•••
It was just a few minutes later when once again the rattle of wagon wheels on frozen ground sounded across the camp. Maggie whirled. The incoming group was still too far away to see, but she watched steadfastly where the trail dropped down a slight rise into the bottomland of Rock Creek. Her mother had come to her feet to stand beside her, gripping her hand.
And then, as they slowly materialized out of the darkness, she saw the lead mules, followed by the second team and then the wagon. It was pulling behind it two handcarts filled with people. As it came within the full circle of light, Maggie gave a low exclamation. Eric was sitting beside the driver, holding someone in his arms.
Gripping her mother’s hand, she started forward. Others were up now and moving towards the wagon as well. There were many who were still on watch for family and friends. The wagon pulled to a stop alongside the ones that had come in earlier. It was quickly surrounded with people. Maggie reached them and pushed her way through, trying to get to the front.
“Eric!” She was calling his name before she even came around to where he was. Then she stopped.
He was still on the wagon seat. Olaf was in his arms, his eyes closed and his face peaceful. Eric was touching his face, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“Oh, Eric. No!”
He looked up, his face stricken with such pain that it made her catch her breath. “He’s gone, Maggie.”
“Oh, Eric.” She clambered up and sat beside him. As she touched his arm, Eric’s shoulders began to shake.
He dropped his head. His voice was barely a whisper. “I should never have let him trade his sweater for that meat. He wouldn’t have gotten so cold.”
“Eric, you can’t blame yourself.”
He was shaking his head back and forth, staring down at Olaf’s face. “How am I going to tell Mama?” he whispered. “I promised I would take care of him.”
•••
Reddick N. Allred, who had been left at South Pass by Brother George D. Grant a few days before, arrived at Rock Creek that morning with six additional wagons filled with provisions. The last of the handcarts of the Willie Company beat them into camp by only a few hours. Captain Willie and William H. Kimball had started the emigrants up Rocky Ridge about nine o’clock the previous morning. The last stragglers had reached Rock Creek sometime around five o’clock this morning, a full twenty hours after they had started.
The arrival was met with general rejoicing, but it was subdued, tempered by the pall of sorrow that lay heavily on the camp. Captain Willie and William Kimball consulted briefly, then determined that in spite of the urgency to move on, with so many dead and dying in the camp they would lay over here for another day. The wind was still blowing hard out of the north and was bitterly cold. With great effort the tents were pulled down and moved downstream into the thickets of willows, which would provide more shelter.
About ten o’clock Brother John Chislett, along with two of the young men from the Valley, began a slow circuit around the camp with an empty handcart. One by one they took the stiff, frozen bodies, many of them nearly covered with the snowdrifts, and carried them to the cart. There were men, women, and children. There were the young and there were the elderly. All were dressed in the clothes they had worn when they started out the morning before.
In a little meadow just east of the creek, another set of men set to work to dig the grave. All who were able came out to help. Eric was among them. They scraped away the snow, then used picks to break through a four-inch layer of rock-hard frozen soil. Once they were through that, the work went more quickly. In less than an hour they had a large hole about seven feet across in both directions, and three or four feet deep. Eric climbed out of the hole, not looking at the rows of bodies now laid out side by side next to the grave. As they finished, a group of women brought another cart heaped to overflowing with willows they had cut from the thickets.
The trumpet sounded through the camp, a low, mournful sound that was snatched away by the wind. Maggie was already there at graveside, holding a blanket tightly around herself, watching sadly as Eric and the other men finished their task. Twice her cough took hold of her and she had to double over before it passed. Both times Eric barely glanced at her, and that frightened her badly. He moved as though he were made of wood or as if in a trance.
One by one, people began to appear. They pulled their coats closer around them, covered their faces and ears with their scarves and hats and bonnets, then came slowly to the grave site. Maggie’s mother came out but did not have Robbie with her. Sister James appeared, her head covered with a black scarf. Sarah and Emma followed a moment later with the two younger girls. Reuben, still badly frostbitten, stayed in the tent. His two younger brothers stayed with him.
