EXCERPTS FROM

             DREAMS ON THE OREGON TRAIN

                                 JENNA        CHAPTER 4

     She sat up quickly, almost smacking her head on the handle of the

open window. She pushed free of her sleeping bag to rub her eyes.

     “Boy, that was some dream!”

     Her mother sleepily mumbled, “Hmm?” from the upper bed.

     Jenna laid back to relax a few minutes before getting up. Her dog

rested his head on her bed, his wagging tail slapping the cupboard doors

behind him. Jenna stroked his head and tried to remember the entire dream.

It seemed to have gone on all night.

     She shifted her head on the pillow. There was a lump. Jenna reached

her hand under the pillow. It was the doll! Rolling onto her back, she

looked up at the bin over the bed where her clothes were stored.

“I don’t remember taking this out.” She ruffled her border collie’s

ears. “Did you get this doll down, Chase?”

    He wagged his tail at her and sniffed the doll she showed him.

     Jenna chuckled. “It must have fallen down.”

     She examined it carefully, the calico dress that came almost to the

ankles, the broad-brimmed bonnet and the simple apron that covered the

dress. Under the dress was a pair of intricately made leather moccasin

boots with beadwork on the toes. They were tied with leather thongs at

the doll’s knees. The shawl was also leather, fringed at the edges, with

two long, narrow, white seashells stitched on either side of the front. Jenna

didn’t recognize the type of shell. She fingered each one and found herself

wondering what her grandmother had done with the original dress, the

blue one. She carefully removed the bonnet. Underneath, the yarn hair

    She ran a finger gently over the cloth face. There were definitely freckles

scattered under the doll’s gray eyes, just like those two little girls in her

dream.

     Becky left the music and noise of the dance area and wandered by

the soddy once more, with the prairie grass and cactus growing on the

roof.

     She heard someone whisper, and turned. It was the young Indian

mother. She motioned Becky over. Becky glanced around, then walked

slowly toward her.

     The girl indicated Becky’s dress pocket. Becky touched it, then

pulled out her doll. The girl nodded and held out her hand. Becky reluctantly

handed over her doll.

     With a reassuring smile, the girl pulled some items out of a belt pouch.

She held them up to Becky, then carefully eased a beautifully worked pair

of beaded, fringed moccasins onto the doll’s bare feet. She then wrapped

a leather shawl around the doll, fastening it with a tiny leather tie. Two

long, white shells decorated either side of the fringed shawl. She then

handed it back to Becky.

     Becky examined the exquisite beading, the tiny fringe and stitching.

She murmured, “Oh, it’s beautiful! Thank you!” But how could she just

walk off? What could she give in return for this generous gift? She had

nothing but the clothes she wore … and the doll.

     Then Becky remembered her mother’s words before the dance. “A

young lady is never without her handkerchief.”

     Becky pulled out the linen handkerchief she had tucked up her sleeve

for the dance. It was the nicest one she’d made yet. Her mother had

allowed her to use a square of linen rather then the muslin she’d used for

practice. She’d rolled the edges so carefully, often picking out the tiny

stitches that were not perfectly even. She’d embroidered a spray of delicate

pansy flowers in one corner. When Becky had finished them, her mother

had told her it was good enough, and allowed her to also embroider her

initials in a corner.