Calamity in the Cold Read online

  The other two families follow your lead. Soon you have a small community near the river. You fish, hunt, and live off the land. Days become weeks, and weeks turn into months.

  You and your family realize that you have everything you need right here. It’s not Oregon City, but it’s a fresh start.

   THE END

  Return to page 109

  Cracks have formed around your feet. You panic and grab the nearest rope and aim for the hole in the ice. The rope slides like a snake into the frosty water. Everything is still—and a second feels like eternity.

  Then a blue hand shoots up out of the ice water and grips the rope. Johnny—he’s alive! With his frantic splashing, he yanks you toward him. Wahya holds on to your foot to stop you from falling in too.

  But even he’s not strong enough. You plunge into a shock of water so cold, you can’t even think.

  Wahya pulls you both out and onto the ice edging the water.

  You barely make it back to the campsite. Your hands and feet are numb, and you find them completely blue and blistering after peeling off your gloves and socks. You have frostbite. You won’t make it to Oregon City now.

   THE END

  Return to page 72

  It will be too difficult to go through the Bitterroot Mountains on foot. You’ll have to discard nearly everything you own. Your pack mule, Fred, might be able to pull a smaller wagon, but it will still be too slow and awkward.

  The horses will be expensive, but they will be worth it. They may even save your life in the snowy mountains.

  You and everyone in your wagon train unload supplies from their prairie schooners and trade them in for horses. Pa also trades several farming and carpentry tools. Ma trades her favorite copper pots. The bulky and heavy items wouldn’t make it on horseback, anyway.

  Much to your dismay, you’re forced to trade Billy and Betty. Now you won’t have fresh goat’s milk for the rest of your trip. But you’re relieved that you can keep Fred. When you see Ma climb with Jaime on the back of a sturdy horse, you know you all made the right decision.

  Winding your way through the Bitterroot Mountains proves to be the toughest challenge thus far. It snows often at the higher elevations. Your horses sink and struggle in the deep snow.

  Even though it’s nearly impossible to hunt game in these conditions, Tsayoga and Atsadi bring down a big elk. All the kindling wood is wet or frozen solid; starting a fire is tough, but they persist, get a spark going, cook up the meat, and share it with the whole wagon train. It’s not a lot once it’s rationed out, but folks are so grateful to have a bite to eat.

  You move on. The landscape is steep. A horse slips down a sharp cliff and bruises its leg. This sets you back a few days.

  Food becomes even scarcer as you climb your way through the mountains. Tsula shows you tree bark that’s safe to eat. It’s not much, but it fills your stomach.

  The temperature drops even more, and frostbite spreads through your wagon train. Your fingers and toes are often numb, but you feel lucky that you still have them. Beau Travers, a banker in your wagon train, lost his hand to gangrene.

  The wagon train moves southwest toward the Walla Walla region and Nez Perce territory. The ferocious, rapids-filled Lochsa River winds down through the mountains and acts as your guide. You learn the Salish name for the Lochsa River is Ep Smɫí, meaning “It Has Salmon,” and lochsa itself is a Nez Perce word meaning “rough water.” Despite its rough rapids, the river is frozen over. You won’t be eating salmon anytime soon.

  When you finally make your way out of the Bitterroot Mountain region, you pass through the land of the Nez Perce and stop briefly to trade with a Walla Walla village. You don’t have much to offer, but the villagers kindly supply food, such as dried camas roots, and lodging for a night in exchange for two horses.

  The next morning, you continue on your tired horses through Walla Walla territory. The shifting landscape is either plains of brown, crusty grass or rolling gray hills. The rough winds bite at your cheeks and nose. You don’t remember what it was like to be warm. You are bundled up tightly in a blanket on a horse. Ma is struggling with growing baby Jaime, who is too cold to even cry for milk.

  You stop to rest at the Whitman Mission, which is run by two missionaries, husband and wife Marcus and Narcissa Whitman. They provide shelter, food, and lodging for the night. You learn that Mrs. Whitman is the first white woman to cross the Rocky Mountains.

  Around the dinner table, your exhausted group talks with the Whitmans about where to go from here.

  “You have two options.” Mrs. Whitman leans into the wooden table. “We have wagon trains pass through here all the time. You can wait for one of them to see if they’ll take you under their wing and guide you to the Barlow Toll Road to avoid the Columbia River. Or you can try to canoe down the river. Either way presents its own dangers.”

  “Which do you think is worse?” Pa takes a sip of coffee.

  “It’s very late in the year.” Mrs. Whitman sits down at the table. “You might have to wait until next year for another wagon train. The Columbia River can be deadly. It’s already October, and with this year being unseasonably cold, fording through chunks of frozen river will be a fight. Take Barlow, and you’ve got yourself a big ol’ toll to pay.”

  Your group murmurs unhappily among themselves. You, Inola, and Wahya are so tired and cold, you can’t bear to think about traveling another minute.

