The Work and the Glory

by Gerald N. Lund

  “Good.”

  “Well,” Brother Snow said, reining his horse around, “Elder Richards has given me a letter to carry to Elder Pratt, so I shall leave you now. We’ll see you in camp.” And with that, he galloped forward to catch up with the lead wagon.

  Derek and Peter left Rebecca and Kathryn to drive the team and went ahead to clear the road. They were now climbing what the advance company had named Big Mountain. They were in a heavy forest of fir, aspen, balsam, and cottonwood, but it was not as terrible as what they had come through the last two days since leaving the Weber River. Here at least they were out of the thickets of willows and gooseberry and brambles. And here they didn’t have to cross the creek eleven times in one day, as they had done yesterday.

  The advance company had improved the road greatly, but it still needed lots of work. With the greater manpower they had, the main company took the work further. They pried big rocks out of the way, pulled up stumps, and leveled out the roughest places. They moved slowly up the long hillside—Big Mountain was an appropriate name—but what they left behind them was a steep but decent road for the wagons to follow.

  Shortly after midday, up ahead of them there was a sudden cry. They stopped and looked forward. A man appeared out of the trees waving his arms. “Come and look!” he yelled.

  Leaving their picks and shovels, the two dozen men went forward. The steepness of the slope began to level off. Then suddenly they were out of the trees in a large space where there were no trees. They were not on the very top of the mountain—that was another three or four hundred feet above and behind them—but they had come around the shoulder of the hill onto a bald knob. Ahead, the mountain dropped off steeply again. But that was not what caught their eyes. They had ascended hills before, only to see row after row of additional mountains stretching out ahead of them. There were still plenty of mountains to see from this vantage point, but directly ahead of them to the southwest, there was a V-shaped opening in the mountain wall. And there, hazy in the heat of summer, they could see a broad, flat valley and a treeless plain.

  “It’s the Valley!” Peter cried, gripping Derek’s elbow. He remembered with perfect clarity when the Donners had reached this same spot the year before. Joy had infused their company as well, but for different reasons. Peter had been stirred with excitement that day too, but now? To his utter surprise, his throat suddenly tightened and there was a burning in his eyes. The Donner Party had been excited because it meant they were almost through with the endless nightmare of the Wasatch Mountains. But for the Saints it meant far more. There, clearly seen directly ahead of them, was their stopping place. After almost two years and fourteen hundred miles of exile, they were now within sight of their final destination. “It’s the Valley, Derek,” he said again, his voice strained.

  Derek turned and looked into his eyes deeply, and Peter saw that his eyes were glistening too. Derek swallowed hard, then could only nod.

  “It’s home,” Peter whispered. “We’re almost home.”

  “Let’s go get Rebecca and Kathryn,” Derek finally managed. “I want them to see this.”

  Derek raced back down the road and found their wagon about two-thirds of the way up Big Mountain. Without giving an explanation, he climbed up and took the reins from Rebecca, then urged the horses forward at a faster pace.

  As they approached the end of the trees, Derek turned and parted the wagon flap. “Kathryn? You boys? This is something you’ll want to see.”

  In a moment, the three of them were behind him, looking over his and Rebecca’s shoulders. As they came out onto the bald knob where the other wagons were stopped, Derek looked for Peter but couldn’t see him in the crowd of people that lined the edge of the drop-off. Seeing that their view was blocked, he swung the wagon around to the left and pulled into a spot where no one else was standing.

  “Oh, it’s beautiful!” Rebecca blurted when she saw the panorama that lay before them. Then suddenly she stiffened. Her eyes had lifted from the steep canyon below them, lifted higher than the next series of hills, and stopped on the V-shaped cut in the hills where there were no more mountains to be seen. She leaned forward, peering intently, not sure that she was seeing right. Behind him, Derek felt Kathryn clutch at his shoulder.

  “Is that . . . ?” Rebecca turned. “Is that what I think it is?” she whispered.

  He nodded. “Yes. You are looking at the Valley of the Great Salt Lake.”

