Sophie’s Journey - Chapter 20 - Florence

 

Sophie’s Journey - Chapter 20

Florence

The company arrived in Florence on a Tuesday. The settlement was on the edge of the prairie, right by the Missouri River. Mud covered the ground, and saws could be heard everywhere. There were rough buildings and wagons. For many, this was the end of one journey and the start of another.

After leaving the quiet green prairie of Iowa, Florence seemed noisy and crowded. There were broken handcarts everywhere. Men with dirty faces worked to repair them.

"The wood is cracking, Mother," Peter said, his voice husky from the dust. He was kneeling in the mud, his small fingers outlining the hairline fracture that had spider-webbed across the left wheel's hub. "The grain is opening up. If we don't soak the wheels in the river, the spokes will rattle right out of the rim before we hit the Platte."

Sophie stayed quiet and listened to the camp. Many handcarts were breaking. The boxes were splitting, and the axles were twisting. She touched the pull-bar. The wood was damp and oily.

"Take the bucket, Peter," she said. "Fill it from the shallows and keep the wood wet. We cannot afford to lose the hub. Marianne, sit with the children under the shade of that wagon. Keep Otto's head covered. The sun is brutal today."

Marianne Lautrup moved slowly. She looked tired, and her eyes were empty. Sophie worried about her. Marianne did not look at the settlement or the river. She stared ahead and held her torn shawl.

"There are so many people, Sophie," Marianne whispered. Her gaze wandered toward the crowded street. "They look like apparitions. We all look like apparitions."

Sophie could not let herself stop. She had four children who needed her. She had to keep going.

Across the camp, Levi Savage sat at a small table with his journal in hand. He opened it and wrote, “Tuesday 12 Aug 1856. Today, we commenced preparing for our journey and ascertaining who wishes to go on this fall and who wishes to remain here. Many are going to stop.

Others are faltering, and I myself am not in favor of, but am much opposed to, taking women & children through, destitute of clothing, when we all know that we are bound to be caught in the snow and severe cold weather long before we reach the valley. I have expressed my feelings, in part, to Brother McGaw, Willey, and Atwood. 

Brother Atwood said to me last night that since he had been a member of this Church, with all of his experience, he had never been placed in a position where things appear so dark to him, as it does to undertake to take this company through at this late season.”

The next morning was hot and dusty. The company gathered together. Sophie watched as the camp became quiet. Captain Willie stood in front of the Saints. He looked tired but determined. The people stopped talking and listened.

“Brothers and sisters, I need everyone to listen carefully. We’ve come to a point where a decision has to be made, and it will affect every soul in this company.

Florence is the last real outfitting place before we head into the wilderness. Beyond this, there’s very little. Fort Laramie is still nearly five hundred miles ahead of us, and Fort Bridger lies close to a thousand miles farther on. They’re only small trading posts, not places that can support a company our size through the winter. If we leave here now, we must understand what that means. There will be no stopping to regroup or wait out the cold. Once we start west, our destination has to be the Valley.

The only other option is to remain here through the winter. But that choice carries dangers of its own. Our supplies are already severely strained. Food is limited. Many among us are weak from the voyage and the journey so far. Surviving here until spring would not be easy, and I won’t pretend otherwise.

And neither will I pretend about the lateness of the season. The truth is, we are far behind where we should be. We were leaving Liverpool when we ought to have already been on the plains. We are standing in Florence when we should be nearing Fort Laramie or beyond it. Knowing that doesn’t change anything, but we must face it honestly.

It is August thirteenth. Out on the high plains, frost can come in any month of the year. Snowstorms sometimes begin as early as September. If we continue, we will almost certainly face bitter cold and severe storms before this journey is over. I do not want to soften that reality for you. There may be hunger. There will be suffering. Some among us may not survive the journey.

