CHAPTER XVI - LEE GOES TO SANTA FE
We got into camp the next day. After striking camp I noticed that a tire was gone from one of the wagons. A few days afterwards the mother of my first wife went down to a stream near by and caught a number of fine fish; on her way back to the camp she found the missing tire. It had rolled nearly three hundred yards from the road, and was lying where it stopped.
The people began cutting hay and stacking it, so as to be prepared for feeding our stock during the winter.
One night, in the latter part of September, I dreamed that Lieut. James Pace, of Company E, Mormon Battalion, then on its way to New Mexico, stood at my tent door, and said Col. Allen, commanding the Mormon battalion, was dead. I saw him plainly in my dream; after he gave the information he started back to his camp, and later a man, who always kept his back towards me, went from our encampment with him. I saw him and his companion, and all they did on their way back to Santa Fe, their dangers from the Indians, and all that took place. From first to last in my vision the comrade of Pace kept his back my way. Pace's companion, as affairs turned out, was myself.
The next evening I went, as was usual, with Brigham and Dr. Willard Richardson, the Church historian, to attend a Council at Heber C Kimball's camp. After the meeting was over and we were going back to our tents I said to Brigham:
"We will find Lieut. Pace at my tent when we get there."
"How do you know that?" said he. I then told him my dream, and we walked on.
When we got in sight of the tent there stood Lieut. James Pace, just as I had seen him in my dream. This did not surprise me, for I knew he would come. Brigham said:
"What on earth has brought you back?" He replied:
"Col. Allen is dead. The battalion is without a commander, and I have returned by order of the officers to report to you, and ask you who shall now lead us."
"Why did you not elect one of your captains?" said Brigham.
"The officers prefer to let Col. Smith, of the United States army, lead us, if you will consent to it. But some of our men object, so I came for orders from you."
The matter was taken under advisement by Brigham until next morning. In the morning he came to me in my tent and said:
"John, how would you like to go back with Brother Pace and get the remittances of the soldiers?" I said:
"My family is large, I have no houses for them; they are without provisions, and I have no means to shelter them from the winter storms. I have not hay cut to feed my stock through the winter. I must attend to keeping my stock in order or I will have nothing left to take me and my family over the plains next spring. But," said I, "there is no one more willing to sacrifice himself and his own interests for the benefit of the Church than I am."
Brigham waited and heard me through; then he said:
"Thus sayeth the Lord. You shall go, my son. Prosperity shall attend you during your absence, and you shall return in safety; not a hair of your head shall be hurt."
"It is enough to know your will; I will go. But who will take care of my family in my absence?"
"I will see to your family, and attend to all you are interested in during your absence," said Brigham.
At that, I was satisfied, and proceeded to carry out Brigham's will. I had cut considerable hay in company with the brethren, but as it had to be divided, I felt sure I would not have much to my share, especially after I had divided with the lazy poor. I never went much on this copartnership system of labor. There are always a number who will not work, and yet they are always present when there is a division to be made of the proceeds of the labor.
Joseph the Prophet classed the poor into three divisions. He said:
"There are three kinds of poor. The Lord's poor, the devil's poor, and the poor devils." I never objected to share with the Lord's poor, but when it came to dividing with the devil's poor and the poor devils, it was more than I desired; it took away the profits.
My outfit for the intended journey to Santa Fe consisted of a snug light wagon, a span of good mules, a spyglass, and such guns and traps as a man needs on the plains. I also took Dr. Willard's dog with me to watch while I was asleep. I was ordered to keep my business secret from everyone, for fear of being robbed on my return home. I was not allowed to even tell my wives where I was going, or how long I would be gone. I went to St. Joseph, Missouri, and put up at John Green's, and stayed while fitting out for the trip.
While there I met Luke Johnson, one of the witnesses to the Book of Mormon. I had a curiosity to talk with him concerning the same. We took a walk on the river bank. I asked him if the statement he had signed as to seeing the angel and the plates was true, and whether he did see the plates from which the Book of Mormon was printed or translated. He declared it to be true. I then said:
"How is it you have left the Church? If the angel appeared to you, and you saw the plates, how can you live out of the Church? I understand that you were one of the twelve apostles at the first organization of the Church?"
