by J. F. Collen
Both their heads swiveled to the right as they stared at a man untying his billfold, unwittingly revealing its plenty to the world. Engrossed in negotiation with an unsavory-looking man pawning a well-worn harness, the emigrant’s trusting face, as open as his wallet, gave him all the indicia of an easy mark.
“Another stranger duped,” lamented Obadiah.
“Nefarious activity runs rampant through this town,” observed Nellie, nodding her head toward another man, presiding over a blanket full of pistols, shouting about the dangers lurking on the trail ahead and the need to arm oneself accordingly. “I realize a new appreciation for your decision to purchase our oxen in Chicago, in spite of the length of our boat passage. We were assured fair value in all we obtained in Chicago. There shall be no such assurances found in supplies we acquire here.”
Within minutes, they drove past the commercial area that seemed to mark the town limits, but the throngs of people did not dissipate. Wagons, people, and livestock littered the landscape everywhere.
“California and Oregon emigrants and their encampments fill the whole countryside along the Missouri River, from Independence Landing and Saint Joseph in Missouri to here in Kanesville... correction, now christened Council Bluffs, Iowa,” Cornelia observed. “‘Tis a wonder some of these multitudes are not dissuaded from the journey by all this commotion, not to mention the audible dire warnings.
“Truly, I am quite alarmed at the rhetoric of the hawkers and salesmen,” Nellie continued in a lower voice, with an eye on her daughters. They were so busy gawking at all the activity and soaking in the character of the frontier town, they paid no attention to their parents’ conversation.
“Did you read the flyer thrust upon us, advising of the depredations from the Sioux and Pawnee tribes?” quivered Nellie.
“Alarmists’ propaganda,” dismissed Obadiah. “The native people are besieged by emigrants traipsing through their land. Most literature on the subject supports my conclusion they are peaceable people, and simply require the respect they deserve. I have also read they are able traders. You shall recall we packed a fair number of curiosities, thus arming ourselves for bartering perishables along the trail in exchange for needles and thread, small mirrors in gilt frames, and other novelties.”
“Even so,” conceded Cornelia. “I do believe we would be well advised to join a wagon train. A big company, consisting of families with differing skills, shall contribute to our mutual protection from the perils of this undertaking.”
“I concur with your consummate reasoning,” agreed Obadiah with a smile. “Once we have established our wagon in an apposite spot to encamp for the night, I shall venture back to the commercial area to ascertain our options for amalgamating with a company.”
But as they made their way along the riverbank, all sorts of seedy, sleazy men bombarded their wagon with solicitations, peddling wares and advertising companies and campsites. Overwhelming and intimidating, the constant barrage hampered their search for a comfortable, available piece of land to set up camp.
“‘Tis hard to imagine a more unsavory place,” said Nellie. “Are all these people seeking gold in California?”
“No, some itinerants are members of the Church of the Latter-day Saints. This spot is the trailhead for Mormon emigration too. Once we skirt these scalawags....”
“How do you propose we achieve that goalmouth? These streets are so crowded we can barely proceed forward. We are amongst thousands seeking refuge before the journey,” fretted Nellie.
“What is a Mormon?” asked Emma, resurfacing from her conversation with Elizabeth. Cornelia and Obadiah looked at each other, each hoping the other would field the question.
“Cornelia Rose Entwhistle?” a voice hollered. Nellie turned her head in the direction of the shout.
“Who in all tarnation could I possibly know in this Godforsaken place?” she whispered.
A big hand appeared out of the crowd and grabbed Nellie’s arm. A grizzled face peered at Nellie. “Want to buy some feed for yer stock?”
“Merciful heavens!” Nellie gasped and pulled with all of her might to escape the dirty digits that clutched her. Obadiah whipped the oxen and their cart lurched forward, freeing Nellie from the peddler’s grasp.
As if by magic, the passage cleared for their wagon to break away from the throng.
“Who was that?” asked Obadiah.
“I cannot fathom for love nor money!” exclaimed Nellie.
