There was a fleeting smile. “I never say enough thank you for helping me.”
“You did thank me. Besides, no thanks are needed. It just made me angry that he was being so stupid.”
Now he looked at her directly. In the fading light, his eyes were dark, almost black instead of their usual blue. She could not see the tiny flecks of brown in them that had always fascinated her. She finally had to look away, they were watching her so intensely. “I know,” he said. “I thank you for your anger.”
She laughed aloud. “My Scottish temper, you mean.”
He didn’t smile back. “Our Savior was angry when he saw his temple filled with robbers, no? Sometimes it is okay to be angry?”
“Yes,” she said in surprise. “That’s true. But I think indignant might be a better word.”
“In-dig-nant?”
“Yes. It means you are angry or upset because things are not right.”
“Ah.” Now finally he smiled. “Then I thank you for your indignant.”
One part of her wanted to laugh at his quaintness, but another part of her was strangely moved. “Thank you, Eric. But really, it was nothing.”
“It was important to me . . .” There was a momentary hesitation; then he smiled. “Maggie.”
She turned, pleased. “Maggie? Did I hear you say Maggie?” She tried to keep her voice light, teasing.
He nodded soberly. “Yes, Maggie.” Then to her surprise, that was it. He stood abruptly. “I must get back.” He waved and walked away swiftly, not turning back to see that she was staring after him in complete astonishment.
•••
“Maggie?”
“What?”
“I saw Eric go up on the hill tonight.”
Maggie came up on one elbow, the lush carpet of stars above them totally forgotten now. She looked directly at Sarah James. “You did?”
“Yes.”
Maggie was suddenly flustered. “He wanted to thank me for teaching him English and—” She stopped, realizing that she was sounding guilty. “We also talked about Hannah and Ingrid.”
“I thought that’s why you went up,” her friend said. “I almost came up too, but then decided you wanted to be alone.”
“I miss her, Sarah. And Ingrid too.”
“I know. I do too. And Emma. She talks about them every day.”
“They’re not going to get here before we leave, you know.” Maggie lay back down. “We’re going to leave too soon.”
“I’m afraid you are right.”
“I wish I had told her how much I love her,” Maggie whispered.
“But you did,” Sarah said. “I was there, remember?”
“I told her that I loved her,” Maggie corrected her, “but I didn’t tell her how much.”
“Oh.”
Both lay back again. They were silent for a long time, and Maggie began to wonder if Sarah had fallen asleep. Then she spoke again. “Maggie? May I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Promise me you will answer me honestly.”
That brought her head around, and she reached out and touched Sarah’s arm. “I’m always honest with you, Sarah. That’s one of the things I so admire about you. I can be honest with you and you with me.”
“I feel that way too.”
“So what is your question?”
There was a long pause; then, “How do you feel about Eric?”
In spite of herself, Maggie jerked around. “What?”
“Shhh!” Sarah whispered. “Don’t wake the others.”
“What did you say?”
“You know what I said. And remember, you promised to be honest.”
“Sarah James, what are you suggesting?”
“I’m not suggesting anything. I just want to know.”
“Well, I . . . He’s . . . he’s very bright. He learns quickly. I think beneath that somber exterior he has a quick sense of humor. He seems to be a good worker. The children love him.”
“Yes, they do, don’t they?”
“All right,” Maggie said sternly. “What is going on here?”
“Let me ask you another question. How do you think Eric feels about me?”
If the first question took her aback, this one floored her. Maggie hesitated. “I . . .” She remembered the hurt she saw in Sarah’s eyes whenever Eric was around. He was always polite and friendly, but there was nothing more. “Of course, he likes you. Can’t you tell?”
“Don’t play games, Maggie. You promised you’d be honest.” She was stubborn now, something that Maggie didn’t often see in Sarah James. “I’m not talking about just liking me as a friend. Do you think he really likes me?”
Maggie didn’t know what to say. She thought she knew the answer, but she definitely didn’t feel that she should speak for Eric. “Why?” she asked, trying to deflect the question.
“Thank you, Maggie. That’s answer enough. Thank you for not lying to me.”
“Sarah, I—”
“I already knew that. I’m not blind, you know.” Her hand reached out and found Maggie’s. “It’s all right.”
“He does like you as a friend, Sarah. He really does. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes.” It was said simply, but that couldn’t hide the disappointment.
Maggie lay down again and slid closer until her shoulder touched Sarah, wanting to offer comfort but not sure how.
“If it had to be someone else,” Sarah murmured, “I’m glad it was you.”
This time Maggie shot up to a sitting position. “What?”
Sarah sat up now too. The camp was dark and quiet, but there was a half moon and Maggie’s face was bathed in its silver glow. Sarah was staring at her; then suddenly she laughed. “You don’t know, do you?” Sarah said in soft wonder.
“Don’t know what?”
To Maggie’s total surprise, Sarah suddenly leaned forward and put her arms around her. “Dear sweet Maggie.”
Maggie pulled away. “Don’t you ‘dear sweet Maggie’ me! What are you trying to say?”
