Chapter 30: Letter from Mac

 

One morning in early April, Jenny, Esther, and Hatty Tanner worked on a quilt in Jenny’s cabin—a gift for Hatty to take to California. Jenny tried not to argue with the Tanners while they prepared to leave. “You know you don’t have to go,” was all she said to Hatty.

“Yes, Miz Jenny,” Hatty said. “But it’s for the best. Folks don’t want our kind here in Oregon. We need to be where hard workers is wanted. California’s boomin’ with the gold fields.”

“Oregon needs good laborers, too,” Jenny said. Still, though it pained her to see the Tanners leave, she knew Hatty had to move on. Some memories were too much to bear—like the memories of Missouri Jenny had fled.

Tanner continued to spend long hours in Jenny’s fields, clearing more land and sowing the rest of the spring crops. He and Zeke scattered grain seed and tended the fruit trees they’d planted last fall.

“You’ll have apples and cherries and peaches in a few years,” Tanner told her when he stopped by her cabin while the women sewed on the quilt.

“I’ve always loved peach jam,” Jenny said. “Most of our land in Missouri was in tobacco, but we had a few fruit trees. Letitia made pies and jams.” She sighed. “I’ll miss Hatty’s help.”

“Miz Tuller make good jam,” Hatty said. “And Miz Pershing. They can teach you.”

Jenny was growing accustomed to calling Amanda Purcell “Mrs. Pershing.”

Esther sniffed at Hatty’s mention of her stepmother. “Cooking’s about all she does,” Esther said. “That and birthing babies.” Amanda Pershing had given birth to a baby boy, Franklin, Jr., the week before. “I’m expecting again, too.” She sighed.

“How wonderful.” Jenny rose to hug her friend.

Esther closed her eyes and shook her head. “Cordelia ain’t even had her first birthday yet, and I’ll have another baby in six months. She’ll still be in diapers, and maybe Jonah, too. Ma always told me a woman couldn’t get in the family way again while nursing. Guess that’s just an old wives’ tale.”

“Don’t you want another baby?” Jenny asked.

“Part of me does. I know I’ll love this one, too. But I already have my hands full with Cordelia and Jonah.”

“What’s Daniel say?”

“Says he wants a boy this time.” Esther snorted. “Not much I can do ’bout that.”

“Can’t your papa and Mrs. Pershing take Jonah?” Jenny asked.

“She’s got Franklin now.” Esther’s lips turned down. “I don’t want her raising Ma’s baby—Jonah’s all I have left of Ma. And Pa’s house is too crowded already.”

Jenny reached out to touch Esther’s hand on the quilting frame. “Well, then, we’ll all have to help you. Now, Hatty, don’t you wish you were staying?”

But Hatty’s eyes had filled at the mention of Esther’s pregnancy, and Jenny said no more.

 

Tuesday, April 10th—Esther and Hatty have both known such sorrow. It makes me glad sometimes for my life, however lonely I am. At least William and I are healthy and safe.

 

As she put her journal away, Jenny thought about her own sorrows. She was better off in Oregon than in Missouri, and she vowed to bear her loneliness without grumbling. There was no one she could talk to anyway, no one who knew how much she missed Mac. Even the Tullers thought she’d put him in the past.

Planting continued throughout April—wheat and oats and barley and corn. While Tanner and Otis worked in the fields, Hatty and Jenny seeded a large garden—potatoes and corn, beans and carrots and cucumbers.

William started talking, just a word or two at a time, then new words every day. It awed Jenny to see how quickly her son grew, physically and mentally. Such a bright little boy had come from such a terrible beginning.

Zeke stopped by Jenny’s cabin one morning late in April. “I’m headed out to the fields to plant with Tanner,” he said. “I was in town yesterday and picked up this letter for you.” He handed it to her.

The handwriting was Mac’s. “Thank you, Zeke,” she said, putting the letter in her apron pocket.

Zeke didn’t move to leave. He eyed her apron, but she wouldn’t open Mac’s letter with him watching. Though she was eager to read it, she had no idea what Mac would say and wanted to be alone when she read it. “Would you like some coffee?” she asked.

“Thank you, Miz Jenny.”

They made small talk and watched William play on the floor while Zeke sipped his coffee. Jenny busied herself with some mending.

Zeke finally stood to leave. “I’d best go help Tanner before the rain comes.”

“Thank you for bringing the letter.” Jenny smiled at Zeke, fingering the paper in her pocket.

After he left, Jenny broke the seal on the letter. It had been written only a month earlier—it was almost as if Mac were with her.

 

March 29, 1849
Dear Jenny,

I am mining gold with Joel Pershing and a man named Jeremiah Huntington from Georgia. We have found good color on our claim. California has its share of thieves and men who prefer to make their money on the backs of others, but we have chased off the scalawags that have come our way.

I hope all is well with you and William. Esther told Joel you were teaching school. Are you out of funds? I hope you are spending the coins I left—I gave them to you to use. With the Tanners on the claim, I trust you are well cared for and the farm prospers. In a few years, the claim will be proved, and the land will be yours.

As I wrote before, I will let you know when I leave for Boston. It will likely be at the end of summer, when I turn over the gold claim to Joel.

Your servant,

Caleb McDougall

P.S. You can write me in Sacramento.

 

My, how news traveled, Jenny thought. From Esther to Joel to Mac. He knew what she was doing, which warmed her heart. He would probably hear of the Tanners leaving and Zeke working her farm. How would Mac react to that news? She didn’t think it would bring him back to Oregon, but maybe he would write again.

He’d told her where to write to him. Now she needed to figure out what to say.

After supper, when the Tanners had returned to their cabin and William was asleep, Jenny took out her ink bottle and quill. She spread out a piece of the finer paper she saved for her more advanced students to use for their compositions.

Then she hesitated. What should she tell Mac? He would likely hear more news through Joel, so she should tell him about her life before he heard it through the Pershings.

 

April 30, 1849
Dear Mac,

 

Her salutation seemed too informal. But “Mr. McDougall” was too distant, and she’d never thought of him as “Caleb.” “Mac” would have to do.

 

I received your letter of March 29. It must have come straight from California to Oregon by ship, because it arrived so quickly. Zeke delivered it from town today.

William and I are well, thank you. I taught school this past winter because the children need to learn, and I have more education than Esther or any of our other friends, except for the Tullers.

I have spent very few of your coins. . . .

 

Did she sound too ungrateful?

 

. . . I know you meant for me to use them if William and I were in need, but by the grace of God, the crops and my teaching have provided for our livelihood, and I intend to replace what I have spent.

 

She would have to tell him about the Tanners—surely he would hear of their departure.

 

When Tanner and Zeke finish the planting, the Tanners are leaving for California to seek more opportunity. Perhaps you will see them. I shall miss them terribly. Hatty was delivered of a stillborn girl and remains deeply distraught. After losing Homer two years ago, this new bereavement is more than she can bear. I am so blessed William is healthy.

Our other friends are well. Captain Pershing married Amanda Purcell, as perhaps you learned from Joel. Esther and Daniel anticipate another child. Dr. and Mrs. Tuller are kind to me, as always. I ask Dr. Tuller’s advice about staying on the claim and proving it up. Even the Abercrombies are good neighbors, and their granddaughters were among my pupils.

I wish you well in your prospecting, and a safe journey to Boston.

 

How should she close the letter? “Affectionately”? “Your servant,” like Mac had written? She would leave it at . . .

 

Jenny