Walks the Fire (4 page)

Jesse wondered at her courage. Homer called her “that interfering, uppity woman.” Yet, as Jesse observed Lavinia and George, she could not help admiring them. They seemed to be friends. Jesse wondered what it would be like to be married to your best friend.

Late in the night of the second week, a storm broke. The sky became dense black and rain fell in torrents all night. Thick darkness was interrupted only by dazzling flashes of lightning. Thunder kept up such a constant roar that even Jacob could not sleep and clung to his mother in terror. Jesse was unable to comfort him. Her own heart beat fast, and she wondered if the animals would break through the makeshift corral. Once, in a lull between thunder, she heard Homer’s voice calling to his team, but the wind blew so hard it was impossible to know exactly where he was. Jesse feared that the wagon would topple over.

Early in the morning the ground began to flood with water. Jesse looked out to see that several wagons had, indeed, lost their covers to the wind. The Big Blue, which they were to cross that day, had overrun its banks. It churned and roared, but Homer and the other men were not to be stopped. They felt the urgency of “getting on” and thought they could float their wagons and families across safely.

Applegate was not so certain. “But if someone could get across to tie a rope to that huge cottonwood on the other side, we might be able to rig a ferry.”

Two cottonwood trees were felled and lashed together. Cross timbers were added so that wagon wheels could be braced against them. The goods of each wagon were unloaded to be ferried across separately.

Jesse was horrified when Homer announced that he had volunteered to cross the raging current with Beau. “We’ll tie a rope to that cottonwood yonder, and then ferry the goods across,” he explained. Then he added, “Beau can do it, Jess. He’s strong. He can do it.”

Jesse knew it would do no good to protest. She wanted to encourage him, but the water inspired such a fear in her that she could not face the thought of Homer in its current. She cried and begged him not to go. He grew angry and strode off.

Lavinia had witnessed their altercation from a respectful distance. As soon as Homer left, she arrived quickly. “Jesse, dear, would you be so kind as to help me unpack our wagon? I just can’t seem to get it done fast enough to please George.”

Jesse knew that Lavinia was inventing the need for help, but she was grateful for the opportunity to be with others. Ten-year-old Emily swooped down upon Jacob and took him to scout for worms in the mud left by the night’s storm.

Jesse helped Lavinia unpack, listened to her rattle on about the wonders of Oregon and the excitement of the journey, and tried to relax. But the tightness in her stomach would not go away. Her hands shook, and finally she became physically ill and bent over double, sobbing.

Lavinia’s arms engulfed her in a great, motherly hug. She led Jesse to the opposite side of her own wagon, so their view of the river was blocked. Homer leaped onto Beau’s bare back, rope in hand, urging him into the churning waters. Then, Lavinia did the only thing she could do to assuage Jesse’s fears. Lavinia prayed.

“Dear Lord,” she whispered, just so that Jesse could hear, “help us both. You know that I’m afraid too. I just show it in a different way. But Jesse, here… Jesse needs special grace. Her husband’s in the water, and we know you promised to be with us. So please, Lord, keep Homer safe. You know that Jesse needs her husband. Keep him safe, Lord.”

Jesse did not hear the specific words, so caught up was she in her own thoughts. But she felt Lavinia’s concern in the arms about her. As her attention was turned heavenward, to the One who ruled the raging flood, she was comforted. Her hands shook less and the knot in her stomach relaxed.

Jacob came toddling back, squealing with delight. He held up a very long, very fat worm for Jesse’s inspection. She knelt and hugged him, admired the worm, and praised the Lord as she heard voices cry out, “He’s across! He’s made it!”

Indeed, Homer had made it. As Jesse peeked out from behind the wagon, she saw both Homer and Beau shaking off the waters of the Big Blue.

The wagon train spent three weeks along the banks of the flooded Big Blue. Hours of working with terrified animals, digging wagons out of the mud, trying to keep clothes dry, and putting food into the mouths of all wore everyone’s patience thin. Enemies were made, but friendships were also kindled. By the end of the three weeks, Jesse King and Vinnie Wood were fast friends.