  He turned to see if Kathryn was looking at the right place. She was, and tears were streaming down her cheeks. Suddenly Peter’s words seemed like the only appropriate thing to say at this moment. “It’s home,” he said softly. “We’re almost home.”

  Going down the west side of Big Mountain proved to be far more difficult and dangerous than coming up the east side. The slope was almost at a forty-five degree angle, and they had to lock the wheels and chain up the oxen and horses to the backs of the wagons. Once down, they were back into thick underbrush along the creek beds.

  They moved on another four and a half miles from Big Mountain before they came out into a beautiful, gentle valley. Here they found a spring with wonderfully cold water and plenty of grass for their animals. By then their teams had been in the harness for almost ten hours and were clearly tiring. They stopped to rest, but the excitement of knowing their goal was now in reach was too strong to resist. At the spring the road turned sharply to the right, or west, and went almost straight up another ridge. It wasn’t even half the challenge of Big Mountain, but with spent teams it would be challenge enough. They dubbed it Little Mountain, probably more out of sheer optimism than good sense, and made their decision. Exhausted, filthy, blistered, and battered, the majority of the camp voted to press on, at least to the top of Little Mountain.

  It took them almost an hour and a half to cover half a mile. They rested their animals every seventy-five to a hundred yards and double teamed where they had to. One by one they reached the top and fell out of line in an exhausted stupor.

  Then a cry went up. One of the men had walked over to where Little Mountain dropped into another canyon. Suddenly he started shouting. “There they are!”

  The men raced over. For a moment they weren’t sure they were seeing correctly. But the white tops of wagons in the bottom of the canyon amid the trees were unmistakable. Then Elder George A. Smith confirmed it. “It’s the advance company,” he said.

  And with that, the decision was made. They would push on one more time.

  Actually, the main camp stopped short of where the advance camp was. The two companies were quite large, and with all of their stock, they needed separate grazing room for them. Elder Smith called for the main company to stop about a mile upstream from the advance group, then sent word ahead to let the others know that they were there.

  It was just after seven p.m. when they finally called a halt and began to unhitch their teams. They had come fourteen miles, and it had taken them thirteen grueling hours. It was the kind of day that no company could repeat very often without destroying both men and animals, and the weariness lay heavily on the camp. But there was also a euphoric joy that left the camp buzzing with excitement. Tomorrow they would enter the Valley. Of that there was no doubt. They were no more than three or four miles from the canyon’s mouth.

  Just after getting their fires started, Colonel Stephen Markham, captain of the guards for the Pioneer Company, rode down the canyon and into their camp. He had stayed behind with the wagons bringing along President Young and the rest of the sick, so his appearance brought a quick response from the camp. Everyone moved to the lead wagons, where the members of the Twelve were camped, to hear what he had to say.

  Though they had started supper, Rebecca and Kathryn set the kettles off the fire, got Leah and Nicole, and went along with Derek and Peter to hear the report on their President. When they got there, Elder Willard Richards was conversing quietly with Brother Markham. The Apostle kept looking up as the people arrived, but waited until all in the camp h
ad assembled before he spoke. “Brother Markham, can you give us a report on President Young’s health?”

  “He’s doing better but is still having a difficult time,” Markham reported. “The roads are so rough that he can’t stand a full day’s travel. The problem is, we have developed new cases of sickness, and that is slowing us down as well.”

  “How far behind us are you?” Elder Benson wanted to know.

  “We laid over on East Canyon Creek today in consequence of the sick. So we’re probably about two days behind you now. Maybe a little more. With a limited number of men, we’re making a little slower time than you are.”

  “But Brother Brigham is better?” Elder George A. Smith spoke up.

  “Yes. He is still weak, but the prayers have helped him a great deal. I think—”

  Suddenly there was a shout from behind them. They all turned to see two riders coming up the canyon from the advance camp. Elder Richards squinted for a moment, then grunted in satisfaction. “It’s Elder Pratt and Brother Snow.”

