Kate Mulhall A romance of the Oregon Trail
appointment with Linda; and it was near midnight when he crawled into
the hay mow to snatch a few hours of sleep before daybreak.
"I wonder why Ben didn't come to-night as he said he would?"; and in
spite of all efforts, Linda's voice betrayed her deep solicitude.
"I'll warrant he had good reasons," the mother responded; but Linda
could not be satisfied in her own mind. The great journey was to
begin the following Monday, and it was only seven days before the
start. Upon awaking Tuesday morning, Ben resolved that at all
hazards he would go to see Linda that day.
On his way to the Shaeffer home, conflicting thoughts ran through
Ben's mind. What would Mulhall say? What would his own mother and,
particularly Linda's mother, say? If she could go along, it would
enable them to make an earlier start in life; and each would be
entitled to a hundred and sixty acres of land from the Government
free, whereas in a year or two at most, neither could secure any
without purchase.
It was late Tuesday night when Ben left the Shaeffer {43} home after
a long visit with Linda. The mother did not positively forbid her
going now, but strongly advised against it; upon second thought Linda
herself began to doubt the advisability of such a move, though
willing to go and share the hardships with Ben if he thought best.
With tears that could not be restrained by either, they decided that
Ben had better go alone. Who can fathom the sacrifice of such a
decision or decide as to the wisdom of it? Once made, cheerfulness
returned, plans for the future were laid and sacred vows renewed; and
life opened to them anew.
The wagons were loaded and the tent set up well in advance, so the
start could be made early on the following Monday. When the time
came, Kate had saddled Nell, and Dick and Ned had been hitched to the
carriage for an hour; but the start was delayed, and Squire Mulhall
remained in the cabin. At length, after consulting with Ben, the
conclusion was reached that the ox-teams should go ahead and the
carriage would follow later.
Catherine assumed a bold, cheerful attitude while the preparations
were being made, and concealed her pent-up grief at leaving. Several
of her children were born in the cabin, and one of them had died in
it. She had passed many happy hours within its humble walls, and
tender memories came vividly to mind. Even Mulhall was moved with
emotion as never before, and determined to wait quietly until
Catherine recovered her composure.
{44}
No one without the experience of parting with one can realize the
deep feeling of affection for the home, even if it is only a cabin.
The love of a lowly dwelling is often more intense than that of a
princely palace, for a cabin becomes a part of one's self. No wonder
that the good housewife should shed tears of regret upon parting with
the home she had loved so well and so long.
After all the neighbors who came to bid Godspeed to the Mulhalls had
left, Catherine quietly came out of the cabin, entered the carriage
and drove in the track of the ox-teams without looking back, shedding
a tear or making any sign of distress. The struggle was ended and
the die cast, although the sacrifice required supreme courage.
In spite of all their efforts, Kate and the two younger sisters were
unable to drive the loose stock fast enough to keep up with the
ox-team, and finally lost one cow in the brush. Riding forward to
overtake Ben and have him make an early camp, Kate had a foretaste of
what was ahead of them on the journey.
Ben found a convenient barnyard and plenty of feed for the cattle,
and a cheerful grass plat for the camp. He quickly had the tent up,
fire in the stove and the oxen fed when the carriage and Kate arrived
with the loose stock. Whoever has had the experience of a good camp
under favorable conditions will realize the cheerful atmosphere that
enlivens the spirits of all; the bracing air, the novelty and keen
{45} appetites due to the exertion of the journey, combined to bring
joy and contentment.
They were only eight miles from the old home; but the start had been
made, and all considered it a good distance for the first day. Early
in the calm, warm mid-April evening, the sharp notes of the bob white
quail rang in the ears of the campers, soon followed by the shrill
whistle of the whippoorwill in the near-by meadow. Millions of
fireflies, with their mysterious alternating of light and darkness,
were floating in the air. Contentment reigned supreme in the camp,
and care for the morrow was soon forgotten in peaceful slumber.
Difficulties and trials beset the early part of every trip like the
Mulhalls'. In the deep, sticky Missouri mud, a well trained team
drawing a light load could flounder through with great exertions; but
with half-trained oxen and a heavy load it was frequently necessary
to double the teams, or lighten the loads and make a second trip.
Walking alongside his wagon or prying up a wheel deeply sunk in the
mire, Ben became bespattered with mud from head to foot, but did not
lose patience. The cows would not keep in the road, often compelling
Kate to dismount and go after them on foot. Neither would swear,
though both at times felt like doing so; but when night came, they
laughed off their troubles in the camp.
They had been acquainted for years, but neither had fully measured
the other until now. "I golly, {46} Kate, it's rough driving the
cows, isn't it?" "Yes; but what about the teams? I think you catch
it worse than I do." Their mutual trials drew them closer together;
and each had unlimited faith in the other.
