A Journal of our Trip, 1864
Lucretia Lawson Epperson
INTRODUCTION
It was on May 2, 1861, that Lucretia Lawson and Brutus Clay Epperson were married in Etna, Coles County, Illinois. They were both Kentuckians, she having been born in Hardin County on November 28, 1840, and he on October 27, 1830, in Estell County. He was a ticket agent for the Illinois Central Railroad.
After the wedding Brutus and Lucretia decided that farming would be more in their interest than working for the railroad. They bought a farm near the little town of Etna with the idea of raising fine horses and mule stock. On March 14, 1862, a baby boy was born to them. They named him Charles and he, as a two-year-old, is mentioned in Lucretia’s overland journal as “Charlie.”
Brutus Epperson had already been on a journey to California in 1852. He and his brother, C.C., made the trip by sea from New York to San Francisco. They were attracted to the great interior valley of the Sacramento. To the north of the capital, in Butte County, the two brothers settled on a farm near the Marysville Buttes, a dramatic geological feature of the central valley. Brutus returned east by sea in 1859. His idea was to purchase as many fine horses as possible and drive them to California, there to go into the horse, mule and cattle raising business. In early 1864 he and his friend, Henry Reed, traveled to Kentucky and purchased a herd of brood mares and some jacks and jennets.
On April 1, 1864, the Eppersons and Henry Reed began their long journey to the Land of Gold. They reached the brothers’ ranch on September 16th.
Lucretia kept a diary, in which she wrote, sometimes occasionally, sometimes every day on the long journey. What she did not disclose was that she was pregnant the whole way. She did complain that she did not feel well on some days, and at the California end of their journey on the western slope of the Sierra she obtained the services of one Dr. David Gould Webber, who lived on the shores of a lake to which he had given his own name, Webber Lake. She gave birth to their second child, Thurza A., on October 1, 1864. Two more children were born in Sutter County: Mary J., on December 29, 1866, and Bertha Clay on February 15, 1869.
In the autumn of 1868 the Eppersons purchased another farm in western Colusa County, and they moved to that location in 1869. That became the home place. This farm was at the base of the Coast Range of mountains, and in Bear Valley, athwart the easiest route to the beautiful lakes of Lake County to the west. Brutus Epperson was instrumental in establishing the “Bartlett Springs and Bear Valley Toll-Road Company.” So, in addition to having a prosperous ranch for his livestock, he had income from the toll-road.
The source for Lucretia Epperson’s journal is a grand old book, one of the ego-books of the late 19th century. It was financed by collecting a fee from each of those whose biographies appeared in it’s pages: Will S. Green’s Colusa County, California. Illustrations Descriptive of its Scenery, Fine Residences, Public Buildings, Manufactories, Hotels, Farm Scenes, Business Houses, Schools, Churches, Mines, Mills, Etc. From Original Drawings by Artists of the Highest Ability, With Historical Sketch of the County (San Francisco, 1880). Hereafter it will be referred to as History of Colusa County. If there are more footnotes clarifying the stops in the Nevada-California end of their journey, it is because they traveled the Beckwourth Pass route to northern California. It was one of those “ghost trails” described by Thomas H. Hunt in his book, Ghost Trails to California. (Palo Alto, CA, 1974).
THE JOURNAL
We started on our journey Friday, April 1, 1864, from the residence of Mrs. Thurza Epperson, in Coles county, Illinois. We took with us a lot of blooded stock purchased in Kentucky by my husband and Mr. Henry Reed. Mr. Reed was a pioneer of Yuba county, California. Mr. Epperson and himself had been old acquaintances in California as early as 1852. We camped near the little town of Oakland [Illinois] the first evening, and it commenced to rain about the time we encamped. Our cook, Joe Gaithe, made a good fire by the side of a large dry log, and soon had nice hot coffee, we having plenty of everything in the line of edibles cooked. The bright fire made our surroundings cheerful, and this was the beginning of camp life for me. My husband procured a bed at a house near by for myself and child. The men slept in the wagons.
April 2. We went about half a mile, when our four-horse team became fast in the mud. Our men worked hard two hours before extricating them. Mr. Epperson found it necessary to increase the number of horses from four to six the rest of the journey. We had hard traveling all day and only accomplished seven miles, and we camped at sunset on Grand Prairie. We had but little fuel, and our camp was less cheerful than the evening before, men all tired and not in very good humor. Being unable to procure a bed, my husband and myself were obliged to sleep in our wagon.
April 3. Rained all day, roads very muddy, we plodded on our way until we entered a narrow lane. Here we became fast in a mud-hole that was almost impassable. Sitting on a fence near by was a gentleman who seemed to be proprietor of said mud-hole, as he told us we could not get our wagon through without the help of another team. He had three yoke of oxen with him, seemed to be ready for business, and demanded five dollars for his services. Mr. Epperson and Reed could not see things in that light, and they offered him two dollars to open his fence and let them drive around, otherwise, they assured him they would go through by force. He finally concluded to accept the money, and we went on our way rejoicing.
April 4 and 5. Had better roads, as we had got into the timber country.
April 6. Drove into Springfield, Illinois, about noon. Mr. Epperson had rubbers put under the springs of our family wagon. From Springfield, Illinois, we went to Bardstown on the Illinois river. Nothing of interest transpired on the way.
April 10. Crossed the Illinois river, and took up our line of march to Keokuk, on the Mississippi, and followed up the Des Moines to Ottumwa. Mr. George Reed’s family joined us, they coming from Vermont to join our train.
April 20. Crossed the Des Moines to Eddyville; here we got a good supply of fresh fish. We traveled almost due west to Council Bluffs. Nothing occurred to break the monotony of rain and muddy roads, until a flock of tame geese came marching along near the road. One of our men thinking no one would see him, seized one of them and threw it into my wagon. Just in the act, he was spied by the owner of the goose, an old Irish woman, who started after our train, minus bonnet or shawl, and vowed she would have the man arrested. Her husband followed and tried to appease her wrath, but all in vain. Mr. Epperson told her he could not help what his man had done, but was willing to make amends by paying for it. She took two dollars and went home. The goose came to life, it being only stunned, so I dropped it in the road after the old lady was out of sight; and no doubt by the time she reached home, the goose had joined the flock and was relating its sad experience to its comrades. Suffice it to say we had the goose for a joke all the way across the plains.1
May 5. Encamped on Missouri river, two miles from Council Bluffs, and laid in our supply of provisions to last for the journey. About dark it began to rain violently, and continued to fall all night. Here we found quite a number of people ready to emigrate for California, Idaho, and Oregon.
May 7. Crossed the Missouri river at Omaha, and here purchase a few more supplies which had been overlooked at Council Bluffs. We are now in Nebraska, and fairly started on our tedious journey across the plains. Occasionally, we pass a little farm.
May 9. Crossed the Elk Horn river on a very shaky old bridge. Here I saw the first Indian, a dirty speciman of the Pawnee tribe.
May 10. Crossed through the little town of Fremont, and camped on the border of a small stream which abounded with fish. Here we saw three Indian lodges, or wigwams. The country was sparsely settled with Germans, from whom we purchased corn and oats for our horses.
May 14. Came to south fork of Platte river2 and camped for the night.
