CHAPTER IV
I settled, with my father and brothers, in Tooele Valley, thirty-five miles west of Salt Lake City. The people built their houses in the form of a fort, to protect themselves from the Indians, who frequently stole their horses and cattle. Men were sent against them from Salt Lake City, but all to no purpose. The Indians would watch them during the day, and steal from them at night.
This kind of warfare was carried on for about three years, during which time there was no safety for our horses or cattle. We had a military company, of which I was first lieutenant. I went with the captain on several expeditions against the thieves, but without accomplishing much good. They would watch our movements in the canyons, and continually annoy us.
At one time, I took my wife three miles up a canyon, to gather wild fruit while I got down timber from the mountain. We had intended to remain over night, but while preparing a place to sleep, a feeling came over me that the Indians were watching with the intention of killing us during the night.
I at once yoked my oxen, put my wife and her babe on the wagon, and went home in the evening. My wife expressed surprise at my movements, and I told her that the Indians were watching us. She wished to know how I knew this, and asked if I had seen or heard them. I replied that I knew it on the same principle that I knew that the gospel was true.
The following day I returned to the canyon. Three Indians had come down on the road during the night, and robbed a wagon of a gun, ammunition and other valuables. One of them, from the size of the track, must have been an Indian known as "Old Big Foot." I thanked the Lord that He had warned me in time to save my wife and child, as well as myself.
The following winter I asked for a company of men to make another effort to hunt up the Indians. On this scout we traveled at night and watched during the day, until we discovered the location of a band of them.
One morning at daybreak, we surrounded their camp before they were aware of our presence. The chief among them sprang to his feet, and stepping towards me, said, "I never hurt you, and I do not want to. If you shoot, I will; if you do not, I will not." I was not familiar with their language, but I knew what he said. Such an influence came over me that I would not have killed one of them for all the cattle in Tooele Valley.
The running of the women and the crying of the children aroused my sympathies, and I felt inspired to do my best to prevent the company from shooting any of them. Some shots were fired, but no one was injured, except that the legs and feet of some of the Indians were bruised by jumping among the rocks.
I wished some of the men to go with us to the settlement. They were somewhat afraid, but confided in my assurance that they should not be injured.
On my arrival home, my superior officer ignored the promise of safety I had given the Indians, and decided to have them shot.
I told them I did not care to live after I had seen the Indians whose safety I had guaranteed, murdered, and as it made but little difference with me, if there were any shot I should be the first. At the same time I placed myself in front of the Indians. This ended the matter, and they were set at liberty.
From the feelings manifested by the Bishop and the people generally, I thought that I might possibly be mistaken in the whole affair. The people had long suffered from the depredations of these Indians, and they might be readily excused for their exasperated feelings, but, right or wrong, a different feeling actuated me.
After this affair, the presiding Elder directed me to take another company of men, go after the Indians, to shoot all we found, and bring no more into the settlement. Again we traveled at night and watched during the day. We found the trail of a small band who had come near the valley, and then turned back on account of a light fall of snow, which would make their trail too easily discovered for thieving operations.
We surprised them near a large mountain between Tooele and Skull Valleys. They scattered in the foot hills, and the company divided to the right and left to keep them from the mountains. I rode my horse as far as he could go on account of the difficulties of the ground, then left him, and secreted myself behind a rock in a narrow pass, through which I presumed some of the Indians would attempt to escape. I had not been there long before an Indian came within a few paces of me.
I leveled my rifle on him, and it missed fire. He sent an arrow at me, and it struck my gun as I was in the act of re-capping it; he sent the second, and it passed through my hat; the third barely missed my head; the fourth passed through my coat and vest. As I could not discharge my gun, I defended myself as well as I could with stones. The Indian soon left the ground to me.
I afterwards learned that as he went on, he met two others of our company and passed them safely, as their guns also missed fire. When the company gathered back to the place from which they scattered, we learned that not one was able to discharge his gun when within range of an Indian. One of the company received a slight arrow wound, which was the only injury inflicted.
In my subsequent reflections, it appeared evident to me that a special providence had been over us, in this and the two previous expeditions, to prevent us from shedding the blood of the Indians. The Holy Spirit forcibly impressed me that it was not my calling to shed the blood of the scattered remnant of Israel, but to be a messenger of peace to them. It was also made manifest to me that if I would not thirst for their blood, I should never fall by their hands. The most of the men who went on this last expedition, also received an impression that it was wrong to kill these Indians.
On a fourth expedition against them, we again surprised their camp. When I saw the women and children fleeing for their lives, barefooted over the rocks and through the snow, leaving a trail of blood, I fully made up my mind, that if I had anything more to do with the Indians, it would be in a different way.
