by Terry Grosz
Jacob had to smile even though he found himself in a pickle. Here was a man almost the size of Rich Grosz, and if the intense look on his face said anything, he would stick alongside his friends come hell or high water—and woe betide his enemies as long as he held a rifle, powder, and shot.
Jacob, still bothered by the notion that the folks wanting to go to California were thinking of him as a genuine wagon master and wanting to clear up the issue, suddenly felt his brother’s reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“The two of us need to talk this over for a spell and will get back to you by suppertime,” Martin announced with his characteristic happy-go-lucky grin.
“We usually have a community supper around the central fire come sundown,” Otis Barnes said with a smile. “Come have supper with us and meet the rest of our families.” With that, the group broke up, and the men from the wagon train went off to tell their families about the possibility of new “wagon masters.” Walking away from the group, Jacob said to Martin, “What the damnation are you thinking? We don’t know the trail once it gets beyond Fort Hall, and you know it!”
“As always, brother, you are right. But those people wish to continue their travels. That’s the way we wanted to go all along, and those who spoke up comprise fourteen wagons counting what we put together. That is a safer way to travel than on our own, and we know the best trail blazer in the country in Jim Bridger. He has been to California and back several times. He can help us and maybe make some maps to show us the way. Hell, it can’t be that bad! All we have to do is follow the trails left by others who went before us,” Martin countered with a grin.
Looking at his brother, Jacob could see nothing but enthusiasm and determination in his eyes. And Martin did have a point. All they had to do was follow the earlier trails to get to California...
Jacob began to feel better after several hours with Jim Bridger, several deep pulls on the contents of Jim’s fiery jug and time spent exploring Bridger’s towering knowledge of the exact lay of the land all the way to California. Having been there personally several times over the years. Jim drew several maps showing the major landmarks along the way once they got to and beyond Fort Hall. He followed those geography lessons with instructions in where to find good water and where to be extra alert to avoid livestock-stealing Indians. There were many trails to follow west and several passes through the mountains, but Jim laid out several options for the boys, one of which led to Oregon and the other to California. Then it was time to tap the earthen jug full of good Kentucky whiskey again so the boys could boost their confidence with a little liquid frontier courage...
Some time later Jacob and Martin met with the man willing to sell his wagon. They settled up with him using the last of the coins they had inherited from their fathers when they were young men just getting started themselves in the fur trade many years before. Looking carefully over the wagon that they had just purchased, Jacob and Martin were pleased. It had been built hell-for-stout by a builder in St. Louis, Missouri, who obviously knew his trade. He had used the finest oak and hickory throughout, and straight-grained woods at that. The recent owner had maintained the wagon well, and it had two spare wheels and an extra singletree lashed under the wagon in case the current one broke. The brothers planned to use their two draft horses as wheelers to pull the wagon, aided by two other stout horses from their pack string as headers. Since they would be traveling light because they planned on buying most of what they needed in California with their stocks of gold, a heavy team was not really needed. They would need the wagon only to carry their sacks of gold, food, bedding, extra firearms, sacks of livestock feed, and associated gear. Other than that, they would carry little compared to the others in the wagon train. Jim would equip them with the proper harnesses and other tack from the pile of gear discarded at the fort by earlier travelers as they tried to lighten their loads in order to continue their travels along the Oregon Trail.
Leaving their new wagon, Jacob and Martin headed over to the central cooking fire to meet the rest of those who were soon to become their charges. Soon they were undergoing what seemed to be endless introductions of wives and children from the thirteen wagons wishing to push on to California. One young woman caught Jacob’s eye immediately, and he could not take his eyes or thoughts away from her once he had seen her. She was tall for a woman her age, had long, brown hair that hung below her shoulders, was slender as a willow, and walked and talked with a grace long beyond her years. Her name was Amanda, and she was Rich Grosz’s older daughter. He had never seen such beauty in a woman and found it hard to breathe or take his eyes off her while she was, by chance or design, serving him supper that evening. Martin was smitten by a young woman in the contingent as well. During the many introductions, he was introduced to the Celestial woman belonging to the Delaware Indian and patriarch Martin Jones. Neither Jacob nor Martin had ever seen an Asian person before, much less one who was so beautiful. She was very tiny, but her coal-black, dark flashing eyes and long, beautiful black hair spoke of her origins among an ancient race in a land far away. Later in the evening Martin discovered that her name was Nguyen Ahn Sang, but the Delaware families called her Kim. Martin could hardly believe what was happening to him. Here was a women he could easily fall in love with in a heartbeat under the right circumstances.
Suffice it to say, Jacob and Martin were finding this wagon-master job better than either of them had expected...
Chapter Seventeen
Making Ready
Returning to their sleeping area in the fort, Jacob and Martin walked in silence as they thought of what lay ahead of them as wagon masters for a bunch of hopeful people, and what they were feeling after having just met two charming women.
***
“You boys going to sleep all day?” asked Jim Bridger.
Exhausted by the previous day’s events, neither man waved at Jim from their sleeping furs to signify that they were awake.
