| Description |
violin while they danced. They pulled the chairs to the edge of the room, and with Sister Pitchford's encouragement, rolled up the small carpet. Before he knew it there were nearly sixteen people in the small room. After an hour passed of quadrilles and other dances, the room vias swelling with more people all the time. Peter was not at>le to put his violin down until after midnight, and he did not get to bed until nearly one in the morning. Peter lay thinking about the excitement of the evening. He thought Sister Pitchford had probably not been happier for a long time. Peter reflected back twenty-five years when they had crossed the Plains together in the same company. The Pitchford's were from England, and although Peter was but a lad" from Denmark who knew scarcely any Snglish, they had befriended him. After arriving in Zion they continued to travel together as far south as Nephi, where the Pitchford's decided to remain. Peter went on to Manti where his brother Ole Hans Westenskow lived with his family. Memories of over half a life time seemed to pass before him and soon he drifted off to sleep. Peter awoke from a bad dream. As he sat on the edge of his bed, he looked around the dimly lit room and felt relieved. It was larger than what his cell had been, and there were no bars across the window. He walked over to the window and stared out at the cold morning dawn climbing above the east mountains. The cold made him shiver but he remained at the window. He was thinking hard about a lot of things. His family, the gospel, and Sanpete. For some reason he kept reflecting on what his father had told him before leaving the Old Country. "Mormonism," he said, "will bring you nothing but grief. One day you shall wish that you had never heard of it, and you shall long to be back in Denmark where God meant for you to be." Peter knew a war was raging and there was no denying it. It was the fiercest anyone had yet seen. The Territory had come up against some mighty big problems right 106 |
