His mouth tightened in anger as he peered out into the steady rain. Once William Eddy’s letter reached Sutter’s Fort, it had taken thirteen days to pull together the first rescue party. Thirteen days! And then, even though Captain Kern, the commander of the military attachment at Sutter’s Fort, offered three dollars a day wages, they were able to find only seven men who would accept the challenge. Three dollars a day was three times the wages Sutter was paying his workers.
Peter got to his feet abruptly and began to pace. Where were Sutter and Will? Suddenly his head jerked up.
Alice, seeing the abrupt movement, spoke for the first time. “What is it, Peter?”
“I just remembered something.” His eyes were wide and haunted.
“What?”
“When we made the decision to take the shortcut”—there was a bark of bitter laughter—“or, better, the so-called shortcut, we were at a place called the Parting of the Ways. Tamsen Donner, the wife of George Donner, didn’t like it. I had forgotten that.”
“Didn’t like what?” Alice asked, shaken a little by the expression on Peter’s face.
“She didn’t like the decision to take the Hastings route. As we went back to our wagons, she was very depressed. When Mrs. Reed tried to cheer her, she wouldn’t be comforted.”
“Why?”
“She said it was a terrible mistake to listen to a man whom we knew nothing about and leave the old, proven road.” He stared at her, his eyes wide with the memory. “She knew,” he said softly. “Somehow she knew that this was a terrible mistake.”
Alice stood and went to stand beside him, laying a hand on his arm. “So did you, Peter. Those dark feelings you had. You knew too. Think what it would mean now if Kathryn were still with them.”
He nodded slowly. That was indeed the one bright thought in this deepening tragedy. Kathryn was not with them. And thanks be to God for that.
Will Steed and John Sutter finally returned about two o’clock that afternoon. At the first sound of their horses, Peter was out in the rain, without coat or hat, to see how they had fared. They had found two sturdy horses and a few pounds of dried beef that would get them to Johnson’s Ranch.
The moment Sutter left and they were back inside the house, Peter spoke to Will. “How far have you ridden today?”
“Not that far. Fifteen miles perhaps.”
“You need to rest. I’m going to start. You come as soon as you can.”
Will shook his head. “Let me gather a few things and we’ll go.”
“Are you sure you don’t need to rest?” Peter said with obvious relief.
“Yes.”
“All right. Then let’s go.”
The day after Peter and Will left Sutter’s Fort and swam their horses across the muddy American River, the rain finally stopped, but it was overcast and cool and there was little improvement in the roads. The lowlands of California were nearly impassable during the latter part of February. It took them two and a half days to cover the forty miles to Johnson’s Ranch. There they learned that Reed had stopped for two days while the second rescue group slaughtered some cattle and dried the meat. They had also gotten two hundred pounds of flour from the Indians. Determined to catch them, Peter and Will slept at the ranch only four or five hours; then, with two additional packhorses loaded with food, they pressed on.
As they moved up the Bear River valley, they quickly ran into snow. First it was a foot deep, then two, then three. So they altered their pattern of travel. They began to sleep during the day, then travel at night when it froze enough to form a hard crust. It wasn’t easy going, but it was easier. They took comfort in the fact that Reed was breaking a trail in the snow that had fallen since the first rescue party had come this way, which meant he had to be making slower progress than Will and Peter were.
On the first day of March, they were approaching the head of Bear Valley. It was near here, four months before, that Peter had looked down from a ridge top and seen the wagons of the Samuel Young party. For Peter, Mr. Reed, and Walt Herron, it meant they were out of the mountains and safe at last. For Peter and Will now, it meant they were about to embark on the most difficult part of the journey. Night travel would be too dangerous in the high country. Reluctantly they decided they should let their animals rest for a day before making the assault on the pass. For the first time in several nights, they pitched their tent and went to sleep while it was dark.
They were just finishing breakfast the next morning, when Peter straightened slowly, staring toward the mountains. “Am I seeing things,” he said to Will, “or is that smoke?”
Will looked up. “Where?”
“Straight ahead, near the upper end of the valley. I can’t see it now, because the snow is behind it, but—” The wind shifted and blew the smoke in front of the deeper green of the trees. “There! Do you see it?”
“I see it!” Will cried. “It
is
smoke.” Now they could see that there were two or three separate columns of smoke. “It’s got to be them.”
