American Girl

Oregon

Mary Rose Atkinson squirmed on the wagon seat. Her bottom was sore from sitting on it day after day. Not only was her bottom sore, but Mary Rose was sore also. She thought about her home on Long Island. She could walk out her back door and step onto the wide beach. The waves crashing against the shore at night sent her to sleep. It was a warm and comfortable existence. When her father decided to join a wagon train to Oregon, Mary Rose lost the only home she ever knew.

The journey across the country was long and tiresome. The longer Mary Rose sat on the hard wooden bench, the sorer she became. All her friends were back on Long Island. She missed Katie, and Franny, and Alice. They were busy going to school and enjoying the beach scenery. Mary Rose was in the middle of the country, traveling ever westward. The land was flat until they reached the mountains. The wagon train climbed into the Rockies. The rugged trail was steep and often treacherous. Mary Rose already hated Oregon, although she had never seen it.

Mary Rose crossed her arms and tightly hugged her slim body. She glared at her father. He sat on the wagon seat, gripping the reins. The horses pulled the wagon, straining with the weight and the mountainous incline. Mary Rose hated her father; she thought he was stupid and foolish. Imagine uprooting the family and moving across the country! Why didn't he consider how she felt? She wanted to stay on Long Island all her life.

Her mother sat on the seat beside her father. Mary Rose could not see her face. She wore a calico sunbonnet with long sides that hid her facial features. She thought her mother was insipid. Mother never complained and always did what father said. If he asked her to leap off the mountain, she would...without question.

"I hurt all over," Mary Rose complained. "I want to get out of this damn wagon."

"Watch your language, Mary Rose," Mother stated without looking back.

"Damn, damn, DAMN," Mary Rose mimicked, raising her voice on each word.

"Now, Mary Rose." Her father didn't look around either. He chirruped to the horses and concentrated on the trail ahead.

"I didn't ask for this," Mary Rose continued complaining. "I wanted to stay at home, remember. I didn't want to come to Oregon on a stinking wagon train. I want to go home."

"I understand it's a long journey," Father stated steadily. "We knew that when we began. It's nearly over, so persevere a little longer."

"I've persevered long enough." Mary Rose humped over, her back aching along with her buttocks.

"Then persevere a little longer," her father snapped, losing his patience. He'd listened to steady complaints from his daughter from the moment they left the East Coast. "We're nearly there."

"I'm going home as soon as we get there," Mary Rose stated stubbornly.

"I can't see how, little girl," her father remarked. "Ain't no one going back."

"You'll like it in Oregon," her mother cut in soothingly. "You'll make new friends and go to a new school. We will build a town, a life, a new country. Doesn't that thrill you?"

"Not particularly." Mary Rose sunk into silence. She hated sitting, which was all she had done for weeks and months. She declared she would never sit again. "Can't we at least get out and walk for a while?"

They had walked on and off during the journey across the prairie and plains states. The covered wagons trailed along, one behind the other, at a slow pace. The young people and children meandered along beside them. Sometimes, they played tag or chase games. Mary Rose didn't play; she complained. She kept to herself, rarely smiling and often lagging behind. The youngsters gathered wood for the campfire or water from nearby lakes or creeks at night. Mary Rose made sure she did a limited amount of the work.