Chapter 83: Trouble Near the Summit

 

Monday, October 4th—My 15th birthday, and not even Mac knows. I am still coughing, and we are nearly out of food.

 

After feeling sorry for herself on her lonely birthday all day Monday, Jenny slept well that night, drugged by the medicine from Mrs. Tuller.

Tuesday morning she scraped the bottom of the flour barrel to make biscuits. “Our only grain left is a little cornmeal,” she told Mac. She pulled her cloak tighter around her and coughed.

“Any meat?”

“Dried venison and one smoked salmon. And some potatoes from The Dalles.”

“I can’t hunt. I have to cut trees.”

“Why don’t you send Mr. Abercrombie? He could hunt and scout ahead.”

“You want to lead this company?” Mac chuckled.

Jenny felt her cheeks flush. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be telling you what to do.”

“I’m teasing. You’re right. I’ll ask Abercrombie.” Mac left, shaking his head.

The wood smoked and spat, but the fire put out fragile warmth. While William slept peacefully in the wagon, the adults shivered as they went about their chores. Rain seeped through the cracks in Jenny’s shoes.

Esther joined Jenny by the fire. “Golly, it’s wet,” Esther said, putting Jonah in the wagon by William. “I couldn’t get a fire started this morning. How’d you manage?”

“Started it under a tarp, then moved the tarp,” Jenny said. “But I can’t hardly bear to cook, it’s so smoky.”

“The smoke makes me gag,” Esther said. “Captain McDougall told Mr. Abercrombie to lead a hunting party. I’m glad to have him gone. He complained all day yesterday how slow we were moving.”

“I hope he finds some game. We’re about out of food.” Jenny shook her head. “I’d hoped Barlow Road would be easy, but it isn’t.” She coughed.

“Sit down,” Esther said. “Let me finish the biscuits.”

Jenny sighed as she sank onto a barrel, but the sigh turned into another cough. “Your morning sickness still bad?” she rasped.

Esther shrugged. “It’s getting better. Most days I can eat some breakfast. I’m ravenous all afternoon. I have to sneak some of my dinner into my pocket so Mr. Abercrombie don’t know I’m eating afore supper.”

Once the travelers were underway, Jenny huddled under the wagon cover with William. The oxen didn’t need any guidance. The trail was too narrow and the vegetation along the edges so thick the teams couldn’t leave the path. The road climbed through the morning, and the company nooned along the trail, not even stopping to build fires. There was plenty of wood, but no way to dry it out.

“You warm enough?” Mac asked when he returned to the wagon.

Jenny nodded. If she said anything, she would cough. She handed him a plate of dried venison and a biscuit left over from breakfast.

When they moved out after dinner, Jenny huddled in her buffalo robe, tucking William in with her. The oxen heaved with every step as they lugged the wagon. Occasionally, the trees and shrubs thinned enough to show the steep pitch of the mountain slope.

Jenny passed the afternoon dozing. Her back ached from the wagon’s jostling over stumps and rocks. She roused herself only when William needed feeding or changing.

A sudden scream split the air. “We’re going over!”

Jenny climbed out of the wagon to see what had happened.

“Wagon overturned,” a man shouted.

Ahead of Jenny, a wagon had tumbled off the trail and down the slope. Two oxen lay on the ground bleating in pain. Other oxen still yoked to the fallen beasts bellowed. People and animals milled about.

“Who is it?” Jenny asked Mrs. Tuller.

“One of the Abercrombie wagons.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“Don’t know yet.”

A shot rang out, then another, and the bleating ceased. The other oxen bellowed louder.

Jenny clutched William so tightly he cried. Mrs. Tuller took the baby and bounced him on her shoulder to soothe him.

“Why’d they kill the oxen?” Jenny’s voice broke. They were such placid, pleasant beasts.

“Broken legs, I expect.” Mrs. Tuller patted Jenny’s arm, as if Jenny needed consoling like William.

Mac’s voice rose over the pandemonium. “Let the other wagons go on by. Then we’ll salvage what we can.”

Mrs. Tuller handed William back to Jenny and they walked on. As they passed the fallen wagon, Jenny turned her head away, but not before glimpsing the dead oxen and broken wagon parts strewn down the steep ravine beside the trail.

Esther stood silently next to the trail holding Jonah. “Are you all right?” Jenny asked.