"I was of the twelve," said he; "I have not denied the truth of the Book of Mormon. I and several others were overtaken in a fault at Kirtland, Ohio - Wm. Smith, Oliver Cowdrey, one or two others, and myself. We were brought up for the offense before the Church authorities. Sidney Rigdon and Wm. Smith were excused, and the matter hushed up. But Cowdrey and myself were proceeded against and our choice given us between making a public confession or being dropped from the Church. I refused to make the public confession unless Rigdon and Smith did the same. The authorities said that that would not do, for Rigdon was counselor to the Prophet, and Wm. Smith the brother of the Prophet, and also one of the twelve; but that if Cowdrey and I confessed, it would be a cloak for the other two. I considered this unjust and unfair. I left the Church for that reason. But I have reflected much since that time, and have come to the conclusion that each man is accountable for his own sins; also that the course I have been pursuing injures me alone, and I intend to visit the Saints and again ask to be admitted into the Church. Rigdon has gone to destruction, and Wm. Smith is not much better off to-day than I am."
This conversation was a comfort to me.
We went to Fort Leavenworth, where we learned that Col. Smith had taken command of the battalion and marched away with it. Lieut. Pace got another good horse here, and what oats and provisions we needed. We then struck out after the command.
We overtook the battalion on the Arkansas River about fifty miles below Bent's Fort. Our brethren were rejoiced to see us. Many had grievances to relate, and all had much to tell and inquire about. That morning they had buried one of the battalion named Phelps. The men said his death was caused by arsenic which the doctor had forced him to take. They claimed that Colonel Smith was a tyrant - that he was not the man that Col. Allen had been. The command was on the march when we came up with it. There was a fifty-mile desert before us, and little water on the route.
Col. Allen had allowed the men to pray with and for each other when sick and had not compelled them to take medicine when they did not want it. But Col. Smith deprived them of their religious rights and made them obey the doctor's orders at all times. The doctor examined the sick every morning and made them take medicine. When they refused to take it they were compelled to walk; if unable to walk and keep up with the others they were tied to the wagons like animals. The doctor was called "Death"; he was known to all by that name.
While traveling along, Capt. Hunt, of Company A, introduced Col. Smith to me. I invited them to ride in my wagon. They got in, and I soon brought up the subject of the treatment of the troops adopted by Col. Allen, and spoke of its good influence over them. I said the men loved Col. Allen, and would have died for him, because he respected their religious rights. I said they were volunteers, and not regular troops; that they were not used to military discipline, and felt that they were oppressed. They had lost confidence in their officers. I referred to the ill- treatment of the men, and talked freely.
Capt. Hunt got angry and jumped from the wagon. He said that I talked like an insane man rather than a man of sense. The Colonel said that he was willing to give up the command to the choice of the battalion. I said he had better keep it until we arrived at Santa Fe, but for his own sake to ease up on the boys.
That evening Capt. Hunt sent a delegation to inform me that I was inciting the command to mutiny, and must stop or he would have me under arrest. I asked where he was going to find his men to put me under guard - that he could not locate them in that command, and if he doubted my word he had better try. The Captain knew I was right, and the matter ended. I told the Colonel I would encourage the men to obedience until we reached Santa Fe. The troops were better treated after that.
On the march water was scarce; I saw a man offer sixteen dollars for a coffeepot of water on the desert. I walked most of the time, and let the sick ride in my wagon. When we reached the Spanish settlements we got water, pepper, onions, corn, sheep, goats, and other articles of food.
We reached Santa Fe in the midst of a snow storm. All the Mormons were pleased to find that honest Missourian, Col. Doniphan, in command at that place. He had a humane nature. The sick and disabled men of the battalion were sent to a Spanish town called Taos, under charge of Capt. Brant, for care and rest.
