Her color deepened even more. “Carl came to Daddy about three months ago and asked for permission to court me.”
“Finally,” David blurted. Then it was his turn to blush. “I didn’t mean it that way, it’s just that Carl is so . . .” He stopped, realizing he was only digging the hole deeper.
“I told Daddy that I wasn’t interested.”
David’s head came up with a snap. “You turned him down?”
She was playing with the ledger book, moving it back and forth on the desk.
“No wonder he’s coming back here.”
Her eyes flared. “Knowing that Carl was just being obedient to President Lunt’s counsel for single young men to marry before we leave didn’t seem like a good enough reason to me.”
“Oh,” David said softly, “I think it was much more than that for Carl.”
She stared at him for a moment, looking like she was ready to bristle, then smiled quickly to hide her embarrassment. “Besides, I knew that Carl could never be happy living in some isolated, tiny settlement. That’s just not Carl.”
“Well, well, well,” David said. “That must be a relief to your father.”
She gave him a strange look. “Which? Having Carl take care of the hotel, or not having Carl as a son-in-law?”
At David’s startled expression, she laughed right out loud. Then she decided to change the subject. “Dad told me that he gave you your mail. How are things with your father?”
He leaned his elbows on the counter. “Wonderful, actually. He’s been spit on, yelled at, called a Yorkie by the Londoners, and even spent one night in jail. And yet he sounds happier than I’ve ever heard him in my life. They’ve now sent him up to what they call the Black Country, near Birmingham. He’s working in the villages in South Staffordshire, which is a huge coal mining and steel center.” He laughed as he thought of one thing his father had written. “He claims that the Black Country accent is so terrible, even he can’t understand it.” His eyes went soft. “He’s baptized almost a dozen people so far.”
“My goodness,” she said, with a puckish smile. “It’s a good thing no one was able to talk him out of going to England.”
He winced. That was Abby. Rapier sharp, and straight for the heart.
“Sorry,” she said. “I was just teasing.”
“No you weren’t,” he said lightly. He reached in his jacket and extracted a letter. “You’ll be happy to know, however, that I’ve just written him. I didn’t have an address for him before, so I haven’t been able to write until now. I’ve asked him to forgive me.”
Her eyes softened. “He had forgiven you before you were halfway to Parowan. He stopped by here shortly before he left for Salt Lake, and we had a long talk.”
He sighed. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell everyone what a fool I’ve been.”
She scoffed aloud. “Don’t have to. They already know that.”
“Ah, Abby,” he chuckled, “I think I shall appoint you as my humility monitor.”
Though she was trying to keep a straight face, he could see the laughter in her eyes. “There’s no need for that. Ain’t that much to monitor,” she drawled.
This time he openly guffawed. “But you’re still on the job anyway, aren’t you.”
Now she was laughing too. “It is good to have you back, David.”
He handed her the letter. “The post office isn’t open yet. Could I get you to post it for me?”
“Molly’s in there,” she said. “It’s just not quite eight o’clock yet.”
“Ah . . . well, I’ve got to run. Could you just post it for me?”
“I see,” she said slowly. “And are you running to somewhere or running from someone?”
At his look, she just shook her head. “I’ll take it to her.”
“Thank you. Let me know how much it is and I’ll pay you when I come back.” He waved and started for the front door.
“David?”
He stopped and turned.
“Thank you.”
He almost asked her what for, but he already knew the answer. “So she told you?”
There was a soft laugh. “Of course.”
She came around the counter and walked over to join him, still holding his letter. She lowered her voice as she reached him. “It is the right thing to do, David. Thank you for being wise enough to see that.”
“Did she tell your parents, too?”
“Only that the two of you had decided not to have a formal courtship right now because of the trip. I’m sure they think it’s because of what happened when you left.”
He grunted.
“I was worried that she would be so afraid of losing you that she would decide she had made a mistake when she told you it was over and . . .”
