The Work and the Glory

by Gerald N. Lund

  “We’ve got to have more oxen,” Solomon Garrett declared. “Especially for that big wagon. Two yoke are just not enough to pull that much weight.”

  There was no response. There was no need for one. Everyone knew what the problem was. Originally there had been three yoke of oxen for Solomon’s wagon and two yoke for Nathan’s wagon. Then had come that terrible day when the man had spit tobacco juice into the eyes of one of Nathan’s animals while they were ferrying across the river. Thankfully, there had not been room enough on the ferry for Nathan to keep his two yoke attached to his wagon. They had sent one across on the other ferry with Solomon’s rig. Had it not been so, instead of two oxen going over the side into the river, there would have been four.

  Mary Ann shook her head quickly, pushing away the memories. Oxen had not been the only thing lost that day.

  Then Joshua said what they all were thinking. “What? Do you think we can walk to the nearest livery stable and pick up an extra span or two?”

  No wonder they looked so grim. Solomon was right and Joshua was right, and the two truths were totally incompatible. They desperately needed oxen and there were no oxen to be had. The silence stretched on as they considered how few were their options. Finally, Nathan raised his head. “We’ve got to trade the horses.”

  Derek nodded. His wagon, the lightest of the three, was pulled by the draft horses. They were fine animals but no match for the solid pulling power of a pair of oxen. Much more expensive than oxen, they were faster by half again, but they did not adjust well to the dry prairie grass as the oxen did. There would be no new grass for another few weeks, maybe longer, and without that, the horses would languish. Horses also needed grain to keep up their strength. And grain was something in desperately short supply, even for the humans.

  “What about the mules?” Matthew asked. His team was a strong set of nearly black mules bought a few months before from a breeder in Missouri. More ill-tempered than the horses, they were nevertheless a better choice. They were better able to adapt to poor water, especially alkali water, and had better endurance. But they still did not have that steady, day-in-and-day-out strength and endurance of the oxen.

  Nathan turned to Joshua. He was the expert. He had driven wagons behind about every combination of teams through his freighting years. Joshua looked around the circle, then shook his head. “If we had a choice, yes, no question about it. I’d get two span of oxen for each wagon, three for the big one, four if we could get them. In our wildest dreams, it would be wonderful to have a spare yoke or two. And under normal circumstances, we could make that trade and come out to the good, maybe buy some more wheat or sugar.”

  They had all become experts in animal power. Before all this started, Mary Ann might not have understood a word of what Joshua was saying. But now they all knew the relative value of various draft animals. A good workhorse could go for as much as two hundred dollars. Mules went for fifty to ninety dollars a head, less than half of what a horse cost. But one could buy a yoke of oxen, meaning a pair that worked together well, for fifty to sixty-five dollars. That lesser cost, plus the fact that oxen were the proven animal for a long haul across the Great Plains, had quickly exhausted the market for them. That’s why the Steeds had one team of horses and one team of mules. It was not a matter of choice. And the loss of that yoke at the river had been a serious blow.

  “I’m not talking about going back to Nauvoo,” Nathan said. “I don’t think there’s much hope there. I’m talking about maybe going to some of the local settlements.”

  Joshua gave a low hoot. “You’ll pay top dollar, even if you are lucky enough to find oxen out here. These people know how desperate we are.”

  “We’ve got a thousand miles of country to cross,” Nathan answered quietly. “We’ve at least got to try.”

  Joshua shrugged. He wasn’t trying to be negative and Nathan was right. But he knew that it was such a long shot that there was not even sense in getting one’s hopes up.

  Now Derek spoke. “It’s more likely some of these farmers out here would have horses. Even if we could find another team of mules, maybe we could make do. We’ll—”

  Joshua blew out his breath. “Mules hate water. They’ll give you fits every time you have to ford a stream deeper than a foot or two. And turn your back on them for one second, they’re gone back to Missouri.”

  Nathan straightened and rubbed his eyes. “We may have to go through some of our stuff, see what we can spare to trade. Probably some of the furniture. That can be pretty scarce out here on the prairie.”

