The Journals of Jack Robertson Book Two 1867-1882

By Gary R Reed

Jack Robertson, his family and friends leave Michigan and travel to Council Bluffs in the Iowa Territory where they spend the winter and join a Mormon wagon train going West in the Spring. Jack's adventures never stop as he battles wits with highwaymen, train robbers, Indians, buffalo hunters, con artist, and an enraged bull. Join Jack as he finds a nearly perfect home in the mountains of Wyoming. Jack's family homesteads the mountain valley, builds a trading post and makes peace with their Indian neighbors. Everything seems to be going just as Jack has planned until he must deal with the promises he has made to 5 young women, Little Deer, Su Ling, Sarah, Bridget, and Belle who all expect to be married to Jack for time and all eternity. Jacks enemies still have a score to settle with him and they all come together at one time to do it. Then there's a Chinese assassin and an Indian war party-how will Jack survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gary R Reed
• Release date: Jul 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463958582

Gary R Reed

Gary R Reed resides in Lansing Michigan with his lovely wife Sandy. His six children and 18 grandchildren are scattered to the four winds. He is a former banker, broker, CFO, entrepreneur, educator, and with the publication of his novels, he has become a storyteller and a wild eyed dreamer.Gary is a professional student with degrees in philosophy, psychology, and education. His passion is American history and that has led him to write fictionalized accounts of his real-life ancestors who have fought in the American Revolution, the Civil War, the American Indian Wars, World War I, and (perhaps soon) World War III.Gary is a past "Chief Inspector" of the Sherlock Holmes Society "The Greek Interpreters of East Lansing" and an active member of the Society for Creative Anachronism, having received honors as a Bard and a Thrown Weapons Champion.Gary is the author of the three part "Journals of Jack Robertson" series,"Robertson's War 1914", "The Academy", "Sanctuary", "The Truth about Santa Claus", "Kirtland 1833" and "If I Ruled the World" that will soon appear in a Smashwords Edition.

Book preview

THE JOURNALS OF

JACK ROBERTSON

Book Two

1867 to 1882

by Gary R Reed

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Copyright 2019 Gary R. Reed

Smashwords Edition

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This book is based on historical events that have been fictionalized. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

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Table of Contents

Chapter One……………..BIRTHDAY’S AND BAPTISMS

Chapter Two……….........WESTWARD HO

Chapter Three…………....INDIANS

Chapter Four………..........BUFFALO HUNT

Chapter Five………..........THE VALLEY

Chapter Six………………TRADING POST

Chapter Seven……………NATHAN AND NANCY

Chapter Eight…………….MUSTANGS

Chapter Nine…………......A BARNRAISING

Chapter Ten………………THREE SCOT’S TALES

Chapter Eleven…………...MOMMA’S CLAPBOARD HOUSE

Chapter Twelve………......SACRED GROUND

Chapter Thirteen………….AUNT TEGAN

Chapter Fourteen…………THE MISSION

Chapter Fifteen……….......RETURN WITH HONOR

Chapter Sixteen…..............SU LING WU

Chapter Seventeen………..THE WHIPPING TREE

Chapter Eighteen…………HENRI LAFAYETTE

Chapter Nineteen…………THE STEVENS WONDER WAGON

Chapter Twenty…..............THE GIFT

Chapter Twenty-One…......EVIL MEN

Chapter Twenty-Two..........LITTLE DEER

Chapter Twenty-Three........SARAH

Chapter Twenty-Four…......BRIDGET

Chapter Twenty-Five……..MASSACRE!

Chapter Twenty-Six…........BELLE

Chapter Twenty-Seven……TEGAN

Chapter Twenty-Eight…….TEN YEARS AFTER

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About the Author

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Excerpt from The Journals of Jack Robertson Book One

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Other titles by Gary R Reed

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Chapter One

BIRTHDAYS AND BAPTISMS

March 1867

Council Bluffs would have been like many frontier towns, three months of frantic activity and nine months of sleepy preparation. April would come and wagon train after wagon train would start for the West. By July, it would all be over and Council Bluffs would have fallen asleep again until the next spring if it hadn’t been for the railroad. In 1865 the Union Pacific Railroad had laid 50 miles of track from Council Bluffs, Iowa Territory heading west. In 1866, they laid 350 miles of track. By the fall of 1867 the track was all the way to Cheyenne Wyoming.

