At the head of their column, Brother Willie had spurred his mule forward. He was standing in the stirrups as the animal loped forward, waving his hat around and around as he shouted at the top of his lungs. The lead wagons were whipping their horses into a lumbering run, following after him.
David felt the breath go out of him in a huge explosion of joy. “It’s the camp, Heber! There it is. We’ve found their camp.”
•••
David thought that he had prepared himself for what they would find when they finally came upon the emigrants. He had listened intently last night as Captain Willie and Brother Elder described the condition of their people and felt his sense of horror deepen. But nothing anyone could have said or done prepared him for what waited for him as his team splashed across the river and then pulled up to a stop beside the other wagons.
The round tents, buried beneath eight or ten inches of snow, were not placed in any kind of order. They were scattered here and there, some near the river, others among the thickets of willows, a few out in the clearing beyond. Pathways had been trampled in the snow between the tents, giving the area the look of a gigantic prairie dog colony. But it was the people that stunned him. They were pouring out of the tents like ants from a disturbed anthill. Some came out bent over and barely able to move. Others burst forth, leaping up and down, waving their arms.
Everyone was shouting and yelling and laughing and crying. As David and Heber swung down, a woman ran by them with a baby in a tattered, filthy blanket held out in front of her, as though she were beseeching the men to take it from her. “God bless you! God bless you!” she sobbed as she went by. “God bless you.”
Directly ahead of David an old man had dropped to his knees and his face was in his hands. His shoulders were shaking convulsively as great sobs racked his body. Suddenly he looked up toward heaven. The dying light from the sunset caught the wetness on his cheeks and turned them to gold as he closed his eyes. David saw his lips begin to move silently.
He turned as a cluster of people caught his eyes. Here were adults and young children as well. One man held a woman in his arms. The younger children were dancing up and down, waving their arms in the air and shouting at the top of their lungs. One little fellow, who looked to be about four, saw David and started forward. His coat was nearly in rags and his battered hat no longer had any color. He wore no shoes but had his feet wrapped in burlap sacks. His blue eyes were wide and filled with wonder. Then he held out his hands and David saw that the tips of his fingers were blackened. He recoiled in horror. Frostbite.
Beside him he heard Heber gasp.
Eyes burning, David ran around to the back of the wagon. He thrust his hand into the nearest sack and grabbed a round, fat onion. He jerked his knife from the sheath on his belt and cut it in two, then darted forward to the little boy, holding out one of the halves to him.
“For me?” the boy cried in a hoarse voice.
David stifled a sob of his own. “Yes. We’re here. This is for you.”
The boy snatched the onion and bit into it tentatively. The wide eyes closed and there was a murmur of exquisite pleasure as he began to chew slowly.
David turned. A girl was coming toward him now as well. She was perhaps seven or eight. Her hair was dirty and matted and there were smudges of soot on her cheeks. She looked so thin, so frail. Like fragile porcelain. She extended one hand to him, looking almost frightened. David stepped forward, moving slowly so as not to frighten her, and held out the other half of the onion to her. She stared at it for several seconds, then reached out very slowly and took it from him. Then she looked up at him with wide dark eyes. “Are you an angel?” she asked.
David had to turn away as a soft cry was torn from his throat. Suddenly he couldn’t see anything but the dark shape of the wagon in front of him. “Get more onions, Heber,” he cried in a choked voice.
Together they grabbed the sack and brought it out of the wagon. The little boy and girl had gone back to their family. The boy was holding up the onion for his mother to see; then he turned and offered another sister a bite.
David and Heber lumbered forward, dragging the sack between them. David saw now that it was probably two families. There were two older women but no men who seemed old enough to be their husbands. The younger man who had the woman in his arms had moved forward a little, and David was surprised to see she was barefoot. Then before he could take in more details, a young woman who looked like she might be about the same age as David’s sister, Eleanor, broke away from the group and ran toward them. Without a word, she hurled herself at David and he had to drop the sack in order to catch her. She threw her arms around him, clinging to him so tightly that he could hardly breathe for a moment.
“Thank you. Oh, thank you. Thank you.”
With each cry of gratitude, she kissed him. On the right cheek. On the left cheek. On his forehead. On the cheek again. And then fully on the mouth.
She fell back, clearly shocked at her own behavior. Blushing deeply, she began to back away. The color only showed all the more dramatically the paleness of her face. “I’m sorry,” she blurted. “It’s just that—”
“It’s all right,” David said, swiping at his eyes to clear his vision a little. “It’s all right.”
“My name is Emma James.” She half turned. “This is my family.”
Now her mother and an older sister came forward. They were crying openly, unashamedly. “I can’t believe it,” the woman said. “You’ve finally come.”
“Yes,” Heber said. “And we have food.” He fumbled in the sack and brought out an onion for the older sister. “Here. There are more.”
Sarah James sniffed back the tears. “My father is very ill,” she said. “If there are enough, may I have one for him as well?”
