by Diane Noble
Alexander gave Ellie a quick kiss just before she climbed up to sit on the bench next to Abe. Liza hollered brightly from around the corner then, picking up her skirts, clambered aboard and settled down beside Ellie.
“Be careful,” Alexander said to them all. “If you suspect the slightest danger, leave immediately. We’ll get our supplies someplace else.”
“I’ll take good care of them,” Abe said. “Don’t worry, Captain. We’ll be back soon, and the next group can go.” He flicked the whip over the team, and the beasts lumbered forward. Behind the wagon, five other families pulled out at the same time, and soon the small party was heading onto the Salt Lake road.
Ellie was in awe at the size of the beautiful city. It seemed to gleam in the morning sun. And green! There were trees and gardens, fruit trees, and berry vines winding over arbors. It rose from the desert like an oasis, a lush, beautiful garden oasis.
She looked from one brick storybook house to the next, each framed by beds of roses and sunflowers waving bright against the desert sky.
“Just look at it!” exclaimed Liza, grasping Ellie’s hand. “My lands, I’ve never seen anything like this. Wide streets. As wide as I’ve ever seen in a city. Irrigation canals running here and there like rivers. And they’re all laid out in precise order—the way I’d cut a cake!”
“Liza, look at the peaches! They’re as big as saucers.” She pointed to a side yard where an orchard’s multitude of branches were bending nearly to the ground with the weight of the fruit.
“Oh, my sakes,” breathed Ellie, her mouth watering. “Do you know how long it’s been since I tasted a peach? I don’t know about you, but I don’t care what they charge for a bushel of peaches—I’m ready to pay any price!”
“I believe I’m ready to do the same. I wonder if there’d be enough time when we get back to camp to bake up a cobbler?”
The women laughed and talked, planning the items they’d buy first, the fruit and vegetables, flour and grain. Then they began to notice that the streets were emptying. Women and children were being hustled from the sidewalks, through doors that quickly closed.
A pall seemed to hang over the city as it emptied. Carriages disappeared. The people in those vehicles that remained turned neither to the right nor to the left but kept their eyes straight forward, as if not daring to look at the strangers.
As they drove along, shop after shop closed. Liza and Ellie exchanged glances, and Abe shook his head slowly in dismay.
“Stop here,” Ellie suddenly said to Abe. There was a mercantile on the corner that hadn’t yet closed, and people milled about inside. “Meg! Sarah!” she called out. “Come with me. Quickly, before it closes!”
Abe glanced over at Ellie and started to say something about it being too dangerous. But she put her hand on his shoulder. “We need to at least try. It will be all right. You stay here and watch the wagon. Liza, do you want to come along?”
Liza nodded and climbed from the wagon; then she reached up to help Ellie step down. The twins skipped around from the rear and joined the two women. The foursome crossed the street and entered the mercantile.
“I’m sorry, we’re closed,” the shopkeeper said immediately, stepping from behind the counter.
“But you have customers,” Ellie said, stating the obvious. “I said, we’re closed,” he repeated.
“We need food and supplies,” she entreated, pulling her girls forward so they could be seen. “Please, we don’t have long. And we have the means to pay you—”
“I said, lady, we’re closed,” he repeated.
“Pay you well,” Liza said. “If you’ll simply allow us a few minutes to gather some staples.” She smiled. “We promise. We won’t be long.”
But the clerk ushered them to the door, his face closed to all emotion. “Good day,” he said firmly as they stepped to the sidewalk.
Ellie held her head high. “We’ll keep trying,” she said as they stepped up to the wagon bench. “They can’t all be so stubborn.”
But as they drove through the city, there was not a shop that would open its door to them, not a friendly face among the few who roamed the sidewalks, not a friendly word spoken. Disheartened, the wagoners drove back to the train.
That afternoon another brief council was held, this time with the entire company, including the Missourians who’d now driven their wagons closer to the Farrington company. The Ohioans and the Missourians now made up for the number they’d lost when Silas Edwards left with his outfit of mutineers.
