The Lost Journal of Love on the Mystical Coast

In the second half of the 1800s, Penelope’s family in Illinois sold their property, loaded up several covered farm wagons with supplies, rounded up their eight children, dairy cattle and chickens, and set off for Independence, Missouri, to join wagon caravans on the Oregon Trail. 

Harley Wilson, Penelope's Papa, spoke to his family at supper. “The trail is over 2,000 miles. Prairies, mountains, rivers. When we get to Oregon we will set up a homestead and start a big dairy farm."

“But we’re leaving Grandpa and Grandma, the rest of the family, and our friends," Tears fell down fourteen year old Penelope's face.

“I know, honey. You can write them letters,” said Harley.

*****

In Minnesota another family also packed up to join a wagon caravan going west to Oregon. 

“We’ll rise early and feed the animals like we do here on the farm. Then each day we will walk. The wagons will be full of supplies. At noon we’ll stop to eat and rest for about an hour.

Then we will go on until evening, do the chores, have supper, and rest. We’ll sleep on the ground since the wagons are full.”

Wiley Harris and his wife, Ruth, explained what to expect to their four children.

“But I don’t want to go.” One of the smaller children, a little girl, started crying.

“Oliver, I’m depending on you to help watch the children and keep them safe.” Ruth looked over at her son.

Reaching out to the small child, Oliver said, ”But I’ll be there with you and every night I can tell you a new story.

You haven’t heard my new one about the girl who pretended to be a wild horse until one day she turned into a mustang galloping across the land.”

The child stopped crying. “Will you tell me that one tonight?”

“Oh yes, and I have many more stories to tell you too.”

Oliver’s father said, “You’re almost an adult. I’m counting on you.”

When the wagons were loaded and the oxen were hitched, the family started on the trail to Independence, Missouri.

*****

A month later the two families left Independence, Missouri. Each family was part of a different caravan crossing the prairie only a few days apart.

Instead of Conestoga wagons, the Oregon Trail wagons were lighter, narrower and smaller. The oxen or mules pulling them would not tire as much and the wagons were easier to maneuver.

The drivers experienced aches from the rough ride on the wagon seats. The wheels were wood reinforced with metal and the rough farm wagons did not have springs. The bumpy ride was full of jolts.

 “This river crossing will be dangerous because of the strong currents. I need everyone to hang on to the wagons so you don’t get swept away.” The wagon caravan master for Oliver's family spoke to the gathered travelers. 

“Follow the trail down the river side into the water. Don’t try to swim across on your own. Hold onto the wagon or the oxen.”

Oliver thought he had a tight hold onto a board on the wagon. But halfway across the board broke away, he struggled to swim against the current, and the river carried him off.

His family was struggling with the wagon and oxen and did not see what happened to him.

When Oliver’s family got their wagon to the top of the shore on the other side they called for him.

“Wiley, where’s Oliver?” Ruth’s face showed a dawning panic.

“Oliver! Oliver! Wiley’s voice called and he ran back to the river with Ruth.

Everyone on the wagon caravan looked for Oliver but by the end of the day they gathered around the campfire.

“I’m afraid your boy got swept away while we were crossing the river,” said the wagon master.

The family sat with shocked faces and tears.

*****

When the river carried him away from the wagons Oliver held onto the board. Whitewater rapids appeared and large rocks protruded from the churning waters. Oliver struggled and tumbled around through the rough water but held onto his piece of wood.

Eventually the water calmed and he floated into a quiet pool surrounded by reeds. Oliver was exhausted. He used his legs to kick his way to the riverside and climbed up onto the bank. 

It looked like another caravan crossing, with wagon tracks leading to the water. He followed them and came to a view of the prairie stretching to the horizon.

How would he find his family? They must be looking for him, afraid he had drowned.

He sat down to rest and drifted off into sleep.

Voices came to him and Oliver saw a group of faces looking down.

“Are you alright, boy?” A bearded face leaned over.

“Where are you from? How did you get here? What is your name, boy?”

“Oliver. I’m from another wagon train. We were crossing the water upriver. The current caught me.”

“This is a much quieter place to cross. They should have gone here,” said the man.

“You can stay with us and we might catch up to your caravan on the trail or the next supply post. Come with me. You can join up with my wagon group.”

After a hearty supper of baked black beans with molasses and spice, dried fruit, milk from dairy cattle in the wagon caravan, and fried cornmeal bread, Oliver felt better. 

“I’m Penelope,” said a low, sing song voice, and Oliver had a quick impression of brown eyes with a friendly light in them, framed by dark hair, blushing cheeks tanned by the sun, and a slight smile with the ends of the mouth curved up. 

“Are you alright? I heard what happened to you. Mama sent me to bring you these blankets for tonight.”

