“Oh dear!” Margret Reed said softly as Kathryn and Peter entered the sumptuously furnished parlor. James Reed was frowning deeply and trying not to stare at Kathryn.
“Mr. and Mrs. Reed,” said the woman servant who had answered the door, “may I present Mr. Peter Ingalls and his wife.”
Reed stood swiftly, his face smooth again, and came across the room to shake Peter’s hand. “How do you do?”
“I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Reed,” Peter said in his best voice. “Thank you for agreeing to see us. May I present my wife, Mrs. Kathryn Ingalls.”
Kathryn shifted her weight easily and held out her hand. “Good evening, Mr. Reed. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Peter turned and looked at her in surprise. Her Irish accent had become suddenly distinct and pronounced.
Mr. Reed’s eyebrows went up sharply. “Are you Irish?” he said, letting his own brogue roll out.
Kathryn looked totally surprised. “Why, yes. And you also?”
“I am.” He was smiling now. “From what part?”
“South of Dublin, a small place called Kilkenny.”
“Aye,” he said, enjoying himself now, “I’ve not been there. We were from the north, up near Londonderry, but I came to America as a boy.”
“I too came when I was a child. My father had died, and my mother brought my older sister and me across and we settled on a homestead in western Missouri.”
Turning to Peter, Reed inclined his head. “And did I hear a touch of English accent with you, Mr. Ingalls?”
“Yes, sir. I was born and raised in Preston, just north of Liverpool.”
Reed stepped back, considerably more cordial now than he had been when he first came across the room. “Please come in and sit down.”
Kathryn sat down smoothly, without hesitation, and laid the crutches down beside her chair. She seemed perfectly calm and composed. Peter fought not to stare at her in amazement as he sat beside her.
As Mr. Reed sat down again, he turned his head toward his wife. “Since this involves finding a tutor for our children, I’ve asked Margret to be present. She will be asking many of the questions.”
“We very much appreciate your willingness to consider us,” Kathryn said with her prettiest smile.
James Reed was in his mid-forties and was a handsome man with neatly trimmed beard and mustache. Margret Reed looked like she might be about ten years younger than him. She was a pleasant-looking woman with long dark hair, parted in the center and plaited into long circular braids on both sides of her head. She half reclined on the sofa, and her feet and legs were covered with a blanket. Though she appeared somewhat frail, her color was good and her eyes clear. Peter decided that the “semi-invalid” description was an exaggeration.
“Well,” Reed began after a moment, “how did you come to hear about our little expedition? We haven’t posted the advertisement at the paper yet.”
“A friend of ours had heard about the study meetings you and the Donners were holding, and mentioned to me that you might be looking for help as you go west. Then I was given a copy of the advertisement you plan to post with the paper next month.”
“Ah. Well, we do plan to find eight or ten young men who can go with us. But you come not as a ‘bull-whacker,’ which is our primary need, but as a schoolteacher?”
“Not only me, but my wife as well. We have both taught school. I currently work at the
Sangamo Journal
as copy editor and typesetter.”
“Can you drive a team?”
Peter had fully expected that one and didn’t hesitate. “It would be an exaggeration to say that I have a lot of experience in this area, Mr. Reed, for I have not. However, in anticipation of this possible employment, I have been availing myself of the opportunity to learn down at the Mueller livery stables.”
There was a surprised look, then a touch of amusement. “And what have you learned so far?”
“That horses are the most expensive way to pull a wagon, selling at one hundred fifty to two hundred dollars per head for a good workhorse. They are the fastest but also the weakest of draft animals. They need costly grain, they are prone to get distemper from bad water, and they are most likely to be stolen by Indians. A mule runs about fifty to ninety dollars per head. They too are fast, but are given to mayhem, especially at river crossings. They tolerate alkaline water the best of the three choices, but are likely to bolt for home if not watched carefully. They have one other advantage. If a wagon breaks down they can be used as a pack animal.”
