The Undaunted

by Gerald N. Lund

  There had been other insights as well. David’s admiration for Patrick McKenna grew with every passing day. He was also finding an unexpected depth to Molly beneath that dazzling, bubbly exterior. Carl Bradford, stuffiness and all, was all right too. He was steady, always pleasant, quick to contribute in discussions or to give a hand when there was a task to be done. David liked him, and he hadn’t expected that. Carl would be a good match for Abby, if he ever got a little more romance into the relationship. Sometimes David wanted to sneak over behind him and whisper, “She’s cold, put your arm around her. When she’s talking, don’t just nod. Watch her eyes. That’s how you can tell what she’s thinking.” But he said none of that, of course. Abby seemed content with how things were, and it certainly wasn’t his place to interfere.

  As for Abby and her sister, David found that relationship even more intriguing. They were so different in temperament and physical appearance that it was surprising they weren’t more competitive with each other. Where Molly was impetuous, Abby was steady, almost contemplative. Where Molly was gregarious and talkative, Abby was quiet, more reserved. They were both very articulate, but expressed themselves in different ways. Abby was more reasoned, more precise, where Molly let it all come tumbling out.

  A crunch of footsteps on leaves brought him up. Molly was just coming out of their tent, pulling on her jacket and yawning mightily at the same time. She was definitely not the early riser in the family. “Mornin’, Molly.”

  “Good morning, David. Oh, it smells good.” She looked around. “Where is everybody?”

  “Your family and Carl are down by the river. Ben’s saddling the horses and hobbling the mules. We’re leaving camp here and will be coming back tonight.”

  She came to the fire and looked down at the stack of flapjacks he had cooked. Suddenly, her eyes lit up. “Do you have any more of that stuff, David?”

  “For the flapjacks, you mean? Yes, some.”

  “Make me a real big one, can you?” Not waiting for an answer, she ran back into the tent.

  Five minutes later, when the family returned, David and Molly were standing in front of the fire. Molly held something behind her. As Abby reached her, she brought it around to the front. It was a plate with a very large flapjack on it. In the flapjack were two birthday candles. “Happy birthday, Abby.”

  Then, handing the plate to David, she rushed to Abby and threw her arms around her.

  They rode upstream for about three miles, following the river in single file, Ben in the lead, David bringing up the rear. They rode for over an hour, mostly silent as each new bend in the river brought another astonishing view. The air was so clear, the colors so brilliant, that Abby kept blinking to make herself believe it was all real and that she was really there seeing it for herself. She stood up in the stirrups and twisted her body so she could see the full length and breadth of the canyon.

  David, just behind her, looked up. “It really is something, isn’t it?”

  “Unbelievable,” she breathed.

  She reined her horse in a little, letting David come up beside her. “I have another confession to make,” she said.

  He gave her a questioning look. “You didn’t like my flapjacks?”

  She laughed lightly. “No, they were wonderful. Molly and I are going to make them for supper some night when we get home. She’s going to ask Mother if you can come and join us, see what they taste like when they’re done properly.”

  “Ouch!”

  “Just teasing. They really were delicious.”

  “So that’s your confession?”

  Her head dropped. “Actually, I wanted to apologize for something else.”

  “About you not wanting me to accompany you on this trip?” he guessed.

  She gave him a sharp look. “Did Daddy say something?”

  “No.” He grimaced. “It was a little obvious, you know. So . . . apology accepted.”

  Just then, Ben Mangleson, who was about a hundred yards ahead of them, shouted and waved them forward. “Here we are. Come take a look at this.”

  “This” was stunning. About a quarter of a mile away was a single monolithic tower of deep red sandstone jutting straight up out of the canyon floor. Skirted by a base of red soil, huge blocks of fallen rock, and green juniper trees, it rose majestically—nothing but sheer cliffs for a good thousand feet or more.

  Ben was like a little boy showing them his new horse. “There it is. Angel’s Landing. Happy birthday, Abby. What do you think?”

  “Incredible. Breathtaking.”

  Her father laughed in delight. “You said you wanted to have your breath taken away.”

  “So,” Ben said, still grinning broadly, “how would you like to go up top?”

  As they dismounted at the base of the tower, Molly removed her hat and tipped her head way back. “We can’t possibly climb that, Ben.”

  “We go around and up the other side. Come on, we’ll hobble the horses and leave them down by the river.”

  Billy Joe suddenly stopped. “Be careful,” he said, raising a warning hand. “In the desert you have to watch out for snakes and lobsters.”

  There was a momentary startled silence, then an explosion of laughter. Billy Joe blushed deeply.

  “Did you mean scorpions?” Abby asked after a moment. “They do look like little lobsters.”

  “Oh, yeah.” The irrepressible grin was back and he was laughing at himself. “Snakes and scorpions.” And he was off, hoping to see the very things he had just warned them about.

  As they unbridled the horses and turned them loose to graze, Patrick turned and looked up at the massif that towered over them. “Have you been up there?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Ben said. “I’ve climbed it twice since Carl was out here a month ago.”

  “How bad is it?” David asked.

