by F. M. Parker
The New York Port Authority officials questioned Caroline and the other Mormons about the rape of one of the women, the death of Timson, and the mysterious disappearance of the ship’s captain. Caroline told the investigator that she did not believe Timson was the rapist. She wanted to clear his name of the crime, if she could. But she did not tell the investigator about Varick. She feared the official might tie her to the captain’s disappearance. The interrogation ended on the second day, and the Mormons were told they were free to leave the city.
The next morning, as the sun floated up out of the sea, the converts purchased passage on a steam-powered river packet and sailed up the Hudson River to Albany. One night was spent in that river town. The following morning, the travelers boarded a train especially chartered from the Hannibal and St. Joseph Railroad by the Mormon Church’s representative in Albany. The trip inland commenced.
Every railroad car was jammed with people and baggage. Cooking and eating were done in shifts. The flat-topped, coal-fired heating stove located in the center of each car was used to prepare food. Men, women, and children ate in their seats. They also slept in their seats, except for those few who could find space to lie down in the narrow aisles. The train made no stops, except to take on coal and water or to go onto a siding to allow a train of a higher priority to pass going in the opposite direction.
Caroline was surprised that Mathias continued to hold his morning and evening religious services for the converts. He would come into the end of each of the swaying cars and, bracing himself, speak to the people, raising his voice above the clank and rattle of the train. Always he closed the brief ceremony by leading the people in a song. Caroline thought he had a very pleasant voice. She knew he gave the people new heart for the crowded, tiring journey.
Ellen’s little baby girl died in Pennsylvania. Mathias could not delay the schedule of the chartered train to halt for a funeral and burial. Tearfully Ellen passed the little body to a black porter at the next station. “Bury her, kind sir,” she said. She broke away crying.
Mathias gave the man money. “Please do as the woman asks,” he said.
The train chugged west day and night and passed into Ohio. At a refueling stop in Cincinnati on the Ohio River, Esther, who rode in the car with Caroline, gathered up her possessions and stepped from the train. She walked off among the people on the station platform. She did not return. The train left without her.
Mathias sadly shook his head when Caroline informed him of the girl’s action. “That makes eleven apostates that have deserted us,” he said. “Some of our brothers and sisters grow weary, and their belief in our religion is not strong enough to carry them over all the many hundreds of miles to our land. I’m surprised more of them haven’t abandoned us along the way.”
Caroline shook her head. “I believe Esther wanted to get away from the people who knew what happened to her on the ship.”
For hours at a stretch Caroline sat and watched the hills and valleys of the new land go past the window of the train. Many small villages were strung along the railroad. Between the towns, thousands upon thousands of clearings had been made in the great forests, which seemed never-ending. Homes had been built in the openings among the tall trees, and fields laid out and encircled by split-rail fences. Farmers were already in their fields with yokes of oxen or teams of horses plowing the black soil. The children, in the yards of the homes, would stop their play and run to a vantage point to wave and shout at the people on the train.
The villages became farther and farther apart as the train rolled ever westward. Long stretches of land held only an unbroken forest, seemingly unused by man. Perhaps the land was not claimed by anyone, thought Caroline.
She began to hum a low tune to herself. Her hand closed into a small, tight fist of determination. She was about to escape the grinding poverty that had been her lot in England. She would become the owner of many acres of rich land, even if she never had a husband to help her.
Several people became ill on the train. John Carlson’s wife died in western Illinois. The trainmen helped the Mormons bury the body in a meadow beside the railroad tracks while the train sat on a siding. The widower climbed back on the train. He lifted his little boy onto his lap and continued on with the people.
The train pulled into the railroad station at St. Joseph, Missouri, on the evening of the sixth day after leaving New York. The Mormons poured out of the cars. Mathias called them together in the park across the street from the station.
As the people assembled, two young men in pressed suits and fresh white shirts swept up in a horse-drawn buggy. “Mathias, hello!” one of the men shouted. Both men leapt down from the vehicle and hurried toward Mathias.
