The subcaptain shook his head, starting to turn away. He saw Eric and recognized him. They had worked on the handcarts together. “See if you can talk some sense into these two,” he muttered.
Eric smiled. “Hello.”
Sister Bathgate squinted her eyes a little, then immediately smiled. “Oh, you’re that Danish boy who’s been studying English with the Scottish lass.”
“Yes. I’m Eric Pederson. Actually, I and my brother are from Norway.”
“Hmm,” Sister Park said, half to him, half to her companion. “His English is very good. The class must be working.”
He laughed. “I have much to learn. But I enjoy.” He turned to Captain Chislett. “You are fourth hundred, no?”
“Yes.”
“I am in fifth. Elder Ahmanson’s group.”
“Yes, I know. All the Scandinavians are together.”
“Yah. So we will be close together most of the time?”
Chislett nodded. “Yes. Elder Willie plans to rotate the order of march, but we’ll stay in the same sequence. So the fourth and fifth hundreds will generally be together.”
Eric didn’t know what sequence meant, but he thought he understood the sense of the man’s answer. “Then I shall help,” he said, turning to the two women. He held up his hand quickly, as he saw Sister Bathgate start to rear back. “Only when you need help.” Then he thought he’d better explain. “You are very much like my grandmother. It would give great pleasure to me to help you. My father and mother would be displeased if they knew I did not help. I will only watch out for you and help when you say.”
There was still some hesitation on Sister Bathgate’s face, but he could see that she liked what he had said. She looked at the other woman. Sister Park nodded. “There might be times, Mary, when we could use some strong, young hands.”
“I think that is a wonderful idea,” Chislett said, much relieved. “What do you say, Sister Bathgate?”
She eyed Eric up and down slowly. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but she didn’t seem too pleased. “I look like your grandmother?” she asked. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
Then beneath the gruffness, he saw the twinkle in her eye. “Except you seem much younger,” he said earnestly.
That did it. She laughed right out loud. “Do you tell such whoppers in Norwegian too, or just in English?” Not waiting for his answer, she turned to Chislett. “If we agree to let this young man help us out from time to time, then will you be satisfied, Captain?”
He chuckled ruefully. “I would feel better about it, yes.”
“All right.” She stuck out her hand to Eric. “I am Sister Mary Bathgate from England, young man. Eric, is it? And this is Isabella Park, my traveling companion. We thank you for your kindness.”
“I am a pleasure to know you,” he said gallantly.
She laughed. “And I am a pleasure to know you too. Now, run along. We’re about ready to start, and I’m sure you’ve got things to do.”
•••
Captain Willie and the five captains of hundreds had announced that once the company was out on the trail, the groups of hundreds would rotate their position in the train so that one group did not have to be last all the time. But for this first day of the march the companies of hundreds had been asked to line up in order. The first hundred, under the direction of Millen Atwood, was in the front, faces pointed to the west. Next came Levi Savage’s hundred. Both Savage and Atwood had been across the trail several times before and were experienced and confident captains. They had their companies well in order and had already sent word to Captain Willie that they were ready whenever he gave the signal.
William Woodward’s hundred, made up mostly of the families from Scotland with a few from England, was having a little more trouble. Maggie McKensie watched with some impatience as he helped a family with three teenaged sons who were still trying to pack everything into their cart. Though he was several carts away from where she stood, Maggie could sense Brother Woodward’s frustration.
Robbie was watching too. “Why are they taking so long, Mama?”
To Maggie’s surprise, her mother’s response was quite tart. “I don’t know. We all had the same amount of time to get ready.”
Maggie’s face softened. Maggie had always envied her mother’s patience and long-suffering disposition—something Maggie had not inherited—and to see her reacting in this way told Maggie how much she was hurting inside.
