Journey of Hope: A Novel of Triumph and Heartbreak on the Oregon Trail in 1852 (24 page)

“I lied to you, Ben. I’m so sorry. And then when you didn’t come around, I was angry at you for not being more understanding.” She sniffed loudly. “I guess you couldn’t very well be understanding when you didn’t know what was wrong.”

Ben hugged her to him. “Brenna, I want you to always feel like you can confide in me. But I want you to know that I will understand if there is something you can’t tell me. You don’t need to lie to me. Just tell me the truth and I promise I’ll understand. And I will always be truthful to you, too.”

“You will?”

“Yes, I will, Brenna.”

“Then tell me something, Benjamin Hansson.”

“What is it?”

“Are you attracted to Betty Stewart?”

Ben laughed softly. “Oh she’s very friendly in a silly way.” He lifted Brenna’s chin and looked down at her earnest face. “No one could ever measure up to you. Don’t you know how much I care for you?”

“How much, Ben?”

“Now you’re teasing me,” he said smiling.

Brenna didn’t smile back. “No, I’m serious, Ben.”

Ben’s smile faded. He put his hands on the sides of her face. “I’ve loved you from the first time I saw you in Independence. I don’t know what it is, Brenna. I can’t describe it in words, but I can’t imagine life without you in it. My day doesn’t begin until I see you. I can’t sleep at night if I haven’t made sure you’re all right. These last two days and nights have been agony. I want to protect you. I want to support you. I want to be in your life. Brenna, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.” He bent his head and kissed her tenderly.

“Oh, Ben, I feel the same way.”

“A-hem.”

They both jumped and looked to where Hans, Ben’s father, was standing.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, trying to conceal a smile.

“It’s okay, Dad. I was just going to walk Brenna back to her wagon.” They left giggling into each other’s arms.

Ben said good night to Brenna and Michael Flannigan, who was sitting at the fire enjoying the solitude.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Brenna.”

She took a seat next to her father. “Where’s Ma and Conor?”

“They’re at the Bensons’. I see you and Ben are thick as thieves again,” Michael said cheerfully.

“I did what you said, Da. I decided to fight for him.”

“That’s my girl. I knew you would do the right thing.”

“But why did it take me two days to do it?”

“Well, your head had to quiet down so you could hear what your heart was telling you.”

“I wish I would have listened to my heart two days ago!”

Michael put his arm around Brenna’s shoulders and hugged her. “Your head always thinks it knows best, but it doesn’t always, does it?”

“No, Da, it doesn’t. And Ben was so understanding.”

“Aye, but don’t forget, he has a bossy head, too. Maybe he needed the time to listen to what his heart was saying.”

“How did you get so wise, Da?”

“Och, Brenna, by doing exactly what you and Ben are doing. It’s easy to live a smooth life. But it’s the rough patches that teach us the way to love and understanding. Here’s your mother and Conor.”

The Flannigans spent the following hour playing Conor’s favorite game: twenty questions. They laughed uproariously when Conor was trying to get them to guess wiggle-tails. Then it was time for sleep. The Blue Mountains lay ahead, and they would need all their strength and resolve to cross them. Brenna fell fast asleep. She had slept poorly the previous two nights, but tonight her sleep was dreamless and deep, and the last thing on her mind was Ben and his promise to her.

Abel Brown walked up behind Mr. Douglas, who was eating beans by his campfire.

“Nice night,” he said loudly, causing Mr. Douglas to spill his plate.

“Oh!” Mr. Douglas exclaimed. “I didn’t hear you coming!”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding me.”

Mr. Douglas laughed nervously as he picked up his spilled plate. “Now, Mr. Brown, I wouldn’t do that!” he said, avoiding Abel Brown’s eyes.

“I’m glad to hear that because we need to have a talk.” He sat down on the chair Mr. Douglas had just vacated. “Sit, Mr. Douglas.” Abel took a knife and a piece of wood from his coat pocket and began to whittle. “Do you remember you owe me some money? We’ve had some poker games and you’ve racked up quite a debt.”

Mr. Douglas looked uneasy. “I haven’t forgotten, Mr. Brown. It’s just that I’ve had some hard times.” His voice shook, and he couldn’t take his eyes from the knife and the shavings of wood falling from the piece Abel was holding. Abel didn’t take his eyes off the wood as he whittled away. “Remember the Indians a while back?” Mr. Douglas continued. “They stole most of my provisions!”

“I don’t care to hear your sad story.” Abel stopped whittling and looked hard at Mr. Douglas. “I want my money, and I want it now.”

“But I don’t have it right now.”

Abel Brown jumped up and grabbed Mr. Douglas by his shirt collar, pulling him to his feet. His knife was inches from Mr. Douglas’s face. “I don’t take kindly to men who promise and don’t deliver. Now I have your I.O.U.s, and you’re going to stand behind them, aren’t you Mr. Douglas?”

“Yes! Yes! Whatever you want!”

“I’ll tell you what I want. When you get your land in Oregon City, you’re going to deed it over to me.”

When Mr. Douglas started to protest, Abel Brown deftly sliced one of his nostrils with his knife. Blood flowed freely from the cut and Mr. Douglas clapped his hands over his nose and bent over.

“I’m bleeding,” he gasped.

Abel Brown leaned close to Mr. Douglas and threatened, “You’ll bleed a lot more than that if you don’t do as I say. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes! I’ll do it! Just leave me alone!”

