“I told you—we took the steamboat to Eugene.” Will pointed. “See beyond the town? There’s another river joining the Willamette. That’s Mary’s River. That’s how I know it’s Corvallis.” He sighed. “Next big town is Eugene. Beyond that, I won’t know any more than you do.”

“How far to Eugene?” Jonah asked.

Will shrugged. “On the boat it only took a few hours from here. I don’t know how long it’ll take on horseback.”

Jonah sighed. “Wish we had money for the boat. It’d be so much easier.”

They camped on a rise along the east bank of the Willamette not far south of Corvallis. And, as Jonah had promised, they feasted on duck. “Tastes mighty good, don’t it?” he said, patting his belly.

“It does,” Will said. “But what will we eat tomorrow?”

May 1, 1864, evening. Got past Corvallis. Ate duck tonight.

The boys saved the duck legs for breakfast, but then they were out of food. “Shall I hunt again?” Jonah asked.

Will shook his head. “Maybe this evening. Or if we come across a town, I can buy flour and we’ll make biscuits.”

Jonah guffawed. “How we gonna make biscuits without a pan?” he asked.

Will chuckled, too. “I guess we need more practice in running away.”

By afternoon, their predicament didn’t seem so amusing. Will was famished—hungrier than he’d ever been, despite the duck leg he ate that morning. “We should be about halfway to Jacksonville,” Jonah said, sighing. “Joel told me it was a ten-day ride from Esther’s house.”

“That can’t be right,” Will argued. “We aren’t even to Eugene yet.”

The boys bickered, but neither of them had a basis for resolving the dispute.

That night, after they found a campsite, Jonah set out to hunt. Again, Will noted their progress in his journal:

May 2, 1864. We haven’t reached Eugene, and we’re out of food. Hope Jonah can shoot another duck.

Will heard a gunshot, but Jonah came back empty-handed except for two eggs. “I snuck into a barn and got shot at when I come out,” Jonah reported. “But the farmwife missed these two eggs in the chicken coop.”

Will coddled his egg in the shell over the fire and ate it. At least it didn’t contain an embryo. Then he rolled up in his blanket and tried to sleep.

The next morning, Will’s ribs seemed to touch his backbone. Shanty was happy enough on the grass near their campsite—Will was glad his horse wasn’t suffering as he was.

The boys rode grumpily until around noon, when Will spotted Eugene across the river. “There’s the town,” he said. “We need to cross the Willamette and buy provisions.”

“You got enough money?” Jonah asked.

“I got some. Let’s hope I can buy enough to get us to Jacksonville,” Will said. “I’ll get flour and potatoes. Maybe cornmeal. And a pan. That and your hunting should keep us from starving.”

The road led to a shallow crossing of the Willamette upstream from the steamboat landing. Boats couldn’t travel any farther south due to the shallowness of the river. The boys backtracked into town and dismounted outside a general store near the dock. Once inside the store, Will recognized the proprietor from when he and Mac had patronized this establishment the year before. He hoped the man didn’t recognize him.

Will asked for two pounds of flour and two of cornmeal, plus a spider pan. Then he added two strips of jerky so he and Jonah could eat immediately. That took most of his coins. Jonah added birdshot to their purchases, and that took the last of Will’s money. They’d have to live off the provisions he’d bought and whatever Jonah could shoot.

As they headed out of town, Shanty started limping. “We ought to stop at the blacksmith’s,” Will said. “I want to check his shoes.”

“How long’ll that take?” Jonah complained.

“Don’t matter,” Will said. “I won’t ride him while he’s limping.”

Jonah grumbled, but Will dismounted and led Shanty into the smithy. The blacksmith took a look and said, “Got a nail loose in his left hind shoe. Won’t take long to fix.”

“How much will it be?” Will asked, remembering that he’d spent all his money. “I’m out of coins.”

The smith frowned. “What you got to trade?”

Will fingered the Bowie knife in his pocket, reluctant to offer it. The knife had been a gift from Mac. “How about some birdshot?” he asked.

“We might need that,” Jonah objected.

“I bought it, and I’m giving it up in trade,” Will said. “I won’t ride Shanty with a loose shoe.”

The blacksmith took the birdshot Will had just purchased, then nailed Shanty’s shoe on snugly. When the task was done, he asked, “You boys headed far?”

“Jacksonville,” Jonah said, repeating what he’d told the ferryman back in Molalla. “My brother’s a prospector. We’re joining him.”

“How far you come?” the man asked.

“From up north,” Will interjected, elbowing Jonah. There was no sense in telling anyone more than they needed to. Not if they wanted to avoid discovery.

“You got a long ride ahead,” the smith said. “Jacksonville’s about a week’s ride from here.”

Will’s heart sank. Jonah had been optimistic on the length of the trek.

“Roseburg’s about two days,” the man continued. “Follow the road south out of Eugene. Ain’t but one good road to get there.”

After thanking the blacksmith, Will and Jonah left the store and headed toward Roseburg, chomping on the jerky they’d bought as they rode.

May 3, 1864. Bought provisions in Eugene. Out of money, but we ate tonight. It’ll be at least a week until we reach Jacksonville.

Chapter 22: Worries Back Home