.
Herbert F Thompson
Father/Writer
A Tribute to Our Father
The children of Herbert F Thompson
Celebrate him through his writing.
Some of his Work
Galvanized Yankees
Chapter One
Morgan Wells stepped down and hunkered at the edge of the
butte. He dropped his hat at his side and wiped the mud,
created by the sweat and dust of the trail, from his face and
eyes with his neckerchief. "Well, Lady, that must be the
Platte," he said to his horse. He leaned his Henry rifle against
his leg, pulled a straw of prairie grass and began to suck and
chew on the root trying to get some moisture into his parched
mouth.
They made a strange pair, these two, the horse was not your
typical western horse, but a tall slender legged, deep chested,
Arabian. The boy was not tall, but wiry; his hair was an
unruly mop of blonde, which had not been cut for some time.
His hat and clothing was obviously expensive, but worn and
dirty. His hat wasn’t the typical western style, and his boots
were not the western variety of heavy working boots, but
mid-calf gentlemen's riding boots. His saddle was an English
riding saddle, with saddle bags behind.
If his information was correct he had just intercepted the
Oregon Trail just below Ft. Kearney. Morgan used the rifle to
help him up. He squinted his eyes into the midday glare of
the hot June sun. Sure enough at the foot of the bluff he could
see two deeply cut ruts paralleling the river. The boy studied
the terrain before him searching for a way down to the trail
below. The Platte was not quite what he had been expecting.
It looked more like a series of parallel muddy streams rather
than one of the more important rivers of the West. Finally he
spotted a wash that led down to the foot of the bluff that
would not tax either Lady or him. They were both showing
signs of too much travel and not enough food. It had been a
long trail from Virginia, via Georgia to here.
Morgan spat out the straw and picking up his reins started to
walk towards the wash where he led Lady down to the banks
of the Platte. Morgan set the Henry on the bank and pulled
his boots off and set them on the bank, along with his hat and
submerged himself in the cool water. He wished he was a
sponge so he could soak up the water. He came up sputtering
and choking which caused Lady to shy and splash him good.
He laughed at the horse, the first time he had laughed in a
long time. He reached into his saddle bag and pulled out his
canteen, unstoppered and filled it. Sighing contentedly he
snagged Lady's reins, retrieved his belongings, and led them
to the shade of a large Cottonwood overhanging the bank.
He noticed a cloud of dust moving his way from the east.
Deciding to see what it was he sat down at the base of a tree.
Lady seemed content to graze on a small patch of somewhat
green grass that was growing under the shade of the tree.
Morgan woke with a start when Lady nickered. He came
instantly to his feet with his Henry ready. "Hold on there lad,
I don' mean yuh any harm!" A huge man sat his horse slightly
to Morgan's right with a friendly grin on his face. His posture
was relaxed and his hands holding his reins were crossed
comfortably in front of him on the pommel of his saddle.
Morgan dropped the business end of the Henry towards the
ground but kept his finger on the trigger. "Who are you sir,”
Morgan asked? The giant's grin got even broader. "Wull I'll
be dammed, a Reb! Son what yuh doin' out her on yore
lonesome?"
Morgan studied the man in front of him. He was dressed in
jeans with a gingham shirt, and a leather vest. His hat was a
good one, but battered and dirty. His face was as dark and
weathered as his vest. He had a beard stained to gray by the
dust of the trail. He didn't know quite why but he knew this
man was of no threat to him. He eased the hammer down on
the Henry and lowered it to his side. "Sir, my name is
Morgan Wells." The giant huffed his way off his mount, and
said "Yuh can call me Tiny," and fell into bass fits of
laughter. "Tiny McCaullife, that is." Morgan took the
outstretched hand in his and felt like he had just grabbed a
shovel, so big was Tiny's hand.
"Now, young'un, would yuh mind tellin' me what yore doin'
out here alone, lost?"
Morgan replied, "No sir, I am not lost, even though I do not
know exactly where I am."
Tiny went into his thunderous bass laugh. "Where's yore
train, boy?
"I am not with a wagon train, sir. I could not afford to join
one, so I am on my own." Morgan answered.
Tiny McCaulliffe squinted down at the slight figure in front
of him, and sized him up. He had the clearest blue eyes he
thought he had ever seen. He figured the kid was around 17,
maybe 18. The nose was straight and fine and he had a mouth
and chin that looked like they were chiseled out of granite.
There were lines around that mouth and the eyes that were
out of place on one so young. "Well lad, my boys are 'bout
half mile behind me. We'll be puttin' up for the night in a
coupl'a hours, how'd yuh like to take supper with us?"
Morgan's stomach fairly jumped up in his throat. His pride
wanted him to say no thank you, but instead he found himself
saying, "I think I would like that very much sir."
Tiny's grin came back, "Well lad, I would 'preciate it if yuh
would drop the sir. I got stuck with the moniker Tiny a long
time ago, and am purty used to it. So, do me a favor and just
call me that. Well come along and let's find us a spot to put
the wagons up for the night."
As they rode Tiny McCaulliffe cajoled Morgan's story out of
him. Morgan was a heading for Ft. Kearney to find his father,
who had been a Major in the Confederate army before being
captured and imprisoned by the Yankees. Later he had been
given a choice to join the Union Army to come out west and
fight the Indians. Morgan's mother had been killed when
Sherman's troops had marched through Georgia. Morgan had
been away in Virginia going to school when he got word of
her death. He had returned home to find nothing left of his
home, and not knowing what else to do he took his mother's
horse and his grandfather's pistol and set out to find his
father.
"So, yore pa's one of them Galvanized Yankees, eh, boy?"
roared Tiny.
"Yes sir, I have heard them called that. I have lost track of my
other family and decided that this was the best course of
action for me to take."
Tiny asked, "Son where'd ya come up with that Henry? Ya
know there's them about that'd lift yore hair for it, don't ya?"
"No sir, I hadn't thought about that. There are a lot of re-
peaters back home."
"Well young fella, there ain't a bunch out here, and most are
with the army. We seen some Spencers for sale here'n there.
But I ain't seen a Henry fer sale out here. Fact is that there's
only the second one I ever seen. An I warrant there's some
toughs along this here trail that would plum take it away from
a young 'un like you in a minute."
Morgan's eyes got steely, and the lines around his mouth and
eyes deepened, "Well, Tiny, I surely hope no one tries it."
Tiny shot Morgan an appraising look. He was not an
educated man, but he knew life, and men. This youngster
may be green as a gourd, but he had steel in his backbone,
and Tiny, for one, decided he wouldn't want to be the man
that decided to lift that Henry. "How'd yuh come by it, if'n
yuh don' mind my askin'?"
Morgan pondered and decided to answer. "When I got to my
home in Georgia, a Yankee officer was camped in my barn.
When I asked him to leave, he got nasty and found out that
my grandfather's Colt worked very well. I did not kill him,
but I did relieve him of his rifle and supplies to start my trip
west."
This just finalized what Tiny suspected, this lad would do to
ride the river with. They continued on for another five miles
and found a spot where they would camp for the night. Tiny
put the boy to work helping him gather wood and get a fire
going so when the wagons arrived they could start supper
without delay. As they waited they fought off the swarms of
mosquitoes that were the trademark of late afternoon on the
banks of the Platte.
Shortly, eleven wagons pulled by mule teams hove into view
and pandemonium reigned supreme as wagons were placed
into a rough circle, teams unhitched, watered, and fed. While
all this was going on one grizzled old man had rolled a
smaller wagon up to the fire glanced questioningly at Morgan
and flew into a whirlwind of activity cooking beans, biscuits,
coffee, and buffalo meat over the fire. Tiny put Morgan to
work helping Sam, the cook, who only grunted and pointed at
what he wanted done. But in an amazingly short time the
animals were bedded down in the center of the wagons and
12 men were gathered around the fire with tin plates and cups
in hand. Tiny introduced Morgan briefly, and they fell on the
food. Silence descended.
Morgan thought he had never tasted anything so good in his
whole life. Every time his plate hit bottom Sam. threw more
food on it. Pretty soon he could eat no more and leaned back
with a belch. He became aware that he was the center of
attention, and as he belched the men broke into laughter.
Sam. yelled, "Tiny, I think you finally found yore match in
puttin' vittles away! Either that dammed kid ain't et in six
months or he's holler." This brought another burst of laughter
from the men.
Tiny joined in the merriment and complained that he was
being picked on just because he had been off his feed on this
trip, only eating two or three plates a night. Tiny put Morgan
to work helping Sam clear up from supper and preparing for
the breakfast. When he finished he fell into his blankets and
died.
Morgan had thrown his bed roll under the grub wagon, and
was awakened in the pre-dawn when Sam started stoking up
the fire and rustling side pork and beans with biscuits for
breakfast. Morgan pitched in and helped Sam without
thinking about it.
Shortly Tiny approached with another man and they began
discussing the day's march. Morgan learned they were 15
miles from Ft. Kearney and, he hoped, his father.
After breakfast as the teams were hitched Morgan helped
Sam load his grub wagon and kill the fire. He rounded up
Lady and saddled her. This caught the attention of a young
teamster with flaming red hair who Morgan remembered as
Sean. He sauntered over and commented, "What in the name
of all saints is that there thing yore slingin' on that horse?"
Morgan had heard all this before and was prepared. He turned
to Sean and replied, "Well you see, this saddle was like yours
when I started on this trip, but since I am a tenderfoot, it's
taken me so long to get this far it has plumb worn down to
what you see."
