The Fugitive Son

by Adell Harvey

  Mary shook her head as she continued, “My mother, who was born in Rome, New York, told me about locals who tried to fool overly religious travelers with ‘evidence’ of buried giants. They would mix cattle bones with human bones to make an elongated skeleton and bury it in a recently plowed field. Then they’d unearth it as proof that the giants mentioned in the Bible had existed in America. It was a spin-off from Joseph's claims that the Lost Tribes of Israel had come to New York centuries ago.”

  Elsie looked at Mary in disbelief.

  “Some of his followers in New York are still trying tricks like that.” Mary pulled her wrap closer around her shoulders as a cool breeze wafted over them. “All it proves to me is there’s a fool born every minute.”

  As Mary stopped to catch her breath, Elsie tried to take it all in. Mercy, were there really people like that in the United States?

  “I’ve heard tell that the Mormons have been run out of every place they tried to set up their own government so they could practice their religion. New York, Ohio, Missouri, Illinois.” Mary ticked the states off on her fingers. “You would have thought they would have seen the truth when Joseph was killed several years ago while he was in jail for burning down a printing press that had dared to print the truth about his practice of plural wives…”

  “Plural wives?” Elsie was aghast. “You mean they have more than one wife?”

  “Lots more. Joseph married twenty or thirty women in what he called ‘celestial marriages.’” Mary lowered her voice and added confidentially, “But there was nothing celestial about it. He slept with each of them.”

  The thought of such a thing made Elsie want to wash her ears out.

  Seeing her new friend’s interest, Mary continued, “Oh, yes! It’s become so bad that the government is taking action. John told me the Republican platform included a plank about ending the twin evils of slavery and polygamy. And just a month ago, on the Democrat side, Stephen Douglas spoke out against the Mormons.

  “When President Buchanan told the Mormons in Utah to accept a new governor and obey the laws of the United States, they rebelled. So he ordered the Army…”

  A loud thud interrupted Mary’s tale, followed by an awful scraping screech. Mary and Elsie grabbed for a deck rail as the boat shook and slithered sideways.

  Deckhands rushed around in an orderly fashion, as if this were a routine occurrence. Elsie caught enough snatches of their words to understand they’d run aground on a sandbar, whacking against the Amulet, another steamboat. It looked like they might have a long night’s layover, as the rudder had been damaged during the crash and many repairs would be needed.

  Elsie looked over the rail. The slaves were preparing to tow the boat to relative safety higher up on the sandbar. She scanned the sea of bodies, trying to spot Isaac who generally stood at least a head above other men. There he was! Hefting and tugging on a huge rope, Isaac managed to loosen the boat and get it started the few feet up toward higher ground.

  Elsie leaned out over the deck rail and fluttered her handkerchief. “Isaac!”

  He glanced up, his mouth widening into a huge grin. “Miss Elsie! Is you all right?”

  “I’m shaken, but fine,” she called back. “And you?”

  He flashed their secret hand sign, the gesture they had used as children when one of them got into trouble and the other promised to stand by. Elsie recalled the many times she had endured Mama’s scolding while trying not to smile as Isaac held up his hand in the signal that meant, “Don’t worry. I’m going to get you out of this!” Then there were the times he had stood silently beside her when she was sent to stand in the corner. If everyone had a faithful friend like Isaac, the world would certainly be a much better place.

  Giggling, Elsie returned the signal and managed to call out, “Meet me at the dock when we get to Cairo!” just before the other slaves joined him and successfully maneuvered the big boat onto dry land.

  Chapter 5

  Bannock Camp

  ANDY WOKE up shivering. He figured the tremors were due to the cold mountain air until he realized someone had placed a buffalo robe over him. Then he remembered the nightmares that had disturbed his sleep and the uncertainty about what today would bring. No wonder he was shivering!

  The same girl who had fed him last night stood nearby with a bowl of gruel made from the rice grass seeds he had watched the women pounding last night. Breakfast already? The canyon was so deep and the forest so dark, the sun hadn’t yet shown its presence over the rim. In truth, Andy almost wished the sun would stand still as it had in biblical times. He was in no hurry for this day to begin and the soldiers appear to seal his fate.

