“Brothers and sisters, what a joy it is for us to join you this evening, to be with you in your camp, to have an opportunity to spend the night with you. We are happy to report that everyone we sent to America on those last two ships is now on the trail, with the exception of those who have left us for Babylon or chosen to wait another season to come on. We left Florence the evening of September third. We overtook the rear company of wagons, in the charge of Captain Hunt, during the forenoon of the sixth. He has two hundred forty persons traveling in fifty wagons, not counting four Church wagons which are coming with them.
“On the evening of the seventh, at about five P.M., we overtook Captain Edward Martin’s Company about forty miles west of Loup Fork. We are pleased to report that his company was in most excellent spirits, and though he has a greater proportion of feeble emigrants than does your company, the health of his camp was very good. They are averaging about one hundred miles per week without fatiguing his company.”
Elder Ahmanson had chosen to translate for his entire group tonight, so Eric and Olaf were sitting near the back listening carefully to what was being said. Olaf leaned over and whispered into Eric’s ear. “That’s good. Hannah and Ingrid are not far behind us, then.”
“Yes. Stopping those three days to look for the cattle helped in that regard at least.” Even as Eric spoke, he watched the McKensies, who were across from them. They too were whispering in excitement about that report.
“Refreshed by our short stay with Elder Martin,” Elder Richards was continuing, “we drove on another ten miles and there overtook the second independent wagon company led by Brother Hodgett. They have about one hundred fifty people with thirty-three wagons. Though they are generally heavily laden with the goods they are carrying, we were pleased to find that they are in good traveling condition and making excellent progress.
“And now we have come upon you. Altogether, counting your company and Elder Martin’s, as well as the two wagon companies, there are about thirteen hundred of you moving west right now. We are greatly satisfied to discover the progress you are making on your journey. We are proving the wisdom of President Young’s scheme to come by handcarts. We congratulate you that even though you have lost many of your cattle, under the able direction of Captain Willie’s leadership you are pressing forward. If you are willing to be obedient and hearken to the counsel of your leaders to the very letter, this will prove to be your salvation.”
He stopped now, letting his gaze sweep across the group. He grew very solemn, but when he spoke his voice rang out like a trumpet. “If you will be strictly obedient to counsel, I feel to promise you in the name of Israel’s God, and by the authority of the holy priesthood which I hold, that no obstacle whatever will come in the way of this camp.”
Eric felt a little chill shoot up his spine. He looked at Olaf, who was struck with wonder. This was language of great power. Eric turned back, hanging intently on every word.
“I feel to promise you that in your united faith and diligent works, you will be enabled to go through, God being your helper. And, even if something such as the Red Sea should interpose itself upon you, you shall, by the union of heart and hand, walk through it dry-shod, like Israel of old.
“I am not saying there will be no trials between here and there—you may have some trials to endure as proof to God and the brethren that you have the ‘true grit’ it takes to come through. And yet I say, though it might storm on your right hand and on your left, the Lord will open the way before you and you shall get to Zion in safety.”
All around the camp, people were nodding. On the other side of him, Eric saw that Elsie Nielson was weeping quietly but that her face was filled with joy. After all of the fears and anxieties about leaving this late in the season, this was a powerful comfort to them all.
The Apostle fell silent for a time, letting the impact of his words sink into the hearts of his listeners. Then finally he began again. “Now, brothers and sisters, I know there is much anxiety in camp because of the Indian troubles in this vicinity of late.”
Again Eric and Olaf exchanged glances. More than much, Eric thought. Some days before, a man claiming to be a discharged soldier had ridden into their camp and reported that about seventy miles ahead of them a small train of eastward-bound people had been attacked by the Cheyenne. Two men and a woman were killed after being brutally treated by their attackers. Just today they had come across the site and seen the bloodstained clothing and the burnt-out wagon. That had sent waves of pure terror surging through the camp.
“We feel you are safe, being a large company, but we have recommended to Captain Willie that tomorrow you ford the river and travel on the main part of the Oregon Trail for a time. The military reports that all of the depredations are on the north side of the river, because it is the lesser-traveled route, and we feel crossing to the south to be the safer course of action.”
The impact of his words registered on the faces of his audience. The women especially were exhibiting great relief to know that the danger was not being ignored.
“Now, my brothers and sisters, I do not need to remind you that we are very late in the season. I was somewhat disturbed to learn from our brethren who were waiting for you in Iowa City that they were not aware of the fact that more people were coming this season. Evidently the letters I wrote to them did not arrive before you did. So I must tell you that we are concerned that perhaps word of these additional companies has not reached Salt Lake either. If that is so, and the First Presidency think that the first three companies are all that are coming this season, we fear that they may call in the wagons which come out to resupply us.”
He might as well have dropped a hive of bees in the center of the congregation. Soft exclamations of alarm and concern erupted, and people began to speak with great agitation to each other. He raised his hands and called for silence.
