Kate Mulhall A romance of the Oregon Trail
off to see Kate Mulhall, bringing a response that she hoped he might
"ketch her." Pelton was vexed at himself, but now recalling the slip
of the tongue, awoke to the consciousness of how completely the one
name had taken possession of his mind. He did not know that another
was awake in the Mulhall cabin loft revolving his own name in her
mind.
The spark of hope to win Kate's hand was almost extinguished; yet he
felt sure that only the slavery question prevented the successful
prosecution of his suit. Pelton thought he knew, and actually did
know, her real feeling toward him, while Kate imagined that she might
have given some manifestation during Pelton's visit--a possible
unguarded word, a tone of the voice that spoke louder than words, or
an expression of the eye that revealed her secret. All these haunted
her wakeful hours, and followed into the dreams of restless slumber.
Who can fathom the essence of pure love, that flows from the heart
like the fragrance of the flowers of the field, that knows no bounds,
breaks all barriers; and, if disappointed, leaves a sting in memory
through life? Such was Isaac's love of Kate. He had known her
independent character and unselfish {35} devotion to her father, and
last though not least, her altruistic actions on many occasions. He
was but two years older than Kate, and in health her equal; why
should he not claim her and establish a happy home? Then that
monster slavery would arise to dispel his dreams.
Pelton had inherited a part of his father's estate, including two
slaves, Andrew and his wife Jennie. Both were older than he; in
fact, Jennie looked after his clothes when he was a boy, and he
thought almost as much of her as of his own mother. Pelton
maintained his own household and "Mamma" Jennie took scrupulous care
of it.
She had a five-year-old girl that Isaac thought the cutest little
thing he had ever seen--fat, chubby and always in good humor; and of
course Jennie thought there never was another such a cute girl as her
Margie. Sometimes a cloud came over her face as she thought what
might happen if "Massa" died, or got in debt and couldn't pay; but as
yet little Margie had no forebodings, and her mother was careful not
to open any way for such thoughts.
Pelton had long contemplated setting free all three of them; but if
he did, what could Andrew do for himself? He might apportion enough
land to make a home for them; but a black man was forbidden by law to
own land, and in fact had no protection for property of any kind. At
one time he had seriously thought of going to Oregon himself, taking
Andrew and Jennie with him to set them free there; but {36} word came
that the pioneers had passed a law[2] forbidding negroes living in
Oregon under penalty of the whipping post, if they did not leave
after due warning. Kate, in entire ignorance of Pelton's troubles
and intentions, looked upon him as one of the class she could never
treat with forbearance.
Up to this time Isaac had kept his own counsel as to his plans; to
let them be known would serve no good purpose and bring upon him a
storm of obloquy and reproach from other slaveholders for endangering
their property rights. Within his recollection, the like had been
done only once in the neighborhood, when Squire Young manumitted
eleven slaves, and finally moved away to escape continual insult
because of his act. Pelton knew, or thought he knew, that Kate's
impulsive action was because of her intense hatred of slavery and
aversion to slaveholders; but anticipated the taunt that he had freed
his negroes as the price of winning a wife.
He had made the fateful visit in an undecided frame of mind--just
drifting, though intending if the opportunity occurred to make a
clean breast of his whole plan. But soon after Kate left the room,
he started for home while she lay sleepless on her bed in the loft.
Here we leave them, each with a troubled mind, to take up another
thread of the story.
[1] The author remembers lighting his mother's pipe with a coal of
fire nearly ninety years ago, before matches had come into general
use.
[2] This law, passed by the Provisional Government in 1843, was never
enforced and soon repealed; but it served to illustrate the intense
prejudice against the black man by pioneer settlers who nevertheless
voted resolutely against making Oregon a slave State.
{37}
CHAPTER II
OFF FOR OREGON; CROSSING THE MISSOURI; ENCOUNTERING THE BUFFALO;
TROUBLES WITH THE INDIANS.
Ben Hardy was employed to help break in the team and for other
necessary preparations; also, if his father would consent, to make
the entire trip with them. Neither Ben, the Squire nor Kate knew
anything about oxen; but all realized that they must have a team.
A few days after the party at the Mulhall cabin, the trio
experimented in breaking in some cows to the yoke. Kate thought
Brindle and Star would make a capital team, and at the first attempt
succeeded in getting the yoke on Star--except that she broke away
from them and circled around the yard with her tongue out, bucking
and fiercely bellowing. Kate quickly climbed the fence in dismay,
wondering why gentle old Star should object to be yoked.
Finally getting both cows under the yoke just before dinner call,
Kate and her father went to the cabin while Ben started home for
lunch. Kate, the first one out after dinner, could hardly believe
her eyes. Star, yoked by them on the off side, stood on the near
side, while Brindle had changed places with her, and was on the off
side. Kate knew perfectly well that she had been yoked up last and
on the near side.
