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Show 4 Settling in Tooele I .T WAS CLEAR that there was no land for them here in Deuel Settlement, either. The first settlers had it all divided among themselves and were holding it for family members on the road. Lem's cabin was finished; his mother's was almost done when they arrived. With all hands at work, and some help from the neighbors, they had a comfortable home for Sarah and the children. It had a large fireplace with a wide hearth. The wagon pulled alongside provided good storage space. Then word came that many of the Andrus Company had been called to settle in the far end of Tooele County, to join Brothers John Rowberry and Cyrus Nolan who had taken a company there last year. Should not Dudley take a part of the outfit and go there now, when he could get in on the ground floor in the division of land? He could come back and move the family down next spring. Lem and his wife were very comfortable here; Tom could help get wood out for them all, and they had some provision for winter. Dudley could take part of the outfit and go to the Tooele village, but he must go prepared to support himself, and with tools and animals. So it was that Dudley took one yoke of the oxen and one cow. He secured a solid cart from Uncle Horace Fish in which to haul his bedroll, clothing, temporary supplies, and a few necessary dishes. Lem and Thomas would have the other yoke of oxen, a cow, and most of what had been hauled across the 44 Settling in Tooele plains. And Lem would let Dudley take his horse, with the understanding that it would be returned in the spring when Dudley would come to move the family down to the Tooele settlement. They must travel slowly, stopping for the animals to feed wherever there was any browse or grass. At one place Dudley cut young Cottonwood trees for their evening meal, and by morning every trunk was stripped of its bark and all the twigs and leaves devoured. As he rode along, he thought of the Scandinavian brother who was trying to pronounce the word "Tooele." One told him that an Englishman looking at the landscape said, "It's too 'illy." It was indeed, too hilly. Others said it was the name of an Indian chief; still others that it had been named for the tules or heavy flag grass that grew in the bottoms. Whatever it was called, it would be his home for the next five years. From a distance he could see the fort of the last season's settlers: two rows of log houses facing each other across a lane wide enough for a wagon to pass with ease. The newcomers were not building onto this established community, but had started one farther to the south but of the same pattern. The idea seemed to be that they could build a cattletight corral between the two communities by a line of fence at each end. Dudley at once sought out Jacob Hamblin, his only reason being that his older brother, Lem, and Jacob's younger brother, Bill, had been companions during 1848 when they drove two of Brother George A. Smith's wagons across the plains. He knew also that Brother Jacob's first wife had turned back after that horrible time of sickness and death at Winter Quarters. He understood that her testimony had never been very strong and that she just couldn't face the long trip across the plains when back at home she had an inheritance from her parents that would keep her in comfort. Of course, she could not take the children: the rule of the church was that the children belong to the fathers. So she could do nothing else. ' On the Ragged Edge 45 Dudley had heard also that there was a bit of divine providence in Jacob's meeting Rachel Judd, for he found in her a wonderful mother for his motherless children. At this time the oldest boy, Duane, was nearly nine years old, Martha six, Maryette four, and Lyman, the baby, just two. Rachel was most cordial in her invitation for him to come right in and wait; Jacob would be in before long. But Dudley made an excuse that he must take care of his animals and get in touch with the man in charge, whoever he was. Out by the corrals he found Jacob, who at once took a special interest in him. They needed strong young men in the colony. Jacob knew of Dudley's mother and of the trials she had gone through; he knew from his brother Bill the caliber of the Leavitt family. Yes, indeed, Dudley must come in for supper, but in the meantime they would have to decide about a location for his home and his stock. If he had come to be a part of this undertaking, the sooner he could learn his position, the better. He could put his animals in the common corral; he could set up a temporary base with his tent while the weather was still fine - but that could be only temporary. Of course, he must also get some land in his own name and some for the family. He must also have a building lot on an equality with all others. So it was that while Dudley did get his own small shelter with his own fireplace and sleeping quarters he was almost an addition to the Hamblin home, bringing in an occasional rabbit or duck or grouse to help with the dinner. Things in the valley looked quite favorable until the Indians began to be troublesome, slipping in at night to steal their cattle or horses. Brigham Young advised Jacob to get a group of young men to go into the mountains and surprise the Indians in their camp. Dudley was along when they did raid the Indians so that they scattered in every direction. He started after the one who seemed to be the leader of the band. He had instructions not to kill unless it was necessary; he, himself, did not