(AND A LONG WAY TO OREGON)
After some disappointments and personal problems, at the tender age of 19, I became a vagabond, an aimless drifter. It wasn't about my family - my relationships there were good, and I got "home" to Pennsylvania every few years for short visits. It was just about me. I didn't know what I wanted to do or be, so I just kept moving.
In 1849, I found myself part of the great mass of male humanity, rushing across the plains to the California gold strike. I found the whole "adventure" more exhausting and generally boring than adventurous, but it did keep me occupied for a year. I didn't "strike it rich," but I did come back East with a number of strong male friends, something I had never had before.
***
On my return to Pennsylvania, I shared my story of the trip with my sister Mary, my one and only female confidante. She was interested, of course, as she was in everything I did. Probably like sisters around the world, it didn't take long for her to start probing into my (non-existent) love life.
"Johnny, you haven't said anything about love, or wife, or family. What's going on with that part of your life?"
I found myself laughing. "Mary, do you know that I have yet to kiss a girl - kiss a woman? I am 23 years old, your older brother, and you have led a far more wanton life than I have."
"Johnny McCoy, I have not led a 'wanton life!' (I was alluding to the fact that she had been actively engaged to a young man who, unfortunately, had died in a logging accident.) "Well, maybe compared to you, I have. Surely, in your travels, you have found girls you'd like to kiss, and would like to kiss you."
"I suppose I must have, but I just haven't been looking."
"Well, start looking. Life seems to go by very slowly sometimes, but I can attest to the fact that the good parts can really by. Don't miss those."
I said I would try not to. As we parted, she asked what I planned to do next.
"I'm not sure. I think maybe I will start by going back to Iowa. I made some good friends on the California trip, and wouldn't mind seeing some of them, again."
"That does sound nice."
And that's what I did.
***
Like it had been in '48, New London was a beehive of activity in 1850, but it was a different kind of busy, this time. Leading up to the California trip, "gold fever" was directing things. Men were selling off their farms and all their possessions - not thinking about their value - or about what they were leaving for their wives and children - but just taking any offer that gave them some money to outfit for the Western trip. The results were some real family disasters, and a lot of remorse.
This time, folks were leaving for good, and with their families. They were taking time to fix up their properties, so that they would command the best sale prices possible. They were selling everything they didn't intend to take with them, but in an orderly way - again, aiming for the best return to them. Local lawyers were busy with powers of attorney and other devices necessary to handle any personal business not completed when the wagon trains left town. Wagons, oxen, and supplies for a 2,000 mile trip were being gathered well in advance of planned departure dates, so there would be no last minute problems. In other words, it was very busy, but also very orderly.
I had no trouble finding full-time work, as I went from farm to farm, helping with repairs and enhancements. Usually, I worked for room and board, which was enough for my needs, and also made me "part of the family" every place I worked. I was amazingly happy, I think - not a feeling I was used to!
My own plans came together during that time. My first week in town, I had decided that I was going to Oregon. The questions were when, and with who. Those were answered as I got to know Michael Holt. He needed a driver for his second wagon, and on the basis of Sim Smead and John Starkey (from the California trip) both assuring him that I was experienced and also "a good person," he hired me. I would be on my way West again, in early 1851.
Michael and I spent quite a lot of time together that winter, planning our needs, gathering supplies, and packing the two wagons as efficiently as possible. I saw his wife Rachel, regularly, knew their three children (two girls, and a boy) by sight, and occasionally shared a meal with them. But it was to be a strictly business arrangement. The Holts would ride in one wagon, and I would follow with the other. In the mornings and in the evenings, I would tend to the livestock.
On April 1, 1851 , we started out from New London, Iowa. All told, we began with 27 people, seven wagons, 25 yoke of oxen, 4 cows, and 4 horses. As the wagons were pulling into position, the Holts' oldest daughter - Jenny - walked up, and asked if she could ride with me. By now, you probably have developed a picture in your mind about how awkward I was around members of the female sex. I didn't want her - but, then again, I didn't not want her - and besides, it was her father's wagon. What could I really say about It? In the end, I don't think I said anything, and she just climbed up and sat beside me.
We must have sat silently for a half-hour or more. She didn't seem to need to say anything, and I couldn't think of anything to say. I was very conscious of her sitting next to me on the wagon seat - closer than I'd ever sat to any girls, except my sisters. The road was good, and the oxen didn't need my direction, so all I could do was pretend I was busy doing my job. After all these years, I can still imagine what my discomfort was like that morning.
At last, Jenny spoke. "Next time we stop, I'm going to go ride in the other wagon." I felt a little twinge of disappointment, but didn't say anything. She went on. "With my brother and sister playing and fighting, and with my mother and father talking, I thought it would be too hectic over there. I thought if I rode over here, I could have a little peace and quiet, and could take some time to just relax and enjoy the trip. What do I find? I find a wagon driver who just can't keep quiet for a minute. He runs on and on like a waterfall, with the words just spilling out non-stop. I believe he might go on like that for hours and hours, and by evening I would find myself exhausted. No, I better go over with my family."
Obviously, she was teasing me, or being sarcastic. Me being me, I responded to her seriously. "I'm sorry. I haven't been around women much - except my sisters - and I've always been sure if I was around one, I'd behave like a tongue-tied, addlepated, dunce, and embarrass us both."
I looked at her while I was talking, but she just looked straight ahead, and didn't respond. However, I could tell from a little reddening of her cheek, and a little curl to the corner of her lip, that she was trying hard not to laugh. Completely at sea now, I just continued to blunder along. "I guess I always felt that, if the girl was especially pretty, I'd probably act even stupider than average, for me."