“And you don’t think it was a mistake?”
“No. Do you?”
“Not in any way.”
She tapped his arm with the letter. “Good answer. Now I’ll post your letter for you.”
But once again, as he started to leave, she called out to him. “One more thing. Did you know that Mary sent a separate letter to me in that envelope?”
“She said she wanted to write you,” he said slowly.
“She said that God is no longer an abstract for you. Would you like to comment on that?”
“Maybe sometime. Not now.” He took a breath. “I will say this much. I told you once that the last time I prayed to God was when I was thirteen years old and my mother was dying.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I can’t say that anymore.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Are you saying—”
“See you later, Abby.” Then as he started to turn, he stopped. “Please don’t say anything to Molly about this. It will only complicate things.”
Tuesday, September 16, 1879
The next two weeks were almost a blur for David. From the moment he arose in the morning until his head hit the pillow at night, the day was crammed with things to do and places to go. Six months had gone by, and the departure of the main company was imminent.
His first priority was to learn where things stood with the preparations for their upcoming departure. After meeting with Carl for three hours, he took the rest of that day and half the next going over the books and the lists of things they had acquired while he was gone. Carl and Molly had done an outstanding job in David’s absence. Their methodical and deliberate approach was perfect for something as complex as this.
His second priority was putting “the plan” concerning him and Molly into effect. The morning after his return, he moved out of the hotel and back into the boardinghouse. Sarah objected, saying that if they were leaving in a month, it was silly not to just stay where he was. However, David insisted, and Patrick, who seemed to understand why it was important, made only token resistance. Patrick also defended him when David told Sarah that he was not going to be a permanent fixture at the McKenna supper table. There was simply too much to do. By then, even she seemed to sense what he was doing, and accepted it with minimal protest.
Through it all, Molly was surprisingly compliant. Since the hotel was Patrick’s headquarters, David was in and out regularly. He often saw her behind the front desk or in the post office, but she was always bright and sunny, treating him no differently from how she treated everyone else.
On Sundays, he went to church with the McKennas, but he sat next to Molly only if it accidentally turned out that way. He was inundated with questions from the members, especially those who had been called, but he demurred. Silas Smith was their leader, and it was not David’s place to give any kind of official report until he returned.
A few days after David’s return, Bishop Jens Nielson—who would lead the Cedar City contingent until they met up with Silas Smith in Paragonah—received a letter from Elder Erastus Snow. The Apostle had received the letter sent by Silas from Colorado and knew now that the southern route was not viable. He also let Bishop Nielson know that clear last spring, Si
las and he had determined to start at least a preliminary exploration of a possible central route. Elder Snow had directed some of the brethren over in Escalante, the farthest east settlement between Cedar City and San Juan, to undertake that task. They would come to Parowan for the next stake conference and report their findings.
On September twelfth, a telegram for Elder Snow arrived in St. George and was immediately forwarded to Cedar City. Silas Smith and the exploring party had reached Salina and expected to be back in Paragonah in five to six days. Thereafter, Silas and Bishop Nielson would immediately travel to St. George to confer with Elder Snow.
Wednesday, September 17, 1869
David had gone up Cedar Canyon to make sure that there was enough good grazing to leave the stock up there until the departure or until the weather turned cold. It was nearly dark when he rode up to the McKenna livery stable. The barn still had the McKenna name over the front doors even though it had been sold, but David suspected it would be changed once they left. He unsaddled Tillie, put her in a stall, brushed her down, got her a bucket of oats, and was just starting to leave when Billy Joe McKenna came rocketing through the back doors. He slid to a halt, surprised to see David standing there.
“Hey, there, Billy Joe.”
“Hi, David. Somebody said you were back. Can I help you with Tillie?”
“All done. But you can walk me to the boardinghouse.”
As they left the barn, David ruffled his hair. “How’s school?”
