a long time ago, when her parents were alive, and she didn’t remember the town clearly. Besides, she felt sure it never had this much activity.

“This ain’t nothing,” a boy of about twelve said as he ran along beside the wagon. “Just you wait. The closer it gets to spring, the more people’ll come. Why, by April, it’s sometimes impossible to even walk down the streets.”

“You don’t say?” Uncle Jed seemed almost flabbergasted.

“Thar.” Aunt Mabel pointed up ahead. “Thar’s Lullamay’s Boarding House. Ain’t it big and purty?”

The boarding house might have been big from the outside, but the rooms they’d been given seemed small, even after being used to a cramped cabin. Faith’s looked more the size of a roomy outhouse with only a tiny cot as furniture. A little shelf beside the bed held a candle, and pegs on the wall would hold her clothes. Uncle Jed and Aunt Mabel’s might be a bit bigger, but it didn’t have any extra room for two people.

“Well, I guess it beats staying in the wagon and camping out over the winter,” Aunt Mabel said, although her voice sounded uncertain.

 

By March, Faith knew what the boy had been talking about. The population of Independence had swelled to at least three times what it had been when they’d first arrived.

Faith had spent all of her time working in the boarding house, however, so she’d had no time to fight the crowds anyway. Changing beds, doing laundry, cooking—the tasks never ended. Faith dreaded the laundry most of all. Her hands seemed as rough and dry as those dusty ears of last year’s corn. Sometimes they cracked open and became sore.

There hadn’t even been a day of rest on Sunday here. They’d lived too far from a church to attend one in Kentucky, but at least she’d been able to read her Bible and have a day with few chores, other than the necessary ones. Now she worked from sunup to sundown seven days a week with no break. She had to admit Lulamay worked just about as hard, but the rooms usually stayed filled, so the work never ceased.

As much as she’d tried to discourage Dexter, she would have loved to see his smiling face and have a minute to talk with him. She wondered where his family had wintered and how they’d fared. Well, it wouldn’t be much longer now. Soon they’d leave the boarding house, take their wagon, and camp with the rest of their group. Faith looked forward to that day. Surely it wouldn’t be as demanding as this, or, if so, it would have some changing scenery along the way.

 

 

Independence was mayhem, the wildest place Jacob had ever seen. The town bulged with people of every sort and station in life. Some were selling, some were buying, and many were trying to get ready to travel to Santa Fe, California, or Oregon.

The throng even included pickpockets, thieves, and swindlers. With so many people milling around, it became almost impossible to make one’s way down the streets. Lucille didn’t try to venture far from the wagon because she ended up being bumped, shoved, and bruised every time she did. Jacob guessed some of it came from men taking advantage of the situation to touch such a beauty.

Even when dusk fell, they could still hear the wagon builders hammering, horses whinnying, and oxen bellowing. Sleep didn’t come easily, and Lucille became even more irritable.

They were camped outside of town with a large group of other emigrants. In the middle of March, all the travelers waited for the grass on the prairie to green up enough to support the grazing of the livestock. The men were hoping it would be soon, because they were anxious to be underway.

Jacob quickly realized Lucille wasn’t the only woman reluctant to make this journey. Several of the wives were not speaking to their husbands. Most of the men were confident this would be a temporary state of affairs. “Once we get on the road, the women will adjust,” they assured him.

Jacob wondered if they were trying to convince him or themselves. It looked as if many of the men were pulled to a new western horizon by some invisible rope. Their ancestors must have felt much the same when they came to America. Would Oregon Territory be enough to hold them, or would they always want to move on, to find something better? Jacob knew he wanted to settle down.

He feared Lucille would only grow more dissatisfied, however, as they traveled farther away from civilization. A vast chasm existed between some of the women, who saw the possible dangers all too clearly, and their men, whose sense of danger often failed them as they sought adventure.

He couldn’t help but wonder why Lucille had married him in the first place. She’d seemed enthralled with him at first, but maybe it had just been a temporary infatuation. As the wedding approached, she’d seemed to have a strong case of nerves. She even became upset enough to be vomiting, but it had passed. Jacob had assumed most women were frightened of their wedding night, but he may have been wrong in this case. Lord, please help us to work all this out. Help us to have a good marriage, one that honors Thee.

As he looked around and talked with others, Jacob realized that Mr. Black, the man in St. Louis that Lucille’s father had chosen to outfit them, had done an excellent job. He had packed the wagon with all the necessary items in a compact and practical manner. He’d even left Jacob an inventory of everything and how some of it should be used.

In addition to the wagon and supplies, he had six oxen to pull his wagon, and six more to use to keep the first team from becoming tired and worn. They had a milk cow and three chicken coops with four hens and a rooster. Jacob also had a sturdy riding horse, which would be especially needed when the men hunted buffalo. Yes, everything, looked promising, except for his wife and her attitude.

“You’re right smart to choose oxen over mules or horses,” an old scout told Jacob. “Horses jist can’t hold out pullin’ a load that fer, ’cross the prairie, through the desert, and o’er mountains. Mules might be faster, but the oxen are sturdier, able to graze better, and more suited fer the long haul. Yes siree, you got hit right. I’ve never seed a wagon packed any better. You should do jist fine. Some of these folks’ll be lucky to make hit. Their food’s liable to give out afore they’re halfway thar.”

“I thought there would be outposts where we could buy supplies if needed.”

“Thar’s some forts where you might do that, but hit’ll cost you an arm and a leg, that is if’n they’re not outa supplies from folks who’ve already passed through. No, you’re better off tryin’ to carry enough with you, ’cept for some fresh meat you might kill on the way. With jist you and the missus, I’d say you’ve got plenty, though.”

That was good to know. Although he couldn’t hide his excitement about the adventure, a grain of trepidation over the dangers involved still nagged at him. It wouldn’t be so bad if he only had himself to consider, but he had Lucille also. Their marriage might have a rocky start, but he certainly didn’t want any harm to come to her.

Jacob had been praying things would get better between them. He realized he’d agreed to the wedding before giving it much thought, and he definitely hadn’t consulted God. His mother had taught him better than that. But, this involved extenuating circumstances, he told himself.

After they’d been caught together in her bedroom, what else could he have done and still be honorable? Lucille had been willing enough during their brief courtship. Why had she become so unwilling after the wedding? He’d tried to treat her special and show his love, and he had loved her at first. It may not have been the deep-rooted, all-consuming love he’d hoped for, but it could have been the beginning of that. Now, he found himself becoming more and more disillusioned, as she became increasingly difficult. Lord, help us both.