Transcript

We went up the Missouri River to Fort Leavenworth, where we met the ox teams. I do not remember how many days we traveled before mother was run over. She was leaning out of the wagon to call father to come and take the baby [Iverine], as the driver wanted her to walk, when her feet slipped and she was run over and severely injured. We traveled on four days after she was hurt. Arriving at Fort Laramie, they placed mother in an old log house, which had no doors or windows. There I was left with a helpless mother, a sick baby, and all the children to take care of. There were seven in the family. Though only twelve years old, I was up nearly every night with the sick baby. Father had to work at the fort for our bread. The Indians were very friendly. Some came every day to see if they could do something to help us; and many times I have walked with them to the fort.

I am sure, however, that the Lord was with us and blessed us. One day, as I was frying bacon, I poured the hot grease into a cup and set it upon a high shelf. My little brother [Jacob Elias], nine years old wanting a drink, reached up for the cup and spilled the hot grease on his face. I grabbed the bucket of water and threw it on him. The hot grease left no a sign of a burn.

We stayed there two weeks. Some apostate Mormons in the Fort talked Father into the notion of going back to Omaha. The night before we were to leave, Mother had a dream, or vision. She dreamed that a man came and stood by her bed and told her not to go back, but to go to Zion. (There were no ox-teams then, and we thought there would be none in.) This old man had long white hair and a long white beard. He stood by mother’s bed, and told her there would be two ox-trains the next day, and that she and her family were to go on to Zion, and not turn back.

The next day when the wagon came to take us back to Omaha, mother would not go; and that same day one of the ox-trains came in. There was a ferry, half a mile from where we lived. Father went down to see the Captain. The Captain told him they could not possibly take us because they were already overloaded. While Father was there the other ox-train drove in. This Captain told him the same thing. Father came home much disappointed, but mother never lost hope. She said, "We’re going. The trains have come, as the man told me, and I know we’re going.” I was out getting dinner on a camp fire, when I saw a wagon coming. I ran into the house and told Father they were coming for us. Mother was still so bad from her injuries that it hurt her to travel; and I had to hold my little sister, because she was so ill. She died the third day after we had started. As small as I was, I had to wash her, put a little gown on her, and sew a cloth around her, in which to be buried in the ground with no coffin. No one came to help me and mother was not able to. Father helped mother out of the wagon, and from that day on she walked the rest of the way. Many a night I have lain and held a quilt over mother to keep her dry from the rain.

Joseph F. Smith was in the same company with us. He was just coming home from a mission to England. Every morning he would come over to see how mother was and would bring her a little sugar or what dainties he could, and help her in any way. Father, my little brother nine years old, and I, used to go ahead. We would catch fish in the small streams. Towards camping time I would gather up, along the road, buffalo chips in my apron, and carry them to camp ground to burn. When I would get tired carrying one load, I would throw them down and rest awhile before gathering more.

We arrived in Salt Lake City on October 8, 1863. I was then thirteen. We had traveled six months, having left on the 1st of April.