THE PAST
I'm sure that leaving Saltsburg so quickly was the right thing to do. I'd finished what I came to accomplish, and it just seemed awkward and pointless to stay longer. The problem was that I was down river to the Mississippi, then up to St. Louis by May of 1850. My only goal had been to reach Henry County, Iowa, and perhaps reestablish some of the friendships that I had made during the trip to California. I had no idea what, if anything, that reconnection might lead to, and I was suddenly only a couple day's travel from my destination.
I was amazed at the number of travelers, covered wagons, and oxen in St. Louis. I guess I had the idea in my head that, once I had been to the Gold Rush and had - as they say - "seen the Elephant," that was the end of it. Not so. A year later, hundreds - probably thousands! - of wagon trains were still heading West to the Land of Gold. Now, the gold seekers were joined by entire families not seeking immediate wealth, but looking to settle permanently in California or Oregon. It felt like the whole country was shifting West!
I remained overnight in St. Louis, but I couldn't think of any reason to delay the remainder of my trip. The next day, I boarded another steam boat, and continued my trip up the Mississippi to Iowa. I debarked opposite Burlington, hitched a ride into town, then another to New London.
After what I'd seen in St. Louis, I probably shouldn't have been surprised by the number of wagon trains traveling west through Iowa. Nevertheless, I was. Covered wagons were everywhere, from singles traveling by themselves, to long. organized lines of the "ships of the desert." Unlike in 1849, most of the wagons were filled with families - men, women, and children of all ages - not with groups of determined-looking gold seekers.
One of the first people I saw in "London" was Simeon Smead. He saw me at the same time, and started across the road to meet me. "Johnny McCoy! I thought we dumped you off down-river a month or so, ago."
"You did, Sim. Since then, I've been up the Ohio, visited with my family, and come down the Ohio, again. Hey, I'm glad to see you! How are you doing?"
"Tolerable well, I suppose, but I'm already getting itchy feet, thinking of moving on, again."
"I can see how your feet might be tingling, seeing all these covered wagons passing by. Not gold miners, by the looks of them. Settlers for California?"
"Some for California, but I think the big push now is Oregon. That's what Starkey and I are thinking about."
"Really? You're actually making plans?"
"Preliminary, anyway, thinking about next spring. Starkey wants to get settled out there, then send for his wife and daughters the next year. My brother Amasa is already on his way up from California to meet me in Oregon. I don't know what we'll do - probably go off mining, again, but not back to California.
"What's next for you?"
"Well, I guess that's what I'm here to find out. I enjoyed seeing my family, but I don't feel like I belong in Pennsylvania, anymore. Like you, I guess I'm looking for a new adventure."
He chuckled. "Well, if you want to head West, there'll be more opportunities than you can shake a stick at. On the other hand, if you want to be by yourself, and have some peace and quiet, you should probably stay right here. I suspect, with the number of folks already gone and the numbers planning to go, Iowa may be deserted in a couple years' time."
Obviously, Sim was exaggerating, but the statement drew my interest. "Are you talking about a lot of our friends here, locally?"
"I'm talking about most of them. Some that you know have probably already gone. I said that Starkey and I were 'thinking about' going, but it's really pretty much a done deal. Dr. John, Asa and David McCully's younger brother, with his wife Jane, are pretty much committed, as well. John thought for a while that he'd wait for the expected big McCully exodus in '52, but Jane's ready to go, and they don't have any strong reasons to stay here any longer. Also, Starkey has us hooked up with the Johnson family - Reverend Neil, and his big brood. That should make a good little group for us."
I was still back on something he'd said. "What's this about a McCully exodus?"
"I mean just that. Dave and Asa plan to gather up their families, the families of all their other brothers and sister, their old mother, Starkey's wife and daughters (you may remember that Jane is the sister of Dave's wife), and probably assorted other relatives and friends. In the spring of 1852, they're headed west to Oregon.
"Oh, somebody else you know who will probably go with them is Tom Angell, from our California trip. He's rarin' to go. Sue claims she wouldn't go off into the wilderness with just him, but if there's some responsible people along - like the McCully boys - she's ready to go."
I had to laugh that that. "Not a great vote of confidence for your husband and protector."
"Oh, Tom don't mind. He's right partial to the McCullys. If Asa or Dave said they was on their way to the moon, Tom would probably sign up to go along."
