Chapter Five

BETWEEN

“COME GO FOR A SHORT walk with me,” Jacob told Lucille one evening after supper.

The day’s sun had almost died a glorious death wrapped in a shroud of blazing colors. The scenery on the plains often held a special beauty all its own if one took the time to notice.

“Talk to me,” he continued when he realized she didn’t intend to say anything. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m going to die out here, you know.” Her voice sounded resigned and so quiet he had to strain to hear her.

“You shouldn’t think that. Only God knows the future. We’re young and healthy, and I’m sure we’ll be fine. Many others have made the trip, so there’s no reason to think we won’t, too.”

“We’ve already lost two people, and there will be more before we get to Oregon.”

“There’re always some risks to life, sweetheart. The couple we lost should’ve never tried to cross the river with it raging like that. They should have taken the advice of the Indian guides. I would never take such a risk with our lives. I’ll always choose the safest course.”

“Was going to Oregon the safest choice?”

“Your father thought it for the best, and so did I. There are dangers in any place on this earth. Safety is never guaranteed, not even in St. Louis or Virginia. People die there too, but if you want to turn back, we will. Just give me the word, and we’ll go anyplace you want.”

“It’s no use. Life anywhere is just too hard.”

“I’ve tried to make it easier for you. What else can I do to help?”

She gave a strange, eerie laugh that would have sounded deranged if it’d been louder. “It’s not your fault, Jacob. It’s my fault and the life I lived before I found you.”

What did she mean by that? “Let the past go; leave it behind. We all have regrets in the past, but we can build a new life, a better life.”

“Do you think that’s possible?”

“I wouldn’t be going to Oregon if I didn’t. I know it is. God says it is. If you have regrets in the past, ask for forgiveness and begin new and fresh. You know I’ll do anything I can to make life better for you.”

She turned to him, and he embraced her. She melted into his arms with her head on his chest. He put his head on top of hers and reveled in the moment. This was only the third time in their married life she had physically turned to him. It had been such a rarity that he’d been able to keep count without trying.

“You’re too good for me,” she mumbled.

“I want to be good to you and for you,” he told her. “I want us to have a good marriage, but I need you to want that too.”

She pulled back. “You don’t understand.”

“Then, help me to understand. Explain things to me. Trust me, Lucille.”

“Not now, but talking with you has made me feel better. Thank you, Jacob. The only thing I ask of you is to be patient with me. Give me until after the baby comes. I think things will be better then.”

“Okay, darling, but remember, any time you want to talk, I’m here. I want you to come to me no matter what it is. I want us to share everything, and I promise to be a good listener. I won’t hold anything in the past, before you met me, against you.”

“You’re a good man, Jacob. I’m lucky to have you for a husband. You’ve been very understanding.”

He wanted to be understanding. He wanted to understand her and their situation, but he didn’t. He didn’t understand at all. Why had she stayed so cold and distant most of the time? In the five months they’d been married, he could remember only three times she’d been tender with him, and she’d never really been loving. He knew in his heart she didn’t love him, so he wondered again why she’d married him. He guessed being caught in her bedroom had forced her to. Would she ever love him?

Please, God, help us to fulfill the promises we made to each other in Thy presence. Help us to love each other and become one, as the Bible says. Guide and touch us both, so we’ll become the man and wife we should be. I pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Would the baby be the force that pulled them into a loving relationship? He hoped and prayed something would.

It seemed to Jacob his relationship with his wife would take a baby step forward and then a few giant steps backward. Today, she remained silent and sulking, as if she regretted confiding any of her feelings or thoughts. He had to make a concerted effort not to let himself get discouraged and depressed. If both of them gave in to despair, all would be lost.

As Jacob went about the day’s routine, he fell back on the faith his mother had planted in him early on. He had done the best he knew how, so he needed to leave the situation in God’s hands. He trusted those hands without reservation.

He could remember his mother saying, “As Christians, the task ahead of us is never as enormous as the Power within us.”

When he took his team of oxen to the river for water, some of the men had tried to tease him about being hen-pecked. “You’re supposed to get the little woman to look after you, not the other way around,” one man laughed.

“He’s so hen-pecked, he probably molts twice a year,” another quipped.

“Listen,” Jacob told them. “You have no idea what’s going on with us, so it’s best you just stay out of our business and mind your own.”

