At the death of the Patriarch, June 27th, 1844, the care of the family fell upon his widow, Mary Smith. Besides the children there were two old ladies named respectively, Hannah Grinnels, who had been in the family many years, and Margaret Brysen. There was also a younger one, named Jane Wilson, who was troubled with fits and otherwise afflicted, and was, therefore, very dependent, and an old man, named George Mills, who had also been in the family eleven years, and was almost entirely blind and very crabbed. These and others, some of whom had been taken care of by the Patriarch out of charity, were members of the family and remained with them until after they arrived in the valley.

"Old George," as he was sometimes called, had been a soldier in the British army, had never learned to read or write, and often acted upon impulse more than from the promptings of reason, which made it difficult, sometimes, to get along with him, but because he had been in the family so long—through the troubles of Missouri and Illinois—and had lost his eyesight from the effects of brain fever and inflammation, caused by taking cold while in the woods getting out timbers for the temple at Nauvoo, Widow Smith bore patiently all his peculiarities up to the time of her death.

Besides those I have mentioned, Mercy R. Thompson, sister to Widow Smith, and her daughter, and Elder James Lawson were also members of the family.

[133] On or about the 8th of September, 1846, the family, with others, were driven out of Nauvoo by the threatened of the mob, and encamped on the banks of the Mississippi River, just below Montrose. There they were compelled to remain two or three days, in view of their comfortable homes just across the river, unable to travel for the want of teams, while the men were preparing to defend the city against the attack of the mob. They were thus under the necessity of witnessing the commencement of the memorable "Battle of Nauvoo," but, before the cannonading ceased, they succeeded in moving out a few miles, away from the dreadful sound of it, where they remained until they obtained, by a change of property at a great sacrifice, teams and an outfit for the journey through Iowa to the Winter Quarters of the Saints, now Florence, Nebraska.

Arriving at that point late in the fall, they were obliged to turn out their work animals to pick their living through the Winter, during which some of their cattle, and eleven out of their thirteen horses died, leaving them very destitute of teams in the spring.

In the fall of 1847, Widow Smith and her brother, Joseph Fielding, made a trip into Missouri, with two teams, to purchase provisions for the family. Joseph, her son, accompanied them as teamster; he was then nine years of age. The team he drove consisted of two yoke of oxen, one yoke being young and only partially broken, which, with the fact that the roads were very bad with the fall rains, full of stumps in places, sometimes hilly, and that he drove to St. Joseph, Missouri, and back, a distance of about three hundred miles, without meeting with one serious accident, proves that he must have been a fair teamster for a boy of his age.

In the Spring of 1847, George Mills was fitted out with a team and went in the company of President Young as one of the Pioneers to the Valley; and soon a portion of the family in the care of Brother James Lawson emigrated from "Winter Quarters," arriving in the Valley that Fall.

In the Spring of 1848, a tremendous effort was made by the Saints to emigrate to the Valley on a grand scale. No one was more anxious than Widow Smith; but to accomplish it seemed an impossibility. She still had a large and comparatively helpless family. Her two sons, John and Joseph, mere boys, being her only support: the men folks, as they were called, Brother J. Lawson and G. Mills, being in the Valley with the teams they had taken.

Without teams sufficient to draw the number of wagons necessary to haul provisions and outfit for the family, and without means to purchase, or friends who were in circumstances to assist, she determined to make an attempt, and trust in the Lord for the issue. Accordingly every nerve was strained, and every available object was brought into requisition.

"Jackie" was [134] traded off for provisions, cows and calves were yoked up, two wagons lashed together, and teams barely sufficient to draw one was hitched on to them, and in this manner they rolled out from Winter Quarters some time in May.

After a series of the most amusing and trying circumstances, such as sticking in the mud, doubling teams up all the little hills, and crashing at ungovernable speed down the opposite sides, breaking wagon tongues and reaches, upsetting, and vainly endeavoring to control wild steers, heifers and unbroken cows, they finally succeeded in reaching the Elk Horn, where the companies were being organized for the plains.

Here Widow Smith reported herself to President Kimball, as having "started for the Valley." Meantime, she had left no stone unturned or problem untried, which promised assistance in effecting the necessary preparations for the journey. She had done her utmost, and still the way looked dark and impossible.

President Kimball consigned her to Captain ——'s fifty. The captain was present; said he, "Widow Smith, how many wagons have you?"

