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Show LEE NELSON'S He asked about Sarah's health, then surprised me by saying, "I'm not worried about Caroline catching anything, not after Pacific Springs." "Pacific Springs?" I inquired, curious as to what he was referring to. "Didn't you tell him?" asked the me. Those old romantic feelings began to return. I began to feel like things were going to work out just fine. During the evening conversation, conversa-tion, Sarah occasionally mentioned men-tioned Pat and his untimely death. There was no bitterness in her voice, but one could tell she missed good food, grain or meat. My thoughts kept returning to Beaver George's statement about the white buffalo. "When the snow flies, and the brown buffler head south, look to the tops of the mountains for the white buffler." The buffalo, deer and elk had left "For the first time in weeks, the women slept through an entire night without shivering..." bishop, looking at Caroline. "No," she answered, then looking look-ing at me, said, "I was baptized." Before I could respond the bishop blurted out, "And I did the baptizing. Had to chop through two inches of ice and the wind was blow'n 20 knots out of the North . A testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel. Neither of us got even the sniffles." "Now I can call you Sister Logan," I interjected, finding the bishop's good humor contagious. "I prefer Caroline," she responded, re-sponded, trying to be serious, but it was obv ous she was enjoying the attention and good humor of our lively banter. Conditions had been so serious, so long, that everyone was thoroughly enjoying a chance to laugh a little. After Bishop Hill departed I told Caroline that she no longer needed to worry about Dick Boggs publishing pub-lishing her manuscript. I explained how I had taken it from Boggs and brought it west with me, how this very moment it was resting safely in a trunk in Pat's wagon back on the Sweetwater. Caroline leaned over and kissed me on the cheek as she thanked him deeply. Her heart still ached. Nevertheless, she seemed to maintain main-tain absolute control of her words and emotions. It would have been easy for her to let go of herself in grieving over her lost husband and become a burden for those around her. She had wisely denied herself that luxury. I respected her strength. I liked her. The two women slept at the back of the cave, little Pat between them. I huddled by the fire, rekindling rekind-ling it whenever the cave became a little chilly. The women were tired, and sleep was welcome. For the first time in weeks, they slept through an entire night without shivering with cold before morning. Whereas the tent had offered little protection from the icy wind, the thick walls of the snow cave held in the warmth of the sleeping occupants. I didn't sleep much, mostly worrying wor-rying about the food situation. The most hardy could survive a few weeks on mussels and moss cakes, but not the children, the sick, the old, the pregnant. They needed this high, cold country, but what about George's "White buffler?" Surely he must have known what he was talking about. I had seen white mountain goats on the high peaks in the summer months, but I . had never seen any in winter. If they migrated to lower elevations like other animals, one would see them. Apparently they stayed in the mountains, even in winter. I didn't know for sure if there were any goats in the nearby mountains, moun-tains, but I intended to find out the next day. The white animals would be hard to spot against a background of snow, but if there were any around, I was sure I would find and shoot them. The next morning our cave was inspected by many members of the company. Some began to fashion their own snow caves. Little Pat was crawling about, his health better bet-ter than ever. It was mid-morning when I put on my snowshoes, picked up my rifle, and headed for the mountains in search of white buffler. The next morning I waded into the icy waters of the Big Sandy and gathered mussels, as I had seen the Utes do during hard times. I worked work-ed quickly until my hands and feet were numb beyond feeling. Some of the men joined me. While the mussels alone wouldn't prevent starvation, the mussel chowder would be a welcome supplement to our meager diet. While showing some of the women how to prepare the mussels, mus-sels, I pointed to the lodgepole pine forest on the nearby hillside and told them the black moss hanging on the north sides of the trees could be kneaded into a bitter bread for those who had the diarrhea and couldn't eat the mussels. I told them I had known Indians who had lived for months on the awful-tasting awful-tasting bread. Some of the women headed towards the woods to gather moss. I had given most of my jerky and corn to the four scouts who had left at first light, two east and two west. I figured it would be at least a week, and possibly two or three, before reinforcements arrived from either direction. In the meantime mean-time there were about 70 people to feed. I had built a comfortable snow cave for Caroline, Sarah and the baby the night before, using their canvas tent to cover the entrance and for a ground cover. As I was putting the finishing touches on the cave, the women and baby already inside, Ebenezer McConklin stopped stop-ped by to remind me of the camp's strict morr) code. He said he hoped I had thf 4 od sense not to share my sno :. . Mling with the two single V ' I felt like punching him in the nose. "You're too late," I responded with a wicked smile. "They're already inside." He turned and stalked towards Bishop Hill's tent. I quickly forgot the incident. The cave warmed up quickly, thanks to a small fire. Caroline, Sarah and I spent a pleasant evening even-ing discussing the recent past and our questionable future. Little Pat's croup seemed to be impro-I impro-I ving, so our spirits were high. During the afternoon the women had braved the icy waters of the Big Sandy and washed away the ashes and dirt. I was sure that had something to do with their good spirits. For supper we sipped on hot chowder, thickened with the last of my corn. During the evening Bishop Hill paid us a visit. He was surprised and obviously pleased at the warmth of the cave. Said he was going to build himself one the next day. I was sure the bishop had heard from McConklin, but he didn't express any concern over my sharing the snow cave with the . two women. His biggest concern was the improving health of young Pat, whom the bishop had blessed several days earlier. |