The Work and the Glory (626 page)

“Oh, that’s right. I haven’t told you. That’s what I plan to call our new settlement up there. New Hope. Don’t you like that?”

Will smiled, nodding. Sam Brannan should have been a promoter, and Will didn’t necessarily mean that in a negative way. Brannan was always thinking, always dreaming, always looking to the future and seeing what might be done. “I think that is an appropriate name, considering who and where we are.”

“And you won’t join us?” Brannan said in disappointment.

Will shook his head. “I’m not a farmer, Brother Brannan. I’m a sailor, and if not that, probably a merchant.”

“Well,” the leader of their colony boomed right back, “there’s a place for that as well.”

“I think so too.”

There was a narrowing of his brows. “Remember the covenant, though. You’ll still be part of that, even if you don’t go to New Hope with us.”

“I remember,” Will said. After they had left Honolulu, Brannan had gathered all of the adults in their group and proposed that they form a communal compact. All would work for the common good for the first three years. And Sam Brannan, of course, would serve as president of the group. Some had been irritated by that, fearing that it put Brannan in the position of governor and possible dictator, but eventually they had signed the compact, seeing the wisdom in pooling their labors for a time.

“So tell me what you’re thinking, Will. Have you got any plans?”

Will hedged a little. “Well, first thing is to get the baby here safely. Then Alice and I need to sit down and really talk about what we want to do.”

“Isn’t much employment in Yerba Buena yet,” Brannan said, pushing a little. “Taking in laundry from the sailors, doing odd jobs for the naval officers from time to time, unloading an occasional ship. By spring maybe, but not now.”

Will didn’t rise to the bait. “I know. That’s one of our concerns too. That’s why we need to talk.”

“So,” Alice asked, “are you thinking of going upriver once the baby’s here?”

Will sighed. They were speaking in low voices. They were still living in the customshouse, which had been converted into living quarters by hanging blankets and putting up thin partitions made from packing crates. “I think so. I wish I could have taken you with me, Alice. It’s beautiful country.”

“I wish I could have gone.” She smiled and reached out and took his hand. “But I’m glad I didn’t. I thought the baby was coming three nights ago.”

“Really?” His eyes lit up at the thought that it might finally be the time.

“Really,” she laughed. “But I just told this boy he had to wait for his papa.”

“There’s no question in your mind, is there? It’s going to be a boy.”

She laughed softly again. “Of course.”

“I won’t be disappointed if it’s a girl,” he said.

“Nor will I, but it’s not.”

Will nodded, his thoughts already back to the other question. “Captain John Sutter is looking for men to help him build a gristmill near the fort. Once that’s done he wants to build a sawmill about forty miles upriver. Several of our people have agreed to hire on with him.”

She seemed a little surprised. “And is that what you’d like to do?”

He shook his head slowly. “Not permanently.” He was lost in thought now. “Sam Brannan bought an old whaling boat while we were on the San Joaquin River, and we converted it into a small sailing boat. We sailed it all the way here—down the San Joaquin to the Sacramento River, then all the way to San Francisco Bay. We could have taken a much larger vessel if we chose to. The river is that big.”

Now she began to understand. “So you’re thinking . . .” She was priming the pump a little.

“Captain Sutter needs supplies. Right now he brings in his own, but he doesn’t like to do it. He’d be happy to pay someone else.”

“Did you actually get to meet Sutter?” Alice asked.

“Yes. We stopped at his fort for a day.” Now he looked a little sheepish. “I talked to him about possible employment.”

“You did?”

“Alice, if I could work for him during the winter, I might be able to earn enough to buy my own boat. Then I could take supplies upriver from Yerba Buena and bring their farm products back down here. They’re growing a lot of wheat and corn. And if Brother Brannan gets New Hope up and going, they’ll need supplies and have farm products to ship out too. I think we could make a wonderful living.”

“For as long as we’re here,” she said softly.

That startled him a little. For a moment he had totally forgotten that they were only waiting for word from Brigham Young as to where to go. “Yes,” he amended, “for as long as we’re here.”

