to the last frontier autobiography of lucy hannah white flake

TO THE LAST FRONTIER AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF LUCY HANNAH WHITE FLAKE

Compiled and edited by Roberta Flake Clayton Retyped by Dr. Burton F. Brasher – Great nephew of Lucy Hannah White Flake Footnotes, and photos added by Debbie Larsen.

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Contents INTRODUCTION .............................................................................................................. 4 1. MY BIRTH AND ANCESTORY .............................................................................. 5 2. MAKING A HOME ................................................................................................. 10 3. ANOTHER MOVE................................................................................................... 12 4. A SPIRITUAL AWAKENING ................................................................................ 14 5. PIONEER AMUSEMENTS ..................................................................................... 16 6. LOVE COMES RIDING .......................................................................................... 19 7. BRIEF HISTORY OF THE FLAKES ...................................................................... 24 8. OUR WEDDING AND OUR FIRST HOME .......................................................... 31 9. PLEASURES, DUTIES AND RESPONSIBILITIES .............................................. 33 10. HONEYMOONS ...................................................................................................... 37 11. GETTING A START................................................................................................ 41 12. OUR FAMILY INCREASES ................................................................................... 45 13. DANGERS AND HOW THEY WERE MET .......................................................... 47 14. THE CRUCIAL TEST.............................................................................................. 50 15. WE TAKE ANOTHER WIFE .................................................................................. 55 16. TRIALS .................................................................................................................... 59 17. ARIZONA EXPLORERS......................................................................................... 61 18. LIFE GOES ON ........................................................................................................ 63 19. ARIZONA OR BUST ............................................................................................... 68 20. SNOWFLAKES........................................................................................................ 72 21. THE STORK OVER TAKES US ............................................................................. 76 22. ON THE LITTLE COLORADO .............................................................................. 78 23. THE DEATH OF LITTLE GEORGE ...................................................................... 81 24. RANCHO RIO DE LA PLATA ............................................................................... 83 25. BEGINNING AGAIN .............................................................................................. 85 26. HOW SNOWFLAKE GOT ITS NAME .................................................................. 88 27. A SUCCESSFUL TRIP ............................................................................................ 91 28. PROVIDING EMPLOYMENT ................................................................................ 93 29. APACHE COUNTY'S FIRST COUNTY SEAT ..................................................... 95 30. GENEROSITY ......................................................................................................... 97 31. IN EIGHTEEN SEVENTY-NINE ........................................................................... 99 32. CONFERENCE TIME ........................................................................................... 101 33. ANOTHER TRIP TO UTAH ................................................................................. 103 34. MEETINGS AND PARTINGS .............................................................................. 105 35. FINAL PAYMENT ON THE RANCH .................................................................. 109 36. PRUDENCE HAS A NEW HOME AND ANOTHER BABY .............................. 111 37. MOTHER COMES TO VISIT US ......................................................................... 113 38. OUR FIRST MISSIONARY .................................................................................. 116 39. PERSECUTION ..................................................................................................... 119 40. WILLIAM IS ARRESTED FOR POLYGAMY .................................................... 121 41. THE TRIAL ............................................................................................................ 124 42. PRISON TIME ....................................................................................................... 126 43. “WHEN I WAS IN PRISON, YE VISITED ME” ................................................. 130 44. HOME AGAIN ....................................................................................................... 131

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45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72.

GOD GIVES AND GOD TAKES AWAY ............................................................ 134 OUTLAWS ............................................................................................................. 135 TEST OF CHARACTER........................................................................................ 138 I AM FORTY SIX .................................................................................................. 141 FREIGHTING ........................................................................................................ 143 TRAGEDY ............................................................................................................. 146 OUT OF DEBT ....................................................................................................... 150 DEDICATION OF THE TEMPLE IN SALT LAKE CITY .................................. 152 AUNT EMILY AND HER SPECKS ..................................................................... 157 HOME LIFE ........................................................................................................... 159 THRESHING TIME ............................................................................................... 164 A FUNERAL INSTEAD OF A WEDDING .......................................................... 166 THE PASSING OF MOTHER ............................................................................... 168 RESPONSIBILITIES ............................................................................................. 172 PRUDENCE IS TAKEN ........................................................................................ 177 TWO WEDDINGS ................................................................................................. 180 CHECKING UP ...................................................................................................... 182 INVENTIONS ........................................................................................................ 185 WILLIAM IN THE ROLE OF PAUL REVERE ................................................... 187 PIONEER DAY CELEBRATION ......................................................................... 189 PREHISTORIC CIVILIZATION ........................................................................... 192 FINDING FLAKES ................................................................................................ 194 JOY OF SERVICE ................................................................................................. 199 THE PARTING OF THE WAYS ........................................................................... 202 PIONEER DANCES............................................................................................... 205 HOLIDAY SEASON .............................................................................................. 207 TO THE LAST FRONTIER ................................................................................... 210 FINIS ...................................................................................................................... 211

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INTRODUCTION

Before the passing of my angel mother, she gave me her journal and the sad duty of completing the last chapters. No words of mine can do her justice. I feel about her as she expressed in her journal when her mother passed away. Volumes could be written of the beauty and unselfishness of her life. These things are sacred memories in the hearts of all who knew her. No earthly possession was more valued than her precious writings. When I left home, Jimmie, Mary and Father insisted on my leaving the journals and I could not be selfish enough to take them. Upon my return twenty-five years later, I had a hard time locating her three books. They were finally found and are now in my possession again. In the summer of 1923, I decided to make copies for each of mother's children. I knew the other sisters and brothers would prize them as I did. Besides the yellowing leaves and fading ink, along with much handling which the books had gone through, made me know they would have to be copied if they were to be preserved. I went through the sacred pages and selected the vital things and the ones of most importance to all and condensed them. From this I have written the story "To The Last Frontier." A true autobiography of my noble and beloved mother. My purpose in this is that it may be placed in more hands, and to introduce to her descendants the faith promoting experiences, that they may incorporate in their own lives the faith, loyalty, and courage that were her constant standards and live worthy of their noble heritage. Roberta Flake Clayton

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1. MY BIRTH AND ANCESTORY Someone has said that every individual is a composite of all his ancestors. Though the traits may not be pronounced, still they are inherent and when occasion arises may make themselves a vital part of one's life. Emerson says, "We sometimes see a change of expression in our companion, and say, his father or his mother comes to the window of his eyes, and sometimes a remote relative. In different hours a man represents each of several of his ancestors, as if there were seven or eight of us rolled up in each man's skin - seven or eight ancestors at least, and they constitute the variety of notes for that new piece of music which his life is." My ancestors, from our records which date back in some instances to the tenth century, have been pioneers. Many more were knighted for bravery and given estates for their services. Some of them intermarried with royalty, making their ancestry and lineage a matter of history in Scotland, England, Ireland and France. My Burtons were High Sheriffs of London for several generations.1 My sixth great grandfather, George Carr was one of the shipwrights of the Mayflower2. Another ancestor, John Bailey II, and his wife Eleanor Knight were shipwrecked off the coast of Maine in the great storm of August 15, 1635, when their ship "Angel Gabriel" foundered. My seventh great grandfather, Elder Thomas Oliver helped to found the First Church of Boston, in 1652. One of the first school masters in that city, which is known as "the seat of learning" was my fifth great grandfather, Robert Woodmancy. John Dwight settled at Dedham, Massachusetts in 1635 and founded the Church of Christ. He was one of the five trustees of the first free schools in America. My Bacons, Loomis' and Whites need no introduction in the world of letters. I could go on and on recounting the deeds of my revered ancestors. I only site these to prove that if I have shown any courage in conflict, patience

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Recent information has shown that we are not related to the High Sheriffs of London. The Burton family that Lucy is speaking of when she tells about High Sheriffs were from William Walton Burton of Afton, Wyoming and were contemporaries but not related. 2 Also from more extensive research on the passenger list of the Mayflower, George Carr is not listed as a passenger, maybe with more research we can find out if he was a shipwright.

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in privation, zeal in religion, love of learning, I come by my heritage rightfully. “People will not look forward to posterity who never looks backward to their ancestry,” says Burke. Macaulay puts it this way: “People who take no pride in the noble achievements or remote ancestors will never achieve anything worthy to be remembered with pride by remote descendants.” Religion rather than conquest seems to have furnished the motif for the migration of most of my ancestors. As I look back over my wanderings and those of my parents and grandparents I can see, that also has been directly responsible for all of our movings. Both of my parents, Samuel Dennis and Mary Hannah Burton White, were born in "York State" as New York was then called. They had moved with their parents to Illinois, where in Knox County on the 23rd of August 1842 I was born, the eldest of their children. When I was two years old, they joined themselves to a very unpopular religion, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints3. Like their Huguenot, Quaker and Puritan ancestors, they suffered much persecution because of their desire to worship God according to the dictates of their own conscience, a privilege granted by the Constitution of the United States, for which many of them fought and died. Samuel Dennis White and Mary Hannah Burton

My earliest recollection was when my father held me up to see the faces of our beloved prophet, Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum, who had been martyred in Carthage Jail.

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According to William Burton, Mary Hannah Burton’s brother, she was baptized May 7, 1837 (W. Burton 1837-51 pg. 4). Samuel Dennis White’s obituary states he was baptized in 1838 by Moses Smith but some family records state it was 9 March 1837.

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Mobs of armed men burned our homes, confiscated our property, heaped every indignity imaginable upon us. We were driven from county to county, from state to state and finally from the confines of civilization, this too, in the dead of winter. My grandmother Hannah Shipley Burton, a gentle little English lady unused to hardships soon sickened and died in Austin Township, Atchison County, Missouri. As mother stood by the shallow wayside grave, she brushed away her tears and I heard her say, “Thank God, she won't ever have to suffer cold, hunger or exposure anymore.” The exodus toward the west began in 1846, but father remained behind until the spring of 1850 assisting other families to leave. The company in which we crossed the plains was not very large. We made good time on the trip. I walked most of the way from the Missouri River to the Valley of the Great Salt Lake. We all walked who were able, to lighten the load of the poor oxen. I was always glad when it came time to camp. The oxen soon learned without much gee-ing and haw-ing how to place the wagons to form a circle, leaving very little space between the front wheel of one and the near hind wheel of the wagon ahead. In the corral thus formed, the fires were made to cook the meals and the beds were made down near the wagons. If the Indians were troublesome, the cattle were put into this corral for the night and guards kept watch over the camp. When suppers were over, all gathered around the campfire, or if it were moonlight we needed no other light. Someone would start a song, all would join in, or someone could tell an amusing story. The weary miles trudged that day would be forgotten, soon the lively turn of a fiddle or accordion, a flute or a fife, or maybe all of them, could be heard playing a quadrille or a reel. Hardship, weariness, separation from loved ones were forgotten and these homeless exiles joined in the dance. I would keep my eyes open as long as I could, picturing myself as a grown young lady, Belle of the Ball, with beautiful flowing skirts that would swish and swirl as I danced. Before 1 knew it my poor tired head would rest on mother's lap.

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When the dancers were all tired out, or ten o'clock arrived I would be awakened, to join in the closing hymn and kneel in prayer in a big circle before going to bed. Some of the prayers were so long that I would go to sleep again, then father would carry me to bed. Grandfather White was not strong so that we had to be careful with him on the trip and give him the best we had to eat. Father contracted Mountain fever a week or two before we reached our destination, so mother had to look after them and had a hard time doing that and all of her other duties. To me the three months journey was not a hardship. Provisions were not plentiful any of the way. We had a cow along, but she didn't give much milk after walking all day. We ate the last of our food for breakfast on the morning of August 31st, and about the middle of the afternoon we arrived at the home of Mother's people. They had reached the Valley the year before4. That day stands out in my memory as one of the happiest in my childhood. That day happened to be mother's thirty-second birthday, and was a joyous occasion. I couldn't understand her tears. I said, “Mother your loved ones are here, you wanted to come, so why are you crying?” She squeezed my hand gently and smiling through her tears answered, “Lucy Hannah when people are as happy as I am, they cannot keep from crying.” That was the first time I knew that tears could express both joy and sorrow. Burton siblings that came to Utah: left to right Mary Hannah, Robert Taylor, Rebecca, and Melissa. There were still others that remained back east.

We had a happy ten days. Ten whole days to rest and visit. Grandfather White, his sons, Uncle Joel and father, and his daughter Aunt Mary Savage, and her husband all came in the same company. The men folk were farmers and were anxious to go where there 4

The Burton family – Samuel and his second wife Louisa Marie, Robert Taylor and his wife Maria, and William and Elizabeth arrived in the valley in 1848. Samuel Dennis White and Mary Hannah and their family arrived in the valley Sept 12, 1850. Debbie Larsen

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was plenty of land and water and begin making their homes. On the eleventh day after our arrival we got into our wagons again, bade goodbye to mother's people and traveled south thirty-five miles to another large valley, through which runs the Jordan River. We camped by a spring of clear, cool water. The wagon boxes were removed from the running gears, put on large logs and continued to be our home. It was much more convenient that way as we didn't have to climb over the wheels or on the tongue to get in every time we wanted anything out of them. The men soon built a fort and we moved into it. Our first real sorrow in our new home was the passing of Grandfather John Griggs White. He died during the winter months, and was the first one buried in the little town of Lehi. I loved my grandfather very much and was so sad at his death. Again mother found consolation. This time, in the fact that he lived to reach the valleys of the mountains. She told father he should be thankful that his father didn't have to be left in an unmarked grave in a lonely spot as had her mother. It was a comfort to him and to grandmother White.

Lucy Maranda Bailey White and Samuel Orson White.

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2. MAKING A HOME Mother always had a way of making the best of everything. A favorite saying of hers was, “if there is a remedy, find it, but what can't be cured, must be endured.” And that helped us over many a rough spot. Mother was very correct in her language. She was a school teacher for several years before she and father were married. She could not excuse the use of slang, but when she was excited or vexed, she would forget herself and lapsing into her native English would omit her h's or add them where they were not needed, and her favorite expressions at those times were, “eavens and hearth!” Usually I was Lucyanna but sometimes if I had been particularly trying she might ask, “Lucy Hanna, can't you be’ave yourself?” I knew I had displeased my mother and was properly chastened. Knowing the value of education, she began with her children when we were very young, to teach us to read. The Bible was our only text book. I well remember the first issue of the newspaper, The Deseret News, father subscribed to it, and in the evenings, I used to nestle close to him and beg him to read every word of it to me. My love for poetry has been almost a passion. I have made an extensive scrap book of choice poems and selections. Among mother's numerous accomplishments was a knowledge of shoe making. Her father had been a maker of ladies' fine boots and shoes in England and she had lined them for him. When we were crossing the plains we had gathered up all the old boots we could find. Father made some last of wood, bought a side of sole leather and with mother to show him how, he made shoes for all of us. When we were well supplied, he made shoes for the neighbors in exchange for anything they had that we could use. I was a grown young lady before I had my first store bought shoes. How proud I was of them and how choice they were. One incident which caused me much confusion and embarrassment were those very shoes. I was on my way to the little town, about a half a mile from our home. I was carrying my precious shoes so as not to scuff them up or get them dusty, when around a turn in the road, I came face to face with a strange

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young man. What was I to do? There I was barefooted. I tried to cover my feet with my skirts, but they were about four inches too short. I hoped I would never again see the stranger, but in after years we lived in the same town, and he often teased me about it, because he said that he liked to see me blush. This friendship between John Hunt and myself began this very day and has lasted throughout our lives. We have lived in our first location but a short time when more people came. A town site was laid out, we moved to it, built another log house and were quite comfortable when the Indians became hostile and we had to move back into the fort for protection. Our house was torn down after breakfast, moved, and we occupied it again that night. Thus all the houses were moved, the men working together. While we remained so near my mother's people we often visited them and they with us and we were happy.

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3. ANOTHER MOVE Many immigrants were coming and small towns were being established in every direction. My father was asked to go with a large number of others to strengthen these outlying settlements. That meant leaving what we had built, and pioneer again. This time we went about three hundred miles further south to a place called Cedar City. My baby brother George was born October 14, 1853 and on the 7th of November they started for their new home. Little things like birth and death did not prevent pioneers from doing their duty. Grandmother White, Uncle Joel, Aunt Mary and their families accompanied us. We were three weeks on the road arriving there a short time before Christmas. The country was wild and broken, the settlers were mostly from the old country, their language and customs were so different from ours, we could not get used to them, it seemed. Until now these moves had been more in the nature of an adventure to me, something new and exciting. Now I began to sense my mother's feelings, her sorrow in leaving home and loved ones. I had some schoolmates whom I loved very much. I couldn't see why we should have to go into the wilderness once more and begin all over again. Many a night I cried myself to sleep, from sheer homesickness, and it drew me closer to mother. Human nature is so created that it can be adjusted to conditions. We built another log house. Like the Chambered Nautilus, we built more stately mansions, left the low vaulted past, left the two or three roomed log cabin for houses of brick and stone. My first schooling the year before had been of short duration. In the winter of 1854, I went to school again during the three winter months. It did not begin until after harvest and when the first warm days came in the spring; school was closed until the next winter so that the children could help with gardens and farms.

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All the school houses I ever went to were of log, one large room with a door and no windows. A large fireplace in one side or end. This furnished the only light if the day was so inclement the door could not be left open. The seats were long split logs with the flat side up, pegs were put into the rounded side for legs. There were no desks. The teacher had a homemade rawhide chair, and a table with a drawer. Flat pieces of slate stone with a sharpened piece of the same served as writing and figuring material. I well remember the first paper and lead pencils we had. The paper was course wrapping paper. We cut it into convenient shape, sewed it in book form, wrote on it horizontally then vertically. We made ink of legwood or indigo and used quills for pens. The Bible was the text as every home was supposed to have one. Books were very scarce. What few there were soon were worn out with borrowing. I was fortunate in having a mother who insisted on the correct use of the English language in our home. I have always been glad I was the eldest child in our family and the first grandchild. I think it quite a distinction I suppose this pride comes from my English ancestry. If I had been the first born son, I should have inherited the family title and wealth. Being a girl and having all of the love and attention of my young father and mother was sufficiently gratifying. Then, too, there is the sense of proprietorship over the younger members of the family. I felt that I partly owned them because I took so much care of them. We were none of us musically inclined nor could we sing. Both my father and mother were good story tellers and their supply never seemed to diminish or if they were repeated took on variations and atmosphere to suit the audience. Everyone must have a way of expressing pent up emotions. I knew I could not sing, but I would have dearly loved to whistle to let off a little of the steam, but no indeed, “whistling girls and crowing hens always comes to some bad end.” Mother was sure of that and took occasion to tell me so every time I permitted a sound to escape from my puckered lips. I could laugh, mother said musically. My home life was a very happy one, even though our homes were never very pretentious.

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4. A SPIRITUAL AWAKENING In the winter of 1856 and 1857, the Reformation began, all members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints were called to repent of their sins and ask for forgiveness. We were all catechize and then rebaptized. I was then fourteen years old and was rebaptized in February. (I had already been baptized at the age of eight and now was baptized over again). I was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ by Brother Jehial MacConnal, I do not remember who confirmed me. On November 4lh of this year the following Patriarchal blessing was given me by Elisha H. Graves. "Sister Lucy Hannah, in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, and by virtue of the Holy Priesthood in me vested, I place my hands upon thy head to give unto thee a Patriarchal or father's blessing, which shall rest upon thee, and thou shall realize the fulfillment thereof. Thou art in the days of thy youth, thou must hearken to the counsel of thy parents and those whom thy Heavenly Father has placed over thee in the priesthood to counsel and direct the ways of youth and thy life shall be precious in the sight of thy Heavenly Father. Thy days shall be many upon the earth. Thy guardian angel will be with thee, will not leave, nor forsake thee, but in his hands thou wilt be lifted up, and delivered from the temptations of the evil one, who will seek to deprive thee of thy blessings but thou shalt have power over him and all who would uphold his works. For thou art a daughter of Abraham, the loins of Joseph and the blood of Ephraim. A royal heir to all the blessings, privileges and powers which pertain to the Holy Priesthood according to thy sex, which thou shalt receive in due time that thou mayest be able to accomplish thy work in behalf of thy progenitors. Thou shalt be connected with a man of God, through whom thou shalt receive the priesthood, exaltation, power and eternal glory and become a mother in Israel. Thy posterity shall multiply and become numerous upon the earth. Thy children and children's children arising after thee shall bless and comfort thee in thy old age. Peace and quietness shall rest in thy habitation, joy and comfort shall crown thy days. Thou shalt receive of the precious fruits of the earth, and of the dews of heaven, and all things needful to render life happy and agreeable. Yea thou shalt obtain power by faith by which thou shalt be able to thwart the purposes of the destroyer, and retain thy children upon the earth. Thou shalt

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live to witness the winding up scene, the coming of the redeemer, witness the birth of many of thy posterity in the millennium, receive many blessings and privileges in the temple in Zion, be anointed a queen and priestess unto the most high God, receive thy crown, dominion, power, and eternal increase, thy inheritance with thy benefactor in Zion. These are thy blessings which the Heavenly Father hath for thee, be thou therefore faithful, be wise, yield not to temptation and these blessings shall be sure unto thee. I seal them upon thy head in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, even so, Amen. This was my first Patriarchal blessing. I truly felt thankful for it, as I always loved my Heavenly Father, was always religious, don't know how or when I first learned to pray, and it seemed to me my prayers were always answered when praying for any certain thing, so I was happy indeed.

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5. PIONEER AMUSEMENTS Young people in pioneer days matured very early. Perhaps it was because there was always so much to do, they had no time to be children. Responsibility rested upon their shoulders and they were old before their time. What amusements there were, were joined in by young and old alike. The celebrations of the year were the Fourth of July and Christmas. These were looked forward to during the intervening six months and plans were made for their enjoyment. Every girl expected a new dress for each of these occasions. The Fourth of July was ushered in with serenading, the salute of guns and hoisting of the flag (a home made one) at sunrise, on the big tall liberty pole. This pole was the tallest and straightest pine that could be found. It was peeled and placed in the public square in the center of the town. At ten o'clock the folks all congregated at the one public building which served as church, school house, theater and ballroom. There was always a master of ceremonies, an orator, and marshal of the day. The best reader was selected to read the Declaration of Independence in its entirety. The morning program was interspersed with songs, music, patriotic recitations, “Yankee Doodle” and “Dixie” by the fife and drum corps. Each was punctuated by shots from the anvil. This noise was as loud as a cannon, and was made by putting two heavy anvils together with a charge of black gun powder in between. With a long iron, heated red hot the powder was exploded, the top anvil thrown off by the force. Babies would cry at the sound, while young ladies, knowing what was coming would cover their ears with their dainty hands. Sometimes they were taken by surprise, or if the orator was too long winded, a gentle hint in the form of a blast would shoot him down. The afternoon celebration consisted of races, ballgames, a children's dance, and at night a dance for all. Christmas was a quiet home day. We hung our stockings in a row along the mantle. Usually we found a popcorn ball, some fried cakes and molasses candy in them. You could always be sure of a ball. These were made with yarn raveled from old socks or stockings wound tightly around a

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piece of rubber to make them bounce. The ones for the boys were covered with buckskin, the girls' were made bright with stitches of many colored yarn. We might find a pair of brightly colored mittens, some new shoes, an apron and our Christmas dresses nearby. There was often a new shirt and a homemade suit for the boys. The family gathered for Christmas dinner. There was always the traditional English plum pudding with its steaming sauce. A dance at night and the celebrating was over for another six months, excepting for an occasional Friday night dance, a candy pulling or a “gathering.” These gatherings might be a surprise party. Everyone who went took something to add to the evenings refreshments or it might be an invitation affair. In either case everyone was expected to contribute to the evenings entertainment. You were supposed to either sing, play an instrument, tell a good story or a riddle, or lead out in a game. Button, button, whose got the button, wasn't so much a game in itself only for the forfeits that had to be redeemed. Someone was selected to give the sentence. Your forfeit, a ring, breast pin, pocket knife, or something of value, would be held up by someone where the judge couldn't see it. This person would say “heavy, heavy hangs over your poor head.” The judge would ask “fine” or “superfine” if a girl. “What shall the owner do to redeem it?” Then came the penalty, “Paint the plow on both sides with soand-so.” This meant you had to kiss that person on both cheeks before you could get it or your belongings back. You might have to “walk the Cedar Swamp” with someone “chew rabbit fashion” with someone else or what was considered the best punishment “Post Office” as almost everyone would have a dozen stamps on it which meant a dozen kisses that you had to give or receive. You would then call another up and tell them there was a letter in the Post Office for him. A modest young lady would put the postage very low, but by the time everyone in the room was called up in line and the postage sent back to office, you had been pretty well kissed. Not all the games were kissing games however. There was Spin the Plate, Spat 'em out, Cross questions and Crocked answers, Consequences, Borrowed property, Crossing the Plains and many other games. The outside games that we played at recess when the weather was good were Town Ball, One of the two old cat. Steal Sticks, Pomp Pomp Pull

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Away, Blind man's bluff, Hide and go seek, Run Sheepy Run, and Anti-Iover. I always entered whole heartedly into everything I undertook and observed the old rule often quoted to me, “Work when you work, and play when you play,” and received the promised reward, “That is the way to be happy and gay.”

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6. LOVE COMES RIDING Of course I had my school day beaux, but my real sweetheart came into my life a few months before I was sixteen. Father and Uncle Joel had been to California to help bring back some families from San Bernardino. When they returned they told me of a very fine young man whom they had met. He was strong, manly, and had no bad habits. According to them he was a paragon of goodness. I was interested, of course, what romantic young girl wouldn't have been? I asked all about him, Uncle Joel, especially was ready with the answers. I could see that father was fond of him, too. I was told as much of his history as they knew. He was an orphan boy, about eighteen years old. His parents had owned a large plantation in the south and many slaves. They gave the negroes their freedom, when they left their home in Mississippi. Young Mr. Flake and several other boys were among the saints that were called back to Utah because of the persecutions they were receiving in California and also because of the coming of Johnson's army. They were driving a bunch of loose horses from California, stopping along the way when they could find any feed, to let the horses rest and graze. They would be along in about a couple of weeks. Uncle Joel imparted the information that he had told Will all about me and that he was very anxious to meet me. My day dreams became more definite. My Prince Charming took on real form. He had bluish gray eyes according to father. Uncle Joel was sure they were hazel. It afterward proved that they were both right. His hair was kind a reddish according to one authority, and medium brown said the other. Both agreed that he was tall and well built. That he was good mannered and chivalrous as become a son of the south. Quite an admission from a couple of Yankees. Two weeks were a long time to wait, but then, of course, I had plenty to do. My hands, though small and well-shaped, were rough and chapped. My face was terribly tanned in spite of the fact that I usually wore my bonnet though, and more often than not, wore it tied around my neck and hanging down my back. When mother remonstrated with me and told me I

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would ruin my complexion if I didn't keep it on, I told her it made me think of the blinders on a horse's work bridle, or reminded me of covered wagon days. Now I wished I had taken her advice. I hadn't noticed how tanned I was. Really one should take better care of one's self, so one began to do just that. Buttermilk and sour cream applications several times a day removed the tan and let the roses of health glow through my cheeks again. My hair was so heavy and long I could not comb it. Mother always combed and did it up until I had daughters of my own large enough to do it. We had a small mirror that we had brought through all our wanderings, safely wrapped up in our clothes. I looked into this and studied myself as I never had before, just as though I was a stranger. I saw a pair of the deepest blue eyes. My eyebrows were nicely arched. My nose wasn't quite to my liking, but I couldn't help that. My face was round, my ears and mouth delicately small, my teeth even and white. It had always been easy for me to laugh. In fact that was one of my worst faults. I laughed in season and out of season. Not the giggly kind, but a rippling one that came from my toes. The trouble was I used it too much. From my grandmother White I had inherited more than the name of Lucy. I had also inherited her Irish sense of humor. I could see something funny even on the most solemn occasions, such as in Church and at funerals. I had sufficient sense of decency to cover my face with my handkerchief so that people would think my paroxysms were of grief rather than uncontrollable laughter. I wasn't unsympathetic or irreverent, in fact I was considered quite religious. I did not make fun of the services, but my memory would recall something amusing or my vivid imagination would create one and it often brought reproof from my proper English mother. But going back to the reflection in the mirror. My hair was my crowning glory, but Mother always parted it in the middle and braided it in two braids, then crossed them back and forth on the back like an oval shaped rug. I took down the braids, wound them like a coronet around my head and studied the effect. It was good. If I only had curls or wavy hair. I was posing in front of the mirror when mother came in. “Mother,” I asked fearfully, “wouldn't I look better if my hair was waved a little around my face?”

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Mother answered, “You are just as nature made you. If you think you can improve on it, I suppose that is your privilege.” I didn't know whether I could or not, but at least I was going to try. That night I took my hair down, unbraided it, parted it off and on each side, separated these in sections and braided each part in three strands. When I had about four inches braided I pulled one strand real tight, leaving the other two strands up in about a two inch space. I kept this up until it was all done. The next morning when I unbraided it, wonder of wonders! My desire had been granted. I had wavy hair. I ran to mother and told her I thought I had made quite an improvement on nature. She didn't say much, only that I would break my hair off that way, but when she combed my hair that day she was careful not to comb out the waves. When she got it braided I asked her to let me do it up. I wound it around my head letting a few curls come down, careless like, over my rather high forehead. When mother saw how I fixed it she said, “It would look better braided in five or six braids. I will do it that way next time.” By wearing my night cap every night it stayed nice for several days. At last the long looked for day arrived, and with it the young man from California. Uncle Joel, in his role a cupid’s helper, gave a party at his home that very night, to which all the young people of the town were invited. Every girl in town put on her best bib and tucker. Even I dressed with unusual care. My hair was very wavy. I had kept it braided up for three or four days. We were not quite sure when the company would arrive. I went early as I thought I might help to get things ready. When young Mr. Flake came in, Uncle Joel brought him right over to me and said, ‘William, this is my niece. Lucyanna, that I have been telling you about.” I looked up into his eyes, at his features, saw I had underestimated his looks, blushed, looked down, didn't know whether we were to shake hands or not. He seemed to be about as confused as I was, but he recovered sufficiently to put out his hand and say, “Glad to meet you.” I was going to say that but he said it first, so I put my hand in his and said, “I am pleased to know you Will,” He spoke up and said, “I've known you ever since I met you father and Mr. White.” Then we both laughed. And soon we were mixing with the others. 21

To me there was only one person in the room, and every time I would glance at him, I would find him looking at me. We had the usual games, singing and music, stories and riddles. The refreshments were popped corn and molasses candy. That night he walked me home and we stayed at the gate a little while. The boys stayed in town a few days to let their horses rest. Father wanted mother to meet William and some of the other boys so invited them over to our house for supper and to spend the evening. Our house then underwent the close scrutiny as had been given to myself. The window curtains, the valences around the four poster bed in the front room where father and mother slept, the tidies, stand cover, and the curtains around the toilet (dressing table), all had to be washed, starched and The part of the rough floors not covered by homemade rag carpet, the chairs and table had to be scoured with white sand. The windows and woodwork cleaned, the cupboard and dishes all washed. The knives forks and spoons and tin cups scoured with brick dust and ashes, the stove and the copper teakettle cleaned with vinegar and salt. The coal oil lamps had to be filled, the wicks trimmed and the chimneys washed. It didn't seem the usual task of the ordinary Saturday. I couldn't carry a tune, not very far at least, but there was rhythm in my every action. If I were alone I tried to sing keeping time with the streams of milk in the brass bucket when I milked the cow or with each ruba-dub-dub on the wash board. If there were critics around then I kept time to the song in my heart, with the rhythm of a tom-tom beat. I found in the housecleaning task that love was the best incentive to cheerful duty. The evening came and with it great satisfaction. Our home looked its best and so did I. Mother, too had put on her second best dress, and her prettiest white apron, the one with the tucks and the lace that I liked so well. Grandmother White brought out her choice Irish linen, hand woven table cloth and I had cut some of the house blossoms for the table.

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William and the boys came over proudly escorted by father, My Irish grandmother5 was delighted with my Prince Charming at once, so she made it pleasant for all with her “blarney” and good stories. I was so anxious for mother to like him as much as father and I did. She was very gracious to all of the boys, but particularly so to him, because he was such a gentleman. What a supper we had that night. Not the usual mush and milk, not even the ribald milk, “Lumpy Dick,” father called it, much to grandmother's delight and mother's disgust. We had chicken and noodles, mashed potatoes, pickled beets, hot corn bread, (because William was a southerner), and custard pie. Everything was so good, and how the boys did eat. Mother was the best cook in the world, as all mothers are, but they didn't all cut their noodles as even and fine as a knitting needle, so might not all pass the test set by my mother. The evening was spent in conversation. Mother purposely inquired all about William and his people. I suspect she surmised with a mother's intuition that father and I were only waiting for a proposal. He gave a good account of himself and his family and for the first time in all my fifteen going on sixteen years, I was in love.

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I couldn’t find any ancestry of Lucy Maranda Bailey as being from Ireland. Debbie Larsen

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7. BRIEF HISTORY OF THE FLAKES On a large plantation down in Anson County, North Carolina, on the 3 of July 1839, was born a baby boy that was destined to become a pioneer in three different states and twice that many towns. William Jordan Flake was the son of James Madison and Agnes Haley Love Flake. rd

According to family tradition, his ancestors came from England with the Cavaliers in their first settlement of Virginia. His great grandfather, Samuel Flake, received a grant for a large tract of land in North Carolina from the King of England in 1771. This land remained in the family. His wanderings began when he was but three years of age when his family moved from North Carolina to Mississippi. In politics his people were all democrats. They were not so united in their religious views as the Flakes were Baptists, the Haleys were Quakers and the Loves were Methodists. None of these religions however satisfied James Madison Flake and his wife and when a missionary of the recently organized church known as The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, came to Mississippi bearing their message, they both united themselves with it. Unpopular as that church was at that time and for many years thereafter, until their doctrines became better known. To use the words of a kinsman who did not join, “This Mormon missionary, Elder Benjamin Clapp, took the cream of the whole country with him.” Research shows the ancestry of William J. Flake to be honest, sober, moral, and liberal, both with their means and opinions, progressive citizens but none of them office seekers. They were comfortably fixed financially and owned a large number of slaves. His people had been as fine as mine. William's father, James Madison Flake had been the first of his family to leave North Carolina, since the section in which they lived had been cut off from Virginia. The pioneering spirit was so strong in his veins that he went on to Mississippi, then a frontier. Shortly after the family joined the church, William's father went to Nauvoo, Illinois. While there he received a Patriarchal blessing from Hyrum Smith fifteen days before the martyrdom. Later his mother received her

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Patriarchal blessing from the Patriarch John Smith. James M. Flake returned to Mississippi and as his heart was as large as his fortune, he contributed generously in the outfitting of less fortunate families for the western trek. He only brought a few of his servants with him, Green, a big husky Negro who had been in the family all of his life, Liz, who when five years of age had been given to William's mother on her wedding day to be her personal maid, and Edie and her family. He offered them their freedom, but they insisted on being taken along. However, when they got up in the cold north, Edie got homesick, and William's father took her and her children back to Mississippi. While there he disposed of his plantation, at a sacrifice taking a number of mules as part pay. These came in handy in helping outfit the saints. That was his last visit to his beloved southland. When the first company started west, the original pioneers of the Salt Lake Valley, Mr. Flake sent Green as a body guard for Brigham Young. He sent his white topped carriage and his span of big, white, American mules, for the President's conveyance. Green stayed in the west, to prepare for their coming later. He had a house built and a piece of land cleared and planted, in the first town settled in Utah, outside of Salt Lake. It was called Amasa's survey and was located on the Big Cottonwood. In the early spring of 1850 Will’s father was called to go on an exploring party to California to find a place there the Saints might land if they traveled by water instead of the long trek across the plains. On the fifteenth of June of that year, he was accidentally killed. One of the men going to ride a horse that was not very well broken. The cinch on his saddle was not safe, so Mr. Flake loaned him his, fastening his own saddle on with a circingle. He was riding along when the gentle white mule he was riding got frightened at a mule staked across the trail, jumped, the strap broke, off went the saddle and rider and the noble man, generous to the last minute of his life, died, almost instantly with a broken neck. His last words were, “Brethren, administer to me.” When they removed their hands his spirit quietly left his body. They hallowed out a shallow grave and wrapping him in his blanket, they left him there, peacefully sleeping in the Valley of San Joaquin. William's pride and reverence for his parents made me love him more and endeared them to me also.