  “Well, we’ve named it Angel’s Landing,” Ben laughed, “because only an angel could ever get up there.” Then, seeing their looks, he went on quickly, “Just kidding. I’m certainly no angel.”

  Billy Joe’s head whipped around. “Angels? Are there angels up there?”

  They all laughed at that. “No, Patrick,” his father said. “They just call it Angel’s Landing.”

  “Oh.” His face fell and he looked at the ground.

  Probably because it was her birthday, Ben decided it was Abby he had to convince. “I’m telling you, Abby, from the top, you’d swear you were an angel in heaven. It’s like nothing you’ve experienced in your whole life.”

  “How bad is the climb?” David asked again.

  “The first two-thirds of it has some pretty steep places, and we’ll be feeling it in our legs and lungs, but I think even Billy could handle that. The last third . . .” He grinned. “Well, that’s the breathtaking part. This main tower here, what we call the Landing itself, is connected to the rest of the mountains by a narrow spine of rock. It’s kind of like a huge stone bridge that connects the tower to the line of cliffs, but it’s solid rock all the way down.” He grinned again. “When I say all the way, that’s about eight hundred feet of vertical drop on both sides. In a couple of places, the spine is no more than fifteen or twenty feet wide. It really is amazing.”

  Eight hundred feet! Abby felt her stomach flutter.

  “Just to be safe, I strung ropes across a couple of spots. Gives you something to hang on to, steady yourself.” He turned to Patrick. “Brother McKenna, there’s a nice overlook just above where the spine starts. I’d recommend we all go that far; then anyone who isn’t comfortable going on can wait there for the rest of us. Even if you go no farther, the view from up there is absolutely spectacular.”

  Abby cut in before he could answer. Billy Joe was off stalking a lizard, and she inclined her head in his direction. “I don’t think Billy Joe should go up at all, Father.” She turned to David, daring him with her eyes to disagree. “I mean it, Daddy,” she hurried on. “You know how he is. He sees something and he darts off without thinking. Mama would neve
r allow it.”

  David nodded. “I agree with Abby, Patrick. That is no place for a boy. I’ll stay with him while the rest of you go up.”

  Abby released her breath, thanking him with her eyes.

  “Thank you, David,” Patrick said, “but I’d rather have you up top helping Ben. I’ll stay.” He looked at his two daughters, then back to David and Carl. “I’m trusting you two to be wise up there. If it looks too bad from the overlook, don’t go.”

  David looked at Carl, then they both nodded.

  Just then Billy Joe came on the run, waving a letter in his hand. “Can I go, Dad?”

  His father shook his head. “No, Son. This one is just for grown-ups.”

  David decided the boy had overheard their conversation, because he didn’t fight that. Instead, he turned to David. “Then will you take this up for me?”

  “What is it?” David asked, already knowing the answer.

  “This is my letter to God,” he said. His head tipped back to look at the great tower looming over them. “Maybe the angels will know where He lives.”

  Chapter 23

  Thursday, September 19, 1878

  Two hours later, the five of them stood looking down on what Ben had called the “spine” or the “bridge” that linked towering Angel’s Landing to the mountain ridge behind it. No one spoke. There weren’t words to express what they were seeing.

  It really was a remarkable geological formation. Angel’s Landing was at least a mile in circumference at the base, but the rocky crown was no more than four or five hundred yards around. The massif stood completely apart from the cliffs that formed the western wall of Zion Canyon except for this narrow, solid-rock umbilical cord anchoring it to its “mother.”

  Ben’s warning that the crossing had some “rough places” was an understatement. Much of it was typical mountain terrain—rocks, gravel beds, scattered juniper trees—that could be crossed without much difficulty. But right at its narrowest stretch, thick sandstone blocks had broken off and lay in great chunks, partially blocking the way across the spine. One boulder looked to be as much as six feet higher than the base of the ridge and would have to be climbed over. That stretch would have been daunting enough if the drop-off on either side had been fifteen or twenty feet high. But this narrow crossing was like a single strand of spiderweb spanning two great chasms.

  On the right side, the cliff dropped into a slot canyon so narrow that they could not see the bottom. What they could see was six or seven hundred feet of vertical drop into nothingness. The left side was worse. Here there was no other wall. Far below them, the Virgin River Valley spread out between the walls of Zion Canyon. The river itself looked like the silvery track a snail leaves behind as it crosses a sidewalk. The valley floor was at least a thousand feet down, and about eight hundred of that was a sheer cliff face of what looked like seamless stone.1

  Ben spoke. “Well, there it is. Who’s game for going across? Abby? It’s your birthday.”

  She pressed a trembling hand against her skirts, now fastened into trousers by the garters. Her face was pale. “I’m not sure yet.”

  “Molly?”

  She didn’t answer. She was staring down. Her tongue flicked in and out, licking at her lips.

  “What about you, David?” Carl asked.

  “I’d like to.” He smiled wryly. “May be my only chance to see what heaven’s like, but this isn’t my trip. I’m here to do whatever Molly and Abby want.”

  Abby turned to Molly, her eyes questioning.

  “I am scared absolutely to death,” Molly whispered, “but I want to do it. What about you?”