Abel put his knife and piece of wood back in his pocket and smiled grimly. “Nice talking to you, Mr. Douglas. We’ll have another chat as soon as we get to Oregon City,” he said, and then he sauntered away from the campsite.

The Trade

Chapter Twenty-Three

Mile 1628

“I think she looks pretty good. What do you think, Mr. Flannigan?” James Cardell and Michael Flannigan looked at the sorrel mare and her two-year-old colt tied to the back of the Cummings’s wagon. She looked sound, and the colt was calm. James had asked Michael to help him with this trade since Michael was knowledgeable about horses. Mr. Cummings was in need of a team of oxen since he had lost his, and James wanted to trade two of his oxen for this mare and her colt. It was a good trade for James—far better than he would have gotten in Independence. Horses were more expensive than oxen, but they were harder to feed on the trail. He wanted to give the horses to Thomas for all of his kindness and support.

“I like the look of her, that’s for sure. Her eyes are wide set. Her ears are alert, and she’s interested in us. The nostrils are round and soft. I can tell she’s been treated well,” he said, nodding to Mr. Cummings.

“Ah, yeah, she’s a sweet mare, and the colt will be big and strong too,” Mr. Cummings replied. “He’s got his mother’s temperament so he’ll be easy to train.”

“How much have you done with him?” Michael asked.

“Oh, very little. He’ll lead and tie. I can pick up his feet and look in his mouth. But he’ll be easy.”

Michael picked up one of the mare’s front feet and examined it carefully. James watched him press on the bottom of the foot. He carefully cleaned around the shoe and around the frog of the foot.

“Did Ben Olson shoe this horse?”

“Ah, yeah, he does a good job, that lad.”

“You’re spending a long time looking at those feet, Mr. Flannigan,” James said.

“No foot no horse, James. It’s an old saying, but it stands true. If this horse has a bad foot, she’ll soon be lame and of no use to anyone.”

Michael inspected every part of the foot before moving up the hoof and to the canon bone. Then he ran his hands expertly up the lower leg to the knee.

“The knee is another critical joint, James. I want to make sure there is no swelling here. The young one’s knees won’t be closed yet, but hers should be strong and well formed. She’s an eight-year-old, Mr. Cummings?”

“Ah, yeah, I raised her from a baby.”

When he was finished with the foreleg, Michael stretched it out to the front, holding onto the back of the mare’s knee. She was docile and didn’t seem to mind the examination. Then Michael bent her leg at the knee so the foot was up close to her body. He inspected each leg the same way.

“I want to make sure there is no stiffness or soreness here,” he said.

“I had no idea this would be so involved, Mr. Flannigan. I thought you would just look the horse over and tell me if she looked sound.”

Michael paused to look at James. “You can’t always tell if a horse is sound by just looking her over, James. Some horses bear up under pain, and you might not know something is wrong until it’s too late to do much about it. Now take her lead rope and trot her up a ways.” He watched carefully as the mare trotted away from him and then back towards him a few times.

“I’m watching her action, James. She plants all four feet firmly, and she moves nicely. She looks comfortable, and she isn’t favoring any of her legs.” Then he put his head on the mare’s side below her shoulder, listening carefully.

“Her heart sounds good, and her lungs are clear.” He then put his head low on one side of her belly. “Stomach noises sound right. Let’s take a look at her stool.” He separated some of the horse apples with a stick. “I don’t see any worms here. That’s good. Let’s have a look at her stifles.”

After the lengthy inspection was over, Michael gave James the go-ahead, and James and Mr. Cummings made the trade.

Thomas Benson was overwhelmed with the gift. “I can’t accept this, James. It’s too much.”

“I know it’s been hard for you without a horse since you lost Amber, and I want to do this. You and your family have taken me in, and I can’t thank you enough. Please accept this as a small token of my appreciation.”

“James, you’ve been such a help to me and to some of the others. You don’t need to give me a horse.”

“I want to, Thomas. Please accept my gift.”

The girls all had to sit on the mare. Even little Annie had a turn, and she squealed in delight. Sam and Tommy each had a ride bareback with just the halter. Then the children turned their attention to the colt and discovered that he liked his ears scratched.

“Can we ride this one, dad?” Mary asked.

“Not for a while, Mary. He hasn’t been gentled yet.”

“What does gentled mean?”

“It means he hasn’t been taught to accept someone on his back yet.”

“What are their names?

“The mare is Molly,” James said. “She seems to know her name, and she comes when she’s called.”

“Then we’ll keep it Molly,” Thomas replied happily. He was running his hands over the mare.

“I don’t think the colt has a name yet.”

“Well, we’ll all have to think of a good name for him.”

“Michael helped me examine her to make sure she’s sound,” James said.

“If Michael looked her over, I’m sure she is. Thank you, James. You don’t know what this means to me.” Thomas’s eyes couldn’t take in enough of the beautiful mare. Her shining coppery coat glistened in the sun, and her large soft eyes regarded him quietly.

Rebecca gave James a knowing look. He had told her his plan, and she had assured him it wasn’t necessary, but he had been adamant. She had known her father would be thrilled. James smiled at her, and they left her father and the children with the horses and walked hand in hand towards the trees to collect firewood to cook the evening meal.

“You’ve made my dad a happy man, James.”

“It’s the least I can do, Rebecca. Besides, I want to get in his good graces. I have an important question to ask him.”

“Oh, and what would that be?” she asked merrily, her eyes dancing.

“I want to ask him for your hand in marriage,” he smiled crookedly at her.

“Do you think maybe you should be asking me first, James?” He heard the laughter in her voice, and his face flushed.