Kate Mulhall A romance of the Oregon Trail
and thus thinly disguised, occupied the Nisqually Plains with their
sheep, cattle and horses, plowed the fields and erected cabins, but
for occupancy by employes instead of independent home builders. The
Factors (managers) of the Corporation were cultured gentlemen, known
for their fair dealings alike with Indians and white people,
following the policy of the parent organization; and it was {96} with
the head official in that district that the Squire had dealt.
After the arrival of the cart loaded with supplies from the fort,
Kate sent part of them to several pioneer families that yet remained
in camp, and then revised the plan for their own dinner. Most of the
big company had scattered, some to the timber camps, others to the
shores of the Sound where shell fish abounded and a few to claims,
already chosen, upon which they proposed to make their future homes.
The first and most urgent problem was that of shelter for so many new
arrivals. In one notable instance a large hollow cedar stump served
as "home" for a family of six until the husband and father was killed
by the Indians. The pathos of that story, with many a parallel in
American history, is mentioned here to illustrate the difficulties
and dangers encountered by the emigration of which the Squire and his
family were a part.
After dinner Mulhall and Kate took counsel far into the night, while
the little girls were sleeping on their beds of boughs as peacefully
as in a palace. The faint yelping of a pack of coyotes in the
distance could be heard; and the cougar (closely allied to the
American panther) that infested the country, was abroad seeking his
prey. But Kate and her father paid no heed except to the all
important subject as to their future; and it was midnight before a
final conclusion was reached.
The opening of a farm under the varied and often {97} trying
conditions prevailing in that region was very different from what
they had been accustomed to in Missouri; and Mulhall was past the
meridian of life. Why should he undergo a long period of toil to
secure a competence, when he was possessed of sufficient means to
live without the sacrifices incident to pioneer life on a new
homestead?
Kate said, "Let's go to the county town where the girls can attend
school and there are neighbors;" her father was of the same mind and
that question was speedily settled. Then they thought of Ben Hardy,
to whom Mulhall had promised one of the teams upon their arrival in
Oregon as extra compensation for his services in crossing over the
trail. Not a word had passed between them about that understanding
at the parting of the Snake River, after which the Squire was reduced
to one team, and it was doubtful whether or not he could complete the
long journey with the one that was left.
"If I only knew where to reach him, I would send him enough money to
buy a team," said Mulhall. Ben had gone into southern Oregon while
the Squire had moved into the northern part, several hundred miles
away; they might be five hundred or even a thousand miles apart, for
Oregon was a big country without roads or the means of speedy
communication. Where Ben had settled, or whither he had gone, was a
problem difficult to solve.
Kate said, "I hear there is a newspaper in Oregon; let's advertise."
Mulhall thought a better plan {98} would be to secure a list of post
offices and address a letter for Ben to all of them; "Anyway," the
Squire said, "we must not leave a stone unturned till we find the
boy." Both retired to sleep and forgot their fortunes or
misfortunes, but with a firm resolution to find Ben if they could.
Following the decision to remove to the county town, Mulhall soon
purchased a nearly finished house at the county seat. The thriving
village, built upon a slope facing west and fronting on a wide bay of
Puget Sound, presented a charming view of the distant range of
mountains bordering on the sea with perpetual snow-mantled peaks; the
landscape of dark evergreen forest covered the islands and mainland
in the nearer view.
The wide bay was dotted with Indian canoes floating on the tide twice
each day; and at intervals a ship would pass or drop anchor in front
of the village to discharge freight or barter for a cargo of timber.
The fort, a group of log cabins situated a short distance back from
the water-front and out of sight of it, commanded a splendid view of
the landscape.
In the farther background, west of the Cascade Range, was Mount
Rainier, completely encircled with a wonderland of timber and
flowers--once seen never forgotten, and always cherished as the sight
of a life-time. That majestic mountain of the American Continent,
"kingly and alone," a great dome separated from the mountain range,
standing nearly three miles high and covered with perpetual snow, is
the father {99} of seven rivers and twenty-eight glaciers, and has a
base of several hundred square miles. The alpine flower beds are
simply wonderful to contemplate; according to John Muir, there are
two hundred square miles between the timber and the summer snow-line
circling the dome, with literally several thousand varieties of
flowers, some of which force themselves up through the receding snow.
Kate at once took up the task of searching for Ben. Writing the
first two words, "Dear Ben," she stopped to ask herself might he not
think she penned them with a deeper meaning than merely a friendly
beginning of a letter? However, Ben was dear to her; he had saved
her life, had been loyal to her father, was always kind to all,
industrious and truthful.
Before she had time to fully analyze what was passing in her mind,
Kate began to realize that she was thinking of Ben more than as a
brother. Her pen hovered over the paper; but she finally laid it
down with nothing more than the two words already written. That
evening at supper Kate asked her father if it would not be best for
him to write to Ben.
