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July 29, 1871
Cal watched his wife help their young twins dress and smiled. Each day she grew even more beautiful. Their twins were just as beautiful, and Cal couldn’t believe he was so lucky.
“It’s too tight, Mama!” George complained. “Can you take the top button off, please?”
Etta pursed her lips and sighed. The shirt was too tight for the fast-growing four-year-old. “It fit you just fine last year,” she complained. “Do I already have to sew you a new one?”
“I don’t know,” George replied. “It just hurts my neck.”
She unbuttoned the top button, and he sighed with exaggerated relief. “Thank you, Mama.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie,” she said. “Go get your coat.”
George trotted to his room to retrieve the coat lying on the bed. Cal highly doubted he would need a coat in the middle of July, but Etta always insisted he bring it just in case.
“Can I have a coat too, Mama?” Maddie asked.
“I thought you brought your coat already.”
Maddie lifted her arms and looked around. “I don’t see it.”
Cal chuckled, and Etta rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. “Go check your bed.”
Maddie rushed off to find her coat, and Etta gave Cal an exasperated look. “Are you enjoying the show?” she asked drily.
“Very much,” he said. “I always enjoy looking at you.”
“Yes, I know. You also very much enjoy not helping me in the slightest.”
“I seem to recall a very frustrated woman snapping at me to leave the dressing to her.”
She cocked her head. “Did I say that? I don’t remember.”
He kissed her softly. “You did. Anyway, there’s no need to rush. Josiah only lives a few hours away.”
Josiah’s ranch was eleven miles from Canaan, the Newman’s homestead. As he had promised, Cal had retired his oxen when they arrived in Oregon, but they had since purchased three more horses to join the one Cal had bought in Independence. The horses could pull their wagon through the rolling hills of the Willamette Valley at a much faster clip than the oxen, so they would reach Josiah’s ranch in three hours, just in time for lunch.
“I know. I just want the kids to look perfect.”
“You’re saying they don’t look perfect?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, they look perfect to us, but I want everyone to see how beautiful they are.”
Cal nodded seriously. “It’s too bad that none of them have ever met George and Maddie. After all, we only see Daniel and Amy just about every day and Josiah and Betty once a month. Blake and Travis only come over four or five times a year, and—”
Etta planted her hands on her hips and said, “If you’d like to spend your night with me instead of in the hay loft, you’ll stop there.”
He grinned. “I thought we’d both spend the night in the hay loft.”
She laughed, and her cheeks flushed bright red. “We can bring some hay in from the barn if you want it that badly, but not if you’re going to have attitude with me.”
The kids returned before Cal could offer an opinion on bringing hay in from the barn. They proudly displayed their coats, both turned inside out. Maddie’s had a fine coating of dust on it from where she had dropped it on the floor.
Etta sighed and smiled at her young ones. “Thank you. You don’t need to wear them yet, but if it gets cold at night, you can put them on.” They thanked her and rushed out toward the wagon. “Or if you completely destroy your Sunday clothes at dinner,” she added drily.
Cal wanted to mention something about the wisdom of dressing four-year-olds in their church clothes before taking them to a get-together that involved carnival games, raspberry pie and four very exuberant and very excitable dogs. He rather did want to spend the night with Etta, though, so he kept his mouth shut.
The family boarded their wagon with a minimal amount of fuss. The horses pulled away from the homestead, and as always, Cal took a look back and admired the home he and Etta had built.
Canaan was small as promised lands went. One hundred twenty acres of land, about eighty of it tilled and planted with wheat, corn, squash, carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, raspberry bushes and a small grove of apple trees; the other forty left as pasture for their horses, oxen and a small herd of goats. Five more acres were occupied by the house, the barn, the chicken coop, the stable, a woodshed, a well and a small courtyard.
Still, it was more than enough for Cal. It sat right on the bank of the Willamette River, and from his front porch, Cal could see the sun set. He couldn’t see the Pacific Ocean from his home like he imagined when he began his journey, but since Travis and Blake had opened their business in Astoria instead of Portland, he could see the Ocean when he visited them each summer. In fact, he would be seeing it again a week from now.
Today, however, was the fifth annual gathering of the wagon party. The attendees varied from year to year, but they always included the Foremans—Daniel and Amy and their three young ones, Cal and his family, Blake and Travis, and of course Josiah and Betty.
