The Work and the Glory (665 page)

Now, the next morning, as they moved slowly on, the deep blue waters of the lake offered a serene contrast to the horrors that had taken place at its eastern end. Even though horrible remains had long since been put away, the men were still deeply sobered by knowing they were this close to real tragedy. They rode in single file, content for the moment to stay within their own thoughts.

Then as they were nearly past the lake, one of the men spoke to Captain Brown. “What do you suppose Sam Brannan will tell them when he reaches them?”

Brown’s shoulders lifted and fell, and then he shook his head. “Well, he can say what he wants about me, but he’d better not mislead them about President Young’s letter.”

Peter nodded. He didn’t think Brannan would, but in his current fit of temper, he couldn’t be sure. From the time they left Great Salt Lake City, Samuel Brannan nursed a sour temper. The leader of the
Brooklyn
Saints was deeply hurt that Brigham Young had given the letter written by members of the Twelve to the Mormon Battalion to James Brown to carry instead of to Brannan. After all, Brannan was the head of the Church in California, and it was his right to carry the word back to his people. Or so Brannan argued. But Brigham had been adamant that it was a letter to the Mormon Battalion members and Brannan had no standing there. Among other things, the letter contained the power of attorney for Brown to collect the final pay of the soldiers that was due them.

Brannan and the captain had clashed again and again as they moved westward. When Brannan started making comments that perhaps Brother Brigham was no longer under the inspiration of heaven—otherwise, he would have kept coming on to California—Brown, Peter, and the others had reacted sharply. It finally reached the point where two nights before, Brown had sharply suggested that it might be Brannan who was out of touch with the Lord rather than President Young. In one instant Brannan was on his feet flailing at his counterpart. The men had finally pulled them apart, and the leader of the
Brooklyn
Saints had gone off in a huff, sleeping apart from the others. The next morning when they arose, he was gone. They had found his trail and his campfire and knew that he was still only about a day ahead of them, but a day was enough. Wherever the battalion was, he would find them first.

But for all of Brannan’s wounded pride and pricked ego, Peter still felt that the man would not deliberately lie. He would put his own twist on things, especially the importance of returning to California, but he wouldn’t lie about things. He was—

“Captain Brown!”

Peter came out of his thoughts. The man in the lead had reined in and was pointing. “Campfires ahead of us, sir.”

They leaned forward, searching the depths of the forest up ahead. Then Peter saw it—several thin columns of smoke rising almost vertically from the trees.

“Good,” Brown exclaimed. “That could be the battalion. Let’s go!” He spurred his horse forward and the rest fell in behind him. Peter slapped his reins across the horse’s rump, feeling a quick shot of adrenaline surge through his body. If Brown was right, and all was as he hoped, Peter was about to meet Josh Steed for the first time in over a year.

“People comin’,” a voice cried out. It was as though someone had made the call to arms. All around the camp, the ex-battalion men leaped to their feet. Some ran toward the lake’s edge where the trees thinned and they could see better. Others started tucking shirttails into trousers and pulling on their boots. Levi Hancock started shouting orders as he raced for his rifle.

Josh Steed had Jared on his lap, letting him play with the lid of his canteen. The toddler had not slept well during the night, and Josh was letting Will and Alice sleep a little longer. Or so he thought. As the camp erupted into action, both of them came bursting out of their tent. Will was hopping, pulling on his second boot as he came. Alice was tying on her apron.

“I think it’s the men Elder Brannan told us about,” Josh explained. “There seems to be several riders.” Sam Brannan had ridden in the day before and told them that Captain Brown and others were just a day behind him. Then, refusing their invitation to stay, he rode on.

“Give me Jared,” Alice said to Josh. “You and Will go.”

They tore off, following the men who were all running forward now. As they approached the lake where the trees thinned, they saw the riders coming on a run toward them. With a whoop of delight, Josh recognized the third man back. He started waving his arms wildly. “Peter! Peter!”

Peter reined in hard, leaped off his horse, and shoved the reins at one of his companions. Then in three great leaps he and Josh met. They grabbed each other and whirled around, pounding each other on the back, laughing and shouting. Finally, Peter stopped and pushed Josh back at arm’s length. “Let me look at you,” he said. “I can’t believe how tall you are. I’ll bet you’ve added two hand spans since I saw you last.”

