Emily positively beamed. “I think so too. Look at her chin. And her eyes are going to be dark, I think.”
“That’s still too early to tell,” Josh said.
“I know,” Emily said tartly. “But Mama thinks they’ll go dark too, don’t you, Mama?”
“Could be,” she said, pleased at her children’s pride in their new sister.
The Apostle turned to Nathan. “Well, one bit of good news, for you anyway. I took a small group of men out to scout out the road ahead. We’ll not be going anywhere for another day or two.”
Nathan felt quick relief. He had assumed that, with the weather, they wouldn’t be moving on, but hearing the confirmation of that took away some anxiety. There was no way he could be moving Lydia for another day or two, even if they had to stay behind the rest of the company. “So the roads are still pretty bad?”
Brigham pulled a face. “Not really. We only found one mud hole.”
“Only one?” Nathan said in surprise.
There was a quick impishness in the gray-blue eyes. “Yes, but it was six miles long and about half again that wide.”
They all laughed at that. Brigham turned back to the baby and stroked her hair with the side of one finger. “So little Tricia Steed. A pretty name for a pretty girl.” He turned to Joseph. “But aren’t you going to call her Locust Creek Steed?”
There was momentary shock, then the children tittered. “Locust Creek!” Josiah groaned. “That’s not a name for a girl.”
“Oh?” Brigham said gravely.
“You silly,” Joseph said. “You don’t name girls that.”
“But why not?” Brigham looked at Elizabeth Mary. “Didn’t you hear about Sister Jacobs?” He glanced at Lydia. “That’s Zina Huntington Jacobs, wife of Henry B. Jacobs.” He looked back at Elizabeth Mary now. “She gave birth to a little boy about two weeks ago, while we were crossing the Chariton River. So they named the boy Chariton.”
Elizabeth Mary looked openly dubious. Even Emily wondered if he wasn’t teasing them.
“That’s true,” Mary Ann said. “I saw the baby myself. And they’re going to call him that too.”
“So, here we are at Locust Creek,” Nathan broke in with a deadpan look at his younger children. “Maybe Locust Creek Steed is a better name than Tricia. We could call her Loki or something like that.”
“Oh, Papa,” Elizabeth Mary said, with an air of infinite patience.
“Maybe you’re right,” Brigham went on. “Maybe Tricia is better.”
“I think so,” Josiah and Joseph said together, not really very amused with the other possibility.
Brigham looked over to Lydia. “Did you hear that Sister Stewart gave birth yesterday as well?”
“No, which Sister Stewart?”
“Maria Stewart, wife of Brother Rufus Stewart.” He frowned a little. “Unfortunately, she wasn’t quite as lucky as you. They were still coming into camp night before last in the midst of that terrible storm when she started into travail. She had no choice but to continue walking. They were almost two miles away from any shelter. You know what Locust Creek has been like?”
“Yes,” Lydia said. They could still hear it roaring even now, and the water had subsided substantially since the rain had stopped.
“Well, Rufus saw a vacant house that would provide her some shelter, but they had to cross the creek to get to it. He led her across on a narrow log.”
Lydia groaned in empathy. If the pains had started while she was making her way across the raging water . . . She shuddered.
“Anyway, they made it safely, and early yesterday morning she gave birth to a healthy baby boy.”
“I know Sister Stewart,” Mary Ann said, as the others shook their heads. “I’ll go see her tomorrow.”
Brigham looked back at the children and his sly grin was back. “I don’t think she’s going to name her baby Locust Creek either.”
They giggled now, knowing that they were being teased.
“Well,” Brigham said, handing the baby back to Emily, “I’d best be going. We’re so happy for you. She is a beautiful baby.”
“Thank you, President,” Lydia said, deeply pleased that he had come when there were likely a hundred things shouting for his attention.
As he stood up he turned to Nathan. “There is one more bit of good news, besides there being only one mud hole, I mean.”
“What’s that?”
“We got word from the advance company. They’ve made a contract with one of the settlements ahead. They want us to split three thousand rails at fifty cents per hundred.”
“Really!” Nathan exclaimed. “That is good news.”
“Yes. They’ll make payment with one milk cow worth ten dollars and the rest in bacon at five cents a pound.”
“That is great. Count on us for help.”
“I knew I could.” Now Brigham turned to Mary Ann and his face was serious again. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to send Matthew back out again. Once this weather breaks, we’re going to need more bridges and maybe even a ferry or two.”
“He’s ready whenever you say.”
“I know. And I’m grateful for that.”
He put his hat back on and stepped to the tent flap. “Well, again, my congratulations. You’ve got a wonderful daughter there, Lydia. We’re very happy for you.”
“Did Brother Brigham give you any idea what this is all about?” Nathan asked Matthew.
“No. Actually it was one of his sons who brought the word. All he said was that President Young had called a special council meeting.”
“And he asked for us specifically?” Derek said.
“That’s what he said.”
“Including me?” Joshua said with some skepticism. “You’re sure he said he wanted me to come too?”
