Kate Mulhall A romance of the Oregon Trail
previous year. It expressed the hope that he might succeed in
securing a home in the new country; and the people of the
neighborhood interpreted this by adding, in their own minds--"and
what is of equal {112} importance, a wife." Pelton and in fact the
whole neighborhood, knew of Price's admiration for Kate; and when the
item appeared tongues were set to wagging that he was "going there to
marry Kate."
Price was well out on the way before Pelton became aware of it, and
the fact that his rival had gone considerably disturbed his peace of
mind. He believed that the gossip as to what prompted Price to make
the journey was true, but hardly thought he could have any assurance
from Kate that would warrant the trip.
"But suppose Price arrived and should renew his suit, what then?" he
asked himself. He knew that Kate respected Price, and when convinced
that his first letter had been lost, was not sure that she would
receive the second one. The more he thought of it, the more agitated
he became.
"I'll go myself," he said one day; "I can go by the Isthmus and beat
him there yet, and I'll do it."
That night he was troubled with the thought of an unexpected
obstacle. When he freed Margie, Pelton had himself appointed as
guardian to safeguard her liberty and prevent other parties from
depriving her of it under the obnoxious law to which reference has
been made. Who that he could trust would now accept the
responsibility? Any number would be eager to secure her services
while under age; but would shrink from the obloquy that would be
attached to such a transaction.
Besides, there was real danger from the "night {113} riders" that
infested the county. The slavery question was in the minds of
everybody; only a small minority believed it was possible to abolish
the system, and very few had the courage to freely express
themselves. It was before the passage of the Fugitive Slave Law of
1850, but the "underground railroad" was in full operation. While
not talking much openly, the Quakers usually supplied the "stations"
for the escape of fugitive slaves.
Eli Sumner, a staunch "Friend" residing not far from the Iowa line,
had a large and commodious barn, as was the Quaker custom, but lived
in an unpretentious house. It was generally believed that he
maintained an "underground station" on his premises, and that
escaping slaves could trust him. Nothing had been proven, but he had
the name of being a Free-soiler; and was therefore under suspicion by
the slaveholding class.
Pelton realized how little time there was to spare if he would beat
Price to Oregon; but he had fully made up his mind to undertake the
long race. Price couldn't average more than fifteen miles a day with
his oxen; and by estimating the distance, Isaac believed he had an
advantage of about three weeks. But he might not make close
connections; and furthermore, had a journey of nearly a thousand
miles before reaching New York, a considerable part of it by
stage-coach.
"I'll trust Sumner," Pelton said to himself and next morning started
off to see him.
{114}
"Yes, thee can bring them up here and I will do the best I can for
them," the Quaker said after Isaac had explained his mission; "but I
do not see why I should be appointed her guardian (referring to
Margie), as Iowa is a free State."
"Yes, but suppose the night riders should once get her across the
line; might she not be helpless?" Pelton responded.
"Well, just as thee thinks; they can have that little house, and I
will give the man employment, or he can work where he wills."
A load was lifted from Isaac's mind when he saw Andrew and Jennie
safely in their new temporary home, and Margie under the guardianship
of the good Quaker. Depositing a considerable sum of money with
Sumner for emergencies, and bidding farewell to them all, he left
with a light heart, determined to send for them some day if he
secured a home in the Oregon Country and won Kate for a wife.
As the weeks passed, the great race was progressing slowly and even
painfully for both participants, Price continued steadily on with
pleasant anticipations of a hearty greeting from his old-time
acquaintance, Squire Mulhall, and at least a cordial reception by
Kate. He knew nothing of Pelton's intentions or movements; if he
had, it would not have hastened his arrival, for his average progress
of two miles an hour could not be increased.
Price had met and overcome the usual difficulties {115} of a trip
over the long trail. Unincumbered with dependents or loose stock,
and with only one comrade selected from among his acquaintances for
dependable character and aptitude for such an undertaking, the cares
of the journey were much less than with those accompanied by their
families.
He had a light-weight covered wagon, in which they could sleep, and
did not a carry a tent. The team consisted of four trim
five-year-old steers broken during the winter to work under the yoke,
and two extras trained to be led behind the wagon. One day's
experiences represented nearly all the trip across the Plains.
Camp was usually made early; one of them would at once take the oxen
to water and grass, while the other would prepare the evening meal.
Then one soon went to bed and the other out with the oxen; the next
morning an early start was made with the night-watcher in the wagon
asleep. Sound and refreshing sleep was possible under the
circumstances and practiced by many, seldom disturbed by the slow
movement of the ox-wagon.
Pelton did not find his journey to Oregon by the Isthmus route an
agreeable one; quite the opposite, with some hardships and a great
deal of discomfort. Three days were lost in New York waiting for a
steamer, followed by nine or ten days on the water, which passed
quite pleasantly, then a crossing of the Isthmus--a difficult matter
in those days, with the ever-present risk of tropical fever.
