Lydia Knight's History / The First Book of the Noble Women's Lives

by Susa Young Gates

"Yes, James, but God will always help those to be independent who earnestly desire to be so. We will be blessed in the future as we have been in the past."

It was thus decided to get ready to move westward with Bishop Hunter's company, and Lydia very rapidly completed her preparations for the long journey across the plains. Under Bishop Hunter's advice she sold, for a small sum of money, the yoke of oxen that had returned the previous year from the valley, and turned the proceeds into a little fund for the outfit.

A brother, named Grover, whom she had known in Kirtland, and had been friendly with all through the various moves of the Saints, hearing of her destitute circumstances, and that she was about to emigrate to the valley, came in one day and gave her twenty-five dollars in cash.

She also sold the little cabin and piece of land for about twenty dollars, receiving her pay in corn.

This corn was prepared for the journey in a very odd manner. The children spent many days in parching it; after which it was taken to the mill and ground up. This was done by the advice of President Young, in order to preserve the meal sweet and good. The greater part of the corn was thus prepared; but Lydia carried some meal unparched. She bought a sack of flour weighing one hundred pounds, and thus had for the journey about seven or eight hundred pounds of flour and meal together parched and unparched. A few pounds of dried fish, some soap, eight or ten pounds of sugar, a few matches and a little soda, formed the grocery stores. Her medicine chest consisted solely of a bottle of consecrated oil.

One pair of shoes and a stout, home-made suit or dress with a better one for Sunday use for each of the children; a good shawl for herself and warm wraps for the little ones, made up the scanty wardrobe. But she had quite a good supply of bedding which was of great service to her on the journey. A little stove was set up in the wagon to keep them warm, and a little rocking-chair in the front end of the wagon for Lydia to sit in, were among her selections for the trip. However, she soon found that even these supplies would not go in the wagon, and give room for the seven little ones. Although but twelve years of age, James walked most of the way to the valley and drove the oxen, while Joseph, Newel and Sally walked a great part of the way; but even then, a place must be found for the three smaller ones, beside the mother. So after talking the matter over a great deal, Lydia concluded to yoke up two of her cows on lead of one yoke of oxen, and put the odd cow and the other yoke of oxen on some wagon belonging to the company, the owner of which would allow her to have the use of part of the wagon for her share. Bro. Cluff offered to let Lydia put her cow and oxen on one of his wagons, and partly load the wagon with her things, he having one of his boys to drive. Bro. Cluff was pretty well off, had ten or twelve boys, and was well able to assist the widow.

Lydia found herself ready about the 1st of June, 1850, and started with Bro. Cluff 's folks, traveling as far as Salt River, and then halting for the rest of the company to come up. In about two weeks, the whole company was gathered, organized and ready to start. As was the custom, the party was divided into companies of one hundred; then subdivided into fifties, which were again divided into companies of ten. Bishop Hunter was the presiding captain, and Jesse Haven was the captain of the ten in which were Lydia and her friends, the Cluffs.

For many days they traveled upon the prairie, a level sea of waving green, without a mound or hill to rest the weary eye. After striking the Platte river, they followed it up for hundreds of miles. Sometimes they would reach a little grove of trees, sometimes some brush, or a little driftwood caught in a snag in the river. This was all the wood the camp ever found while on the prairie; and the prudent widow always carefully laid by some wood in her wagon to serve when there was none where they camped.

For very many miles the train moved along the plains up the Platte river, which were then called the "buffalo country." Often in the distance they would see herds of these creatures. One day, they were traveling in a little more hilly part of the country, and became aware that the hills were covered with thousands of these herds. What was thought at first to be trees, turned out to be a moving mass of buffalos; and upon the head wagons getting near enough to see, they found that some of these immense herds were crossing from the hills down to the river to water. A halt had to be called, and some hours were spent waiting for the road to be cleared for a passage.

It was here in this "buffalo country," that the famous stampedes of the animals were wont to take place. Without one second's warning, every ox and cow in the whole train would start to run, and go almost like a shot out of a gun. No matter how weary, or how stupid they were, when one made the spring, the remainder of the horned stock were crazed with fear. On, on, they would go for miles, and seemed unable to stop until headed and brought back to camp. One day while slowly plodding along beneath the burning, sultry sun, the start was made, and as every wagon was drawn by oxen or cows, away went cattle, wagons and inmates; tin and brass pails, camp-kettles and coffee-pots jingling merrily behind and underneath the wagons where they were tied; children screaming, everything that was loose flying out as they bumped along; over the untrodden prairie flew the maddened cattle, nearer and nearer to the river bank, which was here a precipice of twenty-five feet down to the water. Women, seeing their danger, sobbed out wild prayers for God to save; men ran and shouted to no avail; when suddenly over the plumy grass flies a horseman, spurring and screaming to his quivering, panting horse; mothers clasp their frightened babes in their arms, and prepare to face their watery grave. But the rider is up with the head team, and just as the head wagons are within ten feet of the deadly bank, he turns them aside and they are saved.