Hannah and Ingrid had, of course, come out to see the family off. The Jacksons had come with them as well. Aaron and Elizabeth Jackson stood back with the others of the Martin Company who had come out to say good-bye. Maggie also saw John Jaques and his family with them. She was thankful for that. With the urgency of their own preparations, many of the second company had stayed at their work assignments on this morning. But this was the Jacksons’ way of letting the McKensies know that Hannah and Ingrid would be well cared for and loved almost as much as if they were with Hannah’s family. And John Jaques had come to Mary McKensie the previous night as well, promising that he too would make a special effort to see that these two young women were properly cared for. It was both touching and comforting, and had meant a great deal to Maggie’s mother.
Maggie turned. The William James family with their two handcarts were ahead of Maggie’s family. Ingrid and Hannah were with them at the moment, saying their farewells. Emma’s eyes were red and swollen. Of the three friends, she was having the hardest time with this farewell.
Maggie couldn’t bear to watch, so she turned and let her eyes take in the rest of the scene around them. Their company was at the center of the long column. Behind them was John Chislett’s fourth hundred, and then bringing up the rear was the Scandinavian group under Brother Ahmanson. Off to one side, between the fourth and fifth hundreds, she saw the footmen standing together, ready to go. To her surprise, she saw Eric Pederson there with them. He was speaking to two older sisters. Then, even as she wondered why he would be there, he waved his hand in farewell and started back to where his group was waiting.
“Here comes Brother Willie,” her mother said.
To Maggie’s relief, their captain was mounted now. He was cantering slowly up the line, making one last check on things. Until now he had only been leading the horse. This was an encouraging sign. Elder Willie waved to both families as he passed, then stopped briefly at the cart where Elder Woodward had been helping the family pack their stuff. Captain Woodward was standing back now. The family seemed at last to be finished.
“Everything ready, Brother Woodward?” Captain Willie called as he approached them.
“Yes, sir,” Captain Woodward said. “The third hundred is ready to go.”
“Good.” He dug his heels into his horse and broke into a gallop, heading for the front of the column. That was the signal for Ingrid and Hannah that the time was growing very short. Weeping openly now, they left the Jameses and came back to join Hannah’s family.
As they came, Maggie’s eyes were drawn to Ingrid. Around her neck she wore the shoes that her father had given her as a present before she left Denmark. They bounced lightly against her blue dress, looking ridiculous against her slender body.
It had surprised all of them when Ingrid appeared with the extra pair of shoes. At the weigh-in she had promised Elder Kimball and Elder Spencer that she would carry them on the trail, but why wear them today? When he saw her, Robbie, with his usual tact, blurted out the question that everyone was wondering. “How come you’re wearing those now?” he said.
Ingrid had just smiled, blushing a little. “I need to get used to carrying them,” was all she would say.
Ingrid Christensen had one of the sweetest and purest personalities Maggie had ever known. Everyone adored her. Clear blue eyes, a perky, upturned nose, and a broad, ready smile made her a favorite of both children and adults. But Maggie had come to know that within that sweetness and purity there was also a strong will and powerful commitment. How
quickly she had learned English was proof of that. Her determination to be properly dressed when she met Brigham Young was another. And so while they might look ridiculous in one way, those shoes were an endearing witness of the true Ingrid Christensen.
As she came up, Maggie reached out and touched the shoes. “We’ll watch for you every night,” she said, her voice low and strained. “And I’ll be looking for someone who’s crazy enough to carry a pair of shoes around her neck.”
Ingrid’s eyes were swimming and she too could barely speak. “I know. That’s why I wore them today. I wanted you to know what to look for.”
“Oh, Ingrid!” Maggie cried, throwing her arms around her. “We love you so much. I’m so glad Brother Ahmanson put you in our class.”
“So am I. Thank you for teaching me how to speak English.”
Ingrid stepped back now as Hannah went straight to Robbie, sweeping him up in her arms. A great sob was torn from her as he clung to her. “You take care of Mama, Robbie. You hear me? You take care of her real good.”
“I will, Hannah. Hurry so you can catch us.”
