Fort Laramie
Sam rode into Independence, after leaving the paddle wheel steamer. There were three wagon trains being made up to go west, one a Mormon with a hundred and fifty Saints. Many a pretty girl was with this train.
Sam missed Sarah already.
Sam asked a wagon boss when they expected to leave. “Not for another week.” The other trains were waiting for one thing or the other. No one seemed to be in a hurry.
He decided to push on by himself. He followed a well worn trail west. As he moved past settlements and farms the plains became empty of civilization. He could see that the wagons moved four wide abreast. He guessed it was for protection from Indians. The grass was stirrup high, small streams ran to the north toward the Missouri river. Game became plentiful, rabbits bounded away every few yards, deer stopped to watch them go by. Antelope herds grazed in the distance. Coyotes and wolves hid in the tall grass, not moving unless Sam and his horses disturbed them. Late in the evening of the first day out, two wolves followed along for some time, staying out of gun range. He surmised them had been shot at before. A crippled antelope appeared. The wolves went after it and Sam watched as the two got a meal.
Moving on he found where unshod horses had cut across the trail. Quite a bunch, maybe ten or more. He made camp in a slight draw. No fires tonight and no hot coffee. That night he had a fitful sleep. Morning light came. He felt tired all over.
He saddled, packed and rode on, without eating. The dried meat he ate as he rode took much water to get down. It was a pleasant, cool morning. By noon a thunder storm hit the prairie. Lightening and thunder rolled across the plains. Soaked to the skin he looked for a spot to camp, none could be found to his liking. He rode on late into the darkness.
Then the rain stopped, it gave the prairie a fresh smell. A fire appeared in the distance. As he drew near, he could see a covered wagon, there were people standing by a fire. He yelled, “Ho the wagon.”
A women’s voice came back, “Who are you?”
He rode on in. He could see two women with bonnets and heavy coats on. When he stepped down, they both ran to hug him and almost knocked him down, one was saying, “God has answered our prayers.” She said, “Thank you God.”
He asked what they were doing out here on the plains by themselves? Both women tried to tell him at once. He stopped them, “One at a time.”
He pushed them both back and held them by an arm. The older one, he pushed her bonnet back so to see her face, he could see she was very young, she started talking so fast he couldn’t understand her. “Whoa, whoa, slow down.”
She told him her story. “We’re from Illinois, on the way to meet my husband’s folks at Fort Kearny on the Platte River. This girl is my little sister, my husband stepped in a gopher hole. He was out in front of the oxen they ran over him and broke his leg yesterday afternoon, we been here ever since, he’s in the wagon asleep, my baby and two children we picked up in Iowa are in there too. We been scared to death Indians would come and get us, will you help us?”
Sam asked why they were out here. “Why didn’t you follow the river?”
“We were told this is a short cut, my husband was in a hurry to catch his folks.”
Sam climbed on the tail gate to look at the man. Struck a match. The air was filled with the smell of fresh blood. He asked if they had a lantern. The young girl went and got one and handed it to him, he lit it and removed the quilt covering the man. His leg lay in a pool of blood, Sam felt his face, he was burning hot.
Sam held the lantern high, he could see three little children asleep father back in the wagon. Sam told the woman, “This man is not asleep, he’s unconscious, his leg is shattered, it looks to me like it’s got to come off.”
The young wife started crying, “No, no, he’ll die if you cut his leg off.”
“Lady he’ll die if we don’t, let’s get together and get it done.”
Sam unsaddled his horses and put the saddles under the wagon. He asked if the oxen were in the yoke all day.
The woman said, “They’ve been yoked since we started, we were afraid they might run off.”
Sam unyoked the team and turned them loose, they started in eating grass.
He told her, “They ain’t going nowhere, they’ll eat all night.”
Sam asked if she had a sewing kit. She did and went to get it. He told the sister to keep the fire going. They had a big pile of buffalo chips.
“We gathered chips all day to have something for the children to do,” She said.
