The Work and the Glory (614 page)

“All right, we need your counsel. Brother Calkins, tell them what you found.”

Luman Calkins stood up, hat in his hand. “President, as you suggested, I followed that Indian trail another twelve miles upriver from here. I didn’t find anything that had sufficient timber to start a settlement.” He looked around. “I saw nothing to equal what we have here.” He sat down again.

Brigham nodded. “We are getting similar reports from other scouts. I think we have hit upon the best location right where we are. We’re close to the river bottoms, where there is timber and there is water nearby. How many of you would be in favor of stopping here?”

There were one or two who didn’t raise their hands, but most of them came up immediately. Joshua was one of those who raised a hand without hesitation. They hadn’t seen anything better on the way up, not for a large encampment, which was what Brigham had in mind. To Joshua, it seemed like an easy decision.

“Then I propose,” President Young continued, “that a city be built somewhere near this location, up here on the bluffs, preferably near a spring. My feeling is that all those who are going to winter on the west side of the Missouri River should stay together and form a city. I want this community to be organized as a family. If the brethren wish to hear preaching, then they must stay at the headquarters. If we are organized as a family, as a compact body, we can build in a systematic order. In addition to houses for our people, I want a council house and a school built. We will need to build pens for our cattle. Before we can even begin construction on homes, we must cut enough grass for the cattle for the winter. And I would propose that a municipal council be called to govern the city.”

He stopped for a moment and looked around. Joshua was a little dazed. In typical fashion, Brigham had thought well in advance of most of the rest of them.

When he was satisfied that there were no serious objections to his plan, Brigham continued. “I think we need to do the same thing for those who stay on the eastern side—gather into one settlement for the same reasons and for the same purpose. We already have Father Isaac Morley appointed to direct a high council on that side of the river and to watch out for the needs of the poor among us. I propose that Alpheus Cutler, who first discovered this place, be placed at the head of the high council on this side of the river.” He lifted a paper and read off eleven other names. “Those men will serve as the council here. All in favor.”

This time every hand came up.

“Good. We shall call it Cutler’s Park. I should like us now to divide into smaller groups, with a member of the council taking each group. Let us explore the region hereabouts to determine exactly the best location for our city.”

Peter watched Margret Reed as she stood at the edge of the wagon circle and looked northwestward. The sun had just gone behind the mountains now, and the ridge tops were silhouetted sharply against the brighter sky. He didn’t have to ask what she was looking at. Four days earlier, on the morning of the seventh, her husband and two other men had ridden toward the spot where she now looked. There the mountain wall split into a sharp V. There the Weber River entered the passage that Lansford Hastings had characterized as the wildest and most dangerous that he and his company had ever encountered.

Nor was she the only one looking. Every day, all through the day, heads throughout the camp lifted and searched the valley to the west of them. James Reed had said he would return with Hastings as quickly as possible. No one had supposed that that would be four days or more. Peter didn’t like it either. He couldn’t bring himself to think through what the implications might be if Reed and the two men who had ridden with him had been caught by Indians or were somehow lost in this wild and desolate wilderness. But then he would remind himself that Reed was one of the most competent and confident men he had ever known. He couldn’t bring himself to believe that Reed had let something happen. It was more likely that it had simply taken them longer to catch up with Hastings than they had first believed.

“Rider coming in.”

That shout brought everyone to instant attention. It was Baylis Williams, one of Reed’s hired men, who had shouted. To Peter’s surprise, Baylis was not looking westward but southwest. About a mile south of where they were camped on the Weber River, the valley began to give way to gently sloping hills. Beyond that, they quickly became ridge after ridge of towering mountains, a sight which daunted everyone in the camp. But as he squinted in the direction that Williams was pointing, Peter saw a tiny black speck working its way down one of the ridges. It was a man on a horse.

George Donner ran swiftly to his wagon, rummaged in a chest, and brought out a telescope. By the time he reached the edge of the wagon circle, most of the company had gathered around him, watching anxiously as he brought the glass up to his eye. Margret Reed stood next to him, her body tight with tension.