  You wish you could wait here in this cozy lodge for a year, but that’s not a possibility. The Whitmans are rationing out food as it is—there won’t be enough for all of you for another month, much less another year. Plus, you’re so close to Oregon City. Should you risk taking the Columbia River, or wait for another wagon train and take the Barlow Toll Road?

  To wait and take the Barlow Toll Road, turn to page 38

  To take the Columbia River, turn to page 120

  Return to page 132

  You don’t want to go even farther off the Trail. It’s a better idea to stay put and make a fire. With a little luck and a lot of effort, you finally manage to get a small blaze going. You use tall prairie grass for kindling, but it’s not enough to sustain the fire for long. You, Wahya, and Inola dart among the prairie lands near the wagon train, trying to find dried buffalo chips to help stoke the fire. You find a few chips but not many. You haven’t seen many buffalo come this way.

  When you get back to camp, shivering, you find everyone arguing about what to do to stay warm. No one seems to have a good solution.

  “What if we make one giant tepee for all of us?” Wahya raises his voice over all the shouting.

  The crowd hushes. People turn to look at him.

  “Great idea, Wahya.” Tsayoga smiles with pride. “We can pin our tents together. It will be cramped, but it will keep us all warm.”

  Everyone agrees with Wahya’s brilliant idea. Within the next hour, folks venture outside to search for wood for a tent pole, but trees are scarce. You find a small grove of trees. You chip away at one trunk and axe it into multiple poles. The group works together to set up a massive tepee. With several canvas tents pinned together, it’s just large enough to fit your small wagon train inside. Body heat makes the area much warmer very quickly. The fire helps too.

  During the night, at least one person stays on the lookout, making sure the fire stays lit and keeping an eye out for wildlife or bandits. You don’t sleep well, crowded between Inola’s feet and Wahya’s head, but at least you’re not freezing.

  The next morning, you peek outside to see that it has stopped snowing. But it’s still very cold and dark. Should you try to go out and hunt for food, or stay inside?

  To hunt, turn to page 20

  To stay inside the tepee, turn to page 80

  Return to page 105

  “We should take the Barlow Toll Road.” You look at Pa. “Wait for another wagon train to come by. Canoeing in the icy river at this time of year sounds too dangerous.”

  “It will be expensiv
e.” Mrs. Whitman pours more water into a teakettle. “Least five dollars a wagon.”

  “That’s a lot of money.” Ma smacks her lips. “But without our own wagons, we could all split the cost. Though we won’t have much left over when we get to Oregon City.”

  You wait at the Whitman Mission for almost two weeks. Just when you think another wagon train will never pass, four wagons roll by. You talk to their wagon captain.

  “We were twenty at the start. But cholera and cold weather got the best of us. Not much time to chat—we’ve got to keep movin’.” The wagon captain cracks the reins with a shiver.

  You part ways with the Whitmans and make your way along the Columbia River out of Blue Mountain territory. You pass through the sagebrush plains of Echo Meadows and cross the John Day and Deschutes Rivers.

  It rains on and off, but the winds make your travels especially slow. Your eyes burn from the dust blown into your face.

  Baby Jaime gets sick along the way. It takes him more than a week to recover; his cough will not go away. Poor Ma hasn’t had any sleep since.

  You finally reach the Barlow Road only to discover deep snowdrifts. Your horses can’t make it up the mountain path.

  Pa shakes his head. “We’ll have to turn back to the river. Maybe see if the Whitmans will take us in again.”

  You turn around and travel for hours with no sign of the Whitman Mission. You are hopelessly lost. Your trek to Oregon City ends here.

   THE END

  Return to page 29

  Everyone’s tired from fording the ice-cold river. You can’t walk another step. But Oukonunaka and Tsula warn against staying in the camp.

  “It’s not a wise idea to sleep next to rotting carcasses.” Oukonunaka points to the discarded food.

  Everyone else is desperate to rest. People are already irritated and impatient. It took almost three hours for the wagon train to cross the river.

  “We can burn the rotting food after we eat.” Henry Clay leans against your wagon. “That will get rid of the smell, at least.”

  Inola grimaces. “That doesn’t sound very appealing.”

  “Still not a good idea.” Tsula motions to her family, and they move their wagon just outside the corral. They start their own fire.

  Henry and a few others start a fire in the rancid pit. It’s nice to warm up your stiff, frozen feet, but the odor from the smoke is unbearable.

  After everyone eats and cleans up, Pa and the Clay brothers take the rotting carcasses and throw them into the fire to burn. The stench of the burning carcasses only makes the camp stink worse. Now everyone is not only tired but nauseated and irritable as well.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t have stayed here.” Emma pinches her nose. “How are we supposed to sleep when it reeks like this?”

  “Think of the salty smell of the ocean?” you joke. You never thought you would miss Florida, but this journey is wearing you out.

  Emma sighs.

  But in the middle of the night, sounds of someone vomiting wake you up. You feel very queasy. As the morning dawns, you and Emma both have fevers. Everyone is horribly sick.

  Your wagon train has cholera from resting in the middle of rotting food. Your journey on the Oregon Trail ends here.

