“You’ll see,” she replied. “Once you meet them, I don’t think you’ll have any more questions.”
Drusilla Hendricks was outside her tent preparing supper over a small fire. Four children—three girls and a boy, ranging in age from about eight or nine into their teens—were working with her or around the wagon, still unpacking some of their things. A half-erected tent was near the wagon. As they approached, the tent abruptly straightened and Joshua saw another son, a young man of about sixteen or seventeen, behind the tent, tightening the guy ropes. The young man reached down with a small sledgehammer and tapped on one of the tent pegs. Then he walked to the other side and began to tighten that as well.
Mrs. Hendricks looked up at the sound of their footsteps. They were coming from the west, and the sun was low in the sky. She brushed a tendril of hair away from her eyes, squinting against the light. Then, recognizing Caroline, she smiled broadly. “Sister Steed! What a pleasant surprise!”
Caroline walked swiftly around the fire, set the bacon slab on the wagon tongue, then gave the woman a warm hug. “How are you, Drusilla? I was so pleased when Matthew told us you had come into camp today. I wanted to come see for myself.”
“Wonderful. It was so good to see Matthew again. What a fine young man he is. Brother Brigham seems to have great confidence in him.”
“Yes. We’re glad we got to see him before he had to leave. President Young has assigned him to be with the advance company.” Caroline turned to Joshua. “I don’t know if you have ever met my husband, Joshua.”
Joshua swung the flour sack to the ground and stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Pleased to meet you.”
“And I you,” Drusilla said with an appraising smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
He shot Caroline a look, then grinned easily. “Yeah, I’m the difficult one in the family.”
Caroline looked startled by that, but Sister Hendricks picked up on it smoothly. “Oh no. That’s not what I mean. And it didn’t come from your family. You were talked about quite a bit around town, actually. I heard about how you helped your family build their homes when we first moved to Nauvoo. I heard about your venture in the pineries, and the piano you bought for your daughter after her death. I also heard about your stable burning down and you losing all your money.” She laughed lightly, shaking his hand once more before letting it go. “Yes, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Then, seeing his embarrassment, she turned to look at the flour and bacon. “What is this, Caroline Steed?”
“Oh, just a little extra we thought you might be able to use.”
“Extra?” came the quick reply. “I know better than that.”
“We’ve got enough,” Caroline said. “We want you to have it.”
There was a sudden shining in Drusilla’s eyes. “Thank you.” Then, to hide her emotions, she turned and called the children to her and introduced them to Joshua and Caroline. The last to come over was the older boy, who had finished putting up the tent.
“This is my son William. He’s what keeps us all going.” She reached out and ruffled his hair as he colored at the praise. “Don’t know what I’d do without my William.”
Joshua shook his hand and was pleased to feel the firmness of it. The boy looked like his mother, with dark hair and open features. Like many of the older boys on the trail, William was doing the work of a man. Now Joshua thought he understood the reason for their visit. Drusilla Hendricks was a widow. With that realization, any feelings he might have had about begrudging her the food instantly disappeared.
But he was wrong. William stepped back. “It will just take me a minute, Mama, and I’ll have the bed in place. Then we can help get Papa into the tent.”
“All right,” Drusilla said. Then, noting Joshua’s puzzled look, she said, “Come over and meet my husband.”
As William got a straw-filled mattress and a blanket and ducked inside the tent, Drusilla moved toward the wagon. She walked around to the back of it, with Joshua and Caroline close behind. There the wagon flaps were drawn back and Joshua could see a man lying on a bed. His head came up as they appeared.
“James, you remember Caroline Steed, don’t you? And this is her husband, Joshua.”
“How do you do?” The man nodded, reaching out to grip the side of the wagon and pull himself up. To Joshua’s surprise, it was a major effort and he made it only partway up.
“James, wait a moment. William will be right here.”
He nodded and lay back down, puffing a little from the effort. Joshua tried not to stare.