Without another word, they both turned and quickly began breaking camp.
As they drew within a mile of the smoke, the camp came into view. To their surprise, it was quite small. There were only a few horses and mules and no more than three or four tents.
“That can’t be Mr. Reed,” Peter said in sudden disappointment.
“I’m thinking the same thing,” Will responded. “He’s got a score of men and half again that many horses.”
Peter shook his head, puzzled. It couldn’t be Mr. Reed’s rescue group, and yet who else would be this far out from the nearest settlement?
About half a mile out, the two incoming riders were spotted by the camp. Three men began to halloo and wave their arms. Peter and Will shouted and waved back. Then after a moment the men started toward them, walking swiftly on the still-frozen snow. As they drew to within about a hundred yards of each other, Peter leaned forward in the saddle, staring.
“I think that’s Daniel and John Rhoads,” he said in amazement.
“Who?”
“The Rhoads brothers,” Peter said eagerly. “They were with our party when we first left Independence last spring. Their family split off from us and went on ahead. Remember, I told you that we knew about two Latter-day Saints who came west last season—Sister Murphy, and the other was Thomas Rhoads? Well, these are Rhoads’s two sons.” He went up in the stirrups, cupping his hand to his mouth. “Daniel Rhoads, is that you?”
The lead man stopped for a moment, peering forward. “It is. Who might you be?”
“Peter Ingalls, one of James Reed’s bullwhackers.”
There was a cry of surprise, and then the men broke into a run. Peter and Will urged their horses forward as well.
As they reached the two men, Peter swung down. The two brothers stopped, a look of astonishment on their faces. “Peter Ingalls?” Dan Rhoads cried. “But what are you doing here?”
“That’s what we were going to ask you,” Peter exclaimed. “I’d heard your father had settled on the Consumnes River. That’s a long way from here.”
“We were with the first rescue party that went out to find the Donner group,” Dan replied.
Suddenly Peter understood. Of course. The Rhoads boys would be among the first to volunteer to go on a rescue mission. That was how that family was. But then, at another thought, he frowned. “And you’ve come only this far?”
John Rhoads shook his head. “No, no, we’re on our way back again. We’re taking out some of the people we found.”
Peter stiffened. “You have people from the Donner group? Here? Now?”
“Yes,” Dan answered. He shook his head, his dark eyes deeply troubled. “We started with twenty-three, but we had to send two of the children back. Then three more didn’t make it. There was an Englishman—”
“John Denton?”
“Yes. And we lost two children, a Keseberg girl who was about three, then a ten-year-old boy yesterday. A boy named Hook.”
Peter had to swallow hard. How many names that he knew would be added to the list of the dead before this was over? “What about Levinah Murphy? She is a Latter-day Saint too, you know. Is she with you?”
Daniel shook his head. “No. She wasn’t strong enough.” He looked away. “Her son Landrum was dead by the time we got there. You remember her daughter Harriet Pike, don’t you?”
“Yes. She made it out with the snowshoe party, didn’t she?”
“Right. Well,” Daniel went on, his voice very low, “John here promised to bring Harriet’s two little daughters out. Sadly, her baby daughter, Catherine, died the day after we arrived at the camp.”
“And the other one? Did you make it with her?” Peter asked.
John nodded, but it was Daniel again who spoke. “Naomi is three. John strapped her in a blanket on his back and carried her out.”
Peter felt his eyes burning. He had watched Sister Murphy’s grandchildren playing around the wagons on more than one occasion.
John peered at Peter more closely. “But how come you aren’t back there with them?” Then he snapped his fingers. “That’s right, you came ahead with Mr. Reed.”
“Yes. And speaking of Mr. Reed, have you seen him? He was leading a second relief party. He should have been this far by now.”
“Yes,” John answered. “We met him two days ago. You can imagine his joy to see his wife and some of his children, but—”
Peter jerked forward. “You have Mrs. Reed with you?” Peter cried.
“We do,” Dan Rhoads answered, “and two of the children. Unfortunately, it was the two other Reed children that we had to send back. They were too weak to come with us. So Reed and the others have gone on to find them and the rest of the people up there.”
“So all of the Reeds are safe?” Peter said, suddenly weak with relief.
“We hope so,” John answered. “The two who went back, Patty and Tommy, were pretty weak, but Reed should have reached them by now. And he’s got food.”
