Pillar of Light

by Gerald N. Lund

  He sighed, longing for the cool isolation of Mission San Luis Rey. He would have been content to finish out their tour of duty right there. Or San Diego would have been an acceptable second choice. But they had been in San Luis Rey for barely six weeks when the elephants began to bellow.

  After seeing the Pacific Ocean for the first time on January twenty-seventh, at a spot not far from the deserted Mission San Luis Rey, the battalion marched down to the beach below the mission and camped near the water. It had been a new experience to hear the constant roar of the surf. Some of the men complained that they couldn’t sleep with the unexpected noise, but Josh found it strangely soothing. The next day they marched on to San Diego and took up camp near the mission there, which was about four miles from the port.

  When General Kearny learned that the battalion was nearing San Diego, he came down from Los Angeles to meet them. Thus, on the twenty-eighth of January, Lieutenant Colonel Philip St. George Cooke proudly reported to his commanding officer that the battalion had fulfilled their orders and cut a wagon road through from the Santa Fe Trail to the Pacific Ocean. They had brought five government wagons and three private ones across a trackless desert, a feat of enormous magnitude. Kearny had been greatly pleased and praised the men, which pleased them immensely. Even more pleasing to the men was the news that the Mexican forces in the southern portions of Upper California had surrendered and that no further conflict was anticipated. The war with Mexico was not over yet, but the fighting in this area seemed to be.

  Kearny only stayed a short time, then prepared to leave by ship for Monterey. Before doing so, however, he ordered Colonel Cooke to take the battalion back to Mission San Luis Rey because he was worried that hostilities might break out again. So after only two days in San Diego, they took up their march once more and returned the forty miles to the deserted mission. That was fine with Josh. California was in full spring now, and the hills around Mission San Luis Rey were verdant and beautiful. Whenever he was off duty he would go for long walks, finding a place where he could see the ocean and then sitting for long periods of time, enjoying the solitude.

  When the order came on March fourteenth to move the battalion north to Los Angeles, it came as a sharp disappointment to Josh Steed. Part of that was because the battalion was to be split once again. Company B would be going to San Diego; the other four companies would march to Los Angeles. As they finally started north on the nineteenth of March, they began to learn what Sergeant Tuttle meant by the “battle of the elephants.”

  General Kearny brought with him a letter from Washington appointing him governor of California once the war was won. But Lieutenant Colonel John C. Frémont, who had come to California on an exploring expedition for the U.S. Army in 1845, had a large contingent of soldiers called the “California Volunteers.” It was Frémont who accepted the Mexican surrender at Los Angeles, and therefore Commodore Stockton, the senior naval officer in California, made him the governor. Kearny was furious.

  With the Mormon Battalion and his First Dragoons, Kearny commanded over two thousand men who were totally loyal to him, and that finally convinced Stockton to accept his commission. But Frémont flatly refused, saying that since his troops had done most of the fighting—a fact that Kearny bitterly disputed—he had every right to be the governor. Even though Kearny was a general and Frémont only a lieutenant colonel, Frémont refused to budge. That was what had brought the order for the battalion to march to Los Angeles so that Kearny would have some muscle to back him up.

  They arrived at Los Angeles shortly after noon on Tuesday, March twenty-third. For two hours Kearny kept the battalion standing at attention, and it looked for a while as though they might have to go to war with their own countrymen. There were a lot of Missourians in Frémont’s unit, and old resentments started to smoulder again. Finally, and wisely, the two forces backed away from a confrontation, and Kearny had Cooke bivouac the Mormons some distance from town.

  Today it had nearly erupted again when Colonel Cooke went to Frémont’s volunteers and asked for the two artillery pieces that had been brought by Kearny’s forces. The captain in charge told Colonel Cooke that he was acting under direct orders from Frémont and would not surrender the weapons.

  Cooke had come back to his troops in a black fury. “Treason!” he cried. “Mutiny! A colonelrefuses to obey a general’sorders? This is an outrage! Kearny’s dragoons brought those cannon across the desert. He brought them up here and used them to help Frémont win the war, and now they refuse to give them over to me?”

