BackGround: Nashville Temple, Nashville, Tennessee.
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Again I am at a loss for dates, but memory says about the 20th of July 1847 we set out for the Missouri River or to find the main body of the Church, whether it be in the Rocky mountain, in Oregon or yet on the banks of the Missouri where we left it.
We journeyed to Gen. Pico's Ranch, about 40 miles, many had wild animals, unbroken, and the number of the stampedes and demolishing of Packs was immense. Especially for the first day, some losing their entire outfit and had to replenish at Pico's. At Gen. Peco's we bought two or three hundred head of Beef Cattle thinking we could drive them, but after a few days effort and losing many it was decided best to kill them and jerk the meat, and try to pack it as our animals were becoming accustomed to their loads. Hence camp was made, scaffolds built, then a wholesale slaughter commenced which lasted two or three days.
After the slaughter we packed up and moved by way of Tulare Valley. Here we encountered hostile Indians, though by an effort they were brought into camp where a funeral pow-wow ensued. During which Father Brown, an aged veteran of the Battalion, spoke in Tongues at some length, which proved to be understood by the Indians. After which they could not do too much for us, guarding our animals and helping us across the San Joaquin River which was swollen and had to be rafted.
We finally reached Sutter's Fort, a trading post on the American and Sacramento Rivers. There was an American settlement near by and great inducements were offered for laborers, consequently those having jaded animals were induced to stop over winter. Among these was Henry W, Bigler, Wilford Hudson and others who during the winter were conspicuous in discovering gold in California.
From Sutters Fort we took the Truckee River route across the Sierra Nevada Mountains, on the summit of which we met Samuel Brannon direct from Salt Lake Valley. He informed us that the Church had established Head Quarters in Salt Lake, that the Pioneers had returned to the Missouri River, but several companies were in the valley and more coming this year.
This was the first reliable word we had received of the Church's where-abouts which was enthusiastically welcomed.
Brannon was the man that had charge of a company of Saints that sailed in the Ship Brooklyn from New York in 1846 to California, anticipating that the Church would gather to Oregon. His visit to meet President Young was to induce him to settle in California. Failing in this he was returning "solitary and alone" (and very indignant because of his failure) to his home in San Francisco where he soon became very rich. He refused to gather with the Saints in Salt Lake and finally died a pauper.
The next day, I believe, we met Capt. James Brown of the Mormon Battalion and a company of men. You will remember he was sent to Pueblo from Santa Fe. Their term of enlistment having expired they were mustered out of the service, but had to go to California for their pay, hence this trip. From his statement of things in Salt Lake, scarcity of provisions, etc., many not well provided were recommended to go back to California and winter. Hence, many went back with Brown.
The next day we struck the head waters of the Truckee River which we followed to the desert, thence to the Steam Boat Hot Springs on the overland route, thence, to and up the Humbolt River, passing over the Goose Creek Mountain to Snake River and Fort Hall.
Here we left the overland route and struck South (without a trail) for Salt Lake where we arrived during the last days of September 1847, finding the people generally engaged in building a Fort which was at that time about breast high in the highest place. Very little was known about the surrounding country at that time, but all seemed to have an abiding faith in the words of Brigham Young that "this was the place he had seen before he left Nauvoo", and had gone to work in earnest to prepare for winter. The emigration was mostly all in, when we arrived. Many were short of provisions but all seemed sanguine that they would "pull through".
Here some of the Battalion boys found their families or relatives and stopped over. Others were compelled to stop for want of sufficient outfit to cross the Plains, a distance of over a thousand miles, while we had traversed over fifteen hundred miles from Los Angeles via Sutter's Fort and Fort Hall.
Finally a company of between thirty and forty under Lieutenant James Pace began preparing to brave the dangers of crossing the Plains during the winter months. Provisions being scarce in the valley, we were told we could get supplies at Fort Bridger and at Laramie, reasonable, and it would be a great help to the people if we would leave our provisions and replenish on the road. Having a common interest, we unloaded our supplies, taking only what was supposed enough to do us to Fort Bridger, (one hundred and fifteen miles) and moved out late in October.At the head of Echo Canyon we encountered our first snow storm and the cold seemed to have a chilling effect on the animals as they were from a warmer climate. But before 10 o'clock the next morning it cleared up. The snow soon melted and we were on our way rejoicing. Arriving at Fort Bridger we found they had nothing to sell.