“Cornelia Rose Entwhistle, wait!” an authoritative voice commanded.
A bugle blew. The crowd near them quieted, and all heads turned toward the sound. A uniformed soldier mounted on a fine horse drew up to their wagon. The imposing rider swept off his captain’s hat and bowed his head.
“Nellie! Captain William T. Magruder here, at your service,” the man said.
Nellie looked at Obadiah, whose mouth hung open. Blood rushed to her cheeks and she felt a tingle of excitement. An acquaintance from home? What joy! But she caught herself before she said anything. Mercy, I am a respectable married woman and a mother of two! I should not react to the sound of a familiar male voice like the flirtatious debutante I once was.
“This indubitably beats the Dutch! How in name of Beelzebub do you find yourself here?” Magruder pressed his horse closer to the wagon.
Nellie was at a loss for words. Obadiah growled at her, “An old beau, I presume, Cornelia?” All she could manage was a silent nod.
Obadiah’s countenance relaxed into a smile. “One’s past oft does come back to haunt one.” Obadiah and Captain Magruder extended their hands for a friendly greeting at the same moment.
“Come,” said Magruder. “Follow me to this side street, away from this swarming crowd. It’s a miracle no one has yet pinched your horse in this town of ruffians.”
There was no argument from Obadiah or Nellie. “This far from home, any familiar face assumes the moniker of a long-lost friend,” she murmured. Obadiah pulled the lead on the oxen and coaxed them to follow Magruder.
“I am of like mind,” said Obadiah. “Even an old beau of yours feigns the aspect of a tried-and-true comrade.”
“‘Tis settled—any old port in a storm,” she whispered back with a smile. “Although probably it would be far more desirable to encounter any other ex-suitor than Magruder.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” Obadiah said with a wink. He jumped out of the wagon, yanked the yoke of the oxen, pulling them in the right direction, and mounted their horse, spurring it ahead before Magruder disappeared from sight.
“Who is that gentleman, Mama?” asked Emma, both girls sidling closer to her as she assumed the reins.
Nellie smiled, she was almost giddy with joy. An ally here in this wild, chaotic place! Although braggart and windbag are numbered among Magruder’s personality traits, his exceptional military prowess should provide us some guidance in navigating this squalid little town. “Just an acquaintance from my childhood in New York,” she said.
“Does Papa knowed him?” asked Elizabeth.
Cornelia hesitated. “Not directly,” she finally answered. “Only through my introduction.” The two girls seemed satisfied with that explanation.
Cornelia was surprised to see Obadiah and Magruder strike up a friendly exchange in spite of the awkwardness of the situation.
Magruder was all too happy to represent himself as an expert on Iowa and this part of the Northwest territory, and Obadiah was a big enough man to take the situation as it presented, using the opportunity to bolster his arsenal of knowledge of the new territory and strategize for their impending trip.
They stood talking in the middle of a small square in front of a trough where the oxen, their horse, and Magruder’s, drank. Nellie anxiously scanned their surroundings. This square, flanked by shops and people with baskets selling vegetables, was not nearly as squalid or chaotic as the main street. She let out her breath, which she suddenly realized she had been holding, and relaxed her guard, just a smidge.
/> “I expect you’ve caught the gold rush fever and joined the frenzy heading to California?” asked Magruder.
Obadiah and Nellie shook their heads no, while Nellie thought, Mercy, I had forgotten how large a man he is. Quite commanding in his captain’s uniform....
“Lookie here, yer too late for the Oregon Territory Donation Land Act. All the free land, every 160-acres-a-person parcel, plus the additional 160 for the little ladies, is all doled out. That law expired in 1854.” Captain Magruder pushed his hat up further on his head and frowned.
“‘Tis a pity too,” said Nellie. “For the United States Government, in its haste to inhabit Oregon, allowed married women to claim title to land in their own names, a major step in women’s rights.”
Magruder seemed a bit dumbfounded at that news.
“You could not possibly be one of them Mormons, heading out to Utah Territory?” Magruder pushed his cap back up on his head in disbelief.
