Kate Mulhall A romance of the Oregon Trail
The great body of pioneers just arrived, like those who had preceded
them, were honest and earnest Christian people, though as in all
movements of large numbers of men and women, there were a few mere
adventurers. Some left their former abodes for the good of the
country and their own safety; others had fled from the consequences
of unhappy marriages or acts of indiscretion, and though seldom
criminals, preferred to let the past life fall into oblivion.
So a "Mr. Smith" one might meet in the new community may have been
Mr. Jones before leaving his former place of residence. These were
not necessarily bad men in the common meaning of that word, but were
making a new start, generally with the firm purpose of leading
upright lives in the future. The reason for referring to this phase
of pioneer life will appear later.
Many thousands of Indians roamed through the country at the time of
Mulhall's settlement in the new land of opportunity. A friendly
feeling then prevailed between the races as such, and instances {104}
of sincere friendship between individual Indians and whites were not
uncommon. This ought never to have been disturbed.
The honorable policy of the Hudson's Bay Company had won the
confidence of the Indians by always keeping promises and giving fair
value in trading with them; and they were inclined to believe in the
rectitude of white people in general. Unfortunately this good
opinion was soon changed to one of distrust and hatred.
Agents of the American Government came into the country to make what
may, by courtesy, be called "treaties" with the natives. The
simple-minded and unsuspecting Indians were overreached, inveigled
into surrendering their rights to practically their entire hunting
grounds,[1] and otherwise outrageously wronged. Indeed, when the
nature of these transactions became known at Washington, the
Government made restitution so far as possible, but too late to avert
a cruel conflict.
{105}
That followed a massacre on October 28, 1855, by infuriated Indians
of innocent pioneers--men, women and children--thirty miles away. A
friendly native brought the appalling news to Mulhall during the
night of the same day the tragedy occurred. Consternation reigned in
the little village, the people not knowing to what extent the Indians
might go in wreaking vengeance upon the white race.
Measures of defense were immediately taken by the villagers as best
they could but they were not very effective. A log cabin that
sheltered and protected many others besides the owner and his family
was soon built; and is still preserved in the village where Mulhall
dwelt, seventy years after the event.
A breach which at once occurred between the military authorities and
the civil officials nearly came to a clash of arms; confusion reigned
supreme, and conditions verged on anarchy. The military, though now
obliged to wage war against the belligerent Indians, condemned
various acts of the civilians which brought on an unnecessary
conflict. Overnight Mulhall, it might be said by natural selection,
became Sheriff.
By obeying orders from the military headquarters, which ran counter
to those of the civil court, he was arrested for contempt, carried
off to another county and confined. Before being taken away he
slipped a paper into Kate's hand, saying in a low voice, "Conceal it
quick," which she did.
After her father's departure, when immediate {106} danger of further
interference had passed, she opened the letter; and to her surprise
found it contained an appointment as Deputy Sheriff during his
absence. It was a critical situation, in which she held the keys of
the Court House and the jail, and possession of the premises.
Would the opposition use force? and carry her off as they had Sheriff
Mulhall? The military commander said they should not, and sent a
guard to protect her at the jail, while a number of citizens rallied
to her support. Before morning the excitement quieted down, cooler
counsels prevailed, and she was able to safely leave for her home.
Kate found the little sisters terrified, and their eyes reddened by
weeping during most of the night for father and their "mamma." They
did not go to school the next day, but accompanied her back to the
jail where all had dinner together. By her tact and courage, Kate
soon became the heroine of both the military and civil factions, as
well as of the village; and conducted the office without opposition
until the release of her father. This brief reference to a strange
incident of the old frontier throws an additional light upon the
character of Kate Mulhall, and is at the same time an interesting
glimpse of pioneer life.
The jails of that day were without ventilation, sanitary conveniences
or pretense of decency; all prisoners, civil and criminal alike, were
usually huddled together in one room like sheep in a pen. Under
{107} these conditions it is not strange that the Squire's
incarceration soon began to tell upon his health and strength.
* * *
Kate and her father were about a thousand miles out on the Oregon
Trail when Isaac Pelton, still in Missouri, adopted a definite plan
of action. He had discreetly kept his own counsel, planted the crops
as usual and pursued the even tenor of his way as if no changes were
impending.
One Saturday evening he mounted Ned and left home without informing
any one where he was going, or how long he would be gone; and
traveled all night to the county seat of Harrison County, adjoining
the State of Iowa on the North. His mission was to buy a few acres
to give him legal standing as a landholder in that county; this done,
he returned as mysteriously as he had gone.
In its next issue, the _Gazette_, the local county paper, published
an item to the effect that Isaac Pelton had bought land in Harrison
County, Missouri, and was about to remove to his new home. In the
same issue appeared an advertisement offering for sale all his
holdings of real or personal property, but not including his slaves
and teams.
