by Adell Harvey
The emigrants didn’t have much time to ponder their new country, as the companies were quickly whisked to the train station, where they boarded an emigrant train destined for the end of the line at Iowa City.
The train ride was a new experience for Ingrid, and she found herself enjoying it immensely. Every chug of the wheels brought her that much closer to her destiny.
She spent much of the time staring out the windows at the lush countryside, which was beginning to green and bud with springtime. An occasional frightening rumble over huge trestles and the ashes and cinders that constantly rained down from the locomotive’s smokestacks were the only drawbacks to an otherwise delightful journey.
Oh, she was going to love this new life. She knew she was!
The train arrived in Iowa City on May 12th, a warm spring day seeming to burst with promise. Brother Shumway was in total control, getting everyone organized. He directed them all to the church’s meeting house, a long, low building close to the depot.
Here, they were joined by many other Mormons, all in various stages of preparations for the journey westward. Following morning prayers, Brother Shumway preached a powerful sermon, praising them for their dedication and hard work, assuring them God would reward their efforts justly. It was then that he dropped a bombshell.
“The Perpetual Emigration Funds are running low,” he warned. “Many people have not paid back their loans, and there’s no money left to purchase wagons.”
No wagons! A stir went through the crowd. How would they get across the plains and the mountains without wagons? Was this to be the end of their dreams?
Brother Shumway went on speaking, as if unaware of the turmoil his announcement had made. “Brother Brigham had a word from the Lord about the matter,” he intoned. “He said if you can’t afford wagons, you must show your faith by walking to Zion. Even now, carpenters are building handcarts and wheelbarrows for our use. You will each be allowed 17 pounds of duffle, including food and supplies. So begin now to sell off anything more than that. Any proceeds will help pay for the carts and food.”
Ingrid drew in her breath. Walk all the way to Zion, pulling her duffle in a handcart? She looked around the large room. Why, there were old women here, tiny children, and frail people. However would they be able to walk all the way to Salt Lake? She had no idea how far it was, but from her long journey on the train, she knew this was a huge country. If the territory of Deseret was only half as far as she had already come, it would be a long walk indeed. Further than many here would be able to bear.
The thundering voice of Brother Shumway made her sit up and listen. He was again organizing the emigrants into companies and giving instructions for living quarters until their wagons were ready. “We have nearly 1,900 of you here waiting to go,” he shouted. “You’ll be placed in companies of approximately 500 each to cross the Plains. Until it is your turn to go, you will camp in tents.”
Ingrid listened carefully for her company and directions to their camp. How she wished Brother Rasmussen were here! It would all be much easier with him to answer her myriad of questions, to hold her hand and help her through the crowds. She had harbored a secret dream that her groom would have found a way to meet her train and escort her to Salt Lake, and had even looked for his face in the crowds, only to be disappointed every time her heart lurched at the sight of a graying pompadour.
“Sister Rasmussen, wait a minute!” Ingrid turned and found herself face to face with a younger version of her husband. Earnest green eyes with tiny yellow flecks, thick, dark hair, a smile as big as all outdoors. The young man held out his hand. “I’m Andrew Rasmussen, Charles’ son,” he explained. “Pa sent me to look out for you, since he couldn’t come himself.”
Son? Brother Rasmussen had a son? Flustered and confused, Ingrid returned the handclasp. Of course, he would have children. Hadn’t he told her his wife had died several years ago before she could go west? “I’m so glad you’re here,” she offered, truly grateful for her husband’s thoughtfulness.
Andrew warmed to her immediately. “I can see we’re going to be good friends. Pa told me to call you Auntie Ingrid, but somehow that seems rather strange, don’t you think?” He eyed her trim young figure, a smile playing around his eyes. “Seems to me a body’s auntie should be a bit older, don’t you agree?”
Ingrid laughed. “Just call me Ingrid. I’ll admit it takes me back a bit to have a stepson as old as I am.”
It was Andrew’s turn to laugh. “You’ll get used to it. And you can call me Andy. Everybody else does. Now, I’ve got somebody else you need to meet,” he continued, pulling her through the crowd.