Sensing his puzzlement, Drusilla smiled at him. “I don’t know if Caroline told you, but James had a terrible accident back in Missouri.”
“I didn’t,” Caroline said. “But I would like him to hear the story.”
Drusilla turned to her husband. “Tell him what happened, James.”
But before he could do so, William appeared. “Are you ready, Papa?”
“Yes, son. Help me up.”
The boy climbed into the wagon beside his father, then put one hand beneath his back and with the other took his father’s arm. Again James Hendricks gripped the side of the wagon. With his son’s help he was able to get up to a sitting position, though Joshua saw that William had to pull hard to help get him there.
Drusilla reached in and tucked a pillow behind her husband to help support him. “Joshua and Caroline brought us some flour and some bacon,” Drusilla said as she brushed his hair quickly with her fingers.
“I heard,” James Hendricks said softly. “Much obliged.”
“We’re happy to do it, James,” Caroline said. “How are you holding up?”
“Well, actually,” he said with a brief smile, “better than I thought. Sometimes the ride can get pretty rough, but we make do.”
Drusilla was watching Joshua’s face. “I understand that you were shot during the battle of Far West, back in 1838.”
That caught Joshua by surprise. “Yes, I was.”
“Do you remember the Battle of Crooked River that took place a few days before that?” Drusilla asked.
Joshua thought for a moment, then shook his head.
James picked it up. “Some of the Missouri militia had kidnapped three of our brethren and were taking them back to Jackson County where they threatened they would kill them. Brother Joseph sent a group of us out to rescue them.”
Caroline broke in now. “You’ve heard Nathan talk about this, Joshua. He and Matthew rode with them that night.”
“Oh, yes,” he said, clearly remembering now. He just hadn’t made the association with the name of Crooked River. “This is when you overtook them just at dawn?”
“That’s right,” James replied, his eyes hooded and distant now. “The sun was in our eyes and we barely saw them. One of the picket guards saw us coming and opened fire. We fired back. It lasted no more than a few minutes, but when it was over, one of our men lay dead and two others mortally wounded.” There was a long pause. Then his eyes refocused on Joshua. “I took a ball in the back of the neck.” He looked down at himself. “I was paralyzed from the neck down.”
Joshua didn’t know what to say. From the neck down? And he was out here on the trail, headed for the Rocky Mountains?
William smiled brightly at his father. “But he’s doing so much better now, aren’t you, Pa?”
“I am.” He reached for a cane and began to scoot toward the edge of the wagon. “For a long time, Drusilla had to do everything for me—wash me, bathe me, feed me.” There was a deep love in his eyes as he looked at his wife. “I’ll bet she had to lift me twenty or thirty times a day. And as you can see, she is not a large woman.”
“It had to be done,” Drusilla said simply, looking back at her husband with that same love in her eyes. “But God has been good to us.” She turned to Joshua. “First of all, William is old enough to be a great help to me now. Also, about a year following the wound, James was able to stand by himself. Now he can move around slowly with just a cane.”
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br /> “Very slowly,” he said proudly, “but after my lying motionless in bed for nearly a year, we take that as a small miracle.”
He was to the edge of the wagon box now. Drusilla and William stood beside him, one on each arm, and helped him down.
“Can I help?” Joshua offered awkwardly.
“No, I’m fine,” James replied.
“Your bed is all ready, Pa,” his son said, steadying him on one arm as he started forward.
As James made his way toward the tent, wife and son walking beside him, Joshua saw that he was able to make his own progress, but it was pretty shaky. Now finally Joshua understood. Drusilla Hendricks was not a widow, but as far as having a man to take her west—drive the wagon, pitch the tent, cut firewood, round up oxen, or do the hundred other things that were part of the daily regimen—she might as well have been.
“We won’t stay,” Caroline said. “We’ve got to get back and start supper too.”
Drusilla nodded. “Thank you again for your generosity and kindness,” she said.
“Yes, we certainly do thank you,” James said.