The boy’s head dropped, and there was a pained expression on his face. “Not so good. I had to write, ‘I will not bring stink bugs into class’ fifty times on the blackboard after school yesterday.”
“And why would the teacher make you do that?” David asked solemnly.
He shot David a scornful look. “Because I brought five of them in a bottle and they got out.”
“But you don’t know how they got out?”
His nose crinkled up as he squinted up at David. “Well, I did crack the lid a little.”
Just then a figure appeared, coming out of the boardinghouse. David was surprised to see it was Molly.
“Hi,” he called.
“Hi, Molly,” Billy Joe said.
She hurried up. “David, Dad wants you to come over to the house right away.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Anything I need to bring?”
“No. There are four brethren there. One of them is named Silas Smith.” She laughed at his delighted expression. “One is Jim Decker, one is Joe Nielson, and one is Kumen Jones. Abby’s gone to get Bishop Nielson. He’ll be so excited to have his two boys back.”
“Wonderful.” This was good news indeed.
“Brother Jones said to tell you that you’d better hurry.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because when I left, they had Mother and Daddy laughing so hard they were holding their sides. He was telling them something about some rattlesnake eggs.”
David groaned. “They weren’t.”
“They were. And as I left, Brother Decker was saying something about you scaring the pants off the Davis boys by throwing a rattlesnake at them. Would you like to comment on that?”
“No,” he growled. “Come on. Let’s hurry. Those brethren are notorious exaggerators.”
“That’s funny,” she said. “That’s exactly what they said about you.”1
Note
^1. I could find no specific date for the return of the exploring party. George Hobbs said it was the middle of September (see “History of the San Juan Stake,” 7). I have some of them in Cedar City on the seventeenth, but their first welcome would have been in Paragonah and Parowan since they were returning by way of Panguitch and Bear Valley.
Chapter 46
Saturday, September 27, 1879
In conjunction with the stake conference, a special meeting was called for all of those who had been called as missionaries, including parents of single missionaries. It was set for one o’clock on Saturday afternoon. The McKennas, along with Carl Bradford and David, were there at 12:20 and still ended up two-thirds of the way back in the Rock Church on Main Street. By the time President Henry Lunt, president of the Parowan Stake, stood to open the meeting, every seat was full, and several people were standing in the back.
Following the opening hymn and prayer, President Lunt came to the pulpit. Quickly the chapel quieted. He stood there for a moment, letting his eyes sweep across the assembly; then a slow smile stole over his face. At a time of such high excitement, every eye should have been on him, but many were still craning their necks to see the two strangers seated on the stand behind him between Silas Smith and Elder Erastus Snow.
“Brethren and sisters,” he said, trying to gently chide them a little. “If I could have your attention, please, we’ll introduce the two brethren at whom you are all gawking.”
That won him some good-natured laughter. As it died away again, David glanced quickly at the family. He was on the one end, next to Billy Joe. Abby was next, then her father and mother. Carl sat beside Sister McKenna, and Molly was on the far end, as far removed from David as possible. He smiled inwardly. The same was true of Carl and Abby. This was going to be an interesting trip.
Finally, President Lunt began. “Brethren and sisters, normally the custom in such a meeting as this would be to hear from myself first, and our esteemed leader, Elder Erastus Snow, second.”
Someone groaned audibly near the back, and another ripple of laughter filled the hall.
President Lunt turned to look at the Apostle. “I shall take that as an affirmation that we should not proceed according to custom.” More laughter, now open and appreciative. Then he sobered. “Considering the unique circumstances of our situation, and in consultation with Elder Snow, who presides at our meeting, the order of the program shall be changed as follows. Elder Snow wishes to say a few words of introduction. Thereafter, he will invite others to speak to us as he sees fit. When that is finished, we shall open the time for questions.”