I did not wish to injure these women and children, but, learning that "Old Big Foot" was there, and feeling that he deserved killing, I soon found his trail and followed it. There being snow on the ground, his trail was easily seen. It passed along the highest ridges. As I approached a cedar tree with low, thick foliage, a feeling came over me not to go near it. I passed it under the brow of a steep hill. When beyond it, I saw that no trail had passed on. I circled around in sight of the Indian, but he in some way slipped off unobserved.
Afterwards, when trying to make peace with these Indians, "Big Foot" told me, that himself and party had laid their plans to kill me and my wife and child, the summer before when in Pine Canyon, had we remained there over night. During the same interview he said, placing his finger on his arrow, "If, when you followed me in the cedar hills, you had come three steps nearer the tree where I was, I would have put an arrow into you up to the feather."
I thanked the Lord, as I often felt to do, for the revelations of His Spirit.
After returning home from the expedition, in which I had followed the trail of "Old Big Foot," I dreamed, three nights in succession, of being out west, alone, with the Indians that we had been trying about three years to destroy. I saw myself walk with them in a friendly manner, and, while doing so, pick up a lump of shining substance, some of which stuck to my fingers, and the more I endeavored to brush it off the brighter it became.
This dream made such an impression on my mind, that I took my blankets, gun and ammunition, and went alone into their country. I remained with them several days, hunting deer and duck, occasionally loaning them my rifle, and assisting to bring in their game. I also did all I could to induce them to be at peace with us.
One day, in my rambles, I came to a lodge where there was a squaw, and a boy about ten years old. As soon as I saw the boy, the Spirit said to me, "Take that lad home with you; that is part of your mission here, and here is the bright substance which you dreamed of picking up." I talked with him and asked him if he would not go with me. He at once replied that he would.
The mother, naturally enough, in a deprecating tone, asked me if I wanted to take her boy away from her. But after some further conversation she consented to the arrangement. At this time I had not learned much of the language of these Indians, but I seemed to have the gift of making myself understood.
When I left, the boy took his bows and arrows and accompanied me. The woman appeared to feel so bad, and made so much ado, that I told the lad he had better go back to his mother; but he would not do so. We went to the side of the mountain where I agreed to meet the Indians. His mother, still anxious about her boy, came to our camp in the evening.
The following morning, she told me that she heard I had a good heart, for the Indians told her that I had been true to what I said, and the boy could go with me if I would always be his father and own him as my son.
This boy became very much attached to me, and was very particular to do as he was told. I asked him why he was so willing to come with me the first time we met. He replied that I was the first white man he ever saw; that he knew a man would come to his mother's lodge to see him, on the day of my arrival, for he was told so the night before, and that when the man came he must go with him; that he knew I was the man when he saw me a long way off, and built a smoke so that I would come there.
CHAPTER V
At the April conference of 1854, I was called, with a number of others, on a mission to the Indians in Southern Utah. Taking a horse, cow, garden seeds and some farming tools, I joined in with Brother Robert Ritchie, and was soon on my way.
We commenced operations at a place we called Harmony, twenty miles south of Cedar City, in Iron County. I made it my principal business to learn the Indian language, and become familiar with their character.
About the end of May of that year, President Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball, Parley P. Pratt and others to the number of twenty persons, came to visit us. President Young gave much instruction about conducting the mission and building up the settlement we had commenced. He said if the Elders wanted influence with the Indians, they must associate with them in their expeditions.
Brother Kimball prophesied that, if the brethren were united, they would be prospered and blessed, but if they permitted the spirit of strife and contention to come into their midst, the place would come to an end in a scene of bloodshed.
Previous to this meeting, President Young asked some brethren who had been into the country south of Harmony if they thought a wagon road could be made down to the Rio Virgen.
Their replies were very discouraging, but, in the face of this report, Brother Kimball prophesied in this meeting, that a road would be made from Harmony over the Black Ridge; and a temple would be built on the Rio Virgen, and the Lamanites would come from the east side of the Colorado river and get their endowments in it. All these prophecies have since been fulfilled.
On the 1st of June, 1854, I went with Elder R. C. Allen and others, to visit the Indians on the Rio Virgen and Santa Clara, two streams now well known as forming a junction south of the city of St. George.
On the 9th of June, we camped on ground now enclosed in the Washington field. There we saw many Indian women gathering a red, sweet berry, called "opie." The Indians were also harvesting their wheat. Their manner of doing so was very primitive. One would loosen the roots of the wheat with a stick, another would pull up the plant, beat the dirt off from the roots and set it up in bunches. I loaned them a long sharp knife, which greatly assisted them in their labors.