I had to laugh, again, but I think I probably felt the same way. The McCullys had certainly proved both their leadership skills, and the high quality of their upbringing, on the California trip. They were good people.
"Are others planning to leave?"
"Oh, I just got started. The Akins over in Salem - I don't know them very well, but they have a big family - they all plan to leave for Oregon in '52. Almost all the Cox brothers and sisters are just waiting for Ed Ford, Catherine's husband, to get home from California, so they can gather up all their families, and head back to California - not for gold, this time, but to settle there, permanent. They'll probably go in '52, or maybe '53, if Ed is delayed much. As I said, the place is emptying out."
We talked a little longer, agreed to meet up with some of my other friends at a later time, and I went off to find me a room for the night. I had a lot to think about.
***
In the next few days, I visited with most of the "London boys" still in town. I didn't know their families because, in '48, I'd been living down the road in Danville, and didn't meet the New London group until we got on the trail. Now, I found out that David and Asa had three more brothers - John (who I'd already heard about from Sim), Samuel, and Hamilton ("Ham," for short). They also had a sister, Mary Anne. I may be repeating myself when I say that they were all born in New Brunswick, Canada, and had come to the U. S. in the 1830s, first to east Ohio, and then in '44 to Henry County. It was in Ohio that they joined up with the Starkeys and Scotts. The Cox and Waters families had come from Indiana about the same time, mixed with the Ohioans, and before long it seemed like about half of New London belonged to the "McCully Clan."
I met Jane, John Starkey's wife, and their daughters, and also Sue Angell, Tom's wife (who supposedly preferred the McCully leadership to her husband's!). Newcomers for me were the Reverend Neil Johnson family - who Sim had mentioned as part of his group going to Oregon - and also Michael and Rachel Holt, apparently also part of the Starkey-Johnson "train."
Like Danville had been in '48, New London was a beehive of activity, but it was a different kind of busy, this time. Leading up to the California trip, "gold fever" was directing things. Men were selling off their farms and all their possessions - not thinking about their value - or about what they were leaving for their wives and children - but just taking any offer that gave them some money to outfit for the Western trip. The results were some real family disasters, and a lot of remorse.
This time, folks were leaving for good, and with their families. They were taking time to fix up their properties, so that they would command the best sale prices possible. They were selling everything they didn't intend to take with them, but in an orderly way - again, aiming for the best return to them. Local lawyers were busy with powers of attorney and other devices necessary to handle any personal business not completed when the wagon trains left town. Wagons, oxen, and supplies for a 2,000 mile trip were being gathered well in advance of planned departure dates, so there would be no last minute problems. In other words, it was very busy, but also very orderly.
I had no trouble finding full-time work, as I went from farm to farm, helping with repairs and enhancements. Usually, I worked for room and board, which was enough for my needs, and also made me "part of the family" every place I worked. I was amazingly happy, I think - not a feeling I was used to!
My own plans came together during that time. My first week in town, I had decided that I was going to Oregon. The questions were when, and with who. Those were answered as I got to know Michael Holt. He needed a driver for his second wagon, and on the basis of Sim and John Starkey both assuring him that I was not only experienced and "a good person," he hired me. I would be on my way West in early 1851.
You may remember that, during the winter of 1848-49, my accommodations were a shack that let more wind and snow in than it left out. This time, I had my room and board in a real house, with real walls, and with a real family for company. I preferred it to the first winter.
On April 1, 1851 - a date Reverend Johnson and God had decided on the previous year - we started out from New London. The two Starkey wagons were ahead, then the three containing the Johnson family, with Michael Holt's two wagons completing "the train." Michael was ahead of me with his family, while I brought up the rear, with his supply wagon. All told, we began with seven wagons, 25 yoke of oxen, 4 cows, and 4 horses. There were 27 people, notables being: John Starkey and Sim Smead, of the Gold Rush trip; John and Jane McCully, Dave's and Asa's younger brother, and his wife; Reverend Neil Johnson and wife, with their five sons and five daughters; and Michael and Rachel Holt, with two daughters and a son. I will count myself as one of the "notables" because I was the only one besides Starkey and Smead who had previously crossed the continent, and had actual experience with covered wagons and yokes of oxen. The rest of the party were men hired to help with the wagons and livestock.