“Booth, glad to see you,” Mathias called.
“I believe those men are two more missionaries,” said Sophia, who stood near Caroline. “Are all the Mormon men handsome?”
“All that I’ve seen are,” replied Caroline with a smile. “This land of Zion, or Utah, or whatever its name is, should be an interesting place to live.”
“Let’s move closer so we can hear what they’re saying.”
“All right,” agreed Caroline.
The two girls lifted their bundles and gathered with the other converts near Mathias and the two new arrivals.
“We’ve been expecting you,” Booth said to Mathias. “Word came two days ago that you had arrived in New York.” Booth gestured at the man beside him. “This is Anton Lund. He has been on a mission to Sweden. He reached St. Joe with one hundred and eighteen brothers and sisters two weeks ago.”
“Glad to meet you, Anton,” said Mathias, and shook the man’s hand. “Why are you and your people still here in St. Joe?”
“The handcarts aren’t built yet, and Deacon Moeller has directed me to wait here a few more days.”
“We can talk about that later,” said Booth. “We have a camp set up just outside town for Anton and his group. When we heard you were coming, we set up tents for you also. Come, let us guide you there. After you have your brothers and sisters settled, we must meet and talk with Deacon Moeller.”
Mathias turned to the women and men standing expectantly watching him and the other two men. “This is Brother Anton Lund. He has just returned from Sweden. He and his people will travel on with us. Booth Clark is here in St. Joe to help all our brothers and sisters with their journey to Salt Lake City. A camp has been fixed for us outside of town. We shall soon have a place to rest. Follow us.”
“I would follow him anyplace,” Sophia said with a low laugh to Caroline.
Mathias placed four ill people in the buggy. Then he, Booth, and Lund struck off, leading the horse that pulled the vehicle.
Caroline looked around at the town as Sophia and she trailed along at the rear of the file of converts. Men in all manner of dress went by on the street. There were city dwellers in suits, trappers in buckskin, river men in sun-faded cotton and wool, and immigrants in a dozen different types of strange outfits. A few women in clean, brightly colored dresses could be seen here and there, making Caroline more aware of her own dirty body and clothing.
Two and three-story commercial buildings, stores, small factories, boardinghouses, and hotels lined the dirt streets. Here and there, warehouses stood with big doors gaping wide. Caroline saw men loading wagons within the cavernous interiors. Saloons were liberally dispersed among the businesses.
A large river, the Missouri, Mathias had called it, flowed past a hundred yards distant at the end of a down-sloping street. The quarter-mile-wide flow of brown water dominated the view to the west. Wharves and piers extended for more than two miles along the bank of the river. Heavily loaded drays with breaks grinding against iron-rimmed wheels went down the sloping street. A broad-beamed, side-wheeler river ferry waited, steam escaping from its relief valve.
A wagon train rumbled past, the drivers popping their bullwhips over the ears of their teams and cursing the animals for no apparent reason. Two blacksmiths working their trade, one on ea
ch side of the street, struck ringing blows with their hammers and unknowingly made a musical duet in iron. The ferry blasted a shrill whistle, loud enough to tell the whole town that it was leaving the pier.
“People of St. Joe, look at the number of innocents that have fallen into the hands of the devil,” cried a man standing on a street corner. He gripped a Bible in one hand and pointed with the other. As the female converts drew even with the man, he excitedly began to wave his Bible above his head. He shouted out in a loud voice, “I give ye warning, oh, young women. Be not taken in by the promises of the devil Mormon missionaries. Don’t believe that their Zion is a heaven here on earth. Their religion is false. Ye shall be but one wife of the dozen each man has. Ye shall be living in sin for the rest of your life. Ye shall surely sink down to hell.” The man’s voice rose almost to a screech. “Hell awaits you!”