“Best the two of you roll out because we have a passel of things to go over afore sunset if the talk from the wagon train about you two leading them west is for certain,” Jim continued with a smile.
Rolling out of their furs, the men washed up as best as they could. For some reason, they found themselves trying to trim their unruly hair and beards for once so they would look more like men than mad grizzly bears.
After a hearty breakfast of moose steak, fried mush, honey, and some of the thick black liquid Jim called coffee, Jacob and Martin quietly sat down at the table with Jim.
“I intend to butt in on the affairs of you two boys because your dads would have expected that much of me. And, if the same circumstances ever came up, me of them. Now, do you men have at least two wagons in which to carry forth?” he asked.
Jacob and Martin looked at each other for a moment in surprise. Jacob said, “No, Jim. We just purchased the one wagon from a man who was not going on and willing to sell, figuring that was all we would need for the trip.”
“Thought so,” Jim replied in a fatherly tone. “The two of you are setting out on an endeavor that may well kill you and all those innocent folks you are leading. Did you ever think of that?” There was a trace of real seriousness in his voice that the boys had never heard before.
“No, sir,” Jacob and Martin replied in unison, a bit taken aback. Jim’s seriousness was kind of like the way their dads had spoken to them when the boys had screwed up or failed to pay attention to their early training.
“Well, you will need a second wagon. The two of you are taking innocent folks into the great beyond, and you had better be prepared. That means one wagon for what you will need and an extra one full of supplies in case someone on your wagon train runs short or wrecks their wagon, including the two of you. Then comes the issue of what kind of livestock you are going to use to pull the wagons,” Jim growled, enjoying his new paternal role.
Jacob, embarrassed at having overlooked the obvious need for a second wagon, lamely argued, “We have a set of draft horses
, two other hell-for-stout horses, and four large mules for the wagons and other heavy work in our current pack string.”
“Not good enough. The grasses on the trail are not the best for horses pulling heavy loads and just bearable for mules. Many won’t make it, or you may destroy them before the day is done if they have to depend on those kinds of range grasses to survive. Besides, so many have gone before you that most of the good grass will be grazed down to a nubbin,” Jim replied.
Damn, thought Jacob as he looked over at Martin for support. Good ole Martin, ever the quiet one, was having none of it. He was leaving his older brother to do the thinking, or heavy lifting, and to get the ass-chewin’ for being wrong.
Seeing no help coming from that quarter, Jacob said, “Well, if that is not good enough, what do you suggest, Jim?”
“Oxen,” he replied. “They can eat a bale of weeds and still last a full day on the trail pullin’ a heavy load, unlike horses or mules. To my way of thinkin’, them last two types of critters belong in pack strings, not pullin’ heavy-loaded wagons on an overgrazed trail. Besides, oxen are less prone to stampedin’ or catchin’ everything that comes along, plus most Indians with any sense will not run off with your slow-movin’ oxen unless they are starvin’ and need something to eat,” he continued.
“Where the hell we supposed to get eight oxen?” Jacob blurted out in exasperation at having been so shortsighted.
“Right here at the fort. For the last year or so I have traded one good, well-rested ox for two jaded ones when the wagon trains came rolling in. As it now stands, I have over one hundred rolling fat head of oxen in the pasture just behind the fort,” Jim replied with a twinkle in his eye at having finally gotten the boys’ attention.
“Then if they are for sale, my brother and I will trade in most of our pack string and some of our credit from our trappin’s for what we need,” Jacob replied after a quick look over at his weasel of a brother for confirmation.
“I don’t think so,” replied Bridger. “You boys need to keep your other stock for the trip as well. Never can tell when you will need them to hook up to the wagons and help the oxen pull a steep hill or move a wagon out of the mud or quicksand during a river crossing. No, I suggest you keep your pack string for riding or trade when they are needed. Now, who is going to drive those two wagons of yours?”
From the looks on both boys’ faces, he could tell that was another thing neither had thought of. Jacob sheepishly replied, “Well, we can drive our own teams.”
“That really makes a lot of sense,” Bridger replied with the fatherly sharpness in his voice again. “Who is going to do the scouting for a place to camp at night, kill some meat for supper, or be on the lookout for hostiles?” His stem look concealed his joy at being able to help the sons of his dead trapper friends from times past, especially when it came to the really serious part of growing up.
Jacob and Martin looked at each other again, in agony. This wagon-master job is sure turning out to be a pain in the ass, Martin thought. Jacob worried about just how little he and his brother knew about the business they had now gotten themselves into.