“Get it hot as you can but not too high, we don’t want the Indians to see it.”
Sam looked for something he could make a hot iron out of. A sharp pick hung on the side of the wagon. He knocked the wood handle out, gave the steel pick to the younger girl. Told her, “Get the tip red hot, and bring it to me when I ask.”
He went to the wagon told the wife to get something for bandages, heat plenty of water. He set his Bowie knife in the fire to get the blade hot.
“You got whisky?” he asked.
“We’re Mormons, we don’t use spirits,” she said.
“It’s for his leg not his belly, I have some in my pack. I’ll get it.”
Sam got his bottle, climbed in the wagon, the wife was there. “Let’s get this quilt out, hand me that pillow.” He worked the quilt out and pushed the pillow under the fractured leg. He lifted the leg, pushed the pillow so the bad part of the leg hung loose. He called for his knife and with the knife cut the pants all the way to the hip.
What a sight, pieces of bone were protruding in every direction. He sent the knife back to be heated some more.
He asked, “How long’s he been out?”
“Since early this afternoon.”
Sam studied the leg. He told the wife, “I ain’t no doctor but this leg must come off. You want me to do it? Or do you wanta do it?” Tears streamed down her face.
“I can’t do it.” Now she was crying hard. “I can’t do it.”
“You gotta tell me to do it. If you want me to.”
“If it’s gonna be done, you will have to do it.”
“Fine, let’s get to it. Get the biggest needle you have and a heavy thread.”
Sam called for the hot water. They cleaned the break as best they could. Sam grabbed the wife by her shoulders with both hands, shook her hard saying, “You gotta help me, if you do what I say we’ll be okay.” She wiped her eyes and shook her head, yes.
Sam slit the skin four ways and peeled it back. Next he cut the leg where the break was, the leg came right off. He laid the leg on the tail gate, cut the meat back to where the break was clean, almost to the knee. He called for the pick and pushed the red-hot end against the meat. A sickening smell of burning flesh filled the wagon. Next he tied an artery and blood vessels with thread. Pulled the skin down, trimmed it to cover the flesh and sewed with needle and thread. Poured the whisky over it and made a pad, he pushed it against the cut. He asked the wife to bandage the leg.
He got down, went to the fire and asked the young girl if they had some coffee.
“We don’t drink coffee,” she said.
Sam went back got the whiskey and took a big swig. Told the girl, “I don’t drink whiskey. It don’t like me. I don’t like it.”
He got his pot and coffee, took water from a barrel on the wagon, made a full pot. While it cooked, he got his bed roll, unrolled it by the fire. Drank his coffee and lay down and went to sleep.
The sun woke him from a deep sleep. He heard children playing. Opening his eyes, the two women were standing above him. They both said, “Good morning, we made your coffee and breakfast.”
Sam asked, “How’s your man?”
“He woke early this morning, cried out and went back to sleep.”
Sam ate a breakfast of bacon, eggs and cold corn bread. “Where the eggs come from?” Sam asked.
“We have chickens in a cage on the other side of the wagon.”
This was the first time Sam got a good look at these women. He asked, “How old are you women?”
The wife replied, “I’ll be seventeen in December. My sister is fourteen. My baby is one year, the other two are orphan children we picked up in Iowa. Don’t know how old they are, maybe six and eight.”
Sam told them, “We gotta get moving.” He told the women to get loaded. He went and got the oxen. They were grazing fifty yards away. He yoked them, saddled his horses and tied them to the back of the wagon. He carried his rifle, pistol and became a bull whacker. The children and the women walked beside the wagon. Only the baby and husband rode. Sam turned the wagon north toward the Platte River and Fort Kearney.
At noon they stopped to eat something. Sam unyoked the oxen and unsaddled his horses and put the saddle and packsaddle in the front wagon box. He kept his rifle and shot guns handily. He asked the women their names.
The wife told him, “Our name is the Wards. My husband is Jess Ward. Mine is April. My sister is June, my baby Easter, the children, Andy and Mary Jo. What is yours?”
