All Together in One Place (64 page)

“Sounds intriguing,” Seth said

“I wish I'd never left Wisconsin That's one. And I'll always be at home when I'm truthful with myself.”

Seth sat thoughtful. “I hope the lie is that you wished you'd never left Wisconsin because the other, to be truthful to yourself, that's a truth worth leaving home for.”

Mazy nodded. “To be true to yourself—and to love your neighbor as yourself. I never realized what that meant before.” She ran her hands through her hair, rubbed at the back of her neck. “The lie is that I wished I'd never left Cassville. I never would have believed that, I so hated to leave. But if I hadn't or we hadn't turned back around, I never would have known…this.” She nodded toward the people dancing before her.

“They say in Europe that vintage wines give up the taste of their origins,” Seth said, “that a discriminating palate tastes the place the vines were first nurtured. Just a sip prompts memories of the terraces of grapes under a hot sun, then moves from their tongue to their taste buds to their memory and mind. I think people are like that, some of us. The vintage ones who bring that first sense of place with them no matter where they go.”

Mazy stared at him. “Bringing it with us, from the earth itself.”

Sarah approached her with a sampler in hand. “I finished it, Mazy. See?” The girl held it up, and Mazy read the verse from Acts, the second chapter that she'd stitched across the plains.
“They were all together in one pkce”
Blue columbines and birds surrounded the words.

“It's beautiful,” Mazy said. “Your mother would have been proud.”

Sarah left to share her treasure with another, and Mazy said, “That verse—it's from the day of Pentecost, when people from different places came together, waiting to obey. Wind and fire followed, but it was those together that made the difference, became a community of faith. Just as we're doing, risking being known and yet remaining together. The best kind of friendship, wouldn't you say?” Seth nodded. “I might never have known that, nor the joy of the Psalm, either, that the Lord maintains my lot, how he makes the boundaries fall on pleasant places. If I hadn't left home I'd have read them but never believed them as I do now. I'd never let it live in my heart if I hadn't left my familiar place.”

“Quite a truth,” Seth said. “Some folks live a lifetime and never find it. They die fearing the future more than anything else, never feel the joy of what's now.”

They watched the women swinging, their faces reflecting life's challenge and change. Pig bounded over and nuzzled beneath Mazy's hand. “Oh, you remember me now, with Sason to compete with.” She buried her face in his fur. He made his growling, slobbery sounds, pushing his big head into her, tugging at her wrist, his tail wagging. “You're a good friend, Pig,” Mazy said, “and always will be, even if you do go off and
look after another.” She smiled up at Seth, who reached out to scratch the dog s neck.

Who knew what tomorrow would bring? But, more, did it matter? They had mountains to cross, new places and people to meet, the loss of the past to put down, replace with hopes woven inside. What mattered was that they were all together in one place at this moment. The Lord knew their lot.

Mazy trusted that. And herself. And she knew in her heart, that as long as her soul was filled, she'd always be safely at home

A
UTHOR'S
N
OTES AND
A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

“I am a part of all I have read,” wrote John Kieran, and so am I.

All Together in One Place
began when I was a child reading Laura Ingalls Wilder and Caddie Woodlawn. Then Willa Cather, diarists, compilers, historical society documents and psychological speculations, and the stories of women I came to know and write about, all nurtured this story through the years. The responsibility, however, for what's been woven—with its errors and speculations—remains all mine.

All Together in One Phce
as a novel began in 1994 while researching
A Sweetness to the Soul
A friend loaned me a copy of Ezra Meeker s
Ox Team Days on the Oregon Trail
originally published in 1912. In it, Meeker related his encounter in 1852 with eleven wagons heading east, all driven by women, their men having died and been buried on the trail. “What happened?” became the question that formed this story of triumph and tragedy, of community and connection, of kinship and faith.

Aside from Meeker s account, no record exists of eleven women turning back, though there are numerous accounts of turnarounds, people heading east instead of west, congestion on the trail because of directional change. These women may have dispersed back in the States; they may have turned west again and gone into California, as none are recorded as having entered into Oregon as part of a group of eleven women. Eleven women together are not recorded at Fort Laramie or Kearney or in Oregon as having arrived that year either, though registrations are said to have dropped off in certain years. Ezra Meeker may not have remembered well; 1852 was his first journey. He was a young married man accompanied by his wife and six-week-old child. The weight of the choices that faced him may well have affected his counting of wagons and women.

I am especially grateful to the westward diarists themselves, the women who recorded their days on the Oregon Trail, and most of all to Eliza Ann McAuley's recordings from 1852. To historians (and fellow Wrangler Award Winners) Merrill Mattes, author of
The Great Pktte River Road
, and John Unruh, Jr., author of
The Plains Across
, I owe much. I am indebted as well to Jim Tompkins, historian, Portland State University, and consultant to the End of the Oregon Trail Interpretive Center, Clackamas County Historical Society, for his e-mail messages to me, his commentary on this incident, and his exceptional research on diarists writing at the same time and as part of the same company as Ezra Meeker.

