Chapter 3

36 days from Independence

Eddy Johnson was the youngest of the guards. He was not quite 17, but he had already killed a man; in fact, he had killed several, but he didn't count those because he was simply shooting back at Indians or bandits. It bothered him sometimes, but he was puzzled by why it bothered him.

He was raised in a church where the ten commandments were taken seriously, and "Thou shalt not kill!" was high on the list. Yet, he was not bothered by having killed a man, he was bothered by not being bothered by having killed a man. He wondered why he just didn't feel as if he had done something wrong by shooting the man. Perhaps it was because he had shot the man before he could shoot his friend. This was too deep for him.

He couldn't talk to his parents about this, because they would just tell him it was God's Will that the man had died. They would never understand why it was bothering him, because they would never understand that he no longer believed that everything happened because God wanted it to. Sometimes things happened because some fool screwed up! He wished there was somebody on the train he could talk to about this, but he didn't know who it could be.

Martha Goodall was walking along the inside of the wagon circle because she couldn't take another moment of her family's bickering. Her mother and father were always harping at each other and her siblings imitated their parents. There was never a soothing or loving word spoken in her family and she just couldn't take it any longer! She had to escape, but the only escape she had was to go somewhere else within the confines of the defensive wall of wagons. She was no fool! Martha knew what could happen to a teen aged girl who walked alone outside the protective ring of wagons. This was how Martha Goodall met Eddy Johnson.

"Who is that handsome man sitting back, leaning against the wagon wheel?" He was obviously tall and his long blond hair almost sparkled in the moonlight. His face had a classic look to be found on statues of heroes and his broad shoulders spoke of a physical strength able to conquer all he faced. He was undoubtedly the most handsome man she had ever seen!

"Why is that beautiful girl staring at me?" This girl, no, young woman, was certainly a joy to look at. Her dark hair shown in the moonlight as if it were made of black diamonds, and her face was clear and free of pockmarks. Her lips were full, but not pouty, and her chin spoke of gentle determination. Her breasts under her high-necked dress were obvious in their generous size, but not out of proportion to the rest of her body.

Martha felt compelled to stop and speak to this paragon of a man, "Hello, my name is Martha Goodall. Who are you?"

"Hello, ma'am. I'm Eddy Johnson, one of the guards. How may I help you?"

"One of the guards? Shouldn't you be walking a post, somewhere?"

"No, ma'am. I'm off duty right now. I don't go back on duty for another hour. I'm just resting and thinking. Is there something I can do for you?"

"No, I was just walking around, doing some thinking. Perhaps I could sit with you and think along with you. Would that be alright?"

"Why, ma'am, I'd be pleased to have you join me. Let me get you something to sit on."

"Oh, no, that won't be necessary. I can sit on the ground beside you... There, now I don't have to look down and you don't have to look up for us to talk. What were you thinking about?"

"Ma'am, I really don't think you want to know. It was something I did as part of my job and I'm trying to decide if it was good or bad or some of both."

"If it wasn't something you're not supposed to talk about, maybe you could work it out if you told me about it. I won't repeat what you say, no matter what it is."

"Well... I guess it wouldn't hurt to talk about it, and talking might help me to get it straight in my own mind. So here goes:

"It happened that first time we met the Jayhawkers. Their leader was threatening Mr. Jasper and Mr. Jasper responded by pointing his shotgun at the man and ordering him to get out of our way. I saw one of the other men in the gang of Jayhawkers start to pull a gun and I shot him without thinking. This triggered a full scale slaughter of the Jayhawkers and it was my fault!

"Now, what bothers me is that I'm not upset by killing the man. I know the 'Thou shalt not kill!' commandment as well as the next man, but it doesn't seem to me to apply here. What I wonder is if there is something wrong with me for feeling that way. Am I too unfeeling to care or has God abandoned me or what?"

"Oh, you poor man! You make my troubles fade to nothing! Have you talked to your folks about this?"

"No, they are big on God's Will and think that everything that happens is His action. They wouldn't understand why I don't just let the killing slide off me, since it was God's doing and not mine. But I can't believe that! I think that a proper man has to take responsibility for his actions. I think that too many people take the credit when good things happen, but blame God when bad things happen, even if it's because they messed up.

"I just wonder why I can't feel bad about killing another human being, even when it was the right thing to do."

"Sure you killed a man, and that's supposed to be a sin, but what about killing the Indians and White men who have attacked us since then? What's the difference? The first time was just a little more personal and direct, but, both times, you were protecting others from certain death. That has to count for something! I think that you are perfectly right not to be upset at killing somebody before he could kill people you were sworn to protect. It wasn't just part of your job to kill those people, it was part of being a responsible human being who was thinking of others. I am proud of you for what you did!"

"Thank you, Miss Martha! You have made me feel a whole lot better. I've got to leave, now. It's almost time for me to go back on duty. May I see you again? I have really enjoyed talking to you!"

"Oh, yes, Eddy. I would love to see you again. I'll walk this way tomorrow night, if I can. Maybe you will be here and we can talk some more. I hope so!"

38 days from Independence

Now that the Army had left to fight in the big war, Fort Laramie was just a shadow of its former self. The Indians had gotten a lot more hostile and the Whites had left in droves for safer places to stay. The problem was, there weren't many safe places without the Army. There were still plenty of Indians around Fort Laramie, and they were pretty much as peaceful as ever. Nevertheless, the few Whites left walked around in constant fear. Fort Laramie was not a happy place!

By being the first of the season to reach Fort Laramie, Jasper's wagon train had the pick of the goods still available at the few stores that were open. However, the prices were so high that few people bought anything they didn't have to. Most people limited their purchases to shotgun shells and coffee. They were all glad when the train left; Fort Laramie had become such a dismal place!

The ground had become more hilly than they had seen in Nebraska, and Seth Lawson, the scout for the train, was more concerned about the increased chance for ambush. There were just too many places for a bunch of Indians to hide until they were ready to attack the train. He did encounter a few Indians who were helpful and friendly after he offered tobacco, and they did warn him of places he should be wary.

On a couple of occasions, Seth was chased halfheartedly, but the hostile Indians mostly avoided him. Actually, this worried Seth, since he really needed to know where they were. Finally, he found what he was looking for!

He ran into a bunch of eight Utes who were looking for trouble. Fortunately, they had no firearms, but their arrows and lances could produce wounds just as fatal; the Indians just had to be closer to use them. Seth saw them soon enough that he didn't ride into an ambush, but he had to endure a chase that didn't look like it was going to end short of his very painful death!

Seth found a small creek with a few trees that he could use as a fort. The creek was no barrier to horses but the trees did keep the Indians from making a full cavalry charge right at him. Seth was able to drop two horses with their riders before the Indians got close enough to use their arrows. From the Indians point of view, Seth didn't play fair: he was never reluctant to kill a horse, especially if it meant that a warrior was put out of action. The Utes were down to three uninjured braves before they decided that the game was not worth the candle. Seth did stop shooting long enough for the Utes to pick up the wounded braves and ride away. Indian medicine being what it was, Seth figured the wounded men to die within a few days.