I have included this delightful little booklet with the rest of this site’s reports because of the pivotal role the author played in helping the Saints. His efforts, I understand, were undertaken on his own time and at his own expense. He never boasted, yet history recognizes his efforts to help the Mormons while on the pioneer trail searching for a new home in the dead of winter.

Thomas Kane played an important role in the negotiations with the plains Indians to allow these dispossessed pioneers to occupy land along the Missouri River during their first cold winter on the prairie. Later, when Salt Lake began to transform into the city it would become, he helped mediate a dispute between the Latter-day Saints and the United States government, thereby helping to bring the Utah War to a peaceful conclusion. There is a book of letters between Kane and the Prophet of the church, and there are many books written about Kane, but this little treasure was written by him.

Kane traveled through an area known as the Half-Breed Tract of land in Iowa during the autumn of 1846, an area appropriated by coiners, horse thieves and outlaws. Disgusted with the vagabonds, idle settlers, and squatters, he continued his journey. As he descended the last hillside before open land, he discovered in the far distance, half encircled by a bend in the river, a beautiful city glittering in the morning sun.

He couldn’t help but notice the faraway dome-shaped marble edifice at the top of the highest hill. Its high tapering spire announced a prosperous city covering several miles, laid out in the most orderly fashion. His curiosity aroused, he boarded a skiff and rowed across the river only to find the city engulfed in silence and devoid of inhabitants. He walked quietly through solitary streets, passing empty workshops, idle spinning wheels, and a blacksmith’s shop that had grown cold. There was no sound of the bark of a dog or the meow of a cat. Clearly, the residents of this once prosperous city had recently fled. But why? And, where had they gone?

On the outskirts of town he found a graveyard with a few stones newly set, but no signs of cholera or a plague. Beyond the graveyard, he came to a young orchard, the fruits having been hastily picked, while the grain fields lay rotting.

He found clues to his mystery in and around the temple building where cannonballs marred its once pristine facade. Ruffians and troublemakers lounged around carelessly, surrounded by muskets and heavy ordnance. Their breath smelled of alcohol. Once Kane introduced himself they became anxious to gain his approval. They told their story of the city and bragged of having waged war with the former owners. They boldly boasted that it took only a few days to drive the people out and send them across the river into the frigid western prairie.

These men continued to give Kane an introduction to the interior of the building that rose above the hills. In it, he found a large, deep carved wooden basin supported by twelve life-sized oxen. The rowdies explained this was the place where the former residents had performed baptisms for regeneration of their dearly departed, or for those who had been left behind in their distant homeland. The steeple had been struck by lightning the previous Sunday.

As Kane made his way up the winding staircase, he found fragments of food, vessels of liquor, and broken cups and other trash. Here, also, they kept a brass drum and a steam-boat signal bell, ready to reverberate and ring into the silent night announcing their conquest. Disgusted, Kane crossed the river and headed farther upstream.

Kane was soon attracted to a faint, glimmering light in the distance and quietly approached a crowd of several hundred people asleep on the ground, their only light a tallow candle in a paper funnel-shade. These were the most pitiful, suffering and forsaken beings, the last of the Mormons who had left the city, now famished in Lee County, Iowa at the end of September 1846. In the distance, he recognized the sound of a drum and bell, accompanied by the oath-tainted revel of the temple brigade. He gave an exasperated sigh as he remembered the characters responsible for this interference into the quiet of the night.

Kane’s lecture was prepared for presentation before the Historical Society of Pennsylvania in March, 1850. It is Kane’s account of what happened to the Mormons their first year in the wilderness. He joined them on their trek across the prairie, stopping at Garden Grove and Mount Pisgah. Here, he found land which had been fenced by those who left the city of Nauvoo early in the expulsion. They had laid out sizable farms, planted with grain, in preparation for a harvest meant to sustain those who were to follow. In June, the advanced emigrant companies arrived at the wide Missouri. Kane pushed forward to the frontier post, Fort Leavenworth, where he heard many ridiculous tales of Mormons—false rumors.

A short distance above the Potawatomi Indian Reservation, he came upon the high summits of Council Bluffs. When he reached the landing on the east side of the river, he found it heavily crowded with covered carts and white covered wagons. The scene was abuzz with the activity necessary to maintain the camp. A bright-faced lad assured him he had found the place he was looking for and led him to the main camp.

In the days that followed, the leaders were informed of the coming of the Mexican War and their invitation to furnish a battalion of five hundred and twenty volunteers to march to the Pacific coast at government expense. The Mormons had left Illinois and Missouri behind in hopes of finding a safe place outside the United States, but it seemed the possession of this Mexican territory would soon shift to American hands. The leaders met in council and soon after announced: “You shall have your battalion.” Three days later, after a gay farewell ball which included music and dancing, the force was mustered, organized and began their march.

The Vanguard gathered their tents, placed their wagons in a row and set off for the ferry crossing. Cattle, reluctant to swim the crossing, were coaxed and prodded. On the other side of the Missouri they formed their companies and made preparations for the next stage in their journey.

Kane marveled at the faith of the Saints who firmly believed all their troubles would end on their arrival in Zion. This hope gave people courage and the determination to build a road a thousand miles or more, with well-built bridges over streams and permanent ferries for crossing the great rivers. Kane watched men working in the broiling sun, water up to their necks, without a single oath or quarrel.

Each dawn, before breaking camp, the men formed in brigades of mowers and marched abreast through the meadows, their scythes in hand as they lay down large bunches of choice hay for the animals they cherished. At other times, they guided the animals to the nearest place where grass was still fresh and fattening, always accompanied by an escort of mounted men and boys to protect the livestock from thievish Indians.

When it came time to build their winter houses, there were always a number of men skilled at turning wood, and there were wheelwrights, and boat builders when needed. These were camps of seasoned craftsmen. Inside the camp, ovens were fired and a limited amount of milk was added to flour, along with a few condiments and dabs of butter they had made along the trail. With the efficiency that comes from repetition, their well-kneaded loaves were quickly made ready for baking, leaving time to tend to the sick before the sound of a hundred cattle bells announced the approach of their men. The women, often with a baby in their arms and another clinging to their skirt, quickly made their way to the camp gates.

At times, the plague raged and they suffered severely. Those who could move about went among the tents with food and water, and consecrated oil for the healing laying on of hands. Burials were often slow, and women sat in open tents fanning their deceased to keep the flies at bay. Late summer and early fall, Kane, himself, fell ill. He kept his tent in the camp line, but, near delirium, he had very little notion of what went on around him.

Traveling on, they found themselves among the Indians. The land on both sides of the Missouri was owned by the Pottawatomie and Omaha Indians. These tribes had been treated unjustly by the United States and were left with memories and a sense of compassion for these strangers who had been similarly ruthlessly expelled.

As the camp progressed, they met with the Omaha Indians, the paupers of the prairie. This was the headquarters of the Camps of Israel, as the Saints liked to style themselves. They harvested and stored away crops of maize and shared their food from time to time in the hope of saving the dark-skinned natives from absolute starvation.

On a plateau overlooking the river, the Mormons built more than seven hundred houses, neatly laid out with roads and fortified with breastworks, a stockade, and blockhouses, as well as various large workshops, mills, and factories provided with water power. This was Winter Quarters, built on Omaha land on the western side of the Missouri River.

Across the river, the Pottawatomie lands were scattered through the border regions of Missouri and Iowa, in Sak and Fox country, with smaller settlements among other tribes. In these scattered settlements and at Winter Quarters, the Mormons endured the winter of 1846–1847.

Before the spring grass fully showed its growth, one hundred and forty-three men, along with three women and two children, continued the trek west with seventy wagons, drawn by the best horses. They carried seed and farming implements, and relied on their rifles for food. They made long daily marches, and moved as rapidly as possible.

Once the train passed South Pass, they traversed the Rocky Mountains and forced their way over rugged mountains in the Utah Range. They arrived at the grand basin of the Great Salt Lake on July 24, 1847, exhausted but ready to plant a partial autumn harvest.

That summer, another party started from Winter Quarters with five hundred and sixty-six wagons and large quantities of grain. They arrived at the Great Salt Lake, now a part of the United States, and planted their seed in the ground long before frost. They were joined by members of the Battalion who had traveled to California before the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo was signed. They tended crops yielding ample provisions for the ensuing year.

In 1848, nearly all the remaining members of the church left the Missouri country. When they reached their destination, it was fully established as a Commonwealth and future State of Deseret. Two events seriously menaced them. This was the year of the crickets. These wingless insects with bulging eyes came down from the mountains with a hearty appetite and they were unstoppable. They mowed their way even with the ground leaving it looking as though it had been burnt by fire.

Next came the gulls. Vast armies of bright white birds swept across the fields, gorged themselves on the insects, then vomited and began to feast again. Every evening, they disappeared beyond the lake and returned at sunrise until the crickets were all consumed.

A more severe trial came with the discovery of gold in California. Many Mormons considered leaving to join in the fields of ore, but the leaders preached gold was for paving streets, and the treasures of the earth were in the Lord’s storehouses. Those who left the city for the fields were told to never return.

This new land of the Mormons was unequaled as a stock-raising country. Along the east side of Utah Lake and Jordan River grew a cereal called bunch grass, because it grew in one clump. During spring, this fine plant dried on its stalk and transformed to a light yellow straw, full of flavor and nourishment. In January, it began a vigorous growth which kept on until May, offering year round feed for the cattle.

Sheep grew wool with a fine pile and soft texture while they roamed little dells and sheltered spots. Hogs fattened on succulent tubers called sego which became a highly praised table vegetable for Mormons and Indians. The poultry needed nothing more than the liberty to provide for themselves.

The Mormons, Kane said, maintained happy Indian relations. The Utahs roamed the territory freely before the Mormons came. It was their land. They rode strong Spanish horses, carried rifles and bows across their saddles, and had some idea of military discipline. Their chief, Walkara, was a fine figure of a man, in the prime of his life, and a master of pantomime as a form of communication. He knew some English, some Spanish, and several Indian tongues, and presented himself as a gentleman. He was often seen in a full suit of the richest brown broadcloth, with a shining beaver hat, and fine cambric shirt.

Kane predicted the Mormons would continue to thrive as they helped to build the transcontinental railroad. Foreign missions had garnered fifty thousand members, mostly in England, with some in Scandinavia and Germany. These converts will leave us with their own stories of their voyages across the ocean and their trek west.

Kanesville was growing rapidly, boasting over three thousand inhabitants, nineteen large merchants’ stores, mail lines, and five regular steam packets running to it. The town had a fine music hall, public buildings, and a printing establishment that published the Frontier Guardian.

Large numbers of converts were expected to arrive from England and gather there before continuing west to the Salt Lake Valley. Once there, they would have no gold, nor would they hunt for it, finding their wealth instead in mammoth beets, turnips, pumpkins, and garden vegetables yielded by the irrigated land. It was said thirty-two potatoes saved this year would return eighteen bushels in the following year. Two and a half bushels of wheat would yield three hundred and fifty bushels in a season. The Mormons had found their land of milk and honey.

Kane ended his discourse with this viewpoint: “I have not yet heard a single charge against them as a community, against their habitual purity of life, their integrity of dealing, their toleration of religious differences in opinion, their regard for the law, and their devotion to the constitutional government.” Not all would share Kane’s praises, and long-term peace in Zion would be hard-won.

* * * The End * * *

I hope you enjoyed reading: The Mormons, by Col. Thomas L. Kane

NOTE: Join us next week for another exciting frontier tale:

Journal of Handcart Pioneers

Feel free to drop a comment below—I read and respond to every single one. Don’t forget to like and subscribe so you don’t miss the next chapter!

Thank you.

— Just Judy, author

Printing Supplies Arrive

April was nearly over. The wagon wheels made their way across the mud-packed earth, bringing the elders, at last, to Zion. Sidney’s mind seemed stable, although he remained quite fragile. In addition to Sidney, Newel Whitney, Peter Whitmer, Jesse Gause, and Martin Harris accompanied Joseph during this journey. Oliver was the first on hand to greet the new arrivals.

“Look what we brought,” Joseph said proudly. He wore a wide grin as he pointed to a large carton of printing supplies. “This will help feed that new press of yours.”

The Saints in Missouri and in Kirtland had high hopes for the Evening and Morning Star. The church continued its rapid growth with numerous small branches throughout the United States and Canada. This new periodical would help unite the people and provide a means of communicating with all who subscribed.

The men were soon joined by David Whitmer and William Phelps. They were about to be conducted on a tour of the growing community of Independence, Missouri. It was no longer a ramshackle town. Joseph was pleased with Zion’s growth and the improvements that had been made, but he sensed a feeling of animosity as he spoke with the elders.

“When do you plan to move to Zion?” William asked. “This is where you belong.”

“I belong where the Lord sends me. Our work in Kirtland will last another five years.”

“Meanwhile,” David accused, “we have no voice in church affairs. Administrative decisions are made without our vote.”

“That’s right,” Oliver said. “And I resent the revelation that Zion is to pay Kirtland’s debts. We can’t possibly carry that burden.”

“You resent the word of the Lord?”

“I can’t accept it as the word of the Lord. We struggle but do not meet our daily needs. If that revelation is the word of the Lord, can’t He see how we suffer?”

“He knows all things,“ Joseph said confidently.

Oliver’s face flushed with anger, and there was outrage in his voice. “You have said our storehouse swells. We live on old beef and what ground corn we can purchase. All the while, we’re expected to save enough to buy up the region.”

Joseph tried an ameliorating tone. “You have jumped to conclusions. One of the reasons we have come is to arrange to restock the storehouse.”

“That’s good. Life is hard here. It seems we make the sacrifice, but our people do not receive the rewards.”

“We are all people under God. We’ll help replenish the storehouse.”

To that end, a general conference was held. In this meeting Joseph was acknowledged as the president of the high priesthood, a position to which he had been ordained at the beginning of the year.

Joseph, true to form, spoke in the name of the Lord and directed the management of the affairs of the poor, both in Zion and in Kirtland. The mercantile establishments in the two communities would be united as one firm. Kirtland would be a stake, or subdivision, of Zion, equal in her claims to the properties in the storehouse. The two bishops were ordered to negotiate a fifteen thousand dollar loan to replenish the supplies.

It seemed all difficulties had been settled. The Kirtland elders had been successful in generating goodwill. But when Sidney preached to a large crowd in the new brick courthouse, a problem arose from some of the strangers in attendance.

Sidney’s sermon included his testimony of divine revelation in the nineteenth century. He said, “The epistles were not given for our instruction but for the instruction of the people of another age and country, far removed from ours, of different habits and manners and needing different teaching. We are blessed, for we have revelation in these last days.”

“Heresy!” a voice cried out.

In response, Sidney expanded on the principle of revelation in each member’s life. “New revelation is to be sought, is to be expected. Indeed, is coming.”

“Heresy!” came the loud, united cry of two men.

Elder Rigdon ignored the jeers and told of how he had seen God and Christ in a vision he had shared with Joseph. This bold claim caused the taunting criers to leave. Sidney continued his sermon without interruption. After the service, he and Joseph looked for Oliver and David.

“Who were those rude men?” Joseph asked.

“Protestant ministers,” David said. “They are from a missionary society out to Christianize the Indians. The boldest voice was that of the Reverend Pixley.”

Joseph nodded. “I might have known it would be some kind of priest.”

“They have been opposed to us from the beginning and active and successful in their attempts to keep us out of Indian Territory,” Oliver said.

Joseph turned to Sidney and asked, “Didn’t Brother Parley tell us about these priests when he visited us in Kirtland?”

“The very same,” Oliver said. “I know why they’re attending our meetings. They just want to stir up trouble.”

Street Confrontation by the Schoolhouse

The following day Joseph and Sidney were making their way through the streets toward the schoolhouse to meet with some of the elders when they were stopped by the Protestant ministers.

“What’s happened to you, Sidney?” a short fellow asked. “A few years back I heard a great deal about a man with excellent oratory skills who preached the Christian message. Now, I’ve had the opportunity to meet the man, and I hear a different message.”

Joseph stepped forward, his chest puffed out and full of confidence and determination. “Which of you is Pixley?” he asked.

“I am,” a man answered. He, too, carried himself with an air of confidence.

Joseph had no thought of backing down in a confrontation. “I hear you are one of the men who were yelling out rudely at our meeting yesterday. What’s the purpose?”

“We just want some clarification, for we know revelation ceased with the age of the apostles.” This from the man identified as Pixley.

Sidney eased forward ready to share his knowledge. “That’s a common misconception. But, think about it, is that a conclusion the scholars have reached or a fact attested to by scripture?”

“God has not finished speaking,“ Joseph said.

“You–,” Pixley looked at Joseph with disgust. “You’re the one who made up this delusion. My contention is with Sidney, who ought to know better.”

Sidney had been a close follower of the famous Campbellite preacher, Alexander Campbell, and had gathered his own following. Then, when Sidney found that his questions were not answered in a satisfactory manner, he slowly began to drift away until he was introduced to Joseph and his followers. From that very day, there were no more unanswered questions, only new answers to be discovered. Sidney was sure where he now stood and answered Pixley boldly. “You don’t have the truth. You are the blind leading the blind.”

Sidney turned to Joseph and signaled his desire to end this conversation. The two men turned and walked toward the schoolhouse, leaving Pixley and his friend standing, muttering angrily.

Inside the schoolhouse, Oliver sensed that all was not well with the two leaders. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

Joseph chose to answer. “Brother Sidney has just had a little run-in with your friend, Pixley.”

Oliver laughed. “He is a bitter man. He ought to go about preaching and forget us.”

Joseph nodded and said, “I’m eager to visit the Saints above the Big Blue River. We’ll be gone for a couple of days.”

Colesville Saints Thrive

This reunion with the Colesville Saints was especially pleasing. Joseph Knight seemed to be recovering from the loss of his wife, Polly. He managed to keep an outwardly happy countenance. Joseph suspected inner pain was still with his longtime friend.

The isolated community continued its hard work and erected several cabins and buildings. They were showing other signs of stability. Corn and other vegetables had been planted in neat rows in preparation for the growing season.

Joseph was given a tour of the new community. “This has been a delightful visit,” he said. “I’m truly impressed with all you have done.”

The two men, Joseph Smith, the prophet, and his long-time friend, Joseph Knight, embraced each other and said their goodbyes. Each man expressed his longing for the other.

Joseph shrugged aside his feelings of separation. He looked forward to the building of the kingdom. The acquisition of a printing press, along with the decisions to publish the revelations, caused the council to review their earlier decision to print ten thousand copies. It was decided that three thousand copies would be enough for the first printing. The revelations would be reviewed by Oliver Cowdery, William Phelps, and John Whitmer. William Phelps was also commanded to correct and print the hymns Emma had selected.

In less than two weeks, the Kirtland elders accomplished a great deal. It was time to go home. Joseph, accompanied by Sidney and Newel, traveled by stagecoach alongside the falls of the Ohio River. The coach jostled the men but caused no concern until they heard the frightened echo of the horses and began to be tossed from one side of the small enclosure to the other. Joseph grabbed onto a strap that was hanging from the inside of the carriage. He looked anxiously out the window and said. “I wonder what the rush is.”

“Maybe there is someone following us,” Sidney suggested.

The wagon seemed as though it would split at the seams. Joseph became anxious. “I’m getting out of here before this thing goes to pieces.”

Newel panicked. He stood and opened the door, prepared to jump, but his coat, firmly buttoned, restricted his leg movement on the outward kick. He began to tumble forward, and all too quickly, his foot had caught in the wheel.

Joseph jumped. He rolled with the fall and then frantically shuffled to Newel’s side. “Newel,” he called. He knelt beside the man and tapped him lightly. “Say something.”

Newel’s head moved from side to side, barely conscious. Joseph ripped Newel’s pants along the seam and gently pressed his finger against his flesh. It felt as though several bones had been broken.

Newel moaned and grabbed his head with his open palms. The stagecoach stopped and the driver came running toward them. Sidney followed close behind.

Joseph looked at the men. “He’s hurt badly. We need to get him to a doctor.”

“The nearest doctor is back in Greenville,” the driver said. “We passed through there a few miles back.”

“I remember,” Joseph said.

“I’ve got a schedule to keep. There’s only one direction this coach can go.”

Joseph looked at Newel, who winced in pain. He looked up at the driver and said, “I understand.”

I’m Going to Get Help

The three men were left on the road. Joseph turned to Sidney and said, “You stay here.” He looked down at Newel, who returned his gaze through thinly slit eyes that showed little awareness. “Try to keep him quiet,” he said, and then he hurried down the dusty road.

The land on either side had been recently tilled. Small bean sprouts were beginning to show through on his left while rows of young corn had emerged on his right. Joseph walked briskly. After a half hour he spotted a lone, ramshackle farmhouse in the distance. As he neared the shack he found an old man seated on the porch, a homemade corn-cob pipe hanging from his mouth.

“Howdy,” the farmer said.

“Howdy,” Joseph responded in kind. He introduced himself and briefly explained his situation. “I need to borrow a horse and wagon. I can pay you if you like.”

“I guess I can rent you old Martha there,” the man said as he pointed to a tired and worn chestnut mare.

“What I really need is a wagon,” Joseph explained. “My friend cannot ride.”

The farmer eyed him skeptically, as though trusting strangers did not come easily. Still, he yielded. “Just make sure you bring them back,” he said. “I don’t want to go looking for you. If you really do need a doctor, you can find one on the outskirts of town.”

“I will need one. And a place to stay.”

The farmer advised Joseph of a family who often took in boarders. He gave directions to the place where the town’s only doctor could be found.

Joseph handed the farmer two silver coins, a hefty price for the transportation afforded. He thanked him, promised to return, then retraced his steps as fast as the slow-moving animal would allow.

By the time Joseph pulled the wagon to a stop, Newel, while still in pain, had regained consciousness. Sidney, not surprisingly, was short on patience and grumbled about the size of the wagon and the condition of the horse.

“You can walk if you like,” Joseph said. “But first help me lift Newel into the wagon.”

“I’ll help you get settled. Then, I must return to my family.”

“Very well.”

Joseph had no problem finding Mr. and Mrs. Porter’s house on the outskirts of town, and he was pleased with the price of a night’s boarding. Better still, Mr. Porter’s brother was the town’s doctor and expected to take his evening meal with the household.

The Doctor Winced

The doctor arrived as expected, his black bag in hand. His day had been trying as he had struggled to save the life of a mother and her child, to no avail. “A broken leg?” he marvelled. “That, I can handle.” Still, he winced as he gently pressed the flesh up and down Newel’s leg. “He has several breaks, and his foot is broken as well.”

“That’s what I thought,” Joseph said. “Can you fix him?”

“I think so. But this man will need time to heal. He won’t be able to travel for six weeks or more.”

Joseph sighed and nodded. He reached into his pocket for more silver coins.

Newel’s pain was soon minimized by a splint secured by heavy bandages. When the ordeal was over, he looked at Joseph and asked, “What are we going to do?”

“We’ll stay here,” Joseph said. “It will give you time to mend. I spoke with Mr. Porter. We can have the room for a few weeks.”

“Can you stay away from Kirtland that long?”

Joseph met Newel’s eyes with his own. “I won’t leave you.” Fully aware of Sidney’s family obligations, he shot a questioning glance toward his assistant.

“I hear a stage will be running through in the morning. I can’t stay.”

Joseph nodded his understanding.

The days passed slowly, and the two men began to feel rested. Joseph was becoming bored. Then, late one afternoon as Newel lay quietly napping, he decided to take a brisk walk. When he returned, he entered their small rented room and found Newel sitting up, bolstered by pillows.

“Where have you been?” Newel asked casually.

“Out walking.”

“You look disturbed.”

“A little.” Joseph said. “As I was making my way back, I passed a number of fresh graves. When I saw the first few, I thought it was odd to have people buried in the woods rather than a cemetery. I didn’t give it a great deal of thought. As I continued, I saw a couple more graves. They were all unmarked. It made me feel uneasy.”

“That does sound strange,” Newel said warily. “There could be any number of explanations.”

“I know. Still, it gave me an uneasy feeling.”

“Are you thinking that our Mr. Porter is a little touched in the head?”

“I don’t know what to think. The Porters seem like nice people. Look how they’ve helped care for you.”

“Maybe they don’t know about the graves. Mrs. Porter doesn’t seem to go out much. Ask the doctor. Maybe there is a reasonable explanation.”

“I don’t think the doctor is expected for a few days.”

Several days later, on an equally quiet afternoon, Joseph took another walk. This time he walked to the old man’s farm where he had hired the wagon and mare. He hoped for an opportunity to share the gospel, but the old man was not in. He returned to his room and spent the afternoon reading.

Early that evening, Mrs. Porter brought Newel his meal tray. As she was leaving, she turned to Joseph and said, “My husband and I will be going out. I’ve left your plate covered on the table.”

Joseph thanked her and waited for the Porters to leave. Newel seemed to be resting, so he went into the kitchen, hungry and eager to see the meal that was promised. He lifted a plate covering and found a well-rounded dish of fresh turkey, potatoes, and corn. He began to eat with relish, his appetite whetted by his long afternoon walk. Suddenly, he felt ill. His forehead became covered with beads of sweat, and he felt a strange tightness in his chest. He loosened his collar and struggled toward the door, opened it, and inhaled deeply of the fresh air. His stomach went into spasms.

“Oh, God,” he cried out. “Someone has poisoned me.”

There was no one to hear his lamentations. He did not call for help. He wondered why he was eating alone this evening. His spasms continued. With one quick jab of intense pain, he felt his jaw slip from its socket. He tried to force it back into place, but it remained painfully askew. His retching subsided. His thoughts turned to Newel. As quickly as he was able, he made his way up the stairs and bolted through the door. Newel looked up, surprised. He was sitting on his bed reading, his empty tray at his side. He was content and showed no signs of distress.

“What’s the matter?” Newel asked.

Joseph’s pale face was accentuated by the way he held his jaw. He moved closer to Newel. He knelt on the floor beside the bed and placed his hands on his cheeks and and the side of his face. He motioned to Newel to move the lower part of his chin to its proper place. Newel began to understand. He grasped Joseph’s face firmly and quickly guided the jaw back into place.

Joseph groaned and cautiously moved his jaw.

Newel ignored his prophet’s cry and ministered to him in the name of Jesus Christ. Almost immediately, Joseph’s stomach felt calmer.

“They tried to poison me.”

“Who did? Mr. Porter?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe it was the cook. I was fine until I ate.”

“I ate everything on my tray and I feel fine. Maybe it’s your curiosity that got you in trouble. Maybe someone is feeling threatened.”

“Anything is possible,” Joseph said, massaging his jaw. “How do you feel about heading for home in the morning?”

“I haven’t been out of bed in weeks. I think I can make it.”

“I’ll make you a bed in the wagon, “Joseph said. “There may be a few bumps along the way, but the river is only four miles from here. We should be able to get a ferry to take us across. We could be on our way home by ten o’clock.”

Their decision was made. They would return to Kirtland, their wives, and their homes.

* * * The End * * *

I hope you enjoyed this chapter: Poisoned

NOTE: Join us next week for another exciting “Holy Joe!” frontier tale:

Three Rooms and a Baby

Feel free to drop a comment below—I read and respond to every single one. Don’t miss the next chapter! Like and subscribe.

Thank you,

Just Judy

* * * * *

The Voices of the Centennial

For this report, I share a little bit about the first white men who traversed the Great Basin area, but concentrate more heavily on the period from July 1847 through August 1877, when the first white men arrived, made their homes, built communities and claimed the land.

First Encounters and the Impact of the Horse

Prior to July, 1847, white men were merely passing through the country, usually Spaniards, priests, or mountain men and beaver hunters. The first encounters that left a lasting impact were with the Spaniards, whose most important contribution was the horse. By the early 1700s, all tribes in Utah had some access to the horse. The Paiute and Goshute were hunters and gatherers who roamed southwestern and west-central Utah. This land usually did not provide sufficient grass to sustain large herds of any kind and the prey these Indians hunted was best caught on foot. The horse was seen by these Indians as an alternate food source. The Utes and Northern Shoshones hunted herds of buffalo and deer and became tepee-living, horse-wealthy warriors.

At times, the Shoshone fought the Utes and Paiutes, and the Utes preyed upon the Paiutes as a source for slaves to trade with the Spaniards and Mexicans. Still, relations within the confines of Utah were usually peaceful.

In 1821, Spain accepted Mexico’s independence, ceding vast territory including the future state of Utah. Mexico held title to this land for nearly three decades but did little with it. Mountain men traversed the streams in search of beaver. Groups of traders traveled through the valleys and over large stretches of the Great Basin via the Old Spanish Trail which connected Santa Fe, New Mexico, to Los Angeles, California. The Indians were still in control of their destiny and could choose what they accepted from the white man.

The Arrival of Permanent Settlement

In 1847, a large contingent of white men entered the Salt Lake Valley. These whites, unlike travelers of the past, built settlements and claimed land, waterways, and forests as their own. Inherent in their theology was the thought that American Indians were descendants of Book of Mormon characters, Hebrews thought to have fled Jerusalem six hundred years before the birth of Christ. These Hebrews were believed to have fallen from the grace of God and to have been given a dark skin as a sign of their spiritual standing. It was thought that in the battles preceding the return of Christ, these dark-skinned natives would become white and delightsome and act as the battleaxes of the Lord. This Kingdom was expected to arrive at any time.

Brigham Young, the leader of these people commonly known as Mormons, led the builders of Salt Lake City, claimed the forests, water rights, and the most fertile land. The Indians, who had spent centuries hunting and moving from one area to another in response to the seasons and weather, now found hunger had moved into their tepees; conflicts between the two groups ensued.

Brigham Young’s Indian policy—”It is cheaper to feed the Indians than to fight them”—seemed reasonable on the surface. In fact, the Mormons had claimed much of what the Indians depended upon and gave very little in return. They starved while being fed.

It is estimated that there were twenty thousand Indians in Utah in 1847, the year the Mormons moved in. In 1850, the white population was eleven thousand. A decade later, it was eighty-six thousand, increasing to one hundred forty-three thousand by 1870. Many Indians had been killed by then. At times, entire communities were nearly wiped out. Mormons were often responsible, as were army personnel whose duty it was to protect the area and the emigrants who passed through it. Indians, driven by hunger, were forced to steal. Retribution was swift and sure. Additionally, many Native communities were decimated by the diseases brought by the white settlers.

Growth in numbers continued. Emigrants from abroad, as well as gold-seekers, were constantly on the move. The three emigration trails had constant traffic. There was no stopping the westward movement. In a short time, sixteen cities and towns were established within territory previously claimed by the natives. Hunting and gathering grounds that had been utilized for hundreds of years by the dark-skinned natives were no longer available.

The Paiutes provided the largest number of Mormon converts. The Utes waged two costly wars—the Walker War (1853-1854) and the Black Hawk War (1865-1868). The Shoshone and Goshute also offered resistance. There were no differences between Mormons and non-Mormons when it came to meting out their concept of justice. At times, there was peace.

The Walker War: (1853-1854)

Before there was war, there were skirmishes. The Utes found their land occupied, their lakes and streams over-fished, and their sources of independence disappearing. They retaliated by taking cattle and horses and raiding Mormon communities.

In the summer of 1853, a settler killed a Ute and wounded two others. Chief Walkara, along with his brother, Arapeen, began a series of raids on Mormon settlements. Twenty whites and many more Utes were killed over a period of ten months. But the Mormons had become the majority and there was no way the Utes could prevail. In May 1854, Brigham Young met with Chief Walkara, and the two reached an agreement. Still, many of the Indians were not under Walkara’s control, and there were many tribes other than the Utes. Peace with Walkara did not necessarily mean peace in Utah.

Early in January 1858, Mormons met with the Navajos, Utes, and Paiutes to form an alliance. Army personnel were moving into Mormon Territory, sent by the President of the United States. He had become concerned over the Mormons’ lack of commitment to federal laws and reports carried from Salt Lake City to Washington by several government officials. Polygamy, which had previously been practiced in secret, was now practiced openly. Citizens at large found the practice distasteful and unchristian. The Mormons saw it as God’s law, one that must be obeyed.

Mountain Meadows Massacre

In September 1857, an incident referred to as the Mountain Meadows Massacre took the lives of over one hundred Americans traveling through Utah on their way to California from Arkansas. There were several issues that led to this tragedy, starting with vows taken a decade earlier to avenge the death of the Prophet Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum. These vows were taken in the temple in Nauvoo, Illinois, before the trek west led by Brigham Young.