There was a low grunt; then Donner slowly lowered the glass and looked at Margret. “It’s James,” he said.

She clapped her hands together and gave a little cry of joy. But George Donner did not share it. “He’s all alone,” he said ominously. “Where are Pike and Stanton?”

“And Hastings?” Jacob Donner exclaimed. “Where’s Hastings?”

The other of the two brothers shook his head slowly. “And why is he coming from that direction instead of up Weber Canyon?”

He looked tired, Peter thought. Or maybe it was discouragement. That was a rare thing for James Reed, but Peter was sure that part of the weariness was the deep sense of betrayal he was feeling.

Reed looked around at the circle of faces. “Where are Stanton and Pike?” he said in sudden surprise.

“That’s what we were wondering,” George Donner said.

Reed blew out his breath, another sign of his growing frustration. “They must be lost. We’ll send someone out in the morning. They can’t be that far away.”

“What about Mr. Hastings?” Milt Elliott asked. “Why isn’t he with you?”

Reed’s shoulders sagged a little and he passed one hand before his eyes. “He’s not coming.”

“
What?
” Milt Elliott, Lewis Keseberg, George and Jacob Donner, Margret Reed, Peter Ingalls, and half a dozen others all said it as one.

“Let me start at the beginning and tell you everything. We have some important decisions to make.”

“Hastings is not coming?” Tamsen Donner said in a plaintive voice. “But he said he would pilot us through.”

“Let James tell us,” her husband said, though there was clearly anger in his eyes.

“First, after passing through Weber Canyon, I can tell you that there is no question but what if we attempt that route, many of our wagons shall be destroyed. Just a few miles from where we are now, the route becomes virtually impassable. I cannot believe they took sixty-six wagons through there. Then again a few miles farther on, at the mouth of the canyon, it is extremely difficult. We barely made it through with our horses.”

“So what are we to do?” one of the Donner bullwhackers called out.

“I’ll come to that in a minute,” Reed answered. “We finally caught up with Hastings and his company camped on the south end of the Great Salt Lake near a place we called Black Rock. Hastings didn’t seem too surprised to see us, as he had all confidence that we would find his letter. When I asked him to return with us and show us the other route that he proposed, he agreed to do so.

“As you remember, all along Mr. Hastings proposed a different route over the mountains. He told me again that had he been able to prevail upon his company to follow his advice, they would have taken that route themselves and not lost a wagon and team.” He looked at Margret, who watched every nuance of his expression with growing concern. “Anyway, we started out the next morning. I traded my horse for a fresh mount the company gave me. Stanton’s and Pike’s horses were too tired to go on, and there were no more to be spared by the lead company; so they decided to rest for a day, then retrace the route we took. That’s why I was surprised when they weren’t back yet. But I’m not overly concerned. I think we can easily find them.”

“So if Hastings came back with you, where is he?” Keseberg’s voice was angry and demanding.

“He rode back with me partway, then decided that it was farther than he had remembered. He said that he couldn’t abandon the larger party as they prepare to cross the Salt Desert.”

“So he abandons us instead?” Baylis Williams half snarled.

Reed ignored that. “He rode with me to the top of a mountain and from there pointed out his proposed route.” He looked down at his hands. “Then he left me and returned to his company.”

“And did you find this new route?” George Donner asked quietly. The news had greatly depressed the group now, and they were all very much subdued.

“After descending from that mountain, I came across an Indian trail. Using that as my guide, I blazed a trail where I think a road can be made. I have marked trees all along the way.”

“So, is it a good road?” Jacob Donner asked.

For several seconds, Reed did not answer. Then his head came up. “There is no road. It will take much clearing and digging to make one, but I think it can be done.”

No one spoke as they let that sink in. Finally, someone—and Peter couldn’t tell who it was—said, “Is there any other choice?”

