Journey of Hope: A Novel of Triumph and Heartbreak on the Oregon Trail in 1852 (29 page)

“I guess it wants to talk differently, but it’s still a bird.”

Deborah was quiet, thinking about what her mother said. Suddenly her face brightened. “Like Mrs. Mueller! She talks funny, but she’s a lady like you, mommy.” Ruth chuckled, telling Deborah that Mrs. Mueller was from Germany, a country far away, and that she had an accent. “That’s why she sounds different from us.”

Ruth felt her throat closing as her mind flooded with memories of Deborah. Then the last memory came rushing in.

“Mommy, my biggest toe hurts.” What had she done? In her mind’s eye, she saw herself as a monster, shrieking at her daughter to go away! Ruth’s eyes were wide, staring unseeing into the darkness as she relived Deborah’s last minutes. She remembered frowning at her daughter, and telling her to find Rebecca.
What would have happened if I had taken the few seconds to look at her toe, hug her, and tell her she would be all right?
she asked herself silently. A heavy weight settled on her chest, and she could barely breathe. Why hadn’t she put the medicine bag out of reach? She was responsible for Deborah’s death. It was her fault. Her hands went to the ache in her throat.

“Thomas! Thomas, I’m so sorry,” she croaked, hardly able to speak. Her hand searched for Thomas in the darkness, but when she found him, he turned away from her.

James and Rebecca sat together in the darkness, the campfire reduced to coals, the only sounds from crickets and the occasional night bird. Rebecca had finally fallen asleep, her head lying heavily on James’s chest. His arms encircled her protectively. She had always been so strong—his rock. Tonight she had been inconsolable, and he had been there for her. But he wasn’t feeling very strong now. Within the quiet came the heavy sadness.

He had grown so close to the Benson family, and little Deborah had been a joy to him. He thought about her quick smile and bubbling giggles; her endearing habit of taking his hand when she wanted attention; the way she pouted when she wasn’t happy about something. She had been a bright light in his life, so quickly extinguished. He pressed his cheek against the top of Rebecca’s head and realized his face was wet with tears. From inside the wagon, he heard Mattie cry. Poor Ruth. The demands of an infant wouldn’t wait for grief. Rebecca stirred in his arms.

“Mattie. Ma. I should help her,” she mumbled.

“Shh. Your mother has her. You need to rest, Rebecca.”

Rebecca closed her eyes, but Deborah’s angelic face floated in her mind. She remembered her little sister’s constant questions. She usually had patience with the child, but not earlier today. “Deborah, get back!” she had yelled, ignoring the girl’s crying. Now her sister was gone. What had she done? Why couldn’t she have been more understanding? More tears made their way down her face. She would never forgive herself.

Mary had cried herself to sleep, but now she was awake again. She could hardly comprehend the meaning of her sister’s death. She had never had anyone close to her die before, and she felt helpless and alone. Part of her feeling of isolation was because of the lie. She hadn’t meant to lie. She just hadn’t told the truth, and now she never could tell anyone what had really happened. Her mind went back to earlier in the day. She and Tommy had been sent with a bucket to dig wild onions for dinner. It would be fun, and Mary had made a game of it.

“I bet I can dig more onions than you, Tommy,” she said, as they left the campsite.

“We’ll see about that!” Tommy replied. “I’ll go back and get another bucket so we can keep our onions separate.”

“Where are you going, Mary?” Deborah asked, running up breathlessly.

Mary frowned at the little girl. “I thought your toe was sore, Deborah.”

“It’s better now!” Deborah exclaimed happily. “See?” She stuck her foot out for Mary’s inspection. Mary looked at the toe and could see nothing wrong with it.

“That’s funny. You were just complaining about how much it hurt.”

“But it’s better, now. Can I go with you and Tommy?”

“You’d better stay here, Deborah. You’re too little for this game.”

“No I’m not! I’m not little! Please, Mary. Please let me come!”

“No, Deborah!” Mary said as she saw Tommy returning with his bucket. “Don’t follow us! Come on, Tommy.” They ran off quickly, laughing, leaving her behind. Mary glanced back once to make sure the little sister wasn’t following them, and she saw Deborah’s crushed face. She remembered thinking they had outsmarted her. Then later at dinner, she told everyone that Deborah didn’t want to go along with them because of her sore toe.

Her tears ran freely again. Deborah was gone. She had died because of Mary’s meanness. If only she had let her tag along, Deborah would still be here! The burden of her lie rested on the eleven-year-old’s heart. As she drifted off to sleep again, Mary swore to herself she would never tell anyone what she had done. She was too ashamed.

Tommy could hear Mary tossing and turning. He didn’t want to talk to her. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He kept seeing Deborah asleep in the back of the wagon. He hadn’t suspected that anything was wrong. He was happy she was sleeping so that he wouldn’t be told to watch her. He purposely walked away quietly so he wouldn’t wake her up, and he didn’t tell anyone where she was. She had been a real problem for him lately. Ever since Mattie had been born she was always whining, and he was tired of being asked to amuse her. He had been happy to find her fast asleep. He hadn’t known she had drunk the medicine. He hadn’t known she would never wake up. The realization slowly came to him that if he had told someone where she was when he first saw her, maybe they could have helped her. Maybe she would still be alive. The convulsive sobs welled up and out of him, and he turned his face into his blanket to hide them.
“It’s too late now,”
Tommy said to himself.
“You could have saved her if you hadn’t been so selfish!”