Years later, these same men were stimulated into action by rumors that some of the people in the Mountain Meadows party boasted about having the gun that killed Joseph Smith. When learning of the loss of one of their leading and well-loved apostles, Parley P. Pratt, the elders were further agitated. Pratt was murdered when he took the wife of another man as his twelfth plural wife. The woman’s first husband was from Arkansas, another reason for vengeance on the Arkansans at Mountain Meadows.

This book states the Paiutes were not involved in this crime. At the time, Mormons claimed the Indians were the perpetrators. Paiute oral history tells of white men dressed as natives. Another account states that some Paiutes took part in the initial attack, but when they saw Indian blood and realized they had been lied to about the Mormon God stopping the bullets, they dropped out. We will never know the full truth behind this massacre.

The Bear River Massacre: (January 1863)

The Shoshone of the Bear River often spent their winters in a natural depression that was thick with willows and brush. This location provided shelter from the wind and blizzards. The nearby natural hot springs provided warm water and the tepees were kept warm inside. Often, these people would have visitors from the Eastern Shoshone band or from another band led by Chief Pocatello. These three groups came together for games and times of fun, and closed their gathering with a traditional ceremonial Warm Dance. The visiting Shoshone and other guests left early that night and the remaining Indians began settling into their nightly routines.

Three Shoshone troublemakers—One-Eyed Tom, Zee-coo-Che (Chipmunk), and Qua-ha-da-do-coo-wat (Lean Antelope)—were suspected of stealing horses and cattle belonging to white settlers. Then there was a fight between some white and Shoshone youths. Two whites and two Shoshone were killed. These youths were not members of the Northwestern Shoshone Band, but the innocent would soon pay for the actions of others.

Some Shoshone from Chief Pocatello’s band got into a fight with some miners. The miners were killed, and their horses and other personal belongings were taken into Pocatello’s territory.

Armed with Justice Kinney’s warrant for the arrest of three Northwestern Shoshone—Bear Hunter, Sagwitch, and Sanpitch—Colonel Patrick Connor approached Bear River.

The Shoshone knew the soldiers were coming, but expected that they could negotiate a peaceful settlement. Early on the morning of January 29, 1863, the soldiers came down the bluff, crossed the river, and approached the Indian encampment firing their rifles. The Shoshone men, women, children, and babies were slaughtered like rabbits. Few escaped. Chief Bear Hunter, as one of the leaders of the Northwestern Shoshone Band, was whipped, kicked, and tortured, and then, finally, shot. Before he died, a bayonet that had been heated in the camp’s fire pierced through the chief’s head from ear to ear.

As the day began to wane, soldiers went through the fields killing those who were not yet dead, striking them with an ax. Finished, they set the tepees on fire, after gathering their food and clothing which was also burned.

The Black Hawk War (1865-1868):

Black Hawk, a very capable leader, led bands of Indians on attacks against the whites. He was able to recruit other Utes, and some Navajos and Paiutes. The Black Hawk War was an intensification of the raids that had been conducted against the Mormons since 1849. Great numbers of livestock and supplies were seized. Their efforts were in vain. Mormons threatened a war of extermination.

In the summer of 1867, Black Hawk appeared on the Uintah Reservation. He explained that the Indians were tired of fighting and were hoping for permanent peace. They negotiated a verbal peace treaty. In 1870, Black Hawk traveled to various Mormon settlements asking forgiveness for the attacks, explaining that the raids had been undertaken because his people were starving. He died later that year of tuberculosis.

Most of this report has been devoted to the wars between the whites and the Indians. I need to point out that the Indians rarely received the annuities promised to them at the signing of the various treaties. This book points out that the Indians are still with us. We did not successfully annihilate them. They were and are strong-willed people. I have two more books about Native Americans to report on. In this report, we have looked at the Indian wars. I hope the next two reports will give us an opportunity to understand more about the lives of the Native peoples before and during the great westward expansion.

* * * The End * * *

NOTE: Next week: “The Mormons” by Thomas L. Kane.

Thomas Kane offers us an interesting perspective as he wanders into Nauvoo, Illinois after the Mormon exodus, and then follows the trail west to catch up with the leaders in Winter Quarters. Kane was always a friend of the downtrodden Mormons.

A note from Just Judy: There is no reason to believe that the Nephites and the Lamanites are anything more than characters of Joseph’s early ‘Ancient Inhabitants’ tales–the ones his mother said sounded as if, “...he lived with them all his life.” Joseph knew the Nephites and the Lamanites, but until he wrote about them, no one else did. Secular history denies their existence. There simply is no historical evidence.

A Note re: Images:

Gemini and I have been working hard on creating compelling images. Several authors who post on Substack have suggested I use Chat GPT. For this post, I’ve given Chat GPT free rein to use her creativity. I think you will agree with me that she is a real artist.

I sincerely hope you return week after week to get the full story. Feel free to drop a comment on any post that catches your eye. I love hearing from readers, promise to read every word, and respond.

Thank you.

Just Judy

The Quiet Before the Storm

Joseph made his way to the Johnson house and the small space he and Emma shared with the year-old Murdock twins. It had been a trying day, and he found it difficult to concentrate. That morning, Emma had discovered the twins had measles. She had insisted he leave her with the babies and assured him she felt up to the task of caring for them. Now, as he neared the cabin, concerns for the children’s welfare ballooned.

Inside, Emma held one bundled infant quietly in her arms as she rocked in her chair. “Hush,” she whispered. She put a finger to her lips and nodded her head toward the sleeping Julia. “It’s been a hectic day. This is the first time it’s been quiet.”

“You look beat,” Joseph said. “I can stay with the twins for a while. Go and get some rest.”

“Are you sure you’ll be able to hear them cry?”

“I’ll be right here on the trundle bed with one eye open all the while.”

Emma smiled softly. “You’re sweet.” She put Julia in her cradle and planted a peck on Joseph’s cheek before leaving the room.

Joseph was thankful for this quiet time. He had a great deal on his mind. The law of consecration was not being accepted well in Kirtland. Some of the Johnson boys had accused him of trying to get their father’s property and they added the odious charge that he had attempted to seduce their sister, Nancy. The work of the translation added to his weariness.

He glanced at the infants, aware of heaviness in his eyes. He nodded off for a moment and then willed himself awake to check on the babies again. All was well. This time when he nodded off, he went deeper into sleep. He was vaguely aware of a sound from the door, and then he awoke to the sound of a sudden gust of wind and footsteps as someone rhythmically tapped across the floor, rushing across the room. He sat up straight, his eyes wide open. He saw shadows.

The Night Assault

A dark cloth-covered face stood before him. Two large hands reached out to grab him. They grabbed his wrists and tied them to his back and quickly blindfolded his eyes.

“Any man who has to cover his head is up to no good,” Joseph said. His protests ignored, he was shoved forward. “What’s the meaning of this?” He sniffed the air, recognized the smell of liquor, and his stomach turned sour. He knew he had to breathe slowly and deeply. He was in real trouble and he would need to keep his wits. He struggled to free himself.

He heard Emma rush into the room and then heard her scream. “Stop! Murderers!”

Joseph could see a thin sliver of movement coming from under his mask. Two other men, also wearing hoods, entered the room and pulled him off the bed.

“Don’t let the body touch the ground,” a voice urged.

Joseph kicked hard. One leg became free. He immediately pushed with all his might. He turned his head and caught a glimpse as one of his captors fell backward down the porch stairs.

“You just settle down,” a voice demanded gruffly. “You’ll be okay if you submit. We’re just going to have a little fun with you.”

“The hell we are,” said another. “If he don’t submit, we’ll have to kill him.”

The men carried Joseph down the stairs and into the night air. They stopped a short distance from the cabin and threw his body to the ground as though it were a child’s plaything. Joseph let out a groan. A moment later, thick angry hands wrapped around his throat.

“Gee! Gee! Goddamn you! I’ll fix you.”

Joseph’s head was a whirl. He thought he recognized the voice of the man. He gasped and struggled for air. The hands released him. He coughed and gagged and then reminded himself to breathe slow and deep. It was not working. He felt himself growing faint. The voices grew distant, and the darkness turned to nothingness.

When he reopened his eyes, he had no way of knowing how long he had been unconscious. He wanted to groan out in pain, but he remained silent. He struggled and managed to get his blindfold off. In the distance, he saw the Johnson house and Sidney stretched out on the front lawn, his hands tied to stakes hammered into the ground. He lay motionless.

Joseph listened. He thought he heard footsteps nearby. He cleared his throat and ventured, “You will have mercy and spare my life.”

“Damn you!” came a familiar gruff voice. “Call on your God. We’ll show no mercy here.”

Another hooded figure approached with a piece of lumber under his arm. Joseph wondered, Do they plan to hit me with that? Or, maybe they plan to use it to carry me away once they are finished.

The Frozen Meadow

More hooded men approached and picked him up. Flickering lights bobbed and swung all around. He was carried to the meadow. Here he was again tossed to the frozen ground. One man kicked his ribs hard. He doubled in pain. Hands began to pull at his clothing. The smell of dead grass was replaced by the putrid smell of tar.

“Simonds, pull up his drawers,” a deep voice said. “He’s liable to catch a cold.”

“Why don’t we castrate him, Doc?” another said. Joseph thought it sounded like Eli Johnson.

“No,” Doc answered. “What you’re doing is enough. There won’t be much skin on him in the morning as it is.”

“Ain’t we gonna kill him?” Simonds asked.

“No. We ain’t gonna kill him. Pick him up,” Doc ordered. “Now hold him off the ground. We don’t want him to spring on us.”

The hooded figure called “Doc” walked away.

“Simonds, bring me that bucket.”

Joseph tried to scream, but before he could, a hand covered his mouth. He jerked his leg with the hope that the suddenness of his move would catch the holder off guard. Unsuccessful, he made one final, violent effort to free himself. He jerked his body to one side and then another, but his abuser’s hands held fast.

“Let’s tar up his mouth first.”

Joseph gritted his teeth at the sight of the tar bucket and a thin wood paddle smeared with the obnoxious black goo. He turned his head aside.

“Damn you. Hold your head still.”

A hand tried to force a glass vial into his mouth. He bit down and heard the sound of tinkling glass as it fell to the hard ground. He spat, fearful he had been poisoned. Suddenly, the full weight of another body pressed against him so tightly his breathing became even more strained. The man who had pounced on him hissed like a cat and said, “Damn you! That’s the way the Holy Ghost falls on folks.”

Joseph writhed and fought against the hands that held him. He felt his clothes being ripped from him and the obnoxious warmth of what could only be the tar being applied on all parts of his body. Breathing became more difficult, yet the odor was fierce.

Hooded faces became mere dark blurs and their voices distant mumbling. He vaguely realized he was being lifted to a standing position, but his legs felt like rubber. He was released, only to fall in a heap. He felt pain from head to foot.

The night grew intensely quiet, the darkness complete. There was no continued shuffling of feet, no voices of men swearing, or even the faint whisper of breath other than his own. He cracked one eye half-open, then the other. He turned his head as far as he could. No one was in sight.

He moaned and struggled to pull himself to his feet but fell back to the ground. His nasal passages were blocked. He tried to force air out of his nostrils. He began to tug at the tar sealing his lips and nose. Painfully, small pieces came loose.

Breathe slowly, he told himself. He could feel his strength return with each precious gasp. He looked up and noticed two lights in the far distance. Slowly, he lifted himself from the ground, his eyes fixed ahead. He began to wobble, one tortured step and then another. He continued slowly, squinting to bring distant images closer. He gave no thought to his pain.

Follow the Lights

Joseph kept talking to himself: Follow the lights, he repeated as he stumbled, fell, and picked himself up again. Step by step he went forward and the lights kept coming closer. Finally he fell forward, leaning against the rough, wooden door, barely able to support himself. He tried to talk, but all that came out was moans and gurgles. Too weak to push the latch, he tapped faintly.

Emma opened the door, took one look at his tar-covered body, and collapsed to the floor.

Joseph’s voice was strained. “Can someone throw me a blanket?” he pleaded. “This is Joseph, the prophet.”

Two women scurried past him, their eyes lowered toward the ground. Elisa turned and placed a folded blanket across his shoulders. He grasped it with his tar-covered hand and faintly murmured his words of thanks.

Elisa placed her hand tenderly on his back and motioned him through the door and to the kitchen table. “Sit down,” she said as she moved the chair closer.

Emma was beside him now, crying. “Joseph, Joseph. I thought they had torn you to pieces.”

He gave a thin smile, still lacking the strength to speak. Elisa took command. “He’ll be fine,” she said to Emma. “This is just tar.” Then to Joseph she said, “I’m ashamed to say it, but my boys had a hand in this. It looks like they have taken it upon themselves to tar and feather the prophet.”

In the background, Nancy Johnson sobbed softly. Elisa reprimanded her. “Child, I brought you here to help. It’ll take all night to clean this man up. I can’t have you sitting there sobbing. There’s much work to be done.”

Gently, Elisa lowered the blanket from Joseph’s shoulders. “Emma, I need you to find some lard.”

Emma rushed to her upstairs room and quickly returned with her lard bucket. One glance at the prophet and she burst out, almost in tears, “You look horrible.”

Joseph found the strength to answer. “I don’t feel so good either.” He turned to Elisa and asked, “What’s the lard for?”

“It’ll help loosen the tar.” Elisa began to swab his face. “It looks like you broke a tooth.”

“A tooth!” Joseph wailed. “Of course!” He had been aware of a soft whistle when he spoke. “I thought it was ringing in my ears.”

Elisa sighed and lowered her head. “To think my own flesh and blood had a hand in this deed.”

Joseph shook his head from side to side. “It’s not your fault.”

“Do you know who else was there?” Emma asked.

“I’m not sure. I think one was Simonds.”

“He’s a minister!” Nancy said, shocked.

Joseph nodded: “A Campbellite, I believe.”

Under her mother’s direction, Nancy began to scrape Joseph’s shoulders while Emma worked on the crevices of his fingers. Elisa worked her way down his neck.

“Does anyone know what happened to Brother Sidney?” Joseph asked. “I thought I saw him lying dead.”

“He was found in the streets. The sisters have been tending him for the past hour.”

Joseph let out an audible sigh of relief. “Then, he’ll be all right?”

“I doubt that,” Elisa said. “They dragged him at the end of a rope tied to their horse, up and down the road and back again. His body flopped around like a rag doll.”

Joseph winced at the thought of Sidney’s torment and the sting of his own. Each gob of tar the sisters lifted took at least the top layer of flesh. The women scraped throughout the night. By the time dawn began to show its face, his skin was red and raw.

Emma yawned. “You were supposed to preach today.”

“I will preach today,” the prophet said.

“Oh, no! You can’t! Why, look at you. It will be days before you are well.”

“I’ll feel better in another hour or two. The brethren need to hear God’s word on the Sabbath.”

“Someone else can speak.”

“I will preach today,” he said flatly.

Hours later, Joseph held on to Emma’s arm as they entered the meeting house. They moved down the aisle slowly, looking from side to side. The benches were half-filled. He urged Emma to be seated and then slowly shuffled to his place near the speaker’s stand. As he inched forward, heads turned, conversation diminished.

The service began. A prayer was offered, and hymns were sung.

It was Joseph’s turn to preach. He stood and peered into the crowd, pleased to find the amazed and wide-eyed stares of his attackers. He preached a full-length sermon on the topic of forgiveness. Before he finished his talk, he noticed that Simonds Ryder and the Johnson boys had quietly slipped away. That morning, three people presented themselves for baptism.

After the service, Joseph decided to visit with Brother Rigdon. Emma agreed that she would go home to tend the infants. When he arrived at Sidney’s cabin, he found the man lying in bed, his head wrapped in bandages, his eyes black and blue, and his cheeks red with scrapes. He appeared unable to move.

Joseph went to his bedside.

“Phebe! Phebe!” Brother Rigdon called. His eyes had a strange glare. “Bring me a razor.”

Mrs. Rigdon entered the room, went to her husband’s bedside, and spoke softly. “Why, you don’t need a razor. There’ll be no shaving today.”

Sidney motioned to Joseph, his eyes red with rage, his voice raspy. “I want to kill this man.”

Phebe softly reprimanded her ailing husband. Sidney’s body became suddenly still and relaxed. His head lay to one side, his eyes closed.

“He’s lost consciousness,” Joseph said.

“My, oh my. He’s been carrying on like this.” Phebe sat on the edge of the bed and placed her hand on Sidney’s forehead. “Poor dear. He’s burning with fever.” She stood. “Excuse me while I prepare some broth.”

“Of course.” Joseph looked down at the elder’s swollen face. He was clearly at rest. Joseph turned to leave, but before he reached the door, he heard Sidney call his name.

Joseph returned to the bedside. “I’m here.”

“Bring me a razor.”

“Do you still want to kill me?”

“I want to kill Phebe,” he said, his eyes now peering through narrow slits.

“Rest,” Joseph said softly. “You’ll feel better in a few days.”

Joseph returned to the Johnson residence and his small room. He could not clear his mind of the hate Sidney had exhibited. That evening, he sat quietly with Emma discussing the events of the day. He managed to elicit Emma’s sympathy as he neared the end of his story. “Poor man,” she said. “He has suffered a lot.”

Joseph nodded his agreement and then, overtaken with weariness, he laid his head down to rest. When he awoke the following morning, he found Emma softly weeping. He rushed to her side. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh, it’s everything. The babies are sick. Little Joseph seems to get worse every day. I think he caught a cold the night those awful men barged in.”

He held her in his arms until her weeping subsided.

Emma began to dry her eyes. “I’ll be all right,” she said. “I think I’m just tired.”

A few days later, Emma’s weeping was replaced by deep, mournful cries that could not be consoled with a warm embrace. Little Joseph Murdock had died in his sleep.

Joseph, too, felt the sting of the child’s death, but he was forced to focus on the problems at hand. He knew the opposition against him was great and it was dangerous to remain at the Johnson farm. After the burial of the infant, he held Emma in his arms and said, “I’m going to Missouri. It’s not safe for me here any longer.”

“Am I to stay here with the Johnsons?”

“For a little while. Eli and the others won’t hurt you. I’ll send word where you should go as soon as I can make arrangements.”

Emma began to weep again. This had been a trying time.

“I must go,” Joseph said. “I can’t stay here. You know that. Besides, it is the Lord’s will.”

Emma wiped a tear from her eye and sighed deeply. “I’ll never understand the will of the Lord.”

Joseph kissed her affectionately. He began to prepare for his journey.

* * * The End * * *

I hope you enjoyed: Tar and Feathering

NOTE: Join us next week for another exciting ‘Holy Joe!’ frontier tale: Poisoned

Feel free to drop a comment below—I read and respond to every single one. Don’t forget to like and subscribe so you don’t miss the next chapter!

Thank you.

— Just Judy, author

A Note re: Images:

Not all the images in this post have been created by Gemini.ai. It’s brilliant, but much like you and I, not without flaws. I am also exploring ChatGPT’s ability to provide images, and leonardo.ai. Out of the three images provided I select which I think is best. I hope to one day have my character descriptions so tuned-in that Joseph will always look like the Joseph of the previous chapters. This will be a new skill for me, but I know readers will be patient. Still, they tell me it shouldn’t take too long to learn this new skill.

Feel free to drop a comment on any post that catches your eye. I promise to read every word. Like and subscribe. It’s free. Don’t miss out on future posts.

The Last Night in the Nauvoo Temple

TBH Stenhouse became a newspaper man early in his career, first in New York and then for two separate papers in Salt Lake City. He and his wife, Fanny Stenhouse, were devout members of their faith for a number of years, but they later left the church and joined the Godbeite movement. Both TBH and Fanny published their concerns about their faith and were outspoken against many of the beliefs the Saints claimed as their own.

After the murders of Joseph and Hyrum Smith, there was no calm in Nauvoo. There were several contenders for Joseph’s place as Prophet, Seer, and Revelator, but these claims were quickly exposed as false.

When Brigham took the stand, many heard the voice of Joseph and saw his image in the elder’s countenance. There would be no naming of a successor. Brother Young would lead as head of the twelve apostles and continue in that role with Joseph, now as a spirit being, by his side.

The Saints were being burned out before they could sell out. Where would they go? Joseph had thoughts of fleeing to the Rocky Mountains before he turned himself into the authorities at Carthage. The mob had threatened the lives of all the Saints. They took the lives of Joseph and his brother, Hyrum.

The Saints sought solitude and safety from mob action, but first there was much work to be done on the unfinished Nauvoo temple. There were marriages and ceremonial sealings where couples were united for time, or for time and eternity. There were vows to be taken and endowment ceremonies where the recipient would receive instructions on God’s plan and key words that would be used to gain entrance in the afterlife. Many Saints participated in adoption ceremonies, joining them to other members, both for eternity as well as while here on the earth. Sacred ceremonies of one kind of another were performed throughout the day and night in preparation for the exodus.

The agreement was that the Saints would leave in the summer of 1846. They had originally planned to wait until the grass began to grow and the water began to flow. In response to further mob action, on the second of February, a council of the apostles and the leading elders was called. Captains were selected and told to hold themselves in readiness. On the fifth of February, the first company crossed the river on frozen ice.

By the end of the month, twelve hundred wagons moved across the Mississippi to the Iowa shore. By the middle of May, sixteen thousand people had crossed the Mississippi and were scattered in small groups across the prairie. There were still another thousand waiting their turn to leave Nauvoo.

The people looked to the story of Moses and the way he led the Israelites from Egypt. They identified. Like the Jews of old, they were being forced from their homeland. They held fast to their faith in God and their belief in their prophet.

The cold was intense. Supplies were scarce. The ice was broken to give their cattle drinks but, after the annual autumn forest fires, there was little wood for warming. Their poor thin bodies shivered much of the night. Upon daylight the first signs of frostbite began to show. Some became cripple and began to seek the browse, a green bark with tender boughs and branches from the cottonwoods, and other stinted growth from the hollows. It would keep them from starving.

Crossing the Frozen River

Snow, sleet, and rain fell in torrents and rich prairie soil became one vast impassable bog of black mud. Sometimes, with great exertion and proper use of their animals, they were able to travel one-half mile a day. All the water courses had been raised by heavy rains. The energy and time spent building settlements along the way led the pioneers to make a resting place until they could identify a permanent location.

The church leaders were aware of Joseph’s whisperings while he was still alive, and of a revelation about a new location of the church in the Rocky Mountains. Brigham Young was said to have had a vision about the Great Salt Lake Valley. In both cases, there was no certainty as to the exact location. There wasn’t enough information to act.

Before leaving Nauvoo, Brother Young appointed Jesse C. Little to preside over the remaining Saints left in the eastern states. His instructions were:

“If our government shall offer any facilities for emigrating to the Western Coast, embrace those facilities, if possible, as a wise and faithful man.”

Armed with this letter, Elder Little made his way to the seat of government. Along the road he called for a conference of the Saints in Philadelphia. Here, he met Colonel Thomas L. Kane who introduced him to Vice President, George M. Dallas, and other gentlemen in Washington. When Elder Little met President James K. Polk and several members of his cabinet, he gave a heartfelt plea for assistance:

“From twelve to fifteen thousand Mormons have already left Nauvoo for California, and many others are making ready to go, some have gone around Cape Horn…We have about forty thousand of our faithful in the British Isles…thousands will sail this fall. There are also many thousands scattered through the states, besides the great number in and around Nauvoo…we have a desire to go under the outstretched wings of the American eagle.”

In the first week of June, Elder Little had a long interview with the President of the United States. When the news of the first battle with Mexico was reported, the government resolved to possess California. On June 3, the Secretary of War wrote to the commander of Ft. Leavenworth, authorizing him to muster into service those who could be induced to volunteer. It wasn’t an ideal time to find volunteers in the Mormon camps.

Many of the men were away seeking work and food in the northwestern settlements. The force of volunteers, therefore, was recruited from among fathers of families and others whose strength and skill would be sorely missed. The army personnel came to the encampment, the offer was made, a grand farewell ball was held, and five hundred volunteers were mustered, organized, and soon began their trek west.

Winter Council by the Campfire

The main body of Saints continued their march until they came to Indian Territory. Pied Riche, the renowned chief of the Pottawatomie, visited with the Mormons and explained how they had been driven from their homeland in the northeast.

“We must help one another, and the Great Spirit will help us both. Because one suffers and does not deserve it is no reason he shall always suffer. We may live to see it right yet. If we do not, our children will.”

On the eastern side of the river, camps were formed where land was plentiful and arable and settlements sprang up near the streams and groves of timber. The main settlement was called Kanesville. On the west side of the river, six miles north, a city of some seven hundred log huts and dug-outs graced the tabernacle of the congregation where the disciples assembled for worship and instruction. Mt. Pisgah and Garden Grove provided additional necessary resting places for the weary Saints.

On January 14, 1847, Brigham Young issued “The Word and Will of the Lord Concerning the Camp of Israel in Their Journeyings to the West.” Many say that it is the only written revelation delivered by this leader. He organized the people into companies and reiterated many of the rules they had been following:

The annual conference of the church was held in Winter Quarters on the sixth of April, 1847. On the 14th, one hundred and forty-three men, along with three women and two children, accompanied seventy-three wagons drawn by horses and oxen headed for the Rocky Mountains with Brigham Young in the lead. Every one carried his gun loaded and uncapped in his hand while he walked by the side of the wagon.

As the Mormon train passed native villages, Indians sometimes sallied out. When the brethren received them in half-phalanx, they were invited to attend a brief pow-wow and received presents.

Around this time, the leaders of the Mormon train met two relevant visitors. The first was the mountain man, Jim Bridger. He had lived in wigwams with natives for half his long life-time and had not heard the wonders of the modern day gospel. He had been to the Great Basin but was not encouraging. When Bridger told Young: “I’ll give you a thousand dollars for the first ear of corn that you can raise there.” Brigham wore a knowing smile as he nodded.

The next visitor was Samuel Brannan. He had been the highest ranking leader among the New York Saints and led a group of 238 Saints bound for the Mexican territory of California. Brannan made the journey overland to report to Brigham Young that California was a rich country and the ideal place for the future gathering of the Saints.

Brigham Young preferred the desert. He felt that rich land would attract the gentiles (not a race of people, but a derogatory term for non-Mormons.) and from there they would be rooted out as had happened in the past. President Young wanted to be where the gentiles would not want to be. He desired isolation for himself and his people.

Pioneer Caravan Overlooking the Valley (July, 1847)

The first view as they entered the valley was superb. Lofty mountains bound the horizon in every direction and in the distance the Great Salt Lake lay glistening like a sheet of silver.

Brother Brigham had contracted a case of mountain fever, a serious bacterial infection spread by tick bites. He lay in his wagon, waiting for the fever to pass while his men located the place based on his description.

Two days later, enthusiastic and fully satisfied he had reached the Zion of the Mountains, Brigham began to give orders. The elders made their first encampment on the banks of a small creek, unhitched their horses and cattle, and cared for them. Then, they all joined in a circle as the Valley of the Great Salt Lake was consecrated to the Lord.

There was much work to be done. The plows were unpacked from their wagons and the earth was prepared to receive seed for the autumn crops. Some of the elders began work on a dam with the design to control the water in the rivers, creeks, and streams. Others began work on the immense task of irrigation. No rain was expected, but when the work was done, the seeds were in the ground, and people were getting ready for an evening meal, the skies opened up and poured forth their blessing. “Look! It is an omen!” Someone cried. It was a perfect way to end the day.

In the morning, an exploration party was sent out in every direction. On the west side of the River Jordan, they found hills that abounded with goats, sheep, and antelopes playing in the hills. They also met their first Utah Indians, often known as Paiutes, Goshutes, or simply Utes. There were several different Utah tribes in the territory.

Finding Ensign Peak (July 26, 1847)

On the north side, a party ascended a high peak of the mountains overlooking the entire valley. Here, they hoisted a national flag and named the mountain Ensign Peak recalling Isaiah’s biblical call to “lift up an ensign on the mountains”

A plot of forty acres was selected for the temple block, but later downsized to ten acres. A city, two miles square, was laid off ten acres to a block. The streets were laid out to agree with compass points. The houses were to be placed in the center of each lot, twenty feet back from the front line. Shade trees were to be planted in all the streets.

The apostles, the pioneers, and the members of the Mormon Battalion had the first pick of land for their inheritances. Autumn crops were in. The elders were ready for their return trip to the Missouri River where many had families waiting. It had been several months since they started. When they left Winter Quarters on April 14, 1847, they had hoped to meet again sometime in October.

On the return trip north, Brigham began to think and plan ahead. Back in Nauvoo, the elders had believed in the whisperings of the spirit they received after Joseph’s death. Brigham was willing to lead the people west as head of the apostles. He proposed Joseph’s place over the church was not to be filled. Now, having made the trek west and seen the land of Zion, Brigham Young was hoping to become Prophet, Seer, and Revelator. He discussed his thoughts with Elder Woodruff who agreed.

Shortly after their return along the Missouri River, Brother Young sat in the long mud-roofed Council House in Winter Quarters with his elders debating on the proposed change. Most gave their approval. Elder Taylor offered an opposition, but it quickly faded. Orson Pratt, true to form, eventually conceded to the desires of the church. Parley Pratt voted for the headship of the church to stay with the twelve, but when the debating was done, it was clear there would be no opposition. Once the people also agreed, the change would be made. Brigham Young would become the Oracle of God and the Prophet, Seer, and Revelator of the church. He would also be known as the Lion of the Lord.

* * * The End * * *

I hope you enjoyed Rocky Mountain Saints (Part I of II)

Join me next week as we visit: “The History of Utah’s American Indians.”

Feel free to drop a comment below—I read and respond to every single one. Don’t forget to like and subscribe so you don’t miss the next chapter!

Thank you,

Just Judy, author

* * * * *

A Note re: Images:

The images created for this post have been done by ChatGPT. I consider her to be an artist in her ability to see the scene at hand, weave in the many details, and then add the right tone and color. This book report is entirely my own work.

Feel free to drop a comment on any post that catches your eye. I promise to read every word. Like and subscribe. It’s free. Don’t miss out on future posts.

A Small Office for His Work

Back in Kirtland, many of the elders felt they had been strengthened by their journey. They had spent a good deal of time outdoors and had been physically challenged. Additionally, their faith had been tested, and they came out stronger. Not so for Ezra Booth. For him it was a total collapse of faith. He recalled his disappointment in the quality of the land in Independence and the long and difficult journey home. Also, it irked him that after their canoes had turned over, he was required to walk the rest of the way to Kirtland while Joseph, Sidney, and Oliver had the luxury of traveling by stage.

Joseph and Emma settled in a spacious room in the home of John Johnson located on the outskirts of Hiram, a short distance from the Kirtland Saints. Here Joseph would have a small office for his work. He busied himself unpacking books and sorting through his possessions when he noticed the creak of the small cabin door. He went to see the cause of the sound and found Ezra Booth standing at the open entryway, his face showing tight muscles and sharp lines; clearly angry.

“I understand that you didn’t even bother to preach in Cincinnati as you were commanded. It appears even you don’t take the revelations seriously.”

“I’m not sure I like your tone,” Joseph’s eyes followed Ezra as he began to pace.

“I don’t give a damn! I’ve long had problems with your tone. Hardly proper for a servant of the Lord to go around with such a jovial spirit and jesting as you do!”

“One needn’t always be so serious, Brother Ezra. Tell me, what really brings you here? Do you have a problem with one of the revelations?”

“With several!” the errant elder snapped. “Like the revelation you had in Zion. Do you really think after He told you to go speedily by craft, a just God would then say, ‘I was mad at you yesterday, so I cursed the waters?’” Ezra shook his head incredulously.

“Are you implying God is not just?”

“The justice of God is not the issue here. It is this magic charm of delusion and falsehood that you spin.”

Joseph pushed himself away from his desk and demanded: “Retract that statement.”

“I cannot. I was swayed by your magic spell, but the spell has been broken.”

“There is no spell. You are in a state of apostasy.”

“Call it what you will. Someday you’ll be sorry we ever met.” Ezra turned and walked out the door.

Joseph walked softly towards the door and closed it. He sat again and pondered his conversation with Brother Ezra. He had been aware of his contentious spirit during their travels, but he had to remain focused on the problems of the present. Whether the man fulfilled any of his threats or quietly returned to the fold was not under his control.

Joseph received another revelation that the land of Zion was to be purchased. Newel K. Whitney was to impart all that he could. Others were also named as contributors.

It was September and the air was much cooler. The Johnson spread included a large two-story frame house, two large barns, and several outbuildings. Sidney would stay in Hiram and travel to see his family as often as practical.

Joseph and Sidney were diligent in their work of editing the Bible. Throughout the book of Genesis, they corrected what Joseph called small errors and changes that had taken place over centuries of careless copying. Toward the end of the book the spirit poured forth and Joseph was moved to add many words, including a prophecy of the coming forth of the new and everlasting gospel.

