Chapter Three

WAGON TRAIN

THE PARKERS HAD STAYED IN Independence until the first of April. It had rained much of the time, and most of the talk revolved around starting the journey. At least the rains had finally brought green grass to the area, and their boring wait would finally be over.

The rain made it harder to cook, so Jacob had humored his wife and ordered some of their suppers from a restaurant. It made things easier on him, too.

Jacob had met with the other men. They’d hired Wayland Marshall as the wagon master of the train and Obadiah Wilson, the seasoned mountain man who’d given Jacob advice, as their scout. They’d asked Jacob to run in the election for the council, but he’d refused at first. “I’m just a tenderfoot at this,” he told them.

“But, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, son,” John Brenner had said.

Jacob appreciated the vote of confidence, but he didn’t know that he wanted the responsibility. He agreed to run in the end, however, and the people elected him. He hadn’t realized he’d made such a favorable impression on his fellow travelers. He’d be the youngest man on the council.

“You’re going to regret this,” Rex Caulder said, as he stomped off. He’d lost in the election for the council.

The forty-seven wagons started off at a slow, plodding pace. Jacob rubbed his forehead and glanced at his wife in the wagon seat beside him. Lucille sat straight and rigid with the look of a stone sculpture. She wore a pretty brown traveling suit and a straw bonnet. She’d refused to wear a sunbonnet, like the other women, and said this straw monstrosity was concession enough.

Jacob had secretly bought enough cotton fabric for her to make some things she might need and hadn’t packed. He could hire a lady to sew them if need be. He’d also purchased her a sturdy pair of shoes and three aprons, but he planned to give them to her as they were needed. Mr. Staten had bestowed five hundred dollars on him to help them on the trip and make sure they stayed somewhere suitable for his daughter, while they waited in St. Louis. Jacob knew that meant somewhere luxurious, but he still thought his father-in-law had been more than generous, especially since the cash came on top of the outfitted wagon. And, Jacob had a small sum he’d saved over the years, as well as some money his father had contributed. It should be enough for a solid start if he were careful.

He knew Lucille had packed three large trunks of her personal things, but they were filled with too many silks and ball gowns that she’d never be able to use, either on the trip or in Oregon. He hadn’t said anything, however. There’d be time enough to dispose of them later. Perhaps they could even trade some of her shiny things along the way, but it would be easier to fight that battle when the necessity arose than to reason with her now.

The group departed with plenty of fanfare. Not only did many of the men give a shout of joy, but cattle lowed, chickens clucked in their coops, horses neighed, dogs barked, wagons clanked and jingled, and tar or grease buckets jostled from underneath.

Some of the wagons were overloaded and their sides hung with chairs, stools, tools, and swinging pails. Almost all of them bound for Oregon had a plow strapped on somewhere. Most of those headed to California had no need of a plow since they’d be looking for gold.

“Oregon here we come,” Jacob whispered. He’d been eager to get underway.

“Whoopee,” Lucille said sarcastically.

The wagons alternated right and left as they fell in line to form two columns. The permanent residents had to be glad to see the mob go, all except the merchants and businessmen, but there were others coming to town to take their place. Independence had quadrupled its population in the last thirty days, as spring travelers came to town.

Friendly Indians, the Otos, Kaws, and Osage, had come in to trade before they left. Jacob had traded all the tobacco he’d brought from home for a deerskin jacket. He didn’t like the stuff anyway and had only brought the package at his father’s insistence. It would be worth much more here than in Virginia.

He’d had a restaurant pack them a picnic lunch, hoping to placate Lucille, but she only nibbled at it during the nooning and never said a word to Jacob. He decided right then she would either learn to cook, or she’d go hungry. He’d put some beans in a covered pot to soak last night. She could begin her first cooking lesson at supper.

When they stopped for the night, they’d made fifteen miles their first day, despite the fact they’d gotten a later start than they normally would. The grass had turned green, but it hadn’t gotten tall yet. Flowers dotted the backdrop of green with white blooms, pink verbena, wild indigo, larkspur, and wild geraniums. Jacob knew this because he heard the other women and girls exclaiming over them. Lucille had gazed straight ahead, never looking at anything.

