Butter Churn

Butter Churn

A Western Tale

Intro: About the Story

I originally wrote this story for US History. It was supposed to be a five paragraph essay about the Oregon Trail from the view of an inanimate object. (A butter churn, hence the title) However, it seen grew to be a lot bigger than that, making the story it is now.

Part One: My Life in Ohio

In the summer of 1824, John Baxter, a veteran of the War of 1812 made me out of the wood of a sycamore. I was built a fine butter churn, and for many years afterwards I was used by John Baxter and his family who lived in Fremont, Ohio. Emily-Rose Baxter was the mistress of the household; with a kind touch she treated me well during my work. They only had a single son, Jedadiah, born in the winter of 1831.

When Jedadiah had grown a man, things started to change. At dinner times, neighbors often discussed things like the Gold Rush, and a golden land, by a shining sea. I later learned this land to be called Oregon Country. Jedadiah married Martha Lucy Knox. Together, they had a darling little girl named Grace, who was born in 1849

The Baxter’s set out to Oregon Country in the spring of 1853. Myself, I had gained quite a bit of wear serving the Baxter’s, so I was a bit reluctant to go. But, I had no choice, since I couldn’t move. My master, John, and his mistress, Emily-Rose had gotten old, and didn’t know if they could make the trip, but they were fighters with a lot of constitution, and decided to go anyways. I am worried about their well being.


Part Two: Setting Out to Oregon Country


My family had to make a lot of sacrifices. A lot of stuff had to be left at their home in Ohio. The Dutch oven master paid so much for was too heavy. The house, the farm and corral, all these things were left as well, they were starting over. I was so glad that they took me, as well as the family mule, Torro, and the dairy cow Bessie.
Our party set out on our big journey in our covered wagon, pulled by the two oxen, Bread, and Butter. The first stop was Nauvoo, Illinois. The Baxter’s stopped here to get provisions to outfit the wagon. Examples of items bought include food, clothing, and medicine for such diseases as cholera and smallpox. Also here they bought two new oxen, affectionately named Jelly, and Bread II to make a strong oxen team. The reasoning behind this was that there are two pieces of bread in a sandwich. It’s pointless in my opinion.

The wagon train we joined was led by a man named Billy Graham. A slightly gruff but warm looking man who was said to have led eight wagon trains all the way to Oregon Country! A couple weeks later the journey began, I am so excited.


Part Three: Crossing the Big Blue


After about four weeks of a good trip we
came across the Big Blue River. A good trip consisted of a bumpy wagon, cold nights, and not too much food (not that I personally cared). It was a large river, not as big as the Mississippi or Missouri, but still large. The problem was that there was no ferry. That meant that it would have to be forded or caulked and floated across.

I remember Graham’s words on that day. “It’s too deep to ford it; it will have to be caulked. The only problem is the winter runoff. All that snow melt has made the river fast, it’ll be dangerous.” The Baxter’s attempted the river anyways. They realized that it would take a long time for the river to slow down, and the threat of getting caught in winter before reaching Oregon was a problem.

After removing the wheels and caulking all the holes, the Baxter’s pushed the wagon into the river. It floated a little low, but steady. I don’t remember the crossing too well. I do remember that John, Emily-Rose, and young Grace were in the wagon, while Jedadiah and Martha were guiding the oxen and Torro the mule across. At about half way across, I do not know for sure, the wagon started rocking violently. I heard desperate voices from outside then I fell across the floor and water started pouring in.


Part Four: Tragedy


The wagon got pushed over by the current, the results were tragic. When I woke up, I was lying on the opposite bank. I was wet. Standing about twenty feet away were the Baxter’s. They were all huddled around something, and they were sad. I peered closer, and saw it to be the white corpse of my master. I was stricken with sadness.

John Baxter was buried under a sycamore. His grave was for the most part unadorned. I could not visit his grave, even though I wanted to more than anything in the world. I guess he is happy this way. Whenever I picture him now, I envision a golden land and a shining sea. He is on the family farm, with Mistress at his side.

Afterwards, I could feel the indecision and sadness in my family. There was a part of them that wanted to go back to Ohio before they lost any more. Another part of them wanted to keep pushing. I did not know what would happen.


Part Five: Thief in the Night


That night, I was sitting in the wagon as usual. Mistress, Martha, and Grace were asleep in the wagon with me. Jedadiah was by the fire in the corral made by the wagons. A couple hours later, I heard a rustle. A masked person with a large brown hat was sneaking into the wagon. I saw him open up the family trunk and take some prized belongings. Among them were my late Masters watch, Martha’s wedding dowry, and all of our money.

Being a butter churn I was powerless to do anything. I could only hope he would get caught. I knew my family needed that stuff to survive. Just as I thought he would get away, Grace woke up. When she saw the thief, she started crying out. Jedadiah woke. He grabbed his colt pistol out of its holster and ran to the wagon. The thief tried to run for it, but Jedadiah was blocking his way.

The thief pulled out his own pistol. He aimed, ready to kill. Jedadiah was quicker. He pulled the thief’s foot knocking him to the ground. The pistol went off, hitting me. Pain shot through me, and all went black.


Part Six: Too Heavy


When I came to, I quickly learned what had happened. The thief turned out to be another person in the train. He had been stopped, and was being held in another wagon to be taken to Fort Kearney which was some ways away. Jedadiah had taken some pieces of wood to plug up my bullet wounds, sealing them with caulk. I felt a lot better, but I knew I would never be the same.

The journey continued, but things were sad. I was sad too, my master had created me, and so I had felt bonded to him. I would miss him for the rest of my life.

A couple weeks later, we came to Fort Kearney. The thief was properly dealt with by a sentence of three years in prison. At the fort our party restocked, rested ready to set out on the adventure. I could clearly tell that this break from the rigors of the trail was needed.

One evening, a couple days away from Fort Kearney, we came across a muddy part in the road. Jedadiah decided to risk crossing it. About halfway through, the wagon wheels stuck in the mud. “It’s too heavy; we need to get rid of some things if we are to cross.” That was Jedadiah. His eyes immediately fell on me. I knew what was going to happen.

Part Seven: Loneliness


Jedadiah lifted me out of the wagon. With a sigh, he set me down a bit away. I watched as he was able to get the wagon out. He then yee-hah’d the oxen and rode off into the sunset.

I could hardly take in what had happened to me. One minute, adventure, the next, abandoned all alone on the Oregon Trail. I was so sad, that if it was possible for butter churns to cry, I would have.

The months passed. I had got used to the idea of my abandonment. It was a dull life all alone in the middle of Nebraska. Nothing much happened. Several wagon trains came and went. Once, there was a buffalo stampede which was quite an experience for me. Sometimes, I thought about my old family. I wondered if they had reached Oregon Country in the end. Somewhere inside me, I knew that they did.

After about two years, there was a wagon train that came by. It was nothing new for me, but this time, I was noticed. A slightly gruff looking man and his son found me. They pulled me out of the mud, rinsing me off in the nearby river. “Well, this sure beats Buffalo Chips, don’t it son?” That was the older man. “Yep, Pa.” I felt so glad to be rescued, a chance to get a life again, one of purpose. Little did I know.

That night, the father took me to his wagon corral. There were a lot of men sitting around a campfire. “Look what I found out by the river.” Somehow, I knew that my solitude was over. The father set me down on a rock. I knew that I would find piece at last. “That’ll make some good firewood.” Just then, I realized what was going on. The axe struck me, and all went black.

Then I saw it, a golden land by a shining sea. I could also see the Baxter’s in their new home. Finally, I was home.

The End