FULKERSON FAMILY HISTORY
31st Day-
Mary Ann Boatman- We continued our journey until late that evening. We had come to a convenient place to camp where wood and water were obtainable and had supper ready. Just then as all . . . sat around on the ground or ox-yokes or anything obtainable to sit on, perhaps a bucket or kettle turned bottom up for a stool, talking and laughing at some nonsense of foolish expression someone or other had made; to our great surprise . . . about twenty Indians came walking into camp, all begging for something to eat. So, every camp gave them something to eat. Of course, we felt a little afraid of them. That night part of the men guarded the cattle and part guarded the camp, but all went well that night. In the morning as the sun was sending out its golden rays to gladden all living with light and warmth, who should come strolling into camp but twenty more Indians, all hungry. On being informed that we did not run an Indian hash shop, they then wanted a cow, but soon found to their surprise that cow-beef was not on the market, and soon strolled off in the brush. As hastily as possible all was made ready to move on, but to our great surprise on collecting the stock together one of the cows could not be found. As she was not used in the yoke, it was decided that all of the wagons and loose stock should move on and three men remain to search for the missing cow. On making a complete search they discovered two Indians in a ditch with the cow, one at her head and the other at her heels. They demanded the cow and soon came driving her up to the train. That was the last we saw of the Indians for some days.
Agnes Stewart- A long sultry day with a storm in the evening. Fred and his man [Fred was her sister's husband, Fred Warner] quarreled about striking some loose cattle. Fred struck him with his hand, and then knocked him down with his whip stock. A mean low dirty trick of his. I feel so mortified about it.
32nd Day-
Father Lempfrit- Our conductor [O'Neil] been stupid enough to trade the little buffalo calf for two pairs of buffalo-skin moccasins. Everyone was upset about this, especially his little son who was inconsolable. And the calf's adoptive mother wasn't too happy about it either. The poor cow, no longer seeing her little bearded foster-child, returned to the Sioux village. The poor beast went six miles—she was brought back, but she never ceased to low the whole day.
Agnes Stewart- Came up with Mr. Stevenson's company last night. We got acquainted with them coming up on the boat from St. Louis. I am ahead of the wagons this morning, and I saw what I never saw before. Away up in the rocks under a projection I saw a hundred little bird nests made of moss and mud. It looked so pretty to see so many little creatures living together so happy.
Mary Ann Boatman- We traveled up the Platte River on the north side, occasionally meeting large companies of Indians moving camp. It was quite a novelty to us to see their mode of traveling. They would take 2 long poles, fasten the large ends at the horse's shoulder in some way, then tie a rope at the other end and one or two more, and then lash the tent poles across the 2 long ones. In this way they could haul all their outfit. Some old squaw or children would ride the pony to guide it aright. Sometimes children that were too small to walk would be piled on top of the load behind the pony. They were very scantily dressed but had strings of beads hung around their necks and waists. Their moccasins and belts were beaded in fine style.
There were trading posts along the route where the Indians traded off their furs and got beads and blankets. Those traders were a set of cutthroats, more to be dreaded than the Indians. They would take advantage of the Indians, cheat, and steal their cattle and horses. Then the Indians would take their revenge out on the innocent emigrants who had no thought of doing them any harm at all.
33rd Day-
Father Lempfrit- The aridity of these places does not permit us even a blade of grass. Our cattle are beginning to grow thin.
Medoreum Crawford- Started early, good road. 3 men left the other Company for Fort Laromie [Laramie] took dinner with us. Capt. Fallen & Esq. Crocker went on to Fort L. [Fort Laramie] very warm. Camped early traviled 20 miles. Mosketoes pleanty.
Joel Palmer- We passed over Scott's Bluffs, where we found a good spring, and abundance of wood and grass. A melancholy tradition accounts for the name of this spot. A party who had been trading with the Indians were returning to the States and encountering a band of hostile savages, were robbed of their peltries and food. As they struggled homeward, one of the number, named Scott, fell sick and could not travel. The others remained with him, until the sufferer, despairing of ever beholding his home, prevailed on his companions to abandon him. They left him alone in the wilderness, several miles from this spot. Here human bones were afterwards found; and, supposing he had crawled here and died, the subsequent travelers have given his name to the neighboring bluff.
Agnes Stewart- I have neglected my book for four days. Traveled over sand, and rough roads without much comfort, but heat.
34th Day- Wyoming
Father Lempfrit- The feast of the Holy Trinity. The captain of the caravan [Stone], hoping to join up with the caravan that was ahead of us, made us leave early in the morning. Thus we were deprived of the joy of celebrating the Holy Mass. We are getting near Fort Laramie.