Here we were, over four hundred miles to Fort Laramie and nothing to eat. A council was called consisting of the whole camp. Much time was taken up in trying to decide whether the party in Salt Lake who advised us to leave our supplies and depend on getting more on the road had acted from sinister motives. Whether we were to go back to Salt Lake and fight it out during the winter with the others, or go ahead without anything to eat. However, no one thought for a moment but what we could get what we wanted at Fort Laramie and so it was decided to go ahead and depend on game. This was made more easy by our experience "living on beef alone" when we first arrived in Southern California and that buffalo were supposed to be plenty for our demand.
Well, we started on what proved to be a nine hundred mile jaunt in mid-winter without anything to eat. By scrimping we managed to get over on Sweet Water where we killed a buffalo and fared sumptuously. At length we reached Fort Laramie where we expected relief but when only 24 lbs. of dried Buffalo meat could be had at any price it looked rather blue. We could not now go back. We could not stay nor could we cross the prairie land without something to eat. Another council was called and we decided to go ahead and depend on the Buffalo, so away we went.
Near Scotts Bluffs, about forty miles from Laramie we got a genuine snow storm, freezing nine mules to death and generally demoralizing the balance. Besides, to add to our trouble, the snow which was about eight inches on the level, had covered up the grass and driven the Buffalo to the hills, where, with our jaded animals we could not reach them. But we went on. In the course of the day William Maxwell and others succeeded in wounding an old blind bull that was too decrepit to go off with the rest. After some time was spent they finally killed him, camp was made and Mr. Buffalo utilized. He was roasted on Buffalo chips, fried and boiled, but no matter how cooked, he was pronounced "tough". In fact, a close inspection, made by our scientific man decided him to be one of the Buffalo left by "Noah" from the ark in the early day. But whether Noah passed over this region or not history is very silent. We had now left the timber line and were dependent on , what was termed, "Buffalo Chips" for fuel, and that under eight inches of snow. But we lived and dug out fuel, made fires and roasted the old anti-deluvian bull and moved on.
After many days of starving and roasted bull meat, in frozen snow, we saw the timber on the head of Grand Island in the Platte River. Here one of D. P. Rainey's donkeys decided he would go no farther. After a hurried consultation, I was told to drive him into camp and Grand Island and they would kill him and thus draw the wolves from which we would get our supper. The idea of wolf meat for supper was a great inducement so I willingly consented to try and bring him into camp. The camp moved on and Mr. Donkey seemed to change his mind for he pricked up his ears and took the trail after them, so I had little to do, only follow.
At camp when I arrived, Elisha Averett and Abram Hunsacker took the poor donkey from me, put a rope around his neck and armed with their old flint-lock muskets led him off to the nearest tree where he was shot, hung up and skinned for the benefit of the wolves. But the fact was it froze as fast as the hide was taken off and no wolves were in sight to shoot. About this time D. Q. Dennett, a very aged veteran, getting tired of waiting for wolves, took his knife and cut off a large piece from the donkey's ribs and threw it on the fire. The stench was immense, the camp was electrified and in a few moments "poor donkey" was on the fire roasting and men cutting off slices and eating it as it cooked.
Here was a discovery. Nobody had thought of eating donkeys or mules until this experience, but after which we always had a mule for supper and no questions asked only that it was the poorest. A few days brought us to the Loup Fork of the Platte and further trouble. The river (a quick-sandy bottom) had frozen over except for a few feet in the center and that was washed out until it was deep enough to float a steamboat. After testing it, we decided to keep down on this side of the river to the Paronee Reservation and there possibly get a boat. But, after three days hard traveling through snow and ice we got opposite the reservation but found it deserted and no boat. Then we had to stop and wait for the river to freeze up.