The weeks passed quickly, and the mild fall climate began to turn crisp. On one mid-October day, Sidney began to prepare for work but seemed to be heavy with thought.”

“What is it?” Joseph asked.

“I was thinking about the news of the day. Have you seen the latest issues of the Ohio Star?”

“No, but I hear Ezra has been writing unkind things about us.”

“It goes further than that. He says this is nothing more than a deeply laid plan of craft and deception.”

“By this, I assume you mean the gospel.”

Sidney nodded, “Of course.”

“That has been his complaint all along. How can he so quickly forget? He was an eyewitness to Sister Johnson’s cure.”

“I’m not sure he considers the incident. He was disappointed, as we all were, in the quality of land in Zion. It strikes me that he was suspicious and watchful from the start. Our journey home didn’t help strengthen his faith.”

“You’re probably right,” Joseph agreed.

Sidney broke into a brief silence. “Are we going to let him continue his lies?”

Joseph looked Rigdon straight in the eye: “Why don’t you challenge him? A man of your eloquence should be able to shoot holes through this man’s venom.”

Sidney smiled as his mind began to conceive an upcoming debate.

The two men returned to the translation work. When they came to the thirteenth chapter of Isaiah, they found an important prophecy of the coming forth of the Book of Mormon had been omitted. Joseph dictated the missing words.

Sidney said, “Now that we have all the words, we can see it was a prophecy–a prophecy that has been fulfilled in our time.” Sidney gasped. “For so many years when reading that passage, I was misled.”

Joseph’s work could never be limited to the translation. He attended meetings and assisted in making arrangements for the purchase of the printing press. The press was to be taken to Zion where the church would begin the publication of a monthly newsletter, the Evening and the Morning Star. Baptisms were performed, and the church continued to grow, both in Kirtland and in the land of Zion.

Toward the end of October, an important conference was held in Orange County, Ohio where a branch of sixty thrived. At this conference, a special revelation was received for William McLellin. He was called to leave his home and travel in the nearby regions proclaiming the gospel. Seventeen additional high priests were ordained under the hands of Oliver Cowdery.

The Book of Commandments

There were four conferences held during the beginning of November. It was decided that ten thousand copies of the Book of Commandments, the chosen title of the book of revelations, should be printed for publication and for the use of membership of the church. A preface was revealed by the spirit, and a testimony to the truth of the revelations was written and signed by all present.

By November 15, the revelations had been copied and checked for accuracy, dedicated by prayer to the service of Almighty God, and then sealed and given to Oliver, who, for safety’s sake, would be accompanied by John Whitmer on his journey to Zion.

Ezra Booth’s animosity was becoming public knowledge. His weekly letters published in the Ohio Star were causing many to become weak in the faith. He had publicized the organization of Zion and the high priesthood. He spoke of the past acting out by Leman Copley and others as though it were supported by the church. He gave his version of how Joseph received revelations and challenged Joseph’s right to revise the existing Bible. In his latest letter, he exposed many details of the First General Conference in Kirtland and the journey to and from Zion.

Joseph took Booth’s articles in stride, but when Ezra quoted from the revealed word of the Lord, making the revelations public, he bristled.

Booth’s articles had upset others as well. Joseph began to sense a feeling of animosity from the Saints in Kirtland and the small community in Hiram. Worse still, this same animosity was expressed by some of the Johnson family. John Johnson and his wife remained firm in the faith.

“I saw you with my sister,” Eli Johnson accused.

Joseph nodded slightly. “Yes. I was talking with her.”

“I also saw the w-a-y you looked at her.” Eli dragged the word ‘way’ for effect.

That evening, tensions in the Johnson household ran high until the word of the Lord came again: “Proclaim unto the world in the regions round about for the space of a season.”

Joseph and Sidney were to leave Hiram and diffuse the tensions. The first stop they made was in Kirtland where further direction was given on the organization of the church. Newel K. Whitney was named bishop and it would be his responsibility to keep the Lord’s storehouse. The revelation was sensitive to the fact that many in the Kirtland community had nothing to give. Their needs were to be met by the storehouse of Zion.

Joseph and Sidney remained in Kirtland for only a short time. They remained on the move, stopping at small communities and dispelling the rumors set into motion by Booth’s scandalous letters.

Waiting for Ezra Booth

On Christmas day, the day scheduled for Sidney’s public debate with Ezra, Joseph awoke early and eagerly. He and Sidney ate a small breakfast and saddled their horses for the ride to Ravenna where the debate was scheduled to take place. There was a large crowd eager to come to some conclusion as to the things they had heard, but Ezra did not show up for the debate.

Sidney stood tall before his listeners. “He dare not appear because he knows his letters are false and will not bear the test of investigation.” With that, the matter was dropped.

Joseph and Sidney returned to Hiram and the Johnsons’ farm. Here, by the word of the Lord, they resumed their work on the translation. After two weeks, they took a short break. When they returned, they began to work on the gospel of John. They considered the possibility that many important points touching the salvation of man could have been lost from John’s gospel as well.

They began to work on the gospel as it was now given through inspiration. They found new insights on the resurrection of the just and the unjust that caused them to wonder anew. “If, as Paul tells us in Corinthians, God rewards every man according to the deeds done in the body, then heav–”

Sidney completed the thought. “Heaven may be different from what we have thought it to be.”

“Yes. I fear that may be so.”

That evening, among a small group of elders, Joseph and Sidney recounted how they had prayed and a vision was opened before their eyes. They now had a new understanding of heaven and hell. The gospel was not so black and white as commonly taught by sectarian priests, and hell was a place reserved only for those who deny the Holy Spirit after having received it. These poor souls would go into eternal, but not everlasting, punishment, for as God is eternal, so is His punishment eternal. As the moon differs from the sun and the stars, so there are differences in the three kingdoms of heaven.

Joseph and Sidney both explained their new wisdom: The Terrestrial Kingdom has been reserved for men who are just, those who never hear the gospel while in the flesh but receive it while in the spirit. Those who were blinded by the craftiness of men and those who were not valiant in their testimony of Jesus, will receive a presence of the Son, but not the fullness of the Father.

The Telestial Kingdom has been reserved for those who neither accept the gospel of Christ nor the testimony of Jesus, but who do not deny the Holy Spirit. They will be thrust down to hell until the last resurrection, when they will be judged for their works in the flesh and become servants of the Most High.

The Celestial Kingdom has been reserved for those who have received the fullness of His grace. These will dwell in his presence.

Much of the vision was great and marvelous beyond human understanding; they were commanded not to write for fear that man was not capable of knowing such things without the power of the spirit. This spirit had been bestowed upon Sidney Rigdon and Joseph Smith.

* * * The End * * *

I hope you enjoyed: Apostasy

NOTE: Join us next week for another exciting ‘Holy Joe!’ frontier tale:

Tar and Feathering

Feel free to drop a comment below—I read and respond to every single one. Don’t forget to like and subscribe so you don’t miss the next chapter!

Thank you.

Just Judy, author

A Note re: Images:

Not all the images in this post have been created by Gemini.ai. It’s brilliant, but much like you and I, not without flaws. I am also exploring ChatGPT’s ability to provide images, and leonardo.ai. Out of the three images provided I select which I think is best. I hope to one day have my character descriptions so tuned-in that Joseph will always look like the Joseph of the previous chapters. This will be a new skill for me, but I know readers will be patient. Still, they tell me it shouldn’t take too long to learn this new skill.

Feel free to drop a comment on any post that catches your eye. I promise to read every word. Like and subscribe. It’s free. Don’t miss out on future posts.

* * * * *

Smuggled Across the English Channel

Jean Rio Griffiths’ birth mother, Susanna Ann Burgess, had been smuggled across the English Channel ensconced in a wine cask. She was an infant at the time, placed in the cask by a devoted manservant during the French Revolution. It was expected that both her parents and all of her siblings would become victims of the revolutionists.

Twenty years later, Susanna married a well-to-do Scotsman, John Walters Griffiths. John, a descendant from Scottish aristocracy, gave his only daughter, Jean Rio, every opportunity for learning: private lessons for harp and piano, education in the English classics, and a life amid shelves of good quality books written by respected and well-known authors.

At age twenty-two, Jean married Henry Baker of London and presided over a house near St. Paul’s Cathedral. She gave Henry nine children. As was the custom at the time, child-rearing was left to governesses and the children were taught by private tutors.

Jean was left a substantial amount of cash and property by her paternal great-uncle, along with an annuity for life. While Jean lived in comfort, England was experiencing the most severe depression of the century. The poverty and degradation brought about by the Industrial Revolution was staggering. The Church of England was in a crisis as well. Reformers increasingly sought a separation between church and state. Neither the church nor the government was adequately addressing the appalling social conditions.

When looking at the England of her day, Jean saw a clear sign of the approaching end of time. When an Englishman, John Taylor, approached the family, he never mentioned he was the husband of twelve wives living in America. What he told of the religion he preached was inviting: the glory of America, as well as the message of restoration and a new religion.

Jean, along with her husband, were seduced by the promises of a return to a pure, honest, original, Christianity. They were baptized. Three months later, Jean lost her husband and an infant daughter—her namesake—to cholera. In her heartbroken condition, she turned her full attention to immigration to America.

It would be a long journey from London to Salt Lake City and she planned to take her piano. First, there would be the train ride to the thriving port of Liverpool where the party would have their first glimpse of the ship that would carry them across the Atlantic. It was an impressive specimen seasoned with spruce and pine, fashioned into a sleek and elegant craft. She had been christened George W. Bourne by her builder two years earlier.

The voyage from London to New Orleans was expected to take four to nine weeks. Then, there would be a one thousand mile riverboat excursion up the Mississippi to St. Louis, followed by a twelve hundred mile crossing of the great plains of North America. While many of the English would book their passage thanks to the vessels and funds supplied by the Latter-day Saints’ Perpetual Immigration Fund, Jean Rio paid for her family’s passage, as well as several of her relatives, and a few new converts.

An Unwelcomed Passing

It was proving to be a difficult journey. Jean Rio lost her four-year-old son, Josiah, somewhere over the Atlantic. He had been sick when he boarded the ship. Jean had had hopes for his recovery, but felt that God intervened to end her child’s suffering. He was ceremoniously committed to the deep the following morning, one thousand miles out to sea. Jean Rio made a note of the longitude and latitude of the place of his burial.

At times, the water was tumultuous. When meat was scarce, the men killed one of the porpoises swimming alongside the ship. There were storms, hot weather, and flying fish. A baby was born, couples were married, small groups played music and sang.

Jean did not suffer from seasickness as most of her companions did, but she noticed an aching in her bones that she attributed to incessant motion. Somewhere around the Bahamas, the harsh winds shifted to cool breezes, and the cerulean hues of the Caribbean had a tranquilizing effect on the travelers. Then came prickly heat. Children were often covered from head to toe with an irritating rash. Adults suffered as well.

In March, the passengers saw their first glimpse of a stationary revolving light when passing within three miles of Little Turtle Island along the coast of Cuba. Then came the day when a steamship came out to meet the boat and pull it to anchor at the island of Belize. The next morning the steamer took the George W. Bourne in tow, pulling the vessel one hundred ten miles up the Mississippi River to New Orleans.

Jean was in love with scenery and wildlife, be it on the waters of the Atlantic or traveling up the river. She wrote long letters where she described the plantations, slave quarters, fruit trees, and animal life.

Jean would spend two days at an opulent residence in one of the wealthiest cities in the country. Interestingly, while most of the inhabitants were Frenchmen, they were nearly all married to English women.

Mississippi to St. Louis

Jean enjoyed a five-day-ride of one thousand two hundred fifty miles up the Mississippi to St. Louis. She rented a house for several weeks, a welcome respite for her family after months on the water. Her children were allowed some freedom to play with others their age, while she scouted the markets, stocked her kitchen, and prepared the family meals.

When walking the streets, she found magnificent buildings, all sporting steeples, representing churches of every denomination. She attended several services, primarily to hear the music.

She bought passage on yet another steamboat, the Financier, which would take her and her recent purchases of wagons, livestock, and supplies, farther up the Mississippi to Alexandria. From there, it was an overland trek across Iowa to meet a company of Saints at Council Bluffs. The two groups would travel together on the journey to Salt Lake City.

The Summit of Bear Divide: First Glimpse of Salt Lake City

Weaving their way through a ninety mile chain of cliffs that cut into the Wasatch Range of the Rockies, the party reached the summit of the Bear Divide where they received their first glimpse of the Great Salt Lake Valley. Jean found herself enveloped by mountains of solid rock with huge evergreens growing in the crevices, sporting building-size boulders that had tumbled down in landslides. At one spot, the opening was so narrow they had to pass one wagon at a time.

The trail turned and passed under massive overhanging rocks. At about sunset, they emerged from the canyon and Jean caught her first view of their future home. They camped that night in a hollow at the entrance of the Great Salt Lake Valley. Words do not describe the feelings that night. They had come to an end of the trail, and the beginning of a trial. Both were exciting, and both caused anxiety.

On October 6, Jean wrote: I have purchased a small house with an acre of garden attached to it.

The garden had a patch of Indian corn growing, as well as potatoes, cabbage, carrots, parsnips and other vegetables. She bought a heifer for milk. Her elaborately carved and exquisitely inlaid Collard & Collard piano was the centerpiece of her parlor. She took on the responsibility of educating her young children.

Then, one day, Brigham gave the order that she must relocate from the relatively urban and sophisticated Salt Lake City to a remote and uncivilized area. She was permitted to purchase 20 acres of land in Ogden. She planned to build a small house on the land and move there with her children come spring. They would become farmers.

By this time, Jean was aware plural marriage was being practiced by many of the Saints and virtually all of the hierarchy. Actually, polygamy was no longer a secret, neither in Salt Lake City or in the United States at large. Federal officials, appointed by President Fillmore, visited the city the summer of 1851 and returned to the President with tales of plural marriage.

Then, in preparation for the coming of the transcontinental railroad, government surveyors came to survey the land. One particularly bright young man, Lieutenant John W. Gunnison, wrote a tell-all book, a study of the people and their religion. The book sold very well. In the months that followed, Lieutenant Gunnison was found murdered, presumably by renegade Indians—or white men dressed as such.

Jean’s family became farmers. Three of her sons were required to join Brigham Young’s military force. When news came that the United States was sending military troops to Salt Lake, Brigham laughed at the idea. Later, he threatened the troops would never be allowed to enter his city. Even later, he publicly swore he would burn the city if troops should succeed. He eventually acquiesced to being replaced as governor and allowed federal troops to build their fort and move in.

“Two of Jean Rio’s sons fled to California, while she went through profound changes of her own. Her Ogden patch proved eager to kill every seed she planted due to its high salt content. Giving up on the barren soil, she relocated her shrinking family to a log house closer to the city, turning to dressmaking and midwifery to earn her keep. She learned to be extremely cautious about expressing any opposition to Mormon practices.”

Two of Jean Rio’s sons fled to California. Jean went through changes as well. Her Ogden patch proved eager to kill every seed she planted due to its high salt content. Abandoning her garden, she moved into a log house closer to the city and became a dressmaker as well as a practicing midwife. She learned to be extremely cautious in expressing any opposition to Mormon practices.

The U.S. army began posting advertisements directed at dissidents throughout Salt Lake City. They would accompany and protect any who cared to leave Salt Lake for California. Newspapers throughout the west quickly recorded that thousands of fugitive Saints were making their way westward.

San Francisco Bound

Jean was eager to leave her mountain prison but found herself reluctant to journey by horse and wagon to San Francisco. She held it in the back of her mind that the transcontinental railroad was to become a reality. One day, the final tie joined the tracks of the Central Pacific and the Union Pacific and freedom became a new possibility for thousands of Saints.

When Jean Rio’s daughter married Chauncey West’s brother, Chauncey became family. Jean was fond of the man despite his beliefs. He was also a longtime intimate of Brigham Young. In the summer of 1869, when Chauncey was having a crisis of health, he was concerned about making a trip to San Francisco to pick-up money that was due to the men who laid the railroad tracks.

Jean had honed her nursing skills over the years. When Chauncey asked her to accompany him on his journey, she jumped at the opportunity. She would visit her two sons that had left Utah years before. There was nothing to consider. She packed her remaining belongings and boarded the train with Chauncey.

In San Francisco, Chauncey leased a suite of rooms on Powell Street. The atmosphere sparkled with the dust left when the gold rush passed through. Its Victorian Parlor and wood-burning hearths, were complemented by the bustling street noise.

The doctor examined his new patient and sadly described the infirmity as “too deeply seated to respond to treatment.” A week later, Chauncey was dead and Jean Rio was free to begin her life anew. She settled in with her son, John, and his wife, for a while, then relocated to Sherman Island, a booming settlement about fifty miles northwest of San Francisco. Eventually, her son, Walter, along with his wife and their eight children, left Utah and joined the family in California.

Jean Rio lived as a woman of means during her Antioch years. In 1875, she decided to return to Utah to visit another son. She was excited to see her family and know her grandchildren. William had settled into a picturesque farming community in Richfield. She remained with her Utah family for twenty-one months before returning to California with mixed feelings. Seven years later, at the age of seventy-three, Jean Rio died a peaceful death.

* * * The End * * *

Note: A quick search of reviews for this book will show plenty of praise, especially from publishers. You will also find critiques from members of the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter-day Saints. I recognize everyone carries their own biases, but physical evidence like baptismal certificates and ship manifests are hard historical facts.

I hold my copy of the very same diary Sally Denton used in her research. Interestingly, Jean Rio makes no mention of transporting a piano—and yet that very piano sits in Salt Lake City today with a plaque identifying it as hers! It’s always a little disappointing when we discover “history” isn’t quite as straightforward as it’s written.

What I’ve presented here is the narrative as told by Sally Denton—and regardless of the discrepancies, it’s a compelling story.

Next Week: We’ll dive into the life of TBH (Thomas Brown Holmes) Stenhouse, the newspaperman and husband of Fanny Stenhouse. We will explore his massive work, The Rocky Mountain Saints, in a two-part series. He can be a bit dry, but his account is one you can trust.

Drop a comment below—I read and respond to every single one. Don’t forget to like and subscribe so you don’t miss next week’s post!

Thank you.

— Just Judy, author

Driving down the mud-packed streets, Joseph could see that his companions were as disappointed as he himself was. They were travel weary, and it had been a shock further down the road when they came face-to-face with a few crude, ramshackle cabins with mud chimneys.

The laundry strung over trees and posts did nothing to raise the men’s good humor. Then came the garbage; flies buzzing, an unpleasant stench, and a small mouse nose sniffing the environment, seeking sustenance. The situation did not improve as they inched their way closer to town.

They passed a small schoolhouse, and an old weather-battered courthouse made of brick. It was clear this town was dependent on people coming in from the outside. Most of the businesses were merchants set-up to supply the needs of travelers. Poverty spoke loudly as a symbol of life here.

Joseph noticed Brother Sidney and could tell he was fuming. He turned toward Oliver as he spoke. “Your letters told of a growing community eager to hear the word. Where are they?”

Oliver was bright eyed with enthusiasm. “Wait until you see the diversity of people who pass through.”

Joseph and his fellow travelers did wait. As the days passed, he had time to evaluate the diversity that Oliver claimed with such enthusiasm. He shrugged aside his initial disheartenment. “I want to see more of this place.”

“But there are only a few log cabins,” Sidney whined. “They don’t even have glass for windows.”

“Where’s the congregation?” Ezra Booth asked. “It was said that there was already a church gathered in this place. I see a few poor, helpless females, and they are impoverished.”

Oliver exuded an air of self-confidence. “The country is growing and it will continue to grow.”

Joseph remembered a discovery he recently made when looking at the maps. The land they were on was an equal distance from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and from the Alleghenies to the Rockies. He trusted his sources.

Early the next morning, the elders divided into groups and set out to explore. Joseph headed westward with his group of seven. Mounted on horses, they galloped through the overhanging branches of large oak trees. They decided to walk through the tall grasses of the open field.

Joseph looked upward in the distance and spotted the highest hill. He motioned his elders forward, up a steep incline, leaving the beautiful Blue River behind.

The men reached the summit a little short of breath, but they were none the worse for wear. Joseph inhaled deeply and stretched his arms out to each side. “Look at this,” he said as he smiled. “Look at that valley. Look how green it is.”

“And that prairie,” Brother Sidney said, looking the opposite way of his leader.

All were in awe and were reminded of God Almighty.

Later that afternoon, the elders met in the same empty schoolhouse where they had spent the previous night. Little by little, as the groups returned, they mingled and discussed the events of their day. For Joseph, the future was clear.

“The soil is good. We should have no problem growing wheat, corn, or even cotton. Game is plentiful. Many of you have reported sightings of wild turkey, geese, ducks, elk, and deer, and even a herd of buffalo. And the cattle need little more than the freedom to graze the land.”

“There is no printer.” Sidney complained. “We will need one.”

“We can institute one.” Joseph said. “Open your eyes to the riches before you. In this place, on that high hill in the west, we will build a House of the Lord. The red man and the white man will flow toward it in a great stream, united at last, in the brotherhood of the gospel.”

Lyman, who had been part of Joseph’s group, said, “Brother Joseph speaks the will of the Lord. He had a vision open up to him.”

The will of the Lord had come. It confirmed that this was the land of promise and the place for the city of Zion. The Lord commanded the Saints to purchase every tract of land lying westward. The Law of Consecration became a way of life. Every man would receive an inheritance and return what was in excess of his needs.

Plans were made to purchase land for the building of a storehouse and printing establishment. Edward Partridge was named bishop and assigned the task of managing the storehouse and dividing the inheritances.

Sidney Gilbert, who co-owned the store in Kirtland with Newel Whitney, was assigned to build another store and to act as agent of the church in purchasing land. William Phelps would be the head printer with Oliver Cowdery as his assistant.

Joseph was not finished with his explorations of this new land. After a good night’s rest and as soon as the sun began to rise, the men divided into groups once more. Joseph and his group found the scenery to be as splendid as the previous day. Approaching a shaded area, William Phelps was prompted to unpack his writing supplies while Joseph spoke in the name of the Lord:

“Verily I say unto you, that the wisdom of man in his failed state knows not the purposes and the privileges of my holy priesthood, but ye shall know when ye receive the fullness by reason of the anointing. For it is my will that in time ye shall take unto yourself wives of the Lamanites and Nephites, that their posterity may become white, delightsome and just.”

When Joseph finished speaking, Lyman repeated some of his words. Suddenly, his eyes widened with a glimpse of understanding. The command was to take Indian wives.

“In the same manner Abraham took Hagar and Keturah, Jacob took Rachel, Bilhah, and Zilpah. By revelation.”

There was a long silence from the group of men. You could feel the tension in the air.

Then, Ezra spoke. “You must be mad. Neither man nor woman will accept such a way of life.”

“The time to live by this principle has yet to come.”

As the group continued their exploration, they had much to think about, but there was little or no discussion of this concept that was so hard to grasp.

Within a few days, they heard heavy wooden wagons rattling and squeaking from the strain of hundreds of miles. They watched as livestock ambled forward, their lean bodies reluctant to move, yet bellowing their arrival at the end of another long trail.

Joseph wore a large grin as he approached his old friend and the wagon’s leader, Newel Knight. “We’ve got men cutting trees. We have a splendid place for you to settle, and we plan to dedicate this land and raise the first house.”

Joseph Knight, sad-eyed, joined the men. The deep lines in his face spoke of nights without sleep.

“How’s Polly?” the prophet asked.

“I’m afraid we might lose her,” Newel answered.

“On the way here,” Joseph Knight began, “I left the boat to buy lumber for her coffin. We didn’t think she’d make it this far. Her will to set foot on the promised land was strong. My constant prayer is that she will get better.”

“And mine as well,” Newel said.

Joseph nodded.

There was little time for grief. The men left such issues in the hand of God and turned their attention to the settlement of the camp and to meeting the needs of the Saints. They began to build the first permanent shelter.

“I want to lay the first log,” Oliver said, proud of his role in the selection of the site of Zion.

“You may assist,” Joseph said. “As a symbol of the twelve tribes of Israel, we’ll have twelve elders lay the first log. When that is done, Brother Sidney will dedicate the land.”

The log was laid with a rich ceremony, songs were sung, and a prayer was offered. Sidney stepped forward and gave the dedication. When he had finished, a not-so-reverent voice shouted, “Let’s raise us a house.”

Many in the group were solemn faced and weary, with little energy for cheers. They cut each log roughly equal in length and then began to cut saddle-shaped notches in both ends. These notches were used to lock each log in place and allowed the logs to lie close together. They were laid two on one side then two on the opposite side. As the walls grew in height, additional logs were rolled up inclined poles until they reached seven feet. Then, the entryway was sawed out of the squared cabin. Some of the women chinked the opening between the logs with mud while others began to prepare the evening meal.

Joseph felt content. “You’ll have every member housed before you know it.”

“Then we can begin working on a schoolhouse,” the senior Knight said. “These young’uns are gonna need some learnin’.”

“That’s the spirit,” Joseph said.

Thus went the settlement of the Colesville Saints in Kaw Township.

Ma’s Gone

Joseph and Sidney returned to Independence where they led another ground breaking ceremony in which they dedicated new land. Among the Saints there was a strong sense that all that they did was in preparation for the long awaited millennium. Not many days later, the sound of pounding hooves interrupted a period of calm. Newel was short of breath as he rushed to speak with Joseph. There was a quiver in his throat. “Ma’s gone,” he said.

Joseph felt his knees weaken. He breathed deeply and asked, “How’s your pa?”

“Not well. We had begun to have strong hopes that she would improve. We didn’t expect this.”

Joseph and Sidney quickly saddled their horses and rode with Newel the twelve miles to Kaw Township. There, Joseph greeted his old friend and former employer with a tear clinging to the inside of each eye.

Joseph Knight sat with his shoulders hunched and his head hung low. His face showed the deep lines of fresh grief. He sobbed openly and unashamedly. “She was my life.”

The funeral service held many tear-stained faces. Deep friendships had been forged during their long journey westward. Now, upon reaching the land of promise, it seemed unbearable to lose one of their own.

Sadly, the leaders returned to Independence and to the building and planning. The oppressive Missouri heat was stifling, more than usual for this late in the summer. It seemed to amplify the tempers of the weary travelers.

The Saints pushed on, some with confidence, some with mistrust and a lack of faith. Numbered with the skeptics were prominent men of the church, including Sidney Rigdon, Ezra Booth, and Edward Partridge.

“We’ve got to talk,” Ezra said.

“What’s on your mind?” Joseph asked.

“This land is inferior. I’ve been out riding and I find richer, loamier soil in every direction. This is not the best place for Zion.”

Joseph felt his temperature rise. He was sure his face was flushed, but he held his tongue.

Sidney cleared his throat and then turned to face toward the ramshackle dwellings and all their clutter. He raised his head upward in a gesture of superiority. “Despite its commercial atmosphere, these people are a century behind the times. They have little education and, as we are all well aware, almost no manners.”

Joseph let out a dry, quiet laugh, keeping his optimism.“They can be quite rude, I agree. But this town will undergo tremendous transformation. You’ll see.”

Ezra challenged the prophet, “This can’t be the land of Zion.”

“Come on,” Sidney pleaded. “You’ve got to admit that vision of yours was a bad thing.”

Joseph’s eyes narrowed. He was adamant. “This is the land of promise, the place for Zion. It is the will of God.”

“Be practical,” Sidney pleaded. “There’s no bank, no printing press. We will have to travel long distances for basic needs.”

“Heaven has selected this land,” Joseph asserted.

Edward’s eyes opened wide with anger. “I wish that you would not tell us you know these things by the spirit when you do not. You told us that Oliver had built up a large church here, and there is no such thing.”

Joseph’s eyes flared red now and his face flushed with color. “I saw it, and it will be so.”

This sense of finality did not last. Days later, standing before a small congregation of elders, he spoke as the mouthpiece of the Lord once again. “Return speedily to the land whence you have come. Concerning your journey, let there be a craft made. Take your journey speedily.”

Can’t You Paddle Faster?

It was decided that the work in Kirtland, Ohio was not finished and Joseph, along with Sidney, Oliver, and several others, would return to continue that work while the remainder would continue to build up Zion in Independence. Ezra provided the canoes for the journey and soon ten elders floated toward St. Louis. Tempers ran short.

“Can’t you paddle any faster?” Ezra’s face showed the strain as he poured all his strength into his paddle.

“Quit rocking the boat,” Sidney whined.

As the miles were put behind them, the short-tempered complaints were repeated again and again. Joseph’s patience was wearing thin. Oliver’s patience had worn out. He warned, “As the Lord God lives, if you do not behave better, some accident will befall us.”

This outburst had a mild quieting effect. When the men resumed their journey the next day, the water flowed smoothly, yet the bickering continued. Suddenly, the smooth blue-green flow of water turned to a raging current. The men gripped their paddles firmly, fearful they would lose control and eager to steer away from the rushing waters.

Without warning, a mighty wave hit, throwing the bow of their craft high out of the water.

The canoe capsized. The men surfaced, dripping wet, shaking water from their hair and faces. There was no sign of their vessel. They swam for shore.

Ezra pulled himself out of the water, gasping for breath. He sat on the river bank, exhausted. “What happened?” he asked,

Joseph stood dripping wet, also short of breath. “We hit a sawyer.”

A sawyer, a submerged log that bobbed to the surface without warning, was so unpredictable that it often caught the best of river captains by surprise. There was no one to blame and the damage was minimal, but the men realized a larger log, surfacing with greater force, could have killed them.

The remaining craft landed. While the river-drenched members of the camp dried themselves, those elders whose canoe had not turned over distributed chores and prepared the camp for the night. Now in dry clothes, Joseph sat quietly listening to the elders. A small fire had been started and the men began to feel renewed.

“Our canoe was right beside yours,” Martin Harris said. “There was nothing anybody could do to stop it.”

Sidney stepped forward: “I say it was in fulfillment of Oliver’s prophecy.”

Joseph let out an audible sigh of relief and then thought to himself, The bickering and discord have ceased. He continued to listen to the hum of the voices accompanied by the occasional croak of a frog and the sound of the rippling water along the shore. There was a mist rising from the water, reflected by the light of the moon.

Then, a strange and terrifying sound broke his sense of peace: “Aghhh!”

Joseph stood, stopped to listen, and then rushed to the river, followed by the other members of the camp. He spotted William Phelps standing along the river’s edge, facing the water, his arms over his face, his eyes wide with horror. Joseph rushed to his side, Sidney and Oliver followed close behind. “What is it?”

“Look,” William pointed into the emptiness.

Joseph peered into the darkness. “There is nothing there.” He returned to Sidney and Oliver and asked, “What could have caused this?”

“Try slapping him out of it,” Oliver suggested.

Sidney stepped forward, raised his hand, and firmly struck William on the right cheek. William seemed to have lost his fear, but he continued to stare into the emptiness.

Joseph took the man by the shoulders and shook him. “Snap out of it,” he said. Then he slapped both of his cheeks.

William began to come to his senses. With a bewildered look he said, “I saw the destroyer.”

“What did it look like?” Sidney asked.

“It rode upon the waters and had horrible power.”

“You were hallucinating,” Oliver said.

“Nonsense,” William said. “I’m perfectly healthy. This was real.”

“He’s right,” Joseph said. “Brother William had a vision.”

“I heard it,” Martin said. “It was an eerie moan.”

“Me too,” Reynolds Cahoon said. “I didn’t see anything, but I heard it and felt its presence.”

A disturbed quiet passed over the group. Early the next morning, Joseph knelt for his daily prayers. Soon afterward, he spoke in the name of the Lord. “It is not needful for the whole company of my elders to move swiftly upon the water. Behold, there are many dangers.”

The company was commanded to separate and was scolded for bickering: “I will reason with you as in days of old. In the beginning I blessed the waters. In these last days, I cursed the water. The destroyer rides upon the face thereof. I was angry with you yesterday, but today my anger is turned away. Make your journey in haste.” Joseph, Oliver, and Sidney were further commanded to go to Cincinnati to preach for a while before returning to Kirtland.

* * * The End * * *

I hope you enjoyed this chapter: Zion Claimed.

NOTE: Join us next week for another exciting ‘Holy Joe!’ frontier tale: Apostasy

Apostasy is a turning away from the faith. Claiming Zion took its toll.

Feel free to drop a comment below—I read and respond to every single one. Don’t forget to like and subscribe so you don’t miss the next chapter!

Thank you.

