Wednesday, May 24.
We were up with the earliest dawn, and our own individual outfit ready
for a very early start, yet it was the middle of the forenoon before
all the wagons were landed on the west bank of the Missouri. It takes
a long while to ferry fifteen wagons across the river. We girls rode
our ponies onto the ferryboat. They behaved as if they had been used
to ferryboats all their lives. As we were waiting near the landing a
stranger[A] came, apologized for speaking to us, and asked, “Are you
going to Montana?”
[A] This man is mentioned here because of what happened to him
before he reached his journey’s end.
“No, sir, our destination is California, or Oregon; we are not fully
decided which.”
“Oh, you ought to go to Montana; that is the place to get rich.”
He told of his marvelous success in that country since 1863; the
Indians were mentioned. He spoke of them with such contempt; said he
would rather kill an Indian than a good dog. Says he left a wife and
six children in Iowa, the oldest boy about fourteen who wanted very
much to go with his father, but his mother needed him. Last night he
came into his father’s camp. He had run away from home; says he is
going to Montana, too. His father told it as if he thought it smart,
and a good joke. What sorrow and anxiety his poor mother is no doubt
suffering.
Cash, Neelie, Sim Buford, Ezra, Frank, Winthrop and I while waiting
in Platsmouth went to a photographer’s and had our pictures taken;
tintype, of course, all in one group, then each one alone, then Sim
and Neelie together and Cash and I on our ponies. We only came five
miles after our rush to get an early start. There are nine families and
fifteen wagons in our train now. Miss Mary Gatewood has a pony for her
especial use, so there will be four of us to ride horseback. There are
enough wagons now to make quite a respectable corral. I did suppose, as
we had been resting so long, we would make a long drive. Feed for the
stock is very good here, and as it is fifteen miles to the next good
camping place, where there is plenty of water and feed, it has been
decided that we stay here until to-morrow. The boys have put up the
inevitable swing, and we have concluded “that what cannot be cured must
be endured.” So we will make the best of it, but certainly at this rate
we will not reach our destination before it is cold weather.
* * * * *
Thursday, May 25.
Oh, dear; here we are yet, only five miles from Platsmouth. Morrison
and Harding have lost two fine cows, half a dozen men have been hunting
them all day, but without success. There is not a doubt but that
they have been stolen. Our stock will have to be herded, hereafter,
to guard against thieves. We have spent the day reading, writing,
sleeping, swinging, and getting acquainted with our neighbors. The
Morrison family wagon is just in front of us, and the Kerfoot’s just
behind, so we are to have the most pleasant neighbors possible to camp
next to us. Mrs. Morrison is almost as pretty as Cash, although the
mother of four children; she is so bright and cheerful, so full of
life and fun, she will be great on a trip like this. Mr. Morrison has
an impediment in his speech, and when he is excited--like he is this
evening, because they cannot find their cows--he stutters dreadfully,
and will say, “Or sir, or sir, or sir,” until it is hard to keep from
laughing. In ordinary conversation and when not excited, he talks
as straight as any one. He seems so fond and proud of his wife and
children I like him. Neelie and Sim, and Frank and I took a stroll this
afternoon in search of wild flowers. They are few and far between,
yet we enjoyed the walk through the woods in this lovely springtime
weather.