the sun was just beginning to set over the Montana
mountains that September day in 1849. Its rays
were still warm, yet Janette Riker shivered and drew
her homespun shawl tighter around her shoulders~
Eagerly, fearfully, she looked from one snowcapped peak to
another. Except for the green grasses bending gently in the
breeze, there was no movement,
"Oh, where are you?" she whispered anxiously. "Papa, why
don t you and the boys come back? What s happened to you?"
lanette and her father and two brothers had stopped their
Conestoga wagon in this lovely mountain valley to rest the
oxen and hunt fresh game. They knew they couldn t stay long--
the season was late, and they were in a hurry to reach Qregon.
So yesterday, while lanette washed their clothes in the small
gurgling stream, her father and the boys went hunting. They
promised to bring home meat in time for dinner.
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