Alexander stepped onto the back of an open farm wagon so he could be seen. He looked out at the sea of faces, sunburned, tanned, and freckled, the women’s heads covered with capotes for shade, the men in western hats curled slightly on the sides. The faces had changed since they’d left. Harder, leaner, wiser. There was now a wariness about them, especially after hearing the news about the people in town being unwilling to sell them supplies. Even the children, normally feisty with boundless energy, were subdued and stood silently near their parents.
“Folks,” he said, “it appears that the Mormons are preparing for war against the States. I can think of no other reason for their lack of willingness to sell us the goods we need. At sunup we will head south to the Old Spanish Trail and make our way as quickly as possible to the territory boundary.
“You must take the order very seriously to keep to yourselves along the way. We will attempt to buy supplies from some of the outlying settlements. It could be that some of the more isolated farmers and ranchers will not have heard about what appears to be an order from the Church leaders not to sell to foreigners.”
“Foreigners?” called out one of the Missourians. “This here’s United States territory.”
Alexander and Abe exchanged glances, then Alexander looked hard at the man. “We may know that to be legally true. But the fact is we’re outnumbered—as one of your group earlier pointed out—by people who would disagree. And that kind of a comment called out in the wrong place could get us killed.” The man grumbled for a minute then slipped back in among the Missouri outfit.
Farrington went on to describe the trail ahead. “It’s mostly desert terrain between here and a place called Mountain Meadows. We’ll find little grass for the herd this time of year. The best we can do is to move as quickly as we can from water hole to water hole. There are a few natural springs along the way, so we’ll have water.
“At the least, we’ll find granaries near Cedar City. If we haven’t found a farmer to sell us supplies, we’ll hope to buy feed for the cattle there.”
“Or steal it,” shouted a Missourian.
“That would be a big mistake, sir,” Alexander said, giving him a cold stare. “If the Mormons didn’t use you to decorate a cottonwood, I believe I would myself.”
A silence fell over the group, and Alexander said a few more words about conserving their remaining supplies. “It will be a difficult trek,” he concluded. “But there’s a resting place on the trail ahead. We’ll push through as hard and as fast as we can then spend a week or so at the Meadows, where there’s plenty of grass and water, before the crossing to California.”
Before he dismissed the company to return to their wagons, Jesse O’Donnell spoke up, “What happened to Lucas Knight? I thought he was arranging a meeting for us with Brigham Young.”
Alexander nodded. “That had been his plan.” He paused, again noticing the wary expressions. “But he didn’t return.”
“You never heard anything from him?”
“Not a word,” Alexander said. “But we can’t wait. We’ll pull out in the morning.”
Before sunup the following day, the caravan was snaking across the desert and onto the Spanish Trail. The first day they made good progress; the second day was even better. The third day they could only travel until noon because of thunderstorms and flash floods.
The monotony of the days was broken only by the dots of settlements along the way, none of which would welcome the weary travelers with
their bawling, dusty, and hungry herd. So the company marched southward, their days blending together, blistering hot and dry.
Alexander had been wrong, he realized very soon. It seemed that some sort of order had been given throughout the territory. The company was met with open hostility. There was no food for sale, even for the children, no grain for the herd. Nothing.
People appeared afraid of the company and most often said nothing when spoken to, or else they ran into their houses and watched the travelers, looking out cracked-open doors or from behind veiled windows. Taunts were called out from the men, mostly in the larger settlements. Once in a while, the Missourians forgot Farrington’s orders and yelled back uncouth remarks, but mostly the travelers felt intimidated by the ill will and kept to themselves.
After more than a week on the road, a band of Indians rode their ponies close to the trains ranks. They slowly inspected each wagon and its teamsters as they rode by, then followed a short distance behind the caravan. They were Utes, Alexander knew, having encountered them on earlier treks West. They didn’t beg for food or trinkets but seemed content to sullenly watch the group as they made their way south.
