Fool's Gold

volunteered to help these poor children and this poor widow woman who lost her husband git back as far as Kanesville. We figger we can sell our wagon and stock there to some other fool and then travel by riverboat on down to New Orleans then take a boat to Panama to git to California. We had enough of traveling by wagon. Going by boat makes more sense, don’t it?”

  Within a week Rudolph and the others also were writing their names on Chimney Rock. Almost 500 feet tall, the monolith appeared to its viewers as a church steeple, a lightning rod in a haystack, or a funnel turned upside down. After that they entered the sand hill country of Western Nebraska, the most difficult stretch of trail thus far. One such hill had a sign that warned, “Ox killer.” Dan ordered a half-day’s rest before marching the beasts and wagons up that treacherous slope and a two-hour rest once they made it over the hill and found suitable grazing. The grass was now becoming scarcer, and sometimes miles from the trail. Gone were the beautiful prairie flowers in fields of tall grass.

  At Scott’s Bluffs the sight of Sioux hunting parties chasing buffalo so inspired Rudolph that he volunteered for the company’s two-man hunting party the following morning. Up to this point in the journey the natives had kept the herds of buffalo far off of the trail to discourage the white man from hunting them. They were angered by the habits of those white hunters whose practice was to shoot buffalo, cut off choice pieces of meat, and leave the remainder for the wolves, coyotes, vultures, and insects.

  Rudolph and Douglas ventured north before dawn. By 10 a.m. they had found a herd of hundreds of bison quietly grazing. The hunters each felled one of the huge beasts before their shots stampeded the rest of the herd to safety. They were loading the kill, minus the heads, hides, and legs, onto the third horse that they had brought along when a band of 11 Sioux hunters appeared. Its leader pointed at Rudolph and Douglas, then the buffalo meat, then at their rifles, and lastly to himself. The offer of letting the two whites keep the buffalo meat in exchange for the two rifles produced fear on one side and then anger on the other because of the rejection by the buffalo hunters. To teach what they considered trespassers a lesson, the Sioux leveled their bow and arrows at the offenders, grabbed their guns, and forced them at gunpoint to disrobe. Satisfied, the Sioux departed with two more horses, saddles, clothing, boots, and the rifles. They left behind the third horse loaded with the buffalo meat as a token that they bore no hard feelings.

  The would-be hunters of the plains did not stumble into their company’s new camp until long after dark. A large bonfire ordered by Dan had guided them to where they related their embarrassing misadventure. The two had never been as humiliated.

  “Yer lucky they weren’t Crow, Apaches, or Comanche. They ain’t as friendly as the Sioux,” Dan tried to put the incident into perspective. “Then we would’ve found you without your scalps.”

  After that Dan severely limited such hunting parties from the company. Two days later, spirits revived when Ft. Laramie came into view. The men welcomed the first sign of civilization in 525 miles; the stock smelled the fresh water and abundant grazing that lay around the fort and picked up their pace. The U.S. Army had bought the fort, which had been built 16 years earlier by fur trappers as a trading post, from an agent of the American Fur Company for $4,000 in June. The transition was complete when three companies of cavalry troopers arrived at the fort that same month.

  It was a place to buy food and other items. If one could not find what was desired inside the fort then the large number of Sioux camped around it was another possible source.

  The fort itself was not large but nevertheless it was tall and imposing. Its exterior walls towered about 20 feet above the surrounding prairie. The North Platte flowed near one of its walls. The Platte flowed alongside another. They served as moats to dissuade any attackers. Perhaps most impressive to the weary sojourners was the flagpole and huge American flag that flew from it. Over 50 feet tall, the pole and the flag it boasted appeared as a lighthouse of sorts. They could be spotted miles before the fort itself came into focus. The fort served as much of an emotional boost as a physical one. Smiles returned to faces that had worn only frowns for weeks.

