The Expedition of the Donner Party and its Tragic FateHoughton, Eliza Poor Donner
History
The Expedition of the Donner Party and its Tragic Fate
Houghton, Eliza Poor Donner
Donner Party; Overland journeys to the Pacific
The dainty meal and her motherly talk kept me a happy child until I
heard the footsteps of the Lennox boys. I knew they were coming for me,
and that I should have to sleep in that dark room where I had been so
afraid. Quickly slipping from my chair, under the table, and hiding
behind my new friend's dress skirt, I begged her not to let them know
where I was, and please, to let me stay with her all night. I listened
as she sent the boys back to tell their mother that she would keep me
until morning, adding that she would step in and explain matters after
she put her baby to bed. Before I went to sleep she heard me say my
prayers and kissed me good-night.
When I awoke next morning, I was not in her house, but in Mrs. Lennox's
wagon, on the way to Sonoma.
The distance between the Fort and Sonoma was only about eighty miles,
yet the heavy roads and the frequent showers kept us on the journey
more than a week. It was still drizzling when we reached the town and
Mrs. Lennox learned where the Brunners lived. I had been told that they
would be looking for me, and I expected to go to them at once.
As we approached the west bank of the creek, which winds south past the
town, we could see the branches on the trees in grandma's dooryard
swaying. Yet we could not reach there, because a heavy mountain storm
had turned a torrent into the creek channel, washed away the foot
bridge, and overflowed the low land. Disappointed, we encamped on high
ground to wait for the waters to recede.
Toward evening, Jakie gathering his cows on the opposite side, noticed
our emigrant wagon, and oxen, and as he drew nearer recognized Mrs.
Lennox. Both signalled from where they stood, and soon he descried me,
anxious to go to him. He, also, was disappointed at the enforced delay,
and returned often to cheer us, and to note the height of the water. It
seemed to me that we had been there days and days, when a Mission
Indian on a gray pony happened to come our way, and upon learning what
was wanted, signalled that he would carry me over for a Mexican silver
dollar. Jakie immediately drew the coin from his pocket and held it
between thumb and forefinger, high above his head in the sunshine, to
show the native that his price would be paid.
Quickly the Indian dismounted, looked his pony over carefully, cinched
the blanket on tighter, led him to the water's edge, and turned to me.
I shuddered, and when all was ready, drew near the deep flowing current
tremblingly, yet did not hesitate; for my loved ones were beyond, and
to reach them I was willing to venture.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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