by Terry Grosz
A guard was posted, and as daylight began to break, the wagon train fell into cleanup mode. Dr. Larson was tending to the company’s wounds as if such battles were an everyday affair. Jacob and Dave dragged the bodies of the Indians to a nearby gully to leave them for the scavengers, and everyone else tended to the business of getting ready to quickly move on from the bloody battleground.
Bill was sadly buried in a deep grave in the center of the trail yet to be traveled. The grave diggers laid stones in the last two feet of cover over him so that animals would not be able to dig up his body. A final layer of dirt covered the stones, and they finished by building a bonfire over his grave. When the fire had cooled, everyone said their good-byes and sorrowfully drove their wagons over the gravesite to disguise what lay underneath. A practice that was common with westward travelers so the gravesite would not be discovered and disturbed.
None of the livestock had been lost to the Indians, but one of the oxen had been killed by a stray arrow. Before the travelers left the scene, they took what meat they could use and then dusted the remains of that oxen with cyanide powder that they had brought along to poison wolves once they reached California. Then the sad and sore company turned their eyes toward the horizon to the west and never looked back—except in their hearts and minds over the years that followed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Truckee River, Nevada Territory
Jacob and Martin kept the train moving southwest on the California Trail, mindful of the rugged Sierra passes and their propensity to fill up with early winter snows. According to Jim Bridger, once they left the Humboldt Sink area, they would be looking at many miles of sparse grass and even scarcer good water. He had told them to maintain a west-by-southwest bearing, and after several days of hard travel, they would reach what he called the Truckee River—a river named by earlier pioneers after a friendly Paiute Indian chief. As they prepared to leave the Humboldt Sink, Jacob had everyone fill up every water container they had. The whole company spent the next day cutting any and all grasses they could find for the animals to eat the next day out from the sink. Since they had a full moon, Jacob suggested to Martin that they start in the evening and move through the cool of the night, following the existing trail. That way the livestock would be less apt to wear out in the drying desert heat.
Martin thought over his brother’s suggestion and said, “By gum, you might be right. If we can do that, it would cut down on the water consumption, and with that, coupled with our cut hay and the last of our oats and grain, our animals should make it.”
Jacob called a meeting of the men and laid out what challenges awaited them over the next several days on the trail. “Men, we are looking at forty to fifty miles of hard going with the prospect of little water and even less grass. We can beat the heat by traveling at night and resting during the high daytime temperatures. We must ration our use of water, saving it for the animals, because if they don’t make it, neither will we. According to Jim Bridger who has traveled this way several times before, and the Hall brothers, there is a large river at the end of our trail through this inhospitable part of our travels. It is supposed to have good grass and lots of cool water without the alkali taste we have been used to because it is fed by the snows in the high Sierra Nevada Mountains. So plan on our normal evening meal, and then we will set out on this difficult part of the trail. Are there any questions that come to mind before we leave?”
None of the men raised any issues because they were all familiar with the trials to date on the trail and had come to expect more of the same in order to reach California.
“Good,” said Jacob. “Let’s fall to on any remaining chores and be prepared to leave tonight once the cool has set in.”
The men broke ranks and headed for their wagons to make ready for their first experience of nighttime traveling. Groups of women and children quickly gathered and, accompanied by a few heavily armed men, spread out over the surrounding area in order to gather what wood they could. That was now especially important since they would not be able to find any fuel while traveling in the dark and resting during the day.
Looking back over the wagons, Jacob turned his horse down the trail toward where the Truckee River was supposed to be, with Jerry’s wagon following. Soon the train was strung out with Martin riding alongside the wagons, making sure they kept up and stayed together. He kept a tight rein on their formation because he didn’t want them to straggle too far apart and thus be more vulnerable to another Indian attack. He had no way of knowing that the hostile Indian band had feasted on the remains of the poisoned ox that they had left behind, and many of them would never again attack a wagon train...
For the next four nights the tired oxen plodded along the trail, resting and eating as they could during the heat of the day.
The wagon train’s travelers struggled in the dark over the broken trail. They tried to rest during the day’s heat and kept looking to the southwest with hopeful eyes for the promised Truckee River and their salvation.
Toward the end of the fifth day, the horses and mules became even more alert than usual and started eagerly moving ahead of the wagons as if they knew something no one else did. Jacob’s horse also perked up and kept his head raised, even though he was tired and thirsty, as he continually looked to the southwest. Trotting ahead of the wagon train, Jacob soon saw a cut in the rugged desert terrain with a river lying in the bottom. Racing back to the wagon train, he alerted those driving the oxen to hold their reins tightly.
“Hold them tight and don’t let them get their heads, or they will break for the water and wreck the wagons!” he yelled.
The horse and mule herd, controlled more loosely than the oxen, eventually broke for the river and disappeared in a cloud of dust. The drivers held the oxen, and when the train approached a flat along the river, they were unhitched and let loose to drink their fill along with the rest of the livestock. A number of the people jumped into the cooling waters of the river with shouts of joy. The more reserved just took off their shoes and soaked their feet in the cool waters in relief at having arrived safely. After an hour of celebration along the river, Jacob and Martin made everyone hitch up their oxen teams and circle the wagons in a defensive position along the river. Then the oxen were once again released to feed under a heavy armed guard.
