Peter swung down as the two men came forward. “Mornin’,” the leader said, extending his hand. “John Brown here.”
Peter took it and immediately liked the firmness of his grip. “Peter Ingalls,” he answered.
Brown’s eyes widened perceptibly. “Ingalls? But you’re the Mormon. You’re the one Mr. Clyman told us about.”
Thoroughly astonished, Peter nodded. “Yes. You met Mr. Clyman?”
“We did. He camped with us at Ash Hollow. We asked him if there were any companies of Mormons on the trail ahead of us and he said no, but then he told us that he had met a Mormon couple with one of the California trains.”
“That was my wife and I,” Peter said eagerly. “So are you Latter-day Saints, then?”
“All but Mr. Reshaw here.” He turned. “This is John Baptiste Reshaw. He and some other men run a fort a short way upriver.”
Peter shook hands with the mountain man. “I was just at Fort Bernard an hour or so ago,” he said. “Some of your companions told me where I could find you.”
“Good. I was going downriver to do some trading when I met Mr. Brown. I think that has brought a change of plans for both of us.” He turned to Brown. “I think this young man and his mount need a rest. Why don’t you tarry here a little longer? I will go on to the fort and have things in readiness for when you arrive tonight.”
Brown nodded, then smiled at Peter. “You look like getting out of that saddle for a time might be good for you.”
“I left Beaver Creek five days ago.”
“Whew!” Reshaw cried. “No wonder you are tired.” He looked at Brown one last time. “Discuss what I have suggested. I am confident this is your best course of action. We shall decide tonight.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you very much.”
They watched as Reshaw walked toward the horses, and then Brown laid a hand on Peter’s shoulders. “Come. We have just finished eating. There’s still plenty left.”
“Are you just an advance company, then?” Peter asked as they started for the nearest wagon, again searching the faces around him that smiled their welcome. “Where’s Brother Brigham?”
John Brown’s mouth pulled into a tight line and he was suddenly grim. “That’s what we would like to know.”
Brown watched Peter eat the thick slices of bread with cheese and drink down a small mug of warm milk. Only when Peter was nearly done did Brown straighten. “I think the easiest thing will be to start from the beginning and tell you the whole story. Though you haven’t found your family, as you hoped, I think maybe we have a solution for your problem.”
“I’m listening.”
Brown leaned back against the wagon, pulling thoughtfully on his lip. “I joined the Church in Perry County, Illinois, in eighteen forty-one and shortly thereafter gathered to Nauvoo.”
“That’s why you look familiar to me.”
He nodded. “I wasn’t there for long. Brother Hyrum Smith ordained me an elder and I was called on a mission to the southern states.”
“My brother and my brother-in-law were in the southern states,” Peter spoke up. “Derek Ingalls and Matthew Steed. They were in Arkansas.”
He shook his head. “I went to Tennessee and Alabama, but mostly I labored in Mississippi. We had great success and organized several branches of the Church there. I was there for over two years, then returned to Nauvoo in the spring of eighteen forty-five.”
Peter snapped his fingers. “You worked on the temple, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“That’s where I’ve seen you.”
“Probably so. Anyway, in January of this year, as everyone was preparing to leave Nauvoo, President Young called me to his office. He wanted me to return to Mississippi and organize a wagon company to go west. We were instructed to leave our families there and take only those families that were outfitted and ready to go. Instead of having us return to Nauvoo, which would have been way out of the way, Brother Brigham told us to go directly to Independence and then continue along the Oregon Trail until we caught up with him.”
“That was our plan exactly,” Peter said. “They left Nauvoo so much earlier than we did, we were afraid we would never catch up with them.” He shook his head in disappointment. “I assume Mr. Clyman told you that there is no one out ahead of us.”
“He did,” Brown said. “We weren’t able to leave Mississippi until the eighth of April, so we also assumed we would be far behind. Some were worried that we wouldn’t catch them until we reached the Rocky Mountains, but I was optimistic. We are a small company and are making good time. I really thought we would overtake them, once we reached the Platte.”
Peter was nodding vigorously. Brown could be telling his and Kathryn’s own story.
“As we pressed on and found no sign of them, some of our number became reluctant to continue farther. After considerable discussion we determined that there was nothing to do but to move on and see what developed.”
“It was Mr. Clyman who told us there were no Mormons ahead of us,” Peter said quietly. “That’s when we first knew for sure that something was wrong.”
“And it was Mr. Clyman who gave us the same news. As you will appreciate, this threw our company into great disarray. Some wanted to turn back immediately and either return to Independence or find our people. Others wanted to press on. It was finally decided to move on to Fort Laramie and then perhaps wait there for our people.” His eyes were dark and brooding. “Then, last night, we met Mr. Reshaw. He too confirmed that there were no Mormons out in front of us and told us that Fort Laramie is not a good place to winter over if that is what we are forced to do. He says it is bitterly cold there.”
Peter grunted, picturing what Fort Laramie would look like in winter. “It’s probably not the best place for a whole company.”
