"Life of Melissa Kaziah Rollins Lee"
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Soon after the Mountain Meadow Massacre, word came from President Young, “to your tents, O Israel!” In seven days from the day that the call was received, we were on our way to Utah. Many of our possessions had to be left in California. The dining room table was left piled high with dishes. Father had taken from the store, his share of the stock and this comprised about 4 loads of goods. For me, that was a wonderful journey from California to Utah. We camped one day at the Mojave, the site being around the point of a mountain. My brother, Henry, who was 19 years old, was in a great hurry to reach Salt Lake City, and when camp broke up, he started ahead of the other wagons with Mother, my 2 and ½ year old brother, and me.
Three span of mules pulled our wagon. Presently, we neared a large prominent rock by the roadside. As the wagon drew alongside of it, 2 big Indians jumped out from behind the rock, and while one grabbed the lead mules, and turned them so the wagon wheels cramped dangerously, the other drew his bow and arrow upon Henry. Daubed with brilliant paint and wearing bright feathered headbands, the Indians were a terrifying sight that struck dreadful fear into our hearts. Mother caught up little brother Watson and jumped over the wagon wheels, and I followed. John Henry coiled his black whip with the loaded butt and raised his arm to strike one of the savages, but Mother cried out, “don’t touch them or they will kill every one of us!” at that moment the company drove in sight, and the Indians fled up the mountain.
A child was born to Mother that night, but it did not live. Father had intended to go back to his old home in Salt Lake, but because of Mother’s grave illness, he decided to stop for awhile in Cedar City. There were no empty houses or even rooms to rent in Cedar, and after staying for a few days in our tents and wagons, we moved on to Parowan. There we remained a year.