Enter a name, company, place or keywords to search across this item. Then click "Search" (or hit Enter).
Go to the Archive Home
Go to Thumbnail View of this Item
Go to Single Page View of this Item
Download the Page Image
Copy the Page Text to the Clipboard
Don't highlight the search terms on the Image
Show the Page Image
Show the Image Page Text
Reset View and Center Image
Zoom Out
Zoom In
Rotate Left
Rotate Right
Toggle Full Page View
Flip Image Horizontally
More Information About this Image
Get a Citation for Page or Image - Copy to the Clipboard
Go to the Previous Page (or Left Arrow key)
Go to the Next Page (or Right Arrow key)
Page: of 436
MARCH 1845—FEBRUARY 1846
was a whole lot smarter than anyone else who had applied. A smart lad,
if he wasn’t lazy, might be worth more in the long run than a foolish one
with experience. ‘‘Come on back to the barn and I'll show you how to
hitch and drive a team. You can drive them ’round the farm for awhile
and see if you get the hang of it.”
“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!”
““Now, don’t you go thanking me yet—I haven’t said I’d take you—
just show me what you can do.”
ql
FOUR MONTHS LATER, in July 1845, Tallman watched with amusement as young Bill Swasey argued with another emigrant over a bull.
They were at Fort Hall, in Oregon Territory, and Swasey had found the
animal, a fine Durham, wandering loose beside a stream 150 miles back
on the trail from Fort Laramie. His opponent, a man named Stewart,
claimed the bull was his. Among the group of onlookers who had gathered at the entrance to the corral were friends of both men.
The others did not seem to be amused. Swasey stood before the gate,
legs apart, holding a rifle in front of his body. His companions, also
armed and ready, had ranged themselves on either side.
“T’ll shoot anyone who tries to lay a hand on the bull,” Swasey angrily
declared. “If that was your bull, you left it back there to die. I rescued it
and brought it here, so now it’s mine to do with as I please!”
“The devil you say!” swore Stewart, equally furious. He then advanced in a manner so menacing that Swasey’s friends aimed their weapons at Stewart’s chest and warned him back. This slowed his forward
progress, but not his tongue. “I bought and fed and raised that bull, and I
drove him all the way from the States.”
“So why did you abandon him in Indian country?”
“Because he wandered off. I wanted to look for him but the company
refused to wait. I meant to go back or send for that bull soon as we got
here. Since you saved me the trouble I’m willing to pay you something,
but the bull belongs to me!”
“Well, that’s a nice story, Stewart, but I don’t believe you. You see,
I’ve talked with people from your own outfit, and they heard you say you
hoped to God the wolves would eat him! I found him footsore on the
main trail, so my opinion is you couldn’t be bothered to wait while he
rested.”
“Don’t call me a liar!’ shouted Stewart. ‘““Where I come from, we
hang people for stealing livestock. I’ll be damned if I’ll let a cattle thief
call me a liar!”
25
i ati a Al tae
——— a