The Undaunted

by Gerald N. Lund

  Molly turned to Abby and, over the laughter of the crowd, said loudly, “My dear mother and sister, what say ye? Shall we not dance this proud and vain Welshman under the rug tonight until he begs for mercy?”

  “Indeed we shall,” Sarah said. She stepped forward and slipped an arm through Brother Perkins’s arm. Abby and Molly slipped off their shoes and came forward to join them. “Feel free to holler for mercy when you’ve had enough,” Abby said.

  Ben shook his head with great sadness. “My dear sister, r’member what the Proverbs say. ‘Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before the fall.’”

  “Brodder Ben,” Bishop Jens Nielson called over another a wave of laughter, “were you speaking of dese tree lovely sisters here, or did ya have reference to yurself?”

  Now it was a roar of delight that bounced off the rocks and back in on itself. Without missing a beat, the Welshman sniffed the air in disdain. Then he lifted both of his hands, motioning everyone to stand back. “Good bishop, Ah leeve that judgment in yur capable ’ands. As fur the rest of ya, if ya wud joost move back and leave us enuff room so that when these poor befuddled sisters collapse, no one will be steppin’ on their weary an’ exhausted bodies.”2

  In the end, the McKennas were saved from being “befuddled” by a startling development. Somewhere about the time they had started on a Scottish dance, something for which the entire group had been anxiously awaiting suddenly occurred. Sammy Cox cut off his fiddling in midstroke and turned to stare. Every head swung around. On the western rim of the dance area, a group of fifteen or sixteen people had appeared. They stood there for a moment, then one of the men near the front stepped forward. “Bishop Nielson? Bishop Jens Nielson?”

  A cry of joy exploded from the Paragonah members, who recognized the voice. So did Bishop Nielson. He got to his feet and started shuffling across the stone floor toward the man who had spoken. “Brodder Smith!” he cried. “Brodder Silas Smith. Cud that be truly you?”

  After a period of handshaking and backslapping, with hugging among the women, the company separated into groups. The women and younger children moved in to welcome the extended Smith family while the men gathered around Silas and Bishop Nielson.

  Captain Smith insisted on hearing the bishop’s report first. Much of it he already knew because the bishop was sending reports back to Escalante regularly. But he was pleased to see for himself how smoothly things were going here at Forty Mile Camp. He was especially pleased when Bishop Nielson told him, somewhat apologetically, that rather than wait for his arrival, he had sent five men south to explore possible routes across the river.

  “Wonderful! Wonderful!” Silas kept saying. “I’m so glad that you didn’t hold back. We need to know what to expect over there, and we need to know quickly.”

  Then he gave a quick summary of his own journey, and especially what he had learned in Escalante. “You’ll be pleased to know that Brother Platte D. Lyman, our first counselor for the mission, is just a few miles behind us. The main part of his group is a little farther back, but he was going to camp at Cottonwood Wash and join us tomorrow.”

  “Dat is very goot news,” Bishop Nielson said. “At last our presidency will be together.”

  “And, you’ll be happy to know, he has three men with him,” Silas added. “Bishop Schow, Reuben Collett, and Charles Hall.”

  He nodded as a murmur of approval swept through the brethren. “That’s right. The three men who know the most about this country are here to help us find a way through.”

  Just then, a noise behind them brought their heads around. There at the edge of the firelight, in the same place where Silas and his family had appeared earlier, five men were coming forward in long strides. As they moved into the flickering firelight, suddenly from the group of women there was a cry of joy. Molly McKenna was staring, one hand to her mouth. It was followed instantly by the heavily accented voice of Bishop Jens Nielson. “Kumen. Is dat you?”3

  Notes

  ^1. Miller records that about this time the frustrations of the group seemed to increase, and there was some disgruntlement both with the indecision and uncertainty about the route and with the prices they paid in Escalante for supplies. The criticisms expressed here by Samuel Rowley and Parley Butt come from their family histories (see Miller, Hole, 47–48). In his history of Escalante, Roundy makes this observation, which was used in this chapter to counter the criticism:

  “It must be remembered that Escalante was only three years old and people had not had time to lay in large supplies. There had been little chance to purchase outside goods and, with this being October and November when the colonists were moving through Escalante, they knew that snow would soon close the road to outside purchases. They, too, had to make it through the winter months, and depleting their supplies could place a hardship on their families before spring came” (Roundy, Escalante, 109).

