On September 22, Drew and the packers made their final push of thirty-three miles to Camp Alvord, arriving after sunset. The militia men who’d been left at the camp let out a cheer.
“Why are they so happy?” Jonah said, staggering as he slid off his mare’s back.
Will was as tired as Jonah. He merely shook his head as he, too, dismounted wearily.
“They want the grub we brung,” Joel said. “But they’ll have to wait till tomorrow. I ain’t unpacking the panniers tonight.”
“We have to unload the mules,” Will said.
“Sure,” Joel said as he hefted the first pannier off his lead mule. “But we don’t got to unpack the panniers. We can leave ’em beside the quartermaster’s wagon.”
But Sergeant Crockett insisted the packers unpack the provisions and stack them neatly near his wagon. And he made the packers do all the work, fending off the soldiers who wanted to root around in the packs. “You men ain’t stealin’ what we worked hard to bring you,” Crockett yelled. “Wait till tomorrow. You can eat your fill then.”
Chapter 51: Fires
After Drew and the packers reached Camp Alvord with provisions, the remaining emigrant wagon trains and their cattle left the militia’s escort and headed north toward Fort Boise. Their rest at the camp for several weeks had enabled the beasts and their human drivers to regain their strength. Even the woman who’d been so ill could now travel. Will hoped they would reach their destination safely, though based on what he had seen of the territory, their biggest risk was lack of water and grass, not Indian attacks.
As soon as the wagons departed on September 24, Drew’s reunited expeditionary force also left Alvord and headed back toward Fort Klamath. But rather than retrace their route through the Pueblo Valley, they headed into the Pueblo Mountains.
“We have sufficient supplies from our reprovisioning at Boise to explore the region as we return to Klamath,” was the only announcement Drew made to the reconnaissance party. “We will search for a new pass through the Sierra Nevadas, which was our original mission.”
“Drew still ain’t rushin’ back to Klamath,” Joel muttered. “Don’t seem to matter what his orders say.”
“Maybe he’s trying to find a shorter route,” Will said, defending Drew. The colonel might have a harsh opinion of Indians, but Will considered him a reasonable man. “You always said you’d go where you were told, as long as you got paid,” he argued.
“That I did,” Joel responded. “But winter’ll hit these mountains soon enough. I’d rather be holed up in a warm cabin in Jacksonville than shiverin’ with a string of mules through the Sierras.”
As Drew led them south toward the Pueblo Mountains, Will heard him tell the quartermaster, “I’m hoping to find a pass that shortens the route to Klamath. But the pass must be suitable for wagons.”
“All we can do is forge ahead,” Crockett replied. “If our wagons can get through, surely future emigrant trains can, too.”
“That’s my thinking as well,” Drew said. “And it would save a couple hundred miles on the trip from Boise to Klamath. Well worth it, even if we need to clear a path.”
September 24, 1864. In the Pueblo Mountains. Drew hopes to find a new pass. I don’t know what I’ll do when we return to Klamath.
On their third day out from Camp Alvord, Will smelled strong wood smoke as they rode through the forested hills. He wondered if there was a farm or Indian village nearby, but the odor seemed too pungent for a single house or small encampment.
“Forest fires,” Sergeant Geisy said, when Will asked him about the smell. Will watched for flames, but all he noticed was the haze and acrid stench. The horses grew nervous. By midafternoon, the odor intensified, and they rode beneath smoky skies.
The militia force stopped early that evening. The next morning they could not continue because smoke obscured the trail.
Drew sent out a small party to discover whether the smoke cleared farther along the route, but those soldiers returned in a few hours. “Can’t get through,” Will heard them tell Drew. “Smoke’s too dense. Can’t see more’n a few feet ahead of us. Can’t see the mountain peaks above us. Ain’t no way to find the pass. Plus, there’s signs of Indians. ’Tain’t smart to go on when we can’t see ’em comin’.”
Drew cursed at the new delay. “First, we were forced to guard emigrants and their putrid sicknesses. Then I was ordered back to Klamath. Now wildfires. It’s as if the Almighty doesn’t want me to find the pass.” He frowned at the scouts and asked, “Did Indians set the fires or was it lightning?”
“Can’t tell, Colonel,” the lead soldier said. “Can’t tell nothin’ through the smoke.”
September 25, 1864. Fires stalled our progress. They’re worse than anything I’ve seen before. Everything smells of smoke.
As they sat in camp waiting for the skies to clear, Will wished the expedition were over. He feared what would happen when he returned home and didn’t want to face it, but he also worried about Mama—her baby would come soon.
“Wish we’d never have come on this trek,” he complained to Joel as they sat near their bedrolls. Will whittled a small figurine from a pine branch. He’d started another little horse for Maria to replace the one Cal broke.
“I never told you to run away,” Joel said. “I woulda been fine without you boys. Probably better off. Now I got Colonel Drew mad at me—he thinks I bamboozled Cap’n Kelly into hirin’ you.”
Will pared off a scrap of wood with his Bowie knife. “When do you think we’ll get back to Klamath?”
“Could be another month or more,” Joel said. “Depending on our route, whether we find a good pass or not. Whether Drew dilly-dallies any longer.”
“Maybe we’ll be home by the harvest dance,” Will said.
“Who you gonna dance with?” Jonah asked, poking Will in the side with a stick.
“Don’t matter,” Will said, though he thought of Maria. He’d have to dance with other girls as well, but he’d make sure to dance with Maria.
“Maybe I should go north with you,” Joel said. “I been thinkin’ I should see my family more, too.”
“Am I the only one glad we left?” Jonah asked. “I like bein’ out here. Though I do declare I’d like a dance with Iris. I suppose when I get back, I’ll ask her to marry me. My wages from the Army should make a dent in what I need to save afore we can wed.”
“You might like roughin’ it now,” Joel said. “But come winter you won’t be so happy. Some nights are already too cold for my old bones.” Joel leaned back, his saddle behind him, seeming wistful. “Wish I’d gone home to see my pa more often afore he died. But I didn’t.”
“That was years ago,” Jonah scoffed. “He died in fifty-one.”
“Our pa was a good man,” Joel told his brother. “You didn’t know him when he was in the Army. A fine sergeant, he was. As good as any of the cavalrymen with us now.”
“I barely remember him,” Jonah said. “All’s I recall is an old man who let our stepmother push him around. And she was mean to our brothers’n sisters, too. They’ve all told me so. I was lucky to be livin’ with Daniel and Esther.”
Joel shook his finger at his younger brother. “You remember that, Jonah. You remember what a good thing Esther did, takin’ you to raise like she did. Or you coulda been stuck with Mother Amanda like the other young’uns was. Daniel was a capital fellow to let Esther have you. Not many young men want a baby that ain’t theirs, not so soon after marryin’.”
Jonah brushed the dirt around his bedroll with a twig, not saying a word. Will thought about what Joel said. Mac had taken on both Jenny and Will, and then Maria, though he didn’t have to. He wondered again why Mac did so.
Late on September 28, after the troops and packers had all gone to bed, a shout went up from the guards. “Stampede—herd is bolting!” The men all pulled on their boots and raced to the pasture where the animals grazed.
A count revealed that about twenty-five horses and mules had escaped. “We caught the rest of ’em,” one guard said. “Afore they followed the others.” Will was thankful that this time Shanty was still with the herd.
