Emma's Journey Read Free Page A

turned her head, avoiding his gaze. Yes, crept into her mind, but she held her tongue. Would she have accepted Peter so quickly if she’d known then he would sell the farm and decide to travel west?
    He watched her in silence, and then rubbed his index finger and thumb across his forehead. “Why don’t you clean up from supper, and we’ll go for a walk when I get back. I have to see Ezra about something.”
    “It better be about hiring a scout to bring us back,” she muttered.
    She thought about their daily life while she washed dishes. The routine the wagon master had set for them was arduous and boring. Ezra woke the camp every morning before daybreak by shooting off his rifle several times. While the men took care of the animals and checked the wagons over for the day’s journey, the women cooked a breakfast of bacon and coffee, and added whatever bread left from the previous night’s supper. Emma’s supply of fresh eggs had been gone by the second week.
    The sun had barely risen above the horizon when the shout came to head west once more. At noon they stopped for a cold meal that was basically leftovers from breakfast. Back on the road after this break, the wagon train continued on until five or six in the afternoon.
    At that time, Ezra and his scouts called a halt, this time with a bugle, and directed the wagons into a circle for the evening. While the men again tended to the animals and made repairs, the women cooked a hot meal. Evenings passed with visiting and doing small jobs like sewing and mending. Usually someone brought out a fiddle or harmonica, and music would entertain the travelers. Those with children used the evening time to help with schoolwork.
    Broiling sun beat down endlessly on her head day after day, causing rivulets of sweat to trickle down her face and between her breasts. Then they were plagued with fierce thunderstorms, dumping downpours that gave them no notice. During those ferocious storms, Peter would attempt to control the animals as Emma climbed into the back of the wagon, fighting the raging wind and rain, to tie the cover down. Several times both she and the inside of the wagon were soaked before she finished. Once the sun came out, they dragged out all the wet items to dry.
    Most days she and Peter walked on and off. He led the oxen while Emma trudged beside him, weary and hot. She tried riding on the bench in the front of the wagon, but the bouncing and jarring was worse than the walking. The little space she’d made for herself in the back turned out to be stifling during the heat of day.
    Peter tried to console Emma by reminding them they headed to a wonderful new life in Oregon. Every time he said this, Emma asked him what the devil was wrong with the old life they’d had.
    More than anything, she hated the dirt and dust. She moved her tongue around her mouth, feeling the grit of dirt between her teeth. Her body was tired and her heart ached for her parents, and the nice clean farmhouse they’d left back in Indiana.
    “Emma, come sit with me for a while.” With a drooling Stephen attached to her hip, Sarah entered the area where Emma sat brooding after cleaning up from supper.
    “All right.” Emma sighed, happy to have something distract her. She followed Sarah, stretching her tired muscles and rubbing her back aching from the day’s travel. Emma and Sarah had become good friends, enjoying each other’s company after a long day. While Sarah attempted to keep Emma’s spirits up, the only thing that would truly raise her spirits was a trip back home.
    Once they settled next to Sarah’s campfire, two other women from the wagon train joined them. Elizabeth and Abigail Preston were the wife and mother of Jeb Preston, a preacher who joined the wagon train to start his church in Oregon Country.
    A tall and slender woman, Elizabeth Preston could almost be called frail. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun at the back of her head. In a large flowered bag, she