Chapter Five ~ Helpful native Americans and immigrants and emigrants.

The challenge of the wagon train crossing a wilderness river is before them. Crossing the Missouri was relatively civilized when they used Sarpy's ferry. Now they are getting up close and personal with the Elkhorn River in the spring.

Growing up in Northeast Nebraska made the first few chapters interesting for me to write. I know the country and the history of my home state fairly well. Of course, research was still needed to flesh it all out in the detail I wanted.

Chapter Five can be read by clicking the book link below:

Chapter Four ~~ The first challenge for the Wilson-Lambert wagon train and some Nebraska history too...

The wild country of Nebraska places its first obstacle in the path of the emigrant train. The train also encounters two colorful characters from the early days of Nebraska history.

River crossings were one of the most dangerous tasks the emigrants had to undertake as they made their way across the untamed land of the west. There wasn't exactly any infrastructure like highways and bridges to make their passage easier. It was all "do-it-yourself".

The were many entrepreneurs who were more than willing to take the hard-earned money of the overlanders with over-priced supplies, services, livestock and various other sundry items. Fortunately for the Wilson-Lambert train the savvy of their two frontier guides would keep them safe from the greedy hands of these types of smooth operators.

Chapter Four can be reached by clicking the link below:

Chapter Three ~~ The die is cast and the Wilson-Lambert wagon train begins their adventure on the Oregon Trail.

A wagon train was a rolling community with its own rules of law and procedures that were designed to keep things orderly and safe. It needed to be a strong group of people who believed in their leaders and respected their decisions. However, human nature being such as it is, there were always those people who caused dissension and sometimes near anarchy conditions. When this happened it was dangerous for everyone involved.

These stalwart folks traveling the trail were mostly farmers and knew how to handle tools, equipment and livestock. However, one area of expertise that most of them did not have was the safe and effective use of firearms. There were more fatalities on the trail from the accidental discharge of guns than from confrontations with Indians.

TRAIL TRIVIA: In 1842, the first emigrant to die from a firearm accident on the Oregon Trail was ironically named John Shotwell. He made the fatal mistake of getting his gun out of his wagon muzzle first.

Chapter Three is available by clicking the book cover below:

Chapter Two and Who were these people? The typical Oregon Trail emigrant may not be who you think they were...

When I started my research for my novel, I had quite a few revelations about the trail and the people who decided to travel it. I had always felt that it was similar to the migrations that happened in the 30's during the Great Depression. People had lost everything and decided to pack up everything in the family pickup and move to California to work in the orchards, just like in Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath.

That was not the case. Yes there had been an economic depression and serious financial downturn for many people but to travel the trail was not something you just casually did. It took planning and resources. Outfitting a family of four including wagon, animals, and provisions cost between $500 and $1,000. In today’s dollars that would be between $7,986 and $15,972. Emigrants often had to save one- to three-years wages to afford the trip.

These were what we would probably call upper-middle class, most of whom were landowners, typically farmers. They had become disillusioned with their places they had built in the country in Illinois, Iowa, Missouri and Arkansas to name a few. The once fertile bottom lands of the Midwest did not have the appeal of the wild stories of Oregon country with mild winters and bottomless top soil. They were willing to sell everything of their lives and homes they had built for a chance at some mythical sounding land in the Pacific Northwest. Lands that at the beginning of the exodus did not even belong to the United States. It was a gamble and they rolled the dice big time.

They were about to travel over 2,000 miles over the course of six months through territories that just a few years earlier had never seen the footfalls of a white man. They might as well been flying to the moon because the scope of what they were about to subject themselves was almost that extreme. Their stories are an amazing testament to the human spirit and the power of dreams.

Chapter Two will introduce you to the Parker family as they begin their journey and lay a foundation for what I like to call a "mountain man love story". I am hoping my story of the Oregon Trail will have something for everyone; action, adventure, intrigue, strife and of course love. I hope you enjoy this next installment.

As before, just click on the book cover below to read Chapter Two:

For the most part they were farmers–family men, with wives and children–who had a common goal of seeking a promised land of milk and honey in far-off Oregon, about which they knew as little as they did about how to get there. They did know that the back country of Iowa, Missouri and Arkansas had not proved to be a shining paradise. The doldrums that followed the depression of 1837 shriveled the value of land and the price of crops, and malaria ravaged the bottomlands that once had promised so much. - See more at: http://www.historynet.com/oregon-trail#sthash.fkEv2NI5.dpuf

For the most part they were farmers–family men, with wives and children–who had a common goal of seeking a promised land of milk and honey in far-off Oregon, about which they knew as little as they did about how to get there. They did know that the back country of Iowa, Missouri and Arkansas had not proved to be a shining paradise. The doldrums that followed the depression of 1837 shriveled the value of land and the price of crops, and malaria ravaged the bottomlands that once had promised so much. - See more at: http://www.historynet.com/oregon-trail#sthash.fkEv2NI5.dpuf

For the most part they were farmers–family men, with wives and children–who had a common goal of seeking a promised land of milk and honey in far-off Oregon, about which they knew as little as they did about how to get there. They did know that the back country of Iowa, Missouri and Arkansas had not proved to be a shining paradise. The doldrums that followed the depression of 1837 shriveled the value of land and the price of crops, and malaria ravaged the bottomlands that once had promised so much. - See more at: http://www.historynet.com/oregon-trail#sthash.fkEv2NI5.dpuf

Here's Chapter One ~~ Get acquainted with my hero Chance Hunter, mountain man, lawyer and theologian.