  He had muttered all the way back to their camp, then left the men in order to go in and file an official protest and report of Frémont’s insubordination.

  “What do you think will happen, Luther?” Josh asked his companion. “What if Frémont won’t back down?”

  Luther pursed his lips. “It’s hard to say. I think you’ll see Kearny call for a court-martial. But you know who Frémont is married to, don’t you?”

  Josh shook his head.

  “Jessie Benton.”

  Josh looked blank.

  “Jessie Benton, daughter of Senator Thomas Hart Benton from Missouri, only one of the most powerful men in the United States Congress.”

  “Oh,” Josh said meekly. The name did sound familiar to him.

  “Frémont knows he’s got some powerful backing in Washington too. He’s not totally defenseless. But in the meantime, as long as the elephants insist on dancing, we’ll just stay out of the field. I think we can do that for twelve more weeks, don’t you?”

  Lydia slipped her arm through Nathan’s and squeezed it affectionately. He turned and looked down at her. “What?”

  “Nothing. I’m just happy.”

  “Good. Anything in particular?”

  She threw one arm out, breathing in deeply. “Well, for one thing, it’s April. Winter is finally over. Look at the cottonwood trees. You can see they’re starting into bud. And there, along the river, that is green grass, I do believe.”

  He chuckled. “I’m not sure. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen any of that.”

  “I know. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  He nodded, pleased at her happiness. When he had mentioned he was going down to the wagon shop to help, Lydia had surprised him and insisted on coming with him. He expected that the sight of the nearly finished wagons would make her despondent. Now he wasn’t so sure. The departure of the Pioneer Company was no more than a few days away and the time for their separation was imminent. But instead of feeling sorrow, she was filled with joy and anticipation.

  She was watching him and guessed at his thoughts. “Yes, I know we’re soon to be apart, but it’s not the same now. We’ll be only a few weeks behind you. I can stand that. It just feels so good to know that after all these months we’re finally leaving.”

  “Doesn’t it?” he agreed heartily. “It seems like we’ve been waiting all of our lives to get started. Now it’s finally here.” He slipped his arm around her and pulled her in against his shoulder. Then suddenly he bent down and kissed her. It took her totally by surprise and she pulled away in embarrassment. “Nathan! Someone will see us.”

  “And if they do, what are they going to say? that Bishop Steed loves his wife?” He kissed her again.

  Laughing, she only half resisted. “And I love you,” she whispered.

  As they rounded the corner, they could see the crudely built wagon shop up ahead of them. It wasn’t much, really, just an overhead covering made of interwoven willows and tree branches to keep out the worst of the weather. But it was large enough to hold two wagons beneath its shelter, and today both of them were already there. Crossing the plains of Iowa had pretty well destroyed the two older of the Steed wagons. The others would be fine, but here were their replacements.

  Both wagons were up on blocks with no wheels. Carl and Solomon had taken those to the blacksmith’s yesterday to have the tires set—the steel rims put on hot so that they bound into the wood when they cooled. Today t
hey would go from the blacksmith’s to the wheelwright to make sure each wheel was properly “dished,” or made concave like a saucer. That shape made it so the weight and movement of the wagon would push the spokes in more tightly rather than pull them apart. Matthew was a skilled carpenter, but dishing was a skill beyond him.

  As they drew closer, to their surprise just about the entire family was there. Solomon was working on the bows—the thin, flat, and flexible lengths of ash and hickory that would hold the wagon covers up in their unique shape. Joshua was pounding on something with a hammer. Matthew, Carl, and two of the cousins, Luke Griffith and young Carl Rogers, were sawing a long board, working the two-man saw in pairs and spelling each other off. But what was really unexpected was that most of the women and children were there too.

  Lydia laughed aloud. “No wonder we couldn’t find anyone home. They’re all here.”

  “I think spring and the excitement of leaving are affecting everyone,” Nathan said.

  “I should have just told Emily to bring the other children down here. Maybe I’ll go back and get her.”

  “I will in a minute,” Nathan answered. “But first, let’s go see what’s going on.”

