“We have two more yoke now,” Matthew said, raising his hand.
Nathan nodded at him. “What do you mean, Matthew?”
“We sold the cabinet shop today.”
“You what?” Nathan cried. The others were equally shocked and began to pepper him with questions.
He waited patiently until the voices in the room died away into silence again. Nathan noted that Jenny’s head was down and her hands were twisting at the edge of her apron. “A gentleman from Peoria offered us two yoke of oxen and a pepperbox pistol with fifty rounds of ammunition.”
“And that’s all?” Lydia exclaimed. “For the whole shop?”
Jenny’s head came up. “Tools, lumber, unfinished furniture. Everything.”
Matthew’s face was impassive, but one could sense the deep struggle to hide his pain. “I knew we needed the animals. What good is a wagon without something to pull it? I made him agree to wait until we’re gone before he takes possession.”
Now they were all staring at their hands. Derek spoke without looking up. “Does Carl know?” And then he answered his own question. “Of course Carl doesn’t know. Carl is in Wisconsin with Joshua.”
“I talked with Carl before he left,” Matthew explained. “He wishes desperately that he could buy it, but there’s no way he can. Not now.”
Benjamin had to fight the urge to sit down, such was the weariness that hit him at that moment. Nathan and Lydia were giving the store to Joshua and Caroline, since they owned part interest in it anyway, so that was settled. But nothing else in Nauvoo was taken care of. Solomon’s land in Ramus was sold, but for a mere two hundred dollars—about a tenth of what it was worth. The man had sent seventy-five dollars as a down payment, and so far had sent nothing more. Solomon had talked about going to Ramus to see about it, but there likely would not be time now.
“Brigham asked something else of us,” Nathan said quietly.
“What?”
“He’s appointed a committee of five. He wants us to turn any unsold properties over to them as we leave, and give them power of attorney to sell it for whatever they can get. They will then use that money to help others who have little or nothing.”
“Better than just giving it away,” Derek murmured.
“That’s what Nathan and I thought too,” Benjamin said. “We signed the papers.”
Peter and Kathryn had been sitting quietly in the corner. Now Peter stood up slowly. A little surprised, everyone turned. Kathryn’s eyes were glistening as she looked up at him.
“Peter?” Benjamin said. “Do you have something you’d like to say?”
“Yes, I do.” There was no mistaking the air of gloom that hung upon him. “Kathryn and I have a suggestion on how to solve one of your problems.”
“What?” Derek said, taken aback by this sudden boldness of his younger brother.
Peter fumbled in his trouser pockets for a moment, then withdrew a small piece of paper. It was a half sheet of foolscap, folded in half again. “This advertisement will appear in the Sangamo Journal in a few weeks. That’s a Springfield newspaper. I was sent a copy after sending off inquiries to one of the members of the Church there.”
He lifted it, turning it toward the lamplight, and began to read in a clear, flat voice devoid of all emotions. “‘Westward, Ho! For Oregon and California!’” He looked up. “That will be the headline.” Down his eyes went again. “‘Who wants to go to California without costing them anything? As many as eight young men, of good character, who can drive an ox team, will be accommodated by gentlemen who will leave this vicinity about the first of April. Come, boys! You can have as much land as you want without costing you anything. The government of California gives large tracts of land to persons who have to move there. The first suitable persons who apply, will be engaged.’”
He folded the paper calmly and returned it to his pocket. Only then did he look up into their astonished faces.
“Are you saying . . . ?” Nathan started, but he was so completely dumbfounded that he didn’t finish.
“I’m saying that this is a partial solution to a family problem. We are short of wagons and have no more money to buy them. We need additional teams to pull them. You will be lucky to find transportation for each of you and your families. Kathryn and I could—”
“California?” Mary Ann interrupted him. “You would go to California?”
“No, Mother Steed. We’d go only as far as we have to, then we’d drop off and join up with you.”
“You’re serious about this?” Derek asked, still not believing what he was hearing.
“Yes!” Peter said forcefully. “Of all the family, Kathryn and I will be the most difficult to care for. And not just because of Kathryn either. We have no skills, very little money, no way to really contribute.”
“It says you have to be able to drive an ox team,” Matthew broke in. “Have you ever driven an ox team, Peter?”
He flushed, but didn’t back down. “I would like one of you to teach me.”
Jenny was staring at her sister in horror. “Do you agree with this?” she asked.
Kathryn nodded, biting at her lower lip. “Not happily, but it’s a way we will not be a burden.” She took a quick breath. “And if we have to leave earlier than planned, as Brigham says we will, it will be one less thing for all of you to worry about.”
“You can’t!” Rebecca cried. “You can’t go alone without us. We’ll just make do.”
“Tell them the rest, Peter,” Kathryn said.
“These people that I know in Springfield have been making some discreet inquiries. These are wealthy farmers and businessmen. One of the families, by the name of Reed, has several children. They are very well-to-do. The mother is talking about hiring a tutor for her children.”
Now several conversations erupted at once. Peter watched sadly as the family reacted to his startling proposal. Nathan finally held up his hands and the noise died away again. He appeared grim as he looked around the room. “I know that what we have just heard sounds awful, but . . .”
