Daria On the Trail Voting In Newcomers
DISCLAIMER: I don't own either A Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire. I don't own Daria Morgendorffer, either. This story is based on my research on the REAL Oregon Trail, not the computer game of the same name.
Advisory: Foul Language. With certain exceptions (notably the Mormons) adult male pioneers were known to use foul language.
Daria on the Trail*Daria on the Trail*Daria on the Trail
Orrick Trout POV:
The following morning I felt nervous as a cat. It was one thing to guide the folk in my company along the grasslands and help them cross streams. I'd done that. I'd also kept at least some of the company together when Thomas Ridge split off and took his faction. I'd now found more people to join our Company. Would these people listen to me? Or would their fear and hatred of foreigners cause them to reject the newcomers? I prayed to the Seven that they would sway the hearts of the others. I added a prayer to the Three-In-One God that He would help, too.
Kara and Daria cooked breakfast. Daria had taken the lead and was cooking beans again. When I asked her about the flavoring, she said that they needed spices. When I asked her what sort of spices she'd use, she said she'd use chili peppers. I looked at her in alarm. I remembered a meal I'd taken in Westport with some Mexican traders prior to setting out on the Oregon Road. They'd used what they called chili peppers in their cooking: after a few bites the inside of my mouth burned like Aegon's dragons.
"Seven above!" I said. "Do you eat those things?"
"I do," the girl replied. "I love them. They add flavoring."
"Daria, I ask you not to serve dishes with chili peppers while you're with us," I said.
"All right," she said, nodding her head.
"What did you find in your holy book?" I asked.
"I found several passages in what the Christ-followers call the Old Testament that say that Believers should welcome foreigners in their midst," she replied. "It took a little digging, but it was there clear as day."
"Keep them handy," I said. "We may need them."
Daria hadn't been the only one busy yesterday evening. I'd visited several of the families in our Company the night before and told them about the newcomers, trying to get their opinions in advance and cajole them into accepting them as part of our company. I admitted that they were from the Seven Kingdoms, but I told them that if we took them in, we expected them to pull their weight and that they wouldn't have any special treatment simply because they were from Westeros. I did my best to allay their misgivings about the faith of the Seven, saying that I would could respect their faith and squash any attempt by the newcomers to start any religious squabbles.
After breakfast I saw a man leading a team of mules pulling an empty cart from the west. I waved a canteen of water at him and he slowed his team to a stop. He took a swig from my canteen and thanked me.
"What news?" II asked.
"G_d d_mn idiots!" said the wagon-driver and launched a tirade about d_n-fool Emigrant idiots and their stupidity, saying that they should have had the good sense to keep their wagons in good repair before setting out on the road. In his opinion, men like that should have stayed home and not been allowed to cross the Missouri River. After spending a couple of minutes cursing their folly, he saw Jilla and Minti watching him with wide-eyed wonder and abruptly quieted himself. "My apologies," he said. "I didn't notice the ladies."
"So what happened?" I asked.
"Some fools were mounting Deep Rut Hill with a loaded wagon and their wheel rims broke while they were doing it, that's what!" said the wagon driver, recovering some of his anger. "They blocked three Emigrant companies, two east-bound freight wagons, and forced the Pony Express rider to walk his horse down-hill!"
"And whose Company was it?" I asked. I suspected that I already knew the answer.
"Some people following an idiot named Ridge!" said the wagon-driver.
"Isn't there a way around their wagon?" I asked.
"No way in hell!" said the wagon driver. He noticed that Jilla and Minti were still there, then said ""Sorry, ladies." There's only one way up that hill and you have to mount it if you want to go west to the Platte River Bridge."
I then asked the wagon driver how long it took to clear the path and he replied that it took several hours, and that with the assistance not only of the men in Ridge's company, but also men and animals from the other two companies as well. I asked them if Ridge's people were moving again and he told me that he hadn't noticed. That they were out of his way was good enough. He descended the hill and came east. I bid him good day and he went on his way.
I sighed. I wasn't surprised that something like that would happen. I had already worried that our Company had been living on borrowed time even before we reached Fort Laramie. I wondered whose wagon that was and whether Ridge would halt his company to allow them to repair what they could or if he would abandon them as he had the Basses.
A short time later I saw Joss again. The Northman was accompanied by another man, a clean-shaven man dressed mostly in the Yankee style, but with clothing details that made me think that he came from someplace else.
"Greetings!" I said.
The Northman mumbled something, then said "This is Oliver Parkhurst, my boss. He wants to join your company."
