Once his boots were on, Matthew leaned back and breathed deeply. “Isn’t it, though?” He stood up, stretching. “Want me to get the horses this morning?”
“I think the cooks about have breakfast ready. Let’s eat first; then we’ll both go get them.”
Matthew patted his stomach. “I’m ready. I could eat my way through about ten pounds of bacon and johnnycake.”
Chuckling, Nathan stood to stand beside his brother. “Do I sense a bit of excitement over the prospects of reaching Fort Laramie today?”
“You do indeed,” Matthew admitted cheerfully. “After five hundred miles of magnificent scenery—and not a tree to spoil the view—I am ready for a change. Let it be no more than a few sticks thrown together and a couple of lopsided wigwams, I shall greet it with open arms and a warm heart.”
Nathan shook his head, amused by this sudden eloquence. “I think we’d better get you something to eat.”
At the sound of footsteps, Derek set the ax down and turned to see who it was. George Therlkill did the same. They and two other men from their group were down in the trees along the Laramie River cutting a wagonload of firewood to take back to their camp. They could see a single figure coming toward them on a horse, but through the trees they couldn’t make out who it was. Archibald Little and Lewis Myers, who had been cutting down a large dead cottonwood, came over to join them. “I think it’s Robert,” Myers said.
And so it was. Robert Crow, the leader of their little company, waved as he saw them and slowed his horse as he entered the trees and threaded his way toward them.
“Brethren,” he said even before he reached them, “there’s good news.”
“What?” Derek asked.
“Word of a substantial wagon company coming upriver just reached the fort.”
They all straightened at that, but George Therlkill was a little dubious. George was Brother Crow’s son-in-law and seemed more comfortable challenging him. “No idea who they are yet?”
“No, the rider just said it’s sixty or seventy wagons.”
“Oh,” Little said. “That’s a good sign.”
“It could be just another company of Oregon or California emigrants,” Therlkill persisted. “Let’s not get our hopes up until we know.”
“After two weeks of just sitting here,” Derek said dryly, “I’m willing to get my hopes up for just about anything.”
They nodded in agreement as they chuckled. “I think you’d better load up what wood you’ve cut now,” Bob Crow suggested, “and let’s take it back to camp. Then we’ll go and check out this new company just to be sure.”
Something in his eyes piqued Derek’s curiosity. “Do you know something we don’t, Brother Bob?”
A wide grin spread across Crow’s face. “Yep.” He had all of their attention now.
“What?”
“This company is different in one way from all the others that have come in so far.”
“In what way?” Myers asked eagerly.
“This one is coming along the north side of the river, not the south like all the others.”
Chapter Notes
The incidents and details recalled here by Matthew occurred between 26 April and 29 May and can be read about in the journals.
On 29 May 1847, at a spot a few miles west of Scotts Bluff, near present-day Henry, Nebraska, Brigham Young assembled the men and severely chastised them for the spirit that had taken over the camp. William Clayton recorded the details of that day, including an extensive copy of Brigham’s speech, less than half of which is included here.
After the meeting concluded at one-thirty p.m., Brigham Young quietly gave the order to move out. It was a completely different camp that did so. That night, William Clayton wrote in his journal: “It seemed as though we were just commencing on this important mission, and all realizing the responsibility resting upon us to conduct ourselves in such a manner that the journey may be an everlasting blessing to us, instead of an everlasting disgrace. No loud laughter was heard, no swearing, no quarreling, no profane language, no hard speeches to man or beast, and it truly seemed as though the cloud had burst and we had emerged into a new element, a new atmosphere, and a new society.”
Chapter 40
The Pioneer Company moved forward slowly throughout the day, nooning across the river from the burned-out ruins of a fort. John Brown, with some sadness, explained that this was Fort Bernard, located downriver a few miles from Fort Laramie and run by a trader and mountain man named John Baptiste Richard—or Reshaw, as it was pronounced in French. It had been Reshaw who had volunteered to take the Mississippi Saints to Pueblo. He had left his fort with only two of its walls completed and gone south with the Mormons. While they were in Pueblo, word came that once Reshaw left, someone set fire to his half-completed fort and neatly eliminated the competition it presented to Fort Laramie.