  Mary Ann saw them and waved. She and Melissa were working on sewing a wagon cover, or perhaps it was a tent. Mary Ann was saying something, and Melissa was laughing to the point where she had to stop sewing or risk pricking her finger. Mary Ann smiled as Nathan and Lydia approached. “Hello, sleepyheads,” she said.

  Joshua raised his head. “No wonder you asked if we could do some plowing today,” he growled. “Didn’t want us to disturb your slumber, eh?”

  They all laughed when they saw Nathan’s expression. Fortunately, it was Lydia who came to his defense. “Iwas sleeping in,” she admitted, “but Nathan has already been to the mill and gotten some flour for Sister Bagley.”

  “Good for you, Bishop,” Matthew said heartily.

  Lydia sat down to join the women and children, and Nathan walked over to examine the work the men were doing. “Looks like the new wagons are about done,” he noted. “Good. Brother Allred wanted to know if he could bring his wagon down and have us take a look at the reach. He’s a little worried that it’s not strong enough.” The reach was that beam that ran down the center of the wagon beneath the wagon box and held the two axles together. If the reach broke, a wagon wasn’t likely to go much of anywhere.

  “Wheels will be finished in an hour or so,” Carl said. “Then I think we’ll be done.”

  Nathan nodded, pleased again at how naturally Carl had returned to the family. He never spoke of what happened at Nauvoo, and no one ever brought it up, but it had clearly shaken his faith in his fellowmen. Though he would have nothing to do with the religious side of their lives, he was openly complimentary about how the Mormons stuck together and took care of their own.

  No, Nathan corrected himself, it was not religion that he had nothing to do with; it was the Church. Carl joined them every night for family prayer, and Melissa told them that he read the Bible each night to the children. If Melissa and the children read from the Book of Mormon or the Doctrine and Covenants, he would excuse himself; but if it was the Bible, he fully participated.

  Nathan walked to his brother-in-law and punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You must have gotten up before dawn to get that much plowing done,” he teased.

  Carl looked at Joshua and smiled. “Solomon and I thought the ground was still a little too wet, so we thought we’d spend one more day here,” he said easily. “Actually, Joshua wasn’t there to give us his opinion. I think he slept in.”

  Joshua howled in protest. “That was to be our little secret, Carl, remember?”

  “Youslept in?” Nathan said incredulously.

  Frowning, Joshua ignored Nathan and looked directly at Carl. “How would you like me to break a few more ribs for you there, sonny?”

  The women and children had stopped to follow this conversation and laughed at that rejoinder.

  Carl just smiled and tapped his son on the shoulder, stepping in to take over on the two-man saw. Nathan watched with satisfaction. Carl moved without pain now, something that had taken more than three months for him to finally accomplish. If he overdid it, one could still hear a slight wheeze in his breath from the punctured lung, but other than that, the effects of the beating were gone now. Matthew started to take over the other end of the saw from Luke, but Nathan moved quickly and did so instead. “I’ll take it for a while,” he said.

  It was just before noon and the women were starting to put their sewing and mending away to prepare for the midday meal, when a tall man with a heavy beard approached the Steed family wagon shop. Solomon had returned with the wheels, and all of the men were working to get them on the axle hubs. It was the sound of the women suddenly lapsing into silence that caused the men to look up.

  The man was obviously coming to them and not just passing by. Nathan set down the wooden mallet and, wiping his hands on his trousers, moved around the wagon. “Howdy,” he said. “Can we help you find someone?”

  “I’m looking for the Steeds’ wagon shop. Would this be it?”

  “It would,” Nathan said, stepping forward and sticking out his hand. “I’m Nathan Steed.” All the others had stopped now and were watching.

  “Brother John Brown,” the man said. His voice was pleasant and his handshake firm.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Nathan said. “Can we help you?”

  There was a slow smile as he turned and surveyed the women. “One of you sisters wouldn’t be Jennifer McIntire Steed, would you?”

  Jenny had come over to stand by Matthew. There was a little exclamation of surprise and then she raised her hand. “I’m Jenny Steed.”