That evening there was much celebrating. The women had a chance to do their washing and cooking as the men made repairs to their tack and wagons. There was plenty of cottonwood timber along the river, and soon campfires burned hot and brightly. The air was laced with the great smells of baking bread, biscuits, and steaming pots of bacon and beans, intermingled with the smell of several boiling coffee pots.
“Well, you did it, brother,” said a smiling but still dusty Martin.
“Last time I looked, we both had our hands in the pot,” said Jacob as he smiled back at his brother.
Margaret came over to the two boys, gave them each a hug, and told them to get washed up because supper was ready. Dave, Jerry, Martin, and Jacob walked to the river and cleaned themselves as well as they could, enjoying the cooling waters for the first time with great relish.
“Tomorrow I suggest we stay here and rest up our stock and let them feed to their hearts’ content. Me, I plan on riding up the river to a settlement that is supposed to be within a day’s ride of here,” Jacob said, referring to a community that became the town of Reno in 1862. “According to Jim Bridger, this settlement is a supply center for the silver mines in the Virginia City area. If that be the case, I will scout to see what they have in the way of supplies, and when our wagons arrive several days hence, we can head straight into the emporiums and resupply so as not to waste any travel time. I am still fearful of those rugged passes over the Sierra Nevada Mountains and don’t want to leave my bones there because of being slowed in our travels. In the meantime, I want the three of you to watch over the camp. Make sure everyone’s wagons are repaired and cared for. Also, have the men check the shoes on the
ir livestock. If some are badly worn or need replacing, get it done. The mountains ahead will give us our toughest challenge, so I want everyone to be ready to go. We are racing the arrival of winter, and I don’t want to get caught in the mountains or on this side of them come winter.”
The three men nodded in agreement, realizing that the real challenge was yet to come and they had best be prepared or they would leave their bones in view of the lands of California.
The next morning, long before daylight, Jacob saddled his horse, packed some jerky, and headed along the Truckee River toward the settlement and the adventures it would bring.
Arriving at midday, Jacob looked upon a sprawling boom town of brightly painted mansions and crude log-and-mud huts along with false-fronted commercial buildings trying to look more imposing than they really were. These were interspersed with tent villages all jammed together, indicative of the rapid growth and temporary nature of the community. Melded into that view were the sound of barking dogs, the crack of teamsters’ whips, the firing of guns into the air by drunken miners, the din of blacksmiths’ shops hammering iron, and a million other assorted noises that were foreign to his ears after the many quiet weeks on the trail.
Stepping over garbage, the contents of chamber pots strewn in the dusty streets, and animal droppings were crowds of people. Everyone seemed in a hurry to get somewhere. Jacob finally reined his horse up in front of a large sign reading, “ROSE AND ERNIE EATON’S EMPORIUM—dry goods, ammunition, whiskey, medicinals, patent medicines and notions.” Tying his horse to the hitching rail, he entered the store. There before his eyes lay all the goods anyone could want! Boxes, bags, kettles, jars, barrels, and sacks were strewn about in an organized confusion, containing what had to be all the world’s treasures, he thought. Walking across the uneven wooden floors created from using green, uncured lumber when building in a hurry, Jacob became aware of the smells of stale cigar smoke, the cheap perfume worn by some busily shopping ladies of the night, and the odor of many unwashed bodies.
With a tired smile, he thought that the whole movement of humanity among the store’s goods reminded him of a bunch of maggots on a three-day-old buffalo carcass in the prairie sun.
“May I help you?” came a pleasant voice from a middle-aged woman with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. She wore a bright red apron, and at her waist hung a skinning knife. From the looks of it and her hands, it had been used very recently.
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Jacob. “I will be bringing a small wagon train into town shortly. They are camped a few miles out and are getting ready for a trip across the Sierras. As near as I can figure, we will need some supplies such as flour, salt, pepper, stick candy for the kids, cornmeal, bacon, sewing needles, feed grains, horse and oxen shoes, and such.”
“Well, sonny, you came to the right spot. This is the largest place of commerce this side of the Missouri River, and we have more goods coming in every week by wagons from back East. So what we don’t have today, we may have tomorrow,” she replied happily. “My name is Rose Eaton,” she added as she extended her hand in friendship. “My husband, Ernie, and I own the place and we pride ourselves on providing most everything needed with a smile and the lowest prices to boot in this here settlement.”
Jacob shook her hand and said, “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. My name is Jacob. Is there someplace nearby where a man can circle his wagons and still have walking access to your place of business?”
“You are in luck, stranger,” she replied. “Ernie!” she yelled.
Soon a man lean as a ridgepole stepped out from behind a stack of boxes he was inventorying and walked over to Rose wearing a smile that was more than genuine.
“What do you need, honey?” he asked as he patted her bottom with a grin.