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After her husband’s death, Mrs. Agnes Love Flake carried on with a courage that was an inspiration to her family and friends. William was only ten, but she told him that he was now her only man, and he must take the place of his father to his younger brother and sister. As I look into his manly face I see how well he measured up, and though he was too modest to say so I am sure the most exacting mother would be proud of him. In 1851 another expedition was go in to California. This was under the direction of two of the Church leaders, Amasa Lyman and Charles C. Rich. The Flakes and Lyman's had formed a friendship during the perilous times in the east. Lyman had charge of the company in which they came west, and James Madison Flake had been captain over a hundred wagons. They had settled close to each other in Cottonwood. It was the Lymans who brought her the news of her husband’s death, and who offered comfort in her bereavement. When the California company was made up, Mrs. Flake was asked to go. She had sacrificed home, loved ones, including her husband and four tiny sons born during their wanderings and left in wayside graves. All this for the cause she loved. Yes, she would go. California was the last resting place of her beloved, it might as well be hers, and it was. I marveled at the incidents of that terrible trip and the courage displayed by the brave mother of my husband. She had been raised in a home of luxury, with servants to wait on her hand and foot. Liz, her colored girl often boasted that her “Missus had never as much as washed a pocket handkerchief. 1 would have died before I would have let her work.” Yet this gentle mother drove a span of big white mules on her covered carriage all the way from Salt Lake City to San Bernardino. The man who had promised to drive one of her teams became discouraged and refused to go farther, but his mother was determined to go on, although the delay made her a few days behind the others. Liz drove the two yoke of oxen on a heavy wagon while his mother drove the mules. She bought an Indian pony for the little boys to ride on to drive the stock. William had several narrow escapes from death on that trip to California, one from thirst. They had been without water for two or three days. He was riding on his pony after the loose stock. His horse smelled water, and took him to a bitter seep. William jumped off and began drinking as fast as he could. He was so thirsty that he did not know the water was not good. One of the men saw the boy, ran and pulled him away from the water. Then William put up the fight of his life He wanted water, it was 26

there and he was going to have it. The man held him away from it by physical force, put him on his pony and took him to camp. There he made him eat some bread before he would let him have another drop of water. He would have foundered if he had been let alone. He was so thirsty. Another time they reached a stream of water. He was unconscious from thirst. His pony rushed into the water and began to drink, William slipped over the horse's head and but for timely assistance would have been drowned. While they were crossing the Mojave Desert one of the cows became unruly and ran out into the brush. William chased after her. This time he was afoot. Just before he reached the cow an arrow whizzed past his head and hit the cow. The experience that brought bad dreams to him for along time afterwards, was when one morning, while the family was traveling alone, he went out about half a mile to get his mules. One of them was very gentle, the other was tricky. The latter was the one from which his father had been thrown and killed. They always stayed together, so it was only necessary to hobble one of them. As William was nearing the mules he saw a wolf. He picked up a rock and threw it. The wolf trotted out of the way, falling in behind him. Soon there was another and then another until there were about a dozen following him. He grabbed a handful of rocks and began throwing them at them. His aim was accurate and he made every rock count. They kept getting closer and closer, he kept backing away until he got to gentle old Nance, the hobbled mule. He sprang on her back, not even stooping to unhobble her, and started for camp, the wolves barking at her heels. Then it was that old Sally, the other mule tried to redeem herself. She rushed up, grabbed one of the pack by the neck and with her teeth threw them around, others she stamped and kicked with her feet until she routed them. William and his mules reached camp in safety. On one occasion as they were traveling something went wrong with his mother's wagon, which required that she stop for repairs. She would not listen to the company being delayed on her account. There was another family who was staying behind so she stopped, intending to go on with them. By the time her wagon was repaired and she had waited three days, she found the others were not going on so she and her little family started across the desert alone. By traveling early and late they soon overtook the company Her unheard of undertaking was a theme for much conversation. 27

The leaders of the company blamed themselves for leaving her. All were loud in their praise of her courage. When the San Bernardino Ranch was reached, it was purchased by the leaders of the company for a settlement. Mother Flake contributed liberally of her means. Hers was the first house built by the white people in the present city of San Bernardino, California. Her two young sons made the abodes, while she sat and encouraged them. With the help of a dear neighbor, who had come all the way from the south with the same company in which the Flakes came, they built the home. At one time one of her brothers came from the south and begged her to go home with him. He told her that she could not live under the existing conditions and that if she did go with him she would have everything her heart desired. But she said to him, “These are my people and whether I live or I die I will remain true to them.” When he was convinced that there was nothing more he could do about it, he left her, telling her that if she should ever change her mind, he would come for her and take her back to her people and the life she had been accustomed to. It must have required much faith and loyalty to her accepted religion for her to turn down this offer from her beloved brother. Here the widow and her children and servant lived in peace and happiness until in 1854 her health began to fail. Unused to privation she had held up remarkably well under her hardships. She had never fully recovered from hearing of the sudden death of her husband, though all their married life she had been devoted to him and had depended on him for everything. All her life she had been afflicted with consumption, but she gradually grew worse. This disease had been inherited in her family and she suffered from it more or less during her entire life. (We now know that this disease was tuberculosis and it is not inherited, but is spread by bacteria from one person to another). On the night of January 14, 1855, she called her son William to her bedside and told him how she wanted him to live, to always set a worthy example before his brother and sister, Sarah, who was then about six years old. She had been born March 28th 1849. (Four boys had died in their infancy.) She talked a long time to her children, giving them good advice, telling them she was soon going to leave them. After she had finished talking to them, she sent them to bed. William was then fifteen years old. He begged her to let him sit up with her, but she said if he sat up she could not sleep, which she wanted to do, and when she needed them she would call 28

them. Some of the things that she had always warned her children about were the use of tea, coffee and tobacco and whiskey, telling them if they wished to live they should leave those things alone and observe strictly the Word of Wisdom. Knowing that she had not long to live, she had the children call Amasa and his wife Mariah Lyman and into their hands she left her children and all of her earthly possessions. About 5 o'clock she called and had her children come to her bedside and in a few moments she passed away. The friendship that had began between Francis M. Lyman and William in their early childhood continued to grow throughout their entire lives. While in the Lyman home, they slept in the same bed and ate at the same table and all of their lives regarded each other as brothers. No friendship was ever stronger, not even that between David and Jonathan or between the Prophet Joseph and his brother Hyrum. William and Marion as he was commonly called did their first farming in San Bernardino, California. They formed a partnership when they were fourteen or fifteen and raised one hundred fifteen bushels of barley. For the first six months after her Mistress’ death, Liz kept the family together, and in the early fall when they went to live in the Lyman home, Liz who had always been treated as one of the family by his kind hearted Mistress, went along and continued to care for them, and make herself useful in the Lyman household. She stayed with them until the Lyman's moved back to Utah. She told Will that when he got married and had a home of his own, she would come and take care of him and his wife. But it so happened that his wife was an independent Yankee girl, who wouldn't know how to treat a servant and the house was not big enough to hold her anyway. When the company returned to Utah, William had a bunch of horses to pay for the share his mother had in the ranch. He traded two of his horses for a couple of city lots in the new town of Beaver. On one of these he built our home and the other he gave to his beloved friend and foster brother, Francis Marion Lyman. They were six months apart in age, but that was all they were apart in, until Marion married six month before we did. When the call came for the Saints to leave San Bernardino and come back to Utah on account of the persecutions in California and the coming of Johnson's army to Salt Lake, they had to take whatever they could get for

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their properties. They couldn't get money for their holdings so they had to take horses, cattle or anything else they could get. Father, Uncle Joel and Uncle Savage were among those who went with their teams to bring back the household effects of the Saints and any one who did not have conveyance. William and Marion along with other young men had started out a week or two ahead of the others driving their wagons, and they were driving the loose stock from San Bernardino when my father, Uncle Joel, and Uncle David Savage met them.

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8. OUR WEDDING AND OUR FIRST HOME The old saying, “True love never runs smooth” was not true in our case. Of course I would have had many rivals as all the girls liked Will, and some of the boys who had been to our home wanted to come again, but it seemed that William and I had always known and loved each other. Another saying and often quoted in my time was that “True marriages are made in Heaven.” If there is such a thing then we were sure ours was. Will had to go with the company when their horses were sufficiently rested, but when he bid me goodbye he told me that he was coming back soon, and when he returned I promised to be his wife. We were married December 30, 1858 at my father's home. Only the family and a few dear friends were present. My dress was a simple white muslin, made with a belt waist. There was nothing elaborate about the affair, but nothing could have been more beautiful. William had always looked upon Mr. Lyman as a second father, and it was he who united us in marriage. All my life I have looked back upon that glorious evening. Nothing could have been simpler and sweeter. After the ceremony we sat around the big fireplace and visited. Father Lyman gave us some very good advice. He told us how to treat each other, called us children and said because of our youth, William was nineteen in July and I was sixteen in August, we were not set in our ways and because it was the first real love that had come to us, we should be very happy. His people had been well to do in the south, owning large plantations and many slaves, but they had sacrificed everything for the gospels sake so we began from the beginning. Our first home was two little log rooms, with very little in them besides love. The bedstead was built into the wall. It had a rawhide strip lace back and forth for springs. This also furnished our only musical instrument. Every time any one sat or moved on it, it gave a pathetic squeak or groan. It was so high from the floor that Will had to pick me up and put me on it. I could manage to scramble off by myself. We cooked on the fireplace. We served ourselves from the frying pan or bake skillet. We had two pewter bowls, a butcher knife, a case knife that he whittled out of a handle, a big

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spoon that he whittled out of wood, a teaspoon, three two lined forks and a silver ladle. We had a good shuck tick and wool mattress on our bed, plenty of bedding. That and a stool or two to sit on was about the amount of our house keeping outfit, but we had LOVE, other things could be acquired.

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9. PLEASURES, DUTIES AND RESPONSIBILITIES The first “May Ride” I ever had was held in June after we were married. In June because it was too cold in May to have an outdoor picnic. There were swings made in the trees, a May Queen, and the braiding of the Maypole which was very pretty. All joined in and everyone had a good time. As we got better settled we had dances more often. Whenever William was in town, he was asked to be the floor manager. His duties were to only admit people of good standing, and to see that all men who danced paid for their tickets. These might be paid for in beets, carrots, beans, corn, wheat, cabbage, potatoes, squash, molasses, or an order for ditch work or barbering. Anything the musicians could use. These tickets entitled each man to a number. These were called in rotation and if anyone danced out of his turn, he was told by the floor manager to take his seat. Unless he could prove that he had traded turns with someone else. There was an Army Post not far from town and we had much trouble with drunken soldiers. No outsiders were admitted to the dances, and they knew the rules, but would often come and hang around the outside causing disturbances. The towns people all went to the dance. Some to dance, the others to look on, visit, hear the music, see how the younger ones behaved, and take care of the babies of the dancers. I often felt that no one ever loved to dance as much as I did. That pent up rhythm I have referred to called for expression. Whether it was the hilarious, Quadrille, Virginia Reel, Six Nations, Scottish Reel, Sir Roger de Coverly or the Lancers or the slow, graceful Minuet, I was equally fond. My dreams of the plains were partly realized. I was never the Belle of the Ball, but always had my share of partners. My husband always claimed the first, last and a few in between, but he was busy seeing that all had a good time and was never as fond of dancing as I was. Round dances such as waltzes, polkas, and shottishes were not indulged in.

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We had plays, dramas, theaters put on by local people occasionally. These were attended by everyone, and the ones with the most time and talent took part in them. I hadn't either and besides I had my husband and when we had been married almost a year our firstborn son came to gladden our lives. He was twenty years younger than his father. A tradition in the Flake family was that the first son bear the name of his grandfather had existed too long for us to break it. In fact we did not want to. James Madison suited us all right, so James Madison he was named, but to his father and me he was always Jimmie. William had a good team and wagon and made many trips across the plains to help bring emigrants from the old country to the Salt Lake Valley. He also hauled supplies. Each teamster was paid for bringing so much, but he often loaded more as he kept his team in good shape. In this way we got many things for our home. One of our most prized possessions was a Singer Sewing machine. It was one of the first in our part of the country. My parents and our precious baby helped me endure the absences of my husband. Our nearest store was in Salt Lake City, two hundred and twenty miles away. We had to make what we could, such as lye, soap, starch, candles, thread, yarn, cloth, clothes, soaks, stockings, gloves and in many instances our shoes. I had learned to spin when a little girl. Father and William bought a loom together. Grandmother White6 lived near me and she taught me how to weave. We wove all the cloth we wore, our blankets, and rugs. We wore our clothes as long as we could, then the best parts were taken to make clothes for smaller children, and the scraps were used for quilts. When they were too near gone for any of these they were torn into stripes, the ends sewed together, and woven into rugs. We were great hands to help each other. Quiltings, rag bees, wool cardings, and pickings furnished excuses for all to get together, many hands make light work, and service kept the links of friendship bright. On January 20, 1851 another son was born to us. We were so happy for our “span of boys” as their father affectionately called them. We named the baby William for his father and Melvin because we liked the

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Lucy Maranda Bailey White.

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combination. He was a fine healthy little fellow, seemingly, but when he was two months and four days old he was taken from us. That was the first severe trial that had come to me. Mother had nine children and had kept us all. I had only seen death occur to old people like grandmother Burton and Grandfather White. I had always prayed for what I wanted, and it seemed that my prayers were heard and answered, but in the sickness of my baby, it seemed praying did no good. I felt I could not give him up, and I was heartbroken. I still had my two year old Jimmie, and he was a great comfort to me. That spring William made several trips to Salt Lake with freight. In July he began freighting on the Western Mail Route from Camp Floyd away out west hauling grain for horse feed. I was alone for weeks at a time. On one of these trips, William met up with a traveling photographer. He had never had a photo taken, so he decided to have his, in these days photographs were scarce. His mother's and father's picture had been painted by a noted artist in the south, but in their day there were few photographers. William's beard was about two inches long, he had it and his hair dyed and had the picture taken. He sent it to me in a letter and told me it was a Spanish friend of his. When I saw it I said, “I don't want an old Mexicans picture,” so I tossed it aside with only a passing glance. When he came home he had a good laugh at me, saying I was a great one, didn't know my own husband. I answered that it was no wonder; I saw so little of him. One time he was gone for nearly three months. Father and mother were going to Salt Lake City. They knew how lonely I was and insisted on my going with them. The hope that I might meet my husband there furnished the greatest incentive. The trip took about ten days. We went in father's covered light wagon. We had friends all along the way with whom we stopped every night. We reached our destination in safety. When we arrived I found William had come in the day before. The loss of our baby had brought to each of us a more serious realization of life and death. We both had so much time to think, Will as he

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drove along familiar roads, and I as I worked around the home and cared for our one remaining little fellow. Our love for each other had increased through our sad experiences. Love such as ours must be all enduring. It seemed we were made for each other, so completely did we complement each other and so completely did we fit into each others life. Sometimes in my loneliness, I would try to picture to myself the desolation of existence without him. What joy could Heaven contain if we were not together? Yet we were only married “until death do ye part.” The Bible, from which I had learned to read, teaches that there shall be one person on earth who shall have the authority to “bind on earth and it shall be bound in Heaven,” I wanted to be bound to my husband by that authority. The Church of Jesus Christ, of which I was a member, as was also my husband, had a Prophet at its head who was delegated to do this binding or sealing. Now the opportunity was ours to be thus united. When as a girl, I had been legally married to the boy who had selected me above all others as his bride, I thought my happiness was at its height, but it did not compare with the supreme joy that filled my soul when William and I were joined in the holy bonds of wedlock that were to endure throughout life and for all eternity. The knowledge that the family relationship is ever enduring, if sealed by the proper authority, is the greatest comfort in this world, and the fact that one can lay up treasures in Heaven “where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through and steal” made the death of my baby easier. While we were in Salt Lake we attended General Conference and there were none of the meetings that we missed. It was on the 9th of October 1861 that we received the great blessings of our endowment and were sealed for time and eternity. I was so happy that I could not sleep and so thankful to my Heavenly Father that He had heard and answered my prayers. We visited relatives in Salt Lake awhile then we went home and my husband went back to work. He was gone six months, returning Christmas day; there was great happiness in our home. It had been very lonely for me, my baby had been a great comfort.

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10.

HONEYMOONS

If it were possible, we enjoyed our second honeymoon more than we did the first one. I think it was possible because we had learned to appreciate each other more, and now even death could not part us. While in Salt Lake we visited friends until William had to leave with his companions. Baby Jimmie and I then came home with my parents. We had a joyous Christmas. Will returned and he was the only Santa Claus his wife and young son wanted. The next year, 1862 we moved to a farm we had bought, three miles from town. William farmed and we milked cows and made butter and cheese. That was the happiest year I had ever spent, we were together longer than we had ever been. My husband proved himself a good farmer, though it was the first he had ever done, and we had a good harvest. As soon as the crop was gathered, we moved back into town. We had a few sheep, enough to supply ourselves with wool. I had learned to spin when I was a little girl. Father and Will bought a loom and Grandmother White taught me to weave. William and I made a beautiful counterpane. He sheared the sheep, we washed the wool, carded, spun, colored part of it a dark blue with indigo, then wove it in a “Lover's knot” pattern. We were so proud of ourselves for our accomplishment. We had some very beautifully pieced quilts that had belonged to William's mother but they were so choice to us that we only used them on the beds when very distinguished visitors came to stay with us. I had some white ones I had woven, but they served for everyday wear. William's brother Charles and sister Sarah lived with us much of the time. The boys hauled logs from the canyons when there was no farm work to do. On one of these occasions, the wagon slipped off the dugway that served as a road and tipped over. William's foot got caught between two logs and he fell under the load. The snow was about ten feet deep and that saved his life. Charley was thrown clear of it and was unhurt. Great was his joy when he dug under the load and found his brother safe and sound except for a wrenched ankle.

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These brothers were very fond of each other and we tried to keep Charley with us, but he was restless and would only stay a short time and then he was off again, whenever work could be found. One night, after he had been with us a week or two, he told us he was leaving the next morning. William asked where he was going and with whom. He told us. William knew the reputation of some of the fellows and told Charley he didn't want him to go with them. I begged him to stay with us and told him how welcome he was. I told him he should marry some nice girl and live in one of our houses. We all went to bed. The next morning Charley went out to saddle his horses. William went out and again tried to talk him out of going. Finally Charley said, “Look, Bud Willie, I am a man now. I am twenty years old, and big enough to row my own boat.” He put his saddle on his horse and as fast as he could cinch it on one side, William would loosen it on the other, trying all the time to persuade him not to go. Finally Charley got mad and told him hell nor high water could not hold him back. William said he would rather see him dead than to go with that bunch. Soon they came along and seeing the condition offered to help him get away. William looked into his brother's eyes and told him, “Charley, there is only one way you can go, and that is over my dead body.” Charley knew he meant it, so turning to the others told them to go on, that he would follow them. I was so worried I did not know what to do, but as usual when there was no earthly help I went to my Heavenly Father. After the gang was gone both came into the house. William got his brother to go to town with him that day. There was a dance that night. We persuaded him to go with us. Every one was especially nice to him and he had a good time. Within a day or two we learned that the friends had robbed a Wells Fargo Express, some of them had been killed and others captured and sent to Prison. Charley's gratitude to Will who had saved him lasted as long as he lived. On October 18, 1862, we had another beautiful boy born to us. Again we had a “span of boys.” Our happiness knew no bounds. We named him Charley's full name, Charles Love. Love was the maiden name of their mother. Their father always called her “Love” as a pet name. Charley was very fond of his namesake. When the baby was two months old, my husband went again to California for a load of goods for a merchant in Salt Lake. That was about 38

the only work there was to do that would bring in any money, and then he would always bring supplies back to us. He had to pass through Beaver on his way to Salt Lake. That was a long, cold winter. It seemed that it would never end, but they always do and this one did eventually. During the summer of 1863, we were together as Will farmed and hauled logs. The fences were the stake and rider kind, made of poles and logs interlaced together and it took lots of them to keep the stock out and the cattle in, it was all open range and every one had a few oxen and milk cows. Again that fall William went to California for goods for the same merchant. I knew he could remain at home over night. A neighbor and his wife were going to Santa Clara. They knew how lonely was so they invited me to take my babies and go with them to meet my husband. How gladly I accepted. We didn't know where we would meet him, eagerly all day I would strain my eyes to see if I could see him coming. Each night I consoled myself with the thought that the further away he was, the longer we would have to be together, before we got home. We did not meet him on the way, and I waited for him in St. George a week before he came. That would not have been so pleasant only that I had many friends and acquaintances with whom we visited. We were over a week on the road and then I had another long wait before my husband came, but it was worth it all to see the surprise and joy on his beloved face when he saw me. I realized then that these separations were as hard on him as on me and perhaps more so, because I had my people and our babies. Photography was practically a new art and yet out in these desert wastes it had found its way. William had had his likeness taken a year or two before, and now we had the opportunity to have mine and the babies. I had not liked the one he had before so he agreed to have mine with baby Charles if he would have his with James and so we did. These photographs were called daguerreotypes, in honor of the inventor, but were on tin so we called them tintypes. Those of ours were encased behind glass in a sort of book shaped frame hinged together with small gold hinges. The outside was black embossed leather. The inside of the front was bright red brocaded velvet,

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there was an ornamental gold molding around the picture, under the glass. It closed and had a hook-and-eye to fasten it. It was quite an event to have our pictures taken and to know that they would remain the same, no matter how old and changed we might become. We traveled home with the wagon train. I knew all of the men and they were very kind to us. Jimmie was five years old, and whenever his father could spare his “little teamster” he was such in demand by the other drivers. Charles was too small to leave me during the daytime, but at night around the campfire, these long haired, unshaven men passed him around, bestowing some of the caresses that force of circumstances prevented them giving to their own. As they held him closely in their arms I could see by the funny look in their eyes that they were thinking of some one else. I enjoyed that trip very much and was sorry when we reached home because I knew William would have to go on in the morning. He would be gone a least three weeks longer.

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11.

GETTING A START

I often think it is a good thing that we do not know what is before us or we wouldn't have strength to go on and face it. William went on to Salt Lake City with his freight and before he got home on his return trip, he was asked to go across the plains to bring out some poor families and their belongings. We began to make preparations at once so as to be ready in three weeks when the company was to start. He was again to go over the route that he had traversed with bare, bleeding feet, when he was a boy of eight. Each teamster was to bring two thousand pounds back with him. It took two spans of horses to pull that much over the kinds of roads they would have to travel. William wanted to bring some things for ourselves, so he took three spans. To people of less faith it would have looked like an imposition to ask a man to take his teams and be away from home during three summer months, and not receive a cent of pay for it, but William often said that was when he got his start. He brought home a couple of cook stoves, among the first in our part of the country. One was for us and the other he sold without profit. He brought many other things for us that could not be had in the west. The 30th day of September 1864 was properly celebrated by us. Not only because it brought our loved one, but it also brought freedom from the back braking, brain baking process of preparing everything we cooked over a fireplace. I was so anxious to cook now that William said he would soon be as fat as a pig. During that trip my husband sent me several letters by returning outfits whom he met. These letters had a value above the love and news they contained. When he was a young fellow in California he met with an accident to his head and spine that made it impossible for him to hold his head down for a long time. I had to be his scribe. The accident happened when he lived in San Bernardino. There was a good swimming hole in the river, and the boys all became expert divers and

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swimmers. They used to race to the bank and see who could dive in first. This particular day he was the first one. When he did not come up as he should his chum Marion was going in after him, afraid he was drowned. Some of the other boys said that he was all right, and one remarked that he was like a “hell-diver” and would come up away out in the stream. While they were watching, they saw his body lodged against a log down stream. They hauled him out, turned him over and worked with him until they had brought him to, soon they discovered that his head was knocked back and he could not lower it. On examination they found a recent freshet had washed up a sand bar in the river and he had struck his head on it. The boys carried their comrade to town and the Doctor did all he could for him, but after a number of days told him that nothing could be done for his neck, that he could never bend his neck again, whereupon William said he “would bend it or break it” that he was not going through life star gazing all the time. Fortunately for him the blow had caused a sort of numbness of the spinal column, deadening the pain. He fixed a rack by putting the logs or blocks a certain distance apart. He would stretch out with his head on one and his feet on the other, letting the weight of his body come on them and thus he would lie as long as he could stand it at a time. He rubbed and worked with his neck for hours at a time. It took months of patient work before he could see in front of him, and many more hours before he could move his head as he wished, but he had done for himself what the doctor said was impossible to be done. His neck tired easily when he held it in position to write, and his few letters were highly prized by the recipients. On October 27th 1864, our fourth son was born. We were very thankful for this precious gift. We named him for my brother, Samuel Orson, but we were only permitted to keep our treasure a short time, as he died December 21st . My faith was not so shaken this time but still I felt my trouble was almost more than anyone else had to bear. My mother’s children were all alive. Although we felt his loss keenly, there was not the hopelessness that had made death of our other one so hard to bear. We now had the assurance that we would have the privilege of raising him, where there was no sin, sorrow or parting. Upon William's return from the east (as we called the states east of the Missouri River) he moved our log rooms back in the lot and began making 42

adobes and building us a big house. We moved into it as soon as two rooms were finished. It took us two years before it was all completed. From his father, who rode his thoroughbreds after the hounds on his own plantation, Will inherited his love of horses. Some of the best saddle and draft horses in the country round about wherever we lived bore the F brand. He had a way with horses that when the wildest horse was handled by him he was soon gentled and could be depended upon. He won a reputation as a horseman among his friends who brought their horses to him and paid five dollars per head to have them broken. We were always busy. William worked on our new home whenever he had a minute to spare. I had wool to wash and pick ready for the carding machine, which the town had bought and was a great help to the women. I then spun, colored and wove it into cloth. Our clothes cost nothing but the time and work to do this. I had a sewing machine to finish making the clothes. William took the cattle and horses of the town’s people on sharers. By now, 1875, we had a large band of sheep of our own. There was a fine range and some farming land about twenty miles from town. We took our two babies and went out there, for the summer. Again we took a wagon box for a home until we could get a log house built. Again I had a siege of cooking over a camp fire. My family thought it would be hard on me with the babies, but I would have gone anywhere to have been with my husband. I was enjoying to the fullest our quiet summer together when one night a runner came and told us that the Indians were on the warpath. William got the man to stay at the ranch while he took me and the children home. Something had to come to spoil an otherwise perfect summer. I sometimes think that actually facing danger is more endurable than the anxiety of fear and suspense. I was so worried for William's safety as he went right back and stayed until the crop was harvested. Jimmie was now going to school. Because of our lack of education, Will was determined that our children should have every advantage, so he started school as soon as the teacher would take him, he was kept in school every day regardless of the fact that he didn't like school. The little fellow 43

begged his father to take him with him to the sheep camp, and let him herd sheep rather than go to school. We decided that a few days out at the camp would cure him so William took him out and left him for a week with the sheep herder. If it would work I could stand the separation, though I cried every time I thought of him. When the week was over William lost no time going out after him. To our great disappointment, he was perfectly satisfied and the herder said that he was as good a hand as a man would be. He wanted to stay longer, so we found that our experiment had failed. He never cared for school although he attended and kept up with his studies. He was always a man, honest and dependable, was his father's shadow when it was possible, and very early he had his own horse and saddle and went out on the range for a day at a time. From the time Charley open his eyes in the morning until he closed them for his nap or bedtime at night, you might expect anything. The lovable little fellow always had an answer and an excuse. One day when he was about three, he came in all covered with mud. I grabbed him and said, “Charles, here are your grandmother, your grandfather and all your aunties, helping me make you some nice pink shirts and other clothes, and you are all covered with mud. I shook him but was I was getting mud on the clean floor, so I quit. As soon as he could get his breath, he tossed his golden head and looked up at me with his deep blue eyes, shrugged his shoulders and said, “Huh, Ma, I knowed a man onct and he had a whole mile of boys and they all got in the mud and he made 'em all pink shirts.” Another time all the men in the neighborhood were helping William raise a barn. As was customary, he had a five gallon keg of homemade wine, he had bought to treat them on. As he was handing it out to the men Charles came up and asked for some. His father was properly shocked and said, “No, sonny, wine isn't good for boys.” “What's good for men is good for boys, Give me some.” “It isn't good for men either, and you will never have to say that to me again,” answered his father. That was the last time we ever had wine in our home and William never touched any intoxicants again, not even beer.

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12.

OUR FAMILY INCREASES

The fall after Mary came we took our little family and went to Salt Lake for a visit. My sister Mary, next younger than I7, had married and gone there to live. Her eldest child, a son was just a few days older than our baby girl. After a most enjoyable visit, we returned home, bringing Grandmother White to stay with us. There was a widow and her daughter who had no home, so we took them into ours. Mary Ellen was about sixteen. She spun yarn, I wove and Mrs. Woodhouse did the cooking and most of the housework. Many hands make light work, and we all worked together congenially. Every homeless boy that came our way was taken in and given work. Each one was given their food, clothes, and something useful like a cow or horse, that would bring them returns. Many of these orphan boys afterward acquired wealth and positions. They never forgot our kindness and often said they owed their start in life to William J. Flake. I will never forget the pride of an English boy when Will gave him a mare for his work. The tears rolled down his cheeks, as with his arms around the animal's neck, he said, “I am the only one in my family who ever owned a horse, not even my father, my grandfather or his father. Mrs. Woodhouse remained with us several months. The daughter became engaged to my eldest brother and stayed at our home until they were married. We always had someone living with us besides our own family. The true southern hospitality was exemplified in my husband, and even then the remembrance of his orphaned boyhood days made him want to help every boy he knew. He was generous to me also, because after the family increased he always provided for me, often times it was a dear old lady like Grandma Booth or someone who was lonely and stayed with us until she found another place to live. From grandma Booth I learned so many things. She was a lady, and she was just that, who had come from the East Indies. She was an excellent cook introducing curry powder into our home. She taught me how to make 7

Her brother Samuel Orson, born in 1844, was the next oldest child and then Mary Elizabeth, born in 1846.

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many tasty dishes with it. I think the favorite one was curry gravy that we would have on cold evenings for supper. Cooking was not her only accomplishment. She had some of the most exquisite embroidered dresses, made of the sheerest Indian linen. She had woven the linen then embroidered it. She made skirts with scalloped edges and graceful designs extending to the belt. We pioneers had never seen anything so beautiful and marveled that such beauty could exist. Grandma Booth had learned the tailoring trade and she taught me how to finish off my husband's and sons suits until one would think that they were boughten. We all loved the dear old lady. We never tired hearing her tell, in her broken English, about her home so far away where the gospel found her and then how she longed for America and the Church. I always made all of the shirts, underwear, socks, hats, except my husband’s Sunday one, that my family wore. The summer hats were of braided straw and the winter ones of heavy cloth. The crown of these latter ones was made of “V” shaped pieces, shaped to fit the head. The brim was doubled with the inner lining of duck or heavy starched material and stitched around several times to hold its shape. We made our starch of flour to stiffen the brim. Sweetened water answered the same purpose and was sometimes used, if it was not “Fly time.” I knit mittens, gloves and the long woolen nubies that were worn around the neck in extremely cold weather and hoods for myself and daughters. All we had in the way of clothing that we had to buy were the best shoes that we wore. We even made our own stays or corsets by sewing strips and putting whalebone in them in our corset covers. We had another baby boy born on March 6, 1868. He was a big twelve pound baby, born just three days before my father's fiftieth birthday. We gave him father's middle name and William wanted him named Osmer, says he found the name in the Bible. Possibly he did as we have never seen it out of it nor in it for that matter. Anyway we liked the name, Osmer Dennis, and we were very proud of our big boy. Our other children were getting large enough now to be a big help to us, and were always a joy and comfort though full of mischief. As all normal children should be, I suppose.

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13.

DANGERS AND HOW THEY WERE MET

Because of his fearlessness, William was for many years a Marshal and took some awful risks. There were tough characters on the frontier in those days. Stealing was going on constantly by both Indians and whites. And there were many deserters from the Army drifting west and they were the worst element we had to contend with. William never carried a gun, said if he did he might have to use it. That did not prevent him getting his man when he went after one. One time he called a man to “Halt”, but he started to run. William reached for a rock, with his left hand. The fellow knew his reputation and yelled, “Don't throw, I surrender.” Another desperado who didn't know it, had to be shown, the rock felled him, when he came to, he went to jail willingly. With a few good rocks, the right size and shape, in his left hand pocket, William never hesitated to do his duty. At one time he went to arrest a fellow but he resisted, so William picked up a rock and aimed and threw it at him. The rock hit the man knocking him into a canal. William was frightened as the canal was full of water and he was afraid that the man would drown before he got him out. But Will quickly pulled the man to safety and took him in. One day William was just hitching up his team to go after a load of wood when a man came running to the house and told him that the sheriff was having trouble with a bunch of drunken miners and needed his help. William told the man to put the team in the stable and started out without saying anything to me as he knew how anxious I was when he was gone on one of these missions. He found the miners all right, then braced himself in a doorway to keep them from barricading themselves inside. Five of them pulled their guns and pointed them at him, but before any one pulled the trigger, one of the gang recognized him and jumping in front of him, yelled to the others, “Put up your guns. That is my friend Flake.” When the sheriff arrived, they meekly submitted to arrest and went quietly to jail. Another incident that we often laughed over was when he went to arrest a man whom we knew well. If he were sober he was a good fellow,

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but let him get a few drinks in him, and he didn't have any sense, and might do anything. William went to arrest him during one of these escapades. He had been threatening everyone he met. William followed him out of town, came up to him and told him to surrender. He asked, “Where is your gun, Flake?” “I don't need a gun to arrest you, Cris,” Seated in a ‘buckboard, side by side they drove back into town. Cris sat sullenly saying nothing until they were nearing town, when he took off his cartridge belt with his pistol in the holster and handing it to Will and said, “Here, Flake put this on. I would be the laughing stock of the town if anyone saw me being taken to jail by an unarmed man.” During Indian hostilities William was a minute man, and for weeks at a time he kept a horse saddled ready to ride at any time. Black Hawk and his followers were a constant menace to the settlers. Outlaws and Indians were not the only dangers we had to face. There was cold, hunger and dangerous roads. One time William was making a trip alone. He had a heavy load, his four oxen bogged down in Salt Creek. The weather was bitter cold. He had to drag the oxen out of the creek, then unload and carry the contents of the wagons out also. He was wet to the skin and was almost frozen before he could get a fire to bum. While he was thawing out he noticed two men approaching. He motioned to them to come to his fire. They did and he saw that they were soldiers. They stayed long enough to get warm and eat supper which he had prepared, and then said they must be going. He begged them to stay all night, but they would not. They went on, and were found frozen to death by the soldiers who were looking for them. They were deserters. It happened that William had an Army overcoat, that he always wore in extremely cold weather and he had this on when he met the pursuers the next day. The officer in charge asked him how he came to be wearing a regulation Government overcoat. William answered that he had bought it from a discharged soldier and was wearing it for the same reason the officer was wearing his, to keep from freezing. The officer ordered him to surrender the coat, he refused, and said that if he did he would freeze to death, and he would rather die fighting than to freeze. The other, seeing the look of determination in my husband's face, ordered his men to go on, and without the coat.

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We had a dog that we sometimes said knew more than most men. Old Sank was an excellent sheep dog and was kept out in the sheep camp to help the herders. If any of the sheep strayed away, Sank would follow them and bring them back. One time he was gone for two days before he finally got back with the straying sheep. He was so hungry that he ate some of a sheep that had been baited with poison for wolves and died. We were very sad when this happened. Another dog we had was even better than Sank. He was a yellow and white bulldog that we named Nero. He was a wonderful watch dog. He never made any fuss, not even barking, but would keep his eyes open and if a suspicious looking person came around, he would follow at his heels until he left the place. He hated Indians. One day one came to the house when I was alone. He asked for bread. I told him I did not have any. He would not believe me so I showed him the bread can with only some crumbs in it. He pulled out a long knife and started for me, about that time Nero jumped and caught him by the throat. I was sure he would kill the Indian before I could get him to let go. I had no more trouble with Indians. Nero probably saved my life that day, as he had Jimmie's when he was about four years old. He was as fond of horses as any Flake and used to beg his father to let him ride old Pete to water. One day William put him on old Pete's back without a bridle, saddle or anything. He knew Pete would go to the ditch, get a drink and come back to the stable. When the horse put his head down to drink, Jimmie slipped over his head into the water. He was dazed by the fall and if Nero hadn't been there to pull him out, he would have drowned before any of us could have reached him. One time William and I were scuffling in fun, Nero grabbed him and quickly as he would have grabbed a stranger who was bothering me. After that experience Will said he always felt secure about us when Nero was with us.

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14.

THE CRUCIAL TEST

After dinner one day early in the summer of 1869, William and I were sitting at the table. The children were playing around out doors. William always sat and scraped and stacked the dishes as I passed them to him, while we rested a minute and talked. That was a daily ritual, if he was at home and business was not too pressing. “That was an excellent dinner, Lucy. How you contrive to fix such a good meal out of so little is beyond me?” said my husband, as he reached over and took a small piece of meat and put it in his mouth. That was another typical habit of his, he liked dessert, but finished with a bite of meat if were there was any on the table. A good cook is one who can do just that, I reminded him, and I pride myself on being a good cook. He got up from his end of the table and came over, put his arm around me and said, “You are a good cook, and the best wife a poor man ever had”. He drew a chair up beside mine, sat down with his arm still around me. “We aren't poor,” I said, “we have everything, each other, love, health, our four lovely children, a roof over our heads, and food to eat. What more could we want?” Taking my face in his hands he turned it around so that he could look into my eyes and asked, “Lucy dear, could you share your husband with another woman?” I thought at once that he was joking, so laughing answered, “sure if I could still retain first place in your affection”. He bent his head over until his lips met mine. Each kiss carried the same thrill the first one had. He stood up and pulled me to him, and I noticed a seriousness about him that I had never seen before as he said, “Lucy, I have been counseled to take another wife, if you are willing.” I could not speak, nor could I keep the tears out of my eyes. “Don't try to answer me now,” he said in his gentlest voice. “I think I know how you feel. I have been struggling with myself for a week, trying to bring myself to ask you this. Think it over, pray over it, as I have and then let me know.”

