{No Turning Back- part II}
April 12th, 1847
Today was our first day on the trail and I am dog tired. I'm strong and used to hard work, but this is something else.
We woke before dawn and began packing up and loading the wagons. People kept running into St. Jo to get one last thing or another and there were excited dogs running about. Feisty was with them, yipping and jumping around. Every now and then he'd come up to me and sit and watch me pack.
Andy was off with his friend, Sam, most of the morning and day. I have a feeling they'll be doing a lot together. Thankfully Missy helped me and Joel helped get the stock ready.
Just after the sun raised it's golden head over the horizon, Our wagon train was rolling out. I started down the trail on the wagon seat next to Joel, but that didn't last for long. It was so bouncy up there I almost spilled off the wagon a coupla times. So I got down and walked beside the wagon with Feisty.
Around noon, Pa, who rides up front to lead the train, signaled for the wagons to stop. We pulled off the trail and then had the wagons form some sorta ring. Pa says its for safety. As soon as we stopped I got to work making the meal for our family. Pa brought along his Dutch oven and, though I ain't too good with it yet, I managed to cook up something. Pa says you can cook anything you need to in a Dutch oven, so I just need to get the hang of it.
After we finished eating, I began to pack up again. I was trying to figure out what to do with the oven, which was still hot, when Pa says, "Here, Callie Jo, give it to me." I gave it to him and followed him to the other side of the wagon. There he lifted it and sat it in a box built onto the side of our wagon. I looked closer and saw it was lined with tin. Pa told me it was to keep the hot oven from catching the wagon on fire.
We moved on from there and kept going until dusk, when we formed a circle again and unyoked the oxen. I dug a shallow hole and built a fire in it, the went to get the oven out of it's box. The box is about as high as my shoulders and kinda deep, so the oven doesn't bounce out. So I had to reach over the edge of the box and as I was trying to heave it out, a man's voice said, "Can I help you, ma'am?"
It kinda scared me and I jumped and dropped the oven back in it's box. I turned to see who it was, but I didn't recognize the young man who stood alongside our wagon.
"Sorry, I didn't mean ta scare ya." he said, then moved forward and lifted the oven out of the box. He handed it to me and I said thanks, then asked if he needed something. He said he was looking for the train leader.
"Oh, that's Jim Lewis. You got business with him?" I asked.
"Naw," he said, "I'm just trying to get out west somehow. Figured I could tag along. You know where he is?"
I pointed to where Pa was and then he pulled at his hat brim and headed that direction leading a dark gray horse.
I don't know if he'll be travelin' with the train or not, but Pa didn't say anything about who he was, and I didn't ask. I just heated up stew left over from nooning and then cleaned up afterward.
Now I sit here by the campfire with Joel, who's trying to play a song on his mouth organ. For awhile after supper I stood behind the wagon and watched the stars, listening to the wind rustle the prairie grasses.
April 13th, 1847
You coulda knocked me over with a feather this morning. I was pulling some biscuits out of the Dutch oven when I heard Pa coming for breakfast. He was talking to somebody, and when I looked up, there was the stranger that'd helped me last night, leading his gray horse.
I was pretty shocked, and he was too, 'cause neither one of us said a thing. Finally he grinned slowly and said, "How-do, again." I said hello, and then Pa scratched his head and said, "You two meet before?" The man pushed his hat higher on his head and said, "Well, kinda. Last night she told me where to find you. But she never said she was your kin."
"I'm sorry. Guess I shoulda told you that." I said.
"No problem. I know it now."
Pa jumped in then, "Callie Jo, this is Mr. Naybors." I shook his hand while Pa said, "This is my oldest girl, California."
"You can call me Callie. Most everyone does." I said. "California's a mouthful to handle."
"All right, but only if ya call me Clint. If it's okay with yer pa, that is." He looked to Pa for approval. Pa nodded, then turned to me.
"Clint here's gonna be travelin' west with us, and he'll likely be takin' all his meals with us. That fine with you, Callie Jo?"
"Sure, Pa. "I said, then got back to fixing breakfast.
So our family has kinda expanded in a way to include Clint Naybors. He seems to be a decent man, and he sure is a fine-lookin' one. I've a feeling that there'll be plenty of mamas trying to pair him off with their daughters.
April 16th, 1847 Walnut Creek
I've been so tired at night I just haven't taken the time to write. Mostly been the same thing everyday, anyhow. At night we sit around the fire and talk and sometimes Mr. MacGregor, Mr. Cole, and Miss Myrtle come over and sit with us.
Today we stopped earlier than usual because we'd reached a nice campsite, Walnut Creek, and Pa said it was a good place to stay. I took the opportunity to wash our clothes in the creek, and so did most of the other women.
After I spread the clothes out on the bank to dry, I talked to Susannah some. She said she hasn't been doing much, 'sides walking with Tressy. Guess the two of them have gotten pretty close.
As a matter of fact, Tressy soon joined us as we sat in the shade of some trees. And almost right away, they started talking about Clint. "Didja see that new fella that joined the train? My, ain't he handsome!" Tressy said, "Wonder what his name is?"