“Thank you, that is so nice of you. My name is Oliver. I’m glad to meet you. Can I help with chores? Is there anything I can do?”

Oliver made himself useful and the group was glad to have his help.

“He’s a good worker,” said Penelope’s father, Harley, to his wife, Ruth.

The next day the wagon caravan made an easy crossing in the quiet waters of the pool in the river. The water was shallow, the wagon wheels rolled through it, and the oxen navigated it easily.

The days blended together. The wagons bumped over the trail across the prairie and the travelers kept walking. They were mostly farmers and they were accustomed to being on their feet laboring with chores all day.

A few of the wagons were people from other lifestyles and they struggled but learned by watching those who were experienced.

The flat prairie seemed endless. 

Oliver and Penelope began walking next to each other and talking to pass the time. Then at meals they sat together too. 

Harley and Alice, Penelope’s parents, noticed.

“Be careful, Penelope. We don’t know this boy’s family,” said Alice to her daughter.

“He seems like a nice enough boy, Alice, very polite,” said Harley, Penelope’s father. “But still, your mother is right.”

 “Oliver, would you like to join our reading and lessons group this evening?” Penelope’s voice offered the invitation. “Mama teaches us. We’re practicing by writing journals.”

Eager to spend time with Penelope, Oliver quickly became part of the group.

“Here, you can read what I wrote about today.” Penelope offered her page of large, block style writing.

“And you can read mine, too.” Oliver held his out to her.

Over time their journals became more personal.

One night Oliver read in Penelope’s journal,”I like Oliver. I hope he likes me.”

He made a surprised smile. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before.

Oliver wrote in his journal, “I like you too, Penelope. I think you’re beautiful.”

Their eyes met and held while the journals sat in their laps. That night when the sun went down they remained sitting by the fire, talking.

Everyone else was already huddled in their blankets on the ground. Oliver and Penelope leaned toward each other and he reached out to hold her hand.

They wrote letters to each other this way, through the journals each evening under the stars.

Penelope’s parents noticed how much time they were spending together.

“What can we do?” Her father said. “She’s a fourteen year old girl. We got married when we were eighteen. She’s almost an adult,” her mother said.

Penelope and Oliver shared their hopes and dreams while they sat under the stars in each other’s embrace. They experienced new feelings. No one had ever listened to their inner thoughts and wonderings before.

They were too shy to say how they felt but they wrote about it.

One night Penelope wrote in her journal, “Oliver, I think I love you.”

He wrote back to her, “I love you too.”

That night he brushed his lips across her face when they said goodnight.

They parted to go to their separate wagon groups for the night but their eyes held each other as they walked away.

Penelope’s father got out a fiddle the next night and everyone jumped and danced around in the flickering light of the campfires. Oliver and Penelope ran and chased each other with the other children. There was laughter and screams of fun.

That night Penelope and Oliver talked about their feelings and the future.

“I love you. I want to be together always.” Penelope spoke bravely.

“No matter how much you love me, I love you more.” Oliver said, hugging her.

“No, I love you more,” Penelope said back.

The next morning they were walking across the prairie when the wagon caravan master rode his horse past them.

“Supply post ahead. We’ll stop there tonight.” There were cheers from the tired travelers.

The next afternoon the wagon train reached the supply post. Several other wagon trains were resting there for a few days.

*****

Oliver went out to explore. He saw the familiar wagons of his family and their silhouettes in the distance.

“Mama!” He ran. She turned, “Oliver!”

They embraced. “Wiley,” Oliver’s mother, Ruth, called for her husband.

The family came running with screams of joy. “You’re alive! Oh, Oliver!”

The afternoon passed with Oliver telling the story about what happened to him. Then he found Penelope on the other side of the supply post.

“Penelope, I’ve found my family, come and meet them,” he said.

She came with her parents and family and they gathered with Oliver’s family.

That night they all sat together under the stars and talked about the journey. The caravans would rest at the supply post for a few days.

But Penelope and Oliver wondered what would happen after that.

When the evening ended, Oliver’s parents brought out the blankets for Oliver to sleep on the ground near their wagons.

Penelope left with her family to return to their wagon caravan.

Later, after everyone was asleep, Oliver crept across the supply post and found Penelope resting under her blankets.

“Penelope. I don’t want to leave you. Ever.”

“What can we do?” Her eyes looked into his.

“I wish we could run away together forever, but we know we cannot do that.” Oliver sat quietly and thought.

“I want to exchange our journals, so we each have something of the other’s. And I made you this bracelet from rawhide. See, I’m wearing one too. Come over here and let’s go walking.” Oliver was thinking fast.

They slipped away from the wagons.

Oliver picked some prairie flowers. He put some of them in his journal and gave it to her. Then he put the rest of them into her journal and held it next to his chest.

