Night had fallen hours ago. Kid sat on a log near the near the campfire they had built, nursing a cup of coffee and staring into the flickering flames. He felt reflective, though he didn't know why, and he felt no urge to to discover the reason. Occasionally his eyes raised above the points of the flames to the spot where his partner sat reading a book by the glow of the fire. Once, maybe twice, Heyes had felt Kid's eyes on him and he looked up and offered a warm smile before resuming his reading. Kid sighed softly, mesmerized in the flickering shades of orange and yellow that danced before him and his mind drifted to places far away and times long ago.
"Jedadiah Curry, you stay out of that cookie jar. You'll spoil your supper."
A smile tugged at the corners of Kid's mouth as he heard his mother's sweet voice so clearly he could almost picture her sitting there beside him. He closed his eyes, trying in vain to conjure up her image. But after so many years, only her voice remained clear and concrete to him and he yearned for a glimpse of the woman he could no longer give sight to memory.
"You alright, Kid?" Heyes asked from across the flames.
Kid opened his eyes, looked sadly at his partner, and slowly nodded his head. "I'm fine. Just feeling kind of ….. quiet."
They continued to look into each other's eyes for a moment and Heyes gave him a reassuring smile before returning to his reading.
"Think I'll turn in," Kid said, tossing the last of his coffee into the fire before slowly lifting himself from the log.
"Good night, Kid," Heyes absently called to him as Kid headed for his bedroll.
Kid laid down and turned on his side, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders. Sleep usually came easy to him, but tonight he couldn't put his thoughts to rest and snippets of long ago conversations played like a kaleidoscope in his mind. Early morning talks with his Pa in the barn while he milked the cow before the sun rose, his Ma sitting at the table with him of an evening, patiently going over home work he struggled to complete, his older brother's precise directions on how to hold and fire a sidearm, his sister's merciless teasing about his golden curls. He opened his eyes and took several long, slow breaths, trying to settle the unfamiliar feeling of overlooked foreboding, the lingering guilt of a child that still reached out and grabbed at him, giving him a sense that he could have, he should have been able to warn them of what was to come.
"You sure you're alright, Kid?" Heyes asked as he slipped into his own bedroll. "You just moaned like you're hurt or something."
"Must have been a bad dream," Kid replied. "I'm alright."
"Okay, good night, then."
"Heyes?"
"Yea?"
"Do you still think about them?"
Kid often started any conversation about their Kansas childhoods with the question "do you still think about them?"
"Uh-uh. What are you remembering, Kid?"
"Just... voices... I can't picture my Ma anymore."
Heyes frowned sadly, then rolled over on his back and rested his hands behind his head.
"I can, Kid. Your ma was beautiful... Heather blonde hair, a lot like yours, that fell so gentle and pretty down her back. Your smile is a lot like hers, too... always came so easy to her, and her eyes... those blue eyes of hers were even prettier than yours."
Kid smiled, creating his own image of her in his mind.
"I still here her sometimes, telling me one thing or another."
"What did you hear tonight?"
"I heard her telling me to stay out of the cookie jar," he said smiling.
Heyes laughed. "I believe she said that to you a lot, Kid."
"Heyes?"
"Yea, Kid?"
"Thanks."
"Good night, Kid."
Eventually Kid did fall asleep and when he awoke the next morning, the melancholy feelings that had haunted him was gone.
"We should be in Murphy by tomorrow afternoon," Heyes said, pouring Kid a cup of coffee when he saw him emerging from behind a bush and hastily tucking his shirt into his pants.
"Means one more night on the ground," Kid grumbled, grabbing for the cup of coffee Heyes was offering.
"Means one night in a bed and then two full months on the ground," Heyes reminded him.
The fact is Kid did like Idaho. He liked the vast open spaces, the jagged and often snow-capped mountains, and the sparse population. A person, especially an ex-outlaw, could easily lose himself in the wilderness of Idaho. But such would not be the case with this excursion. Kid and Heyes had signed on as crew scouts for a wagon train on the Oregon Trail. It was set to leave Murphy, Idaho in three days, and they wanted to arrive early to buy their provisions and spend one last luxurious night at a hotel with soft, down-filled mattresses and in-room baths, not to mention an evening of poker and beer in a local saloon.
