The Work and the Glory (623 page)

“Brethren, we have two items of business to discuss this morning. The first has to do with a new site for our primary settlement.”

Nathan looked around. There were about twenty men gathered around Brigham’s wagons. There were a few members of the Twelve and the men of the high council for Cutler’s Park—those he had expected. But there were three or four others, including himself. He was the only bishop. He wasn’t sure why. It had surprised him when Brigham saw Joshua and insisted that he come to the meeting as well.

“Yesterday,” President Young went on, “I went out with the Twelve. We have found a place more suitable for our winter settlement. It is a beautiful piece of flatland near the river, with some prairie hills directly behind it. We began a survey and have laid out Main Street. The survey will continue over the next week, and the lots will be divided out and assigned. We have decided to call our new city Winter Quarters.”

There were nods and a few murmurs of approval.

“We shall call on our people to move there immediately and begin building homes. It is now the twelfth day of September, and we cannot delay further without serious consequences.”

He stopped for a moment to let them know that that was all he would say on the subject. The lightness in his tone disappeared now. “There is a second matter. We have received additional dispatches from Nauvoo. Conditions there are not good.”

Nathan and Joshua exchanged surprised glances.

“The enemies of the Church grow more bold. Some of our number were kidnapped and held hostage for several days. The call for another ‘wolf hunt’ is being issued by the likes of Thomas Sharp and the Carthage Greys.” He sighed deeply. “We have seen these conditions before, and they do not bode well for our people.”

Joshua leaned over. “Maybe we won’t have to ask him what to do,” he whispered.

Nathan nodded.

“As you all know,” Brigham continued, “our brethren and sisters who still remain in Nauvoo are the poor and the sick and the helpless. They do not have the strength or the means to come on here by themselves. They must have help.”

He reached down and picked up a piece of paper from the table beside him. “Last night I directed that certain individuals in Nauvoo be sent for and helped to come here or to Garden Grove or Mount Pisgah.”

He began to read the names one by one. Nathan recognized some of them. Thomas Bullock had served as a clerk for the Twelve. Addison Everett had worked with them on the temple. Thomas Stiles was an elderly gentleman who often came in the store and visited with Lydia and Caroline. Truman O. Angell had helped on the design and construction of the Nauvoo Temple and was Brigham’s brother-in-law. When Brigham read the name Mary Smith, Nathan assumed that was Mary Fielding Smith, and that startled him a little. In a letter that had come more than a month ago, Melissa had mentioned that the longtime family friend would be leaving Nauvoo very soon. They had watched for her and waited for word of her, but nothing had come. That she was on Brigham’s list implied she might still be back in the city or somewhere along the way.

Brigham laid the paper down again. “There are others, of course. All will almost certainly need our help. Some of you here have families still there.” He looked directly at Joshua and Nathan. “So we are asking for teamsters who will volunteer to take wagons back for these people.”

Nathan nudged Joshua’s arm, smiling at him. “I think from now on,” he whispered, “I’ll ask you how to recognize the Spirit.”

Joshua only smiled, seeming pleased.

Brigham went on. “So far, we have the following volunteers.” He picked up a second piece of paper and began to read. When he was through, Nathan and Joshua put up their hands as well. Brigham nodded knowingly. “And,” he added, “Nathan and Joshua Steed. Brother Orville M. Allen will serve as foreman of the company, and Pliny Fisher will serve as his counselor. We shall prepare a letter of instructions for you to carry with you. You have three hundred and twenty-five miles to go. We would like you to begin preparations for departure as soon as possible. Any questions?”

He looked around. No one raised a hand. He nodded curtly and the meeting was dismissed.

Chapter Notes

On 11 September 1846, Brigham Young and those of the Twelve who were with him selected a new site for their permanent settlement on the west side of the Missouri River, a settlement which was to be called Winter Quarters. It was a little north and west of Cutler’s Park, which had been selected previously. A week later another slight adjustment was made that placed the settlement a bit closer to the river, the site being in what is now called Florence, Nebraska. (See
SW,
pp. 155–58;
MHBY,
pp. 377–78.) There were also sufficient numbers still on the east side of the river that a settlement in Council Bluffs was also planned.