She turned to look at me, then. Her face didn't show any particular emotion or reaction. "Was that last little bit meant specifically for me?" Was she mad - upset? I couldn't tell.
"I guess it was."
"Well, if my parents should ever ask you anything about me, be very, very sure that you never say anything like that around them. Actually, don't say anything that might make them suspect that you find me attractive as a girl. If they think that, they will whisk me back to their wagon as quick as a wink, and you won't see me again - at least, not up close - before we get to Oregon."
That seemed like a rather extreme reaction, but I asked what I should say, if the subject came up. "Oh, I don't know. Just say things that make it seem like you aren't necessarily even talking about a girl. Say I was pleasant, and we had a nice chat - something like that."
I felt like maybe it was my time to do a little teasing. "Well, I guess I could say that I hardly noticed you were there for quite a while. You were so quiet, and you really didn't excite my attention in any way. I certainly didn't find you attractive..."
"I don't think you need to be quite that specific. Particularly, even if you did find me attractive, you shouldn't mention that to my parents." She paused. "Besides, you already admitted that I was pretty."
I smiled at her, the best smile I could manage. "I did, didn't I? Well, I couldn't possibly find it in my heart to take that back, no matter what else we agreed to."
Just then, we came up to a river crossing, too deep to ford with the wagons. There was a ferry, but it could only take one wagon at a time. It was almost two hours later that we were all across, and could continue on our way.
Jenny picked up the conversation as if it had never stopped. "You told me that you didn't know how to act around girls, yet that little bit you did - about how you would react with a pretty girl - was rather flirty, don't you think?"
I thought about that for a second or two. "That rather surprised me. Maybe I have talents that I never dreamed I have."
"Well, I don't know about that, but as of this minute, we will have absolutely no flirty talk between us. I repeat, absolutely none. It's a long way to Oregon and, besides, I'm only 15 years old."
I'm sure you'll find this hard to believe but, even though Jenny rode close beside me most days for the next five months, not one romantic syllable passed between us in all that time. However, a lot was going on in my mind during those many days, and the thoughts were all pretty much the same. I was very sure from that first day that, when Jenny Holt turned eighteen, I was going to ask her to marry me.
By the way, Jenny's father did ask how we got along. I said we got along "just fine." She was pretty quiet, but we chatted from time to time. At that, he let out a very loud "guffaw." "John, I believe the wrong girl must have got in the wagon with you, today. My daughter doesn't know how to not talk! She's like a river that continuously rushes by, with nothing to slow or stop the flow. After a full day with her, your ears should be just about falling off. I swear I don't know who could have been riding with you."
I laughed with him, and admitted that there had been a bit of free-flowing speech. However, I also admitted that I liked it fine, and would welcome her back any time.
"Well, that's good. She's yours! It will give her mother and me a nice break."
***
In the two weeks it took us to travel through Iowa and Missouri to St. Joe, Jenny rode beside me every day, and "the river" never stopped flowing. I'm sure I must have learned just about everything there was to learn about her young life. She was born at Tremont, Tazewell County, Illinois, in 1836, and lived there with her family until 1844, when all the Holts - there were thousands of them, she said, but she may have been exaggerating a bit - left Illinois, and moved across the Mississippi River to Henry and Des Moines counties, Iowa. She liked farming, particularly milking the cows and taking care of the chickens. She attended school up until the time we left New London, knew a lot about a lot of things (and was truly interested in most of them), and could read and write almost as good as me. She didn't have any particular goals in life. She thought she would like to find a nice boy who treated her like a girl when she wanted to be treated like a girl, but also realized she had a brain and a lot of good ideas of her own, and would let her use them however and whenever she wanted. That all seemed to fit pretty well with some of the long-term things I'd been thinking.
After what her father had said - and I had agreed with - it probably doesn't surprise you that Jenny told me her whole life story, in detail. What might surprise you - should surprise you! - is that I did pretty much the same thing. I told her about growing up in Saltsburg, Pennsylvania, where my Pa had moved from eastern Pennsylvania to work on the new canal, where he had met and married my mother, and with her produced a family of ten children, with me being the oldest.
(Jenny had no idea where Saltsburg is located - I mean, who does, who doesn't live there? - but she had a pretty good idea where Pittsburgh was, so she could generally place my home grounds.)
Because Pa had to spend a lot of time at the canal, and because I was the senior child, I was the one called on most often to help Pa or Mother in whatever ways were needed. In telling this to Jenny, I didn't gloss over the fact that, when I was needed, someone usually had to find me where I was day-dreaming down along the river. I told her everything I could think of about my life, including what caused me to begin wandering. Nobody knew those things, except my sister Mary, and I won't divulge them, here.
I'll never know how Jenny got me to talk that much. She'd ask some simple-sounding question that couldn't be answered with a "yes" or "no," and off I'd go. A 15-year-old girl who I hardly knew had obviously cast some spell over me, making me want her to know everything there was to know about me. When I finally wound down, and we adopted a more normal conversation style, she knew more about me than anybody had ever known - or, it turned out, than anybody else would ever know.
***
We eventually reached the Platte River, passed Fort Kearny - a sorry excuse for a military outpost! - and continued on the long, long, long and boring trip west up the river valley. You actually climb steadily all the way across Nebraska Territory, but the grade is so gentle that the land appears perfectly flat. There are almost no trees, the river channel is hardly identifiable even when you're traveling alongside it, and the dust from all the wagons is so thick, you hardly look human by the end of the day.
