Recently, Texas mystery and romance author as well as
good friend, Caroline Clemmons, came by the blog with a guest post on a little
known piece of aviation history. She is back today with her review of Trail of
Thread by Linda Hubalek.
TRAIL OF THREAD by Linda Hubalek
I love history, both reading
and writing tales of long ago. I especially like the westward expansion stories
of brave and sometimes foolhardy pioneers who left homes in search of a better
future or adventure. Some of the books I’ve read are full of anachronisms or
incorrect information. That’s why I am such a fan of Linda Hubalek’s TRAIL
OF THREAD. Linda used family information as a basis for her novel.
Linda Hubalek has graciously
allowed me to quote from her book TRAIL OF THREAD, in which the
heroine, Dorothy Pieratt, describes preparing for the trip West from Kentucky
to Kansas:
“We debated, but finally
packed two wagons for each family. We felt it was better for the animals’ sake
to limit the weight on each wagon to around 2000 pounds instead of overloading
one wagon....Since we need six oxen per wagon, we bought extra animals a few
weeks ago. John decided to use oxen instead of mules because the oxen are
easily managed, patient, and gentle--even with the children--and not easily
driven off or prone to stampeding like mules and horses...After much
discussion, John agreed to hitch a cage of chickens on the back of the wagon.
Yesterday we sold everything
that wouldn’t fit in the wagons at a public auction on our farm. The strain of
the day is still on my mind. This morning I’ve been ready to fetch something
and then I stop in midstep, wondering if it’s tucked in the wagon or was sold
yesterday. It was hard to see most of the animals and all but a few chickens
leave the place. But we can’t take everything along, and we need the money.
New wagon beds were built
using seasoned oak boards. Sides were jointed together. No nails were used that
could work out along the bumpy road and spell disaster. Along the inside of the
three-foot-high sides, John built long boxes running the length of the wagon
for storage. These boxes will serve as seats during the day if the children
want to ride inside. We just add boards cut to fit across the storage boxes,
put bedding on top, and the wagon is outfitted for sleeping. The boards fit in
a wooden holder that runs along the outside of the wagon. They can also be used
to make a bench or table when laid across stumps, or, heaven forbid, as lumber
for a coffin.
I had a big hand in preparing
the wagons, too. The wagon beds were fitted with a framework of hickory bows
high enough to give head clearance, and I hand-sewed long pieces of cloth
together for coverings. It was quite an undertaking. It had to be tight, strong
enough to withstand heavy winds, and rainproof so things inside don’t get
soaked. Even though it was extra work, I ended up making them a double
thickness to keep out the cold. A dark muslin went over the framework first,
then a heavy white linen. The dark cloth cuts down on the brightness of the
reflection as we walk beside the wagon. I coated the outside material with a
mixture of hot beeswax and linseed oil for waterproofing. It turned the
material a sand color, which should help the reflection, too. The covering is
drawn together on the ends by a strong cord to form tight circles. End flaps an
be buttoned on to completely seal the wagon top. My stitches and buttonholes
will be tested by the first storm we run into. I even stitched pockets on the
inside covering to hold little things like our comb, sunbonnets, and other
personal things I didn’t want out of reach.
John borrowed a guidebook to
Oregon and California from a neighbor, which suggested that for each adult
going to California, a party should carry 200 pounds of flour, 30 of hardtack,
75 of bacon, 10 of rice, 5 of coffee, 2 of tea, 25 of sugar, 2 of saleratus, 10
of salt, a half-bushel each of cornmeal, parched, and ground corn, and a small
keg of vinegar. We’re not going to California (unless the men change their
minds), so we shouldn’t need that much per person, but we’ll need supplies
until we get crops and garden planted and harvested. Who knows how long it will
be until towns with stores get established in the new territory?
I’ll take one barrel of
pickled cucumbers along to prevent scurvy...the decision of what kind and
quality of item to trade for had to be made...The mill sells different grades
of flour. I wish I could have bought the superfine flour, sifted several
times...I bought the next grade, middlings, for our cooking. It’s much more
coarse and granular, but it serves the purpose...The mill’s shorts, a cross
between wheat bran and coarse whole wheat flour, looked clean, so I also bought
125-pound sack of it...
