Late on September 3, their second day into Jordan Creek Valley, as they were looking for a place to camp, two soldiers rode up. “Colonel Drew?” one shouted. “Is this Colonel Drew’s party?” Their horses blew heavily as the newcomers slowed to a halt.
Drew turned his mount around. “Yes? I’m Drew.”
“Sir.” The soldier saluted, then took a paper out of his pocket. “I have an urgent message from Fort Klamath. We found part of your force at Camp Alvord, and we’ve followed you from there.”
Drew held out a hand for the message, broke the seal, then read it with a frown. “We’ll camp here,” he said to Sergeant Geisy. Then he turned to the newcomers. “You men can stay the night. I’ll have a reply for the Fort Klamath Commandant in the morning.”
“Yes, sir.” Both soldiers saluted and followed the cavalry in Drew’s unit.
After they’d set up camp and eaten supper, Drew called Will into his tent. “Take this down,” he said, then dictated, “To Commandant, Fort Klamath. From Lt. Col. Charles S. Drew. I am in receipt of your orders to return immediately to Fort Klamath for treaty negotiations with the tribes. However, my unit is in dire need of provisions. I must proceed to Fort Boise, obtain what we need, and rejoin my full force at Camp Alvord. Only then can we return to Klamath.”
He turned to Will. “Read that back.” Will did so, then Drew signed the document. “Take it to the messengers. Tell them to leave for Fort Klamath at first light.”
“Yes, sir,” Will said.
After Will completed Drew’s order, he made his way to the packers’ tents. Jonah lolled on his bedroll, and Joel sat smoking by the fire. “What’s the news?” Joel asked.
“Drew’s been ordered back to Klamath,” Will said. “To negotiate a treaty with the tribes. But we’re going to Boise first.”
Joel snorted. “He don’t follow orders well.”
“We need provisions,” Will protested. “We have to go on.”
Joel blew a puff of smoke, then said, “Drew does what he likes. Not much of a soldier, if you ask me.”
From beneath his blanket, Jonah murmured, “Suits me. I like seeing the country.”
“Hah,” Joel said. “Say that again when our mules are fully loaded after we hit Boise.”
The messengers were gone when Will awoke on the morning of September 4. Drew’s unit continued through Jordan Creek Valley. They reached the creek that evening, then camped on Jordan Creek for three nights, letting the wagons and their teams rest while Drew and a few of his men explored the region.
Once again, Joel waxed on about how Drew wasn’t following orders. “We’s supposed to be headed to Klamath, and he’s restin’ on the way to Boise? This is just like when he didn’t bother arrivin’ in Klamath until late July. The man is a law unto himself.”
“But the wagons can’t travel—” Will said.
“He could let the wagons fend for themselves,” Joel argued. “They ain’t a part of his mission. His first orders were for a reconnaissance expedition, and now his orders are to return to Klamath. He ain’t done either with any speed.”
Jordan Creek itself was a series of pools with dry stretches in between. The larger pools were deep and full of fish, with willows growing along the banks.
While the others lay near their campfires, Drew asked Will to scribe for him. “You thought any more about what I said?” Drew asked.
“Sir?” Will didn’t know what Drew meant.
“About the Army.” Drew was already drinking, though it was only midafternoon. “You’re the type of young man the Army needs.”
“I’m not sure I want to fight Indians, sir,” Will said.
Drew squinted at him. “That’s our responsibility, boy. We must protect the Christian whites who want to profit from this land.”
Will couldn’t help glancing outside the tent at the barren land.
Drew barked a laugh. “Well, this valley’s a little dry for settlers, except for right along the creek,” he acknowledged. “But much of Oregon is prime land, wouldn’t you say?”
“I know lots of farmers making a good living,” Will agreed. “Jonah Pershing’s family, for example.”
“And they couldn’t farm if they faced savages rampaging through their claims, could they?”
“No, sir,” Will said. “But my father told me the Indians were generally responding to wrongs done to them by white men.”
Drew snorted. “You got some growing up to do, son. Understand the white man’s place in the world.” He waved his cigar at Will. “You do that, you’ll be a credit to the Army.”
“What about the treaty negotiations?” Will ventured to ask.
“What about them?” Drew said.
“Your orders—”
“My orders are mine to deal with. I know enough about the tribes in these parts to have some concern about how the negotiations might proceed.” But that was all Drew offered on the subject.
Will didn’t want to press him any further. He couldn’t tell if the colonel supported treaty negotiations or thought them pointless. He left his session with Drew more confused than ever.
On the expedition’s first evening on Jordan Creek, settlers living in the area joined them in camp. “We sleep here near the creek every night,” one man told the militia members. “We mine during the day, or farm our fields, but we come together for protection at night.”
“What about your mining supplies and farm implements?” Drew asked.
