“Well, that’s good,” Jonah said. “You can load and unload your own damn mules now.”
“I’ve done most of the loading and unloading,” Will argued. “You only had to tend them when I worked for Drew.”
“Some work. Writing in a cozy tent.” Jonah spat, looking just like his older brother.
Will jumped on Jonah’s back. Jonah staggered, but threw Will off, and the two fell to the ground, fists flying.
“What’s going on?” Joel bellowed, appearing behind them. He grabbed Will by the collar and pulled him off Jonah.
“He hit me first,” Jonah yelled, lunging for Will again.
Joel got between the boys. “What’s going on?” he repeated, as he shook Will.
“Sorry,” Will muttered. “I’m in trouble, and I took it out on Jonah.”
“Trouble?”
“Drew found out we ran away.” And Will repeated the story for Joel’s benefit.
Joel laughed, just like Major Lugenbeel had. “Well, you deserve your punishment. So take it like a man.”
They finished their work with the mules, then the three of them wandered around Fort Boise. It sat on a small creek, a large parade ground with two or three buildings on each side. The new quartermaster’s facility was a large sandstone building. Throughout their exploration of the fort, Will kept an eye out for Drew, hoping to avoid the colonel for as long as possible.
That night, before Will crawled into his blankets, he wrote:
September 10, 1864. Drew learned Jonah and I ran away, and he won’t let me scribe. Will he ever forgive me? And what will Mac do to me when I get home? Will he come after me?
The next morning, Will, Joel and Jonah were all called to Drew’s quarters. “Did McDougall tell you about his father’s telegram?” Drew asked Joel.
“Yes, sir,” Joel responded. “I still vouch for the boys. They done good work.”
“My unit doesn’t take runaways and liars,” Drew said. “If he’d known they needed their parents’ approval to join up, Captain Kelly would never have hired them on as packers.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Joel said. “I’ll take responsibility for them until we return to Klamath.”
“It’s Captain Kelly you should apologize to,” Drew said, as he stood. “And I will hold you accountable for their behavior and their safety. But whether you take responsibility does not matter. I am in charge of this expedition, and I am responsible for everything. If the lads are harmed, I will be the man the Army holds liable. And most likely, the man their fathers will hold liable as well.” He waved them away. “Go tend to your mules. And stay out of trouble.”
The packers and cavalry soldiers rested at the fort until September 13. A small town had sprung up around the fort, and the men were allowed to wander the town. “If I hear of any shenanigans,” Sergeant Geisy said, “I’ll keep you all on the fort grounds.”
Will and Jonah hunted and fished during the day. Jonah accompanied Joel and the other packers to a saloon in the evenings, but Will was too upset to go with them.
On September 13, Sergeant Crockett instructed the packers to bring their mules to the quartermaster’s building. They loaded provisions into the panniers as directed by Sergeant Crockett. By now, Will could heft and balance the loads with ease.
“Let the mules rest tonight,” the quartermaster instructed. “Bring ’em here at dawn. We’ll leave as soon as they’re loaded.”
September 13, 1864. We begin our return tomorrow. When this expedition is over, I must face the music.
Chapter 48: William's Birthday Coming
When Jenny awoke on September 16, she immediately thought of William—it was his seventeenth birthday.
She remembered his birth. She’d been so frightened, bouncing in the wagon as they approached the Whitman Mission. At the time, Jenny was in too much pain to realize Mac detoured the wagon train to the mission to provide her with some measure of comfort as she labored. Later, Zeke Pershing described for her the arguments between Mac and others in the company over the detour.
After Mac returned from California a few years later, she asked him why he’d taken them to Whitman Mission. “I had a responsibility to you as well as to the others,” he said. “I cared about you.”
She grew braver in her questions. “Do you think we should have married then? That fall?”
He sighed and looked at her. “I asked you. Remember? You weren’t ready.”
“Yes.” She stared into the distance. “But I would have come around.”
“Maybe,” he said. “We’ll never know. In the meantime—” He rose and came to her chair, leaning over to kiss her forehead. “We’ve come to a happy place, haven’t we?”
She’d smiled. “Yes, we’re happy now.”
But now, over a decade later, she was unhappy. Her oldest boy, that child born at the Whitman Mission, was gone.
The baby in her belly turned over, and her womb hardened in response. Soon, there’d be another child. She had a month to go before this one would be here.
