Angela's Hope (Wildflowers) (4 page)

Chapter 4

October, 1848

Dearest Corinne,

I miss you my darling friend. My time spent with the Sparks family has been a time of healing and joy. It reminds me of days long ago with my mother and brother, the feeling of family and belonging brings warmth to my heart.  Edith Sparks is taking perfect care of me as my wounds heal. I have to admit my heart took its time to heal though. My prayers were troubled many nights after you left, with the wonderings of why it happened this way. I can say now that I forgive Andrew for his part in my pain.  I wish him well but hope for your sake that he made good with his promise to be annulled from you. I pray in my heart for you to find a good husband someday that will cherish you. I guess I pray that for me, too. 

I yearn to be my old self but am taking it slow. I am walking well and the wound on my shoulder has healed completely. The area that was the worst was the bruising on my leg. I suppose more time will see how that will heal. 

Thank you again for your generous support and your farewell letter. Your entreaty to accept your charity warmed my heart and has created in me a sense of independence. I feel that you were right to address me so boldly. As God has called us all to help those in need. I do suppose in your shoes I would have done the same. My only job in this situation is to accept your monetary help with humility and thank the Lord for providing me with a way out of servitude.  I feel at ease in my heart to stop fighting your gift and to pass it on by being a friend to you and then eventually, finding my brother and helping him. I pray that my information is still good and I can find him. It is nearly time for me to go. Edith has been teaching me how to be a proper wife.  Baking, sewing and we talk always of how to care for babies. She is such a blessing.  She will be sad when I leave in the spring.  Henry Sparks is always squeezing my shoulders as he walks by us womenfolk. He calls me ‘Red’ like Sean did when I was young.  I somehow wish the Sparks family were coming with me. 

I will write again soon.

Sincerely,

Angie Fahey

* * * * *

It was weeks past and a message came from a western fort. The town was buzzing with excitement and the breakfast dishes were cleared quickly and Edith and Angela were cleaned up and out the door to the post office in the Hudson Bay store. There were a few soldiers there too, waiting to see if they too had received letters or if there was any news. Everyone was always so starved for news.

When it was finally their turn, Edith and Angela were handed several letters and they ran off eager to read on the front porch.

Edith had her own news from a friend back east and Angela had two letters; one in the flowing hand of her friend, Corinne and one in a different hand. A bold stroke that looked like it was from a man.

The top was dated June 2
nd
. 1848, Angela wondered how far Corinne had traveled by June. She also wondered where she would be come June of 1849. She started the letter with a feeling of tenseness. The thought of the travel was not as much about adventure to her anymore, but more about survival now.

Dearest Angela,

I have so many thoughts jumbled in my head to pour out on my page. I will just be out with my news first and then it shall be said, to ease the torture in my mind. Andrew Temple died a week ago of cholera. The group of scouts he rode with are gone except for one. They were infected by a pool of brackish water they all drank from in the midst of a treacherous area full of drought and barrenness. His suffering was intense and will stay with me all my days.

I know not how to impress upon you the pain I have in sharing this. My mind is mixed up about my husband in so many ways. I pray daily that God will work in our hearts, both you and I, to heal any bitterness or anger at what he had done.

I feel the separation from you acutely. It keeps my thoughts busy as I cross the miles.

The dark of night creeps into my wagon and honestly the tears blur my eyes. I will write more letters and send when a post is available. You are not forgotten.

Sincerely,

Corinne Harpole Temple

There was more than one gasp that escaped from Angela’s lip as she read that first letter. She opened the other letter still stunned from the words she had read.

To Angela Fahey,

I do a lot of correspondence with my sons and for business. But I rarely have the chance to send a letter to someone that is not my own family. This is truly a rare occasion.

I am a God fearing man and have long kept you in my prayers, Miss Fahey. Somehow God has put a burden on my heart when it comes to you and your dear friend Corinne. I sort of feel the need to care for you as I would my own daughters and granddaughters. I can’t recall the verse just now, but I recall a verse or two admonishing us to care for the widows and orphans.  That love covers a multitude of sins. I have had my fair share of sins. So perhaps this is God allowing me to make up for them since I have prayed so many days of my life for God to give me tasks worthy of his forgiveness. I know better now, I cannot earn God’s love any more than I could tame the wind. It’s a gift and I accept it as such. But child, I do wish to treat you as family. I pray you cling to hope, and through your healing you grow and learn more about how much God wants to love you.

