“Sixteen.”
“Sorry. Only eighteen and above are adults. You’ll have to consider her as a child.”
William James nodded in discouragement. “Then we have three adults—that’s fifty-one pounds—and seven children. That’s seventy more.”
With a sharp pang, Maggie suddenly thought of tiny Jane James, who had died on board ship. If she hadn’t perished the family could take another seven pounds. How tragic that it came to that, she thought.
“So one hundred twenty-one pounds total,” Brother Kimball said. He began setting up the scales. “You can divide it any way you wish, Brother James.”
“I have another question. I have brought a shotgun with me to help provide food. I will share that food with others. Do I need to count that as part of my personal goods?”
The two agents looked at each other, and then Brother Spencer shook his head. “If you use it to provide food for the company, no. You can exclude that.”
There was a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
As everyone watched intently, the first pile of stuff weighed in at twenty-two pounds. Their faces fell. Brother James had put their things in what he hoped would be eighteen- to twenty-pound piles.
The second pile was slightly smaller than the first, but it had some dishes and pictures that looked significantly heavier. When Brother Spencer put on the twenty-pound weight, it barely raised it off the ground. Maggie guessed it would have taken another five to balance it. She was wrong. It took only four.
“Sorry,” Brother Kimball said. “That’s forty-six pounds so far.”
Jane James stared at the scales, her eyes stricken, her hand fumbling nervously at the seam on her dress. As her husband reached for another pile, her hand shot out. “Wait,” she cried. She bent down and removed a crystal vase. She held it for a moment, her eyes looking right through it. “This was my grandmother’s,” she murmured. Then she moved back and set it on top of the pile of their discards. It saved her two pounds.
Even with the two of them removing stuff they had previously deemed to be absolutely essential, they still came in at one hundred thirty pounds—the equivalent of almost another child’s full limit. Almost what baby Jane’s limit would have been, Maggie thought, wondering if that had occurred to them.
Crestfallen, the family gathered together. The others looked away while they whispered together. It seemed obscene to watch while others laid their innermost souls out in the bright sunshine. After a moment they began to go through the stacks again piece by piece.
Out went the family Bible. Out went a small chest filled with something they had previously deemed of great value, though no one now said what it was. John James, who was four, began to weep when his toy wagon filled with carved wooden soldiers was emptied. The soldiers could stay for the ride, the wagon could not. The last to go, and at the dearest cost, was a small portrait of Jane James’s grandfather that had been in their family for over fifty years.
Item by item they whittled away at their lives and cast it aside. After fifteen minutes a deeply sobered William Kimball looked up. “That puts you right on, Brother James.”
William James nodded and turned to his wife. He put his arm around her and they walked away. Sarah stood slowly, looking down at what would be left behind now, then turned to Maggie. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Maggie shook her head. “I know. It’s all right.”
•••
Ingrid was next. Hannah helped her bring her pile of things out and balance them on the scale. Maggie saw that she had discarded her valise and had her things loose now. On the top were the new shoes.
Brother Kimball manipulated the weights with a practiced hand. “A little more than nineteen pounds. Sorry.”
Ingrid gave the others a sour look and removed another dress. Up came the scales slightly. But it wasn’t enough. She stared at the pile, as if she might reduce something into invisibility. Finally, with a deep sigh, she reached out and took off the shoes. The scales swung upward, the weights now a little lower than her belongings. “I’d say that’s about sixteen and a half pounds,” Brother Spencer said. “You probably could put the dress back on.”
She did and they came into perfect balance. Barely glancing at them, Ingrid took the laces of her new shoes and tied them together. Then, surprising everyone, she slipped them over her head. “You have to weigh those too,” Brother Kimball said gently.
“I carry.” She looked to Maggie for help.
Maggie stepped closer and they whispered together for several seconds; then Maggie turned to the two agents.
“These were given to her as a birthday present from her father,” she said. “She doesn’t want to wear them on the trail. She wants to save them for when she first sees President Young. She says she will carry them herself.”
Daniel Spencer looked suddenly very tired as he looked up at Ingrid. “You can’t take them off later and put them on the cart,” he warned.
“No,” Ingrid said emphatically. “I carry to Salt Lake.”
The two men looked at each other, and then Spencer shrugged. “As long as she understands the conditions, that’s her choice.”
“I understand,” Ingrid said. She was beaming now.
“It’s really been something,” Brother Kimball said, standing up to stretch his legs for a moment. He was looking at Maggie’s mother. “You see just about everything at these weigh-ins. I’ve seen people hold on to things that won’t do them one bit of good, and leave things that could save their lives on the trail. I’ve seen husbands and wives not speak to each other for days afterwards. Children try to hide things from their parents.
“In the last company, Brother Spencer caught two sisters—literal sisters—trying to beat the limits. Their family was way over the allowance, and these two girls were largely responsible for it. They had a very substantial wardrobe. They excused themselves, supposedly to go off and discard their things, but half an hour later they came back.”
Brother Spencer was nodding now. “I did a double take. It looked like the two of them had gained fifteen or twenty pounds in the half hour since they had been gone.”