Coming to a pretty blonde girl who looked about 15, Andy introduced them. “This is Anne Marie Christiansen, who used to be our maid. Pa thought you two should become acquainted, because she’s from Copenhagen, too, and she can help you learn the language better.”
Ingrid’s heart leapt with joy. A fellow Dane, someone who understood her language, somebody close to her own age! How thoughtful was this new husband of hers! She held out her hand to Anne Marie, studying the girl. A bit plump, but very pretty, she decided. She caught the way Anne Marie and Andy looked at each other, and a light dawned. These two were in love!
“We’re assigned to the same company,” Anne Marie told her, “so we’ll have lots of fun tenting together, and you can tell me all about home. I was real little when we came here, so I don’t remember much. This is going to be a lark!” she exclaimed.
They finally found their way through the crowds to the tent campground assigned to Brother Edward Martin’s party, the group with whom they would travel. One look at the mosquito infested, squalid campground, and Ingrid’s hopes were dashed. She didn’t know what lay ahead, but one thing was for certain. It wasn’t going to be a lark!
Chapter 4
THE GIRLS WERE ASSIGNED to share a tent, a fact that pleased them both greatly. As they spread their pallets in the flimsy quarters, Anne Marie joked and laughed. “Well, it ain’t the Queen’s Palace, that’s for sure. But it’ll still be fun – you, me, and Andy together.”
Ingrid wrinkled her nose, wishing she could share her friend’s optimism. “Fun? How far do you suppose it is to Salt Lake? Do you really think we can walk that far?”
Anne Marie considered the question. “Well, I reckon if the prophet says we can do it, we can do it. The Saints have put up with a lot more trouble than that. Maybe it’s not as far away as it sounds. But it sure would’ve been easier with the wagon trains. I almost wish I’d gone with the Saints years ago, but then I wouldn’t have met you.”
“Why didn’t you go before?” Ingrid asked. “Didn’t Andy say you were their maid in Nauvoo?”
“It’s a long story. Ma and Pa died before the trouble broke out in Nauvoo, so the Rasmussens took me in, sort of as a maid. Actually, Sister Rasmussen was doing poorly, so I helped out with the little girls some, even though I wasn’t much older myself.”
“Girls? They had daughters, too?”
“Andy had two sisters, but they both died from the black canker that took their Ma in Winter Quarters,” Anne Marie explained. “That was a sad time for many, people dying everywhere. Brother Rasmussen was already leading the first wagon train company to Deseret when they died, so there wasn’t nobody there to help.”
Ingrid digested this bit of information. It seemed so unlike the caring man she knew to leave a dying wife and daughters alone. When she voiced her feelings to Anne Marie, however, the younger girl simply shrugged. “Brigham Young told him to go, so he went. The Saints don’t question the prophet; you know that.”
As if to defend Brother Rasmussen, she added, “But he did insist on taking Andy along. Not very many kids got to go on that first trip, but Andy went along. He did a good job, too. He learned the way, so now he’s one of the youngest guides among the Saints.” Ingrid noticed Anne Marie’s eyes fairly glowed as she bragged about Andy, confirming her suspicion that the two were in love.
“Any
ways,” Anne Marie rattled on, “after Sister Rasmussen and the girls died, I was doing poorly myself, and nobody had enough strength to be bothered with me. That was when some relatives who got mad and left the Saints back in Nauvoo came and got me and took me to live with them in Florence.”
She rolled over on the pallet and looked square at Ingrid. “I was that close to apostasyzing,” she said, holding two fingers close together for emphasis. “That’s when Brother Rasmussen came looking for me a few months back and warned me I’d burn in Hell forever if I left the true church. He told me it would break Ma and Pa’s hearts if I broke the seal of their eternal family. He’s a mighty convincing man, that one is,” she declared.
Warmed by the compliment to her husband, yet disturbed by yet another strange teaching, Ingrid whispered lightly, “Burn in Hell? I thought people who died went to Spirit Prison…”
“That’s just the ones who’ve never heard about the Restored Gospel and the Book of Mormon,” Anne Marie explained. “Once you’ve had the truth of the Gospel, then turn your back on it, there ain’t no more hope, ever.”
