“I wonder if they are appraising us as wives,” Bessie said.
“We will be in your city only another day, so we will not be looking for husbands here,” Maggie told a woman who greeted them.
“Sometimes it does not take that long. I myself married a man after I knew him but two hours.”
“I would not suppose one would decide so quickly about true love.”
“True love!” the woman scoffed. “I had little choice. He wanted to take two brides at one time, and the other was already chosen. There were several who would have stepped in if I had refused.”
“Marry in haste, repent in leisure,” Dora whispered to Maggie.
The woman overheard. “Life may be difficult on this earth, but I shall have my reward in heaven. He is a high-ranking member of the church.” She looked the women over. “It is a pity you are not among us. He is a good husband, and with so many other wives, he does not bother me too often.”
Despite their drab clothing and skin roughed by the sun and wind, the women were quickly approached by the men, even Dora. No one cared about her state. Several men were attracted to Mary, who forgot to put her hand over her bad eye. That did not deter them from requesting her as a partner. By the time they left, the women believed the Mormons were decent, welcoming people, albeit with strange customs.
As they walked back to the wagons, Mary confessed, “I had a proposal of marriage.”
“After one dance?” Winny asked. Then she inquired slyly, “Are you of a mind to accept?”
“He told me I would have my own bedroom, and he would buy me a plow and a mule.”
“He is a romantic, then,” Maggie told her. “Was he the handsome Dane you danced with?”
“It was the Dane’s father, the man with one arm.”
“Does he have teeth?”
“Of course. I counted three.”
“Then we shall know where you have gone if you are not with us in the morning,” Dora teased.
“Oh, I think I shall not marry him,” Mary said, shaking her head. “It seems he saw me riding on the red horse, and it is the horse he admires. He said by way of proposal that he wanted me to sell the horse to him at a good price, but if I would not do so, then the only way he could see to acquire it was to marry me.”
“He has a way with words,” Maggie said.
* * *
THE NEXT DAY, Mary, Sadie, and many of the other travelers explored the city, but a few remained with the wagons. Dora, tired from the dancing the night before, stayed behind with Maggie, who was stitching a quilt. Stitching soothed her.
“Will you help me with the baby?” Dora asked.
Maggie looked up, startled. “Why?”
“I know so little about them, and I do not believe there are any other mothers among us. You are the only one.”
“I should think you would not want me near it.”
“You were not responsible for Clara’s death.”
Maggie shook her head. “Then why do I feel I am?”
Dora was silent a moment, then asked, “Did you want Clara? I heard you say your husband beat you. Did you want the baby?”
“Yes, after a time,” Maggie said. “You did not want yours, did you?” She made a knot and bit off the thread. Was there thread for sale in Great Salt Lake City? she wondered. But of course there was. With a place so full of women, how could there not be? She would purchase some before she left.
Dora shook her head.
“But you do now.”
“More than anything in the world. I love her so much.” Dora put her hands over her stomach as if protecting the child.
“A girl, then?”
“I hope so.”
“Some believe they are the best kind.”
Edwin interrupted them. “I have been looking for a chance to talk to you away from the others.” He smiled, and the two women nodded at him. “I have two houses. My first and second wives live in one of them. The other is rented, but I will ask the couple living there to move. There is a feather bed and pillows and a rocker and a rug. My father is a high-ranking member of the church, and I have had a blessing telling me that I will rise even higher. I am clean in my habits and have never hit either wife. I am the owner of a prosperous farm. My wives would not object to enlarging my kingdom. I believe I can offer a good life.”
Maggie was bewildered and exchanged a glance with Dora, who looked confused, too.
“Well? Are you agreeable?”
“To what?” Maggie asked.
“To marriage.”
“To you?”
He looked around and grinned. “I do not see anyone else.”
“But which one of us is your object?” Dora asked.
Edwin grinned. “Why, both of you, of course. I would marry both of you in one ceremony. I have observed that you are compatible with each other and would be happy as sister wives. I have asked my wives, and they say they would welcome you.”
Maggie and Dora looked at each other, and although they tried not to, both began to chuckle. “Oh, do forgive us. It is all so strange,” Maggie said.
Edwin looked hurt. “I will be a good husband, and I chose you because you both are in need. You are going west in hopes of finding husbands, and I believe I am better than any of the men you will meet in California.”
Maggie bit her lip to stop the smile, then said, “Edwin, we are sensible of the honor, but it would never do for me—or for Dora either, I believe.” She glanced at Dora, who nodded. “It is quite out of the question.”
“I would provide a home for your child,” he told Dora, then said to Maggie, “And I would give you more children. I am a robust man.”
“I can see that,” Maggie agreed. Then, trying to spare Edwin’s feelings, she added, “As you know, we have agreed to marry in California. It would cause us discomfort if we were to go against our promise.”
Edwin argued for a moment, but nothing he said dissuaded the two women. Both tried to keep solemn faces. They waited until Edwin was out of earshot, then Dora burst out laughing, and Maggie joined her. Maggie laughed so hard that she doubled over, and when she stopped, there were tears in her eyes. “Imagine!” she said.