The company returned to Harmony with the exception of Brother William Hennefer and myself, who were left to visit the Indians on the upper Santa Clara. We found a few lodges, and with them a very sick woman. The medicine man of the tribe was going through a round of ceremonies in order to heal her.
He stuck arrows into the ground at the entrance of the lodge, placed his medicine bow in a conspicuous place, adorned his head with eagle's feathers, and then walked back and forth in an austere manner, making strange gestures with his hands, and hideous noises at the top of his voice. He would then enter the lodge, and place his mouth to the woman's, in order to drive away the evil spirits, and charm away the pain. Some one told the sick woman that the "Mormons" believed in "poogi," which, in their language, means administering to the sick. She wished us to wait, and if the Piute charm did not work, to try if we could do her any good.
The medicine man howled and kept up his performances the most of the night. The sick woman's friends then carried her some distance away from the lodge, and left her to die.
Some of her relatives asked us to go and administer to her. We could not feel to refuse, so we laid on hands and prayed for her.
When we returned to our camp, she arose and followed us, and said she was hungry. We sent her to her own lodge. Some of the inmates were frightened at seeing her, as they had considered her a dead woman.
We returned to Harmony about the last of June. On the 3rd of July, I accompanied a hunting party of Indians into the mountains east of Harmony. While with them, I spared no labor in learning their language, and getting an insight into their character.
I had ever felt an aversion to white men shedding the blood of these ignorant barbarians. When the white man has settled on their lands, and his cattle have destroyed much of their scanty living, there has always appeared in them a disposition to make all reasonable allowances for these wrongs. Ever since I was old enough to understand, and more especially after being with them around their camp fires, where I learned their simple and child-like ways, and heard them talk over their wrongs, I fully made up my mind to do all I could to alleviate their condition.
From time to time, when the Saints have had any trouble with them, and I have had anything to do with settling the difficulty, I have made it a specialty to go among them, regardless of their numbers or anger. Through the blessing of the Lord, I have never yet failed in accomplishing my object, where no other persons have interfered in a matter they did not understand.
Returning from this hunting expedition, I made my way, in September, to Tooele Valley, to visit my family, and found them well. I remained with them but a short time, and returned to my missionary labors in Southern Utah.
Our crops had done well. After assisting to gather them, I labored for a season on the fort we were building, the better to defend ourselves in case of trouble with the Indians.
In November, I was sent alone among the Indians on the Santa Clara, to use my influence to keep them from disturbing the travelers on the southern route to California.
When there, without a white companion, a dispute arose between some of the Indians about a squaw. As was their custom, they decided that the claimant should do battle for her in the following manner:
The warriors of the band were to form in two files, and a claimant should pass between the files leading the squaw, and prepared to fight anyone that opposed his claim. The affair had made considerable progress, when one of the parties who had been roughly handled, claimed kinship with me by calling me brother, and asked me to help him.
Not wishing to take part in any of their barbarous customs, I objected. The Indians then taunted me with being a coward, called me a squaw, etc.
I soon took in the situation, and saw that it would not be well to lose caste among them. I accepted the challenge under the promise that they would not be angry with me if I should hurt some of them. I had but little anxiety about the result, for they were not adept in the art of self-defense.
The Indians, numbering about one hundred and twenty, formed in two lines, and I took the squaw by the hand, and commenced my passage between them.
Only one Indian disputed my progress. With one blow I stretched him on the ground. All would probably have passed off well enough, had I not kicked him as he fell. This was contrary to their code of honor, and I paid a fine for this breach of custom.
I was acknowledged the victor, and it was decided that the squaw was mine. I immediately turned her over to the Indian that she desired for a husband.
This was my first and last fight for a squaw. It gave me a prestige among them that greatly added to my subsequent influence.
This short and lonely mission was brought to a close by my return to Harmony.
In the beginning of winter, I went down to the Santa Clara in company with Brothers Ira Hatch, Samuel Knight, Thales Haskell and A. P. Hardy.
We worked with the Indians, and gained much influence over them. We built a log cabin, and a dam to take out the waters of the Santa Clara Creek to irrigate the bottom land. Hard labor and exposure brought on me a severe attack of sickness. At the same time there came a heavy fall of snow, which made it impracticable to get any assistance from the nearest settlement, forty miles distant.
The brethren began to entertain some doubts about my recovery. However, after laying sick fourteen days, with nothing to nourish me but bread made of moldy, bitter corn meal, Brother Samuel Atwood arrived from Harmony with some good things to strengthen me.
