Demon's Pass (27 page)

“Did you know any little Indian girls my age?”

Elizabeth closed her eyes. In her mind she could see the little arm sticking out from under the brightly colored blanket, with a bracelet made of blond hair tied around the wrist.

“Yes. I knew a little girl just like you.”

“What was her name?”

“White Feather.”

“White Feather?” Sara laughed. “That's a funny name, isn't it?”

“Yes.”

“Was she a very special friend?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “She was.” Finished milking, Elizabeth stood up and picked up the bucket. “I think we had better get the milk in, don't you?” She started toward the barn door, then realized that Sara was still standing behind her. She turned toward her. “Aren't you coming?”

“Elizabeth, am I your special friend too?” Sara asked.

Elizabeth smiled, and held her hand out toward Sara. “Of course you are,” she said warmly.

Smiling broadly, Sara ran toward her. Hand in hand, they walked from the barn to the house.

 

 

Colonel Red Talbot, resplendent in his Righteous Militia uniform of blue and gold, looked down at the plate that had just been placed in front of him. Filled with roast beef, mashed potatoes covered with gravy, peas, and rolls, it was a more-than-sumptuous fare.

“I have to say one thing about you Mormons,” Talbot said as he took his knife and fork and began cutting a piece of the thick slab of meat, “you do know how to eat.”

“Yes, the Lord believes that a full stomach is the receptacle for a faithful soul,” Richard Hahs replied. Hahs was a Mormon businessman.

Their table was next to a window, and when Talbot heard a rumbling sound, he looked out onto the incredibly broad street that was typical of the boulevards of this planned community of thirty-thousand-plus people. An oversized oxcart, pulled by twenty oxen, lumbered slowly up the middle of the street. The cargo was composed of only one block of granite, but it was huge, and weighed over five tons.

“Look at that,” Talbot said. “All that work for only one brick.”

Hahs chuckled. “Yes, I suppose you could call those granite blocks bricks. They are precut and numbered at the quarry, which is twenty miles away, then brought into town and put into place.”

Looking up the street, Talbot could see the scaffolding that formed the framework around what the Mormons were calling their Tabernacle.

“At this rate, it's going to take forever to get that thing built,” Talbot suggested.

“Not forever. But we estimate it will be between forty and fifty years,” Hahs replied.

“Forty and fifty
years
? That's ridiculous,” Talbot said. “Why would anyone work so hard, and spend so much money to build something that half of them won't even live to see completed?”

“It's a testament to our faith,” Hahs replied.

“And if you are going to do business with us, then you must understand—and appreciate—the faith that drives us.”

“I can do that, all right, but I have a lot more faith in money.”

“Money isn't everything, Colonel Talbot.”

“Perhaps not, but a few dollars to the right people did get me an appointment with the territorial governor tomorrow.”

“You're talking about Alfred Cumming?”

“Yes.”

Hahs laughed.

“What is it? What are you laughing about?”

“Cumming is the territorial governor appointed by the federal government. But the only one here who has any real power is President Brigham Young.”

“President? Like in President of the country?”

“No. He is the president of our church and, here, the church has all the power. Therefore, President Young is the most powerful person here.”

“All right, how do I get to see him?”

“I could arrange a meeting,” Hahs said.

“Good, good. Do it.”

“Remember what I said about faith.”

“Yeah, all right. If that's what it takes, I'll become a Mormon.”

“It'll take that,” Hahs said. “And one hundred dollars.”

“What?”

“I believe you did say you had faith in money?”

“Yes, I did say that. But, what about this religious faith you were talking about?”

“When two strong faiths, such as your faith and mine, come together, the results are much more certain,” Hahs said. “There is no tenet against money in the Mormon religion.”

 

The next morning in the company of Richard Hahs, Talbot approached Beehive House, President Brigham Young's official residence. As they passed through the main gate, which was crowned with an enormous wooden eagle, Talbot saw several children playing.

“What are all these kids doing here? Is this a schoolhouse?”

Hahs laughed. “These are President Young's children,” he said.

“All of 'em? How many does he have?”

“He has twenty-seven wives and fifty-six children.”

“Twenty-seven wives?”

“Our men can have more than one wife,” Hahs explained.

Talbot smiled. “The more I hear about this religion, the more I like it.”

“I assure you, sir, taking additional wives is a testament of faith, not an exercise in salaciousness.”

They were invited inside Brigham Young's residence, then Talbot was taken to another room to meet with the man himself. He had heard all about Brigham Young, for he was a man who was well known throughout the country. Physically, Brigham Young didn't cut that impressive an appearance. He was rather ordinary-looking, but even someone as jaded as Talbot felt a slight sense of awe at being in his presence.

“Colonel Talbot, I am told you wish to join us,” Young said.

“Yes,” Talbot answered.

“Why?”

“Uh”—Talbot thought hard, trying to come up with the answer that would satisfy Brigham Young—“I got religion,” he said.

Young's eyes narrowed. “In other words, you see some opportunity to conduct business with us,” he suggested.

“Yes. That too,” Talbot said.

“I see.” Young stroked his chin for a moment. “I have been told about your most recent military experience. You had a confrontation with the Indians, did you not?”

“I did,” Talbot answered. “You see, I'm the colonel in command of the Righteous Militia and we . . .”

Young held up his hand to interrupt him. “I am not aware that we have an organization called the Righteous Militia,” he said. “And, while I am no longer the territorial governor, Governor Cumming does a good job of keeping me informed about things. I'm sure he would have told me if such a militia unit had been created.”

“No, uh, Your Honor, the Righteous Militia, that's something I put together myself.”

