Dear Olga,

We were told it would be a long and arduous journey west on the Oregon trail. We were warned, but it was important for us to find a new homestead to lay our roots.

Half-way through the journey Mr. Mike fell ill with dysentery, and Heather was forced to care for him in the back of the wagon despite the heat and bumpy plains. Mr Cleare had to shoot one of our Oxen due to a leg injury. It's terrible news considering the amount of supplies we were bringing, but great news for dinner. It has been so long since we have had a real meal with real meat. We were getting close to boiling our shoes a few days ago.

We successfully forged a river late yesterday afternoon but in the process young Heather fell into the water and we feared she might catch her death. So instead of pushing forward, we decided it would be a good idea to stop and rest for the night. Mr. Mike suggested playing some music to keep our spirits up, and before we knew it the instruments were out and our voices were echoing off the surrounding mountains. As we were playing, a low rumble began to cut through the melody and we soon realized that Mr. Smith was laughing with wild abandon and dancing like no one was watching! It's been months since we've seen his spirits so high - he just hasn't been the same since his newt, Professor Thor, was brutally trampled to death by an oxen stampede. But last night he danced and laughed like the man he used to be, and his joy was infectious - we all played well into the night, and it was well past 8pm when we collapsed into an exhausted pile of sleepy puritans. In honor of the celebratory evening, we've affectionately named last night's camp 'The Boulevard at Spokane'. We don't know why - it just seemed appropriate.

Well, I should put the ink well back in the wagon, before it dries up. Hopefully we will see you soon and hear from you sooner. And don't forget what we have always said...

"West, west, west, it certainly is the best.
Sure this Oregon trail is hard,
but don't you dare pull the I told you so card.
Dysentary you may get, but Blissentary is westward met."

Well, until next time Olga,

~The Lead Sled

Post Script: We truly hope that you and yours are doing well.