  After finishing the surprisingly tasty mush, Andy passed the time by watching the trout in the river making a breakfast of mosquitoes and other flying insects that ventured too close to the water. He looked on in amusement as the huge trout used their tails and fins to jump up high enough to snatch a low-flying bug. The good Lord surely provided food enough for all his creatures, he reflected.

  Unbidden, another thought flashed through his mind. How could a loving, creative God who made all this beauty be so demanding, so cruel? And how could a God who even provides for the fish demand blood atonement from someone who questions the church leaders?

  Struck by the contradiction, Andy struggled to pull himself up to lean against the tree. Heavenly Father cares so much for these lowly trout, he mused to himself. All they have to do is swim along and trust him to send food now and then. Yet, we, his own children, whom he says he loves more than anything, have to struggle for everything we do – just like how hard I had to work simply to sit up and lean against something. Does Heavenly Father love the fish in the river more than he loves me, his very own child?

  None of it made sense. If God really was his Heavenly Father ever since he was a spirit child in eternity past, where was that fatherly love and concern now? If I had children I loved, I wouldn’t make their lives so difficult and force them to endure hardships like the handcart trek, Andy couldn’t help but think, I’d do everything I could to keep them safe.

  The sound of a bugle ripped through the canyon. Andy knew that sound. He had heard it many times near Fort Laramie – the clarion call of soldiers announcing their arrival. This one echoed off the steep, red canyon walls, sounding more like a bugle band than a single horn. Regardless of what Heavenly Father had in store for him this day, surely it wouldn’t hurt to beg him for mercy one last time. Andy bowed and prayed earnestly.

  As the small contingent of cavalry from Fort Laramie approached the camp, the chief stood to greet them. The soldier at the front of the queue dismounted and clasped the chief’s hand, then gave him a brotherly hug. Obviously, the two were good friends. They talked for a short time, then both looked over in Andy’s direction. It was clear he was the subject of their conversation.

  They came closer to where he was bound, and Andy looked up into a familiar pair of eyes – eyes that immediately flashed recognition right back at him. The two held a firm gaze for several seconds, but neither spoke.

  Finally, Andy murmured, “Major Crawford?”

  The major remained silent for a moment that seemed an eternity to Andy. My fate is in his hands, and he hates me – the Mormon who led two beautiful young women away from the safety of his fort, Andy thought. The situation couldn’t get any worse.

  Andy was taken aback when the major held out his hand. “Andy.” The name was spoken simply, more as a statement than a greeting.

  The chief smiled in relief. It was apparent that he hadn’t wanted to take time from the hunt to deal with a captive. “He is one of yours, then?

  “Not exactly one of ours. But a good man. We’ll take care of him.” Major Crawford replied. Turning to Andy, he said, “The chief tells me you were looking for the Army. Wanting to join up?” He grinned widely to show Andy he was joshing and that he knew full well why Andy was looking for them. “Still scouting for Old Brigham?”

  “It’s a long
story,” Andy said quietly.

  “We’ll have plenty of time when we head back to Laramie. You can tell me all about it.”

  So he was to be a prisoner – probably the first in the Utah War. Andy wondered whether the Army shot prisoners or locked them up.

  “Untie him and let him stretch his legs,” Major Crawford ordered his men. “And give him back his horse, his rifle, and his duffel. He’ll need them on the long ride ahead.”

  The soldiers seemed bewildered as they returned Andy’s possessions. And Andy was equally bewildered. Why was Major Crawford being so kind to him? Was he plotting some wicked revenge later, when they were away from the friendly Indians?

  The soldiers finished their business with the Bannock, doing some highly effective trading. They loaded plenty of berries, dried fish, and other natural provisions into their saddle packs in exchange for the beaver and buffalo robes they had previously bargained for in the north.

  The chief and Major Crawford decided to forgo the usual day of games and sports, as both groups had important business to attend to. The Bannock needed every spare minute to get their hunting done before returning to their own boundaries. The soldiers knew the Mormons were heading their way, and they were hoping to meet up with the troops from Kansas as soon as possible.