Lavinia was brash and courageous. Jesse’s shyness softened her and made her more gentle. Jesse was timid and lonely. Lavinia’s outgoing personality overcame that, and Jesse began to laugh again. She was even convinced to join in the Woods’ Sunday hymn sing. Homer refused to hum a note, but he was secretly proud of his wife’s lovely voice, so he went along and held Jacob on his knee while everyone else sang.

Jesse and Lavinia discovered two things in common. They both loved the Lord and they both loved quilting. Every woman on the trip had made quilts for the journey, but Lavinia and Jesse had particularly loved the task. They talked of patterns and their plans for new quilts by the hour.

“I don’t know what I was thinking when I packed pieces for this one,” Lavinia said one day, showing Jesse a pile of brown calicoes and muslin. “Guess I thought I could piece a bit… but, land, the wagon rocks so, and at night we’re all so beat…”

“I know what you mean,” Jesse agreed. “I’ve got pieces, too—for the Tree of Life, but they’re so tiny…”

“Jesse King!” Lavinia exclaimed. “You told me Homer inspected every inch of that wagon and took out most of what you wanted to bring. Just how did you manage to get your Tree of Life
pieces
along?
He’d never approve, my dear!”

Jesse’s eyes twinkled and she smiled demurely, “Homer didn’t check the flour sack. He just assumed it was completely full… of flour.”

George Wood and Homer King maintained a respectful distance. Homer was not inclined to grow close to anyone. His reasons for going to Oregon included total independence, and he saw no need to create ties that might at some point incur obligations on his part. If Jesse wanted to have a friend, that was all right with him, as long as it didn’t make any demands on him.

When the Kings’ and the Woods’ turn to ferry across the Big Blue came, God had mercifully quieted the waters. The wagons slid across uneventfully, and Jesse heartily praised God when her feet touched the opposite shore.

After the Big Blue crossing, the land changed quickly. The hills became little more than huge piles of sand. There was rich grass for the livestock, but there was also an abundance of prickly pear cactus. Homer drove carefully, fearing those thorns in the feet of his team.

April and May had been uncomfortably cold. Now the weather moderated and Jesse despaired of ways to keep mosquitoes away from Jacob. In spite of her efforts, he looked like he had measles most of the time. Dust was so thick at times that Jesse had trouble seeing the lead wagon. On windy days, dust was flung against her face and hands. When she could bear the stinging no longer, she took shelter inside the wagon until the bumping and jolting became unbearable. Then she would climb out and carry Jacob for a while, until the dust drove her back in again.

It took only one day to cross the barren land between the Big Blue and the Platte, where they would be turning due west. It was evening, and the panoramic view of the Platte Valley held even the most seasoned travelers in awe. “I saw it for the first time back in ’35,” Dr. Whitman shared, “but it still amazes me.”

The vast, shimmering flatness of the Platte Valley stretched away from them in a wide plain that appeared totally level. “I declare,” remarked Homer, “looks like that there water is just floating on top of the land… looks like a yeller ribbon stretched acrost the valley.”

The river looked wider than the Mississippi, but there was no timber on the banks. It was unlike any river they had ever seen before. Deceptive in its appearance, it proved to be only three or four feet deep, and they crossed it easily. They had to begin collecting “chips” for campfires. Jesse was surprised to learn that dried buffalo dung made a good, hot fire. She prepared her peach pie that evening. Homer seemed to have forgotten his earlier complaints about her “foolishness” and ate three pieces.

The next day, they saw great numbers of game, but Dr. Whitman explained that with the land being so flat, they would have great difficulty approaching anything close enough to shoot. Homer proclaimed those who tried fools and told George Wood, “I think too much of my horses to go chasing after game after they’ve pulled my wagon all day. They earn their night’s rest, and I’ll not ask ’em to run like idiots after game we can’t catch.”

