After a moment, she came up on one elbow. “What’s wrong, Peter?”
He laughed in spite of himself, then kissed her nose. “Is it because you’re Irish?”
“What?”
“This second pair of eyes you seem to have that sees right through me.”
“Aye, that it is,” she said, a lilting brogue now in her voice. “So, tell me what’s bothering you.”
He sighed and found her hand. “Not a lot, but just . . . I don’t know. I just have this general feeling of uneasiness about things.”
“Like what?”
“I’m not sure. All the bickering and contention. The fact that we’ve split into separate parties. Governor Boggs being our leader.”
“None of that is new, Peter. What happened tonight?”
He sighed again. “Mr. Clyman thinks it is a bad mistake to take this shorter route that Lansford Hastings is proposing. Mr. Reed didn’t like what he heard.”
“Will he change his mind about it?”
“I don’t think so.”
She lay back, and he could sense her concern in the darkness.
“I trust Mr. Reed a lot, Kathryn. But . . . I don’t know. It’s just that everything is changing. The family is not here like we expected. We may have to go all the way to California. Now this.” Then, realizing that he was only adding to her worry, he tried to lighten his voice. “I’m just tired. It’ll be all right in the morning.”
She rose up and kissed him softly. “I love you, Peter Ingalls.”
“You do?” he said in surprise. “How come?”
“I can’t think of a single reason,” she answered.
He reared back. “Hey!” he cried with offended pride.
She laughed. “But isn’t that the best reason of all? I don’t need a reason to love you. I just do.”
Chapter Notes
The details of life on the trail are taken from the various journals and reminiscent accounts of those who were there (see, for example, Chronicles,pp. 70–78; Boyd Gibbons, “Life and Death on the Oregon Trail: The Itch to Move West,” National Geographic,August 1986, pp. 147–77; What I Saw,pp. 80, 86–91, 97–98). The sawing of the wagon in two is reported by George McKinstry, who also traveled with the Donners for a time (see Overland in 1846,pp. 210, 405–6). The story of Scotts Bluff as related by Kathryn here is the most common version that was told to the emigrants, but there were several variations, and there may be some legendary aspects to the tale. Incidentally, Chimney Rock, which is about thirty miles east of the present Wyoming-Nebraska border, is the most frequently mentioned landmark along the Oregon-California Trail. Today it measures 474 feet in height, having lost some thirty feet between 1846 and the present time.
James Clyman, an experienced mountain man and fur trapper, was returning to the United States from Upper California in the summer of 1846. He arrived at Fort Laramie on the same day as the Donner-Reed party and in his journal notes that “several of us continued the conversation untill [sic] a late hour.” He and James Reed knew each other from before, having been associates in the Black Hawk War. Another of their companions in that campaign was known as Abraham Lincoln. Clyman strongly warned Reed against the proposed shortcut to California (see Overland in 1846,pp. 58–59; see also WFFB,pp. 23–29, 46–48; and Chronicles,pp. 82–83). Hastings’s book about Oregon and California was a major factor in encouraging the great migration of 1846, and therefore Hastings was held in high esteem. Also, John C. Frémont, who was likewise held in high esteem after his military explorations, had taken the same route as Hastings was proposing. Though it was foolish to do so, this helps explain why the emigrants would trust Hastings’s word over that of more experienced men like James Clyman.
The Reshaw mentioned here was actually John Baptiste Richard, an American-born trapper and mountain man who, his ancestors being French, used the French pronunciation of his last name.
Chapter 6
The first of the Saints arrived at Council Bluffs on the banks of the Missouri River late in the afternoon on Saturday, June thirteenth, a full two months later than had been originally planned. It was clear to Brigham Young and the Twelve that it was far too late in the season to take everyone across the plains to the Rocky Mountains. Even as wagon after wagon poured in from the east, the chief Apostle set to work on three primary tasks. First, they had to find a place for a winter settlement where the great majority of the Saints could wait for spring. That required negotiating with Peter Sarpy, the local Indian agent, and the tribal leaders for permission to stay on Indian lands. Fortunately the Indians—Potawatomis on the east side of the river, and Otoe and Omaha on the west—were friendly to the white man. There was no threat of hostilities except from the Pawnees, who lived farther west along the Platte River.
