That morning, he had solemnly promised himself that he would not leave for the Blue Mountains without kissing her. He had renewed that vow several times through the day and thought of little else. But all day he had been fretting over how to kiss her when her parents were always hovering nearby. Now, good fortune had smiled upon him.
Glancing once more to make sure they were alone, Mitch stepped to the lamp beside the sofa and turned it down a notch so the light was softer. “I like that,” she murmured. Then, as he straightened, she came over and took his hand.
Taking a deep breath, he took her in his arms, but he leaned back a little so he could look into her eyes. That was a mistake. A man could drown in eyes like that. So he leaned in closer. “I am really going to miss you, Edie,” he murmured.
She tried to speak but couldn’t get it out. With an angry shake of her head, she fanned her hand back and forth in front of her face, as if that might dry the tears. “I’m not going to cry,” she said in a fierce whisper. “I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry.”
He leaned in even closer, drawing her slowly to him. For a moment she looked startled, but then she tipped her head back and closed her eyes.
Then it happened again. He made the mistake of keeping his eyes open, and just as their lips were about to touch, panic hit him like a blow. He turned his head, pulled her tightly to him, and buried his face in her shoulder. “Oh, Edie. I don’t know if I can stand it. Promise you’ll write to me.”
“I will,” she whispered.
Then, feeling as awkward as a newborn colt, he stepped back and stuck out his hand. Bewildered, she just stared at it. So he took her hand and shook it vigorously, all the while cursing himself for being such a fool. “Good-bye, Edie.”
She couldn’t believe it. He could see that in her eyes as he turned and half plunged toward the door.
“Mitchell Westland!” It was a sharp bark of command.
He turned back. “Yes?”
She held his gaze for a moment and then looked away. “You forgot your stuff.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” Picking up the book and the pen and ink, he again started for the door. Again she stopped him before he could open it. “Mitch!”
“What?” he asked, turning back to her. She took three quick steps and stopped right in front of him. Then, face flaming, she reached up with both hands, pulled his head down, and kissed him softly on the lips.
He was stunned. “Uh . . .” He felt like his face must be glowing in the dimmed light.
“Now you know how it’s done, Mitch,” she stammered, averting her eyes.
“Wow!” was all he could think of to say.
“Good night.” She turned him around and gave him a little push toward the door. “Please write to me.” Tears sprang to her eyes and she turned away.
In a daze of wonder, he walked to the door and opened it. He stopped and turned back. Her back was to him, and he saw that her shoulders were shaking slightly as she fought back the tears. Very quietly, he set down the two packages. “Edie?”
She turned.
A silly grin spread across his face as his eyes locked on hers.
“What?” she whispered.
In three steps he was to her and had her in his arms again. “Uh . . . Could we do that again? I don’t want to forget how it’s done.”
1887—The Blue Mountains
Sunday, March 13th, 1887. This is my first diary entry. I had planned to write every day, but I’m learning that sometimes there just isn’t time at the end of the day, and so I’ll have to write when I can. Sorry, Edie!
We left before dawn on Thursday. There were eight men in our party. Families will be brought up sometime in June. We have four wagons, including my own, the teams to pull them, and riding horses. We brought no cattle with us this season, thinking it wiser to get established first.
The small valley by what we call South Montezuma Creek has great promise for farming. We have taken to calling this site “Verdure,” which means “green,” or “greenness.” It is a small but beautiful valley. This will almost certainly be the site of one of our two settlements. Yesterday we came six more miles and set up camp on North Montezuma Creek. Snow is deeper here, and the winds blow stiffly out of the northwest constantly.
Today is the Sabbath. Rested ourselves and our teams. Had a simple Sabbath service with Bishop Jones directing. We have decided to declare March 12, 1887, as the official founding day for our new settlement.
Monday, March 14th, 1887. Weather is clear but quite cold. Split up today and began exploring the water possibilities. They are very promising. The water is cold and plentiful and very sweet. We used shovels to divert the stream onto the land to help us determine where to dig the ditch that will bring water to our new town. Put in stakes dated March 12th claiming all water rights of all the streams coming off the east slopes of the Blue Mountains.
Tuesday, March 15th, 1887. Today we discovered what could be a complication. George and Charles continued exploring upstream and found stakes indicating two previous filings on the water rights. They eventually met cowboys who said they had made the filings, but they admitted they had no interest in the rights themselves but had done it in behalf of the L. C. Ranch, which is not legal, according to Charles.
This is disturbing and we must look into it. We see cattle droppings everywhere and estimate they may have as many as 2,000 head here. We have spotted riders in the distance, so they know we are here. The L. C. Ranch has been here for several years, but we believe that they have illegally taken over the best country for their own purposes without filing for title to it. We expect that they will resist any effort on our part to settle in this country.
Wednesday, April 6th, 1887. There is one dark cloud on the horizon. The foreman of the L. C. outfit came to our campsite the other day. He was quite belligerent and told us that this was their land and that we needed to move on. When we asked for some evidence that the Carlisles (owners of L. C.) had legal title to the land, he got very angry and stomped off. “You either get out or we will drive you out.”
