Lazy Days (19 page)

Emmett stopped walking. "It took three
years but I finally found them. Originally, there were five men, but three were
already dead by the time I met up with the other two. The leader was still
alive and I called him out on the street of some no-name town. When I told him
who I was and that I was bringing him in, he just laughed and pulled his
pistol. I was faster. His companion ran out of the saloon and I shot him, too.

"After that, I showed my badge to the
drunken sheriff of the town and he wanted to pin a medal on me for ridding his
town of these monsters."

Emmett started walking again and stopped outside
his wagon. "When I returned to my hometown and tried to give the sheriff
back my badge, he asked if I wanted to become a bounty hunter. I had no family
and no aspirations, so I agreed. I guess you could say the rest is history. When
I started making a name for myself, I suddenly saw my life laid out before me.
I would die in some dusty town at the hand of some lowlife wanting to make a
name for himself. While I was trying to figure out how to disappear and start
over I got the cholera. Most of the town got it and most of them died. I
figured I'd die, too, but when I started to recover, I told the sheriff that I
wanted to start over as someone else and he went along with it. Since the
cholera hadn't killed me, he said it was a sign from God that he should help
me.

"There were so many dying that when he
added my name to the list, no one questioned him. I hid out in an abandoned
shack and when I was able, rode out and never looked back. I changed my
appearance from scraggly to what you see now." He chuckled. "My hair
started receding early on and aided my disguise. I left Texas, got a new name,
and visited several states, ending up in Missouri, where I met Lydia."

He pulled his wife into an embrace. "I'm so
sorry for not telling you, sweetheart, but I just couldn't take a chance on
losing you, and when Sam was born, I felt such joy…" His voice cracked and
Lydia lifted her arms to encircle his neck.

She said, "I'll always be here for you,
Emmett."

After returning Lydia's embrace and kissing her
forehead, Emmett stepped back and said, "Contrary to what I told you
before, I was good at cards, so I made enough money in my travels to buy a
small farm. Lydia and I lived on our farm about five years, but I was always
afraid someone would recognize me."

Cooper said, "So that's why you decided to
move to Oregon."

"Yes." Emmett shrugged. "Now out
here in the middle of nowhere, after years of not being recognized, this
happens."

Cooper asked, "What's the commander going
to do?"

"Thank God, he's going to deny I'm the
person I'm accused of being. I already relayed all this to him and he's a good
man. Of course, those who saw the gunfight may not believe him, but hopefully,
I'll be able to lose myself in Oregon like I intended." He suddenly looked
tired and turned to Lydia, "Do we need to get Sam?"

"No, he and Tim are with Clarissa."

Emmett stuck his hand out to shake Cooper's.
Cooper gripped the small man's hand and marveled that he was shaking the hand
of legendary Cheyenne Jack.

Hallie said goodnight to Emmett and hugged
Lydia. Touching her elbow, Cooper guided her toward her wagon, several beyond
the Hankersons. The clouds shifted and a shaft of moonlight highlighted strands
of her hair that had escaped her bonnet. When they reached their campsite, he
lifted a finger to push back the strands and she inhaled sharply. He said,
"That's quite a story."

She responded with a breathless, "Yes. Yes,
it is."

Cooper traced a finger down her cheek, its softness
tantalizing his calloused skin. "I wish things could be different."
Although he meant his words for Emmett, he knew they were for Hallie.

"Yes," she said again.

When he bent forward, he heard her rapid
breathing, and as much as he wanted to crush his mouth over hers, he kissed her
cheek. "Goodnight, Hallie."

Fifty miles northwest of Fort Boise, the train
again met up with the Snake River and made its final crossing, now following on
the opposite side. When they reached Farewell Bend three days later, it was
with mixed emotions. For the last time they viewed the river that had sustained
them for over three hundred miles. Although they still had four hundred miles
or another month ahead of them, their accomplishments thus far served to
energize the travel weary pioneers.

That night, amidst the smoke of dozens of camp
fires, friends gathered to relate the tales of their adventures and
misadventures, and speculate on the Eden awaiting them at the end of the trail.
The Hankersons and several of Mrs. Martinique's gals sat around Hallie's camp
fire and watched her render a drawing in the dirt of the perfect layout for a
cabin while Tim, with another stick, added his ideas.

Mother and son had obviously overcome their
differences and Cooper was happy for them. Tim glanced up and smiled at Cooper.
"Mr. Jerome, what do you think of our cabin?"

Cooper squatted beside them. "I like it,
but what if the bedroom was moved here?" He pointed with his boot toe and
Tim handed him his stick. Before long, they were drawing the barn, cellar,
chicken coop, outbuildings, outhouse, and fields, with everyone sharing ideas.

After they could think of nothing more to add to
their farm, Hallie sighed, "To live in such a place would be heaven on
earth."

