Seventy-five miles from that final destination, his wife Caroline died. Before she died, she made him promise to bury her in the valley, and to bring the body of their daughter into the valley to be buried as well. This man, my Great-Great Grandfather, carried his deceased wife the final seventy-five miles. He traveled night and day to fulfill her final wish. She was the first white woman to be buried here. Not a distinction any of us would want, I think.
After he buried Caroline, he traveled back to his wagon company, rested a day and continued back to where he had buried his six year old daughter, Margaret. However, when he arrived he found the wolves had just finished their ugly task.