“Brother Grant?”
David’s head came up to see who had spoken. It was Harvey Cluff. David knew Harvey, though not really well. Like David and Heber P., he was a Minute Man, but living in Provo, he was part of the Utah County company.
George Grant turned. “Yes.”
“I’ve been thinking,” Harvey said, a little tentatively, David thought.
“About what?”
“We’re some distance to the south of the trail down here.”
“Yes.” Grant was watching him curiously. Robert Burton and William Kimball had turned now as well. “Two or three miles probably,” Grant acknowledged.
And thank heavens for that, David thought. At least they had shelter down here.
“I was thinking. What if the express party happened to come by tonight? Our tracks have surely long since been covered. They wouldn’t know we had turned off the trail.”
Major Burton was immediately shaking his head. “No one’s going to be out on that trail today. Especially not this late.”
“But what if they were?” Cluff said doggedly. “We’re too far off the trail for them to see our fire. And with the wind blowing out of the north, they’d never even smell the smoke. They’d go right on by and never see us.”
The three leaders looked at each other, considering that possibility. They had been anxiously looking for the express party’s return now for several days. What if this was the day?
“If we put up a signboard up there where we turned off,” Harvey Cluff said, a little less sure of himself now, “then if someone did come along, they’d know we were down here.”
“It’s a good thought,” William Kimball said, “but it’s a long way back up to the trail and all uphill in deep snow.”
“Yes, sir.”
And with that the men went back to what they had been doing before. Nothing more was said about putting up a signboard on the trail.
•••
It was ten minutes later, as David was preparing to go inside his tent for the rest of another long night, when he saw a movement at the back of one of the wagons about three places around the circle from their own. The unseen sun was down now and the light was fading noticeably. In another half an hour it would be full dark. David peered at the figure for a moment until he half turned. David was startled to see that it was Harvey Cluff. He had the wagon cover pulled back and was doing something inside.
As David made sure his own wagon was secure, he kept glancing over at the figure of Harvey Cluff. Whatever it was he was doing, he was certainly staying at it. Finally, done with his own work, David decided he would go over and see if he might help. He made sure the lashings on the cover were secure, then shoved his hands in his pockets and walked over.
“Hi. Need some help?”
Cluff jerked around in surprise, then looked a little sheepish. “No. I’m just done, in fact.” Then to David’s surprise he straightened and pulled out a three-foot piece of board nailed to a narrow piece of wood taken from one of the crates. Crudely painted on the board were three words and a thick arrow pointing to the left. David moved around so he could see better, then started. The board read, “CAPTAIN GRANT’S COMPANY,” and then the arrow was painted below it.
Cluff watched him closely. “I decided I was going to do it,” he said quietly. “I talked to Captain Grant and told him I had strong feelings about it. He said it was all right with him.”
David nodded. It seemed a little strange, but you had to admire a man for sticking to his guns. “Are you going to take it up tonight?”
“Yes.”
David grinned. “Want some company?”
Cluff smiled slowly. “I’d like that.”
•••
It took them an hour and a half to go up and back, and it was full dark when David and Harvey Cluff came back to the campsite on the Sweetwater. They were soaked almost to the waist and shivering violently. The men saw them coming and immediately made a place for them by the fire. David’s legs trembled as he sat down, and he gave a low sigh of relief to be off his feet. Once they left the shelter of the willows, the snow had doubled in depth and in several places they had to buck their way through drifts that were above their knees. David guessed that the trail was close to three miles away from their campsite. Coming down, following the trail they had already made was easier, but going up there had been a couple of times when he wasn’t absolutely certain they would make it.
The men knew where they had been, and it pleased David that there was not one chiding or disparaging remark made. There were some who obviously thought it was a futile gesture, but if Harvey Cluff was feeling something so strongly, then he had their admiration and respect for following through with it.
“How was it?” Heber P. asked, coming over to sit beside his friend.