Soon after reaching Santa Fe Col. Philip St. John Cook took command of the battalion. The soldiers were paid off, and Howard Egan, who had accompanied me, was given one-half the checks and money donated by the soldiers for Brigham and Heber C. Kimball, and the remainder was given to me to carry back to winter quarters. I remained in camp ten days to recruit my mules, because I could not purchase any there. The army had taken everything.
Lieut. Gully desired to return with me, and it was necessary to obtain permission for him to resign before he could do so. I went to the commander, stated the situation to him, and asked that Lieut. Gully be permitted to resign. The commander granted my request. The Lieutenant had been acting Commissary of Subsistence, and had to make up his papers before he could start. I waited until he was ready to go with me. I also took Russell Stevens with me, as he had been discharged on account of ill health.
While thus waiting I was troubled with Egan, for he got drunk every day, and I feared he would be robbed. I had Stevens watch him most of the time. By closely guarding him I kept him and the money safe. Col. Doniphan said I should have a guard to protect us through the Indian country, but animals could not be procured. I took the necessary trouble and got as good a team as I could to start back with. With the consent of the commander I bought a large mule, which after much trouble was able to work with one of my own.
While we were in camp at Santa Fe the doctor was robbed. His trunk was stolen, carried out of camp, and broken open. Two gold watches and some money were taken from it. Two mules were also stolen the same night. I knew nothing of this, nor who did it, until long afterwards. After we had started for home, Stevens suddenly brought in the mules. He brought them to camp and said they were his. Stevens and Egan robbed the doctor, but they never acknowledged it to me.
About the 11th of October, 1846, we started for home over a wilderness twelve hundred miles wide, every foot of it infested with Indians. We camped in the mountains at Gold Springs, where little particles of gold can be seen on the bottom of the streams. Egan and Stevens did not join us until we were fifty miles from Santa Fe. They had the doctor's mules and a Spanish horse with them when they came up.
When we had traveled ninety miles I discovered that my mules were failing. The little flesh that was on them was soft and would not last, for we had not fed them any grain. It is difficult to recruit mules on the desert grass, for it is very short generally, and the immense herds of buffalo ranging over the country keep the grass short. At the last Spanish town we passed through I sent Egan to buy a span of mules. That night Egan and Stevens came to camp with two miserable little beasts. I said:
"What on earth have you brought those poor brutes for?"
"We cabbaged them; it was the best we could do," said Egan.
Then I told him that I was on a mission of duty, and trusted in God, and I would not permit him to bring stolen animals to the camp. I sent him back with the mules at once.
"My trust is in God, and not in the devil. We shall go on, while you take back the mules, and leave them where you got them."
At Moro Station, on the Las Animas, the last camp we would find until we reached the eastern edge of the plains, we found a large, fat mule that belonged to the Government. Lieut. Gully gave the station keeper, a young man, a receipt for the mule, and we took it with us, as we were, in one sense, in Government employ. We were carrying a mail, and on general business for the Government. This was a fine, gentle mule. I called her Friendship. When the other animals grew weak I fastened the doubletree to the axle, and thus Friendship alone hauled the wagon fully three hundred miles.
At the Cimmaron Springs we met a company of traders from St. Louis, with a train of thirty-eight wagons. One of their wagons was loaded with pitch-pine wood for cooking purposes. It was raining, and a regular plains storm was coming on. These storms are sometimes tremendously destructive. A train had been overtaken at this same place the year before, and nearly all of the animals perished. I counted one hundred and ninety skeletons of mules that had died in that storm. Many of the men also died. The storm took place ten days earlier in the season than did the one which then threatened us.
We were invited to his camp by the captain; the others went, but I stayed in my wagon to write up an account of the trip, which I was obliged to keep by order of Brigham. Capt. Smith came to my wagon and gave me a drink of fine brandy. He invited us to take supper and breakfast with him, which we did. He asked me if I was not afraid to travel with so small a company, and said the Indians were on the warpath, committing depredations all along the road; that he had a large train, yet did not consider himself safe. I answered:
"My trust is in God, not in numbers."
