The Work and the Glory (632 page)

“We are now a day ahead of Colonel Price’s calvary company.”

Now the cheer roared out. Colonel Sterling Price’s group were all Missouri volunteers, and there had been some gentle competition between them and the Mormons. Not only did they have horses, but they had left Fort Leavenworth two days ahead of the Mormon Battalion.

“You’ve done yourself proud,” the lieutenant went on. “And now we’re going to march into the town like the soldiers that you are.” He raised up in his stirrups, then whipped out his sword and held it up high. “Battalion! Fix bayonets.”

There was the rattle of metal as men fumbled inside their slickers for their bayonets and attached them to their muskets. The officers all drew their swords and held them vertically in front of them. Josh looked at Sergeant Williams and grinned. “We’re pretty shabby-looking soldiers, I’d say.” And that was true. They had no uniforms except for their white belts and bandoliers. Many of them, including Josh, had worn holes through the shoulders of their shirts where they carried their muskets. Their boots were scuffed and many had worn through the soles. Their hair was long and shaggy, their beards untrimmed.

Williams smiled back at him. “True enough, but we’re here. Eight hundred sixty miles from Fort Leavenworth, and we did it in less than two months. And we’ve come a thousand from when we left our families. We may look shabby, but I’m proud to be a part of this.”

“Me too,” Josh said earnestly. In spite of all the hardships—the storms, the collapsed shelters, the long, hard marches, the days without water, the “tender mercies” of Doctor Sanderson—at this moment it was thrilling to think that he was part of the Mormon Battalion.

Lieutenant Smith waited for the men to finish attaching their bayonets, then spoke again. “All right. We’ll go in columns of four. Keep your eyes to the front. Colonel Doniphan is in command here and is waiting for us. I want to go in like soldiers.”

“Alexander Doniphan from Missouri?” someone called out.

“Yes, I believe that’s where he’s from.”

A murmur of excitement broke out up and down the ranks. Josh turned to his companion. “Who is that?”

“Well,” Williams replied, obviously pleased, “if it is the same Doniphan, he is a great friend of the Mormons. He was the one who saved the Prophet Joseph Smith’s life during the Mormon War of eighteen thirty-eight when he refused to carry out an order to have Joseph and Hyrum executed. He will be a blessing to us.”

“Bat-tal-
yun!
Ten-
shun!
” The men straightened quickly, moving into four columns, checking to make sure they were dressed into neat lines. Smith swung his horse around to face toward the town and went up in the stirrups again. “For-
wurd
”—he stabbed the air with his sword—“
march!
”

To Josh’s surprise, in spite of the heavy rain, what looked like the whole town turned out to see them. Men, women, children, donkeys, and dogs all lined the street as they entered the town. Umbrellas, ponchos, thin boards, and even some large bowls were used to ward off the rain. Most were Spanish-looking, with jet-black hair, large dark eyes, and olive skin. The children were the most friendly, waving and shouting out “
Buenos días, señores. Bienvenidos!
” The adults were more reserved, and Josh could discern two distinctly different reactions in their faces. Some seemed glad to see them. Others were sullen and resentful. Then he reminded himself that they were at war with Mexico and that these people were the conquered and the Mormon Battalion was part of the group that had conquered them. Santa Fe had fallen to General Kearny without a serious struggle; nevertheless, an occupying army was in their town.

And then Josh’s eye was drawn upward. There on the roofs of the adobe houses on both sides of the streets were uniformed men with rifles held at attention. It was the men from Colonel Doniphan’s regiment come to welcome the Mormons, and there must have been at least a hundred of them.

From somewhere up ahead, and he couldn’t distinguish exactly where, he heard a man’s voice shout out. “
Red-dee!
”

The men on the roofs all stiffened to attention.

“Shoul-
derarms!
” The command floated across the stillness broken only by the sloshing of the men’s marching feet.

With impressive precision the men above them snapped the rifles up to their shoulders, barrels pointed at the sky.

“Red-
dee
. Take your
aim
.
Fire!
”

A hundred rifles exploded as one. The muzzles belched fire and smoke, and several of the children screamed joyfully and clapped their hands over their ears. Almost instantly Josh smelled the acrid odor of black powder burning.

“Fire at will!”

Gleefully, almost like children themselves, the men on the rooftops began blasting away at the sky in an unrestrained welcome to the arriving troops.

