The requirement set by Church leadership—and carefully checked off by local leaders—had been to have food and supplies sufficient for a six-week journey. Most families had packed double that, for they knew that even after they arrived at San Juan, they would be on their own for a significant time. Every wagon was stuffed beyond its capacity with food, tools, bedding, and the other things needed for such an extended journey as this.
The easiest way to ensure that there would be at least some fresh milk, eggs, butter, cheese, and meat along the way was to take it on the hoof. So, in addition to the hundreds of head of beef cattle and the dozens of milk cows, virtually every wagon was laden with cages tied along the sides of the wagon boxes. Mostly chickens, but a few ducks and even some rabbits huddled in their cages, cowed by the chaos around them.
As David rejoined the family, he overheard his father telling Patrick and Sarah about his conversation with the Welshmen. David looked around. “I think we’d better mount up. Brother Nielson is ready to have the prayer, and then we’ll be under way.”
They nodded and moved to their respective wagons. Patrick and Sarah would drive the lead wagon. Abby went to the second one. Carl took the third, and Molly climbed up with David’s father on the last one. David and Billy Joe untied their mounts from behind the last wagon and mounted up. David moved Tillie forward until he was beside Abby’s wagon. She already had the reins in her hand. “I can drive if this worries you,” he said with a straight face.
“If you see me driving off a cliff, feel free to come help. Otherwise, I’ll be fine.”
“Fair enough.” He grinned and rode to the last wagon. “You okay?” he asked Molly softly.
“Are you kidding?” she cried, straightening. “With this big strong man beside me? Of course I’m all right.”
John Draper guffawed. “Ah cahrn’t say that Ah be that big—” he was only four or five inches taller than Molly herself—“but Ah be strong, an’ Ah surely be handsome.”
As David rolled his eyes, Molly punched his father on the shoulder. “You are such a flirt.”
David leaned down so his mouth was close to Molly’s ear. “I’m proud of you,” he murmured.
Her eyes widened a little. “Why?”
“Because you’re here.” Then, more loudly, “And because you’re willing to ride with this old curmudgeon who murders the Queen’s English and barely knows how to handle a span of mules.”
His father cupped a hand to one ear. “Did ya ’ear sumthin’?” he queried.
Trying to suppress a laugh, Molly shook her head. “I didn’t. Did you?”
“Naw. Fur a moment, Ah thought Ah ’eard sumbody flappin’ thare gums in the wind, boot Ah reckon it joost be in me imagination.”
Laughing merrily, Molly slipped her arm through his again and laid her head against his shoulder. “Brother Draper, I want to ride with you every day. You are exactly what I need.” 4
Notes
^1. The details of Jens Nielson’s family come from the “Bishop Jens Nielson History and Genealogy” (manuscript copy in LDS Church archives) and Carpenter, Jens Nielson, 21–32.
^2. This description of Ben Perkins, along with other details shared here, comes from a family history (O’Brien, Story of Sarah Williams Perkins).
^3. The Perkins family came from South Wales at a time when Welsh was spoken as the national language instead of English, as it is today. One need only look at a map of Wales and see the tongue-twisting spellings of the towns and cities there to realize that Welsh, which is one of the family of Celtic languages, is vastly different from English. Trying to accurately capture the nuances of a Welsh accent on paper were beyond me, so I have taken the easy way out and tried to make it sound somewhat like Scottish or Irish, since both of those are also Celtic languages.
^4. The Cedar City contingent, led by Brother Jens Nielson, was the first major party to actually depart for the San Juan Mission. They left on the morning of October 22nd, six months and eight days following the departure of the exploring party. Some of the details and descriptions used here come from the historical sources (see Miller, Hole, 43–45; and Reay, Incredible Passage, 27–28). Although no exact count was given of the number in the party, it is reported that there were about twenty-five wagons. From the list compiled by Miller of those who are known to have gone on the trek (which he admits is not complete), there were thirty-six individuals listed as coming from Cedar City (see Miller, Hole, 143–46). I have supposed that most of them were in the Nielson group.
Chapter 50
Sunday, November 9, 1879
They went twelve miles the first day, covering more than half the distance to Parowan. On the second day, they passed through Parowan, moving very slowly because the whole town had turned out to welcome them. Six miles later, they had a similar experience in Paragonah. All of southern Utah was aflame with excitement. Smaller groups of fellow missionaries either did join them or would eventually join them until they all met up around Escalante. These were mostly smaller family groups from as far north as Santaquin and as far south as Kanab. But the largest single contingent was under way. The mission was finally started. A long-term solution to the threat of war with the Navajos was being launched.1
The Parowan and Paragonah contingents nearly doubled their numbers. Bishop Nielson held a brief meeting with Captain Silas Smith and learned that Silas would catch up to them somewhere south of Escalante. Until then, Bishop Nielson would be their company’s leader.
And so they pressed on. They pushed up Little Creek Canyon, wound through Bear Valley, and dropped down into Panguitch, following the same route as the exploring party. At Panguitch, they were welcomed with another joyous celebration, and more families joined the company.
