“Only four and a half miles more?” someone from behind Peter said in awe.
“Yes,” Elder Pratt said fiercely. “Tomorrow we shall all be in the Valley.”
“Even though we had only one horse between us,” Brother Snow said, “we made about a twelve-mile circuit of the Valley before returning to camp a short time ago. We found a place where we think it will be propitious to plow and plant our crops. There is a creek there. The soil is very dry and hard, but with water we think it will be rich and productive.”
“Wonderful,” Elder Richards said. He looked at Orson. “And what of this other route of which you spoke?”
“Ah, yes,” Elder Pratt answered. “Tomorrow we should like to explore a little further, but instead of taking our teams up and over that ridge, we think that with a little work we can cut through along the creek bed.”
“Yes,” Peter said beneath his breath. “Now, there’s someone who’s using his head.”
Beside him, Rebecca turned to Kathryn. Her eyes were shining with excitement. “Tomorrow, Kathryn,” she said softly. “We’ll be in the Valley tomorrow.”
Peter removed his hat and took out a bandanna from his pocket and wiped his brow. He leaned on his shovel, looking back on their work, shaking his head. A year ago he had argued to have the Donners and Mr. Reed try to build a road down the creek bed to the canyon’s mouth, as the Pioneer Company was doing now. He had failed, and they had instead gone up and over the precipitous ridge now behind where he stood. What a difference having a full company of men made! If only— He caught himself. It was easy to wish now, but it made no difference. What was done was done.
He heard the rattle of wheels and the sounds of wagons approaching. Turning, he saw the lead wagon appear around the bend, coming steadily down the new road they had just completed. Cheered at the sight, he looked at Derek. “Looks like we’re done here. Let’s go find Kathryn and Rebecca.”
When they saw the two women bringing along their wagon, Derek and Peter walked to it, put their shovels in the racks on the side of the wagon box, then fell in alongside. Kathryn hardly noticed them. Her eyes were large and luminous with excitement. She watched the road ahead intently. As they started up again, she turned to Peter. “How much farther until we’re out of the canyon?”
“Just right around that next bend.”
Christopher’s head popped out of the opening in the wagon cover. “Are we there, Papa?”
“Not quite, son. But close.”
As they rounded the bend and the trees gave way to open land, Kathryn suddenly grabbed Rebecca’s arm. “Rebecca, stop the wagon.”
Rebecca reined in. “What?”
“Peter, come help me.”
Peter trotted over. “What’s the matter?”
“Help me down, please.” Then she turned. “Christopher, will you hand me my crutches please?”
He ducked back in the wagon and in a moment returned with her crutches. Kathryn handed them to Peter, then climbed down with his help. He looked puzzled. Derek, who had been walking ahead watching for rough spots, came back as well. “What’s wrong?”
Kathryn just shook her head, put the crutches under her arms, then started forward, maneuvering carefully over the rocky road they had just cut. She turned her head, grinning at Peter. “I don’t want to ride into the Valley, Peter. We’ve come a thousand miles and I want to walk this last little way on my own two feet.”
At that, Rebecca tossed the reins to Derek. “Children. Come out of the wagon now. Leave the babies. Kathryn’s right. We are going to walk into this valley.”
Without anyone telling them to do so, the company ground to a halt as they came out of the canyon and up the small rise that took them up about fifty feet or so above the creek bed. One by one they dismounted and walked forward to where the brush gave way to an open view of the valley. Peter twice suggested that Kathryn and Rebecca should get back in the wagon and ride up that hill once they had made their symbolic entry on foot, but neither would hear of it. As they reached the top and stopped the wagons, Peter climbed in the back and got Nicole. She stretched and her eyes fluttered for a moment, but then, as Peter cradled her in his arms, rocking her back and forth, she went back to sleep. Derek and Rebecca moved forward with their children. “I’m so excited,” Kathryn said as they approached the others.
Peter nodded, surprised at the emotions he was suddenly feeling. They were once again as intense as what he had felt at the top of Big Mountain.
“It’s huge,” Howard Egan was saying as they came up with the rest of the group. “It must be twenty-five or thirty miles long.”
“And fifteen or so wide,” Robert Crow said in awe. “There’s no question about whether it’s big enough to hold all of us.”
