The Work and the Glory (654 page)

When it came time to launch the raft, Grover was standing by, predicting that it would never float. Tight-lipped and angry, Brigham ignored the salty-tongued builder and launched it anyway. When it promptly sank, a humbled Brother Brigham sighed painfully, turned to Grover, and said, “All right, Brother Thomas, what is your plan?”

It was still a bit of a tender spot with the chief Apostle, and Heber was the only one who dared goad his friend about it a little.

“Thomas Grover will be the captain,” Brigham said again, ignoring the gibe. “We’ve also picked Luke Johnson, Edmund Ellsworth, and Appleton Harmon, among others.”

Matthew was pleased. Those were all good men. “All right. I’ll be happy to stay.”

“Good. I’ll explain what we’re doing to Nathan. Now that he has Derek to help, we think your family will be fine. We appreciate your willingness to serve.”

Caroline nudged Joshua. He had his head bent down, cleaning his pistol. He looked up at her. She gestured with her head. “I think that’s Elder Pratt and Elder Taylor coming.”

Joshua turned, then hastily set the weapon down when he saw that she was right. Mary Ann was across the fire from them and turned too.

“It’s Elder Taylor,” he heard Rachel say in surprise.

Solomon was getting something out of the wagon. He looked, then called softly to Jessica. She poked her head out of the tent to see, then came out to join Solomon. Jenny heard the call and also came out to see. She walked over and sat beside Mary Ann.

“Carl?” Joshua called.

Carl was currying his team, which were staked out behind his wagon. He stepped to where he could see Joshua.

“We’ve got company.”

Carl looked at the two men walking toward them and seemed a little puzzled, obviously not recognizing who they were, but put the currycomb down.

“Get Melissa and Lydia, will you, Carl?” Joshua said.

“Who’s the third person?” Caroline asked her husband, as Carl went toward the tents.

Joshua turned back. “I don’t know.”

“That’s Daniel Spencer,” Mary Ann said.

By the time the three men arrived at their little circle of wagons and tents, most of the family had come out to see who it was. Parley P. Pratt started around one side of the family and John Taylor took the other, shaking hands, inquiring after them, asking each of the children their names. Brother Taylor was particularly warm when he came to Carl and Melissa. Brother Spencer stood back, watching the two Apostles greet the family.

Finally, Parley Pratt reached Joshua. “Good to see you, Joshua. Any word from Nathan and Matthew?”

“Yes. Both Lydia and Jenny got letters a week or so ago. They’re doing fine. They were only about two hundred miles out when they wrote, however.”

Elder Taylor came up now too. “We had a recent communiqué from President Young,” he said. “They had just passed Chimney Rock at that point.”

Elder Pratt turned and motioned the third man forward. “Some of you know Brother Daniel Spencer, I’m sure. Let me introduce the rest of you.”

Spencer shook hands as Parley introduced him around. They made room for the three men on a low wooden bench they had brought for use around the campfire at night. When they were settled they chatted for a few minutes. Then, in a lull in the conversation, Elder Pratt turned to Joshua. “We understand that your family is equipped and ready to go.”

“We think so,” he answered. “No one ever has all that they’d like to have, but we’re better off than many.”

“Good. That’s what we like to hear.” He glanced at Elder Taylor, who took it from there.

“As you can see,” Elder Taylor explained, “we have about three hundred wagons here at the Elkhorn now. Many of those are ready to go, but many others are still waiting for additional teams or supplies to come from Winter Quarters. Elder Pratt and I are going to stay until we have the full complement of those who can go this year.”

“How long do you think that will be?” Carl spoke up.

“Another week.”

Joshua pulled a face. When they had arrived three days before, they had been disappointed to learn that no one was actually ready to depart yet.

“No more than that, we hope,” Elder Taylor said. “It’s already the seventeenth of June. We wait much longer and we could be facing some nasty weather in the Rockies.”

“We’ve talked about that too,” Solomon said. “It’s getting late in the season.”

Parley Pratt came in again. “Brother Spencer here is one of our captains of hundreds. He’s got a group about ready to go. We decided tonight that he should leave immediately and not wait for the rest of us.”

Joshua and Carl exchanged glances. If anything, Carl was more impatient to leave than Joshua was. Joshua looked at Brother Spencer. “Is your company full?”

