Curious, Joshua changed direction, moving as quickly as he could across the hard-packed snow. As he approached them, he saw again the awesome sight of the Mississippi River, now a vast sheet of ice a hundred yards wide that glistened in the sunlight. But it was not a smooth sheet. The great blocks of ice that had been such a threat to the ferry yesterday had been caught when the river froze. They were like discarded stones from some great building under construction, some mostly flat to the sheet ice, and others shoved up at sharp angles as if they were skyrockets about to launch.
And then amid the jumble, Joshua saw what it was the men were pointing at. About midway across the river he could see some figures silhouetted against the morning light—a man, a woman, several children. They were making their way across the ice, moving in and out around the upthrust blocks as though they were picking their way through a mountain pass.
“Who is that?” Joshua asked the nearest man.
The man glanced at Joshua. “It’s the Hancock family. They’re crossing the river.”
“Oh.” Joshua wasn’t sure what all the excitement was about. He started to turn away.
“The locals say it’s not strong enough, that once the sun hits it, it’s going to break up.”
“Oh!” Joshua swung back around, peering more closely now.
“I told them they ought to wait,” one man said.
“You need two or three nights of hard cold before it’s safe,” said another, wagging his head.
That irked his neighbor. “That’s why they went on foot. They didn’t dare take a wagon across.”
“They’re out of food,” the first man explained. “They can’t just wait until the ferry starts running.”
Joshua was only marginally aware of the comments around him. He was staring at the small figures. At the rear, a boy, maybe eight or ten years old—it was hard to tell with the sun in back of them—was falling behind. He was having a hard time of it. He was trying to hurry, but staggered and slid like a drunken man. He went down on one knee, got up and tried to run, went bowlegged and then down again. Then Joshua raised a hand to shade his eyes, squinting into the sun. “The boy,” he cried. “He’s barefoot.”
“That’s right,” someone answered. “Mosiah don’t own no shoes.”
Joshua couldn’t believe his ears. Barefoot on that? In some places the ice was like a polished tabletop. In others it was as jagged as a saw blade.
Barefoot!
It was unthinkable.
Suddenly there was an ominous rumble. It was deep, low, as if the earth were groaning beneath their feet.
“Listen!” Whoever shouted it could have saved himself the effort. No one had to be told to be quiet. The rumble deepened; then there was a sharp crack, like a rifle shot. In the center of the river, about twenty yards behind the boy, a shaft of ice four feet long shot upwards from the smoothness of the surface. Right behind it a dark line opened up, revealing muddy water sliding below it.
“It’s breaking up!” someone yelled.
But the family had heard it too. There were screams and shouts and they were scrambling madly across the ice now. The father turned. His son had started to dart forward, but his feet had gone out from under him and he slammed to the ice. Now he was up again, screaming, reaching for his father as he tried to get some grip with his feet.
There was a horrible shrieking noise, like a woman in travail. A fifty-foot crack in the ice opened up, more swiftly than a man could run. The river was tired of the weight that oppressed it and was shaking it off like a bear coming out of hibernation.
“Run, Mosiah! Run!” The father’s voice came floating across to them.
“Run!” the men screamed. “Run!”
Blocks of ice were crashing against one another now with shuddering bolts of sound. The whole center of the river was churning, muddy brown water boiling up, ice shooting out of the water, then being sucked under again, the open water widening with every second, moving outward towards both banks, racing toward where a young boy scrambled frantically across the ice.
Suddenly Joshua realized he too was screaming. “Run!” he thundered. “Run, Mosiah! Run!” He nearly dropped his crutch as he went up on the balls of his feet to see better.
Then suddenly one of the men in front leaped up, punching the air with his fist. “They made it!” he shouted.
A ragged cheer went up. The mother and the other children were on the far bank. The father was to his boy now. He put one arm around him, and they slid and skated and slipped and crawled the last few yards. And then they were on land too and collapsed in a heap.
“Hoorah!” someone cheered. The men around Joshua shouted and pounded one another on the shoulders. After a moment, across the river the man stood, pulling his boy to his feet and sweeping him up in a great bear hug.