I had found this a miserable part of the California trip, and this time had equipped myself with some books to read as we traveled along. Of course, I didn't know I would have Jenny with me - certainly a better cure for boredom than any book! She discovered the books in my old duffel bag. I chided her for rifling through my personal property, to which she responded that we were in a Holt wagon, and therefore everything in it belonged to the Holts. I asked if that included me. She replied in the affirmative, then qualified her statement to limit it to as long as her father was paying me. She paused momentarily, then said, "I've almost decided to keep you permanently." That surprised me, and I wondered if her saying that broke our rule about no flirty or romantic exchanges. She didn't smile or elaborate, and I liked what she said so much that I decided not to bring the possible infringement to her attention.
"Why are you taking books to Oregon?" she asked. "Don't they have plenty there?" I told her about the California trip, and my plan, this time, to stave off the boredom by reading the books. I was about to say that I didn't need the books with her there, but I wondered if that might not sound a little personal and flirty. However, she didn't give me a chance to say anything more, by suggesting that we read to one another as we traveled along. It sounded like good fun, but these were "modern" novels, most of which I knew nothing about. I was sure they wouldn't be too graphic, but were they all right for a 15-year old girl? I had no idea. When she picked "The Scarlet Letter," I got worried. I knew a little about that one, and suspected that it might be a little too much. I suggested we start with another, but Jenny didn't seem concerned, suggested we start it, then stop if it was objectionable in any way. That's what we did, each one reading a few pages, then giving it to the other person to continue. This kept us occupied most of the way across the dusty plain. I liked that leg of the journey much better than I had on the California trip!
I think I said before that Jenny was a good reader. She was, but not only that, she was a good actress. When she read, she "became" Hester Prynne, or whoever else she was reading about, and had me laughing to the point of tears, at times. I had my questions about how we would handle the main subject of the book, but in the meantime, we were having a lot of fun.
As I've pointed out before, we had been gradually gaining elevation ever since we left St. Joe, but the rise is so gradual that one hardly notices it. That changed in a big way after Fort Laramie. As I remembered from the trip in '49, for the next week we were always climbing up something, or going down something, frequently on terrible roads. I had to pay a lot more attention to my wagon driving than I had in Nebraska Territory, and Jenny had to do most of our book reading. We were still reading "The Scarlet Letter. It was difficult at times, because the author never used just one sentence, when he could use ten! We often got tangled up in long, long descriptions that just slowed down the story, without having any particular significance. Also, there were quite a few words that neither of us knew the meaning of. Since most were just part of his long-winded narrative - and not really important to understanding the tale, itself - we either guessed at them, or ignored them.
At Independence Rock, our party joined with the hundreds (maybe thousands) who had preceded us, inscribing their names in paint or axle grease, or carved into the rock. I had resisted the temptation on the California trip - probably remembering my grandmother talking about "fool's names and fool's faces" appearing in public places. However, when Jenny wanted to do it, I couldn't help thinking how nice it would be to have our names written side-by-side, forever. We'd never see them, of course, nor would anybody else who knew about us, but still it seemed worthwhile. We found a spot on the rock not completely covered with other names, and wrote ours in white paint. I thought about surrounding them with a big heart, but it was still a long way to Oregon, and...
For the next week after passing the rock, we followed up the Sweetwater River. There are at least seven or eight river crossings - none particularly difficult, but time consuming. Obviously, the road climbs, but only in small increments, and I doubt that many people believe, at first, that they have actually reached South Pass, 7,500 hundred feet above sea level, on the Continental Divide. On the California trip, I think I expected to arrive on some craggy mountain top, not a flat open area of sagebrush and other low vegetation. But if its look is disappointing, it is a major landmark on the trip. From that point on, we were truly in The West, where all rivers flow to the Pacific, not to the Atlantic or the Gulf of Mexico
We had finally finished reading "The Scarlet Letter." It had taken a long time, partly because (as I pointed out, earlier) it was hard reading. I think we both greatly improved our reading and understanding skills before we got through it. The other reason it took a long time was because the story provided us with a lot to talk about.
From the start, I had wondered if the book was suitable for a 15-year old girl. I continued to worry as we got into the subject matter - some of which, I barely understood! - but Jenny was game, and it was interesting, so we kept going. Before we were done, it had provoked a number of deep and complicated conversations.
In case you don't know the story, it is set in Massachusetts, not long after the first "Pilgrims" arrived from Europe. We always say that the Pilgrims came to America so they could have religious freedom. That was particularly true of the Puritans, who settled around Boston. Unfortunately for all the arrivals who weren't Puritans, "freedom of religion" did not apply to them. The Puritans had very strong, very specific, beliefs about right and wrong, and they treated any deviation from their teachings as "sin," and they treated "sin" just like any legal crime. People who didn't believe the Puritan way were forced out of the colony. Those who stayed were subject to what any non-Puritan would consider extreme laws, the simplest violations of which were subject to extreme punishment. The punishments could include hanging, whipping, or shaming. In "The Scarlet Letter," Hester Prynne was forced to wear a letter "A" on her clothes for the rest of her life, so everyone would be constantly reminded of her "sin."
Most of what I just wrote, I have learned in recent years. When we were reading the book, I knew only the most basic facts about Puritan culture, and Jenny knew nothing about it, at all. Both of us were confused and amazed by so-called "Christian" people adopting what appeared to us as extremely non-Christian punishments. Discussing all this - with neither of us knowing what we were discussing! - slowed our reading quite a bit.