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I flung my arms around his neck and held him as though I would never let him go. My eyes were brimming with tears. Of course, I was not willing, He was mine. Mine by all the laws of men and of God. For ten years we had been all the world to each other. We were made for each other. Why would I let someone else come between us? Neither of us spoke again, but I could tell by the tears that dropped on my bowed head that he was suffering as much as I was. The baby cried in the cradle. Duty was calling me. It seemed duty was always calling. I released my grasp, took his arms from around me and went to the cradle. William walked slowly from the room and went to the field to his work. For days I went about my household tasks, outwardly calm, but within my soul was a battle raging that it seemed at times would over power me. How I prayed during those days that my duty might be made plain to me, and that I would have the strength to do it if it was. Never had my husband been so precious to me, our home so dear. Why I asked myself over and over again. I seemed to be two beings. To every why there seemed to come an answer, and these are some of them. I knew the principle of polygamy was from God, revealed to his saints in latter days as it had been to Abraham, Jacob, David, Solomon and Moses in former times. I knew that there were more righteous women than men, especially in every Church. I knew their desire for marriage and motherhood, that was a divine instinct and as great as mine. I knew that there were no better stock on earth than the people of my faith who believed and practiced abstinence from all vices. None who could bring forth sturdier more intelligent offspring. I knew that without my consent, William would not and could not take another wife. I had sacrificed many things for my belief, was I strong enough to permit my husband to bring another woman into our home as his wife? Outwardly William and I went on as usual, but I knew he was troubled by the look of abstraction on his face. 51

All the time I was asking myself if I should run the risk of losing my beloved by sharing him with another? Prayer is a great source of strength. Always it had been my ally. Answers to prayer come in various ways. I had seen the sick healed instantly, the deaf made to hear, the blind to see. I had seen miraculous things happen, such as the seagulls coming and devouring the cricket that were destroying our crops. I had great faith in prayer, but how could I know whether the feelings in my soul were answer to prayer or my own desires, they conflicted so. Finally I prayed that when my husband came from a three day trip he had taken, that my words might be directed by a higher power. While he was gone, I went to mother and asked her what I should do. She gently said, “My daughter, that is something you and Heavenly Father have to decide. That is one thing I cannot advise you about.” I tried to picture in my mind what young lady had won a place in my husband's affections, hadn't seen anything in his actions that he had a thought for anyone but me. He was kind and courteous to all but had shown no preference as far as I could see. The night of William's return I had a good supper fixed. The children were so glad to see their father that I had a hard time to get them to bed. When they were finally asleep I went up to Will and taking his hand said, “Let's go for a walk, there is such a beautiful moon tonight.” We walked out to the back of our lot and sat down on a fallen log. Neither had spoken as I led the way. When we were seated, William put his arm around me, I cuddled up beside him for a minute, and then I said, “Will, who is the young lady we are going to marry?” I felt his strong frame quiver, his arm tightened about my waist. I heard the catch in his voice as he gasped, “We?” “Yes, we,” I answered in a voice I hardly recognized, so full was it of unselfishness and self mastery. “We, of course,” I went on, “We were made one a long time ago, you and I, who are we going to marry?” “Are you sure it is the right thing for us to do?” asked William in a trembling voice, and then I loved him as I never had before, because I knew that he had been true to me. Then he told me his struggle had been as hard as 52

mine. If he did not believe the principle was from God he would never have considered it, but as there was no compulsion to entering into it, he had battled with himself to see if he was good enough to undertake it. I told him no one was more worthy, no one could make a better husband and then I asked again her name. William told me he had admired a young lady whose family had lived in our town for some years, and who we had seen grow up. She was about eighteen, the picture of health and vitality. She was a favorite among the young folks. Her features were delicately molded, her hair was a little darker than mine, her eyes were expressive. She liked to dance, to sing, to whistle. Several members of her family were musicians, and their large family seemed to be devoted to each other. The Kartchners were of German and Casteels of French extraction and were fine people. When William asked me if he had my consent to ask her to join our family, I gave it. We talked of her good qualities, at least William did, and I tried to be as enthusiastic as he, but somehow I wanted to be alone. It seemed as thought the battle was not yet won. As soon as I could, without seeming to be in haste, I suggested that we go in, gave as an excuse that I was a little chilly. William was apologetic, said he thought his arm could keep me warm, but that I was shaking. Why hadn't I mentioned it before? In the house, I busied myself seeing that the babies were all right. William started getting ready for bed and asked me if I was coming. I knew he would not go to sleep until I did, so I also retired. As soon as I heard his deep, even breathing, I knew he was asleep. I slipped out of bed and went over and sat down on the floor by the babies cradle, and cried until I was tired. These were the thoughts that ran through my mind. Prudence was seven and a half years younger than I. Would that give her such an advantage over me? Imps of jealously suggested all sorts of things which I finally answered thus: I had had ten years of blessed associations with my man. That could never be taken from me. I was his first and for ten years his only love. If in that time I had not found a place in his heart and life that no other could fill, then I had failed. Was it possible for a man to love more than one wife? If a woman died and her husband married again, no one questions his love for either the first or second wife. As each child had its own place in my affection, as with the coming of each my capacity for love increased, how could I question the quantity of love one was capable of? In my case, the more love I gave the more I had to give, for love is infinite. 53

I remembered the words of the Master “Greater love hath no man than this that he would lay down his life for a friend”. I paraphrased that, “Greater love hath no woman than this that she would give to her husband another woman for wife.”

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15.

WE TAKE ANOTHER WIFE

The summer passed quickly. William often brought Prudence to our home so that we might get better acquainted. It must have been rather hard for a good looking, fun loving, popular young lady to marry a man eleven years older than herself, who already had a wife and was the father of six children, and yet any girl should have felt proud and honored to become the wife of William Jordan Flake. Prudence did not give her answer at once. Her family was leaving shortly for the new settlement on the Muddy River in Nevada. Prudence told William that she would let him know before they left. She must have had a great struggle to decide whether she would go on with her family or whether she would become the wife of a man who already had a wife and four children. Prudence showed her devotion to him and to the principle of plural marriage by accepting him. The day arrived for her family to leave for Nevada, she rode with them as far as the crossroads. Then bidding them all a tearful and affectionate goodbye, she bade them go on without her. There William found her at the parting of the ways and I am sure that she never had cause to regret it. The nearest place this marriage could take place was Salt Lake City, soon the first of October, we three and my baby six months old, started on this trip. On October 9, 1868, William and Prudence were married by the same power that had sealed us for time and eternity. I was asked if I gave my consent to which I answered, “Yes.” I was asked if I thought I was good enough to live that principle, and I said I was quite willing to try. We had a pleasant stay in Salt Lake City until my father took ill. He caught a severe cold which settled in his lungs. Which had troubled him for years. We waited a few days until he had improved sufficiently for us to start home, but as he did not he told us to go without him. It was with sadness

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that I bid him goodbye as I feared I would never see him again in this life. I never did see him again as he passed away on October 18, 1868, and was buried in the cemetery in Salt Lake. Our trip home was a happy one. Prudence and William were both most considerate of me. Prudence took turns with me caring for baby Osmer. One of us would sit on the spring seat by our husband for an hour or two and then she would get back in the wagon and the other would take the honored seat. Again we had a honeymoon, but there were three of us united now as one. It was not unusual to have another woman in our home because we always had company, but to have someone to have the same claim to the love and protection of my husband as I, was a new experience. We lived in the same house. There was a log house where William and I had lived when we were first married, but we decided it would be better for us to live in the new house. It was large enough so that each of us had our own bedroom. I learned early to keep my love making for my husband until we were alone, as I did not want to create any jealousy in our lives, and Prudence was as thoughtful as I. Love sacrifices all things to bless the one beloved, but only through sacrifices do we gain strength, and we were all adjusting ourselves to a new order of living. William would often come up when we were standing or sitting close to each other and put his arm around both of us and say, “No man had as choice a wife as either of you and here I have you both,” or some other blarney which we both liked to hear. When he came into the room where we both were, he would kiss the one first who was closest to the door. When he brought anything for one of us, he brought for the other. When mother returned from Salt Lake after father's death we all tried to make her feel our love appreciation for her. She was always very sensible, and took up the added responsibilities with a braveness that was inspiring. Her three oldest children were married, but there were six at home to be properly raised. 56

Father had been a good provider and had completely considered his wife and had accumulated considerable property, and by wise management, she did not have to worry over finances. Now that there were two women in our home, and someone else to look after the babies when I was away, I accepted the position as teacher in the newly organized Relief Society in our town, and shortly thereafter was called to teach in the Sunday school. Prudence was more interested in the Young Ladies Mutual Improvement Association. I took care of the home and children while she attended that. We got the benefit of both organizations by telling each other what we had learned. Of course on Sunday we all went to Sunday School and afternoon meeting. The people were prospering in the community. A large brick meeting house and a woolen factory were built. William donated liberally in time and means for their construction, and in the factory received shares of stock from the dividends of which we were clothed for years and the warm woolen blankets woven there were of the choicest quality. My second daughter was born March 13, 1870. Her father insisted she be named for her two mothers. Lucy for me and Jane for Prudence. During the summer of 1871, my brother George had very poor health. He thought a trip to St. George would help him and also the fruit which was raised in abundance in that warmer climate would be good for him. William and Prudence insisted on my going, and taking only the baby with me. They thought the trip would be fine for us, but it did not have the desired effect. George continued to get worse and worse so we came home and on August 31sl he died, he was only eighteen years old and was the first child mother ever lost. He was a noble boy, so good and truthful. He died on mother's birthday, and following so closely on father's death was a very sad experience for all of us. While we were in St. George, Baby Lucy Jane took the chicken pox and was very sick, and on July 28lh 1872 she fell into a kettle of boiling soap and turned it over on her and she was dreadfully burned. It was eleven days before she could be dressed. It was a wonderful thing that she lived, and it was only by faith and constant care. She was only a little over two years old

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when it happened, she had gone over to mothers and on the way back stopped to stir the soap when she fell into it. My aunt heard the scream, ran and picked her up and hurried her into the house. There was not a drop of water in the bucket so she ran to a small irrigation ditch and put the child into it, to wash the hot soap from her. She stripped off the clothes and with it the skin from the upper part of her body. All that remained was a tiny line of skin where one of the elbows was bent, and the skin on her head, forehead and just below her eyes. All that saved her face was a little pink chambray bonnet she was wearing. I was in a delicate condition at the time. And Auntie didn't want to excite me so she sent a child after William and told her not to tell me what had happened. But of course I knew at once. And ran to my baby. I have never seen anything that was so pitiful. For weeks we did not dress her. I watched over her day and night. Her life was spared for which we were very grateful, and her scars were never noticeable.

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16.

TRIALS

After George's death Mother's brother, Robert Taylor Burton sent for us to come to Salt Lake City for a visit. When we got there we found that he had planned a trip for Mother and two of her sisters to go back to their old home in the east. My brother Charles took us to Salt Lake. I stayed and visited with my sister Mary for three weeks until William came for me. That was a wonderful trip for mother and her two sisters back to their home. They visited Aunt Jane, who had never come west, and many others of their relatives and friends. So often in this life joy is followed by sorrow and so it was at this time. My youngest sister, Theresa, had gone as far as Salt Lake with us and was to remain with Mary until Mother returned. Theresa became very sick and poor Mary didn't know what to do about sending for mother. She felt that mother should be there but she didn't wish to alarm her by telling her of Theresa's illness, so she wrote to mother to hurry home before the cold weather came on. Mother was having such a good time among her people. She knew she would never get to go back there again and was not afraid of cold weather. Finally the folks wrote about Theresa and mother came as fast as the train would bring her. She arrived at dusk November 27th and before morning Theresa had passed away. Mother's grief was heart rending. She had buried her husband, her youngest son, a boy of eighteen, and her eleven year old daughter in a little more than two years. She came home, the pleasure of her visit dimmed by the lonesomeness of the place without cheerful happy little Theresa. I was so thankful that I lived near her so that I could run in any time. Now that we had another wife, Prudence could do my hair, and she took great pains fixing it becomingly, but sometimes I would take my comb, brush and fine comb and sit at mother's feet while she raked the dandruff out of my hair. That had always been such an intimate time between us.

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We all did all we could to make life easier for mother. All the care and anxiety of caring for Lucy Jane when she was burned so badly from her fall into the boiling soap, was too much for me and our baby, a boy was born prematurely. He lived only twelve days, and we buried him beside his two little brothers. I did not recover as promptly as at other times and had lots of time to think over the deaths that had come to us. Prudence was very close to me, but we found that she had an asthmatic condition that was augmented as she grew older and she had to be careful not to catch cold. William was farming the next year, looked after the stock and was busy all the time and we managed to find plenty to do.

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17.

ARIZONA EXPLORERS

In the winter of 1873, William was asked by Brigham Young, the great western colonizer, to go with a party of twelve men on a exploring trip to Arizona. They had pack horses to carry their bedding and provisions and each one was mounted on a good saddle horse. They crossed the Colorado River at Lee's Ferry, traveled south past the San Francisco Mountains and into the upper Verde Valley. They passed through the vicinity of where Flagstaff is now located. They encountered deep snows and extremely cold weather. The snow in one place was so deep it was up to the shoulders of their saddle horses. The men took turns breaking the trail through these drifts. The lead horse would make six jumps then drop behind to catch his breath while the second horse would take six jumps. In this way they traveled all day. When Brigham Young sent the party out, he told them they would have grass for their horses every night. The men had great confidence in his word and faith in his promises, but on this day it looked impossible for this promise to be realized. About four o'clock in the afternoon, they looked down into a valley and there was a small patch of grass where the wind had blown the snow away. They headed their poor tired horses for it and that night they had the promised grass. After about two weeks of this intense cold and hardship, the men decided they had had enough of Arizona and started to return. At a certain place Adam Greenwood and William turned off to come to Beaver. Provisions were scarce and as they were only two days from home, they gave what they had to the others who still had several days to travel ahead of them. By night William and his companion were pretty hungry. Brigham Young had also promised the company that they should not waste game which was plentiful in those days, that they should have meat whenever they needed it. They hadn't seen any game for two or three days and they were getting hungry for meat. The two men camped for the night. They had unsaddled their horses, built a campfire and were wondering how they were going to go twenty-four

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hours more without food, as they sat there warming and resting their tired limbs Adam said, “President Young promised us meat when we needed it, didn't he? Well we need it now, if anyone ever did.” “We will get it”, my husband answered confidently, “I never knew one of Brigham Young's promises to fail.” “Well, this is one time when his promise will fall to the ground,” said Adam. The two men were hovered around the fire. The sun was settling. Suddenly they saw at a distance a big white hare standing in the snow. William said, “Well, Adam, there is your meat.” Adam remarked, “Bad as I want meat, I wouldn't go that far through this snow after it. If we are to have meat tonight, it will have to come to us.” I have heard William tell many times how that big mountain hare came as direct to their fire as an arrow could fly. When it got near enough, he hit it with a hard snowball he had made, it gave one jump into the air and was lying there in the snow kicking when he went to it, picked it up and wrung its head off. They had plenty of meat for supper and breakfast. They reached home that night.

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18.

LIFE GOES ON

William had acquired two hundred forty acres of the best land in the Beaver bottoms. He had always wanted that and began farming and improving it. There was lots of sage and rabbit brush to be grubbed off and some leveling to do. It was three miles from Beaver. We were very happy in the possession of such a good farm. About then the members of the community were counseled to go into the “United Order” which meant that all of our property was put together and all shared equally. Each man was assigned to the work for which he was best suited. William was given charge of the horses and cattle. These he took to a range some distance from Beaver where he established a home ranch. Prudence went with him the next two summers. It was very lonesome without them and we were all happy when they came home in the fall to spend the winter. In November William went with a herd of beef cattle to St. George for the men who were building the Temple there and stayed to work on it. My health had been very poor for some time, but I could not make myself give up until I was so sick that I could not go on any longer. I was so dangerously ill that for three weeks the children were kept away from me. William was sent for. For days my life was in despair. I felt that the other world was nearer than this one. Every one gave me up but mother. She sat by my bedside day and night and prayed for my recovery. I improved very slowly and it was months before I could do my part of the work. We had a hired girl to help Prudence because she was suffering more and more with asthma. On April 16, 1875 we had another son born to us. We named him for my brother who had died, George Burton. He was a beautiful child and we were thankful for him. We had lost our last baby and Jane was five years old now. Prudence has had no children and we were all hungry for a baby. He was a very delicate child, and as I had lost three baby boys, I was so afraid I

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might lose him, too. When he was two months old he was so sick he could not swallow. We prayed as we never had before that this precious darling might be spared to us. Through our faith he was restored. Every spare day William worked on our farm. He built us a large sawed log house. There is an old saying that a man must build one home before he knows how to build. William should be a master wilder, he had built so many. This one was big, roomy and comfortable, and the location was ideal. It was on a slightly raised knoll in the bend of the clear sparkling Beaver River. The stream formed a crescent at the foot of the clear sparkling Beaver River at the foot of the elevation, and the rippling water made music as they danced over the stones. From our steps we could overlook our two hundred and forty acres. We had geese and ducks that we plucked the down from regularly for pillows and for feather beds. We had chickens, hogs, horses, cows. There wasn't anything we lacked and we were as happy as a family could be. We were so happy in the thought that William would not have to be away any more, we had our living at home and our days of hardship and struggling were over. The Temple at St. George was completed and was to be dedicated in April 1877. Prudence and William went to it. Baby George was so frail that I didn't dare take him, so I stayed on the ranch with our children. Jimmie and Charles were almost as large as their father and could do the work of men. At least we had all that we needed in cattle, lands and houses. We had this new comfortable home on the ranch and two homes, a new one of brick and the adobe one in town where we moved after the harvest was over to send the children to school. Our greatest sorrow was that Prudence who loved children, had none of her own though she and William had been married for almost ten years. She had faith that if she could have a blessing promising her a family she would have one. That was one of the reasons why she wanted to go to the dedication. She received the blessing and promise and her first child, a beautiful daughter was born in just one year from that date. Six others followed including a set of twins. I was so happy for her as I knew the purist joy that can come to any woman is that of motherhood.

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During their absence, Baby George again was at death's door. I was so afraid that I would lose him while his father was away. I was so relieved when they drove up but it only took one look at my husband to see that something terrible had happened. I asked, “William, what is the matter. You act so strange.” Then the strong man who had passed through all the sorrows that could come to man, except sin and disgrace, took me in his arms and with tears streaming unheeded from his eyes said, “Lucy, we must leave this beautiful home forever.” He could say no more. Men were needed to settle Arizona and extend the settlements farther south as emigrants were coming so fast and there must be homes for them. The year before a company had gone with their families, some had remained, but many had returned as they could not endure the hardships. A fresh consignment was to be called. So terrible had been the suffering of the men who had gone out when William did in 1873, and so discouraging had been their report that until three years ago no farther effort to colonize Arizona had been attempted. The company sent out in 1876 consisted mostly of young married couples, from around Salt Lake. They had been three months on the road, reaching a place on the little Colorado River, which they called Allen's Camp in honor of their leader. At conference in St. George, when the Temple was dedicated, men were called for this new colonization. Williams name was mentioned to Brigham Young as a good man to go. President Young said, “Well, if William Flake is anything like his father he will go and be depended upon to stay.” The names were read out in the general assembly and Williams name was among them. “Leave nothing to come back to,” advised President Young. “Sell all you have and take your families with you.” Another crisis in our lives had been reached. Another decision had to be made. Would we accept the call and go to this new country? Arizona!! The very name made me shudder. There were probably more Indians there than in any other parts of the United States. It was the abode of the Apaches, whose depredations were known far and near. They were considered the most blood thirsty of all the Indian tribes. 65

Arizona! Where there was much land but little water, where there were the greatest distances with nothing to see. Because of William's trying experience on his former trip to the desert land of Arizona, he felt that no greater thing could be asked of him. He said he would not have felt worse had he been asked to take his family and go to England. As for my reaction, I felt this last call was too much. Our whole lives had been spent in moving from place to place, making new homes, only to be called to help establish a newer community. We had just arrived at the place where we could live in comfort. There had been the long months of separation when William had to be away to make a living. Through the strictest economy we had purchased a two hundred and forty acre farm that we had always wanted, and were now in a position where he could be at home and we could produce what we needed. Then there was a widowed mother. I was her firstborn. We both needed each other so much. How could I leave her? It was so cruel. True we had left our comfortable home in the east and come with the Saints to an unknown land. As our leaders said, “We came willingly, because we had to.” Mob force drove us out, burned our homes or confiscated them. They would have taken our lives had we remained. Self preservation is the first law of nature. Terrible as the ordeal was there was nothing else to do, unless we were willing to renounce our allegiance to our God and our Church. We were not made of the stuff as are cowards and traitors. Conditions were different with us now. Of course we did not have to go. There was no compulsion. No force being brought to bear against us. We could have made excuses as others had. We had a conviction that the work we were engaged in was of the Lord and Brigham Young was his vice regent upon the earth. He had called us, we would go, but I still contended that it took more faith and courage than the trip across the plains, or the fortitude displayed by any of my long line of loyal pioneer ancestors. Their pilgrimages had been to preserve their lives, now it seemed we were taking ours in our hands, as we went forth again from civilization. William and Prudence had had days to talk it all over. Their trip returning from St. George was very different from the one going. During this 66

time they had sort of fortified themselves, but when they tried to comfort me they found they were little stronger than I was. There was no outward struggle, it came from within. We believed the Bible where it said that in the last days would the Lord raise up a Prophet to guide his people. We had accepted Joseph Smith as the promised prophet. When he was murdered, contrary to the belief of our enemies, the work did not stop, but another prophet was raised up by God to lead his people. My parents, with thousands of other faithful saints had seen the mantle of the Prophet Joseph fall upon the shoulders of Brigham Young. The ancient prophet, Amos says in the third chapter and seventh verse, “Surely the Lord God will do nothing but He revealeth his secret unto His servants, the Prophets.” If we were needed to build up the waste places, we would go even to the last frontier.

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19.

ARIZONA OR BUST

During the six months before we were to start for our new home, I had very little time to mourn for vain regrets. There was cheese and butter to make, fruit and vegetables to dry, clothing and bedding for a big family to get ready. My health was not very good. August 19, 1877, our tenth child was born. She arrived with the sun of a beautiful Sabbath morning. The whole Church had occasion to remember that Sunday. On it our beloved leader Brigham Young gave his last public address, and ten days later he died. We gave mother the privilege of naming our tiny daughter. She named her Roberta, for her favorite brother, Robert Taylor Burton. In October she was nearly two months old William rebaptized his family as we wished to go and work in the Temple, but it was counsel to be baptized before going. My baby was two months old on the 19th and on the 20th of October we started to St. George to do the work in the Temple for William's dead relatives. We worked there for one week. I was also adopted (sealed) to my father and mother. Mother and brother Orson were there and I stood proxy for my youngest sister. This labor was a great comfort to us. My sweet little baby was in the Temple. Sister Julia Sullivan took care of her. It seemed like we were in Heaven when we were working in that holy place. But when we got out we knew that Satan would double his force on each of us, to make up for the good we had received, and try to overcome us. We must be more prayerful and try harder to overcome him. When we came to sell our property, we could only get about $6,000.00, not half what it was worth. Part of that amount had to be taken in horses, oxen, wagons, anything we could use on the trip. William hired some men to help break the oxen to work. Everyone was busy getting ready for the move. James was now eighteen and had been keeping company with a good girl by the name of Nancy Hall. Though they were young when the call came for us to go to Arizona we were willing that they should marry. Nancy

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was too much in love to mind leaving her family. Prudence's entire family was going with us so I was the only one who suffered deeply at the thought of leaving. We had a big, heavy kitchen cupboard that we placed back down in one of the wagons. Into this we packed our dishes, wrapped in clothing and finished filling it up with anything in the clothing and bedding line we might not need for our trip. The doors were shut down and a bed made on top of it. The wagons occupied by Prudence, Nancy and myself each had a small cock stove in the front and the double wagon boxes loaded with grain, flour, seed, dried fruit, beans, corn, plows, hoes, rakes, shovels, and anything else that could be packed in them, on top of that was laced rawhide strips back and forth, to make bedsprings. On these we put our shucks and straw ticks, wool mattresses and feather beds. These furnished a nice place for the family to ride on in the daytime and a bed at night. On the outside of the wagons, we had racks for our water barrels. On the back of one of the wagons we had a cupboard built. This had a door that could be let down to prepare our meals on. In this cupboard we kept our tin dishes, knives, forks, and other cooking and eating utensils, with the exception of the iron pots, bake ovens and brass buckets. These hung from the backs of the wagons, because the former were too black to put inside and the buckets had to be ready and handy, so that when we found water, we could fill up the barrels. When our caravan was ready it consisted of six wagons loaded to capacity. There were drawn by nine yoke of oxen and seven span of horses. We had two hundred head of cattle and forty head of horses. At last everything was in readiness. On the night of November 18, 1877 we stayed at mothers. Baby Roberta was only three months old. She was very sick that night and we were afraid we might lose her. Many friends came in to spend the last evening with us. Among them was a dear faithful old man whom I had known since childhood. I asked him to bless my baby that she might make the trip safely. His beautiful prayer made me feel much better. On the morning of November 19, with many “gee-haws” to the oxen, “get-ups” to the horses, cracking of whips to get the cattle and horses away

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from the home corral, with “goodbyes” and “good luck,” and “God bless you,” from our friends and loved one, we headed south. Arizona or bust scrawled in charcoal adorned our wagon covers. It was the work of one of our hired men who was enthusiastic about the trip. With tears in our eyes, smiles on our lips and aches in our hearts, we started bravely forth on a journey that lasted three months. We had to travel slowly. The roads at best were only blazed trails. Often we had to stop the outfits while the men got out and with pick and shovel made them passable. Because of the scarcity of water and feed we did not travel with any of the other emigrants who were on the road. When we caught up with them or others overtook us we waited for them to get out of the road. The water was in small seeps, springs or streams, and sometimes it would take half a day for it to furnish enough water for our stock. When we got to the Buckskin Mountains, we saw a wagon standing by the road and a man pacing back and forth. In the wagon was the wife, weeping like her heart would break. On her lap was their year old baby, dead. The poor mother was helpless in her grief. We camped nearby and I went over to see what I could do. The little body had to be washed and prepared for burial. I had never touched a dead person before except my own precious babies whose little graves I had left behind. I shrank from the task but someone had to do it. William took a board from one wagon and one from another wagon box until he got enough to make a little box to bury the child in. That act of kindness on my part almost cost the lives of my two older daughters. Mary took sick first with a terrible sore throat. I used all the remedies I could think of, such as having her gargle with vinegar, salt and pepper, and binding a piece of fat meat on her throat but she kept getting worse. Jane had to sleep with her and she took it. We kept them in a wagon by themselves and I did everything I could for them, but it looked as though they would choke to death. I prayed constantly that they might be spared. God heard my prayers. He provided a physician in the person of a dear old blind lady that we afterwards learned to love and call affectionately “Aunt Abbie.” 70

These travelers overtook us and when they found we had sickness Mrs. Thayer, Aunt Abbie, came to the wagon where the girls were. None had described their ailments and though she was blind, as soon as she put her head inside of the wagon cover, she sniffed and said diphtheria. Then she went to work. In her wagon she had medicinal herbs for every disease and in her head had the knowledge of their use and our darling girls were saved through her administrations. One of the things she did was to put poultices of grated carrots on their chests. Dear Aunt Abbie. What a Godsend you were to all the pioneers who settled in northern Arizona. I had never been around diphtheria before and had not known that the little body I had prepared for burial had died of this disease. The occasion to assist other emigrants was ever present and in William's kindheartedness he never missed an opportunity whether it was provisions or anything else. If someone had lost a horse or an ox, he loaned them one. Others had no milk and he sent his milk cows to them to feed their babies. One of the most tragic of these was when from the top of a high hill we saw in the distance a lone wagon. We couldn't see any animals around and William remarked that the team must have strayed away and become lost. When we got to the wagon we found one of our neighbors, a relative of Prudence and his family. William asked him what was the matter. He knew he had started out with another man who had a large outfit and who was to furnish him with a team for the help he was to give. He told us the other man had gotten angry at him and had pulled out with his outfit and left him there stranded. William took out a couple of gentle horses from our teams and let him have them, hitching in two broncos in their places. Poor Prudence was sick most of the way. She had three severe attacks of quinsy and hardly left her wagon during the trip.

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20.

SNOWFLAKES

We encountered all kinds of weather. Winter came early. Indians whom we met said it was the coldest for many years. I shall never forget the 14lh of December 1877. We had only made a mile and a half that day. The wind and sleet were terrific. “There is no use. The teams will not face this storm. Find as sheltered a place as you can and pull in.” William's voice rang out above the wind as he delivered this message to each of the teamsters. He was riding ahead, trying to point the loose stock. They were on the verge of stampeding. The poor teams would not face the biting sleet. Sometimes they turned so sharply they almost overturned the wagon. The wagon covers had been securely tied and fastened down with only a small hole in front for the lines to come through and the drivers to look out to guide the horses or watch the oxen. As soon as the poor shivering animals were unharnessed, they huddled together in what shelter the six wagons made. The men and boys who could be spared from the herd, climbed into the wagons with the women and children. To make a fire was an utter impossibility so we ate parched corn, dried meat, cheese, crackers, and cookies which we had made before we started. “When I had to pound the cracker dough with the flat of an ax for what seemed hours, I didn't know it'd ever taste this good,” remarked one of the boys. “Mother told you that it was necessary to make them light,” Mary reminded him. The wind blew so strong all day that it seemed the wagons would be overturned. Each member of the party seemed to feel the responsibility of making the best of a bad situation. William's repertoire of songs was not extensive but the length of the ones he knew was, and he had a strong voice and a good memory so he furnished the share of the entertainment. My singing ability was not so good. Most of my songs were

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the lullaby kind that I made up to go along to suit the occasion. I had a fund of good stories from my English mother who had been a school marm in her home in “York State,” also from my Scotch-Irish father. One of the teamsters was an old Welshman, and his stories were hilariously received, whether they were actually humorous or not his brogue made them so, they were greeted with laughter upon which the old man seemed to thrive. William came to the wagon where I and our three month baby girl slept. I motioned him to silence so as not to wake baby and fully dressed I lifted the wagon cover and crept into my husband lover's strong arms. He carried me over to this warm dried out spot in all this white vastness. He put me down, then with a sweeping gesture that would have done justice to his chivalrous ancestors, assured me that though he was not so good at menial tasks, there were half a dozen male members of the company who would do my bidding. Early in the morning, the men folks had cleared away the heavy snow from a large space, built a fire to dry out the ground, then the fire was moved to one side, it was here that a William brought me. The snow had melted away from the cupboard, the door was let down and with the help of Jimmie and Charley, a hot breakfast was soon prepared and served. Prudence and Nancy were too ill to leave their wagons. Mary and Jane were just recovering from severe attacks from the dread diphtheria so had to be kept in their wagons and every care taken of them. The sun came out beautifully bright and reasonably warm as though old mother nature, ashamed of her antics on the day before was taking pity on us poor wayfarers. With plenty of snow to be melted into the softest of water and plenty of clothes to be washed, it was decided that the company remain in camp another day. So with my washboard and tub, I rubbed the soiled clothes. I knew those in the wagon were helpless to assist so to show them I was happy I sang. There wasn't much tune but I kept time with my rubbity-dub: “Come, come ye saints 73

No toil nor labor fear, But with joy, wend you way. Though hard to you this journey may appear Grace shall be as your day. Gird up your loins Fresh courage take, Our God will never us forsake, And soon we'll have this tale to tell All is well! All is well!!” Another heavy snow fell just before we reached the Little Colorado River. The weather was so cold the ice on the river froze to a depth of eight inches. The men folk had to chop through that to get water for the cattle. It was fortunate for us that this extreme cold did not strike us on the desert. We would have frozen to death as wood was so scarce most of the way. It was the coldest winter in thirty years. When we came to where there was any wood, we would load what we could on our wagons to have where there was none. Now we found plenty of drift wood that had been brought down by the muddy waters of the Little Colorado. At Black Falls, we found another family whose child, an eleven year old boy, had died. Again I prepared the body for burial. The water was so cold that if froze on the body as I washed it. Whether or not that gave the poor grief stricken parents the idea, or whether they could not stand the thought of leaving it in a lonely grave, they let the corpse freeze, wrapped it in a sheet, and hauled it to the first settlements which were eight days away. I sympathized with the family in their loss, but I was called to make another sacrifice that seemed to me almost worse than death, and that was to leave my precious Charles, a boy of fifteen, with one hired man to look after the cattle. The feed had been to scarce and the snow so deep that the cattle got so poor they could not travel and we were in danger of losing half of them. We had to leave them out in that terrible place more than a hundred miles from any settlement, knowing we could not communicate with them. I tried to settle myself for this new ordeal, but when we started out that morning and I could see him from the back of my wagon, standing there waving us goodbye, I thought my heart would break. I lay down on the bed and sobbed until I was exhausted. Why would life be so cruel? I kept asking myself how much could one endure?

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We traveled on, the teams wallowing through the snow. The men folks put red pepper in their boots and wrapped their feet in sacks and rags to keep them from freezing.

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21.

THE STORK OVER TAKES US

We camped at Red Falls on the night of January 10, 1 878 and that night our oldest grandchild was born. Following a Flake tradition he was named for his grandfather, William Jordan Flake. We had hoped that this momentous event could have been delayed until we reached the settlements on the Little Colorado. There was no doctor or nurse. With each of my ten children I had had a midwife and had mother to take the best care of the babies and me. We had been kept warm away from droughts, only the daintiest food given me. We had had our daily baths, and every attention. I knew nothing of the art of midwifery. I had never been alone with a woman when a baby was born. I was terror stricken. Poor Nancy has been so brave, never complaining, had borne in silence her excruciating pains. Why do babies always come at night? We had all retired to our wagons and covered up with everything we could find to keep from freezing, as I think it was the coldest night I ever saw. I had just dozed off when Jimmie came to my side of the wagon, reached in and touched me, whispering that Nancy needed me, and he would be back in a minute for me. I slipped my breast out of the mouth of six month old baby Roberta and pulled my arm out from under her head so as not to wake her and as quickly as possible put on my clothes. I was all ready when Jimmie came and carried me in his arms to their wagon. Only one look at the agonized face of my daughter-in-law showed me how she was suffering and when I saw the prints of her clinched fingernails in her palms, I knew how stoically she was suppressing outcries. Jimmie had kept the fire burning in their tiny cook stove in the front of their wagon, had kept the cover down tight so that the steam from the

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little iron teakettle and the heat from the stove made the inside quite comfortable. My grandchild did not keep us waiting long. He was not as considerate as his brave little mother. He didn't care if he did wake the camp, but yelled out as lustily as a full grown cowboy might. Of course that was a good sign, but it did not tend to put the new grandmother at her ease. I had never bathed as tiny baby, but with the help of the new father we managed, then rubbed him with warm oil, wrapped him up snuggly, gave him to his proud father to hold while I made his new mother as comfortable as I could. When I had done all I knew, and had tucked them warmly in, Jimmie carried me back to my wagon and as I lay awake straining my ears for any sound I prayed that little William Jordan and his mother might be spared to fill out the measure of their creation. I suppose it is unreasonable to expect the human body to withstand everything. Death to others along the way, which was brought so closely to me because of the responsibility I had taken to assist the poor mothers, the extreme sickness of my two older daughters and Prudence, the parting with Charles, the cooking and washing for the family and five hired men, the care that my baby demanded, and now the responsibility and care of a baby and its mother under these terrible conditions was more than I could stand, and after Nancy was out of danger and baby William Jordan properly taken care of I collapsed and for days my life hung in a balance.

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22.