We can’t afford to carry the
flour in heavy barrels, so it is mostly stacked in fifty-pound cotton cloth to
cut down on weight. Because the flour is not kiln-dried, we double-sacked it in
a leather bag. If the flower absorbs too much moisture, I’ll end up with a
heavy loaf and will have to add more flour to my baking.
Sorghum molasses, our main
sweetener, will make the trip in small wooden kegs...For special occasions, I
bought three cones of white sugar. The New Orleans sugar we buy reasonably in
the stores her may fo for top dollar on the frontier. The cones resemble
pointed hats. They are molded atthe factory, and wrapped in blue paper. Usually
I leave the cones whole and use sugar snippers, a cross between scissors and
pliers, to break off lumps as I need them. To save space on the trip, I ground
up the cones and divided the two types of sugar (the white sugar on the top
gradually changes to brown sugar on the bottom), then sifted to remove the
impurities. The storekeeper said I should pack it in India rubber sacks to keep
it dry, but I decided not to add that extra expense. I tucked the cone papers
in the wagon because I can extract the indigo dye from it to color yarn and
material blue.
I also bought a small
quantity of low grade brown sugar since it is ten cents cheaper than the cones.
It’s dark, smelly, sticky, and sometimes dirty, but it still gives sweet taste
to cooking.
Parched corn is another
sacked commodity in the wagon. The kernels were sun dried last fall and I’ll
grind them into meal with the mortar when I need it.
Smoked bacon was
double-wrapped in cloth, put in wooden boxes, and covered with bran to prevent
the fat from melting during the trip. I cooked the crocks of cut meat I had
left into a thick jelly. After it set up in pans and dried, we broke it into
pieces and packed it in tins. If I add boiling water to some, we’ll have
portable soup on the trail.
Smaller sacks of beans, rice,
salt, saleratus, and coffee are wedged around the whiskey jugs underneath the
wagon seat. The medicine box, filled with tiny cloth sachets holding dried
medicinal herbs and little medicine bottles, is wedged on top, ready for an
emergency.
I put the sacks of yeast
cakes, dried bead, and hardtack inside one of the long boxes, along with the
box of homemade soap bars. I’ll have small sacks of each staple in the back box
and refill them from the bigger sacks when I need to.
The back end of the wagon
drops down partway on chains and will serve as a preparation table for food or
for other jobs. The provision box faces the back so it can be opened up without
hauling the box out of the wagon every time. It has my tinware, cooking
utensils and small sacks of necessities for cooking every day.
Wish I could have brought all
my kitchen utensils, but I settled for two spider skillets, three Dutch ovens
of various sizes, the reflector for baking, the coffee pot, the coffee mill,
the mortar and pestle, a few baking pans, knives, and my rolling pin.
Walking out to the wagons for
the umpteenth time, it struck me that they are starting to look like a
peddler’s caravan. They are overflowing with items attached to the sides. The
wooden washtubs and zinc washboard are fastened to one side of the wagon. The
walking plow is lashed to the other side. Small kegs of water, vinegar, and
molasses fit in where needed to balance the wagon. Everybody can see what we
own because it’s hanging in plain sight.
The second wagon is packed
even tighter than the first with household and farming tools we’ll need after
we get to our new land. All the boxes are packed tight so they won’t slide
around, rattle, or spill. I hope we won’t have to unpack it until we reach our
destination.”
If you like history, you
probably share my fascination with all the steps to get ready for their trip. I
can’t quite picture meat cooked into jelly, but the process sounds efficient. I
suppose that was pioneer for fast food. ☺
Carolyn Clemmons ©2017
Through an illogical twist of fate, Caroline Clemmons was
not born on a Texas ranch. To compensate for this inexplicable error, she
writes about handsome cowboys, feisty ranch women, and scheming villains in a
small office her family calls her pink cave. She and her Hero live in North
Central Texas cowboy country where they ride herd on their rescued cats and
dogs. The books she creates there have made her an Amazon bestselling author
and won several awards. Learn more at her
website as well as her
blog.
Posts
