My Dear Wife
 

I now sit down to write you a few lines to inform you that I am well at the present time for which I feel thankful to God. I would have sent you a letter a long time ago, but I haven't been within 15 miles of a post office since leaving Weber [Utah]. We found our company camped in Echo Canyon [Utah] consisting of over one hundred wagons. John [presumably Isaac's older brother John] has fifty-five and I have forty-seven. The last I saw of John was on the little Sandy. He has gone down the railroad valley to look after the pilgrims. I think that we will have to stay here some three weeks.
 

I lost my horse at the head of Echo [Canyon]. I took another man[']s and went back fifteen miles to hunt the hell cat [apparently referring to his horse!], but could not find him but after crossing the yellow creek, I heard that the old scamp had gone about five miles over the hills. I sent back and got him, but had to leave him at Green River [Wyoming]. I got another horse from Cap Culley, the same man that lost the six men in Green River, the day before we got there. I suppose this will inform you that I did not go down the river. The indians are very hostile along the railroad. Here we have passed the new made graves of men who have been killed within the last two weeks. We are camped close by the river, John about a half mile below. We are about ten miles from the railroad. It will be up here in six or eight days.
 

I should be very glad to see you and the children. Tell James and William, George, and John to be good boys that I will come back all right and little chatty Fan, I should like to see her once more. Isaac will [referring to himself also being good?] and doing well. I think you will hardly know me when you see me again. I have turned the stern chief all at once. I scarcely ever smile and never laugh loud. I have got a damned wild crowd of fifty-five wild mountain boys to manage, but a good lot of boys. All the while I write, they are bumping a fellow against a wagon wheel for saying damit. I should like to hear from you very much, but there is not a post office within a hundred miles of this place and I think we will be gone before I could get your letter. Will send this down the railroad one hundred miles by Mister Foote. I will close my letter and will write to you again if I can. I remain your ever true and loving husband.
 

Isaac James Caldwell
 

P.S. Henry Florace is our cook.


2nd letter