John Brown, who had led the Mississippi Saints west in 1846, came to Winter Quarters with a few well-outfitted men “just a few days” before the Pioneer Company left (see “Pioneer Journeys,” p. 810).
It is a little-known fact that there were blacks in the original Pioneer Company. One of them, Green Flake, joined the Church upon reaching Salt Lake. (See Hal Knight and Stanley B. Kimball, 111 Days to Zion[Salt Lake City: Big Moon Traders, 1997], p. 127.)
Chapter 37
Papa?”
Nathan pushed the sack of beans forward until it fit snugly in the space between the barrel of salted pork and a large can of sugar. Done, he turned to look at his daughter and her cousin. “What?”
Emily Steed, oldest daughter and second child of Nathan and Lydia, would be fifteen in another few months. She was fully a woman now and, if anything, was going to be even more beautiful than her mother. Her dark hair was full and fell halfway down her back, where it curled naturally at the ends. Her eyes were dark and could alternate between flashes of impudent humor and scorching anger if she felt she had been wronged.
Rachel Garrett, daughter of Jessica Garrett and now adopted by her stepfather, Solomon Garrett, was about six months older than her cousin, and in many ways more mature. Sober, reflective, more inclined to listen than to talk, she had also become a lovely young woman, though not as striking as Emily. Her hair too was long, but was soft brown and perfectly straight.
They were not alike in any way, Nathan thought. Emily was filled with energy and daring, taking life impetuously and dramatically. Even the slightest turn of events could leave her exulting joyously or weeping copious tears. Rachel was more deliberate, thoughtful without being fearful, conservative and yet open to new experiences. She was a perfect companion for Emily, and Nathan had offered thanks to the heavens for their friendship on more than one occasion. It constantly amazed both Nathan and Lydia how close these two had grown. Even to say that they were like sisters was an understatement, for many sisters did not share the bond that was between these two.
Emily was looking at him curiously, and he realized that she had asked him something. “I’m sorry, Em, what did you say?”
“You said that Rachel and I couldn’t go with you because Brother Brigham wasn’t letting anyone but men go with the Pioneer Company.”
“Yes, I did.”
“That’s not true, is it? Yesterday at conference, April Fowler told Rachel and me that President Young has now decided to let women go.”
“Well, yes and no.”
“Papa!” Emily said in exasperation.
“All right, let me put it this way. Brother Brigham did not change his mind about not letting women go with the first company. He agreed to let Harriet Young go because Lorenzo Young won’t leave her here with her asthma, and Lorenzo is such a skilled farmer that President Young wants him to go. So he did agree to let Harriet go.”
“But—”
He went right on, knowing what was coming. “And President Young didn’t think it was proper to have one woman traveling alone with all those men, so he is going to take his wife Clara, who also happens to be Harriet’s daughter by a previous marriage, and Heber’s Norwegian wife, whatever her name is.”
“Ha!” Emily cried triumphantly. “See? I told you.”
Nathan just smiled. “There will be no other exceptions.”
Joshua and Matthew came out of their sod hut carrying more sacks of flour. Emily paid them no mind but pressed on. “And what about the children?”
“There are no children,” Nathan said flatly.
Matthew tossed the bag up onto the tailgate, then shook his head. “Guess again, Nathan. Harriet Young refuses to leave her two children behind with anyone else.”
“You’re serious?” Joshua asked. He thought Matthew might just be playing along to prod Emily’s sense of tragedy.
“I’m serious,” Matthew said cheerfully. “One hundred forty-four men, three women, two children.”
“Oh, Papa, won’t you just ask President Young? Please. Rachel and I are fifteen now.”
“Rachel is fifteen,” Nathan said with a smile. “You won’t be until July.”
“We could cook and help drive the teams and do the laundry.”
Nathan took Matthew’s sack of flour and put it with the other two. Then he hopped down from the wagon and put his arms around her. “Look, Emmy, Brother Brigham didn’t change his mind. It is just that circumstances left him little choice.”