May 15. Crossed the river by ferry, part of the way the water being too shallow for our boat. We had some difficulty in getting our teams off the boat into the water, and after leaving the boat we found we were in quicksand, and thought several times our wagons would be carried down the stream, the current was so swift. After getting our stock safe across, we drove immediately into camp, bought corn, shelled it, and with it filled the bed of our heavy wagon.
May 16. Our road seemed more lonely to-day, we passed but few houses, and began to realize our situation.
May 17. In camp on Wood river, Nebraska. Heavy timber grew along the river, the first we had seen for several days. We found it to be a good camping ground for the weary and tired. Edward Russell cooked our supper— “our cook” had gone fishing. When the table was spread, (need not say table for our cups plates, etc., were placed upon the ground), and we all sat around and took a hearty repast of bacon, coffee, and bread.
May 18. Very warm, and the road dusty. Saw about two hundred teams on the road to-day, most of them bound for Idaho. Camped on the Platte, within six miles of Fort Kearney. Mr. Epperson rode over to the fort, the men are all off herding the horses, and I am sitting upon a sack of wheat writing. I am going to be good “old lady” of the house until time for retiring. This is a beautiful country, and good farming land. A German told me, this morning, that he raised eighty bushels of oats to the acre. We bought oats and corn here for $1.25 per bushel.
May 19. Camped on Elm creek; the road was perfectly level. A few days ago, a gentleman from Indiana was murdered near where we were encamped. He was murdered by four men whom he was bringing to California. The men told his wife that if she let it be known, they would put her out of the way too. They took possession of his stock, and proceeded on their way as if nothing had occurred. His wife made it known before going far, a man returned to the fort, procured an officer, and had them detained before night. They were made to unearth the remains of the murdered man, which were removed to Fort Kearney, where the murderers will be held for trial. I saw the ground where the remains were taken from.
May 20. Have excellent food for our horses; wood getting scarce. The wind blew very hard all day, and our eyes were very much inflamed by sand into them. Cactus grows to perfection on the plains or valley lands, and on the sand hills a great variety of flowers. I gathered some phlox which was superior to any I ever saw cultivated. We saw no Indians; they took a train here about two weeks ago.
May 21. After a good night’s rest, we start again; roads very heavy; pulling through sand all day. The hills are very bare, no vegetation upon them of any kind. The territory was beautiful up to Fort Kearney. On the north side of the Platte, one day’s drive from Fort Kearney, brought quite a change. The country perfectly barron, no timber only on small islands in the Platte river. I often thought, if I made the country, I would put timber on each side of the Platte, so that poor emigrants could have a few sticks, at least, to cook with. The sun was intensely hot at noon, but now we are in camp and experience quite a change. The wind blows, and I am obliged to put on heavy wraps.
May 22. Filled our casks with ice cold water out of boiling springs. This was the finest spring we had seen thus far on our journey; it formed quite a stream that ran down the mountain side and emptied itself into the Platte. We had proceeded but a short distance when we observed a sand storm coming with great violence from the sand hills on the south side of the Platte. We knew it was time to prepare for a storm; everything was in confusion. We turned our wagons and drove all the “loose stock” near them. On it came, seeming to have no pity, but only raged for a few moments when its fury was spent, and we made ready to move westward again. The mountains present a grand and imposing appearance. We crossed two streams with great difficulty, the beds of which proved to be quicksand, and the men were compelled to go into the water to get the wagons out. Passed a new grave — on the board was cut T. Foster of Ohio, aged 64 years, died May 20, 1864. The grave was near the bank of the Platte, and no doubt, in a short time, the grave will be washed away. We saw the bones of the buffalo scattered here and there over the plains, and frequently a note or line written on the skull of some venerable fellow, which caused a hearty laugh. We have no wood to cook with to-night; sage brush, which is something like small willow, is all we have. A stranger came in camp to-night, who proved to be one of the men kept on the trail of the murdered man.
May 23. Started early; had gone but a short distance when our heavy wagon became fast in the quicksand, while crossing a small stream. I was driving the family wagon, and felt very certain that I would have to be helped out too; but made the horses go as quickly as possible, so they would have no time to sink, and we came out all right. Came upon heavy sand hills about noon. Here we met some fine looking Sioux Indians. They were well dressed in deer skins, and had enormous brass rings in their ears and noses. We are now above the fork of the Platte. Could see teams on the south Platte from the hills, to-day. I walked over some of the highest points; large holes have been blown into them by whirlwinds. Saw plenty of flowers growing upon the sand; saw only one tree, and that upon an island. I visited a grave near our camp, after supper. On the head board was cut in rude letters Mrs. Mary Brown, buried June, 1863. Oh! what a lonely place to be laid. From the grave I went up a little mountain stream, half a mile from camp, to see a beaver dam and house. I never saw anything of the kind before. It was astonishing what skill was displayed in making the dam. No timber being near, they used a species of willow that grows upon the margin of the stream. The pond, form by damming the river, looked lovely in the bright moon light — quite a “fairy lake,” indeed. Mr. Lawrence cut a hole in the dam, so that the “little workers” would have some “repairs” to make the ensuing day. On returning to camp, I found our cook forming the bread into loaves, ready for baking. I told him I would sit up and bake the bread, and let him retire, as he would have to stand guard after midnight. He gladly availed himself of the privilege and retired. Mr. Mitchell (who was Mr. Reed’s cook) sat by the “bake” until ten o’clock. One might think that we had poor bread, when I tell you we had no wood for several days; but the “willow brush” cooks finely.
May 24. Went over more sand hills; weather very warm. The Platte looked beautiful from the mountains, as we could see the river for miles. To-night we had to gather dry grass to cook with.
May 25. Started at sunrise, when some of our men said they saw buffalo going over the bluffs. Each and every man was anxious to kill one, so they drew lots to see who should go. Mr. Lawrence being the fortunate one, started off delighted with the prospect of such noble game. When he had got nearly two miles from the train, we discovered to our great surprise that our “game” were Indians, and on looking around, saw quite a number lurking around the brow of the hills. The wagons were stopped, and a flag placed on the end of a stick and a man started on horseback to attract Mr. Lawrence’s attention. We all shouted at the top of our voices, and he soon turned his horse and made way for camp. We met Indians in little bands all day, but they did not come near us, and did not seem friendly. We found a lovely spot to rest, on a sloping hillside, about one-half mile from the Platte river, with plenty of good feed near the river for our horses, and were preparing for a quiet night’s rest, when two shots were fired, and the cry of a stampede was heard on all sides; our horses, jennets,3 and cattle, that were near, were all gone entirely out of sight in much less time than I can write it. All was confusion, and some of the men were frightened almost out of their senses. We caught one of our fine horses which was in pursuit of the others. The men all started after our stock, leaving but two or three to guard our camp. They all returned by midnight, and the sound of the horses’ feet had entirely ceased.