After a few days, I started with Brother Atwood on horseback, for Harmony. I rode to Cottonwood Creek, where the town of Harrisburg now stands. I felt exhausted, and could go no farther. I was assisted off my horse and lay on the ground, where I fainted. Brother Atwood brought some water in the leather holster of his pistol, and put some of it in my mouth and on my head, which revived me.
With slow and careful traveling I was able to reach Harmony; but I was so reduced in flesh that my friends did not recognize me.
As soon as my health would permit, I returned to the Santa Clara.
I have before referred to a custom among the Piutes of taking women from each other. Sometimes two claimants decided who should be the possessor of the woman, by single combat; but more generally, each claimant would gather to his assistance all the friends he could, and the fighting would be kept up until one side was conquered, when the claimant who had led the victorious party, would take possession of the woman.
I have seen such engagements last all day and a part of the night. In one of these, in which over one hundred men took a part, some of the combatants became angry, and fought in good earnest.
At the close of the day, it was still undecided who was the victor. At night large fires were lighted, arranged in a circle, and some forty of the combatants came in to decide the matter.
They pulled each other's hair and fought desperately, regardless of the rules usually governing such affairs. The unoffending woman seemed to fare quite as hard, or worse than the combatants. She was finally trampled under foot, and the women who looked on became excited. Some ran with their willow trays filled with coals from the fire, which they threw over the men and burnt them out, as each one found employment in running and brushing the coals from his hair and back.
In the meantime, the woman lay on the ground with her mouth filled with blood and dirt.
At this stage of the affair we used our persuasive powers, and succeeded in inducing the men to let the woman go with the man she wanted.
In the summer of 1855, we cultivated a few acres of land on the Santa Clara. We raised melons, and had the privilege of disposing of them ourselves. I do not think that the Indians ever took any without leave. We raised a small amount of cotton, which was probably the first grown in Utah Territory.
In the autumn of 1855, I returned to Tooele Valley, and removed my family to the Santa Clara. My brother Oscar, also Brother Dudley Leavitt, and their families, accompanied me.
In the winter of 1855-6 we were instructed to build a fort for our protection. There were at that time on the Santa Clara, ten missionaries, and four stonemasons from Cedar City. We employed Indian help, and everything we put our hands to prospered, so that in less than ten days we built a fort one hundred feet square, of hammer-faced rock, the wall two feet thick and twelve feet high. It was afterwards said by President Young to be the best fort then in the Territory.
We invited the Indians to assist us to construct a strong, high dam to take the water out of the Santa Clara to a choice piece of land.
For this purpose they gathered into the settlement to the number of about thirty lodges, but rather reluctantly, for they believed that the Tonaquint, their name for the Santa Clara, would dry up the coming season, as there was but little snow in the mountains.
With much hard labor we completed our dam, and watered our crops once in the spring of 1856. The water then failed, and our growing crops began to wither.
The Indians then came to me and said, "You promised us water if we would help build a dam and plant corn. What about the promise, now the creek is dry? What will we do for something to eat next winter?"
The chief saw that I was troubled in my mind over the matter, and said, "We have one medicine man; I will send him to the great mountain to make rain medicine, and you do the best you can, and maybe the rain will come; but it will take strong medicine, as I never knew it to rain this moon." I went up the creek, and found it dry for twelve miles.
The following morning at daylight, I saw the smoke of the medicine man ascending from the side of the Big Mountain, as the Indians called what is now known as the Pine Valley Mountain.
Being among some Indians, I went aside by myself, and prayed to the God of Abraham to forgive me if I had been unwise in promising the Indians water for their crops if they would plant; and that the heavens might give rain, that we might not lose the influence we had over them.
It was a clear, cloudless morning, but, while still on my knees, heavy drops of rain fell on my back for about three seconds. I knew it to be a sign that my prayers were answered. I told the Indians that the rain would come. When I returned to the settlement, I told the brethren that we would have all the water we wanted.
The next morning, a gentle rain commenced falling. The water arose to its ordinary stage in the creek, and, what was unusual, it was clear. We watered our crops all that we wished, and both whites and Indians acknowledged the event to be a special providence.
I think more corn and squash were grown that year, by us, than I ever saw before or since, on the same number of acres. The Indians gathered and stored up a large amount of corn, beans and dried squash.
From that time they began to look upon us as having great influence with the clouds. They also believed that we could cause sickness to come upon any of them if we wished. We labored to have them understand these things in their true light, but this was difficult on account of their ignorance and superstitions.
About this time an Indian came in from another small band east of the Santa Clara. The Indians who worked with us told him how matters were going with them.
He ridiculed them for their faith in us and what we taught them, and told them that they were fools for living without meat, when there were plenty of cattle in sight. To more fully exemplify his views and set an example of self-assurance, he killed one of our oxen.