Emerging on the {116} Pacific side, a second wait of three days
ensued before another--and inferior--steamer could be taken to San
Francisco, where Isaac arrived after heavy seas had blown the ship
two hundred miles out of its course and added considerably to the
delay.
Five days were spent at the Golden Gate before an old and clumsy
looking hulk left for the northern ports; the trip was slow and beset
with dangers, and the boat narrowly escaped destruction while
crossing the treacherous bar of the Columbia River. But at last
Portland, then a little village of probably not more than a thousand
inhabitants, was reached; and as there was then no regular service to
the Puget Sound country, Pelton was obliged to take a steamer plying
on the Columbia River to the Cowlitz River, where a stage line
operated over wretchedly bad roads a considerable part of the way to
Olympia, at the head of Puget Sound; and from Olympia he employed an
Indian with a canoe to take him to the little village where the
Mulhalls had established a residence.
Up to the last moment his mind was tormented with visions of Price.
Had he arrived, and if so, how many weeks before? How had he been
received by Kate? The time that Price could have arrived had passed
by several weeks; and Pelton himself had been delayed long after the
date he had expected to reach his destination.
He soon found the house and walked boldly up to it with mingled
emotions. Kate was in the kitchen {117} preparing the evening meal
with no thought that Pelton was any nearer than 2,000 miles; and when
she opened the door in response to the knock outside, the two stood
face to face. One word from each other sufficed, "Isaac!" "Kate!"
They fell into each other's arms; the long suspense was over, the
race won, the goal attained--and the prize at last secured.
James Price, whom Pelton had feared, was in reality no rival at all,
so far as Kate was concerned. No matter what aspirations he may have
entertained, she had never thought of being anything more to him than
an old-time acquaintance. But the poor fellow never reached the end
of the journey on which he started in the early spring.
While plodding slowly along with his ox-teams, he was overtaken on
the sage-brush plains of the Snake River by cholera, the dread
scourge that proved fatal to many emigrants in those days; and he was
buried in the sands of that desert region. Both Pelton and Kate felt
a genuine pang of grief at the untimely fate of the unfortunate young
man.
* * *
Kate said, "Let's have a quiet wedding and invite three or four of
the near-by neighbors."
"That will never do," Squire Mulhall replied; "let's go to the church
where everybody that wants to can come." Isaac was neutral, only
remarking, "you folks settle it between yourselves."
{118}
Kate hesitated to differ with her father, but she wanted a quiet
wedding; finally the argument ended and all agreed to go to the only
church in the village, and one with a history. That was the first
place of worship in the new Territory where now, more than seventy
years after the events here recorded, stands a granite monument to
perpetuate a part of its interesting record.
It was near the holidays when the eventful Sunday for the wedding
arrived. The Indian conflict was over, but many of the settlers
still remained near the fort; the village was full of people and the
saloons were all open. The clouds hung low, patches of fog just
lifting in sight. When the wedding party arrived, the church was so
filled that the principals had difficulty in entering.
Squire Mulhall had insisted that Kate have a dress to suitably
commemorate the occasion, which had been the principal subject of
talk among the dames of the villages, and the church was crowded with
them at an early hour. Many who had seen Kate as Deputy Sheriff
booted and spurred, with pistol strapped to her person, could
scarcely believe their eyes when they saw the happy, modest and well
dressed young woman soon to become a bride.
All attending the ceremony had donned their best, and some had
supplemented their wardrobe especially for the occasion. The church
was profusely decorated with evergreens so abundant in the recesses
of the forests, and numerous varieties of beautiful ferns, {119} to
which were added many flowers still in bloom, although it was near
midwinter.
Pelton had made one request of the clergyman--to omit the word
"obey;" under existing law the phrase was not mere form, but
literally interpreted. When, immediately after the ceremony, Pelton
handed the bride a sealed envelope, no one in the assembly who saw
the incident was more surprised than Kate herself. "Don't open it
until tomorrow," he said in a low voice; and the incident remained a
mystery.
The Peltons had planned a quiet evening at home with only a very few
selected guests; father Mulhall had apparently acquiesced, but there
were others with plans of their own. Mrs. Pelton--let us continue to
call her Kate, which sounds so much better--wondered why her father
had bought a barrel of apples and some candies, nuts and other
delicacies she found in the pantry.
She suddenly clasped her husband's arm with a tight grip as an
unearthly noise, such as she had never heard before, broke out
nearby. It was no longer the Deputy Sheriff, but the timid bride
looking for protection. Drums beating, horns tooting, guns firing,
beating on tin pans--even the oldtime horse fiddle with its unearthly
tones to make night hideous--to which was added yells and shouting,
all combined to startle. Kate was off her guard for once, and fairly
trembled with excitement until she realized that it meant a
charivaree.
{120}
"Come in, boys," the Squire said, as he opened the door.
"No, we want to see the bride and groom," the spokesman answered.