{No Turning Back-part VIII}
May 29th, 1847 Ash Hollow
Well, it has been a hilly day! This morning, after we said goodbye to the Sterlings, they headed east, and we resumed our journey west. About a mile down the trail, and we came to our first official hill. Up till now it's been prairie, far as the eye could see.
It was a pretty good-sized hill. We headed up slowly, one at time. Most folks double-teamed their animals. Occasionally ropes or chains would have to be gotten out and used to pull the wagons up the hill.
When we finally reached the top, every wagon safe and sound, we realized we were on some sort of plateau. We traveled on for a little before stopping to noon. Then we moved on. Then we came to Windlass Hill, our descent from the "table". Pa said everyone should walk down the hill, and it's a good thing, too. The Child's wagon got out of control and went skidding down the hill, nearly tipping. Somehow it righted itself, and thank the Lord no one was hurt. Pa's choice to make us walk was wise, as one of the Child's younguns coulda been pitched from the wagon.
Tonight we camp at Ash Hollow.
June 1st, 1847
What a day! Some indians came alongside our wagon train today. It was so strange, like they just appeared. Some on horses, some on foot. I saw some men on horseback ride up to the front of the train where Pa and Clint and Mr. MacGregor were and tell them something. Pa speaks some sort of indian language and signs, and so does Clint. I saw Pa stop the train and several of the men followed Pa, who was riding off with the indian men. I was so curious, and must've looked so, because the next thing I know, Clint was beside me on Flint explaining.
"They're from the Cheyenne tribe. There's a buffalo hunt going on nearby." he told me. "Wanna see how an indian hunts a buffalo?"
Of course I did. I started walking the direction Pa had gone when Clint stopped me. "Here," he said, climbing off Flint," You ride, I'll walk." I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it again. What was the use? I just said thanks and mounted.
We went over this bluff with the indians and once we reached the bottom I got off Flint and stood beside Clint. In front of my eyes was a herd of buffalo. There were so many! I had to make sure my mouth weren't hanging open.
Clint called my attention to a few indian braves on horseback who were riding into the herd. They pressed themselves onto their horses so the buffalo wouldn't spook. Then, once they were all in the herd, one of them let out a yell, and the whole herd, with the indians, took off. Say, those indian horses can run! They ran alongside the buffalo, their riders only hanging on by their legs. Man and horse became one being, working together. Every now and then a buffalo would drop, it's eyes showing the whites, it's tongue hanging out. The indians had shot them with a few arrows.
And then I noticed one indian in particular. He was wearing my Pa's hat, and a shirt, unlike the other indian men, who ride bare-chested. And as I watched, my jaw did drop. because that indian was my Pa! He was out there hunting buffalo with the indians, and doin' right well, too. By the time the hunt was over, I thought he'd dropped about seven or eight.
I saw Pa ride out of the herd with the indians, and then I saw him talking to them and laughing, his hands signing all over the place, and I realized there must be a lot I don't know about my Pa.
I quit staring and noticed two little indian girls watching me. I gestured for them to come over to me, and they did, though very shyly. With Clint's help, I talked to them a little. The one little girl kept touching her braid, then reaching out to touch my own thick black braid, which hung over my shoulder. She said something to Clint, and I looked to him for explanation.
"She says you must be part Cheyenne. You have the same hair as her." he said. Then he laughed when she gestured to my eyes. "She thinks you might be part wolf, because of the color of your eyes."
I didn't know wolves had blue-gray eyes! I had to laugh at that. Imagine, me being part wolf! Clint laughed harder when I began to laugh, and the little indian girls laughed, too.
Then the other girl gestured to me and Clint and said something. Clint looked puzzled, so she looked at me and said it again, making the shape of a heart with her hands. "Oh, no, no!" I said, feeling kind of shocked. Clint's neck had kinda turned red, but he laughed and turned to the girl and said somethin'. I asked what had just happened.
It seems the girl thought that I was Clint's girl. I asked why and he said, "In some of the tribes, a young man will give the girl of his choice his horse. When they saw me let you ride Flint, I guess that's what they thought was happening."