“Sam, Sam Duncan,” he replied. He then asked why they were going west. April said the people in Illinois don’t like Mormons. “They forced us to leave. We’re going to Salt Lake City.”
Sam asked more questions. “What did your man do? You know what kind of work?”
April told him. “Jess worked in his Pa’s hardware store. His Pa sold out. His folks wanted to get going west. Jess and I stayed to help the new people get started. Jess has three younger brothers. They went with the folks. Jess being the oldest was asked to stay. His Pa gave us some money to buy this outfit. We got this wagon and oxen in St Joe and outfitted it there.”
Sam asked if there was a rifle in the wagon. April said there was. He asked her to get it. She went and brought an old double barrel cap lock shot gun. He checked it out. It wasn’t loaded. She went back and got a bag that went with the gun. Sam showed her how to load it.
She said, “I’m a town girl, I don’t know a thing about guns and neither does Jess.”
“Look,” Sam said, “It’s not hard to shoot a shot gun, just point and pull the trigger. The gun is safe until the hammers are pulled back.” He showed her how. “See the caps I put on the nipples.”
She started laughing. “Nipples?” she said.
“Not the kind your baby uses, these caps are what makes the gun shoot, you under stand?”
“I’m afraid of guns.” She cringed all over as she spoke.
“You gotta get over that, you’ll have to use a gun sooner or later, what if Indians come? You’ll have to help me fight-em off.” He told her to be sure to set the hammers and not to pull both triggers at once.
A groan came from the wagon. April hurried to see Jess.
She came back said, “He must be awake, his eyes are open, but he’s not saying anything.”
Sam told her to try to spoon feed him some water. “I saw some wild chickens, I’ll try to shoot some.” He walked out a hundred yards and circled the wagon. Sure enough two hens flew up, he got them both with the shot gun and returned to the wagon.
“April you can dress these hens on the move. The children can ride my horses.”
Sam put both Andy and Mary Jo on his horses, told them to hang onto the horse’s mane. “Try not to fall,” Sam told them. Both seemed pleased to be riding a horse. June got in the wagon to help April. Sam yoked the oxen, with the horses tied to the wagon they moved on.
They had gone several miles when Sam spotted three mounted Indians to their front. He stopped the team. Told everyone to hide in the wagon. “I’ll see what they want. Stay hid, I don’t want them to see you, none of you, do you understand me?” Sam had anger in his voice. April said they would.
Sam walked out to meet the riders with his rifle in the crook of his left arm.
As the braves approached within ten yards, Sam raised his hand in friendly manner and spoke to them in Choctaw. They didn’t understand. Then he tried sign language. They talked back. Soon the riders gave the wagon a wide berth and rode onto the south. He watched until they were out of sight.
Back at the wagon, April asked what happened. Sam told her the Indians said the river was a sun away.
“Why did they leave?”
“I told them we had white mans sickness in the wagon. The other wagons made us leave, I don’t think they will bother us.” They moved on.
It was well before sunset when they came upon a large clump of trees. “We camp here tonight,” Sam told them.
The children gathered wood and chips for a fire. A good meal of prairie chicken was prepared. Sam told April to make chicken soup for Jess and spoon feed him.
“He’s awake but not saying a word,” April said.
“At least he’s alive. Looks like we’ll have a storm tonight, there’s lightning in the south, we better get prepared.” He made a leanto of canvas between two trees. Before turning in he tied the animals to big stout trees. The people slept in the wagon.
Around midnight the storm hit, lightning danced across the prairie, thunder rolled over head, heavy black clouds and strong winds accompanied the storm.
The animals pulled at their leads trying to get away, the rains came, the animals turned their rears to the rain. It was a heavy down pour for more than an hour, it stopped as soon as it came.
Sam had a fitful sleep. When he did sleep, he dreamed of Sarah’s café and the fine meals she used to have for him. He was awake most of the night off and on.