Another early problem we had was not being able to tell for sure what Hester's "crime" was. The author is slow to spell this out - actually, I don't think he ever does say it, right out front. Hester is brought from prison and made to stand for hours before the towns people, a large letter "A" sewn to her dress, and carrying a baby. The magistrates try to get her to tell who fathered the child, which she will not do. Obviously, this was part of the "sin," and was also the reason for the letter "A." It took a while for me to figure out what the "A" stood for. It was for adulteress; in other words, a woman who had a baby with someone other than her husband.
I barely knew the word "adulteress," and it was completely unknown to Jenny. In what could have been a funny conversation, but which turned rather complicated and serious, I found out that Jenny not only didn't know the word, she couldn't understand the concept.
"How can a woman have a baby with someone who isn't her husband?" she asked me. At first, I thought she was joking with me, but it didn't seem like a Jenny-thing to joke about. As we talked around the subject, I found out that she knew far less about how babies are produced than even I did (which is saying a lot!) As I recite this now, I can't believe we actually had this conversation. There were some preliminaries but, basically, it went like this.
"Jenny, marriage doesn't make it possible to have babies. It just makes it acceptable. In most societies, having children is part of the marriage process - husband and wife raise a family, together - but that's tradition, not biology. Actually, almost any woman could produce a baby with almost any man."
She looked very skeptical. "Are you sure about that?"
I had to smile, I was sure. "Well, don't ask me for any details about how it happens, but yes, I am sure that it can happen as I said. Marriages are the only way to make it acceptable in most societies, and with the Puritans, it was the only way it wasn't considered 'sinful,' and punishable as a 'crime'."
Both Jenny and I had a lot of trouble relating to the reactions of the various people to the "sin." Not only did all the townspeople shun Hester for the rest of her life, but Hester and the minister (who was the obvious father, from the start) believed strongly that they had sinned, and spent the rest of their lives wallowing in that fact. Nobody lived happily ever after - except perhaps their daughter, but the author only expressed rumors about her life. It was not a happy book.
We started another book, "The Confessions of a Pretty Woman." The title sounded lurid, but it was really a simple story about "merry old England," when a certain class of people could think of nothing but popularity and wealth. It was interesting, but gave every indication that it would end like "The Scarlet Letter," with everybody unhappy. When we arrived in Oregon with the book unfinished, we set it aside without remorse.
***
In mid-August 1851, we reached the Willamette Valley, and made our way south to the vigorous new town of Salem, Oregon Territory. We had made it!
After five months of rough, dusty travel, we were ready for a little in-place, quiet relaxation. We took it by parking our wagons alongside many others, by the Willamette River. The sky was blue, the temperature was probably in the 80s, and everywhere we looked was the greenery of trees and grass. It seemed like our toils had been rewarded with a bit of Heaven.
We had heard stories about Oregon and the West being constantly rainy, with the sun seldom shining. We quickly learned from those who had been in Oregon for a year or two - and learned for ourselves in our time there - that the stories were only accurate, in part. Between November and March, the skies were gray and dismal almost every day - and if it wasn't actually raining, it felt like it would be, shortly. This constant grayness could have a depressing effect on one's spirit. But even this description is deceiving, because the rains that fell were generally light - not the deluges that we often get in the Eastern states. Also of note is that winters west of the Cascade Mountains usually have little snow, and what falls seldom stays on the ground more than a few days. Temperatures seldom fall far enough, and for long enough, to erase the greenery from the meadow lands. There can be exceptions but, generally speaking, winter seems hardly to be winter, at all!
As for the rest of the year, especially May through October, almost no rain falls. Skies are generally blue, with temperatures only occasionally rising above the 80s. Humidly, such as we have in the East in summer - when the air is so dense, you sometimes think you could cut it with a knife! - is almost non-existent. As you might imagine from this description, the land is capable of growing a great variety of crops. It isn't quite the Garden of Eden, but it certainly has a lot to recommend it.
We didn't spend too long in our recuperating, as we hoped to be well-settled before the rainy season began. Only a year previous, Oregon had passed the Donation Land Claim Act, offering free land to settlers - 640 acres to a married couple, and 320 acres to a single man. With new arrivals every day, lands were being taken up quickly, so Michael began an immediate search for a suitable farm.
When I started West from Iowa, I had no intention of settling in Oregon. It was just another adventure to keep me busy. Of course, Jenny changed all that, and I found myself looking for a homestead, also. Michael and I found two suitable parcels, side-by-side, and still unclaimed, a short distance north of Salem, and probably just high enough above the river to not be subject to flooding. We filed the paperwork, stating our intent, and suddenly we were landowners!
Having our land was a big step, but just the beginning of what we had to accomplish before winter. Shelter was the main item, as the Holts were living in their wagons and I was sleeping on the ground. Neither would be too comfortable when the warm, dry weather ended. A warm dry house was the obvious answer.
Because everyone around us needed the same thing, we quickly learned that the best approach was to work together, everyone helping with everyone else's houses, as well as building their own. Some settlers had expertise, some had tools, and some had little to offer except their willing labor. All working together, the framework of a house was fairly quickly erected, then we all moved on to the next, leaving the owner to finish up later. We were not building mansions or palaces, but we made sure we put up structures that would endure, and would keep the occupants in reasonable comfort. We erected the dwellings of families first, then bachelor houses, like my own. By the start of the rainy season, all but the most recent arrivals has shelter enough for the winter.
