“Some marauding bands of Snakes, but you can handle them,” Curry replied. “They’re looking for easy targets, like prospectors who don’t watch their backs. Or emigrant wagons.”
“I don’t know what to do with the wagons we’re escorting,” Drew said. “I’d thought to take them to Boise, but I’m not sure they can make it through the desert between here and there. And one of their women is gravely ill. We all need rest, but my cavalry unit must get to Boise for provisions.”
“You could split up,” Curry commented after a long puff. “Leave your sick and the wagons here.”
“Might do that,” Drew said. Then he and Curry turned to a map of the region, plotting out a route for a portion of the reconnaissance unit to reach Fort Boise quickly.
The next morning, Drew mustered his cavalry and the civilian teamsters and packers. “I’m dividing our forces,” he said. “The next camp is thirty-three miles through rough terrain. On Crooked Creek. Some of the emigrant wagons can get there, but others need to rest. The weaker wagons will stay here, as will most of the militia. I’ll take the packers, a cavalry squad, and the abler wagons in the emigrant companies on to Fort Boise.”
Late in the afternoon of August 30, Drew sent the stronger wagons toward Crooked Creek. “I will lead the reprovisioning party. We’ll travel until full dark,” he instructed. “Then rest until first light. We’ll do our best to make it to Crooked Creek before the heat of the day tomorrow.” He ordered nineteen of the cavalry’s enlisted men and the best horses to accompany the wagons.
“The rest of you,” he instructed the other soldiers, “will remain in Camp Alvord with the weaker wagons and Captain Curry’s unit. Sergeant Moore will be in command here at Camp Alvord while I am gone. And Surgeon Greer will stay to assist our invalids. The mule packers will come with me to haul supplies back from Boise. Sergeant Crockett reports he is well enough to come with us to Boise, but Sergeant Geisy will have direct supervision of the packers.”
Will turned to get his mules ready to depart. “You, McDougall—where do you think you’re going?” the colonel bellowed after him.
“Yes, sir?” Will asked.
“Stay with me. Tell the Pershing men to handle your mules. Without full packs, they should be able to handle your four beasts plus their own.”
Will swallowed. Jonah would be mighty peeved.
August 30, 1864: The packers will accompany Drew to Fort Boise. I am glad Sgt. Crockett will be with us, though Geisy is coming as well.
Per his orders, Drew led the healthier portion of the expeditionary force, the packers, and the stronger emigrant wagons on a long night march toward Crooked Creek. They paused well after midnight for a few hours’ rest, then continued at dawn, arriving at the creek around noon. Sergeant Crockett stayed in the quartermaster’s wagon, and Geisy kept the packers in a tight group for the entire march.
Crooked Creek was a welcome respite after the long ride, an oasis of green in the middle of dry, parched land. As they’d passed through the desert, Will wondered whether he’d ever find a drop to fill his canteen.
The next morning, while they packed up their camp, a huge hailstorm beat down on them briefly. Will tried to shelter Shanty’s head, but the gelding bucked when the icy pellets struck his haunches. “Whoa, boy,” he murmured. “Bet you wish you were back at Camp Alvord with the sick folks.”
The storm was over as quickly as it began, though the skies remained threatening. The men and beasts in the reprovisioning force continued their journey.
It was now September, Will realized in surprise, as they traveled along Crooked Creek. He would have been on his way to Harvard with Mac, or already there, if he’d followed Mac’s plan for him.
Instead, he was a military man, intent on making it to Boise then back to Klamath. He wondered how long he would continue with Drew’s outfit after the expedition. He wanted to leave the militia as soon as he could, though he would fulfill his contract, as he had committed.
That evening, after leaving his mules and Shanty in the herd, Will again sat in Drew’s tent taking dictation. “Crooked Creek meanders through this volcanic valley as a thin trickle,” Drew said. “Occasionally, it widens enough to permit a little grass to grow, but it passes mostly through country covered with lava, sand, and sage.”
“How do you know that, sir?” Will asked. He often wondered at Drew’s characterizations of the mountains and valleys they traversed.
“Know what, boy?”
“Know about volcanoes and lava and such?”
Drew puffed on his cigar and sipped his whiskey. Then he said, “I’ve been studying this land for over a decade. And I have an imagination.”
“Did you go to college, Colonel?”
Drew frowned at Will. “Are you college bound?”
Will shrugged. “I was. Now I don’t know. My fa-father—” Again, he saw no need to enlighten Drew on his family’s tortured past. “My father went to Harvard before he came West.”
“Ah, yes.” Drew puffed on his cigar again and studied Will. “You’d do all right in college. But you’d get a faster start in life with a commission in the Army. I’d put in a good word for you. You’re a bright boy. You can follow orders, and you have some sense.” He pointed his cigar at Will. “Apart from that incident when you went after your horse.”
“Thank you, sir.” Will didn’t want to join the Army after this expedition. He’d seen enough to know that by now. But he didn’t want to cross Drew while he was still under the colonel’s command.
September 1, 1864. Drew wants me to join the Army. This expedition will be enough for me.
After he was in his bedroll, Will thought more about his conversation with Drew. He didn’t want to wake Jonah and Joel, but he wanted to talk to someone who knew him, who knew Mac. Drew commanded this expedition. But did he have the right approach to handling the tribesmen? Will remembered the emigrants and soldiers laughing at Humboldt Jim. Drew didn’t seem to take the Indians seriously, except for when they were killing. Then he talked as if they were savages.
On the other hand, Drew treated the Indians fairly in the incident when Burton was killed. Drew recognized that those prospectors brought the violence on themselves.
Maybe the matter wasn’t black and white on either side. Maybe Mac had the better side of the argument. But the world needed soldiers like Drew who could keep the peace. And Drew was better than many of them.
Will turned over and stared at the dying campfire. For the time being, he had no choice. He had to follow Drew’s orders.
Chapter 46: Special Express
Drew led the packers and the emigrants accompanying them from Crooked Creek into the Jordan Creek Valley. The mountains above the valley were covered with fir and pine, with cottonwoods lower on the slopes. The first day away from Crooked Creek, they traveled seventeen miles, and the second day took them another twenty-two miles.
