Where the Trail Ends: American Tapestries (37 page)

Eight days after Samantha and the ship left, McLoughlin returned to the fort and then sent Alex off to the Willamette with a long oration and a toast.

Alex told him he might return if he couldn’t succeed at farming. But McLoughlin didn’t seem to think Alex would be coming back to the fort, at least not to stay.

Without any money saved, Alex was at the mercy of the governor for the mules and the food he carried with him toward the valley. The mules swam across the river while two laborers paddled Alex and his supplies and left him on the other side.

It had felt unusually warm for April when they crossed the river,
but as he hiked south, the sun alternately hid behind the clouds before it appeared again in grand form. Willows and low shrubs grew along the river, and flocks of geese flew overhead.

Samantha, he had no doubt, had followed this river right to the other Americans who would care for her. But what would those Americans think about a Brit living among them? The British had used this land and taken from it, but with the exception of the land around Fort Vancouver, they hadn’t tried to tame it.

With God’s help, he could plant food on his own and harvest it. He could raise animals and hunt and learn how to build. He even could raise a family as Tom Kneedler and his wife were doing.

He walked faster, guiding the mules along the river.

Would Samantha be glad to see him?

She had told Huey that her heart belonged to another. Alex wanted to believe that she left the fort because she loved him as much as he loved her. That she couldn’t say good-bye.

But what if he was wrong? With the arrival of the new teacher, Samantha’s work at the fort was complete. What if she left simply for the life she’d traveled almost two thousand miles to begin?

Maybe she didn’t love him at all. Maybe she was glad for him to go.

If only he had something to offer her and Micah beyond what McLoughlin had given him—even a bit of his uncle’s inheritance to buy them a house and some land.

A grand rainbow emerged on the other side of the Willamette, and the colors filled him with hope. He knew this wilderness well, and Samantha was the most determined woman he’d ever met. If she would have him, they could work hard to build a new life. Together.

If she wouldn’t marry him...

He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on that thought. He couldn’t go back to London, and he didn’t want to live in the Willamette without her. McLoughlin might let him work for another year at the
fort, but Alex suspected that it wouldn’t be long before the committee removed the governor from his position. If they released McLoughlin, Alex doubted they would keep him in their employ either.

In the distance he saw smoke above several houses, and he stopped the mules, taking another deep breath and praying that Samantha and Micah had made it here safely.

At one of the houses, a young woman and her daughter greeted him at the door.

“Do you know a woman by the name of Samantha Waldron?” he asked.

“Of course I do.” The woman tilted her head. “But how do you know her?”

“I met her at Fort Vancouver.”

“And you came all the way down here looking for her.”

He nodded. “I have come to ask her to be my wife.”

With a big smile, the woman directed him to the house where she said Samantha lived. He crossed the grassy field, eyeing a small wooden home with a split-rail fence circling it. Then he took a deep breath and knocked on the front door.

When it opened, he bit back a gasp.

There in front of him, with a hammer in his hands, was Jack Doyle.

Stunned, Alex stared at the man. “I am sorry—I thought this was Miss Waldron’s house.”

“It is.”

“What—what are you doing here?”

Doyle lifted the hammer. “Just fixing up a few things. What are
you
doing here?”

Alex didn’t answer his question. “I thought you married.”

“I did,” Doyle said with a laugh. “My wife is in the garden out back.”

His heart seemed to stop. He was too late. Samantha had thought he was on the ship back to London. She thought he was getting married.

Of course she had married as well. She had to provide for Micah. He never should have waited for McLoughlin to return to leave the fort. He should have discarded his professional obligations and come right after her. Instead, he’d driven her into the arms of someone else.

Alex took a step away from the house. “Please tell her I said hello.”

Doyle clapped him on the shoulder, pushing him toward the garden. “Go tell her yourself.”

Samantha dug a hole with her hands, in dirt that was as black as night.

“That’s too deep,” the woman kneeling beside her said. “Like this.” Aliyah dug about two inches deep and sat back.

Samantha lifted the burlap bag in her hands to the sky, to honor her father, and then she carefully untied the leather strap to take out one of Papa’s seeds.

Micah drew in closer, watching her fingers. She rifled through the seeds, letting them sift through her fingers, and then she pulled out one of them, hiding it in her hand. With Micah and Aliyah watching, she slowly opened her fist.

Her eyes grew wide as she examined the red seed in her palm. It looked like a...

She glanced first at Micah and then at Aliyah. The three of them burst into laughter.

Papa had surprised them with beans.

The bag was filled with an assortment of bean seeds, probably enough for her and Micah to have bean soup for the rest of their lives.

Perhaps she could sell her harvest to those who decided to move East next year.

She handed the kidney bean to Micah, and he carefully positioned the seed inside the hole. Then she pushed dirt over it and kissed the tiny mound.

Micah giggled at the ring of dirt around Samantha’s lips, and she laughed with him as she wiped it off with her forearm.

“Now it will grow,” Aliyah declared, and Samantha believed her. She’d learned much about Aliyah in the past week, learned that she knew more about growing things than anyone Samantha had ever met. And she learned that Aliyah adored her husband of four months.

Samantha glanced around at her almost an acre of garden, imagining what it would look like ripened with Papa’s beans and the Rochesters’ plants.

Papa’s gold had purchased this house before the Rochesters left, and she had plenty of gold remaining to build a one-room school. She and Micah could live—thrive even—in the Willamette on their own.

Micah wrestled with Boaz as she dug another hole in the dirt. Her new friend complimented her on her work, and Samantha smiled at her.

By the fall, Aliyah had confided, she and Jack would be parents.