“Well, I’ll say this much,” David answered. “Earlier I questioned Brother Grant’s wisdom about laying over here today. I don’t question it anymore.”
“That bad?”
“This is wonderful,” David said fervently. “You don’t have to go far up that hill before you know just how protected we are down here.”
“Here, let me get you two some hot beef broth,” Heber said. He went to the kettle hanging over the fire and dipped out two cups of dark liquid. He handed one to David and the other to Harvey Cluff.
“Ah,” David said as the liquid warmed his body. “Thank you.”
“Yes,” Harvey said. “This is wonderful.”
“So where did you put the sign?” Heber asked.
David looked at Harvey, deferring to him, since it was his idea.
“We propped it up in a large sagebrush. We had to put some rocks around it to make sure it didn’t blow over.”
“But it’s easy to see?”
Harvey smiled in satisfaction. “It would be pretty hard to miss, even in the dark.”
•••
It was barely five minutes later when a sound brought everyone’s head up with a start. “What was that?” Captain Grant said, standing up and peering in the darkness. He was looking to the north, up the path that David and Harvey Cluff had made a few minutes before.
“It sounded like a shout,” Robert Burton said. He too was on his feet and staring in that same direction.
“Oh my word!” Grant suddenly gasped.
All of them shot to their feet and were gaping at the same spot. Against the white snow, barely visible in the darkness, they could see two dark shapes approaching.
“Halloo the camp!”
“It’s the express party!” Charles Decker cried out. “They’re back!” He and Grant darted forward to the edge of the firelight.
“But they were in a wagon,” someone remembered. “These are on mules.”
Captain Grant cupped his hands. “Brother Wheelock! Joseph Young! Is that you?”
What came back shocked every man to the core of his being.
“No! It’s James G. Willie, captain of the fourth handcart company.”
Harvey Cluff jerked around as if he had been hit by an arrow. He was staring at David.
David shook his head in wonder. “They must have gotten to your sign just minutes after we put it up,” he said.
Harvey was nodding, his eyes wide. “If we hadn’t put it there, they would have gone on past us. And then . . .” Humbled by that thought, he turned back to look at the two oncoming riders. “Who would ever have thought that a signboard could do the work of salvation?” he murmured.
II
Tuesday, 21 October 1856
Maggie opened her eyes as she felt something brush against her cheek. In the dim light of the tent it took her a moment to recognize the dark shape over her and another moment to remember that she was lying in Eric’s arms and that he had touched her cheek with the back of his finger a moment before as well. “Hello,” she whispered, managing a wan smile.
“Hal-lo, Sester Maggie,” Eric said, exaggerating his accent into a broad drawl.
Her smil
e broadened. “Did I fall asleep again?”
He nodded. “Only for a moment.”
“What time is it?”
He shrugged. “About half past five. Almost sundown.”
She opened her eyes wider. “You can see the sun?”
“Yes. The storm is finally gone. It is beautiful out there. Very cold, but beautiful.”
She started to get up. “Your arm must be tired.”
He held her in place gently. “My arm is yoost fine, yah, and tank you vedy much.”
She laughed softly, then immediately clutched at her chest as she started to cough.
“I’m sorry,” he said instantly. “I shouldn’t make you laugh.”
The cough passed in a moment, and she looked at him and shook her head. “I need to laugh, Eric. I need to laugh very much.” She caught herself. “Vedy much.”
Mary McKensie was lying on the bed next to Maggie, with Robbie curled up beside her beneath the blankets. “We all need to laugh,” she said.
Maggie turned her head. As their eyes met, her mother smiled. Robbie’s eyes were closed and Maggie couldn’t tell if he was asleep or not. He had spoken to his mother just a few minutes before. She looked around the tent. The other beds were all full as well. Jane James sat beside her husband, holding his hand. From where she lay, Maggie could see his chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. His face was as white as the canvas of their tent. Sarah and Emma lay together on the other side of their father, also sharing a blanket and each other’s body warmth. Reuben and the younger James children were lying close together, Reuben reading to them from the Book of Mormon, holding the book up so that the light coming through the tent wall illuminated the pages.