— Just Judy, author

A Note re: Images:

Not all the images in this post have been created by Gemini.ai. It’s brilliant, but much like you and I, not without flaws. I am also exploring ChatGPT’s ability to provide images, and leonardo.ai. Out of the three images provided I select which I think is best. I hope to one day have my character descriptions so tuned-in that Joseph will always look like the Joseph of the previous chapters. This will be a new skill for me, but I know readers will be patient. Still, they tell me it shouldn’t take too long to learn this new skill.

Feel free to drop a comment on any post that catches your eye. I promise to read every word. Like and subscribe. It’s free. Don’t miss out on future posts.

Happiness Abounds

Ann Eliza claims memories of the trek west even though she was just a toddler. She traveled in a train of two hundred wagons. She remembered running along the side of the wagons, picking flowers, watching grown-ups as they danced in the evening by the fire, and listening to songs and hymns sung at the end of a long day on the trail. Religious services on Sunday morning could rarely be missed. Ann Eliza’s memories of her journey were happy ones.

When the family reached Zion in the Utah Mountains, they continued to stay in their covered wagon while her father, Chauncey, a seasoned wheelwright, built an adobe house for his family. It was the second house built in that area and much better than the first. It gave the Webb family cause for pride.

Chauncey and Eliza Webb entered polygamy before going west. It was a serious ceremony in the unfinished Nauvoo temple. When Chauncey became convinced of his responsibility to take another wife, the two women met their challenges with smiles on their faces. When the second wife, Elizabeth, gave birth to a son, Eliza welcomed the new baby and helped her sister-wife in every way. In the Webb home, there was a concerted effort to make life in Zion as peaceful and harmonious as possible.

Once she reached adulthood, Ann Eliza was firm that no good came out of plural marriage. Her mother and her ‘auntie’ got along well enough, but it was not their preferred way of living. The expectation for a man to take plural wives was high, the pressure was relentless, to refuse was to apostatize, and apostasy invited death. It wasn’t a choice. It was duty.

As a young girl, Ann Eliza sat wide-eyed at stories of Indian atrocities. When a man left home and did not return, he was killed by Indians. An exploration party was reportedly massacred by the savages. When Ann Eliza grew older, she stated with a certainty most of the persons who perished in this way were gentiles (non-Mormons), apostates, (non-believers) or people who for some reason or another were suspected by, or disagreeable to, Brigham Young, The Lion of the Lord.

Saving Horses From the Indians

The Indians were notorious thieves. They especially liked cows, oxen, and horses. Brigham Young planned to protect his herds, the ones that actually belonged to him and the ones that grazed in the valley. He assigned one elder the task of collecting all the surplus stock from the settlements south of Salt Lake.

The elder assigned his helpers and headed south. When they encountered three men who would not relinquish their animals, these men were put in irons while their animals were driven into the herd thus far collected. All the animals were sent to Salt Lake City and placed in the care of Brigham Young. Eventually, they were sold to repay large debts Brigham had with Salt Lake City Merchants.

When the people who owned the cattle realized they would never see their livestock again, Eliza tells us that Brigham said, “If you had kept them, the Indians would have stolen them. You are as well off as you would have been if I did not take them.” That was the end of that story.

Many of the men were sent on missions. The elders found converts primarily in England, Scandinavia, and Germany. The men traveled without purse or scrip. One day, Brigham decided to take up a collection on the elders’ behalf. He pleaded eloquently. Everyone pitched in until a sizable sum was raised.

Ann Eliza tells us when the missionaries were about to leave for Europe, they stopped by Brigham’s office to collect their share of the funds only to find there was no money. What became of the funds collected? It would have been considered improper to ask.

Ann Eliza’s father was sent away on a foreign mission. Her mother had a schoolteacher’s salary. Many families would have no income while their husbands were abroad.

The world marveled at the number of converts who came to Zion yearly. Very few of the missionaries failed to bring home an English wife. Since polygamy was denied at every turn, these women had no idea they would be wife No. 2, or wife No. 5, until after they made the long, arduous journey across the ocean, across the prairies, and up and into the Great Salt Lake Valley.

Ann Eliza Young’s book runs through the issues that plagued Salt Lake City at the time: The Reformation, Blood Atonement, the Mormon War, the Handcart Tragedy, the Utah Expedition, Mountain Meadows Massacre–topics we will look at more closely elsewhere. Where Ann Eliza Young’s knowledge shines through has to do with marriage—especially her marriage to Brigham Young. What prompted her to marry a man older than her father? I am also interested in the gossip around the other wives as well as Ann Eliza’s take on the condition of married women in Salt Lake City.

Ann Eliza’s first marriage was the love of her life, or so she supposed. At Brigham’s insistence, she acted at the theater while she stayed at the prophet’s Lion House most nights. She met James Dee, a very handsome Englishman, at the house of a mutual friend. She was nineteen.

Her friends felt it would be wisest if she did not marry James. Her parents did not refuse her the right to decide, but they clearly disagreed with her choice. Ann Eliza Webb and James Dee were married in the Endowment House on April 4th, 1863. As James’ house was being rented out, the couple moved in with Ann Eliza’s parents.

Ann Eliza Plays Juliet

A month after the marriage, Ann Eliza continued to work at the theater. At the same time, she was becoming aware of the fatal mistake she had made. James often suffered furious fits of anger in which he threatened Ann Eliza with all sorts of ill treatment. Eventually, Ann Eliza realized James was seeing other ladies and feared she would soon have an unwanted addition living in her home. It was, after all, a man’s duty to enlarge his kingdom.

When Ann Eliza became a mother, James Dee’s fits of passion became more frequent. He was scarcely at home. Ann Eliza sensed her husband considered their child as a rival. After the second baby came, she wondered why her husband seemed to take no notice of his offspring at all, and she winced as she watched him handle both of the boys so roughly that the little creatures shrieked in pain. It always reminded her of Brigham’s saying that ‘a bull never takes care of the calf’.

What Ann Eliza and her children were living through was abuse. One day, James seized his wife by the throat and threw her into a chair. The babies cried, the furniture scraped the floor and banged the walls. Chauncey and Eliza responded quickly. James was asked to leave the house. Shortly thereafter, Brigham Young gave his approval when asked for permission for a divorce. On December 23, 1865, Ann Eliza became a single parent and a happier person.

Ann Eliza continued to live at her parents’ house with her two boys, an arrangement that was best for everyone. This happy condition went on a year or more when, one day, Brigham Young took a walk with Ann Eliza and prompted her about her feelings towards marriage. She was firm in her resolve she would never marry again. Brigham thought she would probably change her mind in time, and suggested she marry an older man, someone she could respect and look to for good advice. Time went on. Then, one Sunday after meeting, Ann Eliza’s father was called into Brigham’s office, and then her mother followed. When the talking was done, Ann Eliza was informed Brigham Young had asked her parents for her hand in marriage.

An Unplanned Meeting With the Prophet

Ann Eliza was outraged. Had the man not heard her words when she said she had no intention to remarry?

There was no way out of this proposal. To refuse would bring the anger of the prophet down upon her father, her mother, her brother, and herself. Ann Eliza was told that in refusing Brigham she would lose all hope of future salvation. Also, Brigham could, and would, do severe pecuniary damage to her father and he had threatened her brother that he would be cut-off from the church and run out of business.

Ann Eliza could watch her family sink to ruin, or submit and marry a man that was older than her father. The marriage was to be kept a secret, possibly for fear of the United States officials, as polygamy had been outlawed, or because of Brigham’s fear of his current favorite wife, Amelia.

On April 7, 1869, Ann Eliza became Ann Eliza Young. She remained in her mother and father’s home for one month after which Brigham told her that he wished to move her to the city. It was a little house, plainly furnished, but adequate. Ann Eliza cut up the well-worn red carpet that had been taken from the Lion House and pieced it together to cover two rooms. The remaining floors were left bare. Brigham invited Eliza to join her daughter. He would visit occasionally.

A Move to the Farm

Before the year was over, Young decided Ann Eliza and her mother should move to the farm. Previous wives had been moved to the farm house and quickly broke down from overwork. There was butter and cheese to be made from forty cows and plenty of other dairy work. The farm laborers and other workmen, which numbered between twenty-five to thirty men, had to be fed daily. Add to that the washing and the ironing, and the delivery of the farm supplies to the other wives, and there was little or no free time for reading, or playing with the children. There was little reason for singing.

Brigham Young visited occasionally. He appeared unexpectedly, found fault where there was none, and expressed his displeasure openly. He felt the workmen were eating too well. They didn’t need to eat butter every day. It was healthier for them to partake of bread and milk than meat and potatoes.

After three and a half years in this environment, both mother and daughter felt despair. Brigham, coincidentally, had decided to move someone else into the farm house. He was building a house in town for Ann Eliza and her offspring. They expected it would be for Ann Eliza’s mother as well.

It was a pretty cottage, with an air of coziness. The rooms were small, and the kitchen, where all the washing, ironing, and cooking for the family was done, was really small. There were no facilities for water other than the neighbor’s wells.

Brigham’s intention was that Eliza would no longer be able to live with her daughter. This caused a lot of tears and disagreement. Finally, Ann Eliza’s brother promised to pay five dollars each month for the support of his mother. Brigham conceded.

As the months progressed, Ann Eliza found the prophet more parsimonious than ever. Still, Ann Eliza dared to ask if she could take on boarders, and to her surprise, Brigham assented.

Most of her boarders were non-Mormon, which opened up a new world. When she came to know the Methodist pastor, Reverend Stratton, and his wife, these people helped her to begin to see her way out of bondage. Other guests, Mr. and Mrs. Hagan, opened more doors. Mr. Hagan was a lawyer of considerable repute in Salt Lake City. The Strattons and the Hagans advised her to bring suit against Brigham for divorce and alimony.

Ann Eliza struggled in the transition. At times she wondered: What will happen if I apostatize? I should be given over to eternal damnation. Other times, she felt that perils and miseries surrounded her on every side.

When Mr. Hagan returned from his trip to California, he found Ann Eliza ready to go forward with the plans. She sold all of her furniture and walked away from the auction with nearly four hundred dollars. She was accompanied by her new friends to a non-Mormon hotel, the Walker House. She was so unsure of her fate she could not sit still. At times, her every footstep startled her.

The news of her flight from home traveled fast. The morning papers were splattered with her name and her new fame as Brigham Young’s rebellious wife. Reporters from California, Chicago, and New York, called on her seeking interviews. Ann Eliza could not leave her room for the next two months. Brigham, of course, did all he could to instigate slanders against her.

Ann Eliza’s First Speaking Assignment

During her months at the Walker House, she was asked to give an account of Mormonism to the residents of the hotel. She entered the hotel’s parlor to find a large audience had assembled. They listened with the closest attention, often while wiping tear-stained eyes. Ann Eliza was reluctant to parade herself and her troubles before the world, but came to realize she could open people’s eyes to the enormity of the religious system under which she and her sisters had suffered.

She continued to give her talks to interested listeners while the Mormons threatened her with all kinds of vengeance. Her next talk was planned for Denver, Colorado. Soon, engagements came pouring in: Boston, Washington, New York. In her travels, away from Salt Lake City and everything Mormon, she began to see a different world, one that contrasted severely with the one she had known in Utah. She felt her mind opening in ways she never imagined.

Eventually, Ann Eliza returned to Salt Lake City. A reception was held for her at the Walker House. She reunited with many of the people who started her on her new journey as a single woman.

That summer, she lectured six times in the city and several times in neighboring towns. Brigham did not attend any of her lectures. Her father and mother, now ranked among the apostates, were often in the audience. They were clearly proud of their daughter and her brave and bold step against the unholy rule of what they now considered to be a religious tyrant. Many changes had happened. This was but a beginning.

* * * The End * * *

NOTE: I hope you enjoyed Wife No. 19: The Story of a Life in Bondage by Ann Eliza Young.

Coming next week we’ll explore the thoughts of another woman and her experience along the trails: Jean Rio Griffiths Baker

Faith and Betrayal: A Pioneer Woman’s Passage in the American West.

Feel free to drop a comment on any post that catches your eye. I promise to read every word and respond. Like and subscribe. It’s free. Don’t miss out on future posts.

Thank you,

Just Judy, Author

In February, Joseph spoke in the name of the Lord and commanded that the elders “go forth and preach for a season.” Shortly after, another revelation called them together. They returned to Kirtland with lively reports that indicated rapid growth in every direction. There was to be a great gathering place called the New Jerusalem, a land of peace, a city of refuge, and a place of safety. While the promise gave the community a sense of expectation and joy, there were also concerns

Lyman Wight, a deep-voiced, huge bear of a man, spoke for his group. “What should we do with our lands? The people are reluctant to buy or sell without knowing where we will go.”

Joseph received a revelation regarding a new gathering place, but it ended with, “Save all the money you can. The place is to be revealed after your brethren come from the east.” In response, men began nailing boards and fixing old fencing, women completed their mending and organized their cupboards. New and familiar faces dribbled into the community. Of those that commanded Joseph’s attention, one stood out.

“Parley Pratt!” Joseph embraced the man. It was the first he had seen of this convert since he had been sent on his mission to the natives. Because of the stories and promises found in the Book of Mormon in relation to the descendents of the Ten Lost Tribes of Israel, it was expected Parley, along with his companion, Oliver, would win many converts. Joseph was eager for news.

Parley wore a travel-weary smile. His thick, dark, curly hair had grown over the sides of each ear. A small patch of hair curled upward along the sides of his head. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he said genuinely.

Joseph laughed amicably. “You never can tell what will happen when you put your trust in the Lord.”

“I was on my way to see you in New York. I thought I’d stop by to see how things have progressed here since I left.”

Joseph drew nearer to the man and put his arm around his shoulder. “Come and you will see. Things have not stood still. First, we must visit with your old friend, Brother Sidney.”

At Rigdon’s cottage, Parley received a warm handshake. The bright May sun peered through the small windows, bringing warmth to the reunion. Phoebe Rigdon put aside her mending and made a large pitcher of fresh lemonade. She filled three glasses and placed them before the men.

Joseph turned to Parley, eager to share his news. “New York is on their way here.”

Parley sat with his mouth half open, unable to speak.

“The Saints from Fayette, Manchester, Waterloo–they are on their way here. Your wife, Thankful, is traveling with the Whitmers.”

Parley flashed a wide-toothed grin. “This is good news.”

“Joseph received a revelation to gather here,” Sidney said.

The men discussed some of the changes that had taken place during Parley’s absence, until Joseph said, “Enough! Tell us about your mission.”

“It was a long journey,” Parley said. He explained how he and his companions had visited with several tribes, including the Cattaraugus Indians near Buffalo, and Chief Anderson and his tribe near the Missouri border. All were in a desperate struggle for survival and had neither the time nor the ability to sit and read. Between villages, the elders had suffered mile after mile of wilderness, heavily burdened, poorly funded, and poorly nourished.

“What about the books you carried?” Sidney asked. “Couldn’t you sell any?”

“Not to the Indians. They have no money and they can barely read,“ Parley said. “We did give a few copies away.”

Sidney shook his head, “What a shame.”

Parley reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a folded paper. “Oliver sent this letter for you.”

Joseph read the letter and then passed it to Sidney. He returned his attention to Parley. “It appears that you didn’t have much success.”

Sidney glanced up from his reading. “The purposes of God are great respecting the Indians. The Lord will open the way in his own due time. But Oliver seems to think highly of Independence.”

Parley was openly enthusiastic. “It is fascinating. Many different tribes are represented there.”

Sidney needed details. “Is there much permanent settlement?”

“The Kansas Indians live just west of there. Independence itself is small right now, but that’s one of its advantages. There’s tremendous room for growth.”

Joseph stood up. “You’ve delivered an interesting tale, but now I feel we must let you rest.”

“I have much more to tell you. Remember the revelation about the place for the gathering? The Lord said it will be on the borders of the Lamanites. Oliver and I feel that Independence is that place.”

“I don’t know,” Joseph said.

“Frankly,” Sidney said, “your mission was a failure.”

“But that wasn’t our fault,” Parley objected.

Joseph kept his tone low. “We can talk later. You’re tired, and I have some things I need to do.” He displayed a thin smile as he led Parley to the door. The elder was openly disappointed.

A few days later, a special revelation for Parley sent him to “labor in the vineyard and strengthen the branches sprouting throughout the land.” In little more than a week he returned along with Elder Murdock, eager to talk with the leaders. Parley and Sidney sat in chairs in front of Joseph’s desk, while Brother Murdock stood leading against the window frame.

“We’ve got a problem,” Parley said.

Joseph laid his papers neatly to one side and gave the men his full attention. “What is it?”

Murdock spoke slowly. “Some of the members have been acting out during worship.”

Joseph templed his fingers and looked first to Parley and then to Elder Murdock. He raised an eyebrow. “What kind of acting out?”

“Swooning and unseemly gesturing,” Parley said. “It seems to have crept into the church while I was away on my mission.”

“It’s probably nothing more than misguided ideas.” Sidney suggested.

Murdock disagreed. “This whole situation with the Indians is out of hand. Last week, Burr Riggs gave his testimony in some strange language no one could understand. He said it was the original Indian language The spirit of the Lord, so he says, is preparing him for a special mission.”

”Tell him about Leman,” Parley said.

“He’s been dancing around like an Indian on the warpath. Then he starts pretending he’s baptizing somebody. He goes through all the motions and there ain’t nobody there.”

“Does he do this during the services?” Rigdon asked.

Murdock nodded.

Joseph thought for a moment. “We’ve had trouble with Brother Leman before. I thought he understood by now that these actions are not of the spirit of the Lord.”

“It would seem he didn’t get the message,” Murdock said dryly.

“We were hoping you’d ask the Lord what to do,” Parley said. “Such behavior needs to be stopped, but we don’t want to make any errors of judgment.”

Joseph agreed and soon received a revelation admonishing the elders not to accept false spirits. To prepare them to recognize such spirits, he said, “If you behold a

spirit manifested that you do not understand and you receive not the spirit, ye shall ask the Lord in the name of Jesus Christ, and if he gives unto you that spirit, then you may know that it is of God.” It was mostly a question of asking the Lord.

Brothers Parley and Murdock returned to the vineyards.

New York Saints Arrive:

The month of May progressed. Joseph found himself eager and anxious for the arrival of the New York Saints. Several communities had joined together in a trek of nearly one thousand miles through mud and snow. On the fifteenth of the month, when Sidney came by to help with the translation work, Joseph chose to excuse himself. “I can’t work. I think I’m going to ride out of town a ways.”

Sidney smiled and started for the door he had just entered. “I’d like to go with you. I’m as eager for that train as you are.”

Joseph stood and smiled at his assistant. Together they walked out the door. Before they had time to saddle their horses, they were joined by Joseph’s brother, Hyrum. Soon, thick dust trailed behind the three men as they made their way out of town. After several miles of riding, Joseph pulled on the reins of his horse and swung his feet to the ground. He knelt and placed the side of his head against the dry earth. When he lifted his head, he wore a broad smile. “There’s a rumble in the distance.”

Joseph jumped on his horse and led his companions in a gallop through a grove of trees and across an open field. In the distant horizon they saw the slow, lumbering movement of the train. The riders sped forward until Joseph recognized the train’s leaders. “Newel! Jared!” he called. He gave his horse a gentle kick, sprung forward a short distance, and then stopped and dismounted. Hyrum stood next to the prophet as Newel and Jared joined them in the open field.

“Is my mother here?” Joseph asked.

Newel smiled. “You’ll find her at the back of the train. We met up with her in Buffalo leading a train of eighty from Fayette and Waterloo.”

“Mother leading?” Joseph turned toward Hyrum and laughed unabashedly.

Newel broke the merriment. “We’ve been eager to see Kirtland.”

“We’re going to settle you in Thompson,” Joseph said. “It’s to the northwest–about sixteen miles. “We’ve got a thousand-acre tract of land waiting for you.”

Jared whistled. “A thousand acres. Where’d you get that?”

“We got a good deal on it from one of the brethren,” Joseph said. “It’s going to cost us about half what it is worth.” He signaled for the men to remount, and as they headed for the train, Joseph kept his horse close to Newel Knight’s, eager for more news. “How about Josiah?” Did he make it?”

“He was with us in the beginning, but then he had to return on some urgent business. He may come later.”

Joseph was visibly disappointed.

“We couldn’t hold the entire train for him,” Newel explained.

“I understand. What about Emily?” He spoke of a young convert who had tried to join the church but suffered opposition from her pastor.

“The pious Presbyterians took her back to her brother where they charged her with unchristian conduct in showing interest in our doctrine. After all that, they withdrew the hand of fellowship.”

“That’s all right,” Joseph said. ‘It sounds like she never had it anyway.”

“Emily is old enough to know what she wants. She is in one of those wagons ahead. She’ll be living with us and helping Sally. She’s totally enraptured with you, by the way.”

Joseph chuckled. “I’m glad to hear the noble reverend didn’t get his way.” He turned to Hyrum and said, “You and Sidney lead the wagons to Thompson. I’ll meet you later.”

Joseph slowed his horse to a walk. He rode with one hand on the reins and the other in the air, waving greetings to the familiar faces. Sixty-two members from Boone and Chenoga counties had joined in Buffalo with eighty members from Fayette, Waterloo, and surrounding areas. The train was an impressive and welcome sight.

As he drew nearer to the end of the train, he heard a call from his younger brother, Don Carlos. He turned and saw his mother holding the reins firmly, her youngest son at her side. William rode beside the wagon. Lucy brought the wagon to a stop.

Joseph lifted himself close to the driver’s seat and planted a kiss on his mother’s cheek. “I heard you were one of the leaders of the train.”

“Just part of it, but I’ve let go of my authority now.”

Joseph chuckled. “I see you’ve still got the reins.”

Lucy wore a wide grin and stated the obvious. “This is just one wagon.”

Joseph called to his younger brother. “Don Carlos, change places with me for a while. I’m taking Ma to Kirtland at Pa’s request.” He turned to Lucy. “It seems he has been missing you mighty bad.”

Lucy giggled. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Hah! “ Joseph called as he took hold of the reins. “With all you do for him? You know he’s lost without you.”

With the help of the new arrivals, the Thompson settlement began to transform. Overgrowth was removed from fields that had been left untended. Rich, black soil was turned and planted. Time moved swiftly. Temporary lean-to’s were quickly replaced by cabins, and a variety of new green sprouts began to peek through the surface of the earth.

The scheduled time for the First General Conference in Kirtland drew near. Joseph filled his hours with the details of planning. He was surprised when Newel Knight rode hurriedly into the community and requested a meeting. Once inside Joseph’s office, he paced before his desk, agitated. “Our community is in difficulty. Leman Copely is taking revenge.”

“But he has been cut-off from the church.”

“That’s the source of his anger. Now he has withdrawn from his covenant. He’s demanding we leave his land under penalty of the law.”

“He can’t do that. That land belongs to the church now.”

Newel nodded slightly. “He says that it is not paid for.

“That’s true,” Joseph said. “The terms did not call for immediate payment.”

“Leman is taking his land back. He also demands sixty dollars from each family to cover damages.”

Joseph’s face colored. “We’ve got twenty-five or thirty families there. We can’t raise that kind of money. The commandment is clear. Property cannot be taken back.”

“He doesn’t give a hoot about the commandments.”

Joseph thought for a few moments and then asked, “What kind of damage is he claiming. As far as I know, our people have built up the fields.”

“He calls our cabins alterations and considers the newly planted crops part of the damage. The sad thing is, if he follows through with his threats to take it to court, he’ll probably win.”

Joseph spoke softly. “We’ll have to find some other land.”

Newel stopped his pacing, looked at Joseph firmly, and said, “Everyone is waiting for the announcement of the location of Zion. They don’t want to purchase land here. Not if we will have to move again. We heard you received a revelation before our arrival that said we would know after our arrival. We are here.”

Joseph sighed deeply. “Let’s wait and see what happens at conference.”

“Many people expect the Lord to manifest himself in a powerful way.”

Joseph agreed. “The Lord God has a mighty work in store for us.”

Building a Special Place for Worship

The days slipped by and preparations for the conference were underway. The sound of saws cutting lumber was added to by the sight of the elders placing the newly shaped planks to form rows and benches. Soon there was a speaker’s platform. In the evenings when the day’s work had been laid to rest, the elders gathered to discuss the mysteries of God.

“What about the Ten Lost Tribes of Israel?” Brother Jared asked. “Many scholars have speculated on the disappearance of these people. A lot of research has been done, but no solid understanding has been reached.”

“Some scholars say they aren’t sure these Lost Tribes ever existed,” one of the elders said.

Joseph was moved by the spirit to stand and speak: “Brethren, these thoughts and questions which arouse your interest needn’t remain a mystery. These tribes now live in the land contiguous to the North Pole, separated from the world by impassable mountains and ice and snow. Elijah the Prophet and John the Revelator, along with the three Nephites of the Book of Mormon who were miraculously translated without tasting death–they are there as well. They’ll return to Palestine when the time comes. The Lord in His mighty power will open the mountains and create a passage.” Ripples of excited conversation passed through the small gathering, but Joseph was not finished. “Not three days shall pass away before one of you shall see the Lord face to face.”

The room became filled with expectant chatter. The following day, Joseph reinforced his expectation. “Remember the prophecy which was given by the spirit yesterday? I wish that you’ll not be overcome with surprise when the event is ushered in, for the spirit of the Lord will show itself and it is a mighty thing, not meant for the weak.”

The appointed day of conference brought the arrival of people from distant communities. News had spread fast, and expectations were high. The Colesville Saints were among the two thousand who made the trek to Kirtland. The people assembled out in the open under the bright rays of the June sun. When the benches were filled, they placed blankets on the ground and sat under trees. They sang praises, offered prayers of thanksgiving, and bore testimony of God’s work in their lives. Sidney kept the assembly’s attention for several hours with an eloquent and thought provoking sermon.

Joseph spoke briefly and then called Lyman Wight to the stand. He placed his hands on the bearded man’s head and ordained him to the high priesthood, the order of the Melchizedek, as mentioned by Abraham in the fourteenth chapter of Genesis. In a special blessing, Lyman was set apart for the service to the Indians and ordained to the gift of tongues, healing of the sick, casting out of devils, and the discerning of spirits. It was this last blessing that would be called from him on this day. Lyman’s face appeared flushed as he rose and stepped down from the platform. He had a bold look of fierceness about him.

Joseph spoke, his voice elevated. “Brother Lyman, I perceive the power of the Lord has fallen upon you.”

Lyman jumped on a nearby bench, his arms stretched toward the heavens. His eyes glistened as he raised his voice for all to hear. “There are some here who will live until the Savior shall descend from heaven with a shout, with all the holy angels with Him. It will be like the sun rising in the east, and it will cover the whole earth.” He began to shout. “If you want a sign, look at me! I saw the Savior!”

A quiet hush fell over the gathering. Joseph led Lyman back to the platform and turned to him solemnly. “Brother Lyman, it has fallen on you to ordain those selected by the spirit of the Lord which is in me.”

One by one, Joseph called his elders by name, while Lyman placed his hands on the recipient’s head and entreated the spirit. The effects of the blessings were startling. Elder Harvey moved upon the floor, his legs inclined to a bend, his head limp to one side. He held his arms extended at his side, his hands clenched.

Joseph approached the tormented man. “Speak, Brother Harvey.”

Harvey moved his lips, but no sound came out.

“He has gone dumb,” an elder said.

“He’s possessed by the devil,” accused another.

“The Lord binds in order to set at liberty,” Joseph said. He stood before the congregation and entreated the spirit. Then he turned to the elders and said, “Brother Harvey is under a diabolical influence. The spirit of Satan has bound him.” He walked toward the stricken mortal and placed his hands on his head. “I command you, unclean spirit, come out of this man.”

Harvey continued with the same pale, pained expression, his eyes pleading for relief. Joseph prayed more intensely, sweat poured from his forehead. He spoke with greater force as he commanded, “Come out of this man, unclean spirit.”

Moments passed without a sound in the gathering, then came a quiet stir with a murmur of voices. For some, a dark vapor seemed to float across the room. Harvey’s face began to show a faint but healthy blush. The pain in his eyes was replaced by a vacancy that slowly began to clear.

Joseph spoke firmly to the elders. “The Lord suffered this that you may know the devices of Satan, that you may have knowledge sufficient to overthrow the evil one. This is a miracle,” he said. In an instant, he turned his attention to Brother Murdock, who had suffered a deformed arm since birth. He held the twisted arm with confidence. “I command you in the name of Jesus Christ to straighten your arm.” He reached for Murdock’s fingers and began to pry them open. They moved ever so slightly. Once again, Joseph’s voice took on an authoritative tone. “I command you in the name of Jesus Christ to straighten your arm.”

Brother Murdock grimaced in pain as his fingers began to open slowly under Joseph’s gentle prodding. As soon as they were released, they curled back into their former position.

Joseph became distracted as three men neared. Two elders carried one of the brethren who had a lame leg. He stood tall before hopeful, pleading eyes. “I command you in the name of Jesus Christ to walk.”

The man stood, took a few steps forward and fell.

Joseph repeated the command. The man rose again and took several wobbly steps. He reached forward with extended arms to brace himself. Slowly, he continued his advance until he finally reached the place where he had sat.

Joseph looked down the aisle. A tall, thin man shuffled forward, carrying a small child in his arms. “Heal my daughter,” he begged.

Joseph paled as he looked at the small rigid body. “How long has she been like this?”

“This is the third day. We’ve been waiting because we know the spirit of the Lord will be abundant and favorable for healing.”

Joseph, aghast, stammered. “This child is not ill. She is dead.”

“No,” the father cried. “It can’t be! Surely you can raise her again.”

“Why didn’t you take her to a doctor?” Joseph asked in frustration.

“The brethren told me she was in no danger, that she would be restored. I know the Lord will return her to me. She is merely sleeping. Please, give her a blessing that she may be made whole.”

“I can give her a blessing, but–” He looked at the pain in the man’s eyes, and his resistance broke down. He let his hands hover over the girl’s head. His eyes closed, he implored the spirit. “Heal this child, so that she may walk and play and fill her house with joy as before.” He ended his prayers with, “Thy will be done.”

The body lay lifeless.

Joseph stared into the man’s eyes. He repeated the prayer, with the same results. A feeling of gloom and disappointment spread throughout the gathering.

The father began to weep as he drew his child closer to him and placed a kiss on her forehead. The two elders moved in closer to the grieving man. One took the body of the child, the other helped to brace the father. Tears poured from his eyes as he shuffled down the aisle. He looked up and cried out uncontrollably. “Oh, God! You have taken my daughter.”

Joseph closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and then offered a soft spoken prayer. When he reopened his eyes, he was met by disturbed faces and bowed heads. Somehow, he was being blamed. Anger began to swell within him over a doctrine he had heard some practiced. Damn the doctrine of no doctors. He silently cursed.

The people began to stir, their faces sad, their shoulders stooped. There seemed to be no words to express the depth of the emotions brought forth by the scene they had witnessed. The atmosphere had changed. Eyes peered at the prophet with the cold, silent expression of anger. He wanted to shout that while he had power with the priesthood, he didn’t have power in all things. God would forever be supreme.

The service began much as it had the previous day, but the voices that sang praises were strained and held no joy. Then, halfway through the service, Sidney stepped up to the speaker’s stand, his voice quivering as he gave a brief blessing and dismissed the people.

Rumor quickly spread through Kirtland, and to the outlying branches, that miracles could not be performed because the Ohio location had never been consecrated. The Kirtland Saints continued to wait, albeit less patiently, for the announcement of the gathering place. For the branch in Colesville, there was a sense of desperation as Leman Copley had taken the initial steps to legally remove them from his land. The very next day Joseph spoke in the name of the Lord.

“Go now and flee the land. Appoint your leader and journey into the regions westward, unto the land of Missouri.”

Word came for those Saints that had remained in Kirtland, Ohio: “The next conference shall be held in Missouri, upon the land which I will consecrate unto my people. Let my servants start their journey as soon as preparations can be made.” Joseph assigned elders to accompany the leaders. Others were to go by different routes, preaching along the way. Joseph promised, “There will be land in abundance. We will build a glorious house of the Lord where we will worship in richness and abundance and find safety and refuge.”

* * * The End * * *

NOTE: Join us next week: Chapter 3: Zion Claimed

A Note re: Images:

All the images in this post have been created by Gemini AI. It’s brilliant, but much like you and I, not without flaws. Gemini and I continually work together to tweak the details, and strive for perfection. I hope you’ll look past the minor quirks and enjoy the atmosphere they bring to the history.

Feel free to drop a comment on any post that catches your eye. I promise to read every word. Like and subscribe. It’s free. Don’t miss out on future posts.

