This is one of those tales handed down by word of mouth from generation to generation and treasured by a family as much for personal connection as anything else. It is based on an incident in my great-grandmother’s life and no doubt has gathered a little color and was altered to suit each storyteller’s imaginative interpretations.
Grandma was a perky little soul and at eighty possessed plenty of that spirit that no amount of hardship had been able to subdue. It snapped from her eyes and her quick movements as she flitted about giving evidence that during the early years of her life she wouldn’t be the person whose path you’d want to cross. Fortunately, she possessed a fund of good judgment and right-down practical ability along with, what in those days, was a pretty good education for a mere girl.
About 1850 her family joined the L.D.S. Church. Early missionaries became acquainted with her father and while he was not easily impressed with new ideas and fancies, an open mind, prayer, study, and the zeal of those bringing the message had their effect and another family consisting of parents and four children were ready to begin the long journey to the land of the mountains. Being a man of fairly substantial means, the journey west was accomplished with a minimum of trials. Undoubtedly their difficulties were much the same as most of the pioneers encountered—hardships, and discomfort, but there were no actual tragic experiences that some had. Grandma was at that time a young girl, attractive, not at all self-conscious, and probably somewhat pampered because she was the only girl in the family.
Two older brothers and one younger had always more or less done her bidding. The company with whom they traveled soon came to know something about this family, for Grandma had a knack with children, and stops of any length would find her the center of a group of youngsters and almost without being aware of what she was doing she would be telling stories and supervising activities that were of a constructive nature. This inherent ability to teach became more pronounced as they traveled along and by the time they were established in Utah, her reputation was established also. There is not much of romance in this narrative. Grandma married shortly after arriving in Salt Lake City, and before long left with Grandfather to settle in Sanpete Valley.
Living in a small cabin in the village of North Bend (Fairview) was not all fun, but, because it was the life of the entire group and because simple pleasures, joys, and sorrows were shared by all, there was a bond of love and happiness that united and gave strength to all. Between routine duties, which were anything but light, rearing a family, and coping with the Indians, who at that time were more of a nuisance than a danger, she still managed to gather around her the entire group of children in the small settlement and so their schooling began and kept right along with the household tasks.
Gathered in a large group in a small cabin, arithmetic, spelling, and reading became part of their daily life. Grandmother was not always an easy task mistress and often used “discipline” to obtain desired results. It did not take her long to sense that she had a real responsibility to those children. Because she was not afraid of responsibility and assumed it when necessary, others soon began to rely on her to solve other problems that arose, and added to her teaching, out of sheer necessity she became fairly skilled in the art of nursing.
A few years after arriving at their new home, the shooting of an Indian by a white man in the southern part of the county caused a great deal of agitation, and before long, spurred on by their chief, the Indians became bolder and really became a worry to the white settlers. In spite of the fact that the Indians who had a settlement a few miles to the north, had been a problem due to petty stealing and because they would walk into a house when they felt like it, Grandma had been on good terms with them and on many occasions had helped them by binding up injuries or attempting to instruct them in what to do in some cases of illness.
About the time that fresh difficulties arose, Grandma had won the confidence of one particular Indian because a rather bad infection had responded to her care. One afternoon he came to her door with a small Indian baby who seemed to be very ill. After working with the baby for the remainder of the afternoon, she tried to make the Father understand that there was little chance for the baby to recover. The Indian father stood stoically outside the cabin door and said nothing. Realizing that if the baby died there would not only be a sad loss, but there might also be a general reaction among the Indians and much of the good she had done in the past would be lost because of this reaction, she continued to do what she could, but late that evening the baby died.
With nothing but a scowl and a grunt, the father took the tiny body and left. Grandma didn’t know how she stood in his estimation. The Indians became bolder and frequently very insolent as time went on and there were more and more skirmishes. Horses disappeared, food and grain were stolen and after one such occasion, there was real alarm due to rumors that the community was to be attacked by the Indians who had been reinforced by another tribe. Homes were barricaded, groups remained together for safety, and men were posted as guards while others worked on the farms. Grandma had never seen or heard from the Indian since the day the baby died, but one night, several weeks later, she heard a stealthy knock at her door. Grandfather was attending an emergency council meeting regarding the Indians.
Although she was frightened when she heard the knock, she became completely alarmed when in response to her call, “Who’s there?” an Indian voice answered. She got the gun and it was some time before she mustered up enough courage to ask what he wanted. Finally, she recognized the voice as that of the Indian baby’s father and he made her understand that he wanted to come in. Not knowing just what his intentions were, she questioned him further and decided that he was friendly. At least she thought it was just as well to act in that manner. He was able to convey to her that she was not to be alarmed if she heard noises during the night that he would be there to watch her home and that she and her family would be safe. She was not permitted to leave the house or send word to anyone. When Grandpa returned, he did not see or hear anything unusual. The next day it was learned there had been a band of Indians enter the town. Just what they had planned to do was not determined. There were several head of horses and cattle missing, but no one was injured and no shots were fired. My grandparent’s home was not bothered and none of their belongings were taken. Finally, the uprisings quieted down and as time went on peace was restored. There is nothing spectacular about this story and it is probably just a sample of what many of the pioneers went through. But today, those of us who live in the beauty of Sanpete Valley might give a second thought to our forefathers whose steadfast courage, loyalty, and love for mankind might well be emulated in our own lives to make a better world.
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