{"id":4075,"date":"2020-03-15T11:36:48","date_gmt":"2020-03-15T15:36:48","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/?p=4075"},"modified":"2022-08-22T09:08:35","modified_gmt":"2022-08-22T13:08:35","slug":"one-hundred-valleys","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/one-hundred-valleys\/","title":{"rendered":"One Hundred Valleys"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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One Hundred Valleys

<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

by Bonnie Leon<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

After the death of her mother, Emmalin Hammond discovers she is not the heiress she\u2019d always assumed she\u2019d be. The revelation exposes her fianc\u00e9\u2019s true intentions when he withdraws his marriage proposal, leaving Emmalin heartbroken and humiliated. When she discovers the father she believed to be dead is still alive and living in the Oregon Territory she decides it is time to meet the man who has been hidden from her all of her life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t

Chapter 1<\/span><\/span><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

Oregon\nCity<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

August,\n1855<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Oregon\nCity was not what Emmalin had expected. She\u2019d been told the Oregon Territory\nwas cool with lush meadows, sprawling farmlands and heavy forests fed by\nunrestrained white-water rivers. Instead, as the wagon train rolled across the\neastern territory and over the mountains, she\u2019d been confronted by rocky,\nunyielding trails sandwiched between cliff sides. The great Columbia River was\njammed with steamboats, barges and canoes. And a sawmill encroached on a\npowerful waterfall near the settlement. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nhodgepodge town of Oregon City had overcrowded streets congested with travel-weary\nsettlers who kept the land claims office abuzz. Their wagons and cattle swirled\nup dust in the streets. The air was hot, and there were no clouds promising\nrain or cooler temperatures. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sweat\npearled on the fair skin of her forehead and at the base of her neck where\nEmmalin tucked a strand of ginger-colored hair into place. She stepped out of\nthe hotel and onto the boardwalk. The hour was early and already the heat was\ninsufferable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A\nwagon rattled past, kicking up more dust. A pig, tied to a hitch at the back,\ntrotted along, moving its stout legs in clipped, quick steps in order to keep\nup. Children\u2019s dirty faces peered over the side rails, eyes wide with\ncuriosity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What\nhad she done? She shouldn\u2019t have come. She didn\u2019t belong here. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her\nplace was on the estate grounds cutting roses for a bouquet to grace the\nvestibule or sitting at her Steinway, hands stroking the keys as she set free\ncompositions of Mozart, Beethoven, and Bach. Emmalin longed for tranquil,\ncultured Philadelphia where she had breakfasted in the kitchen nook that\noverlooked her mother\u2019s lush gardens.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\nshould have simply accepted her small inheritance and settled into a simpler\nlife, never giving her lost father a thought. He\u2019d walked away years before.\nHer hopes of a reconciliation had been unrealistic. Uncle Jonathon shouldn\u2019t\nhave indulged her and then agreed to accompany her. If he hadn\u2019t, she never\nwould have come. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now\nthere would be no Bach or Beethoven, not here. Nor would there be afternoon\nluncheons with friends. Or time spent embroidering in the parlor with her\nmother.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mother.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Like\nthe twist of a knife, pain cut through her middle. Why did God let people die?\nTears burned her eyes. Her mother was gone\u2014so far away, too far\u2026forever.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emmalin\nwiped away tears. Would the grieving never end? She\u2019d carried heart ache across\nthe open prairies and parched deserts, over mountains and through rivers\nrushing with spring run-off. She\u2019d carried her mother with her across the\nmiles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Attempting\nto toss away the pain, Emmalin lifted her chin and opened her parasol, then\nmoved along the wooden walkway in front of the hotel. A man led a pair of oxen\nup the street while a black and white dog danced around the animals\u2019 hooves,\nbarking. Dust irritated her nose, bringing on a sneeze, which she captured\nbeneath a lace handkerchief. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\u2019d\nhad enough of dirt and grime. She\u2019d been buried in it for months on the trail.\nThe promise of a luxurious soak in a tub captured her thoughts. Her name had\nbeen added to a list of others waiting for sweet relief from the grime, but she\nwould have to wait until late in the day before it would be her turn to lower\nherself into warm soapy water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emmalin\nstopped at a wooden bench and gingerly swept it clean before sitting. The\nstreet was quieter than it had been the previous day, but it was still early,\nnot yet eight o\u2019clock. