She shook her head. “I’m not sure.”
By now the rest of the men had come up and the villagers were swarming around them. Sparks cupped a hand to his mouth. “Anyone here know where Will Steed is by now?”
A large, burley man swung around. “Will Steed?”
“Yes,” Josh said eagerly. “He’s my cousin. Do you know where he is?”
“Yes. He and his wife and baby are living up north of here. He’s working for Captain John Sutter.”
“At Sutter’s Fort?”
“Last I heard, and that was just a few days ago.”
“And they have a baby?”
“Little boy, from what I hear,” the man said, then turned back to the others.
Josh turned to see that Luther Tuttle had heard all of that. “That’s wonderful. It looks like you’ve found them at last.”
Chapter Notes
The first encampment of the Saints in the Salt Lake Valley was near the site of the current City and County Building between State Street and Second East Street and Fourth and Fifth South Streets in Salt Lake City. The place of plowing for the potato field and other crops was probably about Third South and State Street.
On 26 July, just two days after reaching the Valley, Brigham Young asked to be taken to the top of what would be called Ensign Peak, where a banner was raised in symbolic fulfillment of the words of Isaiah (see B. H. Roberts, A Comprehensive History of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Century I,6 vols. [Salt Lake City: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 1930], 3:271). It was President George A. Smith who, in a discourse, gave the details of Joseph’s vision of Ensign Peak and Brigham’s recognition of it when the pioneers came to the Valley (seeJournal of Discourses,26 vols. [London: Latter-day Saints’ Book Depot, 1854-86], 13:85–86).
Deer Creek is near the site of present-day Glenrock, Wyoming, about twenty miles east of the site of the Mormon Ferry on the North Platte River.
The returning Mormon Battalion members reached the Mormon colony of New Hope on 21 August 1847. New Hope was located near the confluence of the Stanislaus and San Joaquin Rivers a little north of present-day Modesto, California. (See MB,p. 172.)
Chapter 48
The Pioneer Company had started out with one hundred and forty-eight people—one hundred forty-three men, three women, and two children. With the addition of Robert Crow’s party of seventeen at Fort Laramie, that number jumped to one hundred sixty-five, but then Brigham Young sent Amasa Lyman south with three others to get the rest of the Pueblo group, which left one hundred sixty-one. That was not to be a stable number. Sam Brannan showed up at the Green River. Then on July fourth, thirteen members of the Mormon Battalion from the Pueblo group came ahead looking for stolen horses. Twelve of those stayed with the pioneers while one went back with five men Brigham sent east to guide the companies that were following. Then at Fort Bridger, he sent Sam Brannan and Sergeant Tom Williams back to serve as guides to the Pueblo group. As near as Nathan could calculate, they had finally entered the Valley with about one hundred and sixty-five people. When the Pueblo group guided by Brannan and Williams arrived five days later, that more than doubled the number of the little colony.
Now their numbers were diminishing again.
By the first of August, Brigham was putting plans in place for the winter. A major concern for him was the Mormon Battalion members who were in California. He suspected that by now they had heard that the Saints were in the Salt Lake Valley and were on their way to join them. That was a problem. The first winter was going to be a very difficult one. The crops they planted were doing fine, but with no more than five or six weeks to grow, they would be limited. Most of those who had come to the Valley had all but exhausted their supplies getting there. They didn’t need another three hundred men coming in with nothing but what they wore on their backs.
After several meetings on the matter, the members of the Twelve wrote a letter to the battalion members in California asking that only those who had sufficient supplies to see them through the winter should come on to the Valley. The rest should turn back to California—or stay there if they had not yet left—and work until spring to get money and supplies, then come on in the spring of 1848.