“No!” Lydia cried. “There are no buts, Nathan. Peter and Kathryn have to go with us.”
He wanted to reach out and hold her, stroke her hair, tell her it was all going to be okay. But he couldn’t. The realities were too gloomy.
Mary Ann was whispering urgently to Benjamin, but he too was shaking his head. He then turned to the others. “Peter is right. If we are forced to leave in the next two weeks, we will be facing a crisis. You’ve all seen our lists. You’ve heard the numbers. We have barely enough food to see us into July, or August at the latest. What if it takes us longer than that to find a home?”
“And what if we have to load it all into just three wagons?” Nathan came back again. “We have over thirty people we have to move. Aside from the food, we have no hardwood for making any more wagons. And even if we did, we can’t find, nor afford, the animals to pull them.”
“If we go with this other group, it will be two less mouths to feed,” Peter said, glad that Nathan could see the wisdom of their thinking. “Two less beds to carry. Basically, one less wagon you will need.”
“One less person who cannot walk,” Kathryn said calmly.
“We can’t just leave you to make it on your own,” Mary Ann said firmly.
Now Caroline, who had said nothing through all of it, raised her head. “At least they will be going.”
That stopped all further comment. The realities of even more difficult decisions hit them hard.
Nathan turned to Peter. “You know if there is any way that we can take you with us, we will. But thank you. Thank you for looking for other solutions.”
Peter gave one curt nod. “If they know we are Mormons, it may hurt our chances of being accepted. So . . .” He took in a breath. “There’s a stage to Springfield on Wednesday. We have about forty dollars saved. I think we’ll go there now and find somewhere to stay for a time. We won’t deny we’re Mormons, of course, but if we’re living in Spr
ingfield when the advertisement is finally put in the paper, maybe they won’t think to ask.”
“Wednesday?” Jenny cried in alarm. “That’s just three days from now.”
“If it doesn’t work out,” Peter went on doggedly, “we’ll come back. Otherwise, we’ll write and let you know what our plans are.”
Now the room was silent. Hopes and reality were being split asunder on this night, and no one knew quite what to do about it. Caroline did not look up. The pain for her was too great, and she couldn’t bear to even think about it.
Savannah sat on the piano bench, her fingers running lightly and soundlessly over the piano keys.
“Savannah?” Her mother’s voice floated to her from the kitchen. “Why aren’t you practicing?”
“I am, Mama.” She plunked out a quick scale. But in a moment she was staring out the window again. There were footsteps behind her, but she didn’t move.
“Savannah, you have got to practice. I need you to go to the store for me in a few minutes.”
“Mama?”
“What?”
“Is it true that we have to leave in two weeks?”
“Who told you that?”
“Sarah.”
“Oh.” Which meant Melissa had heard the news from someone and talked about it with her children.
“Sarah says she’s not going.”
“That’s right, Savannah. Uncle Carl and Aunt Melissa are going to stay in Nauvoo.”
“But why, Mama? If Heavenly Father wants us to leave, why do they want to stay?”
“Because they’re not sure that Heavenly Father wants that for everybody.” She was tempted to say more, but knowing Savannah’s penchant for talking openly to anyone about anything, she let it go.
“Are you sure that’s what Heavenly Father wants?”
“Yes, I am,” Caroline murmured, feeling a sudden ache inside.
“Then we’re going, aren’t we, Mama?”
With a sigh, she sat down on the piano bench beside her daughter. “We don’t know yet, Savannah. Your papa and I haven’t decided.”
“We have to go, Mama! We have to. If it’s what Heavenly Father wants, we have to.”
“Your father isn’t sure it is what God wants for us either,” she said sadly.
“Well, I’m going!” Savannah said, folding her arms in defiance.
“Savannah.”
“Well, I am. I’m going to tell Papa when he gets home that we have to go. We have to.”
“Savannah, I want you to listen to me. When you were baptized, you promised your Heavenly Father that you would try to live a good life and do what he asks of you. That’s what baptism means. It means we try to live as Jesus and Heavenly Father want us to.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve been trying to do that.”
“I know you have. You’ve been wonderful. I’ve been very proud of you. Even your father has commented on it. But one of the things that Heavenly Father wants us to do is to honor our fathers and mothers. You’ve learned about that in the Bible, haven’t you?”
Now Savannah saw what was coming. “Yes, Mother,” she said meekly.
“I know you want to go, Savannah, and so do I, but there’ll be no more running away, no more hiding. If we decide it is not best to go right now, then you need to honor your father and me in that decision. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Mama.”
Caroline reached over and kissed her on the top of the head. “I know Heavenly Father wants the Church to go west, but in our case, he may want us to stay behind. For your papa’s sake. Do you understand what I mean?”
“Yes, Mama.”
Caroline reached out and rubbed her hand along the polished wood. “If we do go, Savannah, we can’t take your piano with us.”
She flinched. “We can’t?”
“No. It’s much too big and heavy. It would take one wagon just to carry it.”
That hit her hard. Her mouth twisted into a deep frown, and her eyes looked hurt. “But I love my piano,” she cried.