Brown brightened a little. “But Mr. Reshaw has given us a possible solution, and it may be the solution for you and your wife as well.”
“How is that?”
“Mr. Reshaw is leaving shortly to do some trading down south at Taos in Mexico. He claims that on the Arkansas River, at the eastern foot of the Rockies, there is a good place to winter over. It’s called Fort Pueblo. The temperature is mild and they are raising corn there. He thinks the mountaineers who winter there would gladly trade surplus grain for our labors.”
Peter was quiet, letting the implications of all that sink in.
“Once we get our people settled, those of us with families back in Mississippi could return there and bring them back out as well. Then come spring we’ll hopefully know where our brethren are and join up with them then.”
“So Kathryn could go with you?”
Brown nodded. “We would be most pleased to take her in and care for her until you can return from California.”
Peter’s shoulder’s sagged a little. It was as if someone had just removed a heavy pack from them. Here was a far better solution than what he had previously been thinking. Kathryn would be with a company of Mormons. True, it was a small company—only about sixty people, he guessed—but that was a lot better than leaving her alone at Fort Laramie. He looked up. “That would be wonderful. Have you decided for sure that that’s what you’re going to do?”
There was a brief nod. “As you heard, Mr. Reshaw is expecting our decision tonight, but I don’t think there is much question about it. We’re of one mind in the matter already. We view this as an answer to prayer.”
“As do I,” Peter breathed softly. “As do I. I’ll go for Kathryn right now.”
In the pre-dawn darkness, Peter knelt down beside the bed of his wife, felt for her face in the darkness, then leaned over and kissed her gently. He tasted the salt of her tears and reached up and wiped them from her cheeks with his thumbs. “Good-bye, my love,” he whispered.
“Good-bye, Peter. Godspeed.”
He kissed her again, straightened, and was gone. Kathryn sat up and hugged her knees, blinking rapidly to stop more tears from coming. She listened intently, fo
llowing the soft crunch of his footsteps in the grass until they died away. For several minutes there was silence; then she heard the muffled sound of hooves as he rode away. Then again came the silence—this time total, deafening, all-encompassing. Though she fought it hard, she could no longer hold it back. Her shoulders began to shake and a great sob was torn from her throat. She turned, throwing herself onto her pillow, and began to cry as she had not allowed herself to cry while he was still with her.
Peter had been so excited when he returned late in the afternoon yesterday to tell her of this new development. And it was wonderful news. When he took her to the camp of the Mississippi Saints, they had welcomed her as if she were one of their own. So in that sense, her worries were gone. And she wanted Peter to know that. So even though they both shed some tears and clung together for a very long time before finally going to sleep, she had held her emotions in check so that Peter would not be troubled more than he already was. But now her whole body shuddered and shook. It would be six or seven months at best, perhaps even a year. There was a chance that she would even have to have the baby without him. She buried her face in the pillow.
O dear God, put thy sheltering hand over my dear husband. Watch over him and keep him from harm’s way. Only now do I fully realize the precious gift thou hast given me in this man. Help me to be strong, to be worthy of him, to be ready for that wonderful day when we shall be together again.
She rolled over onto her back, putting her arm across her eyes to help staunch the tears. Her other hand stole down to rest on her stomach. Gradually her body calmed and the shudders became mere tremors and then finally ceased altogether. She sighed, feeling the weariness now—they had barely slept three or four hours. She turned onto her side, trying to get more comfortable. As her hand fell across Peter’s pillow, she felt something there. Surprised, she groped a little, then picked it up. It was an envelope. Instantly she knew what it was. The tears came forth again, but this time they were accompanied by a quiet smile.
Through the canvas she could discern the first light from the eastern sky. It would be full light in half an hour, but she couldn’t wait for that. She went up on hands and knees and crawled to her trunk. In a moment she found a match and struck it on the side of the chest. In the flare of light she saw the candle and lit it. Moving closer to the candle, she opened the envelope and leaned toward the light. Her hands trembled slightly as she unfolded the single sheet. For a moment, tears blurred her vision as she recognized his neat and boldly dramatic scrawl. She blinked them back and began to read.
Separations
In the great, all-seeing providence of God,
Some things are made undivided
And indivisible—
The silver in the moonlight;
The heat within the fire;
The fruit within an apple’s seed;
Laughter in a child’s eyes.
Not the wisest of the wise,
Or the strongest of the strong,
Or the keenest of the keen,
Can separate what’s made divinely one.
Long years ago, at Eden’s wondrous gate,
Our God took two
And—miracle divine!—he made them one:
One in heart and mind and hand;
One in work and joy and pain;
One in spirit, life, and love.
In modern day,
The miracle has struck again.
Two hearts—
One from Ireland’s emerald shores,
And one from England’s teeming streets—
Became as one:
One in heart and mind and hand;
One in work and joy and pain;
One in spirit, life, and love.
No endless trail,
No boundless sky,
No dreary length of lonely days,
Can separate what’s made divinely one.
