The Work and the Glory (656 page)

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Authors: Gerald N. Lund

Tags: #Fiction, #History

BOOK: The Work and the Glory
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Nathan shook his head. Even from this distance there was a distinctly green cast to the water.

“Do we have to cross it, Papa?” Benji asked.

“Oh, yes. We’re going west. It’s running almost straight south.”

Kathryn eyed it warily. “It looks deep.”

Nathan had thought the same thing. The floodplain wasn’t as wide as the North Platte’s, but the main channel looked deeper, and the current was at least as swift as what they had seen at the ferry site on the North Platte.

Brigham Young, standing a few feet away, turned at Kathryn’s comment. “I think we’re going to have to build another ferry,” he said for all to hear. He was quite serious now. “We’ll noon down beneath the trees and start work immediately. I think we’d better build a raft for each division. We don’t want to spend forever getting across.”

Charlie Smith was in the lead. In the heat, they didn’t have to do much else other than point their horses’ noses up the trail, then just let them go. Across this expanse, the two tracks made by the hundreds of wagons that had passed through here were clear enough to follow even in the dark.

Peter had learned a lesson once about falling asleep in the saddle, and it was a painful one. On this trip Charlie Smith had taught him a trick. You slouched down low, tied the reins around the saddle horn loose enough to give the horse its head, then wrapped the end of the reins around your hand. If you started to slip sideways in either direction, the reins would tug on your hand and wake you up. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but for the long, interminable stretches in this unbearable heat, it allowed Peter to doze fitfully.

He shifted his weight slightly, noting that Sam Brannan’s head was down too. Charlie had his hat pulled low over his eyes, but he was alert, watching for any sign of Indians. And that was good. In another hour Peter would take his turn at point, and there would be no dozing off then. He closed his eyes, letting the rocking motion of the horse start to lull him off to sleep again.

“There she is,” Charlie suddenly called.

Both Peter and Brannan came awake immediately, straightening in their saddles.

“There what is?” Brannan asked, looking around in some confusion.

“The Green River.”

Undoing his reins as well, Peter stood up in the stirrups, looking out ahead. For a moment he saw only hundreds of square miles of sagebrush and sand, and then he saw the line of green about a mile or so up ahead of them. It was the tops of trees.

“So do we stop there for the night?” Brannan said.

“No,” Smith replied. “It’s barely one o’clock. The Big Sandy is only another twenty miles more I think.”

“The horses need some time out of this heat,” Peter said. Since becoming an ox-team driver, he had learned that caring for your animals was one of the secrets to success on the trail.

“Of course.”

It was as though the horses could smell the water. Without any urging they began walking more briskly. Fifteen minutes later, as they came around a low hill, the valley of the Green River came fully into view below them. It was a welcome sight. Peter stretched, ready to get out of the saddle for a time. Suddenly he stiffened, leaning forward. He blinked twice to clear his vision, then shaded his eyes, even though the sun was at his back. “Sam. Charlie.”

But Charlie Smith had already seen it too. “Wagons!” he cried.

They pulled up, coming up alongside one another. “Look at that,” Brannan said. “That’s got to be the biggest company we’ve seen so far. There must be seventy or eighty wagons.”

“Do you think it could be them?” Peter blurted, not daring to hope.

Smith shook his head slowly. He was trying to stay casual, but Peter heard the touch of excitement in his voice. “No way to know but to go find out.”

Nathan and Derek were working in rhythm with the axes, cutting down a cottonwood tree with a trunk about two feet thick. It was long enough and straight enough that they could get the two “canoes” for their division’s raft from the same trunk. They worked smoothly and in perfect synchronization. The chips were flying and the bite in the trunk was deepening quickly.

“Riders coming!”

They turned in surprise to see who had shouted it. A few feet away, Willard Richards and Heber Kimball were trimming off the branches of a tree they had already felled. They stopped, squinting as well. Everyone was looking around now to see where the caller was and what he was seeing. And then Heber gave a low cry and pointed to the west across the river. “There,” he said.

They turned and saw three dark figures and a small cloud of dust coming toward them.

Brigham, who had been working with a group sawing boards for the ferry’s floor, left the two-man saw and trotted to his horse. In a moment he returned with his telescope and brought it up to his eye. It took him a few seconds to find the riders and focus the glass more sharply. “Three riders,” he called. “With a couple of packhorses. They’ve seen us. They’re coming at a steady lope.”

