Chapter 86: Down the Devil’s Backbone

 

October 10, 1847. Our final days on the trail. Tonight we camp above the Sandy on Devil’s Backbone—another high ridge, like the one with the same name near Red Buttes. Families talk of where they will settle. There will be no settling for me—I have another journey home in the spring.

 

As Mac wrote by the campfire, he watched Jenny coo and smile at William. He remembered surprising her in the wagon as she fed the baby. It had embarrassed both of them, though she had tended Mac through cholera and he had seen her in childbirth. He had never seen a lovelier sight than Jenny nursing William, her round cheek dipped toward the baby’s forehead, the child’s fist clasped around her finger.

And the curve of her breast by the baby’s mouth.

A part of him wanted to keep her with him. But she didn’t think of him as a lover—he doubted she ever would. Plus, she was so young.

Mac wanted to settle Jenny near the Tullers, if only because they knew of his and Jenny’s situation. They held Mac accountable for taking care of Jenny appropriately. Mac snorted. There was nothing appropriate about their situation. He knew that now, but he could not change the past. He had asked Jenny to marry him, and she had refused.

If she had accepted, they would have muddled along. But Jenny wasn’t ready for marriage, and Mac doubted he was either. He had fulfilled his commitment to her, and now he was free for the next adventure in life.

He had unfinished business in Boston. This trek had taught him that he could lead and that he could act honorably. Now he had to convince his parents—he was no longer an untested and callow youngest son.

Jenny climbed in the wagon with William. A few minutes later Zeke wandered over. “What you thinking about?” Zeke asked.

“Dreaming, I guess.”

“Seems odd to be so near the end.” Zeke brushed dirt off his trousers with his hat. “We’ve been traveling so long.”

“Be hard to know what to do when we stop,” Mac said.

“Oh, there’ll be plenty to do,” Zeke said. “Stake out claims. Build houses for the winter.”

“You staying? I thought you and Joel were going to California.”

Zeke shook his head. “Not me. Joel might go. I’m staying with Pa and the young’uns. Someone’s got to care for them. Pa’s barely getting by.”

“What about Esther?”

“She’s got her own family to raise.”

“You’ll stay near the Abercrombies?”

Zeke grinned. “Didn’t say that. And maybe if I’m here, Esther won’t have to stick close to Daniel’s family for support.”

“Doesn’t seem right for you to give up your life.”

“I’m the eldest. It’s my responsibility.” Zeke rolled a cigarette. “And I like farming.”

There was something Mac needed to ask Zeke, but he wasn’t sure how. “Zeke?” he said, then hesitated.

“What?” Zeke lit a twig from the fire, then lit his cigarette.

“If I’m gone, will you watch out for Jenny? And William?”

Zeke puffed, then said, “You ain’t planning to die after making it this far, are you?”

“I’m only saying, if something happens, will you take care of her? She doesn’t have anyone else.”

Zeke looked into the fire. “I won’t let anything happen to her.” He took a long draw on the cigarette. “You know how lucky you are, don’t you? You got the purtiest girl in the company for your wife. And the nicest.”

“Yeah,” Mac said. “I’m lucky.”

The travelers spent most of Monday crossing Devil’s Backbone. As they moved west, the pines thinned out, replaced by brilliant alders that blazed yellow against the crystal blue autumn sky.

They descended to the banks of the Sandy in midafternoon. Zeke had found a ford, but they had to shovel gravel into the river to make it solid enough to hold the wagons. Even so, the wagons swayed as they jerked over the rocks. One wagon fell into a hole the swift current had scoured around sunken boulders. The women and children riding inside screamed when the wagon tilted precariously.

“Can’t budge it,” Tanner yelled, as he and Daniel threw their shoulders against the wagon.

“Hold on,” Mac called. “We’ll bring more oxen.”

They carried the riders and perishables in the wagon to dry ground, then the men worked the wagon out of the hole using three extra yoke of oxen.

Jenny shivered when Mac joined her on shore. “I should be used to these river crossings,” she said. “But I’m no less afraid than in Kansas Territory.” She nuzzled William close to her face.

“Maybe you have more to lose now than you did,” Mac said, puffing after the hard work.

“It’s true. I have a lot more to live for now than when we left Missouri.”

“Will you be happy in Oregon?” Mac wanted her to be happy. He would feel better about leaving.

Jenny looked up at the sky. “I think so. I have William. If I’m near Esther and the Tullers.”

“We’ll look for a place for you near them.” He would do what he could.

After crossing the Sandy, the company hauled their wagons up a hill on the west side. Mac looked back east over the route they had traveled. He could see the Sandy below and the Devil's Backbone beyond. Above it all, Mount Hood rose in snowcapped glory above the trees and valleys.

“Look,” he pointed out the view to Jenny.

“So beautiful.” She smiled, inhaling deeply as if to absorb it.

“We don’t see the splendor when we’re mucking about in the mud.”

They camped that night on a small creek beyond the Sandy. The creek babbled behind Mac and brilliant fall leaves fell into the stream as he wrote:

 

October 12, 1847. Crossed the Sandy. We’ll reach Oregon City in a day or two.