This led to a conversation on religious subjects. When I told him who I was, and stated my belief to him, he was much interested in the Mormon doctrine. At supper he gave us everything to eat that could be desired. The Captain put up a large tent over my wagon to protect it from the storm and wind.
The next morning the storm was over and we made an early start. The Captain gave me a cheese, a sack of butter crackers, sardines, and many other matters which were of value to us on our journey over the plains. He also gave me his name, age, and place of residence in St. Louis, writing it in a little blank book which he presented me. He then gave me five dollars in gold, shook hands, and said:
"Remember me in coming days," and we parted.
At the Cimmaron crossing of the Arkansas River we met several companies of Missouri troops. They informed us that Capt. Mann, with three companies, had been attacked by a body of Southern Pawnee and Cheyenne Indians; that the troops were defeated and lost seven killed, with a number wounded; that three of the men had come for help; that Capt. Mann had lost all of his animals except the three that the messengers escaped with; that the men only had a small supply of ammunition, and shot it all away before they retreated. Reinforcements had gone to their assistance and would bring in the command.
They insisted that we stop with them, saying it was madness to attempt to go on. I told them that my trust was in God, my business urgent, and we could not stop. We went forward twelve miles, when we met the troops bringing in the wounded and the remnant of the men who had been engaged with Capt. Mann in the late Indian fight; they also insisted that we return with them. They said there were eight hundred mounted Indians not more than two miles back, following up the rearguard, and that we would be massacred unless we returned with them. I admit that the prospect looked dark. Still I felt impressed to push on.
Along this river, while it runs in nearly a level country and with no timber within a hundred miles, there are many washes and gullies that sometimes run out perhaps a mile from the river. Often these washes, which are quite deep, caused the road to twist round them, thus forcing one to travel a couple of miles to gain two hundred yards in distance. It was near one of these washes that we met the last of the troops.
We stopped at the point where the road turned back to the river. My comrades were in doubt what to do. I felt that the danger was great. While debating the matter in my mind, my dream that I had the night when I saw Lieut. Pace at my tent door came fresh before me. I saw the whole situation.
While studying upon this matter I heard a voice - an audible voice - say:
"John, leave the road and follow me,"
The voice appeared to be about twenty feet in front of me, and the same distance from the earth. I was startled, for no human being was there who could have spoken thus to me. I said to Lieut. Gully:
"Did you hear that voice?"
"No," said he.
"What shall we do?" I asked.
"You are intrusted with this mission; follow your impressions and all will be right," he said.
From that moment I felt an invisible power which led me out upon the plains, away from roads or trails.
We went about half a mile, when we came to a low basin, which entirely hid us from the road. This basin contained about one acre of ground, and was covered with good grass. I felt impelled to stop there, and did so. It was then about 1 o'clock, p. m.
Soon after halting we saw a cloud of dust made by a large herd of buffaloes running from the river where they had gone for water and had been frightened by Indians. We did not see the Indians, for we were protected by our position. We stayed there and let our animals eat grass for about one hour and a half. We then drove on, following my invisible guide, in an easterly direction, over a country entirely strange to me. We traveled until after dark, when we came to a wash which my spirit guide directed me to follow to the river. I did so, and came to the very spot where the Indians had attacked Capt. Mann that morning. Fragments of the train lay scattered over the plain.
Our mules were frightened at the smell of the blood. We watered our animals, and filled our canteens. The night was still and the least noise echoed and re-echoed through the river canyons, until it made the place more than fearful for people in our situation. We traveled until near midnight, when we turned out our animals, tied the dog to the wagon tongue, to give us a guard, and then lay down and slept until daylight.
We never camped near watering places, nor near the trail. Our reasons for camping away from water, and at least half a mile from the trail, were to avoid the Indians. We never had a fire at night.
The next day we found a fat young mule, with all its harness on. It had been frightened during the battle and broken way from the command. It was fully forty miles from the battleground. I was in need of fresh animals, for mine were nearly worn out. The finding of this mule gave me renewed confidence in God, and strengthened my belief that He was leading us.
The next day we moved in the same direction. The heavy rains had made the grass good. Buffalo were constantly in sight. We followed our course three days, when we struck the trail at a stream called Walnut Creek.