The second task was to find a way across the river. Deep, muddy, swift—the Missouri was too wide to bridge and too deep and treacherous to ford. There was an existing ferry at Traders Point downstream a few miles, but with close to a thousand wagons either already here or somewhere east along the trail in Iowa Territory, there was no way the Church could afford to pay to have them all ferried across. With typical pragmatism Brigham convened a council meeting on the afternoon of June twenty-first, their second Sabbath day in the area, and called for carpenters, hewers, and other laborers to begin immediate construction on a ferry of their own.
With possibilities for winter camps being investigated and a ferry under construction, that left one major task undone. At half past eleven a.m. on the twenty-eighth of June—their third Sabbath day and only the sixteenth day after arriving—the Saints assembled at Mosquito Creek for worship services. To no one’s great surprise, after prayer and some brief preliminary business Brigham Young rose and began to speak on the third primary task facing the Saints.
The Steed family found a spot near the temporary rostrum and spread out their blankets on the grass. The ground was still damp from a brief but violent thundershower that ripped through the camp shortly after midnight. While it had made for a miserable night, for the moment at least it had left the air cool.
Nathan watched as Brigham came to the makeshift podium. Behind him were seven other members of the Twelve—Heber C. Kimball, Orson Hyde, Parley P. and Orson Pratt, John Taylor, George A. Smith, and Willard Richards—and Father John Smith, uncle to the Prophet Joseph and Patriarch to the Church. As Brigham moved to his place, Nathan noted the thinness of his face and the fact that his coat hung on him loosely. The last few months had taken their toll. About five foot ten inches high, Brigham had always been somewhat portly. Back in Nauvoo he rarely buttoned his coat because it couldn’t quite contain his girth. Now that same coat could easily overlap its buttons by an inch or two. Nathan guessed that the chief Apostle had lost thirty or thirty-five pounds since they had crossed the Mississippi and started west. He had also become more serious. He could still be lighthearted, displaying his razor-sharp sense of humor, but those times came less frequently now, testimony to the weight of responsibility which he carried on his shoulders. Still clean shaven when many men were letting their beards grow, Brigham looked younger than his forty-five years. As the Apostle’s head came up, Nathan could see the somberness in the blue-gray eyes and the lines around his mouth.
“Brethren and sisters, I should like to speak to you of a matter relating to the situation of the Church, of the gathering of Israel, and of the building up of the kingdom of God. It is my firm testimony that God controls all things for the perfecting of the Saints and the overthrow of the wicked. I know that while an evil deed may be overruled for good, yet a good deed may bring a greater good.”
He stopped and his shoulders seemed to stoop a little. He looked around, letting his eyes move from face to face. Then he seemed to sigh inwardly before straightening again. “As you know, we have come to this place much more slowly than we originally planned. Many of our brethren and sisters have yet to join us. Some have not even left Nauvoo as yet. In two days it will be the first day of J
uly, well into the summer season.
“It is clear that we cannot, as a body, continue on to the Rocky Mountains. We do not have the means to take all of our people there this season. We have not the food. We have not the teams. We have not the strength.”
Nathan saw Joshua give him a look, half of surprise, half of self-acknowledgment. Joshua had been saying that there was no way they could continue on to the West without facing major disaster.
“Something must be done and be done quickly,” Brigham went on, his voice rising a little as he spoke firmly. “I feel that it is time for a good deed to be done which can bring about a greater good. I would like to propose that a vanguard company be formed and sent across the mountains immediately.”
It didn’t come as a total surprise. Their leader had spoken in such terms before, but for the last two weeks little had been said concerning any further western movement, and many had begun to wonder if the plans would be canceled.