  Major Crawford invited Andy to ride with him at the front of the contingent. “Still don’t trust me, do you?” Andy asked.

  “Should I? What are you really doing here?”

  Andy looked over at the major. “I’m not exactly sure. I spent the winter at Devil’s Gate with a few others. We ‘bout froze our tails off, waiting for somebody from Great Salt Lake to rescue us.” He shrugged, a rueful look crossing his face. “Instead, Porter Rockwell and his men showed up and conscripted us all into the newly reorganized Nauvoo Legion. We didn’t even know there was a war going on and still don’t know what’s happening.”

  “I heard about the tragedy at Devil’s Gate,” Major Crawford said, his voice full of sympathy. “And the girls? What happened to Ingrid and Anne Marie?”

  Andy choked back a huge sob. “Anne Marie died in childbirth. Ingrid and I helped deliver the baby, but it was too late for Anne Marie.” Anger resonated in his voice. “She’s lying in a cold trench with about fifty other unfortunate bodies.”

  “And Ingrid? Where is she?”

  “I don’t rightly know. Relief wagons came from Salt Lake right after Anne Marie died, and I put Ingrid and Ammie, the baby, on one of the wagons. I knew you told her to ask Jim Bridger for help, but I don’t know if she managed to get away.”

  The major paused, thoughtful. “We were by Fort Bridger a month or so ago, and some of the Indians who hadn’t left for their northern hunting grounds mentioned a golden-haired white girl with a baby who had spent the winter there. I hoped against hope it was Ingrid, but nobody knew what happened to her. I’m praying she caught a ride with a wagon train heading to Oregon.” His voice grew wistful as he confessed, “I really loved that girl.” He turned and looked Andy in the eye. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”

  “Strongly suspected it,” Andy admitted. “I saw the same look in your eye when she was around that I got when Anne Marie came by.”

  The two broken-hearted young men rode along in silence, each contemplating all they had lost. With a sudden “Halt!” Major Crawford stopped his riders at a beautiful clearing along the river. “We’ll set up camp here tonight,” he ordered. Then as an afterthought, he introduced Andy to his men. “You’re probably wondering who our new friend is,” he began. “This is Andy Rasmussen, a fellow who came through Laramie last year guiding a group of travelers. They met up with a terrible fate along the way, and he’s trying to go it alone to his destination. He’s suffered much, so let’s take it easy on him till we part company.”

  Andy was overwhelmed with gratitude for the major’s kindness. He also noticed how carefully Major Crawford had phrased his words to keep his connection with the Mormons hidden without lying about anything. Now that’s a real Christian! The thought rose unbidden into his mind.

  Later, Andy and the major walked a short distance away from the others who were lounging around a campfire. “Do you plan on going back to your post with the Legion?” the major asked.

  “I don’t know,” Andy replied. “I don’t want to. But if I don’t, they’ll shoot me as an apostate or a deserter. If I go on to the Great Salt Lake, I’ll be as good as dead, too. Seems pretty hopeless right now.”

  “How about if you hide out around here till they quit looking for you? When it’s safe, you could head south, bypassing Utah. The Utes are fairly friendly.”

  “I’m not even sure they’ll be looking for me. They plan to stay at Fort Bridger for a while, till the Army arrives,” Andy said. The major pointed up into the cliffs that towered above them. “There’s some mighty fine, livable caves up there. Places where a fella could hide out pretty easily. Lots of grub here along the river, too.”

  Returning to camp, he ordered his troops to turn in and get rested for an early start in the morning. In a subdued voice, he told Andy, “I’ll show you a path up through the canyon to a nice cave and draw a map of a southerly route when you decide it’s safe to leave this area.”

  Listening to the soft sound of the river tumbling over the rocks that night, Andy soon fell asleep, his worries for the moment forgotten.

  He joined the soldiers early in the morning as they washed up in the cold waters of the Green River. “Nothing like a cold splash to wake a body up,” he remarked. “This water is downright invigorating!”

