"EL DORADO WEST" [PG] - Chapter Twenty-Seven
The following is Chapter Twenty-Seven of my story about a pair of free black siblings making the journey to California in 1849:
Chapter Twenty-Seven - Arrival at Fort Hall
August 1, 1849
Some Indian braves sneaked into our camp and stole two horses, last night. One of the horses belonged to young Jonas Goodwin and and the other to Joel Moore. Mr. James quickly surmised that the thieves were part of the Shoshoney tribe. When the elder Mr. Goodwin suggested that we form a search party for the missing horses and thieves, Mr. James quickly rejected the idea. "I refuse to abandon this trail and endanger the people on this train for a pair of horses!" he cried. He added that the Shoshoneys might not like the idea of strange whites - especially westbound emigrants - roaming about their lands. The only reason we have not been attacked was due to the wagon party's size and number of guns. Mr. James suggested that young Mr. Goodwin and Mr. Moore simply continue the journey without their mounts.
August 2, 1849
The wagon party discovered the following morning that Jonas Goodwin and Joel Moore had left the camp, last night to search for their missing mounts. Naturally, Mr. James was angry. But he refused Mr. Goodwin's suggestion that we form a search party to look for them, claiming that he was more concerned about guiding the wagon party to Fort Hall and California beyond. Very few men sided with Mr. Goodwin, who was anxious for his son. But most of the wagon party members agreed with Mr. James. Mr. Goodwin threatened to break from the train and search for his son anyway. The usually silent Horace Bryant decided he would accompany the Southerner, as he was concerned for his traveling companion, Mr. Moore. Mr. James threatened to leave both men behind if they insisted upon leaving. Mr. Goodwin and Mr. Bryant remained with the wagon party, in the end.
August 3, 1849
We finally reached Fort Hall. No one felt more relieved than me. We have been on trail for two to three weeks, since our departure from Fort Bridger. Quite frankly, I am sick of being stuck in the wilderness. I am sick of that damn wagon seat. I am sick of guiding mules for three-quarters of a day. I am sick of beans, salt pork and biscuits. I am sick of it all. Mr. Whitman must have been touched in the head to prefer a life here on the Plains. Or perhaps it had all been an act. After all, he did settle in Cleveland in the end.
Not only is Fort Hall a beacon in the wilderness for me. It looked more like a well-sized citadel with solid and fortifying walls. I was surprised to see Old Glory flying from the fort's mast. I thought the fort had belonged to Britain's Hudson Bay Company since the late 1830s. According to Mr. James, Fort Hall fell under American jurisdiction after a treaty between our country and Britain settled the Oregon boundary lines. Just recently, the U.S. gov't established an Army camp nearby called Cantonment Loring. I must end this now. Supper awaits.
Post Script
Mademoiselle Guilbert lured me to one of the fort's stables after supper. I am ashamed to say that I quickly fell into her embrace. I could not help myself. I would have dismissed the encounter from my mind if it were not for the embarrassing gaffe during our lovemaking. I became so caught up in our ardor that I called out a name other than Mademoiselle Guilbert's. A name that left me filled with shame. My sister's name, God forgive me.
End of Chapter Twenty-Seven