Caroline was taken aback by the man’s heated words. Mathias had not discussed the church’s tenet on plural wives. However, she had heard the female converts speak of it in whispers. What would she do if a man who already had wives asked her to marry him?
“Repent!” cried the man with the Bible as the Mormons moved away from him. “Repent and halt your march to damnation and certain destruction.”
Caroline was glad when the shouting man no longer could be heard or seen. However, other men had stopped to stare at the parade of young women passing by on the street.
Caroline saw two men looking directly at her and Sophia. The hungry, animal-like looks in their eyes sent a chill along her spine.
One of the men was thick-shouldered and had a black beard. A pistol showed in a holster on his belt inside the unbuttoned coat of his black suit. The second man was in buckskin. A skinning knife and a pistol were at his side.
Caroline was surprised that men so different should be together. Then, as their penetrating eyes lingered longer on her, she knew they were not different, except in the clothing they wore.
***
DeBreen studied the last two girls in the line of Mormons. Their clothes were rumpled and soiled and they, themselves, obviously needed baths. Still, their feminine beauty showed plain. Clean them up and they would stand out in any assemblage of women.
DeBreen moved away from Stanker and into the street to fall in beside Caroline and Sophia. He lifted his hat and smiled at the girls. “Good day, young ladies,” he said. “My name is Emile DeBreen.”
“Good day to you, Emile DeBreen,” Sophia said in a jaunty tone.
Caroline smiled at the man. She glanced at his clean black boots and city clothes. The big pistol seemed to her to be out of place with the suit.
“You like my outfit?” DeBreen asked, seeing Caroline’s close scrutiny of him.
“I think it very strange that you should wear a pistol in the city,” replied Caroline.
DeBreen laughed. “It’s useful even in St. Joe. We’re not as civilized as you might think, and besides, where I spend most of my time, a gun is absolutely necessary.”
“Where is that place?” asked Caroline.
“About a thousand miles northwest of here,” DeBreen pointed. “In the mountains. I’ve heard that you are from England. Is that so?”
“That’s right,” said Sophia.
“We’re falling behind the others,” Caroline said. Something about the man repelled her. “We must go on. Goodbye, Mr. DeBreen.”
“I will walk with you,” said DeBreen.
“No,” said Caroline. “We must hurry. There are many things we have to do.”
At Caroline’s words a shadow of anger flared in DeBreen’s eyes. He quickly masked his thoughts. He lifted his hat and bent forward in an exaggerated bow. He straightened and stared directly into Caroline’s eyes.
“Good-bye,” he said. A crooked smile came and went across his face. “I should tell you that you should stay here in St. Joe instead of going to that polygamist land.”
Caroline and Sophia looked at each other. Then, without responding to DeBreen, they hastened to catch up with their fellow converts.
DeBreen watched until the two girls had disappeared among the people and vehicles on the street. He stepped back up on the sidewalk near Stanker.
“You scared them, DeBreen,” said Stanker with a laugh. “Did you see them run?”
DeBreen turned and looked at Stanker. The man fell instantly silent.
***
“We are in danger here in St. Joseph, as we are in many other places we go outside Utah,” said Deacon Moeller. He turned his long, somber face from one of the three young missionaries to the other. “However, we must remain here to help our new converts provision themselves for the difficult journey westward to Salt Lake City.”
“Why is there danger?” asked Mathias. “The United States Army has withdrawn from the borders of our land. I would think we would be at peace now.”
“You have been away four years,” said the deacon. “The ill will—no, call it hate—of the nonbelievers for us has grown. The invasion by the United States Army was only the outward sign of the hate our enemies have for us. Though the Army is gone, the hidden danger may be even greater.”
Booth spoke. “Mathias, you saw the man on the street shouting that craziness at the women. Well, he said what many believe. That we are devils and our wives are bound for hell.”
“The women have come to America of their own free will,” said Matthias. “And they marry of their own free will.”