Squire Mulhall had great confidence in Ben when he engaged him for
the trip, but every day his admiration for the lad increased as
better acquaintance brought out his sterling character. Thoughts of
Ben for a son-in-law flitted across his mind, and would involuntarily
return; but he kept it to himself--the second secret from Catherine.
Finally, after a long struggle encountering mud, rain, wind-storms
and quicksand, the Mulhall outfit arrived on the high bluffs
overlooking the Missouri and the great encampment of emigrants.
Hundreds of tents near the ferry landing and extending back from the
river revealed the magnitude of the great western movement of the
50's. Squire Mulhall could not do otherwise than camp with the
motley throng, and turned the ox-teams out to graze with several
thousands of other stock in the river bottoms.
Looking around to size up the situation, he found people there from
several States, of all conditions in life and with nearly as varied
outfits as there were camps--scarcely any two alike. Here was one
bound, like himself, for Oregon; right alongside, another emigrating
to California; next a group of Mormons going to Salt Lake--all
waiting their turn to be crossed over the Missouri by the two scows
called a ferry.
{47}
The throng consisted of all ages from the very old to the infant in
arms, and were in various moods. Near-by would be a religious
meeting with singing, praying and preaching; others were engaged in
pitching quoits, card playing or foot racing--anything to dispel the
tedium incident to the long delay on the Iowa side of the river.
Some of these people had been camping there fully two weeks, waiting
for their numbers to be called, and might be obliged to remain
several days more. A brisk trade in "turns" naturally resulted; in
one case fifty dollars was paid to entitle the purchaser to immediate
crossing.
Open gambling was seen in many places, and a great crowd congregated
around a race-track. In a stroll of a couple of hours Mulhall
noticed a number of intoxicated men, though not many were boisterous;
the intoxicants evidently came from the camps. Here, as back in
Missouri, whisky was pure but cheap (averaging 25c a gallon), and no
regulation as to sale or disposal.
One corner of the encampment was particularly clean and orderly; no
litter of papers or cast-off articles of any kind were in sight, and
there was an entire absence of gambling, card playing or other
amusements. Two of the emigrants in peculiar garb were digging a pit
in which to bury rubbish. The men were usually either reading
well-worn Bibles, writing or amusing the children, while the women
were generally caring for the camp, sewing or knitting; one was
weaving cloth on a hand-loom, and {48} another spinning yarn on an
old-time wheel, the sharp tones of the spindle vibrating in the air.
It was like part of a long established and law-abiding eastern
community transplanted to the edge of civilization. A brief
conversation disclosed that these campers were from a Methodist
settlement in central Indiana, and that their pastor, though
temporarily holding service at a near-by village, was traveling with
them. Mulhall thanked them for the invitation to attend the evening
meeting and continued his stroll, intending to do so if Catherine and
Kate would accompany him.
The next group of camps visited presented a very different
appearance. More than half of the party, which was bound for the
Mormon settlement at Salt Lake City, had recently arrived from
Europe. There were very few men; the greater part were women who
huddled in tents almost devoid of camp conveniences, while a number
of their ragged and dirty-faced children were playing in the vicinity.
Men and women alike showed a sober mien; here and there a man would
be reading a Bible, and Mulhall noticed one reading the Book of
Mormon. Like the Methodists, they held religious services every
evening. There were very few wagons for so large a party, making the
problem of their transportation unusually difficult. In a corner of
the encampment were a number of hand-carts which a portion of those
belonging to this camp intended to use in crossing the plains; and
one man with a {49} wheelbarrow completed the picturesque assemblage.
With the invitation in mind, the Squire and Catherine prepared to
attend the Methodist meeting that same evening. Kate said, "Ben,
let's go, too."
"I golly, Kate, that's just what I was going to say," Ben replied.
So all dressed in their best and walked toward the Methodist camp,
for which they had started, along a path which led near the Mormon
part of the encampment.
Seeing the people gathering for religious services Mulhall, more out
of curiosity than otherwise, suggested that they stop and listen for
awhile. Catherine had only a faint idea of what "Mormon" meant; but
held a deep prejudice against them, and said that she preferred to
attend what she considered a real religious meeting. But as the rest
of the party desired to hear the Mormons, Catherine consented, and
all took seats among those provided for strangers.
The minister, a burly figure somewhat uncouth but evidently sincere,
opened the meeting by reading a chapter from the Old Testament; he
took his text from the chapter read, and to their surprise preached a
real orthodox sermon, differing little from what they had often heard
from itinerant Methodist preachers passing through their
neighborhood. On the way back to their camp Mulhall berated himself
for not attending the Methodist meeting as originally intended; he
resolved to do so the next evening, and all the others said they
would accompany him.
True to the resolution, preparations were made to {50} go as the next
evening approached. Ben had left early in the morning to look after
their cattle running at large in the Missouri bottoms with thousands
of others belonging to the numerous camps, and at dusk had not
returned. Three of the oxen could not be found; whether they had
strayed off on their own account or had been stolen he could not
tell, but strongly suspected the latter. He did not return until