The Work and the Glory (527 page)

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Authors: Gerald N. Lund

Tags: #Fiction, #History

BOOK: The Work and the Glory
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Next morning they were on the road west by the time there was sufficient light to see. Over the past two days the weather had stayed mild and pleasant, with very little rain, and the roads had dried considerably. Those roads were still violently rutted and pitted and provided a bruising ride for anyone in the wagon, but with a team of mules and a team of horses pulling the lightly loaded wagon, they made good time. They passed Sugar Creek Camp before noon. Where once there had been several hundred wagons and two or three thousand people, now there was nothing but a few stragglers amid the blackened splotches of dead campfires, churned up soil, and bits and pieces of soggy debris stuck beneath bushes or trampled into the mud.

By late afternoon they reached the Des Moines River and passed the site where they had camped the second night and danced to the music of William Pitt’s band. It was a good place to camp, but they pushed on another few miles before stopping for the night.

By midday on Sunday their pace was starting to tell on the teams, but they pressed on anyway. They had broken the axle on Tuesday and started back on Wednesday. Brigham Young had planned to stay encamped that Wednesday and move out on Thursday, which meant that he was now four days ahead of where they had left the family. Three, Nathan corrected himself. He assumed that Brigham would use today, the Sabbath, as a rest day. There had been no question in his mind about whether their own group should do that. The situation was too urgent. They had to get the family on the road again and catch up to the main camp. Now the clear skies were gone. A high overcast could be the first sign of coming rain.

It was shortly after three that afternoon when they crested a low rise and saw the white blotches of two wagons in the distance. Nathan, on the saddle horse, went up high in the stirrups, shading his eyes against the lowering sun. Joshua, who was driving the wagon, reined up. He stood up too. Caroline and Derek, walking alongside with Savannah and Charles, moved forward quickly, peering ahead.

“Is that them?” Savannah asked excitedly.

“No,” Nathan said slowly. “That’s the slough where we got stuck, but we dragged the wagon on another mile or so into camp.”

“Besides,” Joshua said, “that’s only two wagons down there. We’ve got three besides this one.”

“Looks like someone else found our hole,” Derek said. He could see several oxen, but none were yoked to the two wagons, and one of the wagons sat directly in the blackest part of the slough, the very place where they had sunk in so deeply a few days before.

“Well, let’s go give them a hand,” Joshua said, sitting down again. “They can travel with us if they choose.”

What they found in the low spot was two families of brothers. The younger had three children, all under ten. The older had a teenaged boy and girl and three younger than that. Before they ever reached them, they could see what had stopped them here. The lead wagon, the one stuck hub-deep in the drying mud, had a shattered tongue. It had snapped off in a jagged tear just where the long beam had been attached to the forward axle.

The two families saw the wagon coming from the east and gathered in a circle as the Steeds reached them.

“Howdy,” Nathan said. He looked at the wagon. “Looks like you got trouble.”

“You might say that,” the older man drawled. His accent sounded like they might be from Kentucky or Tennessee. Not surprising. Several members from branches of the Church in the southern states had come to Nauvoo over the past two or three years, though none of these people looked familiar to him.

“Know what you mean,” Derek said. “This is the exact spot where we lost an axle five days ago. ’Bout busted a blood vessel trying to get it out, too.”

Now the younger brother spoke. “That wouldn’t be your family waiting on the trail about a mile west of here, would it?”

“The Steeds?”

“That’s the ones.”

“Are they all right?” Caroline asked.

The younger wife pitched in. “They’re all fine. We went looking for help after we got stuck here last night and found them.”

The second wife was nodding. “That was a welcome sight, I can tell you. Thought we might have to go fifteen or twenty miles to find someone.”

“And they were real good to us too,” said the first woman. “Took us in and fed us. Real decent folks.”

“We’re glad to hear they’re all right.” Nathan swung down from his horse and stuck out his hand. “Nathan Steed. This is my brother-in-law Derek Ingalls and my brother Joshua.”

Joshua hopped down to stand beside Caroline and his two children. “This is my wife, Caroline Steed. This is Savannah and Charles.” He motioned toward the wagon. “Got another little one asleep in the wagon.”

“Calvin Weller,” the older man responded, taking first Nathan’s hand, then Joshua’s, in a solid grip. “This here’s my brother, Jacob.”