Sean stood there for a second trying to decide whether to get
mad or laugh. The group of teamsters in earshot settled it for
him by howling. Sean turned red and in spite of himself
joined in. When he finally caught his breath he asked
seriously, "Honest Morgan I am curious. I ain't never seen
anything like that thing, what do you call it?"
Morgan, who had not joined in the laughter, let a smile come
over his face. "This is an English riding saddle. I imagine it is
not nearly as comfortable as yours, or as well suited for the
amount of riding I have been doing, but it is all I have."
Just then Tiny raised his head near the head wagon and
bellowed at Morgan to join him. Morgan gathered up Lady's
reins and moved to the front of the wagons and Tiny took him
by the arm and moved a few paces off to the side. "Well there
young feller, what're yer plans now?"
Morgan replied he would proceed up the trail to Ft. Kearney.
Tiny smiled as if he had known what Morgan's answer was
going to be. "Look my young friend, I don't know if yuh
know it or not, but yore in Injun country. They could take
your hair before the day was out if'n yuh was alone. Sam
could use yore help at chow time and yuh could hitch up with
us to the Fort. We'll be there tomorrow, what'cha say?"
Morgan thought about eating three square meals a day and
decided since he was this close to his father another day
would not make a great deal of difference and decided that he
would tag along with the freighters.
Morgan mounted Lady and rode back to Sam's wagon and
stepped down. He loosened the girth and tied Lady to the rear
of the wagon and stepped up into the wagon box with Sam.
Morgan spent the morning watching the river go by. Sam was
not one for idle chatter answering most conversations with a
grunt or total silence. At noon they approached Hook's
Station sometimes referred to as Dogtown. There wasn't
much to see but five or six miserable adobe shacks and a
prairie dotted with thousands of prairie dogs. They trundled
through under the watchful eyes of two hangers-on who
looked like they hadn't been near water or food for some
time.
Lunch consisted of cold hastily put together biscuits, buffalo
meat and brewed coffee beside the banks of the Platte. True
to most western meals, as Morgan was finding, eating was the
main point of business. There was little conversation. The
teams were unhitched and led down to the river and watered.
Morgan took the saddle and bridle off Lady, fitted her with a
hackamore and led her down to the bank also, then let her
graze as the teamsters returned to waiting wagons and began
to hitch up. As the train began to roll he climbed aboard Lady
and cantered her up the bank and tied her to the rear of the
wagon, ran up and swung up into the wagon box with Sam.
As the afternoon wore on Morgan began to doze in the hot
afternoon sun. About two o'clock a huge black cloud seemed
to roll in from nowhere, the wind picked up and lightning and
thunder were everywhere. It began to pour rain in virtual
sheets of water. Sam had donned a slicker at the first sight of
the clouds and advised Morgan to do the same, or climb
under the wagon canvas, which he did, not having a slicker. It
was like being in some kind of fireworks display, with
constant lightning and thunder. This went on for about 20
minutes, and as suddenly as the clouds appeared, they
dissipated, and the sun came out as hot as ever. Within ten
minutes the wagon wheels were kicking up dust again, almost
as though it had never rained. Morgan was awed. Sam
explained that this was usual for this time of the year east of
the Rockies. But sometimes it got really nasty and hailed the
size of eggs. The buffalo gnats returned with the sun. Morgan
almost wished the rain had lasted longer just to get more
relief from these pests.
Late in the afternoon they approached what Sam referred to
as the Grand Islands. These were a series of Islands in
midstream that were covered in heavy brush and huge old
trees. Sam also informed Morgan they were within two miles
of Kearney City, or 'Dobeytown. They planned to spend the
night outside town.
As the sun fell to the horizon they approached Kearney City,
and went into their night camp at the eastern edge of the
town. The scene of the previous night was repeated, only with
a little more speed tonight. There was also more conversation
at supper, as the men discussed the prospect of wetting their
whistles at the local saloons. Morgan did not join into the
conversations, but listened intently. The thing that came
through without it really being said was 'Dobeytown was not
a nice place. He learned that there was apt to be several
killings a week in the town and the cemetery population was
larger than the town.
After the men ate they disappeared into the town in small
groups. Morgan stayed with Sam and helped him finish the
clean up. Tiny also was in the camp with two other men who
were staying behind to take the first watch. He sauntered over
as he and Sam were finishing up.
"Yuh goin' ta town Sam?" Tiny asked.
"No Tiny, I think I'll leave that to the young bucks. Me, I jest
want some quite time and some shuteye."
Tiny turned to Morgan, "How 'bout you?"
Morgan thought about it. "Yes, I think I'll go see what I can
find out about my Pa."
Tiny nodded, "Well young'un if'n yuh don't mind me given
yuh some advice, I'd leave the Henry here. There here's a
mighty rough place. I would carry your belly gun though if'n
yuh know how to use it, that is."
Morgan assured him he knew how to use his pocket colt, but
allowed as how he thought he would take the Henry anyway,
and the two of them proceeded to walk the quarter mile to
town. Morgan watched as they approached the outskirts of
the town. The main street seemed to be just one saloon or
gambling den after another with only an occasional dry goods
store; smithy or what have you sandwiched in between.
Tiny asked if he liked pie, to which Morgan assured him he
did. He led them to a small cafe that was run by a widow in
her late fifties, who was called Aunt Bessie. Tiny bought
them each a slab of apple pie that was two inches thick and as
good a pie as Morgan had ever tasted, and hot black coffee.
The cafe was a bedlam of soldiers, and other men eating, and
yelling at each other.
Morgan noticed a young lieutenant sitting at the lunch
counter eating supper, who appeared alone. After he and Tiny
finished he walked over to the officer and introduced himself,
and asked, "I wonder, sir, if you are acquainted with a soldier
at the fort by the name of John Wells?"
The lieutenant explained that he had only been at the fort a
short time, but was pretty sure that there was no soldier by
that name at Ft. Kearney, but that he could verify it the next
morning at the commanding officer's office. Morgan thanked
the lieutenant and went back to the table where Tiny sat.
Just then Sean ran into the restaurant and looked around for
Tiny, finally spotting him, and rushing over, he was quite out
of breath and red in the face. "Tiny, I think you'd better come
over to the Prairie Dog. Several of the boys are in a tight spot
with some local toughs."
Tiny jumped up, threw some coins on the table, shouted to
Sean and Morgan to round up the rest of the crew and bring
them to the saloon on the double, and rushed out.
Morgan picked up the Henry and followed Sean to the street.
He asked Sean where the Prairie Dog was.
Sean replied, "It is in the next block just around the corner to
the right, first building."
Morgan instructed Sean, "You go find the rest of the crew;
I'm going to back Tiny's play."
They went their separate ways. Morgan ran to the saloon,
located a small alleyway that ran beside it and proceeded to
the rear door of the saloon. As he ran up he heard the obvious
sounds of a fight. He edged through the door and found
himself in a long hall. He ran towards the front of the saloon
and reached a doorway that led to bedlam! Several men had
four of the teamsters from Tiny's crew backed up against the
bar. Tiny was close to the door and surrounded by another
bunch of toughs. The teamsters were badly outnumbered, and
the men doing the outnumbering were a rough looking bunch.
Morgan stepped through the doorway and levered a shell into
firing chamber of the Henry, with a quick aim he let fly with
a round into the floor directly at the feet of group hurrahing
the four teamsters at the bar. Levering another round into the
chamber, he fired another round at the feet of the group
surrounding Tiny. The two shots were fired so quickly that
they were almost as one. The sound of the twin .44 blasts in
the confines of the saloon were deafening, and the acrid
smoke choking.
Morgan quickly levered a third round into the Henry and
stepped into the room through the cloud of smoke. The room
was dead quiet; most of the occupants had dived for cover.
Morgan quickly surveyed the room; one of the toughs had
snatched a Colt from his belt and was just swinging it into
line at Morgan. Morgan fired again and put a slug into the
planking right at his assailant's right heel. The man jumped
into the air dropping his gun and freezing into a statue. As he
levered the Henry, Tiny threw off the two men who had been
holding his arms, and bellowed, "All right lads, that's nuff!
This here young'un means business with that there repeater,
and I don't think any of yuh wants to get planted over a
friendly little scuffle, now do yuh?"
Slowly the men in the saloon began to climb to their feet,
looking slightly stunned. The four teamsters at the bar
worked their way cautiously over to Tiny and the five of
them stood in a circle looking across the clearing at Morgan.
He moved cautiously further into the room. Suddenly the bat
wing doors were pushed in and a corporal and two troopers
stormed into the saloon with guns drawn.
"All right everyone freeze right where you are!" He looked
around the saloon and his eyes settled on Morgan. "Young
fellow lower that rifle, now!"
Morgan reached down and gently dropped the hammer and
settled the rifle into the crook of his elbow and let the muzzle
droop at the floor.
"Now . . ." said the corporal, "What in Sam Hell is going on
in here.
Tiny stepped forward " I reckon I can answer that, my boys
just came in off the trail, and I 'spect that some of the local
fellers pushed 'em a bit, an' these boys just don' like ta be
pushed." Turning to his men he asked, "Am I right?"
His men nodded in agreement. Tiny said, "I 'spect, corporal,
the best thing me'n mah boys can do is to find someplace else
to wash the trail dust away."
The corporal nodded his agreement, "All right you gather
your men and skedaddle, we'll watch your back, and make
sure no one follows you."