“You are more than welcome,” Joshua replied without hesitation. “If there is anything else you need, you let us know.”
As they made their way slowly back to their own campsite, Joshua was deep in thought. The image of the pale, thin man walking hesitantly toward his tent was a vivid picture in his mind.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Caroline said.
He turned to her. “I can’t believe it. They’re out here? How can they possibly get by?”
“That’s why I wanted you to meet them. If ever there was a woman who will be sainted, it is Sister Drusilla Hendricks. She’s not much bigger than a willow slip, but for the last eight years she’s provided for her family, cared for her husband. William is finally old enough now to help, but back in Nauvoo, William was only ten. Can you picture lifting James over and over, day after day? I watched her do it one day. I could tell it took every ounce of her strength.”
“But why did they come west? This is insane!” He was deeply troubled by what they had just seen. A good part of what disturbed him was the happiness in Drusilla’s eyes. There was no self-pity, no bitterness at the fate that had dealt this kind of a hand to her.
“Because they believe it is the Lord’s will for them,” Caroline answered quietly.
“You think the Lord expects that?” he exploded. “The man can barely hobble. Surely the Lord would forgive him if he just said, ‘It’s too much.’ ”
“I’m sure he would. That’s not the point.”
He blew out his breath in exasperation. “I know how you people feel about doing what is right. But . . . Wouldn’t it have been wiser to stay in Nauvoo until we at least know where we’re going?”
She looked at him in genuine surprise. “Wiser? How do you mean?”
That frustrated Joshua all the more. “At least they would have a home, some protection.”
Caroline was looking at him strangely. “Why didn’t you think it was wiser for me to stay back there?”
That caught him from behind. “Because . . . Well, I was worried.”
“Do you think that the enemies of the Church would take pity on James because he is a cripple?”
He started to nod, then stopped. If they didn’t take pity on women and children—something he himself had been unwilling to do—then a crippled man probably would not be much different. “But this has got to be so hard for them.”
“Let me tell you about Drusilla, about how she has managed to get along without a husband to be the breadwinner. She doesn’t like to talk about herself, but one night while we were visiting in their home, your mother pulled this out of her. When she finally got to Nauvoo after getting James out of Missouri, she had only fifty-six dollars. With that she rented a house, bought two bedsteads, four chairs, five falling-leaf tables. She kept one of the tables for herself, gave one to Brother Lewis for helping them move to Nauvoo. She sold two to Sister Emma Smith for some provisions.”
Caroline’s face had softened with the memory, and her eyes had a touch of shininess to them.
“Some of the brethren gave her and James a lot and put together a log house for them. With what little money she had left she hired a man to put on a roof and build a chimney. She and another woman chinked and plastered it themselves. To support her family, she took in boarders and did washing and ironing. If you think about it, you might remember her at some of the celebrations in town. She would make ginger beer and gingerbread, then she and her children would sell it on public days to the crowds.”
Caroline glanced at her husband and saw that he was listening intently. “She made gloves and mittens in the winter and sold those.” Now her voice went suddenly husky. “I clearly remember that night we were there. She told us that she made extra mittens so that she could give them as tithing.”
Joshua said nothing. He seemed withdrawn into his own thoughts.
“Do you know what is most remarkable about Drusilla Hendricks? She doesn’t think she is remarkable in any way.”
Finally he nodded. “I could see that.”
“Do you wish I hadn’t taken flour and bacon to them?” Caroline asked. “I know we don’t have any extra to spare.”
He looked surprised. “You think I would resent that?”
“No, and I’m glad. But you do think they are wrong for being out here, don’t you?”
For a long moment he thought about that. Then he shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s wrong or not, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are two very remarkable people.”
Chapter Notes
While there is no specific account contemporary with the time shown here where Brigham Young speaks about the importance of following counsel, the sentiments he expresses to Matthew are drawn from things he said later in life (see Journal of Discourses, 26 vols. [London: Latter-day Saints’ Book Depot, 1854–86], 12:126).