The weather was intensely cold and the river full of floating ice. By cutting some cottonwood trees and tying them in the channel the mush ice was arrested and began to congeal. But it required around a week before it was considered safe to cross.
On the morning appointed to cross a band of several hundred "Pawnee" Indians pounced down upon us and showed war-like intentions. After coming into camp and finding mule's heads and 'lights' lying around loose they seemed to change their minds, became friendly, took some of the boys home with them, feasted them on fat dog meat then loaded them with corn, wild turkeys, etc. From there to Winter Quarters on the Missouri River we had no further trouble, only wading through snow and slush and eating mules (which by this time had become second nature). We arrived a day or two before Christmas 1847. Here we found all our folks disbanded and settled into quiet life.
Now our troubles appeared to multiply. We could not eat enough to satisfy our appetites without being sick. But finally, after a week or ten days we began to be naturalized and acted as other folks.
Having become acclimated, I took a stroll about town, which I found nicely laid off in streets, but the houses were simply "rude huts" and "dug-outs" located on the west bank of the Missouri River. Every thing had the appearance of a camp yet all was bustle and business. An old fashioned flat-bottomed boat was plying between Winter Quarters and the eastern shore, and there seemed to be much travel. On inquiring, I found that the largest part of the Emigration had located and built the town of Kanesville, Cutterville, Keg Creek and many other settlements on the eastern side of the river. In January my parents moved to a little town called Summer Quarters about half a days drive above Winter Quarters, where we put our mules on what was designated the "Rush Bottoms" of the Missouri River. Here we wintered and in the Spring moved back, crossed the river and moved on a farm near Keg Creek with a view to prepare to move to Salt lake Valley another year. We traded mules for oxen and sent teams across the Plains to help emigration.
Later it fell to my lot to go out on the Plains and drive a team for the "afterwards famous" company of John D. Lee. We traveled in President Young's company and arrived on the upper crossing of the Sweet Water to be near South Pass in September 1848 where we met teams from Salt Lake Valley. Here we unloaded and started back.
I had three yoke of oxen and a wagon to go back with. Nothing of note occurred more than usual, except while encamped at Independence Rock, on the Sweet Water some seventy five head of our oxen managed to elude the guard and started on some time in the night. In the morning, great was the consternation in camp in yoking-up. Some found all of their oxen gone, and as they did not take to the road, but struck through the hills, visions of Indians were seen by some, while others thought they had only strayed away. Finally, this opinion prevailed. We, then divided up and moved camp, while a few of the "brave" took the trail of the oxen.
We traveled on to the North Platte and found our lost oxen and the men awaiting us. They had simply got restless and started on the homeward trip, taking a cut-off through the hills, while we traveled several days around. This proved their instinct was great for home. Of course, we were pleased to get our oxen. We yoked them up and set out for Missouri in joy not having lost any.
On getting home I spent the winter in school and my father went to St. Joseph, Missouri to work for more outfits for the trek to Salt Lake Valley. In the spring of 1849, not having the necessary outfit, my father deemed it wise to tarry another year. Consequently in the summer of 1849, he moved the family to St. Joseph, Missouri and settled in an old log house about a mile out of town where I got a job cutting hay and hauling it into town and done well for a boy.
In the winter we moved nearer town and my father got work at a good salary in a pork packing house as a civil engineer while I was employed as a roustabout at $1.25. I had not been long at this work before two of the lard cutters got 'drunk' Saturday night and failed to show up Monday morning. When the Boss and owner of the packing house came around he set me to do their work temporarily. I soon cleared the block and kept up easily. When he came back in the afternoon with two men to take their places he asked me where all that lard was. When I told him it was chopped up and in the kettle rendering, he inquired who had helped me. Finding I had done it myself he turned and said, "I have paid two men for years to do that work. If you choose to do it alone your wages will be $2.50 per day". Of course I chose, as it was an easy job to keep up with the trimmers, and I held the job all winter. This shows that while working for an outfit to gather to the Valley, men were often blessed beyond expectations.
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