“Did he really think we would accept?”
“I believe so. I have never heard anything so preposterous in my life.” Maggie wiped her eyes with her sleeve.
Dora studied her friend for a moment, then said, “I have not heard you laugh since…”
Maggie thought that over, then nodded. “I believe now I shall get better.”
* * *
EDWIN MUST NOT have been too heartbroken that Maggie and Dora turned down his proposal, because he promised to escort both of them, along with several other women, to a mercantile that afternoon. Maggie went along to buy thread.
Edwin pointed out the sights as they walked to the business district—the stores and houses and church buildings that the Mormons had erected in only five years. The women spread out along the street, dawdling a little, since it was a rare day of leisure.
Penn stared at four women gathered in a yard and wondered, “Is them those sister wives?”
“I believe so,” Maggie said.
Penn started to reply, then stopped and gasped. Maggie turned to see that her friend was watching two men come down the street, one on horseback, the other driving a wagon. Penn froze, a look of anguish on her face. One of the men pointed at her, and Penn started to run. He galloped after her and grasped her arm.
“Looky who’s here. Ain’t it Penn House? We been looking for you, Penn, been looking since St. Joe.” He jumped off his horse.
The other man caught up. “Ain’t much of a welcome you give us when we come all this way just to find you. Elias there, he wanted to take the cutoff, but I says you being a woman and all, you’d want to go this way so’s you could buy yourself some pretties.”
“Where’s Asa at, Reed?” Penn whispered.
“Funny thing, we was going to ask you the same thing, only we know.�
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“Know what?”
Reed turned to his brother. “Ain’t that cute? She’s asking about Asa, like she don’t know he’s killed.”
“Asa’s dead?” Penn looked down, as if she were sorry.
“Like you don’t know.”
“I’m real sorry, Reed,” Penn said. “Me and Asa had us some good times.”
Reed sneered. “Likely you killed him. We was at Kearny when they found his body. Soldiers said there was a bunch of women camped there. They said it was robbery, but Asa still had his gold on him, only he didn’t have something else, something you taken off him in St. Joe.”
“I don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I guess you do, and you’ll tell where it’s at before long.” He reached out and slapped her, and Penn fell to the ground, her mouth bloody. “Now you come along real quiet, and we won’t do nothing to your friends.”
Maggie hurried to defend Penn, as did Edwin and the other women.
“You have no business here, sir. You will release Miss House,” Caroline said.
Elias stared at her while his brother came to stand next to Penn. “It ain’t your business, lady. We’re taking her with us,” Reed said.
“No, you are not,” Edwin told him.
“You going to stop us, Mormon?”
“I and the others.” He nodded at half a dozen Mormon men who had come up behind the Harveys.
Elias turned and stared at the men. “Ain’t your affair neither. She’s our brother’s wife, a grieving widow. We’re taking her home.”
“I wasn’t never married to him, Elias. I ain’t going with you,” Penn told him.
“We’ll ask you to leave the lady alone,” one of the men said.
“God damn you, you go to hell!” Reed yelled.
“You will not take the Lord’s name in vain, sir, not in His holy city.”
Elias, furious, grabbed a pistol from his belt and aimed it at the man, ready to fire, but before he could pull the trigger, one of the Mormon men shot him. As Elias dropped to his knees, Reed reached for his own pistol and fired at one of the Mormons. In the melee, he, too, was wounded and fell to the dirt, writhing. The Mormon men put down their guns.
Edwin rushed to the wounded Mormon and put his head to the man’s chest. “He’s dead.”
“So’s this one, and the other’s hurt bad,” an elder said, examining the Harvey brothers.
Two Mormons gripped Reed’s arms and dragged him to a wagon. Reed was conscious, and he glared at Penn, hatred in his eyes. “You killed them, Penn. You killed Asa and now Elias. You ain’t never going to get away. I’ll hunt you down. Don’t you never sleep through a night without being afraid of me.”
Edwin stood and took Penn’s hands. “You do not need to worry, Miss House. He will hang—that is, if he does not die first.”
Sixteen
August 21, 1852
The California Trail
The Mormons loaded the bodies of Elias and the dead elder onto the cart with Reed and hauled them off. “Reed’ll get away and come for me. I’m not never going to get free of them Harvey boys,” Penn said. “I can’t never hide where he won’t find me.”
“We should be underway,” Mary told the ministers, after the women returned to the wagons and explained what had happened. “Penn is badly frightened that Asa’s brother will escape and come after her. And I believe she may be right.”
“We leave tomorrow,” Joseph said.
“Today,” Mary told him. “Now.”
“Some of you still have shopping to do, and there is to be a theater performance tonight to which we have all been invited,” Joseph said. “We had hoped to purchase a cow, as our last one died near the Green River. Most important, we need to find men to replace those who have left us here.”
“We are ready to leave now,” Maggie said. “All of us. We will help do the men’s work. We are every bit as good as they are.” The others nodded in agreement.
“It is foolish to leave so late in the day. We would go only a few miles. We do not need to rush,” Joseph told them. “Reed Harvey will be locked up. He cannot follow us.”
