Chapter VII

LINDA'S HOPE NEVER REALIZED; DEATH OF DAVID MULHALL; CRAIG'S PROMISE REMEMBERED; LESSONS FROM A TRAIL-MAKING OUTFIT; DECISION TO MAKE THE TRIP.

The thread of our story is now resumed at a later date, and in a new century. Linda Shaeffer, as we first knew her, for many years Ben's widow, has now passed the meridian of life; her only child, Benjamin, has grown into manhood and assumed the cares of the farm and home. Meanwhile the Pacific Northwest has made extraordinary progress, with an increase in population and improvements in transportation almost completely changing the old-time pioneer environment.

In the cool evening of a midsummer day, Linda Hardy was sitting in front of the ivy covered cabin, whose roof was completely overspread with the bright green of the beautiful climbing vine. Nearly half of the front side was likewise covered with growths from the same vigorous stalk at the corner of the cottage; and the foliage on the roof had reached to the farther end of the cabin, two rods or more from the roots that supported and gave life to it. The sultry atmosphere was filled with perfume from a row of sweet peas that lined the front of a {193} small but well-kept flower garden, mingled with aroma from a choice variety of roses in bloom, while sweet clover and various other flowers added to the pleasant fragrance afloat in the air.

A young man with a glow of health in his countenance was leaning against the wall of the cabin, with his feet on the rung of the chair, and a book which he had been reading open upon his knees. In an abstracted mood he suddenly closed the book, placed his feet upon the ground and for a moment sat upright, looking out into space as if unconscious of his surroundings. Recovering himself and looking straight at the matron sitting nearby, he uttered one word, "Mother!"

"What is it, Benjamin?"

Only partly aroused from his reverie, he seemed unprepared to say just what was on his mind; so made no immediate or direct reply.

For some years, the youthful Benjamin Hardy had hoped that some day he could visit the spot where the remains of his father had been left; but any reference to the tragedy seemed always to greatly disturb his mother. He had the subject of a proposed trip to the grave on his mind when, half abstractedly, he had first spoken to her; now fully awake, he hesitated to continue.

"What is it, Benjamin?" repeated by his mother prompted him to go farther than he had attempted heretofore.

"Do you believe, mother, if you were to go out on {194} the Trail you could identify the spot where father was killed?" he asked rather hesitatingly.

"I know I could--the river crossing, the low bluff and the narrow strip of valley are all there. I can see them in my mind as plain as the day it occurred."

"But there are probably several crossings now; how could you identify the particular one?"

"It was where the Trail crossed and was worn two or three feet deep on both banks of the river; Ben, I have seen where it was worn down ten feet deep. Yes, I could find the crossing, and even the spot where your father was buried."

"Mother, I have long wanted to go, find the grave and put a monument on the spot."

There was a long silence during which both seemed to be pondering the subject. The mother spoke first, "Kate has several times written that she would like to visit her mother's grave and wants me to go along; but that is nearly a thousand miles, I should judge, beyond where your father was buried."

As had been the case before, the conversation ended without reaching any conclusion. Years passed, and from one cause or another, the journey to visit the grave of Benjamin Hardy, away out on the sage-brush plains, was not undertaken.

Finally, when the Pelton family and Aunt Sarah were about ready to make the long-anticipated trip to the grave of Catherine Mulhall near the summit of the Rocky Mountains, and sent an invitation to Linda to join the party, she had to sorrowfully decline. {195} For some time her health had not been good; in fact, she had become a prematurely broken-down woman without any apparent cause, unless it was the silent grief gnawing so many years at her heart.

She was never able to revisit the scene of the tragedy where the young husband whom she adored had been ruthlessly slain by the bloodthirsty savages; but could not forget the cruel blow fate had dealt her, and often thought how the bright prospects and hopes of her young life had been so irretrievably shattered. Though absent in the flesh, her spirit was ever hovering over the grave by the river.

Isaac Pelton enjoyed doing things, and from the day when he selected a tract for his home until the final call, he was a busy man. He had a worthy helpmate in Kate, mistress of the household, who was as busy in the cabin as he was in the field. After the birth of their eldest child, a new purpose in life--a bond of union bringing higher aims and ambitions--opened before them; both enjoyed excellent health and were supremely happy and contented.

