In the wagon, I waited for dinner soon after we made it through the forest. I sat inside and played dolls with my friends and cousins. My neighbor and my family walked outside, guarding the wagon. It was just in case something happened to the oxen or the wagon train. The dark sky was like black tar, and the sun was sleeping in the other side of the planet. Next, my family suggested we take a rest because Pa was hungry and Ma was cooking inside. She cooked roasted pork, salted beef, vegetables, carrots, broccoli, corn, and parsley. We walked straight until we reached two sign that said, "SODA SPRINGS" and "THE SIERRA NEVADA MOUNTAINS" 
      I shouted, "Could we go to Soda Springs Ma? We could take some water from there and save it to drink during this journey!"
      "Maybe not, my dear, because I want to go on," replied Ma. 
      "But it'd be scary in the dark and too dangerous to cross the mountains in the dark like that. I might want to take a drink first," included Pa.
      I shook my head, but I wanted to take a fresh drink before we went on. Then, the forest became foggy, and we lost the signs. We couldn't see anything, not even the path that broke into two. I was getting worried and even more worried if we didn’t make it to California to start a new life. We needed to rest here and now. There was no way we could make it through the fog that was growing heavier and heavier than ever. I slept at the side of the wagon, but my friend kept on kicking me on the cheek. I was getting annoyed and irritated. 
      The next morning, I woke up and looked at the tent where my ma and pa slept. Ma was gone, but Pa was looking at me as if he were going to faint. He looked very pale and white. He fell back into bed while I ran to Ma to tell her what happened to Pa. She was cooking breakfast. She was just sitting on a stool waiting for the food to cool down a while so we could eat it without a problem. 
Suddenly, I heard a boom sound coming from outside, and I jumped up scared. I told Ma quickly that Pa was sick and carefully ran outside to see what was going on. After us, my neighbor went outside to see what happened to the wagon.
      "HELP! HELP ME! PLEASE ANYBODY OUT THERE?!" a voice called.
      "Who's that? What's going on?" I asked my neighbor.
      "We better go check it out," answered my neighbor. 
      We saw that one of the wagons broke and the ox was freed. My neighbor shot its leg, and it started to bleed. I screamed at my neighbor and ran back to the wagon that I slept in and crawled inside. I grabbed my doll and lied down next to my friend, but my cousins were gone! My neighbor went to the side of the cliffside and saw my cousins trying to get up! They almost fell down with the wagon junk. My neighbor grabbed one of them and grabbed the other one. Thanks to my neighbor, the ox was limping over and not moving there on the side of the mountain, and my cousins were massaging their arms and lying down on the ground. I woke up my friend and he groaned.
      "It's breakfast already? That was fast, and what was going on?" he asked.
      I replied, "You missed everything while you were sleeping. I tried to wake you up, heavy sleeper."
      We woke everyone up and told them what had happened. Everybody tried not to panic but to continue the journey. While we walked by, there was the poor little ox lying there on the cliffside struggling because the bullet was still inside the leg, deep inside it. The ox gave out a loud sound and was breathing hard and loud before it lied down. We kept it and Ma tried to pull the bullet out which she did, and Pa was just inside lying there looking dead if he were to faint instantly within a second. Before we continued, we ate breakfast of oatmeal or gruel. We held on to the ox and pulled him back on the trail, but this time it was much more dangerous because of the mountains. We had to go up, and then go down and help the others. After that, we could go and continue on to California to start the new life, but now we had to do teamwork to cross these dry lands, rivers, wet lands while making sure we stopped for water. 
I walked up first with the wagon behind me and kept on pulling and pulling and pulling. It was heavy because of the ox that was putting much weight on it. Then, the ox got up and went my direction. I helped along the front and kept on pulling with my family, friends, and cousins. We made it to the top somehow, and then when I looked at the side, my heart pumped very fast and lively. I was scared because I could easily fall off the cliffside and meet my death. Pa went out and helped me in the front. He was still looking sick, but he wanted to help because he put a lot of weight on the wagon that I, in the front, couldn't pull myself. I was limping until my pa came to rescue me in all my struggles. Pa and Ma tied the poles between the wheels just in case we fell down. So, we carefully walked down, gaining a little speed, straight down towards the long narrow trail. 