No one said another thing to Jacob, but he felt sure they said plenty when he couldn’t hear. But even Jacob didn’t understand his relationship with Lucille. Not much of anything seemed to be going on, except for the baby. She kept growing bigger, and Jacob wondered what she would look like at nine months. Perhaps it would be twins. If everyone would be healthy, Jacob wouldn’t mind twins.

“Do you want a son, like most men do?” Lucille asked him after supper one night.

She surprised him, because she rarely said anything, much less started a conversation. He glanced at her, and she looked him in the eyes for a change.

“I wouldn’t be disappointed if it’s a girl, but, yes, I’d like a son,” he said honestly. “As a farmer, it would be good if we had a son, who could help me on the farm when he grew up some.” She nodded.

“Are you feeling okay? Is there anything else I can do to help you out more?”

“I’m okay. I’ve just been feeling tired lately, but, from what Lena tells me, that’s normal. You do plenty—more than most husbands.”

“I wish I could take away all your worries or at least carry some of your burdens for you.”

“I wish you could, too, but these are totally my problems. They really don’t involve you.”

“Of course they involve me. I’m your husband. Whatever involves you, involves me. I wish you’d confide in me. I know it would help you; it would help us.”

“I can’t do that, and I can’t tell you why, but, believe me, it wouldn’t help if I talked about it. What will help is when I can forget the past hurts and get on with my life. I’m hoping that will happen after this baby comes. I’m hoping, at some point, I can turn to you, Jacob. You’ve been very patient and caring with me, and you deserve more than I’ve given you. Right now, however, I can only ask you again to be patient with me. Wait until I heal after the baby, and I think I can be a better wife to you.”

“I wish you would trust me more, but I’ll try to be patient, as you ask.”

What other choice did he have? He would never mistreat her, and he wouldn’t leave her, either. She had given him a seed of hope, so he’d be patient and wait for that seed to germinate, grow, and produce fruit he hoped. In the meantime, he would pray.

Jacob sat on horseback looking at Big Blue. He sucked in a deep breath. This river stretched much wider and traveled even faster than the Kaw, and this time there’d be no ferry. They planned to ford the hundred yards of raging river.

First, he’d help the men drive the loose stock across. Then he’d come back and drive Lucille and their wagon to the other side. She couldn’t see the river now, because their wagon came toward the last of the line today, and Jacob felt thankful for that. His wife had turned into a pessimist and just knew some tragedy would befall her before they got to Oregon Territory.

At first, he thought the animals were going to refuse to go into the current, and he didn’t blame them. With some prodding, however, they plunged in. Then the task became keeping them on the path the scout had picked out as the shallowest and easiest to navigate.

The oxen seemed to set their eyes on the far banks and wade across, as if determined to get there. A few of the cows, however, were almost washed downstream. Jacob watched as some of the other men roped the wayward beasts and pulled them back on track. Jacob didn’t try to help because his skill with roping left much to be desired. Eventually, however, the animals were across, and the wagons moved into place to cross.

The wagons crossed one at a time to enable others to help if need be and to keep one mishap from also taking down others. The second wagon to cross hit a hole and almost flipped but somehow managed to stay upright and get back on the right path. They lost only a crate of chickens and a sack of flour. Those would be missed, but not like the entire wagon or their lives.

With all the extra livestock across, Jacob crossed the river again to get ready to drive his wagon through. He stood near the bank and watched the wagons struggle one by one against the water’s force. Sitting in their wagon beside Lucille, who already gritted her teeth and wrung her hands, made him tense and nervous.

He waited until their turn neared and he needed to pull his team up before he heaved himself up into the wagon seat. Most of the other men had done the same thing, so he hadn’t held up anything.

His wagon would be near the last to cross, but he felt blessed. By the time his turn came, the river depth actually seemed to be receding and the current slowing. He guessed water from overnight rains had swelled the water at first, but the effects were beginning to wane. He managed to drive his team across without mishap, even if Lucille’s fingers did turn white from her tight grip on the wagon seat. The floor of their wagon hadn’t even flooded like some.

Now they would follow the Little Blue for a while. The wagon trains followed rivers as much as possible because they needed to stay close to water. It seemed like their very lives on the trail were directed by these winding, crooked rivers.