ON THE LITTLE COLORADO

We traveled slowly on, and on January 15th we reached the first settlement on the Little Colorado. It was called “Ballengers Camp” because Mr. Ballenger was in charge. It was afterwards named Brigham City. It was located about 2 ½ miles northeast of where Winslow is now. A little to the east and across the river was Lot Smith's camp, afterward known as Sunset. Here we camped. The people were living the United Order but in a different way than we had in Beaver. There we only put our stock and sheep in together and each one was given his responsibility, but here they served the meals at one long table, the women taking turns cooking, waiting on table and dish washing. I was now able to get out of the wagon, but I was still very weak. We were invited into the homes of some of the people. Each one had a room or two with beds and a chair or two. Then there was the big kitchen and dining room where all the cooking and eating was done. It all looked very strange to us. We only stayed for a few days, then our outfit, Prudence's father and brothers and their families went on up the river about twenty miles to a place we called Taylor, near where Manilla now is on the railroad. It was five miles below Allen's camp, now called Joseph City. As was customary in most of the Church cities, they were living the United Order, we like the other settlements put all our property together. The men cut cottonwood logs and built a kitchen and dining room. We lived in our wagon boxes set down on logs or large stones. The main concern was to get water for the land for spring planting so the men all went to work putting a dam in the Little Colorado, clearing and preparing the land. William was appointed to take charge of the stock. That was no small job as the food was scarce, and then there was the terrible quicksand in which the weary and unwary cattle mired and unless help came in time, were entirely sucked under. His duties kept him riding most of the time. We were near the Reservation and whenever a Navajo needed a good beef, they would help themselves to our stock, if they were not guarded.

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I took my turn with the others doing the work. All the time my heart was heavy for my boy whom we had left with the cattle and from whom we had heard nothing. Finally in May, William took a couple of men and went back after them. I could hardly wait for them to come. When I saw my boy, dirty, long-haired, and tanned, but with his roguish smile, I was happier than I had been since we left home. When we first stopped at this location it looked like it would be an easy matter to dam off the sluggish, muddy slowly moving stream, but the first dam of brush, rock and clay was hardly finished when a flood came down and washed it out. Nothing daunted, the men began again, and again the dam washed out. This continued each month for five months. It was very discouraging. The water was so laden with mud that nothing we tried settled it. We would fill our barrels with it then put in charcoal, lye made with ashes, buttermilk, anything we had ever heard of to settle it, but at best there would only be three or four inches on the top of each barrel, after it had stood overnight. This we could dip off carefully and use it for cooking. I had always been used to clear, mountain streams and this filthy water was a great trial to me. Our clothes became red and murky and after a bath I felt dirtier than before. There were many trying things that we had to endure in this United Order, but I think one of the hardest ones was when Will was called to account for a transaction he made with a poor family who was passing through our area. One of their oxen died and they had only one left to pull their load. William traded him a four year old stag for a fine two year old heifer and the man gratefully went on his way. The man who had turned the stag into the Order made a fuss about the Superintendent of the stock trading without consulting the “Board.” When William was questioned about it he told them it had always been his custom to help people who were in trouble and that if the traveler had had nothing to trade he would have given him the stag. He was told he was now in a Company and was not at liberty to dispose of property without consent. “Then,” said William “I am in the wrong place. My motto had always been to help those who need help. My mission out here was to build up the country, and I am going to find a new home where I can be free.” He came and told me about it. I gloried in his spunk and told him to go and what ever he did I was with him. The next morning, he saddled up his horse, tied a little food on the back of his saddle and was about ready to start, when a close friend and 79

brother-in-law of his came and asked him where he was going. William said, “I was called to help build up Arizona, and there must be a better place than where we are, and if there is one I am going to find it.” A. Z. Palmer then told him to wait until he saddled his horse and he would go with him. Within an hour they were gone. I had long realized how futile it was to try to build a dam in that treacherous stream of shifting sand. We could not raise anything and were eating up what we had brought with us. The spring winds filled the air with that fine sand until one couldn't see two rods away. Our wagon covers flopped and popped. We were nearly buried in sand every morning after a night of hard wind. We could count on three days and nights of this then a rain, a day or two of pleasant weather then three days of wind again. This lasted all through February, March and most of April. I was so homesick and blue, I found that the tears were very near the surface, but was seldom alone long enough to indulge in a good cry, that might have cleared my mental atmosphere as the rains did those of nature. William had started out to find a new home for us about the middle of June.

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23.

THE DEATH OF LITTLE GEORGE

Little George had always been frail and occasionally very sick. He was ailing when William left and grew steadily worse. There we were without a home, nothing but a wagon box to live in and no shade. Hot muddy water, nothing for his comfort. I did all I could for him. I never blew out the candle at night nor had a good night's rest for three weeks. James and Charles took turns watching him with me. Whenever he was resting easy, I would quietly leave the wagon, go out in the brush where I could be concealed and there in the burning sand on my knees I would pour out my soul in prayer to my Heavenly Father to spare the life of our darling. He had been such an exceptional child, with a mentality of a child twice his age. He had endeared himself to all who knew him, and I felt that I could not go give him up. How I wished for William. People were saying that he was apostatizing from the Church by going away to hunt for another place. All of this came to my ears. One person was cruel enough to say that the sickness of our child was a judgment upon us. If I had had mother to help me I might had been able to do something to relieve the suffering of my child. He called for his father, but there was no way of getting word to him. In all of my life, I had never endured such suffering as I did during those three weeks. On the morning of July 6th, I could endure no more. I dragged myself to my “shrine” and there in simple prayer I submitted myself to my Heavenly Father, and plead with him to relieve the pain and misery of my precious child even if it be in death. I returned to his bedside. He looked at me, a smile lighted his beautiful face, and the pain was gone. The eyes closed and his noble spirit had taken flight. He had gone to join his three little brothers. With tears I could have washed his emaciated little body. I went to work to get him ready for burial. With my own hand I made his clothes. Within an hour I heard the children cry, “Here comes father.” The sorrow of William when I told him was terrible. If he could have seen the suffering of our baby boy he could have been more reconciled to his going. He got some boards and had a crude coffin made. I had brought some blue paint along with us and I painted the little box and lined it to receive my jewel. We took him to Allen's camp and buried him. Our tears wet the little

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mound and then we went back to our wagon box. Our family sat down together and I asked William what of the future. With his arms about Prudence and me he told us how he first went to Savoia, New Mexico; then to St. Johns, a little Mexican and Jew town; up to Fort Apache, an Army post among those Indians; returning by the Corderoy and Silver Creek. On all his trip he had seen only one suitable place and that was a ranch on Silver Creek owned by Mr. James Stinson. William said he was struck with the beauty and possibilities of it as soon as he saw it from the distant hills. He rode up to the house, was met and given a hearty welcome by Mr. Stinson. After the horses were unsaddled and turned loose in grass knee deep, the Mexican cook came out to tell his patron that supper was ready. The two hungry men did justice to the tortillas and frijoles. Their host asked them what their business was and William told him that he was out looking for a place to settle. “Have you found one?” asked Mr. Stinson. “Yes,” answered William, “but I don't think there is a chance in the world of getting it.” Mr. Stinson then inquired, “Where is this place?” William told him it was his ranch. Mr. Stinson said he would sell, and that he would take $12,000.00 for it. Telling him he would see what he could do about raising the money, William and Mr. Palmer left for home the next morning. As soon as my husband got to the place where he said the owner would sell, I made up my mind that we were going to own “Rancho Rio de la Plata.”

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24.

RANCHO RIO DE LA PLATA

I told William that we were going to own the Rancho Rio de la Plata. He said, “Why Lucy, all that we own would not bring half that amount.” And then I said something that probably sounded foolish to them, “I will do the man's washing and mending and cook for him to help pay.” But at least it showed that I was willing to do all I could. William tried to get the other men in our company to help with their means, but only met with refusal, criticism and discouragement. We were all alone, but we stood together, James and Charles told their father to buy it, we would pay for it someway. Thus encouraged, and by my urging him, he saddled his horse again and started for the Silver Creek Ranch. Just the name Silver Creek or Rio de la Plata as the Mexican servants of Mr. Stinson called it, sent thrills through me and a longing to go where there was clear water. Mr. Stinson would not come down on his price. He had a good crop of barley, corn and beans. William told him it was too late to grow another crop that year and we wouldn't have anything to eat. Mr. Stinson said he would give him the corn. “How much is it worth?” asked William. “One thousand dollars," promptly answered Mr. Stinson. "All right," said William, “I will take it and turn $1000 on the purchase price.” Mr. Stinson had made the price so he had to pay it, thus we only owed him eleven thousand. We had to pay $500.00 down and one hundred fifty head of cattle a year for three years. He was only to retain what few cattle he had and his personal belongings. He was to be allowed to use the machinery to harvest his crop. There was a thresher, mower (or dropper), a wagon, six mules, harness, etc. The most valuable thing next to the land was the water right to the entire Silver Creek. There was a fine saddle mule in the bunch that Mr. Stinson wanted to keep. It had been counted in on the trade. He begged to be allowed to keep his pet, promising that when the final payment was made, he would turn it back to William, so it was agreed on. William took possession at once and returned to Old Taylor for us.

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We withdrew from the Order, the men folks gathered the cattle and horses, and we women folk got the wagons ready. This excitement kept my mind from my trouble. My only regret at leaving that place were I had had nothing but sorrow and heartache was the leaving of the newly made grave, with the body of my youngest son. July 18, 1878, we started for our new home and two days later we reached what to me was Paradise. When we drove to the brow of a hill, a view of the valley could be seen, I was speechless at the beauty of it all. William turned to me and asked me what I thought of it. When he saw the tears running down my cheeks, he feared I was disappointed. I just put my arms around the one of his that was nearest to me and squeezed it with all my might. He stopped the team and Prudence and the girls clambered out from under the wagon cover. Their “Ohs” and “Ahs” released my tongue and I said, “If Heaven is any better than this, I am glad I saw this first, so as to kinda get used to such beauty.” As far as the eye could see, the rolling hills were covered with waving grass. One large house and a line of small adobes nestled in a little brown patch among tasseled com and ripening bearded barley, in the center of the valley below. A few cottonwood trees and willows fringed the banks of the silvery stream that gave it its name. Smelling the water, the hot tired, thirsty horses and cattle almost stampeded getting to it. They drank their fill then began feeding on the luscious green grass. We were almost as eager as they, but it took us longer to get there. Our wagons had to wind around to get down the hill. When we reached the bottom and stopped to let our teams rest and drink, we women folk climbed out, and kneeling down on the mossy banks bathed our faces and drank to our hearts' content of the first clear water we had seen in months. As I knelt there my soul was filled with gratitude that our lot was to be cast in such pleasant places. It seemed this beautiful valley was a bit of heaven reserved for us as a reward for all we had suffered. Tears of joy filled my eyes as I poured out my gratitude in my first prayer in the valley of the Rio de la Plata.

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25.

BEGINNING AGAIN

No woman can fully appreciate a home who has not lived in a wagon box for nine months. We had a roof over our heads, and as soon as William could go one hundred miles away, to the nearest sawmill and trade for lumber, we had a floor under our feet. I was so proud of our big, manly husband. He was only thirty-nine years old and yet, the things he had accomplished were more that most men ever do in a lifetime. He was known and respected by all with whom he came in contact. His generosity, courage, fairness, honesty and good judgment were proverbial. Four other families beside our own came with us, and it was not long before others joined us, among these latter were thirty eight families who had come overland from Georgia, Alabama, and Arkansas. They had been more than a year on the road, stopping when their ox teams got too poor to travel or their provisions ran low. Then they would stop and work awhile until they got feed and clothes to go on. When they reached us they were destitute. During William's travels hunting for our new home he had passed through Nutriose. There Mr. Fred Coulter had a large wheat crop. William had bought enough flour for our use and brought it along with us and it would have lasted our family a couple of years, but as long as we had a dust of it, we divided with others. When it was gone he took three yoke of oxen and a four horse team and went to Nutriose to again trade for wheat. He let Mr. Coulter have a matched pair of curly, yellow horses and cows for the balance. There was a small com mill owned by the Mexicans in Concho. William and his teamsters brought the grain by there and had some of it ground. Some was sent to the little mill at Brigham City on the Little Colorado and part of it ground on coffee mills at home. After all the wheat was used then we were glad to get barley bread ground on our coffee mills, although the beards in it were not palatable. The buildings on the ranch were four rooms in the big house, and a row of six rooms. The house had two rooms on each side of an open court.

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Only the two on the north had roofs, these were flat mud ones. As soon as possible William had a gable roof put on the south rooms, and a clap board roof over the court. The walls were eighteen inch adobe, were cool in summer and warm in the winter. The string of low adobe rooms had been used as store rooms, harness and saddle rooms. These were cleaned out and as many families as could be were housed in them. Logs were gotten out from the mountains and little homes were soon begun. Knowing that work was necessary, not only to sustain life, but also to maintain a healthy social condition, the problem of finding employment for these able bodied men was Will's. Mr. Stinson had Haifa dozen Mexicans working for him. William asked him to let them go and give the work to these poor immigrants. He very kindly complied, keeping only his personal servant, Apetacio. He had a cabin built about two miles up the river. Where he lived until his harvest and stock were gathered. Mr. Stinson was a fine man. We were always happy to have him in our home. He told us there was only enough water in Silver Creek to irrigate the three hundred acres he had under cultivation, and if we would keep the whole of the ranch it would be a good home for our family, but if we let anyone else in, we would all starve. William laughed and said, “You could not give me the place if I had to live that way. I am going to have a town here and farm all of this valley.” “You can't raise anything without water,” responded Mr. Stinson. William assured him that, “when the Mormons came, the water would increase.” The rain soon came, and it rained for twenty six days without stopping. They had so much trouble gathering the crop of barley, and beans that Mr. Stinson jokingly remarked that “he wished to h— the Mormons had stayed away until he had gathered his crop.” When Mr. Stinson had discharged his workmen, he told William he could have a third of the corn crop if he would have it kept clean for weeds and gather it. When it was in roasting ears, William asked him to divide the patch. He said, “Not until it is harvested.” William insisted, trying to get Mr. Stinson to divide the patch so that the poor starving people could begin eating on our part, but he said, “Turn 'em loose. It ain't any more your responsibility to keep 'em alive than it is mine. If there is any left we will divide it.” So twenty families feasted on 86

green corn. That was the way he was about everything. Very profane and gruff, but with a heart of gold. When the few clothes these people had on were gone there was nothing else for us to do than to cut up our wagon covers to make dresses for the women and our seamless sacks to make pants for the men. Prudence's family consisting of her father, mother, two brothers and three brothers-in-law and their families joined us on the 10th of August. They decided to settle in the upper valley. William told them he would let them have the land for the same price he had paid. He never made a cent out of the land, but more often than not, received nothing at all but promises. One of our neighbors said of him, “About every so often he would go over his account books; he would come to a man's name, read over the amount he owed, shake his head and say, “He can't pay that.” Then he would mark it out, and the account was settled. This same man also said, as any number of other could have, “When I needed a horse or a span of them, a saddle, a plow or a wagon to haul hay or go after wood, all I had to do was to go to him and I got what I needed, and he never charged me a cent for anything.”

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26.

HOW SNOWFLAKE GOT ITS NAME

To get the means to pay for the place was now our greatest responsibility. William traded thirty cows and the same number of mares to a Jew in St. John. When he went to make the delivery there was a dispute over one of the mares. The Jew got mad, pulled his gun and pointed it at William and said, “A colt 44 makes all men equal.” William gave a disgusted sniff and answered, “A gun don't make a man out of you. You will find that I was not born in the woods to be scared by a coyote.” Just then a younger brother of the one he had been talking to, told the other to be himself that Mr. Flake was living up to the contract. They had other deals after that, but the Jew didn't try any more bluffs. We knew that we could get cattle on shares from the Co-op herd in Beaver. So in September we started back to our old home. The boys were needed to help drive the stock so they went along and William thought I needed the trip so we were very happy. I had all of my children with me except Jimmie, who stayed to look after things while we were gone. When we got a few miles below Brigham City, we met Erastus Snow, who was directed by the Church authorities to look after the Mormon settlements and were on their way to our place. We were very glad to see him. He had three other men with him. When we got up to them William got out of our wagon and went over to their carriage. After the greetings were over, Apostle Snow moved over in the spring seat in which he was sitting and told my husband to get up beside him. After they were comfortable he put his arm around William's shoulder and said, “William, I want you to report what you have been doing in this country.” William told him truthfully everything that had transpired since we reached Arizona. Elder Snow had a peculiar little mannerism of sort of smacking his lips when anything pleased him and the more pleased he was the louder the noise. William knew this habit, so did not have to guess the effect of his actions had on his friend and adviser. When he had last finished, Erastus Snow said, “William, you are a true colonizer, what you have done

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will have the approval of the Brethren at headquarters. I wish to God there were more men like you.” “We are now ready for an organization,” said William. “Would you make a good bishop?” asked Brother Snow, to which William answered emphatically, “No.” “Who do you want to preside over you, then?” “John Hunt for Bishop,” and then he named two or three, among them, Jesse N. Smith, who “was in the carriage with Apostle Snow, as President of the Stake. John Hunt had been a neighbor of ours in Beaver. He and William had served as peace officers for many years, and we knew of his integrity. The conversation lasted for a long time, we in the wagon were too far away to hear any of it. Naturally I was worried as to the outcome. Because of his action of withdrawing from the United Order and going away on his own responsibility, and because of the jealously that existed because he had found such a desirable place, there had been much said against him. I knew, of course, that Elder Snow had had opportunity to hear of these things at Sunset and at Brigham City. William had pretended that this criticism had not affected him, but I knew his desire to be in line with those whom God had placed over him, and that all of his life had been controlled by that motive. There was only one thing that I was sure of, and that was, right or wrong, I was behind my husband one hundred percent. Finally William shook hands with the men and with his arms filled with grapes and apples that the visitors had brought from Utah's Dixie, and the call of Brother Snow “God Bless you All,” he came to our wagon, we drove on and while we listened to his report we eagerly ate the first fruit we had seen since leaving Utah the year before. William had been so busy all the time and had such a responsibility resting on his shoulders that he had hardly eaten or slept. After he found his actions were approved by the authority that had been sent out to colonize

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this new land a load seemed to have been lifted from his shoulders and our trip was a very happy one. Elder Snow and his party went on, arriving at the ranch on September 24. There they were met by Jimmie and made as comfortable as possible, and given a warm welcome. A meeting was held in our southeast room and an organization was effected. John Hunt was put in as Bishop, with William as first and John Kartchner as second counselors and Jesse N. Smith as President of the Eastern Arizona Stake. Elder Snow gave the place the name of Snowflake, named for himself and for William. A surveyor, Major Ladd was employed to survey and plat the town site, laying off twenty blocks of four lots each, the lots measuring twelve rods square. The streets, running north and south, east and west were six rods wide.

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27.

A SUCCESSFUL TRIP

William had made it plain to Apostle Snow that he had bought the Silver Creek Valley for colonization and that he wanted no advantage but would take his land as the others did. Three men were appointed to make calculations on the amount of land to be divided. They were to assess it and place the valuation so that we would be repaid for the purchase price. They decided that each family should have one city lot, or if a man had two wives he was to have two lots, at thirty dollars, making a total often dollars and ten acres of second class at sixty dollars, a making a total of two hundred dollars that each man had to pay for a city lot and twenty acres of land. This was perfectly agreeable with William, who drew lots as the others did for his land, reserving nothing for himself. He insisted that a block be kept in the center for a public square. It mattered not that the person didn't have any money or stock. He drew for his land and paid “in chips and what stones” or maybe not even that. Once a year William would go through his book of the ones who owed him and throw it in the fire, and as it blazed up he would smile and say, “Well them accounts are settled. We are now ready to begin a new book.” With our hearts cheered and lightened by the visit with Elder Snow, we went on our way rejoicing. The weather was fine, good grass all the way. Old Chuck and John seemed to know as well as we humans that we were going back to the old home, and needed no urging. We made in three weeks what had taken us three months to travel the year before. We found mother and the family all well, and we were very happy to be together again. There was much to tell that had happened since we last met, that we all talked at once until we sort of caught up. We took a load of wool back with us. This we exchanged for cloth. We had five hundred shares of Capitol Stock in the Beaver Woolen Mills, we turned the wool in and bought blankets and cloth suitable for making clothing for the people depending upon us. We visited for six weeks and what a glorious time it was. Little Jane was so happy with her many cousins, she wanted to stay. I knew she would

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be company for mother. Jane was seven and large for her age and she would be company for her. It was hard for me to decide to leave her and I did not say anything to anyone about it until I had conquered myself. Some of the arguments I used were that mother was alone and that I wanted my daughter to have the training that only mother could give her. Of course, Jane was glad to stay; grandmother's house was so nice. The fruit trees were still loaded with fruit and there so many children to play with. Because of William's reputation for square dealing he had not trouble getting cattle. He went to a lifetime friend, M. L. Shephard and traded sheep for the stock sufficient to have the required number to make his payments on the ranch. He had bought the ranch, and though it was to be divided, still he assumed the whole responsibility for it. We didn't have enough sheep to pay for the cattle, but we knew where we could get them on shares, and have enough to deliver when Mr. Stinson wanted them. Our feelings on leaving Beaver were very different than the last time. Now we knew where we were going. We had a good place, a comfortable home and part of our family there to welcome us. Instead of looking upon us with pity, some of our friends almost envied us, and some of them afterward joined us in our Arizona home. We returned safely. The cattle came through in fine shape, as there was plenty of grass and browse. The weather wasn't as cold as it had been the year before. Santa Claus could not have timed his arrival any better than we did. We reached home on Christmas Eve, and were indeed Santa Claus to those poor hungry people. We sent to each family some dried fruit, cloth for clothes, yam for stockings, socks and mittens and anything else that we had brought that we knew they needed, and like good old Saint Nick, having done a good deed was sufficient recompense for us.

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28.

PROVIDING EMPLOYMENT

Some men shirk the responsibility of caring for a family, William had two families of his own, and yet he felt personally responsible for the families who had given up what they had in the south and come west because of their desire to live with the saints. The weatherman had been very good to us on our trip, but he made up for it after Christmas, the winter was cold and long. It took a load of wood a day to keep the fifteen families living in our houses warm. Wood was plentiful though, there was scrub cedar near enough so that a couple of men could go out and get two loads a day. The pine wood for the fireplace was farther away. That took two days to get a load. As soon as the weather began to break, William started out to find work for these men who were unaccustomed to western ways. The government needed coal, charcoal for their blacksmith shop in Fort Apache. Some of the men knew how to burn it, so William got the contract for them. Mr. Felix Scott had a contract to furnish the post with supplies from the terminus of the railroad, William subleased it and turned it over to the men to haul the freight. He bought a number of large Texas steers to be broken for work oxen. He gave the men all they could make. His only desire was to have the men become self sustaining. The Church had sent a sawmill out to Arizona, known as the Mount Trimble. This we purchased and moved up to the mountains south of Snowflake from out near Flagstaff. This furnished employment to many of the men, cutting, hauling logs, splitting shingles and hauling lumber. William took a big herd of sheep on shares, and so as herders he had work for others. There was land to be farmed and thus all who wanted to work had plenty to do. During the summer, the children and I went to the saw mill up at Phoenix Park. We cooked for the men employed at the mill and for the herders. The grass was fine up on the mountains and the sheep did well up there.

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We had many scary experiences at the saw mill, among them were Indian raids. I well remember one outbreak. We were on the Apache Reservation and were in actual danger, more so because William had gone to town to take a load of lumber, and had the only team and wagon we had brought up to the saw mill. Ordinarily the children and I would have been loaded into the wagon and taken to the settlement post haste, while the men would have stayed and protected themselves, the mill id the sheep. Now they had added responsibility of looking out for our safety. We knew too well the cruelty of these savages when they were on the warpath. Osmer had gone on our fastest saddle horse to tell his father. He was only about twelve years old, but the others could not be spared. We were all sitting around in semi-darkness that first night. Each one was trying to think what would be best to do in case of an attack. All but one had expressed themselves and given their plan for defense. Noticing his silence, someone asked, “What would you do Bob, if the Indians came?” Bob didn't answer for a minute, then in his slow southern drawl, “I reckon I'd hide behind a tree and make faces at 'em.” Just then a faint blaze lighted up his face, and as I looked at it covered with a three month growth of black beard and his shaggy hair almost down to his shoulders and his greasy, dirty clothes, I thought probably his method would be as effective as any of the others. It did one thing for all of us, it furnished a good hearty laugh which relieved the tension of fear and we all felt better. The soldiers soon rounded up the trouble makers, and we were safe again.

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29.

APACHE COUNTY'S FIRST COUNTY SEAT

Snowflake was the first county seat in Apache County. The first court was held in our front room. There were at least fifty persons attending that term of court. Some brought their beds along, but we furnished the meals. William was one of the first Supervisors of Apache County and Mr. Stinson was first Probate Judge. Our home served for Church, Sunday Schools and all public services. It wasn't large enough for conference when all the stake met together so seats were build out on the patio. There was much travel through our little town. Our home served as hotel, furnishing food and lodging, but never charging for those services. All of the officers going to and coming from Fort Apache, made our home their headquarters. We had a contract with the Government to supply food, lodgings for their men and take care of their teams, for which we were paid. Often times we would find a gold piece or a greenback under the plate or under the pillow on the bed left by some grateful traveler. The first mail received was brought by Joseph City on the Butterfield stage. It was delivered to us once a week, and was distributed from our home until a regular postmaster was appointed. He was W. D. Kartchner, Prudence's father. Mrs. Annella Hunt taught our first school. The south room of the adobe stables was cleaned out for the school room. That was during a few weeks the first winter we were there. There was always the problem of funds to pay a school teacher. William solved this in a unique manner. During the fall roundup there was a big fat heifer caught. She had never been branded and didn't have a mark on her. It was customary among cowmen that the one having the most cattle and paying the expenses of the roundup was considered the owner of those mavericks.

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When this one was brought in William asked what should be done with it. The man told him it was his to do what he wanted to. He felt that it did not belong to him so he sold it to the highest bidder for sixty dollars. When the roundup was over he took the money to Miss. Delia Fish, a very intelligent young lady who had recently arrived with her father, and told her to teach school as long as the money lasted, and thus three months of school was given to our children during the winter of 1879. For ten years we kept “open house,” and were seldom alone. I think the largest company of travelers we ever entertained at one time was twenty-two. These men were exploring, hunting mines, timber and investments. They had their own camp equipment, but the girls and I cooked their meals. Mary was a great help, could cook a meal as well as 1 could. When unexpected company came, we gave up our beds. William and the boys slept out in the barn while we women folk made our beds on the floor. We were very happy when at the fall election the County Seat was moved to St. Johns. We were a law abiding community, and objected to the rough element that soon began swarming into the county and so we made no bid for a continuation of the County Seat of Apache County.

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30.

GENEROSITY

After all of our flour had been eaten and no more wheat could be obtained in the country, William took two span of horses and the double wagon and went to Albuquerque, New Mexico and bought two thousand pounds of flour back. We knew he could not make the trip in less than two weeks, but we consoled ourselves that we would have “white” bread when he returned That flour only lasted about two weeks, when divided among the families dependent on us. We then only had barley bread to eat. I hoarded some flour as a miser would do his gold so that I might have some for biscuits for the Government Officials when they came through on their trips. Our cattle were so poor when we had driven them from Utah that they were not fit for beef, so William asked Mr. Stinson about trading for some beef. “I have some wild cattle out here that have never been marked or branded, they run like deer. All that can be done with them is to shoot 'em where you find 'em,” said Mr. Stinson. The next day we saw a bunch of cattle. It went like a flying cloud over the western hill. We heard some shots, then saw Mr. Stinson, riding his favorite mule coming toward the house. His silver rowelled spurs clanged as he dismounted and unloosing the girth on his silver mounted saddle, said in a offhanded manner, “Mr. Flake, there's a couple of dead beeves on the hill. Have your men go and get 'em.” It didn't take the half starved men long to get them and then the feasting. The cattle had been in the country long before the white men came, but because James Stinson and C. S. Cooley were the only cattlemen they had claimed them. Later William traded horses for Mr. Stinson's share which were all those north of a certain boundary. For five or six years we had beef whenever we wanted it bad enough to run two or three good saddle horses to get within gunshot of them. A few of the calves were brought in and kept with the milk stock for awhile but as soon as they could get away, they went back to the wild bunch again.

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There was another generous man that many have cause to remember and that was Bill Atchison. Careless and indifferent as to religion, yet with a heart as big as his body. Mr. Blanchard, the merchant at Holbrook wanted Bill to haul some goods for him from Albuquerque; Bill agreed to do it if he would be allowed to haul some goods for himself. It was agreed upon and Bill bought a lot of flour. He was offered $20.00 per hundred if he would sell it, but Bill said, “No, the folks at Snowflake were about out of dumplin' dust when I left so I'm going to let them have this,” and he did, loaned it out and took flour back at $6.00 per hundred. The first winter in Snowflake he planted a big patch of carrots on the east side of the creek. It was a mild winter so the carrots were left in the ground. Every so often he would go down and plow out a row or two and send them to the neighbors. One of Bills chief pleasures was chasing mavericks with his brother Bud and Jimmie. When one of these wild animals was killed, it was brought to town and like his carrots was divided around among the pioneers. Bill was never known to take a cent for any of his liberal gifts.

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31.

IN EIGHTEEN SEVENTY-NINE

The year 1879 found us very happy and very busy. To dear Prudence came the realization of her fondest dreams, and the fulfillment of the promise made to her in the St. George Temple. On May 22nd a lovely girl was born to her, ten years after her marriage. We all rejoiced in her happiness, and she was so thankful that she had a child of her own to love. Although my children had supplied as much as it was possible, the incentive, and anyone coming to the home and not knowing, would have had a hard time deciding who the real mother was, only that she was Auntie to mine. Now little Sarah Emma was loved and cared for by all of us. My baby daughter was almost two years old and we were “hungry” for another, and this one was a “child of promise.” The responsibility of looking after the big group of people depending on him for sustenance was met by William in a cheerful and efficient manner. Early in this year he went again to Nutroise to buy more wheat. Mr. Coulter suggested that we buy the ranch and raise our own wheat. Already we could see by the way new settlers were arriving almost weekly, that the 2000 acres of the Silver Creek Valley could not contain them long, so a trade was made, and Mr. Coulter was to receive three hundred head of cattle to be delivered in the late fall. As soon as William returned home he told some of our neighbors what he had done, and four of the men whom we had known for years in Utah, and who had come about the same time we did, consented to go and plant the crop It yielded prolifically and that fall 2100 bushels of wheat were harvested. There was a good cash market at a high price, but William refused to sell. Instead he opened his granary to the poor until every pound was gone. Because of his generosity he was more often than not, taken advantage of. I was indignant and often remonstrated with him because he did not expose some of them. Especially was that so when one man came and asked for an

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order to go to Nutriose and get a load of wheat. Said he would pay for it. William told him if he had cash that we could buy wheat in Round Valley, but that he had none for sale. Then the scoundrel wrote an order for the wheat, signed William's name and sent his outfit after it. We didn't know about it for some time. He never paid for the wheat and when I urged William to have him sent to jail for forgery and theft, this was the answer I received, “It is better to suffer a wrong than to do wrong.” That was always one of his motto's. There was a fine farm for sale at Round Valley (now Springerville). William gave eighty cows for it and let another of our friends take care of it. When it was found out that William was in the market for ranches and land, everyone who got in a tight place wanted to sell to him. In this way he went in with Hate Wilhelm and bought Concho, thirty miles to the east. Our half cost forty cows. We put a fine old Southerner on the place. That was a good investment because Mr. Brady took excellent care of the place.

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32.

CONFERENCE TIME

In our Church, quarterly conferences were held every three months. All of the members who could, came from far and near. They came by the wagon load and they stayed at least three days. We have had as many as seven wagons full at our place at one time. Usually they brought their bedding. Some even brought a little hay in the bottom of the wagons, for the children to sit on. If our feed was scarce, as it usually was in the spring, they might let their horses eat what they had brought. Some who came brought a pound of butter or cheese, a chicken, or if in the fall, a few vegetables and those who lived in Joseph City and Woodruff brought watermelons and cantaloupes. For days before these conferences, we cleaned house and cooked so that we wouldn't have to spend all of our time cooking and waiting on our friends, and not have time to visit with them or to attend the meetings. When we got well enough off to have chow-chow, pickles, preserves and mincemeat in five gallon crocks, and dried squash and fruit to make pies, it was not such a worry as to what we would feed them. We have baked up to twenty or twenty-five pies at a time, cakes, rice pudding, baked beans, roast ham or beef, bread enough to feed an army, and everyone was welcome. At night, beds were made all over the floors for the women and children, and in the hay lofts and wagon boxes for the men folk. Conference times were eagerly looked forward to by all. The children would sit out and watch the road as it wound down over the hill to see when the folks came. Thursday afternoon was the time to begin looking. All the neighbors children would gather at the White house, as ours was called, not because it was the executive mansion so much, as that it had been plastered and white washed on the outside. All the travelers came in on our street and as they came the children would guess where they were going to go. They soon learned the teams and would say, "Here come the Tanners, I bet they are coming to our house," or the Richards or Bushmans or whoever it was. How disappointed they would be if our particular friends should go somewhere else.

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When the wagon turned in at our gate, they would run to the house shouting, “Oh, Ma, here are the so-and-so's,” and then I'd slip off my kitchen apron, wipe my hands and go out to welcome them, William and the larger boys would be out in the yard to help the women and girls out of the wagon and then while William and the “Pa” visited, Charles or Osmer would help unharness the horses and feed them. There would be meetings forenoon and afternoon for three days. With a theatre or a dance on the week-day nights and the closing session of the conference on Sunday evening. The first of these conferences held in the Northern Arizona Stake, which consisted of all the communities within a radius of fifty miles, was held in our home. It was presided over by Wilford Woodruff, as the representative of the Church authorities in Salt Lake City. He gave us much encouragement and by his council and advice inspired us to go ahead and make a success of our venture. One evening while I was busy in the kitchen preparing the evening meal, in which he was to be the honored guest, he came into the kitchen and we were visiting pleasantly when he asked me if William was not improvising his own family by buying so many places. I was surprised, but answered that the Lord had blessed us so much since we came here that I dared not complain. That William's desire was to do all the good he could and that I was in accord with all he did. William came in and Apostle Woodruff turned to him and said, “Brother Flake, you have done enough in the providing homes for others, we don't want you to distress yourselves.” Later that evening, David K. Udall came in from St. Johns, he told Apostle Woodruff that the people of St. Johns were unable to make the payments on their lands and were about to lose all the Church had paid. This was the only settlement in that part of the country that William had not purchased. We laughed as we talked after we went to bed that night, because following his advice to us not to buy any more land or places, Apostle Woodruff asked William to loan the Church one hundred cows to pay for St. Johns.

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33.

ANOTHER TRIP TO UTAH

Of course William went to work at once, gathered the cows and turned them over. The cows were good and fat. That fall we had to take one hundred head of poor stock driven from Utah. We lost many of them, but William never regretted anything he ever did to help anyone. Because of supplying so many cattle, we had to return again to Utah and buy more, promising sheep that we did not have, and would only get by taking them on shares. John D. Schone, a soldier who had been discharged from service in Fort Apache wanted to go into the cattle business. He advanced money for William to buy a large herd of cows and calves. He gave us the calves for bringing them from Utah. Much to my joy, William decided to take us again with him. Jimmie and his wife and baby went this time also. I was so happy to go as besides being with my husband and the boys en route, I was to see my loved ones again in Beaver, including mother and our little daughter Jane. We started on August 28th 1879. We had a very good trip and found all well and glad to see us. After five weeks of visiting we began our return journey. We had a large herd of cattle and had to drive them slowly. The good grass and range conditions in our part of the country became known in Utah. One of the friends who took the Beaver Co-op herd after William gave it up, got permission to bring them to Arizona. He started out with fourteen hundred head of cattle and three hundred head of horses. He didn't find conditions as pleasant as he had hoped. He didn't have the nerve that my man had. When the feed got scarce and the cattle began bogging in the quicksands of the Little Colorado he got discouraged and left the stock with some of his men at Black Falls and returned to Beaver. The President of the Company sent word to William that he could have them on shares. There were only about 900 cattle left. The horses had fared better. We were glad to take them in this way as it would enable us to get out of debt sooner. The stock were so poor that we had to leave them down on the river until spring. Jimmie stayed with them. We reached home again a few days

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before Christmas. We found Prudence and Baby Emma well. We had a good reunion.

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34.