Cal was excited to see his friends. Even though he saw them frequently, something about the annual meet-up was special in a way that their other meetings weren’t. It was a chance for them to remember the hardship they’d all endured getting here and to celebrate the success and happiness they’d found.
They reached Josiah’s ranch right as the sun reached its zenith. Cal lifted his eyebrows appreciatively when he saw the collection of wagons in front of the house. This was a busy year.
“It’s the fifth anniversary,” Etta opined. “We probably had a few people come from farther away this year.”
“That makes sense,” Cal agreed. “It’s a big milestone.”
“Hunter!” George cried.
Maddie squealed with delight when she saw her brother pointing at the big coonhound who was now loping eagerly toward his favorite children. His favorite mostly because they sneaked him food when the adults weren’t looking.
Cal pulled the wagon to a stop, and the children hopped down to embrace their four-legged friend. Etta tensed when they leaped from the wagon, but they landed without injury and quickly bounded off to play with Hunter and the three other coonhounds Josiah and Betty kept on their ranch.
“Wait children,” Cal said drily. “Stop. Come back.”
Etta giggled and allowed Cal to help her down from the wagon. “Well, I tried.”
“I could have told you they would ruin their clothes immediately.”
“I know,” she said with a sigh. “But a mother can dream.”
The two of them walked inside to see the home full of people. A few of the women pulled Etta away, no doubt to enlist her help with the dessert and gossip about their husbands. Cal waved at her as she disappeared into the kitchen and looked around for Josiah.
He found Josiah talking with Daniel and Oliver in front of the fireplace. They held glasses with a dark amber liquid that Cal just might have a nip of himself since Etta was busy at the moment.
“Cal!” Daniel called, lifting his hand in greeting. “Come try some of the whiskey Oliver made!”
Cal grinned. “Don’t mind if I do.”
Oliver reached for the bottle on the fireplace mantel and poured Cal a glass. He handed it over with an aristocratic flourish. “Made with water from the spring in my backyard. The water’s clear as a summer’s day.
“Where do you get the corn?” Daniel asked.
“Most of it from Ben and Julie. They were in my group. I’m not sure if you remember them. They headed to California when we split and they have eleven thousand acres in the San Joaquin Valley.”
Cal’s eyes popped open. “Eleven thousand acres?”
“Yes sir,” Oliver said, puffing his chest proudly. Cal noticed that the leaders of the wagon train often thought of the others in the train much the same way a father would think of his children. “They bought a thousand acres from a farmer there when they moved and claimed three thousand more. The land was poorly irrigated sand when they took it, but they hired people and dug channels and fertilized the soil with mulch and manure. They sold their first big crop last year and bought up the land around the creek that feeds it so they wouldn’t have to import water anymore. I reckon they’re the largest corn farm in California now.”
“Wow,” Cal said. “Good for them.”
“Good for all of us,” Oliver said. “Take a sip of that whiskey.”
Cal obliged. He had to agree that it was some of the best bourbon he’d ever tasted. Could you call it bourbon if it wasn’t from Kentucky? Anyway, it was very good, and he told Oliver so.
“Don’t imagine I’ll grow enough to sell,” Oliver said. “Missus and I are too old to try to run a business. But I’ll send the three of you a bottle from time to time.”
“Much obliged,” Cal said.
“So how about that, Josiah,” Daniel teased. “Eleven thousand acres. That’s about ten thousand more than you have, right?”
“And about ten thousand more than I need,” Josiah replied. “I’m almost as old as Oliver. Besides, if I was going to take more land, it would be from Lily.”
Daniel had named his homestead Lily, as in Lily of the Valley. Cal and Etta had ribbed him constantly about the choice in the first year, but he remained firm in his decision, and five years later, Lily and Canaan were synonymous with home in both families’ minds.
“You can pry it from my cold dead hands,” Daniel replied. “Besides, my land is all rock and forest. You wouldn’t be able to use it.”
“Maybe true,” Josiah said, “but I’d get your pond.”
Daniel and Amy’s homestead encompassed a small stream that fed a half-acre pond in the center of their property before returning to the Willamette River. The pond was always clear and beautiful, and Cal spent many of his weekends fishing along the shore wall.
“Speaking of that,” he said “The kids want to go fishing. I was thinking when we got back from Astoria, we could take them.”
Daniel chuckled. “Well, your kids, yes. It’ll be hard to convince Amy to let Mikey fish, but maybe if you ask her, she’ll be more willing to listen.”