Thank you

Just Judy, The Author

A Glimpse of St. Heliers from the Sea

Fanny was born in 1829 on the largest of the Islands in the English Channel, in the town of St. Heliers, Jersey. At fourteen, she went down into the baptismal waters and arose again with a newness of life. She had worshiped with her family in this Baptist church for many years.

At the age of sixteen, she accepted a position as a governess in one of the best schools in St. Brieuc, France. She taught fancy needlework, embroidery, and English. When the students’ parents objected to sending their girls to a school where the teacher was Protestant, Fanny agreed to catechism classes.

Months later, Fanny resigned her position due to her attachments to the religion of her childhood. She quickly found a lucrative private position with a wealthy family where she acted as governess and English teacher to two young girls. After several years of gainful employment, and a marriage proposal, Fanny decided to take a two-month vacation to her native land to think things over and see her family.

On her return to her homeland she found her family on the other side of the water in Southampton. Her mother felt privileged to be living at a time when the last dispensation was revealed. Mormons preached the gospel of Christianity restored. At first, Fanny was skeptical and full of doubt. Two weeks after her arrival, Fanny went down into the waters of baptism once again and arose as one of the Saints. Her parents were overjoyed.

There was a lot to learn. Fanny believed, as she was told, the religion of Jesus had been restored again to earth by a ministry of holy angels. No sacrifice would be too great for her to make. Her first encounter with the act of speaking in tongues left her confused. She did not see what good came from these manifestations, especially when no one could understand them.

As the weeks passed, Fanny attended meetings regularly and taught French to one of the most persistent missionaries. After a few short months, Elder T.B.H.(Thomas Brown Holmes) Stenhouse, a Scotsman, proposed marriage. She realized she would not return to France.

News that four of the Twelve Apostles living in America were on their way to England tickled Fanny. She could hardly imagine conversing with chosen men of God. They were said to have the gift of inspiration, and by direct revelation they were set apart to perform a great and glorious work.

She expected she would meet grave and earnest men and was disappointed to see, in all their conversations and all their doings, the American apostles were very much like other men. In dress, they wore the finest broadcloth, fashionably cut, and were fond of gold chains.

The Apostle Lorenzo Snow requested Elder Stenhouse join him on his mission to Italy. This was not to Fanny’s liking as it could mean a five year separation from the man that she loved. Like it or not, in June of 1850, Elders Snow and Stenhouse boarded a steamer headed for Italy.

The mission in England was a success. There were more Mormons living there than in all Utah Territory. Italy was a Catholic nation, and few, if any, really good Roman Catholics have ever joined the Saints. Consequently, before the end of a year, Fanny had her husband back again. She eagerly presented their five month old daughter, Clara.

There was much discussion about the possible practice of polygamy in Utah and much denial on the part of the elders: “It is a foul slander upon the Saints. There is no truth to it.”

In fact, these elders had several wives waiting for them in Salt Lake City. When Fanny’s husband told her of the general expectation that Brigham Young would publish the doctrine of polygamy to the world, she felt she had been deliberately deceived and wondered: might they be guilty of deception upon other points as well?.

She soon learned she was considered a baby in the faith. The falsehoods the elders told were for her benefit and protection. Until now, she was not yet ready to learn the meat of the gospel. Things changed when The Millennial Star printed the Revelation on celestial marriage.

Fanny read half the article in the Star and threw the paper from her in anger. She was, indeed, rebellious. Her husband comforted her and assured her all would be well. They just needed more time to understand the new doctrine.

Fanny did not question the divinity or the origin of the revelation, but she pitied her sex for the burden God had seen fit to place upon their shoulders. She was not alone in her sentiment. Of the thirty-one thousand Saints who lived in England nearly half were excommunicated when they could not accept the new doctrine.

Then, the Stenhouses were informed the brethren planned for them to leave England. Several thousand converts arrived every summer in New York on their way to Zion. This year, Tom and Fanny would be among them.

The passage to New York was difficult, and the first months offered special challenges. Then, when Elder Stenhouse visited The Mormon Newspaper and explained his situation to Apostle Taylor, he was given employment of sorts. As circumstances opened up, Tom made himself useful on the editorial staff. Eventually, Elder Taylor was absent so much that the entire responsibility of getting the paper out rested on his shoulders. This went on for a little over two years, with small, incremental raises in pay.

One morning, Apostle George Q. Cannon visited the Stenhouses holding a couple of pieces of mail in his hand. He informed Tom and Fanny that Utah expected them to join the next migration to Zion. Obedient, they spent months crossing the prairies and then went up and over the mountains. It was not an easy journey, but there were no unexpected hardships.

Everything looked green and lovely in Salt Lake City. Everywhere around were the lonely looking snow-capped mountains, encircling the city like mighty prison walls. However, the Stenhouses found they had a wide circle of acquaintances among the chief elders and emigrants. Many came from England or had become acquaintances when the couple were on foreign missions. Old friendships were being rekindled.

One day, seeking consolation from her inner storms regarding the idea of polygamy, Fanny went to the Tabernacle and listened to the sermons in hopes of quieting her rebellious heart. She heard women were inferior beings, designed by the Lord for the special glory and exaltation of man. She was to be obedient to her husband. It was through him, and at his will, she would attain salvation.

Man was the crowning glory of creation and the chief object of woman’s existence was to help man obtain his great destiny. The great object of marriage was the increase of children.

Back in England, after selling her furnishings in preparation for the journey west, Fanny bought three hundred dollars’ worth of millinery goods. Thomas was at a loss as to what had happened to the money. She, of course, had no idea.

Now, in Salt Lake City, Fanny had been stealthily engaged for two weeks while Thomas was off at work each day. Once she placed the trim on the last hat she had made, she stopped to take inventory. She had a fine assortment. After she shared her ideas and goods with her very talkative friend, and before the day was over, Fanny was selling hats.

President Young sent for her and asked her to make a handsome bonnet for his wife Emmeline. When she delivered her work of art, he was so pleased that he ordered a hat for each of his wives.

Fanny worked constantly for three weeks, rejoicing in the prospect of having the funds to buy much needed furniture and household items. She was due two-hundred seventy-five dollars. When it came time to collect on her invoice, she was informed the amount would be credited to tithing. She felt cheated. Tom helped her control her anger.

Fanny was violently opposed to polygamy, but she saw her husband constantly pressured to take another wife and live up to the commandment. She came to acknowledge there was nothing either of them could do to change the reality of the situation. It would not do to rebel, but she was left with a bad taste in her mouth in regards to the elders and their willingness to deceive. It was as if the Bible called lies and perjury ‘the milk’ of the gospel and plural marriage ‘the meat’. Sometimes she doubted these principles were actually from God. Other times, she tried to believe.

Not all women felt the turmoil Fanny felt regarding plural marriage. Fanny’s talkative friend visited her from time to time to ‘build her up’ and spoke much of the plurality of wives from her perspective. This friend spent much of her time looking for wives for her husband in order to avoid the possibility that he might find some young girl and fall in love with her.

The visitor explained to Fanny: “To find a suitable wife for a husband was a way for the first wife to keep the power in her hands.” One time, when she had scouted out a possible wife for her husband, she visited the young lady and proposed on his behalf. The girl literally laughed in her face. Other times, the proposal was willingly accepted.

A Visit With Talkative Ann

“The Saints marry for principle, not for love. Principle is the only thing,” Miss Talkative said. “There can be no love in polygamy. If he must have another wife, it is certainly best for him to have one that I can manage.”

Fanny did not agree. Nor did she agree with her friend’s perspective when she said, “Wife number two and three do all the work and I have little else to do than to supervise the household and enjoy myself.”

It wasn’t long before Fanny found herself in the Endowment House on the left side of her husband while the wife selected for him by the church leaders stood at his right. Elders had taught her that the fault was not in Mormonism but in her early gentile training. When doubts came to her mind, she would suppress them. She knew it was her duty to accept what was right and she dared not think of open rebellion. To rebel would be to renounce husband, children, and all else. Fanny placed the hand of the new wife in the hand of her husband, thereby giving proof of her obedience to the principle.

Fanny was overwhelmed when her talkative friend, now known to be Sister Anne, visited her again and told her she had been baptized for Queen Anne. In this visit, Fanny learned about the souls in Paradise. Paradise was not a happy place. It was the place where souls who had not heard the gospel would go. It was a sort of prison. A spirit prison.

There were millions upon millions of souls waiting to be released into the Celestial Kingdom. Sister Anne explained she had been baptized for many of her relatives of the past. Empress Josephine, Napoleon, George Washington—all had been baptized by one of the living, thereby freeing them from the place called Paradise.

“I think I shall wait,” Fanny said, “until I find a Queen Fanny.” She could not help but feel amused.

Then, in the year 1869, Fanny’s husband incurred the wrath of Brigham Young. He owned and managed The Salt Lake Telegraph and had published favorable notices of non-Mormon stores. This was good business from the newspaper man’s perspective, but President Young accused him of aiding and abetting the wicked gentiles. Tom felt this was an infringement upon his personal rights. Fanny was delighted to see her husband’s confidence in Brigham’s inspiration slowly dwindling away.

One Sunday evening, Tom returned home to announce: “Brother Brigham has given me a mission. He wishes me to go to Ogden and publish my paper there.”

Both knew this move could bring their financial ruin. They also knew this was the way Brigham acted towards those he feared and doubted. In their time in Salt Lake City, they had seen President Young ruin many a man and his family.

Her husband doubted the prophet yet feared if he disobeyed he might be resisting God. He broke up his establishment in Salt Lake City and moved to the poverty stricken Ogden.

Several months later, Thomas asked Brigham’s permission to return to the city. This was granted, but he soon realized the teachers, when making their weekly home visits, had advised the people not to take in the paper again. He would be ruined no matter where he decided to work.

The prophet had granted a divorce to Tom’s second wife. There was no longer any doubt in Fanny’s mind. The prophet was intent on the ruination of her husband. He soon received notice he was disfellowshipped for irregular attendance at the School of Prophets. Fanny heard her husband’s expletive followed by his firm decision: “Cost me what it may, I will be free!”

The Stenhouses left the church. In the interest of finding some way to provide for his family, Thomas set out for New York.

Fanny began to mix freely with the non-Mormons in the city and soon found these new associations produced a marked effect upon her mind. Her views were enlarged, her thoughts became more liberal.

Letters from her husband showed he, too, was going through a similar transformation. As the months passed, the couple became dearer to each other and happy in their family circle. They found renewed togetherness and a deep happiness. Fanny sat down to write her tale titled after something a traveler had said: “Tell it All.” And so she did.

* * * The End * * *

NOTE: I hope you enjoyed “Tell it All” by Fanny Stenhouse

Coming next week we’ll explore the sentiments left behind by Ann Eliza Young. She carries a lot of resentment and anger which she did not earn. She fought a good fight. I’m not sure if she won.

Ann Eliza Young: The 19th Wife (Brigham Young’s divorcee.)

Feel free to drop a comment on any post that catches your eye. I promise to read every word and respond. Like and subscribe. It’s free. Don’t miss out on future posts.

Thank you,

Just Judy, Author

It was a crisp, clear January morning, and the church was now almost nine months old. Edward Partridge pulled at the reins of the horse-drawn sleigh. “Whoa!” he called out.

The horses slowed to a stop in front of a substantial two-story building with a sign on the face of the building. The porched entranceway was spacious. The guest glanced up at the ,well-formed letters: Gilbert and Whitney General Store.

Joseph hopped down from the sleigh, his attention riveted on the building’s facade.

Sidney was eager to introduce the place he called home. “We have quite a community here.”

“I see that.” Joseph half-turned and let his eyes scan the neat row of business establishments. He saw fine, well-formed structures with colorful signage; trees towered behind the row of buildings, their leafy expanse offering a green backdrop before the intense blue of the winter sky.

He directed his attention to the general store, straightened his shoulders, and pushed forward with lighthearted determination. His heavy walking boots sounded his arrival as he opened the establishment’s double doors. A bell tickled lightly as he entered, and a merchant looked up in response to the sound. Joseph’s tone was bold. “Newel K. Whitney, thou art the man!”

The merchant was actively checking stock and making calculations. He looked up, surprised at the familiarity. “You have the advantage, sir. How is it that you know my name?”

“You should know me, for you have prayed me here. I am Joseph Smith, the prophet. What do you want of me?”

The storekeeper’s face showed his surprise. “Do you bring the word of the Lord?”

“I surely do.” Joseph removed his coat and pulled back his shoulders as he gently laid it on a nearby chair. He walked towards the room’s only source of warmth and began to rub his hands together over the heat of the small black stove. He looked around the room, slowly pausing over some details and passing past others. The well-stocked, dust-free shelves covered three of the walls and seemed to be laid out with a good sense of order.

The bell over the entrance sounded again. Emma entered, her hands resting on her protruding belly. Sidney was at her side, with Edward Partridge following close behind.

“You just left me in the carriage!” Emma protested.

Joseph went to his wife and placed a light hand around her shoulder. “Forgive me, dear. I was so eager to meet this young man, I thought of nothing else. This is Mr. Whitney.”

Newel took Emma’s hand and gave a warm smile and then turned to Edward. He and Sidney had been absent from the community for weeks. Newel was so excited over Joseph’s arrival that he seemed to notice no separation. Without a greeting he said, “Edward, do you know who this is?”

“I should. I brought him here myself.”

Sidney turned to Joseph with a proud grin. “This man has been a faithful member of our church and a faithful contributor as well.”

Newel asked the prophet, “Where are you staying?”

Joseph looked first to Sidney and then to Edward. “I’m not sure that has been decided.”

“Our home is small, but we have a spare room. I’m sure my wife, Elizabeth, and I will be happy to have you. It would be an honor.”

Emma frowned.

Joseph moved closer to her and spoke softly. “It will only be temporary. I promise.”

Emma nodded and gave a thin smile.

Newel was clearly delighted with his guests and Elizabeth was a most gracious hostess. As promised, the living arrangement was temporary. Within four days of their arrival, the word of the Lord came through Joseph. “It is right that my servant have a house built in which to live and to translate.”

Sidney’s tiny community had sprung out of an effort on the part of the local inhabitants to live as they believed the early Christians had, forsaking the things of the world. Isaac Morely put up a small two-room cabin for Joseph and Emma.

“It’s wonderful,” Emma said. She held a bolt of cloth up against the window. “I’m so happy. I can’t wait to get everything unpacked.”

As the weeks passed, a tension over personal property began to show its face. There were frequent minor squabbles. Some took property that belonged to others; others demanded their personal items be returned.

“She took my favorite bolt of cloth,” one complained.

“But we’re a family now,” the taker retorted.

“You could have asked.”

“That’s right,” an old man answered. “And Jane has taken my favorite hammer. Now what would a woman want with a hammer?”

“Enough!” Joseph commanded. He asked for and found the answer to the problem. “Thou shalt not take thy brother’s garment. Thou shalt pay for what thou hast received of thy brother.”

A new system of community property was instituted. Each member was to consecrate all his belongings to the newly assigned bishop, Edward Partridge. He would return to each member an amount considered necessary for his family’s support, while the balance would be held in a common storehouse.

The Kingdom Continues to Grow:

News of the new community traveled fast, and interested people frequently came to investigate. This day brought a round, stout-faced man who claimed to be a Methodist minister. His name was Ezra Booth. He traveled in a wagon with a man, a woman, and several children. The Johnsons had come from the nearby township of Hiram.

“What brings you to Kirtland?” Joseph asked the minister.

“Curiosity, mainly. I’m really not certain.”

The children were hustled off to play while the grown-ups continued with the introductions. Joseph extended his hand to Mrs. Johnson, who gently stepped to the ground, her right arm held rigid by her side.

Ezra spoke up. “This is Elisa Johnson. Her arm has gone paralyzed.”

Joseph winced as he stepped closer and asked: “What caused the paralysis?”

Eliza cradled her elbow in her free hand. “There seems to be no cause.”

Joseph took the woman’s arm in his hands and gently touched and probed until she withdrew with a small screech. “I’m sorry,” he said. “How long has it been like this?”

Elisa sighed. “It has been weeks. It makes life most difficult, what with the chores and all. One needs two arms to make life work.”

“I’m sorry for your misfortune,” Joseph had an idea. He turned to Ezra. “Today is Tuesday. We have a meeting over at a schoolhouse. Why don’t you folks join us?”

Ezra glanced at Elisa’s husband, John.

“It could be edifying,” Joseph suggested.

Ezra smiled, snapped the reins, and turned his buggy in a semicircle. He slowed to a stop once he was in front of Joseph. “I’m sure we would love to come. If Mrs. Johnson feels up to it, we will bring her along.”

Joseph began to walk away and then turned and directed his attention to Ezra. “By the way, have you read The Book of Mormon?”

Ezra shook his head. “Much as I’d like to, I find little time for reading.”

“If you will read it with a prayerful heart and ask God to give you a witness, you’ll come to know the truth of the work.”

Ezra smiled broadly. “I’ll read it. See you tonight.”

The schoolhouse, a small one-room meeting house, was a short walk southeast of the general store. The benches were placed in rows with a wide aisle running between. Toward the front, just off a platform between the seats, a large, black, pot-bellied wood-burning stove provided warmth.

Joseph was satisfied to see that a large group had gathered and especially pleased to see the Johnsons and Ezra. After the usual opening prayer and song, lively discussion began on the gift of healing.

“Isn’t it a thing of the past?” an elder asked.

“Depends on your viewpoint,” John Whitmer reasoned. “Some say miracles ceased when Christ ascended to heaven.”

Leman Copley, a new convert said, “The Shakers believe the need for ordinances, like baptism and such, ended with the era of the apostles.”

“They don’t believe in marriage either,” an elder said. He let out a snide chuckle.

“But they enjoy visions and spiritual healing,” Leman retorted.

“They also claim their leader to be God incarnate, in the form of a female no less.” This elder’s tone showed his disapproval.

Sidney Rigdon became clearly excited. “We are preparing the way for the millennium. We’re on the edge of a new era when the deaf, the dumb, the blind, and the afflicted will become subjects of miraculous healing power.”

Joseph sat quietly as the men exchanged views. For him, the conversation was a mere backdrop. This spirit had begun to swell within him. He rose and walked over to Elisa and gently placed her useless arm in the open palm of his left hand. “Here is Mrs. Johnson.” He searched the roomful of faces while supporting her arm high in the air for all to see. “Has God given power to any man now on earth to cure her?”

Sidney Rigdon stood. “As old covenants are done away…” He stopped in mid-sentence, his attention riveted on the prophet.

Joseph stood straight and tall, his eyes glimmered in a fixed stare. His voice was deep and powerful. “Woman, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, I command thee to be whole.”

The prophet released her arm just as gently as he had taken it in his hand and then turned and calmly walked out the door. When the news reached him that Elisa had regained full use of her arm, it came as no surprise, for he had felt the power of the spirit.

The incident prompted much talk and gossip. “A miracle,” many said. Most versions were at variance with the facts. This first miracle story would be told many different ways. The incident would seal Elisa’s faith and help reinforce those who suffered periods of uncertainty.

As Emma’s pregnancy slipped into the final trimester, Joseph stayed close to their cabin. Sidney visited often and the work on the New Testament revision progressed slowly. Saturday was spent in preparation for the Sabbath. Joseph sat at his desk to review the work done the previous week when he heard a faint tap at the door. He looked up as John Whitmer entered.

“I just came from the schoolhouse. There is a woman there who has been raising quite a stir. She says she is a prophetess of the Lord.”

Joseph looked up from his work. “A prophetess? What next?”

“Sister Hubble has been receiving commandments and laws on behalf of the church.”

“Commandments! Laws!” An expression of disbelief settled over Joseph’s face.

“I don’t think the elders are being swayed from your teachings. It’s just that they also believe her. Brother Sidney has given her the right hand of fellowship and the kiss of charity.”

Joseph pushed himself away from his desk. He raised his voice. “The kiss of charity! Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

He placed his reading materials in a neat stack and got up from his chair. “It’s hard to believe that an eloquent and respected minister of the gospel can be led astray so readily. As for the rest of the brethren, they should know they have been sent to teach, not to be taught. I had hoped they would understand this by now.”

Joseph and John walked briskly to the schoolhouse where they found many of the leading elders gathered around a slender and attractive woman, her chestnut braids wound meticulously on top of her head. Her dress flowed with each movement.

Joseph walked directly to the prophetess and charged, “I understand you’ve been giving commandments to the church.”

Sister Hubble’s green eyes met his gaze. “You must be Joseph Smith. I’ve looked forward to meeting you. Yes, I’ve received several commandments.” She smiled continually as she talked, her voice smooth and pleasing.

Joseph raised his voice an octave. “By what authority do you receive these commandments?”

Sister Hubble squared her shoulders. “By the authority of Jesus Christ.”

Joseph remained calm. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you are mistaken. I am appointed as the revelator of the church.”

“Are you the same Joseph Smith, Jr. listed as author on the cover page of the Book of Mormon?”

“I am. But I have also been ordained Prophet, Seer, and Revelator by the will of God.”

“Can you, in the presence of the almighty God, give your word that an angel from heaven showed you where the gold plates were hidden, and that you know the things contained in that book are from those plates?”

Joseph squared his shoulders, indignant. “I’ll not swear at all.”

Sister Hubble placed the back of her left hand gently on her forehead. Her voice seemed to sing, “Oh, blush at such abominations. Let shame forever cover your face?”

Joseph stifled a smile. “Why, Mrs. Hubble, you surprise me. It should come as no surprise to you to know that the gift has returned back again, as in former times, to the illiterate fisherman.”

Sister Hubble regained her composure, her tone returned to its original softness. “I have received answers to prayer, and I know the things I preach are from God. I would like to become a teacher of the church.”

Joseph swallowed hard. “That can never be.”

“Why? I know the spirit speaks to me.”

“Do you know which spirit? Not all spirits are from God.”

Sister Hubble’s face turned a deep red. “The problem with you is–it’s that–oh!” She stammered, and became even more frustrated. “There’s no sense arguing with you.” She turned angrily, bundled herself against the cold, and stomped out of the schoolhouse.

Joseph’s cold stare communicated his displeasure as he briefly turned and looked at each of the elders. Without saying a word, he returned to his work.

Sister Hubble had easily backed down, but the problem created among the errant elders was not resolved until a meeting had been called and Joseph received another revelation.

“There is none other appointed unto you to receive commandments and revelations.”

The revelation was lengthy and commanded the elders to provide food and raiment for the prophet and his family, and also that the elders should be sober and keep all the commandments. Joseph ended the meeting with strong words of his own: “God has sent me here. The devil will have to leave, or I will.”

Work on the New Testament continued while the March winds whistled past the small log cabin. At the end of a tiresome day’s work, Joseph and Sidney lapsed into quiet conversation regarding Leman Copely, a former Shaking Quaker. “I hear he has been exhibiting some sort of strange behavior.”

“It is not so strange,” Sidney clarified. “It is just his special form of worship.”

“Are you certain that is an accurate description?”

“He used to be a follower of Ann Lee.”

“Yes, I know. A Shaking Quaker.”

“Quaker because of their drab dress, and shaking because of their form of worship. But, Brother Leman has converted.”

“I hope so. He is our benefactor on the Thompson site.”

“It’s his Shaker background that allows him to be so generous.”

Joseph sat thoughtfully, then said, “Why does he continue to shake in his worship?”

“He doesn’t seem to know. He is growing in faith. He’s been eager to return to his Shaker community with the word of the Lord as he now understands it.”

“Hmm,” Joseph mused. “That might be a good idea.” Soon afterward, he received a revelation for that elder to preach to the Shakers. Other elders were appointed to accompany him along the way.

Spring brought new buds on the trees, the pleasant chirping of birds, and continued work on the New Testament. Emma’s belly continued to swell. Joseph’s memory of her first pregnancy and the disheartening outcome often haunted him. He worried about her health and remained close to home. He helped with the household chores as best he could but he hardly knew what to do.

As the time for delivery neared, a member of the community, Mrs. Morely, offered her help and that of her two teenage daughters. Joseph, in the face of Mrs. Morley’s efficiency, began to feel out of place. He was about to leave for an evening stroll when Emma began having hard pains and contractions. He decided to stay close to home and lingered outside the bedroom.

He glimpsed through a crack each time one of the Morely girls opened and closed the door as they passed through to the kitchen area. They seemed to need a steady stream of boiled water and clean cloths. Joseph could hear Emma’s stifled screams. Nervously, he paced the puncheoned floor. Then all was quiet. Minutes passed until the groans and screams continued. Joseph began to pace at a faster pace. He decided to get some air.

Outside, he breathed deeply as he eased forward to the porch railing, bathed in the quiet of the night. Emma’s intermittent cries were even more distant. Overhead, the sky glittered with the twinkle of many stars. An owl hooted in the distance. Then, the solitude of the night was shattered by a frightful scream. He anxiously moved toward the door, resisting the impulse to enter. Then he heard the footsteps of Mrs. Morley as she joined him in the evening air. She wore no smile.

“There are two babies. A boy and a girl.”

Joseph raised his arms to scratch his head. “Well, I’ll be.”

Mrs. Morely kept her voice low. “They are very small and seem to be in poor health. It would have been better if they’d waited a few more weeks. But there’s no sense complaining about what cannot be changed.”

“How’s Emma?”

“She’s weak and needs rest. She’ll be okay.”

The midwife turned to face him. “You should see to it that Emma eats well. The babies are going to need as much nourishment as they can get.” She wrapped a scarf around her head and motioned for her daughters to join her. “I’ll stop by in the morning.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joseph said. Then as an afterthought said, “Thank you for all your help.” He turned to the room where Emma lay and opened the door. He found his wife on her side, her body curved around one tiny new life, while her eyes gazed at the second infant lying nearby. Dark circles of exhaustion encircled her eyes. Joseph bent over and kissed her tenderly on the forehead.

“They aren’t well.”

“Mrs. Morley will be by in the morning.

Emma kissed the forehead of the infant that lay in her arms. “It may be too late.”

The babies were named Thaddeus and Louisa. One hour passed and then another. Thaddeus let out a soft whimper, while Louisa gasped and wheezed. The small infant’s breathing was strained. Some time during the third hour, both infants died. Joseph sat round shouldered on the bed next to Emma.

“I’ve lost all three of my babies,” Emma cried, one hand shielding her tear-stained eyes. “I’ll hate myself if you can’t be a father because of me.”

“Because of you?” Joseph gently pulled her hand from her face and peered into her eyes. Softly, he said, “This is the work of the Lord.”

“It’s a cruel God who causes such pain and unhappiness.”

Joseph squeezed Emma’s hand affectionately. “There’s a purpose for our trials. And there will be more babies.”

Emma sobbed and muttered, “More dead babies?”

In the days that followed, Joseph spent much of his time at home. On the tenth day after the birth, he sat behind his desk reviewing a batch of personnel papers. The door opened and closed followed by a refreshing rush of spring air. He looked up and saw Elder Burnett from one of the many branches that had been created since the organization of the church. He put down his pen, greeted his guest, and motioned for him to be seated. “You look solemn,” he said.

“I am. But it’s good news and bad. The good news is that Brother Murdock’s wife gave birth to a healthy pair of twins yesterday.”

“How wonderful,” Joseph said.

“Yes, well, Sister Murdock didn’t make it.”

Joseph winced and sent up a silent prayer.

“Brother Murdock has no means to care for the babies. We were wondering if Emma could take them on.”

In the midst of life’s harshness, Joseph felt a gentle rush of joy. When he shared the news with Emma, she had no qualms about taking the motherless infants as her own. As the days passed, she found happiness caring for the babies. The Smith’s small household soon became filled with coos and hungry cries. Emma’s health improved rapidly. Joseph found the transition to fatherhood painless and natural.

* * * The End * * *

NOTE: Next week: Chapter 2: the Colesville Saints Arrive

A Note re: Images:

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Just Judy, The Author

World I: Life Outside the Safety of the Fort

John helped his father, Lorenzo Young, work on the finishing touches of the new house, the first to be built outside the ten acre fort. Both man and boy had braved the elements and worked hard and long. The sharp rhythmic tapping of his hammer did nothing to drown out the frantic shouts and piercing cries coming from the distance. He looked up.

Lorenzo set down the piece of lumber he was carrying and looked toward his son. “That could be that band of Indians we passed by on the road. Run to the fort. Get help. I don’t want any confrontation without backup.”

Lorenzo was the younger brother of the group’s leader and was tried and true to the church. His face was round; his thick eyebrows cast a shadow that fell over his pale blue eyes. He seemed to always know what to do.

John returned from the fort with his half-brother, Charley, Harriet’s 23 year old son. Barney came to the rescue as well. He joined the settlers as an interpreter and travelled with his Shoshonee woman. There were a few other men as well. They approached the place of commotion.

A young native girl, eyes terrified, was held in a blood stained grip of a highly agitated copper-skinned man, his presence magnified not by his height, but by his absolute lack of mercy. The girl’s hair had been shingled with butcher knives and singed by fire. All the fleshy parts of her body had been hacked with knives and then poked with firebrands. Her skin was a mixture of blood, ash, and dirt.

The native looked savage as his steely eyes pierced the settlers, his yellow toothed face unsmiling. “You give horse. I no kill.”

Baptiste held his knife to the girl’s throat as he spoke. Sweat poured down his face though the temperature was cool. He had just killed, and wanted to kill again.

“He’ll do it.” Charley assured. “He killed the boy.” Charley pointed to the girl. “He was with her. The Injun wanted payment. No one moved. Baptiste took the boy out to the forest and returned alone, stained with blood.”

“We can’t give up our horses,” young John said, more as a spoken thought than a decision made.

Baptiste tightened his arm and forced the blade of his knife more firmly on the young girl’s cheek. He was craving blood, but also wanted a horse.

Charley stepped forward holding his weapon high for all to see. “I don’t have no horse to give, but I’ve got this here rifle.”

Baptiste released his firm grip on the girl and pushed her toward one of his tribe members. He grabbed the rifle, examined it, looked down the barrel, and turned it over and over again. He felt the weight of it, and then grabbed the girl by the arm and pushed her forward to the young man who offered his rifle. Pleased with the trade, he turned and limped away. His warriors followed close behind.

Charley led the former captive to his mother who had left the fort to check on the commotion. Harriet gently washed the smeared ashes from the frail, thin body, cleaned her wounds, and gave her fresh clothes to wear. This done, Charley walked the girl to the fort and through the front gate and into the walled-world of the settlers. He gave her to her sister Clara. The unnamed girl had left her world behind, but as the days passed it became clear that she still carried detailed memories of her beginnings.

World II: The Settlers Built The Fort

The settlers had located on wild land on the northern edge of Mexico, a place they saw as land no one else wanted. They were happy to be out of the United States. In the ten years since Joseph Smith organized their church they had encountered problems with their neighbors in New York, Ohio, Missouri, and then their beautiful Nauvoo in Illinois. It had been a little over five years since Missouri’s Governor Boggs issued his extermination order declaring the Mormons were to be either exterminated or driven out of the state. The years did not dull the sting of his proclamation. A few years after they relocated, they were forced out once again.

A Dusty, Chaotic Central Courtyard

In late 1847, when the young Indian girl moved into the fort, the area was a bustling, unpaved hub of activity, filled with covered wagons, livestock corrals, and heaps of freshly harvested timber from the nearby canyons. The packed dirt beneath their feet bore deep ruts left by heavy wagon wheels. It was littered with wood shavings.

Curious pioneers stepped out of their low-slung, dirt-roofed cabins into the dusty central courtyard. Everyone wanted to see the Indian girl. Her most earnest desire was to go someplace where she could hide. She longed for a cool, quiet canyon.

As the weeks went on, her wounds began to heal and her hair was growing, but stabbing grief still showed in her eyes. She missed her mother and her sisters and wondered where they were. She found the ways of the settlers difficult to understand.

These people seemed intent on removing every living thing from the land. In a few short months, they killed so many wolves and coyotes, hundreds of foxes, weasels, and wolverines; two bears, two wildcats, and a large number of those animals who live on the wing. Then they collected animal scalps, feathers, and quills. They did not kill for sustenance or for clothing. They seemed intent on removing whatever imperiled their plants and animals. They busied themselves planting gardens and cultivating orchards.

These strangers allowed their cattle to eat all the native grasses, even those with the best seeds. They let them graze on balsam root and sego lily and other food plants. The settlers only liked the seeds which they brought with them. They did not understand the land they were in.

Sally was her name now. She lived with Clara, Harriett’s daughter, and Eliza, Clara’s sister in faith. Clara liked to read and entertain her own thoughts. She seemed to value sturdy houses, soft featherbeds, sweet desserts, and books. Eliza, a writer and poet, surrounded herself with books, tucking them into various nooks and crannies.