MEETINGS AND PARTINGS

One of the big things William had done during 1879 with help from some of the others, was to buy the sawmill at Mormon Lake and bring it to the forests south of Snowflake to a place we called Phoenix Park. The mill cost us $2,300.00. It was worth many times that to us because now we could put roofs over our heads, floors under our feet, build much needed furniture, barns for our stock and hay, and granaries for our crops. Some of the people built frame or sawed-log houses. A large school house of sawed logs was built during the winter of 1 879 and 1880. William donated the ground on which it was built. The building served as a school, church and social center. We were very proud of it. At first the seats were backless, made of logs with pegs for legs, but finally the carpenters made long benches with high backs and they were quite comfortable. The year 1880 was a momentous one for us. Just two years to the day after our first arrival on July 21, 1880 our son Joel White was born. We were as usual very thankful for our baby. Sometimes we had trouble to keep the wolf from our door, but the stork was always welcome. Jimmie and Nancy now had two boys, Prudence had a little daughter, and I had seven children living. I was to be deprived of the association of my Charles as he went away to school. Time had brought changes and success to our friend and William's “foster brother” Francis Marion Lyman. He had been made an apostle in the church, one of the presiding authorities. Among the duties of these apostles was that of visiting church members and encouraging them. Of course Marion's desire to visit Snowflake was soon realized, and in September, he came to our conference. It was the first time these two had seen each other since before our call to Arizona. Their meeting was pathetic. They hugged, kissed, shed tears of joy and went around with their arms around each other. Each congratulated the other on his accomplishments. William was so proud that the great honor of being an apostle in the Church of Jesus Christ had been conferred on Marion and Marion was proud of William for his many

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colonizing successes. The love of these two was like that of Damon and Pythias or David and Jonathan, all enduring and constant unto death. When Marion realized the poor educational facilities out here, he asked us to let him take Charles home with him and let him attend the Brigham Young Academy. He could live in his home and be like his own son. When Marion mentioned it, Charles was delighted. F. M. Junior was about as much younger then Charley as Marion was younger than William. Charley was now seventeen, had always been studious and wanted an education, and for the past three years had very little schooling. William remembered his years spent in at the Lyman home, and his great love for Marion and his wife Rhoda, made him give his consent. I knew Rhoda would be as good to my boy as I could be, but Charley was the life of our home, the joy of our lives. How could I let him go? I sent them all to church and I stayed home to get his clothes washed, ironed and ready and do some cooking for them. I cried all the time they were gone, but when meeting was out and they began coming home, I dried my eyes on my apron, and managed to appear cheerful until I finally went to bed. After all were asleep, I went to the bed where Charley and Osmer were peacefully sleeping. Had I any right to keep my son from taking his place in the world. He must have his chance no matter what the cost to me. I stooped over, kissed his noble forehead and then for fear my tears would awaken him, I stumbled back to bed. William woke up, took me in his arms and told me how proud we would be of our boy when he came back. Soon he was asleep. Morning came, William decided he would go a little way with him, so he tied his saddle horse by the side of the team, got in the wagon with Marion, Charley and those with them and they drove away. William went as far as Black Falls. It made it easier for me to adjust myself without him. My father's sister, Aunt Mary Savage, Uncle David and their children came to live in our town in March. Aunt Mary was such a comfort to me. She was the only one of my relatives except my husband and children that I had near me. I almost envied Prudence because all of her family were within calling distance. Aunt Mary was an educated woman and a great reader. She spent 106

so much time with me. Her children were grown so she could be spared from her little home nearby. She would read to me as I worked or would help me when the mending was stacked too high. This is an extract from the diary of Francis M. Lyman containing some of William's family history: “On January 25, 1855, Agnes Flake died at the age of thirty five years. Father (Francis M. Lyman) was appointed guardian of her three children, William, Charles and Sarah. These children were taken into Mother's family (says Francis M. Lyman) and they lived with us as one family until William married. This was in the spring of 1858 William and I grew up together like brothers. In some respects he was better then I. My brother Amasa and Charles were the same age, and they ran into worse habits than William and I. William was six months my senior. My sister Maria was about the same age as Sarah. My mother took great pains to dress the three pairs alike as much as possible. It was a great responsibility for her when she took those three in addition to her own seven. “Out of school my chief employment in my earlier years was looking after the stock, milking and doing the other chores. I had no taste for farming or gardening, but preferred carpentering. In those days, I had a small mule which I called Jimmy. My father had given it to me in 1851 while we were living in Salt Lake. On our first journey to California I had ridden the mule and drove the loose stock and again on the trip to the valley I had ridden him. So like other boys, I was hard on him at times, yet I kept him fat and fine and took great pride in him in seeing that his mane was always artistically combed. He was a pretty picture, for a mule! "Warm Spring Creek was a delightful resort for us young people for there we bathed. It was about three miles northeast of the town. We used to go there on Saturdays and on other occasions, in considerable numbers on horseback. At times we rode furiously and on other occasions almost recklessly. Once a man thirty five or forty years old was traveling at breakneck speed, was killed when his horse slipped and fell. “On one occasion when William Flake and I with others were bathing in the Spring Creek just below grandmother Tanner's. William dived into the shallow water from a high stump on the bank, as we had frequently done before. On this occasion, instead of putting his hands in front of him, he 107

threw them back. He landed right in the sandy bottom and came very nearly breaking his neck He injured his spine and was as limp as a rag, I pulled him out of the water where he was near to drowning. He could not lift his head above the water and was unconscious as well. He recovered, but it took many weeks. His hands always showed signs of that mishap.”

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35.

FINAL PAYMENT ON THE RANCH

We were the happiest people in the world, when three months before it was due, we made our last payment on the ranch which was now Snowflake. Mr. Stinson came to our house, tied his mule outside and came in. After they had talked awhile William asked Mr. Stinson if he was satisfied. The latter answered, “Yes, you have complied with the agreement to the letter.” They walked outside as they talked. “Then,” said William, “I want my mule. Pull off your saddle.” Mr. Stinson looked at him but made no move to unsaddle. “Go ahead,” continued William, “that was the agreement, when we made this trade. I have lived up to my part of it, and as an honorable man I expect you to do the same.” “I can't part with this mule, Flake. Pick out five of the best cows I have, but let me keep my pet.” “No, I don't want your cows. The mule is mine,” said William. Poor Mr. Stinson stood there with his arm over the mule’s neck. His strong face was full of pain. “Take anything I have but let me keep old Si,” pleaded Mr. Stinson. “A bargain is a bargain,” William reminded him. Seeing there was no changing his mind, Mr. Stinson slowly pulled off his saddle and bridle, patting the mule's neck, rubbed his nose affectionately, then blinked to keep the tears out of his eyes, but he could not keep his chin from quivering. He walked over and handed William the end of the hair rope which he always kept on his mule. William could stand it no longer. He went over to his friend and said, “Stinson, we have done a lot of business during these past three years, in it all you have shown yourself to be a man. You have not only lived up to the contract we made, you have always been willing to go more than half your way. “From the very first you proved yourself to be a true friend. You helped feed the poor people who came here. You have done many things like that, for which you were not obligated. These many acts of kindness on

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your part were a financial loss to you. For a long time I have wondered what I could do for you to show my appreciation for what you have done for us. I am glad to present this mule to the squarest man I ever met.” This was a long speech for William. As he finished, he handed the rope back. Mr. Stinson saddled his mule, mounted and rode away without a word. That was him, all right. When his heart was full it was so big it closed his mouth. When we took possession of the ranch. Mr. Stinson had taken up a small place and had a house built about two miles above us. After we paid him the final payment he was ready to leave for Pleasant Valley, so William bought all of his holding and what cattle might still be on the range after all that could be found were rounded up. We paid him four saddle horses. It was with best wishes and warmest friendship that we bade goodbye to Mr. Stinson.

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36.

PRUDENCE HAS A NEW HOME AND ANOTHER BABY

After the completion of our obligation to Mr. Stinson, Will decided to straighten up his cattle business affairs in Beaver. Always before I had wanted to go with him, but now Charley was home for his summer vacation and I was willing to stay, and especially as it was arranged, as far as we could do it, for mother to come back with him and visit us. We had more room now as William had built a new home for Prudence on the west lot adjoining ours. While we were very happy before, now that she had her two babies, Emma and baby Pearl, it was better for us to have separate homes. They were only a few rods apart and we could run back and forth as we wanted to. As always William showed no partiality, but spent one night in one home and the next in the other, though he continued to take all of his meals in our home as Prudence's health was so poor and she was so occupied with her little daughters. During 1881 the railroad reached a point twenty eight miles north of us in a town called Holbrook. The building of the Atlantic and Pacific Railway furnished employment for many of the men folk, and was of untold value in many other ways, principally as it brought news of the outside world, and brought supplies nearer than Albuquerque. Our boys were so busy helping their father with the stock that they had no time for outside interests. Mr. John W. Young, husband of my cousin Clara Jones8 was in charge of construction. He was a brilliant, influential man and we enjoyed his frequent visits. With the prospects of weekly mail, we subscribed to the Deseret News and Women's Exponent, both published in Salt Lake City. It seemed so good to be able again to keep in touch with our people and the church. Then there were the inspirational articles and beautiful poems in the woman's paper. We could hardly wait from one mail day to the next, but at least it was 8

Clara Lucinda Jones was the daughter of Rebecca Maria Burton and Nathaniel Vary Jones. Her husband John Willard Young was the son of Brigham Young and Mary Ann Angell.

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something to look forward to. Charley had been very considerate in writing to us, we usually got a letter from him on every mail and I wrote him as often. We supplied his money for his expenses, paid his board and schooling, and felt thankful that he was so favored as to go to school and at the same time be in the home of our brother, F. M. Lyman. We knew by his letters that he was doing well at school, but were not prepared for the improvement that he had made, when he came home for his first summer vacation in May 1882. The polish he had acquired put the plodding country boys to a disadvantage in the eyes of the young ladies of the town. To me he had always been a precious source of joy and conjecture. I was never sure what he would do next. He wasn't idle a day, fitted into the work and kept at it until time for his return to school in September. I was more reconciled to his going this time, as he had proved that he was capable of taking care of himself, and his schooling was satisfying a longing that he had early displayed “to be somebody in the world.” William had gone on his trip to Utah in our light wagon and with the best team we had, old Chuck and John. He did not expect to be gone any longer than was necessary, so we began looking for him about the twentieth of August. Our time had been occupied in getting things ready for mother’s visit, as we were very anxious for her to like our Arizona home. At last the day arrived for William to return; eagerly I watched the road as it wound around the hill. Toward evening we saw his wagon and we were all out to meet him. One glance at the empty seat beside him told its story and I slipped away to the house. When he came in he was surprised to find that I was so broken up, mother had written me as soon as she heard we were expecting her, that she would not take the trip on account of the heat. I never got the letter.

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37.

MOTHER COMES TO VISIT US

Mary, my main stay so it seemed had been keeping company with a steady hard working boy, who had been one of our helpers on our first trip out. His name Theodore Turley. His family had been neighbors for many years. They seemed very much in love, and though very young, we had also been, so we consented to their wedding. Like us, they were not content to be married for this life only, so they went by team with some other young couples to the nearest Temple in St. George, Utah. With Mary and Charley both gone the home seemed empty. When a son marries, it is a sacrifice to give him up, but when our eldest daughter left us for a home of her own, it made me very sad indeed. That summer had been such a happy, intimate one as we had worked together getting her bedding ready and her clothes made. She was so happy in her plans and hopes for the future. I could not sadden her days with my dread of home without her. After they were gone I was trying to pick up the tangled threads and go on, and finding it almost harder than I could do, when on the evening of October 17, 1882 a wagon drove up and sitting on the seat by the driver was mother. She had written and said she was coming, but again we had not received her letter. Mr. M. L. Shepard, who came to receive the Beaver Co-op herd which we had on shares had kindly offered to bring mother. They made the shortest possible time on the road and she really enjoyed the trip. There were weeks of roundups before the cattle were gathered. I don't know how I could have stood the loneliness with William and Osmer both gone if mother had not been with me. Mr. Shepard sold the stock belonging to the company to a Mr. Latta, who took them to New Mexico. We enjoyed a few days visit with our old neighbor before he returned home. He was very pleased with the transaction, and having the cattle on shares had helped us materially in getting our debts paid, and leaving us a herd of young stock to continue in the cattle business.

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William often said, “God made the grass and I want to see that I have something to eat my share of it.” On the 28th of December of this same year 1882, the Lord saw fit to recompense me for my losses by sending me another baby son. We gave mother the privilege of naming him, she called him John Taylor. With her buoyancy and serenity mother helped me so much. She liked our new home and the Country in general. She told me that only now; in the marriage of my oldest daughter could I realize her feeling when I went off with my husband, to start a new home. She reminded me that similar experiences would bring me a better understanding and more perfect love. Mary and Theodore returned and went into their little home, as happy as birds in their nest. Mother was right. Now that Mary was faced with the same problems I had had, she came to me for advice and counsel. They lived only a little ways away. It did not take her long to do her work, then she would come and help with mine, when Theodore didn't need her in the blacksmith shop to pump the bellows while he pounded the red hot iron into horse shoes, plow points and other much needed things. He made fire shovels, irons and many other tools and articles. Mary soon learned to set a tire on a wagon wheel as well as he could. If he was away or had a rush job she would do it herself. She was strong, capable and willing to do her part and more. We had the pleasure of mother's society for four months, then she had a good comfortable way to go home so she went with John Hunt. Again I had to give her up, and had it not been for the almost constant care required by my baby, I would have been more lonely than ever. He never was a robust baby. Again in May, Charley came home for his summer vacation, and stayed until September. The dread of parting almost robbed his visit of its pleasure. I wonder why I am such a baby about my children. I love them so that I am selfish, maybe but Charley, well Charley was such a mischievous boy, never a dull minute when he was around, and he showed his love for me in so many ways. This parting proved to be a long one. In our Church we send out missionaries to “bear the glad tidings of great joy to all people” as Christ 114

commanded his disciples to do in his day. Charles was called to the southern states on April 5, 1883. As it was so expensive for him to come home and it would cost so much anyway to send him so far away and keep him there for two or three years, we decided it would be best for him to leave from Salt Lake City.

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38.

OUR FIRST MISSIONARY

Charley was the first of our family, which has become known throughout the Church as a missionary family, was the first one to go, as he was also the first to be called from the new settlements of northern Arizona. I was proud and happy that my son was worthy to go as an ambassador of the gospel of Christ. The state of Mississippi was assigned as the field of labor for our boy. We were glad that he was going to the state from which his grandfather Flake came from when he went to Illinois before crossing the plains. At that time there was strong opposition against the principles of “Mormonism” and the prejudice against our people was bitter, especially in the land of the Klu Klux Klan, where nothing is done passively, where love is intense and hate enduring. Mobs of armed men, initiated by ignorance on the part of some of the ministers who saw their best people uniting themselves with the despised Mormons. It was not an unusual occurrence for the elders to receive threatening, unsigned letters giving them so many days or hours to leave the county. They even murdered Elders Gibbs and Berry, and whipped several others who did not heed the warnings. Charley got one of these threatening letters and this is what he said of it in a letter to me, "my companion got his release and has gone home leaving me alone until another companion arrives. Just before he left we found the following notice tacked to a tree, “C. Flake and the rest of the Mormon Elders: The best thing you can do is to leave this country. There is a great number of men that are just waiting to see if you will take the hint. I tell you that they will treat you rough. You had better take a fool's advice and leave this country. You had better be in Utah with your wives and then you would be better off. You can listen to this if you want to, or you can let it alone, but you had better heed this warning. I warn you again, you had better never be seen in this country again. This is a plain hint.” No signature. Did my blood boil when I read this. My son ordered out of the country that his forefathers for generations had fought to establish. I was thankful, as I read on that he was a worthy son of his noble ancestors. “Our next

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appointment is about a quarter of a mile from there. Our notices of the meetings have already gone out to notify the people of our conferences. And we will be there trying to do our duty. They never called us and they have no right to send us away. I for one, intend to stay until the Authority that called me shall release me.”

We looked forward to his weekly letters which came with regularity. They were filled with accounts of experiences, some amusing and others almost tragic. However, if there was anything funny or decidedly ridiculous, his sense of humor made it a laughable matter. Of course I worried about the persecution I didn't realize how serious some of these mobbing were, until after his return after over two years in the service of the Master. When I was unpacking his trunk, I came across one of his coats, as I lifted it out I discovered it was covered with a black, hard substance. I called Charley to tell me about it and this is his story: “It was in a little town in Mississippi. The missionaries had met with much opposition but had gone on their way rejoicing that with the Savior they were called to suffer persecutions.” The President of the Conference was coming for a series of meetings. Charley was on his way to meet the train on which he was to arrive, when he was overtaken by a mob of masked men. They caught him and poured a bucket of warm tar over him. One of the men said he would look pretty with a coat of feathers, but another protested saying he wasn't worth tearing up a good bed for. It was getting almost dark. Charley's main concern was that he would miss the train. As soon as he could get away from his tormentors, he hurried on reaching the station just as the train pulled in. President Jolly came down the steps, shook hands with Charley, and started to put his arm around him. His hand came in contact with the sticky mass. In surprise he asked Charley what he had on his coat. “Dew,” answered Charley. “Why, that isn't dew,” said the President. “Well that is the way they do it in Water Valley,” laughed Charley, and he laughed again as he told me about it. The precious boy could always see the funny things in life. Whether the joke was on someone else or on him, it made no difference.

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His first summer at home was spent in hard work. He went to work at farming and raised enough beans to last us for years. His vegetable garden supplied many tables beside our own. He brought seed of many kinds to try them out in our climate. He raised the first peanuts I had ever seen. Love that is not sincere cannot remain true for as many years as Belle Hunt's did for Charley. She waited patiently until his college days and mission were over. The first of September found them ready to leave with some other young couples from our part of the country to go to St. George, Utah to the Temple to be married. They were married for time and eternity on September 16, 1885. Belle was a charming girl and we were happy to welcome her into our family.

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39.

PERSECUTION

Since the organization of the Church of Jesus Christ in these latter days, its adversaries had not been content to leave us alone. Now it was the persecution of the men who had honorably married more than one wife and were raising respectful families. The motto of our Church is “Mind your own business.” If our enemies had been as considerate much suffering could have been avoided. I shall try to place the blame where I know it belongs. Suffice it to say that the passing of the Edmund-Tucker Act was an aim at the heart core of Mormonism. The brutal actions of some of those who were placed in official position, in the state where polygamy was practiced, were barbarous in the extreme. Men were hounded and thrown into filthy prisons to serve sentences imposed by judges of the lowest moral caliber. The persecutions spread to our little town. Many of our men fled to Mexico for protection, while the polygamous wives went to visit their people or hid out to avoid humiliation. One incident happened that afterward often furnished us with a hearty laugh. Every stranger was looked upon with suspicion. We were holding conference when a stranger came to the door. The men with more than one wife who still remained, made a break for the back door. The man in charge of the meeting had a heart of gold but never had much education and was entirely unaccustomed to presiding. He got up and went down to meet the well dressed stranger who introduced himself as Seymore B. Young, whom we all knew by reputation as one of our leaders from Salt Lake City. In his excitement Brother Mann wildly waved and shouted, “Sit down, brethren, it is only Elder Seamless B. Young.” Homes were broken up, children left fatherless and wives were made to bear the duties of providing for themselves and their children.

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William declared that he had done nothing to run from, but he helped other to go to Mexico, where they were given refuge. One of our neighbors came one night and asked for help to go to Mexico. He only had one team and his boys would need that to harvest their crop and haul wood for the family. He had no money to buy another outfit so could William loan him one. Well, a wagon, cover, water barrels and a span of our best horses were rigged up for him, the horses were harnessed, hitched up to the wagon driven up to his door after nightfall, he and his plural wife slipped away. In about a year he returned the outfit, with thanks. That was all that was necessary. If he had never brought them back, it would have been the same. Not long after that another neighbor came to the house at midnight, said he had just gotten word that the Marshal would be there after him in the morning and he wanted the best horses we had. Our husband was not at home, but the boys knew what he would have done if he had been so they saddled old Babe and told him not to worry as there was not a horse in Arizona that could over take him. When our friend got to the Mexican border, he sent the horse and saddle back by some people we knew who were coming this way. It was always the same, if anyone needed anything and we had it they knew it was theirs.

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40.

WILLIAM IS ARRESTED FOR POLYGAMY

Rumors reached us almost daily that William was wanted for polygamy, that the Marshal had a warrant for his arrest. Our friends, both inside and out of the Church begged him to leave until the storm was over, but his colors were not the kind that run no matter how severe the tempest, and he stayed. The United States Marshal sent word to us, about the first of September 1884, that he would be after him about the fifteenth of the month. The men had never met. The officer knew him only by reputation that he was an honorable, law abiding citizen, and he did not want to make the arrest. At the appointed time he drove up from Holbrook, reaching our place about noon. William was there to meet and welcome him. Marshal Donevan introduced himself and told of his errand. “Well,” said William, “I am the man you are after,” papers placing our husband under arrest was served. “Unhitch your team, put them in the stable and feed them, my wife will get us some dinner while I go get ready to go with you.” William said as he sent one of the children to tell me we that we had company for dinner. Of course, I knew of the arrival of the Marshal and the purpose of his visit. The children knew also, and as they followed me around the stove, cupboard and to the table we were all crying like our hearts would break. Four year old Joel was going to “kill that bad man so he tan't take Pa to prison.” I didn't have the time nor inclination, just then to tell him how wrong that would be and “that two wrongs never make one right.” The Marshal was very ill at ease and told us that he wanted to return to Holbrook at once, that the train did not leave until 2 pm the next day and that William could stay at home another night and that he would be there to meet the train the next day. After dinner, Officer Donavan left, “See you tomorrow,” said William. “All right,” answered the Marshal.

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Never in our lives had things looked so dark to us. The persecutions against the Church was so bitter, we felt there was no chance of our escaping the full punishment of this man-imposed law. As usual our husband tried to cheer us up and even made light of the situation. He asked us how we thought he would look in stripes and with his head and beard shaved. Wouldn't we be proud of our jail bird, of which made us feel even worse. Poor Prudence said if it hadn't been for her we would not have had to suffer this humiliation, or if William had not introduced her to strangers as his wife. That brought a reproof from him, “You are my wife before God, and I am proud to own you before men,” he said hotly. It was about an eight hour ride on horseback to Holbrook. We got up early the next morning so that William could get a good start and not cause the Marshal any uneasiness. When they met, Mr. Donavan took some money from his pocket and said, “Mr Flake, take this money, buy your ticket and get what you want. No one needs to know that you are traveling with me.” “No,” said William, “Treat me as you would any other prisoner. Let them know it. I have done nothing of which I am ashamed. I am merely a victim of persecution.” The train pulled in and the two men got aboard. This was William's first train ride and he did not like it. The close hot stuffy air filled with tobacco smoke gave him a headache and made him sick to his stomach. He said to himself, “Anyone can ride on the cars that want to, but for me give me Old Sport and the wide open spaces.” When they got to Prescott, William was put under a two thousand dollar bond to appear at the November term of court. He brought the bond home to get it signed and returned. Anyone in our part of the country knew William had two wives. When anyone came to our home who did not know us, he would introduce us as “My wife, Lucy and my wife, Prudence.” All the other polygamist men had been run out of the county, but no one would sign the complaint against him. Mr. Schone, for whom William had bought a bunch of cattle in Utah, was at our home very often. He was asked to testify against us, but refused 122

time and time again. One day, however when he was drunk, he signed the complaint. After William's return from Prescott, Mr. Schone came to him and acknowledged what he had done. Accused himself of being a Judas, who betrayed his best friend, cried like a baby and begged William to leave the country and he would pay the bond. William put his arm around Mr. Schone and told him that was all right. If he had not signed it someone else would, that our enemies were bound to wipe out Mormonism if possible and would resort to any means to try to accomplish their purposes.

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41.

THE TRIAL

William found four other of our men from St. Johns when he got there for his trial. It was a long drawn out affair. Nothing but mockery, a series of humiliations that brought all the good American fighting blood that William had, up in arms. Ammon Tenny, of St. John was tried first, and declared guilty. He was taken at once and thrown in jail, a dirty filthy hole filled with criminals of the worst kind. William was indignant, begged for his friend to have the liberty of the grounds, and offered his head as a guarantee the Mr. Tenny would be there when wanted to be taken to the penitentiary in Yuma. His pleading did no good. Ammon was seized and forced in where the prisoners were cursing and shouting. The jailer remarked that he would be all right, we are all humane men. “Yes, hell is full of just such” shouted William, who went out and did not stop until he had found some of his friends and had Brother Tenney out of that dungeon. Two more of our men were convicted without evidence. Our gentile friends were doing all they could to keep William out of the penitentiary. They wanted him to plead guilty. He said he would if the complaint was changed from “unlawful cohabitation” to Plural Marriage. The indictment was so changed and he and dear old Brother Jens Skousen plead guilty. As soon as Mr. Stinson heard of William's arrest, he came from Phoenix to Prescott to help him. By this time Mr. Stinson had identified himself with public affairs, had plenty of friends, money and influence. With some of his friends he determined to free William and told him not to say a word and they would. That the full extent of the law was to be given and that was expected to be eight years in the House of Correction in Detroit, together with a fine of one thousand dollars each. William said, “I am as guilty as they are. I won't go free and see them go to jail without trying to help them. If Judge Howard sentences innocent men to that fate, it will be his damnation and I am going to warn him.” We had known Judge Howard in Utah where he had done all he could against our people. Shortly before they were to be sentenced, William

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walked into the Judge's office, there he made a strong plea for our friends. “You know they are not criminals,” said William, “so why treat them as though they were?” The judge was silent so William continued pleading for these men who were honest, honorable citizens. Especially did he recommend leniency for Brother Skousen who was an old man. When it came time for them to return to the court room, the Judge said, “Flake, this visit will cost you six months in Yuma and $500.00 more, and I will cut off three years from the prison terms of the others and reduce their fines one half.” “Give me another six months and $500.00 more, and reduce their sentences again,” pleaded William. They were now at the door, as he went ahead the judge shook his head. The sentences were given as he told William they would be, only that Brother Skousen's was the same as his. Thus on the fifth day of December 1884, our husband was sentenced to serve a prison term for marrying two wives and providing for us and our children, while his persecutors patronized houses of ill repute. Just as William was getting in the waiting stage to be taken to Yuma, one of his acquaintances came up and begged him to go his bond. “I am a convict, I cannot go your bond,” William answered. “You have friends who would if you would ask them to,” he begged, “I haven't a friend here, and will have to lay in jail six months waiting for my trial if you don't help me,” William turned to Mr. Stinson and asked him to go the bond. “It will require two bondsmen,” answered Mr. Stinson. Another of William's friends came up just then to bid him goodbye, William asked him to sign with Mr. Stinson. “I will if you will insure against loss.” “I’ll do that.” Williams’s word was as good as his bond. Afterwards he had to make it good as the fellow jumped his bond and skipped out to Mexico. When the prisoners reached Phoenix the Marshal asked them if they had any friends in Mesa whom they would like to visit, as it would be twenty-four hours before their train would leave. The “jailbirds” took advantage of it and were back in time.

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42.

PRISON TIME

“That which we persist in doing becomes easier, not that the nature of the thing changes, but our power to do increases.” Because of the accident he sustained in his youth, when he dove from a bank and kinked his neck, William claimed that he could not hold his head down long enough to write a letter, and yet we got at least one a week, he wrote often to Charley who was still in the south, and wrote many letters to our friends, in fact he kept a diary, from it I gleam many of the things contained in this chapter. To begin with our own tribulations. Prudence's affliction was our main concern. She now had the son that had been promised her in the Temple, by a servant of the Lord. When her first child came, ten years after her marriage, and less than a year after, she had been promised a son, she was just a little disappointed that it was not a boy. We comforted her by telling her that she could have both. There was another daughter before the son came, of course she was thankful for her children, but her lack of health prevented her from caring for them as she wanted to. Every little change of weather or exposure would give her fresh cold and then she would have another severe attack of asthma. She would have to be propped up in bed for days to get her breath, and her wheezing could be heard out to the gate. My children were as thoughtful and kind to her as though they were her own. I would cook the meals and either take them up or send them to her. We did all we could to make life less hard for her. I had three children in school, Charley on a mission, and two little boys home with me. Jimmie lived on the same block. He and Nancy were a great help and comfort to their “Auntie” and to me. We waited with what patience we could for our husband's letters. They were always full of concern for us, but never a word of complaint or rebellion. If there was a funny side, he always found it and wrote it to us. First thing, instead of having his head shaved, the considerate barber, only clipped his hair and beard a very little. William was surprised when the warden handed him his first letter, to find that it had been opened. “I am to read all letters you write and receive” he announced. “All right, go ahead,” said Will, “hear the gospel of Jesus Christ, and be left without an excuse.”

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When the next letter came, the warden brought it in, tore the end of the envelope off and handing it to him said, “You see how much I read your letters.” One of the first things William objected to was the quality of meat being served. All of the prisoners felt the same, but dared not say a word. He told them if any more spoiled meat was put on their plates to let him know. “What will you do?” asked one of the men who had been there longer. “I’ll tell the warden about it.” “Lots of good that will do! You’ll be sent to the snake den,” warned one of the men. “All right, but let me know if any of you get any more rotten meat.” He didn't have long to wait. In a day or two the plates were brought in. The one who was served first smelled his meat and looking at William made a sign. When William's plate was brought in he took a sniff, turned to the guard and told him he wanted to talk to the warden. He was brought in. Not a man had started to eat, all waited anxiously. William said, “Captain, this meat is not fit to eat.” “Eat what is set before you,” commanded the officer in a stern voice. Disregarding the warning looks of the other inmates, William continued, “Captain Ingalls, that meat is rotten. I wouldn't feed it to my hogs. I am a citizen of this state and a heavy tax payer. I am in your power, now but you can not keep me here very long. I have plenty of friends and when I get out of here we will turn this place upside down. We pay for decent food for our prisoners and they are going to have it or we will find out the reason why.” The warden ordered the tainted meat taken from the table and other food was supplied for the meal. “If you ever find any more bad meat, let me know,” said the officer as he left the dining room. Only once after that were they served “spoiled” meat, and when the warden was notified it was taken from the table and other food substituted. The meat was not the only unpalatable food served, as the full wheelbarrows that were dumped into the river after each meal proved. No one who had gone hungry as the pioneers had, could see that terrible waste of food, without making a protest. William mentioned this to the warden and asked him to give Brother Robson a chance in the kitchen. He did, and in a month the food bill was cut in half. Pigs were brought in to eat the potato peelings, corn husks and what little there was left from the table. These pigs helped supply the prisoners with fresh pork.

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When our men first went there the prison was in constant turmoil. The snake-den, a dark damp filthy hole was the horror of all the inmates. The least offense brought the punishment of being thrown in there and fed on bread and water. William hadn't been there long when he noticed a sullen looking man hauling dirt in a wheel barrow. With a big heavy ball chained to his ankle, he trudged back and forth. He would shovel the dirt in then pull the ball into the wheelbarrow and wheel them to where the dirt was to be dumped. One day when he was passing, the warden happened to come up where William was, William asked why this man was being so persecuted. “Because,” answered the warden, “he is a desperate man, the worst we have here. We either have to keep him in the snake-den or in chains to keep him from trying to escape. He has tried to kill me and the guards as well as himself, and cannot be trusted,” then sneeringly, “he is one of your Mormons.” “Let me have a talk with him,” requested William. “Gladly, go ahead,” answered Captain Ingalls. William went over to where the poor fellow was and began talking to him in a friendly manner. He would not say a word, just sat there on his load of dirt with his head down and a scowl on his face. Finally he cried out, “Go away, and let me alone. I am going to get out of here or die in the attempt.” William tried in every way to appeal to him. He found that he had been married, had two little girls, his wife had died, he had gotten reckless, was accused of robbery and falsely imprisoned. In desperation he had gained and merited the reputation the warden had given him. “Wouldn't you like to see your little motherless babies?” asked William. A convulsive sob shook the poor emaciated figure, tears came at last to those fiercely blazing eyes, and William knew the battle had been won. At the end of two hours William went to the warden and said, “Captain, cut off the ball and chain. He will give you no more trouble.” And he never did. Soon he was given the position of head baker, and held it as 128

long as he remained in prison. Shortly after William's sentence was terminated he got a pardon for the other “Mormon” and who from that time on lived a model life. All that man needed was a friend, and he found a true one in William as did countless others. Every courtesy that could be, was shown to William and Brother Skousen. William was given an easy chair at one of the gates to check the other prisoners as they went in and out for work. Captain Ingalls had two young lads who were very fond of fishing but he didn’t want them to go alone. William suggested that Brother Skousen be allowed to go with them, as he was very fond of children and would take good care of them, so he was allowed to pass in and out as the boys wanted him. That which was intended to be a punishment to my beloved was an opportunity. The men who had doggedly got out three car loads of dirt a day from an excavation were allowed to have a certain amount to do and then have the remainder of the time to do as they pleased. Now they got out four cars in two hours. Thus he quietly went about turning what had been a seething inferno into a place of well fed, cheerful men, as was attested by the warden who said as William's time was up, “Mr. Flake, I do not want to keep you from your family, but I hate to see you go. You have done more good than you realize. This is a better prison and the inmates are better men because of you, and their association with you.”

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43.

“WHEN I WAS IN PRISON, YE VISITED ME”

The most wonderful thing that happened to William during that six months was one day he was called into the warden's office. He wondered what was wanted. He entered and taken into the arms of his foster brother and lifelong friend, Francis Marion Lyman. Captain Ingalls gave the best room in the building and left them. After a couple of hours together, William asked that the other Mormons be allowed to come in. They were given the remainder of the day to themselves. They were served in the room to a delicious dinner especially prepared. Every courtesy was shown the visiting apostle by the warden and the guards. William asked for a slice of bread and a glass of water, and within those prison walls the sacrament of the commemorating death and resurrection as instituted by their beloved Savior at the Last Supper was partaken of by his lowly followers in His name.

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44.

HOME AGAIN

Because of the delay in the mails, the money to pay William's fine had not arrived when his sentence was up. Some of the prisoners found this out. They had money of varying amounts deposited with the warden. They drew it out and presented it to him. He only accepted it as a loan and returned it as soon as he got to Mesa. Besides the money, his fellow convicts gave him many presents that they had made, among these were a horse-hair bridle, and an elaborately carved cane and a work-box with two thousand four hundred pieces of native wood inlaid in it. To prove William's loyalty to his family, he told the Judge who sentenced him, that he had married two pure, beautiful women, that they were his wives in the sight of God, they were the mother's of his children. He went on to say that his second wife was now an invalid, and that the only way they could keep him from living with her, loving, protecting and providing for her was to keep him in prison for the rest of his life. Judges have a reputation for keeping out of trouble. He suggested that our husband give Prudence the money and let her pay her own bills. This solution did not suit William, and after his return, life went on just the same for us. The day of his home-coming was June 11, 1885. He had ridden from Mesa on horseback. He came riding up to the gate, like a General. I always knew he was handsome, but on a horse he was at his best, we were overjoyed to see him, and for days we did nothing but entertain our friends and visit. Prison had proved more of a blessing than a punishment. It had given him a much needed rest, a chance to do good to poor discouraged social outcasts, and an opportunity to do much reading, which his busy outdoor life had prevented. His hair, beard and skin were soft and free from the effects of harsh winds and sun. For the first time in the forty-six year of his pioneer life, he had time to take care of himself. There were the stem realities of life to be faced when he came home. We had managed the best we could, but there were the lawyer fees, court

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costs, and fines to the amount of $1,500.00 to be paid. Money was scarce, and hard to get. Things looked pretty blue. On top of that a letter came from Prescott, stating that man whose bond he had secured, and failed to appear at the summer term of court for his trial. His name did not appear on the bond, but that made no difference to William. His friends who had got the bond at his request should not lose a cent. He went immediately to Prescott and asked to be allowed to deliver the man. He was told that the man was in Mexico, and they could not get him. “We don't want the man, we want the money,” said the judge. He did grant us a little time to raise the money. Money was scarce and interest rates were high. We got it, however and sent it. It took us seven years to square that $2,000.00 and the $1,500.00 we had to raise for William's bond. On the third of July, after William's return, his friends from all over the country made it an occasion to show their love and respect to him by giving him a surprise party. The Stake House was decorated with flags, bunting and flowers until it looked like a fairy land. It was filled to capacity to welcome and honor him. I had given a birthday dinner at our home to which a few of his most intimate friends were invited. After it was over, one of his friends suggested that they go for a little walk, this was about 2 o'clock. Everything had been arranged to the minutest detail. I heard many church bells, but never one with the clear, sweet tones of the one we had in the belfry of our meeting house. It was only supposed to be rung on special occasions like New Years Eve, when it rung out the Old Year and ushered in the New, to call the townspeople to worship or some other gatherings, unless some times when a mischievous boy got hold of the end of the rope. Three or four time while we were eating our birthday dinner, the bell rang. The after dinner walk was purposely conducted through the Public Square, past the building. The bell sent forth another set of chimes. Bishop Hunt said to William “there must be some rowdies in there ringing that bell, lets go in there and stop them.” Unsuspecting anything, William walked ahead, and as he put his foot on the threshold the band struck up “Dixie,” the audience arose and remained standing while he was escorted to the stand and a big easy chair, by several of his friends. A program of songs, music, reading and sentiments, all written for the occasion took up the afternoon. 132

Everyone was anxious to show honor to a men who had spent his life and means helping others. There was a pass around. All of the folks had brought their picnic and all ate while they praised their beloved townsman.

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45.

