{No Turning Back -part X}
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| Ayres Natural Bridge |
June 15th, 1847 Fort Laramie
This is the first I have been able to pick up a pencil in a while. I've had cholera too, and Miss Myrtle said I almost didn't pull through.
The day after I wrote last I came down with the sickness, too. I see what pain Andy was going through now. I felt cramped and tight, and I was so weak. Miss Myrtle ordered us to be brought over to the Brewer's wagon, where she was takin' care of Carl. So Clint carried Andy first, then me, over to the wagon.
The second morning of my sickness, Miss Myrtle says I went delirious, then as the day wore on, unconscious. She tried to get me to drink water, but I couldn't keep it in. Pa hurried the train along as fast as he could, tryin' to get to Fort Laramie. He was hoping there'd be a doctor. But there wasn't. I was out of my head for three days. Then I finally came out of it, and I remember being so thirsty.
Miss Myrtle shouted "Hallelujah!" and gave me a drink. Since then I've been building up strength little by little.
We've been at the fort for quite a while, and Pa says we'll move on tomorrow morning. He don't want to lose no more time than we have.
June 16th, 1847
I rode in the wagon today. I don't even feel strong enough to walk. This morning, Joel and Clint had to help me walk to our wagon from the Brewer's. Carl is much better, so Viola's back with him, and Clint don't have to drive their wagon any more.
The folks who had cholera are recovering now. That is, the ones who survived. Found out that Sam didn't make it. He died sometime yesterday. Andy is beside himself with sorrow.
Passed Register Cliff today. Andy didn't even bother to carve his name in like he's done at every other rock we've passed. I'm worried 'bout him.
June 18th, 1847
Today I rode Paint, our indian pony. I was able to walk, but I didn't feel I could walk all day long. I'm back to cooking, but I need some help getting the dutch oven out of its box.
The trail has gotten very rough now, with lots of rocks. The Platte River is up above us, and it seems that every day we have to cross some little branch of it. The temperature has gotten warmer, and we haven't seen rain for awhile. Pa's afraid the weather'll get real hot soon. Still, for now there's always a pretty good breeze goin', rustlin' the sage that grows everywhere.
June 20th, 1847
Every day I can feel my strength building back up. I went back to walking yesterday, and today I feel better than ever.
I finally talked to Andy. He's been drivin' me nigh unto distraction, not eating much, not talking much, not doing hardly anything. Today I walked down the trail with him and told him to stop grievin' so.
"You've changed." I said.
"How so?" he said back.
"You're too quiet." I told him, "And you don't eat enough. If you keep this up, you're gonna catch somethin'."
"So?"
"So I don't want that to happen. You remember what Pa told you when Ma died?"
"That I had to keep livin', so I could work hard an' please God."
"Yeah," I said, "An' I don't think it pleases God when you forget what joy is an' you worry your family to death."
"I'm sorry, Callie." Andy looked at me with tears in his eyes.
"It's all right, Andy." I pulled him to me and hugged him." I know how sad you feel. But you can't let sadness control your life. All right?"
He nodded. I let him go and walked back to the wagon. I prayed that God would comfort my brother and bring back the joyous little boy we once had.
This trail had almost robbed the children of their youth. Seems that in all their faces I see old men and women, who've known the trials of life. I hardly ever see the girls and boys run and dance and play like they did at the beginning of the trail. They just walk on like the rest of us.
June 22nd, 1847
Pa had the train cut off from the trail today, a little before nooning to see Ayers natural bridge. That was somethin' to see! It's a rock bridge that stretches over a branch of the Platte, in a shady dell. We nooned a little earlier today so we could spend it at Ayers. The waters felt nice and cool under that bridge. After getting done with dinner, I waded with Missy and Andy some, then we decided to climb to the top of the bridge. It weren't all that hard, and when we got to the top, we were rewarded with a real good view.
We could look and down and see the clear waters flowing beneath, and the wagons that, instead of being in the normal circle as it was impossible 'cause of the trees, were stopped here and there. We saw the hills that we had traveled over and some of the hills to come. We saw a big, tall, red wall of rock off to the side, and a bunch of swallow nests built on the side of it. The sky was so blue against that red, and the cottonwood trees added their own bright green.
I see it all in my mind now, though we've come a good many miles from it since nooning, and I'm just sitting in the dark by the fire. But it's clear to me. It's become a "picture" of the trail, like so many other things; rivers, rocks, prairie, people walking, animals carrying. All pictures in my mind.