Joel Palmer- Since the last journal entry we have traveled about sixty-two miles and are now at Fort Laramie; making our whole travel from Independence about six hundred and thirty miles.
Mary Ann Boatman- Now all that were sick had regained their health and the dissatisfied ones had become cheerful. Our company now seemed so small as we traveled alone as much as possible, more for convenience than selfishness, as we had been delayed so much on our journey and too, we were a little shy for fear we should come in contact with some contagious disease. all went well for a month or more.
35th Day-
Father Lempfrit- Since early morning I hurried up to get on ahead of the others. I wanted to see Fort Laramie for myself.... An hour later Fort Laramie at last came into view. At first sight it looked like a pile of bricks. I was separated from it by the river, however a Spanish house-servant came to meet me and he showed me where I could cross. Then I was at the Fort. Fort Laramie had lost all its splendor! It is nothing but a pile of sun-baked bricks. Not a single room has a roof, all is open to the elements. Our wagons crossed over the river and then we carried on to camp near Fort Jean [Fort John/Fort Laramie] which belongs to the American Fur Company. I went and delivered the letters that had been given to me by Mr. Sarpy of St. Louis for the employees at the various forts they have. Mr. Picotte and Mr. Bordeaux to whom these letters had been addressed received us most cordially. They invited us to take our meals with them during the two days we have to stay here.
Joel Palmer- Our camp is stationary today; part of the emigrants are shoeing their horses and oxen; others are trading at the fort and with the Indians. Flour, sugar, coffee, tea, tobacco, powder and lead, sell readily, at high prices. In the afternoon we gave the Indians a feast and held a long talk with them. Each family, as they could best spare it, contributed a portion of bread, meat, coffee or sugar, which being cooked, a table was set by spreading buffalo skins upon the ground, and arranging the provisions upon them. Around this attractive board, the Indian chiefs and their principal men seated themselves, occupying one fourth of the circle; the remainder of the male Indians made out the semi-circle; the rest of the circle was completed by the whites. The squaws and younger Indians formed an outer semi-circular row immediately behind their dusky lords and fathers. Two stout young warriors were now designated as waiters, and all the preparations being completed, the Indian chiefs and principal men shook hands, and at a signal the white chief performed the same ceremony, commencing with the principal chief, and saluting him and those of his followers who composed the first division of the circle; the others being considered inferiors, were not thus noticed.
The talk preceded the dinner. A trader acted as interpreter. The chief informed us, that "a long while ago some white chiefs passed up the Missouri, through his country, saying they were the red man's friends, and that as the red man found them, so would he find all the other pale faces. This country belongs to the red man, but his white brethren travels through, shooting the game and scaring it away. Thus the Indian loses all that he depends upon to support his wives and children. The children of the red man cry for food, but there is no food. But on the other hand, the Indian profits by the trade with the white man. He was glad to see us and meet us as friends. It was the custom when the pale faces passed through his country, to make presents to the Indians of powder, lead, &c. His tribe was very numerous, but the most of the people had gone to the mountains to hunt. Before the white man came, the game was tame, and easily caught, with the bow and arrow. Now the white man has frightened it, and the red man must go to the mountains. The red man needed long guns. This, with much more of the like, made up the talk of the chief, when a reply from our side was expected.
As it devolved on me to play the part of the white chief, I told my red brethren, that we were journeying to the great waters of the west. Our great father owned a large country there, and we were going to settle upon it. For this purpose we brought with us our wives and little ones. We were compelled to pass through the red man's country, but we traveled as friends, and not as enemies. As friends we feasted them, shook them by the hand, and smoked with them the pipe of peace. They must know that we came among them as friends, for we brought with us our wives and children. The red man does not take his squaws into battle: neither does the pale face. But friendly as we felt, we were ready for enemies; and if molested, we should punish the offenders. Some of us expected to return. Our fathers, our brothers and our children were coming behind us, and we hoped the red man would treat them kindly. We did not expect to meet so many of them; we were glad to see them, and to hear that they were the white man's friends. We met peacefully —so let us part. We had set them a feast and were glad to hold a talk with them; but we were not traders and had no powder or ball to give them. We were going to plough and to plant the ground and had nothing more than we needed for ourselves. We told them to eat what was before them and be satisfied; and that we had nothing more to say.
Mary Ann Boatman- We have now got as far on our journey as Fort Laramie. The fort was on the south side of the Platte River. We arrived there about 10:00 o'clock a.m. and the men folks wanted to visit the fort. The women, not caring to cross the river in a flat boat, remained behind. Besides, it cost 25 cents a head. We amused ourselves by calling on the Indian women that were living in wigwams along the bank of the river. Their husbands were white face men that said they were traders.