"So what did you tell them?" I asked as we headed back to the train.
"I told them that someone with the hair of an indian, eyes of a wolf, and grace of a deer wouldn't go for an ugly thing like me." he said, watching for my reaction.
I didn't give him one, but let me tell you, my thoughts were racing! We talked about a few other things on the way back, but his words stuck in my mind. When he said that, he didn't sound too hopeful, but when I looked at him, he looked right back with a smile, and his eyes told me different.
Later
Tonight as we sat around the campfire, I asked Pa where he'd learned to hunt and talk like an indian.
"Well, Callie Jo, with the indians." he laughed. "Before I was ya'lls pa, I was kinda a wild man. I lived out in the west. Then I met your ma, and got hitched, but I still led folks west, when they started goin'. Guess I never could get the west outta my blood. Reckon I never will, neither." Pa said.
"Good thing we're movin' that direction, then." said Joel.
"Yep, son. Then I won't travel west no more."
"How many buffalo'd you get today, Pa?" Andy asked.
"Five. But I only kept one. I traded the other four for an indian pony. You boys can ride her, and the girls too, if they got a hankerin' to." Pa said, roasting some of the buffalo on a stick.
After hearing about the pony, we all had to go see it, of course. So we walked to where the other oxen and horses are kept and took a look. She's a pretty little mare, part white and part brown. Pa says she's called a paint. She shorter than Flint, but she looks fast. She wasn't skittish, either; let us come up and pat her and such. We'll have to ride her bareback, cause we sold our saddles, 'cept Pa's, with the farm in Missoura.
June 3rd, 1847
Passed Courthouse and Jail Rocks today. Only thing that I thought was impressive was that it was big , tall, blocks of rock in the middle of this grassland.
Took some time during nooning to stretch out some buffalo meat to dry for jerky. Pa showed me how, then helped me make a rack to dry it on. It hangs on the side of our wagon for now, but soon we'll be at the back of the train again, and I'll have to figure out some way to keep it from getting coated in dust.
Well, it has been a hilly day! This morning, after we said goodbye to the Sterlings, they headed east, and we resumed our journey west. About a mile down the trail, and we came to our first official hill. Up till now it's been prairie, far as the eye could see.
It was a pretty good-sized hill. We headed up slowly, one at time. Most folks double-teamed their animals. Occasionally ropes or chains would have to be gotten out and used to pull the wagons up the hill.
When we finally reached the top, every wagon safe and sound, we realized we were on some sort of plateau. We traveled on for a little before stopping to noon. Then we moved on. Then we came to Windlass Hill, our descent from the "table". Pa said everyone should walk down the hill, and it's a good thing, too. The Child's wagon got out of control and went skidding down the hill, nearly tipping. Somehow it righted itself, and thank the Lord no one was hurt. Pa's choice to make us walk was wise, as one of the Child's younguns coulda been pitched from the wagon.
Tonight we camp at Ash Hollow.
June 1st, 1847
What a day! Some indians came alongside our wagon train today. It was so strange, like they just appeared. Some on horses, some on foot. I saw some men on horseback ride up to the front of the train where Pa and Clint and Mr. MacGregor were and tell them something. Pa speaks some sort of indian language and signs, and so does Clint. I saw Pa stop the train and several of the men followed Pa, who was riding off with the indian men. I was so curious, and must've looked so, because the next thing I know, Clint was beside me on Flint explaining.
"They're from the Cheyenne tribe. There's a buffalo hunt going on nearby." he told me. "Wanna see how an indian hunts a buffalo?"
Of course I did. I started walking the direction Pa had gone when Clint stopped me. "Here," he said, climbing off Flint," You ride, I'll walk." I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it again. What was the use? I just said thanks and mounted.
We went over this bluff with the indians and once we reached the bottom I got off Flint and stood beside Clint. In front of my eyes was a herd of buffalo. There were so many! I had to make sure my mouth weren't hanging open.