The world may be full of wicked sinners, but there are those of us that try to do our best to take care of one another. Seems to me the Captain and his wife that you were left with were those types of folks. My prayer for you is a speedy healing. Corinne tells me about your brother and how you long to re-unite. I will be praying for him too. Somehow, girlie, you are now my family, and as such, so is he.

I will talk briefly of an encounter I had with Andrew, not to cause you pain but to hopefully help your heart to heal. I have shed a tear for you and for him. Seems a strange thing to say but I can honestly say his death was hard on me. He was a broken and angry young man, his conscience about his treatment of you did bring him to me more than once in the weeks before his death. He stayed away from the wagon train as much as possible. People treated him differently after the rumors started about how he had acted with his servant.

I know he went to God often for forgiveness. The day you were left at the fort he was desperate and frantic, after securing you a safe place he was finally able to confess all to me and then finally to God. He was a troubled man but he did feel shame for what he had done.

I know it doesn’t undo your blood on the ground, your broken bones and bruises. I fight my own feelings of regret for how I should have intervened somehow. But I hope the vision I can leave with you, a broken man, praying for God’s forgiveness can be an encouragement for you, and a balm to your heart.

You need not write back to me, but I do expect to see your healthy red cheeks and green eyes again within a year or so. Corinne will not be content unless you are safe in her keeping for a spell.

Clive Quackenbush

Angela was lost to tears for a few hours. She read and re-read these letters, talked and hugged Edith more times than she could count. She felt a wash of emotional confusion that overwhelmed her. The man who had sent her to her death had perished. She tried to clear her thoughts and pray for peace but her mind kept going back to everything she had ever thought of him. The multitudes of prayers she prayed that God would help her forgive him. She had felt many times that she had put it past forgiveness in her mind to then relive the pain and hurt and have to forgive him again.

Now he was dead. She reminded herself. She had to let it truly sink in. It was the only way that perhaps her mind can truly let it go, forever.

Clive’s words sunk in over the next few days and Angela was glad that Andrew had finally realized the error of his attitude to herself and his own wife. It was a wicked shame that someone had to nearly die for him to come to that realization.

Angela also came to terms with the fact that she would never be able to confront Andrew. Her forgiveness would have to be completely within herself. Andrew would never have an opportunity to apologize. In a way it helped her to forgive him more. She began to focus on praying for his family and that they would be comforted in their mourning.

It was with teary eyes and a calmed heart that she finally wrote back to Corinne.

* * * * *

December 1
st
1848

Dearest Corinne,

I received your bundle of letters. I have been at a loss for a few days at what to think or say. I am sorry for what Andrew went through. His death must have been difficult, I know what cholera is and its horrors are well known.  I am glad to know in my heart that he knew God and has a place in heaven. My tears lately have been for poor Andrew and his young life gone. I had such hard feelings for him for a short time after being hurt, remembering how alone I was in the dark of that ravine due to his irresponsible actions. He was young and a bit foolish with you and me, but it is a shame for his life to be snuffed out. 

I am glad the Grant family is with you. I look forward to seeing them again, as well as Clive. Can you send salutations to dear Mr. Quackenbush for me? I do dearly miss his teasing, and his wisdom. He helped me through many lonely moments when I was not allowed to talk with you along the trail. 

I received a packet of mail from Boston for the both of us.  In it was another letter from Sean. He is in California territory now with his friend Old Willie. I am uncertain if he is involved with the gold that has been found in that territory. Everyone is buzzing about it in Fort Kearney. Any man with a strong back is threatening to leave his military post in the spring and head off to the west. The correspondence is saying that gold is just lying about the ground and you have to just go pick it up, it is so plentiful. I fear that many men will be pulled into a lie. Maybe I have seen too much pain in my young life but I do not believe in silly stories anymore. Wisdom says that these are false hopes. I have to work hard at believing in people. I have known too many liars.

I am getting stronger every day and dreaming of being with you again my friend.

Sincerely,

Angie Fahey

Chapter 5

March 28
th
1849

Henry Sparks burst through the front door with a spring in his step. Angela and Edith were playing checkers at the table.  Angela had won the previous game and Edith was competitive enough to challenge Angela to a rematch. They both looked up from the game as Henry grunted out of his coat.

“You seem to be back from your rounds early.” Edith said with a grin. Henry bent and kissed his wife on the cheek.

“Got news.” He said and sat with emphasis in the empty chair. He raised an eyebrow to see who would ask for the news first. He was enjoying himself.

“I’ll bite.” Angela said finally after a minute of watching his eyes travel humorously between the two women. “What’s the news?” Angela said sarcastically.

They all laughed.

“A small wagon train is a few days out. A scout had been riding ahead to see how well the store was stocked. Already have a few running out of supplies.” Henry Sparks shook his head at the stupidity of some.

