The Fugitive Son (12 page)

“Is it that bad?” she questioned him. “The Montgomerys warned me a little about how Brigham Young ruled Utah Territory and was defying the president, but I thought it was simply a small misunderstanding.” Elsie gazed across the river to where other steamships lay at anchor. She breathed in the rich, fresh air that had taken over as soon as the belching smokestacks had quit polluting the skies for a night of rest.

“Small misunderstanding? I think not,” Sam said with a dry chuckle. “You’re headed into a veritable war zone. Why, the papers back East are full of news of the situation. Even Stephen Douglas, who used to side with the Mormons, is now opposing them. He lambasted them in several speeches lately. Most of the country is certain that the Mormons are trying to set up their own kingdom, ruled by Ol’ Brigham.”

Sam looked at Elsie intently. “How close is your trip going to come to Utah? A pretty young thing like you wouldn’t stand a chance among those female-hungry polygamists.”

A blush crept up Elsie’s cheeks. “I declare, I’d never marry a Mormon!” she protested. “Besides, I’ll be taking the Santa Fe Trail, so I can stay clear of Utah.”

“You’ll still have to be careful,” Sam admonished. “I don’t want to scare you, but make sure you have plenty of menfolk to help get you across Kansas. There’ll be soldiers, thousands of them. But a lot of bandits, ruffians, and gangsters are out there, too – roaming the woods looking for stray slaves they can sell or pretty girls they can kidnap to do their cookin’.”

Elsie shivered. “I’m hoping we can get passage with a freighter or mail coach.”

“We? So you won’t be alone? That’s good to hear.” Sam wiped his forehead in an exaggerated gesture.

Elsie giggled. “Isaac, one of the men from our plantation, will be with me.”

“A slave?” Sam frowned. “That could make things a whole lot more troublesome for you in Kansas. He will have a lot of opportunities to escape – and plenty of abolitionists would be only too happy to help him.” Sam took a step back and looked her over thoughtfully. “On the other hand, there could be some unscrupulous slavers who might see some profit in depriving you of his services so they can sell him to someone else.”

As she prepared for bed, Elsie was filled with a growing unease as Sam’s warning echoed in her thoughts. She shook her head as if trying to chase the fears away.
Worrying isn’t trusting,
she thought, reciting her mother’s answer to every trouble.
God, please grant both Isaac and me your protection. And teach me to trust you no matter my circumstances.

When they finally pulled into the dock at Kansas City, Elsie sought out Isaac from among the deckhands who were unloading whiskey, sugar, tobacco, and the personal cargo of the passengers. At a penny a pound freight charge, she was thankful she had decided to only bring a few family treasures she couldn’t trust to anyone else. She would purchase here in Kansas City the items to sell at her mercantile.

Spotting Isaac across the dock, she “yahooed” to him, meeting him at the gangplank. “Miss Elsie!” He grinned widely. “Where do we go from here?”

“We have a lot of business to conduct,” she replied. “Best we find a lodging where we can store our things, then get to a livery to pick up our wagon and mules, and hire some reliable drovers.”

As Isaac turned to lead the way, Elsie tugged on his sleeve and looked furtively at the people crowding around them. “Best keep your wits about you,” she whispered, relaying Sam’s warning from the night before.

It seemed everyone in Kansas City was preparing to go out West. Elsie tapped her dainty shoes while standing in line at place after place. Her plans to hook up with a mail company were dashed when they refused to sell her a ticket. “No, ma’am,” the agent told her. “We don’t take wagons with us on the mail run. Slows us down too much. You’ll have the same trouble trying to get a stage. Your best hope is to find a wagon train going out to California via the Santa Fe Trail.”

After what seemed like hours, she had hired a freight company to haul the huge shipment of goods her brothers had ordered for the mercantile. She purchased provisions, a horse, a mule team, and a wagon that she and Isaac loaded with the few family heirlooms she had brought from River Bend.