May 26. Of course, I did not retire at all last night, not to mention of being left in a savage country to walk to the end of our journey. Our jennets came to camp about eight o’clock, “poor things,” looking much frightened. About noon Mr. Reed’s horses were brought to camp by Mr. William Parker (one of Mr. Reed’s men), but none of ours. Gloomy were the prospects of ours returning; but near three o’clock, Mr. Henry Reed came to camp with all our stock, which filled our hearts with gratitude to Him who is ever caring for the distressed. The Indians had them herded in a little valley over the summit of the mountain. Mr. Reed paid one dollar per head for our stock, and they were satisfied. The horses looked as though they had had little to eat or drink. We put them all to the wagons and drove about five miles, and then made a corral of the wagons, tied them all together with ropes and chains to keep out stock during the night. The Indians are quite numerous. Now and again they ride by on their ponies to reconnoiter. I fear we will have trouble with them, but hope for the best. Two Indians are now in camp asking for bread, and I do not feel like acceding to their request. A squaw and an Indian came riding into camp near sunset. They had a little baby, not more than four weeks old, and I offered to take it. The squaw seemed delighted to have me notice her papoose, and handed it to me. I went to our wagon and got some of my little boy’s clothes and dressed her baby. I finally put a bright red wrap around it and gave the child back to its mother. She took it with a smile; then holding the little one up, both laughed heartily, and exclaimed “good squaw, good squaw,” at the same time pointing to me. All the men stood guard that night, but all seemed quiet.
May 27. We started out early, did not take time to cook much or let our horses graze. We came to a large Indian village; the huts, or wigwams, were made of buffalo hides and are put up with great ingenuity. We met a great number of Indian wariors, all painted and adorned with feathers. They were going to fight the Pawnee Indians. In front of the wariors rode three chiefs, and the squaw and Indian whose baby I had dressed. They rode along slowly, looking intently at each wagon, until they came to the one I was in. They stopped and shouted “good squaw,” and held up the little babe. There were, at least, one hundred wagons on the road at the time. Those in front and rear did not know what to make of such proceedings, and thought they were preparing to attack us, but the Indians soon rode on, and many hearts were relieved.
May 28. Mr. Epperson taken sick with mountain fever. I took a good sleep while we proceeded forward, as I had slept but little for four days, and was nearly worn out in body and mind; and what made our situation worse, Mr. Epperson sick and unable to sit up. We camped near a prairie dog village. The dogs are small and of brownish color; dogs, rattle-snakes, and owls burrow in the ground together. We had been in camp but a few moments when one of our jennets was bitten on the upper lip by a very poisonous snake, and died in less than twenty minutes. This was the first animal we had lost.
May 29. This is a beautiful morning. It is Sunday. I walked up on a high point to get a view of Chimney rock; could see it quite distinctly, also Pyramid4 rock. They are both on the south side of Platte river.
May 30. Saw Court House rock this morning, shortly after sunrise. The mirage looked beautiful, and the rocks before us looked like old ruins. Passed an Indian village; two white men living among them came out and conversed with us. Said they had lived among the Indians seven years, and did not dislike living with Indians.
May 31. Passed several more Indian villages; saw quite a number of half-breed children, some of them almost grown. Camped near Platte river. A point of the mountain extended near the river which sheltered our wagons and stock from the storm which suddenly arose near bed time.5
June 1 Still raining, and very little food for our horses. We started by daylight, without breakfast, in search of feed which we found about two miles from our camping ground of last night. Our cook made a good fire and prepared coffee and toast. Bought Charlie (my baby) a pair of moccasins from an old Indian who had nice bead-work for sale. Very cold all day; camped in a cotton-wood grove, and had plenty of wood.
June 2. Roads very heavy. Saw two more white men who had squaw wives. Mr. Epperson able to be up and about.
June 3. Came to Fort Laramie. Mr. Epperson crossed the river and went to the fort, purchased some picket ropes and overtook the train at noon. After dinner we arrived at the Black Hills, found them steep and slippery; encountered a heavy hail storm in the afternoon. Our stock seem worn out, and yet no camping ground in sight; nothing but steep hills covered with rock and small cedar and pine. I must confess I became impatient for a place to halt. On ascending a high point, we descried the grand old Platte about five miles distant and with eager hearts we drove on. At dark we were all seated around a cheerful fire, partaking our evening meal. Our horses have excellent feed, but do not seem to have got over the effects of the stampede. The river is narrow at this point, flows swiftly, and is as cold as ice water.
June 4. Traveled up a canyon all day; had no water after leaving camp. Late in the afternoon we drove into a little flat surrounded by high hills or mountains, Here we found eight men who had lost all their horses; one white man and two Indians drove them off before their eyes. The horses were grazing, and were started by the cries of the Indians who were soon out of sight. Two of the men walked back to Fort Laramie for assistance from the soldiers, but got none. In a few days they had an opportunity to buy a couple of horses, which they did, these they harnessed to their lightest wagon. We made a bright fire where we camped, and after dusk put the fire out and drove back five miles to where we entered the little flat, so that if the Indians attacked us we would have a better chance to resist. Signal lights were on the mountains that surrounded us all night. All the men stood guard over the stock, (which was half a mile from the wagons), driven there on account of the grass for feed, and but three men staid near the wagons. I sat up all night fearful we might be killed any moment.
June 5. I had prepared breakfast for the men who came driving in the horses, all ate in a hurry, as we were anxious to move from our present camping ground as we considered ourselves in danger. Our unfortunate friends started with us, they being compelled to walk, and carry their coats and guns, the horses they had purchased being unable to carry more than blankets and provision. We are now in a country where we can get no help in case of danger, save from emigrants whom we may perchance meet. We are now in Idaho;6 the scenery to-day has been grand. On going over the high points of the mountains, we see the Platte winding its way among the hills, far below. Near sunset we came to the Platte again; here we found plenty of grass and wood. There are ten wagons near by. We are all too tired to do anything. I told our cook to make a good cup of tea and I would prepare the rest of our supper. I washed the breakfast dishes, as we started in such a hurry in the morning they were left unwashed, and we prepared no lunch for the men. All partook of a hearty supper, and were soon in dreamland. However, I awoke several times during the night and slipped out to see whether those on guard had fallen asleep.
June 6. Feel rested this morning, had a late breakfast, traveled near the Platte all day; the wind blew very cold. The hills around us are covered with rock that looks like it had passed through a furnace. These rocks are perfectly bare.
June 7. I walked over some high points to see the different formations of rock. They look as if skillful hands had chiseled them. To-day it is very warm; quite a change since yesterday. Some of the emigrants who started for Idaho, are going home. Now and then we meet men with pack mules returning to their former homes. They discourage men who are on their way to the mines. We heard to-day from men in charge of a pack train of the drouth in California. Saw snow for the first time on the mountain peaks.
June 8. I am sitting upon the ground writing; it is growing dark, so I will say good night and retire. Part of the road is quite sandy; passed Deer creek which is on the opposite side of the river, a few log cabins and Indian huts are in view at the mouth of the creek. Saw some very intelligent Sioux Indians. Wm. Munran killed a young rabbit which was the first fresh meat we have eaten for many days.
June 9. Here the emigrants from South [side of the] Platte cross the river on a good bridge, and join those who traveled on the north side of the river. A little store is kept at the bridge by the toll keeper. Feed scarce. Mr. Epperson has some oats which he feeds to his fine horses when grass is found to be scarce.