Tiny and his men hastily gathered themselves up and moved
through the doors into the street. Tiny motioned for them to
follow him and moved back towards the restaurant. About
half way they ran into Sean with several more of the
teamsters running down the middle of the street.
"Hold up there, fellers!" Tiny commanded. The men skidded
to a halt. "The trouble is all over. There was a little mite of
trouble at The Prairie Dog." Tiny told them all what had
happened including what Morgan had done, and concluded
by saying, so's I want you fellers to find another water'n hole
to wet yore whistles at, and none of you go back ta the Dog,
ya hear?"
The men straggled past Tiny with slaps on the back and good
going for Morgan.
Tiny and Morgan were left alone on the noisy street, and Tiny
turned to Morgan and asked, "Lad, where'n hell'd yuh learn to
stay that cool and shoot like that?"
Morgan gave pause, and replied, "I don't know. My father
taught me to shoot from an early age, and I was always able
to hit what I aimed at. The last four years all I have seen is
one battle after another around where I lived, and everything
I have known has been destroyed or stolen. My family is
scattered all over creation. I am not even sure my father is out
here. All I know, Tiny, is I am tired of guns, tired of killing . .
. maybe just tired. If you don't mind I think I will go back to
camp and bed down for the night."
Tiny looked into the eyes of the young man in front of him
and read a lot of pain, too much for one so young. "Son, this
here's a tough land. But, it'll someday be tamed. It needs
young'uns like you, young'uns with steel in back, and a clear
idear of what they want and where they are goin'. I think yuh
got all them qualities, and I hope yuh don't go sorry on life.
Yuh got too much goin' for yuh. Yuh go get some sleep, an'
I'll see yuh in the mornin'."
Morgan nodded, turned on his heel and started back to camp.
Tiny watched him go, and sighed. He thought to himself, God
amighty what we don't do to ourselves. This war had torn the
country to shreds. Even out here miles from the nearest
battlefield it's effects were felt. The west was overrun with
men from both sides, many bitter like Morgan. Many were
killers through and through. It seems like it had taken
something out of the conscience of the whole nation, and
Tiny wondered if it wasn't lost forever. Had this nation lost
its innocence? He turned and went to find his men, but there
was no levity left for him this night.
Morgan lay under the cook wagon rolled into his blankets.
His mouth was still like cotton, even though he had drunk a
dipper of water just before lying down. His thoughts swirled
around. Was there ever going to be any peace? Was he going
to have to spend his whole life with a rifle in his hand? He
wondered about this strange land he had come into. It seemed
to him there was no softness in it. There were few women,
and the men all seemed to be driven, either by greed, or some
other devil. They worked hard, played hard, and drank hard.
They also fought. Usually it was only fists and maybe a knife.
But they all carried guns, and when they drank it seemed to
him it was all too easy to reach for it. More often than not
they shot holes into the floor, wall, or ceiling being too drunk
to hit what they were aiming at, but men still died, or were
maimed.
Eventually his thoughts turned to life before the war, with
school, and his mother. She had been beautiful and warm. He
missed her very much. And with her image in his mind he fell
into an uneasy sleep. His sleep was disturbed several times
that night with the sound of gunfire.
Chapter Two
The Search Begins
After breakfast the next morning, Tiny approached Morgan,
and asked, "Lad would yuh like to mosey over to the Fort
with me?"
Morgan allowed as he would, and the two of them saddled
their horses and passed through the sleeping town and out to
the Fort. Morgan was taken back as there was no stockade or
ramparts, just a collection of buildings and corrals strung
along the banks of the Platte. At the western edge of the fort
was what seemed like a small city of wagons. This must be a
train on the way west.
Tiny pulled up in front of a building that announced itself as
the headquarters for the Third U.S. Volunteers, according to a
sign above the door. They climbed down and hitched the
horses to a hitching post and entered the headquarters. Tiny
was known to Sergeant Major Armbruster who was seated
inside the door behind a cluttered table. Armbruster was an
imposing man with a craggy face, large shoulders, and eyes
that could see right through you.
Armbruster greeted Tiny as an old friend and poured he and
Morgan a cup of coffee from a battered porcelain pot that had
been simmering on a pot bellied stove set in the middle of the
room. Then asked, "Have a seat you two. How've you been
Tiny? Are you on your way to Santa Fe or Denver?"
Tiny slurped a bit of the steaming coffee, and replied,
"Denver, with 11 freight wagons Sergeant Major. By the by,
this here's a friend of mine, name of Morgan Wells."
Armbruster squinted at Morgan and nodded. "Tiny, how
many men do you have in your company?"
"Ah've got 12 not countin' Morgan here, who's jest taggin'
along as far as this here fort. He's lookin' fer his Pa who's one
of them Galvanized Yankees yuh got here."
Armbruster turned to Morgan and muttered, "Wells . . .
Wells, John Wells, by any chance?"
Morgan's heart skipped a beat and he answered, "Yes Sir! Is
he here?"
Armbruster shook his head, and said "Was, but he has been
moved to a new post on the Bozeman Trail. Left here for Ft.
Laramie right after Christmas, an' I've heard that he's joined
Carrington's outfit headed further north to build a new fort."
Morgan's face stiffened and it was easy to see how
disappointed he was, even though he tried to hide it.
Armbruster turned to Tiny, "Old friend I've got some bad
news for you. The post commander just issued an order that
no one can go on from here unless he has a hundred wagons
or a hundred rifles. And he means it. You probably noticed
the train just east of the post, they got 57 wagons, but only 70
or so rifles, and the whole passel of 'em is pilgrims. They
been sittin' for four days waitin' for another train."
"Damn, Sergeant Major, yuh know my outfit, we been makin'
this here trip fer three years now, an' the Injuns know us an'
leave us be, an we all got Spencer repeaters. Do yuh think
yuh kin get the old man to let us go?"
Armbruster grimaced, "Tiny, he wouldn't let the President
himself go on without the 100 rifles. But I might get him to
let you and the wagon train move out. Personally I wouldn't
want to go with that bunch. They're some bunch of religious
folks from Tennessee. Not much fight in them. I worry about
them; if the Injuns decide to take them on I ain't too sure they
could hold their own. They ain't one veteran in the bunch,
they don't believe in fighting! I ain't too sure it wouldn't be
better to wait for the next train can't be more a day or so
before another one rolls in."
Tiny groaned, "Wull let me mosey out an' talk to them folks,
an' see what I kin figure out, an' yuh see if the old man will
let us go if we kin work out somethin' with 'em."
Morgan asked, "Excuse me sir, how far is it to this post that
my father is going to?"
Armbruster replied, "I don't rightly know son, its 350 miles to
Ft. Laramie. They were given an order to move from there up
the Bozeman and set up two or three more posts to protect the
trail. That's all I know at this point."
Morgan thanked the Sergeant Major and he and Tiny rose and
went out into the bright morning light.
They mounted up and rode towards the wagon train. Tiny
turned to Morgan and asked, "This here's prob'ly a dumb
question, but I suppose yuh're figurin' on goin' to Ft.
Laramie?"
"Yes sir, I am Tiny. I haven't come this far to give up now.
Do you know the trail to Ft. Laramie?"
"Sure do Morgan, but lets you an' me talk to these folks at the
wagon train, an' we'll talk more about this later. I got me an
idea or two."
They came up to the first group of wagons, and asked one of
the men where they might find the wagon master, and were
given directions. Tiny thanked the man and they moved out
toward the designated group of wagons.
Morgan was looking at the people as they moved away.
There were women, children, cows, furniture, farming
implements, and all parts of the settler’s life scattered around
the wagons. The people were gathered around camp fires in
the midst of finishing their breakfast. The younger kids were
chasing about. And all in all it looked a little like a circus he
had seen when he was a kid. He wondered where this bunch
was off to.
At the group of wagons Tiny asked to see Reverend Angst. A
tall slender man in a black frock coat rose from a rocker that
was next to the fire, and smiling, said, "That is me suh."
Tiny climbed down, and stretching out his huge paw said,
"Mornin', muh name's Tiny McCaulliffe, ah'm wagon boss of
some freighters." The two men were equal in height but a
study in contrasts as they shook hands. Tiny was twice as
wide as the Reverend. The Reverend was clean shaven and
immaculate beside the rough dressed teamster.
Reverend Angst asked, "May we offer you two some coffee
and hot biscuits?"
Tiny accepted, "Reverend Angst, we would 'preciate that.
We'd like to talk a mite of business with yuh."
They sat down in offered chairs and accepted the proffered
cups and biscuits. Reverend Angst asked, "And what kind of
business would that be?"
"Well we just came from the Sergeant Major, an' he tells me
we can't go on without 100 wagons or rifles. Well sir we don't
have 'em. But the Sergeant Major figures the Old Man might
let us move on if we join up with you."
Reverend Angst frowned, "How many in your party?"
"There's 12 of us; maybe 13. But we been over this trail many
times an' the Injuns know us an' haven't bothered us many a
month. ’Sides we got Spencer repeaters."
The Reverend stood up, "Mr. McCaulliffe, I have to tell you
up front I am not too sure about this. We have noted that most
men out here are a lawless bunch. We are all families, with
children. I am not sure we wouldn't be better off waiting for
another train with a similar complement."
Tiny smiled, "Yes suh, I reckon I can see how that might
worry yuh. But my boys are solid, most of them been with me
for more’n three years. They ain't drifters, an' half of 'em are
married, with their families in St. Joe. 'Sides from what the
Sergeant Major tells me yuh don't have a trail boss with you
that has been over the trail."
