Journey of Hope: A Novel of Triumph and Heartbreak on the Oregon Trail in 1852 by Victoria Murata Page A

on Register Cliff today.”
    “One of them is A.H. Unthank. That’s a strange name!” Conor said.
    “That one was just inscribed two years ago,” Michael added.
    “Maybe we’ll meet him in Oregon City.”
    “It’s possible, son.”
    Nellie smiled at Conor. She spent the next minutes in conversation with the Flannigans. When she got up to leave, she looked at them solemnly.
    “This has been nice. You are all so kind, and I haven’t been civil to you. I want to apologize for my behavior, especially to you, Brenna. I hope that things will be different between us from now on.”
    “Please visit us anytime. We’ve enjoyed your company,” Kate said.
    Nellie walked into the darkness. She was amazed at what had just happened. She could hardly believe what she had done. She marveled at her boldness. What had gotten into her? And yet, look what had come about. She and the Flannigans had carried on like old friends. And they were decent people, too. She felt light—like a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Maybe Mrs. Mueller was right. Maybe she could change her life. She made a resolution to try. What have I got to lose? She thought. And maybe there was everything to gain.

The Legacy
     
    Chapter Ten

     
    Independence Rock
July 4, 1852
Mile 815
    Conor Flannigan ambled through the wagons pulled up for the afternoon meal and rest. The wagon train had made its goal of reaching Independence Rock by the fourth of July. Later, there would be celebrations and a much-needed lay by. He didn’t feel like celebrating. He was angry with his father and with Brenna. His father had lost patience with him when Conor was helping him unhitch the team.
    “Conor, watch what you’re about. All I need is for you to get stepped on by one of these beasts.”
    Then Brenna had irritably told him to go amuse himself somewhere else when he accidentally kicked over the frying pan that the bacon for the noon meal had been sizzling in just minutes before. As he walked past the wagons, everyone was occupied with chores except for the small children who chased after each other. The other boys his age were helping their fathers, and they glanced at him as he passed. Conor scowled. They’re probably wondering why I’m not helping my Da , he thought. He was small for his eleven years, but he was already developing the wiry muscular frame of his father.
    Two younger boys ran past him, laughing. These children and their games seemed frivolous. Just a couple of months earlier he would have joined them, but now he wanted desperately to be of help to his father. Conor kicked a stone vigorously and it flew through the air and landed on the flank of an ox still hitched to a wagon. The beast jerked in the yoke and bellowed loudly. A young man looked around from the back of the wagon.
    “Hey, what did you do that for?”
    “Sorry,” Conor mumbled miserably. Even strangers were angry with him. He couldn’t do anything right today.
    The tall young man walked up to him, eyeing him curiously. His dark hair fell over his eyes. “Good thing old Dobb’s a calm one or he’d be halfway back to Missouri by now.” Conor looked at the ox who was now calmly chewing his cud. He heaved a huge sigh.
    “I wasn’t trying to hit him—I didn’t even see him.”
    “That’s alright. No harm done. Name’s Ezra Meeker,” the young man said, extending his hand.
    “I’m Conor Flannigan.”
    “Happy to make your acquaintance, Conor. As long as you’re here, why don’t you give me a hand? I need to water these oxen and my mule Doris. She’s tied to the back of the wagon. My hired hand has been in bed all day so he’s no help to me.”
    “Sure!” Conor brightened. He wanted to show this man that he wasn’t a silly boy and that he knew his way around livestock.
    “Now, if you’ll take old Dobb, I’ll grab Burns, and we can get them to the river. Then we’ll come back for the other two.” Half an hour later, they were hitching the oxen back to