Let's take a look at what the Western trappers wrote about celebrating Independence Day.

From John Bradbury:
4th.- This day being the anniversary of the independence of the United States, Mr. Lisa invited
us to dine on board of his boat, which was accepted by Messrs. Brackenridge, Lewis, Nuttall, and
myself; and as Le Borgne and the Black Shoe, the two Minetaree chiefs, called at the Fort before
dinner, they were invited also. They ate with moderation, and behaved with much propriety,
seeming studiously to imitate the manners of white people. After dinner Mr. Lisa gave to each
of them a glass of whiskey, which they drank without any hesitation; but on having swallowed it,
they laid their hands on their stomachs, and exhibited such distortion of features, as to render it
impossible to forbear laughing. As Jussum was present, I asked him the meaning of some words
which they spoke to each other, who informed me that they called the whiskey fire water.

From W.A. Ferris:
Next day’s march brought us to Sweet‑Water River, which rises in the southeastern extremity of
the Wind Mountains, and flows eastward one hundred and fifty miles, falling into the Platte, a
few miles above the Red Hills. This river owes its name to the accidental drowning in it of a mule
loaded with sugar, some years since. We halted at evening under the lee of an immense rock half
imbedded in the earth, which is nearly a mile in circumference, and from one to two hundred feet
in height. It bears the name of Rock Independence, from the circumstance of a party having several
years ago passed a fourth of July, with appropriate festivities, under its ample shade.

From John C. Luttig:
Saturday the 4th of July., we had ourselves prepared to salute the Day, which gave Birth to the
Independence of the United States, but a Salute from Heaven prevented us, a thunder storm arose
at 2 in the Morning and the Bank of the River where we camped fell in upon us momentarily. Mr
Manuel was nearly drowned in his Bed

From Osborne Russell:
I thought of those who were perhaps at this moment Celebrating the anniversary of our Independence
in my Native Land or seated around tables loaded with the richest dainties that a rich
independent and enlightened country could afford or perhaps collected in the gay Saloon relating
the heroic deeds of our ancestors or joining in the nimble dance forgetful of cares and toils whilst
here presented a group of human beings crouched round a fire which the rain was fast diminishing
meditating on their deplorable condition not knowing at what moment we might be aroused
by the shrill war cry of the hostile Savages with which the country was infested whilst not an
article for defense excepting our butcher Knives remained in our possession

From Rufus Sage:
July 4th. Accompanied by two others, in an equally forlorn condition, the “glorious fourth” finds
me plodding along, over an open prairie, beneath the scorching rays of a summer’s sun, unarmed,
halt-naked, with a shouldered pack, and not having had a morsel to eat for the past two days.
It is now I think of the festal boards and scenes of good cheer so omni-present upon Freedom’s
birth-day in the land of my nativity! Mine is a mode of celebrating Independence, that I care not
ever again to observe.

From John Wyeth:
On the 4th of July, 1832, we arrived at Lewis’s fork, one of the largest rivers in these rocky mountains.
It took us all day to cross it. It is half a mile wide, deep, and rapid. The way we managed
was this: one man unloaded his horse, and swam across with him, leading two loaded ones, and
unloading the two, brought them back, for two more, and as Sublet’s company and our own made
over a hundred and fifty, we were all day in passing the river. In returning, my mule, by treading
on a round stone, stumbled and threw me off, and the current was so strong, that a bush which I
caught hold of only saved me from drowning. This being Independence-Day, we drank the health
of our friends in Massachusetts, in good clear water, as that was the only liquor we had to drink
in remembrance of our homes and dear connexions. If I may judge by my own feelings and by
the looks of my companions, there was more of melancholy than joy amongst us. We were almost
four thousand miles from Boston, and in saying Boston we mean at the same time our native spot
Cambridge, as they are separated by a wooden bridge only.

Group of Trappers and Indians, by Alfred Jacob Miller.

A salute from Heaven! That’s pretty clever. Some colorful writing here

You can tell that the 4th of July was a holiday held in higher esteem then than now. According to my dad ( born 1910) Independence day was the biggest celebration of the year with the possible exception of Christmas.