As they prepared to start again, Brigham decided to lead a small party ahead to scout for a campsite. He asked Luke Johnson to bring the Revenue Cutter in case they had to cross the river. John Brown, greatly excited at the possibility of seeing some of the people he had left nine months before, went ahead with them.
About three o’clock a cry went up. The first wagons had come up another small hill, and from there, about four miles to the southwest on the opposite side of the river, could be seen the clear outline of a stockade. Fort Laramie was in sight at last. The excitement went down the line of wagons like a dandelion seed whipped by the wind.
As they topped the gentle hill, Nathan reined up and Matthew stood up in the wagon seat so that he could see better. “Yes sirree,” he exclaimed ecstatically. “It’s a fort, all right. And bigger than I thought it would be.” He sat down again, grinning. “I think we’re going to get a little taste of civilization again, Nathan.”
Nathan slapped him on the shoulder. “Well, I’m ready enough, that’s for sure.”
Fort Laramie was situated on a level plain about a mile south of the North Platte River and just a few hundred yards west of the Laramie River, or Laramie Fork, as the locals called it. The fort itself stood at the north end of the plain, which left everything to the south of the fort open for camping—Indians along the river, whites more to the west. Robert Crow and the group from Pueblo had arrived at Fort Laramie two weeks before. Wanting to stay clear of the Missouri emigrant companies, they camped to the southwest of the fort about half a mile where no one else would bother them.
When the Mississippi group heard Robert Crow’s report, everyone wanted to go out and meet the incoming company, but Brother Crow finally ruled that just a few of the men should go and make sure who it was. The North Platte was at the height of the spring runoff and was a good quarter of a mile wide now. The swift current carried a lot of debris, including logs that could stave in a wagon or knock a horse off its feet. It wasn’t as if they could wade across to say hello when the company came.
Five of them went, walking past the fort, moving northeastward toward the spot where the North Platte and the Laramie Rivers came together. Just west of that confluence, on the north side of the river, there was a large flat area with plenty of grass that would make a good place to camp. They decided to wait across from there and see what happened. It was nearing four o’clock and the sun was still high.
As they came through a small stand of trees and reached the edge of the water, Robert Crow suddenly started. “Look,” he exclaimed. “There are some riders over there.”
There were two men on horseback and two others on foot leading their horses.
“Can you tell who they are?” George Therlkill asked.
“Not for sure.” A quarter of a mile made it difficult to recognize any features.
“I think that one is Brigham Young,” Derek said, squinting at the one on the ground striding around, his head moving back and forth as he surveyed their potential campsite.
“Do you think so?” Archibald Little asked. “Which one?”
Derek suddenly realized that these men were natives of Mississippi. They did not know Brigham Young. “The one on the left, the one with his hat off.”
They were all peering intently now at the four men.
Suddenly one of the men on horseback started to wave. “They’ve seen us,” Derek said.
Lewis Myers took off his hat and began to wave it wildly. “Hello!” he shouted.
“That could be Heber Kimball with him,” Derek said, feeling his heart start to beat a little faster. “I think it could be them.”
“Hello! Ahoy there across the river!” They all started to shout now.
They heard a shout come floating back, but there was a fairly stiff breeze blowing and it was impossible to make out the words. They shouted again and an answering call came back, but again they could not make out the words.
“This must be their scouts,” Bob Crow said.
Just then George grabbed his father-in-law’s arm. “Look, there’s a wagon.”
They all swung back. Sure enough, from behind a slight rise a wagon pulled by two horses appeared. It was accompanied by two other men on horses. Derek immediately noticed that the wagon did not have the usual canvas cover. To his greater surprise, no other wagons followed behind it. As they watched curiously, the wagon pulled right down to the water’s edge, then swung around. In a moment whoever was driving it started backing the wagon into the river. Now the men on horseback dismounted and those on the ground gathered around it. When they stepped back, there was a boat in the water and nothing but the base of a wagon left on shore.
Robert Crow slapped his leg in delight. “It’s a boat. They’ve got their own boat.”
