She was glad that finally it was time to head for Nevada. There would be no more probing questions, no more praise for her bravery; she wouldn’t have to talk about Jake Harkner anymore after today, bear the guilt of not telling these well-intentioned people the truth, that because of her, Jake Harkner was alive and well, or at least she hoped that he was. She had told the Jenningses that she would rather put the whole incident behind her. Once they left Independence, it was to be forgotten; and they all wisely agreed that it was best no one in Nevada heard about her exploits. Virginia City was not a town where a proper and available young lady wanted any extra attention drawn to her.
Miranda watched the steamboat that would take them upriver to Omaha, where she and the Jennings family would all depart by wagon to travel the Oregon Trail west. She remembered the trip she had taken with her father and brother across Missouri by steamboat over four years ago, when they first came to Kansas from Illinois. It was strange how people could move in and out of one’s life, could be so important, like Mack and her father, and then be taken away again. She wondered if that was how it would always be for her. Maybe she would never find Wesley. Maybe she would always be alone. Strangely, she had not thought so much about loneliness until Jake had left. Why had his departure left this unwarranted void in her soul?
The Jennings family all greeted her pleasantly, although there was an aloofness about them that left Miranda feeling like an outsider. It irritated her a little that they seemed to pity her “poor, lost brother,” and were already sure his soul needed redemption after living with other “wayward men” in a “town of sin.” They did seem to admire her own courage in going to find him, and Miranda felt embarrassed sometimes over the way they fussed over her because she was the woman who had bravely faced the outlaw Jake Harkner. She didn’t want to be fussed over and she didn’t feel brave at all. She had shot Jake out of pure defensive reflex, and she was going to find Wes because she was just plain lonely, desperate to find what was left of her family and her identity.
When she thought about the stories she had heard about Indian trouble everywhere out west, she felt even less brave; but she was determined to do this. There was no turning back now. She could only hope that the Jennings clan would be able to take care of themselves along the way. She was grateful that even though they thought him an “un-Christian, wayward man,” they had hired a guide for the journey, a trader named Hap Dearing, who had been to Nevada twice and was making another trip with supplies and four other men who appeared to Miranda to know how to use the rifles they carried.
The Reverend Jennings helped his brothers carry more gear onto the steamboat, and Miranda thought how much safer she would feel if she could have made this trip with Jake. How odd that she would have been less afraid with one man than with this big family and Hap Dearing and his men.
Her thoughts whirled as she thought about the dangerous trip she was preparing to make. The day she left the farm and her father’s grave had been one of the saddest she could remember. She had become a woman there, had loved and lost so much. But what hurt the most now was the memory of those last few days when Jake was there. Had it been fate, was it somehow “meant to be,” that she should shoot the man and then find him lying in her own house and save his life? She couldn’t help thinking there had to be a reason for all of it.
The entire Jennings family was gathered at the docks now, all eleven of them, as well as their close friend, Adam Hummer, a single man who at thirty-eight was going to Nevada to farm food he intended to supply to miners, grocery stores, and restaurant owners. Hummer smiled and nodded to Miranda, and Reverend Jennings’s wife, Opal, who was thirty-two, put an arm around her waist and welcomed her. The woman was quickly surrounded by her fourteen-year-old daughter, Loretta; her two sons, Chester, eleven, and David, eight; and her baby daughter, Sara, only three. Sara clung to her mother’s skirts while Reverend Jennings came back off the boat and urged the family to form a circle for prayer before starting their journey.
Included in the clan were the reverend’s two brothers, John, twenty-eight, and Bernard, twenty-seven, both single men who were also going into the ministry. The reverend’s father, Clemson, who Miranda worried was too old for the journey, was also going along, since his wife was dead and he wanted to be with his sons. Also going with them was a nephew, Clarence, only eighteen, and the only family member Miranda did not care for. He seemed always to be staring at her, always stood closer than necessary when talking to her. Even now, Clarence was the one who pushed his way beside her so that it was his hand she had to hold while they prayed. James Gaylord, Clarence’s father and the reverend’s brother-in-law, was also coming along. Clarence’s mother, who was the reverend’s sister, had died several years earlier in childbirth.