"I don't know what his name is, but you're right, Tressy. Think he's the best-looking prospect in this whole outfit!" Susannah proclaimed, "Don'tcha think so, Callie?" She nudged me with her elbow.
"I guess." I said honestly. "Ain't had time to sit around lookin' for.....uh.....prospects. Clint's nice though. "
"You know his name?" Tressy asked, seeming annoyed I hadn't shared it earlier.
"Yeah, Clint Naybors."
"How?" Susannah asked excitedly.
"Well, cause he's eaten with us since he joined the train.Speaking of which, I'd best be getting supper started. See ya, Susannah, Tressy." I started to walk away.
"See ya, Callie!"Susannah called. Tressy didn't say anything. Can't figure why she don't like me.
Anyhow, I needed to get away from them two. Their talkin' made me feel bad. They only saw Clint and every other young man in the train as someone to marry. Maybe I'm just strange to think it ain't right to think that way. Sure feel sorry for Clint, though, seein' what he's up against. Seems my notion about the match-makers was right.
He's sittin' across the fire from me right now, totally unsuspecting, talking to Joel. Well, they're talking and laughing in turn. Joel just called for me to come and join them. I think I will.
April 20th, 1847
Today we crossed the Vermilion River. This was our first river crossing, and it really wasn't that bad.
Then we kept moving westward. Trodding along on the prairie sod, with grasses tall and green on both sides of the train. It's early yet for wildflowers, but Pa says that later on down the trail, when it's early summer, we'll see the prairie all full of color. I hope so. I'd like to press some into this journal, as a memory of the prairie.
Haven't had much time at all to talk to anyone. Even when I'm just walking, I'm usually looking for firewood, or just watching for anything out of the usual. Sometimes Missy walks with me, and we talk, which is nice. Sometimes I ride with Joel if I can stand it, bouncing along in the wagon.
I have talked to Miss Myrtle for a few minutes each evening as we build our fires and make supper. She's real encouraging to talk to, 'specially when I'm lonely.
Almost forgot...last night. Joel was foolin' with his mouth organ again. Then Clint went and took a box off of Flint (his horse, who is always with him, he says) and brought it to the campfire. What did he pull outta there but a fiddle! And, shoo, can he play! Soon Mr. MacGregor had his banjo, and Lem Withers, a fella who's a little older than Clint, was picking along with a guitar. It all sounded fine, and my brother, Joel, led them all. It was a nice way to end a long, tiring day.
Today was our first day on the trail and I am dog tired. I'm strong and used to hard work, but this is something else.
We woke before dawn and began packing up and loading the wagons. People kept running into St. Jo to get one last thing or another and there were excited dogs running about. Feisty was with them, yipping and jumping around. Every now and then he'd come up to me and sit and watch me pack.
Andy was off with his friend, Sam, most of the morning and day. I have a feeling they'll be doing a lot together. Thankfully Missy helped me and Joel helped get the stock ready.
Just after the sun raised it's golden head over the horizon, Our wagon train was rolling out. I started down the trail on the wagon seat next to Joel, but that didn't last for long. It was so bouncy up there I almost spilled off the wagon a coupla times. So I got down and walked beside the wagon with Feisty.
Around noon, Pa, who rides up front to lead the train, signaled for the wagons to stop. We pulled off the trail and then had the wagons form some sorta ring. Pa says its for safety. As soon as we stopped I got to work making the meal for our family. Pa brought along his Dutch oven and, though I ain't too good with it yet, I managed to cook up something. Pa says you can cook anything you need to in a Dutch oven, so I just need to get the hang of it.
After we finished eating, I began to pack up again. I was trying to figure out what to do with the oven, which was still hot, when Pa says, "Here, Callie Jo, give it to me." I gave it to him and followed him to the other side of the wagon. There he lifted it and sat it in a box built onto the side of our wagon. I looked closer and saw it was lined with tin. Pa told me it was to keep the hot oven from catching the wagon on fire.
We moved on from there and kept going until dusk, when we formed a circle again and unyoked the oxen. I dug a shallow hole and built a fire in it, the went to get the oven out of it's box. The box is about as high as my shoulders and kinda deep, so the oven doesn't bounce out. So I had to reach over the edge of the box and as I was trying to heave it out, a man's voice said, "Can I help you, ma'am?"
It kinda scared me and I jumped and dropped the oven back in it's box. I turned to see who it was, but I didn't recognize the young man who stood alongside our wagon.
"Sorry, I didn't mean ta scare ya." he said, then moved forward and lifted the oven out of the box. He handed it to me and I said thanks, then asked if he needed something. He said he was looking for the train leader.
"Oh, that's Jim Lewis. You got business with him?" I asked.
"Naw," he said, "I'm just trying to get out west somehow. Figured I could tag along. You know where he is?"
I pointed to where Pa was and then he pulled at his hat brim and headed that direction leading a dark gray horse.
