“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.”
From Cow Head Lake, the militia and their entourage moved into Warner’s Valley below a mountain of the same name. As they progressed northward through the valley in early August, they camped in a different site every day or two.
The pattern continued—Drew, the scouts, and a small cavalry squad explored, while the rest of the militia guarded the slow-rolling wagons and plodding oxen.
Will tried to keep up his own journal after scrivening for Drew, but his entries were brief. After writing until his hand hurt, he had little interest in writing more. Still, he wanted to have a record of this trip, one he could keep when his travels were over.
August 1, 1864. Traveled 20 miles, then camped at south end of Warner Valley.
August 3, 1864. Moved 9 miles up valley to springs on a small lake.
August 5, 1864. Went 17 miles to Clover Camp, so named because of fine grazing.
On August 6, the reconnaissance unit rode twelve miles away from the wagons up into the hills, then returned to camp that night—a twenty-four-mile ride, through land so arid there weren’t even dry gullies, let alone any flowing creeks.
“Go to bed, son,” Drew said when they rode into camp. “We’ll transcribe our notes tomorrow.” Even the colonel staggered as he dismounted—he must be as tired as Will.
Will nodded his thanks. After caring for Shanty, he trudged wearily to bed.
In the middle of the night, Jonah woke Will up as he left for guard duty.
“Be quiet, Jonah,” Will mumbled. “I’m tired.”
“You ain’t had guard duty in a week,” Jonah said. “And I’ve had the midnight shift every other day. ’Tain’t fair.”
“You rested in a clover patch today, while I rode twenty-four miles,” Will protested. “You probably ate fresh fish, too. And I got leftover beans.”
“And now I’m gonna lose sleep for the rest of the night.”
“Fine,” Will said. “I’ll care for your mules tomorrow.”
“You should take ’em for the next week to make us even,” Jonah muttered.
Will pretended not to hear his friend. After Jonah left, Will whispered to himself, “I wish I’d never left home.”