  ^2. These details of the evening times of recreation and relaxation, including Sammy Cox’s cheerful nature and musical ability and Ben Perkins’s willingness to “challenge three or four women to keep up with him in doing a jig” are drawn from several sources (Redd, “Short Cut,” 13–14; Miller, Hole, 53–54; Reay, Incredible Passage, 49–51; and “Life Sketch of Mary Jane Wilson,” 8).

  ^3. While exact dates for this four-man exploring party are not given, Miller estimates that they left around November fifteenth, a few days after the Nielson group arrived at Forty Mile Spring (see Miller, Hole, 57). Since they took six days exploring the east side of the river, and it took roughly two days coming and going between Forty Mile Spring and the Hole, ten days would put them back at camp on the twenty-fourth, the very day Smith arrived. In his journal, Silas wrote this brief entry: “Drove five miles to camp. Very unfavorable report from exploring party” (as cited in ibid., 67). So either they were there when he arrived or they came a short time later.

  Chapter 52

  Tuesday, November 25, 1879

  After allowing some time for a warm and prolonged welcome for the Smith family and the returning explorers, Silas Smith and Bishop Nielson sent the company back to camp to prepare for bed. Though both leaders were anxious to hear a report on the exploration, due to the lateness of the hour and the fact that the men were completely exhausted, they asked for just a quick summary, which was given by Kumen Jones. Since Platte Lyman planned to arrive in camp sometime the next morning, the five men would give their full report at that time. In the meantime, those in the exploring party were asked to resist answering any questions from the group to prevent the circulation of rumors and half-truths.

  Knowing how difficult that was going to be for the McKennas and everyone else, David went straight to bed, saying that he was so tired he could barely make a coherent sentence—which was not much of an exaggeration. The next morning he was out of his bedroll before anyone else and slipped down to the creek unseen. Then he went back to bed and stayed there, sometimes sleeping, sometimes pretending sleep, until after seven o’clock. When he finally did get up, it was clear that Patrick and Sarah had already given the family stern instructions to leave him alone, for breakfast was little more than an awkward commentary on the weather and what the day held. Gratefully, Platte D. Lyman and the two scouts from Escalante walked into camp around eight o’clock, and Silas called for the scouts to come to his tent immediately.

  As the five walked out, blinking in the brightness of the sunlight, Kumen Jones held up a hand. “No questions,” he called. “President Smith will be making an announcement in about a quarter of an hour.”

  They ignored the groans and calls of disappointment as they headed back to their individual campsites. Knowing what was waiting for him at the McKennas’, David called out to Sister McKenna even before he reached the campfire to forestall any interrogation. “Sarah, is there any chance I could get you and the girls to pack me enough food for two days?”

  “What?” Molly cried. “Where are you going?”

  Even Patrick was surprised by t
hat. “You’re off again?” he asked.

  “Brother Lyman wants to hike to the top of Fifty Mile Mountain. He’s hoping to use the field glasses to identify a possible route on the east side. We’re leaving immediately.”

  “But you’ll only be gone two days?” Sarah asked, deflecting any more questions for him.

  “Yes. Silas wants to meet with all the scouts Thursday evening and decide what to do.”

  “Thursday is Thanksgiving Day,”1 Molly said.

  Sarah nodded. “I’m not sure we’ll be able to find a turkey and all the trimmings out here, but we’ll do our best. I hope you’ll be back by then.”

  “Me too. Even a jackrabbit with one or two trimmings sounds good to me.”

  Carl had been silent through all of this. Now he spoke up. “Did you know the road-building crews have completely stopped work on the road now?”