June 10. Rode horseback a few miles; let “Charlie,” my little boy, ride a little way, and he now thinks riding in the wagon no ride at all. At two o’clock we bid the dear old Platte a sad and final farewell. I could not but look back with regret to leave this beautiful river in whom the thirsty finds a true friend. No water for our stock to-night, but good grass. No wood, but plenty of sage brush.
June 11. Started early without breakfast in order to get water for our horses. We drove a few miles and came upon an alkali stream. We had great difficulty in keeping the loose stock from drinking. The ground for several acres in extent is white with alkali. At ten o’clock we came upon a pure stream of cold water. Here we cooked breakfast and let the horses graze for two hours. We stopped at a cold spring and filled our water casks. In looking over a guide book, we learned by digging to a depth of two feet, we would find ice. Some of our men dug the stated depth and found ice, nice and clean, as if put up for use. We camped in a little cove where we were sheltered from the cold winds.
June 12. Camped on Horse Shoe creek. Good feed and water. Let our horses rest most of the day. Here all of Mr. Reed’s men left him with the exception of his cook, Mr. Mitchell, and J.W. Shaddock, a mere boy.
June 13. Came to Sweetwater river. A few soldiers are stationed here in a little fort. Three of the officers have their wives with them. In crossing the bridge, toll at the rate of one dollar per wagon was demanded of us. Livestock passed through without charge. One of the soldiers came to Mr. Epperson and wanted to buy some lead. Said if he would let him have one pound he might pass free of toll. The lead was forthcoming immediately and we proceeded on our way. At noon stopped, and ate our lunch at Independence Rock. We are now in the spurs of the Rocky Mountains. Met a train of Mormons leaving Salt Lake City; they were disgusted with Mormonism. Passed the Devil’s Gate, and camped near Sweetwater river for the first time.
June 14. Up early. Went to the river and bathed my face in its cool waters. The river banks are not more than one foot high. Mr. Epperson and myself rode back to view the Devil’s Gate and some of the grandest sights I ever beheld. We undertook to descend the mountain to a pine tree that grew by the water’s edge. I soon became dizzy and went back. Mr. Epperson continued on down and soon reached the tree, cut his name thereon, and was at the summit as soon as I. I gathered some flowers that resemble our verbenas. I suffered more with the cold that night than I had since leaving Illinois.
June 15. Came to the crossing of the Sweetwater; could not be forded so traveled around it. Took one day to perform the journey.
June 16. One of Mr. Reed’s men, Mr. Kelly, came and wanted to join our train.
June 17. Crossed Sweetwater. Camped near some springs where we found onions. Had some cooked for supper.
June 18. Had plenty of snow to-day. Camped on Sweetwater for the last time.
June 19. Filled our water casks at Pacific springs. Passed over the summit of the Rocky Mountains at ten o’clock. Here the river changed its course. We drove one mile off the road and camped on Big Sandy river. Here we found the best grass which we had had for some time. But few had camped here before, it being off the road. We had just fallen asleep, when a stranger rode into camp. It proved to be our friend Thornton Coleman, from Coles county, Illinois. He was an old neighbor of ours, who started a few days after we left home, and had been trying to catch us for several days; he learned we were only a short distance in advance of him. He now returned and met his train and brought them into camp about midnight. I had supper ready for his family when they arrived; was very glad to see Mrs. Coleman. We had lived near each other for years.
June 20. Gathered some gooseberries and made pie. Left camp after dinner, and camped next on Little Sandy river.
June 21. The wind blew violently; sand and dust covered everything, and by noon the wind had risen to a gale, and we had to remove the covers from the wagons to keep them from blowing over.
June 22. Came to Green river early in the morning. There were so many teams ahead of us we did not cross the river until noon. We were obliged to travel twenty-five miles before reaching water after leaving Green river. We turned our horses out to graze near sunset; let them eat until eight o’clock; we then started to look for water; no moon, and the stars shone dimly; it was anything but pleasant driving. Mr. Epperson was not able to drive, as he was suffering from sick headache, so it fell upon me. About one o’clock we came in sight of camp fires, near Ham’s Fork on Green river. We had to descend a very steep hill, which took nearly an hour. Tired and sleepy, we were soon in bed.
June 23. Mr. Epperson shod some of the horses. Had antelope meat for dinner. Camped near Black Fort7 on Bear river.
June 24. Camped on Bridger’s creek, opposite Fort Bridger. Our horses, not being satisfied with their feed, plunged into the water and swam to the other side, thinking, probably, the grass on that side looked more inviting. Mr. Epperson and one of our men had to go down the creek two miles, where it could be forded without danger, and drove our horses back to camp. Bridger is quite a little place, about one dozen houses. There are only a few soldiers at the fort at this time. Some had gone with the Mormon train (whom we met) to protect them, and some were fighting the Goose creek Indians, who had stolen some of their stock. Saw the first Snake Indians. After dark several wagons were driven into camp. The parties had a man securely bound, taking him to the fort for trial, he having stolen four horses from the man who employed him (one a valuable race horse), and started for Denver City. He was overtaken in three days and brought back to the train.
June 25. Continues cold; snow on the mountain tops. Camped near a stream of clear water, plenty of wood and feed. Mrs. Coleman washing, men shoeing horses. I made a bed for myself on the ground, in the shade made by our wagon, and saw that the work went on properly. Soon after retiring for the night, Mr. Coleman’s horses became alarmed, and started all of ours. I began to fear another stampede; they only ran about one mile when they were stopped and brought back. They were tied for the night, and all was quiet after. Mosquitoes nearly ate us up.
June 26. We are now on the stage route, and our road does not seem so lonely. Pass stage stands every few miles. Mr. Moran8 killed a large sage hen; had it roasted for supper.
June 27. Came to stage stand early in the morning. Here a family of Mormons resided; they had a nice garden and several acres of oats. Mr. Epperson traded his heavy wagon for a light one, crossed Bear river on toll bridge; paid one-half dollar per wagon. A heavy thunder storm came upon us. The ground was covered with hail; it looked perfectly white. In the middle of the afternoon came to a high mountain, whose sides were so slippery, we would not attempt to climb. Had a cold, lonely place to camp in, water so strong with alkali we could not drink it. The tea left in the kettle from supper was frozen in the morning. No wood; half dozen bundles of sage brush were all that we could get.
June 28. Difficult road to climb as we ascend the mountain. Continued on to the head of Echo canyon, and camped for the night; weather cold and frosty.
June 29. Started down the canyon; met a great many Mormon teams on the way to Omaha, for the purpose of getting merchandise for Salt Lake City merchants. Came to Weber river, at the mouth of Echo canyon, one hour before sunset. Here we found quite a Mormon settlement; bought fresh milk, butter and cheese, the first we had since leaving our German friends beyond Fort Kearney. I need not say we all enjoyed it.
June 30. Passed few houses; camped near a mountain stream, which abounded with fine mountain trout. All hands were soon busy preparing lines and hooks; started out, and soon returned with a supply of fish, enough for supper and breakfast. Found a stranger in camp, who proved to be a Mormon elder, who wished to convert Mr. Epperson. His efforts were in vain. Mr. Epperson told him he was afraid they would want him to take another wife. Told him he could never do that, as his hair was nearly all pulled out by the one he had, and if he were obliged to take two or three more, he would have no head left. The elder looked a moment at Mr. Epperson, then left in disgust.