They were riding their two horses—Derek and Nathan doubled on one, Joshua and Matthew on the other. Heber C. Kimball’s company was still back at the Hickory Grove Camp, three miles behind them. William Clayton and other leaders were even farther back than that. Hence Brigham had called for the council meeting to be held at Hickory Grove. So now the Steed men—with the exception of Solomon, who was staying to tend camp—made their way east again.
Matthew’s head bobbed emphatically. “Yes, Joshua, he specifically requested you.”
“Do they know that I’m not a member of the Church?”
“I would think so,” Matthew responded cheerfully. “Brother Brigham certainly does.”
Every member of the Quorum of the Twelve who was currently in the general vicinity of Locust Creek was present, seated on chairs or boxes or barrels directly in front of Heber C. Kimball’s main wagon. William Clayton, clerk for the camp, was there. Nathan saw that the two bishops were also there. Newel K. Whitney and George Miller were seated on the far right, just beyond the two Pratt brothers, Orson and Parley, who were both members of the Twelve. The rest of the group consisted of about thirty-five or forty others, including the company captains and presidents, most of whom Nathan knew personally or at least knew by sight. But the rest of the men—some he knew and some he did not—seemed to have no specific reason for being there. Such as himself and the others in his family.
But they didn’t have long to wait to find out why. Brigham Young looked around the group, almost as if he were counting, then leaned over and said something to his longtime friend and fellow Apostle. Heber nodded, and Brigham stood up. The group instantly quieted.
“Brethren, thank you for coming. We appreciate you taking time away from your families on this Sabbath day to attend to matters of great importance. We shall not keep you long, but I would request your careful attention to the matter which we have before us.”
He stopped and let his eyes sweep around the group. The weather had finally tempered somewhat. It was still cool and a pretty good breeze blew out of the west, but the overcast was high and thin and promised to burn off as the day progressed.
“As you know, brethren,” Brigham continued
, “for the past week or two we have been moving in a southwesterly direction. Where we are camped now is no more than two or three miles from the Missouri border.”
A low murmur rippled through the group. This was not news to anyone. In fact, for the past few days they had been following a track covered by Mormons once before. In 1838, during the siege of Far West, word came that those who had participated in the Battle of Crooked River would be arrested and shot. Nathan and Matthew, who had been part of that skirmish, were among the twenty or so who slipped quietly out of Far West and headed north toward the border between Missouri and Iowa Territory. Nathan and Matthew had eventually turned back, feeling impressed to return to their family, but the rest had crossed into Iowa Territory, then turned east until they reached Illinois. Now they were following that same route—though in the opposite direction. But even after eight years the mere mention of Missouri, and knowing they were this close to old battlegrounds and old and terrible hatreds, was enough to raise their anxieties.
Brigham let it die out again before going on. “We have done this because we hoped to find settlements where we could find work and trade for grain. I don’t need to tell any of you, without corn, without wheat, without some oats and barley, we are soon going to be in very serious trouble. The oxen and cattle are doing well on the browse here along the bottomland, but our horses are failing. Our mules are failing.”
Many were nodding at that. And while the hunting had been good and supplemented the food supply, even the people could not live on venison and turkey and prairie chicken alone. They had to have flour, and flour was in desperately short supply. This was one of the reasons they had traveled in a southwest direction, to get closer to the more heavily settled areas in the state of Missouri.
“As you well know,” President Young went on, his voice sober and low now, “feelings in Missouri still run high against us. If we venture farther south to trade, we increase our risks.” He stopped for a moment to gather his thoughts. “But that is not all. As you know, our progress has been very slow.” He grimaced, as though he had just bitten into something bitter. “If we continue at this rate, we will make the Rocky Mountains sometime around the middle of July—in the year eighteen forty-eight!”
That hit the group like a slap in the face. Summer of forty-eight? More than two years hence?
He held up his hands at the nervous laughter and the gasps of shock. “I know, I know. Once this abominable weather finally breaks, we’ll do much better than that, but that is only one of our problems. Think about how many of our brothers and sisters are still back in Nauvoo and the surrounding communities. Less than a quarter have escaped the grasp of our enemies, enemies who, by the way, were promised that we would be gone by the time the first grass was on the prairies. Have you looked around, brethren? Have you looked under your feet? What do you see?”
Now many were nodding. It was true. It might feel like spring would never come, but it was, and eventually the weather had to turn and spring would be here in its fulness. The first glimpses of green shoots pushing upward through the black mud had started in the last day or two.
“Many of those thousands back in Nauvoo are still not ready to leave. Many are so poor they will be lucky if they can pay the fee for ferrying across the river. What will they eat as they follow us? If we are short of grain with as few as we have with us here, what shall it be like when there are ten or twelve or fourteen thousand more?”
He let that sink in. If his purpose was to sober the group, he was successful in that, Joshua thought. Almost to the point of despair. And yet this was not just alarmist thinking. Brigham was exactly right. How could another ten to fifteen thousand people come through what they had seen so far and survive?
