Lenoir

Independence, Missouri

The day they left their old home behind a group of locals came to see them off. Many of them had been at the wedding and reception. Lenoir noticed that the lady who had the dress she couldn't forget at her wedding reception, Claudia, had teary eyes and looked rather green.

Clarence's family did not see him off. His mother was ill and his sister busy with caring for her. The goodbyes said after the reception would have to do.

The beginning of the trip felt awkward, getting used to a new husband and a new way of nomadic life as they joined the great migration on the emigrant road west. Lenoir was transitioning from her role as daughter to that of wife. She didn't know her husband well enough yet to know what he liked or how independent he wanted her to be.

He seemed to have a firm but fair hand. She tried to find signs in the other traveling couples that she was relatively doing well. She noticed some of them were not. There were worse men to be married to by far. He did not beat her, he did not humiliate her publicly. He read the Bible and was a God fearing man.

In April of 1849, Clarence had successfully brought them from Maryland to Independence, Missouri, and Lenoir had started to suspect that her husband had gotten her pregnant after all. But a creeping denial settled on her. She told herself that she was just imagining it and carried on. There was too much work to do to rest and pamper herself.

The day started at a quarter to 4. The fire was lit, the Dutch Oven heated. Breakfast would get made and eaten, dishes washed, animals tended to and hitched up, plans laid, and then the wagon train was off before 7 am.

The oxen could mostly feed themselves from forage along the road, but with so many animals passing that way there was sometimes little green grass to be found. Lenoir and Clarence made sure they found food for their animals as if they were looking for food for their own mouths.

The cow needed milking daily, whether they needed the milk or not. They always did though. Lenoir had named the big red American Milking Devon cow Fawn. She was gentle and never kicked when being milked. Good thing since she weighed just over 1,000 lbs. Fawn was a good producer and was relieved to loose the weight and pressure.

Lenoir would make batches of dough to rise in the wagon before time to cook dinner, hung a bucket of fresh milk on the back of the shaky wagon to churn into butter, and always kept an eye out for wild edibles. This early in the year she did not have berries, except as last year's preserves. Which Clarence had been selling jars of preserves in his shop. She had a talent for turning weeds into tasty pies and was proving herself to be quite resourceful. Knowing how to make a pie crust from scratch is an artform.

At noon they paused for a light meal and a nap, or to hide in the shade while the oxen grazed. From 2 to 4 pm they made more progress while searching for firewood and an adequate place to camp.

In the early days they didn't know how good they had it but thought they were already working hard. Children complained of tired feet, wives mourned relationships with relatives and neighbors that, in some cases, they had never planned on or wanted to leave, husbands were offended that no one could see their vision of manifest destiny and get on board.

There were a few charming storybook couples floating on hope on the trail. Some people found time for picnics and sight seeing, writing in diaries or reading. People were married and babies were born every day on the Oregon Trail.

The group that they had joined was seven families or couples in wagons and a handful of single men on horseback. All from Maryland. Some of the wagons had oxen, some mules, and one had a stout team of horses. Clarence had decided Oxen would be less likely to be stolen and they were less likely to be as flighty as horses or wander far from camp. Mules were a decent choice, but oxen were sturdier still and could withstand the great changes in temperature that this voyage would endure.

Clarence drove the red oxen with voice and nudges and sometimes he used the whip, but he walked next to them at their 2 mile an hour pace and intended to walk that way for over two thousand miles. The oxen were integral to getting them to Oregon and they didn't need his 250 lbs weighing them down.

The six who pulled were burly steers, castrated males, with pale horns that got dark at the curving tips. They were bred to be draft animals, weighing in at roughly 1,600 lbs each. He called them by name: Brutus, Sam, Dilly, Ben, Homer, and Tom. Brutus always took the lead position, he was dependable but a bit of a bully to the other oxen. Dilly was his problem animal who always seemed to be getting into something or trampling over something with his massive hooves.

Sundays they did not travel. Sunday mornings Clarence would read the Bible and instruct Lenoir as he came across things he thought she should know. She found some of the instructions frightening, but some instilled hope and reassured her in these uncertain times. In the afternoon she would visit with the women of the camp while Clarence sought out the men. After supper there was sometimes dances or music, conversations with loved ones, or quiet contemplation.