  Jessica responded immediately. “I’ve got that drop-leaf table Solomon bought me.”

  Jenny looked at Matthew, sudden tears in her eyes. “And I’ve got the cedar chest Matthew made me when Betsy Jo was born. We can put the linens that are in it in a sack.”

  One by one they enumerated things that could be spared. These were not things that were surplus, Mary Ann noted sadly, or at least they hadn’t thought so even as late as this morning. Now . . .

  When they were done, Nathan nodded. “That should give us a start. I’d like to suggest that Matthew, Derek, and Solomon stay here and help fix the wagon. That’s not going to be an easy job. I’ll take one wagon and the animals and see what I can do. Joshua, what if you took the saddle horse and rode south to see if you might purchase some grain with what little cash we have.”

  “Fine.”

  “How far back will you go, Nathan?” Matthew asked.

  “Only as far as I have to.”

  Matthew nodded. “I saw Brigham just before supper. He’s going to stay here for another day. Bishop Miller’s found some good places to camp, but we weren’t the only ones with problems today. There are at least three other broken axles, two broken wagon tongues, several collapsed wheels. He’ll take another day to give time to fix the wagons.”

  “Good,” Nathan said, pleased at that news. “That means I won’t get too far behind you.”

  “You’re not going as far as to Nauvoo, are you?” Joshua asked.

  Nathan had already thought that whole thing through, but he hadn’t come to any conclusion. And he wasn’t ready to discuss it with Joshua yet. “I hope not,” he finally answered. And in one sense that was true. They were now a good two-day trip—four, if you counted both ways—from Nauvoo on these roads. And the family would have to wait for his return because he’d have four of the draft animals with him.

  Joshua stared moodily into the fire, thinking of Caroline and the children, debating about whether he might go back too. “Nauvoo’s no answer. You know that every family there is scrambling for wagons and teams and supplies. You’re better off to try the Iowa settlements—Farmington and the likes. Stay along the Des Moines River. There’ll be more people.” He thought for a moment. “Or maybe I ought to take the horses and mules south with me.”

  Now it was Nathan who hooted. “Into Missouri? Wouldn’t they love to get their hands on some Mormon horseflesh.”

  “I’m not a Mormon,” Joshua grunted irritably. “I can handle them.”

  “You’re traveling with Mormons,” Nathan retorted. “They won’t even stop to ask. No, the animals go with me.”

  Mary Ann stood suddenly. “Then it’s settled,” she said. There was a moment of silence; then all nodded. Her eyes softened and she smiled at them now. “I would like to have a family prayer. I think we need to ask for the Lord’s help.”

  “Yes, Mama,” Rebecca said fervently. “We could certainly use that.”

  “How are you doing, Lydia?”

  She was on her side, her swollen stomach cradled by a pillow. With a soft grunt, she rolled partially onto her back and looked at her husband. Not that she could see much. The inside of the tent was nearly pitch-black. “I’m fine.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “Maybe it’s better if I don’t go tomorrow and—”

  “Nathan, I’m fine. I’m not just being brave and noble. Sure, I get tired, but I’m fee
ling good. And the children are wonderful.”

  “I know. It pleases me to see how Emily watches out for you.”

  “And Josh too.”

  “Oh, I know, but he’s always been responsible.”

  “He’s learned it from you.”

  He groped for her hand in the darkness, brought it up to his lips, and kissed it softly. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. It’s better that you go now than to have you do it later when my time is closer.”

  He sighed. “You’re probably right.”

  “We’ll be fine.”

  He turned onto his side so he was facing her, still holding her hand against his face. “Lydia?”

  “Yes?”

  “I think I may go to Nauvoo.”

  Her head came up slightly. “But you told Joshua that you didn’t think you were.”

  “I know.” He began to use her finger to trace patterns on his cheek, barely aware of what he was doing. “The other night, when I was talking to Mother out by the fire, she said something that I can’t get out of my mind.”

  “What?”

