Chapter 68: Out of the Blues
Mac walked out of camp at the Blue Mountain summit as the sun set. To the west a vast valley spread beyond the mountains. Past the valley rose snowcapped peaks. The Cascades, the last mountain range to pass, though they would avoid those peaks by rafting down the Columbia. He couldn’t imagine climbing the huge mountain that rose above the others—Mount Hood, it was called.
Would Abercrombie really leave? It didn’t bother Mac to lose the man—he’d been a scoundrel since they left Independence. But if Abercrombie took his family and the rest of his platoon—maybe more families as well—could the remainder of the company survive?
Who could he count on to stay? The Tullers. The Pershings. If the Captain, Zeke and Joel all stayed, Mac would have good support. The Tanners, most likely—and Clarence and Hatty were good workers.
Could they get to Whitman’s before Jenny’s baby was born? Doc Tuller could deliver the baby on the trail, but Mac wanted a safer place for Jenny when the baby arrived.
Mac hoped to persuade her to stay at Whitman’s mission. As captain, he had to take the company on to Oregon City. But Jenny could have her baby at the mission and maybe stay to live with the Whitmans. Mac could check on her next spring on his way back to Boston.
He wouldn’t worry as much, if he knew where they could winter in Oregon City. Maybe he’d find a place for Jenny there, but maybe not. It would be best if Jenny spent the winter at Waiilatpu with Mrs. Whitman. Mac didn’t want to chance not finding a place for Jenny and her child.
He decided—Jenny would stay at the mission.
Daniel Abercrombie joined Mac at the overlook. “Pa’s bound and determined to leave when we get out of the mountains.”
“I can’t force him to stay with us,” Mac said.
“Esther wants to remain with her family.”
“Puts you in a bind, doesn’t it?” Mac squinted at Daniel. He seemed too young to be married.
“It surely does.”
“Well, you think on it.” Mac clapped Daniel on the back and returned to camp.
Rain poured Monday morning. Not quite freezing, but cold enough to make morning chores miserable. Despite the abundance of wood, the logs were too damp to burn. Most travelers settled for a cold breakfast.
Mac hunched into his hat and coat, turning his back to the driving wind. No sight of Mount Hood this morning. He nodded at the Whitman guide who tramped over to the wagon. “Can we travel through this muck?” Mac asked.
The man rubbed his moccasin on the grass underfoot. “Wheels’ll slip in the mud. But ain’t no reason to stay here.”
“Then let’s go,” Mac said.
The wagons headed down the steep mountain on slick grass. Mac put Jenny on Poulette again. “That Indian pony won’t lose her footing,” he assured her.
“I can’t bear looking down the mountain,” Jenny said, shivering. “And it’s cold.”
“It’d be warmer in the wagon,” Mac agreed. “But safer on horseback.”
Shortly after they started out, one wagon slid twenty feet off the trail before banging into a spruce tree. Mac ordered the rest of the wagons to pass, then spent two hours with Zeke and Tanner helping to unload the wagon, pull it back to the trail, and reload the family’s possessions.
“Lucky just one board splintered,” Tanner said. “We can fix that later.”
The wagons navigated along the hillsides, headed ever downward. By late morning the rain slowed, but trees still dripped. Everyone was soaked to the skin. Jenny’s lips were blue as she huddled under the buffalo robe on Poulette. She looked wretched, but Mac wouldn’t risk her life in the wagon.
At a wide clearing in the hills, he called the midday halt.
“Why are we stopping?” Abercrombie demanded. “Still early.”
“Need to warm up,” Mac said. “I’ve seen folks stumbling. Don’t want anyone following a wagon off the trail.”
Mac started a dank, smoky fire and settled Jenny beside it. “Warm your hands,” he said. “Do you have any dry clothes?”
She nodded.
“Go change while I boil water.” He boosted her into the wagon.
