Transcript for Mary Ann Stucki Hafen life story, Library of Congress collection of Mormon diaries, 1935-1938
So we started on the thousand mile trip, father anf [and] mother pulling the cart,the two young children riding, and John and I walking. The first night out the mosquitoes gave us a h[e]arty welcome, Father had bought a cow to take along so we could have milk on the way. At first he tied her to the back of the cart but she would sometimes hang back so the thought came to him that he would make a harness and have her pull the cart while he led her. By this time mother’s feet were so swollen that she could not wear shoes, but now wrapped her feet with cloth. Father thought that by having the cow pull the cart mother might ride. This worked well for sometime, until one day a group of Indians came riding up on horses. Their jingling trinkets and strange appearance freightened the cow and sent her chasing off with the cart, and children. We were afraid the children might be killed, but the cow fell into a deep ditch and the cart fell upside down. Although, the children were under the trunk and bedding they were unhurt. This happened twice, but after that time father did not hitch the cow to the cart again. He let two Danish boys take her to hitch to their cart and one of the boys helped father pull our cart.
Of course we had many other difficulties. One was that it was hard for the carts to keep up with the provision wagons. There were three of these provision wagons drawn by oxen. Often the men pulling the carts would try to take a short cut through the brush and sand in order to keep up. After about three weeks my mother’s feet became better so she could wear her shoes again. I used to feel sorry for poor mother; she would get so discouraged and tired. But father never lost courage; he would always cheer her up by telling her there were better things coming. Even when it rained the company did not stop traveling. A cover on the hand cart shielded the two young children. The others found it more comfortable moving than standing still in the drizzle.
I remember stopping one night at an old Indian camping ground. There were many bright colored beads in the ant hills, that Indians had left. At times too, we met the overland stage with its passengers and mail bags. When the pony express passed by us it seemed almost like the wind racing over the prairies.
Our provisions grew low. One day a herd of buffalo ran past and the men of our company shot two of them. Such a feast as we had when they were dressed. One evening my father came in with two fine rabbits saying he had shot them both with one bullet.
The provisions finally became so low we were put on rations. So word was sent to Salt Lake and in about a week fresh supplies arrived which were equally divided among the imigrants [emigrants].
At last when they reached the top of Emigration Canyon on that September day, 1860, the whole company stopped to look down through the valley. A shout of joy arose at the thought that our long tiresome trip was over, and there was a place to rest. When we arrived in the city we were welcomed by the people....