Bewildered, Ingrid decided to drop the subject. “We’d better get some sleep. Andy said the wake-up call comes as soon as it gets daylight.”
Following morning prayers and a meager breakfast with cleanup, there was little else to do. Anne Marie suggested a walk around town to “see which way the wind blows.”
Iowa City was unlike any town Ingrid had ever seen. Blacksmiths and woodworkers were everywhere, building carts, repairing wagons, buying lumber for their projects. Tents stretched around the hills as far as the eye could see, while log buildings lined the city streets.
People were in a bustle, buying and selling as if their lives depended on it. Ingrid stopped short at a long line of wooden boxes. “What are those for?”
“Coffins. Lots of people dying around here,” Anne Marie answered in a tone that indicated she was accustomed to coffins, death, and dying. Ingrid paled, noting that many of the wooden boxes were tiny ones, built for babies. This Promised Land must be a wonder, she thought to herself, for people to risk so much to get there.
She had spent much time aboard ship trying to learn the English language and now found herself picking up snatches of conversations along the streets. “Indian massacres, inferior materials for handcarts, 1,400 mile death march.” These were all new to her, and she shuddered, not liking the sound of them.
They continued walking and sharing, coming to the staging area on Clark’s Creek, about three miles west of the depot.
“Look!” Anne Marie nudged her. “There goes a company all ready to roll out across the prairie!”
Ingrid looked in the direction she pointed. About 500 people stood in a long line, with five assigned to each handcart, some with babies strapped in them. The handcarts varied in size and construction, but they all resembled those used by porters and street sweepers Ingrid had seen in Boston.
Children and dogs ran along side, herding pigs and chickens. At the end of each section, there was a large provision wagon drawn by three yoke of oxen, loaded with rations and food for the journey, plus the tents.
The girls rushed up the street to get a closer look, caught up in the excitement of the travelers. “Some of them look weary already,” Ingrid noted, “but even in their weariness, they seem excited, don’t they?”
Anne Marie laughed at the contradiction. “We’ll know for ourselves in a couple of weeks how they feel, when we ourselves start marching toward Zion!”
“Good morning, ladies. Out for a stroll?” Andy came around the corner and joined them.
“Just wishing we were going in the first company,” Anne Marie told him. “You know waiting around isn’t to my liking.”
“Tell me about it.” He playfully tugged at her single long blonde braid. “Waiting around hasn’t been good for you,” he teased. “You’re getting fatter every day!”
Anne Marie blushed furiously and pulled away. Andy was instantly abashed. “Ah, I’m sorry. I was just teasing. Anyway, you’ll need a little extra weight on you for the long walk – it ain’t going to be easy.”
Ingrid watched the intimacy between the two with a bit of envy. How good it would be to have a close friend. She hoped she and Charles would develop such a friendly relationship in time.
“There’s a dance over at the ward house tonight. Why don’t you both come with me?” Andy offered.
Anne Marie seemed reluctant at first, then had a change of mind. “I’ll go if Ingrid will,” she told him.
Not particularly wanting to be a third party at a dance and wondering how a married lady should act, Ingrid wasn’t thrilled with the idea, either. “I’m not sure…” she began slowly.
Andy grabbed her hand. “Of course you’ll come,” he insisted. “You’ve got to have a little fun in your life.”
They arrived early for the dance, in time to hear the fiddlers tuning up. A man with a Jew’s harp and another with a clarinet joined the fiddlers, and the band broke out into a rendition of “Oh, Susanna!” As soon as the fiddlers struck up the tune, Andy whirled Ingrid onto the dance floor. He smiled at Anne Marie. “Age before beauty this time. I’ll dance with you next.”