Now the undercurrent of sound turned into a solid murmur of approval. By the time the McKenna group had arrived in Parowan last evening, the whole town was buzzing with the news: Two men from Escalante had arrived in Paragonah, six miles to the north, earlier that day. They were staying with President Silas Smith at his home there. Elder Snow had gone north to meet with them.
The rumors flew wildly on every side. These were the scouts sent by the Church to look for a better route. No, they were only a couple of cattlemen come to do business with Silas Smith. They had found a shortcut, which would save the company three or four hundred miles of travel. (David found that one especially amusing, since it would have meant they would have had only about ten miles to go to reach their destination.) They had scouted all across the area but had come to report there was no way through. And on and on it went.
But one thing was for sure now. The two weren’t just cattlemen, or they wouldn’t be seated on the stand now. That was what was creating all the buzz in the meeting.
“Brethren and sisters,” Elder Snow began, “thank you for coming. We were afraid when we called this meeting that hardly anyone might show up.”
There was a roar of laughter at that.
He sobered quickly. “We are here today for one purpose and one purpose only, and that is to settle on a route to the San Juan and get you good people on your way as soon as possible.”
“Hear, hear,” someone murmured.
“I should like to say a few words of introduction, then invite President Silas S. Smith, president of this company and of the San Juan Mission, to say what is on his mind. He may then call on his two associates to speak as well. Following that, I shall make one or two concluding remarks; then, as President Lunt has suggested, we shall entertain questions.”
There were many heads bobbing as he paused. “First of all, I should like to formally introduce you to these two brethren who have you all so curious. A few of you may already know them. They are both from Escalan
te and are here at our request.”
He half turned. “Brethren, if you would stand as I introduce you. First, Bishop Andrew P. Schow, bishop of the Escalante Ward of the Panguitch Stake of Zion.”
The man closest to Silas Smith got slowly to his feet. David leaned forward. He was shorter than the Apostle by several inches but was thickly built, with broad shoulders. Like Elder Snow’s, his hairline receded back quite far on his head. Where he had hair, however, it was thick and black, as was his full beard. Dark, intense eyes peered out from beneath bushy brows. David guessed that he was in his late thirties or early forties.
“Bishop Schow was born in Aalborg, Denmark. He and his family came to Utah in eighteen fifty-four and have helped settle several towns. He and his wife lived in Panguitch for a time, then moved farther east when he was called to lead a party of six men to explore Potato Valley on the east side of the Escalante Mountains. They did so and eventually established a settlement there, which they called Escalante.1 It was my privilege to call Brother Schow two years later as bishop of the Escalante Ward. Thank you, Bishop.”2
Schow sat down.
“I should now like to introduce Brother Reuben Collett.” As the second man stood up, there were soft exclamations of surprise. When he had entered the hall with Silas Smith and Elder Snow, he had been flanked on both sides and so the people hadn’t been able to see him clearly. He was a lean man, and taller by half a head than Schow. He too wore a thick beard, but he had a full head of light brown hair. None of that, however, was what had created the reaction. One of the sleeves of his suit coat was pinned to his shoulder. He was missing one arm!
If Elder Snow noticed the crowd’s reaction, he gave no indication. “Brother Collett, who is originally from Cache Valley in northern Utah, was also one of the early settlers of Potato Valley. He is a successful farmer, rancher, and businessman. He grows sorghum there and is involved in the manufacture of molasses. He also serves as the constable for that area.”
That brought another soft intake of breath from the crowd. A one-armed constable?
Collett sat down again, not waiting to be invited to do so. Elder Snow smiled out at the audience. “Brother Collett will not appreciate me doing this, but I think it will help you to better understand why we have such confidence in him. As you have seen, Brother Collett is missing one arm. He lost it in a threshing accident while still a young man. In spite of that, while living in Cache Valley, he was made the constable there. Brother Collett’s reputation as a lawman was established when he pursued a dangerous criminal and, by himself, subdued the man, then relieved him of both of his guns and brought him back to the county jail for trial.”3
The Undaunted Page 50