A Dream for Tomorrow Read online

  HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS

  EUGENE, OREGON

  Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  Cover by Koechel Peterson & Associates, Inc., Minneapolis, Minnesota

  Cover photos © Koechel Peterson & Associates, Inc. / Hemera / Thinkstock

  Backcover author photo Ruettgers Photography

  A DREAM FOR TOMORROW

  Copyright © 2013 by Melody A. Carlson

  Published by Harvest House Publishers

  Eugene, Oregon 97402

  www.harvesthousepublishers.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Carlson, Melody.

  A dream for tomorrow / Melody Carlson.

  p. cm. — (Homeward on the Oregon Trail series ; bk. 2)

  ISBN 978-0-7369-4873-9 (pbk.)

  ISBN 978-0-7369-4874-6 (eBook)

  1. Women pioneers—Fiction. 2. Widows—Fiction. 3. Wagon trains—Fiction 4. Oregon National Historic Trail—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3553.A73257D74 2013

  813'.54—dc23

  2012026064

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  List of Primary Characters

  THE DAWSON PARTY

  Elizabeth Anne Martin

  JT (12) and Ruth Anne (8)

  Asa and Clara Dawson, Elizabeth’s parents

  Matthew and Jess Dawson, Elizabeth’s brother and sister-in-law

  Brady, Elizabeth’s farmhand and a freed slave

  IN OREGON COUNTRY

  John and Malinda Martin, Elizabeth’s brother-in-law and his wife

  Todd, Emily (13), Bart (12), and Suzannah (9)

  WAGON TRAIN LEADERS

  Captain Brownlee, wagon master

  Eli Kincaid, scout

  FELLOW TRAVELERS

  William Bramford, a widowed lawyer from Boston

  Jeremiah (18), Belinda (17), and Amelia (16)

  Hugh and Lavinia Prescott, friends of William Bramford, also from Boston

  Julius (19), Evelyn (16), and Augustus (13)

  Bert and Florence Flanders

  Mahala (18), Ezra (16), Hannah (13), Walter (11), and Tillie (8)

  Horace and Jane Taylor

  Henry and Gertrude Muller and their four children

  Ruby Morris (Jess Dawson’s aunt) and her friend Doris

  Paddy and Fiona McIntire

  Dr. Nash

  Abner Stone and his son Robert

  Contents

  List of Primary Characters

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Discussion Questions

  Homeward on the Oregon Trail series Book Three: Chapter One

  Chapter One

  Mid-June 1857

  For the third time in one morning, the wagon train came to a complete halt. With reins held tightly in one hand, Elizabeth used her teeth to tug one of her leather driving gloves up higher before she firmly pulled her wagon’s brake handle. Listening to the creak of wood grinding against wood and the squeak of the straining harnesses, she was thankful that her father had insisted on giving her wagon and team a complete inspection earlier in the morning. He’d urged everyone in their unit to do the same, but the Mullers had not taken his suggestion to heart. Consequently they’d had the first breakdown of the day. As councilman of their unit, Father had not been pleased.

  Shading her eyes from the sunshine with her prairie bonnet, Elizabeth peered upward at the intensely blue sky. Maybe it was the elevation or the time of year, but she couldn’t remember when she’d seen sky this shade of blue. The position of the sun indicated that it was nearly noon, but she suspected they’d only traveled a mile or two, maybe less. Although she was relieved to give her weary team another chance to rest, she couldn’t help but feel concerned about the travel time they were losing.

  Elizabeth understood these delays were due to overly burdened teams and mechanical breakdowns. The stress of driving heavily laden wagons up this rugged trail was taking its toll on many of her fellow travelers. As a result, a number of bulky items had been abandoned alongside the trail in the past few days. Most had been large pieces of furniture, and some appeared to be family heirlooms. But no material goods were valuable enough to threaten the lives of people and livestock. And seeing the Taylors’ wagon up ahead and the worn-looking team, she figured Reverend Taylor and his wife would soon be forced to leave their beloved piano behind as well. The way Mrs. Taylor clung to that instrument mystified Elizabeth. It was out of tune and was obviously putting a severe strain on their mule team. To risk injuring an animal for a piano made no sense.

  Captain Brownlee had warned all the units that ascending the treacherous South Pass would be slow going this week. He’d strongly cautioned a number of wagons to lighten their loads before beginning their ascent. Some had heeded his advice. Lavinia Prescott even left behind the solid cherry bedroom furniture she had brought all the way from Boston. Others, like the Mullers and the Taylors, had not listened.

  Several days back, Eli Kincaid, the wagon train scout and Elizabeth’s good friend, had shared the welcome news that they were nearly in Oregon Country and were more than halfway to their final destination. “Of course, the hardest part is yet to come,” he had said lightly.

  “So I’ve heard,” she admitted. “But at least the landscape is beautiful.”

  He nodded, looking up toward the foothills. “Beautiful…and treacherous.”