Eighteen sixty-seven promised to be one of the last years that a wagon train would leave Council Bluffs. It was possible in 1867 to load your wagon and teams on the train and transport them to Cheyenne but at a cost of nearly a dollar a mile it was much too expensive for all but the very rich. It was possible to passenger to Cheyenne and buy an outfit there for the journey to Salt Lake City but the railroad was also in the market for everything in the way of livestock and food for the thousands of men that were working on the railroad. Only the very rich could supply themselves in Cheyenne.

My family had spent the winter in Council Bluffs, living on an ice locked Missouri River steamboat, my family and the famous Mormon Marshall, Porter Rockwell. My father had been born a Mormon but he had been carried away from the church after the death of Joseph Smith, the Prophet. He never spoke of his young life and it had been a shock to learn that my own father was a Mormon!

It had never been our intention to leave our home in Michigan but an unexpected set of circumstances had compelled us to search out a new life in the West. So here we were in Council Bluffs waiting to join a Mormon wagon train bound for Salt Lake City in the Utah territory.

Tomorrow, the 15th of March, was my 13th birthday. It might help you to know a little bit more about our traveling party. My father and mother, James and Mary Robertson, were married when they were 17 and I was born a year later so they must be in their early 30’s. My sister Jessie is a year younger than I am, so she's 12. My brother Johnny is 7 and my little sister Jenny is about to turn 6. Tegan Thompson, who used to be my schoolteacher, is 21 and Sarah Stevens, who considers herself to be my fiancé, will be 13 this summer. Her brother Michael is 7. Belle Lafayette, the young woman I bought at a slave auction in Chicago, is 15. Bo Swenson, my business partner, is 18 and I don’t know about anybody else’s birthdays but the rest of our party is Nathan Stevens, Sarah's father, and his companion Nancy Davis. Elk Dog, our Indian guide and Old Moses, who is Belle Lafayette’s manservant.

I have always been one for careful planning and it seemed to me that if we were going to trust our lives and our fortunes to the Mormons, we had better know something about them. Mr. Rockwell has been happy to be our teacher. We learned much more than I had ever anticipated. We learned that Joseph Smith the founder of the Mormon Church was indeed a Prophet of God and that the Book of Mormon, that he translated from ancient plates made of gold, was the very word of God.

Jack, your mother is ready to join the Church. She has accepted a baptismal challenge. Your birthday is tomorrow, isn't it? We should do it then. Your father, your mother, Miss Thompson, you, Sarah, Jessie and Elk Dog are all ready to be baptized. Porter Rockwell had a very satisfied smile on his face. I suspect that he had stayed in Council Bluffs, much longer than he intended. He had dedicated that time to teaching our family and friends. Now seven of us were ready to be baptized and Porter was eager to get home to his own family in Utah.

Mr. Rockwell, what about the others? Nathan and Nancy, Old Moses and Belle had been taught but not convinced. Nathan had a testimony of the Gospel but he was not ready to give up Nancy or the other things of the world. Nancy's life had been so hard that she doesn’t really believe in anything. It would take time, maybe a long time before she was softened enough to trust the feelings in her heart. Belle was politically and socially a Catholic. She was born a Catholic, raised a Catholic, and intended to die a Catholic, because that's what Creoles did. Perhaps when she found her own place in the West, she would forget the New Orleans of her youth and then she might be teachable. Old Moses was a Christian in the simplest sense of the word. He might be a free man in this post-slavery world but he would sooner die than make his mistress unhappy. He would do whatever Belle did and nothing more.

The seven of us that were about to be baptized would have to take responsibility for the four that were not. It was going to take time, and prayers, before they would be ready. Mr. Rockwell, where are we going to do these baptisms? I asked.

Right here in the Missouri River should be fine. He answered.

I was afraid he was going to say that. The river was cold. Council Bluffs was still in winter during the middle of March. I'm not afraid of the cold and I'm not afraid of water but the two of them together make ice and I was not the least bit interested in being an icicle. I needed a plan.

