Chapter 45: Along the Bear River

 

Friday, July 30th—Mac was away all night. Mrs. Tuller and I struggled to feed Jonah broth. He has outlived his mother by a week, but how long can he last without milk?

 

Jenny packed away her journal and climbed on the wagon seat when Mac said, “Time to get underway.” The weather remained pleasant—warm sun and clear skies. But even in the bright morning light, Jenny’s head drooped as she sat beside Mac.

“What’s wrong?” he asked when she shook her head to stay awake.

“Mrs. Tuller and I had Jonah all night.”

“Don’t you need more sleep?”

“I didn’t want to be alone, and Mrs. Tuller had the baby.”

“Where was Esther?”

“She and Mrs. Tuller are trading off keeping Jonah for the night.”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about him. You’ll have your own soon enough.”

The baby pushed on Jenny’s lung, and a stab of panic shot through her. She groaned. Less than two months until it came.

“What’s wrong?” Mac asked. His voice rose, mirroring her fear.

“Baby kicked. That’s all.”

Mac glanced at her belly, then looked away, his face flushing.

“Mac?” She had to talk to him. She had no one else.

“Hmm?”

“If I die, will you take care of my baby?”

Mac stared ahead, his jaw tight. “You’re not going to die.”

“Mrs. Pershing did.”

“She was older.” He tapped his whip on the lead ox’s back, and the team stepped faster.

“If I do die,” Jenny’s voice caught, “will you keep my baby?” Perhaps his guilt over the loss of Bridget’s child would make him take hers. It was the only hold she had over him.

“Jenny, I wouldn’t know what to do with an infant,” Mac said. “Lots of women here. Someone will take your baby. What about Esther?”

“Esther has Jonah. And soon—” Jenny remembered to keep Esther’s secret. “Someday she’ll have her own.” She grasped Mac’s arm. “Just say you will.”

“How about this? I’ll make sure your baby is well cared for.”

Jenny didn’t think she’d get a stronger commitment from Mac, so she nodded.

“Here’s where we camped last night,” Mac said when they halted for the noon meal. The Bear River curled through a broad basin of green grass and shrubs. Cottonwood and willows grew in clumps along the banks. The water was swift and shallow, the bottom covered with smooth rocks. Whitewater churned around the few large boulders.

“Where’s the trail from here?” Jenny asked.

Mac pointed north. “Through that gap in the hills.”

After the emigrants ate, the wagons rolled alongside the river, except when cutting across oxbows. Jenny succumbed to her fatigue and rested in the wagon. The warm air lulled her to sleep, despite the jostling. She woke in late afternoon and peeked out.

“Mac?” she called.

“Here,” he said. He vaulted onto the bench. “I was talking to Zeke.”

“I worry when you jump in the wagon while it’s moving. Remember Mr. Mercer’s ankle at Windlass Hill.” Jenny shivered.

“I’m careful.”

Jenny climbed forward and sat beside Mac. “I feel better now. I can drive. You go talk to Zeke.”

“We were talking about his father.”

“How is he?” Jenny asked.

“He’s been on horseback this afternoon. Doesn’t seem bothered by last night. Hope he stays sober tonight.”

They followed the Bear through the gap Mac had pointed out. Then the river curved for two miles into another broad valley. “We’ll stop here,” Pershing said, waving his hat as he cantered beside the wagons. The emigrants were festive that evening after the pleasant day of travel. Jenny felt rested enough to sing while the fiddles and banjos played.

Next morning the company continued north along the Bear, still in the verdant valley surrounded by rugged pine-covered peaks. Their wagons mired in marshy creek beds hidden by tall grasses. Mosquitos swarmed when disturbed, biting people and beasts alike. But with a little care, they made decent time.

At noon they found another company of emigrants camped beneath a huge hill, reloading their wagons. Mac went with Captain Pershing and Zeke to talk with the other company, while Jenny started cooking.

Mac rode back. “They just came over that hill,” he said, pointing. “Said it was the steepest hill they’d seen so far.”

“Steeper than Windlass Hill?” Jenny asked. Nothing could be worse than that.

“They had to unload everything and lower the wagons on ropes,” Mac said. “They lost two of them. Smashed.”

“Mon Dieu!” Jenny said. “Good thing our scouts didn’t lead us that way.”

“They’re reloading their belongings now. Pershing told them we’d make their noon meal and help with repairs. They have some meat and deerskins they’ll trade.”

“I’ll bake extra biscuits,” Jenny said. “But our flour’s running low.”

“We’re less than a week from Fort Hall. We should make it.”

Jenny fixed extra portions of stew and lugged a Dutch oven toward the other camp, holding the pot out away from her large stomach. She stumbled in the rough grass.

Zeke hurried to her side. “Let me carry that,” he said.

“Thank you,” Jenny said, smiling.

Zeke set the Dutch oven down beside a campfire and headed off to join the men. Jenny stayed with the women, trading stories about their journeys, illnesses and deaths. One woman had lost a husband to fever, another had a baby die at birth. Jenny told them about the cholera in their group, Mrs. Pershing’s death, and poor Jonah who needed milk.

“I have a milk cow,” one of the women said. “Her calf died two days ago. She’s still fresh. I’d hoped to get her to Oregon, but when the calf died I decided to sell her at Fort Hall.”

“Would you sell her to me?” Jenny asked. She didn’t have money, and she didn’t know if Mac would buy the cow. “Or trade her? For a horse?” She loved Poulette, but she could give up the mare.

The woman nodded.

“Let me find . . . my husband,” Jenny said, stuttering as she hefted herself to her feet. “I’ll be back.”

She found Mac among the men. “They have a milk cow,” she said.

Mac looked puzzled.

“Please buy it. For Jonah. He’ll die without milk.”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Would you please buy the cow? If you won’t, I’ll trade them Poulette. Jonah needs the milk.”

“Have you talked to Pershing? Or Esther? Jonah’s their responsibility.”

Jenny shook her head. “I came to you first.” She turned away. “I’ll go get Poulette.”

Mac grabbed her arm. “For God’s sake, Jenny, don’t trade your pony. I’ll buy the cow if Pershing won’t. But you’re interfering with his family. Let me talk to him.” Mac strode off.

Jenny hurried back to the woman with the cow. “We’ll buy your cow.” Taking the now empty Dutch oven, she rushed off to the Pershing camp to find Esther and Jonah. Then she and Esther washed the noontime dishes, while Jonah fussed nearby.

Soon Mac returned to their wagon leading the cow on a rope. “Here’s she is,” Mac said. “I bought her. Captain will pay me back. Milk her and feed the baby.”

Esther stammered her appreciation to Mac and embraced Jenny. Her friend’s beaming face more than made up for Jenny’s discomfort at begging Mac to buy the cow. “Thank you,” Jenny whispered to Mac over Esther’s shoulder.

“Pack up,” he said. “We’re moving on. Tanner says the other company has the tools they need to mend their wagons. Don’t need our help.”

Jenny rode beside Mac that afternoon, feeling almost as delighted as when Mac had bought Poulette. “Now you can take care of my baby.”

Mac stared at her.

“The cow,” she said. “We have the cow. Now will you take my baby if I die?”

Mac shook his head. He didn’t say anything for a moment. “Jenny, you do beat all.” It sounded like he was choking. “If I didn’t take your baby, you’d come back to haunt me, wouldn’t you?”

That evening, camped again along the Bear River, Jenny wrote:

 

Saturday, July 31st—We shared our noon meal with another company facing their own hardships on the trail. Mac bought a cow. Jonah relishes the milk.