“Don’t you get fresh with me, Ernie Eaton,” she replied, but with a look of approval. “Take this man out back and see if his wagons will fit in our back pasture behind the store,” she ordered.
“Yes, dear,” he said as he turned and headed for the back of the store—but not before playfully patting Rose on the backside once more. This time he had to duck a broom hastily swung by the object of his affection.
Not wanting to get a swat from the broom as well, Jacob quickly ducked and followed Ernie out the back door. Directly behind the store was a thirty-acre grassy lot that would more than satisfy the needs of his wagon train and provide the necessary feed for his livestock for a short time as well.
“What be the charge to use your lot for a few days, friend?” asked Jacob.
“Nothing,” replied Ernie, “if you buy your supplies in our store.”
“That be fair,” replied Jacob. “I plan on having my group here sometime in the next couple of days. Once here, we can begin shopping in earnest.”
“Where you be headed?” asked Ernie as the two men walked back to the store.
“Somewhere in California where we can farm, raise cattle, and start a family without the thought of Indians lurking around the next corner wanting to lift our hair,” he replied.
“Well, that sure be the place. Most Indians there are what Californians call Digger Indians, and they is fairly peaceable. The soil is good, from what I hear, and the weather fairer than most places,” Ernie answered.
“Sounds just like where we want to set down our roots,” Jacob said with a grin.
Back in the store, Jacob purchased several items, and Rose wrapped them up in plain brown paper, tying them off with butcher’s twine.
Stepping back outside onto the wooden walks, Jacob noticed a place of business just across the street. The white sign with red lettering on its false front read, “LARRY DAVIS GUN SHOP—Gun Repair, Ammunition, Edged Weapons, Purveyor of Fine European Firearms, Powder, Primers, Beaver Traps and Such.”
My brother and I need to visit that place, Jacob thought. There are many new types of firearms that don’t require reloading every time one has to shoot that we could use. That may be the way to go in the future, especially in this new land where we have to deal with white varmints instead of red ones.
Getting back on his horse after tying the wrapped items behind the saddle in his bedroll, Jacob spurred the animal back toward the wagon train. It had taken him less time than he had expected to size up the settlement and locate a place to resupply their depleted stores and a place to circle his wagons. This place sure has more to offer than Fort Hall, he thought with a smile as he rode east into the oncoming dusk.
Back at camp, Jacob was guided in by the light from several still burning cooking fires. Stepping off his horse outside the wagons, he was immediately challenged by the camp guard.
Recognizing the voice of the challenger, Jacob replied, “It’s just me, Jerry.”
Walking into the circle of wagons, he was met by Martin and Dave as well. All three had a ton of questions about the town until they were interrupted by Margaret saying, “You men leave him be. He probably hasn’t had a dam thing to eat all day and is tired. You will just have to wait until I get him fed before you ask him all those dam-fool questions.” With that, Margaret took Jacob by the arm and marched him over to her cooking fire. She sat him down on a log and gave him a cup of scalding coffee. She was right—he had been so eager to get to town that he had forgotten to eat. Then he had been so eager to get back to camp with his news that he had again forgotten to eat anything. Now he realized just how hungry he was and smiled not only at her actions but at all the motherly attention he was getting as well.
“Margaret,” Jacob whispered.
“What?” she said as she returned to the cooking fire with a full plate of biscuits and freshly cooked venison from a deer one of the men had shot earlier that day along the river.
Jacob handed her one of the wrapped packages he had brought from town with a smile on his face.
“What is this?” she said as she took the package after laying down his plate of food on a nearby wagon tail gate.
“Well, open it and see,” Jacob said with a grin.
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When she opened the package, several long tails of brightly colored cloth tumbled from the package; they were attached to a light pink sunbonnet in the newest style, decorated all over with yellow, red, orange ,and blue flowers.
“Oh, it’s beautiful!” Margaret gasped. “May I try it on?”
“Well, I would say so, once you give me my supper to eat,” he joked.
Margaret hurriedly gave Jacob his plate and then, like an excited little girl, took the bonnet and put it on over her tousled hair.
“Oh, Jacob,” she said gleefully, “I will be the prettiest lady in the train.”
Happy his present was so well received, Jacob signaled Martin, who was standing nearby, to come over to him as he hungrily wolfed down a biscuit.
“What’s up, Jacob?” Martin asked.
Reaching behind his log, Jacob picked up another package and handed it to his brother.
“What’s in the package, Goose?” Martin asked.
“Oh, just a little something pretty. That is, if you had a little gal in mind to give it to,” Jacob replied with an impish twinkle in his eyes.
Martin, without a moment’s hesitation, took the package and headed straight over to Martin Jones’s wagons to see Kim.
God didn’t raise a turnip in that lad, Jacob thought with a grin.
Next he signaled Jerry and Dave with a “come here” jerk of his head.
“Here, you two. Don’t ever say I am always forgetting you,” he said as he handed each man a large package containing several pounds of fresh, rich-smelling chewing tobacco.
“Hot damn!” said Jerry as he recognized the luxurious smell coming from the package.