I have thrown together a page format for sharing the chapters of the "Prayer of the Overlanders" to those of you who I consider to be "friends of the book". I hope you will share these links with friends and family if you feel the story has merit.

I also hope you will follow this blog as the story evolves and the lives of my characters move forward on their great adventure to the promised land of Oregon. I promise to share as much educational material from my research as well and will provide comments on parts of the story.

Just click on the book cover to go to Chapter One. It is one of the shortest chapters in the story but was only intended as an introduction.

The story of the story...why write a novel?

I've been asked numerous times about the reasons for writing a novel. I must tell you it was not something I had planned to do (...like a bucket list item.). It really was even more organic than that.

I had been spending a lot of time at a place called Bonneville Point which is in the hills east of Boise, Idaho. The story of Bonneville Point in itself is rather interesting but had nothing to do with starting to write a novel about the Oregon Trail. Anyway, Bonneville Point is ostensibly where the Boise River and subsequently, the settlement of Boise City got its name.

It seems that one of the members of Captain Benjamin Bonneville's party upon seeing the beautiful, wooded river below their vantage point on the high overlook exclaimed, "Le bois, le bois, voyez le bois!" When translated means, "The trees, the trees, look (or see) the trees." These men had been traveling through the high sagebrush desert for sometime and had not seen trees for sometime, much less the beautiful, salmon filled stream that was flowing from the mountains. So Captain Bonneville named the stream Boise and the settlement which grew up there took the name as well and Boise has been known as the city of trees ever since.

Bonneville Point is an area where the ruts from the passing wagon trains on the Oregon Trail are clearly visible and can be explored on foot. I was walking on a near perfect early September evening when the only sounds seemed to be an occasional fly buzzing by and maybe the sound of my own heart beating. As I walked the ruts, my own footfalls were crunching on the rocky ground and then I suddenly stopped because of a somewhat chilling experience. I could hear other footsteps. I quickly turned around expecting to see another hiker behind me, but there was nothing.

As I stood there, more sounds seemed to be emanating from the trail itself. I could hear wagon wheels creaking, oxen gently grunting and huffing and voices of men, women and children conversing as they walked along. What at first seemed to be audio hallucinations, suddenly became very real to me. The experience lasted for just a few minutes but was very profound, especially to a natural born skeptic like me.

I walked back to my car and sat down, trying to explain it to myself and not having any luck to logically define what had just happened to me, I accepted it. Then names started flashing into my mind and descriptions of characters. I knew I had to start scribbling some notes. I grabbed a notebook from my briefcase and started writing down everything that had popped into my mind. I must say at this point, I thought maybe I was dreaming and that I would wake up soon and realize it was just a fantasy. I put down the notebook and drove to the spot I was camping for the night and nervously drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, I woke, fixed a nice big breakfast then nervously opened my notebook. There on the pages were the makings of a story that I thought maybe I had just imagined in my sleep. It was real and so was the experience. I didn't share this with anyone for quite some time but when I finally did, I found that I was not the only one who had experienced such things. I never accepted it as "normal" but I did accept the fact that such things do happen. (Maybe that in itself is an idea for another story down the road.)

I began to write down the story as it came to me. I used my notes and began to flesh out my characters and their stories. I still don't know how it will all turn out, but I know that it is an itch I have to scratch and it will not go away until the story is told.

I will be sharing chapters from the story on this blog as I use it for sort of a central management point for the entire project, meaning the book as well as the research that goes into it. I am hoping it will be an interesting experience for me and my readers as we watch the story of Chance Hunter unfold before us and witness the birth of a novel.

Thanks for your interest.

Chapter 10 Is moving again and so is the Wilson-Lambert wagon train.

Chapter 10 is moving again and the next adventure for our intrepid emigrants is just over the crest of a low hill ahead of them! Chance has now rejoined the train after his "encounter" with Otaktay, the violent and vengeful Sioux warrior. The gracious Pawnee chief, Pitalesharu, has given the emigrants fresh clear water from his spring but has not allowed general contact with his people by those in the wagon train as a way of protecting his people. It will take a few days of travel for the train to cross the lands of the Pawnee. These lands were ceded to them by the government of the United States and we've learned from reading of their experience just how badly our government treated some of the tribes of plains Indians.

I thoroughly enjoyed placing my characters with the Native Americans who were indigenous to the Nebraska prairie at the time of my fictional wagon train's passing. The character of Pitalesharu was particularly interesting although slightly confusing. The name itself, is actually the title shared by many great Pawnee chiefs from different tribal groups of the time period and my chief is a bit of a composite study of  those men. In the Pawnee tongue the name literally means "chief of men" or "man chief". Historians have also been confused as to who all of these men were, so I did not feel too badly with my presentation.

I found this picture in one of the many archives that I pored through in public libraries to help solidify a picture in my mind of the great Pawnee chief.

The Pawnee as with many other tribes did not deserve the treatment they received from our government in the name of "manifest destiny". The Pawnee story is particularly bittersweet since they were the one tribe that never took up arms against our government. The Pawnee did not war against the settlers, but became allies of the U.S. Army, providing them with scouts and warriors during the Indian Wars. Their allegiance to the U.S. was not rewarded, and in 1876 the Pawnee were forced to sell their land and relocated to Oklahoma.

It is my goal to share with my readers as much of the history associated with the passing of emigrants over the Oregon Trail as possible and to hopefully rekindle some interest in this time of growing pains for our young country.

 I wanted to end this post by wishing a goodbye in Pawnee, but "goodbye" is not a term used in most native American languages and Pawnee has no direct equivalent, so I will just tell you "until next time we see each other, "Good health and happy trails".