Money was somewhat of a problem. Nobody had much. Families like the Holts, who had sold their land and possessions just before leaving Iowa, had a "nest egg" good enough to take them through their first Oregon year, and to work on finishing up their new homes. It was different for me, of course. I had a little left over from my travels before reaching New London, and had what Michael had paid me to drive his wagon, but that wasn't going to last too long. I needed a paying job. Michael loaned me the use of one of his wagons, and one yoke of his oxen, and through the fall and early winter, I traveled around the Willamette Valley, hauling supplies for whoever needed the service. Most people couldn't afford to pay much, but with more or less full-time activity, I was able to put aside enough to get me through the winter, and to begin to furnish my house. I would need to find something more permanent and lucrative come spring, but I was pretty content for the time being.
***
I saw Jenny almost every day, but she was going to school and I was on the road quite a bit, so our meetings were usually brief, and seldom away from other people. Most often, it was at meal times, when I usually ate dinner with the Holt family. Those get-togethers were nice - it wasn't just Jenny in the Holt family that I had come to like a lot - but I really missed the long hours, sitting side-by-side on the wagon seat. Whether we were reading to one another, talking, or just watching the world creep by, I always felt enveloped by her presence. I often thought about what I had told myself during those first days together in Iowa - that when she turned 18, I would ask her to marry me. The resolution - spontaneous and uninformed as it had been - never wavered; in fact, had grown stronger over time. I had never mentioned it to her - well, I couldn't, as we had agreed there could be no romantic talk between us while we traveled across the country. Sometimes, I wished I had said something, despite the ban, but when I really thought about it, I saw that the consequences might be far from what I hoped. What if I had misjudged her feelings, and she had no interest in marriage to me? Surely, she would abandon her place on the wagon seat, and return to her parents' wagon. There would be no opportunity for changing her feelings toward me, later. On the other hand, what if she was receptive? What could we do but acknowledge the mutual attraction, then more or less ignore it for the next several months of travel? It might turn out to be nothing more than an embarrassment, keeping us from enjoying one another as we had been. Perhaps not declaring myself had been the correct way, but there we were, months later, neither one of us knowing how the other felt.
I say that neither of us knew how the other felt, but that isn't quite true. Although we both kept our pledge to not talk romantically, there were signs that our relationship was growing and changing. For instance, when we first started riding together, Jenny would sit just as far away on the wagon seat as was possible. As she gradually moved closer to me, it might have been just to make our book-reading easier. A different reason was suggested by her occasionally linking her arm with mine, in the secret space between us that no one could see into. Perhaps more telling was her tendency to fall asleep, at which time her head would gradually come to rest on my shoulder. Her naps didn't last long, because the roads were often bumpy, but I enjoyed every one of them. When she woke, she always stayed an extra moment, as if she was surprised and uncertain about how she had got where she was. Still, when she pulled away, she always gave me a radiant smile, confirming to me that she wasn't unhappy about having infringed upon my space. We never talked about it, but neither of us needed to.
Finally, a day came in spring when Jenny and I were alone together, with no particular claims on our time. We had been at my house, looking at some of the improvements I had been making. I was very aware that she had turned 16 just before we reached Oregon, and that now she was half-way to seventeen. Jenny would reach 18 in less than a year-and-a-half, and still no words about marriage had been passed between us. I decided that was a door that had to be opened, even if only indirectly.
"I'd like to talk about marriage, Jenny," I said, without preamble. She stopped walking, and gave me what was clearly a very surprised look. "Are you talking about you marrying me, and me marrying you?"
I think I might have blushed; I certainly felt hot, all of a sudden. "No, I'm just speaking, generally - about marriage, in general."
The surprised look had turned to a puzzled one. "Whether or not you're talking about you and me getting married, or just talking 'in general,' do you think it's an appropriate topic to be discussing with a 16-year old girl?"
"I'm not sure," I replied. "As you well aware by now, I know almost nothing about the female species - of any age - and I worry about any subject I might bring up. Nevertheless, I've been thinking that if there was an 18-year old girl - well, young woman, by then - who I was thinking of asking to marry me - I think I might wish that we'd had this conversation when she was 16 or 17."
Obviously, I had her intrigued. "So, are we still talking in generalities, or am I maybe the 18-year old girl being asked by you to marry him?"
"No, this is still just a general conversation," I said, being pretty sure she knew it was nothing of the sort.
We walked for a few moments while she thought about that. "Okay, I guess you can try your questions on me - in a general way, of course,"
"Of course, although here I am asking specifically about you - not necessarily about you and me, but how you feel in general. Do you want to get married, someday?"
"Yes. I mean, doesn't everybody?"
"Not everybody, but I guess most people do - although maybe more women than men, but I'm not positive about that. Anyway, you'd like to get married. Why?"
That got a quizzical look. "I don't think I understand the question."
I wasn't sure I did, either, but I trudged on. "Well, I just assume that when a woman - or man - decides to get married, there has been some thought about what it will be like to be married. What things are you expecting? What do you want to happen when you're married?"
We were still near my house. She took my hand, and led me over to the porch steps, where she sat us both down. "I have a general idea about marriage, which I think I told you one time. Do you remember?"
"I think so, if we're remembering the same thing. You said you wanted to find a boy who would treat you like a girl, when you wanted to be treated like a girl. But it had to be a boy who also realized you were smart and had a brain and a lot of good ideas, and who would let you use those talents when you wanted to. I think I understand what you mean by that."
