Chapter 40
Kingston
Once they were upon flat, hard, sun baked ground, the wagons finally moved at a much easier pace. In the evenings they circled the wagons in and around groves of tall standing oak trees along the banks of small rivers and streams. They had beaten the coming of winter in the Sierras and entered the hot pre-fall weather of the San Joaquin Valley. It seemed winter and summer had joined in a battle over fall, and neither was willing to relinquish its hold. They knew the hot weather wouldn’t last and it wouldn’t be long before winter brought the rain and thick fog the Indians had told them about: fog so thick you could get lost standing in the middle of your camp. They also worried about the Mountain Pass to their south. Generally it was passable year around, but it was known to get treacherous in poor weather. They pushed on each day, trying to eat up as many miles of the flat San Joaquin Valley as they could. Finally they reached a small hamlet resting quietly along the Kings River, just about in the middle of the valley.
Kingston was established mostly to support and be supported by a ferry that transported wagons and horses across the river.
They made camp on the south side of the Kings River. There was low brush with an occasional large oak for shade. But for the most part they stood directly under the hot California sun. The river, though warm, was still refreshing compared to the hot air. At first several on their train thought they’d found gold flowing along the waterway. Some even found small specks of gold stuck to their clothes and skin after being in the water. Their excitement soon waned when the locals explained it was just Pyrite, more commonly called “Fools Gold.” It didn’t stop some of the children however from trying to collect the fragments and acting out what they thought it would feel like to be rich.
Morgan and Ray spent most of their free time sitting on the shore splashing their feet in the cool water talking about their future together.
One evening found Quincy, John, Larry, Richard and Ray all sitting next to a small fire taking in all the stars that seemed to fill every inch of the sky. Quincy took a sip of coffee, rolled some tobacco into a piece of paper, and lit up the one smoke he saved for himself each evening. Drawing in the refreshing taste of tobacco into his lungs, he was rewarded by the deep cough that he had felt before. But this cough was followed by another deeper cough from within his lungs, which seemed to grab a hold of the strings to his breath. Suddenly he began to cough uncontrollably, deep, harsh, raspy, coughs that echoed the very ripping of his insides. With a sudden look of desperation across his face Quincy looked at each one of them and gasped for air. They dove to his aid, trying to determine if leaning him forward, laying him down or standing him up would alleviate the attack. The convulsion lasted a few more minutes before Quincy settled. He looked up at each of them with a smile of farewell to his new close friends, and collapsed in Ray’s arms. His face fell to the side as Ray held him, like he had held his Pa. Ray’s eyes filled with tears, as did the eyes of his companions. A man doesn’t always cry for a fallen friend. But when one has impacted your life as greatly as Quincy had, there was no stopping the emotion. Quincy had given each of them a life in California and not a one of them would ever forget it.
The next morning they held services under the grandest old oak they could find along the river. Quincy would rest in a quiet spot, hearing the splash of water as it moved down the valley from the high mountains. They knew they would dearly miss that old man as they pulled the wagons in line. And once again, like so many other mornings, they continued their journey home. The home Quincy had provided for them.
The weather seemed to be getting hotter, and the land less and less hospitable as they moved south. Trees could be seen only along the small streams that crisscrossed the valley. Looking to the east, especially in the early morning before the sun had time to escape the grasp of the earth, the Sierras were so crystal clear that one would think they were but a few miles away. You could even make out the dusting of white snow on the higher elevations. To the west a lower range of mountains began to intersect their travel, growing taller as they approached the south end of the San Joaquin Valley. The pass looked quite clear from the valley, but only Quincy had known what lay beyond. So he had been careful to leave Ray with a very clear map complete with stopping points that created a dot-to-dot course to the valleys on the other side. After traveling what seemed straight up a wall they came across Ft. Tejon near the top of the pass. Morgan convinced Ray they should make camp for the day at the fort and rest. The animals were exhausted, as were the folks who had had to walk alongside the wagons in order to lighten the loads. Along with the arduous climb was the constant throat clinging dust and sweltering heat from the hot sun bearing down on their heads. It was still early but the animals and travelers were clearly used up.
The Fort would be able to provide them with enough necessities to complete their journey. The officer in charge cautioned them that there were still a couple large climbs ahead of them, but acknowledged the worst one was behind them, much to everyone's great relief.
