Abandoning South Pass City
Newlyweds Morgan and Abigail abandon the Gold Mines of the Wind River Mountains
The “Tales From Wyoming” are a collection of interconnected short stories of the Pioneer and the Old West. Each story combines some fiction with some legend with a liberal dose of real history. Check out the entire collection here:
In the 1880s, the Gold Rush in Wyoming’s Wind River Mountains was waning and businesses in South Pass City were failing. Having lost his job with the Gold Mine, Morgan hastily marries Abigail. Together, they abandon South Pass City. This story continues the saga of Morgan and Abigail where Wedding in South Pass City left off.
In the morning, after their luxurious warm baths, the newlyweds went to breakfast in the Atlantic City hotel’s dining room.
“I’ll have the scrambled eggs and hotcakes,” Abigail ordered.
“Biscuits, with gravy and extra sausage on the side,” Morgan said. Abigail eyed him. After the waitress left, he added, “I need a rib-sticking meal to get through this day.”
Abigail nodded. They had loaded their trunks, containing most everything they owned, on a freight wagon the previous day. Morgan would leave after breakfast and take the horses to Rock Springs. His would be a two day trip. She would depart on the stagecoach around noon. She would pick up her son, Ben, in South Pass City. The coach ran through the night. It changed horses several times and they would arrive in Rock Springs in the morning. She and Ben would wait in the local hotel, and Morgan would arrive before dark. The next morning, they would collect their trunks from the freight office and board the train bound for Cheyenne.
“Good morning, Mrs. Sandburg.”
Abigail looked up to see Henry Daniels standing beside the table. Morgan had been an apprentice surveyor for the Hydraulic Gold Mine and Henry had been his mentor before Morgan had been spontaneously quit.
Henry removed his hat and made a flourish of bowing to her.
“I trust, Morgan, that you had a good night’s sleep. I hear they have the best feather beds here.” Henry winked at Morgan.
Abigail had never seen Morgan, or any man, blush before.
“Mrs. Sandburg,” Henry continued, “would it be an imposition if I joined you?”
“No, sir, please sit down,” Abigail answered.
He ordered breakfast, and then turned to Morgan. “Are we set to go?”
“Yes, everything should be ready,” Morgan answered.
“What is this?” Abigail asked. Once again, she felt irritated at being left out of Morgan’s secret plans.
“I’m sorry,” Morgan said. “With all that was going on, and it happened so quickly, I failed to mention Henry will be joining me on the trip to Rock Springs. He will ride Bullseye. If that’s all right with you?”
Abigail considered this. She had been concerned about Morgan riding the distance alone, and he had mentioned he had found an easy way to get her horse, Bullseye, to Rock Springs. Shortly after the conversation, their attention had been diverted by additional lovemaking, and she had not inquired as to his meaning.
Mr. Daniels added, “That’s right, Mrs. Sandburg, if you don’t mind. I was planning on taking the stage, but Morgan suggested I join him.”
“Oh, no, Mr. Daniels, it’s quite alright. Morgan had started to tell me about the plan, but… uh, but he became distracted.” She winked at him, and she watched Henry blush.
With their breakfast completed, Abigail walked with the men to the livery. Morgan’s horse, Butch, and Bullseye were saddled and tied to the rail. She watched each man strap their saddle bags behind the saddles. And then, she kissed her husband goodbye. Unconcerned with the possible prying eyes, she gave him a deep kiss.
The two men rode away while she watched.
In the afternoon, she watched the road while she and Ben rode the stagecoach. The stage was crowded, but the women and children were provided interior accommodations. Young men had to ride atop the coach. She knew Morgan would take the short cut to Rock Springs while the stage coach took the more heavily traveled road and stopped in Farson. Thus, she was not surprised when she did not see the men along the way.
Arriving in Rock Springs, she took Ben to the Union Hotel on Main Street. The hotel was adjacent to the train station. In the hotel, she purchased second class tickets for two (Ben could ride on her lap) and two stalls in the horse car. This cost $40. She also rented two rooms in the hotel. The second room, per his request, was for Mr. Daniels. These were one dollar for each person; there was no charge for Ben. And then, she and Ben then waited.
It had been wise for her and Ben to arrive early. The hotel was full by the time the two dusty horsemen arrived. Abigail had tried not to worry, but she had been quite fretful for the last hour. Thieves were common along the desolate road.
“Did you have any trouble?” she asked, as Morgan dismounted.
“Not a bit. Just a lot of dust. And you?” He started to kiss her, but she put up a hand.
“You need to wash up before I’ll touch you.” She giggled like a schoolgirl. When she composed herself, she added, “No, we didn’t have any trouble. I got the hotel rooms and train tickets, just like you asked.”
The men washed in the hotel and then joined Abigail and Ben in a restaurant on Front Street, across the tracks.
While they were waiting for their food, Abigail turned to Henry, and asked, “Mr. Daniels, where are you going? I could have purchased your ticket as well.”
“Thank you for the offer, but I already have my ticket. I sent a telegram before the wire went down. I’m on the way to Sacramento, and then perhaps San Francisco.”
“Ah,” Abigail mused, “that sure sounds like a good time. Are you seeking new investors for Mr. Granier?”
Henry looked surprised for a moment, and then replied. “No, like your husband, I’ve quit Granier & Associates Mining Company. I’m seeking new projects.”