      "AHHHHHH!" Ma screamed. 
      We came down with so much speed, but instantly we stopped. The poles worked successfully! I hoped we would make it through. Then, we helped the others. I still tried not to scream and panic, but I dragged up my bravery and helped the others cross over the mountains. We all made it although the ox was not felling well because of the injury it had. 
      "All right!" I shouted, “We made it through, and now we just have to cross the path.”
      “Finally, we made it to California!” my friend included.
      We were going straight and following the California Trail towards our new home! I suddenly saw a landmark and showed it to everyone. It had a cross like the first one I had seen. I was finally glad we made it through the mountains. I hope we really are able to start a new life and relax in California. It should be better in California.

     It was a dark, cloudy night when my parents commanded me to buy medicine at a market.  The market was out in the creepy shadows of the foggy sky where clouds hung on it.  I was walking home from the market empty-handed because it was closed.  The enormous parking lot was vacant, not a single car was seen.  I was all alone with no company.  Suddenly, it started to shower, and thunder clamored which hurt my ears.
     I quickly ran into a dark alley where the rain didn't pour. There was a major blackout along the block.  I squinted at a sign hung on a store door.  It said," OPEN 24 HOURS!"  I knocked rapidly against the rusty, wet, wooden door.  A crinkled, wrinkly old man soon came on the window.  He put on his dusty glasses.  He slowly approached the doorknob and gripped it, rotating it slowly.  The door gradually moved. As it did that, the store bell rang.  The creak of the door was noisy and also hurt my ear. As I tried to speak, he slammed the door right in my face. 
     I grabbed a newspaper and used it as an umbrella.  I quickly ran on the sidewalk to the next block, hoping the streetlights here wouldn't go out like they had on the block before.  But, it was suddenly pitch black.  As I kept walking, I bumped into many obstacles.  Suddenly, I was unconscious and fell down.
     When I awoke, I was in my living room.  I blinked many times, and then I looked around.  My family was sleeping.   I had the most exciting, adventurous experience ever.  As I tried to fall asleep, I wondered who had saved me. 
 

        I, Junipero Serra, had a dream of founding nine missions along El Camino Real. Today, the dream finally came true when I found the ninth mission in Alta California.
        I was born on November 24, 1713, on an island called Majorca which is located near Spain’s coast. As a young boy, I had always dreamed of going to the New World. In my classes at school, my teachers often told me about this new land called New Spain. I decided to be a missionary in this new land when I grew up.
        In August 1749, I made my decision to travel to the New World. I was worried about going to the New World by myself before I knew that my old friend named Francisco Palou was going, too. Francisco Palou and I left when I was only 35 years old. We went on a voyage by ship and arrived in New Spain on December 31, 1749. My old friend and I journeyed to Mexico City where I began to work with the Indians in the Sierra Gorda Mountains.
        The hot climate made it difficult to live in the Sierra Gorda Mountains. Padres that lived there often got ill and never stayed long enough to even learn the Indian language. I felt heartbroken for the padres that died in the hot weather. In addition, food was also hard to grow in the Sierra Gorda Mountains, so they had to come by mule from Mexico City. In total, I had spent nine years with the Indians living in the mountains. I taught them our own religion and showed them how to grow their own food.
        In 1758, I returned to Mexico City to work as a home missionary for another nine years. In 1767, I was sent to Baja California as the president of their missions! I couldn’t believe my luck! My friends, Father Francisco Palou and Father Crespi, joined me to Baja California where we served as the presidents of the missions. Each of the missions had its own advantages and disadvantages. After all, they all look unique from each other. I felt so happy when I walked between each mission.