“We are headed to Utah,” began Obadiah.
“Most indubitably, we are not Saints!” blurted Nellie.
Magruder laughed. “True. ‘Tis hardly an apt descriptor for you, little Lady.”
Nellie blushed furiously at the double entendre, too flustered to reply.
“The intended import of my wife’s declaration was to dispel your possible misunderstanding,” corrected Obadiah, through clenched teeth. He put a hand on his lapel and leaned toward Magruder, with menace in his eyes. “We are not members of the Church of Latter-day Saints. The impetus for our journey is my new position as Federal Circuit Judge in Utah Territory. We seek not a new fortune, civilization, or order, but rather an extension of our current one.”
“Thundering cannons, your choice of watering hole for arresting your journey’s progress is dead-on,” said Magruder, hitching up his pants and tipping his hat to Nellie. “It is my grave responsibility, it is my main charge, it is my raison d’etre, to protect the emigrant. You are under my auspices now.”
Obadiah raised his eyebrows and gave a slight grin. “Is that the bottom fact? No matter. We seek a campsite. We shall dally awhile, affording me time to establish a wagon train suitable for our affiliation on the westward passage.”
“Sparing you much travail and misery, I advise: you shall find it far more efficacious to cast your lot with prospectors and their families than contracting with a Mormon group.” Magruder had the audacity to wink. “You won’t have to guard yer white women, iffn ye ken my speak.”
Nellie and Obadiah exchanged glances.
“Aye, you’ll soon learn of their strange ways. Howsoever, I have it within my purview to associate ye with a company that organizes hundreds of trains a day. They have a practiced hand and will steer ye right.” Magruder looked Obadiah in the eye as he picked up Nellie’s gloved hand and kissed it.
Magruder smiled at Nellie. “Come camp with my troop of men! We have a fine campsite, northeast of this flea-bitten town. I can nestle ye for a bit with us, have ye avoid the thieving townsmen and the restless Ote who prey on the tenderfoots from the East.”
He turned to Obadiah. “I’d whip my weight in wildcats before I’d let anything happen to Nell while ye was under my jurisdiction. Since hundreds of trains leave daily, I can use my influence to obtain your passage with a suitable company. Yea, ‘tis truly yer good fortune ye chose this, my town, as the locale for yer departure from the United States,” said Magruder.
Cornelia and Obadiah looked at each other, this time skeptically. Obadiah said, “I do believe the weather and the traveling conditions conspire against us. I am afraid our scheduled departure is as imminent as upon the morrow. With regrets, we must forgo your hospitable offer.”
Magruder’s face fell. Suddenly, he looked like a little boy who dropped his lollipop. “It’s not every day in this wilderness that a kindred spirit materializes out of thin air. ‘Twould have been an unearned bounty to have kinfolk like yerselves around my fireplace.” He brightened. “But, no matter. What say we compromise? We could hitch ye up to a wagon train tonight and ye can be off in the morning after a night of merrymaking.”
Nellie and Obadiah exchanged yet another doubt-filled glance.
The wind completely left Magruder’s sails. “In this lonely, uncivilized frontier, I humbly request the pleasure of one fine, proper dinner before ye settle in for the night.”
Humbly? Pshaw, he’s the farthest cry from humble... however, mayhap a night with a familiar face is not unwelcome.
Cornelia gave a small nod of consent and Magruder hooted happily before Obadiah could say anything to contradict her.
“I’ll grant ye; ‘tis not the social deference you most assuredly are due,” Magruder said, rubbing his gloved hands in satisfaction. “But we shall embrace the opportunity and pull out all the stops.”
Emma tugged on Nellie’s dress. “That man has his own organ? Mercy,” she whispered. “He must be important! We’ve seen no churches in this city.”
Nellie smiled, leaned down and whispered, “The Captain is not talking about pulling out the stops of a real organ’s pipes. He uses the expression to mean he shall not spare any effort in providing us hospitality.” Although Magruder believes himself quite important enough to posses such an expensive musical instrument, she thought, still smiling.