At day light he opened his eyes. He saw the women had a fire going and the smell of bacon frying was in the air. Sam felt as hungry as he had ever been. Coffee, bacon, eggs and corn bread stopped the hunger. He was in a hurry to move as he saw many birds in the trees. “We must be close to the river,” he told the women. They loaded and pushed on.
On a rise, just before noon they could see the Platte River some distance before them. Everyone was jumping for joy, to see this beautiful sight. Sam said “Let’s push on and camp by the river.”
In a few hours the animals were drinking in the Platte River. Camp was made and a meal was prepared.
“How’s your man?” Sam asked.
“He’s awake and moving a little, still not talking.”
Sam told her to keep pushing the chicken soup down him. “Let’s stay here and rest for a few days.” They all agreed.
Next day Sam saddled his horse, rode west looking for a ford to cross the river. In just a mile he found one, crossed and saw there had been many wagons moving along the trail to the west. He hurried back to tell the women what he had found.
They rested another day. Then loaded and forded the river and turned west. Two days travel put them in sight of Fort Kearney. Jess was awake and talking. April was so happy. She could hardly contain herself.
Sam talked to Jess and Jess asked for everyone to pray and thank God for their survival. April told him, “Thank Sam, too, he brought us thru.”
Next day they were in Fort Kearney and found the Ward family. Much joy and happiness were displayed in the family. Jess was unhappy about having only one leg. Sam told him he was a lucky man to have such a wife and he would be just fine if he tried, many men live a good life with a missing leg.
Next day Sam bid the Wards goodbye, saddled and rode west toward Fort Laramie.
Sam rode the wagon trail, watching for Indian signs. He could see the wagons traveled spread four breasts across the trail. Late that day he found tracks where many unshod horses crossed the trail and moved to the north. He followed them for over a mile, fresh, maybe this morning or late last night, he thought. He turned west again, stayed off the high ground. Camped in a ravine, slept a fitful sleep. He dreamed of many Indians killing many people. He sat up startled. A coyote was howling on the ridge above him. No more sleep, by sunrise, he was on the move again.
As he rode, he watched the ridges to the north, no stopping, he kept moving. At noon hunger gnawed at his stomach. He had to keep moving. Then he saw Indians on a ridge to the northwest. He ducked into a ravine and turned south toward the wagon trail. Reaching it, he rode west. Dust filled the sky to his front. He surmised it must be a wagon train, circling for the night.
For some reason he turned and looked to the back trail. There three Indian horsemen, not more than three hundred yards away, saw him at the same time. They yelled their war hoops and came running their horses toward him, lances at the ready.
He knew he couldn’t outrun them, not with the pack mare. He turned her loose. Turned his mount sideways on the trail and dismounted, laid his pistol-rifle across the saddle to help steady his aim. As the warriors came closer, he fired at the lead rider. The bullet hit him square in the chest. He tumbled from his mount. Another bullet found its mark too. A second warrior slumped to the ground and fell in a heap. The last painted brave was charging with his lance. At twenty paces, he too took a bullet in the chest. A surprised look filled his face, big eyed and gushing blood from his wound, he too fell to the ground. Sam could see this brave was just a teenager. His painted face made him look older.
As he looked on this young boy, he got deathly sick. He had never killed a human before. The Indian ponies had stopped by his pack mare. It was easy to gather them up and tie them head to tail with the rawhide reins in their mouths. He rode on toward the wagon train.
This was the train that had circled for the night. Men were busy driving their animals into the middle of the circled wagons. As Sam rode in, the wagon boss came to see him. Asked him what the shooting was about. Sam told him, “You got Indian trouble, there’s a bunch coming this way, you better get ready. I have three Indian ponies you can have.” He gave the reins of the horses to the wagon boss.
The people became much excited and began preparing to fight. The wagon boss asked if Sam had seen three wagons coming this way. Sam said he hadn’t, but he had seen Indians on the ridges to the north and the ones he shot were painted for war.