Gooseberries, chokecherries, and serviceberries abounded along the banks of the Platte, and Jesse enjoyed adding them to their otherwise monotonous fare. Lavinia picked greens and showed Jesse how to prepare them so that Jacob would be spared scurvy. The child made a face when the green substance was presented to him, but he willingly swallowed it when “Aunt” Vinnie encouraged him.

The trip became monotonous. Walking miles each day, Jesse tumbled into bed exhausted and woke so sore that she whimpered in pain as she climbed down from the wagon each morning. Lavinia despaired of her hands, which she declared to be “rougher than a hemlock board.”

“How will I ever quilt again, Jess?” she wondered aloud. “My hands are so stiff I can barely keep things mended… and to think,” she sighed, “I used to pride myself on twelve stitches to the inch!”

“We’ll have a
real
quilting party again as soon as we get to Oregon!” Jesse said. “Won’t it be a joy?”

It was at the end of a particularly hot and dusty day that Lavinia overheard Homer complaining about the sameness of their meals. “Bacon, coffee, and biscuits—that’s all we ever eat!” he said, “When I been fightin’ broke wagon wheels and tired horses all day, it sure would be nice to have somethin’ special to eat once in a while. Now, I gotta oil the harness, and I can’t be watchin’ little Jacob every minute, either. You call me soon as you got somethin’ edible ready.”

Lavinia bustled over. “I declare, Jesse, why don’t you stand up to that man! If George ever tried that nonsense on me, he’d get cold biscuits and jerky for supper until he came to his senses!”

Jesse smiled at the prospect of Lavinia ever leaving “her George” to such a meal. “It’s not so bad, Vinnie. Homer means well. He’s just tired. And worried, too, about Gabe and Beau.” The team had begun to show the strain of their trek, just as Applegate had predicted. Homer had refused to buy grain in spite of Applegate’s advice. Foraging had, indeed, proven difficult. The horses’ ribs were beginning to show a bit, and their coats had lost the sheen Homer had taken such pride in. Groom as he would, he could not help noticing that his team was wearing down. He even mentioned the possibility of leaving the cook stove beside the trail.

Lavinia refused to be sympathetic. “Tired?! Man alive! Aren’t you tired too?” she sputtered. “Goodness, aren’t we
all
tired! I swan, I’m so sore all over I can scarcely move.” Then, brightening, she added, “Well, dearie, the girls picked gooseberries today, so we’ll have gooseberry slump tonight. And you’re invited.”

She hurried away to begin supper, adding over her shoulder, “and I suppose you can bring that varmint you call your husband along too. Maybe gooseberries with plenty of sugar will sweeten him up a little!”

Four

The
Lord
is my shepherd; I shall not want.
—
Psalm 23:1

The next day,
Jesse and Lavinia walked together after breakfast. They didn’t talk much, sharing comfortable silence all morning. As noon approached, they began collecting buffalo chips for the campfire. After nearly an hour of collecting, the women noticed that two of the wagons had lumbered to a halt. The dust cleared, and the women noted with a catch in their throats that it was their own wagons that had pulled out of line. Then they saw that the entire train had begun to pull up. A cluster of people gathered around one wagon. Jesse dropped the pile of chips she held in her apron and began to run. As she ran, cockle-burrs shredded the hem of her dress. The wind and dust burned in her throat, but she ran on until, coming to the cluster of people, she saw him.

On the ground lay Jacob, one arm thrown up over his head. By his side knelt Dr. Whitman. Seeing Jesse approach, he rose immediately and moved to her side.

“Mrs. King, I am so sorry. There was nothing any of us could do. He is with God now.” The grave face of the missionary was lost in a mist of tears. Jesse looked about wildly, and her gaze settled upon Homer. Hunched over, his hat off, his shirt tail flapping, he approached her. His words were a groan. “My God, Jesse, my God. He woke up and came to sit by me… an’ before I knew what happened he fell. I tried to catch him… I tore his little dress trying to hold on… and I had a grip and then…” His voice trailed off. “… an’ then the wagon lurched, an’ I lost my hold… the wheels…” He could not go on, but just stood before her, turning the hat in his hands round and round by its worn brim.