July 1. Started early, all eager to reach Salt Lake City. We passed some neat little adobe houses, all having nice gardens. We found great quantities of mustard growing by the roadside. Mrs. Coleman and myself walked along and gathered enough to make a good mess for supper. This was quite a treat to us, who had been so long without vegetables. About ten o’clock came in sight of Fort Douglass, General Conner in command. His heavy guns covered Salt Lake City, in order to compel Brigham Young and his saints to respect the laws of the United States, and permit emigrants to pass unmolested. Uncle Sam does not intend to have the Mountain Meadow massacre repeated. Here I will say it is my belief that General Conner9 was the best man the Government ever sent out to look after Brigham Young and his followers. He will not be forgotten by the emigrants of 1864. Entered the city about noon. Mr. Epperson procured pasture near the city, and we turned our horses out to graze, but kept close watch over them, as General Conner told us they were looking for an outreak among the Mormons, for which reason he held himself in readiness. He said there were a great many good, honest and well-meaning Mormons, who were subordinate to Brigham Young and his disciples. We received letters here, from friends in Illinois and Kentucky, also one from C.C. Epperson of Sutter county, California,10 informing us of the drouth and hard times there.
July 2. Mrs. Coleman and I rode through the city on horseback; stopped in front of Brigham’s Lion house (so called in honor of a carved lion, couchant in front of the building). We conversed with some of the guards at the gate, who invited us to enter and see Brigham’s building inside the wall. Mrs. Coleman was afraid to enter; said they might close the gates upon us. After dinner Mr. Epperson went into the city to purchase flour for use until we arrived at Austin [Nevada]. Could get no flour or other necessities, as the sale of such things by Mormons to emigrants was forbidden by the “high and mighty Brigham.” They would sell milk, vegetables, butter and fresh meat. An elderly man saw Mr. Epperson when he was refused flour. He came to our wagon after dark, and said that he had plenty of flour, and if Mr. Epperson would go to his house between ten and eleven o’clock, he would let him have what flour he wanted. Asked that Mr. Epperson would tell no one, as he was at the tender mercies of Brigham and his saints. Mr. Epperson paid the enormous sum of fourteen dollars per hundred pounds.
July 3. Started forward, crossed the river Jordan, and camped on the south side of Great Salt Lake.
July 4. Early in the morning Mr. Epperson took our son Charlie and a few of the men and went to the lake to bathe. Mr. Epperson put Charlie on his back and swam out into the lake near a quarter of a mile; Charlie enjoyed it very much; the men said he looked like a large toad on his father’s back. Charlie is two years old and very fleshy. We saw a number of Mormons at work making salt on a small scale.
July 5. Started early, passed a place where some of our predecessors had celebrated the Fourth of July. The programme of the day was written and placed upon a board, and nailed to a tree by the road side. We stopped, read it, and felt a little more patriotic. Found a good camping ground for the night.
July 6. We now approach the great desert; at noon we found excellent grass for our stock. Mr. Epperson ordered the men to cut some for feed while crossing the desert. The mountains are covered with good “bunch grass,” the best we found so far. Encamped at the entrance of a beautiful canyon; had plenty of company. Quite a number had camped here upward of one week, in order to let the stock rest.
July 7. Traveled until noon and then halted near a stream of clear, cold water. The men are busy cutting grass with their knives and putting it into sacks. Our cook is baking and preparing food for use while crossing the desert.
July 8. Men still cutting grass; our cook filled the casks, kegs and jugs with water. At eleven o’clock dinner was ready, and we all took an extra cup of coffee, as this would be the last warm meal until we arrived on the other side of the desert. Everything in readiness, we started and reached the desert at four o’clock. The sun shone bright and warm in our faces as we traveled westward, and the alkali dust filled the air like fog. Just before sunset we came to the foot of a mountain; here we took some grass and water from our wagons, gave some to each of our animals, and took a cold supper ourselves; after resting an hour we prepared to start. Our little boy fell asleep; I put him in bed and told Mr. Epperson I would walk forward with Mrs. Coleman. We proceeded up the mountain half a mile; perceived a trail which seemed to cut off quite a distance, and concluded to follow it. The wagons were behind us; we chatted and walked along, thinking we would soon come into the road again. It grew dark rapidly, and we were getting anxious to see the road. We hurried on, and very soon it was quite dark. We listened for the sound of the wagons as the wheels jolted over the rocky road, but could hear them no longer. Mrs. Coleman said, Mrs. Epperson, we are lost! We can never find the train, it is so dark. We shouted at the top of our voices, but received no answer. She proposed going back; I was unwilling; told her to follow me, I was going forward, as I felt certain we would come to the road soon. It was now so dark we could not see the trail. We continued on up the mountain side for some time; at last I stepped into the dust, and I felt convinced we were on the road. We were almost exhausted I assure you. We were afraid of wagons were beyond the point assure you. We were afraid of wagons were beyond the point where we came into the road. At last we heard sounds like the loose stock coming; so we sat down by the roadside and waited for the coming of the train, and meanwhile vowed we would not undertake to travel by “short cuts” again. I was so fatigued, I went to bed in the wagon immediately and slept until we began to descend the mountain; the road was rough, I could not sleep, reached the foot of the mountain about two o’clock. Just before daylight we came to a stage stand, could get no water for our stock; water had to be brought from a distance of sixteen miles for the stage horses.
July 9. About nine o’clock we gave our horses water from the supply we carried with us. We partook of a slight repast ourselves and then drove on through heat and dust, arriving at another stage stand about two o’clock. Here we found two ox teams, some of the oxen almost worn out. The owner was trying to buy water from the man at the station. Soon after the man left, Mr. Epperson produced a flour sack containing some choice tobacco. This he passed among the station hands, who pronounced it excellent. One of the men who seemed to be manager, told Mr. Epperson to go into the shed where the water barrels were kept and give each of our animals a bucket of water. Mr. Epperson gave each-man a good supply of tobacco, and we drove on our way. Just as the sun was sinking in the far west, we drove into Willow Springs. Our stock looks tired and worn. The cook soon prepared a good hot supper, which we enjoyed more than any meal since leaving home.
July 10. Let our tired stock rest; had good feed; all day teams kept coming in; everything was in confusion; every train that arrived, everybody would rush to see who it was, and if they had met on the road. When night came I was as weary as if I had been riding all day.
July 11. Started early. All feel this morning like the most difficult part of our journey was over. In camp on Deer creek. Indians in camp asking for bread.
July 12. Drove eight miles and camped for the day. Cut grass for our horses as we have to cross a desert twenty-two miles in width.
July 13. Drove across the desert by three o’clock; camped near stage stand. There was a little fort here and a few soldiers. Some Indians came and wanted to take our horses a distance of two miles to graze. The soldiers said they were to be trusted, so we permitted them to go with our stock. Some of the guards remarked that they would sleep well to-night.
July 14. Early this morning our horses were brought to camp. Mr. Epperson paid them for their work, gave them something to eat, and soon after we were on our way.
