Where the Trail Ends: American Tapestries Read Online Free PDF Page B

officially proposed yet, but Papa thought he would once they finished their journey. The Loewe party had much to overcome before Jack and Samantha could seriously consider marriage. In the meantime, she hosted Jack most nights around their family’s campfire. He brought his harmonica with him, and Papaand Micah harmonized on all manner of hymns and river songs before the accompaniment of the coyotes drowned out their singing. She never dared to sing with them, knowing her vocal inabilities might make Jack turn and run, but she enjoyed the concert each night.
    While she loved adventure, she wasn’t completely certain about the marriage part. Papa wanted her to marry, to make sure she and Micah would be well cared for if something happened to him. And Grandma Emma had asked him to make sure that Samantha married someone with a bit of refinement. In Papa’s mind, Jack Doyle was the perfect answer to what he perceived to be a problem.
    A light wind blew open the tent flap, and another dog barked. She rubbed the goose bumps on her arms. A dog or two sometimes barked during the night. It was nothing to worry about. At least, that’s what she told herself. They were simply barking at the wind.
    The breeze drifted into the tent and she tugged her grandmother’s quilt up to her chin, trying to keep warm. When the dogs barked again, the horrible stories from the British fur traders back at Fort Hall began to play in her mind. Captain Loewe said the traders’ tales were tall ones meant to deter the Americans from settling the wilderness. Neither the British nor the Americans were thrilled with emigrants from the opposing country coming to settle the land, but still their company would try.
    The traders’ warnings were so diverse, so absurd, even, that Samantha tried to force herself to stop listening. But in the darkest hours, she remembered them. There were stories about wolves and bears and hostile Indians, about bad water, lost pioneers, autumn snowstorms in the Blue Mountains, and a deadly disease called camp fever. They’d told them about deep canyons, volcanoes that towered in the sky, and the treacherous Columbia River that plunged over rocks and swirled in pools, trapping animals and people alike.
    The traders also said that it would be impossible for their company to take wagons over the Blue Mountains; some of them had laughed to the point of hysterics when they saw the trunks in the back of their wagons along with rocking chairs, tools, bags of seed, and headboards. They’d urged Papa and the others to sell their things and continue by foot or on horseback, but few in their party sold anything of real value. They figured the traders were trying to scare them out of their prized possessions.
    Captain Loewe had gathered information about other Americans who had traveled this way, and he’d been confident that they would make it with all their wagons and possessions intact. But she was pretty sure his confidence was a bluff. None of them, including the captain, had ever been over the Blues.
    Shadows from the dying campfire danced on the side of the canvas tent, and Samantha tried again to pretend she wasn’t thirsty. Another dog started barking, and she heard Arthur Kneedler holler at Colt to be quiet. The dogs were usually as tired as their owners during the night, but the Kneedlers’ dog in particular had spent several nights barking on this journey, irritating the weary travelers while they tried to sleep.
    Captain Loewe had barely tolerated the dogs up to this point. He’d tried to convince the emigrants to leave them behind, citing annoyance and the fact that the animals would need food and water when there was little to be had, but their party insisted on bringing their dogs—fifteen of them, including a shepherd dog named Sandy and her five pups who rode in the back of Doctor Rochester’s wagon. The dogs were both pets and protection from wild animals.
    The captain reluctantly agreed to bring dogs—probably