Friday, July 14.
The men were until almost noon repairing the broken wagon. An accident
that happens to one is assumed by all until results are overcome. As
we were ready for the start, a little girl ran among the oxen to catch
her pet crow; an ox kicked her on the forehead and cut a gash that had
to have a few stitches and be bandaged, so we were delayed again. When
order reigned once more we crossed the Little Laramie. It is very much
like the Big Laramie, only not so wide nor deep; I rode Dick over, and
then came on ahead of the train, keeping within sight. When we had
traveled about an hour the rain came down. I was likely to get very wet
before our wagons came, for they were among the last in the train; I
took the saddle and bridle off Dick, sat down on the saddle to keep it
dry, and to wait for the wagon. I was resigning myself to a drenching
when Mr. Grier, driver of the front wagon, came and spread a great big
rubber coat over me, so that I was completely sheltered and was hardly
damp when our wagons came.
Then mother drove the horses close up to the wagon in front. I tossed
my saddle and bridle in, hopped up on the tongue of the wagon before
the wagon behind got close up, and we started without stopping but the
one wagon. We could not stop until we came to feed for stock, so we
were obliged to travel in the rain. We drove into corral about four
P.M., and are again quite near the mountains. There are more pleasant
things than camping in the rain. The water is so impregnated with
alkali I fear it will cause sickness; the stock are in greater danger
than we, for we can guard against it.
* * * * *
Saturday, July 15.
As I climbed out of the wagon this morning I saw the most beautiful
rainbow I ever looked at. The bow was complete, the colors dazzlingly
bright and just as vivid in the center as at the ends. It was not
raining in camp, but raining hard on the mountain-side. The rainbow
was so near we might easily have reached the end and “found the pot
of gold.” The rain came down all morning; we did not break camp until
ten o’clock and then made only a short drive. We are camping among the
hills once more, with not another train in sight. The McMahan train is
behind us, but we do not know how far away they are, so we are glad to
wait until they catch up. There is a mountain near that I would like to
climb, but it is against orders.
* * * * *
Sunday, July 16.
We are all here; although some of the women last night seemed to think
there was small chance of our seeing the light of this morning’s sun.
Had we known that the McMahan train was within calling distance--just
a hill intervening--perhaps we would have rested easier and slept more
soundly. It is considered a very dangerous place where we were last
night and where we have traveled to-day. Although it is Sunday, I am
sure there is not one in camp that would have voted to stay there to
rest. We have heard horrible stories of the depredations that have
been committed along this road and in these mountains within the last
month. We saw with our own eyes--just before we came to Rock Creek--a
station that had been burned and all the inmates killed or taken
prisoners; there were none to tell the story of the fight, although the
bodies of all who were known to be there were not found. The buildings
were not all burned, the fire either went out, or was put out by the
rain, after the Indians left. They have been repaired, and soldiers
stationed there now. We saw at the same station a coach that had been
riddled with bullets; it was found on the road about a mile from the
station, without horses, driver or passengers.