A Mormon baptism involves having the person being baptized and the person baptizing standing waist deep in the water, saying a prayer, and then totally immersing the baptizee. You are being buried in the water and brought forth again a new person. You are totally and absolutely wet and then you’re expected to stand around and watch the rest of your party be baptized. The opportunities for freezing are excellent. There had to be a better way. I couldn't do anything about how we were baptized but I could do something about where.

We were living on one of the world's big water heaters. A Missouri River steamboat worked by heating cold river water into nice warm, steamy, hot water. I could make a lot of hot water, now all I needed was a big enough container. I looked at the barrels on our covered wagons. There was no barrel big enough for two people, but wait a minute. What about the wagon itself? It was 8-foot long, 4-foot wide, and 4-foot deep. That would be plenty big enough for a baptism. And the canvas top was waterproof. If we used the top to line the wagon it would make it watertight, then we could fill it up with nice warm water from the steamboat’s boiler and we could have a dandy baptism.

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The next day, it took 10 of us half a dozen trips, carrying two buckets each, to get enough water into that wagon for a baptism. It was a glorious day. The air was clear and crisp, the sun was shining and about a hundred people had gathered around to watch what those dang fool Robertson’s were up to. Many of the people were not members of the Church and some of them were even hostile.

My mother had all eight of us, Mr. Rockwell, who was doing the baptizing and the seven of us who were being baptized, dressed in white. White dresses for the women and white shirts and pants for the men. We were an impressive sight. I half expected Mr. Rockwell to wear his pistol into our baptismal font. I had never seen him without it before. He didn't strap it on but he did hang it from the wagon bow where it was in easy reach.

"My brothers and sisters, we are gathered here today to witness the baptism of this family into the Church and Kingdom of God on the earth. The restoration of the Gospel began less than 50 years ago and is spreading to every nation, kindred, tongue and people. This family that you see before you have heard the truth and repented of their sins. Now they are going to be baptized as a token of their belief in the Lord Jesus Christ.

The Scriptures say that unless a man is born of the water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven. So sacred is this ordinance of baptism, that every man of God from Adam to the Savior Himself was baptized. Baptism is more than an act of repentance; it is an act of obedience; wherein the natural man is laid to rest and the man of spirit is born. Today, these people are going to emerge from the waters of baptism as clean, and pure, as the day they were born. They will be free from sin and ready to be given the gift of the Holy Ghost. They will become members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They will be as the Scriptures say, No more strangers or foreigners but of the kingdom and household of God and fellow citizens with the Saints. Porter Rockwell, dressed all in white, with his long hair and his full beard, looked and sounded every inch like a prophet of God.

He took my father by the hand and led him up into the wagon. James Jessie Robertson, having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, Amen. From oldest to youngest we were baptized, Sarah after me and my sister Jessie being last. Sarah rushed into my arms after her baptism and said, I am worthy to be yours forever, don't ever let me go. She held onto me as if it was her intention to stay in my arms forever. Jessie, pried us apart so that she could be included, I suspect as much for warmth as for companionship.

We all wrapped in blankets and one by one, Porter Rockwell confirmed us as members of the Church and gave us the Gift of the Holy Ghost. It was a wondrous moment. One by one, we bore our testimonies of the truthfulness of the Gospel. It seemed the most natural thing to stand and say that we knew that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God and that Christ’s Church was here on the earth today.

The crowd was, for the most part, impressed by our pure testimonies but there were a few who heckled us. Joe Smith is a lecher and a liar. Where’s his Gold Bible now? The Scriptures say that anybody who adds to the Bible is damned, what about that? What about having more than one wife?

Porter Rockwell held a Book of Mormon in the air. Here are the Golden Plates, in a form that even you can read without being blinded by the value of the page and not the words. Evil men, designing men, would have found a way to steal the plates from Joseph Smith, so an angel of the Lord took them back and if you would like to see them now, all you need to do is ask God. If he finds you worthy, then he will show them to you too.

My father stood up and said, You mentioned the Scripture in Revelation that says not to add or detract from the words of the book. You do know that there was no book at the time Revelation was written, don’t you? There were scrolls, rolled up pieces of paper, one for each of the books of the Bible. You do know that Revelation was not the last of the books to be written? You do know that there are several books that are mentioned in the Scriptures that are lost? The Savior himself quotes from one of those lost books. If those books were found, would you exclude them from the Scriptures because of Revelation? You do know that in the Old Testament book of Isaiah there is a prohibition against adding anything to the book. If you give that the same meaning as Revelation, there would be no New Testament. Isn't it more likely that John was referring to the book of Revelation and nothing more? My father spoke with power and authority far beyond what I thought he knew.