They both understood the enormous dangers of the Oregon Trail that passed through the Snake Valley and Cascade Mountains to the final destination of Oregon City. Both Shoshone Indians, known in the area as Snake Indians because of their hand and arm twisting sign language, and of a lesser population, the Paiute Indians were in possession of much of the area they would be helping to lead the wagons through. They knew that by and large both tribes were peaceful and willing to trad with the people traveling by wagon trains. But they also knew the Shoshone were expert nighttime horse, oxen, and mule thieves, and would invade a camp right under the watchful eyes of the wagon guards serving sentry duty. They knew that the risk of a sentry's death, by arrows piercing the chest during one of these raids was significant. But the pay was good, exceptionally good, and during the period they had signed on for, med July, to mid September, at least the weather was one thing that would likely not become a major challenge, unless the snows came early to the Cascades.
They traveled a comfortable pace throughout the day, leaving the northern border of Wyoming and entering southern Idaho in the late afternoon. They made camp along the essentially flat terrain that began just before reaching the edges of the Snake Valley. Neither of them ever felt comfortable camping in flat lands where a campfire could be seen for miles and smelled for even more miles. But the Snake Valley was expansive and offered no significant higher ground sanctuaries.
"Think one of us ought to keep watch tonight?" Heyes asked as they arranged their bedding around the low flame fire.
"We're in Indian country now. They have night guards on the wagon trains every night. We might as well start getting use to that," Kid replied.
"You want first or second watch?"
Kid knew Heyes often had difficulty falling asleep so he volunteered for the second watch as this would give Heyes the opportunity to sleep in a bit in the morning, making up for any late night insomnia.
"Beans for supper?" Heyes asked.
"Do I have a choice?" Kid replied with a grin.
"Second choice is coffee grounds, Kid."
Kid turned in shortly after supper and before the sun had fully set. He had slept little the night before, so he had no trouble falling asleep now. Heyes woke him an hour after midnight and Kid settled in on a log near the fire, nursing a stale but hot cup of coffee.
They killed them. They killed them all!
Kid jerked his head hard, trying to thrust the voice from his thoughts. He didn't recognize the voice, but the words were haunting and sounded real, as though spoken right next to him. He sucked in deep gulps of air and blew it out slowly through pursed lips. Kid glanced over at his sleeping partner to assure himself the voice was not real. When his breathing finally settled, Kid reached for the coffee pot and emptied the contents into his cup, then focused his concentration on the moonlit plains before him.
They were packed and on their way before nine, anticipating their arrival in Murphy a little before mid afternoon. When they arrived, they checked into the hotel, ordered two room baths for four pm, and set out in search of the wagon master.
Paul Benson was a large, rugged, frontiersman, looking to be in his mid to late fifties. He sported a heavy gray beard, wore a deerskin, fringed shirt, and dirty brown chaps over equally dirty gray denim pants. He wore moccasin style well tanned boots that were adorned with fringe. By all appearances, Paul Benson was the epitome of a mountain man, or Indian hunter. Heyes and Kid found him sitting alone at a table in the saloon, a shot glass and a three quarter spent whiskey bottle were his only companions.
"So who's who?" he asked
"I'm Smith, he's Jones," Heyes said to the crusty wagon master.
"Both of you good with a gun?"
"We can manage," Kid replied coolly.
Benson eyed both men, noting the low to the thigh style with which Kid carried his gun.
"Either of you two worked on a wagon train before?"
"No, Sir," Heyes said. "But we've both done some scouting before."
"My trail crew sleep four to a wagon. You lose a wagon, you double up. Usually at least one from each wagon is on guard duty at night and guard duty is for the whole night, so at least once a week, you don't sleep. During the day, you see to it the wagons are kept tight together. Don't let nobody lag behind. Youngins seem to do that mostly and I've know of a few lost permanent to wild animals or Indians. I send a scout out ahead of us every morning. Around four in the afternoon, he'll pick a site to make camp. And the wagons will form a circle. Animals are herded inside the circle for protection. Indians, especially the Shoshone make a habit of stealing horses, oxen, cattle during middle of the night raids. Only strength we got in Indian territory is strength in numbers, strength in guns. You understand?"