The following morning they awoke to a light rain and a cool breeze coming up from the valley below. Since the dry ground was absorbing the water almost as fast as it impacted the surface, they decided to go ahead and begin their journey. Ray figured that as long as the rain didn’t increase, the soil should remain solid enough to allow their wheels to pass.
They were making good time when there came a call from within the wagon train to halt the wagons. John and Larry turned their mounts and followed Ray back to where the call came from. They were traveling along a fairly narrow pass with the canyon wall to their right and a stream on their left, leaving only enough room for a wagon and a couple of horses. The fourth wagon back was the source of the call. It stood in an awkward position with several men standing around its left rear. As they drew closer, they observed a large piece of a wagon wheel lying off to one side.
“Damn it, that’s all we needed,” said Larry as they rode up and dismounted.
“Anyone hurt?” Ray called out.
“No, no one was hurt. But this wagon isn’t going’ anywhere until we replace that wheel,” said one of the men looking at the axle which was now stuck in the dirt.
“Whose wagon is it?” Ray asked, looking over the group.
``“It’s our wagon, Mr. Cooper,” answered Sis and Florence.
“Well, I’ll need some men to assist in gettin’ a new wheel on this wagon,” Ray called out, “Sis, where is your extra wheel?”
“Why, we don’t have one,” answered Florence.
When the train split up in Sacramento, people traveling north reclaimed the wagon they had loaned to the two sisters. They were forced to scramble quickly to find another wagon before the trains left in separate directions.
“The good folks who sold us our wagon back in Sacramento, said they didn’t have one and told us that the Lord would provide,” added Sis.
Just anxious to end the conversation and get moving again, Ray called out “Anyone have a wheel they can use?” asked Ray.
“I have one,” said Laurie who by now was standing with most of the others from the train, around the sisters' wagon.
“Okay, a couple of you men go get the wheel while we get a pole to lift the wagon up,” instructed Ray.
“John and Larry, follow me. Let’s find a good sized piece of wood to use as a pole,” Ray said as he headed down by the stream where most of the trees grew.
They quickly found a trunk about six inches in diameter of solid wood and cut it down. With the branches trimmed from the trunk they had a pole that should be strong enough to raise the wagon enough to put on the new wheel.
Morgan organized a group to assist Florence and Sis in getting the wagon unloaded so it would be easier to lift. A few men rolled a large rock just under the edge of the wagon. A pole was pushed under the wagon and supported in the center by the rock. With several men on the high end of the pole pushing down on the pole the axle rose from the gro
und.
“Okay, we need someone to clean the dirt from the end of the axle and put more grease on the contact,” Ray called.
“I can do that part,” called Florence as she ran forward through the crowd, wanting so badly to assist the men in fixing her wagon.
“Be careful!” yelled John as he saw Florence’s foot catch a root hidden under the soft dirt. Falling forward, she struck the pole with all of her weight. The impact was just enough to twist the pole off the rock and cause the wagon to slam hard back down onto the ground.
Florence had fallen in under the wagon just as the axle collapsed down upon her chest.
All stood silent. It all happened so quickly there was no chance to save her.
“Florence!” screamed Sis as she rushed to her dear sister’s side. Sis frantically began to dig around her friend’s body in a futile attempt to free her.
“Sis! Get out of there,” cried Larry grabbing her around the waist, and pulling her back. “We can use the pole to lift the wagon off her, stay back!”
With Sis out of the way, they re-inserted the pole and applied pressure to the end. The wagon rose off the ground lifting the axle from Florence’s chest. Her lungs drew in a large gulp of air making the sound of a strong wind.
“Get her out of there,” Ray shouted.
Larry left Sis to assist in the removal of Florence’s broken body. The knowledge of what they would find when Florence’s body was pulled from under the wagon was no mystery. Only one end could result with the entire wagon’s weight centered on the edge of that axle forcing it down onto her chest.
Sis knelt down beside her sister and began hugging and kissing her face. Florence’s hand slowly rose from the ground and encircled her friend.
“What is all this attention for? I have done nothing to deserve such affection,” said Florence with great effort.
“My God, she’s alive?” said John. “But that’s impossible. That axle slammed down on her chest. I heard it hit.”
“Well, she ain’t dead. But if we don’t get care to her she soon will be. Someone get the doc,” Ray called as he leaned down to hold Sis from climbing all over her friend. “Sis, she may have some broken ribs. You need to stay back a little and don’t touch her until the doc checks her out, okay?”
