Pillar of Light

by Gerald N. Lund

  Nodding in acknowledgment of Jesse’s words, Polk came back around to face the two men. His hand came up and punctuated his speech as he talked. “As you know, our country is at war. We have seen American blood shed on American soil. The Mexican people have declared that they mean to stand in the way of our manifest destiny, which is to spread our country from the Atlantic to the Pacific. We cannot allow their actions to go unanswered. And while we are occupied with Mexico, I cannot be worrying about Britain or France stepping in to interfere or complicate matters.”

  “I understand that you are calling for fifty thousand volunteers to help win the war, Mr. President,” Jesse volunteered, emboldened by Polk’s firm declaration of impartiality toward the Mormons.

  “Yes, I am. They will be formed up in three armies. Plans are already under way. We are at war, Mr. Little. Dithering and delay do not win wars.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And that is where you and your people come in. As I’m sure Mr. Kendall has already mentioned to you, I want to know if five hundred or more of the Mormons now on their way to Upper California would volunteer to enter the United States Army in that war and serve under the command of a United States officer.”

  Jesse straightened and leaned forward, feeling a sudden thrill at what he had just heard. Kendall had mentioned this possibility to him several days ago. Now the president himself was asking Jesse about it directly. This was far more than he had hoped for when he first arrived in Washington. Far more. “Yes, sir, Mr. President, I have no doubt that they will do as they are asked. And if the United States will receive them into service, I shall depart immediately to overtake our people and make the arrangements for them to do so.”

  The president had been intense and forceful. His demeanor now softened and he smiled broadly. “Good. That is what I wanted to hear. I have confidence in your people as American citizens. If I did not, I would not make such proposals.” The president now stood. “I would like to discuss this subject further tomorrow with you and Mr. Kendall. I have matters I wish to go over with the secretary of the navy and others.”

  Jesse and Kendall now stood up as well. “We’re happy to come back tomorrow,” said Kendall.

  Jesse nodded his assent. “Thank you, Mr. President,” he said. “I am confident that President Young will respond positively to your request.”

  “I certainly hope so.” Polk shook Jesse’s hand briefly. Then, apparently as an afterthought, he said, “I understand that Colonel Thomas Kane is a mutual friend of ours.”

  Jesse smiled. “Yes. I met him only last month in Philadelphia, but he has become a very good friend and has offered me some sound advice.”

  “I don’t doubt it. I’ve been in touch with him lately as well. I think your people have found a fine advocate in Thomas. His father and I are good friends.” Polk then turned to the former postmaster general. “Amos, thank you for making the arrangements. You’ve been most helpful as always.”

  “It’s my pleasure, Mr. President. But actually Mr. Little here deserves a lot of the credit. He can be very persuasive.”

  Jesse felt his face flush a little at that, and the president laughed as they moved toward the door. “I’ve learned that for myself now,” Polk said. When they reached the door, he shook hands with Jesse one last time. “Again, Mr. Little, thank you for coming and for your response. I think we can take an action that will be mutually beneficial to the both of us.”

  “I think so too,” Jesse said fervently. “Thank you again, Mr. President.”

  Chapter Notes

  The Congress of the United States ratified President Polk’s declaration of war against Mexico on 13 May 1846. It was not until 27 May that word of that declaration reached the settlement at Garden Grove. It would be even longer than that before Brigham Young would know. (See CN, 1 June 1996, p. 12.)

  One of the reasons why James Reed had the unusual wagon, which Virginia Reed called the “pioneer palace car,” constructed for his family was to provide comfort for Sarah Keyes, mother of his wife, Margret. But, reportedly suffering from consumption, Mrs. Keyes found the rigors of six weeks on the trail to be too much for her and she died on 29 May, somewhere near present-day Marysville, Kansas. This was the first recorded death in the Donner-Reed party. The details of her burial site were recorded by some of those who were present. (See Edwin Bryant, What I Saw in California [1848; reprint, Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1985], pp. 63–64; diary of George McKinstry, in Dale Morgan, ed., Overland in 1846: Diaries and Letters of the California-Oregon Trail [1963; reprint, Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1993], pp. 208–9. See also Kristin Johnson, ed., “Unfortunate Emigrants”: Narratives of the Donner Party [Logan, Utah: Utah State University Press, 1996], pp. 18–19, 269 n. 11.)