"Yes, sir," Heyes replied and Kid nodded.
"How many folks you got making this trip?" Heyes asked.
"Got thirteen wagons, not including three for the crew and one supply and chow wagon. Got seventy-three passengers ranging from newborn to a seventy-three old grandma. Crew consists of ten men, one cook, and me."
"When do you want us ready?" Heyes asked again.
"We head out tomorrow at sun-up. Be packed and ready. Wagons are lining up about five miles west of here. You'll get assigned a wagon in the morning. Can load any gear you got then."
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Kid Curry reveled in a soapy hot bath and he lingered in the tub with a fine cigar between his lips until the hot water ran tepid. Heyes seldom lingered, but took his time in this bath knowing his next would not occur for several months. Instead, the two looked forward to bathing in cold streams or lakes, or reluctantly making due with a wet bandanna across the face and back of the neck, when they were lucky enough to have water to spare during times traveling through the desert.
After dressing, they ate steak dinners in the local cafe before heading to the saloon for a last indulgence of beer and poker that they both considered to be that last offerings of civilization. They slept soundly in the warm beds and were saddled and heading to the wagon train by four the following morning. When they reached the starting point, they saw wagons moving into position to form a straight line, men busy harnessing oxen and horses, women making sure all the children were accounted for, water kegs strapped to the sides of wagons being checked for leakage, a few milk cows being roped to the back of wagons.
Just before the wagon train was set out, Benson called a gathering of everyone traveling. He wanted to be sure standard rules were known to all.
"There is to be no alcohol ever on this train. Sunday is the Lord's day for most, so there will be no traveling on Sunday. The only exception to that will be in the event of an emergency, and I am the only one who determines if and when an emergency occurs. Your wagon breaks down and can't be readily repaired, it's up to you to find someone willing to take you on. We won't leave nobody stranded in the open, but if you don't have a wagon, and can't walk the rest of the trip, I will leave you at the nearest Army post. I reserve the right to add to or change any of the rules as I see fitting to the need. Everybody understand?
A distinctive murmur circulated the group as everyone indicated their understanding.
"Alright, load up. Whenever we're traveling, my men will be rotating along amongst the wagons. You have a problem along the way, you let one of them know. We're heading out in ten minutes."
Crossing the Snake Valley was slow but not difficult as the land was for the most part, flat and dry. They covered eighteen miles that first day and could have covered a few more had they not gotten a late start. Neither Curry nor Heyes were assigned guard duty that first night, but as train crew, they were required to make rounds on foot to each wagon and begin familiarizing themselves with each family. Being the first night out, everyone was still in a good and hope-filled mood and several families offered the crew men food and water. Kid sampled some of the food offered, especially pies and cakes that some had brought along for their first dinner on the trail. But he politely cautioned folks to be conservative on water as droughts can dry riverbeds and water can sometimes become a scarce and highly valued and sought-after commodity.
Having returned to the wagon he shared with Heyes and two other men, Kid laid his bedroll out on the ground near Heyes and positioned his saddle to serve as a pillow. He sat down and leaned his back against the saddle.
"Did you meet the Harpers?" Heyes asked.
"Nice couple, three kids and another one on the way?"
"Yea, that's them."
"She gave me an incredible piece of chocolate cake," Kid replied.
Heyes smiled. Leave it to Kid to identify a person by the food she served.
"Did they tell you they're from Kansas?"
"Uh-uh."
"Do you remember Jim Bickle back in Darby?"
"Can't say as I do."
"Well, he's Leslie's, I mean Mrs. Harper's uncle."
"Small world."
"It sure is."
"Heyes, I'm going to sleep, now."
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He's gone! I can't find him anywhere! Please, please, Help me!
Kid's eyes flew open and he shot up from his bed as his hand gripped the handle of his gun. He listened carefully for the terrorizing voice, but the camp was quiet, and he realized the voice had been in his dream. He looked around the camp. In the light of the moon, he could discern the figures of many people sleeping quietly on the ground near their wagons. Kid slowly lowered himself back down on his bedroll and placed his hand behind his head. He looked up at the star-filled sky and wondered who was trying to warn him of something, and what was the voice warning him about?