Now you asked about plural marriage, I said. "If your wife’s sister was a widow, and needed a home, you could take her and her children in and no one would say anything about it. It’s not having two women or two families in the same house that's the problem, you men are jealous and you women are afraid, that's the problem. You're jealous because your wife would never let you do a plural marriage and misery loves company. And you wives are afraid because if you had some competition you might actually have to be nice to your husbands. In any case, I can’t believe that you think that it's any of your business what other men or women, willingly do, in their own homes.

Now some of you say that it’s against the Bible to have more than one wife. You point out how burdened David and Solomon were but you forget that it was not the wives that was the problem; it was the adultery and idol worship that the Lord forbids. Abraham and Jacob had several wives and because of that, they were blessed among men because they were the fathers of nations. Gideon and Moses had multiple wives and they were the saviors of their people. In fact, I bet you can’t name me one man in the scriptures who was condemned for having more than one wife.

Many of you men here, who are supposed to be the husbands of one wife, are practicing polygamy, serial polygamy. You marry a woman, leave her and marry another, leave her and marry another. The difference between you and us is not the number of wives but that we keep the covenants we make when we marry and you don’t.

No one in my family has more than one wife but I'd much rather be a polygamist that didn't polig than a monogamist that didn’t monog."

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I have been thinking about this some. The Latter-day Saints in the crowd stood a little taller that day. We don't have an obligation to defend ourselves against detractors but when we can do it effectively, we all benefit.

Most of the people who speak out against us are not mean-spirited; they are misinformed and afraid. They don't know what we believe. They hear rumors and lies and believe them to be true. They are afraid because if we’re right then they must be wrong and the things that they’ve believed all their lives are less than true.

Satan has great hold on the hearts of some men. A good indication of the worthiness of any project is the violence of the opposition. Venom and vile are sure indicators of the Adversary at work. I suspect that all of us would be well advised to be more Christlike and kind when we disagree or we may find ourselves doing Satan’s bidding.

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Chapter Two

WESTWARD HO

April 1867

It's raining. Belle complained.

I noticed. It'd rained all night long and everything that could hold water was filled; lakes, rivers, streams, ponds and puddles were brimming. Trees, bushes, grass and flowers, engorged with water, seemed to have their faces turned up, glorying in the Heavenly gift falling from the sky.

Unfortunately, those things intended to stay dry were tested to their limits. Wagon tops, oiled to repel water, revealed every lack of care given the task, drip by drip on the food and bedding stored below.

Worst of all was the mud. Everything that touched the ground was covered with mud. Animal hoofs and wagon wheels, men's boots and women's shoes, children's legs and dog’s fur were thick and heavy with Iowa mud.

Isn't it wonderful, said Brother Young, one of our wagon guides.

No! It is not. Now we will have to wait until everything dries out. Belle insisted.

Oh, we're not waiting. We are starting at 8 a.m. just like we'll do every day but Sunday, rain or shine. Brother Young corrected her.

But why not wait. What will one day matter? She asked.

Brother Young shook his head, "We have 100 wagons and we are just one of three trains in Council Bluffs. All up and down the Missouri wagon trains are forming up and when they're all on the trail, they'll stretch for 100 miles. The first wagons get the best grass, the most game, the freshest water and the best roads.

That's why this rain is such a blessing. First, it's making the grass grow and second it is convincing those less wise than the Saints to wait and not press on. We’re not going to be the very first because some less wise people left too soon. Before the grass was ready, but we’ll pass them when their animals give out from a lack of good feed.

Now if I were you, I wouldn't be the last wagon ready today. Muddy roads only get muddier as wagons roll over them.

***

Brother Robertson, are we leaving now? Are we ready? Belle called to my Father as she dragged a trunk out of her room. Jack, take this to the wagon. Do not let it get wet." Belle didn’t want to be in the mud but if it had to be, it was going to be fresh mud, if she had any say in it.