It was about half past four when finally Nathan couldn’t stand it any longer. The three wagons in front of him were pulled by oxen and moved ahead much too slowly to satisfy him. “H’yah,” he called softly, pushing the horses into an easy trot and pulling around.
“Good,” Matthew said. “I was about to get out and crawl past them.”
In another three hundred yards, Nathan and Matthew came up over a small rise. There before them lay the swollen North Platte River and beyond that Fort Laramie. Nathan pulled up. Directly below them there was a large meadow right next to the river. They could see several men standing around in a group and Luke Johnson’s wagon, which no longer had the boat on it.
“Look,” Matthew said, noting the same thing. “They’ve got the Revenue Cutter in the river. And look! There are some men on the other side.”
Nathan was looking, but something seemed odd. He counted quickly. Four men, including Brigham, had ridden ahead to scout. Luke Johnson and John Brown had taken the Revenue Cutter, and Port Rockwell and another man had accompanied them. That meant eight had come ahead. But there were twelve men down by the river now and three more on the far side. “They’ve met someone,” he exclaimed. “I’ll bet they brought them across in the cutter.”
This time when he snapped the reins and shouted at the horses, they lunged ahead, jerking the wagon into a bouncing run. They came down the hill, making enough noise to startle every animal and bird within five miles. The men at the river all turned to look. Matthew saw Brigham raise his hand and point in their direction, saying something to the others. No sooner had he done so than one of the men broke away and started running hard toward them.
As the distance between them and the running figure closed to less than fifty yards, Matthew leaped to his feet. Hanging on frantically with one hand, he pounded Nathan’s shoulder with the other. “It’s Derek! It’s Derek!”
“Whoa! Whoa!” Nathan pulled back with all his strength and brought the team to a sliding halt in a cloud of dust and a rattle of stones. Before the wagon had stopped rolling, Matthew leaped off, nearly stumbled, then caught himself and started running. Nathan flung the reins around the brake lever and vaulted over the side. As he sprinted forward, Matthew and Derek collided like runaway ore cars. Down they went, rolling around and around as they pounded each other. Nathan dove into the middle of it, shouting and laughing and yelling.
They finally pulled apart and got to their feet, brushing off the dirt from themselves and each other. “I can’t believe this,” Matthew exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t get our letter?”
“We got the letter you sent from Fort Leavenworth, but that was all.”
Nathan broke in. “We heard there was another sick detachment sent to Pueblo and that you and Rebecca might be part of it, but we never learned for sure.” Suddenly he straightened. “Is Josh with you?”
Derek’s face fell. “No. He stayed with the battalion. Rebecca and I were sent back. And guess who we found?”
“Kathryn,” Matthew said. “Yes, Brother Brown told us all about that. So is she with you now?”
“Waiting anxiously across the river.”
“Well, then,” Matthew cried, “let’s go.”
It was nearly full dark when Derek stepped inside the tent, startling both Rebecca and Kathryn. Rebecca got quickly to her feet, but Kathryn had Nicole in her arms and could only look up.
“Derek!” Rebecca said. “I didn’t hear you coming.”
He went forward and kissed her lightly. “Hi.”
She jabbed at him. “Hi! That’s all you’ve got to say? What took you so long? Tell us! Was it a Mormon company?”
He nodded gravely.
“It was?” Kathryn cried. “Really?”
“Yes, really!” he said, grinning now. “Brother Brigham said to give you both his regards.”
Rebecca clapped her hands together. “Brother Brigham? Really? Oh, Derek. That’s wonderful.”
“What about the family?” Kathryn demanded.
Christopher and Benjamin were up now too, clamoring to know what was happening.
Derek shook his head. “This is the vanguard company. There are only three women in the whole company. More companies are coming, but they’re still a few weeks behind them. Brother Brigham says our family will be with those later companies.”
“Wonderful,” Kathryn said, but she was clearly disappointed.
“So,” Rebecca said, her mind racing now, “what does that mean for us? Are we going to wait here for the family?”
Derek seemed not to hear. It was as though he had just thought of something. “Hold it,” he said. “I’ve got to get something. I brought a little surprise for you.” And without a word he turned and left the tent again.