Read The Work and the Glory Online

Authors: Gerald N. Lund

Tags: #Fiction, #History

The Work and the Glory (660 page)

When Brigham Young continued to be too sick to travel, the main company stopped a short distance outside the mouth of Echo Canyon, a little bit above, or east, of the present site of Henefer. By then the advance company was deep into the Wasatch Mountains, following the trail cut by the Donners the year before. On Saturday, 17 July, members of the Twelve and a few other leaders went to a site about two miles from camp and climbed a hill where they could find privacy in order to pray. Near that spot were strange formations of rocks rising out of an otherwise smooth hillside. Now called Witches Rocks, these formations are still easily seen as one travels along I-84, just east of the town of Henefer.

It is interesting to note that once the prayer was completed, as the brethren started down again a bit of the boy in each of them took over. William Clayton reports: “On returning they rolled down many large rocks from the top of the mountain to witness the velocity of their descent, etc. Some would roll over half a mile and frequently break to pieces.”

Chapter 46

Though Brigham Young had greatly improved in health when the company awakened on Monday morning, it was decided that fifteen wagons would come along more slowly with the sick and that the rest would forge ahead. From somewhere up front, the bugle sounded the order to move out. The lead teamster shouted to his horses and there was the creak of wood and the rattle of wheels on stone. The main camp was on its way.

Kathryn, Peter, Rebecca, and Derek were standing beside Nathan. His wagon stood back with the others that wouldn’t be moving this morning. At the sound of the bugle, Nathan nodded. “You’d better mount up. You’re on your way.”

Rebecca gave her brother a kiss on the cheek. “You shouldn’t be too far behind us.”

“A day or two at most,” he agreed.

“We’ll watch for you,” Derek said, sticking out his hand.

Nathan grinned. “Actually, I’m getting the better part of the deal. You and Peter are going to become road-gang workers these next few days.”

The main company forded the Weber River on the morning of July nineteenth, then after a mile or so turned south toward the mountains, following the road the Donner-Reed group had made the year before. The Steeds’ two wagons were near the rear of the column, and as they approached the turn, they saw that Erastus Snow was there giving directions.

“Did you find the way over Reed’s Pass?” Peter asked as they came abreast of him.

“We did,” Brother Snow responded, “though we have renamed it Pratt’s Pass, in honor of Elder Pratt.” He blew out his breath. “I can’t believe you made that road with only thirty or so laboring men in your company.”

Peter nodded grimly. “Neither can I.”

“Well, what you did is a great blessing to us. Even though much of the trail has grown over again, your work is going to save us days of time.”

“Good.”

“Well,” Brother Snow said, reining his horse around, “Elder Richards has given me a letter to carry to Elder Pratt, so I shall leave you now. We’ll see you in camp.” And with that, he galloped forward to catch up with the lead wagon.

Derek and Peter left Rebecca and Kathryn to drive the team and went ahead to clear the road. They were now climbing what the advance company had named Big Mountain. They were in a heavy forest of fir, aspen, balsam, and cottonwood, but it was not as terrible as what they had come through the last two days since leaving the Weber River. Here at least they were out of the thickets of willows and gooseberry and brambles. And here they didn’t have to cross the creek eleven times in one day, as they had done yesterday.

The advance company had improved the road greatly, but it still needed lots of work. With the greater manpower they had, the main company took the work further. They pried big rocks out of the way, pulled up stumps, and leveled out the roughest places. They moved slowly up the long hillside—Big Mountain was an appropriate name—but what they left behind them was a steep but decent road for the wagons to follow.

Shortly after midday, up ahead of them there was a sudden cry. They stopped and looked forward. A man appeared out of the trees waving his arms. “Come and look!” he yelled.

Leaving their picks and shovels, the two dozen men went forward. The steepness of the slope began to level off. Then suddenly they were out of the trees in a large space where there were no trees. They were not on the very top of the mountain—that was another three or four hundred feet above and behind them—but they had come around the shoulder of the hill onto a bald knob. Ahead, the mountain dropped off steeply again. But that was not what caught their eyes. They had ascended hills before, only to see row after row of additional mountains stretching out ahead of them. There were still plenty of mountains to see from this vantage point, but directly ahead of them to the southwest, there was a V-shaped opening in the mountain wall. And there, hazy in the heat of summer, they could see a broad, flat valley and a treeless plain.

