My Oregon Trail Diary

March 6th, 1848

We've been walking for around a month now and we haven't reached Chimney Rock. I miss our home back in Independence, I miss the way the old wood smelled, and how the wooden boards would squeak. I miss my friend Lucy, whose family decided to stay in Independence.

I am constantly afraid that someone will fall to cholera. We passed a wagon this afternoon, a family weeping around it. The father was holding a rusty shovel and had his arms wrapped around a small girl, who was wailing something awfully. An older girl was stopped next to them, burying her face in her hands. All to let you know someone died was a poorly and quickly made headstone.

My feet ache something awful and it feels as if my bones are breaking under the pressure of the miles of walking everyday. I hardly ever get to ride in the wagon, usually my younger brother John Jr., and my mother ride in the wagon. My older sister Margret and I walk together, next  to the oxen, while my father drives. Everyone looks different than they did back in Independence. Everyone has bags under their eyes shoulders slump. We don't have full meals, either, in order to conserve food as long as we can.

March 7th,1848

Something terrible almost happened today. Little John crawled up to my father while my mother was asleep, and my father didn't notice until John slipped and almost fell under wagon wheel. Margret was quick, and she caught him before he fell. I've heard stories from others on the wagon trail of small children, like John, falling down and being killed by the massive wheels.

On a happier note, we came across an Indian tribe today. They weren't like we've heard. They were friendly and offered us good food for some extra supplies we didn't need. I thought the people were so interesting, living in those animal skin tents and hunting the animals for food. Yes, my father likes to hunt, but never for food, for game. The meat we traded with the Indians was good. But others thought we were strange, trading with the Indians. I over heard a couple of men this evening at dinner. I couldn't hear much, but I knew they didn't I agree with us. They said things that were bad about my father and the Indians. I don't see what's wrong with them; they aren't really that different than us.

My father said we made good ground today. He wasn't sure how far we got, but it was pretty far. My feet don't hurt as badly today, because I got to ride with my mother and John for a while. It was nice, but very cramped. Most of the wagon space is used for furniture and food.

March 8th,1848

We had a terrible storm last night. it rained nearly all night, and it was blinding. This morning, most of the wagon wheels were buried in mud and the wagons were stuck.We spent nearly half of thee day to getting our wagon out.Most of the others were still stuck, so we help them for the remainder of the day. By sunset everyone was out and exhausted.

We ate a small dinner, and I was still hunger afterwards. everyone was. My mother and Margret used all the water to clean the dry mud of themselves, leaving my father and I caked in mud. It itches, and I wish my father would go out to a little pond just a few miles out and fetch water, but he is exhausted and doesn't care that hes covered in mud. He fell asleep quickly after dinner and probably wouldn't wake again if it rained and we was buried in mud and water.

He angers me sometimes. He was the only one who wanted to go on this terrible journey. Everyone was perfectly happy in Independence. except him, I don't know why, and I don't think ever will.

March 9th, 1848

My mother was unable to get up this morning. Her skin was dry, and she said how thirsty she was, and how much her stomach hurt. Her eyes were glassy and she looked ill. My father sat by her, holding her hand and whispering to her. Margret and i stood away, holding John who was crying as usual. When he stood he was crying. He walked over to us and said sadly, "She has cholera, there isn't anything we can do."

Margret began crying instantly, clutching John. He stopped crying, like he was confused as to why she was crying and not taking care of him. I was shocked. I stood there confused. She was fine, just last night. It doesn't make sense. so I turned around and ran, ignoring my father and sister shouting for me. I ran and kept running. Mad at my mother for leaving my, mad at my father for making us leave Independence. I ran until i fell, gasping for breath. I must have laid there for hours.

Next thing I know, my father was picking me out of the dirt with the sun high in the sky. The wagon only feet away, and the oxen digging at the dirt. I look around, but I don't see my mother. I let him lead me back and lift me into the wagon. I see our furniture and food, Margret and John. John is silent. he was sitting on Margret's lap. Her face red with sniffles. but I don't see mother. I sit next to Margret and John, my father climbs back up and flicks the reins. The oxen move froward, we sit in silence is the clutching of the wagon wheels.

March 10th,1848

I still cannot believe that my mother is gone. Although my father hasn't said, I am sure he didn't bury her. I'm sure he would have wanted to, but he had to come looking for me. I hated the thought of animals eating her, its sickening. One of the other families on the trails son that had eaten a poisonous water hemlock plant had died in only a few minutes. We did't have time to bury him on account that we had only a few short miles to go. We buried him later at night after we set up camp. But i woke in the middle of the night to the howls of coyotes. I went to see what the big deal was but knew not to get to close. But what I had seen made all the blood rush from my body then i started to scream. I found him the boy bloody and eaten. I wish I hadn't screamed, because everyone from camp came to see what was wrong. The boy's mother Mrs. Barnes, her husband comforting her, as her other son being to wept.

All the crosses and headstones along the retched trail, I cant stand it. I hate the idea of death. I hate how my mother had become another victim. I hate how nothing, could be done to save her. I miss her badly, it's like a part of me has gone missing. Like when you get a bad stomach ache. I only hope cholera don't claim anyone else in my family.

March 10th, 1848

We came across a river today. We weren't sure what river it was, but all we needed to know was it was wide and fairly deep. we decided to try to have the oxen float the wagon across. My father decided to have Margret help him, while little John and I waited inside.John was crying again, and I sat with him in my lap as i patted him back to calm him. Margret and my father lead the oxen into the river the water soon reached my fathers waist, rose higher on Margret because she is head shorter than my father. We walked across slowly, so the water would tip the wagon or sweep,Margret, my father, or the oxen away. All was going well until some one was swept under by the river.

I counldn't see who it was, but i heard another family shouting and the splashing. I saw my father lunge at the water, trying to save who ever fell. He missed, and that's the last anyone seen Mrs. Barnes was her splashing and gasping for air. I looked around to to her husband who was running down the river after her. His son grabbed and the fell to the ground and began to wept. I felt sorry for them, losing their wife and mother, brother and son. I didn't seem fair.

March 15th,1848

Its been a while since I've written and made my wish. but cholera has taken over Margret's body. but she is stronger than my dear old mother. I think she will be able to pull through it. Everyone in camp is keeping her in their prayers. but other than Mrs. Barnes floating down river crossing went fine. Her body hasn't turned up yet and I don't suspect it will.

We are scheduled for Chimney Rock tomorrow. So it will be my last time writing. For I won't have time after we pass it and know  now that Margret's sick father will need my help looking after John Jr.. So this is farewell to my little friend. i will hide you so maybe i can come back one day and remember my life on the  trail.