Heber just stared. They were on the verge of starvation and she was saying, “May I”? He reached in the sack and brought out another. “Of course. We have other things in the wagons.” His eyes dropped to her coat and the dress beneath it. The elbows in her coat were gone. There was a tear in her skirt that had been crudely sewn together. Her shoes were in shambles, and oddly enough, he noticed that some of the tattered places had been cut off as though with a knife.
When he looked back up at her, he saw the shame in her eyes and was himself ashamed that she had seen him looking at her clothing. “We have clothing,” he said.
She leaned forward, tears still filling her eyes, and kissed him softly on the cheek. “It’s all right. We’re all right. Thank you for coming to help us.”
David, finally getting a little better hold on his emotions, turned to the young man holding the woman in his arms. Now as he looked at her more closely, he saw that she was no older than the man who held her. “Hello,” he said. “My name is David Granger. My companion is Heber P. Kimball. We are so happy that we have finally found you.”
“I am Eric Pederson,” Eric said. He made no attempt to hide the tears which streaked his face. They were tears of joy and no shame was in them. He looked down tenderly. “And this is my fiancée, Maggie McKensie.”
David nodded, surprised and yet somehow deeply pleased to think that young love might be present in a camp such as this.
He felt a tug on his sleeve and turned. A young man who looked to be a little younger than Alma was standing there. Like the others, his clothes were worn and dirty. The knees in his trousers were gone; the fingers of his gloves had been cut away; his scarf looked like one good tug might rip it in half. The face was gaunt, his cheeks sunken, and yet his eyes were as bright as glittering blue buttons. He had his hand out, but not with the palm up. Rather, he was offering his hand in greeting to David.
“How do you do, Brother Granger? My name is Robbie McKensie. I am Maggie’s brother. We are very happy to meet you.”
David took his hand and held it tightly, feeling the tears come back all over again. “I am very pleased to meet you, Robbie McKensie,” he said in a whisper.
Heber stepped forwa
rd and laid an arm across Robbie’s shoulder. His eyes were red, but he was smiling down at the boy. “Come on, young man. Let’s get you some warm clothing and blankets.”
•••
In the largest of the clearings near the river, a huge fire was burning, sending a stream of embers into the night air. They had made the fire as large as possible so that all of the emigrants who were able could gather in one place. After the initial ecstatic welcome had spent itself and the first of the food was distributed, Captain Grant sent his men on horseback up and down the river to drag in piles of firewood. There were campfires burning all around the camp, but this one was the largest. Now those Saints who were able to walk about in any way were huddled together around it, their faces lit by the dancing firelight. It was sobering to Maggie to see that only about half of the remaining company was here. Even with the joy, many were too sick to rise from their beds.
With the storm gone, the night had turned very cold, but no one seemed to mind. Maggie looked around. What a miraculous change had come over them in a matter of just a few hours! The despair was gone. Joy infused their faces. Hope swelled their hearts. As for herself, she felt as if the rescuers had brought her a whole new body. Oh, yes, the cough was still there, but she was energized with life and excitement. She had a new coat. Well, it was not new in the sense of being brand new, but it was new to her. Some dear sister in the Valley had given this to the rescuers. It was long and thick and soft. The collar was high enough that she could bring it up and cover her ears. She also had a new pair of mittens and a heavy woolen winter bonnet. She had protested, saying that others also needed clothing and that she shouldn’t get it all. But the two young men who had found them—Brother Granger and Brother Kimball—had watched her double over with her cough, and completely ignored her feeble objections.
Beside her, Eric had a heavy pair of boots. They were scuffed and worn but clearly serviceable. The pair Olaf received was brand new. Perhaps some bootmaker in Salt Lake had been touched by President Young’s call for aid and took these directly off his shelf. Sarah and Emma both had coats now, as did Maggie’s mother and Sister James. Brother James, significantly improved with the food he had been given, was now comfortable beneath a buffalo robe. Robbie had a thick sweater and new fur-lined gloves. And the list went on.
Food and clothing and bedding and warmth—the change that these had wrought was indeed swift and great. But the greatest change was in their hearts. Maggie closed her eyes. O Lord, we thank Thee for this day. We thank Thee for these wonderful Saints who have responded to our needs with unbounded love. We thank Thee for Thy goodness and mercy unto us.
She opened her eyes as she felt a touch on her arm. Turning, she saw Eric smiling at her. “Amen,” he whispered softly.
She smiled. And for Eric, who knows my mind as if it were his own. “Yes. Amen.”
“Brothers and sisters?”
Maggie turned back toward the fire. Across from them, Elder Willie had stood up and come forward. “I—” He stopped, and his head dropped; he was overcome. For almost a full minute he struggled to get control of his voice again. Finally, sniffing back tears, he lifted his head. “The heart cannot express what we are feeling this night.” He turned to where George D. Grant, Robert Burton, and William H. Kimball stood behind him. “To you brethren, and the brave men who have come with you, we offer our eternal thanks. May you ever be blessed for what you have done this day.”
