The Undaunted : The Miracle of the Hole-In-The-Rock Pioneers by Gerald N. Lund
“Remember,” he said easily, “don’t look out at all that empty space. Focus only on the little square of ground where you’re putting your feet.”
“Right,” she said through clenched teeth.
When they left the “steps,” they started down a forty-degree incline. Fortunately, the path was at the base of a slanting rock wall on their right side. It tilted away from them at just enough angle that she could lean against it. More important, for the moment, it blocked any view of the chasms below.
But the wall lasted only about three rods before it rounded away from them. And there before her lay the worst of Ben’s “rough spots.” With a sinking heart, she saw that it was much worse than it had looked from above. She felt sweat pop out on her forehead, and her neck beneath the collar of her blouse was suddenly sticky.
“Just stay focused on your boots,” David said, speaking as though he were directing her how to braid a rope or tie a bowknot.
“Oh,” she murmured through tight lips, “does that mean I have to keep my eyes open?”
He laughed softly. “You’re doing fine. Just watch how I maneuver over this big rock.”
They were standing on another level platform of rock, but blocking the path directly ahead was the sandstone block. It was easily the size of a small carriage. When it had split off centuries before, it had come to rest right in the center of the spine at its narrowest spot. The block was chest high and oval in shape, somewhat resembling a squashed egg. It was its roundness that caused her breath to catch. It actually overhung the platform where she was standing, leaving a two-foot gap between them. This meant that there was nothing beneath that overhang to place her boots on, no foothold for her to use. She was going to have to grasp the rope and, with legs dangling, pull herself up and onto the rock by the sheer strength of her arms. And when she did, those hellish drop-offs would be right there in front of her eyes, with just two or three feet of rock on either side of her.
She watched David closely. He grasped the rope, then, exactly as she had feared, hauled himself up while his feet dangled free. But he was soon up and off the block. He turned. “Okay.”
“I don’t think I can do it,” she whispered.
He stretched out one hand toward her. “I’m right here, Abby.” But there was no way he could reach her until she got up on top of the block. If he came back, there would be no room for her. She would be on her own for several seconds. She closed her eyes, knees trembling.
“Abby?”
She opened them again. He had come a step closer. “If you look on the left side of the rock, you’ll see where Ben carved a toehold for you.” His voice was quiet, calm, confident. “Put your left foot there first, then grab the rope and pull yourself up.”
Her mouth was filled with cotton, her heart was pounding, and she could feel the veins in her neck throbbing. “I can’t.”
“This is the worst place,” he said in that same level voice. “After this, it gets easier.”
“Liar!” she hissed.
He laughed again. “Guilty as charged, but not today. This is the worst. You can do it. Think of this as kind of a leap of faith.”
“Don’t use the word ‘leap’!” She nearly screamed it at him. Then her eyes started to burn. “I can’t, David,” she whispered. “I just can’t.”
He came back then, lowering himself down to stand beside her. “It’s all right, Abby. Let’s go back.”
“No!” It came out fierce and hard. “I’ll not have you miss it because of me. You go. I can make it back from here.”
For a long time he looked at her, gauging her words. Finally, he gave a quick nod. “We shouldn’t be too long. But don’t try going back down the mountain by yourself. Wait for us.”
She turned away, the bitterness rising. “I will. Just go.”
When he reached the top, Molly, Ben and Carl were standing quietly on the eastern edge of Angel’s Landing. After explaining that Abby had decided not to come across, he moved up to join them. And then he understood why Ben, or the Behunins, or whoever had named this place, had called it Angel’s Landing. It was unbelievable. They were higher than most of the mountains around them and could see for fifty miles in every direction. It was a stunning and magnificent vista. But straight down, far, far below, was the bottom. He searched the trees along the river, but decided that Patrick and Billy Joe were farther around, closer to the mountain, and couldn’t be seen.
Strangely enough, the sight turned his thoughts to his mother. Maybe it was the talk of angels and heaven. But suddenly her memory was as sharp and real and painful as it had been the day of her funeral. He finally had to back away.
Then, remembering something else, he removed the envelope from his shirt pocket, found a large rock near the edge, and placed the letter beneath it. He looked up and saw Molly watching him, her eyes glistening. “For Billy Joe,” he said.
“Thank you.”
A few minutes later, when they started talking about going back so that Abby wouldn’t have to wait any longer for them, he shook his head. “You do that, and she’ll feel even more awful.”
Molly’s eyes were sorrowful. “Will she be all right?”
“Abby? Of course.” He let his voice drop into his cowboy drawl. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with being smitten by a good old dose of common sense every now and then. I’ll go back across and wait with her.” He flashed her a jaunty grin. “She’ll think it serves me right for being so cheeky with her.”
Without waiting for Molly’s response, he turned and trotted back the way he had come.