Their thoughts centered on the baby--Isaac Pelton, Jr., and heir to their estate. Both lovingly watched his growth from day to day and were well repaid, for the boy grew rapidly in health and vigor inherited from his parents and aided by the healthful climate and nourishing food of the frontier farm.

It was before the time of the transcontinental railroads, and the markets of the world had not yet {196} been opened to that region by the steamship lines that came later; so the country developed slowly. The mails were tardy in reaching them, but the few letters were as welcome and interesting as if delivered the day before or even a fortnight earlier; and the current literature of the day supplied by the newspapers of the period, was abundant and furnished subjects for serious thought. When the steamers were delayed by storms or accidents, sometimes missing connections that made letters and newspapers two or three weeks late, plenty of topics were open for study that had only a passing reading before.

The newspapers occupied the field later taken by the conservative magazines; the common practice of re-reading articles developed topics for speculative thinking and deep study as interesting and often more instructive than when fresh from the mails with only a light reading. Neither Isaac nor Kate had received more than a common school education, which was all that was expected in their childhood days. Little did they realize how they had acquired a "higher education" in the broad and thorough school of active life; but such was the accomplished fact with many pioneers of their day.

Pelton never tired of taking their little boy on his knee, and reading aloud while the mother plied the needle on their garments, or knitted evenings for companionship as well as to provide them with comfortable clothing. Another stranger came into their {197} household; and to the great joy of the mother, it was a girl. "Now we're even," said Kate; "and let us call the little one Catherine."

She never forgot the grave high upon the mountains, the scene of the burial of her mother Catherine, or the planting of the little tree upon it; and always cherished loving thoughts of her. Sarah, one of the twin sisters, often talked to Kate about it and recalled Craig's well remembered words, "I'll mark your mother's grave so you can find it the longest day you live," which had sunk deep into her heart and kept alive the desire to revisit the sacred spot.

Time passed and another child--a boy--came; Isaac said the name should be Adam to perpetuate the memory of his own father, Adam Pelton. Next a girl was born to them; and Kate selected the name Sarah, after her sister who faithfully administered to the wants of father David Mulhall to the last days of his life.

There were now in the Pelton household two boys and two girls, each in time to share in the intense love of their parents, and receive as much care and attention as the first-born. It was in every respect an ideal family, held in high esteem by all who dwelt in the neighborhood.

Isaac and Kate had long wanted the Squire to come and share the comforts and joys of their household; but he was reluctant to give up his own home, and hesitated until the unexpected call came. "He {198} just went to sleep," said Sarah, who watched by his bedside, and died without a struggle, beloved by his children, respected by all who knew him, honored by his business associates and the church to which he belonged. Sarah, who had never married, soon left the village homestead to live with her sister Kate, and was a welcome addition to the Pelton household.

As time passed, Sarah's thoughts would revert to her mother's grave, and the words of Douglas Craig kept echoing in her ears. Even in her dreams the fond hope of revisiting that well-remembered spot kept recurring, and strengthening the resolution that some day and somehow she would realize the hope of making the long journey to where the little pine was planted and the grave marked by a wagon-tire.

Isaac Pelton, Jr. was a precocious child, and in his father's mind was destined to be a distinguished citizen of the Republic. He did come to honorable manhood, married early and made business connections that called him to a foreign land; but died in middle age, without returning to America.

His sister Catherine married young, raised a family of six children and following in her mother's footsteps, filled an honored place in the community. While experiencing more of the hardships of pioneer or rather frontier life, she was uncomplaining and happy. Adam and Sarah, both unmarried, remained at home with their parents, Isaac and Kate--now "the old folks."

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During the lapse of years, while the events recorded in this volume were passing, a great change had taken place in nearly all the world's affairs. From a retrospective view, the transformation in the facilities and conveniences of life and habits of the people, the advances in the arts and sciences, and growth of religion and political freedom in the period from the burial of Catherine Mulhall on the high mountains, to the arrival of the pilgrimage at her grave, was greater than in the preceding thousand years.

Within that time, a great Civil War had been fought and the Union preserved; slavery had been abolished in name, and finally in fact. After the Emancipation Proclamation, no one could any longer place men, women and children on the auction block like cattle, sheep or any other chattel. This was but one step in the great drama of which it was a part, though the United States had become known throughout the world as the land of the free, which it was in comparison with the majority of other countries.

