He blew out his breath, as though he were reluctant to say what now had to be said. “I know that we are desperately short of manpower here. We have already sent off five hundred of our best men to war. We have already sent ten more east to help our people. I know that we have homes to build, and hay to cut, and meat to salt and dry so that we can see the winter through. I know that there are very few of us whom we can spare.”
Now he straightened visibly, and his one hand began to move, giving emphasis to his words. “But what does that matter, brethren? Our brethren and sisters—the poor, the sick, the widows and the orphans, the weak, the destitute—are lying on the west bank of the Mississippi River, waiting for teams and wagons to come and remove them.”
Not a sound could be heard beneath the covering over their heads. Every eye was riveted on their leader.
“I would ask that you take your minds back almost a year now. We were privileged to begin the sacred work of the temple. We were privileged to endow many of you with power and administer the sacred ordinances to you. You made covenants there, my brethren. Sacred covenants. And many of you went into the temple with me and together we raised our hands in a solemn covenant that when the time came for us to leave Nauvoo we would not leave our poor brethren and sisters behind. Just as we did when we were driven from Far West, we solemnly vowed that any who wanted to come, regardless of their means or ability, would be brought. Do you remember that covenant, brethren?”
Now there were several murmurs of assent throughout the group. Matthew was nodding, as was Solomon. Both had been there in the temple and raised their right hands up to sustain Brigham’s call. The silence fell again as Brigham surveyed the crowd, his brows lowered and his jaw set. The next came out as a roar of affirmation.
“
Now
is the time for our labor, brethren! Let the fire of the covenant, which you made in the house of the Lord, burn in your hearts like flame unquenchable, till you, either by yourselves or by those whom you delegate, have searched out every man to rise up with his team and go straightway and bring a load of the poor from Nauvoo. We must bring them here or somewhere in the immediate country where they can get work and find shelter for the winter.”
He smacked his fist against the table. “
This is a day of action and not of argument.
”
As Matthew and Solomon walked back toward their camp, they both were silent. Matthew wasn’t sure what Solomon was thinking, but Brigham’s words had stirred him deeply.
The fire of the covenant.
He had not thought of it in that way before, but now it did consume him like flame unquenchable.
He looked at Solomon. “What do you think?”
Solomon seemed surprised. “Is there any question about what we must do?”
Matthew nodded slowly. “Even though we don’t have the houses completed yet?”
“Those people don’t have anything, Matthew. Do we have any choice?”
“No,” Matthew answered, pleased that Solomon was one in thought with him. “Let’s go tell the family. If possible, I’d like to be on our way first thing in the morning.”
Derek walked slowly, letting the others go out ahead. It was just after noon and the sun beat down upon him, making him a little dizzy. Josh was talking earnestly with Sergeant Williams and didn’t notice that Derek had fallen behind. Then suddenly Josh stopped, his head turning as he searched for his uncle. When he saw him, he immediately came back to join him.
“Are you all right?”
Derek nodded. “Just tired.”
Josh reached up and put his hand on Derek’s forehead. The hand felt wonderfully cool to Derek.
Josh gave him a sharp look as he withdrew his hand. “Your fever is starting in again.”
It was tempting to deny it, but Derek knew there wasn’t much point in it. If this was the typical pattern of fever, chills, and violent shakes, they would know for certain in a few hours.
“Oh, Derek,” Josh murmured. “Not again.”
“That’s what I say.” He looked around. “Not a word to anyone until I’m sure, all right?”
Josh pursed his lips, but finally nodded. Up ahead, the column had stopped, probably in response to the small group of riders that had come in from the west a few minutes before. Lieutenant Smith had brought the battalion to a halt, but it was strung out for more than half a mile and Company D was near the tail end. Finally they reached the main body and moved up to join the others.
Lieutenant Smith was pacing up and down beside his horse. The other officers were directly in front of him. Doctor Sanderson and Lieutenant Dykes were off to one side and slightly behind him. “Men, we’ve just had a communication from General Kearny.”
That was no surprise. As they drew close, Josh had seen that the riders were a group of dragoons. They had to be from Kearny’s regiment, which was out ahead of them.
