Ben Ch 11

WHERE to build the new home in the valleys of the mountains was the first pressing problem. October's bright colors were beginning to fade, and frosty days warned that winter was not far away. A cosy cabin with plenty of food and firewood must be had to last through the snowy months.

"Better come with me into Utah Valley," suggested Uncle Sam White. "I've found a piece of good land there near Battle Creek. That place is beginning to build up. You could get some wagon mending to do, Shad; and find some fertile ground on which to raise your food stuffs."

"That's good advice," agreed Uncle Starling. "Utah Valley is one of the best I've seen in the West. I'd settle there myself, but Apostles Rich and Lyman want me to go on with them to Southern California."

No more urging was needed. After a few days visiting with friends and relatives around Salt Lake, the families were again on the move. This time it was southward along the base of the towering Wasatch Mountains. Mill Creek and Cottonwood Creek were crossed, and on they went until they came to the Willow Creek village, since named Draper.

An Indian trail led from this place up through a canyon and over the ridge into Utah Valley. This was too steep and rough for ox-teams and wagons, so they had to turn westward and take the pioneer road that went along the high shore line of the ancient lake Bonneville. It was a hard pull to get up the slope to this level, which still may plainly be seen along the mountain side. Yet old Buck and Brindle with their mates managed to draw the wagons to the top and to the end of the mountain.

There the pioneer party rested a little while and looked over the splendid scenes spread before them. To the southward lay a beautiful valley, with stately mountains around it. A few miles away was Utah Lake, shining under the autumn sun. Out of it came the Jordan River to wind its way like a silvery ribbon northward until it reached the Great Salt Lake. From where they stood the stream could be plainly seen curving through a green dell right at the foot of a steep gravel slide that then made the "Point of the Mountain."

"I can see why the pioneers named that the Jordan River," said Ben's father; "it runs out of a fresh water lake like the Sea of Galilee, into a salt lake like the Dead Sea in the Holy land."

"You're right, Shad, about that," said Uncle Sam. "You can understand, too, why we had to pull our wagons way up here to get above that big gravel slide," he added. "This is the only road we now have to get from Salt Lake to Utah Valley."

"It's not a bit like the country around Pigeon Creek," said Ben. "My, what high mountains!"

"They're a good deal higher than the Green Mountains in Vermont I knew as a girl," said Grandmother White, "but they don't have as many trees on them as those Vermont mountains had."

"Well, it's a pretty valley," spoke up Ben's mother, "I believe we are going to like it."

"We'd better be movin' on," said Uncle Sam. "It's a good twelve miles farther to Battle Creek."

That place was not reached until about noon the next day. When the little wagon train finally did come to it, after plodding along a rather bumpy road past Lehi and American Fork, what was found was hardly a village. It was more of a "string-town," as Ben's father called it. Cabins had been built at intervals along the road for about three miles. The pioneers, to be close to the land they had selected, were scattered about on their little farms.

Fortunately for Ben's folk, one family of these settlers was just ready to move away, so Ben's father traded a yoke of oxen for their cabin and a small piece of uncultivated land on which it stood. This rude home gave them quick shelter from the autumn storms that were not long coming. Ben's mother, with the good help of Grandmother White, who stayed with them that winter, soon had the place clean and as cosy as they could make it.

For fuel, Ben and his father, with the help of Uncle Sam, gathered dry sagebrush, and some cedar trees. A big load of pitch pine was also brought in to help keep the fireplace aglow on the cold nights. A few quilts carried across the Plains, together with some buffalo robes procured from the Indians they met, added to the comfort.

Food? Well, they did not have a great store of it, but they managed to get along by rationing what flour and corn meal, hams and bacon and beans were still in the covered wagon. Some of the beans and corn and wheat were jealously guarded as seed for the coming spring. Ben's mother had carefully saved a little of the molasses, a tiny bag of popcorn, and some nuts for a Christmas surprise. Happily the neighbors were ready to share with the newcomers, so it was only a "pinching," not a starving winter for these folk from Pigeon Creek.