  David straightened slowly. “No, I didn’t know that. So that’s why we didn’t see anyone out there when we came back yesterday afternoon.” He looked to his father. “Why?”

  John Draper frowned. “The men cahrn’t see much sense in bustin’ their picks if we be turnin’ back. So they joost stayed in camp yest’day.”

  “The camp is pretty discouraged,” Patrick said. “Quite a bit of grumbling and complaining.”

  Molly and Abby exchanged glances, wondering if he had learned about their gripe session the other night, but he didn’t look at either of them. “I guess that’s why Silas is so anxious to make a decision. Hopefully, this reconnaissance will help.”

  “But we heard that Schow and Collett brought a boat with them,” Carl persisted. “Bigger than the one they used last summer. Doesn’t that mean someone’s going to cross the river? That there will be further exploration before a decision is made?”

  David studied him for a moment. One thing about Carl Bradford: He may not have been the most enthusiastic or experienced pioneer, but he was shrewd. “I’m sure it does,” he admitted.

  Molly’s head came up as the implications of that hit her, but Abby asked it first. “Will you be asked to go on that one, too?”

  “Of course you will,” Molly said, with a touch of bitterness. “You don’t have a family.”

  “And,” her father said pointedly, losing patience, “David has already been over there once.”

  Molly just tossed her head and turned away. “And how long will that one be?” she muttered.

  No one answered, and the silence became awkward as Molly stalked off around to the back of the wagons. Sarah quickly gathered some food, put it in a sack, and handed it to David.

  As he took it, Carl spoke. “Take my field glasses. Two pairs of eyes are better than one.”

  David was surprised and touched. The binoculars were expensive, and Carl was very protective of them. “Thanks, Carl.”

  As Carl went to get them, David turned to Billy Joe, who had been uncharacteristically quiet through all of this. He pointed at the ragged wall of Fifty Mile Mountain, four or five miles to the west of them. “See that highest peak there?” he asked, pointing. When Billy Joe nodded, he went on, “Now go to the left where the mountain seems to come to an end.” He glanced up and saw that Molly had stepped out enough to watch. “That’s what they call Navajo Point. Supposedly it looks almost straight down into the gorge. So watch there tomorrow about noon. I’ll take my little shaving mirror with me. If you see a flash, you’ll know it’s me saying hello. All right?”

  “Yeah!” Billy Joe said.

  He looked up and saw Molly nod gratefully. He lifted a hand to all of them. “See you tomorrow night.”

  As he started away, Abby looked around. What a dejected and gloomy bunch they were. She walked to Billy Joe and touched his shoulder. “I have an assignment for you. Thursday is Thanksgiving,” she said. “Why don’t you start a pile of thankful pebbles?”

  He gave her a funny look. “Thankful pebbles?”

  “Yes,” she said, still formulating what she wanted to say. “Every time you can get someone in this gloomy-gus family to laugh, you put a pebble on the pile.”

  David had heard that and turned back to listen.

  “And every time one of us tells you something we’re thankful for, you put another pebble on the pile. Can you do that? We’ll see how big a pile we can make before David gets back.”

  “Yes!” Billy Joe said, throwing back his shoulders proudly.

  “Let me be the first,” Sarah said. She bent down, picked up a small rock, and handed it to her son. “I am thankful the Lord brought David Draper to Cedar City to be a mail rider.”

  “Amen,” Patrick said. He bent down and got a pebble and handed it to Billy Joe.

  “Yes,” Molly breathed, and did the same.

  Abby said nothing, but she bent down, picked up two rocks, and tossed one to Billy Joe. “Is this for David too?” he asked.

  Her eyes met and held David’s briefly; then her lips curled in a mischievous smile. “No. Actually, this is for Tillie. I am thankful that she never complains, in spite of the company she keeps.”

  “Ow!” David cried, which brought a hearty laugh all around the circle. Then his head came up. “Did you hear that, Billy Joe. I think I just counted seven people who laughed.”