He smiled fleetingly at Kathryn, who was now staring at him with wide eyes. “Oxen, which are favored by about sixty to seventy percent of all emigrants, cost only fifty to sixty-five dollars per yoke. They are stronger and have great endurance but are considerably slower than either horses or mules. They do very well on prairie grass but have low tolerance for alkaline water. If things get desperate, they can be eaten, but I am told that they are the most difficult to shoe. I don’t know if Mr. Mueller was trying to pull my leg, but he claims that you even have to turn them upside down to do it.”
Mr. Reed was nodding as Peter finished. “That’s exactly right. Shoeing oxen is not a job for the fainthearted.”
“I also have learned from my own personal experience that a soft voice is the best ox goad.”
“Well,” Reed said, obviously impressed. “Are you that thorough with your teaching as well?”
“He is,” Kathryn answered for him. “He also keeps books and accounts, if you have a need for that on the trek. He is very good at numbers, sir.”
Reed stood up suddenly. “Come with me, young man. I’d like to show you something.” He smiled at Kathryn. “That will give you and Margret a chance to visit as well.”
He took Peter through the back of the house, stopped at the pantry near the back door to get a lantern and light it, then led him across the yard to a large barn. He opened the big doors and they stepped inside.
There in the center of the large, open area was a larger than normal wagon. Peter stared curiously. It was slightly higher than usual and had odd extensions on each side. There was also a set of steps extending out of one side.
“What is that?” Peter exclaimed in surprise.
That seemed to be exactly the response Reed was hoping for, for he smiled broadly. “This is what I have heard my daughter call the ‘pioneer palace car.’ I’ve had it specially constructed for our trip. Come, let me show you.”
As they moved around the front of it, Peter examined the wagon carefully.
“As you may have surmised, my wife is in ailing health. That’s one of the reasons we are anxious to make a new home in California. Her mother, Mrs. Keyes, who is an aged widow, shall also be traveling with us. Her health is most certainly not good, and so I have had this wagon built to my specifications. It is designed to make the trip west as comfortable and trouble free as possible.”
Peter was no expert on wagons, but he knew that this creation would have impressed even someone with as much experience as Joshua. The wheels were oversized on both front and back, and the tires—banded with steel—were wider than the width of a normal wagon wheel.
With evident pride, Reed reached down and pulled the steps up. They folded flush with the side of the wagon box. Then he lowered them again. “Go on up. I want you to see inside.”
The first thing that was evident to Peter’s eye was why he had called it the “palace.” The whole center of the wagon was a sumptuously fitted room, much like a miniature parlor or sitting room. In the center was a small table, its feet bolted to the floor. Along both walls were padded benches for sitting. Only they were not attached to the sides of the wagon box but to the floor.
“Look,” Reed said, sitting on one of them and bouncing up and down. There was a soft squeaking noise. “These are spring seats, just like you find in the finest of stagecoaches.” He patted the seat beside him. “Try it.”
Peter did so, amazed at how comfortable they were. Most wagons had no springs at all, and often those traveling with them found it more pleasant to walk than to endure the jolting ride.
Turning, Reed gestured toward the far corner. There was a sheet-iron stove there, with a stovepipe going straight up and through the canvas cover. It was not a full-size stove, but about half-size. “It will likely get cold on some nights,” he said. “I didn’t want my wife and mother-in-law to get chilled.”
“I can’t believe it,” Peter said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Reed seemed pleased. He looked around at his creation for a moment, then stood and went down the steps. Peter followed, still visibly impressed.
Reed laid a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Well, shall we go back in and see how the ladies are faring?”
“Good night. Thanks again for letting us come speak with you.”
“Good night,” Reed called, waving cordially. “We shall be in touch and let you know of our decision, but we are most impressed.”
“Thank you.” Peter and Kathryn turned out the gate and started up the walk. Only when they heard the door shut did Kathryn look at Peter. She was trying to appear very demure, but the grin broke out and spread across her face in an instant. “‘We are most impressed,’” she said, in a deep voice that sounded surprisingly like Mr. James Frazier Reed’s.
Peter stepped to the spot where they had left the wheelchair. He got Kathryn settled, then started pushing her back toward their own street. “So tell me,” he whispered loudly, “what all did she say?”
“Well,” Kathryn said, tipping her head back and half closing her eyes in pleasure, “we talked about teaching school, of course. And I told her about both of us teaching for Jessica.”
