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California Trail Discovered

By Marie Sontag

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CHAPTER ONE – THE FIRE



February 10, 1846
Princeton Township, Bureau County, Illinois

Daniel flailed his arms and struggled to free himself from Morgan’s grasp. He stared at his childhood home, now engulfed in flames as he fought to pry Morgan’s arms from around his broad chest. “Let me go!” His voice cracked. “Ma! Pa!”
A charred beam crashed to the floor. The center of the roof caved in.
Daniel sobbed.
Pounding on Morgan’s arms, he tried to wriggle free, but his father’s business partner held fast. Daniel’s breath came in short gasps as he watched a chain of neighbors pass water buckets up the hill from the creek behind his house. Splashing buckets of water onto the flames did as much good as spitting on a garden to make it grow during a drought.
A full moon cast ghoulish shadows onto the ground. Reddish-orange flames licked the sides of the house and billowed out the roof. I should’ve gotten here sooner. Numbness rose from Daniel’s feet to his arms. His whole body shook.
“I went to our blacksmith shop after supper…” Daniel tried to explain, but a wave of shock and hysteria cut off his thoughts. “Oh, God!” His voice cracked again.
Releasing his grip around Daniel’s chest, Morgan laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder—gentle, but firm.
Daniel turned to face him. “What am I gonna do?”
For a moment, Morgan said nothing. Then, as if waking from a bad dream, Morgan’s eyes went wide. “Daniel, where’s Hannah? Was she inside with your parents?”
Daniel glanced back at his skeleton of a house. Another beam crashed to the floor, causing sparks to fly. “No. Thank goodness. Hannah spent the night at Pastor Lovejoy’s for Marybeth’s birthday.”
The fire continued to pop and whine as it consumed more of the house. Smoke curled upward, blotting out the stars. “What am I gonna tell Hannah?” He fought back the tears that mounted with each blink. “What’ll I tell her about Ma and Pa?”