"Seven."

" How many yoke of oxen have you?"

"Four, and so many cows and calves."

"Well," said the captain, "Widow Smith, it is folly for you to start in this manner; you never can make the journey, and if you try it, you will be a burden upon the company the whole way. My advice to you is, go back to Winter Quarters and wait till you can get help."

This speech aroused the indignation of Joseph, who stood by and heard it; he thought it was poor consolation to his mother who was struggling so hard, even against hope as it were, for her deliverance; and if he had been a little older it is possible that lie would have said some very harsh things to the captain; but as it was, he busied himself with his thoughts and bit his lips.

Widow Smith calmly replied, "Father ——" (he was an aged man), "I will beat you to the Valley and will ask no help from you either!"

This seemed to nettle the old gentleman, for he was of high mettle. It is possible that he never forgot this prediction, and that it influenced his conduct towards her more or less from that time forth as long as he lived, and especially during the journey.

While the companies were lying at Elk Horn, Widow Smith sent back to Winter Quarters, and by the blessing of God, succeeded in buying on credit, and hiring for the journey, several yoke of oxen from brethren who were not able to emigrate that year, (among these brethren one Brother Rogers was ever gratefully remembered by the family). When the companies were ready to start, Widow Smith and her family were somewhat [135] better prepared for the journey and rolled out with lighter hearts and better prospects than favored their egress from Winter Quarters.

Passing over from the Platte to the Sweetwater, the cattle suffered extremely from the heat, the drought, and the scarcity of feed, being compelled to browse on dry rabbit brush, sage brush, weeds and such feed as they could find, all of which had been well picked over by the preceding companies. Captain ——'s company being one of the last, still keeping along, frequently in sight of, and sometimes camping with President Kimball's company which was very large.

One day as they were moving along slowly through the hot sand and dust, the sun pouring down with excessive heat, toward noon one of Widow Smith's best oxen laid down in the yoke, rolled over on his side, and stiffened out his legs spasmodically, evidently in the throes of death. The unanimous opinion was that he was poisoned. All the hindmost teams, of course, stopped, the people coming forward to know what was the matter. In a short time the captain, who was in advance of the company, perceiving that something was wrong, came to the spot.

Perhaps no one supposed that the ox would ever recover. The captain's first words oil seeing him, were:

"He is dead, there is no use working with him; we'll have to fix up some way to take the Widow along. I told her she would be a burden upon the company."

Meantime Widow Smith had been searching for a bottle of consecrated oil in one of the wagons, and now came forward with it, and asked her brother, Joseph Fielding, and the other brethren, to administer to the ox, thinking the Lord would raise him up. They did so, pouring a portion of the oil on the top of his head, between and back of the horns, they all laid hands upon him, and one prayed, administering the ordinance as they would have done to a human being that was sick. Can you guess the result? In a moment he gathered his legs under him, and at the first word arose to his feet, and traveled right off as well as ever. He was not even unyoked from his mate. The captain, it may well be supposed, heartily regretted his hasty conclusions and unhappy expressions.

They had not gone very far when another and exactly similar circumstance occurred. This time also it was one of her best oxen, the loss of either would have effectually crippled one team, as they had no cattle to spare. But the Lord mercifully heard their prayers, and recognized the holy ordinance of anointing and prayer, and the authority of the Priesthood when applied in behalf of even a poor dumb brute! Sincere gratitude from more than one heart in that family, went up unto the Lord that day for His visible interposition in their behalf.

At or near a place called Rattlesnake Bend, on the Sweet-[135] water, one of Widow Smith's oxen died of sheer old age, and consequent poverty. He had been comparatively useless for some time, merely carrying his end of the yoke without being of any further service in the team; he was therefore no great loss.

At the last crossing of the Sweetwater, Widow Smith was met by James Lawson with a span of horses and a wagon, from the Valley. This enabled her to unload one wagon, and send it, with the best team, back to Winter Quarters to assist another family the next season. Elder Joel Terry returned with the team.