Though the Saints gathered at the Missouri had no way of knowing that a battle had already erupted in Nauvoo, Brigham Young was greatly concerned about the “poor Saints” still there. On 11 September he designated specific names of people either in Nauvoo or along the way that he wanted brought out, and the next morning in a high council meeting he called ten volunteers to go back and get them.

Chapter 26

The Arkansas River was a true curiosity to Rebecca Ingalls. It was a wide streambed of mostly dry sand with only occasional pools of water. In other places, where there was no water, they could dig down a foot or two and have water bubble up. In many places the men speared fish with their bayonets in the shallow pools, and occasionally found live fish buried in the wet sand. It was a wonder, and Rebecca was pleased to be camped beside it. There had been more than one night in the last month when they had camped without water. Even if they had to dig for it, there was plenty here to be had.

“More grits?” Rebecca asked.

Derek grinned, setting his now empty plate aside and rubbing his stomach. “If I eat one more spoonful, I’ll get me a tummy ache, and then I’ll be riding in Doctor Sanderson’s ‘black wagon’ tomorrow.” He pulled a face. “As good as your cooking is, Becca, nothing is worth that.”

She nodded, pleased to have Derek sitting up again and making jokes. He had frightened her terribly. For the next three mornings after Doctor Sanderson—or Doctor Death, as everyone was now calling him—had decided Derek was sick, he forced him to ride in the official sick wagon, dubbed the “black wagon” by the men, and to take his “treatment.” The prescription was always the same: calomel powder mixed with molasses, followed by a dose of arsenic—all given with that terrible rusty spoon. And each day Derek grew progressively worse. There was no choice. If he didn’t submit to treatment, he could not be put on the sick list. If he wasn’t on the sick list, there was no riding in the wagons. On the fourth morning, he had motioned her close. “Take me as far as you can today,” he whispered. “Then if I die, dig a hole and put me in it.”

Frantic, she had sought out Josh, who had immediately gone for Tom Williams. The big sergeant listened, nodded once, then turned and walked away. Half an hour later, as they were starting breakfast, he was back, rolling a large pork barrel along with him. He also carried a small bottle of liquid in his pocket. “Sister Ingalls,” he said, “one more day of treatment, and your husband will no longer be with us. Yet we can’t risk having the good doctor find out that Brother Ingalls is still sick and not being treated. So I have a suggestion.”

“What?”

“He’s already experiencing discomfort,” Williams went on. “What I am about to propose won’t change that, but it will change the form it takes.”

Rebecca and Josh were listening intently. “We are willing to try anything to escape the doctor’s poison,” Rebecca said.

The sergeant held up a small bottle. “I was able to purchase some quinine this morning from those trappers that came in last night from Bent’s Fort. This will do better for the ague than any calomel and arsenic.” He turned and thumped the barrel. “It will be cramped, but it’s a place to hide.”

It was such a unique idea that Rebecca had clapped her hands and laughed aloud. Josh just stared, then slowly began to nod.

It had worked perfectly. When it was time for the battalion to roll out, they gave Derek his blanket and put him inside the barrel, which was now inside the wagon. He had to sit with his knees jammed up against his face and his head bent down a little, but he fit. Several times during the day, making sure that the wagon flap was closed and that neither Lieutenant Smith nor Doctor Sanderson was nearby, Rebecca would pry off the lid and give Derek quinine and water. Once they reached camp and had the tents pitched, Josh and Sergeant Williams would lift Derek out and carry him to his bed. Josh answered for him at roll call each morning.

The change was immediate and dramatic. By the end of the first day, he was coherent again. By the third morning, he got himself into and out of the barrel. After five days in hiding, the barrel was returned and Derek began to walk alongside the wagon for short distances, riding on the wagon seat beside Sergeant Williams only when he had to. The last three days, he had started marching with the men again. Whenever Sanderson rode by, Derek had made a point of calling out to him so that the doctor could see for himself that Derek was better.

“It’s so good to see you eating again, Derek,” Rebecca commented.

“It feels so good to be up once more.” He grinned. “And out of that barrel.”