Thomas felt Ruth reach for him and he turned away from his wife. He couldn’t take her sympathy now. His grief was a live thing inside of him, and he could barely control it. Deborah, his little flower, his bright little star, was gone, and the last thing he had said to her had been an admonishment, showing his annoyance with her. He remembered her sweet face. She had looked so sad before she turned and walked away. He had been busy with the colt, and he hadn’t given her a second thought.

He remembered all the other nights. Before she fell asleep, she had to have a hug and kiss from Daddy. She had told him she couldn’t go to sleep without his hug and kiss. He had always humored her because she was so sweet. Deborah had a way with him that melted his heart, and she usually was able to get what she wanted from him. She had learned how to wink when she was just two years old, and sometimes she would tell him a “secret” and wink at him like it was something just between the two of them.

Thomas felt vulnerable and this frightened him. It was an alien emotion, and he didn’t know what to do or where to turn. He couldn’t remember ever having to ask for help, and he wouldn’t know how to go about it if he did. He felt responsible for Deborah’s death, and he thought Ruth looked at him accusingly. He was supposed to keep this family together, and now they were torn apart. Ruth had reached out to him, but he couldn’t accept her sympathy. He couldn’t give in to any more emotion. It was too painful. It would be better to just keep it all to himself; better for everyone. He would deal with it sometime later.

A cold wind came out of the north and blew through the camp. People snuggled more deeply into their bedrolls. The chill descended on the Benson camp. It settled into the space between Ruth and Thomas. It seeped into blankets and there was no getting warm. James carried Rebecca to her bedroll and covered her gently. He stood up and breathed deeply. The promise of winter was in the air, and the warm autumn days were over. Deborah was gone, and things would never be the same. He could feel it. He just hoped this family would survive.

Confessions

Chapter Thirty

Mile 1788

James Cardell handed the basket of dried apples to Nellie.

“Thank you so much, James. I know John will appreciate the apple cobbler I’ll make from these. He has such a sweet tooth! Here’s the flour I promised you.”

“Thanks, Nellie. This will help tide us over till we get to Oregon City.”

“How is everyone doing, James? I haven’t seen much of Ruth or Thomas lately. I know Deborah’s death was a hard blow. How are they coping with it?”

James was startled by the question and hardly knew how to respond. No one in the Benson family was talking about Deborah. He sighed heavily, and then he said, “I don’t know, Nellie. The Bensons are very polite and helpful towards each other, but something is wrong. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is. It’s like they are all too careful and cautious with each other—even Mary and Tommy. I know they are still privately grieving. I don’t know what to do to help them.”

Nellie looked concerned. The Benson family had always been so vibrant and the center of the wagon train community.

“James, sometimes these things take time to work out. I know they appreciate your presence and support. Give it a little more time, and I’m sure things will change.”

“I hope so, Nellie. Right now the family is broken, and I feel helpless watching each of them suffer. Even Rebecca is different. She’s serious all of the time, and she has a look on her face that doesn’t invite conversation. I’m trying to be understanding, but I feel like I’m in the way a lot of the time.”

Nellie remembered how she had felt after her husband had died. She hadn’t known how to talk to anyone about her feelings, and it had taken her a long time to come to terms with life without him. She looked at James’s careworn expression. “Death is never easy for the survivors, James. Rebecca just needs her space right now, and time to heal. I know she and Deborah were very close.”

“Yes, Rebecca became a second mother to Deborah and Annie when Ruth was struggling with her pregnancy with Mattie. Then when Mattie was born, it took all of Ruth’s strength to take care of her. She hasn’t been an easy baby.”

“Don’t give up, James. This family has always been strong and supportive of one another. They need you now.”

Later Nellie discussed James Cardell’s dilemma with her husband Reverend John. “He feels helpless, John. The Bensons mean so much to him, and he doesn’t know how to help them. Is there anything we can do?”

John looked thoughtful. “Nellie, this family has to accept their grief and allow each other to mourn. I’ll visit them. Maybe I can help them.”

That evening Ruth Benson made dinner while Rebecca amused Mattie and Annie. Ruth called everyone to come and eat, and they had just settled around the fire when Reverend John walked into the firelight. Thomas looked startled but quickly covered it and rose to greet him.

“Good evening, Reverend. Have you eaten? We’d be honored if you would join us.”

Reverend John extended his hand and shook Thomas’s. “Thank you, Thomas. I would like to join you, but I haven’t come empty handed.” He handed Thomas a stollen his mother, Mrs. Mueller, had made. “It’s a recipe from the old country.”

“Ah, smells wonderful!”

Rebecca quickly got up and poured Reverend John a cup of tea. John looked around the campfire at the faces of the Bensons— faces that looked pleasant but strained. Ruth passed around the plates of beans, biscuits, and stewed buffalo meat.

“Would it be alright if we say grace?” Reverend John asked.

Eyes lowered to the ground, and even in the flickering firelight, John could see Thomas’s face redden.

“Please do, Reverend. We haven’t said grace for a little while now.” His voice faltered.

Reverend John nodded at Thomas and lowered his head.

“Bless this food, Lord, and provide us with your bounty in the days ahead as our journey comes to an end. And bless this family, who you have smiled upon again with little Mattie. We are forever grateful for your abundant blessings. And as we remember dear Deborah, safe in your arms now, we ask for your infinite love and understanding with each other. We miss Deborah terribly, but we know that she is happy and alive in your eternal kingdom. Amen.”

“Amen,” came from a few voices, and silence from others. A choked sob came from Mary.

“What is it, child? What troubles you?” Reverend John asked gently.

Mary’s tears flowed freely now. She could not control her sobs as her grief opened up and spilled out of her. The rest of the Bensons looked with dread at Mary. This was territory they had been avoiding.