Lazy Days (20 page)

Cooper cussed at the rutted, rocky road, no
doubt, the inspiration of many and varied profane words. The only thing it was
good for was keeping his mind off leaving Hallie and Tim. As much as he'd tried
to stay aloof these past months, they'd burned their way into his heart.

Holding the reins of Midnight and walking beside
Cooper, Captain Jones said, "We need to keep up a good pace so we reach
the White River before nightfall. That-a-way, the pioneers can cross when
they're rested in the morning."

"Yes, sir," Cooper acknowledged.

The Captain continued, "We got twenty-five
wagons, one cart, and several wagons converted to carts. We left Westport with
forty-two wagons and one cart." Captain Jones's expression turned
reflective. "Not bad in my estimation…not bad at all."

Cooper cussed at another tree root, followed by
a rut that jarred the wagon unmercifully, and said, "I'm proud to have
served with you in the war and I'm proud to have traveled on this train with
you."

Captain Jones shrugged. "Thanks, Cooper.
What are your plans after you get the Wells widow settled?"

Captain Jones asked the very thing Cooper didn't
want to face at the moment so he avoided the question by asking one of his own.
"Are you returning back east anytime soon?"

"Well, only so far as Pendleton." The captain
grinned and winked. "Mrs. Martinique is an intelligent woman with whom I
look forward to having many long discussions." They walked a little farther
and the captain said, "So, by your question, I guess you're thinkin' of
headin' back. You know the snows are comin'."

"I know. But I'm sure there are trappers I
can hitch up with who know the mountains like the back of their hand."

"Why don't you just stay until
spring?"

Cooper frowned. "Not a good idea."

Captain Jones laughed. "Not a good idea for
a man fightin' his feelins' for a certain widow woman and her boy, you
mean?"

"Not a good idea for a man who's a failure
at relationships and living with his own demons."

"I always heard that love conquers
everything. Maybe you should give it a try."

"And if it doesn't?"

Captain Jones shrugged. "Then you got a
problem."

The train reached the banks of the White River
as planned and after much discussion, the leaders decided on the particulars of
the following morning’s crossing. The crossing proved difficult; two wagons
were so badly damaged that the rest of the day was spent converting them into
carts also. They couldn’t continue on until the next day.

* * *

The pioneers faced the final obstacle in their journey
to reach Oregon City and the Willamette Valley—descent down Laurel Hill. Hallie
looked to see Cooper's reaction. Lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes
indicated he was not having a good one.

She asked, "How will we get to the bottom? It's
so steep."

Cooper pointed to nearby pines. "See those
marks? They're scars from ropes. We'll lash the wagons to the trees and slowly
let them down."

Hallie's brows arched, concerned. The last time
they lowered wagons, a man and four mules died. Whereas the former crevasse
allowed wagons to be pulled partially downhill by animals, this one did not.
When Hallie's courage began to fail, she forced herself once again to envision
the ultimate end—a beautiful cabin and fertile fields in the Willamette Valley.

After a camp meeting with Captain Jones, it was
decided that some of the animals and enough men would descend to move carts and
wagons out of the way at the bottom, with the carts lowered first. Stubby again
volunteered to lead the way. With much trepidation, Hallie watched his cart
slowly being let down, praying the entire time. After a scare at about fifty
feet, the cart was righted and made it the rest of the way without incident.
The men adjusted their maneuvers to compensate for the quick drop at fifty feet
and then successfully lowered the rest of the carts. Next, it was time for a
wagon and the smallest one was chosen. It, too, was lowered without trouble.

One by one, the wagons reached the bottom of
Laurel Hill. Four of the Pittance group's wagons made it safely and then it was
time for Prudence's own wagon. All went smoothly, until one of the men yelled, "The
rope's about to snap!" As soon as he shouted the words, the threads pulled
apart. Their attempt to hold the wagon with the rope lashed to the second tree proved
to be too much weight and it also snapped.

Amidst shrieks of horror, the schooner tumbled
end-over-end to the bottom and shattered apart.

Whereas most of the emigrants—their faces
reflecting the horror of the moment—shrieked or cried, Mrs. Pittance merely
glanced at Hallie, shrugged, and said, "A minor inconvenience." Then
she smiled.

Hallie gaped at Prudence. The woman had done a
complete transformation from the mean-spirited person first encountered over
four months previous.

Hallie's wagon, being one of the largest, was
lowered last with extra caution, reaching the bottom without mishap.

After that, the pioneers began driving their
animals forward and the sure-footed beasts reached the bottom safely. The emigrants,
now "mountain men" in their own right, having traversed plains,
mountains, canyons, and rivers, began their descent. Men with babies or
toddlers strapped to their backs, women holding the hands of their children,
young folks helping the elderly, everyone helping his neighbor, made it to the base
of the hill without incident.

 When Mrs. Pittance, the last person to step
from Laurel Hill, lifted her hands in victory toward the heavens, a shout arose
from the weary, rag-tag travelers. Only a few more miles and they would reach
Oregon City.

Hallie
stood with Prudence gazing at Willamette Falls outside of Oregon City. Prudence
sighed, "We've come a long way, my young friend."

Hallie
glimpsed sideways at her, having the feeling Prudence was speaking of more than
just physical travel. She agreed, "We certainly have."

Prudence
asked, "So, what are your plans?"

"After
I locate my land, I'm going to hire men to build a small one-room cabin to
winter in. Come next spring I'll plow and plant and hopefully enlarge my cabin.
What about you?"

"I've
been giving that great consideration. I believe I shall turn my flock over to
one of the local pastors—after I know his heart, of course."