Remembering how organized was the "Ikenberry" party, I had some concerns about the lack of such organization in our current group. I could see how John Starkey might have partnered with a McCully - after all, they were "family," of a sort, with John's wife being Dave McCully's sister-in-law. How he decided to join with Reverend Johnson is still a mystery to me. It always seemed like an odd match. Us - meaning, the Holts - were just a last-minute add-on. May we go along? Why, not?
Starkey was the obvious leader of the group, with his experience, common sense, and management skills. Still, from the very start, I had my doubts that Reverend Johnson would play "second fiddle" to anyone but God, himself, especially anything involving the Johnson family. I didn't want to have a wagon train run like an army regiment, but I did see the need for somebody to be "in charge" when tough decisions had to be made. As I said, I had my doubts that would happen.
As the wagons were pulling into position, the Holts' oldest daughter - Jenny - walked up, and asked if she could ride with me. By now, you probably have developed a picture in your mind about how awkward I was around members of the female sex. I didn't want her - but, then again, I didn't not want her - and besides, it was her father's wagon. What could I really say about It? In the end, I don't think I said anything, and she just climbed up and sat beside me.
We must have sat silently for a half-hour or more. She didn't seem to need to say anything, and I couldn't think of anything to say. I was very conscious of her sitting next to me on the wagon seat - closer than I'd ever sat to any girls, except Sarah and my sisters. The road was good, and the oxen didn't need my direction, so all I could do was pretend I was busy doing my job. After all these years, I can still imagine what my discomfort was like that morning.
At last, Jenny spoke. "Next time we stop, I'm going to go ride in the other wagon." I felt a little twinge of disappointment, but didn't say anything. She went on. "With my brother and sister playing and fighting, and with my mother and father talking, I thought it would be too hectic over there. I thought if I rode over here, I could have a little peace and quiet, and could take some time to just relax and enjoy the trip. What do I find? I find a wagon driver who just can't keep quiet for a minute. He runs on and on like a waterfall, with the words just spilling out non-stop. I believe he might go on like that for hours and hours, and by evening I would find myself exhausted. No, I better go over with my family."
Obviously, she was teasing me, or being sarcastic. Me being me, I responded to her seriously. "I'm sorry. I haven't been around women much - except my sisters - and I've always been sure if I was around one, I'd behave like a tongue-tied, addlepated, dunce, and embarrass us both."
I looked at her while I was talking, but she just looked straight ahead, and didn't respond. However, I could tell from a little reddening of her cheek, and a little curl to the corner of her lip, that she was trying hard not to laugh. Completely at sea now, I just continued to blunder along. "I guess I always felt that, if the girl was especially pretty, I'd probably act even stupider than average, for me."
She turned to look at me, then. Her face didn't show any particular emotion or reaction. "Was that last little bit meant specifically for me?" Was she mad - upset? I couldn't tell.
"I guess it was."
"Well, if my parents should ever ask you anything about me, be very, very sure that you never say anything like that around them. Actually, don't say anything that might make them suspect that you find me attractive as a girl. If they think that, they will whisk me back to their wagon as quick as a wink, and you won't see me again - at least, not up close - before we get to Oregon."
That seemed like a rather extreme reaction, but I asked what I should say, if the subject came up. "Oh, I don't know. Just say things like you aren't necessarily even talking about a girl. Say I was pleasant, and we had a nice chat - something like that."
I felt like maybe it was my time to do a little teasing. "Well, I guess I could say that I hardly noticed you were there for quite a while. You were so quiet, and you really didn't excite my attention in any way. I certainly didn't find you attractive..."
"I don't think you need to be quite that specific. Particularly, even if you did find me attractive, you shouldn't mention that to my parents." She paused. "Besides, you already admitted that I was pretty."
I smiled at her, the best smile I could manage. "I did, didn't I? Well, I couldn't possibly find it in my heart to take that back, no matter what else we agreed to."
Just then, we came up to a river crossing, too deep to ford with the wagons. There was a ferry, but it could only take one wagon at a time. It was almost two hours later that we were all across, and could continue on our way.
Jennie picked up the conversation as if it had never stopped. "You told me that you didn't know how to act around girls, yet that little bit you did - about how you would react with a pretty girl - was rather flirty, don't you think?"
I thought about that for a second or two. "That rather surprised me. Maybe I have talents that I never dreamed I have."