"Oh, no! You know I scarcely ever write a letter; besides I am very
busy on the house," replied Mulhall. "You write, Kate, it's just as
well." The Squire did not have the least suspicion of why she should
want him to write to Ben instead of doing so herself. If he had, the
more he would have preferred {100} that Kate write, for he sincerely
wished that she should marry the "dear boy," as he always thought of
him.
Kate did not undertake to write to Ben that night, and the paper with
the two words on it remained on her table untouched. The idea that
Ben might interpret them in a different way from what she intended
would not down, while she half realized that they meant more to her
than she was willing to acknowledge. Not for mountains of gold would
she betray the secret Ben had confided to her, and stand between his
love for her very dear friend, Linda Shaeffer.
But Linda was more than two thousand miles away, with what Kate
thought an insuperable barrier between them. The paper with the
words "Dear Ben," was kept for several days without another word
being added to it; and in fact the letter was never written. Kate
hesitated to trust herself.
Hadn't she now abandoned all hope for the fruition of her first love,
with a pang of regret and bitterness as she thought of Pelton? She
would resolve never to marry, but hereafter devote her life to
altruistic work for young girls. Kate had no knowledge of Isaac's
resolution, while at that very moment he, with the one absorbing
purpose in his mind, was feverishly carrying out plans to make the
trip to Oregon and win her for his wife.
A few days later an advertisement appeared in the two Oregon
newspapers asking Benjamin Hardy to communicate with David Mulhall at
a certain post {101} office, and learn something of interest to him.
As weeks passed without response, the Squire and Kate were greatly
worried, and wondered if some accident had befallen him. She then
began writing to postmasters with no better results.
Kate was almost in despair. Might it not be possible that he had
found a good location, taken up a claim and then started back to
Missouri for Linda? More weeks passed, then months; and yet not a
word came. There was ever a warm corner in her heart for the
playmate and companion of bygone school days; and she would never
relax her efforts to unravel the mystery of his strange disappearance.
Ben was hard at work, in ignorance of the search for him; but often
wondered what had befallen father Mulhall, as he always thought of
the Squire, Kate and the little girls after their separation on the
Snake River. He had written to Linda, but months elapsed and no
answer had come. Though often alone in his cabin with only one
neighbor in sight, he was too busy to be lonesome; Craig was off
working at his trade most of the time while Ben was making
improvements on both of their claims.
Once a month Craig would bring supplies to the cabin, stay over
Sunday and then be off again. They sorely needed a team; and Craig
was gradually saving so that they might be able to buy one by
planting time in the spring. Ben gave no thought to the
understanding by which he was to get a team from Mulhall; he would
have rejoiced to hear of the safe {102} arrival and good fortune of
the kind-hearted family which had treated him so tenderly in his
sickness and, as he believed, saved his life.
Ben had written a second letter to Linda, receiving no reply; but
attributed the delay to the slow and uncertain mail service. He was
now in vigorous health, gaining in weight to surprise even himself;
the pale spare face disappeared and a ruddy complexion took its
place. Pure Oregon air, simple diet and steady work had developed
him so that an old-time acquaintance would hardly have known him.
At last a letter written in a spirit of gloomy forebodings, came from
Linda. She had heard of the misfortunes of the Mulhalls, and could
not see how she could ever reach Oregon; but remembered her vow to be
ever loyal and true to Ben no matter what happened.
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A considerable number of Mormons traveled to Salt Lake City as shown
in this illustration; described on pages 48-49.
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[1] While somewhat unusual to insert a quotation in a work of this
character, no better description of the difficulties and dangers of
crossing the Platte in pioneer times has been, or is ever likely to
be written. E.M.
[2] Edward J. Allen and Ezra Meeker, the author of this historical
narrative.--Editor.
[3] It is estimated that fully 5,000 died that year on the Oregon
Trail.
[4] The author knew the lad who made the remark and of his
experience; he was afterward a successful merchant in Tacoma,
Washington.
[5] The author personally knew a large majority of the people in that
train, several of whom became prominent in the affairs of the
Territory just founded, among them the actual personalities
represented in this story by David Mulhall and his daughter Kate. Of
the 148 comprising it, not one of the adults is now left, and only
two or three of the younger members who vividly remember these
events; their generation has nearly passed, but the memories of their
deeds fortunately remain. E.M.
[6] A granite monument, suitably inscribed, erected by the State of
Washington to perpetuate the memory and location of this camp,
attests the importance of the event. See illustration and
inscription inserted here. E.M.
[7] The Medicine Creek Treaty, December 26, 1854.
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CHAPTER IV
A MASSACRE AND A WAR; KATE MULHALL, DEPUTY SHERIFF; A RACE FOR A
WIFE; THE WEDDING AND CHIVAREE; A DELAYED AND ADVENTUROUS HONEYMOON
ON PUGET SOUND.