"That is true." the Reverend replied.
"Now yuh see from here on in this here Oregon Trail gets to
be meaner an' meaner. The Injuns been hurrahing trains real
powerful fer the past two years, an' I figure this year it's goin'
to be worse. With me an' my men in front I figure you just
might skate by with no trouble. We could get yuh ta
Julesburg where yuh can hook up with another train. Tell yuh
what, yuh talk it over with your folks an' have a chat with the
Sergeant Major. Me'n him go way back. He'll tell you about
my boys, an' me."
The Reverend chewed on that for a moment and looking
around at some of the men and women gathered around
listening, finally nodded. "Mr. McCaulliffe, that sounds like a
reasonable offer. I will do just that. Where can we find you
when we make up our minds?"
"We are 'bout quarter mile t'other side of town. It's probably
too late to get headed out today, but we could leave bright an'
early tomorrow, if'n you make up your minds soon 'nough.
We'll be waitin' fer yore answer. Good day, an thank you for
the coffee and biscuits."
Tiny and Morgan stood up to go, and as Morgan turned he
was still looking at the tall Reverend rather than looking
behind him and collided with something soft that smelled real
good. He blushed and looked down into the prettiest face he
had ever seen! "E-ex-cuse me ma'am," he stammered.
The girl had thrown her hands up as Morgan had moved
toward her and they now rested on his chest. Morgan found it
was getting real hard to breathe. She was almost as tall as he
was, with jet black hair braided into one central braid. She
was wearing a plain grey dress with no adornment, and
gingham apron. Her eyes were grey, like a morning dove.
She pushed back gently, "That is quite all right sir, I hope you
do not make a habit of walking before looking." The words
would have stung had she not finished them with a radiant
smile. Morgan was totally tongue tied, he did manage to tip
his hat and get out of the circle of wagons without running
into anyone, or anything else.
Morgan didn't get his breathing back to normal until the two
men reached their horses. Tiny looked over his saddle at the
young man with a bemused look said, "Morgan that there was
one real purty young lady, don' yuh think?"
Morgan smiled back, "Tiny that was the most beautiful girl I
have ever seen!"
Tiny chuckled, mounted up and turned back towards the fort,
"Come on son, we got us some talkin' to do."
Morgan caught up Lady's reins and jumped aboard and
galloped after Tiny. They rode straight back to Sergeant
Major Armbruster's office where they found that Armbruster
had received permission for the combined groups to precede.
Now all they needed was for the Reverend Angst and his
group to agree and they would be on their way.
After returning to the camp and unsaddling their horses, Tiny
and Morgan proceeded to the camp fire where a large pot of
coffee was hung, and poured themselves a cup of coffee. Tiny
hunkered down next to the grub wagon leaning on the rear
wheel and said to Morgan, "Son I'd like yuh to stay with us to
Latham’s crossing. That'll take us about three weeks. We
could use yore repeater, and yuh could help out around the
wagons. Here let me show yuh what we're talkin' 'bout."
Tiny took up a stick, and began to draw a rough map in the
dirt. The line went west for a short way then forked with one
line moving off to the northwest more or less on a straight
line from that point to Ft. Laramie. This he explained
followed the north fork of the Platte, then he drew a second
line that diverged from the first and went southwest to
Julesburg and Latham’s crossing before bellying and turning
north. This was the South Platte.
"Now if'en yuh was to follow the north fork yuh'd be on yore
own again. An I'm here to tell yuh that between the Injuns,
and some of the salts floatin' aroun' this part of the world,
yuh'd be plumb lucky to make it to Ft. Laramie. Yore chances
of findin' another train headed that way would be less likely,
as most of these folks is headed fer Orygon. Ah think yuh'd
have a purty fair chance of meetin' up with 'nother group of
teamsters headin' fer Ft. Laramie 'er Virginia City down this
here trail."
Morgan studied the map, and asked, "It appears to me that the
southern route is twice as far as following the north fork, is
that true?"
"Sure 'nuff is Morgan. If yuh want ta hang out here 'til yuh
can hook up with a bunch headed that way, I reckon that'd be
awright. But I don' advise headin' up that road on yore
lonesome."
"I think I will ask around town, and see if anyone knows of a
group headed up the North Platte. If not I'll let you know my
answer when I get back."
Tiny sighed, "Morgan yuh got any walkin' 'round money in
yore pockets?"
"Yes, Tiny, I have a little money. It isn't much, but I expect it
will get me to where I am going." He smiled at the man
feeling warm inside for the first time in a long while. He
realized he had made a great new friend in this bear of a man.
Morgan stood up, went over to the wash pan and rinsed his
cup, returned it to the wagon, with a wave at Tiny and Sam
started walking back toward town.
Tiny yelled at him to hold up a second. Went around the back
of Sam's wagon and rummaged around coming up with what
looked like a long leather sleeve, and walked over to Morgan.
"Here . . . put that there repeater inta this."
Morgan took the article from Tiny and realized that it was a
sheath. He slipped the Henry into it. All that was left showing
was the butt plate, yet the underside was unlaced part of the
way so he could place his hand on the rifle grip.
"That 'ull help yuh stay out'a trouble."
Morgan thanked the man and continued to town. He spent the
rest of the morning drifting from establishment to
establishment seeking some group headed up the North
Platte, with no luck. Around noon he drifted into a general
store and bought a can of peaches that cost 50 cents, which he
thought, was pretty steep. Returning to the front he sat down
on the edge of the porch and using his knife opened and ate
the peaches.
Noting a corral full of horses on a side street, he decided to
see if there was a livery stable, where a fellow might pick up
a used saddle. Sure enough there was a small
livery/blacksmith combination next to the corral. As he
entered into the shade of the smithy two men were hard at it
dickering over the price of a horse. Morgan sat down on a
chopping block and listened as the two went at it. The price
for the mare was $150 and the liveryman wasn't budging. The
man trying to bargain him down looked to be a miner, and
was not winning. Morgan studied the horse; she looked to be
a good traveler, but not worth anything like $150. He figured
he could buy horses like her for $25 all day back home. The
miner finally decided the liveryman wasn't going to back
down, spun on his heel and stomped out into the street.
The liveryman turned to Morgan and asked, "What can I do
for you young fella?"
Morgan smiled, and said, "Well I came up here figuring to
ask about a used saddle, but from what I just saw I couldn't
afford one."
The man chuckled, "I got one old hulk in the back that I
would sell, but if you want to use it for more than an
afternoon ride I wouldn't advise you to buy it. It's pretty used
up."
Morgan bought a bait of grain for Lady, grimacing at the
price, and returned to the campsite. He fed the grain to Lady
and walked over to the grub wagon where Sam was seated on
a log. No one else appeared to be around.
Sam looked up as Morgan walked up, "Did'ja have any luck
in town findin' a troop headed up the North Platte?"
"No I didn't. I am seriously considering trying it on my own. I
have had no trouble so far traveling on my own."
"Son, I surely admire yore spunk, but if'en you'll listen to an
old man who’s been over the mountain a few times, I got me
some advice fer yuh. This here's Injun country. We been out
here less'en 15 years in any numbers. These Injun folks is
good folks, but they don't cotton to as many white men
floatin' around their land as there is. They ain't no one on that
trail 'ceptin a few old mountain men and a tradin' post or two.
You got a mighty intrestin' cayuse, and them Injuns would
surely try an' take her away from yuh. Now you, on the other
hand, probably wouldn't like that much, and would put up a
fight. An' then they would surely kill yuh. T'wouldn't be
anythin' personal, mind you, but to an Injun they ain't nothin'
more fun then stealin' horses. Most times I let a man fork his
own broncs, and fight his own battles, but I taken a liken to
you boy, an' I surely wouldn't want nothin' to happen to yuh
jest 'cause you ain't got the experience yet, yuh need."
Morgan could see the old timer was deadly serious, and it
made him feel warm that he thought so highly of him.
Sam looked up, "We got a pot of beans warm, if you'd like a
plate help yourself." Morgan allowed as how he thought he
could handle a plate, and filled a plate with beans and
grabbed a cup of coffee and sitting cross legged started to eat.
Just then he saw Tiny returning from town.
Tiny rode up to the remuda, unsaddled and rubbed down his
horse with his blanket and joined the two men at the fire.
"Well Morgan did'ja find anyone headin' north?"
"No sir, I did not. I suppose my best bet is to hang with you
folks, even though it takes me out of my way. But I don't feel
like I have anything to offer to pay my way."
Tiny chuckled, "Morgan, we set out on this trip shorthanded,
and that ain't no bull. Two of my reglar boys had to stay
behind. Sam, here, surely could use yore help, an' the boys
would be tickled if'en they was 'nother hand to help out with
night guard. It ain't no fun workin' sunup to dark, an' then
have'n to pull night watch. So you could earn yore way an'
some wages on top of it if yuh was willin'."
"In that case I guess I'd be a fool if I didn't stay on. I don't
have much money left, and I'm about out of cartridges for the
Henry. And from what Sam has been telling me, it is quite
likely that I might need some before I hit Ft. Laramie."
"Then that's settled. Yuh hike up to Green's Dry Goods an'
tell him to give yuh 50 rounds, an' put it on my bill."
Morgan thanked him and left for Green's.
