Chapter 33: Shootout in the Railroad Camp

It was real noticeable to me from my vantage point just above our slow moving wagon train that our exodus from the Indian reservation was a bit forlorn like we were leaving against our will. That was somewhat mystifying because we had taken a vote the democratic way and it was like ninety percent of us were in full agreement that it was time to move on.

Two of my Indian security personnel decided to stay on at the reservation and I can’t say that I blame them because the pretty schoolmarm seemed real receptive to adding them to her class even though they was fully grown and downright dangerous men. I didn’t mind them staying there because they had a right to make their own decision and in all honesty I could easily understand that the reservation was in dire need of a few braves that would have the skills and the balls to protect the residents from outside dangers. I had looked at the whole reservation thing and concluded the most important factor was that the safe zones offered a good education to the children and give them a fighting chance to blend into American society just like any other kid growing up with no idea about what they wanted to do in the future.

From my perspective, I knew that most of them would not get that opportunity because the education system would fail them just like it would fail most of the poverty stricken children in urban inner cities of the industrialized nation. It had always seemed to me that the right to a free education for all was an ideal mission for the entire country but that the weaknesses of human nature tended to make it a formidable challenge in some areas for a myriad of reasons too complex to discuss without getting into an argument.

It was only a little over three hundred miles from the Indian reservation to the most current railroad camp on the Great Pacific Northwest line and I figured we could make that trek in about twelve days barring any unforeseen circumstances.

There were no unexpected obstacles in our way and our equipment was in fine shape after the work we were able to do to bring all the wagons up to snuff for extended travel.

The long layover at the Indian reservation was really the salvation of our saving spirit of excess energy. It had been starting to look downright finite after the heavy demands of the Portland to Seattle leg of our journey. That terrain up in the Great Northwest was stressful on the wagons, the animals and on us travelers with little if any spare parts to repair the breakdowns. We had started with an average of almost thirty miles a day and when we up in that desolate place, we were reduced all the way down to only fifteen to twenty miles a day and that made all the difference in the world, when patience was wearing mighty thin.

We were making do with only nine wagons now and our spare animals were only enough to muster another back-up team to cover one wagon. The reservation Indians sure didn’t have any spare horses or mules and if they had any oxen, they would be using them to farm the tillable land along the riverbank. Most of that plowing was being done with brute strength and it was not sustainable over a period of years because the very nature of it wore the human body out too fast to replenish the source of vital energy.

A week into the journey to the northeast, we were able to send out a pair of scouts that informed us the main railroad camp was just a few days away and that they had discovered no problems to hinder our progress.

That was the best news I had heard recently and I would have celebrated, except for the fact our supply of rum or any other substitute spirits was plumb depleted with no chance of replenishing until we could trade for it with something of value at the railroad camp.

Our back-up reserves of well-hidden gold coins minted down in Denver was spread equally in all the wagons under false flooring with no visible hint of any opening. Our female contingent after months of understandable attrition was a mite on the low side, but it was strictly a matter of random circumstances and not as a result of any agenda or planning on our part. On the other side of an easily-traveled long flat valley, we came into contact with the survivors of a sudden flash flood that had carried away their family elders in a sea of mud that yielded no clue to their current presence under the quickly hardened clay. The missing adults included two grandfathers and two grandmothers, a father of reputed study stature and three wives, all pregnant, according to Mormon teaching and a brace of hunting dogs that had reputedly caught the scent of Indian renegades with absolute accuracy and faithful loyalty, even in the dead of winter.

This time, it was a freak act of nature that led to the disappearance of the people in charge and the ones that were left had precious little time to determine a course of action to continue the struggle for survival.

We did our best to bolster the spirits of the survivors, but it was obvious that they had come to the end of their rope and were considering just giving up and heading back to the closest vestige of civilization, all the way back in the Sacramento valley.

Since all of their worldly possessions had been buried under the rock-hard mud, we fitted the females out with spare clothing from our generous feminine party members. Some of our nubile travelers were more generous than others due to a paucity of women’s apparel after a hard winter.

I have to admit they were a bedraggled group of supposed hardy settlers. The only males were a pair of “still wet behind the ears” young lads that didn’t know one end of a rifle from the other. Their lack of military skills was, at least offset, by expertise in growing crops with a green thumb and youthful appeal that was much appreciated by our jaded female members.

It was the females that interested me the most, not because of any physical need for sexual variety, but because the inclusion of younger female stock gave us added ability to bargain for much-needed items in trade and the womenfolk generally didn’t have any false sense of pride about their precious feminine charms. I suspected it was in the nature of things for the Mormon women to accept their inferior position in life and cultural need to obey male control over their corporal bodies. In any event, it was a fortuitous event and we now had half-dozen almost virginal females with an attitude of compliance in matters of a carnal nature to bolster our ability to barter for essential necessities. I know that sounds a bit harsh but it was a way of life when desperate bands are in a full survival mode and such sacrifices for the common good was all part of being part of the group.