Where the Lost Wander

by Amy Harmon

We came from Springfield, Illinois, and Illinois didn’t seem like it would be all that different from Missouri, but there is no quiet in St. Joseph.

In Council Bluffs there are too many Mormons, and Mr. Caldwell doesn’t want to travel with them.

“Put your energy into rising above the things you can’t change, Naomi. Keep your mind right. And everything will work out for the best.” “Even if there’s a lot of pain along the way?” “Especially if there’s pain along the way,” Mama says firmly.

I’m convinced the mind whispers little lies to us all. You’ll be fine. You’re stronger. You’re smarter. You’re better. You’ll be spared.

I tell her the government is giving away land in Oregon. They’re giving it away to lure emigrants across the country to settle it—320 acres to a single man, 640 acres if he’s married. I’m not sure they’ll give it to an Indian; maybe they’ll only give me half. Maybe I’ll go to Oregon.