“It’s the Valley!” Peter cried, gripping Derek’s elbow. He remembered with perfect clarity when the Donners had reached this same spot the year before. Joy had infused their company as well, but for different reasons. Peter had been stirred with excitement that day too, but now? To his utter surprise, his throat suddenly tightened and there was a burning in his eyes. The Donner Party had been excited because it meant they were almost through with the endless nightmare of the Wasatch Mountains. But for the Saints it meant far more. There, clearly seen directly ahead of them, was their stopping place. After almost two years and fourteen hundred miles of exile, they were now within sight of their final destination. “It’s the Valley, Derek,” he said again, his voice strained.

Derek turned and looked into his eyes deeply, and Peter saw that his eyes were glistening too. Derek swallowed hard, then could only nod.

“It’s home,” Peter whispered. “We’re almost home.”

“Let’s go get Rebecca and Kathryn,” Derek finally managed. “I want them to see this.”

Derek raced back down the road and found their wagon about two-thirds of the way up Big Mountain. Without giving an explanation, he climbed up and took the reins from Rebecca, then urged the horses forward at a faster pace.

As they approached the end of the trees, Derek turned and parted the wagon flap. “Kathryn? You boys? This is something you’ll want to see.”

In a moment, the three of them were behind him, looking over his and Rebecca’s shoulders. As they came out onto the bald knob where the other wagons were stopped, Derek looked for Peter but couldn’t see him in the crowd of people that lined the edge of the drop-off. Seeing that their view was blocked, he swung the wagon around to the left and pulled into a spot where no one else was standing.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” Rebecca blurted when she saw the panorama that lay before them. Then suddenly she stiffened. Her eyes had lifted from the steep canyon below them, lifted higher than the next series of hills, and stopped on the V-shaped cut in the hills where there were no more mountains to be seen. She leaned forward, peering intently, not sure that she was seeing right. Behind him, Derek felt Kathryn clutch at his shoulder.

“Is that . . . ?” Rebecca turned. “Is that what I think it is?” she whispered.

He nodded. “Yes. You are looking at the Valley of the Great Salt Lake.”

He turned to see if Kathryn was looking at the right place. She was, and tears were streaming down her cheeks. Suddenly Peter’s words seemed like the only appropriate thing to say at this moment. “It’s home,” he said softly. “We’re almost home.”

Going down the west side of Big Mountain proved to be far more difficult and dangerous than coming up the east side. The slope was almost at a forty-five degree angle, and they had to lock the wheels and chain up the oxen and horses to the backs of the wagons. Once down, they were back into thick underbrush along the creek beds.

They moved on another four and a half miles from Big Mountain before they came out into a beautiful, gentle valley. Here they found a spring with wonderfully cold water and plenty of grass for their animals. By then their teams had been in the harness for almost ten hours and were clearly tiring. They stopped to rest, but the excitement of knowing their goal was now in reach was too strong to resist. At the spring the road turned sharply to the right, or west, and went almost straight up another ridge. It wasn’t even half the challenge of Big Mountain, but with spent teams it would be challenge enough. They dubbed it Little Mountain, probably more out of sheer optimism than good sense, and made their decision. Exhausted, filthy, blistered, and battered, the majority of the camp voted to press on, at least to the top of Little Mountain.

It took them almost an hour and a half to cover half a mile. They rested their animals every seventy-five to a hundred yards and double teamed where they had to. One by one they reached the top and fell out of line in an exhausted stupor.

Then a cry went up. One of the men had walked over to where Little Mountain dropped into another canyon. Suddenly he started shouting. “There they are!”

The men raced over. For a moment they weren’t sure they were seeing correctly. But the white tops of wagons in the bottom of the canyon amid the trees were unmistakable. Then Elder George A. Smith confirmed it. “It’s the advance company,” he said.

And with that, the decision was made. They would push on one more time.