  Billy Joe looked confused for a moment, but soon his face was wreathed in smiles. “That’s right,” he exclaimed, and began scooping up more pebbles.

  When he straightened again, Abby’s smile faded. She walked over and handed him the other pebble. “And second, I’m thankful for Tillie because she always brings David back safely to us.”

  Thursday, November 27, 1879

  Thanksgiving Day at Forty Mile Creek dawned to reveal a brilliant white landscape as far as the eye could see. Sometime during the night it had started to snow, and now there were two to three inches on the ground. As Abby pulled back the wagon cover and looked out, she drew in her breath quickly. “Oh, Molly,” she exclaimed. “Come and see.”

  Molly moaned, but after a moment she came up on one elbow, clutching the quilt around her. “What is it?” She looked, then dropped back. “Thank you for waking me up for that.”

  Abby stuck her head out and peered around. A few people were stirring and one or two campfires had been started, but for the most part the camp was still just waking up. She tied the flap back so they could see out, then crawled back under the quilt and snuggled in beside her sister. “Not only is it lovely, but when it melts, there’ll be water in all the water pockets and rock tanks. Which means we won’t have to carry as much from the spring. Surely that’s worth another pebble or two for Billy Joe’s pile.”

  Molly sniggered. “When David sees how big the pile is, he’s going to be surprised.”

  “By the way, David is back,” Abby said.

  Molly jerked to a sitting position. “How do you know that?”

  “I just saw Tillie down near the creek. She’s unsaddled and grazing, so I guess he must have gotten in late last night.”

  “Wonderful.”

  Abby said nothing.

  “What?” Molly said. “What was that look for?”

  “You may as well know. He’ll probably be leaving again in the morning.”

  “In the morning? No, Abby!”

  “Joe Nielson told me last night that Brother Lyman plans to cross the river tomorrow with about a dozen men and see if they can find a route up and out of the gorge.”

  “And David will be asked to go?” She dropped back again, knowing the answer to that. “It’s not fair. He’s done his part.”

  “Oh?” Abby said, with a touch of impatience. “And just exactly what is his part?”

  Molly gave her a look. “He was gone six months with the first group,” she snapped. “Now that we’re on the road again, they’re sending him out all the time. Ten days with Kumen. Two days with Lyman. Now another who-knows-how-long trip.”

  “Somehow I thought that was what scouts did.”

  “He’s not the only scout. It’s not right, Abby. Let s
omeone else do it.”

  Abby’s lips pressed together into a tight line. “Go back to sleep. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

  Molly’s hand shot out and grabbed her. “No, Abby. You tell me. Is it asking too much to let him spend some time with us? After all, isn’t Daddy paying him to help our family?”

  “Then why doesn’t Daddy complain to Silas about it?”

  “Ohhh! Sometimes you make me so angry, Abby. Always the one to know everything. Always the one to do things just right. You should have married Carl—then you could have spent your time making him perfect, instead of me.”

  Abby stiffened.

  Molly’s face instantly crumpled. “Sorry, Abby. I didn’t mean that. I’m just so frustrated.”

  There was a soft, sorrowful sound. “No, down deep, Molly, I think you really did mean it. And you’re right. It’s not my place to tell you how to live your life. I’m sorry.”

  She sighed, closed the flap, and began to dress. As she finished slipping into her dress and began pulling on her shoes, she finally spoke again. “Today is Thanksgiving. And if David does leave again tomorrow, it’s the only day we’ll have all together for a while. Just don’t make him feel guilty for doing what he’s supposed to be doing.”

  “And you think that’s what I was going to do?”

  “Not intentionally, no. But if you turn those big, sad eyes on him and look as if your heart is going to break, he will feel guilty.”

  “You make me sound awful.”

  Abby started to turn away, then swung back, thoroughly exasperated. “You don’t even see it, do you? There are bigger issues here. This isn’t just about Molly or Abby or David. Maybe it’s about finding a way to San Juan.”

  “If that’s true, then why doesn’t God show us the way to go, so we can accomplish His purpose and get on with our life?”