Four or five of the brethren went to him, armed. I felt impressed that a peaceful policy would be the best, and, for that reason, I requested them to let me manage the matter. I went into his lodge and sat down by him. I told him that he had done a great wrong, for we were working to do the Indians good.
He talked insultingly, and wanted to know if I wished to kill him, or if I could make medicine strong enough to kill him. I told him that he had made his own medicine, and that some evil would befall him before he got home.
About this time, the President of the mission received a letter from President Brigham Young, requiring us to say to the Indians that if they would live cleanly and observe certain things pertaining to the gospel, they should grow and increase in the land. Also, that we should require them to wash the sick before we administered to them.
An Indian wished us to administer to his sick boy. We required him to wash his child; he refused to do so, and the boy died. The man burnt his lodge, went to the mountains, and called on others to follow him. Some did so, and before leaving, burned a log store house which they had filled with supplies.
The angry man's name was Ag-ara-poots.
The chief of the band came to me and said, "Old Ag-ara-poots will never be satisfied until he has killed you or some one who is with you. You know that he has killed two Piutes since you came here. The Piutes are all afraid of him. I am going away."
I asked him if he would not go to Ag-ara-poots with me.
"No;" he replied, "he thinks that you let his boy die, and he will never be satisfied until he has blood. There are many with him, and you must not go where he is."
As I felt like seeing him, I invited all the missionary brethren, one by one, to go with me, but they all refused except Brother Thales Haskell. One of the brethren remarked that he would as soon go into a den of grizzly bears.
When I went to the house of Brother Haskell and opened the door, he said, "I know what you want. You wish me to go with you to see Ag-ara-poots. I am just the man you want."
The difference between me and my brethren in this instance did not arise from superior personal courage in myself, but in the fact that I have mentioned before: that I had received from the Lord an assurance that I should never fall by the hands of the Indians, if I did not thirst for their blood. That assurance has been, and is still with me, in all my intercourse with them.
Brother Haskell seemed inspired to go with me on this occasion. We started in the morning, and followed the trail of Ag-ara-poots until afternoon, when we found him and his band.
His face was blackened, and he sat with his head down, apparently in rather a surly mood. I told him that I had heard that he intended to kill me the first opportunity.
Said he: "Who told you that I wanted to kill you?"
I answered that the Piutes had told me so.
He declared that it was a lie; but he had been mad and was mad then, because I had let his boy die.
I told him that he had let his boy die, because he did not think enough of him to wash him so that the Lord would heal him, and now he was mad at someone else.
I told him we were hungry, and were going to eat with a man who was not mad, and that he had better go with us. As we left his lodge, he arose to go with us, but trembled, staggered and sat down in the sand.
All the Indians but Ag-ara-poots gathered around us. We told them they had been foolish in burning up their food, going into the mountains, and leaving their friends; that the women and children had better go back to the settlement where there was something to eat, and let the men who wished to hunt, remain. The most of them started for the settlement the same night.
The following day Titse-gavats, the chief, came to me and said, "The band have all come on to the Clara except Ag-ara-poots, and he came on to the bluff in sight of it, and his heart hardened. You cannot soften his heart again. He has gone off alone. You had better pray for him to die, then there will be no bloodshed. Do not tell him what I have said to you."
I did ask the Lord that, if it would be for the glory of His name, Ag-ara-poots might not have strength to shed the blood of any of us. In a few days the Piutes told me that he was not able to walk nor help himself to a drink of water. He lingered until spring and died.
CHAPTER VI
A petty chief, living west of the settlement on the Santa Clara, and on the California road, came to me and said that he had stolen from some "Mormons" as they passed by; that there could not be medicine made to kill him, for he was a hard one to kill, and he would steal from the "Mormons" again the first opportunity.
Some two weeks after this conversation, the Indians told me that this chief was dead. In going home from the Santa Clara settlement, he stole an animal from a "Mormon" traveler, and hid it up until he had gone by; then drove it to his lodge, killed it, and when it was about half skinned he was taken sick, went to his lodge and died.
An Indian living near us said he had killed an animal, and wished to pay for it. I took some pay from him that he might be satisfied, and told him to go his way and steal no more.
He was afterwards caught stealing another ox, after which I chanced to meet him alone. He asked me what I was going to do about it. I replied, "Nothing."
He talked in an excited manner, and said in an angry tone, "If you are going to do anything, do it now; do it here." I explained to him that if evil came upon people they brought it upon themselves by their mean acts.
He talked and acted in such a rascally manner that I was disgusted. I told him that he was in the hands of the Lord; if He would forgive him, I would, but I did not believe that He would. This man died in a few days after this conversation.