Rachel broke in. “It doesn’t seem fair just because Sister Young refused to stay home.” It was said calmly and without malice. It would be as close to a protest as Rachel would ever get.
“Why don’t yourefuse to go unless President Young lets me and Rachel come?”
Both Matthew and Joshua turned away in amusement, but Nathan had to hold in his smile as Emily searched his face. How she loved tragedy, especially when she felt that she was at the center of it!
“I think you know the answer to that, Emmy. But I can tell you this. Where you and Rachel are really needed is with the family. You two are so wonderful with the children, your mothers can’t do without you.”
Emily looked at Rachel, who shrugged, seeming to accept it. Then, realizing that she had lost, which she had totally expected in the first place, Emily also gave up. “Let’s go help get the rest of the stuff, Rachel. We’re certainly not being treated seriously here.”
Now Nathan did smile as she turned and flounced away. Matthew and Joshua came over, chuckling as well. “It’s a good thing she didn’t know about the cow,” Matthew drawled.
That was too much. Joshua threw up his hands. “Brigham has agreed to take a milk cow?”
Matthew nodded. “This morning when I was down watering our teams, I saw this milk cow standing behind Lorenzo’s wagon. I guess Brother Brigham saw my look. ‘Don’t ask,’ he said with great weariness. ‘Just don’t ask.’ I found out later that after all of that with the women and children, Lorenzo came with his milk cow this morning. Brigham’s patience snapped and he flatly said that no one was going to bring a milk cow along on a vanguard-company trek. But Lorenzo vowed that if she slowed them down for even one hour, they would abandon her on the prairie. I guess at that point Brigham just threw up his hands and walked away.”
“You’re going with a whole bloomin’ menagerie,” Joshua growled. “It’s just as well I’m staying back to bring along the rest of the family.”
“And by the way, I saw William Clayton, who has taken a tally. We won’t have the full one hundred and forty-four men. Someone is too sick and won’t be going. But there will be seventy-two wagons, ninety-three horses, fifty-two mules, sixty-six oxen, nineteen beef cattle, seventeen dogs, and a few chickens.”
“And one very fast-walking milk cow,” Nathan said, straight-faced.
Joshua just shook his head. “Come on,” he muttered. “Let’s get you loaded and on your way.”
Heber C. Kimball left Winter Quarters on the afternoon of Monday, April fifth, with six wagons. He was the first to go. But he went only about four miles and then camped. The following day was the sixth of April, the seventeenth anniversary of the organization of the Church. Brigham called for what would be the last general conference of the Church for a time, and so most of Heber’s group came back for the meetings. It was so like Heber to be the first to leave, Joshua thought. A man of enormous, almost inexhaustible energy, he was a driving force that could not be discouraged. Brigham Young had wanted to be on the road as early as March, but there were just too many preparations to be made. When it became obvious that early April would be the actual starting date, Brigham determined to hold the conference and then leave the next day.
Heber, totally organized and prepared in advance of that schedule, decided to move out even for a few miles to show the Saints that the time for the exodus had finally arrived. After yesterday’s meetings were over, his group had returned to their camp and were probably on their way again first thing this morning.
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Matthew and Nathan could have been ready early enough to go with the Kimballs, but it was one thing for a member of the Twelve to lead out and another for someone like themselves. So they decided they would wait for Brigham and follow after him. They would not be the only group on the move with Brigham’s company. Elder Wilford Woodruff and his group of eight wagons left shortly before noon. Elder Orson Pratt followed shortly thereafter. When Nathan had gone with Carl and Solomon to fetch their team, they saw Elder Willard Richards in the final stages of packing as well. But it was not until word had come that Brigham’s group had finally started to roll that Nathan gave the signal. The wagon was packed, the team harnessed and waiting for a driver.