The wagon train was on its slow journey before seven the next morning and when they made camp late that afternoon they had reached the far edge of the Snake Valley. After suppers were eaten, someone brought out a fiddle and adults and children alike enjoyed an hour or more of music, dancing, and socializing. Nearly half of those traveling to Oregon were from the same Nebraska farming community, and half of those folks were related. Of the other thirty-plus travelers, fifteen were Harpers, all from Kansas, ten were all of one large family with eight children, and five were brothers from Arkansas who were heading west to logging jobs near Seattle.
Just before the conclusion of the festivities, Paul Benson, the wagon master strode into the center of the circle and raised a hand in the air to gain everyone's attention.
"By noon tomorrow we'll have reached the tributary of Bear River. I'll be sending scouts out to look for a shallow spot to cross and if they find a shallow enough area, we'll begin driving the wagons across tomorrow afternoon. In order to drive the wagons across, the water can't be more than four feet deep. Oxen do better than horses pulling a wagon across the river, so some of you might want to be kindly to your neighbor and loan your oxen out to get wagons across. Everything in your wagons should be tied down secure. If the scouts don't find a shallow spot, then we'll be spending the afternoon building scows to raft the wagons across. That means we won't be crossing till the next morning. Smearing rubbing wax on the outside of the wagons will help keep them waterproof, but if we scow across, everything will have to be unloaded from your wagons and carried across by hand. No one, and I mean no one except the driver rides in a wagon crossing the river. When crossing a river on foot, always be aware of the water. Watch the currents. Chutes in the water have a strong enough undertow to drown an oxen."
Everyone listened attentively to the wagon master and fearful apprehension sprouted and grew among the travelers.
"Now, once we've determined the best way to get across the river, we'll make sure each of you knows exactly what is expected of you. Crossing a river is the most dangerous thing we'll be doing on this trip, and there's plenty of more rivers to be forded. Now, all of you best retire to your beds and get a good night's sleep. There's a lot of work to be done tomorrow. Now, I want to see all my crew over by the supply wagon in ten minutes."
Slowly the people began to disperse, migrating back to their own wagons to prepare for bed and quietly discuss what Benson had just told them.
The ten members of the crew as well as the cook gathered by the supply wagon for further instructions.
"Any of you done any scouting before?" Benson asked.
Heyes, Curry, Tom Whithers, and Frank Calhoun all raised a hand and Benson nodded at each of them.
"When we reach the river. Whithers and Calhoun will head a mile upstream and Smith and Jones will do the same downstream. The deepest point to cross can't be more than four feet, and the current must be slow and calm. You find such a spot, you come back and let me know. If we have to build scows, the rest of you will be helping folks find dead trees big enough to build them, and making sure wagons are emptied. I know from past trips that the first river crossing is the most dangerous as folks don't realize the dangers. Some folks might try to argue with you that their children would be safer in the wagons when crossing. They're wrong. It's a sure fire way to for a child to drown. So keep a good eye out. Any questions?"
All then men understood what was expected of them and no one had any questions, so, after assigning Bill Walker and Clint Randolph to guard duty for the night, Benson concluded the meeting.
Sleep was short. Breakfast cold and quick and the wagons were moving at the first sign of light, arriving at the river an hour before noon. Whithers and Calhoun moved down stream while Heyes and Curry studied the banks and the waters upstream. An acceptable location was found half a mile downstream and Benson ordered all the wagons to follow Calhoun's lead. Soon the wagons formed one long row, with those wagons pulled by oxen to be the first to cross the river.
Arriving at the chosen site, a narrow passage perhaps a thousand feet from bank to bank, and less than three feet at it's deepest point, Benson ordered the wagons to line up, and then ordered his men to inspect each wagon, and to assist with securing contents as needed. By three in the afternoon, the wagons began slowly moving into and across the river, the supply wagon, driven by Howard Shipman, the crew's cook, leading the way.
The crew, all on horses waded into the water, carefully monitoring each wagon that crossed. Occasionally one of the crew would lean down, grabbing onto an oxen yoke to prod the animal through the waters that were now muddied by the oxen and horses walking across the river's bed.