“That depends,” the man answered with a smile.

“On what?” Carl asked.

“On whether your family can be ready to leave in the morning.”

“In the morning?” Caroline exclaimed. It was not said in dismay but in pleased surprise.

Spencer nodded. “If you can join us, we’d love to have you. If not, we’ll look for someone else.”

“You’re the first we’ve asked,” Elder Taylor added.

Joshua looked around the circle at his family. “What do you think?”

Solomon didn’t hesitate. “We’ll have to do some work tonight, but we can be ready.”

Carl turned to Melissa, who was smiling. She nodded; then he did the same. “Let’s go.”

Lydia and Jenny were likewise nodding.

Joshua turned to his mother. “Absolutely,” she said before he could ask.

Suppressing a grin of pleasure, Joshua turned to Daniel Spencer. “Well, Captain,” he said, “looks like you just got yourself a passel of Steeds with whom to travel.”

The new raft Howard Egan’s crew made under the direction of Thomas Grover was huge. They had cut down two cottonwood trees that were a good two and a half feet in diameter and close to twenty-five feet long. They were then hewn to a point at each end and hollowed out to form two rough “canoes.” These provided the floating base for the ferry. On top of that, fastened both by lashing and by nails the blacksmiths had made, they laid a platform of planking. A large oar was constructed at each end. They had learned that oars provided the best means of controlling an ungainly craft in the swift river.

While the building team put the raft together, another team set to work building five wharves on both sides of the river where the wagons could be loaded straight on and off the raft without delay. Five were needed because they couldn’t always judge where the current would take them. The blacksmiths also forged out oarlocks and the ironwork necessary to hold them in place. All the while, the men not assigned to the construction crews continued carrying their wagons and goods across the river.

On Friday, the eighteenth of June, the new raft was finally done. Ironically, by that time all the Mormon wagons had been ferried across and were on the north side of the river waiting to continue westward. The company had come up the south side of the North Platte since Fort Laramie, but here the river took a sharp bend to the south and they could follow it no longer. From here they would strike out across a fifty-mile stretch of country where there were only a few creeks and springs. Then they would pick up the Sweetwater River, which would become their next guiding water source.

All of the Mormons were across, but the ferry was not going to sit idle. Two companies of Missouri emigrants were waiting to be carried across, and another large company arrived just as the raft was about to be launched. Word was already spreading up and down the river that the Mormons were putting a ferry into service that eliminated the hazards of crossing the North Platte. People were coming up to see for themselves rather than risk a dangerous crossing.

At one forty-five p.m., the first wagon from one of the Missouri companies was taken across. When it reached the other side and docked at one of the wharves with no difficulty, a cheer went up from the assembled Latter-day Saints. As the cheering died, Brigham turned to Thomas Grover. “I think you have yourself a ferry, Brother Grover. We shall leave it in your capable hands. The Lord bless you.”

“Mama, Benji keeps hitting me.”

“Do not. You keep getting in my way.”

Rebecca poked her head out of the wagon to look at the two of them. “All right, children, that’s enough. Leah and Nicole are asleep. Don’t wake them.”

Kathryn was riding on the wagon seat beside Nathan, who was driving. Derek had borrowed one of Robert Crow’s horses and was riding ahead with the scouts. “Boys,” she said softly, “there’s plenty of room out here. Don’t walk so close to each other.”

That worked for almost thirty seconds. Then Benjamin picked up a pebble, made sure none of the adults were watching, and flipped it at his brother. His aim was true. It hit Christopher on the back of the head.

“Benji!” He swung around and took a swipe at Benjamin.

Nathan handed the reins to Kathryn. “Can you drive for a while?” he asked. She nodded and he jumped down, moving to walk between the two boys. “All right, young men, we have to be a little more quiet now.”

From the front wagon flap Rebecca appeared again. She had been fighting a fever and headache all day—a malady that was starting to occur with increasing frequency in the company—and had been trying to sleep in the jolting wagon along with Leah and Kathryn’s baby. Her patience had about reached its end. “I said that’s enough, Benji,” she snapped.

“He looked at me mean, Mama,” Benji wailed.

“I did not,” Christopher retorted. “You hit me.”

“Boys, boys!” Nathan said, taking Christopher and moving them farther apart.