Maggie’s hand went to her mouth. “They didn’t!” she said.
“Didn’t what?” Hannah said, not following yet.
“They did,” Brother Spencer chuckled. “They went in their tent and put on two or three sets of clothing beneath what they were wearing.”
“So what did you do?” Mary asked.
Now Kimball went on. “We could hardly keep a straight face. Here they were, like two stuffed pork chops, pouring sweat because it was a hot day outside. But we never said a word, just warned them that from time to time after they started, they would be weighed again.”
“So they got away with it?” Hannah exclaimed in some dismay.
“Oh, for a little ways, yes. The morning the company left we weighed their things again, so they had no choice but to put all of it back on again. Then Brother Spencer and I rode along with the company for a time to make sure things were all right.”
Brother Spencer slapped his leg in pure delight. “Wasn’t any problem to follow their trail for about the first five miles,” he said. “It was well marked with dresses and petticoats about every five or six hundred yards.”
They all had a hearty laugh over that one. Then finally Brother Spencer turned back to Sister McKensie. “Well, I guess your family is next.”
•••
Robbie McKensie, who really had nothing other than his clothing and bedding, came in at nine pounds. Hannah was exactly on at ten pounds. Maggie’s hopes soared. Then her mother came in six pounds over. An extra cooking pot and one more dress brought the scales down to one pound over. With Robbie, the family was now exactly where they needed to be.
Except for Maggie.
She held her breath as she picked up her stack of things and carefully placed it on the empty pan. Kimball already had put the ten-pound, the five-pound, and the two one-pound weights on
the other pan. Gingerly she let the stack settle against the flat surface, then moved her hands away completely, realizing that nothing she could do would alter reality.
The scales reversed directions with a heavy thud. Now the pan with the weights swung slowly back and forth in the air. The other pan rested heavily on the ground.
Brother Spencer gave her a saddened look and reached for more weights. Maggie waved his hand away. She didn’t care to know how much she was over. She had already made her decision. She reached for the handle of the looking glass and pulled it out from between her clothing.
For a moment she thought the scales might come in balance. The lower pan lifted for a moment, but then hung silently about an inch above the ground.
She stared at it, her face without expression of any kind. The music box was on the top of the pile and now seemed to loom as large as a chest of drawers. Quickly her eyes scanned the rest of the stack. She knew every single item there.
Maggie McKensie had been born into a family that was part of the working classes of Scotland. She had never known what some might call comfort. Then her father had died and the family faced a crisis. From that time until now Maggie had learned that sometimes decisions had to be made, no matter how unpleasant they might be. As her father had often said, “Postponing it only prolongs the pain.”
Her shoulders lifted and fell, but without hesitation she reached out and took off the music box. Slowly the two scales changed position again. They did not come into perfect alignment, but the stack of her belongings was now only slightly lower than the pan with the weights. Brother Kimball nodded. “That’s close enough,” he said.
Maggie managed a smile and removed her things. She carried them back inside the tent, not looking at the pile of things beside the entrance. Later she would come back and put something over the music box so that the sun wouldn’t bleach the wood.
Though Maggie McKensie determined not to brood over her loss as she went about her work for the rest of that day, one thought did keep creeping back again and again into her mind. Though mentally she knew it was foolish, emotionally she couldn’t quite push it away.
Perhaps now I have sacrificed enough. My father. Edinburgh. James. My beloved Scotland. The only two things I ever owned that really mattered to me. Maybe finally it is enough.
Before nightfall, she would find out how wrong she was.
•••
Mary McKensie was the first to see them. As the two families finished their evening meal around the cooking fire, she sat facing the river. All she could see from this point was the tops of the trees beyond a sea of tent tops, round and brilliant white in the afternoon sun. It still seemed strange to her that these huge tents, large enough to house twenty people, were circular and not square. She had asked why and been told they were easier to make that way, though no one could tell her how. But all were constructed from the same pattern. With the addition of the Edward Martin group a few days before, there were now more than a thousand people in camp. That meant well more than fifty tents in the camp. It was like a small town, though all the “buildings” were made of white drilling cloth.
The McKensie/James tent was pitched near the western edge of the camp at the end of a central corridor which served as the main thoroughfare through the temporary settlement. From this vantage point they could see all the way to the southeast part of camp, where the wagons were parked. That was where the four Church agents slept, and from there they governed the frantic pace of preparation. And it was from there, coming out from behind the wagons, that three men had appeared. She squinted a little but quickly recognized them. The sun was low in the sky and directly in their faces. It was Daniel Spencer, the leader of the Iowa Mormon Camp; James G. Willie, captain of their handcart company; and Johan Ahmanson, subcaptain of the fifth hundred, the hundred made up primarily of Scandinavians. They were coming swiftly, their heads down in earnest conversation.
Jane James, who sat beside Mary, noticed her watching and also looked up to see. After a moment she said, “They seem in a hurry. It must be something important.”
The others turned to look now too. Then Brother James nodded. “We leave in three days. I think those poor brethren have something important weighing on them all the time now.”