  “When was the last time you heard from your sister, Kathryn?”

  That so took her by surprise that she just stared at the man. Matthew answered for her. “We got a letter from her a few months back.”

  “Do you know Kathryn?” Jenny said, recovering now.

  “And where was she at that point?” Brown asked, ignoring the question and addressing Matthew. “I mean when she wrote that letter?”

  “A little beyond Fort Laramie,” Matthew said again.

  “So she was still with Peter?”

  “You doknow them!” Jenny cried. “Have you seen them?”

  “Yes, I do know them,” Brown said with pleasure, “especially Kathryn. But I did get to spend one day with Peter.”

  Mary Ann stepped forward. “One day? What do you mean? Peter and Kathryn are traveling together with a company going to California.”

  Brown nodded slowly. Then a smile stole out from beneath the bushy beard. “And you wouldn’t be the mother of Rebecca Steed Ingalls, would you?”

  Mary Ann gasped. “You saw Rebecca?”

  “And Derek and the children,” he laughed. He looked around until his eyes stopped on Lydia. “And you must be Josh’s mother. He looks very much like you.”

  Sudden tears sprang to Lydia’s eyes as they flew open wide in astonishment. “You met our Josh?”

  Brown chuckled, fully enjoying his role. He took out two letters from his pocket. “Why don’t we sit a spell and I’ll tell you the whole story. Then I have some mail for you.”

  Brown told it quickly, about the Mississippi Saints and how Peter had left Kathryn with them. Then he told them how after he left Kathryn at Pueblo he had started east and met the battalion on the Santa Fe Trail and met Derek, Rebecca, and Josh.

  When he was finally finished, Joshua leaned forward. “So have you brought your families back with you now from Mississippi?”

  “No,” he said with a touch of regret. “That was our plan when we returned, but then I wrote President Young and told him all that had happened.”

  “Yes,” Solomon broke in, “President Young told us about a group of Mississippi Saints who were wintering in Pueblo.”

  “Well, President Young wrote back and asked if we would leave our families one
more season and bring a few of the best-outfitted men to join the vanguard company this spring. We have seven wagons and about a dozen of us, including two of our black servants that we thought might be of help as we go west. Unfortunately, another servant died on the way here and another died just yesterday.” He frowned. “Traveling in this cold weather was just too much for them.”

  “We’ve heard that Derek and Rebecca and the children were part of the second sick detachment that also went to Pueblo,” Mary Ann explained, “but we don’t have confirmation of that.”

  “Really?” Brown said. “I hadn’t heard that.”

  “So you’re going with us?” Matthew said, pleased. “Nathan and I have been assigned by President Young to go ahead with the Pioneer Company as well. Then our families will come with the next companies.”

  “Yes, I know. President Young told me.”

  “So do you plan to go down to Pueblo and get your people?” Nathan asked.

  Again Brown shook his head. “When we left Pueblo last September, Brother Robert Crow—whose family, incidentally, were the ones who took Kathryn in—said he would bring a few people up this spring and wait for us at Fort Laramie.”

  “Wonderful,” Nathan said. “That means we’ll see Kathryn for sure, and maybe even Derek and Rebecca much sooner than we thought.”

  Mary Ann stepped forward. “We would be honored if you would sup with us tonight, Brother Brown. We would love to hear all that you have to tell us.”

  He inclined his head, smiling. “That was exactly what Derek and Rebecca said that night when we chanced upon their camp and I told them about Kathryn.”

  Chapter Notes

  When the Mormon Battalion reached California, the hostilities with Mexico were all but over and the Mormons did not have to fight. Instead, the battalion members became pawns in the struggle for power between General Kearny and Colonel Frémont. After a bitter dispute, Kearny and Frémont agreed to return to Fort Leavenworth, where Frémont could be put on trial. At a court-martial hearing Frémont was found guilty of insubordination for failure to obey a ranking officer, but President Polk overturned the ruling and Frémont escaped any punishment. He did, however, retire from the army after that. (See CS,pp. 87–91; World Book Encyclopedia,s.v. “Frémont, John C.”)