Lincoln, the Great Emancipator, had been assassinated, but his noble acts and the cruel manner of his death had enshrined him in the hearts of the liberty-loving people of the world. Religious progress was no less pronounced than political, though not by legal enactments. In the beginning of the period here recorded, many orthodox ministers taught that all who did not believe in the tenets of their church were doomed to everlasting punishment {200} in a lake of fire, portraying a God of vengeance, not of love--driving people into the church through fear and not from motives of righteousness.

A great step forward was the establishment of a uniform common school system, soon to become free; though crude at the beginning, it contained the germ of the educational development prevailing at the end of the period. The marvelous progress in the arts and sciences is beyond question the most far-reaching of all, medical discovery increasing the average span of life from thirty-four to forty-five years by conquering the plagues or epidemics, preventing the spread of violent diseases and reducing infant mortality in amazing proportions.

Applications of electricity for power and light have advanced civilization in many ways; but we are too near to that era to see it in correct perspective. The discovery and rapid improvement of internal combustion motors brought the automobile to the state of a practical vehicle during the period just before the long-anticipated trip to the grave.

Sarah Mulhall, who never forgot the words of Douglas Craig spoken to her when in deep grief beside the freshly made grave of her mother, the little tree, the rose bush and the flowers planted there, or the inscribed half buried wagon-tire, assured her sister Kate--Mrs. Pelton--that she could locate the spot. The North Star, the rift in the mountains and the marks on the trail would be her guides to it. She was possessed of a competence, more than needed for {201} comfort during a long life; and was willing to expend any necessary amount to reach the sacred spot and erect a monument to the memory of their mother.

* * * * * * * * *

About this time an elderly man who had been among the pioneers of 1852, drove slowly over the old Trail, erecting monuments as he progressed to preserve its identity, and to perpetuate the memory of the unknown dead along the way. Upon completion of the Oregon Short Line R.R., paralleling much of it, the original track had been abandoned in some places, and became known to many as the "lost trail." A national interest had been aroused, and two or three of the States through which it passes had taken measures to aid the elderly man's work.

Isaac Pelton and Kate often contemplated the possibility of visiting the grave of her mother, and like Sarah, planned to do so. But while their family was being raised, and afterward when the children were attending school, circumstances always seemed to postpone the trip.

Besides, Sarah could not leave her father who wanted very much to go with them, but was prevented by the hand of time on his shoulders. If the automobile had come twenty years earlier, the Squire and Sarah could and would have done so; but the long journey with an ox-team, or even with a horse and carriage was thought too much for his strength, and he died without undertaking it.

Adam Pelton, the second son, was of an {202} adventurous nature and had traveled in foreign lands as well as extensively in his own; he was in the prime of life and in good health, a thorough mechanic with experience in repairing automobiles. Returning to the old homestead after a long absence, he noticed his father's whitened locks, and saw that his steps were no longer firm. His mother had changed comparatively little, though now approaching three score years and ten.

After passing some weeks at home, consulting with his aunt Sarah and observing the health of his father and mother, he believed they would be benefited by a trip away from the homestead over the old Trail to the grave of his grandmother. "It would be nice to make that trip next summer, father," Adam said one day while they were strolling over the farm. "You would not need to turn your hand over to do a thing; sister Sarah says she could drive one of the automobiles, if we didn't go too far in a day."

Adam then counselled with his father, mother and Aunt Sarah, and near the end of the talk the mother said, "I'm ready to go; and now what do you say, father?"

"I'll think it over tonight," Pelton responded. Aunt Sarah spoke up, "I'm ready to go, Adam is also, and sister--here's three to one; let's make it unanimous."

For once Pelton wavered; he wanted to go, but questioned in his own mind whether he was physically able to stand the trip. "Well, I'll go, unless {203} Dr. Marshall advises against it," he replied, which, they all knew the doctor would not; and so the momentous decision that the trip would be made in the spring, when the maple trees were in full leaf, was reached.

Next morning at the breakfast table everyone was cheerful, and they began planning the outfit to convey them, discussing what they would take along, when they would start and about how long it would take. Adam said it would require two automobiles at least, and perhaps three would be better. "What would you want three automobiles for?" his sister Sarah asked in a rather derisive tone.

