The Last Wagon Train West

By Glen Laws

This is the story of the emigrants following the Oregon Trail in the year of 1867. One of families is the Silas Martin family and daughter Mary who keeps a diary of events along the trail. Mary had two suitors during the trip-flamboyant John James Fairfield, 19-year-old son of Capt. Fairfield and James Monroe Cromwell, son of Rev. Cromwell.

In the spring 1867, construction on the transcontinental railroad had reached Fort Kearney, Nebraska. Some emigrants were now using the railroad for their westward push. In early spring of 1867, Silas Martin joined 20 other emigrant wagons and 2 cargo wagons at Independence Missouri to begin their trek up the trail. Capt. Zeb Fairfield is the wagon master. Capt. Fairfield has a secret contract with the Army to bring 200 Spencer repeating rifles and $200,000 in gold to General Armstrong Custer bivouacked at Fort Hall by September. The first attack on the wagon train was by the Platte River by a remnant of the Quantrill Raiders and the Cole Younger gang. As the wagon train moved westward, it moved into an area known as the High Plains Indian Wars as designated by the Army. The Sioux and Arapahoe Indians joined forces to attack settlers and wagon trains. The first Indian attack was before Fort Laramie by a large number of Indians. Several emigrants were killed and several dozen Indians. A small Indian war party attacked emigrants in a broken down wagon with one emigrant killed and several Indians. At Fort Hall, four the wagons turn north to Fort Henry. The first days the wagons were accompanied by the Calvary due to an uprising by any Blackfoot Indians. On the third night, a Blackfoot Indian slipped into the camp and attempted to kill Mary.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499077131

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THE LAST WAGON

TRAIN WEST

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GLEN LAWS

Copyright © 2014 by Glen Laws.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Scripture quotations marked KJV are from the Holy Bible, King James Version (Authorized Version). First published in 1611. Quoted from the KJV Classic Reference Bible, Copyright © 1983 by The Zondervan Corporation.

Rev. date: 11/10/2014

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Contents

Preface

Chapter 1    Silas Martin

Chapter 2    The Oregon Trail

Chapter 3    Mary’s Diary 1

Chapter 4    Mary’s Diary 2

Chapter 5    Starting Day

Chapter 6    Along The Little Blue River

Chapter 7    Fairfield

Chapter 8    Francois Fournier

Chapter 9    Jake Macleod

Chapter 10    Day 30

Chapter 11    At Fort Kearney

Chapter 12    On The Platte

Chapter 13    Cole Younger

Chapter 14    Quantrill’s Raiders

Chapter 15    Mary Martin

Chapter 16    Regret

Chapter 17    The Attack

Chapter 18    Success

Chapter 19    Crossing The Platte

Chapter 20    Life And Death

Chapter 21    Fort Laramie

Chapter 22    Indian Raid

Chapter 23    Sweetwater River

Chapter 24    Martha’s Doll

Chapter 25    Mary Is Captured

Chapter 26    Fort Bridger

Chapter 27    Green River

Chapter 28    Incident At Sandy Creek

Chapter 29    The Long Night

Chapter 30    Fort Hall

Chapter 31    Fort Henry

Chapter 32    Home At Last

Chapter 33    Henrys Fork

Chapter 34    Christmas

PREFACE

T his is the story of the emigrants following the Oregon Trail in the year of 1867. One of the families is the Silas Martin family with daughter Mary, who kept a diary of events along the trail. In early spring of 1867, Silas Martin joined twenty other emigrant wagons and two cargo wagons at Independence, Missouri, to begin their trek up the trail.

Capt. Zeb Fairfield is the wagon master. He received his rank by a direct commission into the Union army. He owned and operated a freight line that brought products from the East Coast to Middle America and the West. During the Civil War, his freight line was confiscated by the Union army to bring war materials to the battlefronts. After the Civil War, Captain Fairfield resumed the civilian freight lines.

Jake MacLeod was a merchant who was in partnership with Captain Fairfield. Jake MacLeod had several department stores in New York City. He owned the trading posts along the Oregon Trail. The trading post provided the livelihood necessary for the emigrants and settlers.

The Oregon Trail is a two-thousand-mile historic east–west wagon route that connected various towns and the Missouri River to valleys in Oregon and locations in between. For our story, the Oregon Trail follows the Pony Express route for about half of the way.

The Martin family sold their farm in Illinois to a relative and prepared for leaving. There was excitement and sadness as they began their journey. With the exception of clothing, bedding material, cookware, and food, all their earthly possessions were left behind. The members of the family were Silas, husband, aged thirty-five; Sarah, wife, aged thirty-five; Mary, daughter, aged fifteen; Jacob, son, aged sixteen; Luke, son, aged fourteen; Martha, daughter, aged ten. The wagon trip from Illinois to Independence, Missouri, took three weeks. There, the Martin wagon joined up with other emigrants bound for Oregon. The Martin wagon had a water barrel attached to one side of the wagon and a smaller barrel for milk on the other side. The Martins brought a milk cow along for the entire trip. There was a chicken coop attached to the rear of the wagon for the five chickens that were brought.