Brother Grant said something back, but Maggie couldn’t discern what it was over the crackling of the fire.
“Brethren,” Captain Willie said, “we are in your hands. Instruct us in what you will.”
The invitation was not unexpected, for immediately George Grant stepped forward. He looked around the circle, then began to speak in a loud voice. “Brothers and sisters, we have been deeply touched by our experience with you this day. How grateful we are for the Lord’s mercies in bringing us to you!”
He stopped and sighed. “Unfortunately, there is still much that must be done. Until we have you safely in the Valley, we cannot rest. The storm has gone on now, but surely more storms will come before we end our journey. We must act swiftly and resolutely now if we are to avert further disaster.
“As you know, there is another company behind you. They too must be in severe straits. We have heard nothing from our express party which we sent forward to find you. Therefore, the whereabouts of Brother Martin’s group is still unknown. First thing in the morning I will be taking eight of the wagons on eastward to try and find them.”
“Thanks be to God,” Maggie whispered softly to her mother.
“Brother Kimball will keep six of the wagons and start back with you immediately.”
There were some soft sounds of dismay.
He went on doggedly. “We know how difficult it will be for you in your circumstances to continue forward, but you cannot stay here. We nearly emptied six wagons this evening just to meet your elemental needs. If we are to help the Martin group, we must take the rest of the supplies with us. But there are additional wagons waiting for you. They have flour, beef, clothing, bedding, medicine. And more will be coming from Salt Lake. But they are not coming on, my brothers and sisters. We did not know where you were, and so we left those wagons waiting in place near South Pass. You have to go forward to them.”
Maggie shuddered slightly and slipped her arm through Eric’s. The thoughts of getting into the shafts again, especially with the ground frozen and snow-covered, left her suddenly fearful. He squeezed her arm, but didn’t look at her.
“From here it is about twenty-five miles to Rock Creek Camp.” He looked away, turning to the west where the trail waited, hidden now in the darkness. “They are not going to be easy miles. Between here and there lies one of the most difficult stretches of the trail. It is called Rocky Ridge. It shall test your strength and fortitude to the utmost. But you cannot lose faith now. God has not abandoned you, nor shall He. Fortunately, Brother Kimball has six nearly empty wagons to help carry the sick and the weak. You are better clothed now and have at least some food. But I cannot make it seem less difficult than it will be.”
He looked around and then finished. “I wish it were not so, my beloved fellow Saints, but such is our lot. Let us press on and not lose hope.”
The quiet was broken only by the crackling of the fire. Hundreds of pairs of eyes stared into the fires as the emigrants contemplated the morrow, searching their souls to measure what reserves might still be there. Then after almost a full minute of silence, a single male voice was heard. It sounded out clear and strong and without quavering. Every eye swung around to see where it had come from. Across the fire from where Maggie and her family sat, an older man in his midforties had stood up. He was not part of their hundred, and she didn’t know his name. His head was tipped back a little and his voice poured out in perfect sweetness.
Why should we mourn or think our lot is hard?
’Tis not so; all is right.
Why should we think to earn a great reward
If we now shun the fight?
Maggie straightened, the words piercing her heart like darts of living fire. Her head came up and without conscious thought she joined in.
Gird up your loins; fresh courage take.
Our God will never us forsake!
All around, the voices were coming in. Eric’s head was up and he sang with full voice, the first time Maggie had ever heard him do so.
And soon we’ll have this tale to tell—
All is well! All is well!
Now the entire camp joined in. Every head was up; every person, including the young children, was singing without restraint.
We’ll find the place which God for us prepared,
Far away in the West,
Where none shall come to hurt or make afraid;
There the Saints will be blessed.
We’ll make the air with music ring,
Shout praises to our God and King;
Above t
he rest these words we’ll tell—
All is well! All is well!
A sudden thought flashed into Maggie’s mind as she anticipated the next words. How many had died to this point? How many graves lay behind them? How many tents had empty places when they rolled out their beds at night? And how many more would there be? In that instant she knew that many others around the circle were having the same thoughts, for there was a moment’s hesitation before they took a breath and began to sing the last verse. But when they sang, there were no hushed voices, no flinching from the terrible possibility the words suggested. They looked up at the star-spangled sky above them and sang at full voice.
And should we die before our journey’s through,
Happy day! All is well!
We then are free from toil and sorrow, too;
With the just we shall dwell!
All around them, people were coming to their feet. Maggie leaped up and grabbed Eric’s hand, pulling him beside her. Robbie and Sarah and Emma and Maggie’s mother were up too. Jane James, who had already lost one child, and who surely was thinking about her husband who was still shivering with chills and fever in their tent, threw her shoulders back and sang into the night.
But if our lives are spared again
To see the Saints their rest obtain,
Oh, how we’ll make this chorus swell—
All is well! All is well!
Chapter Notes
The rescue company journal has this terse entry for 20 October: “Stayed in the same place today [Rock Creek]. Brother Willie came to us near nightfall” (in Remember, p. 51).