Chapter 62: Responsibility

 

Mac rode along the wagons on the north side of the Malheur. The crossing had gone well—the men had followed his orders better than on the Snake crossing outside Boise. Had they decided he knew what he was doing? No matter, he was doing his best.

The trail past the Malheur was rough. They climbed into desolate hills with only a few tufts of grass and the ever-present sagebrush. White alkali patches burned the animals’ hooves and the feet of any emigrants so poor or so foolish they didn’t wear shoes. Mac wondered whether the cutoff along the Malheur would have been worse. He called the noon halt near a small alkali spring. Some children refused to drink the bitter water, but the animals took their fill.

“How much farther in the hills?” Mac asked Joel, who had returned from scouting to report.

Joel shook his head. “All afternoon. ’Bout ten miles to the next valley.”

“We’ll camp there.” Mac waved his hat, and wagons rolled on, Joel leading.

Mac hadn’t spent much time with Jenny, other than to eat the dinner she prepared. Zeke or Mrs. Tuller or Esther rode with her, so she was safe. But Mac missed talking to her. Or just sitting with her. Often, they rode or walked in comfortable silence. No need to bother her with his thoughts, but if he wanted an opinion, she gave it.

He wanted to talk to Jenny about his election as captain. But he didn’t have time—too many people and problems to worry about. Jenny had expressed confidence in him after the vote, but how was she adjusting to his new responsibilities?

Mac rode over to his wagon. Zeke drove it alone.

“Where’s Jenny?” Mac asked.

“With Esther.”

Mac found the Pershing wagons, Franklin Pershing walking alongside his lead oxen. “Where’s Jenny?” Mac asked.

“She and Esther went off to the Abercrombie wagons.”

Mac brought Valiente in step with Pershing’s horse. “Joel says we’re in these hills all day.” Mac gazed at a lava cliff looming above. “This land’s worse than anything we’ve seen so far.”

Pershing snorted. “Dryer, maybe. Ain’t as steep as what we’ll find in the Blues.”

Mac made more small talk, but Pershing’s responses were curt. So Mac left to find the Abercrombies.

Jenny and Esther rode in one of the Abercrombie wagons. Esther drove while Jenny held Jonah. Mac greeted them.

“Hello, Mac,” Esther said, then beamed. “Or must I call you Captain?”

“Call me whatever you like,” Mac said, smiling back at Esther.

“It’s surely hot enough, isn’t it?” Esther fanned herself, arching her neck and batting her eyelashes from under her sunbonnet.

Jenny’s mouth grew thin. “No hotter than other days,” she said.

Mac grinned. Esther didn’t mean anything by flirting. She was happy with Daniel and had her hands full dealing with both the Pershings and Abercrombies. But Jenny’s reaction amused him.

“McDougall.” Abercrombie trotted toward Mac.

Mac stopped Valiente and raised an eyebrow.

“We ain’t moving fast enough,” Abercrombie said.

“Moving as fast as we can. I don’t want to harm the teams in this dry soil.”

“Just like Pershing. Coddling the animals.” Abercrombie spat on the ground. “It’s September tomorrow.”

“I’m aware of the date.”

“Snow could come any time.”

Mac squinted at the searing cloudless sky. “Don’t look like snow today.”

“Don’t use your college wit on me, boy,” Abercrombie snarled. “I was farming afore you started wearing long pants. I seen the weather turn often enough once it’s September.”

“No sense traveling any faster than the slowest wagon,” Mac said. “Need to stick together.”

Abercrombie lowered his voice to a growl. “If you favor your wife over the rest of us, McDougall, I’ll call you on it. That’s what Pershing did, and it cost us. We’re running out of time.” He galloped off.

The trail kept to the hills until the sun had almost set. Then the travelers trudged into a valley not much wider than a ravine. “One more ridge,” Joel said, “There’s a better camp in the next valley. Or we can stay here.”

Mac looked around. “Barely room here.”

Joel nodded. “It’s tight. But the creek’s spring fed. Good water. Should be enough grass for the teams.”

Mac sighed. He knew he’d hear more from Abercrombie. “All right. We’ll stop.” He waved his hat to signal the halt.

Sure enough, down the line of wagons, Mac heard Abercrombie yelling at Jenny. “Why’s that damn husband of yours stopping now? Cosseting you, is he?”

Mac kneed Valiente and trotted back to his wagon. “You have something to say, Abercrombie, say it to me. Leave Jenny alone.”

“I told you we needed to move on.”

Mac raised his chin. “And I told you we’d stay together. We’re stopping.”

Abercrombie pushed his horse against Valiente’s withers. “You won’t be captain for long, boy. Not if you bollix it up.”

Valiente shied, but Mac held him and stared at Abercrombie. The older man swore, wheeled his horse, and rode off.

“Don’t worry about me, Mac,” Jenny said. But her face was pale.

“If he bothers you again, you tell me.” Mac went to talk to the platoon leaders.

Late that evening Mac sat beside his wagon. The stars were brilliant in the dark sky. He wrote in the glow of the campfire:

 

August 31, 1847. I had hoped Abercrombie’s antagonism would lessen without Pershing as captain, but it has not. I would ignore the scoundrel, but he threatened Jenny.

In the morning Mac suggested a hunting party and put Abercrombie in charge. He sent Zeke and Joel out with them. Zeke had volunteered to stay with Jenny, but Mac shook his head. “I will.”

Before the hunters left, Mac and Joel discussed the route. “Just over the next hill is Birch Creek. Follow it east to the Snake,” Joel said. “Pa says we stay by the Snake briefly, then follow the Burnt River.” He pointed out the route on the Frémont map.

“What’s your pa got to do with this?” Abercrombie sneered at Joel.

Mac glared at Abercrombie. “He’s still the one man here who’s been on this trail before.”

Once the hunters left, the mood in camp relaxed. The travelers packed their wagons and headed over the chalky hills to Birch Creek. Children raced ahead of the wagons to the stream. Mac wondered how the youngsters had so much energy—the adults drooped with the hardships and monotony of the journey.

It was no longer an adventure. Still another month to endure, including Jenny’s confinement.

And he had to get them all safely to Oregon City.