Dangers of the Trail in 1865: A Narrative of Actual EventsYoung, Charles E. (Charles Edward)
History
Dangers of the Trail in 1865: A Narrative of Actual Events
Young, Charles E. (Charles Edward)
Colorado -- Description and travel; West (U.S.) -- Description and travel
At that juncture the front flaps of my wagon were parted and at a
flash I recognized two of the men, who bore me across the way to the
"Old Log Cabin" on the extreme edge of the then Western civilization.
As they laid me down I swooned from sheer exhaustion and fright.
Before I had become fully conscious I heard that gruff old wagon boss
telling the good woman of the cabin to spare nothing for my comfort.
She felt of my pulse, asked me a few questions and assured him that
she would soon have me on my feet. He bade "God bless me," and passed
out into the dark and stormy night. The good woman poked up the fire
and placed an old-fashioned, iron tea-kettle in position to do its
duty. At that juncture a young miss about my own age came from
somewhere, as if by magic, and was told by the good mother to prepare
a chicken, that she might make broth for the sick young man, pointing
to where I lay. For two hours that good mother worked over me, now and
then giving me draughts of hot herb tea, while the daughter deftly
prepared nature's wild bird of the prairie, occasionally shooting
darts of sympathy from her jet black eyes. When the bird had been
cooked, the meat and bones were removed leaving only the broth which
was seasoned to a nicety and given me in small quantities and at short
intervals until early morning, when I passed into dreamland with the
mother keeping vigil as though I were her own son. When I awoke I felt
refreshed and comfortable, and found her still at my side, doing for
me that which only a mother can.
At daybreak I heard footsteps above; presently the father and son came
in. The daughter was called and breakfast was prepared. They told me
that our cattle had stampeded and it might be days before they were
found. After a three days search my chum and the cattle were overtaken
miles from camp, but none the worse for their fearful experience. The
moment he arrived he came to see me. I was sitting up for the first
time, wrapped in Indian blankets, but very weak. I assured him that I
would certainly get well, emphasizing the fact, however, that had we
not run into that fearful storm, making my present haven of care
possible, I could never have recovered, and believed that the prayers
of a loving mother at home had been answered.
A CATTLE STAMPEDE
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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