BY MORNING, THREE wagons had decided to turn back to help the stranded survivors of the other wagon train. Everyone else, including Homer, Elmer and Angie pressed on toward Platte Bridge Station.
The wagon train followed the North Platte River and found that the grass was mostly gone due to wagon trains that had come through during the spring and summer months, leaving very little for the late wagon trains. The horses and mules were struggling to find enough to eat. Two more accidental deaths and one suicide along the way was reported and the Rocky Mountains loomed ahead of them. As they neared the mountain range, the days were slowly getting colder, encouraging the pioneers to press on as quickly as they could, but not quick enough for Homer. As the days ran from one into the other, Homer was getting more and more impatient with the slow but steady pace. Every day he talked to Elmer about leaving the wagon train and going on by themselves, but so far, Elmer had been able to dissuade him.
Finally arriving at Platte Bridge Station, the wagon train had dwindled from the original 40 wagons down to 29. Before them lay the treacherous North Platte River which had to be crossed. In the past, hundreds of emigrants had drowned trying to cross the rivers that lay in Wyoming. In an attempt to make crossing the river easier, ferries had been established by Mormons who named the crossing Mormon Ferry Post.
As the wagon train came to a stop, arrangements were being made between Wagon Master Taylor and the ferry master.
Wagon Master Taylor rounded his group together. “We’ll begin crossing right away. The water is high for this time of year, and the crossing will be slow. Could be up to an hour for the ferry to get across and back. That means it could take 3 days to get everyone across. Everyone is to wait on the other side until the entire wagon train has crossed. The ferry master says all Mormons can cross at no cost, everyone else will be charged $3.00 per wagon and 50 cents per person.”
“I ain’t Mormon! What if I don’t wanna pay?” someone yelled out.
“What if I can’t afford to pay?” someone else hollered, “I spent all my money on fresh horses in Laramie.”
“The only other place to cross,” the wagon master answered, “is downstream at the South Platte River. You’re welcome to go the extra miles downstream and meet up with us on the other side, but be forewarned, the South Platte River is a swamp. You’ll be facing a much harder crossing with mud, insects and disease. The choice is yours.”
The people muttered among themselves and eventually lined up to make the crossing. Only one wagon refused to pay the fee and decided to attempt the swamp.
“We’ll see you on the other side!” they yelled as they waved goodbye to the train.
The Smith wagon was toward the rear of the line and Homer was not pleased with his position. He left their camp to have a talk with Mr. Bishop Taylor.
“What’s say you move us up to the front,” Homer said to Bishop with a smile on his face, “I kin make it worth yer while. Got some extra money here.” With that he patted his pocket.
“You’re the fifth person to try to bribe me,” Bishop responded, “Sorry. You’ll be crossing tomorrow if you’re lucky. The next day more likely.”
The smile quickly left Homer’s face and a scowl replaced it. “I can’t wait that long,” Homer exploded, “I got a time schedule to meet. I gotta get this here wagon to Sacramento soon as possible.”
“Like I told the others, you either wait on this side of the river, or that side,” Bishop told him and began to walk away, “We’ll all be leaving together.”
“We’ll see ‘bout that!” Homer yelled after him.
Elmer spent the rest of the day trying to reason with Homer while Angie sat by the river with Margaret and watched the ferry painstakingly take one wagon with their family and livestock across at a time. Several families had more livestock than could cross at one time, and had to make several crossings.
One set of mules started to panic from the movement of the water under them and they reared up on the ferry, which was no more than wooden planks tied together and nailed down to floating logs. The owner tried to settle them back down, but to no avail. The riders began to panic, yelling for help as the raft began rocking back and forth until the mules broke through the flimsy railing and fell over the side, taking the wagon with it. One man fell in the river with them, but was pulled back onboard the ferry, drenched and cold. Fear ran through the remainder of the emigrants who were waiting to cross, as they watched the wagon and mules being swept downstream. The ferry master was able to assure them that they’d be alright, and how to handle the horses and mules so there’d be no more accidents.
It took a while for the railing to be repaired, which was pushing Homer’s impatience to the breaking point. Soon the ferry resumed taking the wagons across as smoothly as before the incident. But it was not easing Homer’s temper. He stomped away from their wagon and disappeared among the waiting crowd.
After a couple hours, Angie could see the worried look that was plastered on Elmer’s face.
“Do you think he’s alright?” she asked Elmer.
“I suppose so,” he muttered while he gazed at the ground.
“Should we go look for him?” Angie asked.
“Yeah, let’s go,” Elmer said as he started to walk in the same direction Homer had gone. Angie trailed close behind him. They searched each wagon site until they finally found Homer, sitting with three other men in front of a small table, drinking whiskey and playing cards.
“Let’s go back to the wagon,” Elmer told Angie.
“But what about Homer?” she asked him.
“He’s alright,” Elmer assured her. “He’ll come back when he’s ready. Someone’s gotta keep movin’ the wagon up. We gotta get back there.”
The ferry stopped the crossings as the sun began to sink. Campfires soon lit up the evening and supper was being prepared on both sides of the river.
Angie had been asleep for several hours when she woke to hear Homer singing as he came back to their camp. He was off-key, and slurring his words and she heard him stumbling around, trying to find his tent. After a few minutes of talking to himself, all was quiet again and Angie fell back asleep.
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The Blanket of Blessings Page 19