Midsummer had just passed and harvest begun when Pelton and his three
negroes left La Fayette County, in which he had lived so long; there
was no molestation, or even a faint suspicion of what had {108}
prompted the move. Harrison County contained over ten thousand white
inhabitants and only twenty-five slaves; upon arrival there, he filed
his manumitting paper for record freeing the three, and came out of
the Court House to receive congratulations wherever he went.
Andrew and Jennie were in blissful ignorance of their master's
intention to liberate them; and Pelton had been very careful not to
drop a hint of it, acting on the principle that the only sure way to
keep a secret is to say nothing about it to any one. So now, when
the long resolution was an accomplished fact, he felt a heavy burden
lifted from his shoulders, and was in a mood of exultation for having
performed a duty and accomplishing what he had so long contemplated.
The first thing to do, however, was to break the news to Andrew and
Jennie. He was curious to see how they would take it, but was not
prepared for the surprise that followed.
"My Gawd-amighty, Massa, what'll I do?" exclaimed Andrew. "You turn
me out on the world to take care of myself and Jennie and Margie? I
hain't got no sense; I hain't got no nothin. Jennie, honey, what'll
we do? Massa, I love you; I dun want to go way."
Pelton had anticipated a joyous scene to follow the news of their
freedom, but there was nothing but outcries and lamentations. That
was an exceptional case, though one like it occurred in the present
State {109} of Washington, where a slave refused to leave his master;
after a lapse of years, during which the infamous law debarring the
negro from holding land was repealed, he was finally rewarded by
inheriting the property.
After the first outburst of grief, and upon Pelton's assurance that
he could stay with him as long as he lived and that no one could take
Jennie or Margie from him, Andrew shouted with joy and threw his arms
around his old master to express his ecstasy. A new light had shone
upon him.
Just before the falling of the leaves in the autumn after the
departure of Squire Mulhall for Oregon, Isaac wrote to Kate a frank
declaration of his love, and enclosed a certified copy of the court
record confirming the manumission of the three slaves as stated in
his letter. He was restless in the new environment, at best only
temporary; and counted with impatience the days and weeks, and
finally the months, awaiting a response from Kate.
None came. After investigating the reported wreck of a mail steamer,
he became convinced that the letter had been lost; and late in the
midwinter following her departure for Oregon, wrote a second one.
"Kate, come here," Squire Mulhall said one day soon after receiving
mail by the semi-monthly steamer and pointing to an article in the
local paper from his old neighborhood in Missouri, "Do you see that?"
It read, "Isaac Pelton has set his three {110} slaves free and
removed to Harrison County, near the border of Iowa."
Mulhall was surprised when his daughter at once left his presence
without making any comment or showing interest in the item he had
just read. Kate knew that she could not control her emotions, and in
the solitude of her room gave way to self denunciation for her
attitude when Isaac visited their cabin before they left for the
Oregon Country.
During all the trials of the long journey over the Oregon Trail and
the anxieties afterward in their new home, the thought of Pelton
would become upper-most in her mind in spite of all efforts to banish
it. Now that he was no longer a slaveholder, she could cherish a
sentiment for him even though unaccompanied with hope that they would
ever meet again.
Finally, after nearly a year from their parting in the Missouri
cabin, Pelton's second letter arrived. Kate's emotions can better be
imagined than described. Her hopes had been all but extinguished;
and now to have them suddenly revived came almost as a shock of pain,
though mingled with joy.
Kate did not answer at once; anyhow it would be nearly a fortnight
before another mail would be dispatched to "the States." A momentous
question involving the future of her own life was to be decided; and
as the days passed the task became more difficult.
While in this state of mind, one of the little sisters fell seriously
ill, calling for her almost undivided care; and she felt an increased
responsibility for her {111} father and the two orphans. Finally the
letter was written and dispatched; but Pelton left for Oregon before
it was delivered in Missouri, and never received it. The contents
remained a secret in her own breast, and as time passed brought
regret that it had been written.
James Price was an undisguised admirer of Kate, but fearing rejection
of his suit, had never made formal advances, although nothing had
transpired to either encourage or discourage him. He was well aware
that Kate would go to Oregon at all hazards if her father did, but
rather shrank from the thought of accompanying them as a son-in-law
in a subordinate position.
After the Mulhall outfit left, Price berated himself for being such a
laggard and entertaining a false pride; and resolved that he would go
to Oregon the following year. Price did not, like Pelton, disguise
his intention to make the trip or his admiration for Kate; so it
became common talk in the neighborhood that Price intended to go to
Oregon to win her hand.
A year after the Squire had left his home in Missouri, the _Gazette_
published the information that James Price had started for Oregon
with an ox-team, over the route followed by David Mulhall the