“We outnumber you,” Mary said. “We leave now. The women have agreed we must protect Penn. You can catch up with us tomorrow.”
Joseph sighed and asked his wife, “When have these women grown so bold?”
* * *
THEY MADE SEVEN miles that day, twenty the next, and before the week was out, they were far from Great Salt Lake City. They were well over halfway on their journey now. Maggie believed the dust and the wind and the blistering sun of the Great Plains were done with. It would be cooler in the mountains. As conflicted as she was over Clara’s death, she was proud that she had survived the hardships. At the beginning of the trip, she had wondered if she would be up to the mark. Now she found that she kept up easily with the others and was stronger than most. As the days passed, she felt more alive than she had at any time since Clara died. What was more, she did not worry so much now about being pursued.
She realized before long that she was wrong about the trail ahead being easier. There were mountains all the way to California. In the distance, they were beautiful—majestic snowcapped monoliths, with forests of green pines, but Maggie knew that when she reached them, she would discover steep grades and rock outcroppings. She longed for the smooth swaths of prairie that made easy work for the oxen.
“I had thought there would be marked roads,” Maggie told William.
He shook his head. “All we can do is follow the trails and when two cross, hope we choose the right one.”
“But what about the guidebooks? Should we not consult them?” In Great Salt Lake City, she had seen half a dozen different guides to the gold fields.
“As useless as the maps to hidden gold mines. Some are written by men who have never crossed the Missouri.” The California Trail, he explained, was well known to Fort Laramie, but soon after that, it split into one cutoff after another.
“Do you know where we are going?” Maggie asked.
“Of course,” he said. “We continue west.”
“How far?” she asked a teamster who had said he had made the journey before.
The man shook his head. “A right smart distance.”
* * *
MAGGIE SENSED THE uncertainty of some of the women. Despite the setbacks and even the deaths on the first part of the journey, they had kept up their spirits. They had formed a bond, but now that bond seemed to splinter. Some women began to question the wisdom of the trip. A few even wondered if they might have been better off sharing a husband in the Mormon city.
“Would it be so bad?” one of them asked Maggie. “I would have someone to help with the washing and cooking and caring for the children. It would be almost as if I had a servant.”
“Unless you were her servant,” Maggie replied.
“Edwin was quite handsome. Perhaps it would not be so bad to be one of three wives,” the woman continued. By now the others knew that he had proposed to Maggie and Dora.
“He did not promise not to take more. You might end up one of ten or twenty.”
As the emigrants considered the eight hundred miles ahead of them, some of them grumbled. Sadie looked at her hands, roughened and sunburned, and touched her face. “It must appear as weathered as leather,” she said.
“Perhaps it is a good thing you do not have a mirror with you,” said Maggie, who cared little about her appearance.
“Do you think men in California would really find us attractive? Perhaps they will remember the girls at home with smooth faces and reject us because we have grown old crossing the prairie and the mountains. What if no one wants me?”
“You are still the prettiest one among us,” Maggie told her. “If you do not find a husband who suits you, then you can join me as a dressmaker. We are like sisters now.”
“You do not intend to marry?”
“I…” Maggie did not finish. Although Jesse was dead, Maggie did not
concern herself much with marrying.
There were disagreements and complaints among the emigrants now as they trudged along the trail. The harsh and tasteless meals affected their digestion, and the glare of the sun, stronger now at the higher altitude, burned their skin and gave them headaches. They encountered bodies of dead and dying oxen as well as discarded trunks and mining equipment, clothing and luxuries. Maggie picked up a comb someone had thrown away and shook her head. “Such a small thing. It could not lighten the load even an ounce.”
One woman confided to Maggie that she no longer wanted to “see the elephant.” But now it was too late. They had long since crossed the midway point, and it would take more time to go back to Chicago than to proceed to California. “Besides, where would I get the money to return home?”
Some began to argue among themselves. Penn complained after a wagon crowded in line in front of her, and Maggie was furious when a woman picked up a piece of kindling she had dropped and refused to give it back. Sadie lashed out at Dora for serving beans that were undercooked. “Did you not soak them?” she demanded.
Dora lowered her head and said, “I shall do better next time.”
Sadie was not placated. “Edwin’s wives don’t know how lucky they are you didn’t marry up with him.”
“Sadie!” Caroline admonished her, then told Dora, “I once burned up an entire turkey when I was a bride. Undercooked beans are a small thing.”
Sadie, appalled at her own words, hung her head.
Another woman turned on her tent mate when she discovered the woman not only was using her prize quilt but had put it too close to the fire and scorched it. “That quilt is the finest I ever made. I was saving it for my wedding night,” she said, anger in her voice.
The culprit only laughed. “If you were not so ugly, your husband would pay more attention to you than to your quilt.”
The woman was furious and slapped her tent mate, who slapped her back. In a moment, the two were on the ground, scratching and clawing at each other. Mary tried to separate them, but it was William who thundered, “Stop at once! Any more of this, and you both will be put out of the train!”
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