The Pioneer: A Journey to the Pacific Read online

  Richard Alan Schwartz

  The Pioneer: A Journey to the Pacific

  Copyright © 2021 by Richard Alan Schwartz

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Richard Alan Schwartz asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  Richard Alan Schwartz has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

  Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

  Previously published under the titles American Journeys: From Ireland to the Pacific Northwest Book2, American Journeys: The Pacific Northwest and the Oregon Trail, and American Journeys: From Ireland to the Pacific Northwest (1847 - 1900). CONTENT HAS NOTE CHANGED. Author name change from pen name of Richard Alan to legal name of Richard Alan Schwartz.

  Second edition

  ISBN: 978-1-970070-28-6

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

  Find out more at reedsy.com

  This book is dedicated to my grandson Zane. May your life be filled with good health, scholarship, Jewish values and life-long learning. It is also dedicated to my wife and partner Carolynn.

  Contents

  Notice

  Prologue

  I. PART ONE

  Chapter One: Families Reunite in Seattle

  Chapter Two: Kimimela’s Struggle

  Chapter Three: Kathleen’s Story

  Chapter Four: Andre

  Chapter Five: Kimimela and Andre’s Journey

  Chapter Six: New Way of Life

  Chapter Seven: Kathleen vs the Bank

  Chapter Eight: Kathleen Assists Again

  Chapter Nine: Myra and Kathleen’s Business

  Chapter Ten: More Family

  Chapter Eleven: Oregon Trail

  Chapter Twelve: Jessa’s Story/Oregon Trail

  Chapter Thirteen: Outdoor Lessons

  Chapter Fourteen: Kathleen’s Dismay

  II. PART TWO

  Chapter Fifteen: Monica is Educated

  Chapter Sixteen: Family Coming and Going

  Chapter Seventeen: William’s Calling

  Chapter Eighteen: The Flu Strikes

  Chapter Nineteen: The Death Toll Rises

  Chapter Twenty: More Family Changes

  Chapter Twenty-One: Noah Katzoff

  Chapter Twenty-Two: William’s Choice

  Chapter Twenty-Three: The Goulds

  Chapter Twenty-Four: A Relationship Grows

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Gould Family Upheaval

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Career Change for Nathan

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: William and Celeste

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Bad Air?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: Cholera

  Chapter Thirty: More Babies

  Chapter Thirty-One: Arranged Marriages

  Chapter Thirty-Two: Nathan Aaron

  Chapter Thirty-Three: Ishmael Gershom

  Chapter Thirty-Four: Children Making Matches

  Chapter Thirty-Five: Moving On

  Chapter Thirty-Six: Jonah

  III. PART THREE

  Chapter Thirty-Seven: Riding in Boxcars

  Chapter Thirty-Eight: Finding Shelter

  Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Cabin

  Chapter Forty: Survival and Rescue

  Chapter Forty-One: New Beginnings

  Chapter Forty-Two: Kim and Beth

  Chapter Forty-Three: The Kaplan Family Grows

  Chapter Forty-Four: Aaronson’s Factory

  About the Author

  Also by Richard Alan Schwartz

  Notice

  In this volume, faithful readers will notice the name of Myra and David’s daughter has been changed from Ciaran to Ciara. The former is the masculine form of the name so required a change. My thanks to an eagle-eyed reader who noticed and advised me of the correct spelling.

  Prologue

  From enclaves in the east, Americans, a people with wanderlust in their veins, became emigrants. Their perilous journeys across the continent and sea voyages through Panama and on to the west coast, hardened most but destroyed others. They suffered the loss of family and friends due to buffalo stampedes, torrential storms, and tempests at sea. The emotional and physical battering shaped those who survived as metal is hardened and formed in a forge.

  I

  PART ONE

  Chapter One: Families Reunite in Seattle

  Kathleen Kaufman, a black-haired, short, slim, woman in her mid-twenties, walked along the dock next to her sister. “It’s such a relief now that you’re here.”

  Similar size and similar appearance but for her bright red hair, Myra Kaplan, her husband, four children and sister-in-law had disembarked from their sailing ship. They had endured a sea voyage from New Orleans to Panama, a rail journey across that isthmus, and up the West Coast of Central America and the States to Portland Oregon.

  Myra’s sister-in-law Sarah said, “Believe me. We’re glad to be here as well.”

  Kathleen nodded at Sarah’s swollen belly.

  “Due in a three months,” Sarah said. “You?”

  “A few weeks.”

  Sarah said, “We heard about Jack when we were transiting Panama. I’m so sorry.”

  The corners of Kathleen’s mouth turned down briefly. She replaced her frown with a forced smile. “Let’s enjoy your arrival. We’ll talk about him later.”

  “Are those scars on your cheek?” Myra asked.

  “Later,” Kathleen said.

  Myra’s ten-year-old daughter Abbey stated, “Hey, after so many weeks at sea, it feels funny to walk on ground.”

  Five-year-old William giggled. “It’s not moving.”

