To gather seventy-two wagons and teams tightly around one point was not an easy thing and it took some jockeying. As they finally got into place, Brigham Young climbed up into the leather boat. “Brethren,” he said in a loud voice, “we’d like the captains of tens to lead out your respective companies and get all of your men together.” He motioned to Luke Johnson to drive ahead. “We’ll gather over there.”
This time Matthew’s questioning glance at Nathan was filled with curiosity. There was some order of march, usually based around the companies of ten, but they had never lined up all the companies before departing in quite this way before.
Nathan shook his head, equally puzzled. “Something’s up.”
Matthew and Nathan had been assigned to John Brown’s company of ten, the thirteenth ten. Nathan looked around, then spied Brother Brown moving forward. He clucked to the team and got their own wagon moving in that direction. It took another five or six minutes to get everyone in position.
Finally, when they were all aligned by companies, Brigham Young got up in the boat a second time. The camp quickly fell quiet.
“Brother Bullock?”
Thomas Bullock, the camp historian, raised his hand. “Here, President.”
“Brother Bullock, I’d like you to take a roll of the camp, please.”
Now everyone looked at each other in surprise. This definitely was not the usual procedure. Bullock nodded, evidently already having been warned, and climbed up into the boat with the chief Apostle. He had some sheets of paper. He held them up and began to call out names. “First Ten. Wilford Woodruff, captain.”
“Present,” Elder Woodruff called out.
“Jacob Burnham.”
“Here.”
One by one he quickly moved through the fourteen companies of tens. But with one hundred and forty-eight names, it took almost ten minutes. When he was finished he glanced quickly through his sheets. “We are missing four, President. Joseph Hancock and Andrew Gibbons, who are reported to be out hunting, and Elijah Newman and Nathaniel Fairbanks.”
“Brother Newman is sick and confined to his wagon,” someone called out.
“The same with Brother Fairbanks,” said another.
“Good,” Brigham Young said. “Thank you, Brother Bullock.”
As Bullock jumped down again, Brigham let his eyes sweep over the assembly. No one made a sound and every eye was on their leader. They could tell from his demeanor that something significant was about to happen.
“Brethren,” he began, his voice clear and firm, “as you remember, last Sunday I told you that I had not felt much like preaching to you on this mission. This morning I am going to change that. I feel like preaching to you now.”
The men looked at each other in surprise. It was not the Sabbath. It was now half past noon on a day when they had already been delayed four or more hours.
Now his face darkened and his eyebrows lowered noticeably. “And this is what I shall take for my text. I am no longer willing to pursue our journey with this company in the spirit that we now possess. I am about to revolt against it.”
That hit the men like a bucketful of cold water. Men turned to look at each other in shock and surprise. Nathan and Matthew stood together beside their team. They looked at each other, and Nathan just shook his head. Brother Brigham was clearly upset.
“I want you brethren to understand and comprehend the principles of eternal life and to watch the spirits. Be wide awake and not overcome by the adversary. You can see the fruits of the Spirit, but you cannot see the Spirit itself. With the natural eye you behold it not. But you can see the results of yielding to the evil spirit and what it brings. You do not see that spirit either, nor its operations, only by the spirit that is in you.”
He stopped, shaking his head as though he were having difficulty with this. “Nobody has told me what has been going on in the camp, but I have known it all the while. I have been watching its movement, its influence, its effects, and I know the result if it is not stopped.”
Now there were looks of embarrassment, or men dropped their heads and stared at the ground.
“I want you to understand that we are beyond the power of the Gentiles. We are beyond their reach. We are beyond their power. We are beyond their grasp. So what has the devil to work upon now?” His voice rose sharply. “Well, I shall tell you. He will work upon the spirits of the men in this camp, and if you do not open your hearts so that the Spirit of God can enter your hearts and teach you the right way, you are a ruined people.”
Whoo-ee!Matthew was reeling a little. This wasn’t just strong language; these words were smoking.
“Do you hear, me, brethren? I know that you will be destroyed and that without remedy. I tell you with all soberness that unless there is a change and a different course of conduct, a different spirit to what is now in this camp, I go no further!”
His words died away. There was not a sound except for the stamping of horses’ hooves and the soft jingle of harnessing.
“I am in no hurry to move farther,” Brigham went on, more mildly now. “Give me the man of prayer, give me the man of faith, give me the man of meditation, a sober‑minded man, and I would far rather go amongst the savages, with six or eight such men, than to trust myself with the whole of this camp with the spirit they now possess.
“Brethren, we are the Camp of Israel. If this camp was composed of men who had newly received the gospel, men who had not received the priesthood, men who had not been through the ordinances of the temple and who had not had years of experience, enough to have learned the influence of the spirits and the difference between a good and an evil spirit, I should feel like preaching to them and watching over them, and teaching them all the time, day by day. But here are the elders of Israel, men who have had years of experience, men who have had the priesthood for years. Have they got faith enough to rise up and stop a mean, low, groveling, covetous, quarrelsome spirit? No, they have not, nor would they try to stop it unless I rise up in the power of God and put it down.”