“We make a pretty sad group, don’t we?” she said, turning back to Eric.
He looked around. “It is good to conserve our strength. How fortunate we are that Brother Willie did not think it wise to push on.”
She was instantly sorry for her pessimism. Eric was right. What would it have meant to be out on the trail these last two days? With the last of their food now consumed, it was a great blessing to stay in place. This morning breakfast had been nothing but water with a pinch of sugar in it. The hunger was sapping their strength now at an alarming rate, and they had to conserve their energy and keep warm. And it was working. She could tell that her cough had improved, and Brother James, though still terribly weak, was significantly better than when they had arrived here at the Sixth Crossing. And they were well off compared to others. Eric’s tent group had lost four to death now, including a child and a father in one family. Five or six others were still too ill to rise and care for themselves. The reports were that many others were in a similar state.
Eric seemed to sense her thoughts and nodded slowly. “Olaf says there have been four more deaths so far today, including an eleven-year-old Danish girl in our hundred.”
Maggie winced. Four today. One yesterday. Four the day before. She closed her eyes, now doubly sorry for her comment. “We are very fortunate, aren’t we?”
“Yes,” her mother said softly. “And thanks be to the Lord for that.”
“I hope Hannah is all right,” Robbie said, opening his eyes.
“Hannah will be fine,” Mary said, though her eyes filled with sorrow at the mention of her daughter.
“I am so glad she has Ingrid,” Maggie said. “I’ll bet they have grown so close now.”
Sarah sat up now and Emma followed a moment later. “I would so love to see them again,” Emma said. “I miss them so much.”
“You will see them soon enough,” Sister James said. “Once we—”
She stopped. Outside the tent there was a sudden noise. Someone was shouting in a hoarse cry. Then just outside their tent they heard a young girl’s voice. “Papa! Papa! Look!”
Sarah leaped to her feet. “Something’s wrong,” she cried. She darted to the tent flap and, though she had no coat on, slipped outside.
Eric had his head cocked to one side, listening. Now there was a major commotion going on out there. People were shouting and yelling. He laid Maggie back down on her bed and stood up as her mother and Robbie got up quickly too.
“What is it, Mama?” one of the younger children asked Sister James.
“I’ll go see,” Eric said. He moved to the flap, holding it open as Maggie’s mother, Robbie, Reuben, and Emma all went out as well. Maggie rose up on one elbow, listening intently. Then she heard Robbie’s voice in a piercing shriek. “Look, Mama! Look!”
Maggie threw back the covers and started to rise, but before she was half up, Eric burst back inside. “What is it, Eric? What’s wrong?”
His eyes were registering shock and disbelief. He came to her side and helped her up.
“What, Eric? What is it?”
He just stared at her, his eyes filled with awe.
Jane James was up on her knees now, staring at Eric. “Yes, Eric. Tell us.” Beside her, William had awakened and was looking around wildly.
“Come and see,” Eric shouted. “You must see this.” In that instant he realized that Maggie had no shoes on her feet. With a cry that was half joy, half pain, he swept her up in his arms and moved swiftly to the tent flap. Sister James was there before him, holding it open. Eric leaped through it, then ran awkwardly around to the back of their tent to where the others were all standing.
Maggie threw an arm up across her face. Everything was such a dazzling white that it hurt her eyes. Then as she heard the cries all around her she opened them a crack. Eric had turned so that she was facing to the west. The first thing she saw was a beautiful sunset. The sun was down, but there was a golden glow behind the hill and the clouds were painted with gold.
“What?” she asked, thoroughly perplexed. Surely the people had not gone mad simply because the sun had come out after five or six days.