Mary McKensie wiped at the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand. Her head was high and she was struggling mightily to keep her emotions in check. “It’s just a couple of weeks, Robbie. Let’s keep telling ourselves that. We’ll see Hannah and Ingrid in Florence.”
Maggie nodded. They all kept saying that, and yet Daniel Spencer had admitted that it would probably be another two weeks before Edward Martin’s company would even be ready to go. Could they make up that much time on them?
Hannah buried her face in her brother’s hair, her body shaking convulsively. Then finally she straightened and turned to Maggie. Without a word, they fell into each other’s arms, clinging to each other fiercely. “Good-bye, Maggie,” Hannah finally said.
“No!” Maggie cried. “Not good-bye. Just we’ll see you in a little while.”
“Yes.” She laughed through her tears. “We’ll see you in a little while.”
As Hannah finally turned to her mother, Maggie saw that Captain Willie was at the head of the column. He swung his horse around and stood up in the stirrups. For a long moment he let his eyes sweep down the long column, and then he took off his hat and raised it in the air. After a moment his cry came faintly down the line. “Move ’em out.”
That broke through the last vestiges of Mary McKensie’s control. With a cry of pain, she gathered Hannah against her and began to sob. All up and down the line, the column began to come alive. People called for the children. Teamsters climbed onto their wagons. Drovers began to move around to the back of the herd of cattle. The walkers hoisted their packs and bags. Men and women stepped into the shafts of their handcarts and raised them up to chest level. But beside the three handcarts that belonged to the McKensies and the Jameses, the only sound that could be heard was the soft sound of mother and daughter crying.
II
Sunday, 20 July 1856
For a moment, Maggie thought it was the whistle at the factory, but when she opened her eyes in the semi-darkness of the tent, she groaned. It was one of the few times in her life that she wished she was at the paper factory in Edinburgh. But it wasn’t a whistle; it was the camp bugle signaling that it was time to awaken.
She started to roll over onto her side, then winced sharply, gasping in pain. Every muscle screamed out in protest. Her back felt like it had locked into position and that if she moved it, it would snap in two. Her arms ached clear to the bone. Her legs were extensions of the agony that was her body. Her feet and hands were on fire from the massive blisters that filled her palms and covered the balls of each foot.
She rolled back, biting her lip to stop from crying out.
“Can you move?”
Maggie lifted her head and noticed two things simultaneously. Sarah was sitting on her bedroll looking at her. That was the first thing, and it was astonishing. How could she have gotten herself up to a sitting position?
The second thing she noticed was that it was much lighter in the tent than it normally was when the bugle sounded.
Cringing, she pushed herself up beside Sarah. “I didn’t think it was possible that one body could experience so much pain,” she moaned.
She saw Sarah’s head bob. “I think my blisters are having babies,” she said.
“And does your whole body feel like it’s on fire?”
“Only everywhere that I still have feeling left.”
They were still conversing in whispers, for none of the other people in the tent seemed to have stirred as yet. Then suddenly it came to Maggie why it was lighter than normal. “It’s Sunday today.”
“Yes,” Sarah said fervently. “Hallelujah!”
With a groan of sheer pleasure, Maggie fell back onto her bed. So it wasn’t four A.M. It was closer to six o’clock. They wouldn’t be rolling out this morning. Captain Willie had announced that they would observe the Sabbath by staying in this camp at Brushrow Creek. If he had announced that each person would receive a gift of a thousand pounds or a sack of gold doubloons, it would not have been received any more gratefully than the news that they could rest for a day.
Sarah lay down again too, but scooted over so her head was close to Maggie’s. “Aren’t we glad that they are letting us begin slowly?” she said, pulling a face.
Maggie hooted softly. “It’s a good thing. Otherwise, we’d all be dead.”