Joshua turned away, pushing back through the ecstatic crowd. He didn’t want to stay and be part of the celebration. He felt a great wave of exultation and he wanted to go tell Caroline. Mosiah Hancock, this unknown boy, had made it. He had beaten the river.
* * *
Jessica Griffith sat down wearily on the wagon tongue beside Amanda. Immediately she shoved her hands up under her armpits to keep them warm. Amanda Smith was staring woodenly out across the prairie. She had a coat and a heavy shawl, but still shivered noticeably. It was going to be another clear, cold night. But it was also beautiful. The moon was in its third quarter, and with the snow and the air being so clear, they could see quite clearly. They carried enough wood to make a cooking fire, but not enough to keep a fire going through the night. The last timber they had seen was on a stream almost fifteen miles back. Their own body heat was the only fire they had to keep warm.
“The children are all asleep,” Jessica murmured. “Even Willard and Rachel.”
Amanda nodded slowly. “Thank you for checking on them. I don’t know if I can lift my foot off the ground one more time.”
“I know. I keep thinking about tomorrow. The thoughts of walking one more yard are almost more than I can bear.”
“And it’s not just tomorrow,” Amanda muttered. “It’s the day after that, and the day after . . .” She let it trail off, too discouraged to finish.
Jessica turned away, the thought of two or three more days of this so overwhelming that she couldn’t bear to consider it. To her right she could see the outline of the Bartons’ little homemade cart. There was no movement there, and she knew that the wife and children had fallen into an exhausted and fitful sleep. The faint cry of a baby started. She looked further on. Against the snow she could see Derek and Barton fussing at the back of Mary Fielding Smith’s wagon. Between the jolting ride and the numbing cold, Mary was having a difficult time of it.
As Jessica looked more closely, she could see the silhouette of Mercy sitting on the wagon seat. “Little Joseph is angry because it isn’t his turn to nurse yet,” Amanda suggested. Mercy still continued to feed both babies as well as help care for Mary’s other children.
Then off to her left Jessica saw two dark shapes approaching. Matthew and Jenny had gone out to check on the horses, hobbled a short distance away where the wind had blown the snow away and left enough grass showing to graze on. They were walking slowly, heads down, and talking earnestly with one another.
Jessica smiled in spite of herself. She poked Amanda and pointed. “Do you think they even know it’s cold out here?”
Amanda laughed softly. “I don’t think so. I don’t think they notice much of anything besides each other.”
“And that’s wonderful,” Jessica said, surprised how the very thought of those two warmed her.
“Yes,” Amanda said. “Jenny is a beautiful young woman, and just perfect for Matthew. He needs someone who takes life a little more seriously.”
“And she needs to laugh a little more,” Jessica added. “Matthew will certainly help her do that.”
The two young people had heard their voices and turned towards them. “Whoops, here they come,” Amanda said, dropping her voice.
As they came up, Matthew let go of Jenny’s hand, hoping the women hadn’t noticed what he had been doing. “Are you two still up?” he said.
“Well,” Amanda drawled, “we are sitting up, but actually that’s only because we’re frozen in this position and are waiting for you to tip us over and stack us in bed.”
Jenny giggled at the imagery. “It is cold, isn’t it?”
Jessica looked at Amanda, trying to hold a straight face. “I guess I was wrong about one of them, at least.”
“But not the other,” Amanda chuckled. “What does that tell us about the differences between men and women?”
Matthew and Jenny watched the interchange between Amanda and Jessica, looking a little puzzled.
“And what have you two been talking about?” Jessica asked, enjoying their little joke but not wanting to embarrass the two young people.
Matthew cocked his head. “Actually, we were just talking about Lehi’s colony and how they had to flee from their homes.”
That took Jessica by surprise. “Oh?”
“I’ve started reading the Book of Mormon a second time,” Jenny said shyly. “I’m just to where the family has gone out in the wilderness.”
“Like us,” Matthew said.
“Somewhat like us,” Jessica corrected him. “I don’t think their weather was quite as temperate as this.”
“Temperate?” Matthew asked. “What does that mean?”
Jessica waved it away. “I wasn’t serious, Matthew.”
