June 6, 1864. We will arrive in Jacksonville tomorrow. I signed the militia contract, so I suppose I must continue. But I can’t see how running mules on a supply train will improve my future.
When they arrived back at Jacksonville on June 7, the mining town felt familiar to Will. After the packers unloaded their supplies at the public storehouse, Sergeant Geisy told them, “You’re free tonight. Post a guard for the animals, but anyone not on duty can do as he pleases. Tomorrow we’ll rest, then head back for Klamath on Thursday.”
Will and Jonah were assigned to guard duty the first night. “You boys ain’t drinking anyway,” Joel told them. “You’ll get your night in town tomorrow.” And Joel left for the saloons with the other packers.
The next day, Will and Jonah wandered through the shops in town. They greeted the livery owner who had befriended them before they found Joel. The man offered them a hot meal in exchange for mucking out his stables. The boys agreed, not wanting to cook.
In the afternoon, they packed the panniers with goods to take back to Klamath. Afterward, Jonah wheedled Joel to take him to the saloons in the evening.
“Ain’t no way I’m takin’ you with me,” Joel said. “Esther’d have my hide if I let you drink at age sixteen.”
“Bet you had your first drink afore you was sixteen,” Jonah said.
“Bet I did.” Joel frowned at his younger brother. “You boys show yourself capable on the return trip to Klamath, and I won’t keep you outta the saloons when we come back to Jacksonville the next time.”
Jonah had to accept that as his answer. Will didn’t mind. He’d tasted whiskey and didn’t much care for it. He wondered at what age a man took a liking to alcohol.
Joel staggered into their camp near dawn. In the morning, Will was the first packer out of his bedroll, but despite his drinking Joel was ready about the same time Will was. The pack train left Jacksonville as soon as they loaded their mules.
As they climbed into the Cascades, the sun beat down brightly. Sweat trickled down Will’s cheeks from his hat brim, and his shirt stuck to his back. Even his gloves were damp with sweat. But he didn’t dare ride without gloves—he’d have blisters on his palms and every finger if he did.
On the second day of the return trip, they went through the pass, again picking their way through slushy snowfields. By the time they descended into the heat again, Will welcomed the warmth.
“Why are we doing this?” Jonah asked Joel, midmorning on their third day back toward Klamath. “Takin’ these supplies twist Klamath and Jacksonville? This ain’t like any soldiering I ever heard of.”
“We’re earnin’ our keep, boy,” Joel responded. “So take it like a man. Army pays us to do what they ask. If Cap’n Kelly tells me to haul goods, that’s what I do. Though I’d prefer to hole up one place or the other till Drew arrives.”
The supply trips between Fort Klamath and Jacksonville became tedious. The route remained a challenge, moving from the desert heat of Klamath to the mountains and through the snowy pass, then downhill to Jacksonville. The mules were steady on their feet, despite the heavy packs. But the beasts could be cantankerous.
One morning on their second trip from Klamath to Jacksonville, Will hefted a hundred-pound pannier onto one jack mule. The animal stepped away causing the pack to fall to the ground. The momentum took Will with it. He cursed while Jonah laughed at him. “All your book learnin’ ain’t made you as smart as that ol’ mule, has it?” Jonah said, chuckling.
“Damn mule,” Will muttered as he picked the pack up again. The mule shifted again, but this time Will was ready and kept his balance. “Hold the damn beast steady, won’t you?” he asked Jonah.
Jonah did so, braying as loudly as the mule, until Will finally got the beast loaded.
As they rode through the pine-scented forest that morning, Will wondered whether he’d rather be back in Oregon City. However miserable he’d been at home, life there was a lot more comfortable than leading ornery mules along a snow-packed trail.
That night he wrote:
June 15, 1864. If it weren’t for the accursed mules, riding through this country might be pleasant. Though I miss my bed and Mrs. O’Malley’s cooking.
The next morning, Will was slow to load his mules, not wanting to repeat the experience of the day before. He tied his two mules to each other, then worried that if one shied, they both would. They might even run off, which would cost him time to retrieve them.
“Hurry up,” Joel shouted. “We ain’t got all day. We’ll be eatin’ the others’ dust as it is.” His four mules were loaded, as were Jonah’s two. “Go help him, Jonah.”
“Now you got us in trouble,” Jonah said, as he did what Joel ordered. “Tomorrow, you owe me some help.”
As Joel predicted, the three of them brought up the rear of the pack train that day. At least the snow in the mountains was well packed by the animals ahead of them. But Will smelled the other equines’ fresh dung all day, and flies pestered man and beast alike.
Hauling supplies was not a job Will relished. Nor did he like the military regimentation, doing everything by another man’s schedule, following the group. He remembered Mac telling him he’d chafed at following foolish orders. “Why do we have to stick together?” he asked Joel on the noon break. “Can’t we split up and go at our own pace?”
“Indians,” Joel said simply. “It’s safer to stay in groups. We only got one cavalry squad to protect us.” He turned and caught each boy’s eye. “You listen to me on this. Don’t go off on your own, you hear?”
Will and Jonah nodded.
They arrived at Jacksonville again on Friday, June 17. After they unloaded their supplies, Sergeant Geisy announced an extra day in town. “Rather than leave on the Sabbath,” he told the packers, “we’ll wait until Monday. Supplies don’t need to move so fast you can’t have a restful Saturday night.” He flashed a wicked grin.
“Joel,” Jonah said, “will you take us to the saloon? You promised.”
Joel nodded. “You’ve earned it. But if the barkeep throws you out, I ain’t leavin’ with you.”
“They won’t throw us out if we’re with the cavalry and packers,” Jonah scoffed. “We ain’t that young.”
Jonah was right. No one looked twice at Will and Jonah when they entered the bar and ordered their whiskey. Will sipped his slowly, shuddering as it burned his gut. Jonah started slowly as well, but soon ordered a second.
When Jonah finished his second drink, Joel cuffed him on the side of the head. “You two young’uns better head to camp,” he told his younger brother and Will. “You’ve had enough.”
“What about you?” Jonah challenged.