Though there were a few tears in Winter Quarters this day, for the most part the atmosphere was more like that of a festival than that of a funeral. At long last the waiting was over. Even for those who were not departing with the Pioneer Company, this signaled a new beginning. Eight or nine additional companies were making preparations to follow closely behind, and the Steeds would become part of one of them. By late May or early June they would follow in the footsteps of the vanguard group. And for those who couldn’t leave this year, Brigham had promised to return to Winter Quarters before winter and lead them back next season.
So as the Steed family gathered for their final good-byes to Nathan and Matthew, the mood was one of excitement and anticipation rather than sorrow and disappointment. When the final moment came, Lydia and Jenny clung to their husbands fiercely and their eyes were glistening, but they were still smiling.
Mary Ann stood back this time, content to know that all the threads that had been rolled out in so many directions were now starting to be gathered in by the weaver and soon there would be a tightly woven Steed tapestry again.
After one final, lingering kiss, Matthew stepped back, waved to them all, and climbed up onto the wagon seat. Nathan took little Tricia for the last time and held her close, then handed her to Lydia and got up beside Matthew. They lifted their hands in one last farewell, and then Matthew popped the reins. “H’yah,” he called softly. “Get up there, boys!”
“Good-bye,” Nathan called as the wagon began to roll. “See you in a month or two.”
There were cries of farewell and much enthusiastic waving as the wagon moved to Main Street and then turned north and disappeared from sight. For several moments, the family, now silent, stood watching the point where the wagon had last been.
After a moment, Joshua moved over to stand beside Caroline. He took her hand and held it lightly.
“It’s hard to have to stay behind, isn’t it?” she murmured, looking up at him.
He looked surprised, then nodded. “A little. But we’ve got our work cut out for us too. It’s not like I’m not feeling needed.”
“I’m glad,” she said, slipping her arm through his. “Because in just a few weeks that’s going to be us up on that wagon seat, and then you are going to feel very needed.”
“Do you remember what Brigham said at worship services about a month ago?” Nathan asked his youngest brother.
Matthew, who was standing on the north bank of the Loup Fork River, sizing up the crossing they would have to make, turned. “What was that?”
“He said that he could just as easily find satisfaction in sawing up his house, grinding it for Indian meal, and eating it as he could find satisfaction in leading this many people across the plains to the mountains.”
Matthew laughed shortly. “I do remember that. And I think we’re about to prove him right.”
They both turned to watch the scouts moving up and down the riverbank looking for a suitable place to attempt to ford. It was ironic. Though they had left on the seventh of April, they went only twenty miles northwest to the Elkhorn River before they stopped for a time. Brigham and others of the Twelve made several trips back to Winter Quarters before everything was finally in readiness, and on the sixteenth of April they moved out. Now just one week later they had run into their first major obstacle. The Loup Fork of the Platte River ran mostly east and west at this point, almost paralleling the Platte, which was about twenty miles to the south. In late summer, Nathan guessed, this would be barely enough to wet the teams’ hooves, but now it was nearly three hundred yards across and in places waist deep and moving quickly. The problem the scouts were finding was that the silty bottom was like quicksand. If they let their horses stop even for a moment they would begin to sink into the mud. They had already come four miles farther upstream than they planned trying to find a ford.
“Here comes Brother Brigham,” Matthew noted.
Nathan jumped down from the wagon and walked up to where Matthew was standing. Most of the wagons pulled up alongside each other on the low bluffs overlooking the river. Below them, a few rods from where they stood, four wagons had gone down to the river’s edge. They would be the first to cross. Brigham stood with several other men, and Nathan guessed the debate now going on was whether they would have to unload their goods first and ferry them across in the “Revenue Cutter.”