“And about thirty pounds, I think,” Josh said, submitting to the scrutiny happily. “But look at you too. You’re all tan and lean. Will told me that you had become a bullwhacker.”

“Kind of hard to believe, isn’t it? From poet to bullwhacker. Who would ever—?” He stopped as another figure stepped out from among the swarm of men. “Is that Will?” he exclaimed.

“It is. He and Alice are with us.”

Will came running up, grinning like a boy with a new horse. “Well, well, well,” he chortled. “You did come back.”

“Told you I would, didn’t I?” Peter said, punching his arm lightly. Then he sobered. “I was afraid you’d still be at Sutter’s place waiting for me to come back for you.”

“What? You think we would stay behind when there’s a group of Mormons headed for home?”

“So Alice and Jared are with you?”

“Waiting at the tent. Come on.” He took Peter’s arm and started moving away. The two groups were in chaos now as former companions in arms celebrated their reunion, and they had to push their way through.

“Is it true, Peter?” Josh asked as they walked swiftly back toward the camp. “Are you in the Valley now? Do we really have us a home?”

“Yes, Josh. Your father is there waiting for you. Your mother and the rest of the family are coming with the main companies, but will likely be there by the time we get back.”

Will’s voice had turned wistful. “Can it really be? That sounds so good.”

Suddenly reality set in. “Well, yes, but there’s one problem.”

“What?”

“Captain Brown has a letter from Brigham Young. It asks anyone who doesn’t have a good stock of supplies to turn back to California.”

“We know. Elder Brannan told us about that last night.”

“Oh.” Peter had forgotten about Brannan for the moment. He tried to explain. “Things in the Valley are very limited. There’s nothing there. Nothing. We had to bring in every button, every seed, every tool. We can’t add three hundred men who are destitute and will need to be supported. The President wants only those who won’t be a burden. The rest will turn back and come next season.”

Will brushed that aside. “That’s all decided, Peter. Sutter paid me and Alice in horses and supplies. We’re better off than most.”

Peter couldn’t help but look at Josh, whose clothes were so worn and shabby that he couldn’t have much of anything to his name.

Will watched, savoring this next part. “And we also had company about a month ago.”

Peter turned. “Who was that?”

“James Reed. He brought you your pay for bullwhacking.” Grinning, he took out a leather pouch and jingled it up and down. “It’s only five hundred dollars.”

Astonished, Peter just stared at him. “Five hundred dollars?”

Will laughed aloud and tossed him the bag. “Yep. Think that’s enough to qualify Josh to go with us too?”

On September twentieth, not quite a full two months after the arrival of the pioneers in the Valley of the Great Salt Lake, all work came to a halt. It was not the Sabbath, nor was it a formal holiday of any sort. It was a Monday, and there was still an enormous amount of work to be done as the weather turned colder. The mountains were now turning a brilliant red and orange, and twice already the peaks had been dusted with white. It was not because there was nothing urgent to do, but all work stopped anyway. Foundations for new cabins were left partially undone. The meager crops brought in hastily the previous few days were left in the wagons. The stone walls of the fort to the west of the Grand Encampment were nearly done but still needed a few more feet to be completed. The fort lay deserted, the stone masons’ hammers and trowels set aside for the moment.

At ten o’clock the bugle sounded, and men, women, and children ran for their wagons. Dogs barked, oxen bellowed, children screeched, women called excitedly to each other, and men shouted at their teams. Then in one grand movement, the first wagons began to roll. One by one the half dozen wagons that were still in the Valley fell into line and started moving in a southeastward direction, up the gently sloping landscape toward what the new settlers were already calling the “benchland.” They followed the track they had made some two months before, but in the opposite direction. They were headed for that opening in the mountain face to the south and east of them. They were headed for the mouth of Last Canyon.

Without anyone specifically directing them, when they reached the canyon’s mouth, one by one they pulled off the road, some to the right and some to the left. They lined up facing each other, with the wagon track between them. Suddenly quiet now, the people gathered behind the wagons. The adults stood in small groups, talking quietly. The few children in the company were allowed to play quietly, but were quickly shushed if they got boisterous. There were about two hundred people there, but they made no more noise than a dozen or so.