Just as they talked, three wagons came in to sight. Everyone started yelling and cheering. These were their relatives and friends. No sooner had the wagons appeared so did the Indians. With war hoops they swooped down on the wagons. The men never had a chance. They were either lanced or tomahawked when they tried to keep moving their teams of oxen toward the wagon train. The women and children came running and screaming toward the train, they were lanced, tomahawked and savagely killed by the riders.
Some men of the circled train fired at the riders, but they were out of range, their bullets only kicking up dirt in front of the warriors. Sam saw two young girls run south toward the river, an Indian horseman scooped one up, she fought like a wild cat, he had to drop her to the ground. The rider stopped, with a mighty stroke he drove a lance into her body as she lay screaming on the ground. The other girl was fighting her captivity as hard as the first one.
Sam mounted his horse and with a pistol in hand rode as fast as he could after the Indian warrior with the girl. The brave saw him coming, he threw the girl to the ground and drove a lance into her stomach. By then Sam was on top of the brave, he fired three shots at point blank range into his head, the Warrior tumbled from his horse. Sam reined his mount back to the girl, dismounted and pulled the lance from her body, he picked her up and held her in his arms. Her young beautiful face was pouring blood from mouth and nose. She mumbled the word, “Momma.” She died in his arms, Sam wept unashamed. Men from the train came and pried the girl from his arms.
All the dead were loaded in the wagons and taken to the train. That afternoon, four men, three mothers, two young girls and five children were buried in a mass grave down by the river. Much crying, sobbing and praying went on for hours. Then the people sang religious songs for another hour. An elder told the people that God works in strange and mysterious ways, they should go on as God and Brigham Young had planned for them.
The women prepared meals, an older man brought Sam a plate and sat and talked to him. He could see Sam was in bad shape, he asked if Sam was a religious man. “No, I’m not,” Sam told him with no hesitation.
The man asked if he knew these people were Mormons. “Yes,” Sam answered.
“Do you know about us?”
Sam told him he didn’t know too much.
“Let me tell you about us Mormons. Our leader was Joseph Smith. He founded our church in 1830 in the state of Illinois. We are the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We’ve been shoved and pushed in every way possible known to man. Brigham Young is now our leader and has founded Salt Lake City in Utah territory for us. The Government said they would let us alone if we sent our young men to fight the Mexicans in California, most of our young men have been lost in the fighting. We’re asking all men of Christian faith to join us in Utah and come join our Church.”
Sam was impressed with this man and his people. The man asked if Sam would like to join them in Utah. “We would be pleased to have you.”
Sam thanked him, said he was leaving in the morning for Fort Laramie. The man said no more.
Sam made his camp for the night down by the river. He wanted to be alone. He made a small fire and made coffee and his supper. He thought back to April and Jess and hoped they were having a safe passage.
He had just unrolled his bed, when two young girls from the train came into the fire light. “Can we talk to you?” they asked.
“Sure, set and talk, I need company about now.”
The girls talked for some time, telling him of their lives in the east and the church they belonged to. The older one who was near Sam’s age asked him to come to Salt Lake City with them. “We need young men to marry, would you like to marry us?” she asked.
“Oh - no, I’m not ready to marry anyone yet, I sure don’t want to be a farmer.”
“You don’t have to be a farmer, there’s lots of things you can do in Utah.”
“Not me, I’m leaving in the morning, I thank you both for your offer, now you girls scoot back to the train, I need to get some sleep.” He tried to be as easy as he could with these fine girls.
The older girl asked if she could hug him. He said, “Yes.” The other wanted to also. She did and they both returned to the train.
Sam had a fitful sleep. He dreamed of the young girl that died in his arms. Dreamed of another massacre, he tried to stop it but couldn’t. He sat up stunned, it all seemed so real to him. It was almost morning as the light in the east was breaking thru a cloud filled sky. He got up, made a fire and fixed breakfast, saddled and packed his horses ready to leave.
