Matthew's Secret: The Story of a Young Pioneer in 1845 on the Oregon Trail

By A. G. Cline

Matthew's Secret is a vivid and captivating tale of the struggles and triumphs of Oregon Trail pioneers who risked everything to make a better life for themselves and their families. In this inspirational historical fiction, young Matthew Evans embarks on a treacherous journey with his family and a group of emigrants through the America

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trilogy Christian Publishing
• Release date: Aug 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9798890410726

A. G. Cline

Through many years of teaching U.S. History, award- winning educator A. G. Cline was concerned with the abundance of misinformation in books and illustrations regarding the Oregon Trail. After receiving a grant to research and publish an accurate account of this important era of our nation's history, Cline traveled all 2,200 miles of the Oregon Trail. Rich descriptions of harsh terrain, perilous river crossings, and extraordinary struggles for survival are the result of the author's substantive research for this must-read book.

Book preview

Not Soon Enough

Nobody likes me! I’m glad I’m leaving this stinkin’ place, Ma!

Matthew Evans! You know that ain’t true! Why, just yesterday Miss Ridgeway told me—

I don’t want to hear about Miss Ridgeway. I don’t want to hear anythin’. I’m goin’ out to milk Gerdie, I yelled, slamming the door behind me.

Out in the barn, I imagined my ma’s face. She was no doubt upset and worried about me. Why was I so mean to her? She didn’t deserve such a disrespectful son. If we had just stayed in Kentucky, things would have been all right. I had friends there. But no. Early in the spring of 1842, my family emigrated from Kentucky to the outskirts of Independence, Missouri, to prepare for a journey covering more than two thousand miles. Two thousand miles! We were to travel across unknown Indian territory, through harsh plains, scorching deserts, and over rocky, treacherous mountains, to the Willamette Valley of Oregon.

Three years ago, Pa announced his Oregon plans at dinner. I thought Grandma would hit the ceiling. Why on earth so many people want to leave their comfortable homes to plunge out into that Great American Desert is beyond me! That wilderness is plum full of hardships an’ perils. You talk like Oregon is your golden opportunity. It takes just as long to milk your cow there as it does here!

Matthew! What did you say to Ma to get her so upset? The voice of my nine-year-old little sister broke through my thoughts.

"That’s none of your concern, Rebecca," I snapped.

Well, it’s time to eat.

I made no reply.

Do you want some help?

I could see she wanted to make things right. Why did she have to be so nice when I wanted to be miserable? It just made me feel worse. You go on now, I said. I’ll be there in a minute. Go on!

Rebecca tramped out of the barn. I really knew how to make her feel rotten. I picked up the milk pail and lightly slapped Gerdie’s black Holstein rump.

You an’ I can escape to Oregon, Gerdie, an’ leave all the mean folk behind. We can make a new life.

Everyone was seated at the table when I strode through the doorway. I set the pail on the wooden cupboard ledge and took my place at the table, avoiding Ma’s eyes. Grandpa said a blessing and began the passing of each bowl of food. Everyone started talking. I stared at my plate. Grandma began her usual dinnertime complaining about us going to Oregon Territory. Pa explained for the hundredth time, In Oregon, there is enough free land for everybody. Acres of rich, deep loam in the valleys offer the farmers the very best soil in the world. Wheat an’ corn produced there can be sold to Hudson’s Bay Company at nearby Fort Vancouver.

I’m goin’ to hunt an’ fish every day, announced my big brother, John. I aim to be a great provider! He had just turned fourteen and was pleased as punch with the new Plains rifle Pa had given him for the trip. Pa had given me John’s old Kentucky rifle, but he took it away a day later because I shot Ma’s prize turkey. I didn’t mean to hit it. No one believed I wasn’t aiming at it. Rebecca told Andrew, the school blabbermouth, and he told everyone. It wasn’t like I needed to give anyone another reason to hate me.

I’m lookin’ forward to the mild weather so we can let the cattle graze all winter without havin’ to feed them hay, Ma said. An’ you know Doc Johnson said the balmy climate of Willamette Valley might cure our little Sarah. Ma’s voice cracked. I looked up to see her soft brown eyes, and they melted through my heart. I smiled my I’m sorry I hurt you, will you forgive me? smile. Her eyes said, You’ll have to prove it.