After booking passage with a wagon train of miners headed to the gold fields in California, she congratulated herself on her good sense to find a train of men who were taking their families with them. She figured they’d be much safer than most of the gold-seeking ruffians and probably given to much less partying and drinking. And with so many men, the wagon train should also be safer from Indian or outlaw attack. Or so she hoped.

Such thoughts comforted her as she climbed into her wagon. “Goodnight,” she called to Isaac who was fluffing up his bedroll under the wagon. With no lodging to be found anywhere, they had no choice but to sleep in their own wagon, all loaded and ready for an early start the next morning.

Parowan, Utah Territory

P
A CERTAINLY
is a man of few words,
Andy thought as they rode along in silence.
His eloquent speech has won hundreds of converts to the church, but he doesn’t have much to say to me, his eldest son. It’s almost as if he’s ashamed of me. Does he suspect I let Ingrid escape? Or is it possible he’s embarrassed because I didn’t do my duty?

Trying to break the silence, Andy turned to Pa and asked, “How many children does Aunt Hettie have now? I haven’t seen her in years – since I was just a little shaver. I think she just had a couple of young’uns then.”

Pa took his time answering. “Haven’t seen her myself for a year or two. I think we’ve got five or six running around up there in the mountains.”

Andy drew in his breath, aghast at his father’s attitude. “You don’t know how many children you have?” the question escapes his lips of it’s own accord. “What kind of father is that?”

Pa cleared his throat. “Now, look here, boy, you’ve no right to judge me. I’ve spent the past few years preaching around the world, winning souls for the kingdom. I think that qualifies me to produce as many offspring as I want. Look at you – I think I did a pretty good job of fathering you.”

Andy considered that for a moment, then admitted, “Yes, I guess you did. You gave me great opportunities to travel and to grow up strong and steady.” He paused, then bravely opened up a touchy subject. “I’ve often wondered, though, about my mother and baby sister. I mean, did you love them? And why you left them to die alone in Winter Quarters while you and I went off on the exploratory wagons has always perplexed me. Sure, I was thrilled to make the trip, but I always felt guilty about leaving them.”

“Son, you should know by now that when the prophet calls, it’s our duty to answer that call – whatever the personal cost or sacrifice. The Prophet Joseph Smith said repeatedly, ‘When the leaders speak, the thinking has already been done.’ It’s not our privilege to question. It’s our duty to obey.”

Charles paused for a minute before adding, “Besides, I truly believe if God needed me to serve somewhere, it was up to him to take care of those I had to leave behind.”

Realizing he wasn’t going to get an answer to his questions, Andy mused silently.
Did Pa love my mother and sister? Does he love me?
he wondered.
Is Pa capable of loving anyone but the Church?
Disturbed by his thoughts, Andy rode on, trying to enjoy the ever-changing scenery as they ventured further south.

The duo occasionally stopped along a shaded stream to rest the horses and reload their canteens with fresh drinking water, but their conversation was mostly basic comments about their surroundings.

“How much farther is it to Parowan?” Andy finally asked, thinking he sounded like a little kid asking, “Are we there yet?”

“It’s 250 miles from Great Salt Lake City, so I expect we’ll be there in another day or so. The red rocks off in the distance are a good sign we’re coming closer.”

Andy looked toward the colorful cliffs to the east, rising some 10,000 feet in elevation. The mountains were covered with lush forests, striking black lava flows and impressive cliffs and rock formations, dominated by the majestic red spires that rose another thousand feet above them all. He vaguely remembered as a boy climbing among what the locals called “The Castles” the one time he’d come with Pa to visit Aunt Hettie.

The huge jagged spires that pierced the sky, the large open caves the Anasazi had lived in hundreds of years earlier, and the troves of arrowheads and pottery chards all made for great boyhood adventures. For most of the week or so Pa had visited at Aunt Hettie’s, Andy spent all the time he could playing in the Castles.