Alice felt bad that she had deflated his excitement. “The famous Sutter’s Fort that we’ve all heard about, what was it like?”

He shrugged. “A typical fort, I guess. It’s pretty big, though. I’d say it’s about the size of a city block back in Nauvoo. It has high adobe walls which are whitewashed so you can see it from a great distance. It sits near the American River, just a short distance before it merges with the Sacramento. Inside, built right into the walls, there are shops, barracks, granaries, stables, and so forth. In the center is a large, open courtyard for the animals.”

“Were there any women?”

He nodded. “Quite a few Spanish and Indians, not many whites yet. All around the fort Sutter has farmland, and he hires some of the local Indians—Miwoks, they call them—as well as some of the Spanish families who didn’t flee when the Americans took over.”

“I’d like to see it.”

He leaned forward, taking both of her hands. “If you think all of this is a good idea, we can leave as soon as you and the baby are strong enough.”

“Once you get the boat, would you live down here or up there?”

He responded without hesitation, for he had thought a lot about that on the way back down. “Up there. Probably near Sutter’s Fort. I like it much better than here.”

“Good. Having been raised in St. Louis, I don’t think I’m going to get used to this ocean climate very soon. I’m always cold.” She squeezed his hands. “I like the idea, Will. I don’t think you’ll be happy farming.”

At that he frowned.

“What?”

“And what am I going to sail in the middle of the Great Salt Lake Valley?”

By the last week in September, Winter Quarters had already begun to take shape as a city. As Mary Ann walked along the streets—some churned into obvious roads by the wagons and carts, others still only marked off by stakes hammered into the ground—she was amazed at how quickly the settlement was developing. Cabins already filled many lots. They were simple and small—crude, the less generous might say—and many still needed chinking and their sod roofs put on. But it was nevertheless remarkable. It had been just two weeks ago that the Twelve had selected the site.

And what a beautiful site it was, she thought. It was on the second bluff from the river, on an area that was mostly flat and that was about fifty or sixty feet above the level of the Missouri. That was good. When the spring runoff came, there would be no need to move to higher ground. The trees along the river were turning yellow and orange now, and some of the shrubs were a brilliant red. The site was about a mile long and perhaps half a mile across at its widest spot. It was shaped a little like a gourd, narrow at the top—the north—then widening at the south, or the fat part of the gourd. At each end there were small brooks of clean, cold water, saving them having to go to the river for their daily needs.

She was headed for the northern creek now, where Matthew was working on the gristmill Brigham had ordered built there. She hurried along, feeling the dampness in the air and suspecting that it would rain before long.

Matthew was on a ladder, helping to put up the framework for the eastern wall. When he turned to get some more nails, he saw her coming towards him. A little surprised, he immediately climbed down and went to greet her. “Hello, Mama.”

“Hello, son.” She looked up, shading her eyes as she examined what would prove to be one of the larger buildings in their new city. “It’s coming along nicely.”

“Yes. We’re making good progress.” He gave her a sharp look. “Is everything all right?”

Her eyes dropped, and after a moment she shook her head. “There’s news from Nauvoo.”

“Oh!” He took her by the arm and they started to walk slowly.

“Brother Daniel Wells and William Cutler arrived in a light buggy last night.”

“But—” He stopped, trying to remember if he was correct. “I thought the last report said they were in charge of the resistance there.”

“They were,” she said in a low voice. “Nauvoo has surrendered.”

He stopped, struck hard by that.

“A battle raged for several days. The mob forces had artillery and outnumbered our people by about ten to one.”

“Nauvoo is gone?” He was having trouble accepting the harshness of that.

“It’s in the hands of our enemies. They’re looting everything. They’ve turned the temple into a pigsty.” She bit her lip and looked away. “All of our people have been driven out.”

“What about Melissa?” he cried. “Is there any word about her and Carl?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, her voice hollow. “Brother Cutler and Brother Wells are meeting with the Twelve now, giving them a full report. I haven’t had a chance to talk with them.”

“When?” Matthew demanded, his mind racing now. “When did all this happen?”