“What makes you think that your wife is more likely to listen to me?” Cal asked incredulously.
“Well, she likes you.”
“More than she likes you?” Josiah asked.
Daniel scoffed. “Much more. She barely tolerates me, are you kidding?”
“What are we saying over here now?” Amy’s voice asked.
She approached the group with her hands folded in front of her. Daniel smiled sheepishly and took a sip of his whiskey to avoid replying.
“Yes, please get more drunk,” Amy said drily. “That’ll make things better.”
Cal and Josiah turned away so the Foremans wouldn’t see them laughing. Oliver sipped his whiskey and watched the conversation with the placidity of old age.
“I was just thinking about taking the kids fishing,” Daniel said. “Not Emma or Carly yet, of course, but Mikey and the twins.”
Amy sighed. “You’ll end up doing everything for them.”
“I know, but that’s all right. It’ll be fun, anyway. We’ll pretend to let them help and enjoy a nice day out at the pond.”
Amy sighed again. “All right. But no drinking.”
“Not a drop,” Daniel promised.
She nodded and looked at Oliver. “No slipping him whiskey.”
“Don’t have a choice,” Oliver said mildly. “He’s a lot bigger than me.”
The men chuckled, and Amy smirked in spite of herself. “He’s a lot more foolish, too. Just tell him to look over his shoulder and thump him over the head when he turns around.”
“Gee, thank you, honey,” Daniel said drily.
She frowned and looked over his shoulder. “When did you get that, Josiah?”
Daniel turned to look, and Amy flicked his ear. He flinched, and the others burst into laughter while Amy walked away.
Daniel grinned and reached for her. Without turning, she said, “No.”
Daniel reddened and lowered his hand while his friends continued to laugh.
“She’s got you trained nice and proper,” Oliver noted.
“Reminds me of Betty and me,” Josiah said, “Except Betty would’ve used a kitchen spoon.”
The four of them continued to banter as they headed outside to Josiah’s expansive courtyard. There were about a dozen adults and nearly that many children in the courtyard. Cal recognized all of their faces even if he couldn’t remember all of their names. It was a little embarrassing because all of them remembered his name.
“You’re famous,” Daniel told him when he expressed his discomfort at the fact that he didn’t know everyone who seemed to know him. “You were quite the hero during the journey here.”
“They’re all from Josiah’s and Oliver’s groups,” Cal explained. “I never got to know them well. What happened to everyone from our group? I only ever see you and Amy and Travis and Blake.”
Daniel shrugged. “They spread out. We were probably the closest group during the journey, but when we got here, everyone wanted something different. People drifted apart.”
Cal frowned. “I guess so. Still, it feels like our group drifted apart the farthest.”
Daniel nodded. “I think we all believed that we were a family after everything we went through. We all suffered so much that we just assumed that we’d all stay together. But we stopped suffering, and a lot of people just wanted to stop thinking about the suffering. It’s easier to just let the past disappear sometimes.”
Cal thought of his own past. “That hasn’t been my experience.”
Daniel cocked his head. “No, I suppose not. But not everyone has the strength you have.”
Cal looked at his children as they played with the other kids. Their outfits were completely destroyed now. Cal would have to pick up some new clothes in Oregon City before they left for Astoria. They smiled and laughed and squealed as the dogs chased them around the courtyard, and Cal felt a wave of love so powerful it was almost frightening.
“Not everyone has the reason I have,” he said softly.
“That too,” Daniel agreed. “It’s a wonderful and terrifying thing to be a parent.”
“Is it terrifying?” Cal asked. “I don’t feel it is.”
“Sure it is,” Daniel insisted. “You hold their entire life in your hand. Whether they grow up to be good people or bad people, happy or sad, wealthy or poor, it’s all on you. I mean, they’ll make their own choices, but you teach them how to make choices. It’s a big responsibility.”
“I don’t know if it’s that hard,” Cal challenged. “Be honest and teach them to be honest. Be kind and teach them to be kind. Be strong and teach them to be strong.”
Daniel laughed. “Be perfect and teach them to be perfect,” he teased. “I understand what you’re saying though. It’s simple to be a parent. That doesn’t mean it’s easy.”
“Fair enough,” Cal acquiesced.
Still, he hadn’t felt the fear or the weight Daniel described. Being a parent was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he didn’t mind that it took a lot of work. It was a privilege to watch his little ones grow every day.
“It sure is wonderful though,” Daniel admitted, watching his own son bounding around the courtyard. “Can you believe we made it this far?”