Sam Brannan, bitterly disappointed that Brigham could not be persuaded to continue on to California, prepared to leave. The Twelve decided that they should have Captain James Brown and a few other battalion members accompany him and carry the letter to the battalion. To Kathryn’s great disappointment, but not to anyone’s real surprise, Brigham asked Peter Ingalls to accompany the group. Peter had already turned down an opportunity to live in California, and Brigham felt that he would provide a countering voice to Sam Brannan’s passionate conviction that California was the promised land for the Saints. They left on the sixth of August, less than a week after Sam Brannan had returned with the Pueblo contingent.
From the beginning, Brigham had planned that many of those in the Pioneer Company who had families back in Winter Quarters, including himself, would return before winter. Within a few days of their arrival, those who were going back prepared to leave. Elder Ezra T. Benson and Porter Rockwell started back with a small group on August second. Two weeks later, Tunis Rappleye and Shadrack Roundy left with a group of seventy-one men and thirty-three wagons. William Clayton, who had left his family behind at Winter Quarters with only a half hour’s notice, left with them.
Then on the twenty-sixth day of August, after only one month in the Valley, Brigham Young and Heber C. Kimball and two others of the Twelve started east as well. With them went one hundred eight men and thirty-six wagons. The Valley population that had swelled to over four hundred when the Pueblo group arrived was cut in half, as those who stayed settled in to wait for the arrival of the Big Company.
When the knock sounded on the door, Alice looked up. Will was at the wash basin, still lathering up before dinner. She laid Jared down in his crib. “I’ll get it,” she said.
When she opened the door, she had to look up a little. The man standing there was a full head taller than she was. But strangely, he held his hat in front of the lower half of his face so that it covered all but his eyes.
“Mrs. Steed?”
“Yes?”
“Alice Samuelson Steed?”
Her eyes widened a little. Who around here knew her maiden name? “Yes, that’s my name.”
The hat dropped away to reveal a huge grin. “Well,” he said in a slow drawl, “my name is Joshua Benjamin Steed. And I wuz wund’rin if y’all might know of a place I could stay for the night.”
Joshua pulled on the reins and turned his horses aside. Caroline, who was walking alongside holding three-year-old Livvy’s hand, looked up in surprise. Charles and Savannah were a little behind them, walking with Melissa’s Caleb and Sarah. They trotted up to see what was going on. Today the Steeds had the rear guard of the company. Their five wagons were at the back, and they had deliberately fallen behind to let the clouds of dust settle a little.
In a moment the other four wagons pulled up on one side or the other of him. “Trouble?” Carl asked.
“No. I just wanted to point something out to the children.”
The other cousins—both those who were riding and those who had been walking—came up to see what was going on.
“What is it, Papa?” Savannah asked, climbing up on the wagon wheel so she could see better.
“See where the road forks there?”
They looked ahead. It wasn’t a challenge. In the miles of open nothingness there was only one thing to see, and that was where the wagon track split off to the right and left just ahead of them. “To the right, the road goes over the Greenwood Cutoff to Fort Hall and on to Oregon. To the left is the road to Fort Bridger and the Great Salt Lake Valley.”
Caroline was looking at him closely, surprised at his knowledge.
He looked sheepish. “I’ve been reading that letter President Young sent back for our information. It’s been fascinati
ng to me to see how accurately William Clayton has described things for us.” He looked around at the young sunburned faces looking up at him. “So how do we know which road we are supposed to take?”
Charles blurted out the obvious answer. “Because that’s the way the other wagons are going.”
“Well, yes,” Joshua said. They could still see the dust and the white tops that indicated that those ahead of them had clearly taken the left fork. “But how did the lead wagon know which way to turn?”
The children were thinking hard, but no one wanted to venture a guess. Finally, Lydia raised her hand. Joshua nodded at her.
“Because our leader, a prophet, told us this is the way.”
“Exactly,” Joshua said, pleased that she had seen it. “And how did President Young know this was the right way?”
Now his little Livvy was hopping up and down, her hand in the air.
“Livvy?”
“Because Jesus told him.”
He felt a sudden lump in his throat at the simple innocence of that answer. “Yes, Livvy. That’s exactly right. And when we follow Jesus, and try to do what he says, then we’ll know which way to turn.”