One hand came up and rubbed for a moment at his eyes. When he straightened again, his mouth was tight and his eyes narrow. “The brethren say they want a little exercise to pass away the time, but if you can’t tire yourselves enough with a day’s journey without dancing every night, then I say, start carrying your guns on your shoulders when you walk. Carry your wood to camp instead of lounging around or staying in your wagons, increasing the load until your teams are tired to death and ready to drop into the earth. Help your teams over the mud holes and bad places instead of lounging in your wagons and that will give you exercise enough without dancing.”
Matthew felt his face burning. Had Brigham known that he and Nathan had spent the morning “lounging” in their wagon so as to get out of the rain?
“Well, and what if it’s not dancing?” Brigham roared, really angry now. “What will they do? They will play cards. They will play checkers. They will play dominoes. And if they had the privilege and were where they could get whiskey, they would be drunk half the time, and in one week they would quarrel, get to high words and draw their knives to kill each other. This is what such a course of things would lead to. Don’t you know it? Yes, if we do not correct it, this is exactly what such a course of things would lead to.”
He stopped again, his chest rising and falling as his eyes challenged one man after another. No one would meet the twin points of glowing fire. Every eye dropped and looked away.
“You never read of gambling, playing cards, checkers, dominoes, and the like in the scriptures. You do read of men praising the Lord in the dance, but who ever read of praising the Lord in a game of cards? If a man had sense enough to play a game at cards, or dance a little, without wanting to keep it up all the time, and then quit it and think no more of it, he would do well enough. But you want to keep it up till midnight and every night and all the time. You don’t know how to control yourselves.”
Matthew and Nathan were close enough to the Revenue Cu
tter that Matthew could see the weariness on their leader’s face. As he stopped, it settled in upon him and his shoulders seemed to sag a little.
“I am one of the last to ask my brethren to enter into solemn covenants, but if you will not enter into a covenant to put away this iniquity and turn to the Lord and serve him and acknowledge and honor his name, then I want you to take your wagons and retreat back, for we shall go no further under such a state of things. If we don’t repent and quit our wickedness we will have more hindrances than we have had, and worse storms to encounter.”
He fell silent for a time, and seemed to be lost deep in thought. A very humbled group of men watched his every move. Finally, he looked up again.
“I want you brethren to be ready for meeting tomorrow at the time appointed, instead of rambling off and hiding in your wagons to play cards. I think it will be good for us to have a fast meeting tomorrow and a prayer meeting to humble ourselves and turn to the Lord. If we do this, he will forgive us.”
He looked down and motioned to Brother Bullock to come up beside him again. “I should like your help in taking a count,” he said.
Bullock scrambled up beside President Young. When he was in place, Brigham turned back to the group. “I should like all the high priests to step forth in a line in front of the wagon.” He motioned with his hands where he wanted them as the men started to move forward. “Line up right here. Then all of you who are bishops, you come step in front of the high priests.”
A little surprised, men began to respond to his instructions. Nathan, being a bishop, walked over to stand in front of the assembling line of high priests. President Young turned to Thomas Bullock.
“Fifteen high priests, four bishops,” Bullock said to the unasked question.
“Good. Next I want the seventies to line up behind the high priests, then the elders to form a line in the rear of the wagon.”
Now many of the company began to move. Matthew, being an elder, moved quickly to his place.
“The members of the Twelve should come up here right below me.”
Once they were in line, Bullock counted quickly. “They are seventy-eight seventies, eight elders, and eight members of the Quorum of the Twelve, counting yourself, President.”
“Thank you.” He looked directly down at his brethren in the Quorum. “Are you brethren who are called to the holy apostleship willing to covenant to turn to the Lord with all your hearts, to repent of all your follies, to cease from all your evils, and serve God according to his laws? If you are so willing, manifest it by holding up your right hands.”
With great solemnity, each of the eight, including Brigham, raised his hand. He then put the same question to the high priests and bishops, then to the seventies, then to the elders, and lastly to all the other brethren who were not in one of the lines.
Without hesitation, every hand was raised to the square. Now Brigham’s face softened and his eyes looked down on them with deep affection. “Bless you, my brethren. I have spoken boldly to you because of who we are and what we are about. This work is so important and Satan will do whatever he can to thwart it. I pray to God that he will enable us to fulfill our covenants.”
He paused once more, then decided that was enough. “Thank you. I shall now withdraw to give opportunity for others to speak if they feel like it.”
Heber C. Kimball was up immediately. “Brethren,” he said in great solemnity, “I agree with all that President Young has said to us today.” He looked around, his dark eyes challenging. “I receive it as the word of the Lord to me, and I believe it is the word of the Lord to the camp, if you will receive it.”
Most were nodding.
“All who are willing to accept this as the word of the Lord to them, please show by raising your right hand.”
Matthew looked around, awed and touched by the sight of every hand in the air.