want to kill. Since the brave would not stop at his com- 46 Settling in Tooele mand, he must catch him. All day long he followed him, up steep mountain sides, down deep gullies, through the brush, over the rocks. Like a deer the Indian seemed tireless. Dudley himself was in excellent shape, as fit for the chase as a blood hound. So the Indian could neither run away from him nor stop to get a chance to aim an arrow at him. It was evening before the chase ended. Both men, completely worn out, stopped at the base of a cliff. Dudley, his trousers in strings and his boots worn through, shot into the air three times for help and then held the Indian at point of his gun until some of the posse came up. When Dudley took the knife, the bow and arrows from his captive, the native pulled open his buckskin shirt and pointing to his breast said, "shoot." Dudley told him no but motioned for him to follow the other men, at the same time telling his companions to take him on. The Indian stood sullenly, refusing to move. He would not recognize the authority of others. It was Dudley who had captured him by literally running him down; it was Dudley to whom he had surrendered his weapons. He would go with no one else. When they took him into town the people were jubilant. They held a council to see what to do with him. The men, remembering the depredations of the Indians, the number of horses they had stolen, and the trouble they had given, thought it might teach the others a lesson if they killed this one. "What do you say, Brother Leavitt?" the bishop asked Dudley, who had been sitting back from the council guarding the prisoner. "I wouldn't take a sheep-killing dog a prisoner and then kill it, to say nothing of as fine a looking man as that," Dudley answered. They all looked at the Indian. He was a fine looking man. Tall and well proportioned, he stood erect and with his arms folded as though expecting no quarter and asking none. This put the matter in a different light. When Jacob Hamblin returned, he also favored kindness. They sent word to Brigham Young who told them On the Ragged Edge 47 to feed the Indian and let him go. They kept him a while before they sent him for his squaw and papoose. All winter he stayed in the fort with the whites and did not return to his people until spring. Years later this same man was the means of saving the life of a Brother Harris who was cutting timber in the mountains. He had a large tree felled and was trimming it when he was suddenly surrounded by a whole band of Indians, all armed with bows and arrows. It looked as though his doom were certain when this friendly brave who had lived with the whites all winter in Tooele Fort appeared. He jumped onto a log and began to talk eloquently with his people. So convincing was he that his neighbors dropped their bows and went their way. Though Brother Harris did not understand a word of the speech, he knew that the Indian was telling of the good treatment he had received the year before at the fort. At another time Dudley went out with Jacob Hamblin and others after a band that had stolen some horses. The posse separated, some going one way and some another, with the plan of surrounding the Indians. Dudley was stationed on a mountainside overlooking a well-worn trail. Just as he had made up his mind that the band had gone, he saw on the trail below a brave and his squaw. It was Old Big Foot, the leader of the band. His squaw had just given birth to a baby, and he had remained with her a few hours until she was able to travel. Now she carried the child on her back as she walked along the path behind her husband. He was one who had resented the whites and with whom they had not been able to come to peaceable terms. A little snow had fallen and lay in patches on the mountainside. Since this brave was one with whom they had repeatedly had trouble, Dudley decided to shoot him. He dropped to one knee to steady his nerves and get a better aim. Just as he was ready to shoot, a flare of snow came up in his face. He thought there wasn't breeze enough to blow the snow, but anyway it spoiled his aim. He got up and went along the side of the hill, keeping in sight of the Indians. Again he took aim and 48 Settling in Tooele was ready to shoot, but this time his gun missed fire. Running along the mountain, he again dropped on one knee. This time he took careful aim and fired, but the bullet struck the rocks above the Indian's head scattering them into the air. Big Foot turned to him and said in plain English, "Who are you shooting at?" Later he seemed to be totally ignorant of any English words, but he did permit Dudley to take him or, rather, to hold him there until Jacob Hamblin and the posse could come and take them back to the settlement where, against the wishes of some members, they were kept and fed through the cold weather and sent home in the spring with some presents. Dudley's main concern during this season was not Indians; it was getting land in the fields, getting it cleared and planted, and going to the canyons for logs with which to build his mother a home. He exchanged work for work, helping Jacob Hamblin and others with the understanding that they would return it. This they all did most generously. Letters from his mother at Christmas told of the marriage of his sister Mary to William (Gunlock Bill) Hamblin. They were married in Salt Lake City and moved at once to his claim north at Wellsville, where Lemuel also had land. Later word from Jerry was that their two little girls were doing very well, and all were happy to welcome