“General Kearny,” Smith went on, “is not waiting for us in Santa Fe. He left there on the twenty-fifth of last month.”
Derek and Josh looked at each other. General Kearny was obviously an impatient man. He couldn’t seem to wait for them anywhere.
“He says we are moving much too slow,” the officer went on, clearly not pleased. “He needs us in Santa Fe by the tenth of the month.”
That brought instant cries of dismay. Today was October second. They had calculated that Santa Fe was still about two weeks ahead of them.
Smith let the noise die again, then held the letter up in the air, waving it at them angrily. “General Kearny has said that if we are not in Santa Fe on the tenth, he will discharge the battalion and find someone who can give him the help he needs.”
Now the surprise and disbelief turned to shock. Discharged? in the middle of Mexico? after only two and a half months of service?
“Men, I am not about to have my command disobey a direct order from our commanding general. We will be in Santa Fe by the tenth of October. Are there any questions?”
Several hands shot up. Smith ignored them. “Good. We will immediately begin our line of march. We will not stop to rest the teams. We will not have supper until we have reached the Red River.” He looked around, daring anyone to cross him. When no one spoke, he flicked his hand in the direction of the officers. “See to it. Get those men moving immediately.”
Josh Steed gave a low sound of sheer pleasure as he dropped his other boot and began to massage the bottom of his feet. “Oh my,” he groaned, “that feels good.”
Derek, who was already lying down with his feet propped up on his knapsack, opened his eyes. “Funny how the simple pleasures change, isn’t it?”
“How far did we come today, Papa?” Christopher asked.
“Twenty-seven miles, according to Captain Hunt.”
Rebecca hauled herself up wearily, stretching as she held her back. “I know what my back feels like after that far in a wagon. I can’t imagine how sore your feet must be.”
Josh reached down and peeled of his socks, then continued to knead the muscles with his fingertips.
“Josh?”
“Yes, Benji?”
“You got a big sore.”
He turned his foot enough so that he could see the bottom. Sure enough, there on the ball of his foot was a blister nearly half an inch across. “I know, Benji. I can feel it.”
“We can’t keep up this pace for the next seven days,” Derek said. “Command or no command, we’re not going to make Santa Fe by the tenth.”
“Not unless we can teach mules how to fly,” Rebecca agreed.
“Some of the men think Kearny’s bluffing,” said Josh. “He won’t really discharge us. How can he get replacements out here?”
“He can’t,” Derek said shortly. “But Lieutenant Dykes says you always take Kearny seriously. He says he is a good officer but tougher than a blacksmith’s anvil.”
Rebecca hooted softly. “Well, maybe if we were that tough, we could make it.” Then, softening a little, she looked at Derek. “If we have another march tomorrow like the one we’ve had today, I think we’d all better go to bed now.”
They were up at dawn and on the road before breakfast. There was surprisingly little grumbling, perhaps because they were still exhausted from the previous day. They had gone about six miles when Lieutenant Smith called for a halt near the bank of a creek. While the women began getting a cold breakfast, Smith called for a meeting with all of his officers.
Ten minutes later Derek, Rebecca, and Josh looked up as Sergeant Thomas Williams approached their wagon. “What’s the word, Tom?” Derek asked.
“Thought you’d better know. Lieutenant Smith has decided that there is no way that we can make Santa Fe in eight days. He’s going to split the company.”
“What!” Derek blurted. Josh had also jerked up at that announcement.
“He wants fifty of the strongest men from each company, along with the best teams and wagons, to make a forced march to Santa Fe. The rest will be put under command of Lieutenant Oman and come along as best they can.”
“No!” Derek exclaimed. “President Young said that we were to stay together.”
“This is not right,” Josh said quietly. That surprised them all. Josh was always the last one to criticize, even when there was more than ample cause.
“Well,” Williams said reluctantly, “right or not, Josh, you and I have been assigned to go with the advance group.” He held up his hand quickly to cut off Josh’s protest. “You should know that our officers agree this is the best course of action. We can’t risk being discharged.”
Josh was deeply disturbed. “So we just leave Derek and Rebecca and the children?”