When they stopped, he took a deep breath. “As you see, my group is equipped with light carriages and wagons and with faster mule and horse teams. We shall leave you tomorrow, hurrying on as rapidly as we can. When we reach Great Salt Lake City, we shall inform President Young of your coming. I can promise you that once President Young learns of your presence, supply wagons filled with flour, food, and warm clothing will be on their way to meet you.”
He stopped for the last time, smiling his reassurance. “In the meantime you must go forward in all haste and in faith and obedience. Listen to the counsel of your leaders. Follow that counsel. Press forward with all diligence so that you may claim the promises of the Lord.”
•••
The James family and the McKensies stood together speaking softly of what Elder Richards had said. Like many others, once the meeting broke up they seemed reluctant to return to their tents. They wanted to savor the richness of the experience a while longer.
Elder Willie was still in the small group around Elder Richards. They talked for a few moments; then as they broke up, Captain Willie looked around. Seeing the two families together, he started directly for them. “Sister McKensie.”
They all turned. He was waving some folded papers. “You’ll never guess what I have here. Elder Richards has brought something from the Martin Company.”
They were all staring, and then Mary McKensie gave a low cry. “A letter?”
“Two, actually,” he smiled broadly as he came up. “One from Hannah for your family and one from Ingrid for the James family.”
•••
7th September, West of Loup Fork
Dearest Mother, Maggie, and Robbie,
It is with a joyful heart that I write these lines, knowing that in a short time, Elder Richards and company will deliver this into your hands. How I wish it was me who was handing it to you, but as you well know, such is not to be. How sorrowful Ingrid and I were when we reached the Missouri only to learn that your company had left several days before. Though we were greatly saddened by that knowledge, please know that each night around the campfire when we join toget
her to sing the songs of Zion, Ingrid and I both sing “All Is Well” and mean every word. We miss you terribly and make mention of you in our prayers both morning and night, but we know that we are where we were meant to be and find joy therein.
leaving Florence, Ingrid does little translating now. Most of the Scandinavians are traveling with the Hodgett train, but we both know now that it was important that we help the Jacksons. They are such wonderful people and have taken us into their bosoms as though we were their own daughters. Brother Jackson is a wonderful man but not the strongest in body. Having Ingrid and me here to help pull the cart is very important. We are young and strong and can pull as well as anyone now.
I won’t give you much news from the camp. I am sure it is very similar to what you have already experienced—long hot days, nights in camp trying to rest, the terrifying occasional thunderstorms. We did lose one of the brethren when he was struck by lightning a few days ago. It was not far from where Ingrid and I were, but neither we nor the Jacksons were hurt.
We are saddened as the rigors of the trail take an increasing toll on our company. As you may know, we have more elderly and weak with us than you do. Generally they do well, but deaths are occurring among the very old or the very young with increasing frequency and this leaves a pall of sorrow over our camp. One man, an old bachelor from England, in the very midst of pulling his cart, fell down dead.
Captain Martin tells us that a common expression among those who cross the Oregon Trail is “seeing the elephant.” It means that you come to realize the immensity of the challenge of crossing an entire continent, most of which is through the most desolate of wilderness.
Knowing of the friendship that Brother and Sister James had with John Jaques and his family, they will be saddened to learn that the Jaqueses and the Loaders are seeing the elephant all too much of late. You remember well, I am sure, how Brother James Loader, father-in-law to Brother Jaques, was thought to be in apostasy for wanting to wait another season instead of coming by handcart. And as you know, when he learned that he was being so accused, he came immediately with his family to Iowa City and there met up with the Jaqueses.
Though they joy to be together, things have been difficult for them. Brother Loader has been plagued with dysentery much of the way and has grown very weak. Sister Tamar Loader, who came across the Atlantic with Brother and Sister Jaques, has had mountain fever and also has been too sick to walk. Both father and daughter have had to be carried in the carts on more than one occasion.
As if that is not enough, Sister Jaques gave birth to a son the night we left Florence and camped at Cutler’s Park. The next morning, Brother Martin offered to let her and the others that were sick ride in the wagons, but when Patience Loader wanted to ride with them to care for them, Elder Martin had to say no. That seems harsh, I suppose, but there is little choice. This too is part of seeing the elephant. The wagons are filled with the sick and infirm and if each have someone ride with them to watch over them, who shall be left to pull the handcarts? It is a bitter reality, but reality nevertheless. So the Jaques decided to stay behind to let the sick recover somewhat. This created only more difficulties for them because they had to trek long into the following nights to eventually overtake us.
Surprisingly, Sister Loader has done quite well. If you remember the letter Patience wrote to England, she said that her mother could not walk a mile and would need a revelation before she would come by handcart. Now she walks every day and is actually one of the stronger ones in the family. The Lord works in strange ways. But I am happy to report that Tamar is doing better now and Zilpah and the babe, whom they named Alpha, are also well. (Brother Joseph A. Young suggested that the Jaqueses might want to name the boy “Handcart” under the circumstances, but Zilpah said she hoped for something a little more beautiful.)
I’m sorry. As I read over this last part again, I know it will cause Mother worry and I didn’t want that, but I knew that Brother and Sister James would want this report on their friends. Know that both Ingrid and I are doing very well. Mercifully, neither of us has been stricken with sickness in any way. Our only malady comes from knowing that it is likely that we shall not see you again until we reach the Valley.