        A surprise hit me in 1769! Viceroy Galvez asked me to go on an expedition with Gaspar de Portola to Alta California. I was to teach the Indians our own religion and start a chain of missions there. My dream was about to come true! On my journey to San Diego from Mexico City, my swollen feet and legs caused more pain than ever. I knew my life would soon be over. Through all the adventures, I had finally started a chain of missions on the Alta California coast. In addition, I also knew that I had accomplished my goal of starting nine missions on El Camino Real. 
 

         The Mojave Indians was one of the Indian tribes that lived in the Desert Region. They lived east of the Cahuilla tribe near fresh springs to get water. They also lived where clay could be found. The Mojave used the clay to make bowls or anything else they could make to survive. The food near the Mojave tribe was very scarce because the climate was very hot.
          The Mojave changed their style of houses as the climate changed. In the summer, they built houses with flat tops and open sides to let to cool air in. In the winter, they built their homes out of out of logs and arrow weeds. After building the houses, they would smother on some mud to make the house stronger and steadier which also helped to keep the rain out. At least two to three families lived in one Mojave house. This tribe made amazing homes.
           Food was very scarce in the Mojave Desert. They natives farmed, hunted, and gathered. The Colorado River allowed the Mojave Indians to farm. They grew crops such as pumpkins, corn, and beans. Women gathered seeds, fruits, cactus, and mesquite. In the winter, women made clay granaries to store food. Men hunted fish and small animals like rabbits, raccoons, and rattle snakes.
          The Mojave Indians were the people of dreams and visions. They shared legends of war, bravery, magic, and heroes. Also, they practiced the art of tattooing their faces. After a Mojave Indian died, they would cremate the body along with his or her belongings.
          The Mojave traded with many tribes. They ran many miles along California to trade. They traded clay bowls for abalone and dentaleme shells. Mojave Indians liked o mold clay and other animal’s faces. Clay was very important to the Mojave Indians.

        The bright, golden sun shone beautifully in the big blue sky filled with puffy white clouds. Bright colorful flowers filled the gleaming redwood forest with sparkling dots of rainbow blooms. Soft patches of grass shimmered in the sunlight. The wind whistled softly through the warm sunbeams. Coyote trotted along the riverside, sniffing the aroma of the river flowers. Coyote thought about the Pomo children and how they were going to sleep with the sun shining in the sky all the time. Coyote called Great Spirit. 
      “Why do you call me!” shouted Great Spirit.
  “Oh mighty, Great Spirit, the Pomo children can’t sleep because of the bright light of the sun. What do I do to make it dark?” asked Coyote.
         “You must gather redwood bark,” responded Great Spirit. “Then you must break it into tiny pieces.” 
Coyote did what Great Spirit said. 
       “Great Spirit, what do I do now?” Coyote panted.
         “Throw the pieces into the sky,” snapped Great Spirit.
Coyote flung the pieces into the sky. He stared in amazement as the pieces dyed the sky as black as bats.
         “Now the Pomo children will sleep peacefully,” smiled Great Spirit. 
Weeks went by. Coyote strode through the Pomo village as he heard crying. Coyote looked in one of the village huts and saw a young child sitting on the floor. 
         “Why are you crying, little one?” Coyote whispered.
         “It is always too dark, and I can’t see anything,” whimpered the little child. 
Coyote didn’t know what to do, so he quickly ran to Great Spirit. “Oh mighty Great Spirit, it is always too dark at night for the young Pomo children, so what can I do?” howled Coyote.
         “Gather tropical flower petals and throw them into the sky,” commanded Great Spirit. 
Coyote did what Great Spirit said and blasted the petals into the sky. Suddenly, the petals turned into flickering embers and made stars. One last petal flew into the sky, and with a burst, the petal became the moon.
         “The Pomo children will no longer be afraid of the dark.”