“You can’t be serious,” Lucille scowled when Jacob informed her she would cook the beans and fry the bacon. She pulled back like a coil ready to snap.

“I have the fire going, and I’ll be here to help you,” he said. “I’ll try to make some cornbread tonight, and you can learn to bake it another time.”

They were getting a late start on supper, since he’d already unhitched the oxen and led them to water, before turning them out with the others.

Jacob would have to stand guard soon, but his turn wouldn’t be for two more nights. Each guard would be on duty for a four-hour stint, but no one would be required to serve consecutive nights. There would be two shifts each night. Every man over fourteen would be required to have his turn at guard duty in the rotation.

Lucille slammed the pots and utensils around, but she followed his directions without comment. He mixed up some cornmeal, eggs, butter, milk, and baking powder to help it rise. Then he poured the batter into a greased spider, a covered skillet with legs. He set the spider at the edge of the fire and heaped coals onto the lid.

When Lucille had the beans rinsed and boiling, he showed her how to fry the bacon. He cautioned her to keep it out of the hottest part of the fire to prevent the grease from popping out on her hands as she turned it. The bacon would be cooked before the beans and cornbread, but that would work to her advantage. She could pour the grease into the beans to season them.

They were hungry by the time supper was done. The beans were still a little chewy, but they were edible. The cornbread stuck to the pan, but it tasted fine. He bragged about the bacon, hoping to encourage Lucille, but she gave him an angry scowl.

“Should I pitch the tent for me, or shall I sleep in the wagon with you?” he asked after he’d finished cleaning up.

The glare she gave him could have frozen a cup of water in the midday desert. “Pitch the tent,” she hissed.

He didn’t know why he even bothered to ask because deep down, he’d known the answer. He shouldn’t feel the sharp stab of rejection, but he did. He walked away looking down at his boots and told himself to be patient with her. Things would get better. But a sinking feeling within warned him that would be unlikely.

He’d just finished with the tent when Lester and Morton Agner came by. Lester was younger, shorter than his brother, and somewhat thin. Morton was slightly older, taller, and fatter. They nodded in unison like marionettes with their strings twisted together.

He smiled to himself as he realized their names suited them. Less and More.

“Hello,” Jacob greeted them.

“Evening,” they responded. “The folks are getting together to celebrate the completion of our first day on the road,” Morton said. “It’ll be a good chance for folks to meet, sing, and dance. Hope you and the missus can join us.”

“Thank you for letting us know. I’ll ask Lucille.”

They nodded again and left. Jacob took a deep breath and went to the back of the wagon.

Lucille wanted to go, but she insisted on changing dresses. She appeared in about thirty minutes in a pretty yellow dress, only a little wrinkled from the packing.

“I’ll never get used to these conditions,” she grumbled.

“You look lovely, as always.”

“Not as attractive as I do at home.”

“You’ll be prettier than anyone else here.”

“Well, that’s not saying much, is it?”

“Be nice, Lucy. Let’s make some friends here.”

“Don’t call me Lucy. You know I want you to call me Lucille.”

“As I want you to call me Jacob, but you rarely do.”

They walked toward the music with her in a pout again. No matter how much he promised himself only to say nice things, they somehow managed to end up quarreling. It would be better if he could keep his lips sealed, but that could be hard to do.

The small band played “Oh, Susannah,” as they walked up. The people were talking, singing, watching, or dancing. Benches, stools, and chairs had been set around, so Jacob led Lucille to a chair and stood beside her to watch.

“Would you like to dance, Miz Parker?” Lester asked, grinning widely. He looked to Jacob for approval. Jacob nodded slightly. Maybe someone else could coax her into a better mood.

Once the men saw Lucille might dance with them, her partners never ceased. Jacob sat down in the chair she had vacated and watched. Lucille seemed to enjoy the dancing, but, to her credit, she never gave any one man much attention, and she didn’t appear to flirt, something she’d done incessantly in Virginia before they were engaged.

“You sure do have a beautiful wife.”

He looked to his side to see a thin, wiry woman with gray hair pulled back in a bun. A few wrinkles lined her face, but she gave a friendly smile. He smiled back.

“Yes, I do.”

“Been married long?”

“A few months. We were married in October.”

