St. Ignatius man shares ancestral tale of human kindness
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In the mid-nineteenth century, my maternal great-great grandparents began a trek to Utah along with many fellow Mormon pioneers. They faced the normal perils of such a journey at the time; potential attacks from Indians, inclement weather, wild animals, injury, infection and disease. I have read that of those who began the trek, from Nauvoo, Illinois, many died along the way. I believe that cholera was the main culprit. Once a water hole was tainted, it would affect everyone who drank from it. Knowledge of disease, being what it was in those days, people didn’t understand the source and of course, the germ theory had not yet been advanced.
It would have been a perilous journey for a healthy person in good shape, but what about a pregnant woman? My great-great grandmother was in such a state when she and her husband undertook the trek. They apparently believed she could be safely delivered “with the Lord’s help,” of course, to the valley of the Great Salt Lake.
But it was not to be. Somewhere in present day Nebraska, it became apparent that great-great grandmother was going to deliver her child earlier than estimated. The party halted to talk over the situation. It so happened that at the same time, a small band of Indians approached and gave sign that they were not a threat. The Native Americans were curious about the party and why they’d stopped in the middle of the day. The Mormons shared their predicament with the Indians, one of whom happened to be the chief of the tribe. The Indians discussed the situation among themselves and presented the Mormons with a solution: the soon-to-be parents were invited to ride with them to their village where they promised they would be protected and looked after for an entire year. My great-great grandmother could deliver her child, spend the winter and the rest of the year with the infant in relative rest, and the family could pick up with the wagon trains when they rolled through again. This novel approach to the problem was discussed in earnest with members of the wagon train. The Indians had proposed the seeming best solution, so all agreed to go ahead with it. My ancestors said goodbye to their fellow travelers and rode off with the small band of Indians.
It didn’t take long to arrive at the village, which apparently was only a few miles distant. Once there, as promised, the Indians looked after my great-great grandparents, their daughter being delivered safely soon after arrival in the encampment. For the year that followed, the Indians continued treating my great-great grandparents and their child with care. The daughter born in that encampment was told by her parents, years later, that the chief would often affectionately carry her around the camp, showing her off to others, “coo-cooing” and making a fuss over her. It goes without saying that my great-great grandparents were extremely grateful for the extraordinary kindness bestowed upon them.
True to the plan, when the wagon trains rolled through that country a year later, my ancestors bade the Indians farewell, and joined the pioneers for the rest of the journey to the valley of the Great Salt Lake.
My great grandmother grew to be a woman of some prominence in Salt Lake and stayed in touch with the Indians that had rescued her and her parents. The chief lived to a ripe old age, 101 years, if I remember correctly, and when he died and my great grandmother herself was up in years, The Deseret News published the story I have just recounted here, including a photo of the Indian chief. Somewhere in the archives of Mormon history, that article still exists, and it’s possible I have a photocopy somewhere …
The fact that my genetic line continued is at least in part due to Native Americans who were kind and decent people. All human beings have the same needs and desires, and further, we have far more commonalities than differences. If the human race is ever to be at peace, it will be because we have come to realize this.
(Editor’s note: The author chose to share this story with Lake County readers in honor of Native American Heritage Month, which is observed annually during the month of November.)