And there's so much more to see.
This is the first I have been able to pick up a pencil in a while. I've had cholera too, and Miss Myrtle said I almost didn't pull through.
The day after I wrote last I came down with the sickness, too. I see what pain Andy was going through now. I felt cramped and tight, and I was so weak. Miss Myrtle ordered us to be brought over to the Brewer's wagon, where she was takin' care of Carl. So Clint carried Andy first, then me, over to the wagon.
The second morning of my sickness, Miss Myrtle says I went delirious, then as the day wore on, unconscious. She tried to get me to drink water, but I couldn't keep it in. Pa hurried the train along as fast as he could, tryin' to get to Fort Laramie. He was hoping there'd be a doctor. But there wasn't. I was out of my head for three days. Then I finally came out of it, and I remember being so thirsty.
Miss Myrtle shouted "Hallelujah!" and gave me a drink. Since then I've been building up strength little by little.
We've been at the fort for quite a while, and Pa says we'll move on tomorrow morning. He don't want to lose no more time than we have.
June 16th, 1847
I rode in the wagon today. I don't even feel strong enough to walk. This morning, Joel and Clint had to help me walk to our wagon from the Brewer's. Carl is much better, so Viola's back with him, and Clint don't have to drive their wagon any more.
The folks who had cholera are recovering now. That is, the ones who survived. Found out that Sam didn't make it. He died sometime yesterday. Andy is beside himself with sorrow.
Passed Register Cliff today. Andy didn't even bother to carve his name in like he's done at every other rock we've passed. I'm worried 'bout him.
June 18th, 1847
Today I rode Paint, our indian pony. I was able to walk, but I didn't feel I could walk all day long. I'm back to cooking, but I need some help getting the dutch oven out of its box.
The trail has gotten very rough now, with lots of rocks. The Platte River is up above us, and it seems that every day we have to cross some little branch of it. The temperature has gotten warmer, and we haven't seen rain for awhile. Pa's afraid the weather'll get real hot soon. Still, for now there's always a pretty good breeze goin', rustlin' the sage that grows everywhere.
June 20th, 1847
Every day I can feel my strength building back up. I went back to walking yesterday, and today I feel better than ever.
I finally talked to Andy. He's been drivin' me nigh unto distraction, not eating much, not talking much, not doing hardly anything. Today I walked down the trail with him and told him to stop grievin' so.
"You've changed." I said.
"How so?" he said back.
"You're too quiet." I told him, "And you don't eat enough. If you keep this up, you're gonna catch somethin'."
"So?"
"So I don't want that to happen. You remember what Pa told you when Ma died?"
"That I had to keep livin', so I could work hard an' please God."
"Yeah," I said, "An' I don't think it pleases God when you forget what joy is an' you worry your family to death."
"I'm sorry, Callie." Andy looked at me with tears in his eyes.
"It's all right, Andy." I pulled him to me and hugged him." I know how sad you feel. But you can't let sadness control your life. All right?"
He nodded. I let him go and walked back to the wagon. I prayed that God would comfort my brother and bring back the joyous little boy we once had.
This trail had almost robbed the children of their youth. Seems that in all their faces I see old men and women, who've known the trials of life. I hardly ever see the girls and boys run and dance and play like they did at the beginning of the trail. They just walk on like the rest of us.
June 22nd, 1847
Pa had the train cut off from the trail today, a little before nooning to see Ayers natural bridge. That was somethin' to see! It's a rock bridge that stretches over a branch of the Platte, in a shady dell. We nooned a little earlier today so we could spend it at Ayers. The waters felt nice and cool under that bridge. After getting done with dinner, I waded with Missy and Andy some, then we decided to climb to the top of the bridge. It weren't all that hard, and when we got to the top, we were rewarded with a real good view.
We could look and down and see the clear waters flowing beneath, and the wagons that, instead of being in the normal circle as it was impossible 'cause of the trees, were stopped here and there. We saw the hills that we had traveled over and some of the hills to come. We saw a big, tall, red wall of rock off to the side, and a bunch of swallow nests built on the side of it. The sky was so blue against that red, and the cottonwood trees added their own bright green.
I see it all in my mind now, though we've come a good many miles from it since nooning, and I'm just sitting in the dark by the fire. But it's clear to me. It's become a "picture" of the trail, like so many other things; rivers, rocks, prairie, people walking, animals carrying. All pictures in my mind.
And there's so much more to see.
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