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| Youth worked in "families" to pull their carts to our destination. |
Four years ago, my husband and I were asked to help with a reenactment of a handcart company for the youth of our church. Part of the experience was to find the name of one of the original company members, discover what we could about them, and think of them as we literally walked in their footsteps.
I chose Jane Haynes James who was 41-years-old when she stumbled, half frozen, up Rocky Ridge on the frigid, wind-whipped Wyoming plains. She had come with the handcart company with her husband and children to settle in what they considered Zion, the Utah frontier.
Death had become a frequent visitor to the ragged group of pioneers struggling in early winter storms to reach their still distant destination, and the James family had helped with the burial detail. When the grim chore was complete, Jane sent her older girls ahead. Jane, her husband, William, and 14-year-old son, Reuben, started to follow, but William collapsed in the snow. He'd given every ounce of strength he had to get his family as far along the trail as possible. He asked Jane to go find the girls and he'd wait til he had his strength. Jane could not persuade him otherwise, so she went ahead. Reuben stayed to help his father. Jane found the rest of her children waiting along the chilly riverbank, and helped them to cross.
Jane searched for her husband among those who straggled into camp later that night, but it was morning before she laid eyes on him again. William had succumbed to the elements. Reuben was badly frozen. Jane's eyes deadened momentarily, frightening her daughters. But the will to get her family to safety burned back and her daughters recognized the determined look again in their mother's face.
William is buried with 12 others in a grave (see picture below) at Rock Creek, Wyoming, a sacred, peaceful place when we were there with the youth of our church. As I stood looking at the grass covered grave site, I realized that I was, at that time, the same age as Jane as she loaded Reuben in the handcart with her baby and moved on to keep the rest of her family alive. My heart ached, and an insatiable need to know my ancestors was planted there.
I was once told that the real reason God imparted to humans the intelligence to invent computers was to allow us to keep track of His innumerable children throughout the ages. For me, that comment rings true, as I have discovered volumes of information from people around the globe who have shared the facts that have clothed the outlines I have of my ancestors.
To see some of what I and my cousin have discovered about our family tree, follow these links: www.harveyhistories.blogspot.com
www.lawslines.blogspot.com
www.palmerpedigrees.blogspot.com
Note: This love I have developed for my ancestors and other pioneers inspired the creation of the pin-cushion I made which is available at thegiddygoose.etsy.com
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| At one point, the young ladies worked alone to pull their carts loaded with gear up Rocky Ridge. Their gallant effort was not lost on the young men, many who had tears in their eyes, and frustration in their hearts at not being able to help them. Leaders explained to them that by this point along the trail, many of the men had died, having forgone their own measly rations in order to allow their wives and children more to eat. Somewhere along the Rocky Ridge portion of the trail is where William James died. |
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| The grave marker at Rocky Creek. |
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| Another interesting fact: None of the survivors of this epic journey faltered in their faith in God, declaring at times that it seemed as if their handcarts were pushing them along the trail. We felt He was there with us, too. |
Now you know.
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