The bluffs near here are quite high and abrupt. I climbed to the top this morning. I seemed to be away up yonder, when looking down at our corral the people looked like midgets. The bluffs are 150 feet high. I received a beautiful bouquet of wild flowers this evening, but do not know who sent it. The boy said, “A gentleman sent it.” But he either could not, or would not, tell what gentleman. Perhaps the one that sent it thought I would know instinctively, but I am certainly in the dark.
Two gentlemen took lunch at our table this afternoon; they are father and son. Hillhouse met them out on the road; they asked him, “Do you know where we can get something to eat? We have had nothing since a very early breakfast.”
He brought them to our wagons, and we soon had a lunch ready for them. Their name is Reade, the father’s hair and whiskers are as white as snow, otherwise he is not an aged-looking man. They asked questions, and when they found we had not fully decided upon our destination, they insisted that Montana is the place for us. They have been there and are going again with freight. They belong with the Irvine train. Each train goes by the name of its captain, ours is known as “The Hardinbrooke train.” Then there is the McMahan train, and the Dickerson train, that always camp within sight of us, for mutual protection. We have not met any of the people from the other trains. The Irvine train—which is very large—are some miles ahead of us. The Reades were hunting cattle, had been as far back as Cottonwood, but without success. The son had a long talk with the boys before leaving camp. After he had gone, Hillhouse came around and took a seat on the wagon-tongue, near where I was engaged in the interesting occupation of the week’s mending. I said, “Mr. Read thinks Montana the place for us.”
WE DECIDE TO GO TO MONTANA.
“Yes, so do the Walkers, and Mr. Hardinbrooke, and Mr. Morrison, and everyone else that are going to Montana.”
“Well, why not go there?”
“I do not like for you and mother to go there, for it will be rough living I expect, but I intend to go as soon as you are settled somewhere near Mr. Kerfoot’s folks.”
“Just listen to the boy. Mother come here for five minutes, do. What do you think this boy is saying? That he is going to Montana when we are settled in California, or some other place.”
“Well, if he is going to Montana, we are going, too. How many women are on their way there in these trains? I reckon it will not be any worse for us than it will be for them.”
“All right, if you are both willing to go to Montana, we will change our plans accordingly. It is not as far as California.”