Jenny sat down beside Jessica. Her eyebrows pulled down in concentration. “I thought about us this morning while I was reading. It talks about their women and children and how they did on the march.”
Amanda nodded slowly. “That’s right. I’d forgotten that.”
“Yes, it says that the women were able to nurse their children and be strong and still have plenty of milk.” She ducked her head, embarrassed to be talking about something so personal and feminine in front of Matthew, but wanting to make her point. “I thought about Mercy taking care of both babies under these kinds of conditions and still having enough milk for them.”
Jessica nodded slowly. She hadn’t tied the thought to the Book of Mormon, but she too had marveled at how Mercy Thompson was doing.
“And,” Matthew broke in, “it says that after a time, the women were able to bear their journey through the wilderness without murmuring, so great were the blessings of the Lord upon them. They were even able to bear their journeyings without murmuring.”
“Is this supposed to cheer me up?” Amanda said dryly.
“No, really,” Jenny said, jumping back in to support him. “And the Lord told them they couldn’t have any fires.” She pulled a face and wrinkled her nose, making her look for a moment very much like a little girl. “They even had to eat their meat raw.”
Jessica felt a little laugh bubble up. “Now, if they didn’t murmur about that, that really is something.” But then the reality of what she had just said sobered her. The previous evening Derek had shot a rabbit and they had roasted it over the fire, rejoicing over the fresh meat, even if each person barely got two bites’ worth. In her mind’s eye, she pictured Derek handing it to her after he had skinned and cleaned it. Her imaginary self then ripped off a leg and began to chew on it. The image brought instant humility. “That really is something,” she repeated in wonder.
Amanda was contrite now too, the humor gone from her. “Yes, of course, Jenny. You’re right. It was remarkable. And considering we have so many children with us, including two babies, yes, we have done very well too.”
“Jenny and me,” Matthew said, looking down at her proudly, “we decided we’re going to make a special effort not to complain about things anymore. Not to murmur. We want to be more like Lehi’s colony.”
Jenny was nodding. “And I’m going to try and be nicer to Kathryn and help her more.”
Both Amanda and Jessica were struck silent with that. The simplicity of their words, the pure sincerity of these two innocents had sent shafts of shame into their own hearts. What had they been doing at the very moment these two had joined them? Sitting together, joining together in a chorus of mutual murmuring. Finally, Jessica cleared her throat. “A worthy resolution,” she said quietly. “Something we should all take to heart.”
Amanda reached across Jessica and took Jenny’s hand. “Yes,” she whispered. “Thank you for reminding us.”
Jenny seemed surprised, then blushed deeply. “I didn’t mean that . . .” The thought that she had been trying to call them to repentance really flustered her now. “I wasn’t suggesting that you were . . .”
“We know,” Jessica said warmly, laying her hand on the both of theirs. “That’s what makes it all the more meaningful.” And then she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. She wanted to be alone and think about the feelings this seventeen-year-old had created in her. She stood up. “Well, I suppose we ought to get to bed.”
Jenny and Amanda stood too. All three of them were sleeping beneath Amanda’s wagon. Matthew was over with Derek under Mary’s. He nodded and tipped his hat. “G’night.”
They watched him go. Then Jessica turned to Jenny, laying a hand on her arm. There was a great softness in her eyes. “Don’t give up on that boy,” she said. “A little Irish blood is exactly what the Steed family needs right now.”
* * *
Five minutes later, as Derek and Matthew were rolling out their blankets on the ground, Derek suddenly stood up, turning to look out across the prairie toward the east. The sound of horses’ hooves and the rattling of wagons carried clearly to them.
Matthew backed out from beneath the wagon and stood by his brother-in-law. The approaching party was easily discernible in the silvery light against the snow. There were three wagons, each pulled by two horses. That was no cause for alarm. Derek and Matthew’s group was well out of the area where their enemies were prowling, and also these wagons were coming from the east, meaning that it was likely some of their own people on their way back to get more Saints. That was a common thing now. In fact, they had seen Brigham Young the previous afternoon. He was leapfrogging across the prairie, taking his wife and family forward, leaving them in camp, then going back to pick up some of those less well-equipped, taking them back to his camp, then moving forward again with his family.