As he entered Green's Dry Goods he stopped just inside the
door and took in the good smells. There was the smell of
leather, dried apples, and fresh coffee. The store clerk was
grinding coffee beans for what appeared to be a group of
women with several children.
While he was waiting his turn he wandered around the store
looking at the merchandise crowding the shelves and aisles.
He thought to himself that it would sure be nice to buy some
new clothes. He only had two shirts and pants to his name,
and they were getting pretty threadbare. Morgan had
wandered toward the back of the store away from the group
being waited on. There was the sound of a loud slap and
some cursing from the front of the store. Morgan turned and
walked back toward the front of the store just in time to see
the clerk come over the counter with a gun in his fist and a
very red face.
A man who had been at the bar, which was through some bat
wing doors, had accosted one of the younger, prettier women
in the group and had gotten his face slapped. Apparently he
had not liked it and being in his cups had exercised extremely
poor judgement and had grabbed hold of her. Before the store
clerk could reach the cowboy, three men burst through the bat
wing doors and immediately surrounded the man and hauled
him back through the bat wing doors where were heard some
rather strong words as to what would happen to him if he
didn't head out of town and keep traveling. The store clerk was
calming the women down and assuring them that all was well,
"that no lady was going to be
manhandled in this, or any other business establishment, in
this town."
Morgan knew that the drunken man was lucky to get off so
lightly. There were not a great number of unattached women
in the West. So the women who were out here were prized
and protected, much more so than back east. He had learned
quickly on his travels that most men out here carried some
sort of weapon, and was quite proficient in its use, whether it
be a knife, hand gun, rifle, or shotgun. And, they were not
bashful in using them, when the situation warranted.
Suddenly Morgan noticed the young lady he had bumped into
at the wagon train. Stepping back out of the aisle, where he
could study her without being observed. He felt the same
constriction in his chest that he had at their first meeting. She
was lithe and moved with graceful movements. He made up
his mind that before he left the train and headed north to Ft.
Laramie, he was going to know all about this young lady!
Eventually the clerk finished with the women and they left as
a group, and Morgan watched the girl until she was out of
sight. He completed his purchase and returned to the camp.
As returned he learned that Reverend Angst had talked to the
Sergeant Major and had agreed to travel with the freighters.
So everything was being made ready to head out at first light.
Morgan joined Sam in the preparation of supper.
After supper Tiny paired him with Sean for the midnight to
two watch. Morgan spent some time listening to the men talk
about the countryside and their doings in town. His father had
instilled in him, at a young age, the discipline of listening. He
took in everything he heard and had been doing so since he
left home. This had stood him in good stead as he worked his
way west. He had avoided much trouble and bad places along
the trail just by this habit of listening. Eventually he
wandered away from the fire and rolled up in his blankets so
he could get some sleep before standing his first watch.
Chapter Three
Looking for the Girl
The sky was just barely showing light when Sam rousted him
out and they began breakfast. The teamsters were already
beginning to hitch their mule teams up. By the time the
eastern sky had turned to pale blue, they were under way.
As they passed the just awakening fort they could see that the
wagon train was already forming up. Tiny took them past the
train to the head. He halted them and rode over to where
Reverend Angst stood and they conferred for a few minutes,
whereupon Tiny returned to the head of the freighters and
started them out. Morgan watched as they passed the line of
wagons looking for the girl he had such an interest in, but in
the early dawn light he could not recognize her.
By the time the sun finally broke the horizon they had been
on the trail at least one-half hour. He peered over the side
behind them and the first thing he noticed was the huge cloud
of dust already hanging in the early morning stillness. He
could not see more than two or three wagons behind them.
Turning, he said to Sam, "If you don't need me I'd like to take
Lady and ride back a ways and see the train."
Sam replied, "I don't reckon I need yuh 'til noon."
Morgan jumped down and caught up Lady's lead line
loosening it from the tailgate and swung aboard bareback and
started down the line of wagons. One of the first things he
noticed was that very few people were riding in the wagons.
Most were walking upwind of the wagons out on the prairie.
A few of the men and boys were mounted on horses and were
riding along side of the train. Age did not seem to matter he
saw very young children as well as older men and women all
walking. He scanned the women looking for the young lady he would
like to get to know. But they all were wearing bonnets or
head scarves and were indistinguishable.
Morgan turned south and rode off to a bluff where he could
see more of the sight. It was really something! By this time
the lead wagon was out of sight and as far as he could see in
both directions were wagons and people strung out beside
them. He sat there for a few minutes just thinking. These
people were from Tennessee and were going Oregon. And by
the looks of it most were walking all the way! He wondered
why, what drove them to undertake such an arduous journey.
He had heard a little of the talk about Oregon. But with so
much available land between here and there, why go that far?
At least they had a goal. What did he have? If, and when, he
found his father, then what? Morgan knew he did not want to
go back to Georgia. He had found a land that was raw, new
and untamed, yet it presented opportunities that were
unbounded. He made a vow to himself to give serious
thought in the coming days to his future. One thing he knew
for sure it was going to be in this new land. He felt at home.
He turned Lady west and dropped off the bluff and rode back
to the train. As he rode along he kept an eye out for the young
lady, but met with no success. Eventually he caught up with
Sam. Morgan tied Lady to the rear of the wagon and ran to
the front and climbed up beside Sam.
The rest of the morning was uneventful. With the river on the
right and rolling prairie on the left, it soon became
monotonous. The mosquitoes and clouds of Buffalo gnats
were ever present and made life miserable.
Just before noon, Sam pulled out and passed the rest of the
heavily loaded freight wagons and kept on until he found
Tiny waiting beside the trail where they would have the noon
meal. While Sam started the meal Morgan unhitched the team
and took them and Lady down to the river so they could
drink. When he returned he hobbled the mules, and let them
graze on the sparse grass. One thing he had noticed there
wasn't much grass along the trail that hadn't been grazed
down to the roots by preceding wagon trains.
After lunch he hitched up the team and helped Sam finish
cleaning up and repacking the wagon. They caught back up to
their place in line and the afternoon was a repeat of the
morning, except the buffalo gnats seemed to have multiplied
ten-fold. They descended in veritable clouds and filled
nostrils, noses, ears and any other cavity they could find. The
mules were equally plagued. All in all, they made life
miserable.
As evening approached they again moved to the front and
found Tiny waiting for them. Supper was soon underway, and
the rest of the wagon train caught up with them. The mules
were unhitched and watered, then driven south where Tiny
had found graze for them.
After finishing with the nightly clean up and setting up for
the next morning it was twilight and Morgan rolled into his
blanket for a couple hours sleep before he and Sean had to be
up and ride night herd on the remuda. Tiny made a point of
telling him to be extra alert. They were in Indian country for
sure, and they would steal any horse not under guard. Mules
were considered good eating, and were equally in jeopardy.
The days continued much the same. At the start of the sixth
day Sam told him that they would be at Cottonwood Springs
by mid afternoon and it had been decided to overnight there.
This was considered one of the more dangerous parts of the
trail and Charles MacDonald had a ranch there, and there had
been a small fort as well. He also opined it might be a good
idea to keep his rifle and belly gun close at hand.
Around four in the afternoon they arrived at Cottonwood
Springs. Morgan surveyed the large corral which was
bordered by an extensive stockade of logs and a station
house. Additionally there were three abandoned log cabins.
He later learned this was the remains of what had been Ft.
McPherson. The river was bounded by bluffs that rose 150
feet high, which had many hollows filled with underbrush
and willows. In the middle of the Platte was an island that
stretched for a mile. All in all it was a pretty spot, but Morgan
could see that it was also a place where they could be
ambushed quite easily.
They circled the wagons, along with a group of the wagon
train's wagons so to encompass a larger area. Immediately the
stock was unhitched and driven off the trail to where there
was adequate grazing. Later in the evening they would be
returned to center of the circle so they could be watched over.
Sam and Morgan spent the afternoon catching up on
maintenance chores on the wagon, harness, and cooking gear
that had been waiting to be done. As they were preparing
supper Tiny approached and informed Morgan he would be
teamed up with members of the wagon train for the 10 to
midnight watch and where to meet them.
After the evening meal Morgan proceeded to groom Lady
and wash out one of this outfits and take a bath in the river.
Feeling greatly refreshed he rolled up in his blanket roll at
sundown to get a little sleep before pulling his night shift.
Sean woke him for his turn at night guard, and fell into his
blanket roll as Morgan left. He approached the wagon where
he was to meet with the others he would be pulling guard
with, as he approached the area, a female voice came out of
the darkness, bidding him welcome. It was her!
She was standing in a group near a wagon tongue. Morgan
again felt the tightness in his chest and the dryness in his
mouth, but managed to say hello. The group was made of
members of the wagon train, with the exception of himself.
As they were pairing off and getting their assignments, he
found himself paired with the young lady and her brother.
Morgan managed to introduce himself, and learned her name
was Deborah Angst, the daughter of Reverend Angst, and her
brother's name was Tom. After a time of mutual shyness they
began conversing slowly. Eventually she began to question
him about himself. Morgan told her his story, and began to
question her.
Deborah explained she was 19, the oldest of four children,
and had been born in Tennessee. This trip was the only time
she had been away from her farm home in the hills. And she
was excited to be going to Oregon. She was amazed how big
and beautiful the country they had traversed was. And yet,
from what they had been told, they had not seen anything yet.
All too soon the end of their time on guard was finished, and
Morgan returned to the camp and rolled into his blanket roll.