  The affection that the novel depicts Peter having for his oxen was common among the drovers along the trail. Joseph F. Smith, son of Hyrum and Mary Fielding Smith, drove his mother’s teams across the trail in 1848. He later stated: “My team consisted of two pairs, or yokes, of oxen. My leaders’ names were Thom and Joe—we raised them from calves, and they were both white. My wheel team were named Broad and Berry. Broad was light brindle with a few white spots on his body, and he had long, broad, pointed horns, from which he got his name. Berry was red and bony and short horned. Thom was trim built, active, young, and more intelligent than many a man. Many times while traveling sandy or rough roads, long, thirsty drives, my oxen, lowing with the heat and fatigue, I would put my arms around Thom’s neck, and cry bitter tears! That was all I could do. Thom was my favorite and best and most willing and obedient servant and friend. He was choice!” (Cited in Joseph Fielding Smith, comp., Life of Joseph F. Smith, Sixth President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1969], pp. 155–56.)

  Levinah (sometimes spelled Lavinia or Lavina) Murphy was a member of the Church who, with her family, joined the Russell wagon train near the Big Blue River in present-day Kansas. This was about a week or so after the Donners and the Reeds had joined Russell’s group. The records concerning Levinah Murphy’s background are somewhat sparse and, in certain instances, apparently contradictory, but here is what can be generally said: Levinah was converted to the Church in 1836 while living in Tennessee, became a widow in 1839, and sometime after this moved to Nauvoo. After her two older daughters were married in late 1842, she and her unmarried children eventually moved back to Tennessee, where they were soon joined by Levinah’s daughter Harriet and Harriet’s husband, William Pike. It is thought that Levinah, now far from Nauvoo, may have heard about the Saints’ plans to head to Upper California and perhaps saw her family’s journey west as a way to join up with the Church. When the Donners and the Reeds split off from the large wagon train at the “parting of the ways” (near present-day Farson, Wyoming), the Murphy family chose to travel with the Donners and thus became part of the tragedy that later befell them. (See unpublished memoir of William G. Murphy, 1896, typescript; letter of Mary Murphy to her relatives, 25 May 1847, in Jack Steed, The Donner Party Rescue Site: Johnson’s Ranch on Bear River, 3d ed. [Santa Ana, Calif.: Graphic, 1993], pp. 15–16; Joseph A. King, Winter of Entrapment: A New Look at the Donner Party, rev. ed. [Lafayette, Calif.: K&K Publications, 1994], p. 229; Eugene E. Campbell, “The Mormons and the Donner Party,” BYU Studies 11 [Spring 1971]: 307–11.)

  After declaring war on Mexico on 13 May 1846, the government of the United States, spurred on by the determination of President James K. Polk, a committed expansionist, immediately began to raise and equip an army. The need for men coincided exactly with the westward movement of the Latter-day Saints. Under date of 3 June 1846, President Polk’s personal diary has a notation about the visit from “Mr. Amos Kendall & Mr. J[esse] C. Little of Petersborough, N. H. (a mormon).” The conversation recorded in this chapter is drawn from President Polk’s diary and from Jesse C. Little’s report to Brigham Young and the rest of the Twelve. (See The Diary of James K. Polk During His Presidency,
1845 to 1849, ed. Milo M. Quaife, 4 vols. [Chicago: A. C. McClurg and Co., 1910], 1:445–46; MHBY, pp. 211–21.)

  Certain statements in Polk’s diary have generated speculation as to when the president actually intended the Mormons to be enlisted in the army—before the Saints reached the West or after they did so. However, orders written by the secretary of war on 3 June 1846 and sent to the commander of the Army of the West, Colonel Stephen W. Kearny—orders that Polk undoubtedly had a hand in drawing up—seem to allow for the immediate enlistment of a Mormon battalion. Moreover, those orders granted Colonel Kearny plenty of latitude to do as he saw fit. So regardless of what Polk’s intentions may or may not have been, there was obviously little doubt in Kearny’s mind concerning what action to take: the Mormons were to be enlisted now. (See Richard E. Bennett, Mormons at the Missouri, 1846–1852: “And Should We Die . . .” [Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1987], pp. 52–56.)