How blessed Samantha was that her guardian angel now lived in a home just a half mile down the river instead of in a cave.

Her mind wandered again to the man she had wanted to marry. She hoped that one day Lady Judith would realize what a blessed woman she was to be married to Alex. People could change and grow. Lady Judith could certainly learn to appreciate and love the man she’d married.

Now Samantha had to focus on what she believed God had called her to do.

She turned to Aliyah. “What would you think about starting a school together?”

Aliyah’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“I’d like a school where both English and native children could attend.”

Aliyah paused. “What would I do?”

“Help me teach them.”

The smile on her friend’s face grew. “I think I would like that very much.”

Boaz barked and began running toward the house, and Micah turned around quickly. Then he hopped up to his feet. “Alex!” he shouted as he ran toward the house.

Samantha’s head jerked up; her heart lurched at the name. She froze on her knees, not daring to turn around.

“Who is it?” she whispered to Aliyah.

“It’s a man,” her friend whispered back as she glanced over Samantha’s shoulder. “One of the officers from Fort Vancouver.”

She caught her breath. “Is he wearing a black frock coat?”

“He is.” Aliyah scooted closer to her. “And he’s watching you.”

Her heart felt as if it was tumbling out of control. Alex wasn’t on his way to London with Lady Judith. He was right here, in her garden.

Perhaps the ship had returned...or perhaps he hadn’t gone at all.

Perhaps he and his wife had decided to settle in the Willamette.

If so, she would hurry to catch up with the Loewe party. Submitting to Captain Loewe for the next five or six months would be paradise compared to living near Lord and Lady Clarke for an entire year.

Aliyah watched her face for a moment and then stood. “Come along, Micah.”

“I’m staying right here.”

Samantha couldn’t say anything, not even to reprimand her brother for his disrespect.

Then she heard Alex’s voice, low and strong. “Why don’t you go get the gift I brought for you, Micah? It’s inside a bag on the lead mule.”

“How will I know it’s for me?”

Alex laughed. “You will know.”

She heard shuffling behind her as Aliyah coaxed Micah toward his gift at the front of the house. Then she heard Alex whisper her name.

She took off her bonnet and stood, turning slowly.

Lord Alexander Clarke stood before her, looking quite regal in his frock coat and top hat. She couldn’t breathe.

“You’re supposed to be on that boat,” she said, her voice trembling. “Going to London.”

“London is no longer my home.”

“But Lady Judith—”

He stopped her. “She did not want to stay here.”

“You were supposed to marry.”

He shook his head. “I did not love her, nor did she love me.”

She brushed her hands over her yellow apron, streaking dirt down the front of it as he stepped closer to her. The pounding of her heart seemed to echo in her ears.

“Why do you Waldrons keep running?”

“Micah and I—” she whispered. “We had to finish our journey.”

He reached for her hand, and her heart leaped as he wrapped his strong fingers over hers and placed them on his heart. “The trail ends right here, Miss Waldron. With you and me.”

“If you don’t call me ‘Samantha’—”

He leaned forward and drowned her words with his kiss. Her body warmed in his embrace, her skin fluttering at his touch. Strong and tender. Powerful and passionate.

Alex Clarke hadn’t gone to London. He was here, and he wanted to be with her.

Micah ran toward them, and Alex released her. In Micah’s arms was a beautifully carved ark.

Her eyes grew wide. “Did you make that for him?”

He shook his head. “A friend made it for me.”

“It’s perfect,” Micah said.

“You can use it the next time you try to cross the river.”

Micah set down his gift and wrapped his arms around both of them. Alex leaned down and lifted the boy with one arm. The other he put around Samantha. “I no longer have an income, or a position for that matter, but we can find our way together, can’t we?”

Samantha smiled. “I have a surprise for you.”

He kissed the top of her head.

Micah grinned. “Does this mean you’re going to marry her?”

“If your sister says it is all right.”

Tears trickled down her cheeks. “It’s fine with me.”

Alex looked into her eyes, and she never wanted him to look away again. “Is there a reverend around here?” he asked.

Samantha laughed. “I believe we can find one.”

He leaned close to her. “Will you marry me, Miss Waldron?”

She put her hands on her hips. “Only if you’ll stop calling me ‘Miss Waldron.’”

“All right.” He paused, leaning closer as he whispered in her ear, “How would you like to be called Mrs. Clarke?”

“Samantha,” she insisted.

He smiled. “I think I’ll just call you
Sam
.”

Author’s Note

The Americans didn’t stop coming to Oregon Country. In 1843, more than nine hundred men, women, and children emigrated in what is now known as “the Great Migration.”

During the next twenty years, approximately three hundred thousand Americans traveled West on the Oregon Trail. About thirty thousand of them lost their lives to accidents, drowning, and cholera—one grave, it is said, for every eighty yards of the trail.

In 1846, the United States and Great Britain settled their dispute over the control of Oregon Country by dividing the land. The British took control of the wilderness north of the 49th parallel in what is now known as British Columbia. The United States took ownership of the land to the south, including what is now Oregon, Washington, Idaho, and parts of Montana and Wyoming. Oregon became a US territory in 1848, and in 1859 it became the 33rd state.

Wagon trains on the Oregon Trail were each run like a democratic country with an elected captain and a manifesto of rules. There are multiple accounts of dogs being killed as well as people being left behind.

The first organized company of wagons set out for Oregon Country in May of 1842. The captain of this party, Elijah White, insisted on executing the dogs in their party for three reasons—because they were keeping the party awake at night, because of the fear of drawing Indians, and because of the fear of rabies. As a result, the wagon train split into two factions.