“Thank heavens for that barrel,” she said fervently.

“Yes. If it weren’t—”

There was a shout and they both turned their heads. Josh was running toward them with the two Ingalls boys racing along at his side.

Derek and Rebecca both stood. For a moment there was concern, but then they saw that the three were excited but not frightened. As the three of them rushed up, Christopher spurted ahead. “Mama. Papa. There are Mormons in camp.”

“Mormons?” Derek said with a smile. “We’re all Mormons, son.”

“No, new Mormons.”

Derek gave Josh a questioning look. He smiled. “You know that group of government teamsters that rode in this evening?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we just found out there are seven Latter-day Saints traveling with them. There’s to be a meeting at Captain Hunt’s tent in just a few minutes.”

Captain Jefferson Hunt looked around, letting the last of the people settle down on the ground in front of his tent. When the last ones sat down, he stood up. “Brothers and sisters, we have a surprise for you.” He turned and motioned to where seven men stood together in a small circle. “Brother Brown, why don’t you come forward. You can explain your situation better than I can.” As one of the seven stepped forward, Hunt turned back to the assembled Saints. “Let me introduce Brother John Brown, originally from Illinois but lately from Mississippi.”

Brown was a lean man with a sharp face and an angular nose. His beard was thick and bushy. His face was tanned deeply by the sun. His eyes were dark, and sparkled with energy. “Brothers and sisters,” he began in a deep, pleasant voice, “my name is John Brown. Like you, I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”

The people looked at each other in surprise. A Mormon out here in the middle of nowhere?

“My brethren and I are on our way back to Mississippi to get our families. This spring, under the direction of Brother Brigham Young, I was asked to put together a company of our people and head west. President Young suggested that we not detour up to Nauvoo but rather go straight to Independence and then westward along the Oregon Trail until we caught up with the main body of the Saints. This we did. Then in early July, at a place called Ash Hollow, we met some trappers going east, back to the States. They had come from Oregon. You can imagine our dismay when we asked them how far behind our people we were and they told us that there was no group of Mormons out ahead of us.”

He paused, his mouth pulling down with the memory of that day. “We didn’t know what to do. We talked about wintering at Fort Laramie, but then a trapper by the name of Reshaw told us about a settlement on the Arkansas River called Fort Pueblo. He said it was of a reasonable climate and that we could buy corn there.

“After much discussion, we decided to wait out the winter there. Next spring, when President Young and our people start west, we’ll go back up to Fort Laramie and meet them, then continue on west with them to our final destination.”

One of the men raised his hand. “Where is this Pueblo from here?”

“On past Bent’s Fort. We left there on the first of September. Today is what? the twelfth?”

Several nodded.

“So Pueblo is twelve days from here, probably a little more if you’re traveling with wagons. By the way, is there anyone here by the name of Steed or Ingalls?”

Derek and Josh both started, then raised their hands. “I’m Derek Ingalls. This is my nephew Joshua Steed.”

Brown seemed a little surprised, then smiled. “Know a couple by the name of Peter and Kathryn Ingalls?”

Derek leaped to his feet. “Yes. Peter’s my brother.”

Brother Brown seemed pleased. “Well, you’ll be interested to know that we met them near Fort Laramie.” He quickly told them how Peter had sought them out and asked if they would take Kathryn with them, then rode on west with the emigrant company. When Brown finished, he smiled. “Did you know that Kathryn is in a family way?”

Rebecca cried out. “Really?”

“In about four more months, I think. She was a delight to us. She has already started a small school for our children.”

Captain Hunt spoke up. “Originally our plan was to go to Bent’s Fort, but now that General Kearny has captured Santa Fe, our orders are to march directly there. Otherwise, you might have been able to work out a way to see her.”

Rebecca stood now, smiling happily. “Brother Brown, I’m sure there are going to be a lot of invitations for supper tonight, but we would be most pleased if you would come and sup with us. I’ve still got a pot of stew on the fire and a pan of grits just waiting for someone with a big enough hunger.”

John Brown inclined his head, smiling back at her. “My brethren can accept those other invitations. I would be pleased to join with you. I suspect we have a lot to talk about.”