"How do you do, Mister Parkhurst?" I said in English. "I greet you in the name of the Old Gods and the New."
"And I greet you," he said. "Oliver Parkhurst. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Joss tells me that your company is headed to Oregon."
"We are," I replied. "We're here to regroup and reorganize our company. We lost some people when some of our people left and we hope to replace them."
"I'd like to join up with you," said Parkhurst. "What are your bona fides?"
"I'm sorry, but I don't know those words," I said.
Parkhurst looked non-plussed for a moment, then rallied. "What are your qualifications?"
"I traveled down to Dorne with a trader's caravan when I was young, then worked with a caravan during King Robert's Rebellion a few years later," I said.
"So you're well-traveled," said Parkhurst.
"More than most of my countrymen, less than others I've met over the years," I said. "I've never been to Essos or seen the Free Cities."
"This Dorne place," said Parkhurst. "Could you tell me about it?"
"Dorne was very hot and dry," I said. "Most of the places our caravan traveled to had very little water. But I learned how to lead an ox-cart in such conditions."
"Sounds a bit like some of the country we'll be passing through," said Parkhurst. "Did you have any trouble with bandits in your old world?"
"We did," I said. "We fought them off. We usually drove them off with bowshot, but occasionally with swords."
"Interesting," said Parkhurst. "I think I might want to travel with you if you lot will have me. I would love to hear some of your stories."
"We do have some requirements," I said. "Each party is expected to contribute to a common fund for repairs and other expenses. Each party is expected to have healthy draft animals and to have their wagons and harness in good repair. I am not making exceptions even for folk from my old country."
"I think I can do something along those lines," said Parkhurst. "So when can I sign up?"
"We'll be having a meeting at mid-day," I replied. "There are four families from the Riverlands of Westeros who also wish to join our Company. Our people will be having a vote."
"Capital!" said Parkhurst. "I look forward to attending."
An hour or so later, I saw some familiar faces trudge into camp. It was the Wilsons. They looked downcast. Were they the family that had wrecked their wagon on Deep Rut Hill? I thought it likely but decided to pretend that I hadn't heard about their disaster with their wagon.
"Greetings," I said. "How goes it?"
Jonah Wilson looked at me, then looked away. I think he would have walked on, but his wife said something to him that caused him to stop. They had a brief argument, then he turned back towards me and said "Is it too late to rejoin your company?"
I didn't answer immediately. I did not see myself as another Thomas Ridge, but I wanted to ensure my leadership and that the rest of my Company would follow my orders. I was willing to have him back, but under only certain circumstances.
"I won't just let you come back," I said. "You left our company to follow Ridge. It is as if we parted ways. If you wish to join our company, it will be like it was at Westport when you joined the company for the first time. Right now, you are not a member of the company and you have no vote. The Company will take a vote, and if a majority of the heads of households vote to accept you back, you're in."
Wilson looked at me and glared. I glared back. I was no Thomas Ridge, an imperious man with ambitions going well beyond becoming a farmer in the Willamette, but I was determined to be the best boss of this wagon train that I could be.
"As such, you're lucky," I added. "We're about to have a meeting. We have five more parties who wish to join our Company. If the rest of the Company welcomes you back, you and your family would be the sixth."
"Where are your animals and wagon?" I asked.
"They're back at Deep Rut Hill," said Wilson. My friend Bill Mathers is watching them."
"He's a good man," I said. "Where's Captain Ridge?"
"He went on," said Wilson. "He said that he wouldn't wait. I should have stayed with you."
"Tell you what," I said. "However the vote goes, we'll send someone out to your wagon and bring your animals and things back to the fort. If you don't travel west with us, you can find a new company from the safety of a fort and not from out in the open."
-(((O-O)))-
The meeting started a short time later. Some of the other men had taught me how Yankees conduct their meetings and I was able to use my new tools to call the meeting to order.
The first order of business was to discuss the status of our wagons and animals. Most of the company had had their tires tightened or had made necessary repairs. Our animals were also in good condition. A couple of families had drawn from the common fund to pay the blacksmith.
We then moved on to the next order of business: admitting new members to our companies. I'd worried about how I would go about persuading the other members of our company to vote for them. For that matter, I was still worried, but I'd been armed by a new idea I'd gotten during a dream.
I'd worried as to how I would proceed. "The next business is that we have some newcomers who wish to join our company. The first is Harry Bass and his family. Bass stepped into the circle wearing a sheepish grin.
"You all know me," he said. "I'd left to go with Ridge. I now know what sort of man he is and I'd like to come back."