Robbie, by now I am sure you have eaten buffalo meat. We quite like it. What do you think? Elder Martin claims that the early mountain men would take all the fat from the brisket of the animals and melt it over a fire. Then they would drink it straight, a quart at a time. They also thought the tongue was the greatest delicacy. Ugh! But knowing you, I’ll bet you would try both just to see what they are like.
Well, soon it is lights out and Elder Richards leaves immediately in the morning, so I shall close. Both Ingrid and I ask that you give everyone a hug, especially Emma. How we miss those nights giggling together in our tent. (I know that Mother and Sister James did not sleep much, but we loved those times together.) Maggie, you and Sarah could even give Olaf a hug for the both of us. (Note that we didn’t suggest that Emma do it for us. EMMA: If you read this, we are only joking.) Tell Olaf we miss him too.
Must close. With the blessing of the Lord we shall see you soon.
All my love,
Hannah McKensie
III
Friday, 26 September 1856
When Brother Martin finally gave the signal for evening prayers to end, Hannah got to her feet wearily. It had been another long day. This portion of the trail had gotten quite rough, with long stretches of endless sand or places where the rains had left deep ruts which threatened to jar the carts to pieces. She brushed off the knees of her dress and then helped Martha Ann and Mary Elizabeth Jackson get to their feet.
Brother Jackson smiled gratefully at her, then turned to his wife. “Elizabeth, I fear that we do not have sufficient wood for our fire in the morning. I shall gather some up quickly before it grows any darker.”
Ingrid was up now too. She had removed her bonnet for the prayers, though usually the women were not expected to do so, and she replaced it now. “I’ll help, Brother Jackson.”
Hannah looked over her shoulder toward their tent. “I have the cake cooling in the baking kettle. I shall come help as well as soon as I take it out.”
“That would be appreciated.” Brother Jackson and Ingrid started away.
“Come, children,” Elizabeth Jackson said, scooping her two-year-old up in her arms. “It is time to get ready for bed.”
Holding the two older girls’ hands, Hannah fell in beside Sister Jackson as they returned to their tent. Hannah went immediately to the heavy black kettle—or “spider,” as it was often called because of its black round belly and three spindly legs. Sister Jackson and the girls followed to see the end result. Hannah had filled the spider with the batter before supper and let it cook in the coals for over an hour. Before going to prayers she had taken it from the fire to let it cool. She too was curious how it had turned out. With their limited supplies, she had concocted a batter from corn bread and flour and then sprinkled into the mixture a few wild gooseberries which the children had picked.
“Mm,” Martha Ann said. “I can smell it already. Can we have a piece?”
“Not tonight, dear,” her mother said firmly. “This is for our breakfast.”
Hannah got the tongs and removed the heavy lid. There it was, golden brown and round as a cow’s belly. She leaned over and inhaled deeply, then turned to Sister Jackson with a look of longing. “Please, Mama,” Hannah said in a little girl’s voice. “Can’t we have just a little piece tonight?”
Elizabeth laughed. “You’re no help.”
“Oh, yes, Mama,” the girls cried. “Please!”
“All right. Just a little piece.”
Getting a towel and wrapping it around the handle, Hannah lifted the kettle so she could tip the cake out on the flat board they used for bread making. She stopped, hefting the kettle up and down. “That’s strange.”
Elizabeth looked up. “What?”
She was still testing it. “It fee
ls so much lighter than when I put it in.”
“It’s ’cause it’s all baked,” Martha Ann said helpfully.
“I guess so,” Hannah said. She stepped to the board and tipped the kettle. The cake didn’t budge, and Sister Jackson quickly grabbed a large metal spoon and tapped on the bottom sharply. With a soft plop, it fell out upside down.
“Oh!” Hannah set the kettle down with a heavy clunk, her eyes riveted to what lay before her. The outside of the cake, the crust as it were, was perfectly shaped and browned to just the right degree. But now that it was upside down, they could see that the entire inside of the cake was gone.
“What in the world . . . ?” Sister Jackson gasped. “How could it possibly do that?”
Hannah’s face had gone dark. “Look. The cake didn’t bake this way. Those are finger marks. Someone has been here and helped themselves.”
Sister Jackson came closer, bending over. And then she straightened, her mouth pinched and tight. “I can’t believe it. Another pilferer.”
Hannah just stared, wanting suddenly to cry. Finally she turned to Sister Jackson. “You may as well let them eat it,” she said. “There won’t be enough for breakfast now.” Without waiting for an answer, she turned and started away. “I’ll go help Brother Jackson and Ingrid get some fuel for the fire.”
•••
When Hannah, Ingrid, and Brother Jackson returned half an hour later with their arms loaded with dead sticks, three thin pieces of cake were lined up on the tailgate of the handcart.
“We saved you a piece of cake, Papa,” Mary Elizabeth told her father proudly as he and the girls dumped their loads off to one side of the fire.
Fire of the Covenant Page 39