Josh turned and looked at Sergeant Williams, his face split with a huge grin. “I think we’re here,” he called over the noise.

Williams was more sobered by their welcome. “Welcome to the war with Mexico,” he answered. “Let’s hope this is as bad as it gets.”

Chapter Notes

On 9 October 1846 one of the most remarkable miracles in the history of the Church occurred at Montrose, Iowa, across the river from the now all-but-deserted city of Nauvoo (see
SW,
pp. 213–14). The details found in this chapter are not exaggerated in any way and come from the eyewitness accounts of those who were there. A few months later, after hearing what had happened, the Council of the Twelve wrote the following in a letter to the missionaries in England: “Tell ye this to the nations of the Earth! Tell it to the Kings and nobles and the great ones—tell ye this to those who believe [in] that God who fed the Children of Israel in the wilderness in the days of Moses, that they may know there is a God in the last days, and that his people are as dear to him now as they were in those days, and that he will feed them when the house of the oppressor is unbearable, and he is acknowledged God of the whole Earth and every knee bows and every tongue confesses, that Jesus is the Christ.” (As cited in
SW,
p. 214.)

Chapter 30

The second division of the Mormon Battalion marched into Santa Fe late in the afternoon of the twelfth of October, three days behind the advance company. This time there was no formal welcome from Colonel Doniphan’s regiment, but many of the battalion members met them about a mile east of town and escorted them in.

Josh was very pleased to see that though Derek looked a little peaked, he was sitting up beside Rebecca on the wagon seat and was driving the team. Josh ran over to join them as soon as he saw their wagon. “Welcome to Santa Fe,” he called up happily. “Is everything all right?”

“We’re very tired, but we’re fine.”

“How’s Derek doing?” he asked Rebecca.

“Holding on,” she answered.

“Thanks to not having Doctor Death treating me, I’m doing all right,” Derek corrected her. “I’m still a little weak, but I’m—”

“That’s too bad. I was going to take you two out on the town tonight.”

“Out on the town?” Rebecca repeated, smiling at his enthusiasm.

“Oh, yes. Santa Fe is wonderful. I want you to try some of the Mexican food.” He got a wicked look. “Like their pepper pie.”

Derek hooted. “Why do I sense a trap in that remark?”

Josh grinned. “It was a real experience. I wouldn’t want you to miss it.” Then he brightened. “That reminds me. We have a new battalion commander.”

They both looked surprised. “What happened to Lieutenant Smith?” Derek asked.

“The army doesn’t feel like he’s a senior enough officer.” He flashed a broken smile. “I knew you’d be heartbroken at that news.”

“So who will take command?” Rebecca asked.

“His name is Philip St. George Cooke. He’s a lieutenant colonel.” Josh was speaking in a rush now. “He’s the one who captured Santa Fe without any incident. Because of that, General Kearny has great confidence in him. Kearny put Cooke in charge.” He chortled with glee. “I wish I could have seen Lieutenant Smith’s face. They say he was absolutely dumbfounded.”

“I would give a month’s wages for that sight,” Derek agreed.

“Another express came in this afternoon from General Kearny confirming the change. The men who have served with him say that Colonel Cooke is a strict disciplinarian but fair and well respected by his men.”

“That would be a nice change,” Rebecca said with a droll smile.

A head suddenly popped out from the wagon cover between Derek and Rebecca. It was Benjamin. “Josh!” he cried.

Instantly another head appeared. “Josh!” Christopher pushed past his brother until he was half onto the wagon seat.

“Hello, boys,” Josh said, reaching up to grasp Christopher’s hand. “I’ve missed you.”

“Can we walk with you, Josh?” Christopher asked. He looked at his mother. “Can we, Mama? Please.”

“We’re less than a mile from town,” Josh said.

Rebecca nodded and the two heads disappeared. There was a happy squeal from inside the wagon. Josh went around to the back in time to catch four-year-old Benji and set him down on the ground, then give a hand to Christopher. They strode forward again until they were walking alongside their parents.

“You’ll love it here, Rebecca. The people bring in all kinds of things to trade. You can buy just about anything—apples, peaches, pears, pine nuts, grapes, carrots, potatoes, bread, corn, melons, onions. Oh, you should see the onions. They’re as big as saucers. They eat them raw, like turnips, and they’re really quite sweet to the taste.”