“Well, with the talk of gold spreading like a brush fire the fools will be out in the multitudes.” Edith said and moved a checker thoughtfully.

Angela’s heart jumped at the thought. It has been nearly a year of her life spent here waiting. She has been walking and exercising all through the winter to be ready for the journey. Now the days were drawing close. She would be back on the open road soon.
Lord willing
… She thought.

She dreaded the harsh weather and conditions, but knowing her life would no longer be on hold was what kept her working so hard.

“It scares and excites me.” Angela finally shared after she made a move on the checkerboard herself.

Edith took a checker piece and jumped over two of Angela’s pieces.

“I can tell you are distracted.” Edith smirked and grabbed Angela’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

“I am.” Angela admitted and rolled a checker piece under her fingers nervously. She kept her eyes lowered because she felt slightly ashamed of herself.

“You can talk when you are ready child.” Edith said in a motherly voice.

“You nervous going by yourself?” Henry asked. “You know we will find a good God fearing family to take you.” Henry put his hand on her shoulder and gave her one of his squeezes.

“Yes and no.” Angela said and wiped a tear. “I know God has a hold of me and will get me across somehow. I just have that last little remnant of fear. I need to let God talk me out of it.” Angela felt better having confessed her fear.

“I wish we could take you ourselves, my child. I have filed my papers to retire from the military, but cannot go until I have a replacement.” Henry rubbed his hand over his jaw; it was his way to think. “That could take a year or more.”

“I do not want you both to worry over me. I just had a moment of being scared of the open road again. I know it’s foolish. There is nothing that can happen to me out there that couldn’t happen here.” Angela knew that the Sparks were going to miss her. They spoke often of how much nicer it would be if they could have taken her to Oregon. “We are all going to have to learn to trust God and His timing on this.”

“There is lots of wisdom in those pretty green eyes of yours.” Edith said then took a checker and moved closer to a piece of Angela’s. Angela was no longer distracted and jumped over two of Edith’s pieces and laughed victoriously.

* * * * *

It was two weeks of wagon trains pulling in and out before they found the right family to escort Angela. A family named the Brannigans, a nice Christian family. The husband and wife had heard through the grapevine, mostly spread from the general store about a young woman that was looking for safe passage. The Brannigans were expecting another child and the mother could really use an extra set of hands to keep her three children safe on the rigorous trail.

The wagon train was stopping a few days at the fort to make a few repairs on several wagons and to wait out some wet weather. The mud was hard on the wagons.

They ended up staying near the fort for a week for the mud to dry up. It gave the Sparks and Brannigans plenty of time to get to know each other. The husband was of strong stock but treated his wife kindly.  Henry even took some time to talk to people with the wagon train to see how they treated others. There were only good reports from everyone. The Brannigans were respected and everyone seemed to be on board with accepting Angela as a new wagon train member.

Edith and Henry supplied the Brannigans extra food from their own cellar and they fed the whole lot of them several nights that week while they stayed nearby. Edith kept declaring how much she loved having so many children running through the cabin and in the back yard. All the children loved Edith’s extra sweets and treats and gave her hugs around her waist. 

The day finally came when it was time to leave. Angela had sturdy clothes and her own tent packed away in the wagon. She would pull it out every night and sleep next to the family. They had a large wagon and several pack mules and a cow for fresh milk.

Edith had baked for days to load the Brannigans food stores with biscuits and bread, enough for a week of meals. Angela had worked hard with her, soaking up all the last minute words of wisdom and love from Edith. She would miss her dearly. Angela wanted to talk about them coming to Oregon again but somehow she didn’t want to pressure them. They had mentioned before that they were praying about it. She would learn to trust God and put it in His hands. Edith and Henry Sparks had their own life and journey. She had to allow them to be on it and not force her will on the situation. It was hard to let the thought go but she was able to in the end.

As she was grabbing her last satchel to leave she gave both Edith and Henry each a warm hug and wiped away a few tears that bid their way down her pale cheeks.

“Thank you for all the love. When I write, and I will often, I was wondering if I might have your permission to call you Mama and Papa Sparks?” Angela said through a lump in her throat.

This question brought out about a few more tears and hugs all around again. They all agreed that her request was a good one. Mama and Papa Sparks walked Angela to the waiting wagon train.

They held hands and prayed with the Brannigan family to have a safe and blessed trip. That everyone would draw close to the Lord as they all crossed this blessed country.

Angela began her long walk with a good family’s protection and she kept her eyes forward. The Oregon Trail was her road again.