The Wellers introduced their wives and children. When they were done, Nathan turned back to the slough. It was late in the afternoon and the day wasn’t too much longer with them. “Well, let’s see if we can give you a hand and get that wagon out of there. We’ve got some rope. Let’s try that. We’ll probably have to use your animals and ours.”

The five men turned to survey the mud hole as Caroline and the children moved over and began to talk with the Weller women and their children.

“We got stuck last night just as it was coming on sundown,” Calvin Weller said in disgust. “This morning we hitched up all seven span of oxen to it. That’s when the tongue snapped.”

“The mud’s hardening some,” Joshua observed. “Derek, get the shovels and we’ll dig around the wheels while they get the animals harnessed up.”

“Once we get you out,” Nathan said, “you’re welcome to travel on with our family until we catch up with Brother Brigham and the main party.”

The older man glanced quickly at his brother. Behind them, the women had heard that too, and went suddenly quiet. After a moment, Jacob Weller cleared his throat. “We’re obliged for that, but uh . . . we won’t be headed on. We’re turnin’ around.”

“You’re going back to Nauvoo?” Derek blurted.

“For a time. Then on to Chattanooga, I think.”

No one said anything for a moment, and the older Weller looked down at the ground. “I know everybody’s saying that going to the Rocky Mountains is the Lord’s will, but figger this—if we’re doing the Lord’s will, how come my wagon tongue broke in half?”

“You can’t blame the Lord for things like that,” Nathan answered. “It just happens. Our axle broke when we put too much pressure on it trying to lift it with a pole.”

“It’s more than that,” Jacob Weller said, not meeting Nathan’s eyes. “It’s everything. Dragging our families out here. Not having a place to go. Knowing there’re Indians waiting for us.” He shrugged. “We’ve been having a meeting. It’s decided. We don’t think the Lord expects that much of us. If he did, why isn’t he blessing us? We’re going back home.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Nathan saw the women nodding emphatically. So it wasn’t just the men making this choice. He thought of what he might say that could make a difference, then knew that wasn’t his charge. “No one called us to sit in judgment,” he said, meaning it. “It’s not an easy thing we’re asked to do.”

Joshua was relieved at Nathan’s response. He didn’t like the idea of people losing heart so easily—they weren’t even fifty miles from Nauvoo yet!—but it wasn’t their place to live other people’s lives. “You know what those going across the Oregon Trail call the trek?” he asked the two brothers. “They call it ‘seeing the elephant.’ No one’s going to fault you for choosing another way.”

“Obliged for that. Wouldn’t make much difference if you tried to change our minds.”

“Well,” Derek said, “let’s get you out. You’re not going either way as long as you’re stuck in there. And we’re anxious to get on and catch Brother Brigham.”

“Man passed about half an hour ago,” Jacob Weller said, “taking a message back to Nauvoo. He said that Brigham Young has stopped at a place called Richardson’s Point and is waiting there for a time, giving people a chance to catch up.”

The Steeds perked up at that news. “Did he say how far along Richardson’s Point is?” Nathan asked.

“Twenty, maybe twenty-five miles is all.”

Nathan felt a great relief. That was one very long day, or perhaps a day and a half, but then they would have caught up with the main company again. That was good news. “Thank you. That will help us greatly.”

Joshua tossed his head toward the slough. “So let’s see if we can’t get you your wagon back.”

It took three-quarters of an hour. Fortunately, the Wellers had already unloaded everything from the mired wagon except some blankets and a few articles of clothing. They unhitched the mules and the horses from Derek’s wagon—they were too tired to do much good here—and put four yoke of oxen on instead. Then they tied two thick ropes from the back of Derek’s wagon to the back of the Weller wagon. Joshua and Derek and Jacob Weller waded into the slough and dug a track for the wheels. The mud was still a very thick goo that grabbed at them like a hundred unseen hands, but since Tuesday, it had dried enough that when they dug it away from the wheels, it only oozed back very slowly.

When they were ready, the older Weller stood at the head of the oxen. Nathan, Derek, Joshua, and Jacob Weller took their places at the wagon and leaned into it. “All right,” Joshua hollered. “Go!”

