Wednesday, February 18, 2009

My westward journal #3

4-9-1820

Dear journal,

Our first night of travel was tricky. Our wagon train had to cross the Blue River. It was difficult, but nobody was doubtful. I stayed with mother and father while we crossed the river. I was a little frightened. While each wagon crossed carefully, we were preparing our wagon for the crossing. I was becoming very sleepy, and I slumped against fathers shoulders. When I woke up the morning, the sun was shining brightly. I looked around our camp and everything was very quiet. I got off the seat and looked for my parents. Before long, I heard a piercing scream. I ran toward the noise, and almost bumped into father. I looked at him and asked what was wrong. “Oh, Maggie.” He sighed. “Earlier this morning, a few men went to search for roots and such. One of the men was bitten by a rattlesnake. He died just now.” I felt tears stinging my eyes as I asked about the scream. It was his wife. I went back to the wagon and cried. It was so sad. How many more people would we lose? Would it ever be mother or father? Or Jasper?

Maggie, 9 years old

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