He turned to the boys. “And you’ve got to try the pine nuts. They’re about this big”—he showed them with his fingers—“and in a hard shell, which you crack with your teeth. They’re delicious.”

“You sound like a representative for the town fathers,” Rebecca said, laughing.

Now the smile died as Josh looked up at his aunt and uncle. “There’s some news that’s not so good.”

“What’s that?” Derek asked.

“In the express that came from General Kearny today, Colonel Cooke got his orders. He’s to get sixty days’ rations for us, and then we’re to follow the general’s trail to the Pacific. Then we’ll probably go by boat up to Monterey.”

“What’s so bad about that?” Derek replied. “I didn’t expect to stay here very long.”

Josh looked away. “Colonel Cooke met with all of the officers today. He says that the march ahead is going to be a very difficult one.”

Rebecca’s face fell. “No, Josh. Don’t tell me.”

“Yes. While he was complimentary of what we have done thus far, he has a lot of concerns. Our clothing is tattered and worn. Our mules are utterly broken down.” He glanced quickly at Rebecca and away. “He says it was a mistake to let families enroll with the battalion. We’re at war out here. It’s no place for women and children.”

“But Colonel Allen promised,” Rebecca cried. “He promised.”

“It’s the sick too,” Josh went on. “Colonel Cooke says we have too many that are old, too many that are too weak to make the kind of march that lies ahead of us. He’s proposing that another detachment be sent back to Pueblo.”

Rebecca was staring forward, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I won’t go, Derek. I won’t leave you.”

“The lieutenant colonel says the sick detachment will spend the winter at Pueblo with the first detachment and then will be taken, at government expense, west in the spring.”

“I won’t,” Rebecca said again. “I’m sorry, but I won’t.”

Josh looked only at Derek. “Our officers have agreed that this is the best thing to do.”

“Did they even ask the men?” Derek cried.

“No. We were not consulted.”

“Figures,” he muttered.

Now Josh couldn’t meet the look of either of them. “The decision is final. They’ve already started making up the roster.”

Rebecca was outraged. “I’ll go talk to this Colonel Cooke. I’ll—”

There was a deep sigh. “All of your family is on the list to go to Pueblo, Aunt Rebecca,” he said quietly. “Including you, Derek.”

Once Peter and James Reed left their camp, they had made good time, pressing forward sometimes until after dark. Had Glaucus been her old self, Peter would have been hard-pressed to keep up, but the horse was almost as exhausted as the men and made no better time than a walking man. They took turns riding her, trying to conserve their strength.

The two of them caught up with the Donner group on the second day. Reed sadly told his longtime friends about the tragedy. He told them he had accepted the banishment to avoid further trouble and also to go ahead for food. There had been no word from Stanton and McCutchen as yet, so no one thought to question that. A shortage of food was on everyone’s mind. After a brief discussion it was determined that Walt Herron would go with them. The Donners also offered them food for a week, but Reed refused. Those staying behind needed it more desperately than those going ahead. The three of them finally agreed to accept enough for three days, planning to stretch that out over six or eight days by supplementing it through hunting. They also decided that they would not take any more horses. There again, those still coming on with wagons had a more desperate need than the three going on ahead.

After eating breakfast with the Donners, the three men moved on.

On the fifth day—the third day after leaving the Donners—Reed, Herron, and Peter came to what were known as “The Sinks,” where Mary’s River simply disappeared in the desert vastness. They decided to go day and night across the “Fortymile Desert” and made it in about twenty-eight hours, stopping only once to sleep for a couple of hours. When they reached the Truckee River, they left letters for Reed’s family to let them know he was all right, shot a couple of geese, and pressed on. The geese were a welcome treat but a bad omen. They were Canada geese and were part of the large numbers that were headed south.

At Truckee Meadows, they let Glaucus graze for half a day while they rested at the base of the Sierra Nevada. When they started again, they followed the track of the companies that had gone before them, but clearly no one had been on it for a week or more. By then their food was gone and there were no more geese to be found. There was plenty of water to drink, but nothing to eat. They debated about stopping long enough to hunt for game, but James Reed was driven with a great urgency to return to his family. If they stopped to hunt, there was no guarantee they would be successful. If they weren’t, it would delay them further and make their food situation all the more critical.