My westward journal #12
7-9-1820
Dear journal,
We’ve been traveling in hot wasteland for awhile now. But then we came to Sweetwater River. There is a slight breeze and it feels good. The river water was delicious. There is lush green grass for the animals. We set up a campfire for dinner. We had some cornbread with molasses. We also had some of the leftover jerky. It was all so good. I went to sleep feeling content. But later in the night, I woke up to hear screaming. I looked outside of the wagon and saw that Indians were attacking our camp. Father and the other men went to fight back. It sort of worked. Many men got killed, but not father thank God. I couldn’t stand it any more. I crawled back into the wagon and plugged my ears. I fell asleep to the serenade of screaming. In the morning, we buried the bodies that were strewn all over the ground. There were many grave markers.
Maggie, 9 years old
Dear journal,
We’ve been traveling in hot wasteland for awhile now. But then we came to Sweetwater River. There is a slight breeze and it feels good. The river water was delicious. There is lush green grass for the animals. We set up a campfire for dinner. We had some cornbread with molasses. We also had some of the leftover jerky. It was all so good. I went to sleep feeling content. But later in the night, I woke up to hear screaming. I looked outside of the wagon and saw that Indians were attacking our camp. Father and the other men went to fight back. It sort of worked. Many men got killed, but not father thank God. I couldn’t stand it any more. I crawled back into the wagon and plugged my ears. I fell asleep to the serenade of screaming. In the morning, we buried the bodies that were strewn all over the ground. There were many grave markers.
Maggie, 9 years old
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