The Work and the Glory

by Gerald N. Lund

As Peter and Sam Brannan had done earlier that year, they determined that they would not risk taking the Hastings Cutoff and the more direct route to the Salt Lake Valley. They turned north, rejoined the Oregon Trail at the Snake River, and continued east to Fort Hall, reaching there on October sixth, not quite a month after splitting up. They purchased a few supplies at Fort Hall and then, after resting for a short time, turned south, heading for the Valley of the Great Salt Lake.

  Peter ran forward to where Josh Steed and William Hendricks were walking together near the front of the line of straggling men. He touched Josh on the shoulder. “Look. See that knobby hill up ahead?”

  Josh slowed his step and looked up, staring dully ahead. Then he gave Peter an incredulous look. It was now more than thirty days since their group had split and this half had left Truckee Lake and started down the east slopes of the Sierra. Eleven days ago they had left Fort Hall and turned south toward the Valley of the Great Salt Lake. It was exactly fifteen months after their official mustering in and three months since their discharge. They had marched a total of almost three thousand miles. They were footsore, blistered, sunburned, and wind-chapped. They were mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted. And he was supposed to get excited over the sight of some knobby hill?

  Peter grabbed his arm and shook it. “Look, Josh. See there, where the mountains come down to meet the plain? Just to the left there’s a hill that looks like a monk’s bald head.”

  Finally, Josh straightened and peered ahead more carefully. Others around him lifted their heads as well. Peter’s excitement was too much to ignore. Will and Alice were farther back in the company. Will gave Alice the reins, jumped down from the wagon, and hurried forward. A short distance ahead of where they were, Levi Hancock, the spiritual leader of the group, and Captain Jefferson Hunt, the senior officer of the battalion, both turned. “What is that again?” Hunt asked.

  “That’s Ensign Peak.”

  They just stared at him, as though he had spoken in a foreign tongue.

  Realizing his mistake, Peter rushed on. “Ensign Peak is where Brigham Young raised the ensign to the world two days after we arrived in the Valley.” Peter looked around, bursting with energy now. “Don’t you understand? We’re there. Great Salt Lake City is just about a mile from that peak.”

  Captain Hunt was nodding, his eyes bright now. He looked around. “Men, we have come a long way. We have endured much.” He let his eyes sweep across them with bitter irony. “And we look it.”

  That brought a weary laugh from several.

  “But we are about to march into the Valley of the Great Salt Lake, where our people await us. Are we going to go in like a pack of mangy hounds, or are we going to march in like the soldiers we are?”

  To Peter’s surprise, men began to straighten. They started to tug at their broad, white belts, about the only thing which remained of their original army “uniforms.” Hunt turned to Brother Hancock. “Levi, with your permission, I’d like to find a pole and break out the colors.”

  Levi Hancock looked at his counterpart for a long moment. There had been many a disagreement between these two men over the months, but all of that was gone now. “I think that would be most appropriate, Captain.”

  And then the captain had a second thought. He turned to Josh. “Private Steed?”

  Josh came to full attention. “Yes, sir?”

  “You think you could find us an empty bucket?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I think that would make a fine drum with which to mark cadence.”

  Forgetting that he was no longer a soldier, Josh snapped off a sharp salute. “Yes, sir!”

  By mid-October, the Valley of the Great Salt Lake could no longer be said to be uninhabited except by the Ute Indians, or what many of the Oregon and California emigrants called the Utah Band. Nine full companies—more than five hundred wagons and almost fifteen hundred men, women, and children—had come in with the Big Company, the last arriving on October sixth. The population of the Salt Lake Valley was now at a whopping eighteen hundred Latter-day Saints.

  By that time, the little colony had seen their first birth of a white female, their first birth of a white male, their first death (a boy had drowned in City Creek), a temple site selected, the regions round about explored, and the plan for a city—to be known as Great Salt Lake City—laid out, and surveys begun. Before departing for Winter Quarters, Brigham Young instructed the Saints to build a fort to the west of where they had plowed and planted. It was now completed, and extensions on both the north and south were under way to accommodate the larger numbers. The first settlement outside Great Salt Lake City—known as Sessions Settlement—was established about ten miles north of the city.