Sarah was right, of course. Willie and the subcaptains were going very slowly. When they had moved out Tuesday afternoon, they had gone only a short distance—a mile, maybe two—from the campground before they stopped. That had come as a great relief to almost everyone. The excitement of being under way quickly wore off as the reality of pulling a loaded handcart across rough ground set in. Less than a mile away from their starting place, they had to ford a creek that supplied water to the camp. It was no more than eight or ten feet across, and the banks were only a couple of feet high on either side, but by the time a dozen carts had crossed, the bottom turned soft and the banks became muddy. It took Maggie, Robbie, their mother, and Emma straining with every ounce of strength they had to make it up the opposite bank. They collapsed thankfully a short distance later when Captain Willie declared that that would be enough for the first day.
The next day they went only three miles before they stopped. The wagons were nowhere in sight, and so the captain took nine or ten men back to find them. It turned out that the young, unbroken oxen and the inexperienced teamsters were a bad combination. But those pulling the handcarts felt nothing but thanks for the chance to rest. Feet and hands were blistered. Lungs burned as though filled with brimstone. People moved gingerly and with constant low groans, even those who thought they were in good physical condition. Seeing their condition, Willie called a halt for all of the third day. That had been Thursday. But they couldn’t make one or even three miles a day for very long. They were already well into July.
On the fourth day, Friday, the bugle blew at four A.M. It took them nearly seven hours to fix breakfast and repack the carts, an amount of time that their leaders said was unacceptable. They moved out about eleven, only to find the road more difficult than what they had previously experienced. The road was rutted and extremely rough in some places. They came to a collapsed bridge and had to ford the small river. The oxen continued to balk and the supply wagons moved forward slowly. By five P.M. the group was totally exhausted. They had come six miles.
Yesterday they had done better but only because the captains had started haranguing them shortly after the bugle call until they were ready to move out at nine A.M. The road was much better, and Captain Willie refused to call a halt, other than to water the cattle once, until seven P.M. the previous evening. He was elated. Twelve miles. They doubled their mileage of the day before. In fact, they had come farther in that one day than in the previous four. He and the subcaptains were the only ones smiling. For the emigrants, they had reached levels of agony never before known to most of the c
ompany.
Maggie closed her eyes. They had come about twenty miles. That left them only about thirteen hundred and eighty to go.
•••
When the second of the two Sabbath services broke up that afternoon, many of the people stayed around to talk. The spirit of the group was high, in spite of the aches and pains that everyone was experiencing. Elder Willie had been the main speaker in the morning session. Then Elders Chislett and Savage, two of the captains of hundreds, had spoken this afternoon. The company might be on limited food rations—especially in such luxury items as sugar, rice, and dried apples—but the spiritual nourishment came without measure. It felt good. And they desperately needed the rest from the trail.
Eric and Olaf had been especially gratified, for they had been given their first formal opportunity to serve as translators. Johan Ahmanson divided the Scandinavians into three smaller groups so that the translators could speak in softer voices and not distract the others in the congregation.
“Look,” Olaf said, suddenly pointing. “There’s Emma.” He raised a hand and started to wave. “And there’s Maggie and Sarah too. Let’s go say hello.”
Eric hesitated, then saw that they were waving back. With a nod, he fell into step behind his brother.
Robbie saw them first and gave a whoop. He came on the run and greeted them breathlessly. It was not as if they hadn’t seen each other since leaving Iowa City, but with five hundred people in the company and each group of hundred pretty well camping together, they had mostly just waved or called out greetings back and forth.
“Hello, Robbie,” Eric said, ruffling his hair. “How are you?”
“Great!”
Eric nodded and smiled. This twelve-year-old’s enthusiasm had not dimmed in the slightest. Curious, Eric reached out and took Robbie’s hands and turned them up. Sure enough, there were angry red splotches on his palms, just as there were on almost everyone else’s in the camp. Eric ruffled his hair again with open affection. It would take more than blisters to dampen this boy’s excitement for the trail. Eric held up his own hands to show him and Robbie laughed back at him. “Isn’t it great?” he said again. “Mine are getting better every day.”