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\nhadn\u2019t slept well. The late-night racket from a nearby saloon along with the\nlack of a breeze in her overheated room made sleeping as elusive as the peace\nshe sought. She hadn\u2019t expected this place to be exactly like Philadelphia, but\nshe\u2019d hoped for something a bit more civilized. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emmalin\nwanted to flee to her birthplace with its familiar comforts, but there wouldn\u2019t\nbe another group leaving for the East until spring. And even so, would she have\nthe courage to journey back across this monstrous country?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There\nwas no escape. She was trapped here between the Cascade Mountains and the\nPacific Ocean, at least until spring.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her\nempty stomach grumbled, and she pressed a hand against her abdomen, hoping no\none had been within earshot. After a long, day of travel she\u2019d been too weary\nto eat before falling into bed the previous evening. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A\nman with a woman on his arm and five children trailing behind, hurried past.\nTheir faces were alight with hope. Likely they were pioneers who had crossed\nthe country with dreams of making a new life here in Oregon. The oldest boy had\na piglet in his arms and wore a satisfied smile. What did he have to be happy\nabout? This place was almost as dreary as the dry, empty deserts. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Realizing\nshe\u2019d nearly forgotten what happiness felt like, she cast an apology heavenward\nwhile at the same time longing for solace from a God she wasn\u2019t sure she even\nbelieved in anymore. Since her mother\u2019s death her joyful heart and her faith\nhad gone limp like the fragile leaves of the wildflowers she\u2019d seen along the\ntrail, thirsting for a rain that might never come. God had deserted her, the\nway her father had. Emmalin glanced at the hotel door. She\u2019d expected to find\nher uncle in the lobby when she\u2019d come down from her room. He wasn\u2019t one to\nsleep late. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A\nhuge, heavy-coated white dog approached her. He seemed friendly. The animal\nstepped onto the boardwalk, sniffed Emmalin\u2019s hand, then rested his giant head\non her lap, as if they were old friends<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere\ndid you come from?\u201d She stroked his head and his tail swished back and forth.\nHis presence comforted her. How divine it would be to live oblivious to the\nhardships of life. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A\ntall man carrying a rifle and wearing a hatchet on his hip stepped off the\nstreet. \u201cAh, there you are, Henry.\u201d He gave the dog a pat on the head and shot\nEmmalin a smile, his hazel eyes penetrating. \u201cI apologize. Can\u2019t keep up with\nhim. He\u2019s friendly enough, but usually not a bother.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\ndon\u2019t mind.\u201d Emmalin stroked Henry\u2019s neck. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nman tipped his hat. \u201cCome on, boy.\u201d He moved along, the dog at his side. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emmalin\nwished Henry could have stayed longer, then wondered at her silliness. She\u2019d\nnever even owned a dog. Her uncle had kept hounds in a kennel for hunting, but\nthat was all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nstranger glanced back, tossed her a smile, and went on his way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At\nleast Oregonians seemed friendly. She was happy for that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nhotel door creaked open and her uncle stepped out. \u201cThere you are. I went to\nyour room, but you\u2019d already gone.\u201d He took her hands. \u201cDid you sleep well,\ndear?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo.\nBut lying on a real bed did feel lovely, so much better than a tick mattress on\nthe ground.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emmalin\nstood. \u201cI was beginning to wonder where you\u2019d gotten to. What shall we do for\nbreakfast? I\u2019m famished but can\u2019t imagine finding anything especially\nappetizing in this dusty little town.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jonathon\ncupped her chin in his hand. \u201cTake heart. I have it on good authority that\nthere\u2019s a dandy caf\u00e9 just down the street.\u201d He tucked his niece\u2019s arm into his.\n\u201cLet\u2019s give it a try, shall we?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nidea of a warm meal heartened Emmalin. \u201cI do hope they serve something\nscrumptious. I don\u2019t know that I can tolerate one more slice of bacon served\nwith a hard biscuit.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jonathon\nlaughed. \u201cI thought you\u2019d grown fond of the menu.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\ndon\u2019t know how you can tease about that.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jonathon\nchuckled. \u201cI\u2019ll have to admit trail food had grown a bit tiresome.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\nwish I were a better cook, but I did my best.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\ndid splendidly.