Once reaching the opposite shore, the wagons moved to higher ground and began forming the customary protective circle. When all the wagons were on the opposite shore, the travelers began inching their way into the water, some swimming, but most would trod to the other side.
Leslie Harper, heavy with child and carrying two young children in her arms, waded cautiously into the water, sliding her feet across the riverbed to ensure solid footing. Her three year old son squirmed constantly in her arm, further offsetting her balance. When the inevitable happened and she took a misstep, she and both the children plunged into the water, their heads disappearing from sight.
Kid was nearby and saw the fall. He spurred his horse forward, muddy water splashing wildly from the chestnut's galloping legs. He quickly reached the spot when the woman had fallen, but with all the mud that had been stirred, he could not see into the river at all. He urgently scanned the water and did see bubbles rising. Kid jumped from his horse into the water. He plunged his arms into the water and came upon the skirt of Leslie's dress. He pulled hard, drawing her through the water to him. He reached down and pulled her above the surface. Leslie's daughter was still tightly clutched in one arm, but the three year old son was nowhere to be seen.
"He's gone! I can't find him anywhere! Please, please, help me," Leslie cried between coughs that spewed squirts of muddy water from her mouth. Kid searched the water frantically. People on shore having witnessed the commotion, began scanning the river banks as well as the tree limbs that stretched out into the water, in search of the child. Kid's eyes fell on a small but steady ripple of water some twenty feet in front of him. Against the current, Kid made his way to the continuing ripple. He reached his hand down and felt the limp body of the small boy. He tried to lift him upward, but his clothing was tangled in an underwater tree branch. Kid bent his knees and dropped beneath the surface of the water. His hands, traced the boy's body, carefully following to the place of resistance. He struggled unsuccessfully to free the boy's clothing. Having no choice, Kid surfaced for air, then slipped again beneath the water's surface. Still unable to free the boy, Kid wrapped his hands around the branch and snapped it, thus freeing the boy. With the child in his arms, Kid again surfaced and plodded his way to the shore.
Kid dropped to his knees and laid the boy on his back on the ground. Benson, Heyes, and a crowd of others gathered as Kid checked for signs of life. Finding none, Kid picked the boy up in his arms and pressed the boy's chest against his shoulder. He began giving the child several hard thrusts of his hand against the child's back. But the boy remained still and limp, his life stolen by the river.
Mr. Harper had been standing in the front row of people and walked forward and dropped to his knees beside Kid. Slowly, gently, Kid lifted the child from his shoulder and handed him to his father. Mr. Harper looked up at Kid, his eyes wet with grief. He nodded once to Kid, then awkwardly stood up and, cradling the child in his arms, made his way through the crown to join his wife and family.
Kid dropped his head, unable to watch the grief stricken man. Heyes was immediately at Kid's side, his hand pressed against Kid's shoulder. Slowly, Kid pulled himself up and stood face to face with his partner and Heyes saw Kid's pain stricken eyes.
"We should dig a grave for them," Kid said quietly, giving no thought of his soaking wet clothes.
Heyes nodded and wrapped an arm around Kid's shoulder. "Let's go," he said.
With no minister on the trip, Paul Benson stood at the head of the small grave. The child had been carefully wrapped in a family heirloom quilt that Leslie's great grandmother had made so many years ago. Heyes and Whithers gently laid the quilt in the ground and Benson read Psalm One Hundred, "Yeah though I walk through the valley of the shadows of death..." Mr. Harper cast the first clod of dirt into the grave. Then Heyes and Whithers shoveled the remaining dirt over the grave. A wooden cross had quickly been constructed by someone and, using a rock as a hammer, Heyes secured the cross near the head of the small grave.
That evening, Heyes could tell by Kid's quiet aloofness that he was still very much affected by the death of the child.
"I think I'll take a walk, Kid. You want to join me."
Kid was sitting on a log near the central fire, his eyes gazing listlessly into the flames. The sound of Heyes' voice jolted him from his thoughts and his head jerked slightly as he looked up at his partner. He nodded to Heyes and slowly pulled himself up. Heyes led Kid outside of the circle of wagons for privacy.
