Friday, July 28.
We came up with the other half of the train about ten o’clock, and have
traveled in company the rest of the day. We have separate corrals
about two hundred yards apart; the stock is not herded together.
Neelie has been restless with high fever and flighty when she dozes;
with eyes half open, poor girl she is certainly very, very sick.
We are near a delightful spring, cold as ice, and clear as crystal. I
went to the spring to bathe my face and hands, and brush my hair. Mr.
Kerfoot and Frank came for water. Mr. Kerfoot said, “Miss Sallie, why
don’t you and your folks come and go to California, where you started
to go?”
“Why, Uncle Ezra, you know the reason. We think Montana the better
place for the boys to get a start, and we want to do the best we can
for them.”
“Tut, tut; wealth is not the chief thing in life. You can make a living
anywhere, and Montana is an awful place. Why, the only law they have is
mob law, and if a man is accused of crime he is hung without judge or
jury.”
“Notwithstanding, there seems to be a great many nice people going
there, and I am not in the least afraid of my brothers being accused of
crime.”
“I do believe you will regret going to Montana, and I also believe it
is all your doing that you are going. I think it is very unkind of you
to leave us now when Neelie is so sick and needs you so much.”
“We are not leaving you, Mr. Kerfoot; it is you leaving us against the
doctor’s orders, too.”
I made a great mistake saying that, he fairly raved; he was so angry,
actually beside himself with rage. He said very unkind things without
the least foundation or truth in them, and which I will try to forget.
I am so sorry for him. I did not answer a single angry word, and I
am glad I did not. But Frank did; he was about as angry as his uncle
was, and talked manfully in my defense. He gave his uncle the lie, and
clenched his fists and seemed ready to fight.
I ended the embarrassing scene by walking away. Mrs. Hardinbrooke was
waiting for me; we climbed to the top of a very steep point, which was
hard to climb, and we were out of breath when we reached the top and
were glad to sit and rest. The view was fine, the evening pleasant,
and we were glad of each other’s companionship, but we did not talk. I
think Mrs. Hardinbrooke attributed my silence to anxiety about Neelie,
and she was not far from the truth.
* * * * *
Saturday, July 29.
Neelie was very much better this morning; her fever gone, she was very
weak, but was free from pain. Her medicine had the desired effect.
She had rested quite well last night--better than since she has been
sick--and all her symptoms are favorable.
The doctor seemed greatly encouraged and told Mr. Kerfoot that if they
would stay here until Monday he felt sure Neelie would be out of danger
and they could move on without any risk of doing her harm. He did
not dream that Mr. Kerfoot would again disregard his advice. Neelie
continued better until noon, then some one proposed moving on a half
day’s drive, thought it would not hurt her if they made only short
drives at a time.
Mr. Kerfoot listened, and finally consented. He is very much afraid
of Indians, and in a few days we will be out of the Indian-infested
country. The doctor is very much out of patience with him, told me he
gave Mr. Kerfoot a piece of his mind.
You must make big allowance for the poor man. He does not realize that
he is endangering Neelie’s life; he cannot believe it possible that
such a calamity as Neelie’s death can befall them while he is trusting
in a merciful Father above. Yet I do wish someone might have exercised
authority and prevented their going.
Sim is very much better, improving rapidly. Mr. Walker is able to be
around once more. I wonder if he had mountain fever?
I have been trying to get the dust out of our wagon this afternoon; it
was hard work taking everything out and cleaning off the dust. Lyde
Walker pleasantly entertained us this evening with songs accompanied
with guitar. The wagon the Walkers occupy is just in front of ours
since the separation.