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank\nyou, but I dare say you are being gracious.\u201d She looked down at her over-worn\ndress. \u201cI desperately need a bath. I\u2019m a mess.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\nlook lovely even with the dust of the trail on you. And nothing can dim the\nlight in those sky-blue eyes of yours, my dear.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh,\nUncle, you\u2019re too kind.\u201d Emmalin smiled, but worry nagged at her. Would she be\nable to make it here in the West? What if she couldn\u2019t find her father?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\nstill have several days\u2019 travel ahead of us,\u201d Jonathon said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emmalin\nreleased a groan. \u201cIs there a stagecoach that will carry us south?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere\nis, but only part of the way. And there has been trouble with Indians in that\npart of the territory. I\u2019m not sure it\u2019s safe to travel by coach. They don\u2019t\nhave military escorts.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\nwill we do?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\nwas given the name of a man who might be able to help us. I was told he has a\nway with the native people. After breakfast I\u2019ll see if I can make arrangements\nfor the journey and find a place to store our supplies and furnishings.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emmalin\npressed a hand to the base of her neck, feeling the quick beat of her heart. \u201cI\ndidn\u2019t know there were hostile Indians here. I thought all of that worry was\nbehind us.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m\nafraid not. While many villages in the territory are peaceful, there has been\nincreasing trouble between the settlers and Indians. Can\u2019t say I blame the\nnatives for fighting to hang on to their lands.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emmalin\ngrasped her uncle\u2019s arm. \u201cWas this a good idea?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\ndo you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOur\ncoming here. Journeying all this way\u2026leaving everything behind. Sometimes it\nseems the danger will never end. And what if I don\u2019t find my father?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A\ngentle expression of understanding settled on her uncle\u2019s face. \u201cIt is done. We\ncannot undo it.\u201d He patted her arm. \u201cLet\u2019s talk about it over breakfast, shall\nwe?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emmalin\nleaned against him. \u201cI suppose we might as well make the best of things.\u201d She\nwalked along the street, acting as if she were out for her typical morning\nstroll. But no matter how she tried to imagine it, this wasn\u2019t typical. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jonathon\nstopped in front of a quaint-looking restaurant and a spark of hope lit up\ninside Emmalin. Perhaps Oregon City was more cultured than she\u2019d believed. And\nmaybe Deer Creek would be as well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her\nuncle opened the door as she closed her parasol and stepped inside. The smell\nof frying sausage and baked goods intensified her hunger. There were several\ntables, each draped with a white tablecloth and a small bouquet of flowers in\nthe center. She crossed to a table on the far side of the room. Removing her\ngloves, she allowed her uncle to seat her. \u201cThis is quite nice.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot\nbad.\u201d Jonathon took the chair across from her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A\nyoung woman wearing a freshly starched apron approached them. \u201cGood morning.\nDid you come in on the latest train?\u201d She smoothed back wispy blonde hair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Embarrassment\nwashed through Emmalin. Was her appearance so disheveled that it was obvious\nshe was part of the new batch of pioneers?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes,\nwe are,\u201d said Jonathon. \u201cJust yesterday. And we\u2019re hungry as hounds.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\nthink we can help you.\u201d The woman smiled. \u201cWe always serve eggs and sausage along\nwith potatoes and biscuits. Today we also have sourdough pancakes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jonathon\nlooked at Emmalin. \u201cWhat would you like, my dear?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll\ntry the pancakes.\u201d She\u2019d be happy if she never saw another biscuit. If only\nthere were croissants with fresh berries like the ones Mrs. Pascolli used to\nmake for her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe\nsame for me plus eggs and sausage.\u201d Jonathon leaned back in his chair. \u201cDo you\nserve tea?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSorry.\nJust coffee.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAll\nright then, I\u2019ll have that. Emmalin?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJust\nwater, please.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nmeal came served on large plates. Emmalin was surprised there was maple syrup.\nShe drizzled it over the pancakes and took a bite. Light and fluffy, but fresh\nberries would have been nice. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