Suddenly Brigham gasped. “Oh my word!” he exclaimed. He moved a few steps and steadied himself against a tree, then brought up the telescope again. “I declare!”

“What?” Heber called. “What is it?”

“I think that’s Sam Brannan.”

“Sam Brannan?” Heber blurted. “Are you sure?”

Brigham looked again. “I’m certain it is.” Then, after a moment, again there was a quick intake of breath. This time he lowered the glass and turned to stare at Derek and Nathan. Then he held out the instrument toward them. “Derek, you’d better come take a look.”

Kathryn was standing at the back of their wagon, putting away the dishes from the noon meal. It had been a cold meal, since Brigham didn’t want to make camp on this side of the river if they could get the rafts done in time to start ferrying across. Her crutches were in the wagon, but she used them now only when she had some distance to walk. For getting around camp she almost always used only her cane. Now, with the wagon to steady her, even that was set aside.

She heard a noise and turned around to see Nathan appear from between their wagon and Robert Crow’s. At the look on his face, she turned fully to face him. “What is it, Nathan?”

He came forward slowly. “I think you’d better sit down, Kathryn.”

There was a sudden clutch of fear. Her first thought was of Nicole, but she was asleep in the wagon. Kathryn had just checked on her a few minutes before. Then she took a quick breath. Rebecca had taken Leah and the two boys down to watch the men work. “Has something happened?” she cried.

He shook his head slowly and now he was smiling. He came over and took her gently by the arm, getting her cane for her. He pointed to the small wooden stool they used when they were camped. “Just come and sit down.”

She allowed herself to be led to the stool and sat down slowly. His smile was reassuring, but her heart was still racing. “What, Nathan? Tell me.”

He stepped back. Just then, Derek appeared. Strangely, he was wet to his neck, but he too was smiling broadly. “Good,” he said. “You’re sitting down.”


What?
” She nearly shouted it at them.

“This,” Nathan said, turning and pointing.

For almost a full two seconds, Kathryn just stared at the figure that stepped out from between the wagons. The first thing that registered in her mind was the fact that this person too was dripping wet. And then her hands flew to her mouth as it dropped open in total astonishment. Beneath the beard . . .

“Hello, Kathryn,” Peter said, smiling.

In one instant her eyes filled with joyous tears. “Peter?” she gasped.

He stepped forward, grabbing her hands and lifting her to her feet; then he enveloped her in his arms and with infinite tenderness reached down and kissed her.

Derek and Nathan turned without a word and quietly slipped away to go find Rebecca. Neither Peter nor Kathryn was aware they had left. They clung to each other fiercely for almost a full minute as Kathryn whispered over and over in disbelief, “It’s you. It’s you. It’s you.”

Finally, she let him go and stepped back. He kissed her again, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. Look at you. I’ve gotten you all wet.” He laughed. “We were swimming our horses across but Derek couldn’t wait; he jumped in the river and swam out to meet me.”

“You think I care about that?” she said.

He was staring at her, letting his eyes caress every feature of her face. “I can’t believe this. I was planning to go all the way to Pueblo to get you, and here you are.”

She just shook her head, unable to speak. Then, after a moment, she took his hand. “Come here. There’s someone I want you to see.”

He followed her to the wagon. She pulled back the canvas, letting the light flood in on Nicole, who was sleeping on her back, her head tipped toward them, her arms spread wide above her head. Kathryn had planned for weeks to say something cute and clever at this moment; but then she heard Peter’s sharp intake of breath. He leaned forward until his body was half inside the wagon and he was looking down on his daughter. “Oh,” he whispered in quiet awe. Kathryn smiled. That was enough. There was nothing more she needed to say.

When Peter awoke the next morning, for a moment he was disoriented. There were no stars above him, and his first thought was that it was overcast and there would be a chance of rain today. Then he realized that the sky above him was really the tent’s canvas ceiling with the first light of dawn turning it gray.

He turned his head. Kathryn was up on one elbow watching him, smiling softly. “Good morning.”

He felt his whole body relax as he fully realized now where he was. “Good morning.”

She reached out and pushed his hair back away from his forehead. “It’s gotten so long. Between that and the beard, I hardly recognized you.”

