A Cry in the Wilderness
Copyright© 2025 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 7
February 17th, 1860
The four prairie schooners creaked and swayed as they made their way along the rutted dirt roads leading southeast from Butler toward the National Road. The morning sun cast long shadows across the frost-covered fields, and the breath of both men and oxen formed white clouds in the crisp air.
Will drove the second wagon, his hands already growing familiar with the reins despite the cold stiffening his fingers. Beside him, Tessa and Rebekah huddled together under a heavy wool blanket, their excitement from the morning’s departure gradually giving way to the reality of the journey ahead.
“How long ‘fore we reach the big road, Pa?” Tessa called forward to the lead wagon.
“‘Bout two days if’n the weather holds,” Angus replied without turning around. “These here local roads ain’t much more than farm tracks. We’ll be lucky ta make ten miles a day ‘til we hit the National.”
Sarah pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. The motion of the wagon was already making her slightly queasy, though she didn’t want to worry the family by mentioning it. “Mildred, you holdin’ up alright back there?”
From the third wagon, Mildred Hall’s voice carried forward. “Doin’ fine, Sarah. Elijah says we’s makin’ good time fer the first day.”
Sam rode alongside the wagons on horseback, his Spencer rifle across his saddle. The new weapon felt strange in his hands compared to his old flintlock, but he was eager to test its effectiveness if the need arose. Behind him, Slim drove the supply wagon with practiced ease, occasionally calling out warnings about particularly deep ruts or fallen branches.
The local roads proved every bit as challenging as Angus had predicted. More than once, the entire party had to stop while the men cleared fallen trees or used planks to bridge deep washouts. The oxen plodded steadily forward, their patient strength tested by the muddy conditions left by recent spring rains.
“Lord almighty,” Will muttered as they navigated around a particularly large pothole. “How’d folks ever get anywhere on these roads?”
“They didn’t, much,” Sam replied, guiding his horse closer to the wagon. “Most folks stayed put ‘less they had real good reason ta travel. That’s why them National Road was such a big thing when they built her.”
— ∞ —
By evening, they had covered barely eight miles from the ranch. The wagons formed a rough circle in a cleared field, with the oxen hobbled nearby to graze. Slim and Sam quickly established a watch rotation while the women prepared the evening meal over an open fire.
“This here tripod works real good,” Sarah observed as she hung the cast iron pot over the flames. “Much easier than tryin’ ta balance pots on rocks.”
Tessa and Rebekah gathered firewood while discussing the day’s journey in hushed, excited tones. The reality of their adventure was beginning to sink in - they were truly on their way west, leaving everything familiar behind.
“Becky,” Tessa whispered as they collected dry branches, “you scared at all?”
“‘Course I am,” Rebekah replied honestly. “But it’s a good kinda scared, ya know? Like when yur ‘bout ta do somethin’ important.”
Angus sat on the wagon tongue, studying a worn map by the firelight. “If’n we can make better time tomorrow, we might reach Cambridge by evening. That’d put us on schedule ta hit the National Road day after.”
“What’s Cambridge like?” Elijah asked, settling beside him with a cup of coffee.
“Fair-sized town. Got a good livery stable an’ a couple taverns. More importantly, it’s where the road starts gettin’ better. Once we hit the National Road proper, we’ll be travelin’ on ‘The Main Street of America.’”
Will looked up from checking the oxen’s harnesses. “Pa, what about them bandits Sam mentioned? Should we be watchin’ fer trouble?”
Angus nodded gravely. “Always a possibility, son. That’s why we’s travelin’ in a group an’ stayin’ armed. Most of these road agents, they’s lookin’ fer easy pickings. Four wagons with armed men ain’t their first choice.”
Sam spat into the fire, making it hiss. “Them Spencer rifles give us a powerful advantage too. Most bandits, they’s still carryin’ single-shot weapons. We can put seven rounds downrange ‘fore they can reload once.”
“Let’s pray it don’t come ta that,” Sarah said firmly. “I didn’t raise my children ta be killers.”
“No ma’am,” Sam replied respectfully. “But sometimes a man’s gotta defend his family. Ain’t no shame in protectin’ what’s yurs.”
— ∞ —
The second day proved even more challenging. A spring rainstorm turned the dirt roads into rivers of mud, forcing the oxen to strain against their yokes with every step. More than once, all the men had to put their shoulders to the wagon wheels to help the beasts through particularly difficult stretches.
“This mud’s thick as molasses,” Will grunted as he pushed against the rear of Elijah’s wagon. “Maybe we shoulda waited ‘til summer ta make this trip.”
“Summer’s too late,” Angus panted. “We’d never make it across the plains ‘fore winter sets in. Besides, once we hit them stone roads, travel’ll get easier.”
By afternoon, the rain had stopped, but their progress remained painfully slow. When they finally reached Cambridge as the sun was setting, the entire party was exhausted and mud-splattered.
“Thank the Lord,” Sarah breathed as she saw the lights of the town ahead. “I thought we might have ta sleep in the mud tonight.”
Cambridge proved to be a welcome sight after the day’s ordeal. The town boasted a proper inn, a blacksmith shop, and a general store. More importantly, it marked their successful navigation of the worst roads they would encounter.
“Tomorrow we hit the National Road,” Angus announced as they unhitched the oxen at the livery stable. “From here on out, we’ll be travelin’ on proper stone and gravel.”
The innkeeper, a rotund man named Morrison, welcomed the travelers warmly. “Y’all headin’ west, I reckon? Gets lots of folks through here this time of year. Where ya bound?”
“Independence, Missouri, first,” Angus replied. “Then on ta the Oregon Trail.”
Morrison’s expression grew serious. “Well, ya picked good companions fer the journey. Been hearin’ tales ‘bout road agents between here an’ Indianapolis. Y’all best stay alert.”
Sam and Slim exchanged glances. “What kind of tales?” Sam asked.
“Oh, the usual. Wagons robbed, travelers beaten. Word is there’s a gang operatin’ out of the woods ‘tween here an’ Columbus. They’s been hittin’ lone wagons mostly, but they ain’t shy ‘bout tackin’ bigger parties if they think the pickins is worth it.”
That night, as the family settled into their rooms at the inn, Angus called Will aside for a private conversation.
“Son, I want ya ta understand somethin’. From here on out, we’s gonna be facin’ real dangers. Not just bad roads an’ weather, but men who’d kill us fer what we’s carryin’.”
Will nodded solemnly. He had been thinking the same thing as they traveled through the increasingly isolated countryside.
“I needs ya ta be ready ta fight if it comes ta that. Yur ma don’t like hearin’ such talk, but a man’s gotta protect his family. Can ya do that, Will?”
“Yes sir,” Will replied without hesitation. “I won’t let nothin’ happen ta the family.”
“Good boy. Now, we ain’t gonna go lookin’ fer trouble, but if trouble finds us, we’ll be ready fer it.”
— ∞ —
The third morning dawned clear and cold. As they prepared to leave Cambridge, the innkeeper approached with final words of caution.
“Y’all be extra careful ‘tween here an’ Zanesville,” Morrison warned. “That’s where most of the trouble’s been happenin’. Stay on the main road, don’t camp in the woods, and keep them rifles handy.”
The transformation when they reached the National Road was immediate and remarkable. After days of struggling through muddy farm tracks, the solid stone surface felt like a highway to paradise.
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