"Well, I don't know about that, but as of this minute we will have absolutely no flirty talk between us. I repeat, absolutely none. It's a long way to Oregon and, besides, I'm only 15 years old."
I'm sure you'll find this hard to believe but, even though Jenny rode close beside me most days for the next five months, not one romantic syllable passed between us in all that time. However, a lot was going on in my mind during those many days, and the thoughts were all pretty much the same. I was very sure from that first day that, when Jenny Holt turned eighteen, I was going to ask her to marry me.
By the way, Jenny's father did ask how we got along. I said we got along "just fine." She was pretty quiet, but we chatted from time to time. At that, he let out a very loud "guffaw." "John, I believe the wrong girl must have got in the wagon with you, today. My daughter doesn't know how to not talk! She's like a river that continuously rushes by, with nothing to slow or stop the flow. After a full day with her, your ears should be just about falling off. I swear I don't know who could have been riding with you."
I laughed with him, and admitted that there had been a bit of free-flowing speech. However, I also admitted that I liked it fine, and would welcome her back any time.
"Well, that's good. She's yours! It will give her mother and me a nice break."
***
In the two weeks it took us to travel through Iowa and Missouri to St. Joe, Jenny rode beside me every day, and "the river" never stopped flowing. I'm sure I must have learned just about everything there was to learn about her young life. She was born at Tremont, Tazewell County, Illinois, in 1836, and lived there with her family until 1844, when all the Holts - there were thousands of them, she said, but she may have been exaggerating a bit - left Illinois, and moved across the Mississippi River to Henry and Des Moines counties, Iowa. She liked farming, particularly milking the cows and taking care of the chickens. She attended school up until the time we left New London, knew a lot about a lot of things (and was truly interested in most of them), and could read and write almost as good as me. She didn't have any particular goals in life. She thought she would like to fall in with a nice boy who treated her like a girl when she wanted to be treated like a girl, but also realized she had a brain and a lot of good ideas of her own, and would let her use them however and whenever she wanted. That all seemed to fit pretty well with some of the long-term things I'd been thinking.
After what her father had said - and I had agreed with - it probably doesn't surprise you that Jenny told me her whole life story, in detail. What might surprise you - should surprise you! - is that I did pretty much the same thing. I told her about growing up in Saltsburg, Pennsylvania, where my Pa had moved from eastern Pennsylvania to work on the new canal, where he had met and married my mother, and with her produced a family of ten children, with me being the oldest.
(Jenny had no idea where Saltsburg is located - I mean, who does, who doesn't live there? - but she had a pretty good idea where Pittsburgh was, so she could generally place my home grounds.)
Because Pa had to spend a lot of time at the canal, and because I was the senior child, I was the one called on most often to help Pa or Mother in whatever ways were needed. In telling this to Jenny, I didn't gloss over the fact that, when I was needed, someone usually had to find me where I was day-dreaming down along the river. I told her that "someone" was often Sarah, and went on to tell her all about Sarah's and my friendship - something I'd never shared with anyone else, except my little sister Mary. When we got to my enlistment in the Mexican War, my illness, and my disappointment at not being part of the fight, I also told her the entire story about Margaret, and my unfairness to Sarah when she told me what had occurred. I gave her a fact-filled account of my trip to California, my return to Saltsburg, and how I ended up once again in Henry County.
I'll never know how Jenny got me to talk that much. She'd ask some simple-sounding question that couldn't be answered with a "yes" or "no," and off I'd go. A 15 year-old girl who I hardly knew had obviously cast some spell over me, making me want her to know everything there was to know about me. When I finally wound down, and we adopted a more normal conversation style, she knew more about me than anybody had ever known - or, it turned out, than anybody else would ever know.
***
The ferry at St. Joe could only carry one wagon and one yoke of oxen at a time, and our party was only one of many crossing the river that day. It took us the full day to get everyone across. While we were getting reorganized on the Kansas side of the river, Starkey rode ahead to locate us a good campsite. As we were starting on our way, he came riding back, telling us he had a confrontation with some Indians. He said they didn't really seem hostile, but they managed to steal his spurs, and tried to get his gun before he finally got clear of them. We kept a sharp watch all night, but didn't have any trouble. There were many Indians in the vicinity, but they seemed just bothersome, not dangerous. This was how it had been on the California trip, too.
