Lead Me Home by Theresa Hupp

Author:Theresa Hupp
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Oregon Trail historical fiction
Publisher: Rickover Publishing
Published: 2018-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

August 2, 1847. Reached the Port Neuf. Provisions are low. Can Pershing keep control of the company?

Chapter 47: Trail to Fort Hall

Monday, August 2nd—Jonah thrives on cow’s milk. Esther also churned butter—enough for the Pershings, Abercrombies, and Mac and me. We used our last flour for soda biscuits tonight. Two days to Fort Hall.

Jenny smiled at the children playing in the hot springs near camp, their shrieks louder than the crickets chirping in nearby sage. The Port Neuf babbled as it danced over rocks and tree snags. The creeks and rivers they passed now were fast and shallow, with rapids where the water fell many feet in short spans. Captain Pershing said there were terrible cascades on the Snake.

The Snake—Jenny shivered at the name. What horrors gave the river such a fearsome name? She would soon see.

First they had to get to Fort Hall. Their cornmeal was gone, and now their flour was also. They had a little dried meat and whatever game Mac could shoot, and not much else. In the morning Jenny gave the remaining pemmican to Mac when he left to hunt, along with leftover biscuits. She kept just one biscuit for her noon meal.

Esther brought Jenny the milk Jonah hadn’t drunk during the night. “It’ll go bad if you don’t drink it,” Esther said. “I got fresh milk for him today.”

“What about the other children?”

“I made flapjacks for them with the last of our cornmeal. Drink it. For your baby.”

Jenny drank. The milk was rich and sweet.

Joel helped Jenny hitch up her team. “Where’s Zeke?” she asked.

“Hunting. I’m staying with the wagons.” Joel said as he yoked the lead oxen.

“Thank you,” Jenny said. “How’s your papa?” she whispered.

“Seems fine.” Joel nodded and walked off.

Joel wasn’t as friendly as Zeke. Or maybe he didn’t know how to talk to girls.

The company set out, following the Port Neuf. They stayed mostly to the north of the river, skirting hillside after hillside that rose steeply above the banks. Occasionally there was not enough room for the wagons on the north side, so they splashed across to the south. Jenny didn’t fear the shallow Port Neuf, but she watched the fast current with each crossing to be sure no belongings were swept downstream.

By midmorning the valley widened and the trail turned north between hills of porous black rock. At noon Jenny ate the last biscuit and some berries Rachel had gathered. When they resumed travel after eating, the ground slowly shifted from dry sage to marsh. Birds rose from the wetlands as they rode along the valley. Tanner and Doc each shot a duck, and the doctor later downed a turkey.

“We’ll have fowl tonight, no matter what the hunters find,” Mrs. Tuller said with a smile.

Jenny was glad for the birds, but the marsh also brought swarms of biting mosquitoes. The oxen’s tails twitched but could not reach their faces. The lead oxen suffered most, with no way to shield their eyes and noses from the buzzing insects.

Poulette was tied behind the wagon and nickered at the stinging pests.

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