He sat down and I invited others to speak. No one in the Company had harsh words to say to Bass—at least not in public. Their attitude was that he'd been suitably chastened and had learned his lesson. I quickly moved it to a vote.
"All in favor?" I said. Most of the hands rose, more than enough for him to rejoin our company.
"Welcome back, Harry," I said.
The next vote was for Oliver Parkhurst.
"Hallo," he said. "My name is Oliver Parkhurst. I'm a bachelor who wants to travel west with you and buy some farmland west of the Blue Mountains. I'm a Cambridge man, a good shot, and a fair swordsman. I can pay my way and earn my own keep. I am traveling west with my hired man Joss, whom some of you have met."
I'd glanced over at Daria while Parkhurst was speaking. I saw her eyes narrow when Parkhurst said that he'd earn his keep.
"I've looked over his wagon and animals," I said. "Both his wagon and his oxen are in good condition and are ready to travel." There was a brief murmur of discussion, which soon subsided. By their tones, I guessed that most of the men decided that admitting Parkhurst would be a safe bet. I called for a vote: two people voted against, the rest voted to admit Parkhurst.
"Welcome to our company, Mr. Parkhurst," I said.
"Thank you," said Parkhurst. "Do I make a speech or something?"
"You don't have to," I said.
"Good enough," said Parkhurst, who sat down.
And now for the difficult votes, I thought.
"We also have four more families who wish to join our company," I said. "The first man I'd like to introduce in Jankin Brook."
"Hello," said Jankin. "I am Jankin Brook. I wish to join your company." The sounds of his voice set off a wave of murmurs among the men and women who'd gathered for the meeting.
"You're from that Westy-ross place, aren't you?" said Willard Gaines.
"I am," Jankinn replied. "So are my wife and children.
"So why are you heading to Oregon?" asked Willard.
"I am taking my family to Oregon to get away from to get away from the wars and the Big Lords.," said Jankin. "The Big Lords and their men come, take our food, kill our animals, burn our farms, rape our wives and daughters. I want to get away from them." His response got a couple of sympathetic murmurs. News about war in the Riverlands had reached Westport before we all set out on the Tail.
"So why didn't you fight them?" asked Willard.
"Too d_n many of them," said Jankin. "They have armor and war horses. I do not."
That got a chuckle from the crowd.
"And if we run into Indians, what will you do?" said Willard.
"I have bow and arrows, you have guns, we fight back," said Jankin, staring back at Willard. The two of them tried to stare each other down. Their eyes turned away from each other at the same time.
"I think you'll do," said Willard.
"How are their outfits?" asked Henry Fraley.
"I looked them over," I said. "I also told them I'll be giving them no special favors just because they're Rivermen. Their wagons are in no worse condition than the other wagons that need fixing. I think they'll be ready when the time comes to set out. They'll be able to pull their weight."
That seemed good enough. We held the vote shortly afterwards. Jankin Brooks and his family were the second Riverland family to join our company after us. The Thatches quickly followed. There was some dissention when the Wells were voted in.
There was more murmuring when Leon Carp set to join.
"How many more of you Westerosi are you planning to add to this Company, Trout?" asked Bass.
"Just these guys," I replied.
The votes for the Carps and the Wells were closer, but with the votes of my supporters and those of Parkhurst and Bass, there were enough votes.
To my relief, I did not have to use Daria's passages from the Christ-followers' holy book. The religious issue was probably still there but for now, I wouldn't have to deal with it. I decided to change the topic.
"I have one more matter," I said. "Some of us remember Jonah Wilson. He chose to leave early with Thomas Ridge. I propose that we send a rescue party to bring him and his things and his family back to our Camp. How many of you are in favor of doing a rescue?"
-(((O-O)))—
Author's Notes: I'm sure that some of you were expecting sword play, noblemen, and dragons when you started reading this story. I'm sorry, this isn't that kind of story. It's a Western, howbeit with some ex-Westerosi pioneers.
FYI the Wilsons' wagon came to grief on Deep Rut Hill, about 12 miles west of Fort Laramie. Deep Rut Hill is one of those places where anyone seeking to continue west on the Trail has to use the very narrow pathway uphill. Over the long decades of use, the metal tires of tens of thousands of wagons ascending (and occasionally descending) Deep Rut Hill carved deep ruts into the soft limestone. It is not a place where you want to have a breakdown.
Those ruts are still there and images of the ruts can be found on-line using "Deep Rut Hill," "Oregon," and "Wyoming" as search terms.