On the North Platte River
Sunday, May 30, 1847
My dearest Lydia,
Tomorrow or the next day, we shall hopefully reach Fort Laramie, where we can leave mail for you or find someone who is willing to carry it eastward. I have written much over the past several days, but I have thrown it all away. All that I had written earlier was trivial and no longer in keeping with my new feelings.
Today is a new day for the company and for me. Yesterday, Pres. Young called the company together and chastised us dearly. I will tell you all the details when we see each other again, but what it came down to was that he was greatly displeased with the spirit in the camp. And rightly so. We were no longer worthy of the title, The Camp of Israel. Pres. Y. put us under covenant to be more obedient and charitable. I raised my hand in solemn affirmation of my willingness to keep that covenant, not only for this moment when we are out here by ourselves, but also for when we are reunited. I have promised my God that I shall be a better father, a better husband, a better follower of Jesus Christ.
We set this Sabbath day apart as a day of fasting and prayer. This morning, I watched Elder Woodruff go down to the river. There he bathed himself all over, shaved, and put on new clothing. I felt impressed to do the same to show that I am willing to become a new person. I have not seen the brethren this still and sober on a Sunday since we started from Winter Quarters. There is no jesting, nor laughing, nor nonsense. All appear to feel to remember their covenant, which makes things look far more pleasant than they have done heretofore. Matthew and I read several chapters in the Bible and the Book of Mormon together this morning, which added to the sweetness of the day.
The camp had a prayer meeting this morning. We were given a chance to express ourselves about what happened yesterday. There were many confessions of sin and expressions of determination to do better in the future. At eleven, we held a sacrament meeting, the first in some time. It was good to remember the tokens of our Lord’s flesh and blood and that he gave himself a ransom for our sins. I’ve always known that, but today it took on special significance.
In the afternoon, Pres. Y. and the other apostles and leaders went a short distance from camp and there met together in most solemn prayer. Brother Clayton told us it was a most sacred occasion and another reflection of the covenant the company has made to bring themselves in harmony with the Lord’s will. We did not eat until they returned, as we were fasting for the Lord’s Spirit.
Oh, how I wish you were at my side so I could tell you all that is in my heart. My love for you and the family grows ever more dear as the days pass away and our separation continues. Give my best to all, especially to Mother. Tell her that thus far we have not found the trail too difficult. Pres. Y’s careful preparations are reaping much fruit now.
All my love,
Nathan
The first day of June dawned bright and clear and beautiful. The feeling that had prevailed in the camp since President Young’s call to repentance was still clearly evident. The brethren were in good spirits. Cheerful calls floated back and forth, and a feeling of peace and camaraderie was everywhere evident. The three women were out and about, and Ellen, Heber C. Kimball’s wife, was singing a Norwegian song which carried clearly on the morning air. Nathan had heard that Norway had beautiful mountains, and maybe that was what had inspired her, for off to the west, probably at a distance of some forty or fifty miles, they could see the dark line of a mountain range. One prominent point higher than all the others was thought to be Laramie Peak, which was reputed to be some ten thousand feet high. These were serious mountains now and were the first harbinger of what was yet to come.
There was also a distinct feeling of anticipation in the air. Unless there was some unexpected delay, before the day was done they should reach Fort Laramie. It was odd, Nathan thought. In some ways it was like when he had returned home from his mission to Canada or when he returned to Kirtland after the trek to Missouri with Zion’s Camp. He found the same sense of excitement, the same anxiousness, even though it wasn’t home to which they were coming. Indeed, it was a place no one had ever before visited.
He turned as Matthew climbed down out of the wagon, then sat down on the wagon tongue to pull on his boots. “Well, little brother, this is a glorious morning.”
Once his boots were on, Matthew leaned back and breathed deeply. “Isn’t it, though?” He stood up, stretching. “Want me to get the horses this morning?”
“I think the cooks about have breakfast ready. Let’s eat first; then we’ll both go get them.”
Matthew patted his stomach. “I’m ready. I could eat my way through about ten pounds of bacon and johnnycake.”
Chuckling, Nathan stood to stand beside his brother. “Do I sense a bit of excitement over the prospects of reaching Fort Laramie today?”
“You do indeed,” Matthew admitted cheerfully. “After five hundred miles of magnificent scenery—and not a tree to spoil the view—I am ready for a change. Let it be no more than a few sticks thrown together and a couple of lopsided wigwams, I shall greet it with open arms and a warm heart.”
Nathan shook his head, amused by this sudden eloquence. “I think we’d better get you something to eat.”
At the sound of footsteps, Derek set the ax down and turned to see who it was. George Therlkill did the same. They and two other men from their group were down in the trees along the Laramie River cutting a wagonload of firewood to take back to their camp. They could see a single figure coming toward them on a horse, but through the trees they couldn’t make out who it was. Archibald Little and Lewis Myers, who had been cutting down a large dead cottonwood, came over to join them. “I think it’s Robert,” Myers said.
And so it was. Robert Crow, the leader of their little company, waved as he saw them and slowed his horse as he entered the trees and threaded his way toward them.
“Brethren,” he said even before he reached them, “there’s good news.”
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