{No Turning Back-part XV}
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| Fort Bridger |
July 26th, 1847 Fort Bridger
Rained all day today. It sure felt good, to have clouds above hiding the hot sun. We made it to Fort Bridger and stopped early.
Later
I vow and declare! Reason I had to stop writing earlier was that Lem had come over tonight again.
All was going fine until he got up and came over to sit with me. It made me awful uneasy. Then he started talking 'bout the weather, and the next thing I know he was asking me if he could court me! That's really what it sounded like, "It's good we got some rain today, huh, Callie? Would you mind if I come callin'?"
I think I sat there with my mouth hanging open. I felt like a treed coon. I turned to Pa to see what he thought, and he looked 'bout surprised as I was. That brought my senses back. I turned to Lem and said, "I'm real sorry, Lem, but I can't let you court me."
Then he looked shocked, almost mad. "Why? Is there somethin' wrong with me?" he asked me.
"No, Lem. You're a real fine man. But I once made a promise, and I intend to keep it. I don't feel right 'bout you callin' on me." I said. "I really am sorry."
"So'm I, Callie." he said. "Goodnight, all." Then he stood up, slapped his hat on his head, and strode outta our camp.
I had no idea Lem Withers was even interested in me. That's what threw me so bad.
"What promise didja make, Callie Jo?" Pa asked me.
"I promised Ma a long time ago that I'd never even consider a fella who didn't get your go-ahead first, Pa." I answered. "When I seen your face, I knowed he hadn't."
"Good girl, Callie Jo." Pa said. "You got a good sense of judgement. I didn't eve know Lem was lookin' at'cha."
"Me neither." I let go of some air I'd been holding in.
Then me and Pa and Joel and Missy laughed a little. Clint just sat starin' into the fire.
July 27th, 1847
Tonight we were livin' pretty high on the hog. Joel and Clint went out hunting and got two wild geese and a nice young doe. I roasted both the geese with some wild vegetables and dried potatoes in the dutch oven. I can't wait to eat fresh potatoes again. They were pretty fat geese, and they ended up being juicy and tender. It was one of the best meals we've had on the trail so far.
July 30th, 1847
This afternoon as we were walking, Missy, Andy, and me noticed that the sky behind us was getting dark with clouds. Then a chilly wind picked up. Pa halted the train and told everyone to get under the wagons. Those who didn't'll wish they had.
We had no sooner crawled under the wagon than it started to hail. I reached out to pick up a piece of it and got hit on the arm by another stone falling out of the sky. I yelled and yanked my hand back under the wagon.
Then we waited. I could hear the oxen and the horses and mules crying out like I had. There was no relief for them, and they were likely being beat to death. Finally it stopped and we came out from under our wagons. There was ice balls laying everywhere. There were holes in the canvas of the wagon tops, where the bigger hail ripped through. Andy found a piece near about as big as my fist.
Our poor dumb oxen just stood there kinda dazed, and bellowed every now and then. We got out out bottles of liniment and rubbed their backs with it, as well as Paint's, Flint's, and Pa's horse, Cocky. Then we moved on, with what daylight we had left.
Seems that's all we do, just move on, until darkness falls. If someone gets sick, we put 'em in a wagon and move on. If there's a storm, we wait it out and move on. It we need food, some folks get left behind to look and hunt for it and we move on and expect to see them when they catch up. If somebody dies, we bury them six feet under, say somethin' nice, and move on.
Sometimes I get so weary of moving all the time. But I reckon there'll come a day when we won't have to move on no more. And that day comes when we reach Oregon.
Rained all day today. It sure felt good, to have clouds above hiding the hot sun. We made it to Fort Bridger and stopped early.
Later
I vow and declare! Reason I had to stop writing earlier was that Lem had come over tonight again.
All was going fine until he got up and came over to sit with me. It made me awful uneasy. Then he started talking 'bout the weather, and the next thing I know he was asking me if he could court me! That's really what it sounded like, "It's good we got some rain today, huh, Callie? Would you mind if I come callin'?"
I think I sat there with my mouth hanging open. I felt like a treed coon. I turned to Pa to see what he thought, and he looked 'bout surprised as I was. That brought my senses back. I turned to Lem and said, "I'm real sorry, Lem, but I can't let you court me."
Then he looked shocked, almost mad. "Why? Is there somethin' wrong with me?" he asked me.
"No, Lem. You're a real fine man. But I once made a promise, and I intend to keep it. I don't feel right 'bout you callin' on me." I said. "I really am sorry."
"So'm I, Callie." he said. "Goodnight, all." Then he stood up, slapped his hat on his head, and strode outta our camp.
I had no idea Lem Withers was even interested in me. That's what threw me so bad.
"What promise didja make, Callie Jo?" Pa asked me.
"I promised Ma a long time ago that I'd never even consider a fella who didn't get your go-ahead first, Pa." I answered. "When I seen your face, I knowed he hadn't."
"Good girl, Callie Jo." Pa said. "You got a good sense of judgement. I didn't eve know Lem was lookin' at'cha."
"Me neither." I let go of some air I'd been holding in.
Then me and Pa and Joel and Missy laughed a little. Clint just sat starin' into the fire.
July 27th, 1847
Tonight we were livin' pretty high on the hog. Joel and Clint went out hunting and got two wild geese and a nice young doe. I roasted both the geese with some wild vegetables and dried potatoes in the dutch oven. I can't wait to eat fresh potatoes again. They were pretty fat geese, and they ended up being juicy and tender. It was one of the best meals we've had on the trail so far.
July 30th, 1847
This afternoon as we were walking, Missy, Andy, and me noticed that the sky behind us was getting dark with clouds. Then a chilly wind picked up. Pa halted the train and told everyone to get under the wagons. Those who didn't'll wish they had.
We had no sooner crawled under the wagon than it started to hail. I reached out to pick up a piece of it and got hit on the arm by another stone falling out of the sky. I yelled and yanked my hand back under the wagon.
Then we waited. I could hear the oxen and the horses and mules crying out like I had. There was no relief for them, and they were likely being beat to death. Finally it stopped and we came out from under our wagons. There was ice balls laying everywhere. There were holes in the canvas of the wagon tops, where the bigger hail ripped through. Andy found a piece near about as big as my fist.
Our poor dumb oxen just stood there kinda dazed, and bellowed every now and then. We got out out bottles of liniment and rubbed their backs with it, as well as Paint's, Flint's, and Pa's horse, Cocky. Then we moved on, with what daylight we had left.
Seems that's all we do, just move on, until darkness falls. If someone gets sick, we put 'em in a wagon and move on. If there's a storm, we wait it out and move on. It we need food, some folks get left behind to look and hunt for it and we move on and expect to see them when they catch up. If somebody dies, we bury them six feet under, say somethin' nice, and move on.
Sometimes I get so weary of moving all the time. But I reckon there'll come a day when we won't have to move on no more. And that day comes when we reach Oregon.
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