Being a prospective cattleman myself, I can see why he is angry. But it is worrisome. He seems like a decent man, but a lot of his hands are young rowdies and it’s likely many have come out here to escape the eyes of the law. Some of them are reputedly wanted for murder.
We decided to consult with President Hammond, who is visiting in Mancos. Since I am familiar with that area, I will accompany Bishop Jones there in the morning.
Friday, April 15th, 1887. Our trip to Colorado proved most fruitful. President Hammond recommended that all three of us go to Durango to consult the land records and seek the advice of a lawyer. We did so and were highly gratified that after a careful search of the records, the lawyer assured us that the Carlisles’ claims to the Blue Mountains are illegal. This was wonderful news and was received with much joy.
It was a long and exhausting trip, and it is good to be back. I miss Edie tremendously, even more than I expected. The thoughts of staying over here through the winter seem less and less attractive. Perhaps the next time we need someone to go down to Bluff for supplies, I shall volunteer.
Sunday, May 8th, 1887. Another Sabbath day and a chance to finally write in here again. I feel guilty about not writing more, but every day is filled with things that require immediate attention. At nightfall, I crawl into the back of my wagon and fall asleep almost the moment my head hits the pillow.
Things are progressing well. We have occasional run-ins with the L. C. hands, but it’s mostly bluff and bluster and a string of profanity. I long for the day when those cattle I see spread across the countryside have my brand on them instead of theirs.
There was disturbing news from President Hammond yesterday. Congress just passed the Edmunds-Tucker Act in Washington. This is a law aimed directly at the Church and those who are living in plural marriage. It is a harsh law that will affect many of our families in Bluff. Gratefully, neither my father nor Edie’s father were asked to live
that law.
Among other things, President Hammond says the law will now force plural wives to testify against their husbands. All marriages will hereafter have to be performed by probate judges appointed by the president of the United States. Thus no bishop or stake president can perform a marriage, nor can there be any marriages in our temples. Anyone elected to public office must swear an oath rejecting plural marriage. The territorial militia is disbanded. And, most devastating of all, the law disincorporates the Church, which means that all Church properties, including the temples, will be seized by the U.S. government. President Hammond says that the Church plans an appeal to the Supreme Court, but he thinks that won’t stop them from implementing the law immediately.
Edie’s seventeenth birthday is five days away. I had hoped to go down to Bluff for supplies and to surprise her, but there is too much to do here. I left a small gift with Mama to take to her. I miss her every day.
Thursday, May 26th, 1887. A family passed through two days ago. They are moving to Moab in hopes of finding better farmland. They brought a bag of letters for us, including a letter from my family and one from Edie. What a welcome thing something as simple as a letter can be. Johnny and Martha both wrote their own small note. Mother’s health is doing better than it has for years. She sees that as a fulfillment of the promise by President Smith that those who stayed in Bluff would be doubly blessed. It makes me so happy to know that she is happy.
Of course, Edie’s letter filled me with joy. I was surprised to learn that she is no longer working at the store but helping Ida Nielson at the school every day now. I can tell from what she says about the children and the work that she loves it much more than she did her work in the store.
How I miss my Edie. She is a much better writer than I am and fills the pages with things that lift my heart and make me laugh. Perhaps next spring, I might ask her to be my wife. More and more, I see in her the strength and faith that I see in my mother and that I saw in Feenie Barton. She will only be eighteen then, so it would probably be best to wait until the following summer to wed. But I am sure she has many would-be suitors—though, of course, she says nothing about such things.
The other good news the passing family brought with them is that the wives and families of my other brethren will be leaving in two weeks to join their husbands and fathers up here. My brethren are rejoicing at the prospect. But that will be especially difficult for me, for when the others come, I will be the only one who is without a family here.
Notes
In March 1887, Congress passed the Edmunds-Tucker Act, which was the latest and most comprehensive attempt of the government to stop plural marriage (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edmunds-Tucker
_Act). Three months later a constitutional convention was held in Utah to try to stave off the seizure of Church property. The Church also began forming colonies in Mexico and the province of Alberta in Canada to provide safe haven from this law. Government authorities did not wait for a Supreme Court ruling but immediately began arresting and prosecuting Church members living in plural marriage. Dozens of men were arrested and hauled off to prison. Many families were left without their primary means of support.
In April 1890, the Supreme Court upheld the Edmunds-Tucker Act. Six months later, at October general conference, Wilford Woodruff issued the Manifesto that officially declared that the practice of plural marriage in the Church had stopped. Men were released from prison. Confiscated properties were returned to the Church, and formal, legal persecution stopped (see “Plural Marriage and Families in Early Utah,” https://www
.lds.org/topics/plural-marriage-and-families-in-early-utah?lang=eng).