  They all turned and watched as the two men rode up and dismounted. Elder Pratt strode forward and warmly embraced his fellow Apostles, then turned to Brother Markham and asked for a report. When it was finished he nodded in satisfaction. Then it was as though his face lit up. He leaned forward, almost breathless now. “We entered the Valley today.”

  “You did?” several exclaimed.

  “Yes.” It came out in pure exultation.

  “It was glorious,” Brother Snow said, clearly as excited as his companion.

  “I rode ahead this morning to scout the road,” Elder Pratt went on. “I came up and over Little Mountain and down here into Last Creek Canyon.”

  “LastCreek?” Markham cut in. “Oh, I like the sound of that.”

  “Yes, that’s what we call it. Our company was moving very slowly, clearing and fixing the road. Then Erastus arrived with your letter, Elder Richards, telling us to find a place for planting crops. So the two of us decided to ride ahead and do some scouting.”

  “My horse was exhausted,” Brother Snow broke in, “so we rode double on Elder Pratt’s.”

  Elder Pratt, his face flushed from the excitement that was on him, continued. “We rode to the mouth of the canyon and found the way blocked with trees and boulders. We had to go up and over a very steep ridge.”

  “Yes,” Peter cried. “That’s the way we went last year and nearly ruined our teams.”

  “We saw that,” Elder Pratt noted, sobered suddenly. “We could scarcely believe that teams could negotiate that hill. We think there is a better way, but I’ll come to that in a minute. When we reached the top of the ridge, there, to our amazement, the whole valley lay before us.”

  Now he looked away and his mouth began to tremble a little. He half closed his eyes, remembering. “Brethren and sisters,” he finally went on, his voice ringing like the sound of a clarion, “the sight was overwhelming. Can you imagine what we felt? After our being shut up in these mountains for so many days, there lay the whole Salt Lake Valley before us. It was astonishing.” He looked at Erastus Snow, who was nodding. “We could not refrain from giving a shout of joy the moment this grand and lovely scene presented itself to our view.”

  “Only four and a half miles more?” someone from behind Peter said in awe.

  “Yes,” Elder Pratt said fiercely. “Tomorrow we shall all be in the Valley.”

  “Even though we had only one horse between us,” Brother Snow said, “we made about a twelve-mile circuit of the Valley before returning to camp a short time ago. We found a place where we think it will be propitious to plow and plant our crops. There is a creek there. The soil is very dry and hard, but with water we think it will be rich and productive.”

  “Wonderful,” Elder Richards said. He looked at Orson. “And what of this other route of which you spoke?”

  “Ah, yes,” Elder Pratt answered. “Tomorrow we should like to explore a little further, but instead of taking our teams up and over that ridge, we think that with a little work we can cut through along the creek bed.”

  “Yes,” Peter said beneath his breath. “Now, there’s someone who’s using his head.”

  Beside him, Rebecca turned to Kathryn. Her eyes were shining with excitement. “Tomorrow, Kathryn,” she said softly. “We’ll be in the Valley tomorrow.”

  Peter removed his hat and took out a bandanna from his pocket and wiped his brow. He leaned on his shovel, looking back on their work, shaking his head. A year ago he had argued to have the Donners and Mr. Reed try to build a road down the creek bed to the canyon’s mouth, as the Pioneer Company was doing now. He had failed, and they had instead gone up and over the precipitous ridge now behind where he stood. What a difference having a full company of men made! If only— He caught himself. It was easy to wish now, but it made no difference. What was done was done.

  He heard the rattle of wheels and the sounds of wagons approaching. Turning, he saw the lead wagon appear around the bend, coming steadily down the new road they had just completed. Cheered at the sight, he looked at Derek. “Looks like we’re done here. Let’s go find Kathryn and Rebecca.”

  When they saw the two women bringing along their wagon, Derek and Peter walked to it, put their shovels in the racks on the side of the wagon box, then fell in alongside. Kathryn hardly noticed them. Her eyes were large and luminous with excitement. She watched the road ahead intently. As they started up again, she turned to Peter. “How much farther until we’re out of the canyon?”