As he approached the east end of the spine and started to descend, a figure stepped out from behind a juniper tree. He gave a low cry and visibly jumped. Then he recognized who it was. “You came across alone?” he said in astonishment.
Abby just looked at him, unable to hide her elation. “I did.”
“What happened?” he asked.
“I met someone back there on the trail.”
His eyes widened. “Who?”
She looked him straight in the eye. “I met me, and I didn’t much like what I saw.”
He shook his head. “Amazing.” After a moment, he turned and looked back up the way he had come. “Do you want to go up top? It’s an incred-ible view. And it’s no problem from here.”
“Not really.” Her lips puckered into a disgusted expression. “Actually, my knees are still shaking so badly, I’d never make it.”
“Understood.” He teased her now. “How about going back across on your own, being the expert that you are now?”
She slugged him hard on the arm. “What? Are you insane?”
Back on the west side, they found a spot in the shade of a juniper tree and sat down to wait for the others. Neither spoke for a long time. Then, when the three figures appeared across from them, just starting down from the landing, she began speaking in a low voice.
“When I was eight years old, one day Molly and I were playing in a tree fort at our friend’s house. This was in a big old cottonwood tree, and the fort seemed like it was a hundred feet off the ground.” She smiled briefly. “Later I measured it. It was only ten feet.”
He turned to face her fully, surprised by this turn in the conversation.
“The only way up and down was on a rope ladder with loops in it. One day, just as I started down, I lost my footing. Fortunately, my foot was hooked in the loop. I fell headfirst, but it caught me, leaving me dangling there about eight feet up.”
Her eyes dropped. She barely whispered now. “Ever since then, I’ve been terrified of heights.”
He gaped at her, deeply shocked. “And yet you . . .” He could only shake his head. “Miss Abby, you are a wonder.”
She managed a shaky laugh. “Or insane. Like you.”
Note
^1. Angel’s Landing is considered one of the premier hiking trails in all of North America. From the top, the view is considered to be the most magnificent in all of Zion National Park. One would expect that it
As for its name, a minister who passed through the park in 1916 is commonly credited with calling it Angel’s Landing. But the Mormons had been in the area by that time for more than forty years. It seems more likely that they would have given Angel’s Landing its name, as they gave religious or scriptural names to many other features in the area.
Chapter 24
Wednesday, December 25, 1878
“Dad. Before you open your present, I want you to answer a question for me.”
John Draper raised his head. “What?”
“I thought for a long time about what I could get you for Christmas.” David pulled a face. “You’re not an easy man to buy for.”
“’Cuz Ah awreddy ’ave ev’rythin’ Ah need. Ya cumin’ up ’ere ta spend the holiday wit me is the best gift Ah cud ’ave received.”
“And for me too, Dad.” He coughed awkwardly, suddenly finding a lump in his throat. “I don’t know why, but ever since going to Cedar City, I’ve been thinking a lot about us. About being so far apart. Mum wouldn’t like that.”
“Ya got ta go whare the work is, Son.”
“I know, but . . . well, anyway, here’s my question. And I want you to really think about it.” He drew in a breath. “If you could have anything in the world—and I’m not just talking material things—what would it be?”
“Ta be closer ta ya.”
“No,” David chided. “We’re already working on that one. If you’re serious about quitting the mines, like we talked about last night, I’ll have you down in Cedar City two days later.”
“Ah be real serious about it, David. Lek ya say, fur sum reason, Ah be thinkin’ a lot aboot being t’gether, too. Maybe me sweet Annie is workin’ on the both of us. Be joost lek ’er, wudn’t it?” He was suddenly lost in his own thoughts.
“Come this summer,” David said softly, “it will be ten years since she left us. And ten years in the mines here. That’s enough.”
There was a gruff nod. “Aye. Since the Church sold the mine ta the coal cump’ny, it not be the same anymore. Ah be reddy, cum summer.”
“Wonderful. So, if you could have anything, any wish, what would it be?”
He looked at David for a long time, then finally shook his head. “Ah dunna know.”
“Yes, you do. Think about it. Would you like to go back to England, visit Yorkshire again?”
“No.” It came out fast and hard.
David grinned. “Me neither.” Then he sobered. “Except to see Mum’s grave. But other than that, there’s nothing there for us.”
“Nothin’ but trouble.”
“So, is there anything you’d like to do with your life?”
John sat very still for a few more moments. Then he began to nod. “Ah always wished Ah cud ’ave gone ta skoo-ul. Learned ta read an’ write, like ya an’ yur muther.”
“Aye,” David said, elated with that answer. “Ah was hopin’ that be what ya might say, ya old Tyke.” He got up, went over, and laid the brightly wrapped package on his father’s lap. He bent down and kissed him on the head. “Merry Christmas, Dad.”
His father hefted it, then looked up in surprise. “A book?”
“Open it.”