little Jeremiah IV who had arrived all in good order on February 7, 1851. They were very comfortable there; he could not leave his work for another year at least. This letter was just to speed the news of the new son's arrival and to wish them all well in Zion. Dudley knew that if his mother moved to Tooele, he must take the full responsibility. There was no use to wait for Jerry, or for Lem, either. Lem's claim in Wellsville adjoined Bill's and Mary's, so now young Tom had gone north to Wellsville, too, to help both on the land. By late spring of 1851 Dudley had moved his mother and the two girls, Betsy and Priscilla, to Tooele. The On the Ragged Edge 49 house he had built here was larger and better than the one she had been living in and had several minor improvements besides. He was sure that she would be pleased with the whole settlement. They had no midwife here, but she had delivered many babies. And they did have a good meetinghouse complete with a belfry and bell. A church didn't seem a church without a bell. The first woman to call after Sarah was settled was Rachel Hamblin, for she was going to have her first baby - and she nearly thirty years old. What a joy to have a child of her own. Rachel loved her husband's little brood: Duane, ten years old, Martha and Maryette, eight and six, and little three-year-old Lyman. This lad was almost like her own son, he was so young when she came into the family. Then Jacob had brought home the Indian boy, Albert, who was about five; he was so sweet-tempered and eager to please. Sarah Leavitt had known Jacob's first wife very well, but she made no reference to her. Let her remain dead and forgotten to them all. Rachel Judd was a perfect mother in the home, just such a woman as Jacob needed. When she gave birth to a fine baby girl June 15, 1851, she was elated. She appreciated Sarah's understanding and help, and soon the two women became almost as sisters. The Leavitt girls made friends quickly, and then-mother's ability was greatly appreciated. Dudley was happy to see his family so well accepted, for he had already entered into all community activities, church and civic, competing in athletic contests and joining in wholeheartedly at the dances. Before the summer was over both Lemuel and Bill Hamblin decided to follow them to Tooele. Lem's wife was not well, and Dudley knew that his mother would be a real help. Bill's wife, Mary, would be glad to be near her mother when her baby arrived. Tom refused to leave Wellsville where they had two fine farms just coming into production, fences, corrals, houses - small to be sure - but houses. He was not of 50 Settling in Tooele age, but would they sign a bill of sale which he could hold until he was? They just might change their minds and decide to come back. In the meantime, he would stay right there and claim the property by right of possession, work the land, improve the one house, at least, and fend for himself. The Leavitt family all fitted into the activities of the Tooele community, church and civic. From the first Dudley had made a place for himself. He had been attracted by Mary Huntsman who was three years younger than he. They danced well together and were part of the teenage group at parties and "bees" of different kinds. She was noisy and enthusiastic in her cheers for him when he entered the athletic competitions: broad jump; hop, hop, jump; high jump; run-and-jump; stand-and-jump. He was not the best on the short races, but on the mile run he came in rods ahead of his nearest competitor. His real strength was the wrestle; few ever challenged him the second time. During the holidays of 1852-53 Dudley and Mary became engaged. He had no ring except one pounded out of a horse-shoe nail with the head taking the place of a precious stone. A different kind of engagement ring, but Mary wore it proudly, for she knew that the love behind it was genuine. Dudley had long ago determined that his wife would not have to live in with his mother, so he went about putting up another log house for himself while Mary prepared quilts, fancy work, and a wedding dress. She also put up fruit in season and made jellies, pickles, and preserves, as well as several cheeses. They would be married in Salt Lake City at the Endowment House. They traveled to the city in two wagons, she with her parents in theirs, and he with his mother in his. Each wagon was loaded with produce and items to trade or sell. The trip took three days, but they were pleasant ones. Dudley could hardly imagine the changes in Salt Lake City in only three years. The Council House was finished and in use, of course; the new Social Hall was also com- On the Ragged Edge 51 pleted. The White House - later called the Lion House - was almost ready for occupancy. The Tithing Office and yard were teeming with visitors. But it was the number of homes that impressed them most - small homes, many of them, but houses on nearly every block, with many picket fences and young trees shading the sidewalks. They spent the evening walking about the city. The first order of business the next morning was the visit to the church office where the young people secured their license - after they had presented their recommends from the bishop. They were instructed to be back at three o'clock that afternoon with their parents as witnesses. Dudley left the crowd long enough to go to Brother E.T. Benson's place to arrange for a wedding dinner that evening and a room for himself and wife for the night. Sister Benson had the reputation for being equal to any emergency, and she