At this place the captain was very unfortunate, several of his best cattle and a valuable mule laid down and died, supposed to have been caused by eating poisonous weeds. There was no one in the camp who did not feel a lively sympathy for the captain, he took it to heart very much. He was under the necessity of obtaining help, and Widow Smith was the first to offer it to him, but he refused to accept of it from her hands. Joseph sympathized with him, and would gladly have done anything in his power to aid him; but here again, it is painful to say, he repulsed his sympathy and chilled his heart and feelings more and more by insinuating to others, in his presence, that Widow Smith had poisoned his cattle! Saying, "Why should my cattle, and nobody's else, die in this manner? There is more than a chance about this. It was well planned," etc., expressly for his ear.

This last thrust was the severing blow. Joseph resolved, some day, to demand satisfaction not only for this, but for every other indignity the captain had heaped upon his mother.

On the 22nd of September, 1848, Captain ——'s fifty crossed over the "Big Mountain," when they had the first glimpse of Salt Lake Valley. It was a beautiful day. Fleecy clouds hung round over the summits of the highest mountains, casting their shadows down the valley beneath, heightening, by contrast, the golden hue of the sun's rays which fell through the openings upon the dry bunchgrass and sage-brush plains, gilding them with fairy brightness, and making the arid desert to seem like an enchanted spot. Every heart rejoiced and with lingering fondness, wistfully gazed from the summit of the mountain upon the western side of the valley revealed to view—the goal of their wearisome journey.

The ascent from the east was gradual, but long and fatiguing for the teams. It was in the afternoon, therefore, when they reached the top.

The descent to the west was far more precipitous and abrupt. They were obliged to rough-lock the hind wheels of the wagons, and, as they were not needed, the forward cattle were turned loose to be driven to the foot of the mountain or to the camp, the "wheelers" only being retained on the wagons.

Desirous of shortening the next day's journey as much as possible—as that was to bring them into the Valley—they drove on till a late hour in the night, over very rough roads [137] much of the way, and skirted with oak brush and groves of trees. They finally camped near the eastern foot of the "Little Mountain."

During this night's drive several of Widow Smith's cows—that had been turned loose from the teams—were lost in the brush. Early next morning John returned on horseback to hunt for them, their service in the teams being necessary to proceed.

At an earlier hour than usual the captain gave orders for the company to start—knowing well the circumstances of the widow, and that she would be obliged to remain till John returned with the lost cattle—accordingly the company rolled out, leaving her and her family alone.

It was fortunate that Brother James Lawson was with them, for he knew the road, and if necessary could pilot them down the canyon in the night. Joseph thought of his mother's prediction at Elk Horn, and so did the captain, and he was determined that he would win this point, although he had lost all the others, and prove her predictions false. "I will beat you to the Valley, and ask no help from you either," rang in Joseph's ears; he could not reconcile these words with the possibility, though he knew his mother always told the truth, but how could this come true?

Hours to him, seemed like days as they waited, hour after hour for John's return. All this time the company was slowly tugging away tip the mountains, lifting at the wheels, geeing and hawing, twisting along a few steps, then blocking the wheels for the cattle to rest arid take breath, now doubling a team, and now a crowd rushing to stop a wagon, too heavy for the exhausted team, to prevent its rolling backward down the hill, dragging the cattle along with it.

While in this condition, to heighten the distress and balk the teams, a cloud, as it were, burst over their heads, sending down the rain in torrents; as it seldom rains in this country, this threw the company into utter confusion. The cattle refused to pull, would not face the beating storm, and to save the wagons from crashing down the mountain, upsetting, etc., they were obliged to unhitch them, and block all the wheels.

While the teamsters sought shelter, the storm drove the cattle before it through the brush and into the ravines, and into every nook they could find, so that when it subsided it was a day's work to find them, and get them together.

Meantime Widow Smith's cattle—except those lost—were tied to the wagons, and were safe. In a few moments after the storm, John brought up those which had been lost, and they hitched up, making an early start as they usually did in the mornings, rolled up the mountain, passing the company in their confused situation, and feeling that every tie had been sundered that bound them to the captain, continued on to the Valley, and arrived at "Old Fort," about ten o'clock on tile night of the 23rd of September, all well and [138] thankful.

The next morning was the Sabbath, and the whole family went to the bowery to meeting. Presidents Young and Kimball preached. This was a meeting long to be remembered by those present.

That evening Captain —— and his company arrived, dusty and weary, too late for the excellent meetings and the day of sweet rest enjoyed by the widow and her family. Once more, in silver tones, rang through Joseph's ears, "Father ——, I will beat you to the Valley, and will ask no help from you either."