He nodded. “We haven’t seen many barbershops in the last two months.”

She lay down again, snuggling in closer. He lifted an arm and put it around her. She closed her eyes. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” she murmured. “I still can’t believe that you’re really here.”

He nodded. “Do you realize that today is the first of July? It was one year ago on the fourth that we decided to take you back.”

“I remember that very clearly.”

“One whole year. I never dreamed it would be that long.”

“Is it true what Brother Brannan was telling the Twelve?” she said, her eyes clouding now. “About the Donners?”

He nodded, his face grim. “Yes.”

“But the Reeds are all right. You’re sure?”

He had assured her of that last night. “Yes. They looked pretty bad, but they came out of it all right. And the Breens. They all made it through as well.”

“But the Donners? Uncle George and Father Jacob?”

He looked away. “Gone. And Tamsen too. She refused to leave George, who was pretty far gone by that time. She could have gotten out on two different occasions but she wouldn’t leave him.”

“I always liked Tamsen,” Kathryn said, her voice sorrowful.

“So many are gone. Every time I think that you could have been with them, I—” He stopped and just held her more tightly.

“You were inspired, Peter. I don’t have any question about that. It was the Lord who blessed us both. And then to have Rebecca and Derek show up at Pueblo, it was more than we could have hoped for. It made the winter pass so much more quickly for me.”

“It’s ironic, isn’t it? You find Derek and Rebecca in Pueblo, and I find Will and Alice in California.”

“I’m so anxious to see them again. Is their baby cute?”

“Yes. He’s a little darling. He looks so much like Will, and all you’ve got to do to make Will bust his buttons is tell him that.” He turned and looked toward the small hand-made crib in the corner. “And Nicole. She is so beautiful, Kathryn.”

“I know,” she said joyfully. “Do you like the name, Peter? We can change it. I wasn’t sure what you’d want.”

“I love Nicole. It seems to fit her perfectly, with her dark hair and that little button of a nose.”

“I think so too.”

They fell silent, each comforted deeply by the warmth and closeness of the other. After a long time, Kathryn pulled back. “You don’t think Brother Brannan is going to convince Brother Brigham to go to California, do you?”

He shook his head. “Brigham didn’t seem too impressed by the proposal, no matter how passionately Brother Brannan made it. I think that’s why he went off in a bit of a huff last night.”

“I’m glad.”

“You are?” he asked in surprise. “You don’t want to go to California?”

She shook her head. “I want only three things, and in this order. First, I want to be with you.”

“That’s first for me too.”

“Second, I want to be with the family. It was so good to see Nathan and Matthew again. I’ve been surprised at how much I’ve missed them.”

“I agree again. I wish Matthew had come on with you. I’d love to see him again.”

“And third, I want to be with our people. If Brigham says it’s California, then I could be very happy there. If not, then I’ll go where he’s taking us.”

“I feel exactly the same way,” he said, laying his hand on her cheek. Then he laughed and reached up to kiss her nose. “Ah, Kathryn,” he whispered, “I’ve missed you so.”

The tears came again. “Not any more than I have missed you, my love,” she whispered. “I think this is the happiest day of my life.”

Chapter Notes

There is no record that Brigham Young ever tried to make Jim Bridger pay up on his wager about the bushel of corn. Eventually the Church purchased Fort Bridger and used it as a way station for their emigration and communication routes. Two days after Bridger’s visit, while stopped on the east side of the Green River to build rafts to take their wagons across, the Pioneer Company was astonished when Sam Brannan and two other men rode in from the west.

Chapter 44

What is it, Mama?”

Jessica looked at her daughter and shook her head. “I’m not sure, Miriam. We’ll know in a moment.”

The wagons of the Daniel Spencer company had moved in a circle around Brother Spencer and two other men who were standing beside a tall pole with a board nailed to the top. Jessica was on the wagon seat with Miriam perched beside her. With the heaviest of the five Steed wagons, Solomon and Jessica had been given the oxen, and so Solomon always walked alongside the animals. Miriam was almost four now and liked to pretend that it was she who was driving the wagon and not her father. She had listened to him enough that she knew all of the commands for controlling the oxen and was constantly shouting “Gee” or “Haw” or “Whoa, boys” at them. Fortunately, the animals completely ignored her.

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