Here we found an Indian encampment; the Indians were on a buffalo hunt. We crossed the creek and camped, concluding to cook our supper and let our animals eat and rest. It was no use trying to escape from the Indians; they had seen us and could capture us if they wished to do so. I felt that the best plan was to appear easy and without fear.
Soon after camping, a band of over fifty warriors surrounded us. I offered to shake hands, but they refused. I offered them pins and needles and some calico that I had purchased to trade with the Spaniards. They took my proffered gifts and dashed them on the ground. I began to feel that, although we had been delivered from former dangers, our time had come. I remarked to Lieut. Gully, who was a true and faithful man:
"Pray in your heart to God, and ask Him to turn away the ire of these people. They have been abused by white men and soldiers. They think we are of that class, and only friendly because we are in their power; if they knew who we are, and that we have been sent to preach the gospel to them, and teach them its truths through the Book of Mormon, they would die sooner than see us hurt."
An elderly Indian turned to a noble young buck. They talked some time, and would occasionally point to me. Then they dismounted and came nearer us. The old man raised his voice and talked in a loud tone and rapid manner to his men for five or ten minutes. The young buck then spoke to me in English, much to our surprise. He said:
"Young man, this is my father. He is Hard Robe, the war chief of the Osage Indians. I have been educated in the East. We came here with the intention of scalping you all. This tribe has been abused by what my father calls the palefaces, though he wishes to be friendly with them. When a small part of this nation comes in contact with a larger force of palefaces, they are shot and abused; but when the Indians have the advantage, the palefaces want to be friends. We thought you were of that class, but now my father is satisfied you are good men. I have read the Book of Mormon to him and to our tribe. I got the book from a preacher who was in the Cherokee Nation. My father wishes me to say to you that you shall not be hurt. If you need dried buffalo meat you can have all you want. Do not be afraid, we will not harm you, but you must remain here until morning, otherwise you might fall in with some of my father's braves, who, not knowing who you are, would attack you. If you stay until morning I shall go with you until you are out of danger."
To this I replied that we must go on; that we had letters from the Mormon Battalion to their friends at home, and must go at once. The young man told the chief what I said. The chief replied through the young warrior:
"If you cannot stay, I will send word to the other chiefs not to hurt you. They may not see you, as they are away from the trail, but I will send runners to tell them to let you pass in peace."
We thanked him, and I told him I was raised among the Delawares and Cherokees; that when a child I used to play with them before they were removed to this country, and was still their friend.
The chief then asked if we wanted any dried meat. I told him no, that I preferred fresh meat. I saw a buffalo near by, and asked them to kill it, and bring me some of the meat. One of the Indians rode for the buffalo at full speed of his pony. The well- trained beast stopped when near the buffalo, and the Indian shot it down; then he jumped from his saddle and cut out a piece of the hump, and returned with it before we were ready to start. I gave the Indians what trinkets we had and started on again. It was now after sunset.
Here was another manifestation of Almighty God. I felt so grateful for our deliverance that I could not restrain my tears of gratitude. I care not what people may call me. I know there is a just God, and a Rewarder of those who diligently seek Him. I know that my Redeemer liveth and I shall see Him for myself and not for another. Though the day of my execution be now at hand - four days only are given me to continue this story of my life - my trust is in that Arm that cannot be broken. Though men may err, and cruelly betray each other unto death, nevertheless the hope of my calling in Christ Jesus, my Lord, is the same with me. I shall rest in peace. However, I must not destroy the thread of my narrative. I must continue, to the end that my story live when I am no more.
The next day two Indians came to us, but they could not talk English, and we could not speak their tongue, so we had no conversation. I am certain from the actions of the two Indians that the old chief had kept his word with us and notified his tribe to let us go in safety.
On reaching the Pawnee Fork, a tributary of the Arkansas, we found Capt. Bullard's train of thirty wagons. They lay by all day searching for eight mules that had been stampeded by the Indians, although picketed and closely guarded. The company could not find a trace of them.
