June 4th 1866
I was woken up today by the snorting of the cattle, who were already being herded into groups. The men were eager to move on, as we were almost at the end of the route. I just wanted to lie there, but the sun burning through my eyelids forced me to wearily begin the next day on the trail. There had been no rustlers in the night, but Jack said he swore he saw some near us so we’ve had two people on the lookout at all times.
Before long, we were off. I mounted my horse and we began to move. All my bones were still aching from the day before and our uncomfortable “beds”, but I willed them to carry on so we could reach town in about a week. As we rode, I stared across at the vast expanses of prairie, with not a single gust of wind to disturb it. The other cowboys were travelling on the other side of a rise to my left, and I knew I would not see them until dinner. The only things keeping me company were the cattle and my horse. The sun burned relentlessly down. I wanted to gulp down my whole water bottle, but I knew it had to last, so I took only small sips every so often.
Before long, I heard the sounds of a river up ahead. I knew what was coming, but it was still extremely hard work, as the cattle almost went into a frenzy. I feared a stampede, and was frantically looking around for trees to climb (as I have learned from painful experiences not to be in the middle of the herd in a stampede) but they passed through relatively calmly, with only a few snorts of dissent from them. I wanted to stop and fish, as the fresh food would have been much nicer than the greasy mess we get from the chuckwagon, but there was no time. I didn’t even get to fill my water bottle, which was half empty already.
As we drove further, the land curved down and steep rock banks loomed high on either side of us. The ground was parched, and I was worried there might be a landslide – as there were already many rocks on the ground, signalling that there had been one very recently – but we passed through uneventfully.
After what seemed like an eternity, the light began to fade and I heard the faint signal to gather for the evening. We all met up, and soon after the chuckwagon rumbled up. I realised how starving I was – I hadn’t eaten all day. I devoured some salted beef, beans, sourdough bread, biscuits, stewed fruit, and gratefully gulped some coffee.
In the evening, as we all sat around the wagons, I got out my harmonica. There was lots of talking, swapping stories about the day, and even some singing as the evening progressed. Everyone was excited about the town at the end of the trail and what they’d do there. Most of them said they would head straight to the taverns and spend all their money on drinks, but I’d just be glad to have a rest.
I’m about to curl up on the hard ground now and attempt to get as much sleep as I can before the trek begins again tomorrow. We are nearing the end of the trip, but for miles around the only people around are us. I can hear coyotes howling in the distance and the snorting and shuffling of cattle. I will definitely be glad when this whole trip is over and I am back working on ranches. I can’t even remember why I signed up for this lousy voyage – guess I need the money.
Leo T 