Calvin Weller cracked the bullwhip over the heads of the oxen. They lunged against their yokes, bellowing and grunting. The four men threw their weight against the wagon. For a moment nothing happened, and then slowly the wagon started to move.

“Go! Go!” Nathan urged.

And it did. Once they got the momentum, the wagon was pulled backwards up and out of the slough. As it rolled free and the men dropped to their knees, gasping for breath, the children clapped and the women laughed and pointed. Everyone ran forward to gather around. “Much obliged,” Calvin Weller said, coming around to join the men who were staggering to their feet. He began to untie the ropes off his wagon.

Derek wiped his hands against his trousers, eyeing the other wagon. “Well, you’re out of the mud, but that doesn’t solve your other problem. What are you going to do about getting a new wagon tongue?”

The two Weller brothers turned to survey the damaged wagon. Finally, Jacob shrugged. “We’ve already put most of the stuff in the good wagon. We’ll go on back to Nauvoo. If we can get another tongue, we’ll come back out and get it. If not . . .” He shrugged.

Nathan’s head came up slowly and he stared at the disabled wagon, feeling his pulse suddenly pounding. “I’ve got another solution for you,” he said carefully, his mind racing even as he started to speak.

“What’s that?”

“How about trading us your wagon?”

Joshua was bent over, wiping the mud from his hands on the dry prairie grass. His head snapped up. Derek jerked around too.

“You want that wagon?” the older Weller brother said in surprise.

Nathan grinned. “Well, we’d love to get your other one too, but I’m assuming you’re going to need that to get you back home. So yes, I’m talking this one.” He gestured toward the wagon they had just retrieved. The tongue was shattered, that was true, but other than that it was solidly built and looked relatively new. It was bigger than Derek’s and more trail worthy. “You probably met my brother Matthew last night. He’s a carpenter. He can make us another tongue.”

“That’s right,” Derek said eagerly.

Jacob Weller was nodding thoughtfully. “Yeah, he showed us the axle he made. It was good work.”

“And what are you trading?” Calvin asked warily.

Nathan felt as if he were sprinting effortlessly down a path with the wind at his back. The thoughts were coming with perfect clarity. “Actually,” Nathan said, choosing his words carefully, “if you’re serious about heading back, not going on with Brigham—” He stopped, giving them a chance to reconsider. He didn’t want to be the factor that nudged them into making what was in Nathan’s mind a terrible mistake.

“We are,” Calvin Weller said flatly.

“All right. Then I’d like to make you a better offer.” He laughed shortly. “You want to sit down first?”

Joshua was staring at him, starting to see what was happening but saying nothing, letting Nathan run with whatever idea he had.

“We’d like to buy you out completely.”

“What?” The two brothers said it almost as one.

“We’re looking for an outfit for Joshua and his family, so here’s what I’d suggest. You take our wagon and the mules and the horses. You take whatever you need to get you back to Nauvoo and leave everything else here.”

The Wellers were dumbfounded and gaped at him. “You mean everything?” asked Calvin.

“I mean everything,” Nathan said, trying to hold down his exultation. “Food, wagons, oxen. I assume you have a tent.”

“Two of them,” Jacob Weller said, still not believing what he was hearing.

“We’d take the better of the two.” Nathan glanced quickly at Joshua, who had stood up and was looking as astonished as the two Wellers. Caroline had come forward now and was watching Nathan with wide eyes.

“But . . . ,” Jacob started, with a splutter. “Are you crazy? That’s everything we have.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t seem like much of a trade, does it?” He stopped, letting it all sink in for a moment, then went on eagerly. “But remember, it’s only two days back to Nauvoo. Do you have a place to stay there?”

“No,” Calvin answered. “We never had enough money to do anything but rent a small cabin for the two of us.”

“Well,” Nathan said slowly, letting the final piece drop into place, “what if we gave you a house in trade for the tent?”

There was a collective gasp but Nathan ignored it. He turned to Joshua and Caroline. “That is,” he said quietly, “assuming the owners of the house are willing to consider that.”

“You mean that—” Joshua stopped, first staring at his brother, then at his wife. His mind was whirling. The sheer audacity of it was stunning. And yet it was so simple. This would solve his concerns. Two wagons. Plenty of oxen. A tent. Food. In a word, a complete outfit. It was enough. No, not enough. More than enough. Enough and to spare. It was incredible.

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