"The third one to carry the camp outfit," Adam suggested and added, "we have three elderly people to care for, you know." "Why not build a wagon-box on the running-gears of an automobile like the one that went over to mark the Trail?" Sarah responded in real earnest. She had been reading about the elderly man's trip in a wagon-box on an automobile, where he had a cook-stove, ate his frugal meals, and had room for all his outfit, including a bed; and thought it a jolly good idea.

"Well, you may laugh if you please," she said to Adam, who at first was not favorable to the idea, "but there's more in it than you at first imagine. He had springs to the seat, which could be removed when he wanted to make the bed, and slept nice and dry away from the lizards, ticks and fleas we hear about." Sarah had read the story how at one place the fleas {204} had attacked Mrs. Whitman[1] in such numbers as to blacken her dress and fairly crazed the good lady.

Nevertheless Adam could not refrain from a hearty laugh at the odd expression, "wagon-box on the running gear of an automobile," to the annoyance of his sister, who well knew of the word "chassis" as applied to motor cars. But an old-time wagon-box as an automobile top appealed to her imagination, and she carried the simile further in her mind to the wagon instead of the automobile. After a few more sallies of wit, only part in earnest, mother Pelton spoke half reprovingly, "There now, children, don't you think you have carried this far enough?"

Though Kate, as we first knew her, now Mrs. Pelton a matron of mature age, spoke of them this way in pleasantry, in her heart she felt and thought of them as her children, and not as a mature man and woman. Many a mother carries that feeling to the end of her life; God bless their memories!

Adam and Sarah had much in common, though each held opinions which they would stoutly defend when occasion seemed to require it. They often roamed the fields together, and penetrated the forests in search of flowers, ferns or shrubs, or to study bird and small animal life. Sarah had a creditable collection, particularly of flowers and ferns, while Adam mounted his birds and small animals with his own hands; both collections, jointly cared for and {205} equally prized by each, were in one room of the residence.

Sarah was a pronounced "woman's rights" advocate, and a staunch admirer of Susan B. Anthony, while Adam did not hesitate to call her a crank, and thought a woman's place in the household instead of the political arena. On various subjects they usually agreed to disagree; but when it came to the temperance question or religious opinions, they were of one mind.

Immediately after breakfast, Adam saddled his horse and rode off without telling anyone where he was going. Notwithstanding his jocular attitude toward Sarah's wagon-box idea, he had been impressed with it and went direct to the automobile shop in the city determined to investigate. "Yes, it's perfectly feasible," they all said when he explained what was wanted. One mechanic spoke up, "I saw that old man's outfit with his stovepipe running through the wagon cover just as if he was in a house."

Without consulting anyone at home, he ordered the chassis and other fixtures for two automobiles without the tops, in due time justifying his precipitate action by the explanation that neither Aunt Sarah nor his father, or both together, should bear all of the expense of the trip, as each had expressed a willingness to do. Adam said nothing that evening as to where he had been or what he had done, but at breakfast the next morning began teasing {206} Sarah about her wagon-box on the running gear of an automobile, to prepare the way for the laugh that was on him; and then came out with the whole story to the great merriment of all. He could enjoy a joke on himself as well as on another, and joined heartily in the laugh that followed.

Preparations for the great journey progressed during the winter, three months before they could cross the first mountain barrier without encountering snow. Time seemed to pass slowly, for all were eager to start. Maps were sought, guide-books searched and all obtainable literature on or about the Oregon Trail read, re-read and studied. With the lapse of years the old track had become famous and revered by millions as a battlefield, which indeed it was; a traveler who had passed over it wrote a description and brief history of it as follows:

Worn deep and wide by the migration of three hundred thousand people, lined by the graves of twenty thousand dead, witness of romance and tragedy, the Oregon Trail is unique in history, and will always be sacred to the memories of the pioneers. Reaching the summit of the Rockies upon an evenly distributed grade of eight feet to the mile, following the watercourse of the River Platte and tributaries to within two miles of the summit of the South Pass, through the Rocky Mountain barrier, descending to the tide-waters of the Pacific through the valleys of the Snake and Columbia, the route of the Oregon Trail points the way for a great National Highway from the Missouri River to Puget Sound--a roadway of greatest commercial importance, a highway of military preparedness, a route for a lasting memorial to the pioneers, thus combining utility and sentiment.

[1] A fragment of history from the life of Marcus Whitman.

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