  Elizabeth looked past her sturdy pair of mules to the glistening black backs of her Percheron horses, Bella and Beau. So far this team combination had worked well together. However, crossing the prairie had been relatively easy. Elizabeth hoped that with the flat plains and weeks of travel behind them, the animals would be accustomed to each other and continue to pull their weight. She also hoped that she hadn’t been mistaken not to go with oxen teams like the rest of her family.

  “What stopped us this time, Mama?” Ruth poked her head out from the covered part of the wagon. “Another breakdown?”

  “I’m not sure. I hope it’s not Grandpa or Uncle Matthew.” Elizabeth peered up the trail to where Brady and JT were walking back toward them. She had offered to take the morning shift of driving the wagon. Brady and JT would take over in the afternoon. JT removed his hat and waved it high as if to signal that all was well.

  “It’s someone up in unit four,” JT explained to her as he paused by Beau, stroking the horse’s glistening black flank.

  “Your ma and pa and brother and his new bride are all jus’ fine,” Brady told her. “No problems there.”

  “But the Mullers’ team is looking poorly,” JT said quietl
y. “Grandpa is talking to them right now. I heard him telling Mrs. Muller that if they didn’t unload some things, he didn’t want to see her or her children riding in the wagon.”

  “Oh, dear.” Elizabeth shook her head. Gertie Muller was a big woman, and she did not enjoy walking along the trail. “Hopefully they’ll lighten their load before it’s too late.”

  “What’ll they do if ’n their team gives up the ghost?” Brady asked Elizabeth with concern.

  “I honestly don’t know, Brady.” She sighed. “I suppose we’d all have to take them in or try to replace their animals with some of our extra livestock.”

  “That don’t seem fair, Ma.” JT scowled. “Would you really let the Mullers use one of our cows to pull their wagon?”

  She pressed her lips tightly together. The truth of the matter was that she would resent this as much as her son would. But she was the grown-up here, so she’d have to hide her emotions. “I reckon it’d be our Christian duty, JT. It’s not as if we could just leave the Mullers all behind, could we?”

  “As contrary as they’ve been toward us?” JT looked unconvinced. “I don’t see why not.”

  Elizabeth forced a smile for the sake of her children. “Jesus said we need to love even our enemies, son. Besides, don’t you think Gertie needs friends as much as anyone else?”

  JT’s brow creased as if he was considering this. “You want us to take over driving for you?” He brightened as if the prospects of driving were better than walking.

  “Don’t you think we’ll be stopping for dinner soon?” she asked.

  “Grandpa said we’re not supposed to stop for another mile.”

  The idea of stretching her legs was appealing. She glanced back at Ruth. “What do you say? Want to walk now?”

  Ruth nodded. “I think Flax wants to walk too.”

  Elizabeth handed the reins to Brady and JT, relieved to get down from the firm wagon seat, and she and Ruth and their energetic yellow dog made their way up the trail. They soon reached her parents’ wagon, but only her mother was with it, and her head was bowed as if she were praying.

  “Everything all right?” Elizabeth called up.

  Clara blinked in surprise. “Oh, Elizabeth, you caught me unawares.”

  “Were you sleeping, Grandma?” Ruth giggled.

  “I reckon I was.” Clara gave them a sheepish, tired smile.

  “How are you doing?” Elizabeth asked.

  Clara’s smile strengthened. “I’m a little worn out but no more than the rest of the travelers. Your father is checking on our unit…trying to talk some sense into certain emigrants.”

  “Like the Mullers,” Ruth offered.

  “Ruth.” Elizabeth gave her daughter a warning look. “Remember your manners.”

  Clara pointed to a large wooden dresser alongside the road with vines growing over it. “Look at the poor old thing. It appears to have been sitting there for some time.”

  “Do you think there’s anything in it?” Ruth asked curiously.

  “I’m sure others have already gone through it,” Clara told her.

  “But you go ahead and have a peek if you like,” Elizabeth said as she climbed up in the wagon to sit next to her mother. Then as Ruth and Flax hurried over to investigate the old dresser, Elizabeth turned to peer at her mother, looking into her eyes. “You look extra tired today. Is everything all right? Have you been sleeping well?”

  “I’m sure I sleep better than most.” Clara shook her head. “When I think about some of the mothers, like our friend Flo, sleeping with all three of her girls in the back of one crowded wagon…well, I can’t help but feel a mite selfish.”

  “Well, if you’re that worried, you could always invite a couple of the Flanders girls to come over and sleep with you and Father.” Elizabeth laughed. “For that matter, I’m sure Ruth would willingly join you.”

  Clara chuckled.

  “Do you want to walk with Ruthie and me a spell?”

  Clara pursed her lips and then shook her head. “No thank you, I think I’ll stay here with Asa until we stop for dinner.”

  Elizabeth reached over and squeezed her mother’s hand. “Go ahead and grab a few more winks while you can get them,” she said as she climbed down.

  She continued up to Matthew and Jess’ wagon, which was just one ahead of her parents’. She still felt a little awkward around them. She supposed it wasn’t easy being newlyweds on a wagon train, where privacy was hard to come by.