The elder came and stopped him. Told him some soldiers on horse back had come into camp and wanted to talk with him. He tied the horses and walked with the elder to see the soldiers.
A Lieutenant, who looked to be in his thirties was the commander of the troopers. He asked Sam if he was the one who had killed the warriors back on the trail. “Those Indians were from the Cheyenne tribe, they where Cheyenne Dog Soldiers, they have sworn to stop all immigrants on the trail. We’re from Fort Kearny, we’ve been sent to put them back into their territory.”
Sam shook his head as he told him, “You’re just a little too damn late.”
The Lieutenant took objections to Sam’s words.“We do the best we can, we been after this bunch for days, this country is so big we can’t be every where, you people have to protect yourselves. We’re here just to slow the Indians down. Which way did the warriors go?”
“After the massacre they headed north. Their trail should be easy to follow.”
“We’ll find them and take revenge for these killings. Will you come with us?” the Lieutenant asked.
“No Lieutenant, I’m on the way to Fort Laramie.”
The Lieutenant mounted his horse and bid them all good luck, good by and with a command turned his mount and the troop north.
“They make enough noise, they’ll be heard miles away,” Sam remarked. “They couldn’t catch a cold in those hills, the Indians can hear them coming and never be seen.”
Sam told the Elder goodbye and mounted his horse and headed on the trail west.
That night he camped by the Platte River. The grass was plentiful and his horses never raised their heads as they grazed the night away.
The next day he encountered unshod horses’ hoofs by the hundreds. The sign was every where. It puzzled him. He surmised there must be some big doings going on or the Indians are attacking the fort in force.
As he approached the Fort, hundreds of tepees were pitched on the east, south and west sides of the Fort. The trail went right thru the tepees, horses were eating grass everywhere, Indian children played games on both sides of the trail. There were dogs by the hundreds, some came nipping at his horses heels, several got kicked by the pack mare. Sam laughed and thought it was funny, as the hounds went yelping away.
“Those dogs have lessons to learn about a white man’s horses, serves em right to get kicked,” he said to himself.
He rode past many squaws that were doing their chores. Young boys and girls came out and followed along with him for some distance, most had their hands up wanting Sam to give them something. He would shake his head and motion for them to get away, he spurred his mount into a long trot and headed to the fort.
Approaching the fort, he met two mounted officers. A Captain and Lieutenant. He stopped them and asked, “Why are all the Indians camped here?”
The Captain, a stout looking man in his early thirties with a large handle bar mustache answered, “This is a treaty meeting for the first time on the plains. Most of the tribes in this area are here. We think there’s more than ten thousand Indians and more coming. The Crows and Shoshones haven’t come yet, the Cheyenne have refused to come. Who knows what’s gonna happen when Crows and Shoshones get here, they’re old enemies of the Sioux, and Arapahos. Are you on the way to the gold fields?” he asked.
“No, soldiers I had met in St Louis told me there’s plenty of work here, I’m looking for work.”
“We’ve imported a lot of Mexican people to work around the Fort. They’re working on the buildings and grounds. You might get work with the wood cutter, north of here, see the Dutchman, he’s the contractor for supplying wood to the Fort, tell him Captain Mack sent you.”
“How far north is he?” Sam asked.
“Eight or so miles in the timber, you can’t miss them, take your horses up to the stables and tell Sergeant Kelly I said to grain and feed em, you can stay here for the night, we have supper call at five, you’re welcome to eat with us.”
The Captain was very cordial. Sam thanked him and rode up to the stables.
Sam asked a private if he would call the stable Sergeant. A Sergeant heard and came out and asking what he wanted. Sam told him, “Captain Mack said to stable and feed my two horses.”
“Okay by me,” He said. “I’ll show you where to stow your saddles and gear.”
After he unsaddled his horses the Sergeant led the two and stalled them in the stable. A bugle sounded the mess call. Several troopers came from the stable and headed for a huge tent set up a short distance from the stables. The Sergeant gave orders to two privates to stand guard until he got back.