“I’m not sure. The treaty giving up the city was signed on the sixteenth. I guess almost everyone was gone by that time or the next day.”

He felt sick. Nathan and Joshua had left with the first five wagons on the fourteenth, almost two weeks ago. But if all of this happened about that same time, that did not bode well. Wells and Cutler had made the journey across Iowa in less than two weeks. The heavier wagons could take half again that long, more if the roads were bad.

“Where are our people, did they say?”

“They’re in a camp at Montrose, on the west side of the river.”

“Then all we can do now is pray,” Matthew said solemnly.

Will awoke with a start, coming up on one elbow. Then he realized that it was Alice who was touching him in the darkness. “What?” he said, remembering the night when she had felt something run across her sheets and they had spent the next half hour, along with several of their neighbors, trying to either catch the mouse or rat or drive it out of the customshouse.

“I think it’s time,” she said.

He thought for a moment. Time for what? to get up? But it was still pitch-black. He was fighting to come out of the fog. He had been so far under and it was like clawing his way back up.

“Will,” she said more firmly. “It’s time.”

Suddenly he sat straight up. “
That
time?” he blurted, fully awake now.

“Yes, Will. You’d better send for the midwife.”

He threw back the covers and swung out of the low bed. In moments he had his pants on and was groping for his boots. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Will.”

He pulled his shirt on over his head and shoved the tail inside his belt. “I’ll hurry,” he called as he darted out into the hallway and out the door.

Smiling, she lay back down again. In a moment, the smile disappeared as the next contraction began to build.

It was nearly noon when the girl came running around the back of the customshouse. Will was there puttering on a bench he was making, trying to keep his hands and his head occupied. As soon as he saw her, he leaped up. “Has it come?”

“I don’t know. Mama just said to fetch you.”

Will raced around the building and went in. The three women who had assisted Alice were still inside when he entered. “Has the baby come?”

The midwife smiled and nodded. “Yes, Will. It’s come.”

“How is Alice? Is she all right?”

The smile broadened. “It always pleases me to hear that question first,” she said to one of the others. “Yes, Alice is fine. Very tired right now, but fine.”

“And the baby?” he rushed on. “What is it?”

She looked surprised by the question, then laughed. “But that’s not my place to say.”

He bolted past them and ran down the hall to his and Alice’s room. He hesitated for just a moment, then pushed inside. Alice was sitting up, propped up with a pillow against the wall, with a tiny bundle nestled under one arm. He went to her, his eyes wide with wonder. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“And the baby?”

“She’s fine.”

Will stopped. “She? It’s a girl?”

Alice watched him closely for any signs of disappointment, then laughed and shook her head. “No, Will,
he’s
fine. Come see your son.”

“Brethren!” Brigham Young’s voice boomed out over the assembly of men waiting under the bowery. Almost instantly the low buzz of voices died and it became quiet.

“Brethren, as you know, three days ago two of our brethren arrived from Nauvoo. They did not bring good news.”

Many heads nodded but there was no sound. By now, the news that Daniel Wells and William Cutler brought had spread up and down both sides of the river. And when the call for the meeting came, everyone guessed what it was for.

Matthew looked at Solomon, who only nodded.

“There is much that we could say. In a way it is no surprise to us. For some time now I have been concerned that there was a good deal of suffering among the Saints in Nauvoo, as there has been among us. There are some now languishing in the poor camp in Montrose who did not come because they had neither the means nor the strength. But there are others who should have left long ago but had not the faith to do so. But let us not forget, even now, that the Lord God, who has fed us all the day long, still cares for us. And when the Saints have been chastened enough it will cease.”

He stopped and looked around at the men, several hundred strong. His face showed deep lines of weariness, and his shoulders seemed even more stooped than usual. But his voice showed no weakening as it suddenly rose in volume.

“I have never believed the Lord would suffer a general massacre of this people by a mob. If ten thousand men were to come against us, and no other way was open for our deliverance, the earth would swallow them up. As you know, some of our brethren have already started back to help our brethren and sisters, and thanks be to God for that fact. But even ten wagons will not be sufficient to take all who need to come.”