Esther’s face was somber, but she nodded. “Jonah and I were in the other wagon with Mrs. Abercrombie and her granddaughters. Only Douglass and his wife were in the one that fell. Douglass jumped out, and Louisa just cut her cheek. Mrs. Abercrombie is caring for her now.”

“But all your things!” Jenny waved her hand down the hill at the boxes and barrels now broken and covered with mud. “And what will Mr. Abercrombie say?”

Esther shook her head. “Heaven only knows. Douglass was driving. Thank goodness Daniel was with his father and can’t be blamed. I’m staying here. To gather up what we can.”

“Shall we take Jonah?” Mrs. Tuller asked. “Jenny and I can watch him while you work.”

Esther nodded and handed her baby brother to Mrs. Tuller.

“Let’s get in your wagon, Jenny,” Mrs. Tuller said. “You’re getting soaked. It’s not good for your cough.”

Jenny shivered. “I don’t want to. Not after seeing the wagon fall. It isn’t safe.”

“Shall I get the doctor to saddle your mare?”

Jenny looked at the steep path ahead of them, then down the ravine that fell away from the trail. Muddy rivulets already flowed over the Abercrombies’ spilled belongings. “I’d rather walk,” she said. Mrs. Tuller took Jonah to her wagon, leaving Jenny and William alone.

For the rest of the afternoon, Jenny trudged up the hill carrying William under her heavy buffalo robe. A small patch of sodden sky showed between the high evergreens, barely visible through the heavy mist. Mostly, she kept her eyes on the ground, focusing on every step.

She slid down the muddy trail almost as often as she scrabbled ahead. Her split shoes were caked in dirt and pine needles and squished each time she set her foot to ground. Pungent smells of rotting wood and wet animals filled her nose.

“How much farther?” she asked Mac when he walked beside her for a while.

“We’ll be at the summit by nightfall.”

“Three days of this so far,” Jenny sighed.

“You wanted to take Barlow Road.”

“Each hill steeper than the last.”

“It’ll get easier once we’re at the summit,” Mac said.

“I suppose it’s better than the river.” Jenny brushed her hand across her forehead. Her sunbonnet was soaked. “I keep thinking about Mrs. Pershing.”

“Why’s that?”

“How she must have felt jolting along in the wagon after birthing Jonah.”

“You didn’t get any fever after William. Just a cough.” Mac sounded impatient.

“No. No childbirth fever. And I didn’t die.” No matter how much she coughed and ached, no matter how weary she was, she was alive, and so was William. But it was hard to appreciate her blessings when she was cold and wet and sick.

“You want to ride in the wagon?” Mac asked.

“I keep seeing the Abercrombies’ belongings all over the ravine. I’ll walk. Did they salvage their wagon and provisions?”

“A broken wagon wheel. Douglass and Tanner are trying to patch it together. They found most of their things. Everything’ll need to be scrubbed to get rid of the mud.”

“Poor Esther,” Jenny sighed.

“You want to ride Poulette?” Mac asked. The mare was tied behind the wagon.

Jenny trembled. “I’m afraid of her falling. The trail is so steep.”

Mac snorted. “That Indian pony? She won’t fall.”

“I worry about dropping William.”

“Well, then, walk. But I can’t stay with you. I need to check on the others.”

She nodded, then watched Mac stride ahead. His long legs easily climbed the upward slope.

She was on her own. Alone, she would have to carry William to the top.

Jenny walked, step after step, pulling herself up the hill, trying to shield the baby from the rain. William was in his sling, but her arms ached cradling him under the buffalo skin. Her legs cramped and her back spasmed as she scrambled to keep her balance.

Hour after hour they climbed. Rain beat down through the afternoon, and the trail meandered back and forth across the side of the mountain, always uphill.

Late in the day Jenny slipped and shrieked, grasping a tree branch with one arm and clutching William closer with the other. The baby squalled. How much farther did she have to go?

Gasping, she heaved herself upward, one more time, and saw the horizon beyond. Through her exhaustion, she was dimly aware she had reached the summit. She had carried William to the top.

Mac appeared beside her. “You all right?”

She nodded, too short of breath to speak. Of all the mountains they had climbed, this was the worst. The Blues had been nothing compared to these Cascades.

“She’s done in, poor thing,” Jenny heard Mrs. Tuller say. “I’ll take the baby.” She felt William’s weight lifted away.

Jenny coughed, wheezing in and out. She slumped to the ground, not bothering to step off the muddy trail. She felt arms—Mac’s arms?—lifting her, and then she slept.