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.