Jim continued, “Now, as to supplies for the two of you. I would suggest three barrels of flour, one barrel of sugar, one barrel of cornmeal, four twenty-five-pound sacks of coffee beans, and a new coffee grinder. You will also need oxen, horse, and mule shoes with associated nails for your livestock and those of your wagon train in case they haven’t thought of it. Then, if’s it were me, I would add four twenty-five-pound kegs of powder, six jugs of honey, a hundred pounds of beans, one hundred pounds of bacon, and a hundred pounds of rice.” Writing down what Jim was advising on a small board, Jacob scribbled furiously. Then after a short pause, Jim continued as if talking to himself, “Then I would add four sacks of salt, two sacks of pepper, some extra cast iron in case you break what you already have, and several extra wheels, both front and back. Also, I would add some extra leather strapping in case you bust some harnesses along the way and have to mend them. Seeing you may have to detour a bit, I would suggest some extra axes, saws, and shovels so you can get out of what you got yourself into. Lastly, I would suggest several kegs of whiskey, some buckets, a water barrel per wagon, and a passel of trade items for the Indians you will run into along the way. And, oh, several buckets of good axle grease as well as some bear grease fir your cooking’ would be helpful.”
Jim paused as if gathering breath and then thought better of going on. He had already overwhelmed the boys with what they had forgotten and felt it best to hold his tongue and fill them in later on what they still needed as it became necessary. It was during that moment that the boys realized that even though their credit from the trapping was substantial, they would not have enough for all Jim proposed as well as items to be added later.
“Jim,” said Jacob, “I think my brother and I now realize the seriousness of what you are saying. You are right, and the both of us appreciate you standing in place of our fathers. We will be short in our credit from our trappin’s, but we have other means for paying you in full, as our parents would have wished.”
Jim just looked at the two young men, proud as punch as if they were his own, as their parents would have been as well had they lived.
Jacob continued, “We have needs for livestock replacement, topping off of supplies for the others wishing to continue west, and two men to drive our wagons. Most of our concerns for our travelers my brother and I can fix. However, do you have any idea who we can get who is honest and hardworking to drive our wagons while my brother and I scout and ride herd?”
“Jus’ so happens I have a couple of good men in mind who would fit that bill,” Bridger replied with a grin. “To the south of here about three miles are two brothers, Dave and Jerry Hall. They trapped with me up on the Yellowstone in ’30 and ’32. Both are damn good men, getting long in the tooth but honest and God-fearing. I would be right proud to serve with either or both of them if asked. And I would bet both would lunge at the chance to go west and see what is over the mountains and on the other side, ’specially from the safety of a wagon seat.”
Excited over the prospect of having a couple more men for the wagon train who had Jim’s blessing, Jacob said, “Jim, will you point me and my brother in the right direction so we can meet these men and decide for ourselves?”
“That be easy,” Jim said. “Follow me.”
Walking out from the fort, Jim stopped and pointed to a belt of trees jutting out in the grassy plains several miles below his fort. “They be nestled in a small cabin at the foot of that finger of trees,” he advised. “It be easy to find, and I am sure the Hall brothers would appreciate the company, especially if you boys were to bring a jug.”
“That will suit us just fine,” said Jacob. “My brother and I will ride out that way and be back in time for dinner at the central fire at the wagon train. Then we can share the good news of having two more men to help carry the load, provide security, and point the way if they pan out and wish to join us in our travels.”
“I’ll go and get our horses saddled and ready to ride,” said Martin, and with a nod from Jacob he was off to the corrals.
“Now all I need to do is find another good wagon, and aside from provisioning, we should be ready to roll,” Jacob mused aloud.
“Look no further,” said Jim with a grin. “I have two wagons out back of the fort that I bought some time back from several families who had been partially wiped out by cholera just outside St. Louis. Then both the menfolk were crippled up by accidents, and what was left of their numbers turned back, but not before selling me their wagons. One is in pretty good shape. The other is somewhat the worse for wear. But you can buy the good one and part out the other one so you have some spares for the good wagon in case they are needed.”
“You have a deal. My brother and I will look them over when we get back from visiting the Hall brothers,” said Jacob as Martin approached with their saddle horses.
“Hello, the cabin,�
� shouted Jacob an hour later.
As they approached, the brothers could see a neatly built cabin with a small corral off to one side but easily defensible in case someone tried to rustle the stock. A tall, slender man emerged from the cabin carrying a rifle and squinting into the daylight. Upon seeing the two riders coming toward him, he waved a friendly greeting. Soon another man stepped from the cabin, also with rifle in hand, and stood behind his brother to see what developed.
Stopping in front of the two men, Jacob said, “This here is my brother, Martin, and I am called Jacob. Jim Bridger sent us to look you fellows up.”
“What fer?” asked the taller one with a smile of recognition at the mention of Jim’s name.
“We are fixing’ to put together a wagon train to go to California and need two drivers for our wagons. Jim said you two might be willin’ to take on that chore and go to California to see what is over there. If the two of you are eager to do so, my brother and I are willing to offer you payment upon arrival and ‘found’ throughout the trip,” replied Jacob.
“Light down and sit a spell,” said the taller one as he leaned his rifle against the front of the cabin. His quiet brother did the same. Then both men strode over to Jacob and Martin and warmly shook their hands.
“From the looks of your garb, the two of you be mountain men sure,” stated the shorter of the two men, who had introduced himself as Jerry.