As to feed for their animals, the men and boys pitched in and mowed grass from the Battle Creek meadows. Bossy cows, which had helped draw the wagons across the plains, responded to this good food by giving more milk than they had while on the trail. During the winter also, two of the oxen which had fattened enough were sacrificed to make some good beef for the families.

There first "springtime in the Rockies" brought new hope and cheer. The March sun warmed the grounds so that gardens could be started. April rains set the young plants sprouting with promise. But before these could yield much, mothers were out with their children on the hillsides gathering food that nature provided. In some places there were dandelions which made good early day spinach, and "pig weed" was also good for "greens."

Yet another plant that brought to pioneer children both good food and good fun was the sego lily. Friendly Indians had shown the settlers how to find this helpful plant. Along in late April or early May, its slender, green stem would appear to show where to dig for the tasty bulb. With sharp sticks the boys and girls would go down about six inches and bring up what looked like small onions, though they did not bite the tongue and were sweeter. Because the sego lily helped to save the pioneers, and because it yielded not only good food but a beautiful wild blossom, it was afterwards chosen as the state flower of Utah.

One Battle Creek story links with the digging of segos. Two small boys of the town, Leslie and Stanley, being a bit hungry, decided to get some of the tasty little bulbs, all by themselves. Off they put with their sharp sticks to the hills near their cabin home.

As they were digging here and there and eating what they found, Leslie looked up. Not far way were two horsemen.

"It's Injuns, Stan!" he exclaimed. "Run!" Down the hill the frightened youngsters fled. Leslie, being about two years the older, was soon way ahead. In his fright, he failed to look behind to see how his chubby little brother was getting on.

At last, panting for breath, he reached his home.

"Why, what's the matter, Leslie?" asked his mother. "Injuns!" he cried. "Up in the hills! We had to run for our lives!" Then, bursting into tears, he added, "I don't care for myself, just so Stanley gets home all right."

A few moments later little brother came puffing up. The two horsemen who had given the "Injun scare," it was afterwards learned, were herd boys of the town.

Ben had little time during the spring of 1858 to go gathering segos with his younger brothers and sisters. He was kept busy helping his father build a wagon shop, and working on their little farm. Even while they were getting the shop ready, another kind of work came to the boy; he was taken up the steep Mountainside to help his father get some hard wood to make "single trees," "double trees," bolsters and other parts for wagons. "Lando" Herron, one of Louis Robinson's herd boys, had discovered a grove of fine maple just below the "Bald Mountain" when he was out after deer, and had told Ben's father about it.

In early March the stout lad and his father, with old Buck and Brindle, made the hard climb. Their zeal was rewarded by getting into what the wagon-maker said was "the best patch of hard timber this side of the 'Old Muddy'!" What pleased Ben even more was an added remark, "I really believe these maple trees will give us sap enough to make some sugar."

"Let's try, father," was Ben's response.

That afternoon, with a goodly number of the trees chained together, the two started down the steep hill for their cabin home. This was the beginning of what became a "drag road" that ever since has borne their name. Two days later they were at the grove again with intent of getting more than maple trees. They had brought along some pails, "spiles" and an auger.

"Here's the way we used to get maple sap from the groves in old Ohio," said Ben's father. With that he began to bore a hole in one of the trees. This done, he inserted a spile, which was just a round piece of wood shaped to let the sap drip into a pail that he next hung below.

"I don't know whether these small mountain trees will yield much," he added, "but maybe they will give us a taste of sweets."

After tapping, the two set to work briskly to get another "drag" of the trees for Buck and Brindle to take down the Mountainside. A third trip to the grove, two days afterwards, brought double results. They returned this time with not only a number more of the hardwood trees, but with two pails almost full of sap. You may be sure that Ben was careful getting that promise of sweets safely to their home. It made about two pounds of sugar - enough at least for a treat for all the happy children and for each of the older ones.

Through the years immediately following, the pioneers turned for sweets to raising "sorghum cane," which yielded more abundantly. When the crushing and boiling time came, boys and girls would run to "Uncle" Sam Parks' molasses mill to get their little pails filled with "skimmins." Then, on winter evenings there would be "molasses pulls" in many of the homes. But this is getting a bit ahead of Ben's story.