I don't know if he'll be travelin' with the train or not, but Pa didn't say anything about who he was, and I didn't ask. I just heated up stew left over from nooning and then cleaned up afterward.
Now I sit here by the campfire with Joel, who's trying to play a song on his mouth organ. For awhile after supper I stood behind the wagon and watched the stars, listening to the wind rustle the prairie grasses.
April 13th, 1847
You coulda knocked me over with a feather this morning. I was pulling some biscuits out of the Dutch oven when I heard Pa coming for breakfast. He was talking to somebody, and when I looked up, there was the stranger that'd helped me last night, leading his gray horse.
I was pretty shocked, and he was too, 'cause neither one of us said a thing. Finally he grinned slowly and said, "How-do, again." I said hello, and then Pa scratched his head and said, "You two meet before?" The man pushed his hat higher on his head and said, "Well, kinda. Last night she told me where to find you. But she never said she was your kin."
"I'm sorry. Guess I shoulda told you that." I said.
"No problem. I know it now."
Pa jumped in then, "Callie Jo, this is Mr. Naybors." I shook his hand while Pa said, "This is my oldest girl, California."
"You can call me Callie. Most everyone does." I said. "California's a mouthful to handle."
"All right, but only if ya call me Clint. If it's okay with yer pa, that is." He looked to Pa for approval. Pa nodded, then turned to me.
"Clint here's gonna be travelin' west with us, and he'll likely be takin' all his meals with us. That fine with you, Callie Jo?"
"Sure, Pa. "I said, then got back to fixing breakfast.
So our family has kinda expanded in a way to include Clint Naybors. He seems to be a decent man, and he sure is a fine-lookin' one. I've a feeling that there'll be plenty of mamas trying to pair him off with their daughters.
April 16th, 1847 Walnut Creek
I've been so tired at night I just haven't taken the time to write. Mostly been the same thing everyday, anyhow. At night we sit around the fire and talk and sometimes Mr. MacGregor, Mr. Cole, and Miss Myrtle come over and sit with us.
Today we stopped earlier than usual because we'd reached a nice campsite, Walnut Creek, and Pa said it was a good place to stay. I took the opportunity to wash our clothes in the creek, and so did most of the other women.
After I spread the clothes out on the bank to dry, I talked to Susannah some. She said she hasn't been doing much, 'sides walking with Tressy. Guess the two of them have gotten pretty close.
As a matter of fact, Tressy soon joined us as we sat in the shade of some trees. And almost right away, they started talking about Clint. "Didja see that new fella that joined the train? My, ain't he handsome!" Tressy said, "Wonder what his name is?"
"I don't know what his name is, but you're right, Tressy. Think he's the best-looking prospect in this whole outfit!" Susannah proclaimed, "Don'tcha think so, Callie?" She nudged me with her elbow.
"I guess." I said honestly. "Ain't had time to sit around lookin' for.....uh.....prospects. Clint's nice though. "
"You know his name?" Tressy asked, seeming annoyed I hadn't shared it earlier.
"Yeah, Clint Naybors."
"How?" Susannah asked excitedly.
"Well, cause he's eaten with us since he joined the train.Speaking of which, I'd best be getting supper started. See ya, Susannah, Tressy." I started to walk away.
"See ya, Callie!"Susannah called. Tressy didn't say anything. Can't figure why she don't like me.
Anyhow, I needed to get away from them two. Their talkin' made me feel bad. They only saw Clint and every other young man in the train as someone to marry. Maybe I'm just strange to think it ain't right to think that way. Sure feel sorry for Clint, though, seein' what he's up against. Seems my notion about the match-makers was right.
He's sittin' across the fire from me right now, totally unsuspecting, talking to Joel. Well, they're talking and laughing in turn. Joel just called for me to come and join them. I think I will.
April 20th, 1847
Today we crossed the Vermilion River. This was our first river crossing, and it really wasn't that bad.
Then we kept moving westward. Trodding along on the prairie sod, with grasses tall and green on both sides of the train. It's early yet for wildflowers, but Pa says that later on down the trail, when it's early summer, we'll see the prairie all full of color. I hope so. I'd like to press some into this journal, as a memory of the prairie.
Haven't had much time at all to talk to anyone. Even when I'm just walking, I'm usually looking for firewood, or just watching for anything out of the usual. Sometimes Missy walks with me, and we talk, which is nice. Sometimes I ride with Joel if I can stand it, bouncing along in the wagon.
I have talked to Miss Myrtle for a few minutes each evening as we build our fires and make supper. She's real encouraging to talk to, 'specially when I'm lonely.
Almost forgot...last night. Joel was foolin' with his mouth organ again. Then Clint went and took a box off of Flint (his horse, who is always with him, he says) and brought it to the campfire. What did he pull outta there but a fiddle! And, shoo, can he play! Soon Mr. MacGregor had his banjo, and Lem Withers, a fella who's a little older than Clint, was picking along with a guitar. It all sounded fine, and my brother, Joel, led them all. It was a nice way to end a long, tiring day.
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