They already knew the answer to that. They could turn back and take the old Oregon road, or they could take their chances in Weber Canyon—neither of which was a choice at all. All around the circle, heads wagged back and forth slowly.

Finally George Donner got to his feet. “As captain, I propose that we agree to work faithfully to make this road, if Mr. Reed will show us the way. If there are any other alternatives, let’s discuss them now. Otherwise, I would like a vote.”

No one spoke.

“All right, then. All in favor of taking this new road over the mountains.”

Every hand around the circle slowly came up.

For the first time since his return, James Reed managed a wan smile. “Thank you. It will not be easy, but I believe this is the best way to go.”

Chapter Notes

The Mississippi Saints reached Fort Pueblo on the Arkansas River (in present-day Colorado) on 7 August 1846, not quite a month after turning south from Fort Laramie. It was just three days later that word came that the main body of the Saints was encamped for the winter on the Missouri River, confirming the wisdom of the Mississippi Saints’ decision not to continue on west that season. (See “Pioneer Journeys,” pp. 807–8.)

For the first two months after reaching the Missouri River, Brigham Young was heavily occupied in seeing to the needs of his people and recruiting for the Mormon Battalion. Once the battalion left, he turned his focus to preparing his people for the winter. On 1 August a firm decision was finally made that no one would be sent to the Rocky Mountains that season. A few days later, an exploration party found a site on the west side of the Missouri River some distance north of the Cold Spring Camp. Named Cutler’s Park for Alpheus Cutler, the location was designated as the site for the Saints’ winter home. Later, a better site was found closer to the river, and that became Winter Quarters. (See
SW,
pp. 69–82.)

When the Donners left what is now known as Echo Canyon (near the junction of Interstates 80 and 84 at the town of Echo in northern Utah) and came to the first crossing of the Weber River (present-day Henefer), they found a note written by Lansford Hastings. The actual letter no longer exists, so its exact contents are not known, but several contemporaries describe the general message. The description of the difficult passage through the narrow spots of Weber Canyon (near present-day Croydon and Devil’s Slide on I-84) comes from the journal of Heinrich Lienhard, who was traveling with the advance company. (See
Chronicles,
pp. 116–19.)

James Reed returned to his company on the evening of 10 August, four days after leaving to go find Lansford Hastings. Most of the details given in this chapter come from Reed’s later account of events, as well as from other contemporaries. (See
UE,
pp. 24–27, 186–88;
Overland in 1846,
p. 262.)

Many writers have tried to make Lansford Hastings the villain in the Donner tragedy. For example, one author wrote of Hastings’s refusal to return with Reed: “By this time, it would seem that Hastings was losing what little judgment he ever had, and possibly his nerve had broken” (George Stewart, as cited in
Chronicles,
p. 118).

While there is little question that Hastings was a naive and overzealous promoter and that his failure to keep his word contributed greatly to the eventual disaster, it is only fair to balance that against the factors that must have weighed on his mind. He was leading a large group (the Harlan-Young Company) that was already giving him difficulty (they refused to follow his counsel about Weber Canyon). That group was about to embark on the Salt Desert crossing (now known as the Salt Flats of western Utah), the most difficult stretch of the entire cutoff. The Harlan-Young Party was also about triple the size of the Donner Party. If he delayed them long enough for the Donners to catch up, it would put them at risk. And there was no way he could offer his services to both companies. He had to choose which group to lead, and he chose the larger group, which was already in the lead and had no one out ahead of them to break trail.

Chapter 22

James Reed looked grim as he rode up to the first of his three wagons. Peter and the other two drivers got to their feet. Margret Reed, on hearing the horse, came to the flap of the wagon to see what was happening. Virginia Reed, their thirteen-year-old daughter, who was standing beside Peter, started to smile and wave, but the sight of her father’s face froze both the smile and the lifting hand.

Reed glanced at his wife, shook his head, then turned to his teamsters. “We’re going up and over.”

“What?” Milt Elliott erupted, his face twisting.

“No!” Peter cried. “We’ll never make it.”