The next day, the Reverend Johnson decided to go back to St. Joe for some supplies he had forgotten. This wasn't a bad idea, as the next place to purchase goods was 2,000 miles ahead in Oregon. We waited with the Johnson family, while the Starkey contingent went ahead to select a good campsite. That was all good management, I thought, but the next day, when the Rev sent some of his group back to St. Joe for more "forgotten" things, I started to wonder if lack of planning was going to become a problem. Losing two travel days didn't seem too important then, but how would it affect our time getting to Oregon?
Another event on that second day was that the Jones family - who had been traveling alone - asked if they could join our group. There was nothing unusual about it. Wagons were regularly passing by, some in organized groups, and some just moving along at their own pace. Any might join with other travelers, then stay together for a few days or for longer periods - sometimes just for fellowship, sometimes to get and give protection or assistance, should either be needed. The Jones family was just one of several who traveled with us at various times, and I mention them by name only because they played a rather important part in future events.
Jones (I'm not sure I ever learned his first name) was traveling in two wagons with his wife, his wife's sister (whose husband was already in Oregon), three daughters about 16, 10, and 3, and a son about 8. Jones also had three hired men to help him with the wagons. He said he was from St. Joe, but I guess I never figured out if they had lived there, or if that was just where they joined the parade. It didn't really seem to matter, as we would all have new addresses in a few months.
The Starkey wagons were already gone ahead of us, so we didn't have any kind of discussion about the Jones family joining us. It was a "free country," so - if they weren't asking us for anything in particular - there wasn't anything to stop them from traveling near us, if they wanted to. The Reverend said it was "okay," so we had a new addition to our little "train."
We stayed together as a group for the next week or so, although the two Starkey wagons were usually well ahead, and we only saw them when we caught up in the evening. We were delayed a couple of mornings because the Johnson oxen had got loose in the night, and had to be rounded us. (I had trouble understanding this, as we never had any wanderings with the Holt cattle, and on the big California trip, I don't think I recalled anybody misplacing their oxen as often as did the Johnsons. It had been different with those traveling with mules - they were chasing them all the time, but everybody knows that mules have minds of their own, and they operate quite differently than the human mind.
I don't think you could point to anything too exciting on that part of the trip. We had two days when there were wild turkeys everywhere, and we managed to have a couple of very fine meals, thanks to them. I recalled that on the whole gold rush trip, we hadn't seen much of anything edible, except far distant herds of buffalo. Of course, we had been part of a line of wagons that stretched pretty much unbroken from St. Joe to Wyoming. It wasn't too likely that the elk and the deer and the antelope were going to stay around to watch us go by.
Oh, one thing did happen that was a bit of a surprise to Sim and me, but wouldn't have been to anybody else. One evening, Starkey told a story about being attacked right near where we were camped, by a drunken whiskey seller and another man. Starkey had to shoot the other man, he thought fatally. However, he learned that the man recovered and went to San Francisco, where at gunpoint, he stole a large amount of gold from a gambling casino, and got away clean.
It was a thrilling tale, and everybody was quite impressed. Only Sim and I recognized it as a retelling of the events that occurred at Fort Laramie in 1849, when Starkey and his partner Kessler had exchanged gunfire, and both been wounded. We knew that Kessler had survived, but only barely, and had been taken back to Iowa, not to San Francisco. I never asked Starkey why he changed the story. Either way would have made a good campfire yarn, but it was his tale to tell. I wondered if maybe it was partly to get back at Kessler, who had told lies about the event when he got back to Iowa, making Starkey the villain. In this one, "Kessler" was clearly the bad guy but, of course, nobody but Starkey, Sim and I would know it.
As for Jenny and me, we were still riding together every day. The "river" of conversation had slowed, but we still found plenty to talk about. When we weren't talking, we just enjoyed the scenery passing by (slowly, at ox speed!) and the nearness of one another. Well, I was definitely enjoying that nearness, along with my unspoken thoughts. I was pretty sure she felt the same way, but nothing was said because it was a long way to Oregon, and she was only 15!