  Speaking softly so as not to awaken the children, he told her quickly about the dream and his mother’s final admonition to him. “She was quite forceful about it, Lydia. She said that we had to get Caroline and the children to join us. She made me promise to do something about it.”

  For several long seconds his wife said nothing, but he could feel her mind weighing that. “You’re not thinking of going to Nauvoo and just bringing her back, are you? Not without telling Joshua.”

  He frowned into the darkness, not sure what he was thinking.

  “Nathan!” Her voice was urgent and low. “He’d be absolutely furious.”

  “Maybe.” That was way too optimistic, he thought, so he amended it a little. “Yeah, he would be. At first. But then, I wonder if he wouldn’t be glad. He’s worried about them, you can see that. Maybe in the long run he’d thank me.”

  “Maybe. I watched him tonight when you were talking about it. But . . .” The idea that Nathan had just dropped on her was enormous in its potential hazards.

  “Nauvoo is not a safe place, Lydia. We both know that. Oh, I don’t think they are in imminent danger, but there’s still trouble brewing, and it won’t be over until every faithful Latter-day Saint has left.”

  “Faithful Latter-day Saint?” Lydia repeated softly.

  Nathan’s frown deepened. “Yes, I know. Mother wants Carl and Melissa to come too, but I don’t have much hope there. But Melissa isn’t alone with no husband to watch out for her.”

  “Carl promised to watch out for Caroline and the children. He’ll be good in that way.”

  “Yes, he will. But he’s not her husband. And Caroline doesn’t want to stay. She wants to be here with Joshua, you know that. So does Savannah.” He half chuckled in the darkness. “I’m a little surprised that we haven’t found her stowed away in some of the baggage by now.”

  Again Lydia was silent for a considerable time. Then, “You really are serious about this?”

  He blew out his breath in exasperation. “I don’t know. I won’t be surprised if I have to go all the way back to find something to trade for. And if so, then of course I’ll stop by and see her. Carl and Melissa too.”

  There was no answer. So after a minute, he let go of her hand and went up on one elbow. “You don’t think it’s a good idea, do you?”

  “I . . . I’m not sure, Nathan. You know how happy I’d be to have Caroline here. How happy she would be. But Joshua? It could really be bad. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I do. But darn it all, why is he being so stubborn? I think he’s made up his mind that once we find a place in the West and get settled, he’ll bring his family out. So why won’t he just give in now?”

  He stopped again, coming back to a major reason behind all this. “And I promised Mother I’d do something.”

  “Have you told her what you’re thinking?”

  “No.” He hadn’t dared express his thoughts out loud, even to himself, until now.

  He could hear her breathing evenly in the darkness and could feel her mulling it all over in her mind. Finally she turned her head to face him. “You know that I trust your judgment, Nathan.” It was a simple statement, not a question.

  “Yes. And you know that I trust yours. That’s why I wanted to talk to you about it.”

  “Have you prayed about it?”

  “I’ve been praying about it since Mother told me her dream. Then when everything happened today, I thought, maybe this is the answer.”

  “And maybe it is.”

  “But you’re not sure?”

  “No. And neither are you.”

  “I know,” he answered glumly.

  “Why don’t you talk to Brother Brigham?” she said on sudden impulse. “You said you wanted to go by anyway and tell him that we would be laying back until we can get the wagon fixed and team situation solved.”

  There was instant relief at that suggestion. “Yes. That’s a good idea. He knows the situation well enough to give good counsel.”

  “He does.”

  “Thank you, my love.” He felt the tension easing out of him just that quickly. “Maybe now I can get some sleep.”

  She laid her hand on his chest, smiling softly at him in the darkness. “It’s hard being Benjamin, isn’t it?”

  Chapter Notes

  During the first week of March the weather over Iowa mellowed considerably. It was a blessing in one way, but many of the primitive roads the Saints were following quickly turned into a morass of nearly impassable mud. On the afternoon of the third of March, after several wagons were broken, Brigham Young called a halt to the camp for a time of rest and repairs. They laid over for the fourth as well. The first wagons had left the city on the fourth of February. It had been one full month now, and they were still less than thirty miles from Nauvoo. (See CN, 9 March 1996, p. 12.)

