![]() They were gathered around one of the cabins-trading, maybe. Watching them walk back and forth made me feel safe, until I looked across the yard and saw the Indians. Sun reflected off their coat buttons and the metal of their rifles. Log buildings lined the base of the walls and high up on top, soldiers. His beard was so long that he had tucked its tip into the belt at his waist. Next to the corral was the open shed of the blacksmith, who was turning iron spikes in the fire. It looked like he'd be moving on soon, even though he was leaning on a crutch. Hardy, one of our drivers, watering the mules. Most emigrants rested just a day or two before continuing on the trail west to Oregon. Yokes, cracked from dryness, were stacked near a carpenter's bench. Children sat in the shade, oiling harnesses. It was noisy, with travelers shouting to one another as they carried crates or rolled huge wagon wheels through the gravel. The sunlight almost blinded me when I stepped outside to the courtyard. It was nearly a week before I could walk on my own. A cool hand touched my forehead as someone lifted me from the wagon bed and carried me to a pallet inside the fortress. ![]() She was close to my face, looking by candlelight at my bandage. "She's just a child, poor thing," a woman's voice said. A cluster of tipis around the outer walls only increased my terror. ![]() July heat smothered the darkening desert. Our wagon train, what was left of it, pulled into Fort Hall just after sundown. To fort hall.dune some trading hear for our fall's traping and hunting" ![]()
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