I know, I know. Grandma sighed, shaking her head. Baby Sarah is already three months old, an’ she is still as pale and sickly as the day she was born.

Pa laid a loving hand on Grandma’s shoulder. Now, don’t you worry. I am goin’ to build your daughter the house of her dreams. They say there’s plenty of good timber right there by the rivers in Oregon. When we get all settled, John an’ I will come back for you an’ Grandpa. Why didn’t Pa say I could come back, too? Why not me, too? I thought. Because you’re always doing things wrong, said the voice in my head.

Not on your life, William, exclaimed Grandma. I’ll stay right here, thank you.

Grandpa laughed and winked at me. If you can get apple trees to grow there in Oregon, he whispered, I bet we can convince your grandma to make the trip.

Chapter 2

Preparation

Pa was a blacksmith. After closing his shop each evening, he turned his efforts to building a wagon sturdy enough to endure river crossings and rugged mountains. He seasoned the wood for two years, boiling it in oil, choosing every piece carefully.

Pa made the yokes for the oxen strong but as lightweight as possible. Two thousand miles is a mighty long trip with such a great weight on an ox’s neck, Pa said, smiling as he worked. We’ll take six oxen with us. Only four will be hitched up at a time. John will herd Old Buck an’ Red with our cow, Gerdie, while the other oxen—Speck, Dandy, Twist, an’ Snarly—will start us out from Independence, Missouri.

It had taken us three years to save enough money for our journey to Oregon. By then, Grandma was resigned to the fact we were actually going. She read Lewis and Clark’s Journal from cover to cover and all the explorer reports and guidebooks she could get her hands on. Each mealtime she announced her latest findings to us all. Then she’d get to fretting and ask, What if you run out of food? What if you get lost? What if an Indian scalps you? What if you get too sick to ride? What then? Oh, dear, what then?

Pa reassured her there were plenty of fur trappers around as guides, and he had found an excellent mountain man to guide us. Beaver hats were no longer popular in Europe or in the United States, so the fur trappers were out of a job. But because the trappers knew the Indian trails so well, they took the new job of guiding emigrant wagon trains to Oregon and California. Pa said we would meet our guide, Mr. Thurston, in Independence, and leave from there just as soon as the grass was high enough for our oxen to graze along the trail.

Pa’s younger brother, Jim, and his wife, Lorene, had sold their farm in Missouri and were ready to start a new life in Oregon, too. I was glad they were going with us. Uncle Jim told funny stories and was one of the few people who treated me like a man. Aunt Lorene baked the world’s best apple pies, though I never let on to Ma that I thought so.

On March 13, we had an auction in front of our house. We needed money to buy enough food for the seven-month journey. Ma blinked back tears and straightened her chin as we watched buyers carry away Pa’s favorite chair, Ma’s hand-painted china, our organ, and my own spool bed. Grandpa put his arm around my shoulder. Remember, Matthew, he said, it’s not things that make people happy, but love and honest work.

Chapter 3

Packed

At the beginning of April, we began packing our wagon. Curious neighbors came to watch us organize our belongings. Everyone gave us advice. Your wagon will never move with all that stuff, scoffed our neighbor. Pa smiled courteously and continued hanging extra spokes, a wagon tongue, an axle, and wheel under the wagon box. In the back of the wagon, we laid a clean sheet of canvas on the floor, then spread on it a dozen hams.

Don’t bother packing rice and beans. They’ll take too long to cook, an’ the wagon train will leave you behind, said a well-meaning friend. Ma packed some anyway, along with sacks of corn meal, hardtack¹*, and dried peas.

My teacher, Miss Ridgeway, handed me a carefully folded paper. Tuck this inside your pocket, Matthew. It’s a quote from Saint Augustine. ‘Do what you can and then pray that God will give you the power to do what you cannot.’ Miss Ridgeway patted my shoulder. She was a little choked up, so I quickly put the paper in my shirt pocket. She gathered us kids together and handed each of us a small bag of