{38}
In her astonishment she at first overlooked the yoke hanging under
the necks of the cows instead of resting on top; they had turned the
yoke, and as a sailor might report such an incident--"the starboard
ox was on the larboard side, the larboard ox on the starboard side,
and the ox-yoke had left the hurricane deck and gone below." Squire
Mulhall could see the humor of the incident, but realized a very
serious side to it, as illustrating how little they knew about
outfitting for the great journey.
He ordered the attempt to break in a team discontinued for the time
being; and the next morning mounted Nell and rode off, ostensibly in
search of a team, though, as he afterwards said, with a notion to
look at the country north of the Iowa line. "But what's the use of
raising corn to burn in the stove to keep from freezing, or bacon as
fuel for racing steamboats?" While in Iowa he was asked if he knew a
man by the name of Pelton reported to live in the county from which
he had just come.
"Yes, but what of it?" was the Squire's laconic reply.
"Nothing," the stranger continued, "except he has been looking for
land to settle free negroes on, and the neighbors didn't like it."
Now for once in his life he had something to keep from Catherine, who
had told him what she had surmised--and in fact knew--Kate's secret,
although only through her motherly instinct to read signs often
plainer than words. Again Mulhall wavered; to tell {39} Catherine
what he had heard would be equivalent to telling Kate, the apple of
his eye. He could not bear the thought of losing her; in fact had
resolved never to go to Oregon unless Kate went along.
During the Squire's search for a trained team (labor lost, for there
were only here and there old, slow, broken-down or ill-matched oxen),
he heard of a missionary or itinerant preacher who represented that
he had been in Oregon. Mulhall eagerly took the track of this man
and followed it for days before overtaking him; but was well rewarded
by finding his new acquaintance a very intelligent, well-read man
with large experience in the Oregon Country--just the one he was
seeking.
But he had already been gone a week, was nearly a hundred and fifty
miles from home, and Catherine would soon become very uneasy about
him. The minister would probably also talk more about missionary
work than topics Mulhall was eager to discuss. So on the second day
arrangements were made for the two to go to the Mulhall home where
the missionary could rest from his labors, recuperate his worn-down
horse and confer at more length about outfitting for the trip to
Oregon.[1]
This was done, and following the counsel of the visitor, preparations
for the trip went on apace. The Squire purchased ten trim, well
developed five-year-old steers, not off the range but farm raised,
with two extras as a relief for lame or other temporarily {40} unfit
ones in the teams. In other matters the missionary's advice was
adopted, with the result that when completed Mulhall's outfit was
equal to any he afterwards saw on the plains, and far superior to the
vast majority of them.
Ben Hardy, whose mother hesitated but finally gave way to his
pleadings, was engaged to take charge of one of the teams. Mulhall
offered such liberal compensation that Ben's father also consented,
although the lad was still under age. The Squire knew that Ben would
be true to his interests, and thought of him not as the hired man,
but as one of the family; in fact, he promised Ben one of the teams
for his own when they arrived in Oregon.
Ben had a secret of his own about which Mulhall knew nothing. He and
the Shaeffer boys were friends, and no one suspected that Ben's
frequent visits to their home had any other attraction than a good
time with the boys; nor did they dream that "Bennie," as they called
him, had any thoughts about their sister. But mother Shaeffer had
detected more than mere friendship between Ben and Linda; and under
the circumstances developments were not likely to be long delayed.
Ben resolved to make a clean breast of it and know from Linda's
spoken words that she loved him and would await his return, or
possibly come to him; and firmly concluded not to go unless Linda
would consent. In this mood Ben boldly declared himself to Linda in
a scene that need not be described here. {41} Linda was a dutiful
girl and would have no secret from her mother. "I will go with you
now if mother will consent," she said between smiles and tears; "or
I'll wait until I can come to you." The thought of having Linda go
with him now had never entered Ben's mind until she suggested it,
subject to her mother's consent.
"I'll be true to you, Ben, to the end," she said and submitted
willingly to the sealing of the promise by a responsive kiss. "Come
tomorrow night, Ben, and we'll talk it over with mother;" and so they
parted.
Ben went home living in a new world, with increased confidence in the
future and a happiness never before experienced. This scene was
enacted a week before the start was to be made; and meanwhile Ben was
busy at the Mulhalls' from dawn to twilight. Two ox-teams, each with
two yoke of oxen, and a yoke of cows were used to haul fuel from a
distant woodland for the new owner of the farm, training the teams
and drivers to the road, as well as a token of good will.
Kate and her mother were busy preparing and cooking various articles
of food, while the Squire was laying in a stock of provisions, water
containers, tents and other necessities for a journey of more than
two thousand miles extending over a probable period of six months.
Mulhall had been warned that once across the Missouri River, he would
be in the Indian Country and unable to renew his {42} equipment
except from overloaded outfits, abandoned property, or by dealing
with the sharpers of the so-called trading posts, some of them
regular dens of thieves, often kept by renegade white men.
A mishap to one of the teams on the road detained Ben until long
after dark; and when he reached the Mulhall barn, the teams and all
the loose stock had still to be cared for. So he could not keep his