July 15. Did not feel well this morning; drove only a few hours, and camped in a lovely canyon; found plenty of feed and mahogany wood.
July 16. Started early; came to a little village, only five or six huts. The name of the village is Steptoe [Nevada].11 Passed into Egan canyon. Mr. Epperson found some California miners at work, tunneling the hill. They think it is a rich mine. The soldiers told us to-day that Salt Lake City was under martial law.
July 17. Camped at Butte springs.12 About twenty wagons left camp, intending to travel all night, it is so very warm during the day. A Californian trader pitched his tent here, with emigrant supplies. Only asked one dollar per pound for cheese, and one dollar and one-half for coffee, and everything else in proportion.
July 18. Traveled over a rough mountainous road, and camped in Ruby valley.13 Here we found quite a little settlement, grocery store and fort. The soldiers are going to give a dancing party to-night. They have a wagon in camp now, to take the ladies of our train to the ball. There are a great many camped in the valley. We have to make certain drives to obtain water and feed. This causes the camping place to be crowded. I am very tired to-night; will sleep soon, knowing we are in no danger.
July 19. Have a dusty drive before us to-day, but I console myself with the thought that every day brings us nearer home. How glad I will be when this toilsome journey is at an end. Had but little water for our stock to-day. Camped on Diamond mountain.14
July 20. This is the steepest mountain we have encountered so far. Met a number of teams on the road to Salt Lake. Camp at Diamond springs. I counted forty wagons near us. The stage has just passed. The sky is cloudy and everything has a gloomy appearance. Gave Charlie a bath, and covered him in bed. I am alone at the wagon, sitting on the tool-chest writing. Ponto, my dog, seeing me alone, came up, wagging his tail, as much as to say he was still on his way to California, and hoped to find a better country than we were now in.
July 21. There was so much noise in camp last night, I slept but little. Traveled all day, and camped near a mountain stream. Thirty wagons nearby, and enough of crying children to disturb a camp meeting. After it was quite dark, a wagon came into camp from Austin. Mr. Epperson went to the wagon, and found one of his old California friends, Thomas Andrews, former Sheriff of Nevada county, California. Mr. Epperson brought him to our camp. I soon prepared a good supper for him, and we all sat around a cheerful camp-fire until quite late. He was taking a mowing machine to Ruby valley, to cut his hay. He gave us a supply of sugar, our’s being almost out.
July 22. The men came into camp with three horses; said the others had wandered off, and they could not find them. They soon found them and brought them to camp. Mr. Epperson gave them powder and caps for their trouble. The Indians here can be trusted to some extent; they are kept down by the soldiers. An old Indian is now walking around camp with an old plug hat on, which hat constitutes the principal part of his clothing. You can imagine how comical he looks.
July 23. We traveled alone to-day for the first time, the rest stopping to recruit their stock. I was thinking we would have a lonely camp, but by evening we came to a beautiful canyon, where we met a number of teams on their way to Austin [Nevada].15 All camped together, and quite a jolly crowd camped around the fire before retiring.
July 24. When the men were bringing the horses to camp this morning, one of our mares started back on the road we traveled yesterday. She was caught by some men at a stage-stand, eighteen miles from our present stopping place. Mr. Epperson started after her, and did not return until nearly night. It was a lonely day for me.
July 25. Started early. I rode horseback up the canyon. Looking down on the little valley below, I saw we had a very steep hill to descend, I dismounted and walked. The men tied a tree to each of our wagons, to keep them from rolling forward too quickly. I was somewhat alarmed, but we arrived at the bottom safely. This afternoon we passed “Simpson’s Park.”16 It was enclosed by stretching strips of raw-hide from post to post. This was the first raw-hide fence I had ever seen. We met a man to-day looking for his wife; said he with his team started for Virginia City after provisions; while absent his wife sold the ranch, purchased two horses and a wagon, and started for Illinois, her former home. He wished to know if she had been seen by us. After giving a description of her, we assured him we had met her over fifty miles from this place. He sighed and said “well, I will let her go, as I could not overtake her before reaching Salt Lake.” I pitied him, but could not help laughing when he told his doleful story. He turned about and started westward. We camped at Emigrant springs,17 the dustiest camp that we had during our journey; were obliged to drive the horses two miles to feed.
July 26. William Maran is herding the horses. Mr. Epperson and his men are gone to Austin, about four miles distant. There is a small party encamped near by, so I have company. Charlie and Ponto (my dog) are playing around our wagon. The mountains near are perfectly bare, no vegetation; those more distant have a few small pine and cedar. Mr. Epperson came to camp in the afternoon, bringing with him Mr. Gabriel Stickley, an old California friend. He told us that he owned a wood ranch about six miles from Austin, and at that place we would find good feed and water for our horses, and insisted that we take our stock there and camp as long as we wished; he also proposed to go with Mr. Epperson and show him the place. His kind offer was accepted with gratitude.
July 27. Mr. Epperson and his friend Mr. Stickley, started early on horseback to see the ranch. Another lonely day for me. I occupied myself by writing letters to friends at home. At intervals, teams pass whom we had met before on the road, and so the day passed. Mr. Epperson came to camp about dark, well pleased with the proposed change.
July 28. Started early for our new camping ground, arrived safely there about noon, and soon after the men had a brush shanty made for me, which I occupied with great pleasure. The sun was very warm, and no shade but that made by the wagons. We turned the horses loose, thinking they would not stray off, but before dark the men went to drive them close to camp, and three were missing; and were not found to-night.
July 29. Bright and early our men started to find the missing horses. Soon after the men were gone the horses were driven into camp by a wood chopper, who camped near us. He was looking for some horses he had lost, when he came upon ours. In the afternoon, a gentleman rode into camp very much excited, and wished to know who owned those jennets branded with the letter “B” upon the jaw. Mr. Epperson replied, “they belong to me.” And then asked “where, and of whom did you buy them?” Mr. Epperson said, “I purchased them in Bourbon county, Kentucky, of old uncle Ben Bedford, last February.” When he heard that he jumped from his horse and shook hands with us all, as heartily as if he had known us for years. He told us Mr. Bedford was his uncle, and that he had left Kentucky before the commencement of the war, and had not heard from there for quite a length of time. Mr. Epperson told him of many changes that had taken place since he left his home. He stayed all the afternoon at our camp, made Mr. Epperson promise to take our little boy and myself to Austin, so that we might occupy one of his houses until we started for California. He said we should have it free of charge. I thanked him very much for his kindness, and told him I had been in camp so long, I would as soon remain in camp for the short time we expected to remain. He would not listen to my refusal, but turned to Mr. Epperson and says, “I shall expect to see you in Austin tomorrow; will show you the house I wish you to occupy, as I shall be absent for three or four days after to-morrow.” After bidding good-bye he rode off, and I felt we had found a true friend, although an entire stranger. Be assured we appreciated his kindness. I was not feeling well. Had it been necessary for us to rent a house we had not the means to pay rent, we had left but one dollar and fifty cents. Mr. Epperson had written to his brother, C.C. Epperson of Sutter county, California, to send us one hundred and fifty dollars. Mr. Epperson could not go to Austin to-day, as I was feeling very badly.18 Our stock seem contented and do not require such close watching.