Both women slept on platforms made from poles and rope, then topped with a soft feather mattress they carried with them on their journey. Sally spent the night on a buffalo robe placed on the floor.

It was Clara’s duty to teach Sally how to live a civilized life. Clearly, the girl knew how to work. Now she was learning to sweep a floor, wash pots and pans, eat with silverware, make a bed, and to sleep on one. Daily, she studied her English, not by writing, which was foreign to her, but by listening carefully to every patient instruction Clara cheerfully shared.

Sally was corrected for eating her food with her fingers. She did not know the language enough to explain that it was good to touch the food and feel the warmth and texture before tasting it. Chewing on a bone until it was bare, was also a good thing, but when Sally did it, Clara discouraged the behavior saying she should not eat like a dog. “Chew slowly and delicately and don’t wolf down your food.” She was quickly taught to always drink from a cup, never from her cupped hand.

Clara and Eliza believed that people had been specially created. They stood below the angels but above everything else. Civilized people stood above savages, but savages could be taught and raised up.

As time wore on, Sally became more and more useful. She was happiest when sitting holding a baby. She knew she did not have to stay penned in with Clara and Emily at the fort. She knew how to forage for food; roots, berries, and an occasional squirrel.

The fort offered challenges, but it also offered safety. It was, after all, her own people who got her into this mess. How could she return home and feel safe? The fort, with its high walls and many families living close together, offered her safety. Still, she hoped to see her mother and sisters one day. She felt a deep emptiness within.

How strange these strangers were. The hair on their heads and faces ranged from dark to light. A few had black hair, most had hair the color of the earth, or of grass seared by the sun and faded by thirst. The men usually cut their hair short just above the shoulders. The women either bound up their long hair or let it fall loose. There were many children.

The strangers had strange birds that fluttered around them, spreading their wings and jumping, but never flying away. Just like the strangers, these birds planned to stay.

There were some animals prowling around at night inside the fort that looked like wildcats with long tales. They hunted the mice that came to the fort. The strangers seemed to hate the hungry mice and the scurrying, scratching sound of them as they searched for food in the dark.

Sally often contemplated the ways of her people and how they contrasted with the ways of these settlers. She learned more and more of their words and began to feel a measure of comfort in her new surroundings. If she imagined fleeing to her people, she always carried the realization that the much feared warrior, Baptiste, frequented the valley and the land beyond. If she did make her way home safely, she would surely see the man who first betrayed her. He would simply do it again.

More settlers came in. Clara had not seen her sister Lucy in over a year. Clara’s husband, the leader, returned with the new train: 151 wagons, twice as many people, and even more animals.

The words “Brother Brigham” did not roll smoothly off Sally’s tongue. Her people had no similar sounds. She found she could avoid him altogether. Interestingly, Sally found that Lucy’s husband was the same Brother Brigham who claimed Clara as his wife.

The month of June came around. Mountains still shone spring green beneath white crests, but the hot, dry season was settling into the big valley. The foothills were already burned brown.

One day the settler’s leader, along with eight of his counselors, met with Chief Walkara and twelve of his men. Sally knew it was possible that Baptiste was with them, as he was a close ally of Chief Walkara. She found comfort in the fact that the settlers now numbered thousands. At the end of the meeting, Brother Brigham gave the Chiefs half an ox.

The New Long Row House

As more and more colonizing settlers arrived in the valley, a small city took root. Many settlers now built their homes outside the fort. Clara and Lucy moved closer to the emerging city and into a new Long Row house where Clara shared a room with a new arrival and long-time friend, Lucy B. She was called Lucy B. to distinguish her from Clara’s sister. Sally remained in Clara and Eliza’s old room.

One day, Sally was with Clara and Lucy B. when a mid-wife, Zina, arrived. She put her hands on the heads of Clara and Lucy B, one at a time, and spoke good words upon them, called blessings. Then, this same mid-wife turned to Sally and put her hands on her head, but the words she spoke could not be understood by Clara or Lucy B.

Sally understood. She heard a word that sounded like piats mother. She heard other words in her native language that she was sure represented ‘sisters’ and ‘good’. Understanding the entire message now, Sally knew her mother and sisters were coming for her. In the meantime, she must be a good girl. She chose to trust the words that she heard. She would be as good as she could be, and wait for their appearance.

In just a few years, Clara had become the mother of two daughters and two sons. Sally was a good, kind caretaker of children. Eventually, Sally had help from another servant named Susan. Often when she was helping to care for the children, Sally could also watch as Clara, Susan, and the other women cooked.

Sally found the new food lacked the vivid, earthy taste of her people’s food. The food tasted oddly mild, sometimes bland. Often, in her lifetime, she had experienced the claw of hunger and once or twice neared starvation. Sally ate regularly now. She was never hungry

Clara and her children created an ever growing stack of laundry, from bedding to clothing. Sally now qualified as a full-time laundress and servant. This same laundry that had been washed and set-out to dry, would also need to be ironed. Sally quit resisting. She washed, ironed, darned, mended, and spun. She helped to care for the children. She thought often of the medicine woman’s prophecy and was determined to be good and wait for the arrival of her mother and sisters.

In time, Brother Brigham built two new houses, one far grander than the other. The two mansions stood together on a street in the heart of the city. Sally lived with Clara and Lucy in the fine home known as the Lion House, named after the carved stone lion placed above the front portico. There were a dozen women there besides the servants, Eliza, Margaret, Ellen, and Sally.

Each of the dozen was married to the leader, Brother Brigham, and he had other wives living in separate houses. He slept in the Bee-Hive House where a large gilded Beehive adorned the top of the roof. This symbol came from the stories in one of the books they read, and signified working in cooperation and industry.

Behind the high walls of the estate one day followed another in a steady soothing rhythm. Sally worked long hours in the kitchen under Lucy’s firm direction. She had grown to like their food and ate her fill just like the others.

Sally never had to fetch water again. The leader’s fine new house had piped water and many other luxuries. The women, including Sally, had no need to go outside the house or leave the estate.There was also a well-stocked storeroom close at hand near the kitchen.

Daily Life in the Lion House

Daily life in the Lion House centered on the prosaic. The women cared for their children, sewed, knitted, darned, and mended. They washed, they ironed, they dusted furniture. They swept the floor. Still, their daily burden was much lighter than other married women. They did not have to cook meals. Just one of them oversaw the cooking with the help of Sally and other servants. They did not have to tend the garden, the fruit trees, or the milch cows. Butter and cheese arrived daily from the leader’s nearby farm.

There was a weaving room across from the laundry room. Spinning thread for cloth took many times the labor of weaving that thread into cloth. When manufactured cloth imported from distant places arrived, some of the work was relieved. But the women still sewed clothing for their children and themselves; sometimes by hand, eventually by machine.

Twenty gables lined the mansion’s upper story; ten to a side, and each with a window. Inside, a long central hall divided the living space; each door opened into a small bedroom. Each of the women had a room furnished with a bed, chairs, and a table, and a mirror.

On the main floor, a richly furnished parlor occupied one corner. Heavy curtains provided privacy. Much of the main floor was divided into suites with sitting rooms as well as bedrooms. A few of the wives with children lived in these suites. The upstairs rooms were for singles. Three of the hired help had rooms at the end of the upstairs hall.

The basement ran the full length of the house. The kitchen and dining room filled part of that space. There was also a school room where the children had their daily lessons. There was also a room for Black Isaac, the coachman.

Sally became an excellent cook. She learned when to serve meals and was particular about all the details. When she became a pastry chef she quickly held an honored place in the kitchen and in the hearts of the tiny diners. Sally always took direction from Lucy about her daily duties.

Sally learned that she would go to the kingdom of glory when she died since she had been baptized. She would see her mother and her sisters if only they were baptized in a special ritual for the dead. She heard many stories from the leader’s mouth while gathering with the family early evenings. Sally became stronger in speaking English and at times found the words of her people were slipping away. Her old ways were more and more distant until at last they were in the past. That is when it happened.

Brother Brigham sat down to talk with Sally. He knew his health was failing and his mortal life was waning. What to do with Sally? He assigned her a mission. Sally remained silent as she listened. Missions were common in Mormondom, usually for men, and usually they went to far away places. Sally’s mission was no farther than Corn Creek, a few miles away, to live and to teach a band of warriors

“You can teach the people how to cook, sew, and darn socks. Chief Kanosh will be your provider and protector. You can encourage him to stay home and attend crops. And, if we perform the required ritual, you will be his bride for eternity.”

Eternity? Sally remained silent. She did not want to marry Kanosh. Eternity was out of the question. Finally, she conceded and the marriage was performed, not at the Endowment House, and not for time and eternity, but at Clara’s cottage. It was a short ceremony for time on earth only, and a bitter moment for Sally. She found no joy in gaining a husband, and was near despair at the thought of losing her home and the family she had loved for close to thirty years. She resolved to keep a stiff upper lip.

World III: Mrs. Kanosh Moves to Corn Creek

At Corn Creek, nearly half the adult Pahvant men identified as warriors; the other half considered themselves to be hunters. They all carried rifles and bows and arrows for hunting and none thought of himself as a farmer.

Sally took her mission seriously and endeavored to teach the Pahvant women how to cook as she did. But the women felt they knew how to cook and did not wish to change. They felt Sally should accept them as they are, even while they could not accept her.

The women of Corn Creek knew how to sit in chairs at a table and eat with silverware, but they saw no need to do this. They knew about washing hands before eating and saying special words to bless the food, but they only performed these rituals when in the presence of villagers.

Sally clung to her old ways, the way she had learned to live in the Lion House. She wanted to speak only English. She also liked to stay inside the home and rarely went out. She was given the name “woman-who-stays-inside-the-house” by her fellow Pahvants. Sally could not stop her mourning for her loss of home and family, of safety and a sense of belonging.

When Sally heard the news that the Prophet, Brigham Young, had died a natural death she felt that the door had opened for her to communicate with her lost family. She decided to ask the village schoolteacher to help her with a letter.

Help Me Write a Letter

Miss Emily Crane was the school teacher’s name. She was impressed with Sally’s fine dress and good English and disappointed to hear she did not know how to read or to write. Miss Emily did agree to write a letter for Sally, addressed to Clara; in it, Sally asked about several people she had lived with besides Clara and wondered who did her work now that she was gone. Weeks later she received an answer from Lulu.

The life that Sally clung to no longer existed. After Brigham Young’s death, a few months after Sally’s marriage to Kanosh, the Lion House broke up. The children were grown, and the wives moved on to more private living. There were no grand meals to prepare for a sizable guest list. Most of what Sally held so dear, no longer was. The women who stayed behind lived in fading elegance and deepening silence, along with the ghosts of their past.

Through the school teacher, Emily, Chief Kanosh and his wife were offered the use of a small, sturdy, log building–an empty storehouse that stood on the lot of the local church. This village was three miles from Corn Creek. Sally felt better away from the Indian Community. She liked living around people whose way of life and language she had adopted. And she found deep pleasure in the mass of young children that lived in the town.

Sister Kanosh attended church each Sunday with her husband. Chief Kanosh always wore a freshly ironed shirt and an ironed collar. He often wore a tan duster, a long western style riding coat split on both sides.

Sally Kanosh was a member of the Relief Society. Here, she intermingled with people who thought like she did. They gathered to sew red carpets or quilts–and to darn socks. These would be given to the needy or sold for money to buy supplies.

Sally set about making a new home and a new life in the village. Children often stopped by her cottage after school and there was always something sweet for them to eat. But this blessed life was not to be. She received news that she would have to return to Corn Creek and continue her mission of teaching the people there.

Sally and Chief Kanosh moved into a new log house built for them at Corn Creek. Here Sally passed seemingly endless empty hours. The children no longer passed her house or stopped by for a treat, the few friends she had did not visit. Sally found herself living a joyless life she did not want. As winter drew near, the end of hope marked the beginning of despair. She felt she belonged nowhere.

Sickness seized her in December. Everyone she knew and trusted was in the city, or too far away. She was alone in a deep way. Sally knew that nothing she took would cure this illness or lift her from the chasm of aloneness. She died a civilized death, in a bed, in a house. The illness had only lasted four days. The final breath came as morning light seeped into the small dark room. Death beckoned and she willingly followed. There would be no more sorrow for Sally.

* * * The End * * *

A Note re: Sally’s Ending:

A superficial search on the Web will lead you to believe that Sally was murdered by one of Chief Kanosh’s jealous wives. As I read and read and searched various sources I began to wonder. If all these stories were true, on three different occasions one of Kanosh’s wives killed another because of jealousy. This is a report on Virgina Kerns work, so this report is consistent with the information she presents. I do believe it is most trustworthy on this topic.

NOTE: I hope you enjoyed “Sally of Three Worlds”. Join us next week for another exciting frontier tale: “Tell it All: A Woman’s Life in Polygamy by Fanny Stenhouse.

Feel free to drop a comment on any post that catches your eye. I promise to read every word and respond. Like and subscribe. It’s free. Don’t miss out on future posts.

Sincerely, Just Judy, Author

One Trial after Another

And so, a book was published, and another religion was organized. As with other newborns, it was fragile. There was persistent opposition from those who held onto traditional Christian beliefs and did not feel there was any reason for another witness to Christ. The local ministers and preachers lost all patience as they saw some of their weaker members being led astray. They were open in their opposition and went to great lengths to keep their memberships.

Joseph Knight and his family formed their own branch of the church. They became known as the Colesville Saints. Joseph Knight’s son, Newel, was a strong member and leader of this branch.

Joseph was arrested and taken to South Bainbridge under the charge of ‘disorderly conduct,’ which in this case meant using priestly powers for gain. After several days of confinement, and at the end of his trial, he was acquitted. On his return trip to Fayette, another constable placed him under arrest for additional trumped-up charges. During this second trial, if indeed it could be called such, he had the worthy representation of men who knew the law and were able to break the testimonies of those who would make false accusations. Once again, he was acquitted and released.

Joseph returned to his Harmony home, his wife, and the work of the farm. He maintained correspondence with his friends in Fayette and was disturbed when he learned Oliver Cowdery had publicly accused him of making a false revelation. He was aghast and rightly determined this was not an issue that could be resolved with pen and ink. He made a hasty journey to convince Oliver and the Whitmers the revelation in question was indeed from God. This done, he returned to Harmony where he would often receive visitors.

Some visitors were new converts and some stood boldly in opposition to this new church. One of those who opposed, and was especially outspoken, was Isaac Hale’s brother-in-law, Nathaniel Lewis. This man used his influence to turn Isaac completely against his son-in-law. Joseph and Emma both felt the strain.

Each day brought new problems. Opposition grew so strong that it became apparent that Joseph would have to pack their belongings and, with his family, leave Harmony. They would return to the Whitmers’ in Fayette, New York.

The early fall sun was bright, but temperatures were now cooling. Despite the brightness of the sky, upon his arrival, Joseph’s day quickly became clouded when Oliver informed him that Hiram Page had been giving revelations concerning the building up of Zion.

“By what power or authority?” Joseph inquired.

“He has found a stone of his own.”

“What he sees in that stone is not of God.”

Oliver became angry. “You think you are the only one to receive revelations for the whole church?”

“Most certainly.”

In the days that followed, Joseph often received the word of the Lord: “No one shall be appointed to receive commandments and revelations except for my servant, Joseph Smith Jr.” When Oliver took it upon himself to take a stand against Joseph and his authority, the Lord said, “Thou shalt not command him who is at thy head.” And when the converts began attempting to predict where Zion would be, Joseph heard from the Lord again: “No man knows where the city of Zion shall be built. It shall be on the borders of the Lamanites.” In regard to Hiram Page and his use of a stone, the Lord said, “The things which he has written from that stone are not of me. Satan has deceived him.”

Peter Whitmer and Oliver Cowdery were sent on a mission to the Indians. They were accompanied by two new converts, Parley P. Pratt and Ziba Petersen. They would, of course, preach to all they would meet along the way, but it was expected the bronze-skinned natives would willingly embrace the gospel once they understood their heritage and the blessings in store for them. Armed with nothing more than copies of The Book of Mormon and the copy of the revelation that had sent them on this journey, they set forth, firm in faith.

December winds howled through the rafters the day a sleigh brought two middle-aged men to Fayette. The pounding of horses’ hooves caught everyone’s attention. When the carriage came to a stop, Joseph saw two men step down. The older man had bushy eyebrows with salt-and-pepper hair and carried himself with a dignified air. When he spoke, his enunciation was clear.

“My name is Sidney Rigdon, and this is my companion, Edward Partridge.”

Sidney, it turned out, already considered himself to be an elder of the church. He had been converted by a former member of his church, now one of the brethren and a Mormon. Rigdon had formerly been a minister of the Disciples of Christ until he had a serious disagreement with the sect’s leader, Alexander Campbell. He was now convinced that the Book of Mormon was divinely inspired. “It speaks to my yearnings,” he said.

As for his companion, Edward Partridge, he was a Scotsman and known to be cautious. Even so, he became convinced that the Book of Mormon contained the fullness of the New Testament. Although he may not have been consciously aware of it, he sought assurances from Joseph that he really did speak for God, a claim Edward considered to be very bold.

“What kind of assurances would you have?” Joseph asked.

Edward did not answer immediately. Sidney explained. “We want to come to know you and judge for ourselves.”

Joseph welcomed the men and, in continued conversations, discovered they were part of a community of about one hundred who denounced private property and shared all their goods in common.

“Kind of like the Shakers,” Joseph suggested.

“Heaven’s no!” Edward said. “We are not Shakers and would not travel so far to see Ann Lee. That group certainly does have strange beliefs. It seems to me that they will surely die out with their outrageous views on celibacy. Our intent is simply to return to the days of old and worship in purity as did the apostles of old.”

In the days that followed, the guests were known to be walking about Fayette and nearby Waterloo, openly discussing with neighbors the background of the church and this man who now called himself a prophet. They discovered Joseph had recently been arrested, but when they delved into the particulars of the incident, it was clear that the fault lay with the accusers.

That Sunday, Edward Partridge responded to Joseph’s open invitation to speak. “I believe not only in the gospel that has been brought forth for restoration by also in the latter-day prophet who has been so instrumental in bringing it forth.” Shortly after this public confession, Edward was baptized in the icy waters of the river. Afterward, he was given a blessing and called forth to preach the gospel as with the voice of a trumpet.

Keys to the Mysteries of the Kingdom

Revelations seemed to flow from Joseph’s lips. Sidney Rigdon was informed Joseph had been given the keys to the mystery of those things which had been sealed. Rigdon himself was commanded to write for Joseph. Consequently, the spirit of these two new converts was afire. They exulted, “We will be partakers in the rebuilding of the primitive church. We’ll pave a way for the coming of the Lord and the great millennium.”

One day, Sidney suggested Joseph take on the task of a revision of the scriptures. “Alexander Campbell is working on such a revision. So many people find the King James version difficult to read, although I certainly cannot understand why.”

“Many plain and precious things have been taken from the scriptures,” Joseph said. “I have not asked the Lord for direction along that line, but I have begun work on another book.”

Some of the men showed concern about the lost books mentioned in the Old and New Testaments.

Sidney nodded. “Yes. Like the Epistle of Paul alluded to in Ephesians.”

“It has never been found,” Joseph said. “There are others, as I’m sure you know.

In reading Jude, the fourteenth and fifteenth verses, one is led to believe that Enoch had a revelation concerning the second coming.”

“I’m familiar with it.”

“As I have been given the keys to the mysteries that have been hidden from the foundations of the world, I asked about the prophecy of Enoch, and had the word of the ancient lost script opened before me. This is part of the writings of Moses. I must continue that work.”

Sidney’s interest was piqued. “Surely I can help,” he said.

From then on, Sidney served as Joseph’s scribe as he continued to translate what he claimed to be a lost conversation between God and Moses. Soon their work included a translation of the New Testament.

“It’s not a translation,” Sidney said. “It’s already in English. It can only be a revision.”

“We will add many precious things that have been taken from the Scripture and we’ll add them according to revelation. Therefore, it is a translation.”

“Very well,” Sidney said. He was happy to be working beside Joseph, the prophet.

Sidney Rigdon’s contentment was short-lived. He became homesick and missed his wife and family. He began to talk incessantly about the community of believers he had left behind and wanted Joseph to move to Ohio and to merge with his existing community.

At first, Joseph was reluctant to agree but as Sidney continued to talk about this group and the positive aspects of such a move, he decided to seek a revelation. The word of the Lord came with a promise: “I hold forth and give unto you greater riches, even a land of promise, a land flowing with milk and honey. I will give it unto you for the land of your inheritance.”

This revelation caused much discord within the church. The community had grown. Many of the members had lived their lives in that place and were not willing to leave their homes for a strange land. Some felt that such a move, with so many, would be impossible.

Oliver voiced his own concerns and complained: “Ever since that Ohio Preacher came around, he seems to have more influence on you than any man alive.”

David Whitmer had issues as well. “Whatever you want becomes a revelation.”

Martin whined. “They say you invented the revelation to deceive people so that in the end you might gain.”

“I have nothing to gain,” Joseph said, “other than the satisfaction of doing the will of the Lord.”

David continued to speak against the move. “Those that have property they can’t sell don’t want to leave it behind. It’s not easy to rent to strangers. The losses

will be great.”

“You speak only of temporal losses,” Joseph said. “We have been promised a land flowing with milk and honey upon which there shall be no curse when the Lord comes. The farms which will be left behind are insignificant. When the land of our inheritance comes into view, they will have no regrets about what was left behind.” Regarding the subject of relocation, Joseph’s word was final

The End

NOTE: Next week: Part II: Kirtland, Ohio and the Colesville Saints

A Note re: Images:

All the images in this post have been created by Gemini AI. It’s brilliant, but much like you and I, not without flaws. Gemini and I continually work together to tweak the details, and strive for perfection. Until then, think of these images as a series of historical paintings by different artists trying to capture the same story. I hope you’ll look past the minor quirks and enjoy the atmosphere they bring to the history.

I sincerely hope you return week after week to get the full story.

Just Judy, The Author

Orrin Porter Rockwell: Man of God, Son of Thunder

By: Harrold Schinlder (Posted: 04/02/3036)

Mormonism Unveiled: The Life Confessions of John D. Lee

By: John D. Lee (Posted: 04/17/2026)

Brigham’s Destroying Angel: The Life Confessions of the Notorious Bill Hickman

By: William Adams Hickman (Posted: 04/17/2026)

Camp Floyd and the Mormons

By: Donald R. Moorman with Gene A. Sessions (Posted: 05/04/2026)

So Rugged and Mountainous: Blazing the Trails to Oregon and California

By: Will Bagley (Posted: 05/11/2026)

The Mormons or the Latter-day Saints in the Valley of the Great Salt Lake

By: Lieutenant John W. Gunnison (Posted: 05/20/2026)

Blood of the Prophets: Brigham Young and the Mountain Meadows Massacre

By: Will Bagley (Posted: 06/03/2026)

The Saints and the Union: Utah Territory During the Civil War

By: E.B. Long (Posted: 06/19/2026)

American Massacre: Part I of II: The Tragedy of Mountain Meadows

By: Sally Denton (Posted 06/17/2026)

American Massacre: Pat II of II: The Tragedy of Mountain Meadows

By: Sally Denton (Posted: 06/24/2026)

Mountain Meadows Massacre

By: Juanita Brooks (Posted: 07/01/2026)

War Drums and Wagon Wheels

By: Raymond W. and Mary Lund Settle (Posted: 07/08/2026)

Saddles and Spurs: The Pony Express Saga

By: Raymond W. and Mary Lund Settle (Posted: 07/15/2026)

Sally in Three Worlds: An Indian Captive in the House of Brigham Young

By: Virginia Kerns (Posted: 07/22/2026)

Tell it All: A Women’s Life in Polygamy

By: Fanny Stenhouse (Scheduled for 7/29/2026

Wife No. 19: The Story of a Life in Bondage

By: Ann Eliza Young (Scheduled for 08/05/2026)

Faith and Betrayal: A Pioneer Woman’s Passage in the American West

By: Sally Denton (Scheduled for 08/12/2026)

Rocky Mountain Saints: Vol I: A Full and Complete History

By: TBH (Thomas Brown Holmes) Stenhouse (To be Editd/Imaged/Sche for 08/19/2026)

Rocky Mountain Saints: Vol II: A Full and Complete History

By; TBH Stenhouse (To be Edited/Imaged/scheduled for 08/26/2026)

The Mormons

By: Thomas L. Kane (To be Edited/Imaged/scheduled for 09/01/2026)

Journal of the Handcart Pioneers: 1856-1860

By: The History of the Saints, Inc. (To be Edited/Imaged/scheduled for 09/08/2026)

Devil’s Gate: Brigham Young and the Great Mormon Handcart Tragedy

By: David Roberts (To be Read/Written/scheduled for 09/15/2026)

PART I: UPSTATE, NEW YORK (Fall, 1833 - January, 1831

Chapter 1: The Stone

Chapter 2: Rest in Peace

Chapter 3: Stowel Hires Joseph

Chapter 4: 1826 Trial.

Chapter 5: You Have Stolen My Daughter

Chapter 6: Plates of Gold

Chapter 7: All is Lost

Chapter 8: A Marvelous Work and Wonder.

Chapter 9: Educated Scribe.

Chapter 10: In Search of a Publisher .

Chapter 11: Right-Hand Man

PART II: KIRTLAND, OHIO (February, 1831 - January, 1838

Chapter 1: Thou Art the Man

Chapter 2: The Colesville Saints Arrive

Chapter 3: Zion Claimed

Chapter 4: Apostasy

Chapter 5: Tar and Feathering

Chapter 6: Poisoned

Chapter 7: Three Rooms and a Baby

Chapter 8: Three New Converts

Chapter 9: Word of Wisdom

Chapter 10: Zion’s Camp

Chapter 11: Missouri Territory

Chapter 12: Prophet on Trial

Chapter 13: Michael Chandler and the Mummies

Chapter 14: Let’s Make Some Money

PART III: FAR WEST, MISSOURI (March, 1838 - April, 1839)

Chapter 1: A Fighting Creed

Chapter 2: The New Law of Consecration

Chapter 3: Rescue of Gallatin

Chapter 4: Hostage or Prisoner

Chapter 5: Jailed at Liberty

PART IV: NAUVOO, ILLINOIS (Spring, 1839 - June, 1844)

Chapter 1: The Ague

Chapter 2: Washington, DC

Chapter 3: Independence of Nauvoo

Chapter 4: Gala Affair

Chapter 5: Restoration of All Things

Chapter 6: Red Brick Store

Chapter 7: Endowed from On-high

Chapter 8: Another Missouri Farce

Chapter 9: Hiding Out.

Chapter 10: Two More Wives

Chapter 11: Kidnapped

Chapter 12: Treachery

Chapter 13: The Character of God

Chapter 14: Enemies Within

Chapter 15: A Public Nuisance

Chapter 16: Ye Shall Become Gods

Chapter 17: They Can Only Kill the Body

Afterword

Fact or Fiction

Bibliography

Change is in the Air

A long, complicated series of events, that is what a saga is, and the word certainly applies. These authors are excellent at what they do, but very much into minutiae. Then again, if you are a writer of non-fiction and have a strong interest in the history of the Pony Express, this book may be for you. My interest is simply to get to know the world of 1845–1877 and all that it entails to better understand the world my characters lived in.

The acquisition of California by the United States in 1848 made it inevitable that Americans in large numbers would emigrate west and establish homes. Along with that transition came the need for communication with those back home.

The discovery of gold in California, also in 1848, changed things with far-reaching consequences. Many left their homes and their families in search of this noble metal. One hundred thousand people stampeded wildly, by sea and by land, into California. The population went from 225,000 to 380,000 by 1860. These people wanted communication with the rest of the world. They were accustomed to regular, efficient postal service. Their urge for communication prompted several engineering triumphs over impossible conditions. The Pony Express was but one of them. It lasted eighteen months, beginning April 3, 1860.

From my perspective the best part of this book happens between pages 73–112. Here we meet the young men, some really just boys, who rode the trails on full-sized, high-quality horses chosen for extreme speed and stamina. They rode in all kinds of weather, on varied terrain, often outrunning Indians in return for a daring adventure and low pay. The beginning of this report will concentrate on these young men.

William Frederick Cody, best known as “Buffalo Bill”, was the son of a stagecoach driver. When William was seven, his family relocated to Kansas, four miles northwest of Leavenworth where the father opened a trading post. He was stabbed twice after boldly expressing his Free State sentiments. It was not fatal, but he never fully recovered from his wounds.

Young William was sent to school where he spent much of his time with the Kickapoo Indians. Here he learned to ride and shoot. At the age of twelve, he was hired by Alexander Majors to ride as a messenger between the wagon trains on the road to Utah. He was with Lewis Simpson just west of South Pass the night the Mormons captured and burned that train.

Three years later, William Cody was hired by the Pony Express for a short forty-five-mile run. After some months he transferred to Wyoming where he was given a run even farther west, between Red Buttes and Three Crossings in central Wyoming directly on the route of the Oregon and Mormon Pioneer Trails.

The writers typically use the word mochila for the leather saddle cover the riders used to carry the mail. Each mochila had four leather compartments stitched to the corner of the skirt, called cantinas. Three of the cantinas were securely padlocked to hold the mail while the fourth was left open for collecting long dispatches and time cards along the route. The riders could easily grab the mochila from the top of their saddle as they entered a station, dismount, toss the mochila on the next horse’s back, and quickly speed off. Time was always of the essence and “the mail must go through” were oft repeated words.

Years later, William was hired by The Kansas Pacific Railroad to supply buffalo meat for the construction crew. They would require a dozen buffalo carcasses each day. William was up to the task and thereby won the moniker “Buffalo Bil

Robert Haslam, a.k.a. “Pony Bob”, was considered one of the most daring and resourceful riders who knew no fear. He helped build stations and then was assigned a seventy-mile run at the foot of Lake Tahoe. During the Paiute war at Pyramid Lake the Summer of 1860, he made the longest and most dangerous ride on record, fearlessly and successfully.

Henry Avis became a Pony Express rider when he was twenty-one. He had been carrying mail in four-mule wagons for the previous three years and had been an expert at breaking wild horses since his teens. He was assigned a run between Mud Springs and Horseshoe Station, key points along the Central Overland Trail and a place the Sioux Indians roamed at will.

One day, as he rode into Horseshoe Station, the rider who was to take his mochila even further refused because of news of a war party lurking along the trail. Henry jumped back on his horse and made his way west to Deer Creek Station where he found it had been raided and the horses all driven off. When the eastbound rider refused to make his run, Henry turned his horse back to Horseshoe Station where he completed a run of 220 miles.

Bolton Carries Mochila on Back to Next Station

Thirty-four-year-old William Bolton earned his fame as the oldest Pony Express rider. When his horse was injured on his run, he stripped off the mochila and carried it on his back to the next station. “The mail must go through.”

Eighteen-year-old William Campbell worked as a bullwhacker driving heavily loaded freight wagons pulled by twenty oxen. After seeing many Pony Express riders speeding by he decided he would rather carry a mochila than drive a slow-motion ox-wagon. He was put on a run between Valley Station and Box Elder west of Fort Kearny.

William Campbell navigating a blizzard by looking at the tops of tall weeds.

On one run he was caught between home stations by a terrific blizzard which piled up snowdrifts from three to six feet. He managed to keep to the trail by observing the tops of tall weeds. There was no one to relieve him of his mochila when he reached Fort Kearny so he continued on to Fairfield Station, fifteen miles east. He arrived exhausted, having been in the saddle twenty-four hours. When he closed his eyes at four o’clock in the afternoon, sleep lasted for eighteen hours.

Snarling Wolves in front of buffalo carcass

One night William came upon a pack of wolves devouring a buffalo carcass. His horse did not want to pass the snarling animals, but William forced him forward. The wolves gave chase; William and his mount out-distanced them.

The swiftest run William ever made was when a copy of President Lincoln’s first message to Congress was relayed to California. Every rider was determined to break the record and strived for fifteen miles per hour knowing the issue of peace and war hung upon that message. The riders fared well despite their grueling experience, but it cost a number of horses their lives.

David Robert Jay was hired by the Pony Express when he was not yet fourteen years old. His first run was from Seneca, Kansas to Big Sandy, Nebraska, a distance of 112 miles.

Thomas Owen King helped build the stations east of Salt Lake City. Once the Express began he was put on a run from Salt Lake to Fort Bridger. His first run started in good weather, but twenty miles later a heavy storm was upon him. The trail was narrow and slippery, his horse stumbled and he was thrown off as the mochila went sailing over a cliff. With much effort he recovered the mail and arrived at the end of his run on time.