  Seven-year-old Nathan shifted from one foot to the other and laughed. “I don’t need sea legs anymore.”

  “No more sea-sickness,” Celeste said, clapping her hands in celebration.

  “Kathleen, I want you to meet Celeste. She’s five and lost her family during a tornado. She’s part of our family now.”

  “Welcome,” Kathleen said and turned to Myra’s husband. “David,” she said, as a man of medium build approached them. “I’d like you to meet Mr. Breuer. Mr. Breuer, this is my business partner, David Kaplan.”

  “A pleasure to meet you sir.”

  “I as well.”

  Mr. Breuer made a sweeping gesture at the building and wharf space behind him. “This is your storage company, sir. Over there, the woodshop and ironworks. Twenty-six men on staff right now. Sorry about Mr. Kaufman. I’d never actually met him as he died so soon after he arrived.”

  David’s head spun to Kathleen. “What woodshop and ironworks?”

  She shrugged. “Apparently it was part of the deal that Jack purchas
e all of it.”

  “You’ve been running the place alone?” David asked.

  Suddenly grim faced, her body stiffened, Kathleen nodded. “It wasn’t easy but you taught me well. Plus Mr. Breuer and the others stood by me.”

  “Mr. Kaplan, if you’ll show me your goods, I’ll get them on wagons for you and young Jamison will go with you to help unload.”

  “We don’t have much,” David said.

  Kathleen regarded Myra with a questioning expression.

  “Two weeks before we left Independence, a tornado came through and destroyed our home along with the majority of our belongings. We have clothing and a few other items.” Myra sighed deeply. “Thank the good Lord, we all survived and the store was still intact so we lived in the apartment above it until we sailed out here.”

  “Aunt Kathleen, we found our Sabbath candleholder almost a block away,” William said. “And I held Ciara while Dad, me, and Nathan were in the storm cellar.”

  “My mom, dad, and brother died,” five-year-old Celeste said. “The tornado killed them. These are my mom and dad now. The tornado put a big hole in my leg. William stopped it from bleeding and Abbey sewed up the hole.”

  “Abbey sewed?” Kathleen said.

  Myra nodded. “Remember all the time she and Nathan practiced on animal skin? Dr. Beckham injured his hands. He asked Abbey to close Celeste’s and many other’s wounds.”

  “My niece the future doctor.” Kathleen grinned. She turned to Nathan. “Did you sew up anyone?”

  He nodded. “I didn’t put in as many stitches as Abbey but I must have put a million bandages and splints on lots of bloody injuries.”

  * * *

  Their wagons stopped in front of two similar two-story homes south of Portland.

  “The one on the left is mine, Kathleen said, “and the similar one twenty-yards past it is yours. Frame houses with lots of room. Four bedrooms upstairs and a lovely kitchen. Each of our lots contains forty-acres but Jack wanted the houses near each other. I’ve started adjoining gardens for each of us.”

  “They’re lovely,” Myra said as she admired the two buildings, each with porch wrapping around the front and sides.

  “I met a Turkish man just after I arrived. He sells fruit trees. I had him plant an orchard for each of us. They meet at the property line so we can work on them together.”

  “An orchard. How thoughtful,” Myra said.

  “What type of fruit?” Sarah asked.

  “Apples, peaches, pears, and apricots.”

  “Apri-whats?” Nathan asked.

  “Apricot. A small fruit but honey sweet,” Kathleen said. “I’ve also planted a vegetable garden. A man from California has been tending the garden and orchard for us. In payment, he gets half the crop.”

  “The children can help with that now.”

  “We haven’t even seen the inside of our new house and Mom is lining up chores for us,” Abbey said to much laughter.

  Myra and the children hurried into their new home.

  Kathleen hung back. As David and the helper unloaded their possessions, she walked up to him and threw her arms around him. He embraced her and noticed her tears.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s been the worst time of my life; trying to run things without you or Jack.”

  Chapter Two: Kimimela’s Struggle

  “I will go there alone and die surrounded by the mountains’ beauty.”

  Early one morning while the other’s slept, Kimimela took a bow and arrows, a knife, and a tiny amount of dry tinder to be used as fire starter. With a sorrowful glance over her shoulder and final heart-wrenching glimpses of her parents, brother, and young sister, she set out on the four-week journey. Kimimela shivered as the damp and dreary late winter air whipped around her. She’d left her warmest clothes behind in the hope someone who wasn’t heading out with the intention of ending their life could use them.

  It was a cold, late March day in 1854. The previous year, summer was brief and produced little food. The cold, damp fall dealt the Native Americans a second blow as few salmon swam up the streams from Puget Sound. They depended on smoked fish for surviving the winter months. Even the usually plentiful fruits and berries were scarce so there was little to dry and store. Many of the tribe’s children became sick and died as the tribe rationed their meager food stocks.

  Kimimela considered her empty womb which, in three years of marriage, hadn’t produced a child.

  She shook her head and thought, “A woman who can’t produce children is a burden on the others. And now that I am gone, there will be one less mouth to feed.”