My dearest Kathryn,
As you read these lines, I am riding ever-farther west. Do not think of this as taking me farther and farther from your side. Think of it as one great circle which brings me back to you. We are separated only by the miles. Every step I take shortens the distance and the time before we are rejoined. With that thought, I fly as if on the wings of lightning.
All my love,
Peter
Rebecca walked quietly beside her husband, content for the moment to leave him alone in his thoughts. She had a pretty good idea of what they were. This certainly would not be their first conversation on the matter. She also knew only too well how deeply stubborn Derek Ingalls could be when he set his mind to something. That was not all bad. He had shoveled coal in the boilers of the great cotton mills of Preston, England, in order to keep himself and Peter alive. That took some degree of iron will. She smiled inwardly. But the Steeds had some renown in the field of strong wills too. Since their last conversation she had begun to marshal her forces.
The Steed clan had not ferried over the Missouri River yet, but they were to do so in the next few days, and so they had moved their camp on Mosquito Creek down here to the river bottoms. Now she and Derek walked slowly along the riverbank about a quarter of a mile away from their wagons. When she had asked him if they could talk, his jaw had instantly set—he knew full well what the subject would be—but he nodded. Now they were here.
He nodded toward a dead log that had fallen near the water’s edge. “Let’s sit.”
“All right.” They moved over to it. He brushed it off and they sat down. For several moments, he stared at the muddy water. She waited. Her preparation had left her feeling really quite serene, and that pleased her.
“Look, Rebecca,” he began, “I fully understand why you want to go on this march, and in some ways it would be wonderful, but . . .” He blew out his breath. “It’s just not the wise thing to do.”
“Why not?” she asked innocently.
“You know why not. We have three children. Leah’s barely a year old.”
She laughed softly. He had tried that one before on her. “She’s sixteen months old, Derek, remember.”
“Yes, like I said, barely a year. How can you think of taking her on a march of a thousand miles or more?”
She smiled sweetly. “I think we should have asked that question before we left Nauvoo.”
“You know what I mean. I mean on a march with an army, going to war.”
“Derek, this is not some idea that I cooked up on my own. It was the United States Army that said that each company could have four laundresses. Would they do that if they thought women were not capable of going along?”
“Single women, yes. I mean, not single but women without children.” He was clearly exasperated by her calm reasoning, and his temper was rising a little. “Look at Melissa Burton and William Coray. They were just married a couple of weeks ago. This will be like a honeymoon to them. They don’t have to worry about children.”
“And what if she gets in a family way during the next year? Will the army send her home?”
“Of course not, but if she were that way now, I’ll bet the army would say no.”
“I think you make an excellent point,” she said, nodding. “About newlyweds, I mean.”
He gave her a suspicious look. “You do?”
“Yes. In fact, I just heard about another set of newlyweds who will be going too.”
“Who is that?”
“Brother James Brown is going to marry Sister Mary McCree Black.”
One eyebrow lifted slowly. “Do we know them?”
“I do. They plan to marry on the sixteenth, the day of mustering. Brother Brown has gotten permission to take his new bride along too.”
“Well, that just goes to prove my point.”
“And,” she added innocently, “their two children. You see, Sister Black is a widow and Brother Brown is a widower, and they each have a child from their first marriages.”
He grunted, irritated at himself for not seeing the trap. “So, two children. Are they older?”
“I don’t know. But I did just happen to stop by the officer’s tent yesterday afternoon and make a few inquiries.”
“You what?” he exclaimed.
“The army officers that Captain Allen left here to help recruit, I asked them a few questions about the laundresses.” Removing a slip of paper from the pocket of her dress, she rushed on before his fuming could be expressed in words. “Here is what I learned. Brother and Sister James Brown—this is James P. Brown, not the one marrying Mary Black—will be taking their fourchildren. A Brother and Sister Button will be taking fourchildren. You know Nelson Higgins. He and Sarah will be taking six children. Six,Derek!”
His mouth opened, then shut again. She went on, pretending not to notice. “So as not to flog a dead horse overly much, I’ll just note that Brother and Sister Jefferson Hunt will be taking sevenchildren, including two young twins, as will a family by the name of Shelton. Seven,Derek. That is more than twice the number of children that we have. In fact, with only three children, we shall be among the minority.”
He scowled at her, and yet she was pleased to see that he was impressed. “And I specifically asked the lieutenant,” she went on more gently now, “if my having three children gives the United States Army or any of its officers great concern. Even when I told him their ages, he assured me that it does not.”
She folded the paper and returned it to her pocket, then crossed her hands and placed them in her lap.
He was eyeing a large mass of floating weeds going by in the current. He spoke without looking up. “Seven? You’re not just fooling with me about that, Becca?”
“No, Derek. Right now there are two families who will have seven children with them on the march.” Now she turned toward him. “I know that it’s not going to be easy, Derek, but neither will staying here. You’ve heard how worried the leaders are about finding food and shelter for everyone. If we can get to Upper California with the army, that’s five mouths our family doesn’t have to worry about. That frees up a whole wagon for the others next spring. Think about that.”
The Work and the Glory Page 467