The Lord had sent the gospel of their fathers to these Indians, and with it the testimony of many special manifestations, so evident to them, even in their ignorance, that they might be without excuse.
In addition to the destruction of the wilfully wicked and perverse, many promises to them were fulfilled, their sick were healed, etc.
These testimonies more fully established the influence of the Elders among this people, and they looked to us for counsel, and endeavored to do as they were instructed. The men ceased to abuse their families, and they did as well as could be expected of people in their low condition.
They would wash the sick, and ask the Elders to lay hands on and pray for them. The Lord had great regard for our administrations, for I do not recollect administering to one that did not recover. We were careful not to say or do anything wrong, and I feel that a good spirit governed us in all our intercourse with this people. They soon learned to regard our words as law.
At length the Santa Clara and Muddy Indians got into a quarrel, and began to kill each other whenever they could get an advantage. We endeavored to make peace between them, but blood had been spilled, and nothing but blood would satisfy them.
One morning, a Muddy Creek Indian killed one of the Santa Clara band in the wood near our fort. The Santa Clara Indians farther up the stream, hearing of it, took a Moapats woman, fastened her to a small tree and burned her.
When they first tied her, a young Indian came in haste to let me know what was going on. I hurried towards the spot, but before I arrived there another boy met me, and said that it was of no use for me to go on, for matters had gone too far to save the woman. I think they had hurried to consummate the terrible deed before I could get there.
When I talked with the perpetrators they cried, and said that they could not have done less than they did. That is, they were so bound up in their traditions and customs, that what they had done was a necessary duty.
They appeared so child-like, and so anxious to have me think that what they had done was all right, that I said nothing, but felt that I would be truly thankful if I should ever be so fortunate as to be called to labor among a higher class of people.
These things took place in the summer and autumn of 1856. Soon after the burning of the Indian woman, Brother Ira Hatch and I started for Cedar City, by way of the Mountain Meadows. At night we camped near another trail which crossed the one on which we were traveling.
When we arose in the morning, I told my companion that the Cedar Indians had been to the Muddy to attack the Indians living there, and had got the worst of it; that on their return they had stolen the horses from the Santa Clara.
We had never traveled the trail they were on, but I told Brother Hatch that if he would take it, he would find the thieves camped at a certain spring, and when they saw him they would be so surprised that they would let him have the horses without any difficulty.
Brother Hatch found matters as I had predicted, and the Indians got up the horses for him, and appeared anxious to have him take them away.
We afterwards learned that the Cedar Indians had gone to the Muddy, and stolen two squaws from the band that lived on that creek. The Muddy Indians had pursued the robbers, and retaliated by killing a chief of the Cedar Indians, and wounding two more of their party. They also recovered the captive squaws.
It was by the dictation of the Holy Spirit that I sent Brother Hatch to recover the horses. It was the same Spirit that had influenced me to take my wife and child out of Pine Canyon the evening before I had intended to, and thereby saved their lives and my own. It was the same also that had saved me from being killed by "Old Big Foot," when I lived in Tooele Valley.
At this time we had established as good a form of government among the Santa Clara Indians as their circumstances would permit.
They worked for a living, and promised to be honest. If anyone stole, he either paid a price for what he had taken, or was stripped, tied to a tree and whipped, according to the magnitude of the offense. The Indians did the whipping, while I generally dictated the number and severity of the lashes.
In the winter of 1856-7, after the Indians had been trying for some time to follow our counsels, they said to me, "We cannot be good; we must be Piutes. We want you to be kind to us. It may be that some of our children will be good, but we want to follow our old customs."
They again began to paint themselves, and to abuse their women, as they had done before we went among them.
Up to this time, Elder R. C. Allen had been president of the Southern Indian Mission, and had generally resided at Harmony. He had given me charge of the settlement on the Santa Clara Creek.
The following letter shows his release, and my appointment to take his place, and exhibits the Indian policy of President Brigham Young:
"PRESIDENT'S OFFICE, Great Salt Lake City, August 4, 1857.
"ELDER JACOB HAMBLIN:—You are hereby appointed to succeed Elder R. C. Allen (whom I have released) as president of the Santa Clara Indian Mission. I wish you to enter upon the duties of your office immediately.
"Continue the conciliatory policy towards the Indians which I have ever commended, and seek by works of righteousness to obtain their love and confidence. Omit promises where you are not sure you can fill them; and seek to unite the hearts of the brethren on that mission, and let all under your direction be united together in holy bonds of love and unity.
"All is peace here, and the Lord is eminently blessing our labors; grain is abundant, and our cities are alive with the busy hum of industry.