  * * *

  Kimimela traveled for three days without food. The movement of a rabbit caught her eye. Kimimela moved across the leaf-strewn terrain with as much stealth as her shivering body could muster and put an arrow through the rabbit. After roasting on a fire and saving half for the next day, she thanked the rabbit for giving her a few days strength to continue her journey. It removed the hunger pangs; if only temporarily.

  On the morning of the seventh day, she awoke and found a whitetail deer silently grazing ten yards away. It wasn’t aware of her presence. While moving at a snail’s pace, she gradually put an arrow in her bow and from a sitting position, sent the arrow in the deer’s direction. The moment the arrow struck, just behind the Deer’s front shoulder blade, it leaped up, all four legs off the ground, and ran. She grabbed her few belongings and pursued it. She followed a blood trail all morning. Her lack of food was catching up to her. Kimimela’s body was tired and her thighs and calves ached. They wanted to stop but her mind knew she must keep going despite the pain or a predator might steal her kill.

  After a grueling six-hour chase, she located the deer where it collapsed next to a stream. She took a moment to thank the deer for giving up its life so she could eat, quickly hung it from a tree, and used her knife to gut the animal. Kimimela struggled to remove a hind quarter. With a twist of her knife at the hip joint the leg fell free.

  A low growl echoed through the woods. She shuddered. A bear, likely just ending his winter hibernation and ravenously hungry, must have scented her kill. Kimimela hoisted the leg onto her shoulder, and moved as quickly as possible away from the area; leaving the balance of the kill for the bear so it would, hopefully, occupy itself with the remaining carcass and not pursue her.

  Her calves and thighs seemed to be on fire while the sweat pouring down her face felt cool. Kimimela pushed herself for the next four-hours. Not an easy task with her tiny frame carrying an additional forty-pound-weight which she alternated from one shoulder to the other. The longer she hiked, the heavier her burden seemed.

  Late in the afternoon, Kimimela traveled underneath darkening skies while an icy cold wind chafed her cheeks and exposed lower legs. Her skilled hands lit a fire which began as tiny glowing embers but which she coaxed into a crackling warm blaze. She sliced the venison into strips which she hung beside the fire on a hastily constructed rack made of small branches. Being desperately hungry, the first two strips were eaten before they were heated through. She kept the flames going all night, drying the meat, plus enjoying the fire’s warmth and protection. Even the mighty bear feared flame.

  The following morning’s sky was covered with leaden grey clouds. She thanked the gods for watching over her and giving man the ability to control fire.

  Her cache of dried venison was consumed sparingly during the next few weeks and was occasionally supplemented by meager handfuls of berries and roots.

  She’d run out of food a few days before she arrived at the lake the Salish tribe called Tsi Laan. Kimimela spent one night sleeping next to the lake. Using the last of her strength, she walked into the mountains north of the lake to the picturesque place she remembered visiting the previous summer. When she arrived, she sat down at the base of a large tree and admired the view of the distant lake, the huge heavily wooded valley to her east bordered by far away mountains, as well as the long range of jagged mountains to
the north. She looked at the row of raspberry bushes which were lifeless now but would burst forth in the summer’s sun with deep-red, juicy berries.

  A tear came to her eye as her mind flooded with warm memories of her family. She put her hands to her face and cried. Pain in Kimimela’s empty belly reminded her life would be over soon but the knowledge the others in her tribe would be better off warmed her.

  The western sky was dark with clouds. She deeply inhaled the crisp mountain air and thought, “Snow will be here shortly. I will die adorned in white vestment. This is a good place to end my life’s journey. Please gods, take me now so I can forever be a part of your beautiful mountains.”

  Chapter Three: Kathleen’s Story

  Following evening meal, Kathleen removed apricots from her apron. They were gathered around the kitchen table in the Kaplan’s home.

  “Be careful,” she said. “There’s a seed in the middle that you don’t eat.”

  “The juice exploded in my mouth when I bit it,” Nathan said, wiping his chin.

  “Honey-sweet, indeed,” Myra said.

  “Mmm, we need lots of these,” Celeste said.

  “We can put them in jars for the winter but folk out here also dry them and eat them like candy or bake with them.”

  “Kathleen,” Myra said. “Have you heard from your family?”

  “The wanted to come out here but need more money.”

  “Your sister Daire?”

  “Believe she’s around sixteen now. Mom wrote that she’s a strong and tough young lady.”

  “Like her big sister,” David said with a laugh.

  Kathleen looked around the table at the smiling faces. “Let me tell you about Jack and my arrival.” She took a deep breath, noted her listeners rapt attention, and leaned forward in her chair with her hands clasped and elbows on the table. “Our ship docked mid-day Saturday. We moved into the house next door. On Sunday morning, we decided to take a buckboard ride on a trail that paralleled the Columbia River. After an hour, we discovered a broad meadow which was blanketed with wildflowers so we ate a meal there. The weather was cool and damp but we loved being off the ship.”