September 5, 1864: The miners in this region are determined to stay despite the danger. Drew wants to protect them, but how much can one military fort do to protect such a vast area?

Chapter 47: Reaching Boise

On the evening of September 6, while Will scribed for Drew, Drew called Richardson, the emigrant wagon leader, to his tent. “Do you want to press forward with us to Fort Boise?” Drew asked, showing his rough map of the region. “Or head out on your own?”

“We planned all along to end up near Ruby City,” Richardson said. “Some of us want to mine there, and the rest of us plan to supply the miners with food and game.” He pointed to a dot on the map. “Ruby City is due north of here. No need for us to go farther east to Boise, then backtrack.”

“You think you’re safe enough without my cavalry?” Drew asked.

“Route to Ruby seems doable. We should be all right.”

“If you run into trouble, send a man back here,” Drew said. “I’m taking the packers with me to Boise, but I’m leaving most of the cavalry squad here. We’ll be back in a few days with our provisions, then we need to return to Alvord and thence to Klamath. But the soldiers I leave here can come to your aid until I’m back from Boise.”

On those terms, the wagons left the expeditionary force. On September 7 Drew took the packers and their mules forward toward Fort Boise. He took only a few soldiers under a unit led by Corporal Biddle. The quartermaster, Sergeant Crockett, accompanied the Boise contingent to supervise the reprovisioning. And Sergeant Geisy came with them to manage the packers.

“We’ll move fast now,” Drew told the men. “Get to Boise in a few days, then head back here.” Despite Drew’s promise of speed, they only made twelve miles that day before camping on another creek. But on September 8, they pushed hard and reached the Snake River after a twenty-five-mile trek.

A man named Enoch Fruit operated a ferry across the Snake. The ferry was constructed of logs lashed together with ropes. Oarsmen rowed wagons across the river for four dollars and a man on horseback for one dollar.

The expeditionary force had no wagons, only mules, and Drew decided the men and their beasts could swim the river.

Will thought of Mac’s and Jenny’s descriptions of crossing the Snake River on their trek to Oregon in forty-seven. He would have the opportunity to experience the same thing, though he had only cantankerous mules and no wagon to lead.

He also remembered how he and Jonah had used the Molalla ferry on their way to Jacksonville. If he were making the trek now, he’d swim Shanty across. He’d come to realize he and his horse were tough enough to handle it.

They camped on the west side of the Snake River that night, then made the crossing at dawn. Once across the Snake, they rode thirty miles, and arrived at Fort Boise on September 9 as the sun set behind them.

Will was exhausted, and he was glad Drew didn’t ask him to work that night. He barely got any impression of the fort after tending to his mules. As soon as he could, he fell into his bedroll and slept.

The next morning after breakfast, Drew sent a soldier to bring Will to the commandant’s headquarters at Fort Boise. Will was currying Shanty and checking his horse’s hooves. He needed to see to his mules, then he wanted to wander around the fort. But he followed the soldier, assuming Drew needed a scrivener.

“Yes, sir?” he asked the colonel when he arrived.

“Major,” Drew said to a man seated behind a large table covered with papers and ledgers. One pile of paper was weighted down with a pistol. “This is young William McDougall. McDougall, this is Major Pinkney Lugenbeel, commander of Fort Boise.”

“Sir.” Will gave a small bow to the fort commandant.

“I had a telegram a few weeks back from a Caleb McDougall,” Major Lugenbeel said. “You know him?”

Will was confused for a moment, thinking the major referred to his brother Cal, then he realized. “Mac,” he said. “Caleb McDougall is my fa-father. Everyone calls him Mac.”

“Yes, he said you were his son.” The major ruffled through the papers on his desk. “Here it is.” He picked up a page and read, “‘My son with Drew’s expedition. When Drew expected Boise?’”

Will stood mute. So the Army had discovered his and Jonah’s flight from home. What would Drew do to him now?

“Your father didn’t know you were on this expedition?” Drew demanded.

“No, sir,” Will said. “Not until I sent my mother a letter in the last dispatch to Fort Klamath.”

“I see,” Drew said.

Major Lugenbeel looked down at his desk, a hand over his mouth, like he was hiding a grin.

“How old are you, boy?” Drew asked. “You and young Jonah Pershing.”

“Jonah’s seventeen,” Will said. “I’ll be seventeen next week.”

The fort commander chortled behind his hand. “A birthday you’ll be having, is it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, Colonel Drew,” the major said, after another guffaw. “What will you give him for his birthday?”

“Dock his wages for the telegram I’ll send his father,” Drew said. “This isn’t the first time the lad’s made trouble.”

“I’ve done everything you asked of me, Colonel,” Will protested.

Drew shook his head. “You’re a decent scribe, all right. But remember how you got the job? Running away to find your horse in the middle of an Indian attack? Seems you have a propensity for running.”

“Those Indians weren’t attacking,” Will muttered.

“We didn’t know that at the time,” Drew countered. “You disobeyed my order then, and it seems you also hired on as a packer under false pretenses. What shall I tell your parents? That you and young Jonah will return home as soon as we get to Fort Klamath?”

“Yes, sir,” Will said. What else could he say?

Will stood silently while Drew dictated the telegram to Mac and Major Lugenbeel arranged for it to be sent. Then Drew gestured for Will to follow him back to his quarters.

Once Drew was seated at his desk, he frowned at Will. “You’ll be treated as a regular packer from now on. No more scrivening. No more special treatment. You’re a young runaway, not the aspiring officer I had hoped to make of you.”

“Yes, sir,” Will said.

“Your father must be worried sick over your absence, not to mention your mother. How could you do that to them?”

Will remained silent. He wanted to shout that Mac wasn’t his father, would never be his father. He wanted to tell Drew and everyone else in camp that he was no better than the man who had fathered him—whoever that was. A criminal. A violent rapist. He wanted to crawl under a rock and hide.

“Report to Sergeant Geisy,” Drew ordered. “You’re to follow his orders until we reach Camp Alvord. Along with the other packers.”

“Yes, sir.” Will could see his future now—he’d be sent home in disgrace. Mama and Mac would never let him leave Oregon City. He wouldn’t be able to make anything of himself. He’d be stuck doing whatever Mac let him do, never part of the family, and never able to escape it either.