Beside him, his wife, Elizabeth, had a look of dismay. “But there are no trees.”
Kathryn had to nod at that. After Nauvoo and the vast forests of the East, this looked like desolation itself. There were a few ribbons of green meandering down from the mountains to what looked like a river that ran north and south the length of the valley, but other than that, it was one vast field of sagebrush, dry grass, and the occasional low-growing cactus plant whose needle-like leaves could pierce a person’s shoe.
“Maybe we should go on to California.”
Kathryn turned, not sure who had said it. One of the women or older girls of the Crow group probably.
“No!” It came out sharply, and Kathryn turned back the other way. William Clayton stepped forward. “Look!” he commanded. “Look along the creeks. See those large green patches? That must be where the water has spread out some. Look at how rich they are. The soil isn’t barren. It just needs water.”
Howard Egan had a hand up, counting methodically, moving his arm from north to south. “Seven, eight.” He turned. “There must be a dozen or more streams coming down from the mountains. We can easily turn them onto the soil. See how gently the land slopes? The water can be sent about anywhere.”
“It is so big!” Christopher said to his mother.
She nodded, still a little overwhelmed at the vastness herself—that and the sheer emptiness.
“There’s only one objection,” William Clayton came back in, “and that is lack of rain. But God can send moisture in season if we are faithful.”
Another woman was pointing to the north. “The lake is so beautiful. How can the water be undrinkable?”
Peter could answer that one. “Because there is no outlet. That’s what we were told. And I can testify that it is so briny that one swallow can almost cause strangulation.” He shook his head. “There won’t be any using of that water for our purposes.”
Rebecca had been silent through all of this. Now she looked at her brother-in-law. “Peter, what about California? Is it this barren?”
He reached out and put his arm around Kathryn’s waist, sensing that she was now experiencing some misgivings too. “No. It is rich and verdant and has a pleasant climate.” He took a breath. “And is rapidly filling up with Gentiles.”
Kathryn looked at him, not sure that that was what she wanted to hear. They were all reeling a little from the shock of seeing how totally empty and barren the Valley was. As they had crossed the desert country that stretched from the last crossing of the North Platte to Fort Bridger, she had asked herself over and over,
What if this is what it’s like where we’re going?
But then they had entered the mountains, and things began to look more like home again, and her concerns had subsided. Now this lay before them.
Elders Orson Pratt and George A. Smith had stood back, letting the people react to the sight of their new home. Now Elder Pratt spoke. “I hope you all heard what Brother Ingalls said just now. That is why we are not going on to California. The Lord has led us here because here we shall not be disturbed by our enemies. Here we have a place that is totally unpopulated by others. Here we will at last be safe.”
William Clayton spoke one last time. “Brethren and sisters, I must say that I am happily disappointed in the appearance of the Valley of the Salt Lake.”
That brought a chuckle from several of the party.
“But I have no fears but that the Saints can live here and do well if we will do what’s right.”
“We can get timber from the mountains,” Howard Egan added eagerly. “And I’ll bet there’s coal up there somewhere too.”
“There’s only one question to ask,” Elder Smith said with finality. “Is this the place where God wants us to stop?”
Orson Pratt spoke up, his voice filled with conviction. “President Young thinks it is, so until he says differently, we have work to do. I suggest we get back in our wagons and go find that spot that Brother Snow and I think will be the best place to put in our plows.”
As the people turned and started back for their wagons, Kathryn didn’t move. She let her eyes roam again across the whole length of the valley before them. Peter watched her closely. “Are you all right, Kathryn?”
She looked at him, and then slowly nodded. “Elder Smith is right. That
is
the only question.” She glanced to the west once more, then managed a wan smile. “Will you plant me some trees, Peter?”
He laughed. “I will. Dozens of them.”
Now her smile spread and filled her eyes as well. “Then we’re home, Peter. And that’s all that matters.”
It was nearly sundown on the other side of Big Mountain, but Nathan could see none of it. The bulk of the mountain left their campsite in deep shadows. The sun had gone down behind Big Mountain more than half an hour before. Nathan stood beside the creek, absently swatting mosquitoes as he stared up at the massive slope before him. That slope would be their task tomorrow. The reports were encouraging. Though it looked daunting, the riders who had come back from the main party assured them that the soil was soft and would be an easier ride for the sick.