“I know you do,” Caroline said, lifting her hand now to touch Savannah’s hair. “But if we go, the piano will have to stay. Would that make a difference about whether or not you want to go?”
“Can I have a piano when we get to the Rocky Mountains?”
Caroline smiled, but it was sad and filled with wistful longing. “Probably not. At least not for a long time.”
Savannah twisted her fingers round one strand of her red hair where it fell over her shoulders. The deep blue eyes weighed that information carefully.
“Well?”
“I think pleasing Heavenly Father is more important than playing the piano.”
Caroline hugged her, trying not to cry. “I think pleasing Heavenly Father is more important than most things, Savannah.”
Savannah started plunking a single note with her right little finger. “I’m praying that Papa will change his mind,” she said after a moment.
Caught off guard, Caroline nodded. “I am too, Savannah. Every morning and every night.”
Savannah stopped playing and looked up at her mother. “Then we’ll get to go,” she said simply.
They stood together in Matthew’s cabinet-shop-turned-wagon-factory—Nathan, Solomon, Derek, and Matthew. No one said much now. The pile of lumber they were looking at was sufficient to make one more wagon box—barely—but they had not a single piece of hardwood. Not one. Pine and spruce were all right for the wagon box, but the axles, the tongue, the hubs—unless they were of ash or hickory or oak, they would wear down like butter too close to the fire. Matthew and Derek had just returned from a two-day trip to Peoria. They had come back with nothing. Not a single board. That was the fierceness of the competition for the wood required to make a good wagon.
“Well,” Nathan finally said, “there’s not much point in making the box until we’re sure we can get the rest of what we need. I say we go help the women with the final work on the tents.”
Solomon Garrett didn’t move. He thought of his own small farm wagon. Could they strip it for parts? But he knew the answer even as he thought of the question. Brigham had asked that every wagon have a span of five feet from wheel to wheel so that the roads would not have to be made to handle a variety of wheelbases. Solomon’s wagon had hardwood pieces, all right, but they were all on too small a scale for what they needed. If they had no choice, he might have to take that one anyway, but it was only slightly better than having nothing at all.
Matthew looked up as the sound of a wagon and team was heard outside. When it stopped, he moved a few steps so he could look out the window. There was a soft exclamation, and then he whirled. “It’s Joshua and Carl. They’re back.”
“I was hoping to find more than one, Nathan,” Joshua said ruefully. “Last year we had several wagons and teams that I could have spared. But this year we’re having to range out farther and farther from the river to get good timber. That means more wagons and mules to get it down to the water.”
“This is more than we expected, Joshua,” Nathan said. “A wagon and two good mules. It’s like an answer to prayers.”
“I only wish I could do more.”
Carl looked at Matthew. “Melissa said you’ve sold the shop here.”
“Yes, I’m sorry, Carl. I—”
Carl held up one hand quickly. “You don’t have to explain. I’m just sorry it didn’t work out so I could help you.”
Joshua gave a soft, mirthless hoot. “Old Carl and me are a couple of paupers, aren’t we now? There were even a couple of times on this trip that we had to go without meals and had to sleep in someone’s barn before we got up to Frenchie’s camp and got enough money and food to get us back home again.”
“How does it look for this spring?” Solomon asked.
“Good,” Joshua said, forcing a brightness into his voice. “We’ll have a big raft. Maybe two. If the price of lumber will just hold, I’ll be back in business again.” He turned to Nathan and frowned deeply. “Thanks to you
and Will, I’m going to have to find me another lumber foreman for next year.”
“Thanks to me?” Nathan said in surprise. “Why? Where’s Jean Claude going?”
“West.”
“West? You mean with us?”
Joshua jerked his head up and down in one swift motion. “Says he’ll bring these rafts down and make sure he’s got me a good replacement; then he plans to buy him a wagon with the wages he’s saved and go find you.”
“Well, well,” Nathan said slowly. Actually, he got little credit for the conversion of Jean Claude Dubuque. It had been Will that had taught him the gospel.
Joshua grunted, half in disgust, half in respect. “Says he wants to go out there and find him some land, marry a good, stalwart Mormon woman, have half a dozen children or so, and become a solid citizen.”
“Good for him,” Solomon said.
“Yes,” Matthew agreed. “Good for Jean Claude.”
Joshua turned to Nathan again. “Caroline told me about Peter and Kathryn. What’s going on?”
Nathan told him briefly, giving Peter’s reasoning. “They left yesterday on the stage.”
“He’s got grit,” Joshua said with admiration. “They both do. You’ve got to hand it to them for even having the courage to look into it. By the way, who is it that’s talking about going to California? I know a few people in Springfield.”
“‘G. Donner and others’ is the way the coming advertisement was signed. I guess they plan to run it in the paper down there.”
“George Donner?” Joshua asked in surprise.
“I suppose,” came the answer. “It just said G. Donner.”
“I’ll bet it’s George. He’s got a brother named Jacob. They’ve been talking about going off somewhere and getting free land. In fact, now that I think about it, I heard they went to Texas once but didn’t like the country there.”
“They’re the ones,” Matthew said. “Peter mentioned that about Texas. They said the land wasn’t that good and came back to Springfield.”
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