But I also believe the Lord has called us to Zion. I believe He will strengthen us according to our faith and our sacrifice. The road ahead will be hard, perhaps harder than any of us yet understand, but I urge you to go forward with bravery and with trust in God. Let us press on to Zion.”

Captain Willie stepped down from the temporary platform, then turned to address his captains. “There are only four of us in this company who have crossed the trail before me,” he said. “Brother Woodward, Brother Savage, and Captain Atwood. I believe that pressing forward is the right decision. However, Brother Savage is of a different mind. I feel that you should have an opportunity to hear his feelings before we take a vote.” 

Captain Willie pointed to Brother Savage and signaled him to come forward. “Brother Savage.”

Savage rose. He was a returning missionary, a man who knew the trail. “Brethren and sisters,” he said. “If I speak, I must speak my mind, let it cut where it will.

I have traveled these plains before. I know something of the country that lies ahead of us, and I would not be honest before God if I failed to warn you of the dangers before this company.

It is now late in the season. The journey yet before us is long, and we are poorly prepared for what awaits us in the mountains. Many among us are women, little children, the aged, and the weak. We have no proper wagons for shelter. Many are thinly clothed already, and our handcarts carry little more than the bare necessities of life.

I tell you plainly that if we proceed now, we are liable to meet snow before we reach the valleys. We may have to wade through drifts up to our knees. At night, we shall lie upon frozen ground with only thin blankets around us. We cannot escape the storms as wagon companies do. We must endure the cold as we are.

I do not speak against the handcart plan itself, nor against the brethren who lead us. My only objection is the lateness of the season. Were it earlier, I would go forward gladly and without fear.”

Tears ran down his cheeks as he continued. “But I fear that if we continue west now, suffering, sickness, and death will attend this company. I fear that the bones of some among us may yet lie beside this trail.

Still, I know your faith is strong. Many of you have crossed oceans and left your homes to gather in Zion. If, after hearing these things, you choose to go forward, then I will not forsake you.

What I have said, I know to be true. But if you decide to go forward, I will go with you. I will help you all I can. I will work with you, rest with you, suffer with you, and if necessary, I will die with you.

May God in His mercy bless and preserve us all.”

The camp became quiet. Sophie looked at her children. Peter looked determined. The younger ones looked scared. She remembered her husband and son and felt sad. She thought about how far they had come and how far they still had to go.

Elder Willie spoke again. He said his God could save to the uttermost. He wanted no Job's comforters, he said. Savage replied that he had spoken only the truth. He offered to step down if Willie wished to replace him. He would not think hard of it.

Brother Atwood spoke last. He was calm. He told the Saints to pray for their own revelation, to know for themselves whether to go or stay.

Sophie listened as the men talked. Savage's warning made her worried. She knew what it meant to lose someone. She had already lost a husband and a son. As Brother Atwood spoke, Sophie looked at her children. Peter's face showed nothing. The younger ones waited for her to decide. She knew there was no work or food in Florence for the winter. The trail was dangerous, but staying was not possible.

Sophie looked at the people around her. There were Danish farmers, English lace-makers, and tired mothers with children. Many looked desperate. They hoped their long journey would bring them to safety.

When it was time to vote on whether to continue on, many hands went up in the hot air. Sophie waited before raising her hand. She looked at Peter, then at Emma’s small, dirty face. Otto asked, “What are they doing, Mama?”

"We have to decide if we will go on to Zion," she said. Then she raised her hand. She did it because there was nowhere else to go.

Brother Savage stood still as the vote was counted. He looked sad but not angry. "I will go with you," he said quietly. "I will pull as hard as any man among you. And I will try to see your children to the valley. But may God have mercy on us for what we have decided today."

The meeting ended. About one hundred people decided to stay in Florence. The rest, including Sophie and her children, got ready to go west. They knew their choice would not be easy.

That night, Sophie lay in her tent and listened to the camp. She heard quiet voices, men arguing, an owl hooting, and a baby crying. She did not pray for help. Her decision was already made.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Previous Chapters