Wagon wheels had dried out worse than ever now from the hot, dusty climate. Wood cracked and shrank, and the iron rims rolled off most of the wagons along the way, causing the loss of precious traveling time as the wagoners chased and replaced them. By the time the rigs rolled through Cedar City on the first of September, they creaked and groaned and rattled loudly along the road.
The setting was majestic, Farrington thought, admiring the red rock cliffs rising into a clear, blue sky. Trees were starting to turn fall colors and appeared liquid gold as they shimmered in the sun. The houses were the same English-style cottages they’d seen in the Salt Lake valley, made of brick and trimmed with bright shutters and roofs. Trees and gardens and flowers were abundant, and healthy cattle grazed in fenced grasslands fed by an intricate series of irrigation canals from mountain streams.
But again, in this place that seemed a beehive of happy activity, no one would sell to or trade with the company. They were met with icy stares and sullen or fearful looks.
Alexander was riding the Appaloosa alongside the wagon today, and Ellie drove the team from her bench. She noticed him watching and looked up.
“Are you going to the granary today?” she asked quietly.
He nodded.
“Do you have any hopes at all that we’ll be sold grain?”
He smiled at her. “There’s always that hope.”
She gave him a quick smile. “It’s my thinking, Alexander, that we might as well just head on to the Meadows. If the folks at the granary aren’t inclined to sell, I worry that the Missourians might take matters into their own hands.”
“It’s bad business, Ellie,” he said. “Whether they sell or not, it’s bad business.” He sighed heavily. “I’ll just be glad when we can move out of the territory completely.”
“We’ll be safe at the Meadows,” she said, watching his face.
“I’ve stayed there myself. It’s frequented by many travelers.”
“But you’re no longer saying it’s safe.”
He met her worried look with a weary smile. “As I said, Ellie, I’ll just be happy to get the company out of the territory.” He didn’t want to tell her about his growing uneasiness about not being able to replenish the food supplies for the desert they still must cross.
A short time later, with the train camped southwest of Cedar City, Alexander, Abe, Hampton, and Jesse rode back into town to see about buying grain.
Ellie and Liza gathered sticks for the cook fire and headed back to camp to start their meager meal. Some of the men had shot some rabbits and ground squirrels during the day’s trek, but there weren’t nearly enough for the entire company, so families were sharing their ingredients to make thin stews. Flour was now depleted, so there were no longer biscuits or flatbread. Even the cornmeal was nearly gone, and most of the families had put away what little supply they had for the journey across the desert.
Liza stood at the rear of the wagon, using the tailgate as a work-table to cut up a couple of small, skinned squirrels. In the shade of a nearby cottonwood, Meg and Sarah sat on a stump, making up new songs on their flutes. A few scrub jays were squawking in the top branches, fluttering and hopping from limb to limb then squawking again at the girls’ flutes. Giggling, the girls imitated the squawks, and more jays arrived to add their voices to the chorus.
Ellie had pulled up a bunch of wild onions when they’d gone for wood, and now she chopped them into tiny pieces then dropped them into the Dutch oven a few at a time. The onions sizzled as they hit the small spoonful of lard at the bottom, their pleasant aroma rising in the balmy desert air.
She shook out a bright cloth to cover the small table and added a vase full of wildflowers Sarah had picked. Ellie hummed to herself as she worked then smiled across at her friend.
“I declare,” said Liza with a grin. “You can be happy doing the simplest chores. Here we are, preparing a supper made of wild varmints, and you’re acting as if it’s a meal fit for royalty.”
“There’s a particular reason I’m happy tonight,” Ellie said.
Liza carried the pieces of squirrel to the big iron pot and dropped them into the sizzling onions. Ellie stirred the pot as the squirrel meat browned.
“And what is the reason, if it’s not the stew?” Liza asked, lifting a brow as she dropped another few pieces of squirrel into the pot.
“Our trek might not be over, dear,” she said. “But there’s another journey that’s almost done.”
“What are you talking about?”
Ellie gave her friend a knowing smile and patted her stomach. “I believe it’s nearly time for this young man to make his appearance.”
Liza quickly wiped her hands and rushed to Ellie’s side. “Have they started? The birth pangs, I mean?”