Chapter 17
_____________________
June 16, 1887—Verdure, San Juan County
Fred Adams saw them first. Mitch was working with Bishop Jones and Charles Sr. on a storage shed for the grain they hoped to harvest in the fall. They were just hoisting up the top log when Fred shouted something at them. Grunting and straining, they gave one last heave and dropped it in place. Then they turned to see what the shouting was about.
A cry of joy went up. On the south ridge that marked the beginning of Verdure, a wagon had appeared. As it pulled to a stop, another and then another pulled up alongside it.
Women and children were waving wildly and calling out. Dropping whatever they had in their hands, seven men and boys gave a whoop and took off running. They swept off their hats and waved them wildly as they ran.
Mitch sat back, took a bandanna from his back pocket, and wiped at the sweat across his forehead and his neck. He watched with a curious mixture of happiness and longing as the two groups came together. Husbands caught their wives as they leaped from the wagon seats. Brothers swept up little sisters in their arms. Older sisters raced to be the first to reach their fathers. Children danced around their parents, who were locked in a prolonged embrace.
Mitch sighed and then straightened, looking for the sledgehammer. The top log was slightly out of alignment, but a couple of whacks with the sledge and it would be fine. He picked it up and looked back at the celebration going on up at the ridge. As he did so, something caught his eye. He lifted his arm to shade his eyes. One solitary figure stood off to the side, like him, an observer rather than a participant. The figure was somewhat silhouetted in the afternoon sun, but it was clearly a woman. She wore a bonnet and a long dress. As he looked, one arm came up and she began to wave it back and forth. Then, floating down to him on the summer air, he heard one word that made his heart leap. “Mitch!”
The sledgehammer clunked to the ground as he leaped forward, scarcely daring to believe his eyes. Then he heard it again. “Mitch Westland. You get up here, right now.” He took off in a sprint.
Puffing heavily from his dash, he swept Edie into his arms, lifting her off the ground and whirling her around and around. Then he kissed her, long and hard. Men, women, and children broke into cheers and applause. Finally, Mitch pulled back and set her down.
“My, my,” she managed breathlessly, her face bright red, “I see you haven’t forgotten what to do.”
“No siree!” And as the others looked on, he kissed her again.
It was nearly sundown before they found time to be together far enough away from the others that they could talk. But now the wagons were unpacked, supper was cleaned up, and mothers were putting their children to bed. Mitch found a place on the creek bank where the grass was like a Persian carpet. As they sat down, he put his arm around her and pulled her close.
“I’m still in shock,” he said. He reached up and started curling a lock of her long, dark hair around his finger. “I can’t believe it.”
Smiling shyly, she nodded. “I thought I might surprise you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“Because I wasn’t sure until just a few days before we left. I have wanted to come, ever since you left. And not just for you. I think this is so exciting—being the first to start a new settlement, creating something out of nothing. But it didn’t seem appropriate. A single woman coming up here is different than a single man.”
“So what changed?”
“Emma Decker came and talked to me.” She laughed softly. “Actually, I think your mother put her up to it. But anyway, Sister Decker wondered if I would come up for the summer and help her with the children.”
“They have five, right?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “Alvin talked about them all the time. You can see how happy he is to have them here.”
“No happier than Emma is to be here. So, anyway, I told my parents about her request.”
“And they agreed?”
Laughing softly, she said, “This will surprise you. Mama had a lot of misgivings, but Papa said yes. Right off. He didn’t even think about it.”
“Then I owe him a lot,” he said, taking her hands. He shook his head in wonder. “I just can’t tell you how good it is to see you.”
Poking
him with her elbow, she said, “Oh, I thought you did a pretty good job of telling me.”
He blushed. “I kind of got carried away.”
She poked him again. “I wasn’t complaining, Mitch.” Laying her head against his shoulder, she sighed. “So, tell me about it. What is it like up here?” Then her eyes widened. “Have you been writing in your diary?”
“Yes.” He frowned. “Not as much as I’d hoped, but quite a bit.”
“Can I read it?”
“Um . . . Let me finish one thing first. Then you can.”
“All right.”
“Uh . . . Edie?”
“Yes?”
“Some of us are leaving in the morning.”
She gave a low cry and reared back. “So soon?”
“Yeah. We . . . I think I told you how we started digging a ditch to bring water down to the North Montezuma Creek settlement site, but then we quit because it was going to take too long and we had to get the crops in down here first, and we also had to get some acreage fenced and—”
She cut in sweetly. “My goodness, Mitch. Take a breath.” When he did so, grinning foolishly, she went on. “Yes, I remember all that.”
“Well, the crops are in now, and things down here are pretty much in good order. So Parley Butt, Fred Adams, Charley Walton, and I are going up to start on the ditch again. Others will help as they can. We can’t start the other settlement until we get water to it.”
“How long is that going to take?”
“Probably three or four weeks.”
At her look of dismay, he rushed on. “But we come back here each night. It’s only six miles. We don’t stay up there.”
“Oh.” She moved closer to him. “Then maybe I’ll let you go.”
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