Suddenly he was embarrassed. He cleared his throat. “Well, sorry for the delay. I just didn’t want us to pass by this important point on the trail without the children seeing it.”
As they started back to their wagons, Mary Ann leaned forward so she could see him better. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
He nodded. Then he turned and looked at Carl, who was on the other side of him, sitting on his wagon seat. “Sorry for the sermon, Carl. I just thought it was worthy of note.”
“No apology necessary, Joshua,” Carl said slowly. “Any time you want to teach my children about following Jesus, that’s all right with me.”
As they started the wagons going again, Daniel Spencer, their wagon captain, came riding back toward them. As he reached them, Joshua called out. “We’re all right, Brother Spencer. We just stopped for a little lesson of life.”
“Oh,” said Spencer, “I wasn’t worried about you. I just thought you’d want to know.”
“Know what?” Caroline asked.
“The lead wagons just reached the Big Sandy, and guess who was there waiting for us. Another one of the companies headed back to Winter Quarters.”
“Another one?” Jessica said. They had already met two companies going east. “Who is leading this one?”
This was the surprise that Brother Spencer had been holding back. “President Young and three other members of the Quorum of the Twelve.”
Brigham Young stepped out of the darkness and into the firelight. The bugle had already blown for evening prayers, and they were only a few minutes away from lights out. The babies and younger children were already bedded down and asleep, and the adults had gathered around the fire for family prayer, then stayed to talk about the exciting developments of the day.
They all rose to their feet as President Young appeared. A moment later, Elders Heber C. Kimball, Wilford Woodruff, and George A. Smith came out of the darkness as well. There were warm greetings as the four of them went around the fire, shaking hands and hugging their longtime friends. When he reached Mary Ann, Brigham took both of her hands and held them without letting go. “Dear Mary Ann, how good it is to see you here with your family.”
“It is so good to see you again, President Young.”
He put his arms around her and pulled her to him for a moment. Then he kissed her on the cheek. “That is from Nathan and Derek and Rebecca and the children.” He hesitated for a moment, the smile filling his eyes. “And Kathryn. And, of course, Peter.”
Matthew jerked up. “Peter? You’ve found Peter?”
He laughed softly, enjoying his little surprise, knowing that this would come as a shock even to Matthew, since he had been left behind at the ferry at the last crossing of the North Platte. “Yes, even Peter.” He told them quickly about the surprise appearance of Peter and Sam Brannan at the Green River and about sending Peter on to California to meet the battalion.
Lydia stepped forward, clenching her hands. “Do you think Josh will come with the battalion to the Valley?” she asked anxiously.
Brigham shrugged, explaining his instructions about who should come on and who should return to California for another season. But then, seeing he hadn’t helped her much, he smiled kindly. “Knowing that wonderful son of yours, I would guess they’d have to hog-tie him to a horse and drag him back to California.”
There were instant tears in Lydia’s eyes. “I can’t believe I could actually see him again.”
Brigham nodded, then looked around at all of them. “This is our ninth day since leaving the Valley, but with all your cattle, I’d guess it will take you a full two more weeks.”
“Tell us about the Valley,” Jenny said. “Is it wonderful?”
For a moment Brigham seemed caught off guard by the question. Then a slow smile stole across the face. “It is the right place, dear Jenny. Of that I can testify without reservation.”
For the third time in his life, Peter was within sight of Truckee Lake in the Sierra. The first time he and James Reed had passed here going west, on their way to Sutter’s Fort and help for Reed’s family. The second time he and Sam Brannan and Charlie Smith had ridden past it going east. Later, they had learned that when General Kearny brought a detachment of soldiers through in mid-June on their way to Fort Leavenworth, they had taken time to go to the site of the camp where the tragedy had occurred and given the scattered and grisly remains a decent burial. There was now only the remains of the cabins and the stumps of trees cut off by the emigrants for firewood. The fact that the stumps loomed some twenty feet above the ground attested to the depths of the snow when the Donner group had been there. The snow was gone now. The mountains were bright in their fall colors, and Captain Brown and the others rode over to see the site that was now becoming famous—or infamous—throughout America. Even though the bodies had been buried, Peter once again refused to go. He did not want any visual images, even of their campsites, to go with the stark and terrible memories he already harbored.
