Monday, June 26.
Mr. and Mrs. May--a newly-married couple that came into our train at
the junction of the roads--are both musicians; several of our young
men have fine voices, and with Lyde’s guitar, and Mr. May’s violin we
have had an enjoyable musicale away out here in the wilderness. If the
Indians had been within listening distance it would be interesting to
know what impression the music made upon their minds, as “Music hath
charms, etc.” The music this evening has been the happiest feature of
the day, for I have had to ride in the wagon all day. One of the big
horses went lame this morning, so Dick was put in harness and the dear
little fellow has worked all day. He looks funny beside the big horse;
the harness had to be taken up to the last holes to make it fit him.
I would not enjoy taking this trip without a saddle-horse or pony to
ride. I must be more generous hereafter and let Lyde and Mrs. Kennedy
and other ladies that have no horse ride Dick oftener than I have been
doing. I have not fully realized how very tiresome it is to ride in
the wagon all day, and day after day.
I have always supposed that good water would be very scarce on this
road; we have not found it so, there are always from one to three wells
at the stage-stations, with excellent water, free for all--thanks to
Uncle Sam for this provision for our welfare. In some places wood is
very scarce and must be hauled long distances; we cooked dinner this
evening with wood hauled from near Cottonwood. Cedar logs are fastened
under the wagons, lengthwise between the wheels; as there are no stumps
or rocks in the road they carry all right, when there is no wood to
pick up the log is taken down, a piece cut off and split up for use.
It is surprising with what a little bit of wood one can cook a meal on
these sheet-iron stoves.
* * * * *
Tuesday, June 27.
Among the men who are driving for the Walkers is an eccentric old
bachelor named Fogy; he is very bashful when in the presence of
ladies. I have often heard it said that men cannot drive oxen without
swearing; it is a mistake. I have seen a whole lot of ox-driving on
this trip, and to-day I heard the first profane oath since we left the
Missouri River. It would have been funny if it had not been shocking.
We have traveled all day where the bluffs come close to the river, the
road is very uneven, little hills and hollows, in some of the hollows
there is mud. Mr. Fogy admires Neelie very much (at a distance, of
course), we often hear the extravagant compliments he pays her, and his
regrets about that troublesome “if.”
Soon after the start this morning, Neelie and I rode to the front to
escape the dust and sand that were flying; as we came near the front
wagon we were startled by hearing a terrific oath. The wagon had stuck
in the mud and would, of course, stop the entire train. Mr. Fogy was
the driver. He was greatly embarrassed and distressed when he knew
we had heard him swear, and stopped stock still and let the wheels
sink into the mud so that they had to double teams to get them out. He
afterward told some of the boys he was effectually cured of swearing;
that he never felt so cheap in his life, and if he is ever tempted to
swear he knows the remembrance of that moment will check him.
We had a refreshing shower about two o’clock, that laid the dust,
cooled the air, and made everything sweet and fresh. We hoped and
expected to have a pleasant afternoon, after the rain there was
a calm--not a little tiny breeze or breath of air--it was just
suffocating, and then came a cloud of buffalo-gnats that almost
devoured us, so that horseback riding was an impossibility.
* * * * *
Wednesday, June 28.
Cash is on the sick-list to-day. I trust it will not prove to be
anything serious. I greatly fear Mr. Kerfoot’s family are destined to
have considerable sickness before this trip is ended. They have such a
sameness of diet, and it is so poorly cooked I fear the result.
When we started on this trip not one member of the family had ever
prepared an entire meal; they had always had a houseful of servants
to cook and do everything else for them. The first two or three weeks
Neelie and her mother tried to learn to cook, and mother and I tried to
teach them. It takes great patience to learn to bake in stoves out of
doors; they heat red-hot so quickly, and cool just as suddenly; they
must have careful attention all the time.
They made several failures baking light bread, and, giving it up in
disgust, settled down to biscuit, that are hard as brick-bats, when
cold, bacon, coffee, and beans--when we stop long enough to cook
them. They were well supplied with fruit at first; the canned fruit
was so easily served that it is all gone. They have dried fruit, but
think it too much trouble to cook. Neelie does the cooking with
some assistance from her father, such as getting wood, making fires,
bringing water, grinding the coffee, etc. Henrietta and Emma--the next
younger sisters--wash the dishes. It is no small undertaking to cook
for a family of twelve; I do not blame Neelie for getting tired, she
says they have such appetites it is not worth while to tempt them with
extras.
Neelie is the dearest, sweetest, most unselfish daughter and sister;
it seems they all depend upon her, the children go to her in their
troubles and perplexities, her father and mother rely upon her, and she
is always ready to do what she can for any and everybody that needs her
help; she is unselfishness personified.
The wind blew so all afternoon that we could not ride horseback. The
roads are smooth and hard as asphalt, result of rain yesterday and the
wind to-day. Dr. Fletcher who was called to prescribe for Cash says she
will be all right in a day or two.