With Elder Ahmanson accompanying them, Mary half expected them to turn aside to where the fifth hundred was now camped. The Scandinavians were on the south side of camp about midway through. But they strode past those tents and kept coming towards Mary and the others. They were quiet now, and Mary could see that they were quite serious in demeanor.
With sudden intuition, Mary knew the leaders were coming to see them. And in that same instant she was filled with a vague sense of dread. Slowly she set her plate down on the stump and stood up. The others turned in surprise as she did so; then as they realized that the three men had their eyes fixed on them, they too stopped eating and watched.
“Good evening,” Brother Spencer called as they approached.
“Good evening,” William James replied. He stood and went forward to shake their hands. “Have you had your supper?”
“We have, thank you.”
“Sorry to disturb yours,” Captain Willie said, looking around and nodding in greeting.
“It’s all right,” Mary said. “We were just finishing.” She noted that Elder Ahmanson smiled in greeting but said nothing.
“We have a problem,” Brother Spencer said, as usual not much given to idle talk. In other circumstances it would have made him seem abrupt. With the lateness of the season and over a thousand people to outfit, everyone understood why he might seem a little curt. “We would like to confer with you.” He looked around, making it clear he was referring to all of them and not just Brother James.
Maggie was sitting beside Sarah James and Ingrid Christensen. Emma and Hannah were sitting across the fire from them with the younger James children. Eating was forgotten now as every eye was on their camp leader.
Brother Spencer half turned and nodded at Elder Ahmanson. The tall Dane stepped forward. To Ingrid’s surprise, his gaze was fixed on her. “As you may know,” he began, obviously hesitant, “some of our Danish brothers and sisters will not be going with us but will stay and go with the independent wagon company led by Captain Hodgett.”
“Yes,” Mary said, “we had heard that.”
“In fact, as you may know, my wife and I have a little boy only one year old.”
“Yes,” Brother James spoke up. “We had heard that.”
“With a young babe, we do not see how she can walk or pull a handcart. So I have arranged for her to travel with the wagons.”
“Oh?” Sister James said, “But not you?”
He shrugged. He didn’t seem very happy.
Captain Willie helped him out. “Brother Ahmanson is captain of the fifth hundred. His people need him.”
“Yah,” Ahmanson said after a moment. “Grethe will be all right.” He didn’t sound convinced.
“The wagon companies will leave about the same time as Captain Martin’s group,” Brother Spencer said. “So they won’t be too far behind us.”
Ingrid had stood up now. Her face was grave. “And you would like me to stay with your wife, Brother Ahmanson?”
That brought Emma’s head around with a snap. Hannah was staring at her too.
“No, not just that. But—” Ahmanson stopped, his eyes filled with sadness. “I do not want to ask this, for I know how you have become friends with these families.”
“Ask what?” Hannah blurted.
“I must go with our people in this company,” Ahmanson said. “I am their leader. But we need someone to stay with those who are not going.” He reached out as though he would touch Ingrid’s arm, but then his hand dropped again. “Someone who can speak English and translate for them.”
“Ah,” Brother James said with a deep sigh. It wasn’t just his daughter who had come to adore this sweet Danish girl who had brought so much laughter to their tent
.
“But—,” Emma started.
“Especially,” Elder Willie cut in, “during this time when they are trying to get ready to go. There are so many instructions they have to understand.”
Ingrid turned to Emma and shook her head. “That is why I came to live with your families,” she said slowly. She looked at Maggie, her eyes filled with anguish. “This is why you taught me English, Maggie,” she said. And then her shoulders straightened as she turned back to the three men. “I shall do as you ask.”
Brother Spencer slowly nodded, obviously touched by her simple acceptance. “We have spoken to your aunt and uncle and explained the situation. They have given their permission.”
“We talked about having either Eric or Olaf stay,” Elder Ahmanson explained, “but they will be helping Jens and Elsie Nielson with their handcart. Also, as brothers they have only each other for family. We feel like we just can’t split them up.”
“I understand,” Ingrid said, managing a wan smile. “It is best this way. Do you want me to move my things now?”
“No. We are assigning the Roper family to this tent. That will bring it up to full strength, but they won’t join the McKensies and the Jameses until we leave on Tuesday. Then you can move into the tent where they are staying.”
“I’ll go with you, Ingrid.”
Mary McKensie spun around. So did everyone else. But Hannah was not looking at her mother. She was not looking at Elder Willie or Elder Spencer. She was staring at Ingrid, and there were tears in her eyes.
“What?” Ingrid exclaimed.
“I’ll stay with you.”
“Hannah, no!” It was Emma. Already shocked by the thought that after all their plans Ingrid would not be with them after all, she felt that this was too much. Her face was white and she was visibly trembling.
Hannah,” her mother began, clearly as stunned as the rest, “you can’t just—”
Hannah spun around to Sister James. “Just last night, after Brother and Sister Jackson were here, you said how worried you are about them. They have three young children and you said that Brother Jackson has never had really good health.”
Fire of the Covenant Page 24