“Newlyweds, huh? I’d never have guessed it. I’m Lena Haywood, by the way.”

“I’m Jacob Parker and that’s my wife, Lucille.”

“You folks from the South?”

“From Virginia, and you?”

“We’re from Kentucky.”

“Why did you say you didn’t think Lucille and I were recently married?”

“She’s not looking at you with moon-eyes like I’d expect. You’re just as handsome in your own way as she is pretty, you know. I guess all that’s none of my business really, and I shouldn’t have said anything.” She looked abashed.

He looked at the woman again. She seemed genuinely concerned, and Jacob needed someone with whom he could talk.

“Things haven’t turned out as I’d hoped. Lucille is not keen on making this trip. She’s used to having slaves to wait on her, and she doesn’t want to become a farmer’s wife in Oregon.”

“But she knew you planned this before you were married?”

“Oh, yes. She knew. She also seemed quite taken with me before we wed, but, since then, things have become more strained all the time. Perhaps she thought she’d change my mind about going to Oregon.”

Lena reached out with a feathery touch and patted his arm. “It’s always a bad idea to try to change a person after you marry them. Maybe things will get better when she gets used to it all. I’ll be praying for that.”

“Thank you. I’d appreciate your prayers, and I hope you’ll keep what I’ve said confidential. I’d hate for word to get back to Lucille that I’ve been talking about her.”

“Oh, I know when to keep my mouth closed. Everyone needs someone to confide in though. If you ever need to talk or want some advice, you know where to come. My Harlan says I’m just full of all kinds of advice.” She laughed.

Jacob liked someone who could laugh at themselves, and he found himself liking Lena Haywood more and more. He looked out at Lucille. He’d be happy if he could get her to even smile. That didn’t happen often anymore, and, when she did, it looked as if it had been painted on by an inexperienced artist, because the smile never reached her eyes or lit her face.

He got up. “Well, it’s time I danced with my wife.”

The musicians started a slow song, and he pulled Lucille into a waltz. She started to tense up and move stiffly, but she soon relaxed and moved closer. She sure knew how to dance and matched his moves without effort. She felt so good in his arms he didn’t want the dance to end.

“Thank you, darling, that was wonderful,” he whispered as the dance ended.

“Yes, it was nice,” she replied.

Maybe there was hope for them after all. Perhaps he should have never taken her away from all she knew—the servants, the dances, the social engagements. But her father had thought it best. Were Mrs. Haywood’s prayers already starting to work? He sure hoped so.

The celebration began to break up, so he led Lucille back to the wagon. Afraid he might say the wrong thing and bring up more disagreements, Jacob said nothing. But he walked with his arm around her waist, and she didn’t pull away.

She hesitated for a moment at the back of the wagon. “Give me about ten minutes to undress and then come to bed in the wagon, if you’d like,” she said.

“All right.”

He helped her into the wagon and sat down on the wagon seat to take off his boots and give her some time. He couldn’t recall the last time she’d invited him to share the night with her, and he smiled into the darkness. Things were looking up.

 

 

Faith sat beside the dying embers of their campfire and listened to the music. It had been a long time since she’d heard any more than her own voice singing in the woods of Kentucky. The music touched her, and she almost wished she could go to the dance.

Did she still remember how? Her father used to dance around the parlor and kitchen with her and her mom some evenings. They’d laugh and have a good time as they sang or hummed their own music. She sighed. Those times were long gone.

But maybe there would be new opportunities. Maybe next time Uncle Jed wouldn’t forbid her to go to the gathering.

“I won’t have you goin’ out there and gallivantin’ with inny men,” he’d said. “That boy who kept hangin’ ’round on the trip to Independence wuz bad enough, but I’ll not have you steppin’ out here.”

Faith didn’t understand what the problem could be. Didn’t they want her to ever marry? Marriage would solve the problem of their son not wanting her in California. Marriage would give her a place to feel at home and a true family. She hadn’t had that, not since her parents had died.

 

She gave another sigh but then smiled. God would work things out. She just needed to be patient. Besides, she’d likely feel out of place with all those people around, especially if someone asked her to dance. Would someone ask her to dance?

Well, that was a moot question right now. She went back to reading her Bible. The Psalms always comforted her.