Clint called my attention to a few indian braves on horseback who were riding into the herd. They pressed themselves onto their horses so the buffalo wouldn't spook. Then, once they were all in the herd, one of them let out a yell, and the whole herd, with the indians, took off. Say, those indian horses can run! They ran alongside the buffalo, their riders only hanging on by their legs. Man and horse became one being, working together. Every now and then a buffalo would drop, it's eyes showing the whites, it's tongue hanging out. The indians had shot them with a few arrows.
And then I noticed one indian in particular. He was wearing my Pa's hat, and a shirt, unlike the other indian men, who ride bare-chested. And as I watched, my jaw did drop. because that indian was my Pa! He was out there hunting buffalo with the indians, and doin' right well, too. By the time the hunt was over, I thought he'd dropped about seven or eight.
I saw Pa ride out of the herd with the indians, and then I saw him talking to them and laughing, his hands signing all over the place, and I realized there must be a lot I don't know about my Pa.
I quit staring and noticed two little indian girls watching me. I gestured for them to come over to me, and they did, though very shyly. With Clint's help, I talked to them a little. The one little girl kept touching her braid, then reaching out to touch my own thick black braid, which hung over my shoulder. She said something to Clint, and I looked to him for explanation.
"She says you must be part Cheyenne. You have the same hair as her." he said. Then he laughed when she gestured to my eyes. "She thinks you might be part wolf, because of the color of your eyes."
I didn't know wolves had blue-gray eyes! I had to laugh at that. Imagine, me being part wolf! Clint laughed harder when I began to laugh, and the little indian girls laughed, too.
Then the other girl gestured to me and Clint and said something. Clint looked puzzled, so she looked at me and said it again, making the shape of a heart with her hands. "Oh, no, no!" I said, feeling kind of shocked. Clint's neck had kinda turned red, but he laughed and turned to the girl and said somethin'. I asked what had just happened.
It seems the girl thought that I was Clint's girl. I asked why and he said, "In some of the tribes, a young man will give the girl of his choice his horse. When they saw me let you ride Flint, I guess that's what they thought was happening."
"So what did you tell them?" I asked as we headed back to the train.
"I told them that someone with the hair of an indian, eyes of a wolf, and grace of a deer wouldn't go for an ugly thing like me." he said, watching for my reaction.
I didn't give him one, but let me tell you, my thoughts were racing! We talked about a few other things on the way back, but his words stuck in my mind. When he said that, he didn't sound too hopeful, but when I looked at him, he looked right back with a smile, and his eyes told me different.
Later
Tonight as we sat around the campfire, I asked Pa where he'd learned to hunt and talk like an indian.
"Well, Callie Jo, with the indians." he laughed. "Before I was ya'lls pa, I was kinda a wild man. I lived out in the west. Then I met your ma, and got hitched, but I still led folks west, when they started goin'. Guess I never could get the west outta my blood. Reckon I never will, neither." Pa said.
"Good thing we're movin' that direction, then." said Joel.
"Yep, son. Then I won't travel west no more."
"How many buffalo'd you get today, Pa?" Andy asked.
"Five. But I only kept one. I traded the other four for an indian pony. You boys can ride her, and the girls too, if they got a hankerin' to." Pa said, roasting some of the buffalo on a stick.
After hearing about the pony, we all had to go see it, of course. So we walked to where the other oxen and horses are kept and took a look. She's a pretty little mare, part white and part brown. Pa says she's called a paint. She shorter than Flint, but she looks fast. She wasn't skittish, either; let us come up and pat her and such. We'll have to ride her bareback, cause we sold our saddles, 'cept Pa's, with the farm in Missoura.
June 3rd, 1847
Passed Courthouse and Jail Rocks today. Only thing that I thought was impressive was that it was big , tall, blocks of rock in the middle of this grassland.
Took some time during nooning to stretch out some buffalo meat to dry for jerky. Pa showed me how, then helped me make a rack to dry it on. It hangs on the side of our wagon for now, but soon we'll be at the back of the train again, and I'll have to figure out some way to keep it from getting coated in dust.
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