proved it here. Another leaf in the table, a bit of decoration on the cake just out of the oven, a little extra in the soup pot. If he wanted wine, he would have to furnish it himself; otherwise she would serve milk, a fruit drink, or coffee. An extra bedroom? Yes, she could easily manage that. Just come to supper prepared to stay the night. Everything went off well. The host, the parents, the other guests at the table joined in with toasts and good wishes and an impromptu song from one in which all repeated the refrain. A very happy evening to remember always. Dudley's mother traveled back in the Huntsman wagon that the young people might have at least three days of honeymoon. Back home, they set up their own establishment, certain that they would live happily ever after. Their wedding date was August 30, 1853, - Dudley's twenty-third birthday. Soon after this, Jerry arrived from Pottowattomie County with his wife and three children. They moved in with Mother Sarah and proceeded to build on extra rooms. Their fourth child, Louisa, had been born two weeks before Dudley's wedding. 52 Settling in Tooele The Deseret News, addressed to Sarah S. Leavitt, Tooele, Utah, instead of being passed around among the family, became the occasion for the group to gather. Dudley's Mary read the articles aloud, with pauses for comment and discussion. With a bit of refreshment, it came to be a "sociable" to include interested neighbors and was looked forward to and prepared for each week. Of course, Mother Sarah would have perused it carefully in advance, marking items of special interest to her. They noted the calls of the various groups that were sent on missions of different kinds: preaching, exploring, or colonizing. In the spring of 1852, for example, almost one hundred missionaries went out to all parts of the world, to distant India, China, Japan, and the islands of the sea, that all nations might hear of this new church and kingdom of God upon the earth. More important still, the Divine Law of Plurality of Wives was now taught openly and proudly. For ten years it had been practiced among the leaders secretly and denied publicly. Now it was demanded of all who would live the "Higher Law." Much attention was being paid also to Indian problems, as towns were established along the California road: Parowan in 1850, Nephi in 1851, Fillmore in 1852. They were hardly surprised when at the conference in October 1853 Jacob Hamblin's name was among the thirty-two men called to the Southern Indian Mission. His experiences with the natives in Tooele had attracted the attention of Brother Brigham; the story of Old Big Foot had become legend. Strangely, the conference was in session at the same hour that Rachel was in labor at the birth of her first son, October 6, 1853. Rachel had set such a store on giving birth to a son that she had the name already chosen: Joseph. When Dudley, paying his respects to the newborn, suggested that he was named for the Prophet Joseph, Rachel said quickly, "No, he is named for Joseph of old who was sold into Egypt." Then, noting his expression, she said impulsively, "Pull up a chair and sit down, and I'll tell you the story On the Ragged Edge 53 of the baby's name. We've kept it a secret between us, and I'd rather you didn't repeat it until it is fulfilled: My sister Mary was married to Thomas B. Marsh, one of first Quorum of the Twelve chosen in 1835. He was a good man, very loyal and active. When the law of Plural Marriage was started, I became his first - and only - plural wife. But many other things entered in, and he became estranged and dropped out, so that he didn't come West. I was determined to come, so I left him and came out with my brother, Zadoc K. Judd, and his wife Minerva Dart. At Winter Quarters during that time of starvation, I met a fine man whose wife had died, leaving him with two young sons. He asked me to marry him, which I did, but he, too, died before spring. The boys and I managed to weather through, and I felt that, with the outfit, I could make it to Zion. Then my husband's brother and family arrived at the Bluffs. They were not Mormons; they were going to California. They persuaded the children to go with them, as they had only two of their own, a boy and a girl. My boys seemed eager to go, so I didn't hold them. So here I was, a lone woman with a good outfit. You know about Jacob's wife, Lucinda. She was not a bad woman, she was just weak. As the time to go west came on, she felt she couldn't face it; we were all still badly under-nourished. She had a way to return to her home and plenty, and she took it. I do not entirely condemn her. You know the story from there. Someone told Jacob about me, and he came to my cabin; I had the door locked and was busy reeling a hank of yarn into a ball. When he knocked, I called out that he'd have to wait a while until I got my arms free so that I could lift the latch. He had to wait a few minutes, but when he did come in, we both liked each other instantly. I gave him a chair, and he told me his story. I wanted to marry him, but I thought I should be fair with him. 54 Settling in Tooele "In justice to you, Jacob, I must tell you that I may never be able to bear you a child. I have been married to two good men, and never conceived." "You shall not only bear a child, but you shall bear children," Jacob said at once, "and like Jacob and Rachel of Old, our sons shall be Joseph and Benjamin." Dudley kept his promise. He heard the story again from the lips of his sister, Priscilla, many years later, after Rachel's death. |
