Hunter Morgan was mighty proud of the new home he had built in the Willamette Valley. He had arrive in Oregon from Mason County only a few weeks before. He immediately set about building the house that he would share with his new wife, Mariah, a fellow Kentuckian he had met on the Little Train on the trail. The couple now stood before the completed structure.
“What’ja think, Riah?” the farmer asked.
“I think it’s perfect?” the eighteen year old replied, giving him a big hug.
Hunter went to the wagon that had been their home, and took a chair and carried into the house. He then returned and carried his bride across the threshold, and sat her down on the chair, before returning to the wagon to carry in their possessions.
As he brought items in, Mariah began to assemble them, and put things away.
Hunter brought in the final chest, a straw packed box of dishes that had been given to them by Mariah’s parents. When it was opened, they came across a framed sampler that Riah had stitched a few years before.
Though Hunter couldn’t read, he could recognise most of the letters, and especially the ones which were in his name.
“Riah darlin’, you is right clever. I have the perfect place for this.” With that he took the frame and placed it with pride of place above the mantelpiece. “There, now we can always see your letters and such like.”