While at Independence, Missouri, the emigrants formed a company and elected Captain Fairfield, Jake MacLeod, and Francois Fournier as officers. Francois Fournier is a colorful character; he is a guide and has been known as an Indian fighter who speaks some of the various Indian languages.

The cargo wagons were two large overland wagons pulled by a team of four horses per wagon. The wagons contained supplies for Jake MacLeod’s trading posts. One of the wagons had two hundred Spencer rifles for Gen. Armstrong Custer’s Seventh Cavalry bivouacked at Fort Hall. In addition, there were rations in both wagons for the Seventh Cavalry at Fort Hall. One of the wagons had $200,000 to meet the army’s payroll. The wagons had two armed guards per wagon. The wagon train was supposed to meet General Custer in early September at Fort Hall.

The first leg of the trail followed the Little Blue River and Blue River in what is now Nebraska to Fort Kearney on the Platte River. The next leg of the trail followed Platte River for four hundred miles. The wagon train was attacked by an element of the Quantrill’s Raiders known as the Cole Younger gang. Eight of the attackers were killed by the emigrants using repeated shots of Spencer rifles. Several of the attackers were left wounded. No emigrants were killed or wounded.

The next leg of the trail was crossing Platte River and following the North Platte River in what is now southeastern Wyoming. Prior to reaching Fort Laramie, the wagon train was attacked by a large number of Sioux Indians. Several emigrants were killed, and twenty to thirty Indians were killed.

At Fort Laramie, the wagon train rested for several days. At this date, many of the emigrants, as well as the horses and mules, were malnourished. At this time, the North Platte River turned southwest, and the wagon train followed Sweetwater River. To supplement the emigrants’ food supply, Captain Fairfield killed several of his cattle and divided the meat among the emigrants. Captain Fairfield started out with two hundred heads of cattle to begin the drive.

South Pass is the route between the Rocky Mountains. While at South Pass, Mary Martin was captured by the Shoshone Indians.

After South Pass, the Martin wagon got a broken axle that was irreparable until an emigrant had a scheme to repair it, which would take one and one-half days to repair. The wagon train couldn’t wait and moved on to Fort Bridger. This scene is called incident at Sandy Creek. Two wagons stayed at Sandy Creek in support of the Martin wagon. A Sioux war party of twenty-six happened across the broken-down wagon and decided to attack the next morning. One emigrant and eight Indians were killed.

At Fort Hall, Captain Fairfield delivered the Spencer rifles, the payroll money, and the rations for the troopers to General Custer. Four of the wagons left the wagon train and turned north to Fort Henry. The rest of the wagons continued on the Oregon Trail. It was a four-day travel to Fort Henry. A Blackfoot Indian tribe was hostile and was killing and burning settlers’ homes. The army provided an escort for the wagons for the first two days. On the third night, the Blackfoot Indian slipped into camp and stabbed Mary in the arm before he was killed.

At Fort Henry, the emigrants built a large log tepee from logs that floated down Henrys Fork of the Snake River. They spent Christmas Day in Fort Henry.

____________________

In some cases, the author used various historical references for this story. In most cases, the geographical locations on the trail are accurate. All the characters are fictional.

The westward push from the East was in full swing, with thousands of settlers pulling up stakes and heading for what many believed to be the Promised Land. For some, it would prove to be just that; but for many thousands, the lonely trails would become the final resting place. Every few yards along the Oregon Trail, there would be graves.

CHAPTER 1

Silas Martin

Spring of 1867

I am a native of Ward County, Indiana, with Sarah, my wife, and children, Jacob (sixteen), Mary (fifteen), Luke (thirteen), and Martha (ten). We have a small farm on a poor land in Almont Country, Illinois, near the Little Wabash River, and the year is 1867. I am thirty-five years old, and Sarah is thirty-five. I can barely provide enough food for my family. Most of the produce and cattle were taken during the Civil War.

I heard that one of the last wagon trains to the Oregon Territory is leaving this spring. I talked to Sarah about it, and she said it would not be the thing to do. But I tried to persuade her by reviewing the sorry situation we are in here. She agreed on that comment but said there must be some other way to improve our lot. And at the moment, neither of us could think of anything. I discussed the idea with my friends, and they tried to dissuade me from going by telling me of the dangers and difficulties we would go through, as well as being exposed to hostile Indians and outlaws in the West. I did agree that the Civil War had moved the soldiers from the West to fight the Civil War.

I had the feeling that I had failed as a father and husband by not providing the necessities for a reasonable existence for my family. Sarah came from modest means and a supportive family for her decisions, except for our marriage, I believe. Although no expression came forth to me to indicate that, still I can feel the messages.

Sarah and the children wear hand-me-downs from her family, and they are a large family too, with five girls and four boys in that clan. I have tried the best I know how, but no luck comes my way. I want to get away from the area and have a new start. Finally, Sarah agreed to move, and now I have to find enough money to buy a wagon and provisions for the trip. Sarah’s papa bought our place for four hundred dollars, and I sold worthless mules for five dollars. Sarah is a magician with her sewing machine, making dresses and pants and shirts to sell to the neighbors. The children heard we were going to join a wagon train, and all were jumping around with joy. Mary had a chap bothering her, so this was a good way to break off that relation. I was told that there was a group meeting at Independence, Missouri, to form a wagon train to Oregon Territory as soon as the grass started to grow.