“No,” Cal said sincerely. “I’m amazed every day that God’s allowed me the privilege to be here.”
“You can say that again.”
***
The moon was out that night, and it cast a soft glow along the road, allowing the horses to see the way easily, especially with the two lanterns Cal had hung on the front of the coach. George and Maddie slept soundly in the rear bench, bundled up in blankets that Betty had knit for them. The old woman saw their children and Daniel’s and Amy’s as her grandkids and doted on them. All five of them had gotten blankets this year. “Next year will be outfits for both of them to replace the ones they drug through the dirt,” she promised Etta with a twinkle in her eye.
Cal and Etta took advantage of their children’s slumber to talk. Both felt rejuvenated by the chance to see old friends, and they kept up a steady conversation as the wagon made its way back to their own homestead.
Daniel and Amy were spending the night with Josiah, so it was just them on the road. Cal enjoyed having the chance to meet with everyone again, but it felt some kind of wonderful to be alone with his wife in the paradise they had both fought so hard to find.
“Do you ever think about life back East?” Etta asked.
It was a common topic of conversation during the annual meet-up. Cal gave her the answer he always did. “Sure I do. Mostly I’m grateful that life is over.”
She nodded. “Yes. Me too. I wonder about my old friends sometimes, though.”
Cal lifted an eyebrow. “The ones who abandoned you after your parents died and you lost the money they thought you had?”
Etta shrugged. “I still hope they’re doing well. I don’t have room in my heart for hate. It’s too poisonous.”
Cal looked at his beautiful wife and thanked God that He had seen fit to grant her to him. “You’re a good woman, Etta.”
She smiled and repeated her question. “But do you think about the other men you worked with on the river? The soldiers you fought with?”
“The rivermen? Not so much. I hope they’re doing well, but we were never really friends. The soldiers?” His mind turned to Willie, the young man from Cincinnati who expressed his dream of moving to California after the war. “I think about them sometimes. We weren’t friends either, but we all suffered something terrible and got through it. Sort of like the wagon train. I knew a man named Willie who moved to California after the war.”
“What happened to him?”
“Nothing. He was one of the lucky ones, like me. He never got shot, never got sick, never got injured. He fought his fight, then headed west as soon as the Army gave him his walking papers. He offered me a job, but I was… well, I wanted a different life then.”
“Whiskey and women?” Etta asked wryly.
He felt heat climb his cheeks. They rarely spoke about his wild behavior before meeting Etta, but while Cal had come to terms with most of the aspects of his past, his promiscuity was one he wished he could forget outright. Lord knows it had caused him enough trouble.
“Yes,” he admitted reluctantly.
He looked up at the moon. It hung round and bright and beautiful in the sky. The stars were the same here as they were in Ohio. They were just in different places than they were in Columbus.
Just like Cal. He was in many ways the same young man who had signed up to fight for the solidarity of the Union ten years ago. He was even a lot like the man who had partied his way up and down a much larger and more crowded river than the one he now called home. He was just in a different place.
“I think what I was really afraid of was finding out I wasn’t worthy of love. Everyone else seemed confident that they would meet a woman and build a family. No one worried that they might not find a woman who’d want to start a family with them. I… well, I didn’t think anyone would want me.”
Etta ran her hands through his hair and smiled at him. “I want you.”
“You do,” he agreed, “and it’s the most incredible thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m glad I waited. I won’t go so far as to say I’m glad for everything that brought me to you, but I’m glad God is merciful in spite of everything. Each time I tried to flee to darkness, He brought me to the light.”
She leaned over and kissed him softly. “I’m just glad He brought you to me.”
“That’s what I mean,” he said. “You’re my light. Without you, I’d still be lost in darkness.”
She kissed him again, then leaned her head on his shoulder. They remained silent for the rest of the drive home. Cal looked up again at the gentle moon and felt peace settle over him. The journey had been long and hard, but as his promised land came into view, he realized once more that he was home.
Hello there, I really hope you liked my new western adventure story and the extended epilogue! I would be very happy to read your thoughts below.
I am truly happy that you wrote this story. It is inspiring to read that people can go from the way Cal was to the way he ended his trip with a wife and kids. Being happy in what he found in the new Cal.
So glad you enjoyed the story, Anna! Thank you so much for your support!
You write such interesting stories. Makes me feel I actually know the characters!
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Thank you so much for your kind words and support, Linda!