"Do not permit the brethren to part with their guns and ammunition, but save them against the hour of need.
"Seek the spirit of the Lord to direct you, and that He may qualify you for every duty, is the prayer of your fellow-laborer in the gospel of salvation,
"BRIGHAM YOUNG."
Early in the autumn of 1857, Apostle George A. Smith visited the settlements in Southern Utah. He informed the Saints that a United States army was on the way to Utah. What the result would be, he said he did not know. He advised the people to be saving their grain, and not sell any to travelers to feed their teams; for they could live on grass better than our women and children. He thought that all we could afford to do, under the circumstances, was to furnish travelers with bread. That if we would not deny the gospel, we might yet suffer much persecution, and be compelled to hide up in the mountains. "At all events," said he, "bread is good to have."
When President Smith returned to Salt Lake City, Brother Thales Haskell and I accompanied him. On our way we camped over night on Corn Creek, twelve miles south of Fillmore, with a party of emigrants from Arkansas, traveling on what was then known as the southern route to California. They inquired of me about the road, and wrote the information down that I gave them.
They expressed a wish to lay by at some suitable place to recruit their teams before crossing the desert. I recommended to them, for this purpose, the south end of the Mountain Meadows, three miles from where my family resided.
After our arrival in Salt Lake City, news reached us that this company of emigrants, on their way south, had behaved badly, that they had robbed hen-roosts, and been guilty of other irregularities, and had used abusive language to those who had remonstrated with them. It was also reported that they threatened, when the army came into the north end of the Territory, to get a good outfit from the weaker settlements in the south.
A messenger came to President Young, informing him of these things, and asking advice.
In reply, Brigham Young sent general instructions to the settlements, advising the people to let the emigrants pass as quietly as possible; and stating that there was an army on our borders, and we could not tell what we might be obliged to do before the troubles were over. He said we might be under the necessity of going into the mountains, and that he wished all supplies of food to be in a shape to be readily available in such an emergency; and we would do the best we could.
Brother Haskell and I remained in Salt Lake City one week, and then started for our homes in Southern Utah. On the way, we heard that the Arkansas company of emigrants had been destroyed at the Mountain Meadows, by the Indians.
We met John D. Lee at Fillmore. He told us that the Indians attacked the company, and that he and some other white men joined them in the perpetration of the deed. This deplorable affair caused a sensation of horror and deep regret throughout the entire community, by whom it was unqualifiedly condemned.
In Cove Creek Valley we met others from the south, who told us that the Indians were gathering to attack another company of emigrants. I procured a horse, left the wagons, and rode on day and night. At Cedar City I found Brothers Samuel Knight and Dudley Leavitt.
As I was weary with hard riding and want of sleep, I hurried them on after the emigrants, while I traveled more slowly. I instructed these men to make every possible effort to save the company and their effects, and to save their lives at all hazards.
They overtook the company one hundred and fifty-six miles from Cedar City, on Muddy Creek, in the heart of the Indian country. They found a large body of excited Indians preparing to attack and destroy them.
Finding it altogether impossible to control the Indians, they compromised the matter. The Indians agreed to only take the loose stock of the company, and not meddle with the teams and wagons, and not make any effort to take their lives.
The Indians took the loose stock, amounting to four hundred and eighty head, on the fifty-mile desert beyond the Muddy.
The brethren remained with the company, determined to assist in its defense, should the Indians attempt anything more than they had agreed.
The company continued their journey safely to California. Brothers Knight and Leavitt returned to the Santa Clara.
As soon as possible, I talked with the principal Indians engaged in this affair, and they agreed that the stock not killed should be given up. I wrote to the owners in California, and they sent their agent, Mr. Lane, with whom I went to the Muddy, and the stock was delivered to him as the Indians had agreed.
CHAPTER VII
In the winter season, my family usually lived at the Santa Clara settlement, thirty miles south of the Mountain Meadows, to which place they moved in the spring, to keep stock during the summer.
Late in the autumn of 1857, a company came along on their way to California. They brought a letter from President Brigham Young, directing me to see this company and their effects safely through to California. They were mostly merchants who had been doing business in Salt Lake City, and, anticipating difficulty between the people of Utah and the United States army, were fleeing to the Eastern States by way of California and the Isthmus of Panama.
When the company arrived in Cedar City, they sent a messenger ahead of them with the letter to me. Having occasion to go to Cedar City about the same time, I met the messenger. I directed him to return to the company and tell them to come on, and I would be with them in time.
I returned to Santa Clara to make some preparations for the journey, and then started to meet the company on the creek, twelve miles from the settlement.