Sleep was elusive. He replayed their conversation in his mind
over and over.
Damn, she was the most fascinating girl he had ever met, and
in a too short time he would be on his way north to Ft.
Laramie while she continued on towards Oregon.
Chapter Four
Groans Came From Out of the Darkness
The following morning they arrived in Julesburg. The town
was obviously in the rebuilding process. In February the
Indians had attacked the town and burned it to the ground.
Several tents on the main street were in use for different
businesses while the building of more permanent buildings
was going on at the same time.
They continued through Julesburg and onto Camp Rankin
which sat on the Cache la Poudre opposite of mouth of
Lodgepole Creek. There were several meadows around the
camp. They proceeded to set up camp in one of them. Several
people left for the town to get supplies. Tiny put his wagons
further to the west of the camp.
Most of the mule skinners were seeing to their equipment.
Morgan helped Sam with the necessary chores and fixing
what needed fixing. Tiny came up and asked if he was going
into town. Morgan thought for a second and replied that he
might later.
Towards evening, after supper, he decided to see if he could
get a saddle. Tiny had given him $25 as wages. He saddled
Lady and rode onto the main street. Most of the men were
ragged and dirty, as well as looking like they ate raw meat for
breakfast. Morgan spotted a corral and headed for it. It was a
livery stable, of sorts. He tied Lady to the corral fence and
went looking for someone. He found a man who wore
overalls and the cleanest hat he had seen for many months.
Morgan asked if he were the man in charge of the corral. The
man allowed as how he was. Morgan explained that he was
looking for a used saddle. The man said that he had several,
and went to a shack behind the corral, and opened the door,
went inside. There was a pile of saddles that was covered in
dirt and straw. After sorting and dickering over several
saddles, it came down to one. It was probably the oldest
saddle in the bunch, but it looked serviceable. The price was
$50, not a cent less. Morgan said that was more than he had,
and started to walk out. Just then Sean walked up and asked
“Howdy, what’s up?”
Morgan explained what he was trying to do. Then Sean
started dickering with the older man in the clean hat. The man
refused to lower the price for the saddle. Then Sean said that
they worked for Tiny MacAuliffe, and they had purchased
other gear from him. The man grinned and said, “Why didn’t
you say so,” turning to Morgan he reached out his hand and
exclaimed “my name is Abe, What’s yours.” Morgan told
him his name and introduced Sean.
Abe went over and sat on a broken stool and commented,
“Now, let’s get down to some serious dickering.” Morgan
told Abe he didn’t have but $25 he could spend on a saddle.
Abe got up and sorted through the saddles tossing three from
the pile to the center of the floor. “I can let you have one of
these for $25 or less. Morgan and Sean laughed out loud,
stating they should have mentioned Tiny sooner. Morgan
began looking over the three saddles. He didn’t see much
difference in them. Sean walked over and picked up one, and
said “this here is the best of the lot.” Abe allowed he could let
that one go for $20. Morgan paid him, picked up the saddle,
finding it quite a bit heavier than his. He walked out to Lady,
began unsaddling her.
“Whoa, young fella, what are you going to do with that
saddle.”
Morgan stopped and said “I hadn’t really thought about it. I
suppose I will put it in the grub wagon.”
“Tell you what I can do. I can give you back your twenty and
give you 10 bucks more for it.”
Morgan stopped, and looked at Abe in consternation. “What
in the world is going on?”
Abe laughed and explained he had lady friend that would just
love that English riding saddle. Morgan shrugged looked at
the saddle, bent down and picked it up and presented it to
Abe. “Anything for a lady.”
The two young men rode back to the freight wagons. They
unsaddled and walked over to the campfire, where they were
greeted by the skinners who were loafing around it. Just then
Tiny walked up and asked Morgan if he had any idea what he
was going to do from here. Morgan allowed he would take
off up the trail tomorrow morning.
“That’s what I figured.” Tiny said. “I’ve just had a talk with
Reverend Angst and he wants ta know if’en yuh might want
to trail along with them. He figures yuh could help around the
wagon train for yore grub.”
Morgan started thinking. He would have company to the fork
of the Laramie River, approximately two weeks. “I think I
would like that very much. But I’m going miss you folks very
much. I have enjoyed riding with all of you, and have learned
a lot.”
Tiny replied, “That iffen you ever want a job to look him up.
He was on this trail, either to Denver or Santa Fe most of the
time.”
Just then Sam yelled to come and get it. The boys moved
over to the fire and began getting down to some serious
eating. After supper Morgan and Sam cleaned up.
Sam said, “I suppose that I will have to do all the work
around here again. Never get any help on the trail, nor
thanks.”
To which Tiny replied. “Ah come on Sam, we ‘preciate yuh,
nobody can burn beans and buffalo bettern’ yuh can.”
The boys chuckled and Sam muttering under his breath went
to the back of the grub wagon.
Several of the teamsters said good bye to Morgan and turned
in. Sean lingered behind and allowed as to how he was going
to miss him, as everyone else was so old. There were several
groans came from out of the darkness.
Chapter Five
The next morning Morgan helped Sam harness the team of
mules to the wagon, and watched sadly as the freight train
formed up and started south. Tiny rode back and shook hands
with him and wished him all the luck.
Morgan rolled his bed and lashed it behind his saddle,
climbed up and rode to the wagon of Reverend Angst. Just as
he arrived he found several toughs from Julesburg at the
Reverend’s fire. They were not being nice! They wanted
money to let the wagon train move on.
Morgan dropped down from the saddle, pulled the Henry
from his scabbard and led Lady off to one side. No one
seemed to be paying any attention to him. He placed Lady
between himself and the group. He leveled the rifle at the
group of men and said “Good morning Reverend, I am ready
to move if you are.”
Several of the group of men stopped and looked over at him.
“Charley,” one of them said, “that younker has a bead on us.”
The man Morgan assumed was Charley turned and stared at
him. “Just what’en the hell do you think you are doing?”
Charley asked.
“I think it is time you moved out, I think Reverend Angst has
heard all he needs to hear from the likes of you.”
“Now listen here pup, I’ll spank you with that rifle, if you
don’t quit butting in.”
Morgan looked at the man, he was probably in his early
thirties, roughly dressed, about six foot, and needed a shave.
“Mister, you heard what I said.”
Charley spun around and started towards Morgan, and
reached for his six-gun at the same time. As the gun came up
Morgan fired and hit Charley in the hand, and jacked another
round in the Henry. Charley’s gun was not to be seen and he
held his bloodied hand in front of him, with a shocked
expression. His arm was a mess the bullet had struck the gun
and traveled up to the elbow, which was smashed.
Morgan said menacingly, “Anybody else?” There was a
slight shuffle and two of the men slid their hands down to the
butt of their guns. “I wouldn’t try it fellows, I had time to aim
with Charley, with you two I wouldn’t have time for such
niceties.”
Their hands came away from their guns, and they started to
move towards their horses. They mounted and Charley said,
“You haven’t heard the last of this,” wheeled and rode away
followed by the rest of the men.
Morgan watched them go and sagged a bit. His mouth felt
like cotton. He stepped out from behind Lady and walked
over to Reverend Angst.
The Reverend said, “Morgan I was glad to see you, but I wish
you hadn’t shot that man.”
Morgan replied, “I wouldn’t have except he pulled his gun. I
have learned that out here you don’t give a man a chance to
do you harm if you have a way to stop it. I could have just as
easily killed him, but I didn’t.”
“Well there is nothing we can do about it now.
Morgan noted the Reverend was pale as a sheet, but seemed
outwardly calm. He sat down and took a deep breath and let
the hammer down on the Henry, and put the butt plate on the
ground.
Reverend Angst said “Thank you, but I hope we won’t have
any more violence. I didn’t see the man reach for his gun. I
don’t suppose you could let him shoot you.”
“No sir, I didn’t think I would appreciate that.
“Well enough of that, let’s discuss what you can do around
here.”
Morgan and the Reverend discussed several areas that
Morgan could help around camp. He explained he could sleep
in the center of the circled wagons, when he wasn’t on guard
duty. Morgan thanked the Reverend and picked up Lady’s
reigns. He went down to the water and let Lady drink and felt
himself unwind at last. He reloaded and put the Henry back in
the saddle scabbard. He took several handfuls of water
himself.
Just then Deborah rode up and climbed down. She let her
pony drink, and said “Thanks Morgan, father didn’t mean to
criticize you. He is still coming to grips with the ways out
here. We are used to a much more civilized way of life. I
hope Oregon is better.”
“That is alright, I am still getting used to it myself. I just
know that if I had hesitated that man would have shot me, or
Lady, and I couldn’t let that happen. I sure was scared
though.
“Scared”, Deborah looked shocked, “I didn’t think you
looked a bit scared.”
“Just goes to show you that looks can be deceiving,” Morgan
replied with an ironic chuckle.
They mounted their horses and went back up the bank to the
wagon train. The rest of the day was spent learning the some
of the names of those he would be traveling with.
The next morning they left for Valley Station where they
spent the night. Reverend Angst put Morgan in charge of the
men who would guard several groups of wagons. When
Morgan asked him why; Reverend Angst replied that he had a
lot of confidence in Morgan, because he had shown good
judgement with the group of yahoos the day before.
The next stop on their way west was Fremont’s Orchard.
Many were calling it Latham’s Crossing. It took them five
days to reach Fremont’s Orchard, which wasn’t an orchard at
all but just a grove of quaking aspen that looked as though
someone had planted it. Here they would have to cross the
Platte.