“Oh, yes, thank God!” cried Sis.
Ray rose and stepped to one side, next to John.
“What the hell do you make of that, Ray?” asked John still staring at Florence.
“First, I can say hell had nothing to do with it. I don’t know how she wasn’t killed. Now, since doc has Florence, let’s get back to fixing that wheel.”
An hour later the wheel was back on the wagon and ready to roll. The doc had examined Florence and to the surprise of all, including the doctor, not one broken bone or rib was cracked. She did have considerable bruising, but she should be able to return to her duties the next day. As they prepared to continue their journey not a one of them doubted they had observed something very special and would not soon forget it.
-CKS-
Their travel was slow going due to the occasional mishap, but they made fair time and it wasn’t long before they were sitting on the ridge looking down on what is now known as the San Fernando Valley. This was going to be their new home. The long, arduous journey was at last over.
“What say, we ride right down Main Street and congregate on the south side of town?” Ray called with a smile.
A loud cheer went up in agreement. No one had to tell the travelers to pull out. The wagons were already headed for the Main Street of Pueblo de Los Angeles.
At the mouth of the street the first wagons stopped their glorious parade. Ray called out. “Why’d ya stop, Mr. Thompson?”
“It don’t seem fittin’ for the train to end its journey without you in front, Ray. You’ve been there all the way from Missouri. You should be in the lead now,” said Mr. Thompson with the full agreement of the folks trailing behind.
“Larry, John, you heard the man, let’s take ‘em in!” Ray waved the wagon to pull out and took the lead with his friends.
They kicked up a large cloud of dust with all the wagons, horses, mules, oxen, and people. But it didn’t deter the town’s people from coming out to greet them. This had to be one of the happiest days of their lives.
As Ray rode he searched the faces of the towns-people for his mother. Finally they would be reunited. The parade ended on the south end of town in a large open field of dirt and sagebrush. Ray had not seen his mother in the crowd, but he knew she was here somewhere. The wagons all came to a stop and the drivers with their families climbed down from the sides. Each began to find a friend that they had made along the journey and rejoiced with a good strong hug. Most had made it through but in the back of their minds they could not help but think of the ones that were left behind.
“Folks! Folks! Could you gather around please? I’d like to say a few words, if I may,” Ray said as he climbed up onto the back of one of the wagons.
After everyone had quieted down he continued, “Now I don’t have to tell any of you what a great accomplishment this journey has been for all of us. This is a story you’ll be able to pass down from one generation to the next. But right now I’d appreciate it if we could take a moment of silence to remember those that are not here with us today.”
Hearing some of the ladies begin to cry, he raised his head from thinking about Ida and so many others, and called all together again. “Thank you folks for makin’ this journey a lot easier than it could have been. On behalf of train master Quincy Woods; I’d like to welcome each and every one of you to your new home. Now go make a wonderful life for yourselves!” Ray called out as cheers went up again.
He climbed down from the back of the wagon and walked over to Horse who was always standing nearby ready to take to the trail.
John, Larry, Richard, and Laurie were standing next to Horse. “Ray, I figure you’re going to be headed into town to find your mother,” said Larry.
“That’s right,” he said as he swung a leg over the saddle.
“Mind if we join you?” asked Larry and John.
“Boys, you know my Ma almost as well as I do. Of course you can join me.”
“Laurie and I will make sure your wagons and remuda make it out to the ranch. For now, we’re so dead tired all we want to do is park that damn wagon and shoot holes in it. Do you mind?” came Richard’s request.
“Not at all Richard, hire a couple of fellas to help and we’ll see you out at the ranch, damn that sounds good to say,” Ray laughed. “Come on boys, let’s go find our Ma.”
Ray rode over to Morgan’s family wagon and pulled up along the back where Morgan was sitting.
“I’ll be staying in town with my folks until we have the wedding, okay?” said Morgan.
“Sounds like a good idea. But we’re not waiting too long for that wedding. I want to get you out to the Ranch as soon as possible.”
“I love you too, Ray,” smiled Morgan. “Are you going for your mother now?”
“Yeah, it’s not a huge town, so we should be able to find her in a short time I hope.”
“Well good luck, I’ll see you tomorrow?” smiled Morgan.
“Of course, a beautiful girl like you needs to have a man around to protect her,” Ray teased...
“Oh, go find your ma,” laughed Morgan.
Revenge Requires Two Graves Page 40