Will looked more closely at the two men. “Is it as bad as the reports say?” he asked softly.
Both men dropped their eyes. Dan shook his head slowly. “It was pretty bad. When we finally reached the camp at Truckee Lake, it was like we had walked onto a battlefield. There were corpses lying out in the open. They had no way to bury them. At first we thought we were too late. There was not a living soul to be seen. But when we called out, suddenly heads started popping up like prairie dogs from what we thought were just snowdrifts. We hadn’t even realized there were cabins there.”
“It was like our voices were Gabriel’s horn,” John added, “and the dead started coming out of their graves. Suddenly these skeletons started appearing everywhere around us.”
Dan Rhoads’s eyes were shining. “When one woman saw us, she said, ‘Are you from California, or are you from heaven?’ ”
John went on now, his voice very quiet. “They are in ghastly shape, Peter. They’ve had nothing to live on except for a few rotten hides for several weeks.”
Peter could only nod. He wanted to ask for names of those who were still alive, but there would be time for that later. “I’d like to see Mrs. Reed and the children. Then Will and I will press on and try to catch Mr. Reed.”
Dan Rhoads considered that for a moment, then shook his head. “Maybe you ought to reconsider moving on farther. Mr. Reed has quite a few men with him, including a couple of mountain men. But there’s only half a dozen of us. We could use your help and what food you have to get these people back to Johnson’s Ranch.”
When he saw Peter’s reaction to that, he went on. “I think Mr. Reed would appreciate knowing that his wife and children were being helped to safety. He will bring the other two children with him.”
Peter changed his mind at that. “All right,” he agreed. “I’d like to see Mrs. Reed if I can.”
“All right,” Dan Rhoads said slowly, “but you’ll have to steel yourself. You can’t let her see the shock in your eyes.” He took a quick breath. “And you will be shocked.”
“It’s that bad?” Peter said in a near whisper.
“You may not recognize her at first,” came the answer.
When they reached camp, there was no need to ask which were the rescuers and which were the rescued, and that was not because Peter immediately knew his former companions. Though he had traveled with them for months, now he barely recognized them. Their cheeks were hollow and their eyes deeply sunken. They looked like walking skeletons. Their clothes were filthy and in rags and barely hung on their emaciated bodies. But it was the eyes that were unrecognizable. They were empty, lifeless, haunted. As he moved among them, touching their outstretched hands, he could scarcely stop from crying aloud in horror.
Here was Doris Wolfinger, now a widow at nineteen years of age. It was her husband, if the reports William Eddy had sent were true, who had been murdered by two of his companions for the gold he carried. She stood beside four of the Donner children and Noah James, one of the Donners’ teamsters. Philippine Keseberg, wife of the arrogant and obnoxious Lewis Keseberg, didn’t respond at all as Peter took her hand. She simply stared through him as if he weren’t there. She had lost an infant at the camp. She had lost her second child, a toddler, as they came down from the mountains.
Eliza Williams managed a wan smile when she recognized him, but Peter didn’t have the courage to ask about her brother, Baylis. Was he dead or just too weak to come out? There were two of the Murphy children, two of Patrick Breen’s, and three-year-old Naomi Pike, the child John Rhoads had carried on his back and whose mother had come out with the Forlorn Hope party. She was anxiously awaiting word of her family at Johnson’s Ranch.
“I thought William Eddy was with your group,” Peter said to John Rhoads.
“He was, but we sent him to Johnson’s Ranch for more horses and food. I’m surprised you didn’t see him.”
“We camped during the day and traveled at night.”
“Oh,” Dan said, then shook his head. “Both his wife and baby daughter are dead,” he went on in barely a whisper. “He doesn’t know that yet.”
Then Peter saw Virginia Reed. She had stepped out of one of the tents and was squinting against the brighter light, trying to see what was causing the commotion. He stifled a gasp. At thirteen, Virginia had been turning into a young woman when Peter had last seen her. Now she looked like a stooped little girl. Suddenly her eyes widened. She took a step forward. Peter broke into a run, calling her name. Now he couldn’t hold back the tears as he reached her and swept her up. Her long dark hair was matted and tangled. Her lips looked like cracked leather left too long in the sun. Virginia had been so clean, well groomed, and full of energy that to see her so dirty, unkempt, and weak was a shock.