With nearly sixty wagons now, the train was a sight to behold as it rolled along. It looked like a gigantic, two-mile-long railway train, its white-topped “cars” coupled together by the teams pulling them. The slow-moving mass of horses, mules, cows, and oxen bringing up the rear was like a great, fat caboose.2
With their numbers approaching two hundred now, the travelers needed a more formal camp organization. In addition to the normal work assignments—drovers, scouts, blacksmith, commissary, chaplain, firewood gatherers—the old Dane organized them into groups of ten with a subcaptain over each group. Ten was more of an approximate number than a hard and fast one. Mostly the dividing was done along family group lines, with the father or grandfather being the captain of his ten. Because families dominated the makeup of the company, this type of division was natural.
There were eight in the McKenna party, counting David, his father, and Carl, so they became one group, with Patrick as captain. The Deckers were the largest, with twenty people. Ben and Hy Perkins had ten in their party; the Nielsons also were ten. Two families were large enough to form groups of their own without any other extended family: Samuel Rowley and his wife, who were from Parowan, had nine children. The Barneys, from Panguitch, had eight, including a baby in arms. Three women in the company were pregnant.3
Most astonishing to David was the number of children. Somewhere around forty percent of the pioneers were minor children, and one in five—fully twenty percent of the total company!—were six years of age or younger. Such a young company brought some unique challenges, but it also dramatically changed the nature of the group. David found it delightful.
The first two weeks things went smoothly. The weather was mostly dry and pleasant. The roads were good. The company made good time and spirits were high.
Their first real challenge was crossing Escalante Mountain, north of Bryce Canyon. The pass there was over nine thousand feet and was blanketed in nearly two feet of snow by the time they reached it. There were several close calls as teams stumbled on the snowpack and wagons started sliding sideways toward the steep drop-offs, but they made it through without undue problems. As they started down the east side, the snow quickly disappeared again. On Saturday, the eighth of November, eighteen days after le
aving Cedar City, the long train of wagons made camp just to the west of the settlement of Escalante. That night, they went into town to join the locals for yet another celebration. On Sunday, they returned to join them for worship services.
Monday, November 10, 1879
On Monday, the Cedar City/Parowan/Paragonah/Panguitch contingent left their camp in place just west of town. That morning, Bishop Nielson sent about two dozen of the men, mostly the single young ones like David and Carl Bradford, south with a few wagons and tools. Their specific assignment was to turn the cattle trail and burro track between Escalante and Forty Mile Spring into a road capable of handling wagons.
For the rest of the company, it was a much-needed rest. The teams were exhausted and the rocky road had left many with tender feet. Wagons and harnessing were repaired, tools sharpened, horses and mules re-shod. The greatest excitement, however, was when the women and children, accompanied by their husbands and fathers, went into town to shop.
Restocking their supplies was critical. Escalante would be the last settlement they would see until they reached the San Juan River, where the Harrimans, the Davises, and one or two other earlier settlers awaited their return. Food was the first priority—wheat, milled flour, potatoes, onions, slabs of smoked pork, and barrels of sweet sorghum syrup, which the pioneers called molasses. But they also bought every keg of black powder the dry-goods store carried, along with many other items such as tools, clothing, bedding, and harnessing.
That night, Bishop Jens Nielson called in the captains of ten and told them that anyone who was ready should move out in the morning. They wouldn’t move as a full company now, for some still needed to let their teams recuperate. They would make their way in small groups southward to Forty Mile Spring. Based on what Bishop Schow and Reuben Collett and the other settlers told them, it was the best source of water, and the best place for a semi-permanent camp. There they would wait for the other contingents to join them, including one from Oak City, up near Delta. This was led by Platte D. Lyman, the other counselor in the mission presidency, whom most had not yet met. From there they would build a road to the great Colorado River gorge and start the assault on the Hole in the Rock. Here they would also wait for Silas S. Smith to catch up with them. When that happened, they would finally have a full presidency in camp, and their leaders could then decide what happened next.
Saturday, November 15, 1879
Molly McKenna sat beside the small creek that was fed by Forty Mile Spring, resting in the shade of the willows before she returned with the water she had been sent to fetch. She was looking at her surroundings. Though the area would hardly fit the description of being a lush desert oasis, it was pleasant, and had a certain stark beauty to it. The spring itself was set in a wide, shallow canyon or wash. The water sustained a thick growth of willows along the creek and provided enough moisture for grass, shrubs, and brush to keep the whole area green. This was in stark contrast to the desert that surrounded them for miles on every side, or the massive cliffs to the west, which were part of the Straight Cliffs of Fifty Mile Mountain.
Part of what gave the place its beauty were several unusual rock formations that literally sprang up out of the valley floor or formed the sides of the wash. Masses of soft sandstone, colored a brilliant coral-pink, had been sculpted by wind and rain into fantastic shapes. Some were barely bumps or low ridges in the ground. Others were like huge, round loaves of bread, burnt pink in nature’s oven.