Nathan’s thoughts were running along a different line. How did Brigham Young bear up under such pressure? Nathan often lay awake nights worrying about Lydia giving birth or about how low their supply of flour was getting. And he was responsible for less than thirty people. The President had a hundred fold—no, five hundred fold—that many more to worry about. How many times did he lie awake nights worrying about giving birth to the whole kingdom? about settling an entire community in a wilderness? No wonder he was grave. No wonder he did not smile as easily as he had done in times past. No wonder he was noticeably thinner, down forty or fifty pounds, Nathan estimated.
“I’ve not come simply to complain, my friends,” Brigham finally said. “These are real problems, and I wanted you to be aware of how weighty they are so that you can better understand what we would like to propose to you here and now. We have been holding council meetings, trying to determine what is best. We have come to some decisions and have some recommendations. I should like to put those before you now.”
He glanced at Heber Kimball, who was nodding his encouragement. Only a couple of inches taller than Brigham, Heber was far more stout, looking much like a large cooper’s barrel with a coat and shirt on. He often liked to say that he was the only man he knew whose chest measurements were the same from front to back as they were from side to side. His eyes were dark and quick to sparkle with humor. But they could flash with fire when he was exercised, as he was now. In a time like this, he was a source of great strength to Brigham Young.
“Brethren, this is not a time for many words,” Brigham went on. “We are in need of reevaluating our plan of action. We question the wisdom of moving farther toward our old enemies. We must find a way to care for those coming behind us. Therefore, I should like to give you in brief outline form what the council is recommending. You will be asked to sustain these proposals with your vote when we are finished, since all of you will be affected by them one way or another. I would appreciate your most careful attention.”
It was not as if he had to ask, Joshua thought wryly. There was not one drooping eye, not one lagging span of attention. Virtually every man was leaning forward, straining to hear.
“Number one. Beginning tomorrow we shall change our route of march. We shall turn northwest instead of southwest and move away from Missouri.”
That won him an instant rumble of relief and approval.
“Instead of aiming to cross the Missouri River into Indian Territory at St. Joseph, Missouri, as we thought, we shall now set our sights on those trading posts farther up the Missouri near what is called Council Bluffs, Iowa Territory.”
The rumble deepened, but Brigham rode over it loudly. “Number two. We shall ask Brother Elisha Averett and his company to stop their work on the construction of additional bridges over Locust Creek and to concentrate on fulfilling any unfinished work on contracts with the Iowans so that we can get additional grain. Then they shall prepare to leave as soon as possible. Number three. All those going on from here will be asked to leave behind as much corn and grain as can be spared. There is a mill on the Weldon River, and we shall ask Brother Averett’s company to seek work there upon arrival and to take their payment in meal and flour if possible.
“Number four. Certain men, including your President and most of the Twelve, shall proceed tomorrow at all possible speed toward the Weldon River. There they shall search out a spot for a suitable farming settlement.”
He had to stop, for the group of men erupted with excitement. The Weldon River! Where was that? Fifty miles or so? Maybe a hundred? A farming settlement? For whom? What did that mean for the march west?
“Brethren!” Heber roared. That cut it off like a knife. He smiled to show that he was actually pleased with their excitement. “There will be time for questions once we have outlined the proposal. Let the President continue.”
President Young smiled and then went on. “Number five. Selected men and their families will accompany the Twelve to this farming settlement. There they will fence in a field two miles square, or about thirteen hundred acres. They shall build twenty log cabins, plow the acreage they have fenced, and plant spring crops at this ‘way station’ on the trail.”
This time he let it go. As the group exploded into a hu
ndred conversations, he turned and smiled at Heber and the rest of the Apostles, who were nodding with pleasure. They had expected no less a reaction. When it finally died, he went on more calmly now.
“Please note that I said selected men and their families. Since this will take some time, we do not expect the men to leave their families behind. For example, from my company we will be asking the Steeds to be part of that advance group. All in their families will accompany them.”
As many heads turned to look at them, Matthew slapped his leg. “Yes!” he exclaimed in an exultant whisper. “This time I don’t have to go alone.”
Hearing that, President Young turned. He smiled sadly. “Sorry, Matthew, but you will go ahead with Brother Averett’s advance party. But we shall not be far behind you.” Without waiting for Matthew’s reaction, he continued. “Item seven. The main bulk of the Camp of Israel will remain here on Locust Creek until they can come on successfully. Some will wait until the new settlement can be established and put into place. There is relatively good feed here, and as the grass continues to come forth, it will get better. That will give us a chance to recruit our teams and strengthen them for the next leg of the trail.
“Finally,” Brother Brigham went on, speaking easily now, “once we have reached the Grand River and have started the new settlement, approximately one hundred wagons will press on to the Missouri River. There they will search out a place for another settlement. As quickly as possible, they will resupply themselves and start west for the Rocky Mountains. In this way it is hoped that they will reach our final destination early enough to put in crops and build shelters for those who are to follow. But it is clear now that we cannot take all of our people to the Rocky Mountains this season. Therefore, the majority of our people will winter over either at the settlement on the Grand River or at the Missouri River bottoms where there will be food for the people and our stock.”
“My word,” Joshua breathed. “They really have thought this through.”
“Yes,” Nathan answered. “This is a major change of plans.”
The Work and the Glory Page 422