Sarah laughed in delight. “This James MacAllister back in Edinburgh. Did he love you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“How did you know? I mean, when you first knew that he might like you. How did you know?”
Maggie thought about that for a moment, then answered. “By the way he looked at me.”
It was answer enough and Sarah laid her hand on Maggie’s arm. “Then I’d say you’d better start paying more attention to Mr. Pederson’s eyes, Sister Maggie.”
“Sarah, I—”
There was a soft chuckle as she lay back down again. “No, Maggie. That’s all I’ve got to say. Good night.” And with that she rolled onto her side away from Maggie and pulled the blanket up and over her head.
Half an hour later, long after Sarah’s breathing had deepened, Maggie McKensie still stared up at the stars that filled the night above them. But her thoughts were not on the stars, nor had she thought about Hannah and Ingrid much during that time either.
II
Wednesday, 13 August 1856
Their third day in camp was spent in the same urgent rush of preparations as the previous day. The four Church agents seemed to be everywhere—taking inventory, listing the names of those who had decided to stay for the winter and those who would be going on, seeing to the repairs, sending the wagons to the gristmill built by Brigham Young almost ten years before.
By the time the Willie Company reached Florence, their supplies had dwindled to the point that the daily ration of flour for an adult was cut from sixteen ounces to ten ounces. Rice, sugar, bacon, and other necessities had dwindled to the point that each family was getting almost nothing. Many of those with larger families had begged for food as they crossed Iowa, and surprisingly, the locals had proven to be quite generous. The charity often came with strong encouragement to forget about Salt Lake City and the Mormons and to stay in Iowa—which a few did. But the local settlers still took pit
y on the long line of emigrants and shared what they had, or sold supplies to them at a very reasonable rate.
Once they reached Florence, the camp was put back on full rations again. Daniel Spencer also ordered some beef killed and the meat distributed throughout the camp. The amount of flour available at the Missouri River was not the problem. The challenge was how to take enough to last the handcart company until they could reach the first place where the supply wagons from Salt Lake would be waiting. Today one sack of flour—ninety-eight pounds—had been given to each handcart. That was sobering. Coming across Iowa, the typical load on the carts was around two hundred to three hundred pounds. They had just increased that load by a third to a half. While there was some grumbling, no one seriously objected. Without food, the trail would prove to be pretty grim.
Eric looked up as Olaf came around the sod hut that was serving as their temporary home. “Ready?” Olaf asked.
Eric glanced up at the sky. The sun was almost gone. Elder Willie had called for all adults in the company to meet together at the public square just at sundown. He reached inside the open door and grabbed his hat. “Yes. Let’s go.”
•••
The subject for the meeting was known by everyone. It came down to one question. Should the whole company plan to winter over or press on to the Valley. Discussions—and, in some cases, rather heated arguments—had been going on all day long. So it was not surprising that by the time Captain Willie, the Church agents, and the five subcaptains came forward, everyone was already in their place. As John Chislett, captain of the fourth hundred noted, this was going to be a “monster meeting.”
As Maggie and her family, along with the James family, passed by the fifth hundred, Eric and Olaf and Brother Ahmanson were dividing the Scandinavians into three smaller groups for translation purposes. Eric saw them and waved. Olaf called out a greeting, singling out Emma as he smiled broadly. Sarah gave Maggie a knowing look, which she blandly ignored.
They found a spot not too far back from the podium, and watched as the leaders came forward. The leaders talked quietly together for a moment, from time to time lifting their heads to look at the people, as if taking their measure, then continued on. To Maggie’s surprise, it was Captain Willie who finally stepped up onto a small platform made with planks laid over two sawhorses. She had expected Daniel Spencer, the leader of the Church agents, to conduct. The moment Brother Willie stood, quiet fell over the assembly. The moment of decision had come.
“Brothers and sisters,” he began, speaking loudly so that his voice would carry to the full group. “As you know all too well, our company has reached a crossroads, both literally and figuratively. We are at the last major outfitting center before jumping off into the wilderness.” He offered a wan smile. “Now, I know that some of you thought Iowa was wilderness”—he let the laughter ripple across the group—“but I can promise you that in a few days, you will come to think of Iowa as the heart of civilization compared to what you will be seeing.
“We have only Fort Laramie, which is about five hundred miles from here, and Fort Bridger, which is closer to nine hundred or a thousand. Both are small trading posts.” His shoulders lifted and fell in sudden discouragement. “Neither is large enough to either resupply our needs or handle a group as large as we are for the winter. What you need to know is that if we decide to leave Florence now, there is no choice but to set our sights on the Valley. There is no other choice . . .” He paused, and the silence hung like a huge weight over their heads. “Unless we choose to winter over somewhere near our present location.”
“Can we really do that?” a man spoke up. “I’ve heard that we don’t have enough to care for this large a group here either.”
Brother William D. Grant stepped forward to stand beside the platform just below Brother Willie. “That’s what makes this decision so difficult,” Brother Grant boomed. “Some have already decided to stay, and perhaps the hundred or so who want to wait for spring will be all right. There is some food here and shelter. But we are certainly not equipped to handle five hundred of us. And if you count Brother Martin’s group and the independent wagon companies that are still on their way here, that would make well more than a thousand of us. So the answer is no. We really are not prepared to have a group that large stay for the winter. We could make it, but it would be very difficult.”