He heard footsteps and turned. Brother Wilford Woodruff was coming from upstream, his fishing rod in his hands. Nathan chuckled. At Fort Bridger, Elder Woodruff, who had brought some so-called “flies” from England and a special lightweight fishing rod, had gone out to try “fly fishing.” Some of the men had found this highly amusing. Imagine, thinking you could get a fish to strike a cluster of hair wrapped around a hook floating on
top
of the water. But when he came back with more trout than all the rest of them together, everyone stopped laughing. Now every time they rested alongside a stream of any consequence, the Apostle went out to try his hand again.
“Any luck?” Nathan asked as he came up to join him.
Wilford rattled the creel he had over his shoulders and there was a soft thumping sound. “Of course,” he grinned.
Nathan smiled, and then once again, without conscious thought, his eye was drawn to the mountain that towered over them.
Wilford watched him for a moment, then turned to survey the same scene. “So this is the last big one,” he said quietly.
Nathan nodded. “From the top they say we can make it into the Valley in one day.”
“Hardly seems real, does it?” the Apostle mused.
Again Nathan nodded. “I still find it hard to believe that in a day or two it will all be over.”
There was a soft chuckle. “No,” Elder Woodruff said, “in a day or two it will all be beginning.”
“Private Steed?”
Josh turned around. “Yes, Sergeant?”
Luther Tuttle reached out and boxed his ears playfully. “Hey, boy! What are you doing answering to the title of private? You’re not a private anymore and I’m not your sergeant. Do you hear me?”
“Sorry,
Mr.
Tuttle, sir.”
“Don’t call me sir,” Tuttle started automatically. “I’m not an officer. I work for a living.” It was the standard answer noncommissioned officers gave when young privates called them sir. But then he stopped, looking sheepish as he realized that he had just contradicted himself. “I guess you can call me sir if you’d like.”
Josh laughed. They were like children. It had been one week since their release, but the euphoric mood was still on them.
“Captain Hunt has already left, you know.”
Josh sobered. “Yes. I don’t understand it. Why can’t we all go together?”
“Because Captain Hunt is convinced that going up the coast by way of Monterey and San Francisco Bay will be faster and safer than going up the central valley.”
“Do you think it will?”
“Well, it’s longer, but El Camino Real is an established road. It links all of the Catholic missions, so it’s well traveled and well maintained.”
Josh gave him a severe frown. “That’s not what I asked you.”
He shrugged. “Hunt is going to Sutter’s Fort. We’re going to Sutter’s Fort. We’ll see which is the faster route when we get there.”
“Is that what the army did to you?”
“What?”
“Make it so you can’t give a man a straight answer?”
Tuttle laughed. “And is that what the army did to you?”
“What?”
“Made you such an insolent pup?”
“See, you did it again,” Josh howled in protest. “You don’t have a plain yes or no in you.”
Just then the flap to their tent opened. It was Levi Hancock. “You two ready?”
“Yep,” Tuttle sang out cheerfully. “Soon as I get this young pup housebroke.”
Hancock laughed, knowing full well how these two bantered with each other. “Well, we’re moving out in half an hour. Better break down your tent.”
“Yes, sir,” they both said in happy unison.
On the morning of July twenty-fourth, Nathan left his wagon for one of the other men to drive, borrowed a horse from Brigham Young, then set out with Heber C. Kimball to scout ahead of the lead wagon, carefully scrutinizing the road for particularly rough spots so that they could warn the drivers to watch for them. There was great concern in the camp about the ability of the sick to hold up under another day of travel. After the previous day, those suffering from mountain fever, including President Young, were nearly exhausted. They had started out at six forty-five in the morning. Up and over Big Mountain they went. By the time they made the treacherous descent, they had to stop and rest for a couple of hours. Then they had pushed on. Like the ones who had come this way two days before, they were not content to stop at the logical campsites. When they reached the cold springs at the bottom of Little Mountain, they too made a decision. They hitched up their suspenders, spit on their hands, then went up and over the top of that last ridge. By that time, the sick could stand no more and they had to camp at the head of Last Canyon, six miles short of their destination.