GOD GIVES AND GOD TAKES AWAY

When the promised son was sent to Prudence, we all joined in her happiness. She was a very proud mother, indeed. Her plans for him occupied her thoughts when her asthma wouldn't let her sleep. He would be big and manly like his father. He would be her joy and comfort in her old age. The happiness she enjoyed was almost pathetic. He was never out of her sight for a minute, scarcely out of her arms only when she was seized with a paroxysm of coughing. It was well that she enjoyed him while he was spared to us, because at the age often months deaths angel took him from her. For days we feared for her life but she finally rallied. On June 7, 1886 our first pair of twins were born to Prudence. She had them named Mark and Margaret. They were very frail and both died within a few hours after birth. Only the knowledge that she would have the privilege of raising them during the millennium, when there shall be no more sickness, sorrow and sin, sustained her in this lose. On July 28, 1886 my thirteenth child was born. She was a beautiful girl. We called her Melissa, after an aunt and a sister of mine. We were living at our saw mill at that time, near Pinedale. It had been three years since I had had a baby, and Prudence had lost her three precious ones, so Melissa stood a good chance of being spoiled and idolized, when she sickened and died, when only three months old. We felt our losses were too great, but there was no time to indulge in our grief. Just at that time one of our neighbors lost her life at childbirth, so I took her baby and gave him the nourishment my own would have had. He grew into a strong, handsome boy, but died when he was thirteen, all of his life he seemed very near to me. Prudence was blessed with another daughter, born July 7, 1887, she called her Wilmirth after a very dear friend, and because she liked the very unusual name.

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46.

OUTLAWS

We were not long permitted to enjoy undisturbed our vast country of grass and forage for our cattle. As an inducement to the builders of the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad, the Government had given them every alternate section of land boarding their proposed route, and extending out forty miles on each side through Arizona and New Mexico. Our range was well sodded. In the fall it was a meadow of gramma and sacaton grass, our cattle and horses were rolling fat all the time. It was veritable a stockman's paradise, and we were by far the largest owner. With the coming of the railroad came hundreds of capitalists and other money men, among them were many foreigners. Of course they saw the possibilities and took advantage of them. One of the big corporations, the Aztec Land and Cattle Company bought up a big block of land and brought in sixty thousand head of cattle from the Pecos. It took many men to drive the cattle, among them were some of the toughest characters who ever lived. Some of them had served prison terms, and many others had not heard their own names for so long that they would not know them if they heard them. Many of them had reputations as killers and stayed close to the border in Mexico just in case. Not all of them were of this class, to be sure, and after the cattle were placed on the range many of the outlaws were fired, then they got out and rustled for themselves. I use the word “rustled” advisedly, because that is the way they got their start. Hundreds of cattle and horses were stolen. We knew about it, but for a long time we did not know what became of them. The thieves got so bold that early in the spring of 1887 they actually came and stole fine saddle and work horses from our stables. One morning Charles Ballard went to his barn and found his fine team gone. Albert Minnerly reported the loss of a valuable mare the same morning. It did not take long to get other men to go with them to follow the fresh tracks. The trail led to Canyon Creek, the home of one of the worst families of thieves and outlaws in the country. They decided not to take the risk of going after their stolen property,

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although their excuse when they came back was that they had lost their tracks. The next morning William saddled his horse and bid us goodbye, saying he wouldn't be back until he found out where the stolen stock was. No amount of reasoning that I used changed his mind. He was afraid of no man or set of men. That did not make it any easier for Prudence or me. It was two weeks before we heard a word from him. I knew I was powerless to help him. There was only one who could, and as I went about my work, I prayed that he would be protected. We got a telegram from him from Tempe, telling Jimmie to come at once and bring the owners of the teams. John Bushman from Joseph City had also lost a fine span of horses. Jimmie got in touch with him and together with the two from Snowflake they started out on horseback for the Salt River. They rode day and night stopping only occasionally to let their mounts rest. William had found their horses, also a bunch of ours, thirty five head in all. They were in different pastures and stables. In order to get the horses they had to be replevied. It was found that the thieves who stole the animals had brought them to the Valley and sold them. William was accused of being part of the ring, but only once. When Mr. Stinson spoke his mind, no one dared say a word. Mr. Stinson went on to say, “I have twenty-five thousand dollars in the bank that will back up anything Flake claims.” From then on they had no trouble in getting their horses back and reached home safely. Conditions became so bad that it seemed we could endure no more. Three of our men had been beaten with loaded quirts, sheep had been driven off their range, and the lives of the herders had been threatened. It was unsafe for one man to venture out on the range alone. There was a reign of terror that kept us frightened all the time. We were not cowards, we defended our property, even at the peril of our lives, but we could not endure everything. “Thou shall not kill,” yet could we endure insult upon insult without retaliation? Things got so bad that it looked like we would either have to fight our abandon our homes. A letter was written to the Presiding Officers of the Church in Salt Lake City, describing the conditions and asking for counsel. They suggested a 136

day of fasting and prayer for all the saints. This was appointed and strictly observed by all of them. God heard our prayers, our enemies “fell into the pits they had digged for us” as the Lord promised they would. They fought among themselves. The Tewkesberry-Graham feud was an example. Three other were hanged by a vigilantes committee in which we had no hand. Commodore Owens, was the bravest Sheriff Northern Arizona ever had. He had eight or ten deaths of outlaws to his credit. God through his servants had called us to settle Arizona and He made it possible for us to accomplish it.

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47.

TEST OF CHARACTER

“Our charter is our will.” says Archbishop Minning, “that which we will, we do.” In the month of August, 1887, our second missionary was called. This time it was Jimmie, and he was called to England. Will had once said that he wouldn't have felt worse if he had been called to go to England, when he was called to Arizona. Jimmie was to have two experiences. No missionary was sent out from our Church who were users of tobacco, tea, coffee, or intoxicants. Jimmie had acquired the cigarette habit, much to the sorrow of his father and myself. When William's mother knew she was going to die, she called her children to her bedside and repeated her warning to them that they must not use those things, as they were injurious to their bodies. William had heeded those warnings, and had grown up good and strong, free from those vices. His brother Charley said, “I don't care how soon I die, I am going to live as long as I do live.” When he grew up he drank his coffee so strong it would hold up an iron wedge and lighted one cigarette with another. He died before he was twenty eight. His heart quit beating. When we found out the Jimmie was tampering with tobacco, his father offered him the pick of his big band of horses if he would leave it alone. To this Jimmie replied, “If I am not man enough to quit by myself, you can't hire me to.” If he accepted the mission call, Jimmie knew he must quit tobacco. He proved himself worthy of his heritage, but no one will ever know at what a cost. I have often since heard him say that he has dreamed that he was smoking and of the pleasure it gave him. I have seen him seated in a smoke filled room, unconsciously inhaling. Aside from the benefits of health, the development of will power was an accomplishment that proves that determination can conquer habit. Giving up tobacco was not the only test Jimmie had to go through. He had a wife and six children, the youngest only ten days old when he had to start. He knew that his father would take care of his family during his absence. In order to help pay the expenses of the mission he sold his cattle

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and horses, even to the favorite saddle ponies. He always made such pets of his horses that it was hard to part with them. Dear Nancy was so brave, told him to go that they would be blessed by his sacrifice. She knew they would be alright and never murmured. It would be cheaper for our missionary to go as far as Beaver by team. Jane was to be married, so we went in our wagon. Jane was to meet her future husband in St. George and they were to be married there. We started August 31 and reached Beaver September 20. It rained practically every day. One night we camped, Jimmie unhitched the horses and had them staked out for the night, the children had gathered brush to make a fire to cook supper, we had part of the bedding out, when I called to Jimmie and told him to bring the team in and let us cross a dry wash that was a few rods ahead of us. He wanted to know why we should go to all the trouble. I didn't know, only I felt that we should cross the wash. Always obedient to me he harnessed the horses, we loaded the things in again, the children carried the brush and wood, and we camped again within a hundred yards of where he had stopped before. The camp ground wasn't as level as the other had been, and I felt like maybe I had been mistaken in my premonition, but toward morning we were awakened by a roar of rushing water and found out when we got up that the gulch was running from bank to bank with muddy water. We could have been delayed possibly a day or more and then had to make a crossing had we not heeded my warning. All Jimmie could say was, “Mother that sixth sense of yours is positively uncanny.” Mother was so happy to have us home again. I had not intended going any further than Beaver with my boy, but Mother had money saved to take herself, Jimmie and me on the train from there to Salt Lake City. I had never ridden on the train and the folks had a good laugh at me as we pulled out of the station. I was used to the jolt of the covered wagon and we started out so gently that I did not know that we were moving. There was another train along side of us. I asked, “Why don't we start? The other train is going,” and it was our train that was moving. We had a most pleasant visit with relatives in Salt Lake, who did all they could to keep us from thinking of the parting, but it came at the end of eight days. My firstborn to go across the ocean to a foreign land to labor

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among strangers, maybe never seeing a person whom he had ever known, and I to return to our Arizona home. When at last the time came he took us to our train, he was leaving on a later one. He took me by the hand. Our thoughts were too deep for words. Not a sound was heard. I think that was the saddest moment of our lives. It seemed more than we could stand. We were all willing for him to go, felt he was honored in being called to this important position, but the parting at such a time was dreadful. Osmer came to drive us back home. We reached Beaver on Charley's birthday, October 18, and we left Beaver November 8, which is Jimmie's birthday. Jane was married to Peter C. Wood on November 17, 1887 and the next day we continued our journey home. Whenever I had a chance to think, my thoughts were on Jimmie, what he said when we passed this spot, or what we did here and there. Dear Nancy was so anxious to hear about our trip, and everything we could tell her about her husband. If there was ever a courageous person it was she, during his absence. She did not have to worry about finances. Responsibility of looking after the children, and her loneliness were borne without complaint. Jimmie's letters were eagerly welcome, he wrote each week. His mission was very successful. He labored in England, Scotland and Ireland. Naturally he acquired much culture and experience in the Old World. His visits to renowned places he had read and heard of gave him much pleasure. He had always been fond of history and of good pictures and so he purchased many of them and historical books to bring home with him. One of the things that he possibly enjoyed most was the World's Exposition in Paris, when he saw "Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show" he said he knew he would have felt more at home in a pair of chaps, a Stetson hat and some high heeled boots, sitting in a saddle on one of those prancing horses than he did in his English broadcloth Prince Albert Coat and his tall silk hat.

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48.

I AM FORTY SIX

On my forty-sixth birthday, August 23, 1888, a number of people got up a surprise party for me. My daughters and daughter-in-law knew about it but I never smelled a mouse until the house was filled and all the ladies in town were there. They brought a picnic with them and such a variety and quantity. They had a program arranged of original numbers. Each one seemed to be trying to say something nicer about me than the others had. I felt so unworthy of all their praise, but was glad to think that I was held in such love by my friends. Just as we were in the midst of our celebration, here came William bringing a young man who had shot himself in the heel. We made him comfortable as possible, but the party broke up, and all the ladies left. The boy was new in the west and unaccustomed to firearms. He had left the ranch were he was visiting, about seven miles away, and was riding along on his horse when he saw a jack rabbit. He pulled his pistol out of the scabbard and tired to shoot the rabbit, but the cartridge stuck and did not go off. As he was returning his gun, it discharged and shot him through the heel. It was ten days before we could let him go, and then we missed him very much. He was so interested in everything we did. His people were wealthy and he was used to better things than we were able to give him, but he was welcome and seemed in no hurry to leave us. Of course we would not take any pay for keeping him, but he and his mother were very appreciative for what we had done for him. Charley got the mail contract from Holbrook to Fort Apache. To supply his drivers he put a small general merchandise store on our block. Mary and her husband, Theodore Turley moved to Fool's Hollow to take charge of the mail station there. That was where the drivers from both ends of the route spent the night. They kept a bunch of mail horses there. It was part of Theodore's duties to keep the horses shed.

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Here all the passengers were taken care of. There was much travel in these days and Mary had about all she could do, but Charley saw a chance to buy up hay and corn from the Indians in exchange for merchandise, so he put in another store there. It was on the Apache Reservation and the Indians would bring in wild hay they had cut, their corn, beans, baskets, bead work, buckskins, and everything else they had or could get to trade for cloth, coffee, candy, groceries, and dry goods. Pine nuts were one of their chief exchanges. It took about twenty yards of calico for a dress, and yards and yards of trimming, so bright colored cloth was in great demand. Charley saw that they would buy everything in the store if they were given credit, so all the business was pay and take, except to a very few. There was one young fellow they gave a little bill to be paid later. He had been away to school and was different from the common gee-string, long haired type. The time passed and he did not come to pay his bill so Charley wrote to him about it. He answered the letter promptly and told Charley “as soon as I gather my corn and been paid, I will pay you.” When Jimmie came home from his mission he went into the contracting business with Charley, and they both had all they could do to take care of it. In December of this year, 1888 my brother Charles D. White came and spent two weeks with us, staying until after Christmas. We were so happy that he thought enough of us to make that long trip just to see us.

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49.

FREIGHTING

We had thought William's freighting days were over before we left Beaver. But now he had to start again. We were so in debt because of having to pay his own bond and the $2,000.00 he had guaranteed. Then he had bought so many places for other people, and he was responsible for the payments on them, it seemed there was nothing else for our husband to do. Freighting was good from the Southern Pacific Railroad Station at Bowie to the booming mining town of Globe. We had several span of good work horses which were eating their head off as there was no work for them at home so William decided to spend the winter in the southern part of the state freighting. This was the winter of 1890. The new academy was begun at Snowflake. Roberta was a pupil and Osmer one of the teachers. It was a cold hard winter, and we were very lonesome. Prudence could not venture out of her room, as she caught cold at the least exposure. Most of the time she was confined to her bed. I did all I could to make her life brighter, though my own heart was often heavy. Osmer and Elsie Owens were married March 11, 1891. Elsie was a model young lady and we were proud to welcome her into our family. They went to housekeeping in part of Charley's big new house. That left Roberta, Joel and John the only ones I had at home with me. After freighting all through the winter, William leased out his teams and outfits and went over on the Salt River. There he leased a large ranch and put my cousin William Burton in charge of it and then he came home. Because our horses were so well broken, William had a reputation as a horse trainer. The Water's Cattle Company had many wild horses. They offered William $5.00 per head for gentling them and $2.00 a month for pasturing them. He agreed to the price and had our boys drive one hundred head down to the Ranch. It was located about half way between Tempe and Mesa. Because of the late frosts and heavy winds we had very little fruit in Snowflake, though every family had an orchard. There was plenty of fruit on the Salt River, so William and I decided that I and the three unmarried

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children would go down and preserve and dry fruit, and be with him while he was there having the horses broken. During the latter part of August 1891, in company with Bishop John Hunt and his daughter Lois we made the trip, and a most pleasant trip it was. It took us nine days. The road was rough, but the scenery made up for it, and the evenings around the campfires were filled with song, stories and reminiscences of early days when the two men had been peace officers in Beaver. We reached the Ranch September 4. It was a fine big place with a large adobe house and lots of shade. I had never seen semitropical trees and I liked them all. My mother's youngest brother, Uncle Charles Burton, his wife Aunt Hattie and their son William and family were there and I enjoyed visiting with them. Visiting was not all I went down for, so got busy putting up preserves, jellies and drying fruit. We didn't want the children to miss any schooling so Roberta and Joel went by horseback to Mesa to school. There were many friends of ours down there, some whom we had known in Utah and others who had lived in the Northern part of the state, so I felt right at home. While we were away poor Prudence had the worst spell of sickness she had ever had. Her own people gave her up, but she was spared through the faith and administration of the Elders. Osmer and Elsie took the best care of her that was possible, while all the other members of the family and the neighbors did all they could for her. William had several men employed to break the horses and they were responding to kind treatment. We were enjoying our stay when he heard of Prudence condition. We prepared to leave at once. We had a most terrible trip, for though we started back December 3, we ran into some dreadfully cold weather. One night it snowed about two feet. When we awoke the next morning it was all a vast sea of whiteness. There we were lost for three days, because the sun did not come out for that long and we did not know the directions. To make it worse, Roberta had been run over by the wheels of the wagon she was driving. Her shoulder was broken and she had other internal injuries, her face was skinned, and she was in great pain.

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We were in luck to be where there was lots of wood, and we kept a fire going day and night. We had plenty to eat so we could have been worse off. However, I did lose my patience for a moment and said a swear word that my family had never heard me use. It was Sunday morning. Roberta was seated by the fire, in a spring seat. Will and the boys were gathered around her to keep the blaze from burning her face, they could turn around when they got too hot on one side, there they were singing at the top of their voices, such songs as “Come Come Ye Saints,” “We Thank Thee Oh God, For a Prophet,” and others by the dozen. Finally I said, “If anyone should come along they would say look at them damn Mormons, lost in the snow and sitting there singing their heads off.” I suppose it had all gotten on my nerves or I wouldn't have said such a word. I hated slang and would have been shocked to have heard William swear like that. They were not shocked, they laughed and laughed until the two little boys fell down in the snow. The weather moderated that night and the next morning the sun came up and we knew where east was, so we continued our journey by the aid of blazed trees. We were eighteen days getting home. I don't think I was ever happier that we were all right. Roberta suffered for quite awhile from her accident, that but for the blessing of the Lord would have proved fatal.

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50.

TRAGEDY

I hesitate to record this, this most tragic thing that has ever happened to us. We had been tried in many ways. We had walked across the plains when we were children, when our tender bleeding feet hurt so much that we could not sleep at night. We had been called to part, in life and death, with our loved ones. We had been called from one place to another to make new homes, begin over again. We had been in debt, knew what hunger and privations were, our husband had unjustly served a prison term. We had sent two boys away to college and two on missions. Life had brought many sorrows but this one was the most terrible of all. December 8, 1892 dawned bright and clear, cool and crisp. We had been busy with our household tasks, dinner was over, Roberta was combing my hair, and William was sitting reading, when we heard shots, not a very unusual sound as there were firearms in nearly every home. People killed their own beeves, etc. Soon there was a hurried knock at the front door and it opened to admit our lifelong friend and neighbor, John Hunt, who said in subdued tones, “William come with me, Charley is dying and Jim is wounded.” William dropped the paper, grabbed his hat and they were gone without another word. As soon as I could speak, I said to Roberta, “Let's pray,” we sank to our knees and pleaded for the lives of our precious ones. Words cannot express or describe our feelings, nor our grief. I will try as calmly as 1 can to put down the horrible details. Charley had received a telegram to arrest a very desperate character who was stopping on the same block as he lived. Of course he consulted with James about it, as they always did each other about everything. They arranged how it would be done. Charles went home and Belle urged him to sit down and eat. He told her he hadn't time but for her not to wait for him. He went out and closed the door, taking his pistol with him. James joined him and they went together to the southwest corner of the same block, where a widow was keeping a sort of hotel. The boys talked it over and decided the Charley should go first and engage the man in conversation then Jimmie would come up and serve the papers.

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The desperado was sitting on a pallet on the floor, cleaning a pearl handled revolver, when Charley knocked at the door. Charley passed the time of day. “That is a good looking gun you have,” said Charley casually. “Sure" answered the other as he handed the pistol to Charley. Just then James came up and said, “I have authority to arrest you.” The fellow stepped back, James caught his arms behind him but he pulled out a sixshooter. Charley said, “You can't pull that on us.” Just then Mason fired a shot over his left shoulder hitting James in the left ear, filling his eye and cheek with powder, then he turned on Charley and shot one bullet through the left side of his neck. As his bullet struck Charley one from James' pistol struck him, it sounded like only one shot. James shot two bullets in him before he fell. James caught Charles in his arms and put his thumb in the wound in the jugular vein to try to stop the blood, and said to him, “Dear brother, you are going, have you anything to say?” Charles opened his eyes and smiled so sweetly in his brother’s face, but never moved his lips. It was quite a while before anyone came and when they did he told them to go for the elders to administer to Charles. Bishop Hunt administered to him then came and told us. I thought it would kill me. Charles was carried here but never spoke, he never suffered any pain. All the time he was alive which was about four hours, all the brethren and sisters were praying for him to live. Poor James was covered with blood and did not know where he was shot until they took Charles home, a great many men said great credit was due to James for his shooting. It did not seem possible with one eye full of powder, and to shoot like he did, but he was assisted by a power from on High. James is very cool and had great nerve. This fellow was nineteen, had killed seven men before this last offense, had held up seven other men, robbed a bank, had killed his own brother before he was thirteen, could shoot equally well with either hand. There was a large reward for him dead or alive, and they tried to get James to take it, but he said, “No, it is too much like the price of my brother’s blood. Give it to the widows and orphans he has made.” It is no use to try to tell of our sorrow, how our hearts ached, no one but our Heavenly Father will ever know. We could not eat or sleep. Poor James would stand by his brother and say, “Oh, if you could only have stayed, and I been taken I would be so glad.” It almost killed him, his injuries were very bad, but his grief over the loss of his brother, and having to kill that dirty dog were worse. He said if he could only give that poor 147

fellow back his life how gladly he would do it, said he always thought he would be the last to shed another man's blood but if he had not done it his own life would have been taken, and no doubt many more for he was a desperate character, and was well armed and would stop at nothing. We felt to acknowledge the hand of God in sparing Jimmie's life. Belle was so noble, said if one had to go it was better that it was Charley. His funeral was the largest one ever held in Snowflake, people came from all parts of the country, gentiles and Mormon alike, and many of the Indian Chiefs from the reservation. He was beloved by all who knew him. Mr. C. C. Colley sent a very feeling telegram expressing his sympathy. We received many beautiful letters of condolence, among them one from Uncle Robert Taylor Burton, and from Brother and Sister Bushman. I will copy part of Brother Lyman's letter: Dear Brother and Sister: We are all broken up over the terrible calamity that has come upon your family, in the violent death of your devoted son Charles L. It don't seem possible that it can be true. He was good enough to die, but oh, I can't see how you can reconcile yourselves to such a loss. My heart bleeds for you and his loving wife and tender children, and for Bishop Hunt and family. It is a terrible loss for your ward and stake. This is a serious shock to James, who is wounded and left alone in his business affairs. Please give my love and blessing to every member of both families. I love and console with you over this great loss. I am pleased that I saw Charles and his wife here last October. I am now writing at Marion Junior's and have just been looking over the pictures of Charles and his wife and their two children, and Belle's two sisters. Charles has finished his work, his earthly work, had fought the good fight, and kept the faith, has earned eternal life. Our sorrow is not for him, but for those left behind. God bless you all forever, Frances M. Lyman. James was almost beside himself until we got this letter, he could not rest day or night. He suffered great pain all the time but he seemed restored after we got this letter. 148

The next morning after the shooting James said if ever he prayed in his life, it was last night, for the poor man he had killed, said he prayed a humble prayer as he knew how to pray, asking God to give him strength and to forgive him that his blood might atone for the sins he had committed. Osmer attended to all the business for a long time, James was not able to. Charles always seemed to have a premonition that he would not live long and was always planning and working to leave his family comfortable when he was gone, and he did. He was better fixed than any man in town, and he had made it all after his return from his mission seven years before. But we feel his work was done and our Father wanted him there, had it not been so he would have spared his life. My dear sister Mary wrote me a beautiful letter and said there is only one place to go for comfort and you have found that place long ago. In January 1893, they moved the goods into the new store. It seemed so lonely in the old one without Charles. The new one is so nice, large and comfortable. The hall above it is very nice and they used it for dancing and for theaters. We feel to acknowledge the hand of God in this, but it is hard. Charles was only thirty years old, so handsome, true and pure as a babe. Attended his prayers, was on the High Council, filled all his missionary appointments, had been ward clerk for a long time, sent a great deal of money to missionaries, assisted in all church affairs, made donations of all kinds. But he was wanted on the other side where he could do a greater work. He left three children, one girl and two boys. Little Grace had died when she was two years old. Little Charles Love was born six months after his father's death. He was so much like our Charley that we all adored him. Just two months before he was killed, Charley and Belle had gone to Salt Lake City. I took care of the children. The trip was a most delightful one. Charley met so many old school mates and missionary companions. He was proud of Belle and was happy to present her to his friends. They were dined and feted, went to the theaters and had a glorious time. Memories of this trip sustained Belle through her widowhood, and she looked forward to the time when she should join him and be with him throughout eternity.

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51.

OUT OF DEBT

There was no Christmas for us that December. On the twenty-sixth William started to go up to the Gila to settle up his business there. He sold his freight outfit, reserving only a favorite team and one wagon. He received several hundred dollars rent on his team and with the sale of the outfit he had a large roll of greenbacks in his wallet. After he started home he noticed there was a wagon with two men in it, following him. He felt just a little uneasy, as they continued to travel not far behind him. There was practically no travel on the road. These men kept just a little distance away. William became suspicious and as he rode along managed to transfer his wallet to a nosebag, which he threw carelessly in the back of the wagon with his bedding, grub box, and extra harness. On the second day out when they were out many miles from any settlement, one of the men jumped out of his wagon, ran until he overtook William and while the team was still going, climbed up in the spring seat beside him. The stranger began asking questions, such as “Where are you heading? You have been freighting a long time haven't you? And what did you do with your outfit?” William answered all of his questions civilly enough. He wasn't much surprised at them nor the one that followed. “You must have got quite a bit of money from your sale, didn't you?” “Not as much as it was worth,” answered William. “Ain't you afraid to travel alone with all that money?” was the next inquiry. And then William lied beautifully. It was the first time I ever knew him to do it, and yet he did it with ease as would have befitted an experienced prevaricator. “Oh,” he said, “sent my bankroll by express. Any man would be crazy taking the chance of being held up when there were so many thieves at large. There are some fellows who wouldn't stop at anything but an honest day's work.” The subject was changed. The uninvited passenger got out of the wagon and went back to his companion. If William had not had a

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premonition that these men were following him to rob him, the fact that they immediately turned their outfit around and went back, would have proved it. William often said that his guardian angel must have had to work overtime many times to keep him out of trouble. We were very happy when he reached home, because of his preservation and because he was able to pay every cent we owed. The first time since he went to the penitentiary.

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52.

DEDICATION OF THE TEMPLE IN SALT LAKE CITY

We were still so heartbroken over Charley's tragic death that we felt we must have a change of scene and thought. After forty years of sacrifice on the part of the pioneers, the great Temple at Salt Lake City was finally finished, furnished and paid for and ready to be dedicated on April 5, 1892. It would be one of the most memorable events in the history of the Church. There were families that had not contributed, but there were very few who hadn't, with time or means for its construction, and everyone who could would be there. My poor aching heart was made as glad as was possible, when one day William came into the house, shortly after his return from Gila and said, “Lucy, I feel like a free man for the first time in fourteen years let us celebrate by going to Salt Lake to the Temple dedication. It was about the last of February. I was very willing and began making preparations. We felt we could not afford to go all the way on the train so we went part way by team. Our company consisted of William, myself, Sister Lanning, Joel, and John, Henry and Emma Tanner and two of their children. We had a cold hard trip, through the snow and mud. We left on March 8 th and arrived in Beaver the 29th. After spending three days in Beaver we went on to Salt Lake by train. Prudence and Jimmie went by train as she could not stand the trip overland. When we reached Beaver, we lived over again the terrible tragedy of Charley's death. He was a great favorite everywhere he was known. All my friends and people wanted to know how it happened and brought it painfully back to us. William and I took our first train ride together as we went with a large company of our friends and relatives from Beaver City to Salt Lake. We were joined at every station by others who were also going to the dedication. We went right to my sister Mary's. She had been expecting us and had the supper table all set for us. Prudence and Jimmie arrived the day after we did. She had stood the trip fine and we were happy to see each other again.

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The next morning after arriving, we went to the Tabernacle for conference. I saw Uncle Joel the first thing, he got up and gave me his seat by Aunt Frances. He went with William and found other seats. They were staying on the tithing grounds, and took me to lunch with them, there I met many old friends I had not seen since I was a girl. After the afternoon meeting, I could find none of my folks so I took the street car and went to Mary's. The next morning we all went to conference, this was April 6th, William and I fasted. William went at 10 o'clock to the great council meeting. James, Orson and I visited Albert at the Deaf and Mute School. He was so glad to see us and the Superintendent and his wife were very kind to us. This was the day of the dedication, and it had been predicted that the devil would howl, and sure enough he did, for Salt Lake City had never witnessed such a storm, wind, rain, and snow. Many houses and trees were blown over, and even one child was blown away and killed. Hundred of people stood in the snow for hours waiting for the Temple door to open. Members of our family that were there besides me were Mother, William, Prudence, James, Joel, my brothers Orson, Charles and William and parts of their families. I was thankful that we could all go together. All my brothers were there but Hyrum. He was on a mission to England at the time. The Temple was grand and beautiful in every detail. That night we went to a concert where 1200 children took part and it was very inspiring. April 7Ih we went to Uncle Robert Taylor Burton's and spent the day. Then we took dinner at Cousin Theresa Hill's, and in the afternoon, my mother, my brothers, sisters and their families, and my two boys and myself all visited Father's and Theresa's graves. This was April 8th. At seven o'clock the next morning William, Prudence, James and I went to the great new Temple to do some work. Prudence went to be blessed for her health, and we went to have James and William Melvin adopted (sealed) to us. President Joseph F. Smith officiated. When he got through, he said, “Brother James your names will go down on the great record as the first work done in this new temple.” Then turning to William he said, “Isn't it nice, Brother Flake, your name will go down on the records as the first work done in this temple, that is a great credit to you.” 153

Francis M. Lyman, Franklin Dewey Richards and two or three more of the Twelve were there. If it had not been for our very dear friend, Brother Lyman we would not have had this privilege, but through him we received it. President Joseph F. Smith took us into several of the rooms explaining many things to us. Brother Lyman blessed Prudence and gave us Temple cards to go again next morning. April 10th we visited Aunt Melissa and Aunt Hatty, then in the afternoon we went to see Aunt Betsy, she is ninety years old and lives alone, she is the widow of Uncle William S. Burton who died in Scotland when he was on a mission. We had a wonderful time while we were in the city. We spent one evening with Apostle Lyman's mother and his son M. L., Jr. and his wife. They were so glad to see us and treated us so nicely that we could hardly part with them. There was never such a time of meeting and greeting old friends. Every one had to talk of Charles, that kept it fresh in our hearts. But there never was a sweet without a bitter, so taking all thing together we had a good time. April 11th we bid all our Salt Lake loved ones goodbye and started back to Beaver. Brother Lyman went to the train with us, bid us goodbye and blessed us. James and Prudence started home the next day going on the train. It snowed on us all day from Milford to Beaver, and was dreadfully cold. We left our little John with his little cousins. He had rather stayed with them than go with us, they got along fine. We left for home April 10th we were afraid to stay longer for fear the big Colorado would be so high we could not cross. We made a quick trip, getting home in 15 days, found all well. We had left Roberta at home going to school. Osmer and Elsie came and stayed with her, my cousin Harrison White was also here. While we were in Beaver Brother Daniel Tyler gave us each a blessing. This is Williams:

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Brother William Jordan, son of Ephraim, I seal upon your head a patriarchal blessing. Thy name is written in the Lamb's Book of Life, a celestial crown was prepared for thee before the cornerstone of this earth was laid. Thou hast had many trials but there were comparatively light unto thee because in them all thou hast seen the invisible hand of our Father in Heaven. Thou hast acknowledged his hand in calling thy beloved son to labor in a higher sphere. Thy posterity shall be very numerous, among them will be apostles, seers, and revelators, also ministers to the house of Israel and strong pillars in Zion. Through thee and thy posterity thine ancestors shall be redeemed back to the early ages of the world. Nothing that shall be for thy good shall be withheld from thee. Thou shall have power to heal the sick, even an increase of that power with which you were born into this world. None of the spiritual gifts shall be withheld from thee when wisdom would dictate their use. The blessings of the earth shall be increased unto thee because thou hast trusted thy Father, and administered to the wants of the poor with a liberal hand. As thy years increase so shall thy joy increase in the Lord. In a simple and easy way thou shall obtain thy genealogy to a numerous host. Thou was ordained before the foundation of the world to the holy Melchizedek Priesthood, and to many blessing which thou art now enjoying. The heavens are full of blessing for thee to be bestowed in every time of need. Thou shall live as long as life is desirable, meet the Savior when he come to reign on the earth and dwell with him. I seal thee up unto Eternal Life with thy posterity, with my adopted ones which shall be very numerous. This I do with all the blessings that pertain to the first resurrection, with an eternal increase, in the name of Jesus, Amen. Sister Lucy Hannah Flake, I lay my hands upon your head and seal upon you a patriarchal or father’s blessing. Thy lineage is of the house of Ephraim, and thy life has been hid with Christ, our Redeemer to come forth in the last dispensation of the fullness of limes, and in connection with thy husband preside over as a Queen and Priestess forever. Because of the goodness of thy heart goodness shall be awarded thee an hundred fold for every kind act, and comforting word administered to those who needed aid and comfort. Thou will be numbered with those of whom it will be said, “I was hungry and ye fed me, I mourned and ye did comfort me” and in many ways thou hast done good by which thou hast laid up treasures in heaven. 155

Thy posterity will be united with thee and stand with thee in the great family union with thousands upon thousands of thine ancestors in the resurrection of the just. Thou hast been willing to forsake all for the sake of the gospel. The labors of thy martyred son will add to thy glory a thousand fold. Thou shalt be a leader among thy sisters, and the wisdom of thy council shall be a proverb in Israel. Thou shalt continue thy help to thy sisters in distress. Thou shalt also have power to heal the sick in thy family, also to wash and anoint and lay hands upon thy afflicted sisters, and in the name of Jesus Christ to restore them unto perfect health. Thou shalt live to accomplish all that was designed by our Heavenly Father in the coming into this world. No good thing shall be withheld from thee whether spiritual or temporal. I seal thee up unto Eternal Life, to come forth in the morning of the first resurrection, and in connection with thy companion rule and reign in the house of Israel forever. In the name of Jesus, Amen. I neglected to record Joel's and John's baptism. Joel was baptized in Silver Creek July 21, 1888, by his father, and confirmed the same day by John Henry Willlis. John Taylor was baptized by John Henry Willis. We arrived home from Utah the day they were having a celebration at Flake Brothers new hall and it was not long before all our children were here and we were all glad to see each other.

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53.

AUNT EMILY AND HER SPECKS

On our return home we had better weather and made the trip in fifteen days. We had an experience on the way, however, that had never happened to us before in all of our trips to and from Utah, our wagon tipped over. We had come over a rough strip of country including a dugway. The boys and I were walking behind the wagon. William was walking beside the wagon driving. Aunt Emily, as we always called her, was riding inside. The wheel went over a big rock and tipped the wagon over. My heart came up in my throat when I saw it going. It came to rest on its side, the team stood still. We rushed to the wagon. There was not a sign of life, not an outcry. Was she killed? Our screams halted the men who were traveling with us. They left their teams and hurried to help William unhitch our horses and get the wagon upright again. As soon as he could, William looked in and there lay Aunt Emily. She stood up, as straight as possible in the covered wagon and the men helped her climb out. Her first and only words were, “Where are my specks?” When asked if she was hurt she would keep repeating her question, searching for them. When I got up to the wagon, I found her valuable specks up on the top of her head covered with the slat bonnet she always wore. She never complained of any pain or soreness. It was providential and we were all very thankful for her narrow escape. We reached home on May Day. The town was having a big celebration in Flake Brothers Hall. Jimmie and Prudence left Salt Lake the day after we did, but of course had been home almost three weeks. She had enjoyed the trip very much and was greatly improved in health, and the following December was blessed with a beautiful baby girl, her seventh child, born six years after her last one. We knew again, that the blessings and promises made to her in the House of the Lord had been fulfilled. There was great rejoicing and thankfulness in

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our home when Anna Belle was born, and she stood a good chance to be spoiled by over indulgence as we all loved her so, but she was not.

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54.

HOME LIFE

As soon as school was out in the spring, we moved to our summer home, the Homestead. We always enjoyed it up there. It was so cool and quiet. At considerable expense and time and labor a big reservoir had been made on the west of our house. In this was stored the water from the hills around and near by Silver Creek. This was needed for the farms and gardens and was distributed in rotation, a certain amount according to the number of acres of land each one had. The watering turns for gardens were about a week apart and every ten days for the farming land. There was considerable seepage from the reservoir which was making our land nearby a marsh, so William and the boys made a couple of small ponds to retain this water and stocked them with carp. These increased rapidly and it was not long until we were supplying everyone with fish. We had a seine and the boys would haul the fish out by the tub full. The water was so deep in the middle of the ponds and the seine was not long enough to reach across them so one of the boys had to ride a horse and carry one end of the seine. Then under the trees, in the shade, we would sit and scale and clean the fish, and as a reward for this service the boys and Roberta would take turns distributing the fish to our friends. After the chores were done Saturday evening they would go to town and many a family had fish for their Sunday meals. This reward was not the only benefit from these fish cleaning occasions. Subjects of common interest were discussed, and when we were sitting around the fire on long winter evenings shelling beans or corn, I would tell the children stories of life to teach them honor, honesty and loyalty. If their father was present, he always had interesting experiences to relate. It was these frequent heart to heart talks the promoted love and unity in our home. Roberta and the boys each had their own saddle horses which they rode into town or after the cows. William rode Old Sport for many years, when he went into town alone. I had the buggy and a gentle team.

