July 25, 1864

Dear Mama,

He decided to send the letter only to Mama, because he didn’t know how to address Mac.

I am safe with the First Oregon Cavalry Militia, led by Lt. Col. Charles Drew. We are exploring the region between Fort Klamath and Fort Boise. I do not know when we will return to Fort Klamath, but I shall let you know when we arrive. Jonah and I are with his brother Joel. We have hired on as mule packers with the expedition. I also serve as Lt. Col. Drew’s scribe for many of his notes and letters.

My love to you and the rest of the family,

Will

Early on July 26, Drew called Will to his tent again to pack up the papers they’d written thus far.

“I have letters from my friend and me to our families,” Will said. “May I enclose those in the packet to Fort Klamath?”

Drew nodded. “Ask around to see if any other men have correspondence. This will be their last opportunity to communicate until we reach Boise. There’s little between here and there, and we do not know our route.”

When Will had completed this task, he handed the mail packet to the two soldiers heading to Fort Klamath, and they rode away. Will stared after them. In part, he wished he were returning with them. In part, he wished he’d kept his whereabouts to himself. What would happen when Mama and Mac learned where he and Jonah were?

The expedition and the wagons they guarded traveled twelve miles that day, ending at Cow Head Lake, higher in the mountains toward Boise. Their route was circumscribed by what grade the wagons could climb. Drew relied on the Indian scouts who preceded them to mark the trail. The land became increasingly dry and the vegetation sparser. Some water trickled through gullies, but this late in the season, only small mountain lakes like Cow Head held enough water for all their animals.

When Jonah told Joel they had written home, Joel chortled. “Writin’ home like mamas’ boys.” Then he sobered. “Good for you, lads. I shoulda made you write home afore we left Klamath. Esther’n Daniel will be glad to know where Jonah is. And you,” he said to Will, “I know your parents care about you.”

“Mac doesn’t care,” Will muttered. “He’s glad to see me gone, I’ll bet.”

“That ain’t true,” Joel said. “Why, I never seen a pa so proud to have a son.”

“What do you mean?” Will asked. How would Joel know how Mac felt?

“I was there when you was born,” Joel said. “At Whitman Mission. Mac detoured the wagons to Whitman, just so Miz Jenny’d be comfortable. He stayed with her all through your birthin’—him, and Doc and Miz Tuller with him.”

“He detoured the wagons?” Will knew he’d been born at Whitman Mission, but he’d never heard that Mac took the wagons to the mission so he’d be born there.

“Yes, indeed. And then when you come, he carried you out so we all could see you.” Joel guffawed. “He weren’t too comfortable holdin’ a baby and passed you off to some woman soon enough. But he was so proud he almost popped his buttons. And don’t you ever think otherwise.”

What a show Mac put on about a baby who wasn’t even his, Will thought, uncertain whether to believe Joel.

Chapter 41: Guano Lake

The little valley around Cow Head Lake offered good spring water and plentiful grass for the horses, mules, and cattle. They camped on the lake for three days, while Drew and his scouts made more forays into the hills around the valley.

Jonah and the other packers lolled in camp or hunted and fished, but Will got no respite. Drew commanded his presence on the scouting trips.

“Signs of Indians all around us,” Drew said one afternoon as they rode through the dry hills. “Though we haven’t seen a single one.”

The lead Klamath scout confirmed, “Plenty sign other tribes. Maybe Paiute. Maybe Chief Paulina’s people.”

Drew swore. “Why do you think it’s Paulina?”

“Who’s Paulina?” Will asked.

“He’s the Paiute chief whose band attacked Richardson’s wagons,” Drew said, with an impatient glance at Will. “Or so we think.”

“And he’s nearby?” Will glanced over his shoulder.

“No telling.” Drew said. He turned back to the scout. “Why do you say it’s Paulina?” he asked again.

“Paiutes camp here every year,” the scout said. “Build lodges on Warner Mountain. Trade with Snakes and Klamaths.”

“Where are the signs?” Drew demanded.

The scouts pointed out tracks of unshod horses and a few broken pottery shards. “We see ’em soon,” the lead scout promised.

As they rode on, Will asked the scout, “These tribesmen attacked the Richardson wagons?”

The scout nodded. “Maybe so.”

“Are they peaceable now?” Will asked.

The Klamath Indian shrugged. “We find out.”

That night after transcribing his notes with Drew, a weary Will crawled into his bedroll, making sure his whittling knife and rifle were within reach. Despite his fatigue, he lay awake worrying about Indians in the hills.

On July 29, Drew ordered the expedition to move up the valley. “We’ve exhausted the grass in this camp,” he told the quartermaster. “Find another camp north of here.”

“I rode that way yesterday,” Sergeant Crockett told him. “Grass and water ain’t as good.”

“But our beasts have eaten everything around here,” Drew said. “It’ll do for a day or two.”

So while Drew, the scouts, and Will explored again, the quartermaster moved the camp to the north end of Cow Head Lake.

That night after Will arrived in camp, Jonah complained, “You’re getting off easy.”

“What do you mean?” Will asked. He certainly didn’t feel like he had it easier than Jonah.

“You get to ride with Drew during the days, then sit with him in the evenings. I unpacked your mules tonight,” Jonah fumed, “while you sat in a shady tent.”

“I’ve been ordered to scribe. It’s work, too.” Will liked the scouting and scrivening hours with Drew, though he constantly felt like he was on tenterhooks with the colonel. Drew never told him he was doing a good job, and Will thought he must be falling short in some respect. “I’d rather handle the mules.”