Now upon desperate mid-winter journey across continent from coast to coast was hurrying Dr. Whitman, with his brave companions, to appeal for more Americans in Oregon where the British also claimed the country. The little party had cut south, from Fort Uintah of present northeastern Utah, down through the mountains of present central Colorado, aiming for Santa Fé and for Taos, to evade the plains Indians and the deep snows. But the latter they had not evaded, and they nearly had perished miserably. Once they had swum, horses and all, an ice-encrusted river. And they had been obliged to kill their faithful dog and eat him.
Dr. Whitman and Mr. Lovejoy had left the mission headquarters on the Columbia October 3; now it was the middle of December; after a couple of weeks’ stay at Taos, to gain strength, they pushed on, for Bent’s Fort and the Santa Fé trail to Missouri.
The next event at Taos was the marriage of Kit Carson, on February of this new year 1843, to the Señorita Josefa Jaramillo, only sixteen, much younger than he. An exceedingly handsome girl was the Señorita Josefa, with clear creamy skin and great black eyes and dazzling teeth. The occasion was celebrated by a series of feasts and dances which lasted through several days and nights. At the close everybody was worn out, so popular were Kit and his girlish bride.
In March Sol Silver took a party of trappers upon the regulation beaver hunt. The other Carson men remained in Taos, waiting.
“Wall, boy,” remarked Kit, to Oliver, when the members of the Silver party were being told off, “which would you rather do—go up among the Blackfeet, with Sol, or out among the Chinooks, with Frémont?”
“Frémont, and you,” promptly answered Oliver; and Kit Carson laughed.
“You’re liable to find it the hard trail o’ the two,” he commented, dryly.
The spring waxed and waned, and came no word from Lieutenant Frémont, save the word that his report had been made to Congress, had spoken well of the Indian Country and of the trail through it, and that there was much talk of a big emigration, over the trail, this year, for Oregon.
Finally, about the middle of June, arrived a message from Kansas Landing, on the Missouri frontier, that the second exploring expedition of Lieutenant John Charles Frémont had started, and that the rendezvous was to be Fort St. Vrain. “White Head,” or Thomas Fitzpatrick the famous mountain-man, was the guide, and Lucien Maxwell was accompanying as far as St. Vrain, on his way to Taos.
It did not take long for the Carson party to mount and ride for Bent’s, thence to proceed on northward for St. Vrain, 200 miles. But at Bent’s was it learned that Lucien Maxwell had hastened south, from St. Vrain, to obtain mules in Taos, for the lieutenant; and that the lieutenant and a party were following, along the foothills, to meet the mules.