They circled, bowed, and whirled, Ingrid’s feet barely touching the floor. She couldn’t remember a time when she had felt so light-hearted, so free. She hardly noticed the huge cracks in the rough logs of the floor, seeming to fly from Andy as the crier’s “swing your partners” echoed throughout the hall. Then, back into his arms for yet another whirl. It was with great reluctance she turned him over to Anne Marie for the next dance, taking her place with the women on the sidelines.
Watching the two dance together, she noticed how their eyes met, how Andy’s hand lightly caressed her back, how his lips faintly touched the tip of her head. He’s very much in love with her, Ingrid told herself. Yet Anne Marie seemed to pull back, to discourage him. Maybe I’ll have to do some matchmaking on this trip, Ingrid determined, adding it to her list of other self-appointed jobs.
Almost everyone danced, the gray-haired men and women, the young children. And everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time. The room was filled with great happiness and cheer, yet as the evening wore on, Ingrid was baffled. Like Andy, many of the men arrived accompanied by more than one woman. Little groups of several women remained together, and the man danced with them one at a time. Maybe their men were already in Salt Lake like hers, and these other men were being noble like Andy, making sure they all had a good time.
Later, when Andy escorted Ingrid and Anne Marie over to a table where women were serving cranberry punch and cake, Ingrid nodded in the direction of a group of women and whispered, “Are all their husbands in Salt Lake, too?”
Anne Marie simply laughed. “Of course not. They’re just practicing the Principle.”
The Principle? Whatever was the Principle? Was this another teaching of the church she was totally ignorant of? She flipped her hair over her shoulders, thankful she had decided to let it flow free for this evening. Whatever the Principle was, she could find out later. Right now, she was having the time of her life and intending to enjoy every precious minute of it.
Much later that night as the girls prepared for bed, Ingrid decided to start her matchmaking crusade. They lay discussing their wonderful evening, laughing and giggling like schoolmates. “You and Andy dance well together,” Ingrid ventured. “You look like you belong together.”
Anne Marie fell silent. Finally, she replied. “We’ve grown up together, almost like brother and sister. That’s probably why.”
Ingrid wasn’t content to let it rest with that. “I think he’s in love with you.”
She heard a muffled sob, then Anne Marie’s half-whispered cry, “I know it.”
Ingrid sat straight up from her bedroll and stared at her friend. “But why do you pull away from him? He’s a wonderful person and would be perfect for you.”
Anne Marie gasped, then fell silent. In the darkness, Ing
rid couldn’t see the puzzled expression on her face. “There’s something I’ve got to tell him, and I can’t bring myself to do it,” she whispered into the darkness.
With an exaggerated movement, she rolled away from Ingrid, her face toward the tent wall. The action stated more clearly than words that the subject was closed.
Chapter 5
THE WAKE-UP CALL sounded at dawn on a dew-ladened morning that made Ingrid want to snuggle under the blanket and go back to sleep. Reluctantly pulling herself from the warmth, she glanced across the tent. Anne Marie lay on her blanket, pale and sick.
“What is it, Anne Marie? What’s wrong?” Ingrid asked, kneeling beside her.
“It’s my stomach,” Anne Marie groaned. “Everything I eat comes back up.”
“Was it something at the dance last night? Maybe too much cranberry cake?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve been having this trouble for a while now.” Anne Marie quickly rose off the blanket. “I’ll be fine. It’s nothing.”
Ingrid was not reassured. “You don’t have the cholera, do you? Didn’t you tell me you were taken with it back in Winter Quarters?”
Anne Marie gave her a questioning look. “That was years ago. If I had the cholera, do you think I’d be gaining weight?”
Ingrid shrank back in shock. It couldn’t be. Surely Anne Marie wasn’t trying to tell her she was pregnant! She wasn’t that kind of girl. Quickly, she wound her braids around the top of her head, pinned them in place, and folded her blanket. Obviously, she had misunderstood. She wouldn’t even think such a thing!
“We’d best hurry on over to the meeting house,” Ingrid said, “to find out when our company is scheduled to leave.” Almost as an afterthought, she added, “That is, if you’re feeling up to it.”
Anne Marie ventured a weak smile. “I reckon I’ll be fine now. Once I get it all up, the sickness seems to go away.”