The men were a rough, boisterous set, and, while our animals were weary, I concluded that it was best to go further before camping. It was raining, but that made traveling better, for the country was sandy.
We camped that night at Ash Creek. We now felt that we were over the worst of our dangers, but we still had enough of trials before us to keep the expedition from becoming a pleasure trip.
Next morning our riding animals were unable to travel. They refused to go on. I went to God in prayer and laid our case before Him, and asked that He open up the path for our deliverance. That night I dreamed that I was exceedingly hungry and had little to eat, when several ears of large, solid corn were handed me by an angel, who said:
"This will meet your needs until you are where there is plenty."
The ears of corn were of different colors; one ear was jet black, but perfectly sound; one was red, and one was yellow. I was much pleased with the corn and felt there was not much danger of suffering now. The next morning our animals still looked bad; only two of our riding animals could raise a trot. Lieut. Gully said that unless God soon sent us some fresh animals we would have to give up.
"We will not give up," said I. "God has protected us thus far and we will trust in Him - in the eleventh hour of our trouble He will aid us. We will find help to-day."
"I hope so," said he. "Have you been dreaming again?"
Thereupon I related my dream about the corn, and said that I thought the ears of corn meant mules.
After prayer (we always kneeled in prayer, night and morning) we started on our way. The mules could hardly travel.
We had gone about six miles when we saw fresh tracks made by shod animals, that appeared to be dragging long ropes and pins. The tracks were following the trail and going in the same direction that we were traveling. We had a long down grade before us. The plain was dotted here and there with herds of buffalo. I halted and with my spyglass took a careful survey of the country. My efforts were rewarded by the sight of mules feeding among the buffalo.
We went on until we arrived as close to them as we could go without leaving the trail. We called a halt, turned our mules loose, then spread out the oilcloth that I used to feed the mules on, and scattered a little of the grain we had left on the cloth. The strange mules saw it, and came running to get a feed of grain. We got hold of the ropes that were on the necks of four of the mules and tied them together.
There was a black mare mule that was quite shy, but I finally caught the rope that was on her neck. The mule at that came at me with her ears turned back and mouth open. She caught me by the arm and bit me severely, then turned and ran away. Lieut. Gully said:
"Let her go, she will kill some of us."
"No, we will not let her go," said I.
Again I caught her, and she made for me again, but I caught the rope near the end where it was fastened to an iron pin, and struck her a blow with the pin, which knocked her down. I then placed my knee on her neck, and caught her by the nose with my hands. I held her in this way until a bridle was put on her, after which we were able to manage her easily. I hitched this wild mule to the wagon by the side of Friendship. We now had fresh riding animals, and turned our jaded ones loose, and drove them before us.
At Kane Creek we lost the mule that I got from the soldiers in Santa Fe. It drank more of the alkali water than was good for it; we left it on the plains and went our way. We saw so many fresh Indian signs that we knew we had no time to stay and doctor sick mules. A few nights later I saw a large body of Indians among the cedars on a mountain, not far off, but our lucky star was guiding us, for soon we met three hundred soldiers, with whom we camped that night. The force was so strong that the Indians did not attack us. Next day we met soldiers frequently, and every few hours thereafter we encountered troops until we reached Fort Leavenworth.
It was storming hard when we got to St. Joseph, Missouri. We put up at a hotel, but before our animals were in a stable Eagan was gone. I could not find him that night, albeit we searched for him diligently. I was afraid he would be robbed; but he happened to meet honest men, as drunkards will, who put him in bed, and kept him and his money in safety until morning. After leaving St. Joseph, where we had purchased a lot of supplies, we started for winter quarters; we had to go through six feet of snow the whole distance.
We reached our friends. I had two hundred dollars, of which the soldiers had made me a present. I took three of the mules we had found on the way, and divided the others between my companions. We reached winter quarters, now called Florence, on the 15th day of December, 1846. The snow was deep, and my family, all living in tents, were in a suffering condition. But I must report to Brigham, then attend to my family. My family received me as they always did, with open arms and thankful hearts.