Now Daniel Spencer called out from where he stood. “And you have to remember something else. An adequate supply of food will be critical no matter where you are, but we will not have wagons coming from Salt Lake all the way out here to resupply us. If you continue, then you can count on that kind of help.”
Captain Willie took over again. “I don’t have to remind any of you how late in the season we are. We were leaving Liverpool when we should have been leaving Iowa City. We are in Florence when we should be at Fort Laramie or farther. But knowing that doesn’t make it go away. It is August thirteenth. The high plains along the trail are known to have frost in every month of the year and snowstorms as early as September. I don’t want to sugarcoat this for you. We will almost certainly face some severe weather. But I exhort you to consider moving forward, regardless of whether we may have to endure some suffering, even if some of us may face death. Let us go on to Zion as we have been commanded.”
Now he turned and looked at his subcaptains. He was frowning, but he nodded and beckoned with his finger. Levi Savage, captain of the second hundred, came forward. Captain Willie spoke again to the group. “There are only four of us in this company who have crossed the trail before—myself, Brother Woodward, Brother Savage here, and Captain Atwood of the first hundred. Our brethren who are serving as agents know it as well, and we are all inclined to say that we should press forward, in spite of the lateness of the season. However, Brother Savage is of a different mind. We feel that you should have an opportunity to hear his feelings before we take a vote. Brother Savage.”
Maggie watched the man closely as he waited for Captain Willie to come down off the platform so that Brother Savage could get up on it. She didn’t know him well but had always found him to be a pleasant and practical man. He was in his mid-thirties and, like so many others of those who led the emigrants, had been called as a missionary back in 1852 and was finally returning home. He had gone to the Orient and served as a missionary in Siam and Ceylon.
Brother Savage glanced at the people, then looked down directly at their captain, who stood beside the makeshift platform now. Maggie was close enough that when he spoke his voice carried clearly to her. “Elder Willie, if I speak, I must speak my mind, let it cut where it will.”
Brother Willie’s jaw tightened a little, but there was a curt nod. “Certainly do so, Brother Savage. Let the people choose for themselves.” Then he stepped back so that Brother Savage was alone.
“Brothers and sisters.” Levi Savage looked down at his hands, as if he might find something there to help him say what he had to say. Finally, he looked up. When he began, his voice was deep and filled with sadness. “As Elder Willie has said, we face an important time of decision. The consequences of our choices must be considered as carefully as the choices themselves. You need to know that this late in the season we face the possibility of severe hardships. The plains that lie on this side of South Pass are very high, six and seven thousand feet in elevation. It will be October by the time we reach them. We are liable to see snow by then. We may have to wade in snow up to our knees. You will likely have to wrap yourselves in a thin blanket and lie on the frozen ground without a bed.
“It will not be like having a wagon where you can go into it and wrap yourselves in as much covering as you like and stay warm. We have only handcarts and tents. We are destitute of winter clothing and have nowhere to purchase it.”
He stopped and let his eyes move from face to face. No one spoke. It seemed to Maggie as if no one breathed. His eyes touched hers and she felt a chill as if the very blasts of winter that he was describing had suddenly swept across the p
rairie.
“I have great respect for the faith and feelings of my brethren, but I must say my feelings as clearly as I can state them. I am opposed to taking women and children and the weak through the trail this late in the season. We are bound to be caught in the snow before we reach the Valley, and the trials we will be called upon to endure will be severe. I do not condemn the handcart experience. I think it is preferable to unbroken oxen and inexperienced teamsters. My only concern is with the lateness of the season.”
Suddenly his voice broke and he had to stop. His head bowed, and for a time that seemed as though it stretched on forever, he stared at the ground. When his head finally lifted again, Maggie was shocked to see tears streaming down his cheeks. “My beloved brothers and sisters,” he exclaimed, his voice higher in pitch as he fought to contain his emotions, “let us wait until spring to make this journey. Let us go immediately into winter quarters. In the case of bad weather, some of the strong may get through, but I tell you that the bones of the weak and the old will strew the way if we do not.”
For a moment, it looked as though he would say more, but then he changed his mind and stepped down. He didn’t return to his seat but waited to see if Brother Willie had anything more he wanted him to say.
Now it was Brother Willie who seemed burdened down. Every eye followed him as he climbed back up on the platform. Maggie leaned forward, still feeling as though she needed to shiver to free herself of the cold feeling that was running up and down her back.
“My beloved brothers and sisters,” Elder James G. Willie began slowly, “you have heard Brother Savage on this matter. He is a good brother and a man who has served God faithfully.” Now his voice deepened and boomed out with startling intensity. “However, I must say that I cannot agree with his assessment. I know that Brother Savage believes in God, but I have to say that the God I serve is a God who can and will help his children to the utmost. The God I serve has called us to Zion, and I want to answer that call.”