  Chapter 5

  If this isn’t a good time, Brother Brigham,” Nathan started, watching the President of the Quorum of the Twelve as he peered into the small mirror hung from a tree branch and finished shaving, “I could—”

  “No, no, Nathan.” He got the last vestige of shaving soap off, reached for a towel, and scrubbed at his face. “In fact, with us laying over here today, this is a good time. Better than most.”

  Nathan looked around as the Apostle wiped the straight razor and put it back in its case. Brigham’s camp was laid out with his fifteen wagons forming a rough square. In his group alone there were nearly three dozen people, more than the Steeds had with all of their families. Nathan wasn’t sure how many wives Brigham had now—he had never felt it proper to ask. Rumor said as many as twelve, some said nine, others many more. Some of those women, such as Lucy Ann Decker, Nathan knew for certain had been taken as a direct result of Joseph’s commandment to the Twelve to live the principle of plural marriage. More recently, some had been taken as wives because they were women who had lost their husbands through death or divorce or abandonment and had no way of going west. So Brigham had married them and taken them in, and in some cases their children too, and made them part of his own family.

  Though it was a large camp that Brigham kept, it was neat and well organized. Many campsites were strewn with bedding or clothing or other personal belongings. Some cooked a meal and then, too tired to walk to the nearest stream, would pack their pans and kettles back in the wagons with only a cursory scraping. Not Brigham, even though he had a far better excuse for neglecting personal things than most.

  As if to verify Nathan’s thoughts, Brigham picked up his razor, the razor strap, the towel, and his hairbrush and walked over to the nearest wagon. He slipped them into a box, laying the towel across the top so it could dry out. He said something to someone inside the wagon, then came back over to Nathan. “All right. How about we walk? If we stay here . . .” There was a sudden wry grin. “Let’s just say there sure are a lot of people who want Brother Brigha
m to solve their problems.” His voice became mimicking. “ ‘There’s not enough grease in the grease bucket.’ ‘The bacon is rancid.’ ‘Brother Brigham, so-and-so borrowed my hammer and now they won’t give it back.’ ” He took Nathan’s arm and steered him away from the wagons. “Sometimes I feel more like Mother Brigham than Brother Brigham.”

  Nathan started to chuckle, but then instantly sobered. “And here I am bringing you another problem.”

  Brigham looked startled for a minute, then laughed heartily. “I wasn’t thinking about you, Nathan. And I didn’t mean to complain. We’ve got a lot of good families, like your own, that are taking care of themselves. They’re just out there being faithful and dependable. But we’ve also got a whole lot of people who somehow think that it’s the responsibility of the Twelve to lace their boots and sugar their mush and tuck them into bed every night.”

  Seeing that he wasn’t helping Nathan’s mood, he clapped him on the shoulder. “Tell you what. If I think you’re bothering me with something frivolous, I’ll turn right around and send you back to your wagon. Fair enough?”

  “Fair enough.” Nathan took a breath and plunged in. He didn’t have to say much about Joshua because Brigham knew the whole situation well. He had even talked to Joshua personally about going west some months before. It had done no good, but the President had been pretty direct with him. So Nathan mentioned only briefly the circumstances he was facing now, beginning with his mother’s dream. From there he moved to his conversation with Lydia the night before.

  They were now some three or four hundred yards out away from the wagons on a slight knoll that gave them a clear view of the camp below them. Brigham tested a patch of grass with the toe of his boot to see if it was wet; then, satisfied, he sat down, motioning for Nathan to do the same. Once settled, Brigham folded his arms across his knees and rested his chin upon them.

  Brigham Young was nearly forty-five years old now. Unlike some others in the Quorum, Brigham was still clean shaven. That and the fact that he wore his hair to his collar and that it naturally turned under in what women called a bob made him look younger than he was. But Nathan could tell the responsibility of being “Mother Brigham” was wearing on him. As President of the Quorum of the Twelve, he had led the Church for almost two years. Nathan thought he could see some deepening lines that were probably the direct result of that.