The river bed was rife with quick sand. This required them to
place trees under the wagon bed and lash them in place;
allowing the wagon to float in the water. Since this was a
given way to ford the Platte the trees were already cut.
Morgan and several men forded the river and gathered up the
necessary trees. They tied them together and floated them to
the starting point. It still took more than two days to get all
the wagons over and let each wagon dry out wet items.
On the last day Morgan had moved off to one side to rest. He
had been going at it steadily since they started and was bone
tired. He dismounted and loosened Lady’s girth, took his hat
off and sat down at the base of a big cottonwood. He had no
sooner gotten comfortable when a shot rang out and a piece
of bark flew off the tree right next to him. Morgan jumped
and dived to his left and rolled behind the tree. He pulled his
Colt from his belt and surveyed the country to his front. He
didn’t see any tell tale smoke or see anyone. He lay there
waiting for any movement. He looked up at Lady, whose ears
were perked up and she was looking to his right. He looked in
that direction, but didn’t see anything. Just then Len Carver
came riding up with his rifle at the ready.
“Morgan, you all right?” he called.
Morgan replied, “Someone just took a shot at me from that
pile of brush to the right, I think.”
Len dove off his horse and behind a large boulder. They both
sat there for several minutes and watched. Finally Morgan
stood up in a crouch and started running in a zigzag pattern
towards the pile of brush. He went from cover to cover to a
point where he could see behind the pile of brush. No one!
He cautiously moved down to where he was standing where
he thought the gunman had fired. Sure enough there were
boot prints and a place where someone had lain and shot at
him. He yelled at Len what he had found and started
following the boot prints. But he hadn’t gone far when he
came to where the unknown gunman had tied his horse, and
saw the hoof prints disappear onto a stone shelf. Morgan
knew that he couldn’t track the man any further with his
limited knowledge of tracking.
The two men then rode back to the wagon train. They
dismounted at a camp fire with a coffee pot beside the fire.
After pouring a cup of coffee they discussed what had
happened.
Morgan said, “I figure it might have been that Charley of one
of his friends. I can’t imagine anyone else that would take a
shot at me.”
Len replied. “I think I would agree. I don’t know of anyone
else that would take a shot at you. However I don’t think it
was Charley. The way his arm was buggered up, I don’t think
he was up to riding or shooting. It was probably one of his
cohorts.”
Reverend Angst came up and Len explained what had
happened. Reverend Angst somberly declared, “I don’t know what to
think. Those men wouldn’t have followed us, would they?”
Len replied, “Those men would. I think they want something
from us. Probably think we have a lot of money. He
chuckled. They sure haven’t peeked in my purse.”
Reverend Angst mused, “That may be, but if they think that
they are sadly mistaken. There probably isn’t $300 in the
whole outfit. I guess you can’t figure men like that unless you
are one of them. Morgan I want you to take extra precaution
from here on out.”
Morgan said, “I don’t know about that. I can’t spend all day
hiding in one of the wagons. I think now that I realize some
one is out to get me, I will take extra care as to where I ride
and how I ride.”
Reverend Angst said, “I guess that is best. But I won’t feel
comfortable about it. But then I don’t know what is best, I
have never been in this position before.”
Morgan said, “That makes two of us.”
The next morning the wagon train moved out early in the
morning. They soon were back on the flats with few trees to
be seen. The grass was belly deep off the trail where it had
not been grazed. Morgan rode with Deborah and Tom off to
the side of the wagons. Their next goal was the trading post
called la Porte some five days away. Soon they came to
rolling hills where you couldn’t see more than 4 or 5 wagons
at a time.
Morgan spoke up, “Well I guess this is where we must
separate. I can’t see far enough in any direction for it to be
safe for you two to ride with me.”
Deborah and Tom both looked surprised and asked why.
Morgan replied, “There is someone trying to kill me and I
don’t think it is a good idea for anyone to be around. They
might miss me and hit you.”
With that he rode off by himself. But just then Len Carver
rode up and settled beside him. Morgan looked over at Len
and explained what he had just told Deborah and Tom.
“I guess I would do the same thing, however I feel like two
make a little less friendly target.” Len grinned from ear to
ear.
Morgan looked at the young man, he was taller than he was
and probably several pounds heavier. He wore a round hat
with a short brim which showed ginger hair poking out. He
had brown eyes and a firm chin. He laughed and said, “I
guess that makes sense and I am glad for the company.”
Morgan found that Len was one of the few men on the wagon
train who didn’t belong to any wagon. He had joined them at
Sandhill, Mo. He was twenty-nine and had worked on the
Mississippi River for most of his life. He just decided one day
to move west. He earned his keep by scouting ahead of the
wagon train for any possible problems. The two men talked
and rode ahead of the wagon train scouting the way. They
became friends.
They rode ahead all day and scouted out a good place to
camp that night. The two men rode back to the wagon train
and reported to Reverend Angst. The next morning after helping to
harness the teams and get the wagons rolling, the two men again
moved to he front of the wagon train. They hadn’t been on the trail more
than an hour when they met an Army patrol. It was led by a sergeant
with four men.
Morgan and Len introduced themselves and the sergeant told
them they were on the lookout for Red Cloud, a Sioux chief,
who had been raiding in the area. They had taken several
captives in the general vicinity recently. They rode back to
the head of the wagon train with the patrol.
When they reached the first wagon Reverend Angst was
walking beside it, they reported what the sergeant had told
them.
The sergeant told Reverend Angst, “I would advise you to go
into camp earlier in the evening. Make sure your wagons are
secure and the stock inside them by dusk. I would also advise
you to put as many men on guard duty as you can afford.”
Reverend Angst thanked the sergeant and assured him that
they would follow his advice. The sergeant tipped his hat and
the patrol rode away.
Reverend Angst said, “Well I guess we’d better find a good
place to camp by five o’clock, or there about. Do either of
you two have a watch.”
Len said, “I do. We’ll get back up the trail a little over a mile.
It might be a good idea for you to put a couple of men ahead
by about half that. That way if we run into any Indian sign we
can warn them and they can warn you.”
Reverend Angst agreed to the plan.
Morgan and Len then rode off. Morgan said, “It sounds like
we could run into some trouble.”
Len replied, “We saw Indians several times in Nebraska, but
the size of the wagon train had scared them off.”
Morgan then told Len about the time that he and Deborah had
seen the three Indian boys earlier on trip, and their reaction.
Len laughed and started down the trail. The rest of the day
followed without any other disturbances.
Morgan and Len found a good place to camp with good water
and not too far to good grass around 5:30 in the afternoon and
Len rode back to the wagon train to let them know. Morgan
had time to think about the day before. He started thinking
about the group of toughs and what he knew about each one.
They were all older about thirty, or so. They all looked tough
and didn’t work at a regular job. Another thing he noted, they
were all quite dirty in their appearance. This led him to
believe that they had no place to call home. Therefore they
could indeed follow him, if they wanted to. The conclusion
he reached was to never ride where he was sky lined and to
watch closely anytime he was in any area that offered good
concealment. Just then the wagon train rolled up and Morgan
went to help with the chores.
The next day as Len and Morgan were riding out front,
Morgan noticed Lady’s ears begin to twitch. He immediately
warned Len and they began looking around. They were in
rolling hills, and were approaching the bottom between two
hills. Morgan turned and looked behind them, but didn’t see
anything. Looking to the front nothing was apparent.
Suddenly Len pulled up and yelled for Morgan to get down.
Morgan threw himself off to the right at the same time
pulling his Henry. He wormed he way to a pile of boulders.
Looking around he saw Len had dived off to the left and was
behind a similar pile of boulders. Morgan jacked the Henry
and began looking at the top of the hill. Suddenly he saw
movement. He aimed the Henry at the spot and waited. Then
a man moved into view and he could see the man aiming a
rifle downhill. Morgan sighted and fired without thinking, the
man grunted, stood up arching his back and fell down the hill
a short ways. Len and Morgan waited. After several minutes
without any other shots or movement Morgan began inching
his way up the hill. When he reached the fallen man, he was
lying on his stomach and not moving. Morgan kicked his rifle
away and then reached down and turned him over. He was
one of the men who had been with Charley, and he was very
dead!
Morgan slumped to the ground and buried his head in his
arms. His mouth felt like cotton. He started sweating and
feeling sick to his stomach. He felt a hand on his shoulder
and looked up at Len.
Len said, “There’s not much sense in feeling bad, he was
aiming to shoot one of us, for sure. If you hadn’t fired, I was
already tightening my finger on the trigger.”
Morgan said in a shaking voice, “I know all that, but this is
the first man I ever killed! I didn’t have time to aim for
anything but his core at that distance.”
Len said, “That means you didn’t mean to kill him, doesn’t
it? Come on, let’s look around and see if he had any
company.”
The two men spent a good fifteen minutes looking over the
country side. They found the dead man’s horse tied to a tree
and no other tracks to indicate that he had company. They
returned to the body and searched it. There wasn’t anything
to tell them a name or where he was from. All he had on him
were a clasp knife, the makings, 3 silver dollars, and his
weapons. Morgan stripped the gun belt off the dead man and
picked up his rifle. The rifle was a Sharps carbine and his
pistol was a newer model Colt revolver. He asked Len if he
wanted the Sharps, and he did. He decided he would keep the
revolver and gun belt. He put the revolver in his saddle bag
and strapped on the gun belt. He took his Colt from his belt
and placed it in the holster. He noticed a loop at the front of
the holster and asked Len if he knew what it was for.