  “Just right around that next bend.”

  Christopher’s head popped out of the opening in the wagon cover. “Are we there, Papa?”

  “Not quite, son. But close.”

  As they rounded the bend and the trees gave way to open land, Kathryn suddenly grabbed Rebecca’s arm. “Rebecca, stop the wagon.”

  Rebecca reined in. “What?”

  “Peter, come help me.”

  Peter trotted over. “What’s the matter?”

  “Help me down, please.” Then she turned. “Christopher, will you hand me my crutches please?”

  He ducked back in the wagon and in a moment returned with her crutches. Kathryn handed them to Peter, then climbed down with his help. He looked puzzled. Derek, who had been walking ahead watching for rough spots, came back as well. “What’s wrong?”

  Kathryn just shook her head, put the crutches under her arms, then started forward, maneuvering carefully over the rocky road they had just cut. She turned her head, grinning at Peter. “I don’t want to ride into the Valley, Peter. We’ve come a thousand miles and I want to walk this last little way on my own two feet.”

  At that, Rebecca tossed the reins to Derek. “Children. Come out of the wagon now. Leave the babies. Kathryn’s right. We are going to walk into this valley.”

  Without anyone telling them to do so, the company ground to a halt as they came out of the canyon and up the small rise that took them up about fifty feet or so above the creek bed. One by one they dismounted and walked forward to where the brush gave way to an open view of the valley. Peter twice suggested that Kathryn and Rebecca should get back in the wagon and ride up that hill once they had made their symbolic entry on foot, but neither would hear of it. As they reached the top and stopped the wagons, Peter climbed in the back and got Nicole. She stretched and her eyes fluttered for a moment, but then, as Peter cradled her in his arms, rocking her back and forth, she went back to sleep. Derek and Rebecca moved forward with their children. “I’m so excited,” Kathryn said as they approached the others.

  Peter nodded, surprised at the emotions he was suddenly feeling. They were once again as intense as what he had felt at the top of Big Mountain.

  “It’s huge,” Howard Egan was saying as they came up with the rest of the group. “It must be twenty-five or thirty miles long.”

  “And fifteen or so wide,” Robert Crow said in awe. “There’s no question about whether it’s big enough to hold all of us.”

  Beside him,
his wife, Elizabeth, had a look of dismay. “But there are no trees.”

  Kathryn had to nod at that. After Nauvoo and the vast forests of the East, this looked like desolation itself. There were a few ribbons of green meandering down from the mountains to what looked like a river that ran north and south the length of the valley, but other than that, it was one vast field of sagebrush, dry grass, and the occasional low-growing cactus plant whose needle-like leaves could pierce a person’s shoe.

  “Maybe we should go on to California.”

  Kathryn turned, not sure who had said it. One of the women or older girls of the Crow group probably.

  “No!” It came out sharply, and Kathryn turned back the other way. William Clayton stepped forward. “Look!” he commanded. “Look along the creeks. See those large green patches? That must be where the water has spread out some. Look at how rich they are. The soil isn’t barren. It just needs water.”

  Howard Egan had a hand up, counting methodically, moving his arm from north to south. “Seven, eight.” He turned. “There must be a dozen or more streams coming down from the mountains. We can easily turn them onto the soil. See how gently the land slopes? The water can be sent about anywhere.”

  “It is so big!” Christopher said to his mother.

  She nodded, still a little overwhelmed at the vastness herself—that and the sheer emptiness.

  “There’s only one objection,” William Clayton came back in, “and that is lack of rain. But God can send moisture in season if we are faithful.”

  Another woman was pointing to the north. “The lake is so beautiful. How can the water be undrinkable?”

  Peter could answer that one. “Because there is no outlet. That’s what we were told. And I can testify that it is so briny that one swallow can almost cause strangulation.” He shook his head. “There won’t be any using of that water for our purposes.”

  Rebecca had been silent through all of this. Now she looked at her brother-in-law. “Peter, what about California? Is it this barren?”