On March 15, 1867, we started loading up our farm wagon with most of our earthly belongings. This was a sad day for our relatives. We would leave at dawn the following day. Grandpa and Grandma Martin came early that day. Sarah’s parents, John and Betsy Wooten, and her brothers Ben and Albert were already here to take over the house. Her sisters, Molly and Laura, arrived about midmorning.

Several of Sarah’s cousins came, but I have forgotten their names, and all the women were buzzing about to fix a meal before we leave. Ben and Albert kept warning me about the trip, of the many Indians and wild beasts. Ben gave us two skinny riding horses with cavalry saddles, most likely spoils of the war. Ben brought twenty-five pounds of beans and five pounds of coffee. Others brought flour and cornmeal and a yeast starter. Albert brought four Union coats and four pairs of pants. Someone laughed and said maybe the clothes came off dead soldiers, and Albert made no comment. The amount of clothes was piling up, and I knew we would have to dispose of some along the way.

We paused in midafternoon to eat the meal. John Wooten led us in prayer as we held hands in a circle. There were a few sniffles during the prayer. I am sure the others thought the same: this is most likely the last time we will see each other on earth. After the meal, I saw Sarah go over and whisper something in Luke’s ear. He jumped up and ran into the house. Then we heard a tune, an Irish tune, coming from the backyard. The congregation moved to the back, and immediately the jigs began. Mary was dancing with everybody, including me. There were clapping of hands and whoops, and I saw a young Sarah in my arms. Luke did his best that day. Evening was coming, so there were hugs, along with tears and firm handshakes.

Sarah and I got together, and we told the children to bring only bare necessities. Sarah put most of our clothes in the trunk, and I noticed that her calico wedding dress was at the bottom. Well, Mary is fifteen, so I let it stay. Jacob wanted to bring a statue of a bucking horse he had made. There was no on that. Mary had six or seven books that she wanted to take. I first said only two, but she whined, and I gave up for four. Luke only asked if he could bring his French harp, and I detected that Luke was not too happy with leaving the home he was born in. Little Martha, at ten years old, brought two little dolls.

The first thing to be loaded was a one-bottom plow with a single tree. I had made a wooden box that contained equipment for making repairs en route. It was carried in the wooden box attached to one end or side of the wagon. It carried extra iron bolts, linchpins, skeins, nails, a hoop iron, a variety of tools, a jack, and a few wrenches, with one for releasing the nut holding a wagon wheel. I put in two cowhides for resoling shoes. Much of the two thousand miles would be walked. Sarah had made five bedrolls with quilts and blankets. She put in one large fry pan, a Dutch oven, a coffeepot, and some forks and spoons. She wanted to take some china plates that had been a wedding present, but I knew the dishes would be broken. We did find threads for Sarah’s sewing machine. I put in two axes, a hatchet, a two-man crosscut saw, and a bucksaw. I had built a chicken coop with small willow boughs that bent easily and were lashed with a small rope. The next morning, we will put four hens and a rooster in the coop. I will milk the cow tonight, and Sarah will churn some of the milk for butter.

It was difficult for the children to sleep tonight and even for Sarah and me. I dozed off some and woke up and found that Sarah was not in the bed. I heard the floor squeak in the kitchen and rose to see who it was.

Is that you, Sarah? I whispered.

Yes, Silas.

I saw her at the table. I sat down across from her, and we were silent for a while.

Silas, all our children were born in this house and Bengy.

I know, Sarah, and I know it’s hard to not remember Bengy, I whispered.

Bengy was my youngest little boy, and we lost him.

I took Sarah’s hand and was surprised at the calluses and rough hands. She must have known what I was thinking as she squeezed my hand.

Washing clothes and working in the garden. Oh, don’t forget to put in the washboard, Silas.

Moonlight from a south moon filtered through the window as I reflected on our situation. We are both thirty-five, but I guess we look like sixty through hard years that give rough hands and hardened faces. Sarah is a believer. We go to church just about every Sunday, which gives us hope.

Silas, I don’t want us to forget that at every meal, all of us held hands around this table and prayed, Sarah whispered with tears in her voice. I am going to miss this table, Silas.

Well, Sarah, tomorrow I will have a surprise for you.

Sarah nodded her head and turned to the moonlight.

I’ don’t think I can sleep anymore, Silas. Why don’t we walk around the farm for the last time? Sarah said, getting up from her chair.

Turning around to the back door, I saw Sarah opening the door.

Sarah, don’t let the screen door go for it will slap. Let it go easy for it may wake up the children.

On the steps, I took her hand, and together we walked toward the garden.

Look, Silas, there are a few tomatoes left in the vines, she said as she rushed into the garden and picked the little small tomatoes, dropping them carefully into her apron, which was like a sack.

They’re not very good, but maybe I could fry them with bacon grease in the morning, she said as she moved about the garden.

It was amazing to me that Sarah could have such a good garden in this poor soil. She called it her prayer garden. Each time she planted a seed, she would pray that the