  With the arrival of the Big Company, cutting and bringing timber from the nearby canyons commenced in earnest. Nearly four hundred cabins were completed or under construction. Sam Brannan had shown the Saints how to make adobe bricks like the ones they used in California, and numerous dwellings had been constructed using hardly any timber at all. But whether it was log cabins, adobe huts, willow lean-tos, tents, or wagons, there was no question but what the Valley of the Great Salt Lake now had permanent inhabitants.

  Frost was occurring almost every night now, and a sense of urgency gripped the settlement as they raced to prepare for the first of the lasting snows. In addition to their meager harvest, the pioneers identified local roots and plants which could be eaten—sego lily bulbs and the roots of the thistle being the most popular. An infestation of field mice was dealt with by taking a wooden paddle with rounded handles and laying it across the top of a bucket filled with water. The paddle was smeared with grease. When the mice ventured onto the paddle to get the grease, it would flip and dump them into the water, where they drowned. Literally thousands of mice were killed in this manner. The one cat someone had brought across the plains became the pampered—and fat!—heroine of the settlement.

  All of this was on Mary Ann Steed’s mind as she walked through the gate of the fort and saw the bustle that filled the large courtyard.

  “Mother?”

  She turned. Lydia, Emily, Jessica, and Rachel were coming toward her. They had been to the simple store that had been erected inside the fort to provide some means of commerce among the Saints.

  “Oh, hello.”

  “We were just coming over to see you,” Lydia said.

  “What for?”

  “Why don’t you come and have supper with us tonight?” Jessica said.

  “Nonsense. Don’t feel like you have to have me every night for supper. I’m perfectly capable of cooking a meal for myself.” When they first arrived, she had moved into the same cabin as Matthew and Jenny. Then, knowing her need for independence and knowing that she would never express it, her sons and sons-in-law built a one-room extension on the back of Matthew’s cabin with its own fireplace.

  Lydia gave her a look of mock severity. “Now, Grandmother Steed. You know that the children are all still clamoring to have you spend time with them.” She smiled now. “This is part of your duty as a grandmother.”

  Before Mary Ann could respond, there was a shout from outside the gate. They turned as a rider came racing in and pulled to a halt in a spray of dust. He leaped from his horse. “Elder Taylor! Elder Pratt!”

  From the building that was serving as a temporary Council House, the two Apostles who had brought in the Big Company appeared. “Yes?” Parley Pratt said.

  “There’s a group of men coming in from the north. I think it’s the Mormon Battalion.”

  At that, a great cry went up, racing from mouth to mouth, house to house, and wagon to wagon. Men, women, and children came popping out as everyone started running toward the gate of the fort. Lydia turned to Emily. “Go get Jenny and Kathryn and Melissa.”

  Jessica nudged her daughter. “Rachel, go tell your father.”

  As they raced away, Lydia took Mary Ann’s arm. “Oh, Mother Steed, it could be Peter and Josh.”

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p; Mary Ann gently pried her hand away. “Go, Lydia. Don’t wait for me. Go find Josh.”

  With a cry of excitement, she nodded and started forward, pulling off her bonnet and flinging it aside.

  As Mary Ann came out of the gate, all around her people were sprinting past, calling and shouting with excitement. Mary Ann strained to see, and then in a break in the crowd she spied what it was the rider had seen. About half a mile away there was a double column of men approaching. As she looked closer she could see that one of the two at the front of the column carried a long pole from which fluttered the American flag.

  Jenny, Kathryn, and Melissa came rushing up, herding the younger children. Jenny was carrying Nicole so that Kathryn could use her crutches and keep up with them. “Where are they?” Kathryn exclaimed.

  Mary Ann just pointed.

  Then Solomon, Matthew, and Carl came on the run. Just behind them were Nathan and Joshua. The first three went by without seeing her. But Nathan saw her, and he and Joshua changed direction and ran up to her. “Mother,” Nathan blurted. “It’s the Mormon Battalion coming in.”