Actually, the main camp stopped short of where the advance camp was. The two companies were quite large, and with all of their stock, they needed separate grazing room for them. Elder Smith called for the main company to stop about a mile upstream from the advance group, then sent word ahead to let the others know that they were there.

It was just after seven p.m. when they finally called a halt and began to unhitch their teams. They had come fourteen miles, and it had taken them thirteen grueling hours. It was the kind of day that no company could repeat very often without destroying both men and animals, and the weariness lay heavily on the camp. But there was also a euphoric joy that left the camp buzzing with excitement. Tomorrow they would enter the Valley. Of that there was no doubt. They were no more than three or four miles from the canyon’s mouth.

Just after getting their fires started, Colonel Stephen Markham, captain of the guards for the Pioneer Company, rode down the canyon and into their camp. He had stayed behind with the wagons bringing along President Young and the rest of the sick, so his appearance brought a quick response from the camp. Everyone moved to the lead wagons, where the members of the Twelve were camped, to hear what he had to say.

Though they had started supper, Rebecca and Kathryn set the kettles off the fire, got Leah and Nicole, and went along with Derek and Peter to hear the report on their President. When they got there, Elder Willard Richards was conversing quietly with Brother Markham. The Apostle kept looking up as the people arrived, but waited until all in the camp had assembled before he spoke. “Brother Markham, can you give us a report on President Young’s health?”

“He’s doing better but is still having a difficult time,” Markham reported. “The roads are so rough that he can’t stand a full day’s travel. The problem is, we have developed new cases of sickness, and that is slowing us down as well.”

“How far behind us are you?” Elder Benson wanted to know.

“We laid over on East Canyon Creek today in consequence of the sick. So we’re probably about two days behind you now. Maybe a little more. With a limited number of men, we’re making a little slower time than you are.”

“But Brother Brigham is better?” Elder George A. Smith spoke up.

“Yes. He is still weak, but the prayers have helped him a great deal. I think—”

Suddenly there was a shout from behind them. They all turned to see two riders coming up the canyon from the advance camp. Elder Richards squinted for a moment, then grunted in satisfaction. “It’s Elder Pratt and Brother Snow.”

They all turned and watched as the two men rode up and dismounted. Elder Pratt strode forward and warmly embraced his fellow Apostles, then turned to Brother Markham and asked for a report. When it was finished he nodded in satisfaction. Then it was as though his face lit up. He leaned forward, almost breathless now. “We entered the Valley today.”

“You did?” several exclaimed.

“Yes.” It came out in pure exultation.

“It was glorious,” Brother Snow said, clearly as excited as his companion.

“I rode ahead this morning to scout the road,” Elder Pratt went on. “I came up and over Little Mountain and down here into Last Creek Canyon.”


Last
Creek?” Markham cut in. “Oh, I like the sound of that.”

“Yes, that’s what we call it. Our company was moving very slowly, clearing and fixing the road. Then Erastus arrived with your letter, Elder Richards, telling us to find a place for planting crops. So the two of us decided to ride ahead and do some scouting.”

“My horse was exhausted,” Brother Snow broke in, “so we rode double on Elder Pratt’s.”

Elder Pratt, his face flushed from the excitement that was on him, continued. “We rode to the mouth of the canyon and found the way blocked with trees and boulders. We had to go up and over a very steep ridge.”

“Yes,” Peter cried. “That’s the way we went last year and nearly ruined our teams.”

“We saw that,” Elder Pratt noted, sobered suddenly. “We could scarcely believe that teams could negotiate that hill. We think there is a better way, but I’ll come to that in a minute. When we reached the top of the ridge, there, to our amazement, the whole valley lay before us.”

Now he looked away and his mouth began to tremble a little. He half closed his eyes, remembering. “Brethren and sisters,” he finally went on, his voice ringing like the sound of a clarion, “the sight was overwhelming. Can you imagine what we felt? After our being shut up in these mountains for so many days, there lay the whole Salt Lake Valley before us. It was astonishing.” He looked at Erastus Snow, who was nodding. “We could not refrain from giving a shout of joy the moment this grand and lovely scene presented itself to our view.”

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