He said to Sam, “Come on, let’s go get some chow.” Sam went with him to the tent, long lines of troopers were going past tables where soldiers were putting food on their plates, Sam followed the Sergeant. This was the first hot meal he had in days he hadn’t fixed himself, he also managed to get a large cup of black coffee. The two sat at a long table with benches on each side, troopers filling the benches, most of the conversation of the troopers was of the Redskins camped on the grounds around the fort. Sam listened to their talk, one soldier said he had heard the wagon train with the presents for the Injun’s was late and the Chiefs were getting mad. Sam heard some of the troopers complain about the Government giving the Redskins gifts.
Sergeant Kelly started telling Sam of the building going on. “We’re gonna have one of the best posts on the Oregon Trail. A new mess, three barracks, a power magazine, nine houses for officers and a Sutlers store will be finished before summer is over. It’s gonna be a great place for us enlisted men to serve. Been in this mans army fourteen yar’s and I kain’t sees a better place to be stationed.”
After supper, Sam thanked the Sergeant and asked if he could sleep in the harness room tonight.
“Okay by me,” the Sergeant said.
Sam took a short walk around to stretch his legs. Then rolled out his bed and went to sleep.
Next morning he rode the ten miles to the wood cutter’s camp. Finding the Dutchman and getting a job, he was shown by the Dutchman a tent that would be his home for as long as he worked there. The Dutchman also let Sam keep his horses in a pen where the mules were kept.
“The men call me Dutch, we’re glad to have another cutter as many men have run off to the gold fields in California. The big tent is where we eat. We keep a guard on the mule pen just in case the Redskins decide to steal some, most Indians don’t care for mules so we ain’t had no trouble.”
Sam was given an axe and a stone to sharpen it with. His job was to trim all the limbs off the fallen trees, to make firewood, he worked at that job for over a month. During that time some troopers stopped and told of the treaty with the tribes and said the Indians had to be moved to Hat Creek thirty miles west, the wagon bearing their gifts was late and the forage for the Indian ponies became such a problem the council site had to be moved. Many more tribes and sub-tribes came to take part in the talks, making this the first great peace council with the plain’s Indians.
The meetings took on the color of a powwow like the Indians had never seen before, the tribes showed off their regalia and ponies, the chiefs smoked peace pipes and promised to not fight among themselves and not to attack the emigrants on the trail. Each tribe got a territory of their own to live and hunt in, plus an annuity of fifty thousand dollars worth of trade goods. The commissioners declared peace on the plains forever.
Sam was still working for Dutch and became a teamster. He would drive a timber wagon to the horse drawn saw mill at the fort, two or three times a week. On one of these trips he asked a Mr. Tuller at the Sutlers store if he knew of any cabins near the fort for sale. He was told several old trappers were getting ready to go east, he should go and ask them. He had no luck in finding them.
The next Sunday Sam rode down to the fort. The wood contract had been fulfilled and the men would soon be on their own. Sam stopped again at the Sutlers store to ask about the cabins. Mr. Tuller owner of the store told him a trapper by the name of Jim Bridger had a cabin he hadn’t used in a long time. The trapper had been living with the Snake Indians for sometime.
Sam asked, “Jim Bridger? My Pa told of a man of that name he trapped with, when he was a mountain man. This must be the same man?”
“I’m shore he is. Why don’t you take the cabin, he won’t care?”
Sam asked Mr. Tuller if he knew of a place he could start a gun repair shop. “We have a room here in the store you can use, we been looking for something to help bring emigrants to our store. Be glad to have you, you’ll need to have a stove in that room, it’ll be cold this winter, the emigrants have thrown all kinds of household goods down on the trail, to lighten their wagons. I’m sure you can find a stove, take my spring wagon and go look.”
Sam said he would as soon as he came back from the wood cutters camp. Sam figured things were going good for him and was a pleased young man in the fall of 1851.