A week after the house fire, Daniel sifted through the scorched remains of his home in search of something to salvage. Kicking his parents’ twisted metal bed frame, he glanced at Pastor Lovejoy. “Pastor, do Hannah and I have to move West with Morgan and his relatives?”
Pastor Lovejoy nudged a pile of ash with the toe of his leather boot. “Morgan’s your legal guardian now. You have to go where he goes.”
Daniel thrust his arm out and pointed west. “But all the way to the Oregon Country?”
The pastor pinned Daniel with a stare. “Son, it’s your job now to care for little Hannah. You might only be thirteen, but you’re a survivor. And, by God’s grace, I know you’ll do more than just survive. I believe the Lord’s got important work for you to do.”
Daniel swallowed the growing ball of fear lodged in his throat. Important work? I doubt it. I’ll probably end up disappointing Pa, just like always. “Why did Pa pick Morgan as our guardian? He’s not even married. Why didn’t he pick Morgan’s older brother, Jim?”
The large, middle-aged pastor pursed his lips and stroked his thick, brown beard. “Jim’s a bit of a free spirit. As you know, he doesn’t even attend church. On the other hand, Morgan’s a god-fearing soul. Besides, with Morgan as your guardian, you can continue your apprenticeship as a blacksmith.”
Daniel arched a brow. “Sure. Going to church is important. But at least Jim’s married. Hannah needs a ma as well as a pa. Can’t we just come live with you?”
A smile crept across the pastor’s face. “Mrs. Lovejoy and I would be glad to have you and Hannah come live with us.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But I’m afraid you’d be in the same danger you were in when you lived with your parents.”
“Danger?” Daniel dropped the half-melted fork and spoon he’d stopped to examine. “What danger?”
The pastor winced. “Remember how, the day after the fire, Sheriff Peterson found your parents’ bodies in the ashes?”
Daniel trembled like he had the night of the fire. “Yes. They’re at the undertaker’s now until the funeral on Sunday.”
“Well, Sheriff Peterson found evidence the fire wasn’t an accident.”
Not an accident? Daniel’s breath caught in his throat. “What kind of evidence?”
“He found three empty whiskey bottles. One was near the front of the house, and two were in the back. The sheriff thinks alcohol was used to speed up the fire.”
“Who’d want to kill my parents?” Bile rose to his mouth. He stepped away from the mounds of ash and plunked down beneath a leafless elm. Letting his head drop to his hands, he spoke as if talking to the ground. “What kind of an evil person would do such a thing?”
Silence hung between them.
Kicking at the pebbles and dead leaves beneath his feet, Daniel heard a clink. He brushed aside the debris and uncovered an empty bottle labeled Old Overholt. “Oh, God. Here’s another one.” With shaking hands, he stood and handed it to the pastor. “I swear, if I find out who did this, I’ll kill 'em myself.”
Pastor Lovejoy inclined his head. “Daniel, If you seek justice on your own terms, the anger will eat you up until there’s nothing left of you. And, as I said, with Hannah only ten and her blind eye and all, you’ve got to think about caring for her now.”
A pressure built up in Daniel’s chest like when he swam in the creek and stayed underwater too long. “But why would anyone want to kill my parents? Everybody loved them.”
The pastor paused and looked up at the gray, cloud-covered sky. “Remember last month when you woke up and came downstairs to find your pa and me giving a family some food and clothing? You asked why I was at your house so late.”
Daniel pinched his bushy brows together. “I remember. But you didn’t explain. You just said a free Negro family needed help, and you and Pa were helping them.”
“Well, they weren’t free Negroes.”
Daniel studied the pastor’s face. “You mean they were runaway slaves?”
Pastor Lovejoy nodded.
“So you think people who don’t want slaves to go free set our house on fire?”
“I do.” The pastor’s voice took on a conspiratorial tone. “I know Judge Filbrush is good friends with a few southern plantation owners. Many southerners aren’t too happy about their ‘property’ escaping through Illinois on their way to Canada. Did I ever tell you about my abolitionist brother, Elijah?”
Daniel shook his head no.
“Like your parents and me, Elijah believed slavery was evil. He printed a newspaper that said slavery should be against the law in all states. He was killed several years ago when an angry mob burned down the warehouse where he kept his printing press. Even though our state doesn’t allow people to buy and sell slaves, it’s still against the law to help them. Many people in Illinois think it’s okay for people to own slaves.”
Daniel studied the clouds that parted just enough to let through a thin ray of sunshine. So that’s what Pa was doing late at night when he thought Hannah and I were sleeping. He couldn’t imagine Pa breaking the law by helping slaves. It seemed there was a lot he didn’t know about his father. He searched his memory for a clue.
“Come to think of it,” Daniel said, “I do recall an argument Pa had last month with Mr. Flannery, the saloon keeper.”
Pastor Lovejoy continued to search the ground for salvageable debris. “What was it about?” the pastor asked without looking up.
“One morning while Morgan was busy showing me how to repair a wagon axle, Mr. Flannery came by and asked if Morgan had time to fix a harness. Pa said Morgan was busy, but he would do it. The saloon keeper called Pa a few mean names and said he didn’t want him touching his property.”
Daniel paused his story when Pastor Lovejoy bent down and picked up a book with singed pages.
Daniel pointed at it, relieved to focus on something else besides his parents’ deaths. “That’s my Timothy Flint book about Daniel Boone. I loved that book.”
Pastor Lovejoy handed the charred remains to Daniel. “You and a lot of other young people. I’m not sure how many of the stories are true, but I’ve heard it makes for adventurous reading.”
Trying to inject some humor into the conversation, Daniel shot the pastor a wry smile. “What? You mean you don’t believe Daniel Boone fought hand to paw with a bear? Or escaped from Indians by swinging on vines?”
The pastor chuckled. “No, I can’t say as I do.” He stroked his beard. “So, you are aware of at least two men in town, Flannery and Judge Filbrush, who were not very fond of your father. And I can think of a few others.”
Daniel continued to search the ashes for other items to rescue. A few feet away he spotted the dirty remains of his stepsister’s favorite doll. Sweet Sassafras would want me to save this.
He picked up the doll and smiled as he thought of his special name for Hannah. His stepmother often used sassafras tea to calm Hannah’s reoccurring cough. He had adopted Sassafras as his pet name for her.
At ten, Hannah still enjoyed playing with the remains of her one-armed cotton doll. As hard as the past week had been for him, he knew losing their parents had affected her even more. Hannah hadn’t said a word since she’d heard about their parents’ deaths.
As he carried the doll down to the creek to wash off the grime, he thought about the first time Hannah stopped speaking. Hannah’s mother told them it happened when Hannah’s father died. He was a trapper, and they lived in a cabin far from civilization. Hannah was only three. They never would have survived if the friendly Ho-Chunk Indians hadn’t taken them in.
After living with the Indians for two years, the tribe’s medicine man said Hannah and her ma had to leave when Hannah’s right eye began to wander. He said she had an evil spirit and that’s why she had a strange eye and couldn’t talk. Several from the tribe helped them make the journey through the Wisconsin Territory to Illinois. Daniel still remembered the first day he heard Hannah speak. It was only a few months after Hannah’s ma and his pa married. But now, after learning of her mother and stepfather’s deaths, she’d stopped speaking again.
Reaching the creek, Daniel doused the doll in the cool, swift current. God, I thought you were supposed to be fair and just. Doesn’t seem like Hannah has seen much of that in her life.
He rubbed away the smudges on the doll’s face and pushed it under again. I thought life was supposed to be fair. Ma and Pa always put others first. God, how could you let someone get away with murdering them?
He tried to stand as he wrung out the doll, but his stomach wrenched. He leaned over to push out the pain. Everyone expected him to stay strong. How could he when the center of his chest had been ripped out, leaving only a large hole in its place? His eyes burned. Someday, he’d return to Illinois and find out who killed his parents. For now, he’d try to ignore the pain. The pain of losing his parents. The pain of losing his home. The pain of not seeing his pa and stepmother’s killers brought to justice.
Straightening to his full height, Daniel stumbled back toward the ashen remains of his home. Focusing on the future made it hard to suck in a breath. Come spring, he and Hannah would travel for six months on a wagon train with Morgan and his relatives. They could die from Indian attacks, illness, bad weather, an accident, or lack of food. What if the stress was too much for Hannah? He gritted his teeth. Seems Pa didn’t think about what might happen to his family if he helped runaway slaves.
He shook his head and considered Pastor Lovejoy’s words. Son, you’re a survivor. It’s your job now to care for little Hannah. And I believe the Lord’s got important work for you to do.
Daniel wasn’t so sure about having important work to do for the Lord. But he swore he’d do all he could to protect them both. Whatever the cost.
________________________________________

All S.T.E.A.M. lessons available to accompany California Trail Discovered at:
https://www.mariesontag.com/resources/teacher/

While reading chapters 1-6, readers create a model of a covered wagon using the Engineering Design Process. Begin with the #5 California Trail Discovered S.T.E.A.M. Projects link, A_STEAM Intro.pdf
 

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