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We enjoyed the going to the Ranch and the summers spent there, but were always happy to go home in the fall. There were the days of preparation. The rooms all had to be freshly white washed, the windows and the woodwork cleaned, the floors moped, fresh clean straw to a depth of four or five inches put own then the homemade rug carpet was stretched over it. Stretching the carpet was the worst job, and had to done when one of the men could be spared from the harvest. It was the man's job to lie down on the floor and stretch the carpet and hold it until a tack could be pounded into the edge to hold it in place, then on to the next spot all the way around the carpet. Many a “darn it” or “dagonit” were said as a hammer hit the wrong nail or someone laughed and let the carpet slip and all the pulling and tugging to get it into place had to be done over again. The muslin window curtains and the valences around the bed, to conceal the trundle bed in the daytime had to be washed, starched, ironed and put up. The hearth in front of the fireplace had to be moped and then marked off in squares, diamonds, or some other design, with slate or chalk. When the house was cleaned from floor to ceiling, though tired, we were thankful and happy. There was always left over straw to be swept into the fire place and as we sat on freshly laid carpet, and the younger ones tumbled around it, and the flames danced up the chimney with a crackle and roar, we would not have changed places with royalty. Then there were the beds, our bedsteads were homemade and high enough from the floor for the trundle bed to slide under easily. For many years our only “springs” were the stretching and contracting of the rawhide or rope with which it was corded. There were holes bored on the side of some of the bedsteads through which the rope was lashed, but mine had little knobs about six inches apart each way. This was better as the cord lasted longer, and was easier tightened when it sagged. The bed ticks were emptied, washed and refilled each fall. Some were filled with straw, but we preferred husks, and when the corn was being shucked, we would save out the whitest, softest husks for our beds. The rest were given to the pigs and cows. On top of the shuck beds there was the homemade woolen mattress. Every family made their own. The wool was sheared, washed, picked, or carded. I made mine over, one each fall and thus 160

kept them clean and soft. We only had one feather bed and I kept it on our bed in the front room. I had white curtains around that bed to give it an air of privacy. These were ruffle trimmed, and when they were looped back in the daytime, disclosing my plump bed with its homemade coverlet and pillow slips trimmed with wide crocheted or knitted lace, it was ornamental as well as useful. I trained my children so that they never touched my bed in the daytime. A pallet on the floor served as a place to take a daytime nap and of course there was always a cradle for the babies. We were never alone long enough to be lonesome. A meal or an evening when we were alone was a rare treat. Our friends were always welcome. Unexpected callers never worked a hardship on me. Our cellar was always full of food that could be prepared in short order. There was always plenty of milk, cream, butter, cheese, buttermilk, cottage cheese, eggs, jam, apple and pumpkin butters, preserves, pickles, kraut, hominy, smoked ham, sausage, mincemeat and anything needed to fix a meal. Because of our experience with crop failure, we always tried to supply ourselves for about three years ahead. Each season of the year brought its own work, but I think we were the busiest in the fall. The ducks and geese had to be picked in the early fall and in late spring. We always had enough of these to have one to eat when we felt like it and to keep ourselves in down pillows. We dried corn for the winter, by cutting it from the cobs, in the late milk stage, heating it in the oven and then spreading it out on white cloths in the sun and leaving it until it was thoroughly dried. When cooked and properly seasoned with cream and butter it was as good as fresh corn. We made our com starch for cooking by grating the corn on the cob, floating the hulls off with water. The starch settled to the bottom and dried after the water was poured off. All during the summer, cucumber vines had to be gone over every morning to get the right size for pickles, these were washed, the blossom picked off, put in barrels with a layer of salt in between. They were weighted down and soon formed their own brine. They were freshened and pickled when wanted. We gathered tomatoes as they ripened, putting them up fresh, making tomato preserves, catsup and chili sauce. When the first slight frost came, the vines were pulled and hung up by the roots and many of the 161

tomatoes ripened. Sometimes we picked the largest, smoothest ones and put them in a box of oats or bran to ripen, we took them along this way when we made our frequent trips to Utah. If the late frosts permitted, there was fruit to be dried and preserved. If not then we had to depend on citron, watermelon rind, ground cherry, and current preserves, and wild grape and currant jams and jellies. These grew wild as did the little red plums and were a pretty sure crop. There was molasses making time. We all raised a certain amount of cane, some more than other, and of different kinds. There was a molasses mill in every community, as molasses was our chief sweet. Some people had bees but we never did, because we had no one who cared to risk being stung, and we could always trade something we had for honey or send to Salt River and get ten gallons at a time. We bought our sugar by the hundred pound sack. To do away with the children running to the sugar bowl and dribbling sugar all over, I would fill their pint tin cups with sugar either white or brown, whenever we got a sack. They would start eating with gusto, and ask if they could have some more when that was gone. I would promise them that they could have all they could eat. After the first half dozen spoons full they wouldn't want any more, and said it tasted like sand and begged to be allowed to leave it. That would have failed in its purpose so I would insist on their eating it. Sometimes they would add water and try to drink it. The consequences invariably was that by the time their pints of sugar was gone they wouldn't want any more until we got the next sack. We killed and cured our beef and pork when they were fat in the early winter. We put the pork down in dry salt with a little bit of salt petre mixed in until it was well salted, then hang the hams and shoulders in the smoke house and build a smudge of apple wood or com cobs and leave it there until it was a golden brown on the outside. The beef we corned in a brine strong enough with salt and a little salt petre to hold up an egg. When this was cold it was poured over the meat in the barrel and left until wanted. This brine would have to be drained off once or twice and boiled over and skimmed. When the meat was wanted it was taken out, a little of the salt soaked out, then cooked like fresh beef. 162

We were very fond of sausage, part beef and part pork, seasoned with salt, pepper and home raised garden sage. This kept indefinitely in a stone crock or we would make long slender bags, stuff them tightly with the sausage meat and hang them in the smoke house for a few days. We had to always have a quantity of dried beef on hand. It came in handy for the boys to put in their saddle pockets when they were going for a day on the range or to nibble on during the winter evenings around the fireplace. Parched corn also served for refreshments during these occasions. Our home life was a happy one as we were always busy. In the winter there were the school lessons to get and to recite. In the summer we were so tired that we were glad to retire as soon as the evening chores were done.

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55.

THRESHING TIME

Threshing time was one looked forward to each year, we had to prepare for six or seven extra men. Sometimes we only had them for three meals, unless something went wrong or they moved in, in time for supper the night before. That occasion was one of the great moments in the lives of the family. William and the boys figured out about how much grain we should have. Sometimes those guesses were pretty close. Sometimes the boys would bet a pound of candy, peanuts or oysters. For an oyster supper when their guess was the closest, then there was great excitement as to the outcome. The bins in the granary had to be emptied, if any grain remained from the previous harvest, and swept out to receive the fresh wheat, oats and barley, a place cleared off to stack the straw and chaff, where the cows could have access to it for winter feed and to bed down in. Sometimes we were allowed to furnish one or two span of the sixteen horses that furnished the power for the thresher, but usually the teams of the regular threshers were used. These horses really pulled better because they were used to the continuous going around and around in a big circle. The driver sat on a sheepskin covered seat in the center of the sweep, about five feet from the ground. He was someone who could crack his whip that sounded like a shot above the horse’s backs and yell “Hup-hup-hup” in an authoritative voice. The children of the town followed the threshers from place to place to watch the driver, and then amused themselves for weeks by playing at the game. Each boy took the name of his favorite horse, if he could not be the driver. Carpet rags furnished the harness and healthy lungs the noise, and by the time they had plodded around in the dusty circle they were about as dirty as the real threshers had been. To the women folk threshing time was looked forward to, not without a certain degree of dread and aspiration. As every house in town was visited, the threshing crew had a chance to make comparisons. Each housewife,

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naturally wanted her place to be the cleanest, her towels the whitest, wash dish and water the handiest, a comb and glass convenient when it came time for “washing up” time. Then the food. All the favorite old recipes were brought out, her food must be the most appetizing, a greater variety and served the most temptingly. Flies were the greatest dread. There were no such things as screen doors, in pioneering days, and there were millions of flies. We kept the house darkened until just at mealtime, then the branches from cotton wood trees or fly brushes made of fringed newspaper were used by two or three of the younger girls who brushed constantly while the men ate. If someone got switched across the face, accidentally, it furnished a laugh, and the meal went merrily on. Harvest time came in August when the flies were the most plentiful. We were always glad when the threshing was done, and we had enough oats and barley in the bins for the animals, and enough wheat to supply us with bread for two or three years ahead. The fall of the year is fittingly selected for Thanksgiving time, when a bounteous harvest has been garnered.

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56.

A FUNERAL INSTEAD OF A WEDDING

Life brings such tragic things. To one inclined to worry, there is little pleasure in anticipation. I often think it is well we cannot see into the future, it might make cowards of us all. I shall never forget November 5, 1894. We were still at the Ranch. Usually we went to our town house as soon as the first killing frost came, as it was so much handier for the children going to school, but this year, as William was enlarging the reservoir we had stayed until he should have it finished. This particular morning he and the boys had gone to look for some of the cows that had laid out the night before. Roberta and I were busy doing our Saturday's work when she happened to look out the south window. “Oh, mother,” she screamed, “there was a man coming down the road. I saw his horse plunge into the air and fall back with him. I am going to run up there and see who it is.” By now she had grabbed a bucket of water and was out of the gate. There she met a stranger who told her the man was dead, but she kept on running. He came to the door and told me. He asked for the men folks to go and help him. The men folks! Maybe that was William up there in the road. I almost fainted, but I caught up my bonnet and the camphor bottle and hurried to his buggy. He drove me as fast as he could. Roberta was already there, she had turned the prostrate form over and was bathing his face in the cold water. She discovered that it was Joseph Hancock, a young man from Taylor. She knew as soon as she saw the horse, that it was not ours, so her relief that it was not her father or brother came quicker than mine. Like her father, she knew all the gentle horses in the country, but I could not tell our own favorite animals. We tried to force some water between his lips and rubbed camphor under his nose, but there was no life in him. While we were working with him, as luck would have it, Lewis and John Hunt came by from their field in a wagon. The three men carefully lifted him into the wagon. Lewis drove and John held his head, and they took him back to his home. My heart went out

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in sympathy to his poor mother. I knew how it felt to have a son in the best of health one minute and at deaths door the next. Like mine, her son never regained consciousness. She was a widow and he was her chief support. He had always been steady and a hard worker. Joseph and Maggie Jennings had been keeping company for some time and their wedding day had been set for Monday November 7th invitations had already been sent out to their many friends. Everything was in readiness, nothing lacking but the wedding ring. Joseph was on his way to Flake Brothers store to get it when the fatal accident occurred. He never knew what had happened to him. He died within three hours. The funeral was held at the very hour the wedding should have been. Everyone's heart went out to poor Maggie who in her wedding dress sat by the side of the grief stricken mother.

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57.

THE PASSING OF MOTHER

December 1894 found us still at the Ranch, because the reservoir had to be finished before we moved back to town. It seemed unfair to me that my husband, a man now in his fifty-sixth year would have to work so hard. One who had made the means he had and had to work as a common laborer, because he had spent his life and substance for the benefit of others. He would be so tired at night, that as soon as supper was over he would go to bed. We might be talking and before he could answer my question would be asleep. Many a night, he was so tired that he would moan and groan in his sleep. I was always a light sleeper. The least movement disturbed me, so I had lots of time when all others were asleep to wonder why and wherefore. I was not annoyed because his restlessness kept me awake. 1 was only sorry that he had to work so hard. If he had been like some fathers he would have kept the boys out of school to do the work, but we never kept our children from school a single day. We always found our greatest pleasure in the achievement of our children who were really very gifted, especially along elocutionary and dramatic lines. Seldom was there an entertainment at which none of them took part. In the Home Dramatic Association, which Charlie organized, two or three of our family always took part. I did my part in helping them learn theirs. How proudly William and I sat up on the first row center and laughed, cried, and cheered for them. This was Saturday the 8th, just two years ago today our Charles had been cruelly murdered. Shot down and his life snuffed our in the prime of his young manhood. The wind which had blown all week was especially fierce and cold. How I hate cold wind. As I went about my household tasks, my thoughts were of my son, his happy and carefree boyhood. Carefree not because of luxury, leisure or ease, but because he refused to let anything worry him. I thought of his escapades when he was a little fellow and how I could never be cross with him, because he would always sidle up to me slip his arm around me, look at me with his deep blue eyes, filled with mischief, and in mock seriousness, say, “Ma, you would not scold your darling boy, now,

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would you? You know that I love you.” Then I would have to forgive him. How glad I am that I did. I thought of the time when we left him alone with the hired man to take care of the cattle and horses, when we were on our first trip out, or when I had to get him ready to go away to school. How we missed him when he was on his mission. He was the life of every party. The wit of his Irish ancestors seemed to have descended upon him. How we needed him to cheer us. How his brave wife and his babies, one of whom he had never seen, needed him. His buoyancy, his happy disposition and fine sense of humor, made him always a genial companion. He loved everybody and was beloved by all who knew him. Roberta had gone to the dance last night and spent the night in town with one of her girl friends, the boys were busy helping their father, so I was alone and my tears fell unnoticed as I worked. About 2 o'clock Mary home came bringing our mail. In it there was a letter from my eldest niece, telling me that my dear mother had passed away in her home in Beaver. She died at 6 o'clock Monday morning, December 2nd, without a struggle. She hadn't been ill enough for them to notify me. Fifteen minutes before she died, she sat up in bed, took a little nourishment, then lay down and went to sleep. Mother was one of God's noblest daughters, pure as she could be, honorable in all of her actions in life. My pen is too feeble to tell of her goodness, or of my loneliness at her passing, her work was well done. On the last day of August she was seventy-six years old If I could only make the record she has, how thankful I would be. She had given birth to five sons and four daughters. I was her oldest child. She had raised all to maturity except the baby, Theressa, who was twelve when she died. George, Melissa and father had preceded her. It seemed to me that mother was the most capable person I ever saw and had perfect self control. She seldom gave way to her emotions. She never scolded us nor permitted quarreling in the home. She was a disciplinarian, because of that she was a successful school teacher, and she 169

carried it over into our home. She seemed to know instinctively how to bring out the best in us. Always mindful of our comfort and well being, she would sit up at night, in our younger days after we had retired, wash and hang our clothes by the fire to dry, then get up in the morning, heat the flat irons by the coals, and iron them, that we might be neat and clean at school. We wore our best clothes only on Sunday or to a celebration. Mother was always lenient with our mistakes and patient with our faults. She seemed to remember her own childhood. I have always marveled at her adaptability. Her regal bearing proclaimed her a queen and yet she did the most menial tasks when occasion required. I often thought she did not stoop to work, she elevated it to her standards. In her person and home was cleanliness personified, the dress she wore might be of homespun, fitted her form perfectly and there was always a touch of lace at the neck and wrists, she always said no lady was dressed for the street without gloves. She used to knit our winter ones or make them of skin. When kid gloves and such could be purchased she always had a Sunday pair. I feel the same way about gloves and never go to church without mine although the meeting house is only a couple of blocks from our home. Such is the effect of mother's example and teaching in my life. She was methodical, I used to think to a fault. She insisted on a time for everything, a place for everything, and every thing in its place. Work while you work and play when you play came under the same rule, and we knew when and where was the place to play. Highly educated as mother was, she always made allowances for those who hadn't had her advantages. Among the things that I admired mother for, was her ability to manage her affairs after father's death. If William should happen to be taken before me, which God forbid, I would be helpless. I never concerned myself with the management of affairs I had enough to do on my own part. Mother assumed father's responsibilities and things went on as before, he was well fixed in worldly goods by then and her last years were spent in comfort. My four brothers and their families lived by her. She had the love and respect of all who knew her. Why try to further enumerate the many virtues of my mother, Mary Hannah Burton White. Let me live so as to reflect them in my life, and console myself with these lines:

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“There is no death, The stars go down To rise upon some fairer shore And bright in Heaven's jeweled crown They shine forevermore.”

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58.

RESPONSIBILITIES

When my children were small, I used to think that when they got older I would not have so much to do, but now I find that I am as busy as ever. This winter, 1895, has been an especially busy one. On Saturdays and evenings after school I often go to the barn with the boys to husk corn. They work so much harder and more willingly when I am there. We sort of make a game of it, a contest, like to see which can chuck the biggest pile in a given time, as who can husk the first colored ear. Of course there were prizes, for instance, the winner might take some eggs and go to the store and buy come candy for us. He would have a lump of candy for each dozen ears he shucked. Sometimes each of the boys could have every tenth ear they husked. This they shelled and took to the store to buy some shoes or other articles of apparel. I didn't mind those ‘husking’ bees. They gave me a chance to get out of the house and an opportunity to get closer to my sons. There were so many things I wanted to teach them, loyalty to themselves, their family, their country and their church. I wanted to tell them of the wonderful things their ancestors had done. I wanted to teach them purity of thought and action, to shun the very appearance of evil, that crime never pays, that a good name is rather to be chosen than great riches. Then there was the fables I had heard from my father which always had a good moral to them. They would listen gladly, to keep me out there with them, if for nothing else. Life is so full, we see so little of each other. There was school, and we each had our organization meeting. I was usually at home when the family came as I knew how empty a house is to a man if there isn't a woman there. A class was being taught one night a week for normal instruction in teaching. I was honored by being one selected to take it. Roberta was secretary and Joel went along with us for company. John stayed home with his father, when it was his night to be at home, when not we left him at Jimmies until our return. I never liked to leave the children home alone at night. We enjoyed going to these night classes and discussing them at home.

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I was still first counselor in the Relief Society. Our meetings were held each Thursday afternoon. Once a month fast day was held on the first Thursday. That made those days rather busy. Fast meeting was held from 10 o'clock until noon. Relief Society was from 2 to 4 and the training class in the evening. People had great faith in my medical ability, though I used only herbs, common sense and old time remedies. Whenever any one in the community got sick, I was sent for and I went day or night if I was able to go to them. I was not a midwife, but often assisted where I was needed. I shall never forget one time when I was at the home of a southern woman when she was in the throes of agony with her thirteenth child. They were so poor that I had to take sheets and pillow cases from home for her bed. Her tall lanky man was standing near her bed. Between pains she looked up at him and said, “John, you air the sorriest man I ever seed.” I looked at him and the only thing I could see was a look of concern and whether he could hold his mouthful of tobacco juice much longer. If he swallowed it, it might drown him, it had already begun to trickle down each side of his mouth. The baby came all right, and when little Barzillio and his mother were made comfortable, we started home, when we were safely outside I remarked to my companion, “I didn't think that man looked very sorry, did you?” Aunt Janet answered that he had anything but a sorrowful look on his face. I went home and told the folks about it. Charley, to my astonishment, laughed long and loud. When he got his speech back, he explained that sorry meant no account in the south. There was always plenty of work for everyone, if each would do his or her share, but when they won't then there is that much more for the willing ones. There were always visits to the sick and downcast, bodies to be prepared for burial, and the poor to be helped. I was made head of the Primary Department on the Sunday School. A position that I held for many years, with much pleasure. Because Roberta had such a way with children, I selected her as one of my assistants. There was hardly a day but what some of my married children were with us. They knew when meal time was and that we always had plenty to 173

eat. If any of their children were missing they knew they were eating with grandpa. We always kept the high chair handy although our baby John was now twelve years old. For many years I stayed home from Sunday School, cooked a big dinner and had all the family come and have dinner with us, but after the littlest ones were big enough to go to Sunday School I decided to go along. My chance for schooling had been so meager, I took every opportunity I could, to improve my mind, so instead of standing over the stove all Sunday morning, we prepared the meal the day before. Now we went to Sunday School, came home and all we had to do was to warm up the food and enjoy it. With many hands to help, the dishes were washed in time for all to go to meeting at 2 o'clock. Every Sunday was a family reunion, and a holiday, we have always been a great family to member birthdays. We have never missed an opportunity to celebrate either birthdays or anniversaries. We were sort of clannish anyway, the boys never under took anything without consulting their father. William came in one day about the last of March 1895 and said he thought we would have to move to the ranch a little early because the range cattle were breaking down the fences as food was so scarce outside. It is an awful task to move twice a year, when we go up there we only take the things that we feel we cannot get along without, but when we get there we find that we have done just the opposite. And every time we come to town we take along a list of the things we need, so we are moving about all summer. I am not anxious to go but we have our crops to look after and we always milk so many cows in the summer. I always try to make duty a pleasure. It is pleasant up there on the old homestead, but lonely, however we must make the best of everything and never complain. We were preparing to move the first of April, when Nancy took seriously ill. She was very sick for four days and then at 2:30 on the afternoon of April 6, 1895, her gentle spirit took its flight. She was called to a better home. She was all right. She had done her work and done it well, but poor Jimmie and his nine motherless children. It seemed so pitiful.

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The next day, Sunday, was a sorrowful day for all of us. The family all came for dinner as usual. But everything seemed so strange. To think that Nancy, who had never seen a sick day in her life, not even when her children were born. We had all we could do to keep her in bed the required nine days. She was snatched away so suddenly. Nancy was not one to make a great show. She was not a society person, courted no one's favor, was a companion to her husband and children, was a home body, yet at her funeral, which was attended by people for miles around. Beautiful tributes were paid her by the leading men of the communities, who were the speakers. Each tried to bring comfort to the family. After it was over we went about our tasks as before, but oh, how we missed Nancy. William, Roberta and the two boys moved up to the ranch without me. I went right to Jimmie's and stayed. The fifteen month old baby was teething and required a great deal of care. I went up to the ranch for a few minutes when someone took me and I could be spared. I thought I did not want to move up there, and yet where William was I wanted to be. If I could have been in two places at once I would have been satisfied. One thing that could be said of that family of nine children was that they were the most affectionate group I have ever seen. They were helpful and did all they could to make the work lighter for me. After a month and a half Roberta and I changed places, she stayed down at Jimmie's and I went to the ranch. About then there was great deal of agitation about “Woman's Rights.” I don't believe in equal rights. I would like the franchise, but I am perfectly willing for the men to kill the snakes, build the bridges, smooth down the high places and hold the offices. I would like to see women's rights respected, and held sacred at all times and in all places. If a woman wants to keep her place in her husband's heart she must keep her place in this home. I like the old fashioned southern chivalry. I have all the rights I want. I have the right to be protected and provided for by my husband, to be loved and obeyed by my children and to be honored and respected by my acquaintances. Let them who want to serve on juries and hold public offices have them. I have enough to do within my sphere and my church.

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I had been first counselor to Mary J. West in the Ward Relief Society ever since its organization. Now she had been chosen as first counselor to the Stake President of the Society and I had been set apart as Stake President of the Primary Association. My duties now were to keep in touch with headquarters in Salt Lake City, and visit the primaries throughout the stake, whenever it was convenient or they needed special assistance. I chose as my counselors Frances Willis and my daughter-in-law, Belle. William always planned to have a team and buggy ready but not always a teamster, that did not bother us much, as I could harness a horse as easily as I could dress a baby. I had driven hundreds of miles, Belle was as good with the horses, too. I usually got her to drive while we planned our work. Our territory reached from Joseph City on the north to Pinetop on the south, a distance of more than a hundred miles. There were ten Primaries to be supervised. We made the rounds at least once and sometimes twice a year. While we visited the nearby associations each week. I learned to love all the children in the Stake and though I could not call them all by name, they knew me and would call to me where ever they saw me.

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59.

PRUDENCE IS TAKEN

When we see our dear ones suffer as dear Prudence had for so many years, we think sometimes, we would be reconciled to see them released from their misery, yet when death comes it finds us rebellious and leaves us heart broken. So many times it had seemed impossible for her to get her breath, when she could sit propped up in bed for a week at a time coughing and gasping from asthmatic attacks, that we were not prepared for her going when at half past nine on the morning of February 8, 1896, she passed away. Several members of her family had been with her all night, and everything was being done for her relief. Just before she passed away, she looked up and asked Mary, who was standing nearest to her, “Mary, don't you think my light is going out?” Then closing her eyes, she went to sleep as peacefully as a babe, and our Prudence had left us. How glad we would have been to keep her. She had been a part of us for almost twenty-eight years. Everything but hard work I had shared with her, even my husband. We had the joy to know that though she had been taken first, that she would be waiting for us and would forever be ours, as she and William had been married by the same authority as had he and I, which has the power to seal for time and all eternity. My children had loved her and waited upon her as though they were her own. Not one of them ever spoke a disrespectful word to her or of her. Their “Auntie” was always ready to help them with their school papers, she was often called upon to write essays and articles for special occasions, because she had such a good way expressing herself and plenty of time. I had always appreciated the nice things she wrote about me on my fortysixth birthday, how it would be kept and treasured ever more. This is what she said: “Written in honor of the forty-sixth birthday of Lucy H. Flake which we have assembled to celebrate. Her years have been spent in the cause of Zion, she had held different positions of trust and honor, she had filled them with untiring faithfulness. May her years be many and be filled with usefulness as have the past. She has launched her barge on the sea of life and had endeavored to live up to the laws of our Great Creator as they have been

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brought forth in this dispensation of the fullness of times. She has passed through many trials, has watched over the sick, by way of being a comfort to them, as well as her own family. She has laid a number of her little ones to await her coming in the spirit world, and when she reaches there may she meet them and receive the crown and exaltation of the just with all its joys and happiness is the prayer of her sister, Prudence J. Flake.” It was a sad day for all of us and we had the sympathy of all the community. There had been a ruling in our town that no corpse could be taken to the Stake House where the funeral was held. It had been a source of great dissatisfaction to most of the people, but no one seemed able to do anything about it, so I took it upon myself when Apostle F. M. Lyman visited us in November last to tell him about it. I always went to Marion for things I could not reconcile myself to. I got that which I sought. "Of course take the bodies to the meeting places," he said. "The spirit of the departed hover over the body until it is interned in the ground, and it is only proper that it be where the funeral services are conducted." he continued and he gave these instructions to those in charge of the town. Our Prudence's body was the first in at least ten years that was taken to the stake house, which had been fittingly decorated with flowers and white for the occasion. It was a great satisfaction to us, and I am thankful for my little talk with our friend and brother. The funeral was beautiful, the sermons and hymns so comforting. The good things said about her were all true, and much more could have been said. Unusual arrangements were made for the procession to the grave site. The body was carried to its last resting place upon the hill southwest of town, by three of her sister's husbands and three of my sons. The family marched behind the bier, then the Relief Society, the young Ladies and Young Men — and Primary organizations. Then followed twenty wagons and carriages to convey those not able to walk, who desired to show honor to Prudence. Her eldest daughter, Emma was now sixteen, Pearl was fourteen and Wilmar Mirth was almost eleven so it was decided that they should go on living in their own home. The girls had always taken such responsibility, 178

because their mother hadn't been able to do any housework for years. Their home was so near to ours that we could call to each other when anything was needed. William retained his bed there and spent many nights there so they would not be so lonesome. Baby Anna Belle was only a little over two years old when her mother died, was a great joy to him and stood the chance of becoming “spoiled” as she was a little darling blue-eyed golden haired fairy. It was remarkable how we all settled down and accepted this new affliction and acknowledged the will of our Heavenly Father.

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60.

TWO WEDDINGS

Roberta was now nineteen, almost three years older than either of her sisters or myself were when we were married. She matured early and had had about six years of young lady hood. There seemed to be an epidemic of marrying as there were nine couples from our little town contemplating matrimony in the fall of 1896. Roberta had been keeping company with a young man for quite a while, and while we did not approve of her choice, we consented to the marriage. Jimmie needed someone in his home to help him with his family, and every man needs a wife so they joined the others in preparation for the great event. When March comes in like a lion we consoled ourselves with the thought that it is supposed to go out like a lamb, at least that is the promise of some old sage or weather prophets or someone, but this March of 1896 was one in which the wind blew continually. It began in February and extended into April and May. I could hardly stand the sound of the wind whistling in the south door. It always made me lonesome and this spring was worse than ever. Dear old Aunt Mary Savage, my father's sister, lived near me for many years. I always enjoyed having here with us, but now, after we moved to the ranch, I kept her as much as she would stay. She was one of the most intellectual women I ever knew. She would read to us while we worked. We had too much to do to get ready for Roberta's wedding trousseau ready, we were very busy. As with her sisters, she must have all the quilts and other bed clothes, a woolen mattress and everything we could give her to begin housekeeping. While she and I pieced quilts, made rugs and sewed carpet rags, Aunt Mary would read a sentence or two, then discuss them, and from her vast experience enlarge upon them. She told us many things of her early life in “York State” (New York) and everything she told us was of great interest. When it came to the sewing on the machine, Roberta would have to go to town to do it as our old Singer had served about forty years and would only sew heavy materials.

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Prudence's girls often came and spent the day with us. For the first time in their lives, they were all free to leave home at one time. Someone had always had to remain there with their dear mother while she lived. During the daytime, I was alone much of the time that summer. William and John were freighting to Fort Apache from Holbrook, Joel was working on the ditch and looking after the cattle, and Roberta was at Jimmies when they needed her. I was so busy running after cows, calves and chickens and feeding pigs, besides making butter and cheese and weeding the garden that I had very little time for reading, though I managed a little every day. The most confining work I had was when I had the incubator going, and I set it several time that year. It was hard to keep the eggs at the proper temperature on account of the wind. Sometimes I got up a dozen times at nights to either turn the lamp up a little or lower the flame. I sometimes wished the old hens would steel their nest away and hatch and care for their own babies. When I was so tired worrying about them, I would think of all the good fried chicken we would have in the fall and the money I would get from the ones I did not want to keep. Some years I would have forty or fifty young roosters to sell. I don't think were we ever as busy as we were that summer. We made thirty six cheese and three hundred and forty-four pounds of butter. There were the duck and geese to pick, as we needed the down for extra pillows. All too soon the day came when I had to give up my baby daughter, who had been with me for nineteen years. She was married at Jimmie's in a quiet wedding. It was the first event in his beautiful three storied home. It was only attended by members of the family. They were married on the evening of September 8, 1896. The second day after the wedding, they and another couple started by team for Salt Lake City. Jimmie and his intended bride went by train and met them in Salt Lake. Sometimes I feel that I cannot endure this loneliness, but we poor mothers have to stand many things that make our hearts ache.

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61.

CHECKING UP

The New Year of 1897 dawned. Life just goes on, some days are dark and some are fair. Always there is plenty of work to do, and it is well that there is. I think that the Lord did the best thing that ever happened to them when He turned Adam and Eve out of the Garden of Eden and told them they should eat their bread by the sweat of their brow. Of course there were many nights when I was too tired to sleep. Then I wished, not for less work, but for more hands to do it. William used to laughingly say that I could keep ten boys and a man busy, but I never expected anyone to do more than I did. As I sat in the glow of the firelight on New Years Eve, I took a sort of inventory of the past year, as was my custom. In it I had lost my baby girl or gained a new son-in-law and a new daughter-in-law. We had been blessed with health and a bounteous harvest. There were only the two boys and their father home with me now. They were quite good to help me whenever they could be spared from out door tasks and when they were home from school. I had made six wool mattresses, washed and carded the wool for them and didn't keep track of the number of quilts I had made. Joel was now sixteen and as was customary we gave the boys their first purchased suit for a birthday present. Even if I do say it myself, the clothes I made for them was as well tailored, and had better material in them, but somehow they felt more dressed up in the suits bought ready made. These they only wore on Sunday and for special occasions. I continued to make their school clothes, shirts, underwear, sock, mittens, etc. I made William's also. I had enough homemade soap to finish out the winter. We had enough food of every kind raised in this country to last us at least three years, in case there should be a crop failure or a famine. On the second of January, which came on Saturday, I had finished my housecleaning. The cooking we always did before Christmas so as not to be kept in the kitchen during holiday week, was lasting fine. There were still

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mince and pumpkin pies, half of the fruit cake, a lot of donuts, and a baked ham that had not been touched. The Sunday clothes were all pressed, the shoes shined and everything ready for tomorrow. I used to have a time getting the boys to keep their shoes polished when they had to black them with soot from the back of the fireplace or the stove lids. Now that we could buy regular shoe polish, it was no trouble at all. I thought it was extravagant, at first to buy it when there was always so much soot, but the trouble it saved in getting the work done was worth it, I guess. As I sat by the fire I was at peace with the world. Two days old, was the New Year and my resolutions were still intact. As usual I had a hard time to get in my reading, but I could do it now. Just then I heard a child screaming and before I could get my glasses off and get to the door, Love (Jimmie's second daughter) broke into the room screaming, “Oh Grandma, come quick, Lois is burned.” I tied my handkerchief around my head, grabbed my shawl from the foot of the bed as I passed and ran as fast as I could to Jimmie's. The sight I saw I will never forget. There sat Theresa with her arms burned to her elbows holding her baby sister, whose clothes were burned off, on her lap and all the children standing around crying piteously. James got there almost as soon as I did, with some medicated cotton and linseed oil. He had a drug department in the store. We went to work as fast as we could. One of the boys was put on a horse and sent for the doctor. It seemed that Lois had been upstairs where Theresa was making the beds. She complained of being cold so Theresa told her to run down and warm herself before the fire. The poor little girl went into the room where the fireplace was and a draught of wind sucked her little dress into the flames. Theresa almost fell down the stairs when she heard her screaming. With her bare hands she extinguished the flames. It seemed a miracle that any one would have the fortitude to keep fighting fire until the flesh was burned off their hands. It was dreadful to think of. The baby was so badly burned that we had her administered to four or five times. Theresa was also administered to and ten of the sisters had a prayer sermon, and all was done for their comfort. Our darling babe could not be saved. She died eleven hours after the accident at about 4 o'clock in the morning. It was a comfort to know that a heavy sleep spared her the suffering she would otherwise have endured. Poor Theresa was so badly burned that the flesh came off the lower part of her arms and hands. She was delirious for days, and was only spared 183

through the best care and faith and prayer. True to her nature she never gave herself a thought until after I reached her. The loss of her baby sister was harder for her to endure than the pain of her poor burned hands which she was unable to use for many months. Lois was a darling baby. She had been the sunshine of all our lives and the comfort of her father's heart, since her mother's death and now she had gone to join her. Jimmie had married the October before, but his wife had remained in Salt Lake City to gratify a longing that she had for more schooling. When she heard of the tragedy she wired that she was coming home. Some of us were there all the time taking care of Theresa and keeping up the home until she came. Both she and Theresa blamed themselves for the accident. We were all so sad and worried that I had not had the family all together to welcome Mattie into the ranks until Tuesday, January nineteenth. We had a typical family dinner to welcome Mattie home. The menu consisted of roast turkey, dressing, giblet gravy, mashed potatoes, spare ribs pie, pickles, chow chow, dried corn cheese, hot biscuits, butter, cold beef, fruit preserves, suet pudding, mince and aqua pie and cream cake.

It was a pleasant day and all seemed to enjoy being together again. While Roberta was in Beaver on her wedding trip I had her get some woolen dress and suit material. We had drawn all of our capitol stock out of the woolen factory shortly after we moved to Arizona, but father left me $500.00 in the mill and from the dividends on it I kept the family clothed and we all had soft wool blankets on all of our beds. I had much material to use that winter and with the help of the girls made myself several dresses as well as clothes for all the men folk. Roberta came home almost every day to comb my hair and help me. She was clerking in Flake Brothers store most of the winter as her husband was away most of the time.

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62.

INVENTIONS

These are marvelous times in which we live. As I went about my work this morning, I thought of all the things that have been invented within my lifetime to make life easier. There is the sewing machine to take the place of long, tedious sewing by hand. Factories do away with the spinning wheel and loom. No more cooking over the fireplace. We have coal oil lamps, although I find candles cheaper and easier to carry from room to room and to use where one does not need a bright light, like in the bedroom. I thought of that as I finished filling my candle box which holds forty candles which, I made yesterday. Then there is the mowing machines and they take the place of the scythe and sickle. The reaper is available to cut the grain, instead of the flail there are now machines to thresh it. Photography was practically unknown in my childhood. The “pony” express carried the mail, and only important letters could be sent as postage was so high and so the amount of mail carried had to be limited. If the message was sufficiently urgent as in the case of sickness or death it could be sent by telegraph. Telephones were rare. Newspapers in the west were scarce. Father had subscribed to the Deseret News when it was first published. We had managed to keep up our subscription to it and to the “Women's Exponent” ever since. There were few washing machines. You filled them with hot suds, put your clothes in and worked a lever back and forth. That was a back breaking job, and besides the clothes were not clean. These machines were expensive, and I like my copper washboard and tub best. All of these machines had been used to lighten labor, but I saw one yesterday that was purely for pleasure. There was a traveling doctor here, lecturing to women only. Woman in our town have never had much to do with doctors, and the fact that he had something to tell them that their husbands weren't supposed to hear, would

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not have been sufficient to draw them but he had a machine he wanted to show. I went in the afternoon, out of curiosity, and again tonight as he promised us a real treat and a treat it was. He called it a gramophone. There are small black cylinders that he slides onto the machine, winds it up, places a sharp instrument on it and sets it going. As it goes around it plays music and songs. There are tubes that go into the ears, then you can hear it real plain, band music and even the human voice. Only one person could hear distinctly at once. I didn't want to be selfish so I didn't get much, but it was nice what I did hear. It is a marvelous invention. I wonder what they will get up next.

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63.