And most wonderful, at least in Molly’s mind, was Dance Hall Rock. This was the most prominent and fantastic formation of them all. Not quite a mile to the northwest of their camp was a single, isolated outcropping of sandstone. What made it so remarkable, in addition to its size and isolation, was its unusual shape. From north to south, it was two or three hundred yards wide and more than a hundred feet high. It sprang from the flat desert so abruptly as to actually startle the mind. Made of smooth, pink Navajo sandstone, it formed the western edge of a long, low, undulating ridge of slick rock, covered with striated erosion marks and dozens of small water pockets that looked almost like swallows’ nests. Most astounding, however, was its west-facing front. The whole face of the rock was gently curved, somewhat like the shape of a French croissant, but over the centuries—or millennia—the wind and rain had carved into the sheer western face of the cliff an enormous hollow. Concave in shape, it was big enough and high enough to accommodate a full-masted schooner.
In the shadow of that great hollow was the best part, as far as Molly was concerned. Though it too was pockmarked with small water holes or bumpy patches of stone, the floor beneath the cliff was remarkably level. It was large enough for people to dance on—a lot of people. And thus its name: Dance Hall Rock.4
Molly wasn’t sure who had first given it such an appropriate name, but she was completely in love with it. In the four days since their arrival, the company had gone there three times already. It was quickly becoming the gathering place after supper when the work was through. Once it was dark—earlier and earlier now—they would build a small fire made from sagebrush and shadscalet to provide light, and settle in for an evening of amusement and entertainment. They might have a speaker or just sit around and tell jokes or share riddles. Sometimes they would lift their voices in hymns or sing some of the more popular folk songs. When they moved up beneath the overhanging lip of the cliff, they were rewarded with a wonderfully rich sound.
The adults sat around and talked while the younger children would play games—hide-and-seek in the darkness, Run-Sheepie-Run, Red Rover, or, a favorite with the girls, cat’s cradle. The stone floor also provided a good place for spinning tops. The boys would scratch a circle on the stone with a stick, put a few marbles on the ground inside the circle, then try to throw the tops down in such a way that as they spun they would knock the marbles outside of the circle.
Molly had decided on that first night of their arrival that if they had to be out here in the desert, it was nice to have Dance Hall Rock so near.
As she returned a few minutes later with two full buckets of water, she saw Billy Joe playing with some of the boys behind the wagons, but she was surprised to see that her father, Carl, David, and David’s father were no longer at their campfire. She increased her step, quickly emptied the buckets into the water barrel, dried her hands on her apron, and moved over to join Abby and her mother. “Where’s Dad?”
Her mother pointed toward the large tent off to their right. It was the tent of Bishop Nielson. “The bishop has called a meeting for all the men.”
“Oh? What’s that about?”
Abby didn’t turn. She was still looking at the tent, wishing she could hear what was going on inside. “Supposedly, Silas Smith and Platte Lyman are expected to arrive here at any time, but the bishop has decided that simply waiting for them serves no one best.”
“And what can he do?” Molly asked.
Abby just shrugged. “We’ll know when they come back.”
It was another hour before the men returned. They were talking animatedly as they approached the campfire and the McKenna camp.
“Well?” Sarah asked, before Patrick had even reached them.
“It’s very simple, actually,” Patrick said. “Bishop Nielson is worried that while we wait for everyone to join us, including the rest of the presidency, time is slipping away.”
“Hear, hear,” Abby said. Of all the family, the waiting was hardest on her.
“Though he expects Silas Smith and Platte Lyman to arrive any day now—and he’s left word in Escalante for them to come here to Forty Mile as quickly as possible—in the meantime, he thinks it is time to take action. He is proposing three things. Since they each involve one of us, I’d like the others to tell you what assignments affect them particularly. Carl, why don’t you begin.”
Carl nodded. “Out here in the desert, not only do we have to take care of the needs of our people, which we think will eventually be about two hundred and fifty individuals, but we also have a hug
e herd of animals to feed and water. Basically, it’s going to take every inch of grazing land and every well, spring, rock tank, and pothole of water we can find. The bishop asked the drovers to start distributing the herd up and down the stretch between here and Escalante, anywhere there is grass and water. We’ll keep a few head nearby—the milk cows, a few beef, some saddle horses, and enough teams to pull any wagons we may need to move—but the rest we’ll start moving out in the morning. I’ve been asked to help.”
“Thank you, Carl. John?”
David’s father stepped forward. “Naw surprise frum me,” he said. “Bishop Nielson wants the road crews ta begin work immediately on a road b’tween ’ere an’ the ’Ole in the Rock. Ben an’ Hy Perkins an’ meself ’ave been appointed foremen over three separate crews who will cut, grade, or blast a road passable for wagons. We also start tamorrow.”
“And David.”
“Well,” David began, “mine is pretty simple as well. It’s one thing to get us to the Hole in the Rock, but quite another to decide where we go once we get there. The bishop has asked Kumen Jones to lead a group of scouts to explore the east side of the river.”
“And you’re one of them,” Molly murmured.
“Yes. Me, Kumen, George Hobbs—all three of us were together with the exploring party—and Ben Lewis of Kanab and Bill Hutchings of Beaver.”
The Undaunted : The Miracle of the Hole-In-The-Rock Pioneers Page 55