"You want to talk about it?" Heyes asked.
"Last night...I heard that woman screaming that her child was in danger. Heyes, it was so real it woke me right up... I should have known to keep a close eye on her."
Heyes sighed. "Kid, we all knew the dangers we'd be facing today. Half the people on this train probably dreamed about some horrible peril that could happen. That's all it was, Kid. A dream"
Kid shook his head. "No, Heyes. I heard her exact words... everything she shouted when she came up out of the water. Something told me to watch out for her and I..."
"Kid, you did everything you could do. Not one of us could have done anything more, or anything better. You saved that woman and her daughter."
Kid looked at Heyes with tears in his eyes. "I should have done more," he whispered, then turned and walked back to camp, leaving Heyes standing alone, watching Kid walk away."
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For the next four days the wagon train moved at a steady pace through a mountain pass and entered into the eastern Washington territory. The Washington territory is divided by a large mountain range known as the Cascade Mountains. Here the western side of the range is heavy with moisture, rain in the warmer months, snows in the winter. The eastern side is dry, arid, because the mountains trap the moist air on the western side. This phenomenon is known as the Rain Shadow. The eastern side of the mountains are so dry, there are actually small desserts scattered throughout the eastern side of the territory. This arid, desert like land is what the wagon train would next encounter.
They were nearly a month into the journey now. The once hopeful expectations of the travelers had faded to the reality of harsh, dry conditions, scorching heat, short tempers, and a serious scarcity of water. Moving through desert sands was slow, tedious travel and they would often gain no more than ten miles. As is true of deserts, the hot, baking sun pounded down on them, while the sudden drop of temperature during the night brought air so cold as to make a person shiver beneath layers of blankets. These fluctuating temperatures also put wagon wheels at risk of shrinkage which could in turn, cause them to break. A broken wheel was devastating, as replacement wheels were not readily available. Someone traveling alone would be stranded or forced to abandon their wagon altogether. The desert climate was also a breeding ground for a variety of sickness. Relentless mosquitoes, poor hygiene because of the need to conserve water, and a diet sorely lacking of fruit often brought sickness to children and adults alike. Twice in ten days, so many travelers had taken ill that the wagon train had maintained the same camp spot for two days. During each of those two day periods, three people had died and were buried in the desert
After nearly two weeks they were finally able to leave the deserts behind. Once out of the desert, the temperatures stabilized more, water supplies improved, and travel was a bit easier as wagon wheels no longer got stuck in inches of sand.
One day, about fifty miles east of the Cascade Mountains, a half dozen children decided to pick wild berries. In general, most folks prefer walking to the rough rides in the wagons, so there's always a lot of people to keep an eyes on children to be sure they don't stray off. But four of the kids did just that and the train came to a three hour stop when it became obvious that folks would have to go out in search for the four children. Being out of sight of the wagon train makes for a high risk of being kidnapped by Indians, or attacked by a bear, mountain lion, or other such meat-eating animal.
The wagon master insisted searchers stay in groups of at least three, although the train crew was permitted to search in groups of two.
"Might be over in that big cluster of trees," Heyes suggested to Kid and the two spurred their horses in that direction.
At least a dozen separate parties went in search of the children. Heyes found a berry basket lying in some leaves and he fired a single shot in the air to alert others to his location. Within minutes there were now nearly thirty people scouring the wooded area.
"Over here!" someone shouted and all the searchers hurried to the location of the voice that had summoned them. There stood Sam Perkins, a man recently married to a Harper woman. He stood frozen, unable to move, pointing down a small ravine where the bodies of the three children lay dead.
"They're dead... They're all dead," Mr. Harper said.
Their injuries made it obvious that they had been attacked by at least one bear. Heyes spied tracks in the leaves that suggested the fourth child had been dragged away by the hungry animal.
Kid closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, knowing that once again, he had heard a voice foretelling this event. He opened his eyes and looked at Heyes and slowly shook his head.
"We'd better get these children back to camp. We've got graves to dig," Kid said.