Across the campsite Abercrombie gathered his platoon together. Abercrombie waved his arms, but his voice was too low for Mac to hear. Mac thought about wandering over to see what the man was gabbing about, but Jenny called for assistance getting out of the wagon. Abercrombie would make his plans known soon enough.
The travelers took time to heat a meal and fill their bellies. They had meat and camas roots, though not much else in the way of provisions.
They faced a cold wind all afternoon, but the descent became less steep. Through gaps in the forest, Mac could see a broad grassy plateau stretching out to the north and west.
“Columbia Plateau,” their white guide said. “Dry land. Lots of horses.”
“Indians?” Mac asked.
“Cayuse and Nez Perce. Mostly friendly.”
They were not quite out of the mountains when they stopped for the evening, but the next day’s travel would get them to the open plateau. The company was somber as they went about their chores. Glances from one man to another signaled something, but Mac didn’t know what.
After supper Abercrombie stalked over to Mac’s campfire. “I’m leaving in the morning,” he announced. “Heading due west. Taking my platoon and some others with me.”
“Any room for discussion?” Mac asked.
“Nope. We’re leaving.”
Mac stood and called the men together. The whole camp, men and women alike, gathered nearby.
“Who’s going with Abercrombie?” he asked.
About a third of the men raised their hands. Dempsey was one of them—his hand up, but his gaze toward the ground. Hewitt was not. Pershing and his sons, Doc Tuller, and Tanner also kept their hands down.
Esther clutched Daniel’s arm, tears streaming down her face. They stood on the edge of the group. Daniel hadn’t put his hand up, but Mac didn’t count on him to stay.
Mac was silent, thinking. There were enough men and wagons for safety in each group. He considered tossing in the sponge and following Abercrombie, but he feared for Jenny at the pace he knew Abercrombie would set. Abercrombie wouldn’t stop for a baby. Mac didn’t want to be alone with Jenny—or even Jenny and the Tullers—for the last stage of the journey.
“I wish you well,” Mac said. “Those of you going to Whitman, we’ll set out at dawn.”
The group dispersed, some muttering, some quiet. Had they expected Mac to put up more of a fight? Frankly, he thought the company would be better off without Abercrombie, except for his hunting prowess. But he would miss most of the other men and their families.
When he and Jenny were alone, he pulled out his journal and wrote:
September 13, 1847. The company parts ways at dawn. Abercrombie heads for the Columbia across the plateau with a third of the wagons, while I take the rest to Waiilatpu.
“Are you worried?” Jenny asked.
“About Abercrombie?” Mac shook his head. “The guides will take us to Whitman’s place. Then all we have to do is follow the river to Oregon City.”
Mac slammed his notebook shut. He wouldn’t admit it to Jenny, but he did worry.
When he awoke on Tuesday, Mac could see his breath, but the sun sparkling through the rain-soaked evergreens promised better weather than the day before. He sounded reveille and the emigrants made their meal and hitched their teams. Mac ate breakfast slowly, giving Abercrombie the chance to leave first.
As Abercrombie got his group into line, Daniel removed a trunk from one of the Abercrombie wagons. Esther stood beside Daniel holding a pile of bedding.
“Pack up, son, we’re heading out,” Abercrombie shouted.
“I ain’t going with you, Pa,” Daniel said.
“What in tarnation are you talking about? Put that trunk back in the wagon.”
“Esther can’t leave her family.”
“Wife follows her husband. Bible says so.”
The entire company gathered around father and son. Samuel was already mounted and towered over Daniel and Esther.
Samuel’s face was brick red, and spittle formed in his beard as he shouted, “Do as I damn well tell you, boy. Like I raised you.” Samuel raised his whip and cracked it at Daniel’s feet.
Daniel flinched. Esther screamed, dropped the quilts, and stepped between Daniel and his father as she buried her head in Daniel’s chest.
“I can’t, Pa,” Daniel said, putting his arms around Esther. “I hope to see you in Oregon.”