When\nEmmalin had finished, she laid her knife across the plate. \u201cI detest the idea\nof traveling back across the country, but I doubt I will adjust to living in\nthe Oregon Territory. Come spring, I will likely make the dreadful journey\neast.\u201d She took a drink of water. \u201cWhen we decided to travel here, I thought I\nmight stay, but it\u2019s so primitive. Much worse than I had imagined.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jonathon\nshook his head. \u201cI\u2019m afraid I\u2019ve spoiled you overly much. But you did well on\nthe trail. Your mother would have been proud. You were quite courageous and\nsturdy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Shame\nswept over Emmalin. She hadn\u2019t been brave. \u201cYou are very kind, Uncle, but I\nwasn\u2019t brave, and I did far too much complaining.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\nchuckled. \u201cYou did a fair amount. But you were brave.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\nmiss Mother.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\nmiss her too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\nstill can barely believe she\u2019s gone.\u201d Emmalin felt the sting of tears. \u201cShe\nwent so suddenly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLife\nhas a way of surprising us\u2026sometimes atrociously.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emmalin\nswallowed the ache in her throat. \u201cI wish she would have told me about my\nfather. I don\u2019t understand it.\u201d She felt betrayed but didn\u2019t dare speak such\nwords out loud. After all, it was her mother who had kept the secret. There\nmust have been a good reason.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jonathon\ngrasped her hand and gave it a squeeze. \u201cI\u2019m so sorry she didn\u2019t. I had no idea\nhe was still alive. All I remember about that time is one day my sister was\nhappily married and the next your father was gone. She never mentioned him,\nexcept when she received word of his death. I know she was likely doing her\nbest to protect you. But she did have a rather haughty protective way about\nher.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cUncle!\nHow dare you speak of her that way.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCome\nnow. She was haughty\u2014and so are you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\nreally think so?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\nsqueezed her hand again. \u201cIn a friendly sort of way.\u201d He smiled. \u201cSometimes you\ndo put on airs.\u201d Reaching up and pressing his hand to her cheek, he said, \u201cIt\u2019s\nnot really your fault. Your mother and I overindulged you. But it won\u2019t get you\nfar here. It\u2019s plain to see people won\u2019t tolerate pretentiousness.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\u2019d\nnever considered herself to be snooty. But she had beenspoiled. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll\ndo fine. You\u2019ve got a good heart and will adjust.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\ndon\u2019t mean to be highhanded.\u201d Emmalin managed a smile, then glanced around the\nroom at the country folk, feeling her face go hot. It wouldn\u2019t be easy to\nchange. And she wasn\u2019t at all certain that this hearty stock would have\npatience with her while she tried to make the transition from big city life to\nwilderness living. \u201cI don\u2019t know if I\u2019ll ever fit in, or if I even want to.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve\nalready transformed a fair amount. You\u2019re much more vigorous than you were when\nwe set off.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\nnever want to experience anything like that again. It was awful\u2014all those\nmonths of worrying about Indian attacks, diseases, terrible food, and the hours\non the trail with the sun or rain beating down on us. I doubt my feet will ever\nbe the same again.\u201d She swirled her water in its glass. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut\nyou managed to cook over a campfire, and you learned to shoot a rifle. And you\nmade it here.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emmalin\nsmiled. \u201cI did, didn\u2019t I?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Uncle\nJonathon leaned on the table. \u201cEmmalin, no matter what you decide, I must\nreturn to Philadelphia in the spring.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A\npang of fear struck her. \u201cEven if I stay?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m\nafraid so. I have a business to run and holdings to oversee.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emmalin\nhad trouble catching her breath. She\u2019d be alone. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nlife she\u2019d once had, enticed her. If only it could be hers again. But if she\nreturned, she\u2019d have to face humiliation. Collier would see her as insipid and\nweak-willed. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf\nyou\u2019re thinking of that weasel fianc\u00e9 of yours don\u2019t. He\u2019s not worth even one\nthought from you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo\nyou think he ever loved me? I know his father was never in favor of our\nmarriage. Did he know about my lack of inheritance?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jonathon\ndidn\u2019t answer right away. \u201cHe likely knew. And I\u2019m sure he brought down\npressure on Collier, but if Collier was a man of honor what his father thought\nwould not have kept him from marrying you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emmalin\nwas pierced afresh by the pain of it all. He should have stood up for her. If\nonly she could strike him from her heart and mind. Emmalin took a shallow\nbreath. \u201cI truly hope to reunite with my father. And perhaps build a\nrelationship with him.\u201d She gave a small shrug. \u201cIf he doesn\u2019t want that, then\nI\u2019ll return with you.\u201d She glanced out the window. \u201cHe may wish I\u2019d never been\nborn. In all these years, he\u2019s never contacted me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\ncan\u2019t imagine him not loving you.\u201d Jonathon grasped Emmalin\u2019s hand. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLet\u2019s\nfinish eating and then I\u2019ll make arrangements for transportation to Deer\nCreek.\u201d He stacked a piece of sausage and a bite of egg on his fork. \u201cWith any\nluck your father will still be there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emmalin\ndabbed her lips with her napkin. \u201cHe didn\u2019t reply to my letter.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWith\nthe mail service the way it is, he probably didn\u2019t get it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Emmalin\nnodded but wasn\u2019t convinced. Perhaps he hoped she wouldn\u2019t come.<\/p>\n\n\n