Len said, “That is a thong, you slip it over the hammer and it
keeps the six-gun in the holster.”
Morgan realized soon after putting the pocket Colt in the
holster that it didn’t fit. He pulled the other Colt back out his
saddle bag, and it fit rather nicely in the holster. He decided
then and there that he would wear it.
They heard horses and both dove for cover. It was two men,
Matt and Earl, from the wagon train. They stood and called
them over. After explaining what happened Earl rode back to
the wagon train for a shovel. When he got back, they buried
the man.
After supper Morgan moved off to a hill away from the
wagon train, and sat down. He needed to think. Just then
Deborah came walking up the hill and said, “Morgan, I
know what you are feeling, I can see it in your face. I’ve
spoken to Len and he explained the man was preparing to
shoot at one of you, leaving you no choice.”
Morgan replied, “I realize that, but I still killed a man. I have
to figure out how to live with that!”
“This is the way it is out here. There isn’t any law you can
call on. All you can do is protect yourself and others that you
care about. I imagine it will be some time before you can call
the “local sheriff” like you could back home.”
“Again, I know that. I also know in my heart that man was
getting ready to shoot one of us, and I beat him to the draw.
But I keep thinking that he will never do anything again. Did
he have a wife, family, brothers, or Mom and Dad? What
started him on the wrong trail. What kind of man was he?”
Just then Reverend Angst came up the hill. Taking in the two
young people he paused. Then he said, “Morgan, are you
taking the killing of that man to heart. If so, I would like to
say that I don’t hold with killing another human being. That
man was going to kill you or Len and you know it. The way I
see things out here is; if you point a weapon at someone you
have to be prepared for them to shoot back at you. I’m sure
that man knew this. His mistake was figuring you for an
easterner. He didn’t think you, or Len for that matter, would
have the sand to shoot at him. I think he found out, to his
regret, that wasn’t so. I also think that the rest of that crew
will figure out what happened and maybe leave us alone.”
Morgan replied, “I hope so. Thank you for what you and your
daughter have said. I will be okay. It will take a little time but
I will be okay.” Getting to his feet the three walked slowly
back to camp.
Deborah took her father’s arm and said, “Thank you for what
you said. Maybe it will help him to feel better about what
happened. It won’t be long before he leaves us and I am
going to miss him. Reverend Angst patted Deborah’s arm
and began to follow
Morgan.
The following day they arrived at la Porte in the late
afternoon. There was a log building with a dirt roof that
served as a trading post. There were several Indian women
and children camped around the trading post, but no men
were in sight.
They went into encampment as usual. Several women went to
the trading post to see what they had. Morgan spent some
time looking at the tee-pees of the Indians. He thought they
were ingenious. He could see how they could be torn down
very quickly and easy to move. The Indians chose to ignore
him.
The next morning they left for Virginia Dale. They were at
base of the Black Hills, so named because the evergreens
looked black from a distance. Morgan and Len were in the
front of the wagon train as usual. They found themselves in a
large basin. Morgan spent a lot of time looking for any
movement at the edge or the trees whenever the trail bent in
that direction. But by mid-day there hadn’t been anything to
see. By that evening they found a good place to camp and
rode back down the trail to tell the Reverend.
The next two days were without incident and they came to
Virginia Dale. There they found a small detachment of
soldiers and a rough semblance of a town. They moved on
through and camped on the far side of town.
Reverend Angst rode back to the town to talk with the
soldiers and was told about the same thing the soldiers had
told them earlier on the trail.
The next morning found them underway while it was just
turning daylight. Soon they found they were going through a
narrow pass. There was only room for one wagon with a cliff
on one side and a rock overhang on the other. There was a
rushing stream below them. Suddenly the third wagon from
the front slipped from the road and fell into the stream.
There was only the driver in the wagon, who managed to get
to the bank. Several men went down to help him get his team
up the bank. Then set about trying to retrieve the wagon.
Morgan and Len, not knowing this, continued on the trail. By
noon they were several miles ahead of the wagon train. They
stopped to eat lunch. When they finished eating Len said, “I
don’t see any sign of the wagons. I wonder if they have run
into any problems.”
They discussed what to do. They decided to hold up here for
a while to see if the wagons appeared. They found a canyon
with a water fall and some fairly nice grass for the horses and
sat down to wait. They hadn’t been there for 10 minutes when
an arrow and several shots rang out. Both men dove into the
creek bed for cover. They had taken their rifles with them and
started looking around for who had shot at them. For several
minutes they saw nothing.
Morgan said, “Len, let’s move a little more apart. They might
think there are more of us.”
Len shook his head and moved a short distance downstream.
Just then an Indian stood up and fired his rifle at him from no
more than 15 feet away. Len was just dropping to the ground
when the Indian fired and the bullet just missed him. Morgan
fired at the Indian but missed him. Just as suddenly as he
appeared, he disappeared. The two men looked around. They
were in a creek bank with scattered pine trees to their front.
The grass was fairly thick. There wasn’t a sign of an Indian
anywhere!
Several minutes passed and Morgan thought they might have
gone. He poked his head up and an arrow whizzed by his ear
missing him by inches. Morgan wormed his way to a downed
tree. There he could survey the front without being
silhouetted. The afternoon wore on with sporadic firing from
both sides.
Len said “The wagon train must have run into some kind of
trouble, otherwise they would’ve heard the firing and sent
some men to see what was going on.”
Morgan replied, “I agree. Just keep your eye on our horses. I
don’t want to lose them.”
They continued their scanning of their surroundings;
suddenly Morgan spotted what looked like a leg stick out
from behind a tree. Taking careful aim he fired at it and was
rewarded with a grunt. Several shots were fired in his
direction then nothing.
Just then they heard the sound of horses coming from the
road. Len yelled, “Look out fellows there are Indians around
here.”
The men dismounted and started moving towards the two
men. They moved from one bit of cover to another. When
they arrived Morgan and Len moved out to join them. No
sign of the Indians could be seen. They went over to their
horses and gathered them up. Morgan thought he was never
so glad to see anyone in his life.
They caught their collective breathes. Then Morgan and Len
explained what had transpired. The other two men explained
they had started back to the wagon train when they came to a
place where they could see several miles behind them. The
wagons weren’t in sight. Then faintly they had heard a
gunshot. They stopped where they were waiting for more.
They didn’t hear any more shots, so they started riding back
towards the wagon train. Just then there was another faint
shot. So they turned around again and started back up the
trail. They rode as fast as they dared.
Morgan said, “What do you suppose has happened to the
wagon train?”
Jace, one of the men who had been riding middle guard re-
plied, “They definitely had trouble. We didn’t hear any firing
so I don’t think they have run into any Indians.”
Len said, “I figure we better head for the wagon train as fast
as we can.”
The others agreed, and they all rode as fast as they could back
down the trail. Finally they got to the lead wagon, which was
standing without mules. The men feared for the worse. They
rode around the wagon to find another wagon without a team
and no people. Then they saw several men gathered around
the teams from the wagons.
They had a wagon just coming over the bank of the creek and
back onto the trail. The men got down and went up to
Reverend Angst who exclaimed, “Well what else is wrong!”
The four men burst into laughter and explained what had
happened earlier back up the trail. The Reverend sighed and
sat down on big rock at the edge of the trail under the soaring
cliff. Took off his hat and reached for his kerchief to wipe the
hat band. Deborah, who had been standing a little down the
trail came up and asked if they were all right. The men all
told her they were.
She turned toward Morgan and asked, “How far up the trail
were these Indians?”
Morgan replied, “They are about five miles up the trail in a
pretty little canyon with a waterfall.”
He explained what had happened to Len and him.
She said, “Well I’m glad that neither one of you were hurt.
She walked over by her father, “It sure seems like we have
had a day to tell our grand children about.”
Reverend Angst said, “It isn’t over yet. We still have to get to
a camping spot by dark. There is no way we can get all the
wagons up this pass by nightfall. Morgan, you and Len get up
the trail and find the first place to camp you can. Jace, you
get down the pass and tell the folks who can, to turn back and
find a place to camp for the night; also tell them to be extra
alert, there are Indians about.”
The men went to their horses and took off to do the
Reverend’s bidding. They hadn’t gone far from the head of the
pass when they found another canyon, also with a small waterfall,
that they could camp in for the night.
Morgan and Len looked around the canyon for any sign of
Indians. Finding none they went back to the mouth of the
canyon to wait for the wagons.
Getting down from their horses, they sat down in the shade.
Both young men had their rifles ready in case of trouble. But
none came. When the wagons started arriving they showed
them where to park.
After that they went over to Reverend Angst to get an idea
what would be happening that night. Reverend Angst had all
the men and boys gather around and portioned out the guard
for that night. They went back over and helped start fires and
helped out getting supper ready.
They spent a restless, but uneventful, night and started out
early in the morning. When they got to the top of the pass
they circled the wagons and waited for the rest of the train to
reach them.
Morgan and Len spent the morning riding around looking for
any sign of trouble and finding none. It seemed there were no
Indians or troublemakers around.
Finally they went back to the wagons and waited with the rest
of the company. Around mid-afternoon the rest of the train
arrived. Reverend Angst decided to spend the night.
Laramie plains 7,000 sq miles of prairie. Can see Mt Laramie.
Herbert F. Thompson
Writer
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