“Did she ask where?”
“Yes. I told her it was in Nauvoo.”
He groaned. “Did she ask if we were Mormons?”
“No. I got the distinct impression she already knew. She did tell me not to mention Nauvoo to Mr. Reed, though. That it would be better that way.”
He pursed his lips. “She did? Does that mean she’s considering you and doesn’t want to have our being Mormons influence him against us?”
“Not just me, Peter. She’s considering us. And yes, I think that’s exactly it. She liked me. I could tell. And I like her. We got along quite famously, actually.”
“Wonderful!”
“She was much too polite to ask me about my legs, but I told her anyway. I told her about the lightning and how at first I couldn’t do anything. That seemed to impress her. I even told her about my wheelchair.”
“I can’t believe it,” he said. “So you don’t think it’s going to discourage her?”
“She seemed a little concerned about convincing her husband that I won’t be another problem for him. But as for her, she said she was sure it would work out. She has four children—one older daughter by a previous marriage, and three younger ones. She is determined that their education not be neglected while they travel west. She is a very determined woman.”
“I can’t believe it, Kathryn,” he said again, his voice light with wonder. “I think we’ve got it.”
“So do I, Peter. So do I.” She opened her eyes and turned back to look at him. “Did Mr. Reed give you any idea of when they will be leaving?”
“Yes. In a little over two months. Evidently, there’s a large party of emigrants forming up to go to Oregon and California at Independence, Missouri, in May. They want to leave here in time to join up with them. He says he thinks it will be about the middle of April.”
“Good. That will mean we are not that far behind your family.”
“I’m telling you, Kathryn, these people are excellent planners. They have money. I don’t know how many extra yoke of oxen they are taking just for emergencies. They have riding horses, beef and milk cattle. And that wagon, Kathryn. Oh, that wagon! You won’t believe it.”
“Mrs. Reed told me that he’s very proud of what he had done there.”
“Very proud. And from what he says, the Donner brothers are just as well-to-do as the Reeds are.” He laughed aloud. “We are going to travel in style.”
She threw back her head and laughed with him in pure delight. “Oh, Peter. You’re right. I think we’ve done it.”
Benjamin waited at the window of the sitting room, watching through the curtains to the house across the street. He already had his coat and scarf on. After about five minutes, he grunted softly. “Caroline is leaving.”
Mary Ann looked up from carding wool. “Are the children with her?”
“Yes. Do you think he suspects anything?”
Mary Ann smiled. “No. She’s told him she’s going over to Lydia’s to help with the packing. Joshua is working on the books from the lumber camp. He’ll be grateful for the time to be alone.”
Benjamin was carrying a copy of the Book of Mormon in one hand. He tucked it under his arm, walked to Mary Ann, and bent down and kissed her forehead. “Any last minute words of advice?”
She shook her head. “Just follow your heart, Benjamin. That’s all that matters.”
He pulled a face, far less confident than she was. “It didn’t work with Melissa and Carl.”
She shook her head. “You don’t know whether it did or not. We may not know that for a long time.”
He kissed her again. “How did I ever manage to get you?” he said softly.
She smiled sweetly up at him. “I guess it was just your lucky day.”
Joshua looked up as he heard the front door open. “Caroline? Are you back already?”
“Want to guess again?” said a deep voice.
He pushed a large ledger book aside and stood up. Benjamin stepped around the corner into view, already shedding his coat. “Hello, Joshua.”
“Hi, Pa. What’s up?”
“I know you’re busy, but if you’ve got a minute, I’d like to talk.”
A little surprised, Joshua shrugged, nodding toward the table full of books. “I’m glad for any excuse to get away from this.” He pointed toward where two chairs flanked a small lamp table. “Let’s sit down.”
As they did so, Joshua saw the copy of the Book of Mormon in his father’s hand. One eyebrow lifted slightly, but he said nothing. When they were settled into their chairs, Joshua sat back to wait, suspecting what might be coming.
“I saw Caroline go. I thought about waiting until tomorrow, but . . .” Benjamin shook his head. “Tomorrow will probably be pretty hectic.”