“We’re going,” Derek said, trying to stand. He had to close his eyes as a wave of dizziness hit him.
“Sorry, Derek,” Williams said sadly. “The determination has already been made. We have no choice but to trust the judgment of our officers.” Then there was a rueful smile. “There is one consolation.”
“What?” Rebecca asked. She wasn’t as upset as Josh and Derek, as long as her family would stay together.
“Doctor Death will be going with the advance group. You’d think he would be required to stay behind with the sick, but with his usual loving care, he’s decided he should go ahead.”
That stopped Derek. He squinted a little at Williams. “He has?”
Josh groaned. “He’ll be with us?”
Williams nodded.
Derek sat back. “Maybe staying in the second group is not so bad after all.”
Chapter Notes
John Augustus Sutter, a Swiss pioneer, led a group of white settlers to Mexico in 1839. They settled on the American River about two miles upstream from where it joined the Sacramento River. In return for an oath of loyalty to Mexico, Sutter was given a land grant of fifty thousand acres. He established a fort there and began to farm. He called it New Helvetia, Helvetia being the Latin name for Switzerland, but it quickly came to be known widely as Sutter’s Fort. It became the western terminus for the California Trail and an important trading center for the region.
The description of Winter Quarters in late September of 1846 comes from the journal of Hosea Stout (see
SW,
p. 188). The gristmill built by Brigham Young still stands near the river in Florence, Nebraska.
The speech given here by Brigham Young calling his people to go forth and help save the poor Saints back in Montrose is actually part of speeches given on two successive days, 27 and 28 September, one in Winter Quarters and one on the east side of the Missouri River in Council Bluffs. They are combined here for purposes of the novel, but except for a few transitional phrases to help it flow better, these words are the very ones used by Brigham Young to stir his people to action. (See Richard E. Bennett, “ ‘Dadda, I Wish We Were Out of This Country’: The Nauvoo Poor Camps in Iowa, Fall 1846,” in Susan Easton Black and William G. Hartley, eds.,
The Iowa Mormon Trail: Legacy of Faith and Courage
[Orem, Utah: Helix Publishing, 1997], pp. 162–63.)
On 3 October the Mormon Battalion split into two groups in order to comply with General Kearny’s order to reach Santa Fe by 10 October. Doctor Sanderson went with the advance party, which led Sergeant Daniel Tyler to later write: “The sorrow which they [those in the second group] felt at the loss of friends through having the Battalion divided, was in a great measure compensated by the relief they experienced at being rid of the Doctor’s drugs and cursing for a few days. There was a noticeable improvement, too, in most of those who were sick after the Doctor left, so that when they arrived in Santa Fe many of them were convalescent.” (
CHMB,
p. 163.)
Chapter 28
Saturday, October 3 — On the California Trail
I have not written for some time, so I shall try to summarize. After crossing the dreaded Salt Desert, we took inventory of our provisions and got confirmation of that which we already feared. We do not have sufficient supplies to see us to California. With no trading posts between here and Sutter’s Fort, things are grim. We had no choice but to send two men on ahead to purchase supplies and bring them back to us. Charles Stanton, from New York, is a bachelor traveling with the Jacob Donner family. William McCutchen, who has a wife and baby girl, joined us at Fort Bridger. They are from Missouri.
We camped at Pilot Peak springs for a time to rest the teams but could wait no longer. There was snow on the higher mountain peaks and dread drove us onward.
By the twenty-second day of September, we finally made our way around a high range of mountains called the Rubys. Very discouraging. Too high to cross, so we went south around them, then traveled back to almost the same point but on the other side. Took nine days and well over a hundred miles to go 30 miles directly west.
By then our company had become hopelessly fractured. We no longer travel as one group, but each smaller party makes its way as best it can in the day. The Germans—Keseberg, Wolfinger, Spitzer, etc.—stay together. The Breens, who are Irish, stay to themselves. We and the Donners, who are viewed as the rich of the company, mostly stay together. The tedium and the strain tell on tempers, and contention is as common as the dust. We camp together at night but there is not much mingling. The Salt Desert left us broken in more ways than one.