Narcissa Prentiss Whitman, part 9
Over the prairie they came roaring. Their weapons were held aloft in clutched fists above their shaggy heads. Their war whoops filled the alkali dust-choked air. The tails of their ponies were either tied up as if for war or trailed out level with the force of the mob as it surged forward; bent on overtaking and surrounding the caravan that wound its slow way across the sagebrush flats. Blood-curdling yelps rose above the prairie.
Then suddenly there was only silence.
This hell-bent mob reined their ponies back on sweaty haunches not ten yards from where the two white women rode. One of the women was as bright and golden as the prairie sun: the other as dark as a night devoid of stars.
Pearl-white teeth, as well as old tobacco stained chompers framed in scraggly whiskers, showed in profusion as these men, some buckskin-clad and others near necked Indian-fashion, pulled off what various head gear they possessed and grinned broadly at the amazing sight before them.
Amongst the motley mob, the white headscarf Old Joe Meek had bound to the barrel of his gun as a sign of peace now hung gritty-limp in the heat of that July summer of 1836.
No doubt there was a hearty round of welcomes for this unique site for sore eyes of white women at the mountain man rendezvous there beside the upper Green River at the mouth of Horse Creek. The missionaries had arrived at rendezvous.
Amongst those who may have done some of the greeting to Mrs. Narcissa Whitman and Mrs. Eliza Spalding was Old Joe Meek. Meek wasn't really old, just referred to as such as a title of honor for being a man any fellow would be glad to have watching his backside along the icy beaver streams of the Rocky Mountains.
The jovial mountain men weren't the only ones there to greet the missionary party. Here, the Whitmans and Spaldings were treated to the magnificent horsemanship of the Nez Perces.
Later that night in camp, the missionaries spread an oilcloth on the ground and invited some of their new native friends to dine with them. The menu included venison and buffalo roast somewhat well seasoned with salt, sand, and some dirt. But no matter, their guests, who included Chief Rotten Belly, surely paid no notice considering the wonder of this first site of white women.
Some years later Osborne Russell, one of the mountain men present at this rendezvous, recorded that the two women were "gazed upon with wonder and astonishment by the rude Savages."
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