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

the wagon again.
    “Doris is a good mule, but she can be stubborn. I don’t think she’ll give us any trouble, though. I’m sure she’s thirsty,” Ezra stated. Conor followed him and Doris to the shallow bank of the river. They sat on the grass while Doris drank greedily.
    “Who’re you traveling with, Conor?”
    “My family—we’re about twelve wagons up. My Ma, my Da, and my sister Brenna.” Conor hesitated, unsure whether to confide in this stranger, but the morning’s events weighed heavily on him. “They’re all mad at me.” He scowled again, remembering.
    “Oh, well, you probably deserve it!” Ezra said with a chuckle.
    “I just try to help, and I get in trouble,” Conor complained, picking at the long grass.
    “Well, you’re learning, so you’re bound to make mistakes. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re probably more upset than they are.”
    Conor watched Ezra. The young man was loosely holding the rope that was knotted around Doris’s neck, allowing her to eat the rich grass growing along the riverbank. Ezra turned and looked at him. “I’ll bet you’re a great help to your Da. Look how much you helped me just now.”
    “I try to help, but I can’t do anything right.”
    “Now you’re feeling sorry for yourself.” Ezra smiled at the scowling youth. “Your father needs you. Try to see it from his eyes.”
    Conor was silent for a moment, thinking about how he had stormed off like a child when his father seemed impatient with his awkward handling of the oxen. His anger left him suddenly, and he sighed deeply.
    “My da has a lot on his mind. I guess I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”
    “It’s easy to do. I have my moments, but when I lose my temper, I lose respect—my self-respect and the respect of others.” Conor looked at Ezra’s kindly face and sincere eyes. Ezra smiled at him, and Conor smiled back. He had made a friend, and he knew Ezra would be someone he could talk to.
    “Why are you going west?” Conor asked.
    “Oh, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to settle in a new land, uncivilized, untamed. The trip alone is the most exciting thing I’ve ever done. Is your family going all the way to Oregon?”
    “Yes, my da’s a farmer. He wants to claim a half-section. He says the land is rich and fertile in Oregon.”
    “That’s what I hear,” Ezra replied. They both turned at the sound of someone approaching. A young willowy woman walked up carrying a small baby swaddled in a blanket. She carefully lowered herself to the grass next to Ezra and put the baby in his lap.
    “Ah! Here’s my hired hand. As you can see, Conor, he’s not quite up to the task yet.”
    Conor looked at the small baby and laughed.
    “Your son is fed, dry, and ready for his mid-day nap,” the woman said in a melodic voice. The chubby baby gazed up at his father and cooed contentedly from his blanket.
    Conor looked at Ezra’s wife. She was a delicately beautiful woman. Her heart-shaped face was framed by auburn hair pulled back into a loose braid. Light smiling eyes regarded him, and her cheeks dimpled when Ezra leaned over and kissed her forehead affectionately.
    “Conor, this is my wife Eliza Jane, and my son, Marion,” Ezra said. “Conor helped me water the oxen,” he explained to Eliza Jane as he played with the infant.
    “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
    “It’s my pleasure, Conor,” Eliza Jane replied with a sweet smile. “Will you stay and have lunch with us?”
    “Thank you, ma’am, but I have to get back to my family. My da needs my help,” Conor said, glancing at Ezra.
    “Yes, Conor’s a big help,” Ezra said. He leaned over and tickled the baby’s stomach. “Someday you’ll be a help to me like Conor is to his father.” The baby gurgled and grabbed Ezra’s finger. Conor blushed with the praise.
    “I have something to send with you for your family,” Eliza Jane said.
    Conor carried the pie to his camp where his family was eating their mid-day meal. Apple