  Rudolph ventured inside of the fort immediately. Within its walls army troopers, trappers, Sioux, and travelers bound to the west and east traded freely. He was struck by what was available. There were items that he had only dreamed of for weeks. First he bought a meal of fresh warm bread and buttermilk. He could not recall any meal that had been as delicious. It was as if his life now consisted of two parts – that which had taken place before he had headed west from Elmira and what he was now experiencing, a life where every day was different from the last. Next he traded two newspapers for a pair of trousers to replace the one that had been stolen. Even though the news that they contained was months old the soldier who now carefully read them acted as if they had been printed that morning. Outside of the fort Rudolph had a hard time trading silverware for a pair of moccasins to replace his stolen boots. He walked from teepee to teepee without success. Their inhabitants were willing to trade for buffalo meat or hides or other game such as deer but had no moccasins that they were ready to barter. In fact, many of them were barefoot, which seemed most unusual to Rudolph. Little did he know that Mr. Smithton had already tried to corner the market on the comfortable footwear.

  Even though Smithton had reluctantly parted with his precious mining equipment hundreds of miles back to rejoin the company, he still had 100 pounds of silverware hidden under his wagon’s false bottom. From that stash he had bartered for dozens of pairs of moccasins. One who feared the future; he had overheard someone from another wagon train say that no matter which route was taken westward from Ft. Laramie, there would be long stretches without water. His plan was to trade the moccasins for water as the precious liquid became scarce. Because only the sick or injured were allowed to ride in the wagons to conserve the oxen’s strength and the remaining eight horses were only used for hunting or scouting ahead, Smithton calculated that all gladly would trade with him later on down the trail as thin boot soles let the hot earth burn feet and rocks bruised and cut them. He quietly hid his new stash beneath the false bottom.

  Others from the company bought liquor, tobacco, food, gunpowder, shot, items of clothing, or hats to replace those lost in windstorms or crossing streams or the Platte to reach the fort. Meanwhile, Dan was trading drinks for information. Trappers who recently had been around Salt Lake City gladly accepted his offer of liquor.

  “Good God Almighty! There’s thousands of them there Latter Day Saints down there by the Salt Lake. Must be ‘cause of all the wives they have.” One who had spent the winter trapping in the mountains east of Salt Lake exclaimed. “They already got themselves a city laid out with canals and huge farms everywhere. They be busy as beavers building dams or bees making honey.”

  “They willing to offer a fair price for food, mules, and such to Gentiles like us?”

  “Nope. Old Brigham Young told them to not trade or sell to any that ain’t Mormons. Of course if you waits till no one’s looking the lukewarm ones are willing to trade or sell. You have to be sneaky about it, is all.”

  “I see. Thanks for the information.”

  Dan spent the two-day layover at the fort searching among the Mormons for those who appeared to be the most desperate. Finally, he found one family whose handcart had worn out. Dan offered to let them spread their possessions among his company’s wagons for transport in return for them putting in a good word for him when they reached Salt Lake City. A deal was made. As word spread of the newcomers whom Dan had invited to join them, the rest of the company convened a meeting without him. All of their worst fears were vented.

  “I tell you, he’s a Mormon, too. He’ll probably abandon us once we get to Salt Lake for the six wives he has got waiting there.”

  Dan walked up and joined his independent minded companions. “Something I need to know about, boys?”

  Mr. Smithton broke the silence. “Mr. Beaverman,
we’re concerned on why you want to travel via Salt Lake City. Most of the other wagon trains we talked to are taking Sublette’s Cutoff and then heading on to Ft. Hall before heading south to California.”

  “And a few other trains are taking Hudspeth’s Cutoff instead of going north to Ft. Hall.” Another member, usually given to silence, spoke. “Either way they miss Salt Lake by at least a hundred miles.”

  “I tell you what. If you want to pic ‘n’ mix that’s okay with me but you owes me $5 if you leave now or $6.50 if you leave when the trail forks south and west at the Little Sandy. That’s about 300 miles or so from here so it be giving you plenty of time to decides.”

  “What’s pic ‘n’ mix?”

  “That’s when you leaves one company fer another. Usually starts pretty quick on the trails out of St. Joe and Independence. Always somebody not happy about something or another.” He glanced sideways at Smithton, who ignored him. “Now that all the trails are mashed into one for a while and we got Lord only knows how many wagon trains going who knows whichever which way it’ll be happening more and more all the time I reckon.” Dan turned to go. “And for the record, I