A Sweetness to the Soul by Jane Kirkpatrick

Author:Jane Kirkpatrick [Kirkpatrick, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-56915-8
Publisher: The Crown Publishing Group
Published: 2012-04-11T04:00:00+00:00

PART II

DREAM CATCHING

BEGINNINGS

I’ve looked it over. It’s a fine site.”

“I’m not disagreeing,” I said.

“Hard to tell.”

“Just want to make up my own mind,” I added, always wanting the last word.

We had ridden out from The Dalles to the donation land claim Joseph had acquired, a 640-acre detail he had not shared with Mama. At various stops along the way—Three Mile Creek, Five Mile Creek, Eight Mile Creek, and others—he had consulted his sketch book, gotten off his horse, walked here and there, his hands moving as though he were talking. He spoke mostly to himself.

Elmer Wilson’s house at Five Mile was already a stage stop for people traveling south to Tygh Valley, Wapinitia, and Nix’s bridge not far from the mouth of the Deschutes. At Wilson’s, at least, he spoke out loud to me: “It all fits in,” he said.

Riding on down Tygh’s Ridge, we skirted a steep trail that twisted like a snake to the Deschutes and instead followed a hollow that dipped and rose until we reached a small, year-round stream. He noted where he believed our claim began. The surrounding land had a gentle slope to recommend it.

“No need to build right at this spot, but there’s water and an openness I like. Can see the mountains on a cloudless day. No trees to break the view. And there’ll be less wind down here.” We rode farther around the sidehill of the gentle ravine following the gurgle of the fast-flowing stream. “Over there, see those stones?” He pointed to a marker pile in the distance. “Meeker graves. Still don’t see how they could’ve gotten so lost,” he said, recalling the fateful wagon train where so many died on their way to The Dalles. “Twenty years too soon, I guess.”

I looked around at the sparse sage popping up through spears of grass. The hills and hollows looked the same in spring, all soft shadows and green. I could well imagine how hungry, exhausted people from the Meeker’s train could have become confused and taken the turn away from both the White River and the Deschutes, ending up here, on the crest of a ravine, discouraged, starving, barely able to bury their dead.

“There’s water on the other side of the hollow, too.” Joseph moved his arms expansively, directing my attention. “Comes into this one and where they join is the perfect rise for the house I think. Not far from that trail. With a little upgrading, we’ll bring more packers through here. And it’ll be just the beginning, Janie,” he said. “There’ll be roads and people and settlers all coming our way ’cause of what we lay out, get ready for them.” He was enthusiastic about his puzzle pieces, letting me in on bits and pieces of his dream that still seemed foggy and wispy to me.

As we sat on the horses looking across the horizon to the stream before us, I realized the site was familiar. Sunmiet and I had sat on this ground having followed the little stream up from the Deschutes the summer Joseph entered my life.

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