  She smiled and nodded. “I know.”

  “Come on. Let’s go see them. Josh could be there.”

  “And Will and Alice,” Joshua cried. “Come on, Mother. We’ll help you.”

  She shook her head. “You go on. I’ll be along.”

  “Mother!” Nathan exclaimed, surprised at her calmness.

  “No. They’re your children. Get up there. There will be time enough for Grandma later.” When they still hesitated, she gave Nathan a gentle shove. “Go on. Mind me, now.”

  Sensing that she really meant it, they spurted away, joining the crowds streaming northward.

  To her pleased surprise, she had gone only a short distance when she saw that the crowd had stopped. They were divided into two groups now, forming a wide path for the incoming column to pass through. Everything went silent as a great sense of anticipation swept across the waiting Saints. And then Mary Ann heard it. It was the sound of a drum. It sounded tinny and had a high pitch, but it was a drum nevertheless, and it was beating a steady cadence.

  In two or three minutes, as the drumbeat grew louder, the column appeared. Now she could see the flag clearly and that one person—perhaps their commander—marched to one side of the first row of men. She also saw that the men in the columns carried muskets on their shoulders and each wore a wide white belt and bandolier. Though they were only thirty or forty yards now from the first of the people, no eyes pulled away from staring straight ahead; no heads turned to the right or to the left. The right hands held their muskets, but their left ones swung back and forth in perfect rhythm. Every foot lifted and fell at precisely the same moment. This wasn’t a group of individuals walking in; it was a company of infantry, marching as one man to the beat of their makeshift drum.

  In an instant Mary Ann Steed’s eyes filled with tears. It was not that she had seen one of her family members coming in. It was not that she was stirred by the sight of them marching in such perfect order, though that was indeed a stirring sight. It was that in one brilliant burst of emotion, the memory of her dream came back to her, and with it came that same sense of incredible peace she had felt that first night that the dream had come to her.

  She blinked quickly, trying to clear her vision, but then gave up. It didn’t matter if she could see who was there or not. She didn’t have to see them to know. She knew with perfect certainty that Peter and Josh were there, and that Will and Alice and the great-grandson she had never seen had come with them.

  “Bat-tal-yun!” Captain Jefferson Hunt called out, his voice ringing out like a trumpet. “Halt!”

  As one, the two columns came to a stop in the midst of the waiting onlookers. Still no eye flickered; no head budged as much as a fraction of an inch all up and down the long columns.

  Hunt, still facing forward, withdrew his sword from its scabbard and lifted it high in the air. “Bat-tal-yun!” This time he let the word hang in the air for what seemed like forever. Then the sword flashed as he dropped it sharply. “Dis-missed!”

  With a mighty roar the men broke ranks and threw themselves into the waiting crowd. Now Mary Ann could stand it no longer. With a cry of joy she rushed forward, aiming directly at where she saw a tall bearded young man pick Lydia up and begin to swing her around and around.

  Joshua leaned forward, putting his arms around Caroline’s waist. “It’s not quite the same as Steed Row, is it?”

  She turned, smiling at him, and shook her head.

  The full Steed clan had come together, but there was no cabin big enough to hold them all. Not that such a simple thing would deter them. The Steeds were reunited, and even if they didn’t have a large porch on which the adults could sit and a grass-filled yard where the children could play, they were going to have their evening together.

  Once supper was done, they brought out every stool, every bench, every box and barrel and bag they could find to provide seats, and then gathered for another “night on Steed Row.” First they asked Josh Steed to tell them the story of the Mormon Battalion. He was a natural storyteller, and by the time he had finished with the story of the Battle of the Bulls, the smaller children had moved closer to their parents to be safe. He finished to wild applause and a tearful, joyful kiss from his mother.

  Now Will and Alice were telling about their voyage and the year they had spent in California. Grandma Steed held Jared on her lap while his parents spoke. As they talked about storms and miracles and the struggle it had been for the first few months after landing, Joshua was transfixed. His son and his bride had left as young newlyweds—naive, vulnerable children. Now they were mature, confident young parents. Alice was especially enchanting as she teased Will about his love of the sea and the difficulty of learning to walk on land again.