"You remember it very clearly. Good. Now, I don't know a lot of men, but I don't think the kind I'm looking for - the kind you just described - is that easy to find. Most men, and most women, seem to have very definite ideas about how the other sex should be. That doesn't leave a lot of room for my idea of a husband. Nevertheless, I am very confident that my potential husband does exist, and I won't be a bit surprised if he's there on my 18th birthday to ask the important question.
"Now, I find it really hard to answer your question more specifically. It will have to be quite clear, before I say 'yes' to anybody, that I don't intend to be just my husband's wife. I expect us to have a loving, contented marriage, but one in which we will still be our own persons, and will be free to express our own needs and desires. Does that make sense?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Okay, then, I have some more specific ideas, but I just don't have the experience to really talk about them." That statement was accompanied by such a calculating look that I was pretty sure the conversation was about to go someplace unexpected.
"Here's my problem, Johnny. It has been my general observation that before anyone proposes marriage to someone, there has been some degree of... well, I guess you'd call it romance. If, on my 18th birthday, someone asked me to marry them, I would assume that I knew that person quite well. One way we might have got to know each other is by kissing."
"Kissing," I repeated, foolishly.
"Yes, kissing. Johnny, do you know that I have never kissed anyone, and have never been kissed by anyone? I have a feeling that, if I had that kind of experience, it might give me more specific ideas about what I expected in marriage."
I was right. This was not the talk I expected to have. Still, what could I do, but follow her wherever it might lead. "Well, Jenny, with my shyness around girls, you might surmise that I have neither kissed, nor been kissed, either. You think that's a requirement before a marriage proposal?"
"I don't know, in general, but I think it would be with me. My problem is that, even though I have seen other people kissing, I'm not exactly sure how it's done. If I met my potential 'one true love,' and didn't even know how to kiss him, what would that do to my chances of getting a marriage proposal?"
"Do you really think it's that important?"
"Well, I don't know, but it seems like an awful chance to take - not knowing how to kiss, I mean. Don't you think it might be a problem for you, too, when you find the right girl?"
"I guess I hadn't thought about it, that way. But what can be done about it?"
Here, she linked her arm with mine, and leaned against me, bringing to mind similar times on our wagon seat. It wasn't a situation in which I could think too clearly. "Well, Johnny," she began, "Here's an idea. You haven't said you want to marry me, and I haven't said that I would marry you, if you asked. Still, we're good friends, and I'm sure we both want to help the other as much as we can. What would you think about practicing together?"
I think I must have jumped a little. "Practice? You mean practicing kissing?"
"Well, it wouldn't mean anything. It would just be friends helping each other to be ready when we were in a position to be kissing, for real. I'd sure like to be ready, wouldn't you?"
I admit I was scared to death, but I didn't see how I could graciously turn down her suggestion. "How do we start?" I heard myself asking.
That perked her up. "Well, as I said, I know the general idea, from watching other people. I know we have to face each other, so you turn a little bit toward me, and I'll turn a little toward you." We did. "Now, I think the most important thing is that we can't just kiss straight forward, because we'd run into each other's noses. So, lean toward me, and then a little bit to the side." I did what she said. "Good. See, your lips are now right in front of mine. All we have to do is lean toward each other." We did, and contact was made. We just sort of rested there for a moment, then pulled away. It was brief, but I thought it was pretty nice.
"Okay," she said. "That was a good start, but it's a little awkward sitting down like this, because we're so far apart. I think with practice we could make it work, but since we're beginners, I think we need to stand up, so we can get a little closer."
By then, I was ready for anything. We got off the steps, then stood facing each other. Leaning forward was much easier than when sitting down, and our lips met perfectly. This time, we didn't pull away, and our lips just seemed to meld together. When she put her arms around me, and pulled me a little closer to her, I felt I should act similarly. We stood there, so close you couldn't have fitted a piece of paper between us, with our lips apparently stuck together - at least, they didn't seem to want to come loose. All in all, we probably didn't stay like that very long, but I lost all track of time. Eventually, we pulled away, and stood looking at one another.
"I think maybe we're on the right track," I said, finally.
***
It was awhile before Jenny and I talked about marriage, again, either general or specific. She was still in school, and I was still away a lot, having contracted with several recent settlers to help them build their houses. However, when we were together, we did "practice" regularly. It didn't take long for us to get the basics down pat, but then we decided that a little advanced study couldn't hurt, and might actually prove an advantage when - someday - we found ourselves in real romantic situations.
Eventually, I found out that Jenny hadn't forgotten my marriage questions. She told me that she had thought about them a lot, and had also talked to her mother about marriage. When we finally did manage some quiet time alone, I was anxious to hear what she had to say.
I should have known it was not going to be that simple, when Jenny began by saying that we had to straighten some things out, first.
"John McCoy, we have come to the end of our 'general' talks about marriage. From now on, it will be you talking to me - the girl you love and want to marry - and me, the girl who loves you as much as you love her, and who is going to be very eager to hear - and accept - your proposal when I turn 18. What I don't understand is why you haven't ever told me how you feel. I think you've probably wanted to marry me from the first day we rode together. I know you told me you were shy around girls, but this is really ridiculous!"
I couldn't believe my ears, and I suspect the look on my face made that clear. "Jenny, it was you who made the rule that there couldn't be any 'flirty talk' while we were on our way here!"
"Well, of course I did. I was only 15, remember, and it would certainly have been highly inappropriate, and very uncomfortable for me, if I had to sit close beside you, day after day, while you told me how pretty I was, and how much you liked to be with me."