Nathan shifted his gaze a little. The nearest wagon—or rather, wagon-boat—was Luke Johnson’s. As he looked at the odd-looking vehicle, Nathan once again was impressed with Brigham Young’s organizational skills and his great foresight. The “Revenue Cutter,” as it had been nicknamed, was a flat-bottom boat with a blunt nose and a square back. Made of a wooden frame over which thick hides had been stretched tightly, the boat looked ungainly and crudely made. But it floated like a cork in the trial runs they had made with it on the Missouri. Remarkably, it could carry as much as fifteen to eighteen hundred pounds of goods without sinking more than a foot in the water. In order to carry it across a thousand miles of wilderness, a wagon had been stripped of its box and the Revenue Cutter substituted in its place. It was clearly recognizable among the other wagons. Not only did it have the odd-shaped “wagon box,” but it did not have a cover or bows. Brother Luke Johnson had been given the assignment to drive the cutter as his wagon.
Now the scouts came riding back to where the wagons were waiting. Nathan, Matthew, and the other men moved closer until they were just above the group where Brigham was. After listening to the reports, Brigham turned. “It looks like there’s no better place. Luke, you want to try it?”
Luke Johnson nodded and climbed up onto the wagon seat. “Just take it right across there,” Brigham said. At this point, the river was split into two streams by a long sandbar about midstream. For at least a hundred yards or more, the water was no more than a foot or so deep. But around the sandbar there were two main channels. Here the current was swifter and the water looked like it might be as much as four or five feet deep.
Johnson snapped the reins and his team started forward. The Revenue Cutter still had its full load of goods packed in it. As they hit the water, Johnson whistled sharply at his team, urging them forward more quickly. “Get up there, team!” he shouted. They leaped forward into a run, kicking up great sprays of water.
It was all right until he reached the main channel. Then suddenly the water was up to the hubs of the wheels. The wagon started to slow. “He’s sinking,” Matthew cried.
That he was. The wagon had slowed considerably, though the horses were fighting hard to keep it moving. The wheels were bringing up black silt now, which left a dark stain in the clear water. Johnson was shouting at his team, urging them on. They were up to their bellies now and fighting for footing. He was almost to a standstill when they reached the sandbar and the footing beneath them became firmer. They shot forward, the wagon jerking around sharply behind them.
“Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” Brigham was shouting.
The wagon-boat careened as it passed over the sandbar, the wheels throwing sand in a fine spray, then hit the water again. The stream on the other side of the sandbar was narrower and deeper, and here the current was at its swiftest. In just a few feet, the horses were up to their chests and the water was over the front wheels and pushing at the botto
m of the Revenue Cutter. The back end of the wagon started to swing around. The horses slowed, then stopped, wheezing and jerking their heads. In one quick motion Luke wrapped the reins around the brake lever, then jumped into the water. It nearly swept him away, and he had to grab at the harnessing to catch himself. He pushed forward to reach the heads of his horses, then took them by the bridle. “Come on, boys!” he urged. “Don’t stop on me now. Giddyap. Come on. Go! Go!”
His effort paid off. Fighting and lunging in great leaps, the horses began to move again. They crossed ten more feet and then the bottom began to rise again. It was only to the animal’s knees, and that gave them enough strength to lunge for the bank. In a moment, wagon-boat and team were across. Luke Johnson let go of his team and doubled over, hands on his knees, gasping for air. Then he finally straightened. He was soaked to his chest. “You can do it,” he shouted, “but whatever you do, don’t stop.”
Brigham nodded and turned. “All right, who’s next?”
Orson Pratt had decided that taking a loaded wagon across the soft bottom was the problem. Without waiting for instructions, he unloaded half his wagon. It didn’t matter. He didn’t even make the sandbar. Those watching plunged into the river to help him. A dozen men threw their weight against the box, lifting and pushing at the same time. They unloaded the remainder of the wagon at the sandbar, and the men carried the items across. But as Elder Pratt took his team into the second channel, they foundered in the deep water and one of the horses went down in the traces. It could have been dangerous. A horse struggling to free itself can deliver a deadly kick, but it was too tangled to kick out any way but forward. In a moment the men had the harnessing undone and both horses were free from the wagon. They finally had to tie a rope to the stalled wagon and pull it out by hand.
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