Unexpectedly, Tim said, "Mr. Jerome, maybe
you'll want to move to Oregon after you see our place."

"Appreciate the offer," Cooper replied,
"but I have my own place. It's still in the makings of becoming livable,
and someday I'll be right proud of it."

Soon, their visitors bid them goodnight and Hallie
said, "Son, you'd best head off to bed. Captain Jones said the next few
days will be strenuous passing through Burnt River Canyon."

Tim nodded. "Goodnight, Ma. Goodnight, Mr.
Jerome."

After he left, Cooper looked at Hallie. "He's
a boy to be proud of."

"Thank you," she replied, barely
meeting his gaze.

As always, awareness of each other crackled the
air. Cooper excused himself to check their readiness for the next day.

The trek through the canyon proved to be some of
the roughest of their entire journey. One of their oxen, weakened to the point
that Cooper had tied it to the back of the wagon to relieve the poor beast,
finally fell to the ground. Sadness enveloped Cooper's heart that the animal
had come so far only to die short of a land overflowing with good grazing and
plentiful water. With a final pat on the ox's head, he said, "Thank you,
old girl, for bringing us this far," and pulled the trigger of his
revolver.

It wasn't long after losing their ox that a mule
and another ox belonging to other emigrants succumbed to over fifteen hundred
miles of travel and their current harsh conditions.

Finally, on the sixth day after entering the
canyon, the train made it through and everyone breathed a communal sigh of
relief. Traveling treeless land once again, Cooper longed for the shade and
comfort of towering oaks and stately pines; even some straggly saplings would
be nice.

Captain Jones trotted his horse beside Hallie's
wagon and said, "Remember The Lone Tree I told you about before?"

Hallie said, "Yes."

He pointed in the distance. "Well, over
there used to be The Lone Pine. I hadn't reached my twentieth birthday the
first time I saw it and I remember it being a fine tree. Course, some mindless
yokel hacked it down."

Following another train of thought, the captain
pointed northeast. "Those are the Blue Mountains." He pointed west.
"And those are the Wallowa Mountains. Before we reach the Blue Mountains,
we're gonna go through the Grande Ronde Valley and I suspect some of our train
will decide to call it home. It's as pretty as a picture."

When the valley was reached, Captain Jones was right;
some of their folks decided to stay, among them, the Livermans.

Camped outside a town aptly named LaGrande—having
grown along with the emigrants who continued to settle there—the pioneers held
a farewell party for those choosing to remain in such a grand location. As the
gathering dispersed, Cooper shook Mr. Liverman's hand. "I wish you all the
best, Hank." Cooper and Mr. Liverman had started out with animosity at the
Wakarusa River crossing, but ended up fast friends.

"And I wish the same for you, Cooper."
He paused. "Maybe it's none of my business, but you and the Wells woman
kinda fit like a hand and glove."

Cooper puffed air and Hank hastened to add.
"Like I said, none of my business."

Ten days after leaving LaGrande the train camped
at Pioneer Springs and the next day, toward the end of August, began their
ascent into the Blue Mountains.

Unable to contain her joy, Hallie walked beside
Cooper and exclaimed, "This land is positively the most beautiful I have
ever seen—so many pines and berries and so much wild game. I fear we shall
gorge ourselves to death before we reach our destination."

Cooper laughed. "Well, it's good we're
passing through now before the snows make crossing dangerous."

Hallie pondered his words. "I am so
grateful that Thomas chose Captain Jones to lead us."

Cooper could sense Hallie wanted to say
something more. "Okay, Hallie, what is it you want to ask me?"

She huffed, "How do you do that? How do you
read people so well?"

"I have no idea. Now, what do you want to
know?"

"You knew Captain Jones before, didn't
you?"

"Yes. I served under his command for a
short time."

"Why did you hide that information?"

"I haven't hidden anything. Neither one of
us thought it necessary information to divulge."

"But you could have told me."

Cooper glanced at her. "Why would I do
that?"

Hallie's hurt expression was exactly the
reaction he wanted. The more he alienated her, the more she would come to
realize there could never be anything between them.

"I see," she said softly, and stepped
back to walk beside Tim.

Although beautiful, the mountains soon became
almost impossible to cross and a few wagons broke to the point of being irreparable.
Two were salvaged into carts, but three more were dismantled for firewood to be
shared among the train. The unfortunate emigrants losing their wagons loaded what
supplies they could onto their mules or oxen and several folks, including
Hallie, helped by carrying some of the supplies on their own beasts or in their
wagons.

Mrs. Pittance, now a champion of the underdog,
loudly chastised those who did not offer assistance.

After many days of grueling travel, the train
finally reached a major campsite for all westward travelers, Emigrant Springs,
and camped there for two days enjoying the crystal clear water.