Emma grinned. “Silly!”
Straightening, Nellie said, “As for you, Captain Magruder, how did you come to be assigned military duty here?”
“As a soldier, I go hither and yon at the whim of the United States Army and my superior officers. As I believe I have already divulged, my assignment here began a few years ago. I gladly perform my sworn duty—protection of the many settlers and travelers who pass through this region. I send search parties for cattle and livestock separated from their rightful Eastern owners by conniving and devious Natives... I am fighting savages, Nellie, just like I promised.” He laughed.
Cornelia frowned and pursed her lips. “Such contemptible bigotry is not suitable parlance before little ladies.”
“Always the proper gentry, Mistress Entwhistle. Yer deportment, and may I say yer figure, present no sign of alteration.” Magruder gave a devilish grin.
“No, you shan’t be permitted that liberty, Magruder, for as any fool can see, Cornelia has changed,” said Obadiah. Magruder looked confused. “She is now my wife, and I will thank you to abandon this familiar tone with us.”
Magruder dropped Nellie’s hand.
In the awkward silence, Nellie said, “This is most troublesome.” Both men looked at her askance. She rushed to blurt the rest of her thought; “I find the turbulence between our nation and the native peoples of this land most disquieting. In my judgment, both sides have committed grievous wrongdoing.”
“A local tribe staged a raid on an encampment of emigrants just a fortnight ago,” Magruder advised. “Those Ote braves stole five head of horses and a bunch of cattle. Armed with rifles, they intimidated a whole company, and the pioneers scattered. Only a few valiant settlers, sporting brand new pistols, pursued. The settlers tried to keep the horse thieves in sight as they fled through the woods. We sent out reinforcements... but so did the Indians. By hook or by crook, in the end, we salvaged our people.” Magruder shook his head. “There were a warrant out for the arrest of the white men that kilt some of ‘em. But even the Indian Chief said, ‘Them palefaces have served us right.’ He acknowledged his boys had no business on this side of the Missouri River, molesting emigrants.”
Nellie’s head hurt and she felt a bit squeamish.
Magruder seemed to notice and changed the subject. “There are fellow graduates of West Point Military Academy scattered all about these here parts. Perhaps you remember Cadet Lawrence Baker? He was in the class below me... and most assuredly he remains a class below!” he punned.
Nellie blushed.
“Must our path west be strewn with your former beaus?” growled Obadiah.
“I am quite shocked at the audibility of that remark,” whispered Nellie to Ob
adiah, as Magruder continued.
“I came upon Baker’s whereabouts quite accidentally. He is working with Grenville Dodge, a railroad surveyor who has been quite instrumental in Council Bluffs, even before ‘53 when he established his family in residence here.”
“As a mere point of curiosity, whither is Baker stationed?” asked Nellie.
Magruder replied, “He is currently stationed out in New Fort Kearny. When I am not here, pow-wowing with Billy Caldwell,” Magruder paused at their blank expressions. “Excuse me, Chief Sauganash of the Potawatomi Indian tribe, my troops and I are out at Kearny with Baker waging....” Magruder looked at the little girls, who stared up at him in wide-eyed, rapt attention. “...Ahem... keeping the peace, you might say, shoulder to shoulder with Baker.”
Cornelia and Obadiah exchanged glances, but they were spared a reply. Emma leaned over the tongue of the wagon and asked, “What does ‘Sauganash’ mean?”
“It is the Chief’s name,” answered Nellie, secretly delighted at the intelligence of Emma’s inquiry.
“But what does it mean?”
“Right smart little lady,” said Magruder. “Ye take after yer Ma! It means ‘one who speaks English’.”
Satisfied, the two girls resumed their play.
Obadiah looked at Nellie, and then nodded to Magruder. “I think we shall take you up on that most generous offer—furnishing a suitable spot for making camp tonight.”
“Right, ho,” said Magruder. “Your livestock will be safely pastured for the night, and you will all be comfortably bedded.” He winked at Nellie, who blushed at his double entendre.