Belle! You can't take a trunk full of clothes. We’ve discussed this a dozen times. I couldn't believe that we were ready to go and she still hadn't decided what to leave behind. Belle was French Creole from New Orleans. Even though she was only 15, she had been destined for the life of a great lady. The Civil War had destroyed her family's fortunes and through a twist of fate, she had become my personal servant.

We have three wagons, there has to be enough room. She stamped her foot.

There are 15 people and our hearse is full of grain for the four horses. We have to put the food, bedding and clothing for more than seven people in each wagon. If you take that trunk; you will have to give up your bed. I insisted.

Roll your clothes up in your mattress. You'll have to tend to them every night but you can take all your things and still get rid of the trunk. Brother Young advised.

You're a lot of help. We're trying to lighten our load. We're heavy as it is. I complained.

Jack, if you don't have room for that young lady, I can make room in my wagon. He laughed.

I don't think that’ll be necessary. I sulked.

I didn't suppose that you’d give her up. You shouldn't expect her to give up her clothes either. Her appearance is as important to her as food and drink. She’ll quit you if you can't keep her clean and fresh on the trail. And there’ll be plenty of men that’ll be willing to take her off your hands. Brother Young warned. I've seen it more than once.

Clean, how do you stay clean on the trail? It's all dirt. I noted.

You'll need a 'waterfall'. He said.

A waterfall, like in a river? I asked.

No, you take a washtub and a bucket with a hole in the bottom. You hang a curtain around the tub, fill the bucket with warm water, and string it up in the air. The water falls on their heads and collects in the tub; first they wash themselves and then they wash their clothes. That way they can keep clean and pretty. Brother Young smiled.

We're leaving in an hour and you're expecting me to pull together a project like this. I grimaced.

I may be able to help you out, for say, $20. He offered.

When you're not guiding wagon trains you wouldn't happen to be a traveling salesman would you? I asked. Brother Young just smiled and pocketed my Golden Eagle.

***

In less than an hour, we were cleaned out, loaded up and moving. Today we would take our place near the head of the line but tomorrow our place would be chosen by lot and we'd have to rely on the blessings of God.

I'm not sure the wagon guides from Salt Lake City were very pleased to have our hearse lead the wagon train. We look like a bloomin’ funeral procession. The hearse, like Belle, had come to us because one of my famous plans had gone a little astray. My plans always worked out in the end but there were occasional detours. My father, my mother, and my little sister drove the hearse with 2000 pounds of grain for the horses. Prairie grass was fine for oxen but horses needed grain. Our two mares were both carrying foals. Our stallion, Demon was the biggest, fastest, most beautiful horse in the territory. Elk Dog had a buckskin pony that could live on prickly pear and briars, according to him. Five pounds of grain, per horse per day, was not much but Elk Dog was often gone on long hunts and on those days Demon and the mares got the buckskin’s share.

Sarah Stevens rode Demon because she was the only one that could. Demon loved Sarah but barely tolerated anyone else.

Mr. Stevens and Miss Davis drove our first wagon. Bo Swenson, and his sweetheart, my sister Jessie drove the second wagon.

My plans to walk 1000 miles with Tegan Thompson, the woman who had been my schoolteacher and one of the loves of my life, were frustrated by Bridget Swenson, Bo’s sister. Bridget had saved my life, when a wild bull was chasing me. Somehow, to her, that meant that I belonged to her and it was her responsibility to make a proper man out of me.

Bridget seemed to think that a proper man was a busy man and so with her very limited English she dragged me up and down the line of wagons. We didn't walk, we hiked, from one end of the train to the other and we didn't just walk, we worked. If there was any task that needed doing, Bridget volunteered, volunteered me that is.

Sarah, I need your help. I pleaded.

What is it dear? She took my hand and gave me all her attention. Sarah Stevens was a year younger than I was and hopelessly in love with me. For some reason, that seemed to be a good idea at the time, I had promised her that one day, I would marry her.

It's Bridget, I have a plan….

Oh no, I am not going to help you with a plan to stop Bridget. She's the best thing that's ever happened to you, since me that is. She patted my hand.

"But she's working me to death. She bosses me around all day, every day. There is no escaping her. She marches me from one end of the train to the other, all day long, and she has learned