  Chapter 24

  By the first week of June, the determination of what to do and how to proceed had become firmly established in the mind of Brigham Young. The news brought by John Taylor that there were thousands of Saints strung across Iowa could not be ignored. They had two semi-permanent way stations now with over two thousand acres plowed and planted. Garden Grove and Mount Pisgah would provide critical places of shelter for the winter, which would come all too soon. But it wouldn’t be enough. A third settlement established at Council Bluffs on the Missouri River would be needed, and it would be the largest of all. Once that was under way, a vanguard party, made up mostly of men with strong teams, good wagons, and ample provisions, would push on to the Rocky Mountains, arriving, it was hoped, in time to plant enough crops to see them through the winter. In the spring they would return to guide the rest of the Saints to their new home.

  Both Joshua and Nathan believed strongly that some of the Steed men should become part of that vanguard company. But they didn’t talk much about it. Their previous decision to hold a family council on the matter was postponed until they reached the Missouri River. There were too many unanswered questions, and there was not much point in stirring up anguish over something that was still so tentative. For now, they were content to enjoy having the family reunited.

  Work on Mount Pisgah went forward at a breathtaking pace. With wagons pouring in every day, now there were three or four hundred men plowing, planting, building, hunting, fencing, grinding grain. The women were no less serviceable. They worked in the gardens, cut grass for the stock, cut and dried the meat the hunters brought in, mended clothing, aired out the bedding. For those who would be going on from Mount Pisgah, there were the additional tasks of preparing for departure. From first light until full dark the work rushed forward, with everyone except the smallest of children pressed into service.

  The Steeds had a momentary scare on May thirty-first when, during the worship services, Brigham reminded the Saints that in spite of the fact that they were homeless wanderers in the wilderness, they could not forget their obligation to take the gospel to the world. Everyone in camp knew exactly what that meant. There were going to be missionaries called. With Wilford Woodruff back from England, that was the most likely place where help was needed. Since Derek was from England and Matthew had already served with him there, they were prime candidates. Nathan’s successful mission to Canada put him in the running as well. Not that there was ever the slightest question about answering the call, but leaving now would be a particularly challenging sacrifice. They held their collective breath until later that afternoon when word went out that three missionaries had been called to serve—two to go to England and one to the Eastern States. The names were read, and a heartfelt sense of relief was experienced around the Steed camp. That feeling was dampened somewhat by their continued awareness that Matthew, gone ahead to help prepare the road, was absent from their family circle.

  The first day of June, 1846, which was a Monday, dawned rainy and cold. It was not the heavy rains of March and April and May, but it was still discouraging. Never had they been so ready for summer. The rain continued off and on throughout the day, but Brigham was not deterred. With the warmer days here at last, usually some part of every day had clear skies and sunshine. The water drained quickly in the prairie sod, and the days of deep sloughs and endless mud bogs were mostly gone. Accordingly, at four that afternoon Brigham’s first company of fifty crossed the river, though Brigham himself stayed at Mount Pisgah, needing to take care of some important Church business.

  It was cold again the next morning, Tuesday, when more wagons began to line up at the narrow bridge that spanned the Grand River. Brigham was in the lead, his wagons rolling across shortly before ten a.m., and the rest soon followed. They moved only four miles up the river that day, catching up with the first company of fifty, who had arrived at this spot the evening before. That afternoon Brigham found it necessary to make a quick trip back to Mount Pisgah to finish up some business. He returned to the westward-bound camp later that night.

  Then on Wednesday they left the Grand River for the last time and struck out in a northwesterly direction. They followed the faint trail left by George Miller’s advance party. Happily, Bishop Miller was finally doing what Brigham had called him to do. When they came to a creek they found that the advance party had done one of three things—they had found a good fording place and marked it clearly, or they had cut down the banks so that the wagons could easily cross, or, if neither of the first two had been possible, they had built simple bridges.

