The Last Handful of Clover - Book 1: The Hereafter

1.27 The Backout

It had been a rough crossing, even for a wagon train as relatively prosperous as this one. No journey like this was ever without incidents and casualties, and they'd had their share. He shivered, thinking back to his cowhand Peter Huff, who had died just short of Fort Bridger. Nobody knew exactly what killed him, but the best wisdom was that it was some kind of spider bite. His leg had just swelled up, then turned black, and then he died. Gus sat with the man's widow that night, and helped bury her husband the next morning.

Death could come frighteningly fast on the trail.

The Fancher train had close to five hundred head of cattle, although nobody expected they would get through to California with that many. Sources of supplies had been scarce of late, and unless they got a chance to top off their larders, they'd be eating a lot of those cattle before they crossed over the southern desert and into California.

Gus finished polishing the last piece of hardware from his gun and turned the frying pork over again in the pan. It was getting nice and brown. He looked up at the stars. Evenings on the trail were always his favorite time. He loved watching the stars come out, and he remembered so many evenings with Arthur, the young Mormon courier he was so fond of. They'd camped together under stars like this more than once. How he wished that Arthur had come with him on this drive. Gus loved the quiet evenings by the fire, but sometimes, they could be a bit lonely.

No earthly reason I should feel lonely, he thought, gazing down the hillside. I got more companionship on the trail than I want.

Fifty yards away was the main cooking fire for Gus's half dozen cowhands. They were a bit of separate class from the immigrants, being mostly just roughnecks that would see them safely to California, and then scatter. Peter Huff had been the only one of his hands with a family as part of the train. The rest of them were all loners, and they'd be off to their next jobs or to just drift once they got to California. His crew wasn't specifically forbidden from spending time around the wagon encampment, but most of them had long discovered that they were better off just collecting their wages and keeping their own company.

They'd also learned that they were better off leaving their somewhat surly old foreman to his own cooking fire in the evenings. Unless they had something important they needed to talk to him about.

Gus clicked the last piece of his gun into place, and spun the cylinder. He liked nothing better than knowing his gun was clean and freshly oiled. He slid it into the holster at his belt, hoping he wouldn't need to use it. But this was a strange time, and a strange place. He had felt it even before they entered the Salt Lake Valley.

They had heard rumors on the trail of the U.S. Army marching west, not that many weeks behind them. Everyone expected that before the snows came, this placid community below would be a battleground. Uncle Sam wanted Utah to tow the line, give up polygamy, and swear fealty to the U.S. Government. Brigham Young believed that the Great Basin was their holy land, a birthright promised to his people in scripture, and that the government held no sway over his proud and independent people.

It was a powder keg. And unless either Brigham Young or the "Amerikats" blinked, there would be bloodshed in this valley.

If Gus had to place his bets, he'd put his money on the Mormons. He knew them well, from his years of traveling back and forth through this territory. A prouder and sturdier people God had never placed on his green Earth. He wasn't sure the Army knew what would be in store for them, should they march into this city.

Still, it was possible that this valley, with its wide streets and beautiful homes, would be nothing but a blackened ruin next spring. Gus hoped that wouldn't be the case. He saw such weariness in the faces of these settlers, especially their women, who cared little about politics, and just wanted a place to raise their children. They had already fled (perhaps because of their own arrogance or stubbornness) to this, the very edge of civilization. But Gus knew that if they needed to, they would fight again. Or flee farther in their search for homes and freedom.