George A. Smith—cousin to the Prophet Joseph, a member of the Twelve, and First Counselor to President Brigham Young from 1868 to 1875—is the one who reports that Oliver Cowdery once stated his belief that if he left the Church it would fail (see Journal of Discourses 17:199).
Drusilla and James Hendricks were part of the first group to start west from Nauvoo. Their story as told here is an accurate portrayal of their situation. The description of how Drusilla supported her family while in Nauvoo comes from her own words as recorded in her life story. (See Leonard J. Arrington and Susan Arrington Madsen, Sunbonnet Sisters: True Stories of Mormon Women and Frontier Life [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1984], pp. 29–30.)
Chapter 11
I can’t imagine where he has gone to,” Caroline said. “He just said he was going to cut some firewood.”
“When was that?” Nathan asked.
“Almost two hours ago.”
He sensed that Caroline was trying to be nonchalant about it, but there was just a touch of anxiety in her voice.
Solomon seemed to note it too. He grinned at Caroline. “Knowing Joshua, he probably saw someone he knew, or thought of something else he needed to do first.”
“Probably,” Caroline agreed.
Brigham’s company had left Shoal Creek Camp the day before, April third, traveling in the rain fourteen miles to reach what they called the Hickory Grove Camp. There was a small stream and an extensive stand of timber there to give at least some shelter. Some of the Steeds were now walking upstream, or north, along the west bank of the creek. They had come nearly half a mile from their camp, passing the last of the encampment’s tents five minutes before. Above them, through the trees, the sky was overcast, but it was high and thin—thin enough to show that the sun was almost directly overhead. Back in camp they were beginning to start the fires in preparation for the midday meal. And the Steeds had virtually no firewood. On their arrival, they had gathered only enough for supper and breakfast. So Joshua had left shortly after breakfast with two oxen and one wagon to
gather more.
“Maybe he crossed over to the other bank,” Josh volunteered.
Nathan shook his head. “No point, unless he saw someone.” The creek was only a couple of feet deep, though twenty or so feet across, and fording it would be no challenge. But there was no need for Joshua to go over. Then Nathan had second thoughts. “However, there’s been a lot of people getting firewood on this side. Maybe he thought there might be more over there.”
Solomon nodded and motioned to Josh. “Come on. We’ll go across and search on that side.”
They cut to the right and quickly disappeared in the trees. Nathan looked at Caroline. “Why don’t you stay right along the creek bed here? I’ll go see if he might be over this way. Go another five minutes, then wait. I’ll come to you.”
She nodded, and even as Nathan moved away she lifted her head and called out. “Joshua!”
Nathan angled to the left, working his way through the trees. In less than a minute he could barely hear Caroline’s voice anymore. So much for calling out. Unless they got right on top of him, Joshua wouldn’t hear them, especially if he was chopping or stacking wood. So Nathan peered ahead, watching for tracks or movement, listening for any sounds.
He was puzzled more than worried. Once they got farther west, where the Indian tribes still ran free, there would be more cause for concern at a time like this, but not now. An accident was possible, but Joshua was not some inexperienced traveler. Solomon was most likely right. Joshua had probably seen someone or gone back another way. He might even be back at the camp by now.
Nathan came to where he could see the trees thinning out and giving way to open prairie again. He turned straight north, making better time now through the more scattered timber, moving as silently as possible as he listened intently for the sound of an ax or the lowing of an ox. When he finally saw the movement, back to his right, deeper in the trees, he froze, staring at the spot where he thought he had seen something. There was nothing for several seconds; then there it was again. A tail had swished, momentarily flashing against the surrounding trees. In the speckled and subdued light of the forest, the brindle-colored oxen blended in almost perfectly. Had the one not moved, Nathan would have gone right on by. Now he could see the wagon behind it. They had stripped the canvas cover off the lightest wagon and unloaded it enough to take a good load of firewood. The wagon was nearly full.
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