{No Turning Back-part XXIII}
The trail's gotten real rocky and rough.
Worry lines wrinkle Pa's forehead when he looks at the map at night. I'm feared to ask why, but I bet I already know the reason. We're halfway through September already, and I think we got a good four hundred miles of travel yet. We're hurryin' to the mountains, to beat the snow, but we can only hurry so much.
Everything's wearin' thin. The oxen, our clothes, the wagons, even our selves. Traveling long days tires a body out. I find it hard to keep my eyes open at night when we sit by the fire.
Last night the Brewers came over to our fire to visit. It was good to just sit around and carry on a bit. I made a dried-fruit cobbler with supper in the dutch oven and it turned out real good. We ate it with coffee and even little Westly tried to chew on some of the fruit. I don't know how, though, 'cause he ain't got no teeth yet.
September 19th, 1847
Today Clint walked with me and Miriam for a ways. We talked about all sorts of things. I find that next to Viola, and outside of the family, Clint's my closest friend.
When he came up today, he nodded his head towards me and asked, "What'd ya do with yer braid?"
He was referring to the fact that I was wearing my hair up in a bun, which was real heavy considerin' all the hair I got, 'stead of a braid. "I figured I probably better wear it up now, since I'm getting older."
"Oh," Clint said, pushing his hat back on his head. "Wish ya wouldn't."
"How come?"
"I like it better in a braid." I asked him why.
He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Ya don't look like yerself without it."
"Well I am myself. Maybe I like it better." I really don't. I'd decided already I was going back to a braid first chance I got, since Clint likes it better in a braid.
"Yeah, well maybe you'll end up an old school ma'am, cause that's what yer hair reminds me of." He teased with his crooked grin.
"Hey!" I said,"Ya'd better watch it."
"Just joshin'," he said," I don't think I'd let that happen."
"Oh yeah?"
"Well, I can't fight the Lord!"
"Yer sure this is God's will?"
"I wouldn't court ya otherwise. Don't ya think it is?" he asked.
"Course. I was just askin'."
"Not to mention, women might be scarce in Oregon. I'll grab one while I can." he grinned and looked at me.
"Ah, Clint, knock it off." I smiled back.
And we kept joking while we walked.
It's neat to see how the Lord works in our lives. I've always prayed for a man who will tease me, and laughs a lot. I've got that. But more importantly, I've asked for a man who would love God more than me. I've got that, too.
September 20th, 1847 Grande Ronde Valley
We've come into a valley of sorts. They call it the Grande Ronde Valley, I reckon because a river with the same name runs through it. We're camped by the river tonight. I plan on getting up early and washing any clothes I can before we have to leave. A while back we had to lighten our load, so I don't got a wash board no more. Guess I'll use a rock instead.
I looked at Joel's back today for the first time in a while. We already took out most of his horsehair stitches, and there's only a few thick scabs left. He'll always have the long, jagged-lookin' scars though.
All around us are mountains, the Blue Mountains, Pa says. We crossed some of the smaller ones already, but tomorrow we got a big climb uphill. Camped here by the river, the mosquitoes are mighty bad. I think we're all 'bout itched to death.
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