  Abby shuddered in spite of herself. “I don’t know if I can. You, Carl?”

  “I’ll stay with you if you decide not to.”

  “But you want to do it?”

  He hesitated, then his head bobbed. “Yes.”

  “Then go,” she said, with a touch of snappishness. “I don’t need a baby-sitter.”

  Carl looked confused and a little bit hurt. “I . . .”

  “I have a suggestion,” David came in smoothly. “Suppose we let Carl go first, with Ben taking him across. That way you and Molly can see how difficult it is. Then you can decide.”

  “Good idea,” Ben said. “There’s a small landing right where the spine begins. Let’s go that far. Whoever decides not to go can wait there for the rest of us.”

  Abby, Molly, and David watched the two men as they moved across the spine. At first, Ben went ahead, barely looking back, not wanting to make Carl feel like he was being mothered. But when they reached the part where the first rope was secured between some juniper trees, Carl lost his confidence. Ben came back to help him negotiate the rockfall and the large block they had seen. When Abby saw him pulling himself up over that big rock, grasping the rope like it was life itself, she had to close her eyes and look away.

  Five minutes later, they were past the rough stretch. Carl turned back and waved. “It’s a bit hairy,” he called. “But it’s all right. You can do it.”

  “Carl, you go on,” Ben said. “I’ll go back for Molly.”

  Abby cupped her hands to her mouth. “No, Ben. Stay with Carl. Please!”

  “It’s all right, Abby,” Carl called. “It’s easier from here on.”

  “Please, Ben!”

  He waved and turned back to rejoin Carl.

  David pulled on his leather gloves, eyeing the two sisters. “Well?”

  Abby swallowed hard, then looked at Molly. Molly’s hands were clenching and unclenching, but she answered firmly. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world.”

  “Do you want her to go first?” he asked Abby. When she gave him a quick nod, he turned back to Molly. “Okay, let’s go.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “I won’t tell you not to look down. You have to do that to see where you’re putting your feet. But look only at your feet. It’s looking down into those depths that brings on the vertigo.”

  “Okay.” Her voice was quavering noticeably.

  Abby watched them go, amazed once again at her sister. She knew Molly was as frightened as she was. Cute, flirtatious Molly. There was some steel down inside that fluffy exterior.

  Moving forward, David was also impressed. He could hear Molly’s breath coming in panicky gulps, and he could see her hands trembling, but she didn’t stop. She watched his every move, then did exactly the same thing. She followed his instructions to the letter. Once, when her boot slipped on a loose rock and she threw her arms around him to catch herself, she blushed deeply. Then, with eyes twinkling, she looked up at him and said, “I’ve wanted to do that for quite some time.” Which made him laugh aloud.

  When they reached the place where the spine widened out and became a full ridge again, she turned. Her face was radiant and her eyes danced with excitement. “Thank you, David. Thank you for believing in me.” Then, to his surprise, she went up on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “You go back for Abby now,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

  Abby was seated on a shelf of rock, watching him with narrowed eyes as he made his way back to her. When he reached her, she spoke. “That was tender.”

  “What?” Turning, he saw that where he and Molly had parted was in plain sight of where he and Abby were now. He flashed a grin. “There’s nothing like walking across a tightwire to increase one’s feeling of gratitude.”

  She laughed in spite of herself. “And to have one as pretty as Molly express that gratitude with such sincerity is a burden one just has to bear, right?”

  “You do what you have to do,” he grunted. He changed the subject. “By the way, we got interrupted down there. You were about to apologize for something. I’d really like to hear that.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said quickly. “This isn’t the place for that. I think we need to stay focused on the question at hand, which is, am I crazy enough to go across that?”

  “And what have you decided?”

  Before she could answer, they heard a
shout. Ben was coming back down the hill from the top of Angel’s Landing. “Carl’s up top,” he shouted. “Be right there.”

  Abby’s hand shot out and gripped David’s arm. “No. If I go, I’d rather it be with you.”

  David shot her a quizzical look, but stood and waved him off. “We’re all right,” he called. “You stay with Carl and Molly up top. We’ll meet you there.”

  Even from this distance, they could see his disappointment. “Poor guy,” David said. “Two beautiful damsels in distress and he doesn’t get to help either one.”

  “Am I a damsel in distress?” She was completely serious again now and answered her own question before he could. “Of course I am. I don’t know if I can do it, David. Just looking at it from here makes my head spin.”

  “Abby, listen to me. There’s nothing you have to prove here. Not to me. Not to Carl. Not to yourself.” And then, as an afterthought, “And certainly not to Molly.”

  “I know, but . . .” Her eyes were staring across to the Landing. “I really want to do it.”

  “Then I’m here to help you. You can change your mind at any point.”

  For a long moment her eyes probed his. “All right.”

  At first, the rocks were almost like steps, or actually more like small landings. The layers of sandstone had split into blocks, forming a rough, natural stairway. It was easy going, and she raised her eyes to see how far that would continue. That was a mistake. She had to stop and clutch David’s arm as a wave of dizziness swept over her.

  “Remember,” he said easily, “don’t look out at all that empty space. Focus only on the little square of ground where you’re putting your feet.”