Once again the wagon train was delayed for the burial of the three bodies. Benson decided it would be best to make camp and give the parents time to grieve. The mother of the fourth child was inconsolable. The ten year old girl was her only child. While a grave was not dug for the missing child, a cross marker hand been made and was placed in the ground along side the three graves.
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"Are you trying to tell me that you had a premonition about this, too?" Heyes whispered as he and Kid lay in their bedrolls that night.
"I all I'm saying is that I heard them same words awhile before this happened."
Heyes rolled over on his side to face his partner.
"Kid," Heyes began slowly, "You ever stop to think you might have been recalling something from you're own past? I remember hearing an eight year old Jed Curry saying those same words to me."
Kid looked at Heyes. He remembered hearing his own mother's voice one night on their way to join the wagon train. "Maybe," he said softly.
"I don't mean to sound disparaging to you, Kid. I just don't want you putting guilt on yourself for things you've got no control over."
"I don't want to do this kind of a job ever again, Heyes."
"I think we'd both be happy with that decision, Kid. It's only three, maybe four more weeks till we're done here. When we leave, why don't we head to San Francisco? You know, a little civilized living for a spell."
Kid nodded and slid down in his bedroll. "Good night, Heyes."
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Two days later the wagon train reached Fort Hall at the base of the Mountains. They would then follow the Colombian Gorge to Rowena Loop, located just beyond Dulles where the wagons would be floated on rafts down the river to Fort Vancouver or on to Oregan City.
While the remainder of the trip sounded simple, in truth it was the most treacherous. The Cascade Mountains were some of the tallest mountains outside of the Rockies, and deep snows fell early in the season and only grew deeper throughout the winter. Passage was impossible in the winter months and September often presented the beginning of winter at those high elevations. The possibility of a wagon train becoming stuck and stranded was not to be taken lightly and many a wagon train had found themselves to be the winter guests of Fort Hall.
They spent a night circled outside of Fort Hall. There they could stock up on supplies, take a real bath, have a bit of liquor away from the confines of the wagon train. Heyes and Curry took advantage of the log cabin style saloon located just outside the fort and spent several hours drinking beer and playing poker. It was here that Heyes and Curry first became familiar with the game of Montana Red Dog.
Traveling through the pass to Rowena Loop would take at least a week, provided snow had not yet accumulated. The wagon train set out as soon as the dawn provided sufficient light for navigating the narrow path. No circle the wagon camps were possible and the wagon master simply called a halt at the end of each day and with brakes locked, the travelers ate cold meals and slept in their wagons that were parked along the narrow trail.
From Rowena Loop the travelers chose one of two destinations, the first being Fort Vancouver, the second was Oregon City. Wagons were loaded on rafts, good byes were exchanged and the travelers began the final treks of their journey.
With wagons loaded, passengers boarded, the wagon train journey was completed for Benson and his crew. Each man was paid his agreed upon wage and they too slowly dispersed for their return home or, like Heyes and Curry, to a destination anew.
"I have to say it is beautiful country this far north," Heyes said and he and his partner let their horses set the pace down the mountain.
"I can't disagree with that," Kid replied.
"You still thinking about that voice you heard, aren't you?"
"You know, Heyes, I know there's some merit in what you said about it coming from my memories of Kansas, but in both instances, the words someone spoke and the words I had heard were identical. I can't find an explanation for that except that maybe it was someone... someone long since passed that was trying to warn me."
"Maybe they were just trying to prepare you."
"What do you mean?"
"Maybe they already knew what the outcome would be. Maybe it was someone who knew you well before they passed and already knew that with all the compassion you have in you, that you would naturally blame yourself when the outcome turned tragic. Maybe they were trying to tell you not to blame yourself."
Kid gave this considerable thought. "You know, Heyes... I'd like to think you are right. In fact, I'm gonna believe that you're right."
Heyes smiled. You ever known me to be wrong about anything, Kid? he chided.
"Oh, Heyes," Kid cautioned. "I don't think you really want me going down that road."
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It should be noted that the author took more than a fair share of geographical liberties in telling this story. However, descriptions of the work, the perils, the challenges involved in preparing to ford rivers, cross deserts, and move through mountain passes was researched for accuracy (though not always included in the narrative), and any flaws pertaining to this belong to the author (with apologies).