Westward Ho! (A Diary)

April 30:

          Many well-wishers gathered to bid our wagon train a safe journey. A few of the boys could not resist some last minute mischief, such as urging young Harkins to “write soon,” knowing of course the boy has never had time for school and thinks pencils are nose cleaners. To make matters worse, he had one in his nose at the time.

         Everyone was in good spirits as we were pulling away with the exception of old Mr. Pierce who forgot to hitch up his horses and was jerked from the seat of his wagon and dragged out ahead of us. He maintained a good grip, however, and was able to rein in the team fairly quickly.

May 7:

         Our first week out was relatively uneventful. The really only troubling development was the Morrisons’ discovery that in their haste to get away they left behind their youngest child. On the bright side, the child is resourceful for his age and the parents believe him to be aware of a distant cousin living nearby who will probably take him in until arrangements can be made.

June 7:

         I suppose it’s not surprising that some in our group are not adapting well to the experience. Probably the worst case led to Milo Jenkins’ losing a kicking contest with one of the mules. Milo survived but did take a severe blow to the head causing him to claim the mule to be his new best friend and insist that they now take all of their meals together.

June 10:

         Tension began to mount as we got closer to the first stretch of Indian Territory. We were at first relieved to hear that this tribe, known as the Susuckees, does not take scalps, but our relief was short-lived when we learned they are major collectors of eyeballs.

June 25:

         Two weeks have passed peacefully as we’ve moved through Indian lands, and the outlook is somewhat optimistic based on a report yesterday from an old buffalo hunter who is allowed into the Susuckee camp to trade. The hunter says we owe our present good fortune to the chaos among the Indians brought about by the chief’s experimentation with war paint. It seems the chief was applying paint prior to a planned attack when he decided to apply it to his lips and above his eyes. Apparently, not only was he taken with the new look, but many of the other braves found him more attractive than their squaws and numerous fights erupted over whose turn it was to dance with him.

July 3:

         As we prepared for our July 4th celebration it was discovered that our food supply was low. At first, Tompkins, who has gained fifteen pounds on the trip, was accused of stealing, but his emaciated wife and child proclaimed his innocence and he was released. It turns out Otis Harrell has been sneaking  food out at night and leaving it for the coyotes, which he says is to repay them for all the food they provided while raising him. Later as he was being reprimanded he began snarling and became so uncontrollable that he was tied to a wagon wheel to prevent someone from being injured. Unfortunately, we were several hours into the next day’s journey before it was discovered that he was still strapped to the wheel. When freed he did seem calmer although now thinks he’s a tumbleweed.

July 15:

         The weather has been hard on us. It seems we are either broiled by the sun or drenched by thunderstorms. Yesterday’s storm was so violent with such severe thunder and lightning that it caused a stampede. With so much disorder it was impossible to prevent the panic; however, within about four hours after the storm ended all of the women had been rounded up and miraculously none were injured although several were heavily lathered from the run.

         High winds regularly buffet us and have blown away many of our possessions including the Alfords’ cat. Several days ago the pet did catch up with us, but seems to have acquired a permanent twitch and will not eat unless Mrs. Alford first tastes the food.

August 2:

         From out of nowhere it seemed, the Susuckees attacked us yesterday. As we scrambled for our guns our wagon master yelled, “Circle the wagons and shoot long before you see the whites of their eyes.”

         Then someone else screamed, “Kill the savages!” which resulted in our guide, Kino ‘the savage’ Hopkins becoming the first casualty. That unfortunate mistake probably saved us as the Indians became quite confused and picking up on our lead began firing at each other. To our advantage they were mostly excellent marksmen and wounded many of themselves before they wised up. As they retreated our women couldn’t help but admire their stylish use of war paint.

August 25:

         The strain of our long journey was beginning to tell. Last night there was near rebellion as several in the group accused our leader of incompetence, claiming that we must be lost because we had passed the same point three times in the last four days. It turned out he does not take criticism well and ended the discussion by making one of the critics dance around the camp by firing numerous shots at his feet. The reaction led many of the others to express how much they had enjoyed the opportunity to see some of the sights more than once.

September 28:

         Our arduous trek is finally at an end. Most of the group remained upbeat even after we discovered the land was mostly unsuitable for farming. They seemed to just accept it as a risk of buying land through the mail. Furthermore, it is speculated that heavy dynamiting may yet make some of the acreage tillable.

         The optimism was diminished two weeks later when a wagon train passed by headed back east and the people could be heard muttering  “Godforsaken,” “end of the earth” and “hell hole.”