The Apostle’s shoulders pulled back and his voice grew stronger. “The companies must prepare teams and grain and implements of husbandry to send over the mountains immediately. The season is so far advanced that if we are going to do something, it must be done quickly. The people are not willing to let the Twelve go ahead any faster than themselves, and so we are here and can go no farther. We must send on men and teams to prepare a place for us, to plow and plant in preparation to receive us. If we do not send men ahead now, it will throw us back another year and we shall have to buy another year’s provisions for our people.”
He stopped. The whispering among the people had become a low undercurrent of sound. He waited a moment to let the group quiet down again, then went on. Now his voice was steady but filled with determination. “We shall take mules and horses and swift cattle. We shall travel thirty miles a day. I believe that if we choose carefully and move forward with diligence, we can make our destination in thirty-five days, time enough to plant our seed and reap at least somecrops before the winter snows come.”
Lydia’s hand stole across the space between her and Nathan and took his. He looked at her. She didn’t turn, but in profile he could see the gravity in her eyes. As he looked farther, he saw that same gravity on Caroline’s face, in the thin line of Rebecca’s mouth, in the pinched look around Jenny’s eyes. A vanguard company moving thirty miles a day meant no women or children. There was no question about that.
“How many are willing to go over the mountains?” Brigham called out. “How many are willing to leave your families for a time to accomplish what must be done? I would like to put it to the vote.”
For a moment nothing happened as the crowd considered what he had said. Then one by one men started raising their hands. Nathan hesitated only a moment, then raised his. He was not surprised to see Joshua, Derek, and Matthew follow suit.
“Good, good!” Brigham exclaimed. “Let me count your numbers, for I am determined to leave my family and go if I can get any volunteers to go with me.”
A few more hands lifted. There were three or four dozen hands up now.
“Wonderful, brethren. This gives me great satisfaction. I am determined that we must go.”
Though it rained again that afternoon, the showers passed quickly, and by evening, when supper was done and the babies were put to bed, the air was pleasantly cool. The Steeds gathered around their main fire, sitting on chests or lengths of log because of the wet ground. The younger children were allowed to play quietly within sight of the wagons, but the older children were considered part of the family council.
By unspoken agreement, Nathan was in charge. He called on Rachel to begin the meeting with prayer, then immediately launched the discussion when she sat down again. “You know why we’re here. Brigham wants volunteers for the vanguard company. We need to decide who of us should go.”
Caroline’s hand immediately shot up. Nathan gestured toward her. “How many?”
Nathan nodded somberly. It was the question directly on his mind as well. He looked around the circle. “That’s a critical question. What do you think?”
Rebecca looked at Derek, then half raised her hand.
“Becca?” Nathan said.
“President Young said that if a man goes west with the vanguard company, other men—probably those older or younger—would be asked to help care for the families left behind.”
“Yes.”
“What does that mean? For example, is Matthew considered a younger man?”
Savannah giggled suddenly, looking at Joshua. “Uncle Matthew’s young, but Papa’s not. He’s old. Maybe they’ll let him stay.”
“Hey!” Joshua growled, grabbing for her. She squealed and jumped away. That brought laughs from the family, but they quickly died away.
Young Joshua Steed and Luke Griffith Garrett sat next to each other. Josh was Nathan’s oldest and had turned fifteen the month before. Luke was Jessica’s stepson from her marriage with John Griffith. He would be fourteen in the fall. Along with his half sister, Rachel, he had come ahead with the family when Solomon and Jessica had stayed behind to help build Garden Grove and then Mount Pisgah. Josh straightened, looking solemn. “I’m almost sixteen now. I’m old enough to go.”
Lydia smiled sadly at her son. “Josh, you won’t be sixteen for eleven more months.” Her voice caught. “If your father goes—and I think he will—then who will take care of us?”
His shoulders slumped and he sat back.
Nathan was looking at Lydia. “You think I should go?”
She nodded, suddenly near tears.
