The separation of the train is being talked of, and is no doubt
absolutely necessary, for the herd is so large it is hard to find
pasture for them all together. When the division is made, those going
to California will form one corral, and those bound for Montana will
form another. This will separate us from Mr. Kerfoot’s family; I do
hope we will not have to part while Neelie is so sick. I do so want to
help take care of her.
* * * * *
Thursday, July 27.
Among the families that came into our train at Kearney was a family of
four young ladies and their father--a widower--named Ryan. Sue, Kate,
Mary and Maggie are their names. Mr. Ryan told some of the young men
that he was taking his daughters to the west, where there are more
men and fewer women, so they could have a better chance to get good
husbands than in Missouri. It has been a good joke among the boys, and
some of them have tried to be very gallant to the young ladies--as they
are on the market.
George Carpenter, a driver for Hardinbrooke and Walker, when the train
separated this morning, pretended to go into hysterics. He had a fit on
the inside of the corral when Mr. Ryan drove off with the other half
of the train. Mr. Kerfoot did not know he was fooling, and ran to his
assistance; the captain passed, took in the situation and smiled. Mr.
Kerfoot knew then it was a hoax, and it made him so mad he declared he
would not stay in a train where the captain would smile at such conduct.
The doctor had said to him, “It is necessary that I see Neelie several
times during the day, and you will be taking great risk if you leave
the train until she is much better.” He had decided to stay, and join
the others any time before they came to the California road, west of
Green River. He was so mad at the captain for smiling at Carpenter’s
nonsense, and because he did not rebuke him, that he made the boys
bring in the horses and cattle and hitch up as quickly as possible. In
an hour after the others started they had followed. Mr. Kerfoot did
not say good-bye to any one. I do hope Neelie will not suffer for his
crankiness.
We are now a corral of twenty wagons, the greater number freight
wagons; they are in corral on the opposite side, while the families
are all on our side. The Hardinbrookes, Walkers, Bowers, Kennedys,
Morrisons, Currys--a family of five--Mr. and Mrs. Baily and their
daughter, about ten years old, and a widowed sister of Mrs. Baily and
her little girl, about the same age as her cousin, are with us at the
back end of the corral. I do not know these people, only just to speak
when we meet, but they now help to form our corral.
We came only two or three miles after the train separated, just far
enough to get out of the dust. Mr. Kerfoot’s family and ours have been
almost as one family since we have been on the road, and I have become
greatly attached to all of them and especially to Neelie. She is the
dearest, sweetest girl, so very unselfish, and always ready to help
any and every one that needs help. There is not one in the family but
could be spared better than Neelie except, of course, her father. They
all love her so, and depend upon her for everything. She is a precious
daughter, a darling sister, and a true friend.
Sim is very much better; he has some fever, but not so high a
temperature as yesterday. Dr. Howard is very attentive. He says it is
mountain fever that Sim and Neelie both have. Dr. Fletcher called him
to see Neelie; he says she is a very sick girl, but not worse than Sim
was when he first saw him. Her temperature is not so high.
I wonder if mountain fever is contagious, or what it is that causes it?
It seems the air is so pure and invigorating one could not get sick at
all. I never felt better in my life, and mother seems so well. I am
afraid it is the sameness of diet and poor cooking that is making Mr.
Kerfoot’s folk sick. The bread they make is hard as brick-bats when
cold.