I was completely at sea, and couldn't think of any response. It didn't matter, because she went right on talking. "Every time I caught you looking at me, I could tell that your heart and your brain were overflowing with things you wanted to tell me, and things I would have loved to hear. It was so hard for me, just sitting there. Some days, I almost hated you for the things you didn't say!"
That did it! In true cave-man style, I pulled her to me, and almost crushed us together. "Jenny, my darling," I whispered, "Clearly you have gone insane. Still, I love you, and will not abandon you. Perhaps together with the right kind of therapy, we can bring you back from the edge, and we can still live a normal life, together."
Jenny had been quiet against me, and I barely noticed that her head was raising until I suddenly found her lips against my own. Our "practice" kisses had become pretty great, but this one was truly remarkable, and it lasted what seemed like a long, long time. Finally, she leaned back, and smiled an amazingly radiant smile at me. "I never hated you," she whispered.
"I was pretty sure of that," I whispered back.
Eventually, we composed ourselves, and talked about marriage.
"I asked my mother how she and Father met. She said they lived in a small town, so they were always seeing each other. One day, he finally made a point of talking to her, and after that they talked a lot. Eventually, he asked her parents if he could begin courting her."
Jenny stopped, and smiled a big smile. "From the look on her face when she told me that, I was pretty sure she and Father had already been - unofficially - 'courting' for some time. Like us, maybe, with our 'practice' kissing. I was also pretty sure that they liked it a lot. Like we do.
"After they had 'permission,' so to speak, I think the 'courtship' got a lot more interesting."
"In what way?"
"I'm not sure - she wouldn't talk about specifics - but it sounded to me like kisses like ours - which I think are getting rather good - are nothing like kisses can be, especially married kisses. I tried to coax more details, but all she would say is, did I know what husband and wife did when they planned to make a baby. I didn't - well, not precisely anyway - but I didn't say anything. She smiled, and said "You can do all those things without making a baby, too!"
I took that all in, but couldn't think of an intelligent response, so I just said that was "interesting." Then, I asked if they did as much "courting" after marriage as they had done before. Jenny looked at me a little oddly. "Why wouldn't they? They obviously liked it. Besides, she said that kissing was even better after you were married, and that's also when she told me about starting to make babies, without actually making them. My opinion is that they probably 'courted' more after marriage than they did before. That sounds pretty nice to me."
It sounded pretty nice to me, too, and I was very glad that Jenny had heard it, and was approving. "What else did your mother say, and what did you conclude - about what you want in marriage, I mean - from your thinking and your talking?"
"She didn't say a lot more. She said she had wanted to have children, and a nice home. She hadn't expected the 'courtship,' but she was obviously very pleased with it." She paused a moment. "As for me, I very much like the idea of having our 'courtship' last into the marriage - forever, if that's possible. I still don't know what that entails, but it all sounds very nice, and I think our 'practicing" has been just exactly the right preparation. I want babies, and a home, and a garden, and a husband home enough to enjoy him. I guess the only thing different from my mother is that I really do want my husband to understand, and work with me, if I think I want to do things that other housewives might not think of doing. I don't know what those 'things' might be - I might find that there wasn't anything else I needed - but I want to be sure we agree on the possibility.
"So, what about you, Johnny? You must have some ideas about what to expect."
I found myself smiling. "I do. Everything you've said you want fits very well with what I've been thinking, and imagining. I knew it would. Now, you may find this hard to believe - since you are aware that I have had very little contact with female people, and have almost no personal knowledge of the species - but I have been making a study of women and marriage for several years, now."
"Long distance, I assume," Jenny teased.
"Yes, very long distance, but I have come to some very definite conclusions. Would you like to hear them?"
"Very definitely."
"Okay. I think marriage should be considered as two separate conditions. Obviously, they're closely related, and both work together, but I don't think that both are generally considered in terms of their actual importance.
" The first involves creating and then raising children, working together to establish a home and a family, and working with the family members to create a community. I think this is pretty much everybody's idea of marriage, and I don't disagree with the concept. I do have a big problem with what I've seen."
"What's the problem?"
"The problem is the woman's role in the marriage. I once heard a preacher say that women were made by God to produce and raise children, and that nothing else should get in the way of that. That's wrong! Do you know that I probably have never seen my mother - from my first awareness, to my last visit home - when she wasn't either carrying a baby inside of her, or in her arms? I'm old enough to have a family of my own, and she is still having babies! That isn't right. Women should have more in their lives - or at least the possibility of more in their lives - than child rearing. I was glad to hear that your parents had decided differently."
"They didn't, really, Johnny," Jenny said.
"What do you mean?"
"Did you ever wonder about the age difference between me, and my sister and brother? There used to be three other children in that gap between us, two brothers and another sister. They all died within a few days of each other, in one of the bad influenza outbreaks. I went to live with my grandparents until it was over, or I might have died, too."
I remember feeling stunned when she said that. "I'm sorry, Jenny."
She smiled a sad smile back at me. "We were all too young to really have developed any strong bonds, but I still remember how empty the house felt, and how sad my parents were." She paused a moment. "So, I didn't have nine or ten siblings, but I could have had five. My parents did stop earlier than a lot of couples. I don't know why."
I was still a little off-balance from that news. "After our talks on the wagon, I didn't think there was anything about you that I didn't know."
Jenny laughed. "Johnny, if we lived together for 100 years, I bet there would still be surprises."