In the end, not even half the camp turned out for the service. Part of that was understandable. Many were still critically ill. Some, like Reuben or Jens Nielson, were not able to walk and would stay in their beds all day. But some who could have been there, even some who had family members being buried, did not appear.
To Maggie’s surprise, Eric suddenly walked away from the group, and for a moment she wondered if he had decided he could not bear to watch further. But in a moment she understood. Elsie Nielson was coming slowly toward the circle of mourners. Her head was up and she seemed to be looking straight ahead. Eric held her arm and spoke softly to her as they came.
Maggie felt her chest constrict, and this time it was not with the cold. Elsie Nielson, this tiny woman with such an enormous spirit, had pulled her husband into camp and saved his life. Unfortunately, that was all she had saved. Jens, Jr., was one of those whose bodies awaited burial. He would have been six in another week. Bodil Mortensen lay beside him. She had been barely alive when they loaded her into one of the wagons and brought her into camp. By daylight, she too had slipped away. Bodil had become like the daughter Elsie never had and was so close to her that many just assumed Elsie was her mother. And to make it doubly hard, when they reached Utah—if they reached Utah!—Bodil’s sister would be there to greet them. What would Elsie say to her then?
Maggie felt the tears come as she watched how tenderly Eric brought this tiny woman, now bowed down even lower with grief, to stand beside him at the edge of the grave.
The services were brief. Elder Willie said a few words. William Kimball also spoke. Brothers Chislett and Atwood offered simple prayers. It was too cold to keep people outside for long, and they desperately needed to rest and recruit their strength. Tomorrow they would have to be on their way again. The worst of the crisis was over, but they were still a long way from the Valley.
Not a sound broke the silence, except for the sighing of the wind above their heads, as the services concluded. Somberly the men walked over to the row of bodies. One by one they picked them up and carried them to the grave and placed them inside it, feet to the center, heads to the outside. When it came time for Olaf, Eric stepped forward. With two others he picked up his brother’s body and laid it down with great care. He returned twice more, laying Bodil on one side of Olaf, and young Jens on the other.
Once the bodies were in place, the men laid the willows back and forth in a latticework over the corpses. Then they filled in the hole again, leaving a mound of red-brown dirt in the midst of the snow. As a final gesture of honor and respect, several of the men from the Valley climbed up on the low bluff overlooking the creek and rolled down large rocks. The wolves would come, as sure as the winter winds. This perhaps would thwart their depredations.
As the group broke up and slowly made their way back to their tents, Maggie stood alone—cold, forlorn, stricken with a great sense of loss. She watched as Eric put one arm around Elsie Nielson and started away. For a moment, Maggie was afraid he had completely forgotten her and was going to pass without speaking. But as he came up, he turned his head and motioned for her to come. With a rush of gratitude, she swiftly joined them. He held up his other arm and she ducked beneath it. Together, the three o
f them walked slowly back towards the camp.
As they approached Elsie’s tent, she leaned forward enough to look at Maggie, then looked up at Eric and said something in Danish. He nodded slowly.
“What did she say?” Maggie asked.
“She said that while we are sad that Olaf is gone, Olaf is happy now. Except for one thing.”
“What is that?”
Eric bit his lip and looked away. He started to speak, and couldn’t. Swallowing hard, he fought back his emotions. Then, in a strained voice, he said, “He will be sad that he did not get to say good-bye to Hannah and Ingrid.”
Chapter Notes
Concerning her family’s sufferings and her mother’s response, Sarah James recalled:
Toward morning some of the captains who had gone out to gather up the stragglers came into camp bearing the dead body of my father and the badly frozen body of my brother Reuben. His injuries were so bad that he would suffer from them for the rest of his life. . . .