July 31. Mr. Epperson started for Austin. William Maran stayed at camp and took charge of Charlie and prepared dinner. Our men are all off prospecting, hoping to discover a rich silver mine. It is amusing to see them coming into camp loaded with rock; never saw a silver mine until they went into Austin a few days ago; they would not know a valuable piece of ore if they should find one. We are in camp some distance from the road, and can see nothing but black hills, most of them entirely barren. Occasionally a raven may be seen flying overhead chattering a doleful tale.
August 1. Up early and hurrying around preparing to move into Austin. William Maran went wth us to take the horses back to camp; he will be alone in camp as the men have gone to work. Austin is quite a little place, everything stirring. Our house is made of adobe. We put our bed and trunks in the house, had lunch, and Mr. Maran started back to camp. He appeared somewhat lonely, but will have neighbors, as there are men only a short distance from our camp chopping wood.
August 2. After a good night’s rest, I feel like preparing our breakfast, which I have not done for some time. Breakfast ready, Mr. Epperson and I sit down alone (our table is a pine board two feet wide and four feet long) for the first time since leaving our home in Illinois. One year ago to-day I was with my mother; I wish she could see me in my little mansion, dirt floor, bedstead made of pine posts, stools for chairs, and our trunks; these are all that our furniture consists of. Many of the houses are covered with canvass. Our friend Mr. Stickley called and wished us to go with him to Mrs. Hick’s, where he boarded, and take supper. I found Mrs. Hicks very pleasant. She had one room with plank floor, of which she was very proud, as but few could afford plank floors, lumber being very scarce, and worth two hundred and fifty dollars per thousand. Saw for the first time the Chinamen in their washhouses.
August 3. Mr. Epperson found quite a number of Californian friends and acquaintances in Austin to-day, among them was Mr. Robert C. Murdock, who is a resident of Colusa at this date. Also George W. Thomson, from Colusa county, a well known stock-raiser, but now interested in the hardware business in Santa Rosa, Sonoma county, California.
August 4. Mr. Epperson found another friend, Mr. James Rooker,19 formerly of Sutter county, California. He was engaged in the butcher business. Informed Mr. Epperson he had married since they last met, and had the biggest boy of his age in Nevada Territory. Mr. Epperson asked him the age of his boy. Said a little over two years old. Mr. Epperson told him he also had married, and had a boy a few weeks younger than his, whom he would like to weigh against his; and it followed that they weighed them next day.
August 5. After breakfast Mr. Epperson, with our Charlie, started for Mr. Rooker’s shop, and quite a crowd gathered around to see the children weighed. Mr. Rooker’s son weighed forty pounds, and Charlie forty-four. Those who witnessed the weighing told Mr. Rooker not to boast of his mammoth infant any longer. Charlie was brought home with his hands full of candies, very much pleased indeed.
August 6. Mr. Spurgeon and family drove into town and camped near our house. I was glad to meet them again. They had been delayed by sickness, and two members of his family not able to sit up at this time.
August 7. Mrs. Hicks spent the afternoon with me; together we called upon a sick man camped quite near; he is not expected to live.
August 8. Started to walk about the town and see some of the quartz mills, but soon tired and returned home.
August 9. Attended an exhibition given by the pupils of the public school. This was the first exhibition given in Austin. Nothing of interest transpired for the next nine days.
August 19. Wm. Mason20 and Mr. Stickley brought our stock to town, we loaded our wagons again and were soon in the Reese river valley.21 Mr. A. C. Chalmers drove the loose stock. It was nine o’clock before we found a desirable place to camp for the night. The wind blew extremely cold and chilly.
August 20. Had breakfast ready by the time the sun rose, anxious to get on our road early. I must confess I really enjoyed camping again. We crossed a barren alkali flat, that was so white when the sun shone upon it that it was almost blinding.
August 21. Camped in a deep canyon, no feed near by; had to send the stock off about two miles to graze. Mr. Epperson and I are alone.
August 22. Camped in the greesewood, bought feed for our animals, and had quite a shower which laid the dust.
August 23. Our horses strayed off into the woods which caused us some delay, crossed the Carson desert, in going about twenty-two miles I counted sixty-five head of dead horses and cattle; camped at Salt Wells.22 Here we found the water very salt, our stock would not drink it. From the salt lake here, they make tons of salt, which is shipped in great quantities to Austin and Virginia City. The salt is used in the quartz mills. Saw several camels carrying packs of salt. Several in camp to-night, are having a dancing party; made so much noise until midnight we could not sleep.
August 24. Camped in the sand; no wood, bad water, bought or hired pasture for our stock; every little oasis is claimed by some one; we have to pay dear for the grass we get. This is the most desolate looking country we have yet seen. Now and then we pass a little hut, cannot imagine how the occupants exist. All the money in Nevada Territory would not induce me to live here.
August 25. In the afternoon came to a little ranch, where we saw a fine garden. Mr. Epperson bought vegetables, also a nice large watermelon. This place looked so inviting after traveling through such a dreary part of the country, we concluded to encamp here for the night. We are near the Carson river.
August 26. Passed Ragtown this morning.23 The town resembles Truckee. We crossed a desert twenty-five miles in width to the Truckee river. This is altogether desolate. The ground looked as if a fire had passed over it. Near sunset we came near the Truckee river and were thankful for good drinking water. The Indian agent and wife came to our camp and chatted until bed time.
August 27. Traveled up the Truckee river, passed several ranches, bought new potatoes at five cents per pound. Camped near a neat little village, where they were making butter and cheese. Had plenty of milk, which was a great treat.
August 28. Came to Truckee Meadows, a lovely place thickly settled.24
August 29. Passed a great many encamped recruiting their stock. They can have good pasture very reasonable. I felt very badly all day.
August 30. Was taken very sick during the night. Mr. Epperson thought best to remain in camp, but I was so anxious to reach home insisted upon going forward.
August 31. Passed through Beckwith25 into the Sierra valley. Drove to Mr. Ead’s ranch, where we got good pasture, and the use of a little house where I could be made more comfortable than in our own wagon. Mrs. Ead did all she could for me. Mr. Chalmers rode thirty miles to procure the assistance of Dr. Weber,26 who was absent. Left a message to have him come as soon as he returned. Was sick for several days; finally Dr. Weber came and gave me some medicine which soon gave relief. He refused pay for his visit; we were thankful to him and hope some day it will be my privilege to pay him tenfold. We remained here until September 10th; left all our stock in care of Wm. Maran, except three horses and four head of choice stock, which we left upon Mr. Jones’ ranch.
September 11. Traveled slowly all day and camp near Weber Lake.27 I have a view of the lake from the wagon, being unable to get out and walk around.
September 12. Traveled through heavy pine and fir timber; enjoyed the scenery very much. Camped at Middle Water.28 it was very cold. I went into a house and sat by the fire until bed time.
September 13. Enjoyed my ride to-day very much; had very good road all day.
September 14. Started early, arrived at San Juan.29 Here we purchased fresh beef. Passed through French Corral,30 crossed the Yuba river on Rice’s Bridge, and camped at Woods’ ranch. Got some fresh fruit, the first I had eaten in California. Mr. Epperson killed a dog that was stealing our meat.