Hallie
turned a startled gaze on Prudence. "But then, what will you do? You know,
you have the fortitude to withstand criticism to become a female leader of her
own flock."

Prudence
laughed. "That I do. But I have another dream." Lifting her eyes
heavenward, she said, "I want to honor my daughters and my husband by founding
an orphanage. I want…" her voice broke. "I want children and it doesn't
matter if I birthed 'em or not."

Tears
filled Hallie's eyes. "And you will be a wonderful mother."

After
several minutes of wiping tears and viewing the valley they had given up
everything to find, Prudence asked, "What about Cooper?"

Hallie
swallowed the lump in her throat. "He's staying until my cabin is built
and then returning to Missouri with trappers. I've tried to talk him into
staying until spring…" her voice broke, "but he refuses."

Prudence
placed an arm around Hallie's shoulders, offering comfort.

* * *

Cooper
rode Sweet Pea a short distance from Hallie's log home. Dismounting, he sat on
a fallen pine. Her land proved to be exceptional and hiring men to dig a well
and erect a cabin and outbuilding suitable for wintering in had not been difficult.
Her home, complete with cast iron stove, two windows, and an indoor hand-pump,
already had the "woman's touch" he'd encountered when first visiting
her in Missouri.

Cooper,
who never cried, found himself swallowing back tears. He had accomplished what
he'd been hired to do and now it was time to bid Hallie and Tim farewell.

* * *

Hallie
tossed restlessly. Cooper was leaving. He hadn't said anything, but she knew
with a sixth sense that it was so. Slipping from her bed, she threw on her cape
and slippers and quietly left her cabin. A light still burned in the shed. Before
her courage failed she knocked lightly on the door.

Cooper
opened the door and without a word, stepped aside.

Hallie
walked into the tiny room and asked, "You're leaving soon, aren't
you?"

"Tomorrow."

She
bit her bottom lip to stop its quiver. "You don't have to go. There's land
still available. You could farm here. You could use the money you earned
bringing me here to buy another farm. Any money you're short, I would gladly
give you. You could–"

Cooper
placed a finger against her lips. "It's not going to happen, Hallie. I
can't stay." His mouth creased in a little smile. "And I can't accept
any payment from you…so don't fight me on it. It's my way of atoning for wrongs
I have committed. It's what I want."

"But
you
can
stay!" she cried, tears streaking her cheeks.

With
exquisite tenderness, Cooper wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against
his heart.

Hallie
said, "I love you, Cooper. I would make you a good wife."

Cooper
stroked her hair and whispered against her ear. "I know, sweetheart. But I
would not make a good husband."

"You're
wrong. You would make me very happy." Turning her mouth until it touched
his, she kissed him with so much love she thought she might die from it, and he
returned her kiss with the same love. "Let me stay with you all night,
Cooper. I have dreamed of being with you. I tried not to, but like Clarissa
said, the heart has its own will. If you won't stay, at least let me remember
you in lovemaking."

Placing
his hands on either side of Hallie's cheeks, Cooper tilted her face so he could
gaze directly into her eyes. "Hallie, I want you more than you'll ever
know, but I'll not take the chance of leaving you with my child."

"My
heart's desire is to bear your child."

In
the lamplight, Cooper smiled sadly and stepped away from her. "Goodnight,
Hallie." He walked to the door and opened it.

For
Hallie, the long winter passed slowly and with many tears as she lay in bed
every night remembering Cooper. Again and again, she relived special moments
during their long journey. No longer did she feel that she was being disloyal to
Thomas by loving another man. In fact, she knew Thomas would want her to love
such an admirable and compassionate man as Cooper.

When
spring finally arrived, she found upstanding men to hire in the preparation and
sowing of her fields with the help of her new pastor and fellow worshippers. At
first, her neighbors and the establishments where she purchased supplies expressed
concern and doubt that a woman could handle the running of a farm. But—like she
had assured Cooper—she knew how to farm. Soon, neighbors, both men and women,
began asking her advice about their own farm layouts and planting practices.

Summer
came and went and her corn and vegetable crops flourished. She became the topic
of local conversation with her bumper harvests. Careful budgeting of her funds
allowed for the addition of a bedroom to her cabin and a real barn, also a
donation to her church, and more importantly, a substantial donation to the
Pittance Orphanage, whose building had been donated by a local banker after he
had been approached numerous times by a very persistent Prudence Pittance. The
orphanage was now the loving home for twenty children, most of whom had lost
their parents on the Oregon Trail.

On
a beautiful fall day, as Hallie walked toward the orphanage, Stubby and Sharon
called to her from the boardwalk. Pleasantly surprised to see them, she said
teasingly, "Hello Mr. and Mrs. Newman."

Sharon
said, "Hallie, hello! I heard you got a miracle of a crop this year."

"I
don't know about it being a miracle, what with it being grown in this fertile
valley, but I am pleased with it."

"Well,
Stubby and me, we just got hired by Mrs. Pittance to work at the orphanage. It
comes with our own room. Stubby's gonna do all the repairs on the building and
I'm gonna help with the cooking and cleaning. We've been working odd jobs since
we got here, but now that we got something steady we can save for our own
place."

Stubby
turned from gazing fondly at his wife and said proudly, "I ain't had a
drink in over a year now."

Sharon
leaned over and kissed her husband's cheek. "And I ain't been with no
other man 'ceptin' Stubby."

Hallie
smiled at their honesty. "Why don't you come to supper this Sunday?"

Sharon
glanced at Stubby, who nodded. "We'd be more'n happy to do that."

Hallie
watched the couple continue down the boardwalk and mused that Stubby, someone
she had once despised, was now her friend.