Caroline Fry did indeed begin a Marriage Association in 1852. Langsforth did patent the design in bee hives in 1852. The French military did introduce night communication through Braille-like dots.
The Cholera Years
by Charles Rosenberg proved useful for medical information on the nature of disease in 1852 and the commonly held disparaging view of some physicians. The 1937 edition of
Old California, &
book by Stewart Edward White, both provided lithographic information and told the true story of mining camps and carpet tacks. William Emerson's work
The Applegate Trail of 1846
offered sound maps as well as data about what people carried and the inner workings of wagons. Christina Mays book
Pioneer Clothing on the Oregon Trail
and Keith Mays conversations with me from their vast knowledge and passion about the trail provided valuable details about everyday life.
Discovering the Oregon Trail
, a publication of the Nebraska Historical Society, and the PBS series
The West
were invaluable resources, as was the Oregon-California Trails Association, composed of people who are passionate about the stories of the West and willing to share them.

Susan Butruilles collections of women's voices gave depth, I hope, to mine. Sociologist Lillian Schlissels book,
Women's Diaries of the Westward Journey
, provided my first image of what I came to call the “necessary circle” among other insights My own circle of women spent hours in speculation about what might have happened and how these women might have responded, who they might have met, what help was offered and accepted, and at what point would they have known that life as they knew it had ended. The value of these women in my life as nurture and protection from self-doubt cannot be counted; from them I accept the wages of care

The series
Covered Wagon Women, Diaries and Letters from the Western Trails, 1852, The California Trail
, Volume 4, edited by Kenneth L Holmes, proved especially helpful Unique features of the 1852 crossings are noted there by Ball State University history professor and author Glenda Riley. These factors helped set the stage for this community of care Among them are these: encounters with native peoples in 1852 lacked the hostilities of earlier—and later—years; the bloomer costume made its debut; cholera continued to leave graves in its wake; and more women and families crossed that year than any year previous.

The effect of more women on the trail, according to Dr. Glenda Riley, was significant. Their relationship with other women, the social and cultural mores that rode with them, gave meaning and purpose to their journey. Many women heading west did not wish to go at all and chose to make the trek only to preserve their families; more rare were those making the trip by themselves, a sign of independence

The year 1852 is notable also for the entrepreneurs wanting to lead emigrants onto newly developed trails and for those providing relief parties when needed. The Shasta City story of raising money and celebrating new arrivals is based on fact, as is the Nobles Trail information, both from John Unruhs book.

Special thanks go to my Web site manager Michelle Hurtley for all she does to spread the stories in ways I will never understand; Web site managers for Cassville, Wisconsin, and to the State of Wisconsin for maintaining the replica of Stonefield, a village near Cassville that recre- ates the past; to Kathy White, site manager at the Western Historic Trails Center in Council Bluffs, Iowa, for helping get my characters across Iowa in April. My Norfolk, United Kingdom, beekeeper resource, Mark Turner, advised me via Internet on a cross-country transport of queen bees, their care and connection to home. I am grateful also to Cal Thayer, beekeeper in Eugene, Oregon, for providing me with U.S. Department of Agriculture data on the history of beekeeping which offered dates and paths of likely transport and for letting me don the hat and netting of beetender so I could mingle with the bees.

Special thanks go to Kay Krall, Blair Fredstrom, Sandy Maynard, and Jack and Carol Tedder and our friends in Sherman County, Oregon, for faithful support; to Jean Holly for her candid and gracious answers to my questions about the loss of sight and the challenges and joys of parenting sighted children; and to Dave Larson for details of the farriers life My deep appreciation goes to writer friends (and manuscript readers) Bob Welch and Wade Keller for their encouragement, time, and thoughtful suggestions; and to writer Harriet Rochlin for unwavering nurturing and inspiration. Such thanks go as well to my literary agent Joyce Hart of Pittsburgh and my signatory agent, Terry Porter of Flat Rock, Indiana.

The little German poem is a memory of my fathers and I thank him for it. The Ayrshire information came from Barb Rutschow, herd manager and sister-in-law extraordinaire who, along with my brother Craig, loves columbines and the bluff country of Wisconsin.

It is my hope that the women encountered in these pages pay tribute to those who faced what those eleven faced and honor the strength of their spirits, their lessons of learning to let go, living in the present, and trusting in the words of Scripture.
All Together in One PUce
is a phrase from the book of Acts, describing the bringing together of divergent voices and people into a family of service. It seemed a fitting title for this triumphant story of kinship and courage and the hope woven into all loss.

This
Kinship and Courage
series is inspired by Psalm 16:5-6 and is based on the belief that to find the pleasant places of our lives we must be willing to expand our boundaries, spiritual, emotional, physical, and relational and to trust as Mazy did that “the Lord maintaineth my lot.”

I hope that the wonder of how these women live their lives in Shasta City, how they find themselves on the Applegate Trail into Oregon and south to Sacramento, perhaps even back to Cassville, keeping community and sustaining their faith, will return the reader to additional books in the series.

Finally, a word of thanks and gratitude goes to my editors LisaTawn Bergren in Colorado and Traci DePree in Minnesota and to the fine team at WaterBrook Press, a division of Random House, for their belief in the power of stories and in my capacity to tell this one. And to my husband, Jerry, I give my deepest thanks, for teaching me about hope and faith, and of boundaries and their necessary expansion; and for the love and shelter he provides to make that happen.

Last, but not least, appreciation goes to each of you, the readers, for spending time with these women, for sharing their stories. May you find your own strength and courage reflected in the hope woven inside.

Jane Kirkpatrick
www.jkbooks.com

The following is an excerpt from Jane Kirkpatrick's
No Eyes Can See
Book 2 in the Kinship and Courage series