***
The morning after Starkey told his story was the last we saw of the folks in our two lead wagons until we were all in Oregon. Our inability to stay together was partly bad luck, but I think a lot was poor management by the Reverend. The first morning, the Starkey wagons got off first, as they were accustomed to doing, and went ahead to select a good camp site. The Johnsons were slow getting started, so we and the Jones wagons were held up with them. When some eastbound travelers told us that our party was waiting for us 12 miles ahead, I thought there was still plenty of daylight for us to catch up. The Reverend decided to stay where we were, and start after them the next morning. In the night, we had a tremendous wind and rain storm, with lots of lightning and thunder. Later, the rain turned to snow, and the morning found us with a demolished camp, and with all of our livestock missing. It turned out that all the animals were still together, nearby in the shelter of a woodland, but by the time they were brought back to camp, and we had salvaged and dried out our supplies, the day was nearly gone. We yoked up the oxen, so we could get an early start the next day, but stayed where we were one more night.
We almost got to Starkey's group the next day, but they were several hours ahead of us, and the Reverend chose to spend the rest of the day completing the drying out of our bedding and clothing. Another storm developed, but we were better prepared that time, and had little delay the next morning. After that, we had smooth traveling for almost a week, but never caught up with our lead wagons.
About the first of May, we saw the first antelope, and managed to kill one. Everybody got a taste of the delicious meat, but they are not very large animals, so we all would have liked more. Unfortunately - in a repeat of our California trip - that was the only one any of us managed to kill. They run amazingly fast, and don't stand around waiting to be shot at!
We soon reached the Platte River, passed Fort Kearny - a sorry excuse for a military outpost! - and continued on the long, long, long and boring trip east up the river valley. If you remember my comments from the California trip, you'll remember that you actually climb steadily all the way across Nebraska Territory, but the grade is so gentle that the land appears perfectly flat. There are almost no trees, the river channel is hardly identifiable even when you're traveling alongside it, and the dust from all the wagons is so thick, you hardly look human by the end of the day.
I had found this a miserable part of the California trip, and this time had equipped myself with some books to read as we traveled along. Of course, I didn't know I would have Jenny with me - certainly a better cure for boredom than any book! However, she discovered the books, and suggested that we read to one another as we traveled along. It sounded like good fun, but these were "modern" novels, that I knew nothing about. I was sure they wouldn't be too graphic, but were they all right for a 15-year old girl? I had no idea. When she picked one with the title, "The Confessions of a Pretty Woman," I got worried that one might be too much, even for me! Jenny didn't seem concerned, suggested we start it, then stop if it was objectionable in any way. That's what we did, each one reading a few pages, then giving it to the other person to continue. This kept us occupied most of the way across the dusty plain. I liked that leg of the journey much better than I had on the California trip!
In the book's introduction, the "pretty woman" (well, the author writing for her) said that she wanted to write a really honest book about her life, because women faced much different situations than men, and she didn't think any man could really tell it right. While I wondered a bit how Jenny might react to real "true confessions," I found myself more interested than I thought I might be. Perhaps the pretty woman would talk about some of the questions I'd be asking about man-woman interactions, marriage, et cetera. Probably not, in a popular novel, but you never know, do you?
I think I said before that Jenny was a good reader. She was, but not only that, she was a good actress. When she read, she "became" the pretty woman, or whoever else she was reading about, and had me laughing to the point of tears, at times. Much of the first part of the book wasn't really about the woman, at all, but about her father, and how he became rich and famous. But it was interesting, and the book was 200 pages long, so I knew we'd eventually get to the "confessions." In the meantime, we were having a lot of fun.
The trip along the Platte was not without incident. One night, all of the Johnson livestock got loose, and it took two days to get them all back in the fold. Just a day later, there was another minor escape that delayed us half a day. I found myself getting frustrated both at the inability of Johnson (and to some extent, Jones) to properly manage their stock (Michael and I seldom had any trouble), and also about the delays that were being caused. I didn't think we were in any trouble about getting to Oregon before winter set in, but the Reverend seemed to have no concept that time was important.
In mid-May, we began to see large herds of buffalo, but they were mostly on the north side of the Platte. Some of our men decided to cross the river to try killing one. You may remember from my telling of the California trip that, even though the river itself is not wide, its flood plain is a good mile across. The men didn't kill any buffalo, but found that the crossing was relatively easy, and some recommended that we take our wagons across to the north side, where (according to one guide book) the trail was better. I had found on the California expedition that those early "guidebooks" were often notoriously wrong, but this was one case in which they were correct. It took us a full day to get all the wagons across, but it was all done safely.