Abigail glanced at the worried look on Morgan’s face, and she realized she had stumbled upon a subject he didn’t want discussed. She changed the subject by saying, “Of course you know we are going to Cheyenne. Morgan is going to work with his father’s company.”
“Indeed, I do know. Jeremiah Sandburg is a good friend of mine and he has raised a fine son.” Henry glanced toward Morgan. “You know, Mrs. Sandburg, Jeremiah and I attended the Yale Scientific College together.”
“No, I didn’t know. Morgan has told me little about his family. I’ve begun to imagine they must be rather shadowy persons.” She smirked; however, she had known Morgan’s mother when she and her first husband, Ezra, had lived in Cheyenne several years earlier.
“Ah, yes, but nothing could be farther from the truth. Morgan’s family is quite upstanding. They are pillars of the community.” Henry sipped from his whiskey glass. “Anyway, as you evidently don’t know, Jeremiah came to Wyoming long before it was called Wyoming. He did his apprenticeship working on the first transcontinental telegraph line back in, oh it must have been about 1861. This was long before Morgan was born; even before Jeremiah married Theresa.”
“I had no idea,” Abigail said, adding a surprised tone to her voice. “Please, sir, tell me more about my husband.”
“Mm, as I recall, Jeremiah was a small lad when his family emigrated from England; he was not much older than your fine boy, Ben. They lived in the state of Vermont. As I said, Jeremiah and I attended Yale in Connecticut. And then, Jeremiah struck out west as though he was Meriwether Lewis.” Henry drew a pipe from his inside coat pocket, lit it, and took several puffs before continuing. “I remember it like it was yesterday. We graduated in 1859 and I went to work in New York City while Jeremiah worked for the Illinois & Mississippi Telegraph Company. He was working on the line from St. Louis to Omaha when he became smitten with Theresa Samuels. Her father was a farmer east of St. Louis and refused to allow Jeremiah to court his daughter on account of the fact he owned no land. Jeremiah’s profession was of no interest to the man of the earth.”
“But,” Abigail injected into the story, “Mr. Sandburg won out?”
“Indeed, but it took him several years. Mr. Samuels tried in vain to marry his daughter to local young men, but she would have none of them. Seems she was smitten with Jeremiah as well.” Henry sucked on the stem of his pipe and blew out smoke into the air above them. “Like I said, Jeremiah completed his apprenticeship working in what was called Nebraska Territory. With his pockets full of money, as proof that a surveyor could provide for a wife, Jeremiah returned to court Theresa. In the end, her father awarded Jeremiah her hand. I was the best man at the wedding. You see, I had gotten tired of the East Coast and sought my fortune in the West.” He puffed again. “In those days, there was lots of money to be made as the land was so desolate and rife with dangers.” He laughed, and continued. “My, my, but Jeremiah was full of stories about being chased by Indians. Once he was captured and had to win his freedom in mortal combat, rather like Kit Carson.” Henry paused, seeing the frightened look in Abigail’s eyes. “Of course, he didn’t tell Theresa or her father these stories, so you should probably not mention that I told you when you meet them.”
Abigail nodded before saying, “Morgan did tell me he was born in Fort Laramie. When did Mr. Sandburg bring his wife west?”
Their dinners had arrived and Mr. Daniels paused to slice off a piece of steak and chew it before answering. “It was during the War Between the States. Jeremiah had worked on some projects in St. Louis when they were first married, but the big money was still out west. President Lincoln had begun a plan to put a railroad across the continent, but the war put a stop to the construction before it could even begin. However, there was plenty of work for surveyors. We had to plot the route of the railroad long before it was built. In the beginning, we were following the old Oregon Trail along the north side of the Platte River. I had the section west of Omaha, but Jeremiah took charge of the route deep into Indian Territory. Well, mind you, it was called Nebraska Territory at the time, but it was primarily ruled by the Indians. The Army maintained a safe corridor along the river for the emigrants, but anyone wandering too far afield was subject to the whim of whatever Indians happened to find them.”
“This is why you followed The Trail?”
“For the most part. The Trail was well marked and the land west of Omaha was flat and easily traversed by a railroad for several hundred miles. But, to answer your first question, Theresa was heavy with the unborn Morgan when they moved to Fort Laramie in 1864. Mind you, this was a modern town even back then. It was a fine place to raise a family.”
“But, sir, the railroad doesn’t pass through Fort Laramie. It is much further south, on the south side of the Laramie Mountain Range.”
“This is true, madam. Finding a route from Omaha to Fort Laramie was easy, but Jeremiah could not find a path westward from there. The hills were much too steep and the terrain too rocky. You see, after decades of use, patterns of switchbacks had been carved into the hills which allowed oxen to pull wagons up, down, and around the steep hills, but trains don’t work that way. Trains require smooth slopes with long, gentle turns. Trains cannot swivel to follow switchback as do the wagons. Jeremiah was unable to find a route for the railroad.”
Morgan finally joined the conversation. “Sir, that is not completely true. My father did find a route, but it was a hundred miles north of Fort Laramie. While this pathway would have worked and would have traversed the South Pass, it was not selected because it was too long.”
“Yes, Morgan, this is what I remember.”
THE END of this story, but read A Surveyor for Jeremiah Sandburg’s story of the Transcontinental Railroad.
Copyright ©2023 by S. M. Revolinski All Rights Reserved
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