Chapter 8: Wanderlust

 

Sunday, April 23rd—Easter. I have not heard from Mac. The Tanners and I work from dawn to dusk planting fields. I still have not talked to Doc about my rights to the land.

 

The land was fecund after the wet winter. Seeds spouted quickly, and soon the sown fields were green. But there was no respite from the toil, which left Jenny with blistered fingers and aching muscles every evening.

The Pershing twins ran into Jenny’s yard the following Tuesday afternoon, a week after Cordelia’s birth. It was a fine spring afternoon after several days of rain, with a brilliant blue sky and singing birds. “Miz Jenny,” one boy cried, “Pa’s having a party tomorrow night. Joel’s leaving Thursday for California.”

Joel, the second Pershing son, had talked about leaving for California ever since they arrived in Oregon last autumn. Some men simply couldn’t remain in one place. Joel’s father, Captain Franklin Pershing, had spent his career moving about with the Army. He’d left his family behind until he formed the wagon company that brought them all to Oregon.

“What shall I bring?” Jenny asked the boys.

They shrugged. “No matter. Esther said bring what you have.”

It was too early for wild berries, and the garden wasn’t bearing yet. Wednesday morning, Jenny made custard pie, using cream from the cow she shared with Esther, eggs from her hens, and sweet syrup boiled from the bigleaf maple trees in the woods on her claim. Jenny had never encountered syrup from trees when she’d lived in New Orleans and Missouri—Hatty Tanner had taught her how to make it.

“Looks mighty fine,” Hatty said, when Jenny removed the baked pie from the side of the fireplace. “I got venison stew from the deer Clarence shot yesterday. It were tryin’ to git in the garden.”

In midafternoon Jenny bundled William in a blanket. After Tanner hitched his mules to the wagon, they all climbed in for the ride to the Pershing farm. Captain Franklin Pershing and seven of his nine of his children—all except Esther and the baby Jonah whom Esther was raising—lived in a house on Captain Pershing’s land. Franklin Pershing and his twenty-one-year-old son Zeke had each filed a claim for 640 acres of land, the most they could claim, and they’d cleared a portion of both parcels to plant.

Joel, at nineteen, was old enough to file his own claim, but he said he didn’t want to farm. He’d helped his father and Zeke build the house and barn and clear the fields through the winter and spring.

“What will Captain Pershing and Zeke do without Joel?” Jenny asked Tanner.

“’Spect they’ll manage,” Tanner said. “I’ll help ’em. And those twins is growin’ fast.”

“Can you handle our place and help them, too?” Jenny asked.

“Do what I can. Don’t you worry. We’ll keep your place goin’ till Captain McDougall gits back.”

Only the Tullers knew Mac would probably never return. She could hardly admit it to herself, and she couldn’t tell her friends without letting on she wasn’t Mac’s wife.

They arrived at the Pershing farm, and Zeke helped Jenny out of the wagon. “You’re looking purty, Miz Jenny,” he said with an easy grin.

“Thank you, Zeke.” She smiled back at him, then reached up to take William from Hatty.

Esther Abercrombie and her sister Rachel Pershing supervised the placement of food on a makeshift table of rough planks laid on top of tree stumps. The Pershing twins and their younger siblings raced around, shooing off flies. Jenny and Hatty squeezed the custard pie and venison stew between other dishes.

“Jenny.”

She turned and saw the doctor’s wife. “How are you, Mrs. Tuller?”

“Come talk with me, dear.” The older woman smiled at her.

Jenny let Mrs. Tuller draw her to a corner of the yard. “Any word from Captain McDougall?” Mrs. Tuller asked after admiring how William had grown.

“No, ma’am.”

“What are you going to do without him?”

“We’re fine,” Jenny said. “Tanner’s minding the fields.”

“That can’t last.”

“Why not?”

“Doc hears the legislature wants to run Negroes out of Oregon.”

“There are other Negroes in Oregon City. One led a whole wagon train of them here a few years back.”

Mrs. Tuller shook her head. “They could all be forced out. How long can Tanner keep his family here if he might be jailed?”

Jenny panicked at the thought of living alone on the claim with William. “Well, maybe Zeke can help me.”

Mrs. Tuller looked skeptical. “Zeke has his own farm. And his father’s. Besides, what would it look like for Zeke to spend so much time with you? Everyone thinks you’re married to Captain McDougall. You can’t manage the farm alone with a baby, and you can’t rely on Zeke Pershing.”

Jenny still wanted to talk to Doc about her rights to Mac’s claim, but Mrs. Tuller did not seem to be of a mind to help. Jenny raised her chin. “Thank you for your concern,” she said. “I’ll figure out what to do if the Tanners leave.” She turned away from Mrs. Tuller as Esther approached from the food table.

“Come, Jenny,” Esther said, taking Jenny’s arm. “Pa’s about to give Joel a farewell speech.”

In the middle of the yard, Joel and the rest of the Pershing children stood beside their father. Captain Pershing raised a bottle of whiskey.

Jenny gasped. “You’re letting him drink?” she whispered to Esther. Captain Pershing had lost command of the wagon train because of his drunkenness after his wife died. Jenny knew his children tried to keep him from liquor, but he found it at the most inconvenient times.

Esther shrugged. “Zeke’s supposed to watch Pa today.”

“My son Joel is leaving,” Captain Pershing began. He sounded maudlin, but not drunk. “He’s like me—got the wanderlust in him. Bound for California. I’ll miss him like I miss his ma.” He tipped the bottle at Joel, then held it to his mouth for a long gulp.

“All right, Pa,” Zeke said, taking the flask. “Let’s pass it around.” He took a sip and passed it to another man. Then he walked over to Esther and Jenny. “We’ll see if that slows him down. Though I reckon he’ll be drunk by dark.”

“Can’t you stop him?” Jenny whispered.

Zeke shook his head. “No, but the bouts are less frequent. He ain’t been on a bender since the Abercrombie barn raising.” Zeke grinned. “We all had too much that night.”

“Yes,” Jenny said, remembering the feel of Mac’s arms around her—first sweet, then demanding. And then he was gone.

“The music’s starting,” Zeke said. “You care to dance with me, Miz Jenny?”

Mrs. Tuller frowned at her from across the yard. But Zeke was her friend. Jenny turned to him. “All right. If I can find Rachel to take William.”