WILLIAM IN THE ROLE OF PAUL REVERE

It was freezing cold on that February morning in 1898. William got on his horse and said he was going to the ranch to see how the cattle were making it. When he doesn't feel very good, or has had to stay cooped up in the house for a few days on account of bad weather, he gets restless, mounts his horse and rides away. When he comes back he is like a new man. He must have been inspired to go this particular morning, for it was so cold that even he wouldn't have gone just to get out of the house. He rode up to the big reservoir and what he saw made him turn around and ride for town as fast as old Kearney could carry him. Kearney was a condemned government horse, the boys had bought at Fort Apache. He had a big ankle and that was the excuse for condemning him but it did not prevent him from beating every race horse in the country. William gave him his head that morning and he fairly flew as he thought he was coming home to a warm stable. He was mistaken, however. William knew where all the able bodied men in town would be that kind of a morning. It was too cold to even husk corn. They would be loafing around the stove in one of the stores, or having heard all the gossip at one, be on the road to the other store. He rode up to the Co-op, yelled out that the bank of the big reservoir was giving way, and for every mother's son of them to get out. Get their teams, load their wagons with straw or rock and get up there as soon as possible. He rode to Flake Brothers store and told the men there to do the same. He went to the school house, called and told the men there to do the same, called out Joel, got him on behind him, rode home as fast as he could, then let Joel take the horse and go around telling the townsmen who did not happen to be at the stores. The men realized the gravity of the situation and in an incredibly short time were at the reservoir with their wagons loaded. William was the first one there. He plunged into the ice cold water up to his arm pits and tamped the straw in as fast as Joel could throw it in. The wind was so strong it made the unloading more difficult, and blew big waves over his body but still he and a few others like him worked in that icy water until evening without stopping until the bank was secure.

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That was a pretty hazardous thing for a man of fifty-seven years to do, but he never expected more from others than he was willing to do himself. I was terribly worried about him. When he got home I filled our biggest washtub half full of hot water, made him get in, put on some dry night clothes and sit by the fire and eat some curry gravy, that had plenty of curry powder in it, so it would warm him up all the way down, and then go to bed. Had William not gone to the reservoir that morning, discovered the cave in of the bank and acted with judgment and haste, all of the water stored for next year's crop would have been lost. Rods of the bank would have been washed away. It would have been too late by the time it could have been repaired to fill it again that season. The pent up flood water would have destroyed all of the winter wheat in the valley and done thousands of dollars of damage. Paul Revere deserves all the credit given him in song and story. His ride was a daring one and his message possibly saved the Nation. William's ride on old Kearney, that freezing February morning, saved the crops of our community.

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64.

PIONEER DAY CELEBRATION

We always have a celebration on July twenty-forth as well as on the glorious Forth, but the one this year 1898 was exceptionally good. Prudence's girls had decided that they would go to the ranch that spring, look after things and let me stay in town, but that arrangement was not satisfactory for long. They were deprived of lots of pleasure by having to go up there when the outfit did. They did not ride horseback as Roberta had done. I was lonesome to be with my husband and boys, so in June I moved up also. They were then free to stay in town or come to the ranch as they pleased and I could go on my Primary appointments and know that there was someone at home to look after things. I was getting much joy out of my labors as Stake President of that organization. Honoring the noble pioneers who reached Salt Lake City July 24, 1847 and trying to perpetuate in the lives of their descendants the memory of their sacrifice and hardships furnished a fitting incentive for a celebration. The Fourth of July was ushered in with noise, patriotism, and fireworks. The twenty-forth was devoted more to reliving the early days. Since it was the Fiftieth Anniversary since the first company of pioneers reached the Salt Lake Valley, a big celebration was held there. It would have been fine if we could attend but as we couldn't so we planned one that was very enjoyable at home. Jimmie was the master of ceremonies. We had the usual program of songs, speeches, and music in the forenoon, then a big dinner cooked by the Relief Society, with the town people as guests. After dinner the men hitched horses, mules, oxen or cows onto their covered wagons. These were rigged up with water barrels, plows, chicken coops and grub boxes on the sides and backs just like we had them when we came.

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With the local brass band, consisting of a bugle, a trumpet, a piccolo, a flute and a snare drum, assisted by a couple of fiddles, an accordion and all the harmonics that could be got that were in the same key, and a Jew's harp or two, we started out on our trip “Across the Plains.” Our destination was Taylor, three miles away. When we were about halfway, we were commanded to halt and form our wagons into a corral. Jimmie was also Captain of the Company. That boy always entered into every thing whole heartedly. He found a broad brimmed black hat, took all the ostrich plumes off my best winter one, fastened them together end for end until they were long enough to go from the side of the mat that he had tucked up around front and hung down the back. Fixed up as near as he could like they used to do. The same Kearney that featured in his father's wild ride was decked out with martingales, rosettes on his bridle and his glossy bay coat shone like satin. The horse seemed to enter into the spirit of the occasion and pranced and danced around all the way as his rider rode back and forth talking to the teamsters and giving orders and commands. I imagined he looked like the grandfather for whom he was named, who had been captain of one of the first hundred wagons to cross the plains. I looked at William once and there was a far away look in his eyes. I asked William if Jimmie looked like his father. He said, “He sits on his horse like a true Flake, but he is not the build father was. Charley was more like him that way, taller and more slender. Jim isn't as commanding a figure as the first James Madison Flake was.” We visited around awhile then lined up and proceeded on our way. When we got to Taylor we crossed over Silver Creek on their new bridge. Before the new bridge was built the children could not get to the school house when the water was high. All the population of Taylor were gathered in the broad street in front of their meeting house. We drove up and again formed a corral. Their Marshal and band greeted us, to which our brass band responded and we were given a royal welcome.

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Our pioneer costumes contrasted noticeably with their Sunday bests. By the music of the combined bands we all joined together in an old fashioned dance in the corral we had formed. On the first Quadrille William danced with Mary, while Roberta and I and our partners were in the same set. Again the spirit of ‘47 was felt and we all joined together in love and good fellowship. There had always been a sort of jealously between the two towns, but this did more to relieve it than anything we could have done. We celebrated until time for us to go home. With “goodbye, see you in the valley,” “If you get there before I do, tell them I am coming,” and other parting words reminiscent of former days, and by the strains of that beloved old pioneer hymn “Come, Come Ye Saints” in which we all joined the bands, we waved goodbye to our friends. We came back on the east side of Silver Creek and entered Snowflake over the same road we had traveled almost twenty years before, only now we crossed the Rio de la Plata on a bridge even finer than the new one at Taylor. A big dance at night in which young and old joined together and another “Pioneer Day” was a memory. It had been very much worth while though. Days before had been full of bustle in preparation, and for days afterward the spirit of the occasion remained with us.

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65.

PREHISTORIC CIVILIZATION

That we are living in a land of former habitation is brought to our attention frequently. Often the boys bring in stone hammers, arrowheads, and large pieces of pottery which are scattered all over this valley and the rolling hills surrounding it. There is an exploring party just a little way from our ranch house and today, July 28, 1897, I walked up to where they are excavating in the old ruins up there. They have found a lot of bones, skulls, teeth, and some beautiful jugs and bowls. Some of the pottery was whole when they are dug out and others only broken in two, and some in several pieces. Some of the bowls are blackened on the outside like they had been used to cook in. There were lots of charred corn cobs in the ruins where they were digging. They had found some beautiful beads and turquoise. All of these things are to be sent to the Smithsonian Institute in Washington, D.C. While I was watching them, the men took out an olla with some large, white beans in it. They are different from any I ever saw before and the men say the same thing. They are plump and milk white. They are a little smaller, though the same shape as the purple flowering bean, that we grow as quick climbers but are not edible. Some years ago Jimmie and the boys found some wheat like that. They planted it and it grew. They saved all of it and planted it again until they got enough seed to plant quite an acreage. It proved to be a very good rust resist product. I hope I will have as good luck as they did and that they will be good flavored. Scattered all over these hill and plains can be found broken pottery and arrowheads. On the rocks of the canyon, way up high on the sides where you wonder how they ever got to it are chiseled all kinds of objects and designs. These things make me want to know all about the people who lived here. Of course, the Book of Mormon tells their origin, where they came from and about their wars and the dealing of God with them. But I want to

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know the little, intimate things, how they lived, their habits, customs, and how they spent their time. I'd like to know their incentives they had in life. That they had a sense of architecture and the use of cement is evidenced by the large buildings that have been found. They must have had a sense of symmetry because of the black designs on white or on red, and there have been some yellow with brown designs found here. Some of them are almost perfect and some of the patterns are very intricate. There have been some big ruins discovered near our home. In Showlow there Edson Whipple took out hundreds of pieces, among them two tablets with writing on them. Some of the articles are very beautiful and it is worth a trip up there to see his collection. Jimmie has most original ideals about some things, for instance, several graves have been uncovered on his land down near the mouth of the canyon. In plowing his field they have found many human bones. He always has the boys collect all of the ones close together and has them properly buried with any belongings they may find. He says these people were the owners of that land before he was and are entitled to a resting place on it. I feel that way also, and since he brought it to my attention, I would not want anyone digging around and disarranging my bones after they were laid away.

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66.

FINDING FLAKES

Our third living son, Osmer Dennis, started on his mission to the southern states on December 6, 1897. Although he had a wife and three children and Elsie was expecting another one within a month, when his call came to report in Salt Lake City at a certain time to go with a consignment of other missionaries, he did not hesitate about accepting the call, anymore than his father had in accepting the numerous ones that had come to him. Either the gospel was true and deserved the best in you or it was not and we owed no allegiance. He and Elsie were of the third generation that believed it was divine, so self was forgotten. And all preparations were made for him to go and spend two or three years. Financially he was pretty well fixed. They had a beautiful brick home, and the store paid enough to keep his family fed and clothed for sometime. Osmer had been Clerk of the Court in Holbrook for several terms, had kept books, taught school, clerked in Flake Brothers store and besides he had a good farm which he managed. His horses and cattle had increased and altogether he was much better fixed to go than Jimmie was ten years ago. He arrived in Salt Lake in time to have a little visit with our folks there and departed for Chattanooga, Tennessee which was where the headquarters of the Southern States Mission was located. He felt that he could not afford a sleeper so sat up all the way and as a result he was worn out with his trip. He kept thinking what a good rest he would get when he arrived. He was met with the information that he was to leave that night at nine o'clock for Jackson, Mississippi. To say that he was disappointed would put it mildly. He wanted time to rest up a little bit, get a lineup on what was expected of him. He had never been in a city as large as Chattanooga. There were many interesting things he wanted to see. All together he thought it was pretty hard, but had been taught that “Obedience is better than sacrifice,” so he transferred his baggage and when the L and N pulled out he was aboard, but not without a feeling of resentment. He had hoped that he would be sent to North Carolina because that was where his people came from originally and he had been promised by a Patriarch when he was twelve years old that he would be a Savior to his

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father's people. I can imagine his disappointment when his assignment was to Mississippi, because Charley had labored there for two years and had never even heard the name of Flake. “I'll go where you want me to go Dear Lord” had always been the family song, and there was nothing else for him to do but to leave that night for Mississippi. Through the night Osmer made himself as comfortable as he could in a chair car. The train stopped in a town the next morning and a good looking young man entered the rather crowded car. Osmer made way for the newcomer to sit beside him, “Good mornings” were exchanged, when the other said, “You are from the west, are you not?” To which Osmer answered, “Yes.” He then asked where Osmer was going, he told him. I get off at Meridan. If you have time on your hands and would like to come we would be glad to have you spend a week or two on the plantation. We have plenty of horses and dogs and the hunting is good.” Osmer thanked him for the invitation and told him that he expected to be in the south quite awhile and if he was ever in that part of the country he would be glad to accept the invitation. Then the young man handed him his card which bore the name John J. Flake, M.D. When Osmer saw the name on the card he looked at it in amazement and said, questioningly, “Flake?” “Yes, Flake, what is so strange about that?” “Just this,” answered Osmer, “It is my name, too, but I have never seen or heard it before, except in my father's immediately family.” “It is not a common name,” said John, “And neither are the people who bear it.” This with a twinkle in his eye and a chuckle in his voice, then continued, “and you are a Flake? I am glad to hear it. You qualify, if size is an indication of character. Now, the invitation I gave you to come and see us goes double.” While John J. Flake was talking Osmer was going through his wallet getting out one of his cards and wondering all the time if the situation would be as agreeable when Doctor Flake found out that this Flake from the west was a Latter-day Saint. The people of the south were particularly bitter against our church, because of the lies that had been circulated against us. Dr. Flake took the card with Osmer's name on it and address on one side and our Articles of Faith on the other. He looked at it. “Huh! Mormon.” 195

He said in disgust and threw the card in Osmer's face. “I am not sure of the relationship now,” he added cuttingly, “the Flakes I know are all too intelligent to be deluded by a false prophet.” “Neither am I so sure of our relationship” Osmer said as calmly as he could, “All the Flakes that I know are too broadminded to try to measure other people in their own half bushel. My grandfather James Madison Flake is as far back as we know, but we have a tradition in our family that the Flakes came to this country to find freedom to worship God according to the dictates of their own consciences, and that they fought to perpetuate that principle.” Silence reigned between these two Flakes so strangely brought together. As the train neared Meridan. John J. turned to Osmer and said, “As a kinsman, I am sure that my father would be glad to welcome you to our home. Don't let him know that you are a Mormon or he will burn your literature and drive you off the place.” Osmer told him that he would be stationed in Jackson for awhile and that probably would be as close as he would get to the Flake plantation, adding, “Like Paul of old, I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ and don't intend to masquerade to get into any home.” They shook hands as John got off the train. The rest of the journey, Osmer could think of nothing else only that he had found some long looked for relative only to lose them again. He was surprised a few days after reaching the mission office to receive a letter from William J. Flake, the father of John. This gentleman told him the same as his son had, that he would be very glad to see him as a relative, but not as a Mormon Minister, adding “Mormonism don't go around in De Kalb County. Promise you will not mention your religion while on my place and we will give you a hearty welcome.” About this time our beloved Apostle, F. M. Lyman visited the conference where Osmer was. They were both delighted. Osmer showed “Uncle Marion” the letter. Marion knew our anxiety about William's people and the chance that this might offer to get our genealogy, so advised Osmer to agree to the terms and make them a visit. Permission was given by the Conference President.

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Osmer wrote that the stipulation of the invitation would be met and that he would be there on a certain day. When he reached the Flake home he was warmly welcomed. What was his surprise, when he found this other William J. Flake was about the same age, size, and complexion and build as his father. There wasn't a pound difference in their weight. “There was not nearly as much likeness between some twins as there was between these two men,” said Osmer in talking about it afterwards. “The main difference I saw in their habits was the ‘Uncle’ William was fond of walking, while if father had to go out and gather the eggs he would saddle his horse and ride after them.” Each had sons William, Charles, and John, and the strangest of all, the wife of each man was named Lucy. The similarity between these two W. J. Flakes was so pronounced, their characteristics and habits so alike that their relationship could not be doubted. It afterward developed that they were first cousins. Southern hospitality was extended to this kinsman from the west. The boys showed a certain interest in the teaching of the church, but Osmer would answer none of their questions, said it was in the contract that he did not mention his religion and he meant to keep it. It is interesting to note that a few weeks after his visit, there were some Mormon Elders laboring in Meridan and William J. Flake sent for them and kept them up nearly all night answering questions about their beliefs, and was always very interested in it during subsequent visits of Osmer. Osmer had an attack of homesickness the next morning after arriving for his first visit. The men folk all went outside to show him around. A pig got out of his pen. William J. reached down, picked up a rock with his left hand and hit the pig, which went back squealing to its pen. Osmer said that motion was so typically his father’s that he could hardly keep the tears back. When the first letter came from our missionary we were all excited, and all gathered to hear it. We were not prepared, however for the wonderful news it contained. Seldom have I seen my big brave husband weep, but tears ran down his cheeks when he heard that there were other Flakes. So young was he when the family left the south and when his parents died that he 197

knew nothing of his people. He used to say that like Topsy in Uncle Tom's Cabin he guessed he just “growed.” Now to feel that he had a family, that he really belonged was a shock after fifty-eight years. During Charley's mission in the south, mainly in Mississippi, he never heard the name, though he had inquired, because he knew his father and grandparents had moved there from North Carolina and had lived there three years before going west. Now it developed that there were families of Flakes in at least five states in the south. By research, hundreds of relatives have been found and several lines of direct ancestors traced back to royalty of England, Ireland, Scotland, and France. A family tree book has been published and much valuable history recorded. Thus early in his missionary experiences, Osmer learned that “Obedience is better than sacrifice.” By going on that train out of Chattanooga, he found his father's people William afterward visited the south and met many of his relatives. That was one of the pleasant things that came into his busy, busy life spent so unselfishly.

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67.

JOY OF SERVICE

January 1, 1898 was a very beautiful day, warm and sunny and we are all well and have much to be thankful for. Sister Mary J. West and I went to Elsie's to give her a blessing before the birth of her child, as was customary in these days. We had much of the spirit of the Lord poured out upon us. The folks said that my presence gave them much comfort. But in and of myself I felt I could do nothing. I have been a firm believer in going to my Heavenly Father in prayer and fasting. When a special blessing was needed I have fasted for two and three days at a time. Sister West and I had many wonderful experiences together and we loved each other with a devotion that was closer than that of any earthly ties. Often when I felt despondent I would go up to my dear friends and we would talk, and then we would go upstairs and pour out our souls in prayer. We had a glorious feast of prayer and blessings. We would feel the power resting upon us. I would put my hands on her head and bless her and then she would bless me. I fasted and was greatly blessed and felt so thankful for this wonderful privilege. I always received comfort when we offered up our prayers together. I recall on my fifty-third birthday, twenty five sisters came with their picnics, we went upstairs to the long room and had a nice program. Many words of praise were said in my behalf and words of encouragement. I will copy a sentiment written for the occasion by Sister West: My dear sister: Together we have labored, together we have toiled. We have shared each others sorrows, and enjoyed each others pleasures. The best wishes of my heart are for you upon this day. May heavens blessings be upon you this day, and may our labors be near together in the world to come. Affectionately, Mary J. West For fifteen years Sister West and I labored side by side in the Relief Society and had grown nearer to each other than sisters, and when we were separated it almost broke may heart. She to labor as the President of the Relief Society in the Stake and I as President of the Stake Primary

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Association. How I enjoyed my work in these organizations. I made visits to each of my nine primaries within one hundred mile radius at least every three months and the near by ones more often. I usually took one or both of my counselors, unless I arranged my visits when William had to go to a home missionary assignment. Then I would go alone with him and each of these were like honeymoon trips. We would talk of how in our early married life he would stay home from meeting for fear he would be called upon to speak. I never will forget how frightened he was when he was called upon to give a farewell talk when we were leaving Beaver. It wasn't long, and at the end of it he said, “Brethren, pray for me and when I pray, I'll pray for you.” Now when he talked he would take up as much as forty-five minutes when necessary and it was very interesting. We were both great readers especially of the Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants and Pearl of Great Price. We also had the biographies of many of our church leaders. My primary work was always a joy to me, and though I was tired when we reached our destination, I was always equal to my tasks and responsibilities. I loved all of the officers in the organizations and their children, and was loved by them. They looked forward to my visits as much as I did. The longest trip we had to make in our assignments was when we went to Tuba city, mine was the first visit of any of the Primary Stake Officers to their organization. As we traveled we would remind each other of the many times we had gone over these same roads on our visits to and from Utah. A very pleasant experience we had was on the occasion of the sixtyform birthday of President Jessie N. Smith, then President of the Snowflake Stake. We had been invited to his birthday party. It begin at two in the afternoon December 2nd and lasted until eleven o'clock. During the evening President L. H. Hatch, Counselor to Pres. Smith and Patriarch of the Stake, took from his pocket a nice white silk handkerchief and blessed it in the name of the Lord, and presented it to Pres. Smith. That was the first time I had ever witnessed anything of that kind. During the time when there was so much cholera and sickness in the church at the beginning, there was such a demand by the afflicted ones for administration by the Prophet of the Lord, he would take a handkerchief and bless it and sent it to those who were suffering. And their faith often healed them, if they were not appointed unto death. I had never seen this done,

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though I had heard my parents talk about it, and it was a wonderful experience. President Smith has had three wives and has forty-one children, one hundred and twenty three grandchildren and three great grandchildren making him quiet a posterity. I haven't counted our posterity lately but I'm sure that if we did we would find that we are not very far behind him although we had only twenty children.

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68.

THE PARTING OF THE WAYS

Sister West's family moved to Salt Lake so as to give their children better educational advantages. I don't think I would have felt worse if my dear friend had died. I couldn't imagine how I could go along without her. In the years that we had labored together, we were of one mind and one heart. I ran across one of her letters today and so I am copying it so that I can turn to it in my lonely hours. With this letter she enclosed the essay she had written for William's birthday when he got home from the penitentiary. To me it is a masterpiece and I am so glad she sent it to me. I am copying it also: My Dear Sister Flake, Today I was looking over some papers and I came across the little essay I wrote for Brother Flake's birthday after his return from prison. I thought I would send it to you and perhaps you might think it worthy of a place in your journal, just to show our children the kindly feelings entertained toward so good a man. I also wish, if you would, to place there the changes that have been made in our official career, how long we have labored together, and how our hearts have become interwoven, as I have done so in my journal. When I looked at you in our Relief Society conference, 1 felt like my heart would break, and I asked my father to make me worthy of your friendship and that the bond his spirit has woven about us may never be broken. If there should be any credit due for our fifteen years of labor you shall share every whit for you have labored valiantly and truly. In looking back over that time I feel to praise the Lord that our record had been as spotless as it has been, and it is only because he has heard our frequent prayers, and blessed us in every time of need. I have so wanted to come down ever since conference, but I have been poorly all this week. I pray continually for you, my more than sister. I know your cares and responsibilities are great, and so will your reward be, You are working for a good noble son (meaning James) and he will love his mother more and more and his children will raise up and bless you, and the angels of peace will be your companion by day and by night, for our greatest happiness is in doing good to others. Affectionately, Mary J. West

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My brethren, sisters and friends: We have met at this time to pay a humble tribute of respect, on the natal day of one of earth's noble sons, Brother William J. Flake. His name has been sacredly and lovingly remembered by us the past few months while the great iron lock of the Yuma Penitentiary held him a prisoner. A prisoner with murderers, robbers, blasphemers, as his constant companions. What was the crime that he had committed? Why his incarceration within the prison walls? Had he murdered a fellow man, had he betrayed a brother, or committed purgery? He had lived a life of purity, he had lived a life of peace with his fellow men, but he had heard a wonderful story of how God the Eternal Father had spoken from the heavens through Joseph Smith. He had revealed to him great and precious truths, and that the Holy Priesthood was again restored to man upon the earth, and that whatsoever was bound by the Priesthood here on the earth should be bound in Heaven. He was taught the Patriarchal law of marriage, and that our marriages must be performed by those holding authority in order that the sacred tie would reach beyond the grave, and in the honesty of his soul he said these things are true, and believing, he put these thing into practice. This my friends was his crime. What! Do you tell me that in this fair land of liberty that a man should be imprisoned for an honest religious belief? It is a solemn fact. This same lovely land of America that our grandfathers so nobly fought, bled and died to rescue from the grasp of tyrants has concealed, within its bosom a germ of the same hatred towards this people that has characterized the persecutors of God fearing people in every age of the world. This same spirit has placed men and women on the rack where their joints were severed from their bodies. It has burned many at the stake, and has beheaded many others. Our brother is one of the men who has and are passing through a trying ordeal. We feel the heavy hand of oppression is over us as a people and remain firm and true. We love them with a pure and holy love that none but saints can feel. We do not murmur at the treatment we receive from the world, and why? Because we have a knowledge that is greater than faith. We know in whom we trust. We know that our fathers have spoken from the heavens. We know that Joseph Smith is a true prophet. We know that the present leaders of this church are as pure as the snow that falls from heaven. We know that our brethren that are now imprisoned are among the beloved of the Lord. Then do we fear what wicked men can do? The true Latter-day Saint has no fear only the fear of God. To be imprisoned for the gospel sake is but to add laurels to our crown. To die is but to live again more gloriously. Then let us fasten upon our memories the names and deeds of all our brethren and sisters who know the right, and knowing dares maintain it. In conclusion let us join with Brother 203

Isaac Grow, one of Zion’s poets, after wishing our beloved brother peace, joy and every happiness that heaven can bestow: Son of Peace to thee our lay Shall be attuned this natal day We fully realize thy worth And bless the day that gave thee birth Thy spotless soul with grace refined Where all the virtues seem combined Celestial hosts with us rejoice To hear thy fearless, winsome voice. Promoting peace, defending right Reflecting back the Heavenly Light When thou art gathered to thy rest Thousands here whom thou hast blessed Will herald forth thy righteous fame And venerate thy holy name Thy name that's now to me so dear Our children's children will revere. Snowflake, July 3rd 1885 Mary J. West

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69.

PIONEER DANCES

Dancing seemed to afford the most general amusement because both young and old attended. Mothers would take their young children and put them to sleep on pallets spread around on the stage or hand the babies to someone who wasn't dancing, while they danced. The dancing was always opened and closed with prayer and everyone joined in for the first dance, “The Grand March.” William and I usually led the Grand March and the intricate formations that we led them through were sometimes confusing and usually amusing. Whenever I go to the dances now my boys and some of the old friends insist on my dancing with them, until I become so tired I beg off. One of the notable events in my life was when at a Character Ball I went representing the wonderful Eliza R. Snow. I was happy to do that because I love her so much and was reminded of the time at the St. George Temple when she gave me a special blessing. She said, “Sister Flake, I want to give you a blessing.” She then laid her hands on my head and blessed me, telling me that I would never grow old. Time has dealt kindly with me because I have only a few gray hairs around my temples and my face is free from wrinkles. I shall never forget the honor I had of being chosen as the partner of President Joseph F. Smith in the only set he danced. That was at Pinetop when the conference of the four Arizona stakes was held there. Roberta and her partner danced opposite us in the Quadrille, and she also felt it a wonderful privilege to swing with President Smith in the “Two ladies change.” Life in our little Mormon community was very pleasant and agreeable as young and old mingled in the sports. My summer was spent in making butter and cheese, drying corn, making pickles, chow chow, preserves, etc. I kept strict account of the butter, eggs, cheese and chickens so that I could pay an honest tithing. Usually there were forty or fifty cheese and around three hundred and fifty pounds of butter to show for my summers work. I also raised a garden with the help of the children that might be at home.

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The year was full in passing with its cares, joys and responsibilities. Roberta had us to her home for Christmas dinner this year. There were fiftythree of us present. She had a lovely dinner and everyone enjoyed it. The menu was along the usual Flake line with an assortment of meats and plenty of vegetables, cakes, pies, puddings and other delicious foods. Always when we made pies we made at least a dozen and sometimes as many as two dozen. These would be either mince, apple, or pumpkin and sometimes all kinds. We prepared our meals on Saturday so we would not have to spend Sundays in meal preparation. We knew that we never could tell when there would be visitors so we always had enough on hand. The 28th of December being John and Anna Belle's birthdays we gave a big dinner and had twenty-five guests present. And on our wedding day, December 30th, Jimmy and Mattie had a dinner for us at their home. There were forty of our friends present on this occasion and we had an enjoyable time. And so we bid farewell to the old year with joy and rejoicings.

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70.

HOLIDAY SEASON

December 20, 1899, since I last wrote, I have been very sick. I haven't felt well all summer. I get so tired and at times I was in severe misery, but I didn't say anything about it. I just kept going as there is always so much to do, and we are seldom without company. When I prepare a meal I fix enough, because I never know whether there will just be William, the two boys and myself, or a dozen to eat. Besides my home duties there is my Stake Primary work. How I enjoy it, but I have gone on my fifty or one hundred mile trips when I was hardly able to hold my head up, when we started out. The good we did and the pleasure this gave us made me forget my ailments. This time though, I took sick on the ninth of this month and got worse and worse. Jimmie got afraid and brought Doctor Woolford to see me. This was the first time we ever had a doctor in our house. I had never had much faith in doctors. In all my life I have followed the admonition in James 5:16. “Is any sick among you, let him call for the elders of the church and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord and the prayer of faith shall save the sick.” That is what we had always done in our home, of course, we always added that His will should be done. On the twelfth I changed for the better, but was very weak and improved slowly. I haven't felt like writing until today. Christmas day we couldn't let this day pass without our family dinner. I am not very strong yet, but all of the girls helped and we have had a glorious day together. The weather is so warm and pleasant no one would know it was Christmas but for the presents and the holiday cheer. There are very few families that are as united as ours. The children are all congenial, no fussing, no jealousy, no quarreling. Each one tries to make these occasions memorable ones.

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Sunday, December thirty-first. We have been busy enjoying this holiday season. Just after Christmas there was the Old Folks Dinner and theater party. It is a joy to meet with old friends, some of whom I have known since childhood. Of course we see each other at church every Sunday, but these occasions are different. Here we eat, visit, talk of old times, some dance jigs and we had a few Quadrilles, but I didn't feel like dancing. So, of course, William wouldn't. Though some of the younger woman who were the waitresses tried to get him to. There was also a program of original songs and readings honoring us. We were young for a day in spite of gray hair and wrinkles. Some of my friends told me I was not eligible as I haven't either wrinkles or gray hair. I do have a few around my temples. I have lived each day of my fifty-seven years to its fullest. The theater was good. Roberta and Joel both had leading parts. Prudence's baby daughter and my baby boy were both born of the twenty-eighth. We had a birthday dinner and party for them as usual. John was seventeen and Anna Belle six. That night there was an entertainment given by the Relief Society. William and I went and had a pleasant time. Yesterday was our wedding day. Forty-one years of married life. We have had our ups and downs, but I have never regretted the step we took, nor seen the man I would trade mine for. I think William is pretty well satisfied too, at least he has never let me know if he wasn't. All of the family and many of our friends came in to congratulate us. Today is Sunday. I went to Sunday School. We have the dearest children. We gave them a Christmas party and a tree with lots of presents on it and they can't get through talking about it. We brought company home for dinner and we enjoyed a visit with them until meeting time when we all went to church. I don’t know what has been the matter with me. I can’t seem to get to feeling like myself. In fact, I have been getting worse ever since the holidays. I have to stay in bed most of the time, but there is hardly a day that I don't get up and walk around a little and sit in a easy chair. When this pain strikes me I feel I cannot endure it. With all of my thirteen children I never suffered such excruciating agony.

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Only twice before in my life have I been so sick. One time when William was working on the St. George Temple and the other on our trip to Arizona just before we reached the settlements on the Little Colorado River. On both of these occasions my life was despaired of. I could not have gone the first time as there were four other choice spirits to whom I had promised to give bodies. Then the last time I had only had one of these children. My family was small and needed my care and then who would have stood back of William and all of this colonizing. No. I hadn't finished my work. Now our pioneering days are over, we are comfortably fixed, the children are all married but Joel and John, and they are old enough to take care of themselves. This closes this year with all of its cares and sorrows and its joys. To the old year we will say goodbye.

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71.

TO THE LAST FRONTIER

How shall I begin? By saying that my beloved mother has left the remainder of her beautiful life's story to be finished by her daughter. And I earnestly pray His guiding spirit to be about me as I am thus engaged, that it may be acceptable to Him and also to my darling mother. Mother's last entry in her journal was New Years Eve 1899, at the close of it she wrote “Goodbye.” In all the years she had been keeping a record that was the only time she closed the year with a goodbye. I wonder if she had a premonition. During the remaining days of her life I only left her when it was absolutely necessary. I could not realize the end was so near. As she had already written, she was very sick at the beginning of last month, but became well enough to enjoy with us the pleasures of the holidays, but shortly afterward she again suffered with the same complaint. The spasms of pain came oftener and more severe Each time they seemed to be harder to bear as her strength diminished. Jimmy was so concerned that he brought in Dr. Woolford. He did all in his power, but nothing seemed to help her. In fact he acknowledged to Jimmy that the case puzzled him. It seemed that only rest she could obtain was after she had been administered to. While the prayers of her family and the community ascended unceasingly to the throne of grace in her behalf, and everything that could be done was attended to by living hands. Mother called her family together and had Jimmy dedicate her to the Lord. She said she felt that some of us were holding her by our faith and begged us to give her up as she was tired and wanted to rest. At 7 pm on January 27, 1900 her work was completed. She closed her eyes and with a smile on her lips, she set out on her journey TO THE LAST FRONTIER.

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72. FINIS January 29 was one of those rare days that we sometimes have here in the winter time. The sun was warm and bright. th

In spite of her suffering mother looked so beautiful and peaceful in the casket made by Brother Rarnsay and Joe, and trimmed by Joe and his mother. Her clothing had been made by loving hands from material she had kept for years. I have never seen nicer clothes; they were so pretty and so neatly made. The funeral took place at the Stake House at 2 o'clock. There was the largest assembly I ever saw at a funeral. The musical numbers rendered by the choir were very beautiful. Prayer was offered by Paul Smith. President Smith preached the funeral sermon. He read from the D & C Chapter 42 and from 3rd Nephi Chapter 28. Bishop Hunt spoke of the goodness of my mother. Singing, “Sweet Hour of Prayer,” Benediction by Brother Ralph Ramsay. At the closing of the service the friends and loved ones viewed the remains. The Ward Primary presented a lovely wreath of white flowers and green leaves. Pallbearers were John A. Freeman, Lewis Hunt, Francis Hulet, Niels Hanson, Walter Smith, Wilford Freeman, Hyrum Smith, Lewis Freeman, Hollister Rogers and Ira Willis, preceded by the Priesthood and followed by the family, father and Anna Belle in the lead. Then came the Primary, the first intermediate, then the second, then the Theological. The Primary carried a banner, “We Honor Our Noble Leader.” They very touchingly sang, “Did You Think To Pray” (One of mother's favorites). The dedicatory prayer was offered by John Henry Willis. Jos. Cooper, H. B. Smith, Owen Freeman, Davis Rogers and Byrtle Kartchner dug the grave.

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It was the largest funeral procession ever had here, people came from Pinedale, Taylor and Woodruff. Among the cards and letters received from friends and loved ones in every walk of life, was this beautiful one from her most beloved friend, Mary J. West, to May H. Larsen, January 30, 1900. “We have heard several times that Sister Flake was not well, but when Annie wrote that the play' put off on account of her serious illness, and told us how bad she was, I felt like a bolt of electricity had struck me, and I can hardly think of anything else. Oh, we have been together so much. I can almost feel her by my side, encouraging me to good works. She always called me the comforter, but not so, she never knew how much comfort she was to me. We have prayed in tears, when none but the Lord knew of our thoughtless children, until I love every one of hers next to my own. I felt like I was encircled by a band of gold when she was near me. I knew she was as true a friend to me as my own sainted mother. I trust you prayers will prevail, why I would gladly have joined in them even so far away, if I had only known. But if her work is unfinished she will yet live. Yet I thought for several months before I left that she was not so ambitious for the future as she used to be and she told me once that sometimes she wanted to see Charley so bad she could hardly endure it. Do please write to me at once, dear sister and let me hear how she is but sad forebodings hover about me and I almost hear her saying dearest friend my work here on earth is ended.” Mother was very fond of poetry and had many scrap books. This is one of her favorite poems, with it I close her life's story. Sometimes Sometime when all life's lessons have been learned And sun and stars forevermore have set The things which our weak judgments here have spurned The things o'er which we grieved with lashes wet Will flash before us out of life's dark night, as stars shine most in deeper tints of blue And we shall see how Gods plans were right, And how what seemed reproof was love most true. And we shall see while we frown and sigh God's plan go on as best for you and me How when we called He heeded not our cry, 212

Because His wisdom to the end could see And e'en as prudent parents disallow Too much of sweets to craving babyhood So God, perhaps, in keeping from us now Life's sweetest things because it seemeth good. And if sometimes, coming led with Life's wine We find the wormwood, and rebel and shrink Be sure a wiser hand than yours or mine Pours out this portion for our lips to drink And if some friend we love is lying low Where human kisses cannot reach his face, Oh, do not blame the loving Father so But bear your sorrow whit obedient grace, And you shall shortly know that lengthened breath Is not the sweetest gift God sends his friends And that, sometimes, the sable pall of death Contains the fairest boon his love can send If we can push ajar the gates of life And stand within and all God's workings see We could interpret all this doubt and strife And for each mystery find a key But not today, then be content poor heart, God's plans like lilies pure and white unfold We cannot tear the close shut leaves apart. Time will reveal its calyxes of gold. And, if through patient toll, we reach the land Where tired feet with sandals loose may rest When we shall clearly know and understand I think that we will say that “God Knew Best.” Post Script. The following are excerpts from the obituary in the Deseret News published in Salt Lake City, Utah, 16 August 1932. William Jordan Flake died in his beloved Snowflake, Arizona home at the age of 93. He was born in North Carolina 3 July 1839. When he was three years of age his family moved to Mississippi, where they joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They traveled to Nauvoo,

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Illinois in the spring of 1844. Much of the rest of his life is chronicled in the autobiography of his wife, Lucy Hannah White Flake. Following her death in January 1900, he continued his life of service to his family and his neighbors. He served for forty years in the bishopric of his Snowflake ward. He has been a stalwart leader and counselor to the people for all of his adult years, in and out of the Church, in that area.

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