September 15. Gathered up our camping utensils for the last time and started for Yuba City, where we arrived that night about eight o’clock, and stopped with our old friends William P. and Lydia A. Hanson.
September 16. Friday we drove out from Yuba City to Mr. Epperson’s ranch, south of the Butte mountains,31 where he had resided before our marriage. Here we found his brother, C. C. Epperson, whom he left here when he started back to Illinois on a visit, or after your humble servant.
1 It is obvious that the above comment was written at the end of the journey.
2 Merrill J. Mattes points out that this was probably the Loup fork, not the South Fork. Platte River Road Narratives (Urbana, 1988), p. 575.
3 Brutus Clay Epperson was noted as a raiser of fine horses and mules. Lucretia here does not mention an other member of the overland party, Old Samson, a jack, who over some eight years would bring in to his master stud fees amounting to some $10,000 for his services.
4 Mattes, op cit, suggests that her “Pyramid Rock” might have been “ Dome Rock” within the boundaries of Scotts Bluff National Monument.
5 lbid. Mattes concludes that the “point of the mountain” is a high bluff within present Scotts Bluff National Monument.
6 This may seem strange, hut one must remember that from March 1863 to May 1864, present Wyoming was within the boundaries of Idaho Territory. The news had simply not gotten out about the second date to the overlanders that year. This is well shown in a series of maps in Cornelius J. Brosnan, History of Idaho (New York, 1948), pp. 180–81.
7 This should be “Black’s Fork,” a branch of Wyoming’s Green River. Whether Lucretia Epperson heard it wrong, or she or somebody else copied it wrong from the original we don’t know. It was named for a trapper, Daniel Black. May Urbanek, Wyoming Place Names (Missoula, MT, 1988).
8 She spells this name in two ways: “Moran” and “Maran.” We suspect that the first one is right, but however the name is spelled, we cannot identify the person.
9 Colonel Patrick Edward Conner of California had been ordered by the Federal Government to raise a body of volunteers to go to Utah and keep order in that area. Conner stationed his troops on a height east of Salt Lake City from which he could dominate the Mormons. This did not exactly endear the American army to the Mormon citizens. William J. Ghent, “Conner, Patrick Edward (Mar. 17, 1820–Dec. 17, 1891)” Dictionary of American Biography, IV (N.Y., 1930), pp. 352–53.
10 C. C. Epperson was the brother of Brutus Clay Epperson, Lucretia’s husband. He had traveled to California by sea in 1852 and farmed near South Butte in Sutter County. He had met and married a California woman, Miss Sisk, in 1855. They had two children, Josephine, and Fanny. William L. Chamberlain and Harry L. Wells, History of Sutter County, California (Oakland, 1879), p. 114.
11 Steptoe, in White Pine County, lay between the Egan and Shell Creek ranges, in Steptoe Valley. It was named for Captain Edward J. Steptoe, who led a military unit to the Pacific Coast in 1854–1855. Helen S. Carlson, Nevada Place Names(Reno, 1974), pp. 213–24.
12 There was a station here for the Pony Express. Ibid., p. 65.
13 Ruby Valley came by its name because early travelers found red garnets there. It was established as a postoffice from 1862 to 1869. Ibid., p. 206.
14 Diamond Springs, Diamond Valley, Diamond Mountain were all named for Jack Diamond, an old pioneer. Diamond Springs was an overland stage station. Ibid., p. 95.
15 Austin was the site of a famous silver camp. William M. Talcott, an Overland Stage agent, stumbled over a rich silver load in May 1862. Ibid., p. 43.
16 Simpson’s Park was a pony express anti an overland stage station. Ibid., p. 217.
17 There were several “Immigrant Springs.” Across Nevada the immigrants traveled from spring to spring, and names such as this were very fluid as to location.
18 When Lucretia says she was “feeling very badly,” one must remember that she was pregnant and had every right to feel badly. See introduction above.
19 General James E. Rooker of Austin, was for a time the head of the Nevada militia and owned a ranch on the Reese River. Calif. Hist. Soc. Quarterly, XXI (1929), p. 379.
20 This was probably a mistaken reference to O. S. Mason, who arrived in Colusa in 1864 and was elected sheriff soon after. He went on to be a member of the bar, served as superintendent of the county hospital, and as a justice of the peace. Will S. Green, in History of Colusa County (San Francisco, 1880), has a short blurb telling of the life and career of O. S. Mason and says, “ Judge Mason is the happy father of nineteen children, who have received the best of care and instruction from him.” Never in the article is one mention of a woman in the family. Such neglect of women is often characteristic of the ego books of the time.
21 The Reese River arises in the Toiyabe range south of Austin and flows directly north, past that city, through Lander County, until it reaches the Humboldt.
22 Helen S. Carlson, in her Nevada Place Names, lists nine localities containing the word “ salt.” This is probably the one in Churchill County. Lucretia’s description of it is classic.
23 Ragtown was so called because the emigrants tended to drop off excessive clothing there. Their arrival at the Carson River meant also that they could wash their clothing and hang it out to dry on surrounding bushes. Late August was not really the ideal time to travel in such desert country. Carlson, op. cit., p. 197.
24 The valley in which both Sparks and Reno are located is Truckee Meadows. Carlson, op. cit., p. 235.
25 They are now traveling over the Beckwourth Pass, named for the first person to explore the area, James Beckwourth. If Lucretia is in error in spelling it, so were members of the family and friends of the notorious mountain man. In the 1860’s the trapper built a trading post at the western side of the trail in the Sierra Valley. The prime reference on the Beckwourth Route is Thomas H. Hunt, Ghost Trail to California (Palo Alto, 1974) pp. 247–57, and Map #28. The main reference to the life of Jim Beckwourth is the definitive biography by Elinor Wilson: Jim Beckwourth, Black Mountain Man and War Chief of the Crows, (Norman, Okla., 1972). Mrs. Wilson has an appendix giving information about the Beckwourth Ranch. The main trading post is still there on the property belonging to Mrs. Guido Ramelli. Ibid., p. 192.
26 Dr. David Gould Webber traveled to California in 1850, settled and mined near Downieville. In 1864 he was living on his ranch near Loyalton, some ten miles from Beckwourth’s trading post. History of Plumas, Lassen, and Sierra Counties. (Oakland, 1882) p. 267.
27 Formerly Little Truckee Lake, was renamed by Dr. Webber after the good doctor had purchased the lake and its surrounding land as a place to raise livestock in 1852. His place of residence was known as Webber’s Station. Edwin G. Gudde, California Place Names ( Berkeley, 1969), p. 360.
28 Middle Waters is the name of a creek in Sierra County. Ibid., p. 201.
29 San Juan, Nevada County, was the locale of a rich gold deposit. One of the miners, Christian Kientz, had fought in the Mexican War. He named it for San Juan de Ulloa in Mexico. The town became North San Juan in 1857 when a post office was established to distinguish it from other San Juans in California. Ibid., p. 224.
30 French Corral, Nevada County, was named for the corral of a Frenchman after the finding of gold in that locality in 1849. Ibid., p. 115.
31 The Marysville or Sutter Buttes form a noteworthy landmark in the Sacramento Valley. They are in Sutter County.