To her utter astonishment, when Eric looked down at her, his eyes were filled with tears. “Look!” was all he could say. “Look on the ridge.”
And then Maggie McKensie saw it too. A movement caught her eye. About a mile to the west of them the flatlands of the river bottom gave way to a sage-covered hillside, perhaps a hundred or so feet higher than where they stood. It was covered with snow and that was why she had missed it at first. But now, silhouetted against the farther hills, she saw a man on horseback—no, muleback. And behind him were— She gave a low cry and her hand flew to her mouth.
Behind him were three wagons, each pulled by four horses. No, four wagons! There came another and then another just behind them.
“What is it?” she exclaimed, not daring to believe.
Eric stared at her, tears streaming down his face now. Then he buried his head against her hair. “It’s the wagons, Maggie. Elder Willie has found the wagons.”
•••
David Granger started, his head jerking up with a snap. He looked around wildly for one moment, then realized that he had fallen asleep for a second or two. His hands, lying loosely in his lap, still clutched the reins to the four mules. Not that he was making any difference. The mules, heads down and plodding along with their eyes half-closed, were following the wagon in front of them without any help from David.
Surprised that he had dozed off while he was sitting up in a moving wagon—something he had never done before—he turned to see if Heber P. had noticed him. But Heber wasn’t noticing anything. His arms were folded and he was leaning back against the sacks of flour that filled the wagon behind them. His hat was pulled down and his eyes were closed.
David half smiled. He wondered how many others up and down the line were struggling to stay awake. He half turned. Behind him, the sun had just gone down, leaving a golden glow all along the horizon and touching the scattered clouds above them with wisps of gold. He guessed it was about half past five or perhaps moving toward six o’clock. He thought about digging out his father’s pocket watch to see for sure, then decided it wasn’t worth it.
The arrival of James G. Willie and J
oseph Elder in camp last night had created a sensation. They had finally found the lost company. But the euphoria quickly faded when the captain told them of the condition his people were in. And they were at the Sixth Crossing, about twenty-five miles farther east. That had settled it for Captain Grant. As soon as Willie and Elder were fed and their mounts seen to, the captain ordered everyone to bed. They were up and gone long before light began to dawn over the east and reveal that the storm had finally blown itself out. They had a quick, cold breakfast and hit the road, barely able to discern the trail in the darkness. That had been about fifteen hours ago. No wonder they were falling asleep.
It had been a very long and tiresome day. They kept the teams moving steadily and took only brief stops to rest. The snow was deep in many spots, and they rotated the lead-wagon position so that one team didn’t have to break trail the whole way. The men were exhausted; the animals were nearly at the end of their strength. Fortunately, twice now in the last twenty minutes they had caught sight of a line of trees in the far distance. Trees out here in this desolation meant only one thing. Once again they were approaching the Sweetwater River. The next time the trail intersected the river was the Sixth Crossing.
They had come down a long, gently sloping hill and entered a low swale before the land rose again. David and Heber’s wagon was about midway in the line, and David could see the wagons out ahead of him going up and over the rise, then disappearing again.
Suddenly there was a shout up ahead. As he looked to see what it was, he realized that it was a similar shout a moment ago that had brought him awake. Heber stirred beside him and sat up. He looked around for a moment, trying to get his bearings. “What is it, David?”
“Don’t know yet. Someone up ahead is yelling something.”
Then as their wagon crested the low hill and started down the other side, David saw what the shouting was about. The low ridge line provided a slight eminence that gave them a commanding view of the landscape below. Stretching across the whole width of his vision was a line of trees marking the serpentine path of the Sweetwater River. Here and there he could see stretches of black where the river itself was visible. But what caught the eye was directly ahead of them, on the opposite bank. There, silhouetted against the darker willows, was a collection of odd mounds, almost like small haystacks buried in the snow. And then David inhaled sharply. There was movement around those mounds—tiny black figures clustered together. Even as he watched, more appeared as if by magic from the mounds themselves.