I can see my mother’s face as she sat looking at the partly conscious Reuben. Her eyes looked so dead that I was afraid. She didn’t sit long, however, for my mother was never one to cry. When it was time to move out, mother had her family ready to go. She put her invalid son in the cart with her baby, and we joined the train. Our mother was a strong woman, and she would see us through anything. (In Carol Cornwall Madsen, Journey to Zion, p. 630)
Describing events that are related in this chapter, John Chislett wrote:
We finally came to a stream of water [Strawberry Creek] which was frozen over. . . . We resolved that some one should go on foot to the camp to inform the captain of our situation. I was selected to perform the duty, and I set out with all speed. In crossing the creek I slipped through the ice and got my feet wet, my boots being nearly worn out. I had not gone far when I saw some one sitting by the roadside. I stopped to see who it was, and discovered the old man James and his little boy. The poor old man was quite worn out.
I got him to his feet and had him lean on me, and he walked a little distance, not very far. I partly dragged, partly carried him a short distance farther, but he was quite helpless, and my strength failed me. Being obliged to leave him to go forward on my own errand, I put down a quilt I had wrapped around me, rolled him in it, and told the little boy to walk up and down by his father, and on no account to sit down, or he would be frozen to death. I told him to watch for teams that would come back, and to hail them when they came. This done I again set out for the camp, running nearly all the way and frequently falling down, for there were many obstructions and holes in the road. My boots were frozen stiff, so that I had not the free use of my feet, and it was only by rapid motion that I kept them from being badly frozen. As it was, both were nipped.
. . . I reported to Captains Willie and Kimball the situation of the folks behind. They immediately got up some horses, and the boys from the Valley started back about midnight to help the ox teams in. The night was very severe and many of the emigrants were frozen. It was 5 a.m. before the last team reached the camp. (In Remember, pp. 11–12)
The next morning, the cost of Rocky Ridge became evident. Thirteen people had died during the night. Two more would die while helping to bury their comrades. The 24 October entry in the Willie Company journal reads: “Reddin [Reddick] N. Allred & others with 6 wagons came to camp this morning to assist the Handcart Company on our journey to the Valley. It was concluded to stay in camp today & bury the dead as there were 13 persons to inter. William James, from Pershore, Worcestershire, England, aged 46 died; Elizabeth Bailey, from Leigh, Worcestershire, England, aged 52 died; James Kirkwood from Glasgow, Scotland, aged 11 died; Samuel Gadd, from Orwell, Cambridgeshire, England, aged 10 died; Lars Wendin, from Copenhagen, Denmark, aged 60 died; Anne Olsen, from Seeland, Denmark, aged 46 died; Ella Nilson, from Jutland, Denmark, aged 22 years, died; Jens Nilson [Nielson], from Lolland, Denmark, aged 6 years died; Bodil Mortinsen from Lolland, Denmark, aged 9 years died; Nils Anderson from Seeland, Denmark, aged 41 years died; Ole Madsen from Seeland, Denmark, aged 41 years died. Many of the Saints have their feet & hands frozen from the severity of the weather” (in Remember, p. 12).
John Chislett added this: “There were so many dead and dying that it was decided to lie by for the day. In the forenoon I was appointed to go round the camp and collect the dead. I took with me two young men to assist me in the sad task, and we collected together, of all ages and both sexes, thirteen corpses, all stiffly frozen. We had a large square hole dug in which we buried these thirteen people, 3 or 4 abreast and 3 deep. When they did not fit in, we put one or two crosswise at the head or feet of the others. We covered them with willows and then with the earth. When we buried these thirteen people some of their relatives refused to attend the services. They manifested an utter indifference about it. The numbness and cold in their physical natures seem to have reached the soul, and to have crushed out natural feeling and affection. Had I not myself witnessed it, I could not have believed that suffering would have produced such terrible results. But so it was. Two others died during the day, and we buried them in one grave, making fifteen in all buried on that camp ground” (in Remember, p. 13).