Spurred by the happy memories, Andy said, “I remember playing on those spires. I was fascinated by the petroglyphs the ancient Indians inscribed on the boulders. There were pictures of snakes, lizards, mousemen, bear claws, and mountain sheep – everything I loved back then!”

“Yes, I remember you used to enjoy playing along the Old Spanish Trail, too, bringing me things you picked up while pretending you were a conquistador,” Pa added. “I never could figure out why Hettie wanted to live so far away from the colony, but she wanted her farm right at the base of the cliffs, ten or twelve miles away from Parowan. Said she needed elbow room. Guess she was right – it was a good place to raise a passel of children.”

The spires and mountains appeared to grow larger each day as the father and son drew nearer. Andy was surprised that he remembered so much about Parowan, considering the short time he had spent there and how many years ago that had been.

The sight of the old iron pits and the town with 400 or 500 inhabitants, situated right at the mouth of Parowan Canyon and surrounded by sagebrush and grasslands, spurred memories from long ago. “About the only thing that’s different,” he said, “are all the trees. They’ve grown a lot since I was here last.”

They stopped at a tiny cabin emblazoned with a sign “Parowan Mercantile” and went in to buy something to drink. “Reckon I oughta pick up a little something for the kiddies,” Pa said, grabbing a handful of candies.

Again, they rode along in silence for the last twelve miles of their journey. They passed a cabin or two along the way, more like hovels than living spaces. When they finally came to Hettie’s place, Andy noted it looked very much like the other settlers’ dilapidated shelters, only it seemed to be much neater and cleaner.

Several poorly dressed boys were clearing weeds from a large garden spot, and a little girl in a sunbonnet stood nearby, feeding a goat. Taking a break from her arduous weeding, a buxom woman stood and brushed a lock of stray hair away from her sweat-stained face. Seeing she had visitors, she dropped the hoe in surprise.

“Charles, what on earth are you doing here?” she asked. In the same breath, she turned to the children, ordering them to clean up a bit in honor of their father’s visit.

“Andy here just returned from a terrible ordeal and the prophet needs a place for him to rest,” Charles informed her. “Brother Brigham suggested I bring him here.”

A bright smile burst across Hettie’s broad, round face, making her look almost pretty. “Of course! Andy, it’s so good to see you!” She gave him a welcoming, motherly hug and invited both men into the cabin for a cold drink. “You must have been on the trail for a long time. Didja come from Salt Lake?”

Charles nodded and stretched. “We’ve been in the saddle so long, I don’t care to see another one for a long while.”

Hettie looked at the man who was considered her husband, the man who came to see her about once a year to “plant another seed.” “So you plan on staying then?”

“We’ll see. Brother Brigham wants Andy to rest up, but I may have to get back to help out in Salt Lake. With all this war talk going on, who knows what might happen.”

Four boys came in, their hair slicked back and their hands freshly washed. Following close behind was the chubby little girl, shyly standing behind the oldest boy, who looked to be about ten years old. Seeing that his father didn’t have a clue to the names or ages of any of them, Andy asked Hettie to introduce him to his brothers and sister. He could only hope his Pa would have enough good sense to catch their names.

“Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John,” she introduced the boys from the tallest to the shortest. “And this little sweetie is Mary.” She pulled Mary from her hiding place behind Matthew and thrust her at Pa. “This is your father, children, and this handsome young man is your big brother Andy.”

Pa flinched and pulled away, making it obvious that he was uncomfortable around children. Regaining his composure, Pa reached in his pocket and awkwardly handed each child a piece of licorice. “Have you been good for your mama?” he asked.

That being the extent of his conversation with his offspring and his wife, Pa rose and headed outdoors, calling over his shoulder, “Probably ought to check on the livestock and the fences while I’m here.”

That’s about the quickest escape from responsibility I’ve ever witnessed,
Andy thought as he watched Pa disappear behind the house.
Maybe Pa just isn’t cut out for parenthood.
He shot Aunt Hettie a sympathetic look, almost in apology for Pa’s rudeness.