One of those small groups that stood together consisted of Nathan Steed, Derek and Rebecca Ingalls and their three children, and Kathryn Ingalls and her baby, Nicole. They spoke quietly of other things, but as they talked, their eyes would continually turn toward the canyon. Heads would jerk around at the sound of a horse’s whinny or the stamp of an ox’s hoof. Then, when there was nothing, they would return to their conversations.

At about ten minutes past noon, one of the men nearest the mouth of the canyon suddenly called out in a loud voice. “Quiet, everyone.”

An instant hush swept over the assembly. Ears strained toward the east, listening intently. For a moment, there was nothing except the twitter of birds and the soft rustle of leaves as the breeze stirred them. And then there was something else. It was the jingle of harnessing and the rattle of a steel-rimmed wagon going over rocky ground.

People edged forward, trying to see. For another two or three minutes there was nothing, though the sound of wagons was unmistakable now.

“There they are!” It was a child who shouted it. He was jumping up and down, pointing. A yoke of oxen appeared, followed by another, and then the white top of a wagon. As perfectly unified as if given a signal, a great cheer went up and down the line of waiting pioneers. Now it was not just the children who were dancing up and down and waving their arms.

“Oh, Derek,” Rebecca said softly, “what if they’re not with this first company?”

“They may not be,” he said. “You heard what the rider said. There are nine companies in all. This is only the first.”

“How far behind are the others, Papa?” Christopher asked.

“A week,” Derek said without enthusiasm. “Maybe as much as ten days.”

Kathryn groaned. “I absolutely shall die if they are not here.”

The first wagon was fully in view now, and then the second team, this time mules, appeared. A man on a horse rode out from between the two wagons. When he saw what was waiting for them, he took off his hat and began to wave it as he spurred forward.

“Can you tell who it is?” Rebecca asked Nathan.

Nathan was already staring at the approaching rider. “It’s Daniel Spencer,” he said.

Now the cheering and the shouts and the applause were deafening. Women were weeping and grown men had suddenly lost their ability to speak. Brother Spencer smiled broadly, waving his hat and calling out greetings to those he knew. A third wagon and then a fourth came into sight. There was no longer any question. The first of the following companies had finally arrived.

It was the order of the trail that the companies rotated their position in the train on a regular basis. The company of ten that led out one day would drop to the rear the next, then gradually work their way forward again. That way the terrible dust suffered by those at the rear was shared by all. On the day they had reached the Parting of the Ways, the Steeds’ group of ten had been at the rear. In the two weeks since, they had rotated once through completely and were now halfway back.

In the narrow canyon, the rattle of the wagons, the crack of whips, the shouts of teamsters, and the bellowing of the cattle filled the air with noise. In this last stretch of canyon, the road was so rough that they had put everyone in the wagons to ride. Joshua was in the lead, with Caroline at his side. Luke Griffith was driving Lydia’s wagon, and Emily and Lydia were seated beside him. Next came Matthew and Jenny and Mary Ann, followed by Solomon, Jessica, and Rachel, then Carl and Melissa and their family.

Beside him, Caroline gripped Joshua’s arm. “I can hardly breathe, Joshua.”

He laughed. “The dust isn’t that bad, dear.”

She poked him. “You know what I mean. Do you think they’ll be waiting for us?”

He shook his head, poker-faced. “They’ve got too much to do to come out and wait for a ragtag group like us.”

She almost hit him again. Then, seeing his face, she laughed in delight. “You’re as excited as I am, you faker!”

“Yes,” he admitted. His pulse was racing, and he kept staring forward trying to see past the wagon ahead of them.

And then suddenly the trees opened up, the canyon walls fell away, and a broad expanse of sky assaulted their eyes. At the same instant the wave of sound hit them, drowning out the noise of the wagons and teams and people.

To Joshua’s intense surprise, he found himself suddenly unable to see anything except a blur of people waving and dancing around on both sides of the track. Completely caught off guard by his reaction, he quickly wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. Savannah, standing behind her parents, suddenly started pounding Joshua’s shoulder. “There’s Kathryn. I see Kathryn.”