In his journal Reddick Allred wrote: “The 24th [of October], I took 6 teams and met them [the Willie Company] 15 miles below in such a hard west wind that they could not travel facing the drifting snow even if they had been ready for duty. I found some dead and dying laying over the camp in the drifting snow that was being piled in heaps by the gale and burying their dead. We set in with the rest to make them as comfortable as possible and remained in camp till next day” (“Journal of Reddick Newton Allred,” p. 1).
There is another aspect of the story involving Reddick Allred which played an important part in the rescue of the Martin Handcart Company as well as the Willie Company. When Brother William H. Kimball started west with the Willie Company, he asked Brother Allred to remain behind at South Pass once again and wait for Captain Grant and the last of the emigrants. Though no word came, Brother Allred stayed in place for the next two weeks. In his journal he records the following:
John Van Cot and Brother Claudeaus V. Spencer arrived this morning [13 November] but their stay was short as another man was coming down with the smallpox. Brother Spencer tried to induce me to break up camp and return to the city. I declined his proposition and he said he would return. I advised him to stay for the lives of the company depended up[on] us. He then said that he moved that as I was president of the station they center their faith in me, that I should get the word of the Lord to know what we must do, to this I objected as he already said what he would do. They returned the next day. I sent a letter by them to the companies on the road [from Salt Lake City] for them to come on as fast as the condition of their teams would allow, but he failing to present the letter all the companies turned back with them until they got to Bridger where Lewis Robinson prevailed on them to stop until he could send a messenger to President Young, the result of which was to turn them all back again with instructions to go until they met Captain George Grant. Spencers team after reaching the big mountain was turned back and arrived at my camp the same evening that Captain Grant arrived with the last company. . . . President Young told William Kimball that he did not care if he turned some so quick that it would snap their neck. But I saved my neck by sticking to my post. . . .
Captain Grant got into my camp on the 17th of November just 30 days since he left me and saluted me with “hurrah for the bulldog good for hanging on.” (“Journal of Reddick Newton Allred,” p. 2)
Chapter 28
Red Buttes and Devil’s Gate
I
Saturday, 25 October 1856
On the same day that the James G. Willie Company prepared to roll out from Rock Creek, headed west for the Valley, 140 miles to the east the Edward Martin Handcart Company had ground to a halt. In some ways it was like a team of horses with a magnificent spirit who kept pulling the load even when it became unbearably heavy. But t
here comes the day when the exertion is too much. Their spirit is broken; their strength is totally spent. Lightening the load no longer fixes things.
As Hannah McKensie stood outside her tent on this bitter cold afternoon, that was the image that came to her mind. She knew this was what had happened to their company. In seven days they had come only ten miles from the last crossing to here at Red Buttes. The heart had gone out of them. The spirit of the company was broken, and they could barely drag themselves forward, no matter how strong their will to do otherwise.
The Martin Company, now traveling with the Hodgett independent wagon company, decided to take a slightly different route after leaving the last crossing. Instead of leaving the river and taking Emigrant Gap road, which cut overland toward the Sweetwater River, they took a southern alternate. Here the trail followed the North Platte for another twelve miles before angling off to the west to rejoin the main trail. This southern option kept them closer to water, and kept them out of the fiercest of the winds. But while the wind did not blow as severely down in the lowlands, it meant the snow was deeper and bare spots on the trail were rare.
Grim reality makes for desperate choices. The emigrants were rapidly approaching a state of collapse. Every day they lingered without meeting the wagons from Salt Lake diminished their dwindling supplies even further. But if they were too exhausted to walk, let alone pull their carts, how could they go forward?
Captain Martin called the subcaptains together. After a brief but intense discussion, the decision was made. The company was simply too weak to go on. The cattle had reached and passed their limit. They would stop here and rest and recruit their strength while they waited for the weather to change. That announcement was met with enormous relief by the emigrants. It also brought a pall over the camp, for the emigrants knew that the longer they stayed in place here, the deeper the crisis would become. As a company they could only add one dimension to this bleak equation. In addition to their evening and morning prayers, Captain Martin suggested that each family spend at least some time each day while they were resting in their tents petitioning the Lord to send help from the Valley as quickly as possible.