We had passed the lone tree. [This was a well-known landmark to all Oregon Trail travelers; it was, indeed, a large and solitary tree that rose up above the treeless prairie just outside of Fort Laramie.]
36th Day-
Father Lempfrit- While they were busy making repairs to our waggon we passed two most agreeable days with these gentlemen. This made us forget that our journey had had some unpleasant moments. In a country deficient in everything we were sumptuously treated. We celebrated the Holy Mass in one of the Fort's apartments and these gentlemen attended Mass with great devoutness. We set up our camp below the Fort. However, we had much to suffer from grasshoppers and dust.
Joel Palmer- This day, leaving Fort Laramie behind us, we advanced along the bank of the river, into the vast region that was still between us and our destination. After moving five miles, we found a good spot for a camp, and as our teams still required rest, we halted and encamped, and determined to repose.
Mary Ann Boatman- One morning to our great surprise on rising, we learned the old blacksmith was very sick. His son and his hired man had been caring for him. He had been feeling quite ill since midnight, but objected to any disturbance being made, saying his ailment was only a slight attack of cholera morbus and would soon be better. He would not consent for all to lay by, said we were so far behind and feed so poor for the stock and he could lie in the wagon and be as comfortable as if lying still. As he was the oldest man in the train since the Deacon had passed on, his demand was obeyed. All journeyed on with the old blacksmith in advance of the train. At noon, as it was custom for the head team to call a halt, when the train came up we were all much surprised to find the blacksmith dead. He had given his son instructions to bury him as quickly as possible and move on. Poor boy, I can see him in my mind's eye as his dear father was lowered in that rough grave, no mother, no sister, or brother or anyone he had ever known to say one word of consolation. He was buried as hundreds of others were, no winding sheet, no coffin to protect the body from earth and rock. In a short time the dear father was hid from the eyes of the weeping son. All is over and the body left to return to Mother Earth while the spirit has gone to an unseen world. We hitch up, drove a few miles, camped for the night. This happening cast a new gloom over our little band. We had hoped that sickness and death had forsaken us for a while.
Mr. Scott's family did not have any sickness or death in it. He made things so disagreeable for them that they had no time to think about getting sick. The dying father had instructed his son and hired man to push on and try to reach a settlement somewhere before winter set in. In a week or so the young men drove on ahead of us and we never saw or heard of them from that day to this, 53 years ago. Perhaps they, like myself, have grown old or perhaps gone to try the reality of an unseen world from whence no traveler ever returns. The old blacksmith was the last death to occur in our company until we reached The Dalles, Oregon.
Agnes Stewart- We sat under a tree and ate dinner the first time for several months, and how pleasant to sit under a shade once more. It seemed like our old home where we were raised. I am sitting now under a pine tree on the Black Hills. And is it possible that we are in the Black Hills so far from home,—the place I have so often read about and looked at on the map, but here we are. I wonder, —is it possible?
37th Day-
Joel Palmer- A drive of ten miles brought us to Big Spring, a creek which bursts out at the base of a hill and runs down a sandy hollow. The spring is one fourth of a mile below the road. We found the water too warm to be palatable. Five miles beyond the creek the road forks; we took the right hand trail, which is the best of the two, and traversed the Black Hills, as they are called. The season has been so dry that vegetation is literally parched up; of course the grazing is miserable. After proceeding eighteen miles we encamped on Bitter Cottonwood.
Agnes Stewart- Today we made our first ascent. Yesterday, we crossed Laramie's Fork, a very rapid stream. We swam the cattle across and paid two dollars apiece to get the wagons ferried across. If the Black Hills are no worse than the traveling we have had so far we will not be very much afraid of them. It is very warm today, but there is a cool breeze blowing through the pine trees most delightful. Two days ago it was so cold that it was snowing. It is so changeable here that it cannot be very healthy.
38th Day-
Father Lempfrit- Towards midday we were at the foot of a mountain, and there we found a vigorous mineral spring [Warm Springs] that had lukewarm water. The weather became so cold that we had to put on our overcoats to keep ourselves warm. We are now entering the territory of the Crow Indians. These Indians have the reputation of being dangerous and of being the greatest horse thieves in all the country.
Joel Palmer- Today we find the country very rough, though our road is not bad. In the morning some of our cattle were missing, and four of the company started back to hunt for them. At the end of fourteen miles we rested at Horse Shoe creek, a beautiful stream of clear water, lined with trees, and with wide bottoms on each side, covered with excellent grass. At this point our road was about three miles from the river.