  “Hello there, Jess,” she called out when she saw that her new sister-in-law was the only one seated in the wagon. “Is Matthew off helping his fellow travelers?”

  Jess nodded and smiled. “It seems only fair after our recent breakdown.”

  Elizabeth climbed up to sit next to her. “It makes me glad we’re traveling in a big group. More hands to help out when someone is in need.” She had watched the men working together to replace Matthew’s broken wagon wheel the day before. Not only did it look extremely difficult, it had appeared dangerous as well. It was one thing to make wagon repairs on flat ground but something else altogether to do it on a hillside. Still feeling like a protective big sister, she was relieved that Matthew hadn’t been forced to deal with it on his own.

  “I think we should be good from here on out,” Jess told her. “It helped to move some of the load into your father’s wagon.”

  “Yes, now that our food supplies are diminishing, it was time to redistribute some of the weight.”

  “And with Soda Pass only a day or two ahead…” Jess pulled out a book with a map, pointing out where they were on the trail. “And with an elevation of seven thousand feet, we need to take it as easy as we can on the animals.” She stuck the book back under the seat. “Which is why I’m going to get out and walk after Matthew returns.”

  “Maybe you can walk with Ruth and me later.” Elizabeth hopped back down. “In the meantime I want to go see who broke down up there.”

  “Yes, I’ll be curious to hear about it too.”

  “Find anything in the dresser?” Elizabeth called out as Ruth and Flax came over.

  “Nothing but dust.”

  She grasped her daughter’s hand, quickening the pace. “Well, let’s go see what’s wrong up ahead. We’ll find out what’s holding us up.”

  They discovered the trouble about ten wagons up. The Spencers in unit four appeared to have broken an axle. Not only that, but unless she was mistaken, Elizabeth thought they had team trouble as well. She knew enough about livestock to recognize a mule was seriously injured. With his big boxy head hanging straight down and one hoof lifted off the ground, the poor animal was clearly suffering.

  “It’s a shame,” Belinda Bramford said as she and her sister came over to Elizabeth and Ruth. “We’ve been watching for a while, and it’s not good at all.”

  “They’re going to have to put the mule down,” Amelia informed them.

  “Mr. Spencer is getting his gun,” Belinda said quietly.

  “They’re going to shoot him?” Ruth asked with wide eyes.

  “Look at that front left leg,” Elizabeth told her daughter. “You can see it’s broken. He must have fallen when the axle broke.”

  “But can’t it be fixed?” Ruth asked.

  “Oh, Ruth…” Elizabeth sadly shook her head. “You’re a farm girl. You know the answer to that. There’s no way that poor animal can go on. The only kind thing to do is to put it down.”

  Ruth turned to face her mother, covering her eyes with her hands. “I don’t want to watch it.”

  “No,” Elizabeth told her. “Nor do I.”

  “Me neither,” said Amelia.

  “Let’s keep walking,” Elizabeth told them.

  So now with the two teen girls joining them, they hastened on ahead. But they’d only gone about fifty yards before they heard the gunshot. Ruth’s grasp tightened on Elizabeth’s hand, but she said nothing. Her head hung down as they walked up the rutted wagon trail. Because of their fast pace, they soon caught up wi
th the slow-moving wagons. Naturally, there were questions regarding the gunshot. Fortunately the Bramford girls didn’t mind sharing the sad news. Meanwhile, Elizabeth and Ruth continued walking.

  “Grandma said we have to go a mile before we break for dinner,” Elizabeth told Ruth. “Maybe we can get far enough ahead to go off the trail a bit to look for wildflowers or strawberries or gather firewood.” She knew Ruth still felt confused and saddened over the injured mule and its untimely demise. And although it would be easy to sweep this under the rug and speak about something else, Elizabeth decided to use it as a teaching moment, and she silently prayed that God would help her.

  Chapter Two

  Elizabeth led Ruth away from the main trail. Still holding her daughter’s hand, she picked their way through a clearing in a forested section, even breaking off some small branches the way Eli had shown her to do just in case she forgot the way she’d come, which didn’t seem likely.

  “I understand how upset you feel about seeing that mule,” she began. “And knowing he had to be put down like that.” She paused by a tall evergreen. “And I remember how I felt the first time I saw a horse put down. I was about the same age as you.”

  “What happened?” Ruth looked up with sad brown eyes.

  “Well, you know how your grandpa loves a good fast horse, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Ruth nodded with interest and perhaps a tiny bit of pride. “I remember back home in Kentucky…Grandpa had some of the finest horses thereabouts. Everybody used to say so.”

  Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile. “And Grandpa would agree with you on that account.”

  “So what happened?” Ruth asked.

  “When I was a girl, your grandpa had a beautiful gray stallion named Storm. That horse was Grandpa’s pride and joy, and Storm was valuable too. He had been siring some very fine foals for a couple of years by then. As I recall, Storm was about eight years old that summer—I can remember because he was almost the exact same age as me. Storm wasn’t just beautiful, he was fast too. And he had won the Fourth of July race three years in a row. So naturally, Grandpa entered him that last summer too.”