They descended the mountains down Crawford Hill,
and at Captain Jones's instruction, the carts were ordered to descend last to
prevent injury in case of a runaway wagon. Stubby volunteered to lead the carts
and with Sharon by his side, his appearance was so altered from the slimy man
he had been, that Hallie would never have recognized him had she not personally
witnessed his transformation.

As they headed out of the Blue Mountains, Hallie
marveled at the majesty of Mother Nature. Tim pointed out different mountain
peaks. "Captain Jones said that mountain is Mount Hood; that one is Mount
Adams; and that one is Mount St. Helens."

For several days, Hallie gloried in the changing
colors of fall. If the scenery had been a painting, it would have been the most
colorful she had ever seen—red, orange, green, yellow, and every shade in
between. In beautiful contrast to the brilliant blue sky and puffy white
clouds, the sight was enough to steal one's heart and breath. Everyone seemed
affected and long silences became the norm.

The emigrants' retrospection, however, came to
an end when they reached a division of the trail at the bottom of the
mountains, with one path leading north in the direction of the Washington
Territory and the other westward across Oregon's Columbia Plateau.

Mrs. Martinique and her gals decided to end
their travels in Pendleton, the first notable town below and west of the Blue
Mountains. Gossip was that it abounded in bordellos and saloons.

After a heartfelt talk with Clarissa, even
offering to share her wagon and home in the Willamette Valley with her, Hallie
realized the young woman was dead set on continuing her profession.

Tearfully, Clarissa bid goodbye. "Hallie,
you are the most sincere friend I've ever had and I know you want me to change
my ways, but I don't have the inclination to do so." She laughed and
whispered, "Except I might consider it if Cooper asked me to marry him."

With tears in her own eyes, Hallie laughed and
hugged Clarissa. "I shall never forget you."

Clarissa placed her hands on Hallie's shoulders
and held her at arm's length. "He loves you, Hallie, but for whatever
reason, he's got ghosts that want to rob him of a happily-ever-after."
Clarissa continued with conviction, "But you can change that."

Hallie glanced away from the intensity in her
dear friend's eyes. "You're wrong, Clarissa."

Clarissa said, "You'll never know if you
don't try."

A noise broke up their conversation and Hallie
glanced behind her friend to see all the fancy ladies and Mrs. Martinique coming
to say their goodbyes. Soon they were joined by Prudence Pittance and her flock
and Hallie witnessed what she considered a miracle—folks so diverse in their
beliefs that animosity would have been a natural byproduct—hugging and
accepting one another unconditionally.

Hallie and Prudence cried together as they
watched Mrs. Martinique's wagons and ladies depart.

After leaving Pendleton, travel again became
grueling. The Columbia Plateau was similar to arid plains already crossed and
spirits plummeted when water became scarce. A few pioneers talked of returning
to fertile areas passed, but after an "Important Particulars" meeting
wherein Captain Jones assured everyone that heaven itself lay ahead, they
changed their minds, gritted their teeth, and forged onward.

After three weeks and more river crossings, including
the Umatilla, John Day, and finally, the Deschutes, the weary emigrants arrived
in a town with the unusual name of The Dalles. Elation was soon replaced with
trepidation for continuing on meant either a trip down the mighty Columbia
River on rafts or overland travel on the Barlow Road.

Captain Jones called another meeting and laid
out the options. "Well, pioneers, the first thing I want to say is that
I'm mighty proud of ya'll. You've done what most folks only dream of—traveled
over two thousand miles to a new land and new beginnings. You've faced famine,
drought, sickness, pestilence, mountain peaks, canyons, deserts, plains,
rivers, and things too innumerable to mention. You are all heroes in my book
and I'm proud that you allowed me to lead you this far. But now it's decision
time, again."

He puffed air out his cheeks. "As you can
see, we're up against the Columbia River with canyon walls so high they reach
to God. There are rafts specially built to haul you, your wagons, and
livestock, but they're expensive—and not always successful." He puffed air
again. "Another option is to build your own raft, which some pioneers have
done and reached their destinations safe and sound…but I wouldn't recommend it."
He scratched his earlobe. "A third option is to make your home here. It's
beautiful, game and fish are plentiful, and the area is pretty much
civilized."

He grinned, paused for emphasis, and then said,
"Or you can continue by land on the Barlow Road. I'll not pull any punches;
the road is tough, maybe tougher than any we've crossed so far, and you may end
up dumping more supplies. But at the end is Oregon City, otherwise known as The
End Of The Trail. The toll price to walk the road is a pittance compared to
rafting the river." Captain Jones lifted his hat, ran a hand through his
thick gray hair and finished with, "This isn't a group vote. This is a
decision that each family must decide for itself. Some of you may choose to
raft the river, some may choose to remain here, and some may want to continue
on the Barlow Road."

Glancing from face to face, the captain finished
with, "For those of you continuing overland, we leave day after the
morrow." With those words, their fierce leader tipped his hat, mounted Midnight,
and rode out of camp.