Agnes Stewart- It blows so hard we cannot proceed on our journey. The rain blows up in a most dreadful way. I went today to the canyon of the Platte, and I never saw anything like it in all my life before. On our side there was a perpendicular rock 300 feet high for the length of three miles; on the west side almost straight up and down, banks of rocks, cedar trees, dead trees, frowning to all who pass below. I did not get all the way through, for mother started, and when she could not get farther we went back with her. Lizzie, Tom, Helen, and Fred went on through and Mary, David and I went back. I was a little disappointed, but it could not be helped. Today we had a quarrel. Tom, and as usual, Fred, came to blows. [Tom, then but 17, later became Agnes' husband.] Tom and Fred are always quarreling about something. I do wish they had not come with us, but it cannot be helped now. Tom is impudent, and Fred is overbearing and arrogant, and between the two we have a sorry time. But Fred will repent of this someday, dearer perhaps than he thinks, for knowing how many days we have lost already, not less than a half a dozen, I think. Yesterday was the Sabbath, and we did not travel more than five miles, and today it is so windy we cannot go on, so that is two days we have lost. I hope it will quit blowing soon.
39th Day-
Joel Palmer- As the men who left the company on the 29th, to look for our lost cattle, were not returned, we remained in camp yesterday. Game seemed abundant along the creek and our efforts to profit by it were rewarded with three elk and three deer. Today our cattle hunters still remain behind. We sent back a reinforcement, and hitching up our teams advanced about sixteen miles. Eight miles brought us to the Dalles of Platte, where the river bursts through a mountain spur. Perpendicular cliffs, rising abruptly from the water, five hundred or six hundred feet high, form the left bank of the river. These cliffs present various strata, some resembling flint, others like marble, lime, &c. The most interesting feature of these magnificent masses, is the variety of colors that are presented; yellow, red, black and white, and all the shades between, as they blend and are lost in each other. On the top nods a tuft of scrubby cedars. Upon the south side, a narrow slope between the bluff and river, affords a pass for a footman along the water's edge, while beyond the bluff rises abruptly. Frequently cedar and wild sage is to be seen. I walked up the river a distance of half a mile, when I reached a spot where the rocks had tumbled down, and found something of a slope, by which I could, with the assistance of a long pole, and another person sometimes pushing and then pulling, ascend; we succeeded in clambering up to the top — which proved to be a naked, rough black rock, with here and there a scrubby cedar and wild sage bush. It appeared to be a place of resort for mountain sheep and bears. We followed this ridge south to where it gradually descended to the road. The river in this kanyon is about one hundred and fifty yards wide, and looks deep." At the eastern end of this kanyon comes in a stream which, from appearance, conveys torrents of water at certain seasons of the year. Here, too, is a very good camp. By going up the right hand branch five or six miles, then turning to the right up one of the ridges, and crossing a small branch (which joins the river six or seven miles above the kanyon) and striking the road on the ridge three miles east of the Big Timber creek, a saving might be made of at least ten miles travel. We did not travel this route; but, from the appearance of the country, there would be no difficulty.
Editor's Note: For those of you who like to know where the wagon train is on the map, Joel Palmer's group is about five miles south of present-day Douglas, Wyoming. What he refers to as Big Timber Creek is known today as La Bronte Creek, which runs alongside Highway 94 leading into Douglas.
40th Day-
Father Lempfrit- The vegetation is quite marvelous, plenty of grass, wildflowers, century-old trees ... and cherries and red currents in abundance. When we got up we found two inches of ice in our pails that we had filled with water.
Joel Palmer- This day we traveled about sixteen miles. The road left the river bottom soon after we started. A trail, however, crosses the bottom for about two miles, and then winds back to the hill. The nearest road is up a small sandy ravine, for two miles, then turn to the right up a ridge, and follow this ridge for eight or ten miles. At the distance of thirteen or fourteen miles, the road which turned to the left near the Big Spring, connects with this. The road then turns down the hill to the right, into a dry branch, which it descends to Big Timber creek, where we encamped.
Agnes Stewart- Yesterday was a windy cold day, and I had to walk to keep myself warm, and going along with a blanket around me it was hard to tell me from an Indian. We passed three Indians today, and four yesterday. Passed Labouta [Labonta Creek] today. It is a beautiful stream, clear and cool. We had the worst roads yesterday. We had dreadful places to come down, ugly places to go up, and by the time I got out to walk up the hills and down the hills I had just as well be on my feet all the time. I am very tired and weary. Today it seems as if it would be very warm. Oh dear, I wish we were in Oregon, or even out of these Black Hills. I am tired of them; they are so dismal looking.