Two Riders Pass in Opposite Direction, Sleeping

Thomas made his longest ride from Salt Lake City to Ham’s Fork, one hundred ten miles, in ten hours. One night he came into Bear River Station and reported that he had not seen Henry who was supposed to be riding in the opposite direction. Henry made the same report when he arrived at his station. They had passed each other when both men were sound asleep in the saddle.

George Edwin Little was not yet sixteen when he was put on a run from Salt Lake City to Rocky Ridge, about seventy miles directly south. On one ride he encountered such a heavy snowstorm that his horse gave out. He cut open the cantinas, removed the mail, stuffed it in his shirt and walked to Salt Lake City, where the people held a celebration in his honor.

On another occasion, George was stopped by two bandits wearing masks over their faces. He put his spurs to his horse and took off. The bandits fired several shots at him, but luckily they missed.

The above is a sampling of many stories presented in this book–a tribute to the young brave men who took on the cause and moved the mail across the continent.

With few exceptions, the history of the American frontier is a story of conflict with Indians. The appearance of the white man introduced sweeping changes for the red man. The Indian, having lived in that country for generations, had become accustomed to a way of living. The white man disregarded the Indians’ claim.

The winter of 1859–1860 was exceptionally severe. The Paiutes numbered around six thousand in the Carson district in Western Nevada. They suffered severely and lost many, including children. Their hatred of the white man had become so severe they would not receive offerings of food for fear it was poisoned. They believed their misfortunes were due to the presence of the white man in their country.

In 1860, a Paiute killed a white men on Willow Creek. Rangers were sent to pursue them. Unsuccessful, the rangers’ captain demanded surrender of those who did the killing. Chief Winnemucca, who had once been a friend of the white man, not only refused but also demanded $16,000.00 as payment for their intrusion into Honey Lake Valley. That was in January.

Indians Hold Council at Pyramid Lake

In the latter part of April, the Paiutes held a council at Pyramid Lake. Among the warriors’ grievances was the invasion of their hunting grounds and the cutting down of the piñon nut trees, both of which were important sources of food supply. Every chief in council, save the Paiute Chief, Numaga, was in favor of war. Two Shoshone chiefs were especially eager to fight.

Mogoannoga, with a small party of warriors, stole away from Pyramid Lake. On May 7, the Indians crept up on Williams Station and killed five persons. They burned the station to the ground and set off down the trail to the west with the deceased station master’s cattle. At sunup they headed toward Pyramid Lake, sending one of their party ahead to insure they would be welcome. At the council Winnemucca’s was doing his best to avoid conflict. He warned his party that they could not win, many would be killed, and the survivors driven into the desert to starve. As he finished his speech, the messenger from Mogoannoga rode in and reported the attack on the station. The council immediately broke up and prepared for war.

Meanwhile, J.O. Williams returned to the station that had been attacked and then set out west for Virginia City to sound the alarm. Messengers were sent out everywhere. The people were stirred to action; volunteers appeared in arms. After visiting Williams Station and burying the five bodies, they continued on to Truckee River where they found another five men who had been fighting Indians for several days.

No one seemed to have any authority over the group of 105 volunteers. They all held a deep-rooted contempt for the Paiutes. Their attitude, plus ineffective arms, lack of military leadership and discipline, marked the doom of fifty or more of the volunteers. The remaining volunteers followed the trail of the Truckee River, possibly being watched by Winnemucca’s scouts all along the way.

When the volunteers encountered a group of twenty to twenty-five warriors, they had no idea the Paiute camp was around the bend in the river. As the volunteers approached they were greeted with a shower of arrows. They turned back and made for the Cottonwood grove which was filled with Indians. They loosed a deadly fire upon them. The strip of land became an inferno of yelling, battle-maddened warriors and panic-stricken white men.

Early in the battle Major William Ormsby was shot in the mouth with a poisoned arrow. His horse was shot from under him. The retreat along the narrow bench became an overwhelming defeat as the men crowded upon each other in their attempt to escape. The Indians rode upon them, hewing them down. When the survivors reached the place where the trail mounted upward, twenty-six of their comrades lay behind them. The Indians followed up the high ground and killed twenty more.

News of the tragedy at Pyramid Lake spread fast as well as news of isolated stations where more dead bodies were found and animals were missing. The Paiutes were on the rampage.

Within thirty-six hours of receiving the news, the people of Carson Valley sent 165 men to Virginia City. Other towns sent volunteers and raised money. Captain Stewart of the Third Artillery and Captain Flint of the Sixth Infantry sent 150 men to Carson City. By the latter part of May, eight hundred men were under arms, two hundred were regular United States soldiers.

Upon reaching Pyramid Lake, the Indians took a position upon a rocky ledge and defied the white man. In a battle that lasted three hours, twenty-five Indians were killed, fifty horses captured, and the main body driven northward. At sundown the army halted for the night. At daylight the march resumed but no contact with Indians was made. The pursuit was abandoned. Several of the friendly Paiute chiefs helped quiet the situation.

The Pony Express was disrupted for about thirty days and harassed for many months. Men were ordered out along the Pony Express line to protect emigrants. Raids continued by small parties of young warriors off and on for a year or so.

In April, 1861 the Civil War broke out. Russell, Majors and Waddell, as well as the Pony Express, went bankrupt. By April, 1865, when the civil war ended, the federal government had incurred an estimated $5.2 billion in war costs, fundamentally changing national banking, introducing a national income tax, and causing the national debt to surge from $65 million in 1860 to nearly $3 billion by 1865. While the nation began to rebuild, the westward expansion continued to decimate Native populations, forcing them onto reservations and fundamentally altering the map of the continent.

* * * The End * * *

NOTE: We have an exciting tale planned for next week. You won’t want to miss:

“Sally in Three Worlds: An Indian Captive in the House of Brigham Young”

A Note re: Images:

All the images in this post have been created by Gemini AI. Gemini is brilliant, but much like you and I, not without flaws. We continually work together to tweak the details, and strive for perfection. I hope you’ll look past the minor quirks and enjoy the atmosphere they bring to the history.

Feel free to drop a comment on any post that catches your eye. I promise to read and respond to every word. Like and subscribe. It’s free. Don’t miss out on future posts.

Thank you

Just Judy, The Author

An Old Man With a Long White Beard

The road was bumpy and studded with tree stumps for a good stretch of the journey. The men braced themselves against the frequent jolts. As they came to a flat, open expanse of land, traveling became easier. They moved slowly over the wheel-trodden trail.

Oliver pointed out the figure of an old man in the distance. He had a long white beard and wore an aged nightshirt that had long since lost its whiteness. His baggy trousers were ragged at the feet. It appeared as though he had worn them for many days. Over his shoulder he carried a sack that appeared to be heavy.”

Oliver’s nature was soft-hearted. “Do you think that we could safely offer him a ride?”

David glanced over the figure and said, “He doesn’t look too harmful.”

Joseph nodded.

David slowed the wagon to a stop.

“Good afternoon,” the ancient said with a quiver in his voice. He wiped droplets of perspiration from his brow with the side of his arm. He smiled through yellowed teeth and thin lips. “It’s rather warm today, isn’t it?”

“It sure is,” David said. “Do you need a ride?”

“That’s mighty kind of you, but, no, thanks. I’m going to Cumorah.”

“Cumorah,” Oliver frowned. “Where is that?”

“I’m no stranger here,” Joseph said, “but I’ve never heard of such a place.” He turned to the old man. “Where is he?”

“What? He’s gone.”

The three men looked up and down the road. The man was not in sight. “Where could he have gone?” Oliver asked. “There’s not even a tree to hide behind. He couldn’t simply disappear.” He paused to think. “Yet, he did.”

“It’s not strange,” Joseph said. “I’ll bet that’s the messenger I told you about–the one who is to carry the plates.”

“Such a heavy load,” David mused. “He should have accepted our offer to help.”

Joseph wore a knowing smile. “He doesn’t need our help.”

The slow moving wagon made its way along the tree-lined road that led through the unincorporated village of Fayette. Beyond lay Waterloo, New York. The wagon continued through the frontier village until they found the isolated cabin of Peter and Mary Elizabeth Whitmer, parents of eight children, most of whom were full grown.

“We’re glad to have you,” Peter Whitmer said. “Our place is small, but you are

welcome.”

Peter pointed the way through the door of the two-room cabin. “We have sleeping spaces and a small office in the loft. Have a seat.”

“Do you mind if we take a look upstairs?”

“Come on,” David said. “I’ll show you.”

Joseph surveyed the small room. It was only large enough to hold the desk and two chairs. He sat. “This will do fine,” he said with a smile. And as each day passed, the men heard more and more talk about town concerning Joseph and his work. Some of the Whitmers were readily convinced, while others suffered unbelief. Mrs. Whitmer could barely feign tolerance.

The days were long and the weather was warm, but day after day the men secluded themselves in the tiny upstairs room where they worked from morning until night. Oliver served as principal scribe.

One day, Joseph went to the translating room and found he could not translate. The issues were trivial, but now he sat in his usual place, acting in his customary manner, and nothing proceeded as it should.

“I can’t see,” Joseph cried.

“What do you mean?” David shot a questioning glance toward Oliver.

“He’s blind,” Oliver answered. “I’ve seen this before.”

“Blind?”

“He can’t read the writing on the stone. This happens when his heart isn’t right or there’s some sort of contention taking place. I think he had an argument with Emma.”

“Then it’s not a permanent condition.”

“Heavens, no.”

Joseph pushed himself away from his desk and turned to his aides. “I must go for a walk and get my feelings right. I’ll be back shortly.” He walked through the woods for a while. When he returned to the cabin, he sought out Emma, showered her with affection, and asked for her understanding. She was quick to forgive. Joseph returned to the translating room and to the work.

Later that evening, Joseph and Emma took a quiet and private walk along one of the many foot trails winding through the wooded areas. Emma was quiet, and Joseph sensed she felt uneasy. “I know something is bothering you, so come out with it.”

“I’m fine.”

Actively Sharing Thoughts

“No, you are not. I can tell. What is it?”

“I don’t like to complain. It’s just that Mary Elizabeth seems to resent our presence on account of the work we cause. I try to help her as best I can, but she seems intent on making everyone as miserable as she herself is. She constantly complains about being tired and walks around so lifeless. She’s not an easy person to spend one’s life with.”

“I know. She’s antagonistic toward me as well.”

“But you spend most of your time upstairs.”

“It must be hard for you. But, you won’t have to spend your life with her. When the book is finished–”

Emma flinched and stopped her forward pace. She turned to face Joseph. “Will we return to Harmony?”

Joseph put his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

“Wait for what?”

Joseph spread his arms out and clasped Emma by the shoulders. He looked deeply into her eyes and softly said, “For the will of the Lord.”

“Of course. In the meantime, I wish the Lord would do something about Mary Elizabeth.”

Joseph kissed her tenderly on the forehead. Emma wrinkled her nose. Together, they continued their walk.

On the second morning, the wake-up call was followed by shrieks and cries from out front of the house. It was Mary Elizabeth. “I have seen the golden plates! I have seen the golden plates!” Her voice grew increasingly shrill and then stopped all together. She stumbled into the cabin pale and short of breath.

Joseph had just finished dressing for the day and quickly ran down the stairs. David and Oliver were soon with him.

Mary Elizabeth stumbled across the room toward the kitchen table, her eyes now clear and bright. She seated herself in a high-backed chair, took a deep breath, and began her explanation. “I saw them. I was carrying my pail over to the barn, getting ready to do my milking chores. I saw an old man with a white beard.” She cocked her head and said, “He told me, ‘You’ve been faithful in your labors, but you’re tired because you work so hard.’ Then he said that it was proper for me to receive a witness and he showed me the plates.”

David’s interest was piqued. “What did the man look like?”

“He had a long, white beard and was very old and wrinkled. He could hardly stand straight.”

David, Oliver, and Joseph looked at each other. Oliver asked, “Did he have on an old white nightshirt that wasn’t really white and pants that were ragged along the bottom?”

Mary Elizabeth stopped to think. “I didn’t look at the pants, but his shirt hadn’t been white in quite some time.”

The men exchanged curious glances, and David said, “Could he be the man we met on the road? The man on his way to Cum–?”

“Cumorah.” Oliver said. “That’s the messenger who brought the plates here in the first place.”

David agreed.

The men were filled with wonder and awe. There was a moment of silence, and then Joseph turned to Mary Elizabeth, his voice a mixture of sincerity and surprise. “I’m so happy for you.” Inwardly, he hoped this experience would alleviate her animosity toward him and also ease the burden on Emma.

As the weeks passed, life with Mary Elizabeth was easier. By the end of the month, the book was complete. Joseph let out a sigh of satisfaction. With the translation complete, he turned to other tasks. He sent for his parents, and they soon arrived with Martin by their side

After the usual greetings and announcement that the work was finished, Joseph motioned Martin to follow him as he led the way outdoors and along the narrow path that skirted the Whitmer property. He spoke softly. “This will be the day we view the plates. You must humble yourself before God.”

Martin tightened his forehead and winced. “I’ve tried to practice humility, but it’s very hard.”

Joseph raised his voice ever so slightly. “The Lord has admonished you to be humble, and he would not ask you to do something that you cannot do.”

“But, there are to be three witnesses.”

“Yes. I know who the other two will be. I’m going to get Oliver. Come with me. David, I believe, is working in the fields. We’ll have to find him later.”

“I’m so excited.” Martin became bubbly. “Of all the people on this earth, I will be one of the three who get to see the plates of gold. But there’s something I don’t understand.”

“What’s that?”

“Why, in the beginning, did the Lord say that no man can see the plates and live?”

Joseph became irritated. “Do you remember when you came to visit me in Harmony?”

“Yes.”

“When we found that there were to be three witnesses, you asked if you could be one.”

Martin agreed.

Joseph gave a patient sigh. The men returned to the Whitmer cabin where they found Oliver working in the upstairs room. Soon, Joseph had a revelation. Oliver picked up his pen and wrote Joseph’s words. The revelation was for David, Oliver, and Martin. It promised them a vision that would come by faith and required of them a testimony. Oliver was thrilled to be chosen.

“We must find David, Oliver said.

“I think he is in the fields. We must go find him. Bring the revelation with you.” Joseph turned to Martin and said, “Come along with us.”

He led the way to a far corner of the Whitmer farm where he found David guiding a horse pulling a plow; sweat lined his brows. “What brings you here?” David asked.

Joseph explained there were to be three witnesses. Oliver read the revelation as it had been written. Upon hearing this, David led his horse to a nearby fence where he tethered it. The men climbed over and through a split-rail boundary fence and made their way through a thicket of trees.

After a short walk, they found a fallen tree resting on the ground in a clearing. Here they stopped to talk and prepare themselves for the viewing. They lowered themselves to their knees and Joseph began to entreat the spirit of the Lord. There was no response. He continued to pray, now more fervently, but after several moments, no answer had come.

“Stop!” Martin cried out. He rose to his feet. “I must go. I am the reason there is no vision.” He withdrew from the group.

“No!” Don’t leave!” Joseph turned to follow.

Martin turned back and said, “It is my unbelief and lack of humility that keeps back the spirit.”

Joseph, David, and Oliver, still on their knees, watched as Martin made his way through the trees and away from the small clearing.

Joseph turned to David and Oliver and gave a weak smile. They closed their eyes and bowed their heads. Joseph began to pray vocally. Soon the men were held by a vision of bright light hovering overhead; a cloud, like the veiled figure of a spirit, stood at the center of the light. A book of gold leaves was opened before them, each page turned one by one, until the light, the spirit, and the book faded from their sight.

“I saw the plates,” David said, clearly astonished.

“Me too,” Oliver gasped, his face unusually pale.

Joseph was pleased but also concerned about Martin. He turned and walked through the woods. “Martin,” he called. He stooped to avoid the low-hanging branches. He thought he heard the sound of sniffling. “Martin?” He moved closer to the sound and found his friend leaning against a tree, his face buried in his bent arm. He put a hand on Martin’s shoulder.

“I’ve been praying for forgiveness.” Martin pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began to blow his nose with excessive force.

“It is not just forgiveness that you need,” Joseph said. “Your pride causes you problems. I told you, you must humble yourself before the Lord.”

“I tried. I so did want to have a witness.”

“You shall have your witness. Come, pray with me.”

The two men knelt. After a moment of intense prayer, Martin cried out, “Tis’ enough! Tis enough! Mine eyes have beheld.”

“Are you sure?” Joseph asked.

“I saw it,” Martin said.

“Come, let’s tell the others.”

By the middle of the month, the men secured a copyright on the work. It was somewhat problematic because the words were merely translated by Joseph. They were written by the ancient inhabitants and, in another sense, his scribes. In compliance with the law, Joseph allowed his name to be listed as author and proprietor.

E.B. Grandin’s Printing Establishment

“It was time to search for a publisher. The first stop was at E. B. Grandin’s Palmyra printing establishment. Joseph, Martin, and Oliver made their way past the familiar row of three-storey buildings until they stopped under the sign of the bookstore. Grandin housed his store on ground level, a printing press on the second floor, and a book bindery on the third. He shared his press and his space with Esquire Abner Cole, an ex-justice of the peace who printed a sardonic weekly using the name of Dogberry.

Inside the building, the men climbed to the second floor in search of the printer. Martin had to shout to be heard over the noise of the press. “Excuse me.” He waved his hand to attract the printer’s attention. “Mr Grandin?”

A middle-aged man was looking at the press and talking with a much younger man, probably an apprentice. The senior excused himself and pointed the way toward a small office he kept at the back of the building. He still wore his visor used to keep his hair free from the press. He wiped his ink-stained fingers on a soiled towel and led the three men to chairs before closing his office door.

“We’ve come to discuss business,” Joseph said.

“I’m not at all surprised to see you. I’ve heard Martin was involved in writing some sort of novel.”

“I was merely the scribe for some of it. Joseph wrote it.”

“It’s not a novel,” Joseph said. “It’s a history.”

“If it were a novel, it might be interesting. I heard it is related to religion in some way.”

Joseph sat straight. “The book tells us how Jesus Christ visited with the ancient inhabitants and how he set up his church on this continent after his death.”

“What time frame does the story take place in?”

“There are several stories, much like the Old Testament.”

Mr. Grandin sat silent for a moment, his hands close together and his fingers joined at the tips. “I don’t think I can be involved with religious work, especially one of a religion I cannot accept.

Martin cleared his throat before speaking. That’s not good business, Mr. Grandin. Certainly you don’t have to believe in everything you publish.”

“It’s a question of principles. If it weren’t religious in nature, it’d be a different story.” He rose and went to the door, which he opened. He extended an arm to show the men the way out.”

The noise of the press prohibited conversation until the men reached the street. “Looks like we’ll have to find another printer,” Martin said.

Joseph felt momentarily dejected. Martin tried to cheer him up. “How about the Rochester Telegraph?”

Thurow Weed had recently purchased the Telegraph. He was known to be strongly opinionated in his views of politics. “I hate the thought of having to work with Weed,” Joseph said.

Still, the men agreed to pay the man a visit. When Weed asked about the origin of the story, and Joseph answered with a tale about an angel, gold plates and the translation process, the man laughed and refused to even consider the task.

Joseph left Weed’s office with a sense of concern. He had seen two printers and neither one was interested in his work.

“Don’t be discouraged,” Martin said.

“I’m not discouraged. I just don’t think we should have told a fellow like that about the book. But it’s done. I think we should go back to Palmyra and talk with Grandin again.”

“Grandin isn’t likely to change his mind. I think we need to go and talk with Marshall.”

Joseph thought about the distance to Rochester and the difficulty that distance would cause, but he agreed to see the man. During their visit, they found Elihu Marshall wasn’t concerned with the religious nature of the book and he didn’t ask where it came from. This was a business transaction. Terms: three thousand dollars, payment in advance.

When Joseph walked out of Elihu’s office, he felt unsettled. “I still want to talk to Grandin again. We need to go back to Palmyra.”

Martin was surprised. “I thought we reached an agreement there.”

“The agreement isn’t binding without payment. Think of the time and inconvenience we’ll suffer because of the distance, not to mention the added cost of travel. If Grandin still refuses, we’ll let Elihu publish it.”

On their return trip to E. B. Grandi’s publishing office, they went directly to the second floor printing shop and waved Grandin toward the small side office.

“You can’t find anybody willing to print your book, eh?” Grandin wore a self-satisfied grin. He wiped his hands on his shop apron and removed his reading glasses. He opened his small office door and allowed the men to seat themselves.

“Quite the contrary,” Martin said. “We got a good offer.”

Grandin sat down at his desk. “Not with Weed, I hope.”

Joseph smiled. “You don’t like Weed either.”

Grandin shook his head. “He’s unscrupulous. He gives our business a bad name.”

“I agree,” Joseph said. “Mr. Marshall is willing to do the work, but I really want to give you one more chance. It’ll be printed either way.”

“It just so happens,” Grandin said, “that I talked with some of my family members and friends, and I brought up the subject of your book. They’ve convinced me that I shouldn’t be concerned about its religious nature. Not that they believe it, mind you. I only hope I don’t live to regret this decision.”

“Nonsense,” Martin said.

“You’ll become famous–known all over the world.”

“I doubt that,” Grandin said. “About payment. I’m going to have to send for some type. I’d guess about three thousand dollars ought to cover the costs.”

“Three thousand dollars!” Joseph said, his mouth wide open.

“For how many copies?” Martin asked.

“Bound in leather?” Grandin queried.

“Of course.” Joseph said.

“Five thousand.”

“We hoped we could pay with the profits,” Joseph said.

“Not good business sense. What if there are no profits? Profits aren’t a guarantee.”

“This book will sell,” Martin said. “Everybody is talking about it.”

“It was time to search for a publisher. The first stop was at E. B. Grandin’s Palmyra printing establishment. Joseph, Martin, and Oliver made their way past the familiar row of three-storey buildings until they stopped under the sign of the bookstore. Grandin housed his store on ground level, a printing press on the second floor, and a book bindery on the third. He shared his press and his space with Esquire Abner Cole, an ex-justice of the peace who printed a sardonic weekly using the name of Dogberry.

Inside the building, the men climbed to the second floor in search of the printer. Martin had to shout to be heard over the noise of the press. “Excuse me.” He waved his hand to attract the printer’s attention. “Mr Grandin?”

A middle-aged man was looking at the press and talking with a much younger man, probably an apprentice. The senior excused himself and pointed the way toward a small office he kept at the back of the building. He still wore his visor used to keep his hair free from the press. He wiped his ink-stained fingers on a soiled towel and led the three men to chairs before closing his office door.

“We’ve come to discuss business,” Joseph said.

“I’m not at all surprised to see you. I’ve heard Martin was involved in writing some sort of novel.”

“I was merely the scribe for some of it. Joseph wrote it.”

“It’s not a novel,” Joseph said. “It’s a history.”

“If it were a novel, it might be interesting. I heard it is related to religion in some way.”

Joseph sat straight. “The book tells us how Jesus Christ visited with the ancient inhabitants and how he set up his church on this continent after his death.”

“What time frame does the story take place in?”

“There are several stories, much like the Old Testament.”

Mr. Grandin sat silent for a moment, his hands close together and his fingers joined at the tips. “I don’t think I can be involved with religious work, especially one of a religion I cannot accept.

Martin cleared his throat before speaking. That’s not good business, Mr. Grandin. Certainly you don’t have to believe in everything you publish.”

“It’s a question of principles. If it weren’t religious in nature, it’d be a different story.” He rose and went to the door, which he opened. He extended an arm to show the men the way out.”

The noise of the press prohibited conversation until the men reached the street. “Looks like we’ll have to find another printer,” Martin said.

Joseph felt momentarily dejected. Martin tried to cheer him up. “How about the Rochester Telegraph?”

Thurow Weed had recently purchased the Telegraph. He was known to be strongly opinionated in his views of politics. “I hate the thought of having to work with Weed,” Joseph said.

Still, the men agreed to pay the man a visit. When Weed asked about the origin of the story, and Joseph answered with a tale about an angel, gold plates and the translation process, the man laughed and refused to even consider the task.

Joseph left Weed’s office with a sense of concern. He had seen two printers and neither one was interested in his work.

“Don’t be discouraged,” Martin said.

“I’m not discouraged. I just don’t think we should have told a fellow like that about the book. But it’s done. I think we should go back to Palmyra and talk with Grandin again.”

“Grandin isn’t likely to change his mind. I think we need to go and talk with Marshall.”

Joseph thought about the distance to Rochester and the difficulty that distance would cause, but he agreed to see the man. During their visit, they found Elihu Marshall wasn’t concerned with the religious nature of the book and he didn’t ask where it came from. This was a business transaction. Terms: three thousand dollars, payment in advance.

When Joseph walked out of Elihu’s office, he felt unsettled. “I still want to talk to Grandin again. We need to go back to Palmyra.”

Martin was surprised. “I thought we reached an agreement there.”

“The agreement isn’t binding without payment. Think of the time and inconvenience we’ll suffer because of the distance, not to mention the added cost of travel. If Grandin still refuses, we’ll let Elihu publish it.”

On their return trip to E. B. Grandi’s publishing office, they went directly to the second floor printing shop and waved Grandin toward the small side office.

“You can’t find anybody willing to print your book, eh?” Grandin wore a self-satisfied grin. He wiped his hands on his shop apron and removed his reading glasses. He opened his small office door and allowed the men to seat themselves.

“Quite the contrary,” Martin said. “We got a good offer.”

Grandin sat down at his desk. “Not with Weed, I hope.”

Joseph smiled. “You don’t like Weed either.”

Grandin shook his head. “He’s unscrupulous. He gives our business a bad name.”

“I agree,” Joseph said. “Mr. Marshall is willing to do the work, but I really want to give you one more chance. It’ll be printed either way.”

“It just so happens,” Grandin said, “that I talked with some of my family members and friends, and I brought up the subject of your book. They’ve convinced me that I shouldn’t be concerned about its religious nature. Not that they believe it, mind you. I only hope I don’t live to regret this decision.”

“Nonsense,” Martin said.

“You’ll become famous–known all over the world.”

“I doubt that,” Grandin said. “About payment. I’m going to have to send for some type. I’d guess about three thousand dollars ought to cover the costs.”

“Three thousand dollars!” Joseph said, his mouth wide open.

“For how many copies?” Martin asked.

“Bound in leather?” Grandin queried.

“Of course.” Joseph said.

“Five thousand.”

“We hoped we could pay with the profits,” Joseph said.

“Not good business sense. What if there are no profits? Profits aren’t a guarantee.”

“This book will sell,” Martin said. “Everybody is talking about it.”

“It was time to search for a publisher. The first stop was at E. B. Grandin’s Palmyra printing establishment. Joseph, Martin, and Oliver made their way past the familiar row of three-storey buildings until they stopped under the sign of the bookstore. Grandin housed his store on ground level, a printing press on the second floor, and a book bindery on the third. He shared his press and his space with Esquire Abner Cole, an ex-justice of the peace who printed a sardonic weekly using the name of Dogberry.

Inside the building, the men climbed to the second floor in search of the printer. Martin had to shout to be heard over the noise of the press. “Excuse me.” He waved his hand to attract the printer’s attention. “Mr Grandin?”

A middle-aged man was looking at the press and talking with a much younger man, probably an apprentice. The senior excused himself and pointed the way toward a small office he kept at the back of the building. He still wore his visor used to keep his hair free from the press. He wiped his ink-stained fingers on a soiled towel and led the three men to chairs before closing his office door.

“We’ve come to discuss business,” Joseph said.

“I’m not at all surprised to see you. I’ve heard Martin was involved in writing some sort of novel.”

“I was merely the scribe for some of it. Joseph wrote it.”

“It’s not a novel,” Joseph said. “It’s a history.”

“If it were a novel, it might be interesting. I heard it is related to religion in some way.”

Joseph sat straight. “The book tells us how Jesus Christ visited with the ancient inhabitants and how he set up his church on this continent after his death.”

“What time frame does the story take place in?”

“There are several stories, much like the Old Testament.”

Mr. Grandin sat silent for a moment, his hands close together and his fingers joined at the tips. “I don’t think I can be involved with religious work, especially one of a religion I cannot accept.

Martin cleared his throat before speaking. That’s not good business, Mr. Grandin. Certainly you don’t have to believe in everything you publish.”

“It’s a question of principles. If it weren’t religious in nature, it’d be a different story.” He rose and went to the door, which he opened. He extended an arm to show the men the way out.”

The noise of the press prohibited conversation until the men reached the street. “Looks like we’ll have to find another printer,” Martin said.

Joseph felt momentarily dejected. Martin tried to cheer him up. “How about the Rochester Telegraph?”

Thurow Weed had recently purchased the Telegraph. He was known to be strongly opinionated in his views of politics. “I hate the thought of having to work with Weed,” Joseph said.

Still, the men agreed to pay the man a visit. When Weed asked about the origin of the story, and Joseph answered with a tale about an angel, gold plates and the translation process, the man laughed and refused to even consider the task.

Joseph left Weed’s office with a sense of concern. He had seen two printers and neither one was interested in his work.

“Don’t be discouraged,” Martin said.

“I’m not discouraged. I just don’t think we should have told a fellow like that about the book. But it’s done. I think we should go back to Palmyra and talk with Grandin again.”

“Grandin isn’t likely to change his mind. I think we need to go and talk with Marshall.”

Joseph thought about the distance to Rochester and the difficulty that distance would cause, but he agreed to see the man. During their visit, they found Elihu Marshall wasn’t concerned with the religious nature of the book and he didn’t ask where it came from. This was a business transaction. Terms: three thousand dollars, payment in advance.

When Joseph walked out of Elihu’s office, he felt unsettled. “I still want to talk to Grandin again. We need to go back to Palmyra.”

Martin was surprised. “I thought we reached an agreement there.”

“The agreement isn’t binding without payment. Think of the time and inconvenience we’ll suffer because of the distance, not to mention the added cost of travel. If Grandin still refuses, we’ll let Elihu publish it.”

On their return trip to E. B. Grandi’s publishing office, they went directly to the second floor printing shop and waved Grandin toward the small side office.

“You can’t find anybody willing to print your book, eh?” Grandin wore a self-satisfied grin. He wiped his hands on his shop apron and removed his reading glasses. He opened his small office door and allowed the men to seat themselves.

“Quite the contrary,” Martin said. “We got a good offer.”

Grandin sat down at his desk. “Not with Weed, I hope.”

Joseph smiled. “You don’t like Weed either.”

Grandin shook his head. “He’s unscrupulous. He gives our business a bad name.”

“I agree,” Joseph said. “Mr. Marshall is willing to do the work, but I really want to give you one more chance. It’ll be printed either way.”

“It just so happens,” Grandin said, “that I talked with some of my family members and friends, and I brought up the subject of your book. They’ve convinced me that I shouldn’t be concerned about its religious nature. Not that they believe it, mind you. I only hope I don’t live to regret this decision.”

“Nonsense,” Martin said.

“You’ll become famous–known all over the world.”

“I doubt that,” Grandin said. “About payment. I’m going to have to send for some type. I’d guess about three thousand dollars ought to cover the costs.”

“Three thousand dollars!” Joseph said, his mouth wide open.

“For how many copies?” Martin asked.

“Bound in leather?” Grandin queried.

“Of course.” Joseph said.

“Five thousand.”

“We hoped we could pay with the profits,” Joseph said.

“Not good business sense. What if there are no profits? Profits aren’t a guarantee.”

“This book will sell,” Martin said. “Everybody is talking about it.”

NOTE: Next Week: A famous preacher Invites Joseph to merge believers.

A Note re: Images:

All the images in this post have been created by Gemini AI. It’s brilliant, but much like you and I, not without flaws. Gemini and I continually work together to tweak the details, and strive for perfection. Until then, think of these images as a series of historical paintings by different artists trying to capture the same story. I hope you’ll look past the minor quirks and enjoy the atmosphere they bring to the history.

I sincerely hope you return week after week to get the full story.

Signing the Contract.

By 1848, western trail traffic exploded to over 3,000 vehicles, forcing the Quartermaster General at Ft. Leavenworth to transition from chaotic individual trip contracts to a centralized, civilian freighting agreement. The firm best equipped for this monumental task was formed on December 28, 1854, by three respected businessmen.

• William Russell: The visionary, eternal optimist, and risk-taker.

• Alexander Majors: The logistical genius who knew the trails, animals, and teamsters.

• William Waddell: The financial anchor at headquarters keeping the wheels turning.