Ellie laughed quickly, patting Liza on the arm. “Oh no. You’ll be the first to know, believe me.” She took a deep breath. “The baby’s dropped, for one thing. And the other? Well, I can feel it in my bones. He’s ready.”
Liza laughed and dropped into a chair, fanning herself. “I thought you meant you were ready right now.” She laughed again. “And you’re still convinced it’s a boy?”
“It would please Alexander.”
“And how about you, Ellie? What do you want?”
Ellie glanced at the twins, still giggling and playing under the canopy of cottonwood branches. “There’s nothing like little girls—sweet and sassy and full of fun.” Then she looked back to Liza. “After those two, it’s hard to imagine what rearing up a little boy would be like.”
“You’re frowning. Why’s that?”
Ellie smiled softly. “I’ve had it in mind that I’d like to name this child Faith. And that’s not much of a name for a boy. Besides I haven’t mentioned it to Alexander. Naming babies is the last thing on his mind right now.”
“Might toughen him up to be named such a name.” She laughed. “He’d have to fight every little boy who teased him.”
Ellie chuckled. “Well, maybe it’s a girl after all. I do believe, though, we won’t have long to wait to find out.”
Liza reached for her hand. “You rest now, Ellie, and let me finish fixing supper.”
“Works every time,” she teased. But she gratefully settled onto a chair and put her feet up on an empty grain barrel.
Just before supper, the men returned with bad news—the owners of the granary refused to sell. Alexander, shaking his head in disbelief, said he’d offered an entire chest of gold in exchange for enough grain to see them across the desert. Even that offer was refused.
The company spent another glum evening around their night fires. Reverend Brown played a few songs on his harmonica, but no one felt like singing or dancing, and he soon put it back in his pocket. The company quieted earlier than usual that night and soon settled into their beds and tents.
&n
bsp; It seemed to Ellie that she had just closed her eyes when the sounds of shouting and gunfire erupted in the distance. But surprisingly, dawn’s pearl light had just begun to crown the eastern horizon when Ellie sat up on her pallet and looked over at Alexander.
He was already scrambling to find his shirt in the predawn darkness. Someone across the circle lit a lantern, followed by a few others around the camp.
“What’s happened?” Ellie murmured sleepily. Her heart thudded in alarm.
“I’ve got a pretty good idea it has something to do with the Missourians,” he muttered, jamming his foot into a boot.
He had just grabbed his hat when Red Jakes rode into camp, shouting, “They got Graves! We went to get ourselves some grain. They wouldn’t sell. We thought we’d help ourselves anyway. We’d just loaded the barrels when they came after us with rifles. Matthias was in the wagon, and we got separated when we were ridin’ away. I think they got him.”
Ellie figured Jakes had probably taken off to save his own hide. She could see her husband’s hands fisting at his sides. “You did what?” he roared.
“Cap’n, we gotta have grain, or we’re gonna die anyway,” Jakes said shakily. “If our cattle don’t make it, we don’t make it. It’s a matter of survival. That’s what we all decided.”
By now the men in both companies had gathered around. “We better go after him,” Abe said. “No matter how we feel about what he did.” Several of the Missourians agreed loudly.
But before Alexander had decided whether to risk sending anyone after the renegade, the sounds of a horse-drawn wagon rattling down the desert trail carried toward them. Seconds later, Matthias Graves drove up, looking sheepish.
“We’d better hightail it outa here,” he said. “It’s nearly dawn anyway. But no matter, we’d better go.”
“Tell us what happened,” Farrington said, his voice low and controlled.
Graves grinned and glanced at the back of the wagon. “Well, first of all, we got us some barrels of grain for the herd. Second of all, them Mormons ain’t too pleased that we got away. I was hidin’ when my friend here left: me in the lurch.” He glared at Jakes. “But as it turned out, they followed him for a bit instead of me then turned north to someplace called Parowan to gather up a posse.” He paused. “Heard them discussin’ it before they left. But I’m sure they’ll be showing up before too long.”