  The soldiers agreed and set about packing up to continue their ride.

  After a hearty breakfast, Major Crawford told the men, “I’ll be back in about an hour.” Motioning for Andy to mount up and follow him, he added, “We’re going up the canyon a ways so I can show him a southerly route out of here.”

  Andy couldn’t help comparing Major Crawford’s leadership with that of Old Port and some of the other Mormon leaders. The major’s men obeyed him with respect and without question, while the church leaders seemed to demand obedience out of fear and sheer terror at what would happen if they didn’t comply. He wondered what made the difference.

  Riding up the narrow animal path that led higher into the pinyons, the two men didn’t talk much, focusing all their attention on the steep, rocky path. When the desert flora began to merge into trees and flowers of a more temperate climate zone, the major halted his palomino. “Look carefully along those shrubs,” he said, pointing to a large, bushy area.

  Andy followed his gaze and saw it – an entry to a large depression in the rock, well hidden and easily missed by a casual observer. They dismounted, tied their horses in a shady spot behind the copse of shrubs, and entered the cave.

  “Think you can comfortably hole up here for a while?” the major asked.

  Andy surveyed the huge, dry cave. No wild animals had chosen to call it home, and no bats or swallows flew about. “Looks good,” Andy agreed. “Much better than some places I’ve had to lay my head.”

  They spent a few minutes going over the crude map Major Crawford had drawn to help Andy bypass the Mormon-occupied areas and colonies. “One more thing,” he said as he handed Andy a well-worn Bible. “I know you Mormons don’t think this has been translated correctly, but it sure helps me when I’m in trouble or in need of guidance. Will you promise me you’ll read it and ask God to help you understand it?”

  He paused for a moment, then added, “And if you come to a part you think has been mistranslated, just skip that part and read somewhere else.”

  Reaching for the book, Andy promised. “But will you answer me something first? Why are you being so kind to me? I’m the enemy. You could have shot me in cold blood.”

  The major laughed. “Do I look like somebody who could shoot anybody in cold blood?” He paused and reflected. “I know I’m a soldier, and possibly if I had to kill to save an innocent life, I might be able to pull the trigger. But basical
ly, it turns my stomach to think I might have to kill a man some day.” He laughed again. “Guess I’m a lover, not a fighter!”

  Andy felt as though he’d finally met a kindred spirit. “My feelings exactly,” he confessed. “When I see all the killing going on among the Mormons, I try hard to understand, but I know I couldn’t slit a man’s throat to ‘help him into Paradise.’ Makes no sense to me.”

  Major Crawford contemplated Andy’s confession. “I just pray I’m not faced with having to kill anybody. Soon as my time is up with the cavalry in a few months, I’m resigning my commission and heading out to Oregon to look for Ingrid.”

  Andy reached out and shook his hand. “I wish you Godspeed and hope you find both her and the baby well. Thanks barely seems enough for sparing my worthless life, but thanks will have to do!”

  “Just keep reading the Good Book and keep your carcass out of trouble!” The major smiled as he mounted his horse and headed back down the trail, leaving Andy to his lonesome thoughts.

  Cairo, Illinois

  The cacophony of dozens of steamboat bands, each trying to outplay the other, reached Elsie’s ears long before she saw the dock at Cairo. It looked like a hundred boats were moored there. Following their enforced layover on the sandbar while the rudder was being repaired, Elsie had worried she’d miss hooking up with the steamboat to St. Louis. With that many boats headed upriver, however, there would surely be another on which she could book passage if her original choice had already left.

  John and Mary Montgomery joined Elsie on the promenade, near the point where they would disembark. “Would you care to join us for a tour of Cairo?” John asked. “I’ve been here several times and would be glad to escort both of you lovely ladies. And I’ll assure you, Cairo is no place for a lady alone. It has nearly a hundred saloons, all of which are full of revelers!”

  Elsie was thankful for the invitation. She had no desire to be ogled, accosted, or pushed into close contact with a drunken sailor or unsavory gambler. And even though Illinois was a free state, people might not take too kindly to her seeing the sites accompanied only by Isaac.