“We know that,” said Deacon Moeller. “But that makes little difference to the nonbelievers, who see the young, single women, many quite beautiful, going in large numbers to Salt Lake City. Booth, it was not wise to bring them through the main section of St. Joseph.”
“The railroad station is in the center of town and we had no choice,” said Booth, a tinge of irritation in his voice. Deacon Moeller knew that fact.
“I wish we could leave at once for Salt Lake City,” said Anton. “When will the handcarts be ready?”
“I’ve received word today from the workmen Brigham Young sent out to Florence to build the handcarts. Thirty carts have been finished now. All fifty-five should be ready in less than a week.”
Mathias watched Deacon Moeller thoughtfully pull at his long chin. He knew the deacon. The church official had come to St. Joseph from Salt Lake City with the group of Mormon missionaries Mathias had traveled with on his way to England. Deacon Moeller had brought only one wife, his favorite, with him to St. Joseph. The remaining six wives were operating the deacon’s large farm in the Sevier Valley, south of Salt Lake City. What would the rowdy citizens of St. Joseph have done to the deacon had they known about his several wives?
The deacon spoke. “When Anton reached St. Joe, I sent a messenger to Brigham Young. I told him that I thought any group of our people that set out westward this year could be in danger from the Indians and white renegades. I requested he send armed men to escort the people safely to Salt Lake City.”
“Will he send men a thousand miles into enemy country to guard us?” asked Anton.
“Without a doubt. He will order men on their way within a day after he gets my message.”
“I hope he sends Orrin Grueling,” said Booth. “Of all the men he would be the one to keep the handcart company safe.”
“Yes,” agreed the Deacon. “Grueling would be the best choice. He is a hard man and knows weapons.”
“I remember Grueling,” said Mathias. “He and his tough friends are an embarrassment to the church. It is said he has killed men.”
Deacon Moeller studied Mathias. “Grueling is indeed an embarrassment. But an embarrassment we can’t do without at this time. He and his kind are necessary to fend off the enemies of the church. And I don’t mean just outside enemies. There are those malcontents inside who meet with representatives of the eastern newspapers and tell them untrue stories. Those stories, when printed, increase the resentment against us. They contributed very much to the United States Army marching against Salt Lake City.”
“Don’t use that name,” Deacon Moeller said sternly. “There is no such organization as the Sons of Dan.”
Mathias was surprised by the elder’s statement. Perhaps there was not a formal organization sanctioned by the church, but a loosely knit group of self-appointed avengers visited people and—in a quite harsh, sometimes cruel way—pointed out the errors of their actions.
“When can we leave for Salt Lake City?” asked Anton.
“Make plans to steam upriver to Florence in five days. I’ll have all the provisions you’ll be taking with you sent on ahead. There’ll be three wagons with mules to carry foodstuff and water. Everything else must be transported by the people on their handcarts. Spend as little time in Florence as possible. The citizens there do not like us any better than here in St. Joe. You should be safe from the renegade nonbelievers and the Indians for the first few days of travel through the outlying farmsteads west of Florence. By that time the men Brigham Young has sent to guard you should have met you on the trail.”
“If your messenger got through to Salt Lake City,” said Booth.
“Let’s pray that he does,” said the deacon, looking at Mathias and Anton. “Otherwise you and your converts could be in great peril.”
14
Caroline was angered by the noisy crowd of St. Joseph townspeople gathered on the border of the grove of oak trees. Today there were sixty, maybe seventy, people gawking at the Mormons as they assembled for the evening devotional service. She could see others, mostly young men, coming along the road from the town. If the spectators continued to increase at the present rate, they would outnumber the Mormons in two days. Disgusted, she turned her back to the throng and sat down on the grass beneath one of the large oaks.
Mathias Rowley and Anton Lund came striding from the tent village the Mormons had constructed in the narrow meadow between the woods and the Missouri River. Anton veered off and approached the congregation of Swedish converts. Mathias joined his English followers. He was smiling in a pleased way.