  None of the children had been put to bed. This was a night for exceptions, and now Joshua was glad. They sat wide-eyed and totally enthralled, still perfectly content after almost an hour together. He was glad this next generation was hearing what their parents, uncles, aunts, and cousins had done.

  When Will and Alice sat down, again to enthusiastic cheers and wild jubilation, the family fell quiet. It was past nine o’clock now and getting cold. They sensed it was time to end the day, but weren’t sure just how to do it. After a moment, Joshua looked at Nathan and motioned for him to get up. Nathan looked surprised. “I’m not the eldest here,” he said easily. “You get up.”

  Joshua was nonplussed. “But you’re the head of the family,” he protested.

  “No,” Nathan said slowly. “I was for a time, but that was before Joshua Steed became a man of the covenant. You’re the eldest.”

  Looking around, flustered by this unexpected turn of events, Joshua wasn’t sure what to do. He had taken the lead on the trail but only because Nathan had gone ahead. Then he looked at his mother. She nodded. “Nathan’s right, Joshua. You’re the eldest.”

  Caroline turned, her eyes glowing. “Go on,” she murmured. “You know what to do.”

  He stood slowly, feeling awkward and embarrassed. His eye caught Carl’s, and he felt a sudden warmth as he saw Carl nod his encouragement. Then, as he looked from person to person, he saw that same support and encouragement on every face before him. He took a breath and began, speaking slowly, trying to collect his thoughts.

  “This morning, as I was walking back from the creek, I was looking around at our little home in the wilderness. Suddenly I was struck by the fact that this was, in many ways, just like it was in Winter Quarters. It was as though we had changed locations but not our situation. We are still living in crudely built cabins or, in some cases, the backs of wagons. We have little money”—he grinned—“except for Peter, who now has more money than all the rest of us put together.”

  They all laughed at that as Peter blushed. What no one but Kathryn knew as yet was that the five hundred dollars that James Reed had given him had already been turned over to Elders Parley Pra
tt and John Taylor to use as they saw fit.

  “There is no doubt,” Joshua went on, quite serious now, “but what this winter will be very much like our last one—inadequate housing, scarcity of food, unsanitary conditions, sacrifice, suffering, and yes, perhaps even death.” He took a deep breath. “All of that was on my mind as I looked around today.

  “But then suddenly I had a different thought. Yes, there were many things that were the same, but then I realized we have changed much more than our location. For one thing, we won’t spend the winter preparing to leave in the spring. This time we won’t abandon our homes and our fields and our city. Our homes are meager now, yes. But in time the wagons will become tents, the tents will become cabins, the cabins will become homes. True, the streets will be filled with traffic, but it won’t be headed west. The empty lots that are now no more than stakes in the ground will become neighborhoods. We will build churches, schools, businesses, maybe even a theater again as we had in Nauvoo.”

  The family listened intently to his every word. Several, including Carl, were nodding thoughtfully.

  Joshua felt his face burn a little. “I didn’t mean to give a speech, but . . .”

  “Give us a speech, Joshua,” Nathan said quietly. “This is a great day. It deserves a speech.”

  “Hear! Hear!” Matthew called out.

  “Well, I’ll tell you what else I was thinking today.” He looked at Savannah, who was watching him with adoring eyes. “I realized suddenly that there was another way in which we had done much more than simply change locations from Winter Quarters to Great Salt Lake City. For almost four months on the trail I kept thinking of the Valley as being the end of the journey. Now I realize it is only the beginning. Think what this valley means for Savannah. For Rachel and Emily. For Mark and Luke and David and Sarah. The nearest mob is now more than a thousand miles away. Our littlest ones—Emmeline, Livvy, Betsy Jo, the two babies—these children will never know a Far West, a Haun’s Mill, a Carthage Jail. They may go to bed hungry this winter, but they will not go to bed afraid.”