Despite the various livestock escapes, we had been making progress, and everything seemed peaceful on the surface. Even so, I had the feeling that the Reverend had misgivings about letting the Jones family join us. He didn't always express his private opinions privately, and several of us heard him loudly tell his wife that Jones was "an infidel," irresponsible, and knew nothing about wagon travel. I didn't know what to make of the "infidel" label, because it seems that can mean anything from a really evil person to somebody whose religion is slightly different than your own. I had certainly never see any signs that Jones was evil. I also hadn't seen any signs that he was irresponsible. He seemed to take very good care of his family, and his livestock didn't run off any more often than the Reverend's. As far as not knowing anything about overland travel, that could be said for probably 95 percent of all the overlanders on the road!
As I said, this "problem" was just a feeling with me, and it wasn't even on my mind very often. (After all, I had Jenny to occupy my thoughts!) Suddenly, it was in the open for everyone to know about, and in a way that should have embarrassed the Reverend mightily, but didn't. This is what transpired.
A day after we arrived on the north side of the Platte, most of the Johnson and Jones oxen went missing. As they had no animals to pull their wagons, most of us went hunting for the lost cattle. We were out for two days, with little success. When we returned to camp, we found that another party, the Keeneys, (that we had been traveling with, on and off) were missing 150 head of cattle that were being herded to Oregon. Keeney planned to search for his, and hopefully our, stock, so we moved our camps together, so those of us remaining could guard both outfits until the hunters returned.
We hadn't heard anything from the cattle hunters for three days, when a large wagon train passed us, and offered to loan the Reverend some of their oxen, so he could take his family forward in one of the wagons. The Reverend planned to accept the offer, but his oldest son objected, saying that we had pledged to Keeney that we would guard his camp until he returned. At this, the Reverend yelled at his son, claiming that the son only wanted to stay because he had formed a romantic attachment with the oldest Jones girl, and didn't want to leave her.
The young couple's interest in each other was no secret to any of us. They were often seen holding hands or sitting together. (I admit to a little jealousy, because there was a certain wagon train girl that I would love to have been holding hands with, but couldn't because... Well, you know why I couldn't!) The young man didn't deny that he wanted to stay with the girl, but he also pointed out that we were honor-bound to protect Keeney's camp. That made the Reverend even madder, he accepted the offer to go with the other group, and left his son with us.
The whole business was embarrassing to all of us, and I felt it was extremely unfair, as well. I was pretty sure the son did more work than all the other Johnsons put together - including the Reverend, himself! - and the boy's interest in the girl hadn't kept him from it. I am far from an expert on family situations (I probably don't need to state that!), but I couldn't understand why the father seemed so upset. He couldn't really be concerned about the quality or quantity of his son's work, or the son's dedication to the family. I've assumed it was because he was worried about his son eventually marrying into an "infidel" family. Perhaps in his mind, it wasn't just his son who would be (to use the biblical phrase) "unequally yoked;" it would be his whole family. Surely, God wouldn't want that!
I know I'm just speculating, and it's none of my business, anyway, but I was getting really angry with the Reverend! It would have been bad enough if that was the beginning and end of our involvement with the Johnson family problems but, alas, there was more to come.
It was another two days before the searchers returned. They had traveled far down the Platte, and had eventually found most of the Jones and Johnson oxen. They also brought back about two-thirds of Keeney's cattle, but that still left about 50 head missing. With the stock we had, we cobbled together enough yokes of oxen to get us all on our way, and two days later, we rejoined Reverend Johnson.
For the next week or so, we traveled peacefully enough, but when we reached Fort Laramie, the Reverend announced that the Jones wagons could no longer travel with him. We were with a number of other families at that time, but only the Johnsons and the Holts - those remaining from the wagon train that had formed in Iowa - had any say in what occurred. Michael felt an obligation to stay with the Johnsons, as the Reverend had approved his joining the group. I don't think he was wrong from his perspective, but it rankled me because the whole business was so petty - and "un-Christian!" It also forced the Johnson son to choose between his family and the Jones family. He went with his family, leaving his sweetheart behind. The Reverend got his way, but I doubt that many father-son ties remained intact.
We moved on, leaving the Jones family alone. I don't mean to imply that we left them in any danger - wagon trains passed every day, and as they had originally joined us, they were certain to be able to find someone else to travel with. It was just all so unfair and unnecessary.
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