From Missouri to Santa Fe they rolled, the large merchant caravans taking supplies and trade goods from the East to the Mexican towns and settlements of the Southwest.
They were escorted by companies of the United States First Regiment of Dragoons with their banners and flags flapping in the breeze. Through the dark, damp forests of the East they rumbled, over the lonely, desolate prairies of Arkansas and Kansas and Texas, topping the beautiful, treacherous mountain passes of Mexico, and finally, camping beside the adobe walls of the sleepy Mexican village by the river.
And, where the U.S. Army went, so did the supply wagons carrying the hay and grain for the animals, and the food, weapons, ammunition, extra uniforms, blankets and tents for the men. Also, traveling west were the cooks and bakers, the blacksmiths and the carpenters, the surgeons and ambulance wagons, and vast herds of horses, mules and cattle. They were hard, rough, gallant men, who braved the raging rivers, the harsh dry desert heat, the cantankerous mules and horses, the cold, lonely nights and fearful days of hostile Indians or murderous bandits, determined to prevent them from reaching their destination.
Angus Meldrick, age thirty-two, a freight driver working for the U.S. Army, left Jefferson Barracks in the spring of 1843 on his second trip to Santa Fe with an orphaned boy, Lucas, in his care, and together they met the challenge of becoming a family on the hardest journey of their lives.
