Excerpt
In the morning, Virgil set out for Golden City, the town closest to the diggings. It didn’t take him long before he came to the ferry dock. He figured he’d rather swim the Platte than pay $2.50 for a short ride across. The current was swifter than he’d estimated. When he reached the other side of the river, he was a good distance from the trail. It took him some time to cut through bushes and bramble before he regained his route.

He’d hoped to make it to Golden City that day, but evening found him bedding down in the open. He’d approached a group in three wagons, but they hadn’t been too friendly, so he removed himself a small distance and lay down. His bedroll was still wet from his time in the Platte, though his clothes had dried in the summer sun. It was a warm night, but not so warm that he slept comfortably. He heard some animals prowling nearby and decided that he’d be just as well off walking under the moonlight as wondering what they were up to and if they intended any harm. He hoisted up his pack, readied his rifle, and started walking.