Now, the next morning, as they moved slowly on, the deep blue waters of the lake offered a serene contrast to the horrors that had taken place at its eastern end. Even though horrible remains had long since been put away, the men were still deeply sobered by knowing they were this close to real tragedy. They rode in single file, content for the moment to stay within their own thoughts.
Then as they were nearly past the lake, one of the men spoke to Captain Brown. “What do you suppose Sam Brannan will tell them when he reaches them?”
Brown’s shoulders lifted and fell, and then he shook his head. “Well, he can say what he wants about me, but he’d better not mislead them about President Young’s letter.”
Peter nodded. He didn’t think Brannan would, but in his current fit of temper, he couldn’t be sure. From the time they left Great Salt Lake City, Samuel Brannan nursed a sour temper. The leader of the BrooklynSaints was deeply hurt that Brigham Young had given the letter written by members of the Twelve to the Mormon Battalion to James Brown to carry instead of to Brannan. After all, Brannan was the head of the Church in California, and it was his right to carry the word back to his people. Or so Brannan argued. But Brigham had been adamant that it was a letter to the Mormon Battalion members and Brannan had no standing there. Among other things, the letter contained the power of attorney for Brown to collect the final pay of the soldiers that was due them.
Brannan and the captain had clashed again and again as they moved westward. When Brannan started making comments that perhaps Brother Brigham was no longer under the inspiration of heaven—otherwise, he would have kept coming on to California—Brown, Peter, and the others had reacted sharply. It finally reached the point where two nights before, Brown had sharply suggested that it might be Brannan who was out of touch with the Lord rather than President Young. In one instant Brannan was on his feet
flailing at his counterpart. The men had finally pulled them apart, and the leader of the BrooklynSaints had gone off in a huff, sleeping apart from the others. The next morning when they arose, he was gone. They had found his trail and his campfire and knew that he was still only about a day ahead of them, but a day was enough. Wherever the battalion was, he would find them first.
But for all of Brannan’s wounded pride and pricked ego, Peter still felt that the man would not deliberately lie. He would put his own twist on things, especially the importance of returning to California, but he wouldn’t lie about things. He was—
“Captain Brown!”
Peter came out of his thoughts. The man in the lead had reined in and was pointing. “Campfires ahead of us, sir.”
They leaned forward, searching the depths of the forest up ahead. Then Peter saw it—several thin columns of smoke rising almost vertically from the trees.
“Good,” Brown exclaimed. “That could be the battalion. Let’s go!” He spurred his horse forward and the rest fell in behind him. Peter slapped his reins across the horse’s rump, feeling a quick shot of adrenaline surge through his body. If Brown was right, and all was as he hoped, Peter was about to meet Josh Steed for the first time in over a year.
“People comin’,” a voice cried out. It was as though someone had made the call to arms. All around the camp, the ex-battalion men leaped to their feet. Some ran toward the lake’s edge where the trees thinned and they could see better. Others started tucking shirttails into trousers and pulling on their boots. Levi Hancock started shouting orders as he raced for his rifle.
Josh Steed had Jared on his lap, letting him play with the lid of his canteen. The toddler had not slept well during the night, and Josh was letting Will and Alice sleep a little longer. Or so he thought. As the camp erupted into action, both of them came bursting out of their tent. Will was hopping, pulling on his second boot as he came. Alice was tying on her apron.
“I think it’s the men Elder Brannan told us about,” Josh explained. “There seems to be several riders.” Sam Brannan had ridden in the day before and told them that Captain Brown and others were just a day behind him. Then, refusing their invitation to stay, he rode on.
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