When I reached the California road, the company had passed, and was some distance ahead of me. While traveling to overtake it, I found a man who had been traveling alone, also in pursuit of the company, with a view of getting through with it to California.
When I found him he was already in the hands of the Indians, and stripped of his clothing. They were making calculations to have a good time with him, as they expressed it, that is, they intended to take him to their camp and torture him.
The stranger, seeing I had influence with the Indians, begged me to save his life, and said if I would do so he would serve me as long as he lived.
I replied that I did not wish any reward for saving him.
In answer to his inquiry, I informed him that I was a "Mormon."
"Well," said he, "I am not a Mormon, but I wish you would save my life."
I assured him that it made no difference to me whether he was a "Mormon" or not. I told the Indians to bring back his clothing, which they did, except his shoes, and I took him along with me to the company.
I found a few Indians around the company, and there appeared to be some excitement. One of the merchants asked me if I could save the ship. I replied that I could see nothing to hinder me. He said: "You can take the helm, but do not run it too near the rocks or shoals; we have plenty of presents for the Indians."
He wished to know what they should do with their animals. I told him I knew where there was good grass, and I would send two Indians to take care of them; to let the two Indians have their suppers, and a shirt each when they brought in the animals in the morning.
At first they refused to let the animals go. I assured them that if I was to direct matters, I should do it in my own way.
After some consultation, they concluded to let me have my own way. The animals were sent out to feed in charge of the Indians, but I presume that some of the company did not sleep much during the night.
The animals were all brought safely into camp in the morning.
After that the company appeared to feel quite safe, and took much pains to have things move as I directed.
When we had traveled about sixty miles towards Muddy Creek, a Moapat Indian told me that the Indians on that stream were preparing to attack the company. I started at daydawn the following morning, and arrived at the crossing of the Muddy about two hours in advance of the company. The Indians had collected in the vicinity of the crossing, with the view of attacking the company when in camp. They believed they could easily kill the men, and obtain a large amount of spoil.
I called them together, and sat down and smoked a little tobacco with them, which I had brought along for that purpose. I then said: "You have listened to my talk in times past; you believe that it is good to hear and do what I say." They all answered, "Yes."
I then told them I was going through to California with some friends, Americans and merchants; and that we had brought along many blankets, shirts and other useful articles. I hoped they would see that none of the animals were stolen, and if any strayed, they would bring them into camp. Some of the Indians did not readily consent to let the company pass in peace.
For further security, I sent for their women and children to come out of their hiding place, where they had been sent for safety, as is the custom of the Indians when preparing for battle.
I had matters in a much better shape on the arrival of the company than I found them. I was careful to listen to all the talk of the Indians, and spent the evening and also the night with the largest collection of them, so that they could not make any general move without my knowledge.
We continued our journey across the fifty-six mile desert to Los Vegas springs. There we met Brothers Ira Hatch and Dudley Leavitt, on their return from a mission to the Mohave Indians.
Those Indians, on the arrival of these brethren among them, took their horses, and then held a council to decide whether they should kill the brethren or not. The chief called a vote of his people, and it was decided that the brethren should die.
A Piute friend who had accompanied the Elders from Las Vegas, began to mourn over their fate, and said to them, "I told you that the Mohaves would kill you if you came here, and now they are going to do it."
Brother Hatch told their Piute friend, who acted as interpreter, to tell the Mohave chief, Chanawanse, to let him pray before he was killed.
The chief consented, and Brother Hatch knelt down among the bloodthirsty savages, and asked the Lord to soften their hearts, that they might not shed their blood. He also said more that was appropriate to the occasion.
The prayer was repeated in measured sentences by the interpreter.
It had the desired effect. The heart of the chief was softened. He took the brethren to his lodge, and put them at the farther end of it, in a secure place. There he guarded them until nearly morning, then told them to go as fast as they could to Las Vegas, eighty miles distant.
They traveled this distance on foot, and with but little food. When I met them they were living on muskeet bread. This is an article of food manufactured from a pod resembling that of a bean, which grows on the muskeet tree. These circumstances were related to me by the Elders when we met.
At Las Vegas I learned that the Indians there expected that the company would have been massacred at the Muddy Creek.
After we left this watering place, three Indians followed us and made an effort to steal. They were brought into camp and guarded until morning. The remainder of the journey we had no more trouble with the Indians.
We met companies of our people on their way from San Bernardino to Utah.
I was engaged the remainder of the autumn and the winter of 1857-8, on the road between the Santa Clara and Las Vegas springs, in assisting the Saints who were moving to Utah.
On the return of spring I removed my family, as was my custom, to the Mountain Meadows, to take care of our stock.