“And Matthew too,” Jenny said, her own voice sounding strained.
There were several nods at that. Matthew Steed had been partners with Brother Brigham in a cabinetry business back in Nauvoo. Not only was there a warm affection between the two, Brigham almost treating Matthew as his own son, but Matthew was a skilled carpenter and a hard worker. Brigham had already drawn heavily upon his skills.
Now Derek spoke up. “I don’t see how we can send more than two of us. I think we have to leave two men with the family. There’s a lot to do here to get ready for winter.”
Rachel, sitting beside Emily, raised one hand.
“Yes, Rachel,” Nathan said.
“Mama and Papa should be here soon from Mount Pisgah, don’t forget that.”
Matthew jumped in. “That’s right, so that makes five adult men. I think Brigham would agree to have two of us stay.”
“Isn’t Uncle Solomon the oldest of any of you?” Josh asked.
Now Joshua spoke. “I’m thirty-nine and Solomon is two years older than me. So yes, he’s the oldest.”
Caroline took his hand. “If we left the two oldest here, then—”
Joshua was shaking his head before she could finish. Caroline looked dismayed. “What?”
“We have to make the decision based on who it is best to have go, not just by age.” There was a fleeting smile, tinged with sadness. “You know, if this had come three weeks ago, it would be a lot harder decision.”
Nathan turned to him. “How so?”
Now the smile broadened and any touch of sorrow was gone. “Because I would have had a choice then, not being a member of the Church. Now I’m under covenant. I’m here to do whatever you and Brigham ask, Nathan.” He shrugged. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”
Nathan had to stop. It had come out so simply and so accepting. And this from the man who had once led the mob at Independence as they tarred and feathered the Mormons and drove them from the state.
Mary Ann stood up, eyes shining, and walked over to Joshua. She put her arms around him and held him tightly. Joshua looked surprised, then hugged her back. When she pulled away, her voice was a bare whisper. “That was for your father, Joshua. If he was here, that’s what he would have done.” She smiled through the tears. “He would be so proud of you.”
Completely taken aback by that, Joshua could only nod. “Thank you, Mama.”
Several around the fire, including Caroline,
were a little teary-eyed now as well. Finally, Nathan cleared his throat. “I have a proposal. When Solomon and Jessica arrive we’ll have to talk with them about it, but I propose that we send three of us with our best wagon and team.”
“And the three are?” Derek asked slowly.
Nathan looked around, then let his breath out slowly in a long sigh. “I think that me and Matthew”—he glanced quickly at Caroline—“and Joshua should go with the vanguard company.”
Rebecca looked up. “Nathan, are you suggesting Derek stay just because of me and the children?”
His answer was immediate and firm. “No. Solomon and Derek are our best farmers. You’re going to need food to see you through the winter here. Matthew needs to go because of his skills in bridge and ferry building.” There was a moment’s hesitation, then a floppy grin. “And me? Well, Joshua and Matthew need someone to do the grunt work for them.”
Matthew laughed shortly, shaking his head. “Me and Joshua both know why Nathan needs to go, don’t we? Who else would keep us out of trouble?”
Joshua was sober. “Yes, and who else can answer all my gospel questions out there?”
The wives around the circle were nodding now, though not with any joy. Nathan looked around the circle for one last time. “Any other questions before we take a vote?”
Emily, who sat beside Rachel, tentatively raised her hand. “Papa?”
“Yes, Emmy?”
“Won’t you need some young women to go with the vanguard company and cook and wash for you? Rachel and I could do that.”
Though her mother looked startled, Nathan was not surprised. The vanguard company sounded like adventure, and Emily was never one to let an adventure pass her by. “Next season, Emmy. For now, you and Rachel will be as valuable to the family here as will Luke and Mark and Josh. But thank you for thinking about us.”
Her head bobbed. She had already known the answer, but still had to ask.
“By show of hands, how many of you accept the proposal that three of us go.”
The Work and the Glory Page 460
