Journal Entry: Grande Lake Tintype

January 1877

The winter is unpleasant. I am now facing the prospect of traveling much further than expected under worse conditions, into a largely dangerous conditions. I am facing the possibility that I may not survive the journey into the California Maze. A traveling Photographer is here in Grande Lake and I have had my photograph made. I do not know if I shall have the chance again, nor do I know if it is even possible, should I succeed with my plan for alleviation of this curse that has been laid upon me. I now wonder if perhaps it is god who punishes me for my wickedness.

Janette Broussard-Duchene

Dearest family,

I have made it across the pass, into Colorado. I am having difficulty remembering how I arrived in Grande Lake and Mingo seems no help. I was attempting to see to the health of a boy who we discovered hiding on the coach I purchased. Mr. Winter, a self proclaimed bank robber, suspected the child was in danger in the company of the local preacher. He was in fact, in the end, right. Mingo arrived in only just enough time to save me from a bullet the reverend fired into my stomach, my only repayment it appears for attempting to see to the boy. He seemed the only help I would have received as this is a lawless town full of what can only be described as rakes and ruffians. The child was found, quite dead in the apple house.

My spells of memory loss seem only to be increasing over the cold months and I believe it is a part of my condition. There is no doctor here and I am left only to my own devices and regular doses of tonic to see me through it. The cold and damp harms me some and my condition is declining. I know this letter will not arrive to you until spring when the pass is traversable but I take comfort in it’s writing. Mingo seems somewhat out of sorts but loyal as ever. His services have gotten me through this far and I know by spring he will see me to Salt Lake, however, I may continue on to San Francisco. I know it will be perilous but so is my ailment and I have heard word that there is a doctor who summers there with the knowledge to cure me.

Funds may see me through but I may wire for more in expectation that treatments may surpass my funds. I wish you all well and shall write you again before I leave Grande Lake on my way to Salt Lake.

In perpetuity,

-Janette

He left his card…

Dearest Family,

I have arrived in a town, the name of which I’ve yet to discover. Difficulties have descended upon me, leaving me without a train on which to complete my journey to Salt Lake City. Two nights past, it seems we were somehow lost to some manner of ambush or blockage. The train was derailed and we were left to be overwhelmed by what could only be described as mad-men. Pinkertons were aboard as was a suspicious Yankee who may have engineered the disaster, as he was taken into custody of a few Texas Rangers after a gun battle in the drinking car, a most unseemly affair with many deaths. The south prevailed though, all of those filthy Pinkertons were dealt with. Still, I now write to you from a rented room above a saloon that cost me thirty dollars for the week and even at that price it seemed I was almost not welcome. I have made the acquaintance of a Mr. Jackson, who claims to be the relative of our Mr. Stonewall Jackson. We also survived with the assistance of a most handy Texas Ranger, Cyrus Jones who has been very polite for the most part.

Mingo is doing well and have been invaluable. He has been willful at times, mainly out of fear and foolish superstition, but otherwise loyal and stalwart. I shall write again soon and hope this reaches you all soon.

In perpetuity,

~Janette