“I see. Then, you aren't actually a colonel, are you?”

This wasn't going the way Talbot had intended. He was supposed to be able to take advantage of his great victory over the Indians.

“The Righteous Militia is a private military organization, and I am the colonel of that organization,” Talbot explained. “We have no federal or territorial support.”

“Then that probably explains why you didn't have the right information for your attack.”

“I beg your pardon? The right information about what?”

“The Indians who attacked the Cooper ranch were Shoshoni. Yet I am told you attacked a village of Ute Indians,” Brigham Young said.

“And that you killed quite a few of them. Why was that? As far as I know, the Ute have never taken up arms against us.”

Talbot cleared his throat as he searched for something to say. Then he remembered the young woman they had captured, just before the attack. What was it she told them? Oh, yes, that there were Cheyenne in the camp.

“There may have been some Ute in the village,” Talbot said. “But most of them were Cheyenne, and that is who we were after. Cheyenne, Shoshoni, Crow, they're all one and the same when it comes to making mischief for the whites.”

Young nodded, for his people had, indeed, experienced difficulty with these warring tribes in the past. “I was not aware that there were Cheyenne involved. That being the case, you certainly have my support, and I encourage you to continue the good work. Now, what do you need from me?”

Talbot looked at Brigham Young with the most sincere look he could muster.

“President Young, right now I need only one thing from you. And that is acceptance in your church, so that I may turn away from my sinful ways.”

“We are, and always will be, a haven for those sinners who do truly intend to walk a new path. Welcome, brother,” Young said.

Chapter 18

When Mary announced that they were going into Salt Lake City the next day, Elizabeth was surprised at how excited she was at the prospect. It had been almost a year since she had last been in any town. She remembered the shopping trip she and her mother had taken into Sedalia, as they passed through Missouri so long ago.

Her father and brother had gone into Sedalia too, but they took care of men-type things; visiting the wagon yard, going to the tannery, and doing whatever else men did when they went to town.

She remembered that she and her mother had had a wonderful time. They had looked at material for dresses, at ribbons and hats, and at beautiful blooming flowers. They had brought several packets of seeds, and had planned the garden they would have when they reached Oregon. As Elizabeth thought about those flower seeds now, she felt a profound sense of melancholy sweep over her.

There had been a dance that night, a farmers' social, they called it. Elizabeth was surprised when her mother and father went as well. Her mother and father had danced nearly every dance. She could remember the look of pure joy on her mother's face. That wasn't an expression her mother often had, for, as most farmers' wives, she led a hard life.

There was a young man at the dance. His name was Gordon, and he had danced several times with Elizabeth. There was a farm for sale next to that of Gordon's father's, and Gordon's father tried to talk Elizabeth's father into buying it.

It would have been wonderful, settling there in Missouri, near a town like Sedalia, close to people like Gordon and his family. But as Elizabeth's family had pointed out, they were going to Oregon because one could still homestead there. They didn't have enough money to buy land and have enough left over to start farming. They had no choice, Elizabeth's father had explained. They had to go on.

They had no choice, yet now they are dead. Her father, her mother, her brother. All dead.

Well, she wouldn't think about that now. That was all behind her, and there was nothing she could do to change it. She could only look ahead. And tomorrow she was going into town.

There would also be another important landmark for her tomorrow. She would be wearing a new dress, her own dress that she had made, just for her. So far, Mary had been very generous in sharing her clothes with Elizabeth, but the prospect of going into town . . . and wearing a dress of her own . . . was like Christmas and her birthday and the Fourth of July, all rolled into one. In fact, for Elizabeth, it really was like a celebration of Christmas and her birthday, for, while with the Indians, she had completely lost track of time and during her stay with them, both events had occurred, unnoticed by her.

 

Elizabeth was frying chicken to pack in their lunch tomorrow, while Mary bathed little Timmy. Becky, Billy, and Sara were so excited about going into town that it was difficult to get them settled down and into bed.

“I've fried the chicken and baked the bread,” Elizabeth said when Mary came into the kitchen after saying her final good nights to the children.

“Oh, and it smells so good, too.”

“You mean the smell isn't bothering you?”

“No, of course not. It smells delicious. Why should it bother me?”

“I don't know,” Elizabeth said. “Ordinarily the smell of baking bread and frying chicken smells good to me, too, but, for some strange reason, it's making me nauseous.”

“Oh, dear. Maybe you are coming down with something,” Mary suggested.

“I don't know—I hope not. I'm generally as healthy as a horse. Don't know why I'm feeling so woozy now. I even opened the door to let in some fresh air, but it was so cold outside that I nearly froze to death, so I closed it.”

“Elizabeth. You have been such a help. What a wonderful sister you are going to make.”

This was not the first time Mary had referred to Elizabeth as her sister. But she didn't think anything about it. She could remember the way it was in her own church back in Illinois, with people referring to each other as “brothers or sisters in Christ.” She assumed that's what Mormons did as well, though they did seem to take it a little further than Methodists did.

“What is Salt Lake City like?” Elizabeth asked.

“Oh,” Mary said, folding her arms across her chest as if she were embracing herself, “it is beautiful! President Young has vowed to make it God's city on earth, and it is nearly so now. It will be when the Tabernacle is completed.”

“How long will it take us to get into town?” Elizabeth asked.

“It's a goodly way. It will take all of the daylight hours,” Mary explained. “We'll eat breakfast before we leave, have a picnic lunch on the road and then take our supper at the Lamberts' house. Matilda Lambert is my cousin. That's also where we will sleep tomorrow night.”

“Oh, but I'm a stranger,” Elizabeth said. “I can't impose on your family like that.”