Together, they were a natural team. On March 27, 1855, they signed a massive two-year military contract to transport millions of pounds of stores to scattered western forts. Waddell immediately sent buyers across Missouri to purchase thousands of oxen, pairing wild, unbroken beasts with older, wiser animals. Teamsters practiced driving them up and down roads until the herds perfectly obeyed the commands of “Gee” and “Haw.”

Trouble in Utah

In the mid-1850s Washington was having issues with Utah. Some disinformation was spread by the notorious “Runaway Officials”, three federal appointees who fled Salt Lake City after their actions caused the removal of the welcome mat. They returned to Washington and spread word of their stay, never mentioning the part they played.

Based on a one-sided and highly biased story, President James Buchanan decided to dispose of Brigham Young as Governor of Utah. To ensure the peaceful transfer of power, an army of twenty-five hundred, known as the Army of Utah, would accompany Alfred Cumming on the road to Utah to become the second territorial Governor.

Brigham Young could be hot-headed and volatile. He felt intimidated when he heard the news and threatened: “...if the army crosses the border, the government should stop all continental emigration because Native Americans will kill anyone trying to pass.” He acted as though he had full control of the Indians.

Afterwards, he declared martial law, ordered guns to be cleaned and prepared, and old sabers sharpened. Elders and Apostles serving as missionaries were summoned home from the Atlantic states and Europe. Mormon colonists in Carson Valley and San Bernardino received orders to abandon their settlements and hasten to Utah’s defense. This would be The Utah War.

Caught Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Although Russell had extended himself and his firm with the purchase of land and other investments, he was a very positive thinker and felt sure all would be well. Then, on June 19th, 1857, Captain Thomas L Brent, quartermaster at Ft. Leavenworth notified Russell that he would be required to transport an additional two and a half million pounds of supplies for the Army of Utah to Salt Lake City.

He remembered the original February agreement and the maximum amount of poundage specified. Also, the contract clearly stated they would receive sixty days advance notice of any changes. He was being asked to make a commitment right now.

The army offered the firm a lower rate per one hundred pounds than the civilian sutlers who would accompany the train. The expenses for the extra poundage and the extra distance would be exorbitant. There would be additional debt when he was already over-extended. The poundage to cover the February contact was on the road. There was no need to endanger the firm with such a risky contract.

When Captain Brent heard that the trio could not undertake the additional service, he would not accept their refusal.

“The firm has to accept the agreement.” Captain Brent said. “If you don’t go, the expedition would not be able to march to Utah this summer. It has been directed by the President of the United States!”

Russell saw ruin either way. The additional investment would be hefty, especially considering his outstanding debt, but refusal would mean their favorable position as principal contractors for the army in the West would be jeopardized. He started adding up the additional expenses he would now face, knowing he had to bite the bullet and trust in his government. Relying solely on the captain’s assurances, they consented to transfer the supplies as requested.

Brigham Young Meets with Captain Van Vliet

Things were moving forward rather fast when Captain Van Vliet neared Salt Lake with the directive to locate a site for a post to house the troops, purchase lumber to build it, find forage for the beasts of burden, and then give assurances to the Mormons that the army would not molest or interfere with them. He traveled with an escort of thirty men under Lieutenant James Deshler.

At Ft. Bridger, Van Vliet met a party of Mormons who informed him that he could not move further with his escort. Van Vliet shrugged his shoulders and turned to his escort. The men turned back to Hams Fork while Van Vliet took one assistant and headed towards Salt Lake City. The meeting with Brigham Young was less than satisfactory.

“If any army penetrates Salt Lake Valley, they will find it a desert,” the prophet warned. “The Mormons will destroy their crops, burn their homes, and cut down all the trees.” He knew his word would be final and finished with one final warning: “The army shall not enter this valley.”

The City, under the direction of Daniel Wells, assembled a plan of harassment in case the Army attempted to move in; animals would be stampeded, supply trains would be burnt, as well as the whole country, leaving no grass for their animals. Trees would be felled to block roads; boulders would be loosened enough so they could be pushed down the mountain to further block the trails.

In September General Wells went into Echo Canyon, a twenty-four mile narrow defile through the Wasatch Mountains, accompanied by twelve-hundred fifty men who carried supplies to last three months. Parapets were built to protect sharp shooters.

Next, Brigham Young and Daniel Wells sent out Major Lott Smith to lead forty men to burn Russell, Majors, and Waddell supply trains. In Salt Lake City, the Mormons began to prepare to relocate to a safe place in the mountains leaving bundles of wood stacked by their door to be lighted in case the Army entered the city. Orders were then given to turn back and burn any supply trains still on the road.

The Utah War turned out to be a war that never quite happened. Winter set in on the Mountains. The army had very little grass for the animals and no fuel for campfires, except for sagebrushes and willows along the stream–not totally adequate. Snow became so thick that wagons stopped where they were.

The conditions became deplorable as animals starved to death, many each night. When they set on the trail again, mules died in harness and oxen under the yoke. The road was blocked by so many carcasses. Against all odds, they set out for Ft. Bridger. When they arrived, they found it had been set afire by the Mormons. The Army established Camp Scott two miles from Ft. Bridger and settled down for the winter. Three hundred twelve teamsters and agents were forced to remain in Camp Scott for the duration of the winter, along with the future Governor, Alfred Cumming and his wife, travelling with the Army to Utah.

Building Camp Douglas

The following spring the army entered Utah and built Camp Floyd. Of those who had been commanded to leave their homes and go into the mountains, many never found a way to return. The San Bernardino Saints eventually found their way home, as did others. The price paid for this war was astronomical both in dollars spent and the damage done to peoples’ lives.

Russell, Majors, and Waddell, continued to work for the government, they went frequently to court, hired lawyers, and made statements about their losses and the change in contract particulars. They were allotted some payments. but nothing near what they had lost. Quartermaster Brent had assured the men they could rely on the army to reimburse any losses. This turned out to be an empty promise.

The Indian’s Trust Fund Bonds

While travelling to and from Washington and New York, in an attempt to save his firm and the several that had been started by the various partners of Russell, Majors, and Waddell, William Russell chanced to meet the former Commissioner of Indian Affairs, Luke Lea. Lea’s bank regularly engaged in substantial business with Russell.

Russell gave Lea a full account of his business affairs. He also mentioned that some of Secretary Floyd’s acceptances were about to be protested. These acceptances were a series of high-profile promissory notes and drafts issued during President James Buchanan’s administration. This conversation, and Russell’s statement of the large sum that the government owed the firm, Russell, Majors, and Waddell, led to a meeting with Godard Bailey, a clerk in the department of the interior, who, hopefully would expedite money due from the War Department.

While Russell’s concerns were for the money owed to his firm, Lea and Bailey seemed more concerned about the possible protestation of acceptances and the consequences this would have on Secretary Floyd’s career. Bailey decided to lend Russell $150,000.00 for ninety days. When Russell took the bonds to New York to use as collateral in search of a loan, he found they were heavily discounted and only netted $97,000.00. That was enough to temporarily relieve the crises.

Politically, the nation was threatened by an open rift between the north and the south and had become a house divided against itself. Banks were calling in loans, businesses were curtailing production, and stocks and securities dropped sharply. Those holding the bonds demanded additional security and Russell came up empty handed. He met with Bailey again and there learned that the bonds constituted a part of the Indian Trust Fund–unpaid annuities to various Indian tribes. Bailey was merely the custodian and had no right to appropriate them for his own use.

The lending of bonds continued. Russell accepted additional bonds of $387,000.00. Bailey requested that these bonds be returned before his term of office expired in March. Then, he substituted both bonds for one valuing $537,000.00. The shadow of the Civil War drove all classes and kinds of securities lower and lower. Russell began to see that he was in imminent peril. He started to protect all of his personal property,

Day by day, Russell’s position, as well as the whole commercial and economic structure of the nation, deteriorated. Russell went to Washington to meet with Bailey. He informed him that Russell, Majors and Waddell was on the brink of ruin; nevertheless, he walked away from this meeting with an additional $333,000.00 worth of bonds. Shortly after Bailey plunged in, his faith in Russell began to waver.

The Fall

Goddard Bailey went into deep despair. He wrote a full confession of what he had done including a list of the numbers of the bonds he had taken. He gave this to a relative who was the chief clerk in the Census Bureau. He asked that the documents be given to the Secretary of the Interior five days before he retired from office on March 4, 1861. In December, Bailey asked that the document he held be delivered early—as soon as the Secretary returned from his trip to North Carolina.

Still riddled with guilt, Bailey confessed to one of his Senator friends that he had taken the bonds and asked his advice. He was told to confess everything, make no attempt at escape, and take the consequences.

Then Bailey confessed his deed to Secretary Floyd. Before December was over, Secretary Floyd told him the appropriation of the bonds would have to be made public.

Next, Bailey packaged the acceptances and Russell’s receipts for $870,000.00 in bonds This package was delivered to the President in the White House. When presented to the members of the Cabinet, they were initially sympathetic, but after questioning they changed their stance. The next morning Bailey was arrested and there was a warrant out for Russell who was in New York promoting the selling of his bonds.

U.S, Marshals Arrest William Russell on Suspicion of Embezzlement and Bond Fraud

On December 24th, a United States Marshall arrested Russell and escorted him back to Washington and placed him in jail.

A committee of five was chosen to investigate the relationship between Bailey and Russell. After several appearances every few days, the Chairman of the house of representatives gave his opinion that Russell’s statements were rambling, vague, and unsatisfactory.

A year later, in January, 1861, Goddard Bailey, William H. Russell, and Secretary John B. Floyd, were indicted on four counts for conspiracy to “...agree by wrongful means to cheat, defraud, and impoverish the United States.”

Goddard Bailey disappeared from Washington and could not be found.

Once the indictments were presented to the Criminal Courts, the indictments against Secretary Floyd were quashed for lack of proof that the Secretary had any part in the disposal of the bonds. None of the bonds were ever recovered.

Russell, optimistic about the future and certain he was innocent of guilt, prepared a lengthy statement for the New York Tribune. He pointed out that the illegal actions were a result of the government’s failure to reimburse Russell, Majors, and Waddell for losses incurred in the Utah War. The people in western Missouri and eastern Kansas were profoundly shocked. Hundreds of creditors heard the news with dismay. More than a million dollars was tied up, and the end was indeed disastrous.

The reputations of the three men took a nose dive as well. They began to assign the rights to their homes, businesses and properties to others for safety.

Russell remained in Washington, undaunted by the fact that his world had collapsed around him. The Civil War was on the horizon, and the shadows of his past still hovered overhead. He seemed unaware.

Much was attempted to relieve the company, but its fortunes continually declined. Russell ventured across the great plains for the first time and saw that Colorado was a good place to make money; in fact, he saw fortunes in the making on every hand.

On April 3, 1868, Russell made an application for bankruptcy. His petition was granted but his status as a business man shrank to nothing. He maintained an office, advertised as a notary public, and sold “Tic Sano”, a potential cure for neuralgia. Alone and forgotten by those who had known him in the days of his glory, Russell managed to somehow eke out a very modest living.

Russell fell ill in 1872. His son went to New York and took him to St. Louis to live with his son-in-law. Later he was moved to another son’s home in Palmyra, Missouri where he died in September of that year.

After the collapse of the great freighting firm, Waddell never engaged in business again. The loss of fortune, property and prestige, along with the loss of a son during the Civil War, bore heavily upon him. His health began to seriously fail until he died at the farmhouse of his son-in-law.

Majors continued to work in the freighting business although he no longer had resources of his own. In the fall of 1867 he moved to Salt Lake City with his family and engaged in grading the roadbed and furnishing ties and telegraph poles for the Union Pacific Railroad. In 1887 he moved to Denver where he wrote his story Seventy Years on the Frontier. It was published by Buffalo Bill Cody in 1893, seven years before his death in Chicago in January 1900.

Under the skillful, experienced management of the three partners, military freighting on the plains reached its peak of perfection. In energy and dependability they were equaled by few and surpassed by none. They made large sums of money in freighting military supplies for the United States government, but their investment in oxen, wagons, and wages for teamster and other employees was enormous. For at least five years their costs ran well over two million dollars a year. Added to everything else was the failure of the United States government to reimburse the firm for over a half million dollars lost in the disastrous Utah experience. They were forced to bear the entire losses incurred in its service. The authors suggest that the spirit of kindly understanding draw a veil over their weaknesses and faults leaving only their virtues in view.

* * * The End * * *

NOTE: Join us next week for another exciting frontier tale:

“Saddles and Spurs: The Pony Express Saga”

A Note re: Images:

All the images in this post have been created by Gemini AI. He is brilliant, but much like you and I, not without flaws. Gemini and I continually work together to tweak the details, and strive for perfection. I hope you’ll look past the minor quirks and enjoy the atmosphere they bring to the history.

Feel free to drop a comment on any post that catches your eye. I promise to read every word and respond. Like and subscribe. Don’t miss out on future posts. It’s free.

Thank you

Just Judy, The Author

Unexpected Guests Arrive

Joseph stood at his cabin door, his attention focused on the tapping of a woodpecker in the distance. Deep in thought, he gave a self-satisfied smile. During this period of waiting, he had passed his time wisely, working around the farm, tending the small garden he had planted next to the house or the small field of wheat and corn. Occasionally, he had taken odd jobs for wages.

Late that evening, it began to rain. Emma busied herself with a basket of socks, thread, and darning needles. Joseph had started a small fire to ward off the early spring dampness. There was warmth and a pleasant fireside glow. He watched the flames as they danced, deep in thought once again. Raindrops fell heavily on the rooftop.

Suddenly, he leaned forward, attentive. “I hear running horses.” He ran to the window, peered into the night sky, and listened. In the distance, he saw two riders coming his way. He turned to Emma. “Samuel is coming. It looks like he brought someone with him.”

Joseph bounded out the door.

Emma called after him. “Wait! You’ll get wet!”

Joseph darted back and quickly grabbed his raincoat from a peg on the back of the door. He held it over his head and watched as the horses neared and then slowed, their feet clopping in the newly formed puddles of mud. He was surprised to see his cousin, Oliver Cowdery, riding with his brother. He prepared to share his raincoat as a covering but the men quickly dismounted and ran past him into the dryness of the cottage.

“Samuel!” He embraced his brother and then greeted Oliver as well. While they were cousins, they rarely spent large periods of time together, and their relationship was not as close as he would have liked. He motioned toward three hardwood chairs and seated himself, eager to hear whatever news they had brought. Emma was pleased to have visitors and especially to see Samuel again.

Oliver was a soft-spoken man with soft hands. He was fair skinned, with sandy hair and about the same age as Joseph. He was the first to mention Joseph and his work: “Your ma told me a lot about what you’ve been doing.”

“Oh, oh,” Joseph laughed. “ You can’t listen to everything she says.

“Sometimes her tales are a little too marvelous. She means well, but...”

Oliver grinned. “I know what you mean. But, I’ve always enjoyed my conversations with her. I know she likes to embellish a bit as she goes along. Her stories are not without substance.”

Joseph laughed out loud.

“Oliver has been staying at our house for a while.” Samuel explained. “He’s been teaching at the school.”

Joseph’s ears perked. “Teaching? So, you’re a school teacher. I would guess that means that you are pretty good at writing.”

“I hope I can write, for my pupil’s sake. When I have time, I still work on my spelling and grammar.”

Joseph turned to Samuel and said, “Tell me about Hyrum. Did he buy that property he was wanting?”

“Eighty acres.”

“How’s Ma and Pa?” His concern came from his knowledge of the difficulties his parents had experienced in meeting the final payment on their property. Due to a change in land agents, the property had been sold. They had been leasing it, but that lease had expired the previous December.

“They plan to move in with Hyrum,” Samuel said.

“When they were here last winter, they hoped they wouldn’t have to move.”

“They’ve got no choice. They’re being evicted.”

Joseph winced. His parents had worked hard over the years, and it was Alvin’s dying wish that they find comfort in their old age.

“They are well,” Samuel said. “It’s unfortunate, to be sure. Both Hyrum and Jerusha are happy about the move.”

Joseph told Samuel and Oliver about his visitation with an angel, the record, and his recent work on the plates of Nephi.

“How long will it take before you finish?” Oliver asked.

“I can’t tell. I need a scribe. Recently, I received a revelation commanding me to stop for a while.”

“Does God really speak to you?”

Joseph nodded. “Through an interpreter.”

Oliver had a sudden recall. “That’s right! I remember Lucy said something about a breastplate and some sort of silver bow.”

“Now the Lord has also blessed my seer-stone. I don’t use the spectacles much anymore. About the revelation, I expect my need for a scribe will soon be met. That’s why I asked you about your ability to write.”

“Like I said, I am weak in punctuation.”

“Well, just leave the punctuation out. The printer will fix it, I suppose.”

“It sounds exciting, but I don’t know. Let’s give it a few days.”

“You must be hungry,” Joseph said. “Our table is poor, but you are welcome to join us.”

Emma rose with a smile. “I made fresh bread this morning, and I can add a few potatoes to the pot.”

When the meal was finished, Emma gathered the dirty plates and asked Samuel to help clear the table. Soon the happy visitors and their hosts were seated around the hearth once more. The sky rumbled overhead as it continued its downpour.

Emma picked up her sewing basket from behind her chair. The men sat in a relaxed and easy manner. Oliver shared a good deal of his past. His father, a follower of Nathaniel Woods, had raised his family in a little community whose common bond was a matter of faith.

“Did you ever use the rod?” Joseph asked.

“Almost everybody in our community did.”

“Do you sense the spirit through that means?”

“I think so. Sometimes I wonder if the spirit I feel is truly the spirit of God.”

“You mean it could be a false spirit?”

“Maybe. But I was thinking that it could be me.”

Joseph sat thoughtfully for a moment. “I kneel down to speak to God. He speaks to me in my heart and mind and says, ‘I am the Lord thy God.’ I can only believe Him.”

“Still, it’s just something you feel. Sometimes I lose faith. If there is but one God, why do we have so many different religions? They can’t all be right. How does one know which is the truth?”

“You are not alone in your confusion. It doesn’t seem that long ago that I asked those same questions. When I asked which church I should join, the Lord told me I should join none of them. He said they were all an abomination in His sight.”

Getting to Know Oliver

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Oliver said. He shook his head. “Tell us more about the ancient inhabitants.”

“I have a better idea.” Samuel said. He turned to Emma. You have some of the work transcribed, right?”

“Why, yes.”

“Why don’t you read it to us?”

Emma set her darning aside and looked at Joseph.

Joseph stood up. “Let me go get it.” He returned with a small stack of papers.

Emma prepared for her role as reader, smoothing out the folds of her skirt and clearing her lap.

The fire continued to burn slowly. Joseph moved a tallow candle lamp to the table near where Emma sat. She laid the manuscript on her lap and lifted her first page close to the light. She read,

“I, Nephi, having been born of godly parents, taught somewhat in the learning

of my father, and having seen many afflictions in the course of my days, I make a record in the language of my father, which consists of the learning of the Jews and the language of the Egyptians.”

The story took place in the beginning of the first year of the reign of Zedekiah, king of Judah. Nephi’s father, Lehi, had lived in Jerusalem all his life. Then, one day, prophets came into the city preaching repentance and warning of a coming destruction. Lehi asked the Lord if it were true. After fervent prayer, a pillar of fire appeared upon a rock before him, and through that pillar Lehi saw visions of events yet to happen.

When Lehi saw the destruction of Jerusalem, it made him tremble. When he heard the Lord’s covenant of a land of promise, he understood his part. He commanded his wife, Sariah, and his sons, Laman, Lemuel, Samuel, and Nephi, to pack their possessions and prepare to travel.

They went into the wilderness by the border of the Red Sea and pitched a tent. Here, the parents waited while the sons returned to Jerusalem to get a set of brass plates. These were the records of the Jews and contained the genealogies of Lehi’s forefathers. Lehi was directed to take these records with him into the wilderness, else they be lost in the destruction of the city.

Laman and Lemuel were usually unbelieving and often contemptuous. Nephi was favored by God, and like his father, often had visions. Samuel never sought to lead and also recognized the goodness of Nephi. He usually did not side with Laman and Lemuel in their wickedness and was mostly faithful to Nephi and to God.

It was Nephi who finally obtained the records engraved on brass plates. He found King Laban lying drunk and unconscious and stopped to admire the man’s bejeweled and gold-plated sword. Nephi was commanded by an angel to slay the King. When he resisted, the angel said, “Better that one man shall perish than a nation dwindle in unbelief.”

Nephi grabbed Laban by the hair, picked up his sword, and smote off the king’s head. Then he disguised himself as Laban and convinced the dead man’s servant to follow him to the walls of the city with the plates. When the servant realized the man he followed was not his king, he started to flee in fear. Nephi caught him and pointed out that he was now a free man.

The servant agreed to join Lehi and his sons in the trek across the wilderness.

Back at his father’s tent, Lehi and Sariah rejoiced at the sight of their sons and received the freed Zoram with gladness. Lehi examined the plates and saw they contained the first five books of Moses, plus all the prophecies since the beginning of time. It also contained a genealogy through which Lehi found he was a descendant of Joseph, the Joseph of the coat of many colors.

Lehi sent his sons back to Jerusalem to seek brides, for without wives there would be no seed. They returned with an elderly couple who had four beautiful daughters.

Lehi had many visions but one of particular interest was when he saw a large and spacious field and a tree with desirable fruit that would make one happy. He went forward and ate the fruit and found it was sweet–-sweeter than any he had ever tasted. It was whiter than any white he had ever seen. When he ate it, his soul was filled with joy. He wanted his family to eat of the fruit.

That’s Pa’s Vision!

Samuel sat up. “Hey! That sounds just like Father’s vision. “I’ve heard that story lots of times.”

Joseph looked up, his face pale.

“It’s Pa’s vision,” Samuel insisted. “I know it is. The tree, the fruit, calling the family to join him–all are identical to Pa’s vision.”

Joseph stammered, unsure how to answer. “There must be an explanation. Could it be that Nephi and Pa shared the same vision?”

“That stretches the imagination. Nephi lived six hundred years before Christ. You’re writing stories you heard at home. Come to think of it, it doesn’t sound much different from the stories you used to tell about the ancient inhabitants. Only your stories were more descriptive.”

“See, if I were making it up it would be different. Nephi just writes what needs to be written.”

Emma spoke for her husband. “When I was serving as scribe, I always felt the story was so vivid and rich that it must be of God. Besides, I know Joe. He can’t write that well.”

“He doesn’t have to. You are doing the writing.” Samuel remained distant and questioning.

Oliver said, “This is a very interesting story. Imagine! They left everything to go into the wilderness. I like the way Nephi chopped off the old king’s head. Thwack!”

Despite his brief protest, Samuel was also interested in the story. “That was wicked. Like the angel said, ‘better that one man should perish than a nation should dwindle in unbelief.’”

Oliver sat on the floor, his legs stretched out, his elbow bent to support his head. Samuel also made himself more comfortable.

Joseph, still seated in his favorite chair, laid his head back. Emma finished reading Lehi’s account of his vision and then began reading Nephi’s prophecy, a clear message of the coming of Christ.

The fire began to spurt and sputter. Emma looked up. Joseph sat absorbed and content. This was a different experience from the translation. Until now, he had been unable to hear how the story flowed.

Oliver and Samuel now lay flat, eyes closed, fast asleep. Joseph reached for a folded quilt that lay nearby, opened it, and covered the sleeping men. He took Emma by the hand and gently blew out the flame of the candle.

He awoke the next morning with an unusual spring in his steps. He hummed as he dressed and prepared for the day. Still lying before the hearth, eyes half-open, Samuel and Oliver began to stir.

“Wake up sleepy heads.”

Oliver and Samuel sat up.

“Oliver, it is the will of heaven that you shall be my scribe.”

Oliver laughed. “I see you have been using your stone again.”

“The stone isn’t always necessary. Some things He leaves for us to learn by ourselves.”

“If it makes you feel better, I believe you are right. Not about the stone. About the scribe.”

“I know I am right,” Joseph said.

Joseph and Oliver spent a pleasant morning discussing their experiences and the things they wondered about. When Joseph spoke, Oliver seemed to understand both word and concept. The men continued their discussions the following day.

After the evening meal, Emma would read until bedtime. Joseph never backed down from his belief that the Lord had sent Oliver to him, and while Oliver did not have the same fiery certainty, he believed it was so. Consequently, the next day they agreed to join efforts.

Oliver took pen in hand and Joseph put the small, dark stone and his face into his hat and blocked out the light. The two men became so engrossed in their work that they lost all sense of time. Hours passed quickly until Joseph stood and knuckled his eyes.

Oliver put down the pen and covered the open ink container. He laid the foolscap to one side. He was awestruck. “I fail to fathom how you do it. Truly, this work must be of God.”

Two days of continuous work had passed when Oliver asked to help with the translation. They prayed about it and Joseph looked through the translator. What he saw was a lengthy revelation that poured forth blessings sprinkled with admonitions and preaching. In relation to Oliver’s request the Lord had said, “I grant unto you a gift to translate, even as my servant Joseph. There are records which contain much of my gospel which have been kept back because of the wickedness of the people. If you have good desires, then you shall assist to bring to light those parts of my scriptures which have been hidden up.”

Oliver wrote the revelation as Joseph received it. When it ended, Oliver sat wide-eyed. “It’s just so amazing to hear the Lord speaking to me. I have no doubts. He has opened my mind and given my life new purpose and meaning. You know, when I was at your folk’s house–after your ma told me about the plates, I prayed to know if the things I had heard were true. The Lord manifested to me that they were, but I kept it a secret.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“I had doubts. But just now, when you were–I mean, when God was speaking, He knew about the night I called to him in prayer. It was so personal. How are we going to get the plates I am to translate?”

“You don’t actually have to receive the records,” Joseph said. “Just as I translate while the records are hidden in the woods, it is a spiritual process.”

The Rod of Nature

As each day passed, Joseph encouraged Oliver to translate using the medium he was most familiar with–the witch hazel stick.

Oliver held one end of the Y of the stick in each hand, clearly nervous. “What do I do?”

“Just hold it and wait for the spirit.”

“I am holding it, but nothing is happening.”

“Clear your mind of all other thoughts. Relax and keep open and positive. You’ll know what to say.”

Oliver held the branches intently. He bent forward. He closed his eyes and began to squint in his effort to see even the faintest hint of a letter. “Nothing is happening.” He became frustrated.

Joseph walked around Oliver, contemplating his stance and demeanor. “Look at you.” He stepped forward and held Oliver’s wrist in his hand and shook it lightly. “You only need to hold the rod, not grapple with it.”

Oliver shook and flexed his arms. Joseph stepped back, watchful.

Oliver looked at Joseph. “If I have a thought, how do I know if it is the writing of some ancient plate or if it is just something from my own mind?”

“You have to concentrate.”

“Concentrate on what?”

“The records.

“There are no records.”

“Didn’t the Lord tell you that there were records?”

“Yes. But He did not give them to me.”

Joseph sighed deeply. “Don’t you see me work with my stone? Haven’t you used the rod before?”

Frustrated, the two men returned to their work on the plates of Nephi. After several hours, it became apparent that Oliver continued to feel disappointed in his failure to translate. They decided to stop their work and inquire of the Lord.

The answer came: “Because you did not translate according to that which you desired of me and did commence again to write, it is not expedient that you should translate at the present time. The work which you are called to do is to write.”

Now the day’s work took on a new momentum and brought new questions.

“Have you ever been baptized?” Joseph asked at the end of a productive day.

“Of course. My parents thought it was essential.”

“If Nephi was taught the principle of baptism, it must be equally important in our day.”

Oliver nodded. “It seems that it has been an important principle for salvation throughout time.”

Joseph mused aloud, “If the authority to baptize was taken from the world with the apostles, it would seem that no one has the authority.”

“That would mean the ceremonies performed by the priests and preachers are void,” Oliver reasoned.

“It seems there’s a need for authority, and if so, we need to ask the Lord. Come into the woods with me. We must pray.”

Seemingly alone in the forest, with little sound save the scamper of a squirrel and the chirp of a fledgling, the two men bent down under the low-hanging branches, sun splashed through the leaves. In a small clearing, they reverently dropped to their knees and implored to know the will of God. When they stood, they were sure they had received the authority to baptize. They went straightway to a nearby stream and immersed each other. Later, they went about the neighborhood trying to reason out the scriptures with friends and acquaintances. Many opposed their claim to authority.

Samuel returned to Harmony. He was not immediately receptive when Joseph and Oliver attempted to persuade him concerning the gospel, but as the days passed, he seemed to have peace about him.

Hyrum visited. He felt he had been called to preach, but when Joseph asked the Lord, he learned that he should study and wait a little longer. Thus satisfied, he returned to Manchester.

The couple enjoyed their visitors, but supplies were getting scarce. At times, they passed each day with nothing more than dry corn to eat. The writing supplies ran low and then vanished. Day after day, the two men tried to find work.

Walking toward the cottage after yet another disappointing day, Joseph tried to be strong. “He worketh us in tribulation.”

Oliver, full of gloom, mumbled his response.

The very next day, after another attempt to find gainful employment, they shuffled toward the cottage long faced. There was occasional traffic on the road, but often they walked alone for long periods. In the distance, they spotted a wagon and team along with two distinct figures. Joseph jumped for joy. “That’s old man Knight. I’ll bet he’s brought provisions.”

As the visitors came to a stop, the men briefly greeted each other and then quickly turned to the wagon. There were bushels of grain and potatoes, as well as a barrel of mackerel and a pound of tea.

Then Joseph saw something that really made his eyes widen. He turned toward his companion. “Look, Oliver! Writing supplies!”

Joseph turned to Knight with a bright-eyed grin. “We can really use the food, and I thank you for it. But these other supplies–surely you are sent by God.”

Knight blushed. “It’s just common sense you’d be needing it. I’m as anxious to see this work done as you are. How’s it coming?”

“We had to stop.”

Knight laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s a big load to carry.”

Oliver stepped closer and introduced himself. Joseph explained that Oliver had been working as his scribe. “There has been lots of opposition to our work.”

Knight waived those concerns aside. “Unbelievers. There will always be unbelievers.”

“I don’t know,” Joseph said. “Last time we went to see you, a mob chased us for much of our journey home. And people here in Harmony are beginning to talk.”

Later that day, as the men sat beside the fire, Knight expressed an eagerness to know God’s will for his life. Joseph asked and received his answer: “Whosoever will thrust in his sickle and reap, the same is called of God.”

Weeks passed, and the supplies ran out. Emma became openly frustrated. “We have no food, and soon you will have to stop your work.”

“We have searched for work but found none.”

“What are we to do?”

Joseph placed his hands on her shoulders and said, “Trust in the Lord.”

It was only a matter of days when Joseph made his way to his small office and found Oliver reading his mail. He had received a letter from a friend of his who had expressed interest in the gospel.

Soon Joseph received a revelation directing his friend, David Whitmer, and his entire family, to open their home to them. Oliver had written a request that David come to Harmony and bring a large wagon, so it was no surprise when David actually arrived.

“We knew you were coming. Joseph could see you all along the way.”

Oliver and David embraced.

“So you got my letter,” Oliver said.

“I got it all right. And we hear a lot of talk about you in Fayette.”

“My,” Joseph said, “news does travel.”

David was openly excited. “The people in my neighborhood are eager for you to complete this work. My family will welcome you with open arms. It’ll be a better place for you and Oliver to work. We can give you free room and board and whatever assistance you need.”

Joseph had spoken with Emma about the possibilities. She had not been happy to leave her Harmony home, but she loved her husband and planned to be with him all her life. She gave her consent and expressed her desire to follow her husband.

Soon the men began to prepare for their journey. It would be a one hundred and thirty-five mile trip to Fayette, New York. Just before they were ready to leave, David asked, “What are you going to do about the plates? We probably should take some extra measures, in case some of our not-so friendly neighbors decide to waylay us.”

“Don’t worry about the plates,” Joseph said nonchalantly. “They’ll be carried by a messenger.”

“Did you hire someone you can trust?” Oliver asked.

“No. I didn’t hire anyone. I’m only telling you what I know.”

David looked at Oliver and then to Joseph. “You mean, a messenger of the Lord is going to take them to Fayette?”

Joseph nodded and smiled.

NOTE: Coming up: A strange vision, plus meet Mr. Grandin in his printing establishment.

A Note re: Images:

All the images in this post have been created by Gemini AI. It’s brilliant, but much like you and I, not without flaws. Gemini and I continually work together to tweak the details, and strive for perfection. Until then, think of these images as a series of historical paintings by different artists trying to capture the same story. I hope you’ll look past the minor quirks and enjoy the atmosphere they bring to the history.

I sincerely hope you return week after week to get the full story.