“Penelope, I will find you. We’ll be together forever. I promise.” He spoke slowly.

“I don’t want you to leave. But I know you have to travel with your family.” Penelope’s voice and the quiet of the night pierced Oliver’s heart.

“I’m yours and you’re mine,” he said.

He handed her a note. “Put this in the journal.”

The note said, “I will find you. I love you more. Forever. Oliver.”

The next morning Oliver’s family left the supply post while Penelope’s caravan stayed to rest for a few days.

When the caravans got to Oregon Oliver’s family traveled along the wide Emerald River toward the coast. Penelope’s family settled inland.  

*****

At the coast Oliver’s father went to the land office and arranged for a large acreage of homestead land on a creek in the mountains near a lighthouse. 

 Penelope’s family settled inland but her parents decided to move to the coast where they could be near the sea so they could eat fresh caught fish, clams, crabs and other foods there.

They sold the first farm and drove the herd of cattle south to an inland city then along the trails toward the coast, bringing the flock of chickens too.

“Ocean fishing, lumbering, farming, river and lake fishing…it is a paradise,” said the people at the land office inland. “If we weren’t already settled, we would go too.”

Years went by and Penelope’s father built a two story wooden house on a river fork where they created a large dairy farm.

Oliver’s journal sat on the rustic wood box Penelope used to store her clothes.

One day Penelope went in the boat with the butter and milk to the docks at the river next to the village. In the back of the general supplies store was a lending library. She borrowed some books and the shopkeeper put them in a wooden box. Penelope could return them on the next butter and milk trip.

Back at the farm on the river fork, she picked up Oliver’s journal on a quiet day when the chores were done, and sat on the porch reading. Her sisters picked up books too and they spent a pleasant late afternoon lost in their reading.

A few weeks later, they returned the box of books and brought home a new box. Penelope went to get Oliver’s journal to hold it, feeling him close that way, while she read a new book.

The journal was nowhere to be found.

“Have you seen my leather pouch with the papers in it?” Her voice was strained and her sisters looked at her, puzzled.

“There was something like that on the table. I put it into the wooden box with the books,” said one of her sisters.

“Do you mean the box we returned at the village?” Penelope’s voice had a sense of horror.

Oliver’s journal must be at the lending library in the village. The next time they made a trip she would have to get it. She hoped it was still there.

Several weeks later Penelope went with her family down the river fork and into town. At last she could get Oliver’s journal back. If it was still there.

She could not believe it had been three years since she had seen Oliver.

*****

Meanwhile, a new box of lending library books was delivered to a lighthouse eight miles from town, not far from Oliver’s family’s homestead farm.

When the lighthouse keeper held a salmon roast picnic, Oliver’s family was invited along with other nearby homesteaders.

The box of traveling library books sat near the doorway.

Seventeen year old Oliver passed it when he walked into the lightkeeper’s house.

Oliver’s breath caught. What was that? So familiar.

The leather pouch. It had to be.

He froze and stared. Blocky letters on pages spilled out of the pouch. His handwriting.

Slowly, like he was in a dream, he delicately pulled the papers out.

“Where did this come from?” His voice was hoarse.

“The surfboat brought in another traveling library from the village for us,” said Elsie.

This must be some kind of accident, thought Oliver.

He scooped up the leather pouch and papers. He knew what they said.

Was Penelope in the village, only eight miles away? His thoughts raced.

Just after dawn the next morning he set off on horseback for the village, galloping along the wet sand on the beach at low tide, then taking the bumpy dirt trail to the village. He made good time covering the eight miles and got there in the afternoon.

He went to the general supply shop to ask if they knew of the family of Harley and Ruth Wilson and their daughter Penelope.

******

Earlier that day Penelope stepped off the boat and walked down the dusty street to the general supplies shop.

The river flowed past on one side, framed by fir tree covered mountains.

Someone was coming out of the shop when she approached. It was a young man. He seemed familiar and reminded her of…..

Oliver and Penelope stared at each other in shock.

Then they fell into each other’s arms.

“Penelope, I can’t believe it. I was so afraid I wouldn’t find you.”

“Oliver. Oliver. Oliver.” Penelope couldn’t stop saying his name.

“At last. You’re here. It’s you,” she said.

“I’ll never let you go now. Never.” Oliver’s voice was determined.

He looked at her wrist. The rawhide bracelet was still there.

“Look.” He held his own wrist up. She saw his bracelet still there too and laughed.

Oliver looked at her. “You’ve grown up and you’re so beautiful.”

“And you are so handsome,” Penelope answered back.

“I love you more.” Oliver said.

“But I love YOU more.” Penelope laughed.

The two young people clasped their arms around each other and walked over to sit by the river and plan their future.