I laughed, in return. "I'd like to prove that theory."
As I recall - actually, I "recall" it quite clearly! - that led to an extended period of "unofficial courtship." That, in turn, was a good lead-in for discussing my ideas about the second part of marriage.
"Raising a family may be a goal of most marriages, but I don't think that's what prompts most people - man or woman - to think of it, at first. It starts with liking a person more than you like somebody else. You may not know what the initial attraction is - a smile, a word, a feeling of being comfortable around her or him. Whatever, it starts the wheels turning.
"We were a little slow to see the next step - at least, I was, until you set me straight. The next step - if you're really looking at someone as a long-term partner - is courtship. First, it's kissing - which, I think, we are doing very well. There is a next step - I'm not sure what it is, but I think your mother hinted at it when she talked about how good 'courtship' was when you are actually married. I think there comes a time when you're thinking extends to the whole person, and you want not just their lips, but their whole body."
I scared myself when I said that last so openly, and I wondered if it had been too much - too personal. I didn't have long to wait for a response.
"Have you been thinking about my body?" she asked.
I started to say no, but what had been said couldn't really be un-said. "Yes. I wasn't, when I first decided I wanted to marry you. You were still a little girl - and, besides, I don't seem to have ever felt the general lust for women that many men, both younger and older than me, feel. I just liked your whole person. I still like - love! - that whole person quite a lot, but as I watch you grow into a woman's form, as we get to know each other better, and now that we've started kissing, I see you more and more as my wife in a physical sense. I find I'm definitely looking forward to married 'courtship'! Is that saying too much for a sixteen and a half year old girl to be comfortable with?" I asked, rather belatedly.
She paused for only a moment. "No, but it's quite a new concept, isn't it? I mean, I guess I always knew that a man and woman had to get very close together in order to start creating a baby, but I don't think it really dawned on me how close that had to be. You're talking about seeing - and feeling! - every inch of my body, and me seeing all of you! Doesn't that scare you a little bit?'
I tried to laugh, but it was hard. "More than a little bit, but I think by your 18th birthday, I'm going to want your whole self very much. Think about it - people all around the world do this every day. How bad can it be?"
I did get a little laugh out of her, at that. "I'm not expecting it to be bad, Johnny. I'm expecting it to be very good - with you. But you have to admit, it takes some thinking about."
She was certainly right about that - and I still had more I wanted to say. I decided maybe we'd gone far enough for that session. I didn't go on.
***
You might think that our conversation about marriage might have changed our immediate feelings about one another. I guess it did, but we still had a year and a half before Jenny was 18, and we both still thought that was the right target for our wedding. Our kisses got pretty exciting at times, but we didn't let things go any farther than that. Probably we were saved by my work schedule, which had become pretty much full-time, and I was often away overnight, helping our neighbors build their houses and hauling goods and supplies to them. Few people could pay a lot, but there was a steady stream of money coming in. When I had enough, I bought two horses to substitute for Michael's oxen, which were a little slow for my kind of work. That made it possible to work even more, and I was creating a pretty good marriage "nest egg."
When Jenny and I were both home at the same time, we worked together, getting our home ready for its future occupancy. Some of our furniture was pretty rustic, because there wasn't much ready-made stuff to buy locally, but we cobbled together a table and a bed, and I did find two fairly nice rocking chairs to buy. Jenny made curtains for all our windows, and added a lot of other "homey" touches to our future living quarters.
In August 1852, when Jenny turned 17, I asked her parents for their permission to court her. They gave it willingly but, knowing what her mother had told Jenny about their own early days together, I'm sure nobody was fooled into thinking that "courtship" wasn't already well underway. It was still a year to age 18, and I admit that my waiting had turned into anticipating and imagining, and I found that my imagination had grown pretty active. I suspect hers had, too.
On August 7, 1853 - Jenny's 18th birthday - we were married in a simple ceremony at her parents' house, with just the family and a few local friends. We stayed and were sociable as long as we could stand it, but then retired to our home, for the first time as husband and wife. We sat on our bed, and just talked and kissed for a while. Then, by mutual agreement, we helped each other remove all our clothes, until we both sat naked, side by side. Since neither of us had ever seen anyone of the opposite sex fully naked, it was a revelation. I don't know Jenny's first reaction, but she didn't tell me to put my clothes back on, and seemed to grow quite fond of my nakedness in the days that followed. For my own part, I felt a wonderful amazement. Jenny was young and very pretty, so I expected to like what I saw, but this was a surprise. When I would hear men talk about women, it was usually in lustful terms. I felt nothing like that (although parts of my body seemed to want to disagree with me!). I felt an awe and a reverence at being in the presence of so beautiful a sight. That feeling never left me.
All that afternoon and evening, we lay together on our bed - looking, exploring, touching, asking questions, kissing. Finally, we fell asleep, wrapped around each other, and remained that way until early morning. Then, with the sun just coming up, we consummated our marriage.
We didn't spend all of our time in the next days, weeks, and months, building on and improving our man-woman relationship, but we certainly didn't neglect it. The things we did are no one's business but mine and Jenny's, but I do want to share one thing. In a rather short period of time, we were able to confirm the capacity of women to have feelings just as strong as men's, when making love. All it took was a woman who believed - or wanted to believe - it could happen, and who was willing to experience whatever there was to experience. With that, even an untrained and inept lover proved able to make amazing things happen. That was not only good for Jenny, but also let me see that I could be a giver, as well as a taker, in our private, physical life.
That next year was the happiest of my life.
***
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