“They’re just bored,” Kathryn said, remembering her classroom in Pueblo. Boredom was the quickest way to start problems in a group of children. And she too was bored beyond endurance. It had been ten days since they left the last crossing of the North Platte. The challenge of getting across the river had occupied the hearts and minds and hands of virtually every camp member for a week. Then just like that, the old monotony had slipped back in to ride with them again. Kathryn felt like flipping rocks at someone too. “I’ve got an idea,” she said. “Let’s play a game.”

“What?” both boys said at once, squinting up at her in the afternoon sun.

“Uh . . .” Her mind was racing. “How about ‘Guess What It Is’?”

“Is that really a game?” Christopher asked skeptically. He was eight now and much more savvy about parental tricks than his brother.

At five, Benjamin was more trusting. “How do you play it, Kathryn?”

Nathan was watching her, knowing that she was improvising on the fly. “Yes, Kathryn,” he said innocently, “how do you play it?”

Kathryn turned to Rebecca. “You go back to sleep. They’ll be fine.”

Rebecca nodded gratefully and disappeared again. Kathryn turned to the boys. “Well, someone thinks of something and describes it with a sentence or two; then the others have to guess what it is.”

“Can we think of anything?” Christopher asked.

“Well, I suppose that’s pretty broad. How about if it has to be something we’ve seen or done since we ferried across the river?”

“Like the desert?” Benji asked.

Kathryn laughed. “We’ve seen enough of that, haven’t we? But yes, you could say, ‘I’m thinking of something that’s very big and very dry and doesn’t have any trees.’ ”

Christopher raised his hand and waved it. “I’ve got something.”

“Let me start it, to show you how it works. Then whoever guesses right gets to go next, all right?” 

Nathan smiled. It couldn’t last forever, but for the moment her idea was working. The two boys were totally attentive and their battle was forgotten.

“I’m thinking of something that is very large, much taller than a wagon. It’s hard, it’s brown, and from a distance it looks like a loaf of bread that is buried in the ground. Guess what it is.”

The two boys looked at each other, anxious to be first but clearly puzzled.

“It’s very large,” she said helpfully, “and a lot of people wrote their names on it.”

Christopher’s hand shot up. “Independence Rock.”

“That’s right, Christopher. Good. It’s your turn now.”

“I knew what it was,” Benji pouted. “I just couldn’t remember the name.”

“It’ll be your turn in a minute,” Nathan soothed.

“I’m thinking,” Christopher started, “of something that was very small. You could hold it in your hand if you wanted. It was ugly and it hopped. Guess what it is.”

“The toad with horns!” Benji burst out, jumping up and down.

“That was too easy,” Christopher said in disappointment. Three days ago the boys had discovered the strange-looking creature beneath some sagebrush. They had wanted to bring it along with them, but Rebecca had refused, afraid that it might be poisonous.

“I’m thinking,” Benji began. “I’m thinking . . .” He looked around, and then his face lit up. “I’m thinking of something that’s white and brown and moves all the time. Guess what it is.”

Nathan had watched his eyes and smiled. “Would it be our wagon?”

“Yes!” It didn’t matter that it was an easy guess; Benji was pleased that he knew how to play the game.

“All right, what I’m thinking about,” Nathan said, “was very, very tall. It was made of rock and had water going through the middle of it.”

Christopher nudged him. “You’re supposed to say, ‘Guess what it is.’ ”

“Oh. Guess what it is.”

The boys looked puzzled, so Nathan went on. “Actually it had very ‘sweet water’ in it.”

“Oh, I know,” Kathryn said. “Devil’s Gate.”

“That’s right.”

Christopher turned to his uncle. “It had sweet water in it?”

Nathan laughed. “Don’t you remember Devil’s Gate, just west of Independence Rock a few miles? Your father and I took you over to see it.”

“Where the really high cliffs were?” he asked.

“Yes. It was that narrow cleft in the mountains.”

“And what is the name of the river that goes through Devil’s Gate?” Kathryn asked, smiling.

“Oh!” Christopher said in surprise. “The Sweetwater River. I get it.”

“Kathryn’s turn,” Benji said.

She thought for a moment. “I’m thinking of something that is so big you can’t see it. Guess what it is.”