   THE END

  Return to page 86

  It’s not worth the risk—you’re not going back to find the Oregon Trail. You’ve lost too much time already. It must be August by now. And you’re not sure how you got to the Missouri River. You’d rather stay near a water source.

  The rest of the wagon train takes some convincing. Even the Clay brothers squabble with each other. Henry is finally persuaded to take the Lewis and Clark Trail, but Charlie still wants to backtrack to find the Oregon Trail. For hours, your wagon train is at a standstill. Finally, you take a vote.

  More people vote to go upriver than to go back to find the Oregon Trail. The Lewis and Clark route is not ideal, but you’ve already wandered too far now. To try to get to Scotts Bluff and South Pass at this point would be a mistake.

  This new plan breathes life into the group’s morale. Pa and Tsayoga catch an antelope while nooning, and you eat a hearty meal.

  After lunch, you wind along the banks of the Missouri River—the same river Lemhi Shoshone guide and interpreter Sacagawea had traveled in a pirogue with the man she’d been forced to marry, Toussaint Charbonneau; their infant son, Jean Baptiste; Meriwether Lewis; and William Clark about forty years ago. Even now, toward the end of summer, floating ice speckles the water. You may have escaped the snowy hills, but you haven’t escaped the cold wind that licks through the plains.

  More than a week passes. Bison become extremely scarce. Soon, Pa and Tsayoga have to spend almost a full day hunting just to catch one measly rabbit.

  As you travel, your sister and Atsadi have taken to walking side by side in between their two wagons. You, Inola, and Wahya skip ahead of them.

  “My brother never talks to girls.” Wahya brushes his hair from his face. “I don’t understand it.”

  “Why he’s talking to my sister? I’ll never understand.” Your face screws up. “She can be so annoying.”

  Inola shrugs. “She’s not that bad.”

  The three of you look back to see Atsadi unwrap his shawl and share it with your sister. Emma blushes.

  You’re happy that she has made a friend, even if you don’t always get along.

  Then the wind blows open your coat, and you shudder. But there’s one good thing about the bitter cold: it’s brought your family and new friends closer together.

  Bad weather continues to loom over your wagon train. People’s spirits dim. Hunting feels impossible, and everyone is weak with hunger. Atsadi manages to catch a few catfish in the river, but they’re small and scrawny.

  But then, one day, you see something in the distance.

  “A trading post.” Ma wipes her forehead as she feeds baby Jaime. “Finally.”

  Your wagon train spends two days corralled just outside the trading post. Fort Pierre doesn’t have much, but Ma eagerly trades one of your sheep for several blankets. You even get a new pair of shoes in the deal.

  You leave Fort Pierre to continue up the Missouri River. Going north, it’s only getting colder. Three-foot-wide ice chunks bob in the dark water.

  “Look!” You point to a pile of burnt, rotting wood on the opposite riverbank. Half of it is sinking into the river.

  Pa squints. “Fort Mandan.”

  Reaching the Mandan-Hidatsa villages means that you’re about a month away from reaching the Yellowstone River. You learn from the folks in your wagon train that this is where Lewis and Clark camped for the winter and met a pregnant Sacagawea when they hired her husband, Charbonneau, as their interpreter and guide on their expedition to the Pacific Ocean. However, they quickly discovered that Sacagawea’s knowledge of the Shoshone language and landscape ahead proved invaluable. She would often dig up their only sources of food throughout the difficult journey. Sacagawea was a vital asset to Lewis and Clark’s venture as an interpreter, peacemaker, and liaison to Indigenous Nations.

  You’re still absorbing this information as your wagon train arrives at a Mandan village, where you see a man fishing—his chest is covered in tattoos. You learn that tattoos are an important part of Mandan spiritual beliefs and they mark events in a person’s life.

  There in the village, you find out that taking the Missouri River to the Great Falls might not be the best option.

  “Take the Yellowstone River.” A Mandan woman named Sha-kó-ka points. “Neither journey is easy, but if you continue following the Missouri River, you will not be able to keep your wagons. The Great Falls will be too difficult to manage. I’d recommend you move quickly. Our village has been infected with smallpox. We’ve lost many loved ones to the disease.”

  You thank Sha-kó-ka. Your current route has been put into question. Either option presents problems—and dangerous mountain treks.

  Should you continue up the Missouri River, o
r take the Yellowstone River route instead?

  To take the Yellowstone River, turn to page 132

  To continue along the Missouri River, turn to page 109

  Return to page 74

  Co-captain Henry Clay is impossible to deal with. He only grows angrier when you tell him you can’t afford to pay for the sugar and don’t offer to compensate him in any way. Your family walks away, hoping to find another wagon train here in Independence.

  But then Henry gets the local sheriff involved. You’re forced to give up Fred. Tears stream down your cheeks as you watch your beloved pack mule plod off.

  You’re still stuck without a wagon train, and it’s now June. You ask around Independence for the next week, but everyone has left over a month ago. You eventually give up on finding a wagon train. No one else will be starting their journey on the Oregon Trail at this point. If you don’t leave now, you might have to wait until next year.