  The weather softened and cleared, and progress was steady. A succession of new names went into the journals—Twelve-Mile Prairie Camp, Broomberry Hill Camp, Small Creek Prairie Camp. The company was helped greatly when on Friday they struck a well-traveled Indian trail which led westward to Council Bluffs on the Missouri River. This was viewed as a mixed blessing, since Indian trails meant Indian tribes. By Saturday, June sixth, they had come about sixty miles from Mount Pisgah. That afternoon, for the first time since leaving Nauvoo, Brigham ordered the wagons to form a large circle when they camped. To no one’s surprise, this camp was quickly dubbed the “Ring Camp.” It was a stirring sight. There were over seventy wagons, wheel to wheel, wagon tongues pointing inward. Even though all reports were that the Indians here, members of the Potawatomi tribe, were not hostile in any way, circling the wagons not only provided a good defensive perimeter in case there was trouble but also made a good “corral” for the stock. Even the friendly natives were notorious for stealing horses or cattle if given a chance.

  About seventy or eighty miles from the Missouri River now, the company held worship services during the day on Sunday, and then that afternoon they headed out again and traveled seven more miles. They called the place where they camped that night Pleasant Valley.

  They had the tent to themselves this Sabbath night. With the days pushing into the eighties now, the nights were pleasantly cool. The “sleep out” was Savannah’s idea. Her proposal was simple. She and Charles and Livvy would transfer a few items from the wagon to the tent. Then they would move out to the wagon the two straw mattresses on which they slept, and there they would get to sleep out.

  At first Caroline demurred. She, along with many of the other women, was a little skittish about the thoughts of being on Indian lands. But Joshua reassured her by noting first that there were guards posted for the night all around the camp and, second, that their tent would be only a few paces away from the wagon. The combination of three pairs of wide, pleading eyes and three sets of solemn promises for perfect behavior finally carried the day.

  Now she and Joshua were alone in the tent. It was almost nine o’clock, time for lights out, but it pleased her that Joshua continued to read by the light of the lamp that stood on one of the trunks. She could see that he was nearly done with the Book of Mormon and guessed he was trying to finish it before the call came to put out the lights. She sat cross-legged, writing a letter that would go along with one from Mary Ann, Rebecca, and Lydia back to Nauvoo. She g
lanced up from time to time, watching him with quiet pleasure.

  It was almost two weeks ago now since she and Joshua had been reunited at Mount Pisgah and he had shocked her with his revelation about having Lydia’s Book of Mormon. They had talked on a few occasions since then, though not nearly as much as she had wished. The days were hectic, and at those rare times when there was a moment for reading, almost always there was someone else around. Joshua was still strongly opposed to letting the rest of the family know what he was doing, and she had honored that and never even hinted at the subject of religion around the children or other members of the family.

  On the few occasions when they had managed to find time to talk about it, she ended up torn by conflicting emotions. One night they talked long after the children had gone to sleep. He told her about the questions he had put to Nathan and recounted in surprising detail Nathan’s answers. He spoke easily of what he had learned and with seeming acceptance, and her heart soared with hope. Then at other times it was as if he had no interest at all. Then her expectations plummeted. At those times she had to remind herself that this was not the same old Joshua—skeptical, questioning, even caustic at times. But neither was he wildly embracing the Church and hounding anyone for baptism.

  The bugle sounded and they both looked up. It was time to extinguish all lights and go to bed. She was surprised to see that the book was closed. She hadn’t seen him do that. “Did you finish?”

  He nodded without comment, as if it were something that happened every day, rolled over onto his back, and reached out to put the book on the trunk beside the lamp.

  “I’m almost done.” She wrote quickly, then lifted the paper and blew gently on the ink. After a moment she laid the paper aside, capped the ink bottle, and wiped the end of the quill with a small rag. Sure that the ink was now dry, she slipped the two pages into her leather stationery pouch, then nodded at him. “I’m ready.”