He did so, almost reverently. Tossing the paper aside, he looked at the book. It had a leather cover, but with no printing on it. He opened it, looked surprised, then began riffling through the pages. “Thare be nuthin’ in it.” He looked up. “Ahre ya playin’ a cruel joke on me?”
David laughed, took the book from him, and opened it to the first page, which was half covered in handwriting. “Would you like me to read you what it says?”
“Aye.”
“Dearest Dad. When I was six and became a trapper, Mum secretly gave me an extra candle each day, and brought me books from the circulating library in Barnsley.”
“Ha!” his father harrumphed. “She joost thought it was a secret.”
David nearly choked. “You knew?”
“Frum the first day.”
“Aye,” David whispered. “I should have guessed.” He took a breath, let it out, then went on. “It is time to share that gift with you. This empty journal awaits the time when you come to live with me. When you do, I shall teach you to read and write, just as Mum taught me.”
His father’s head came up. He was blinking rapidly and his eyes were glistening. “Do ya really mean that, Son?”
David nodded, not trusting himself to answer. He swallowed hard and continued, “Since I am often gone on the mail circuit, I have obtained the services of one Miss Elizabeth Morris, the local schoolteacher, who will tutor you three days a week. This book will give you a place to practice your writing lessons. My only request is that when it is full, the book comes back to me, as your gift, to be passed on to your grandchildren.” He took a deep breath, then finished, “With all my love, your son, David Draper.”
Thursday, December 26, 1878
Father and son embraced fiercely as the train whistle pierced the air. Their breath hung in the early morning air for several seconds before dissipating. Beyond the canopy of the train station, it had started to snow again.
“Sorry I can’t stay longer,” David said, finally pulling away. “Patrick’s telegram said he really wants me there for the stake conference this weekend. There’s something big brewing.”
“If Brother McKenna be gittin’ ya ta go ta church fur any reason, Ah be naw complainin’.”
David ignored that. “I’ll write.”
“You should ’ave left yes’day,” his father said. “Ahre ya sure ya can mek it back in time? Wudn’t want ya doin’ anythin’ ta displease Brother McKenna.”
That surprised David. “Why not?”
“Ya be ’appier now than . . .” He shrugged. “Dunna want ya losin’ it.”
“I . . .” David paused, then nodded. “Yes, I am. Cedar City is actually starting to feel like home.”
“Cudn’t ’ave anythin’ ta do wit that little filly named Molly, cud it?”
David laughed aloud. “Filly? Now you’re sounding like an American.” He laughed again. “However, I wouldn’t call Molly a filly to her face, if I were you.”
John nudged him with his elbow. “Joost answer the question.”
“Yes, I can make it back in time. I’ll be in Salt Lake before noon, and with that big silver mine opened down south now, the railroad runs all the way to Milford. Be there late tonight. Then it’s about fifty miles on horseback to Cedar City. I’ll be home tomorrow night.”
“That be naw the question Ah meant.”
David gave him another quick hug. “I know,” he smiled. “But here comes the conductor. Got to go, Dad. Love you.”
Friday, December 27, 1878
David figured it to be about half eight in the eveningq when he tied his horse in front of the McKenna House and dragged himself up onto the veranda. It was snowing lightly, and the night was cold enough that the snow squeaked beneath his boots. The lights of the hotel glowed a warm welcome, but he was disappointed to see that Patrick McKenna’s office window was dark. Not surprised, just disappointed. There was hardly anyone out on the streets now.
He stepped inside, expecting to see the night clerk or perhaps Carl Bradford, who often worked late as the assistant manager. Carl was there, but so was Abby. They were shoulder to shoulder behind the front desk going over a large ledger book.
“There you are,” Carl said, straightening. He put the pen down and immediately came around to shake David’s hand. “Welcome back. Good trip?”
“It was. Good evening, Abby.”
“Hello, David.”
“I know you must be tired,” Carl said, “but Patrick was really hoping that he could see you tonight, if it wasn??
David very much wanted to ask if it couldn’t wait until morning, but he just nodded.
Carl stepped to a row of pegs and retrieved his coat. “Patrick and Sarah are out visiting some people. It might take me a few minutes to find them. You’re welcome to wait in the office.” He waved and hurried out the door.
As he left, Abby came out to join David. “You do look tired,” she said. “Come sit down while you wait.”
They crossed the lobby, and Abby led the way into her father’s office. She rummaged in a drawer, found some matches, and lit the kerosene lamp. David dropped into a chair, extending his legs to their full length. They were still stiff after two days on a train and in the saddle.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but he really is anxious to talk to you. The main sessions of the stake conference aren’t until Sunday, but he and Carl have to be there tomorrow for leadership meetings. They’re leaving early in the morning on horseback. Dad’s hoping you could drive the rest of us up a little later in the carriage.”
He shrugged. “That’s not a problem. My next mail run isn’t until Wednesday or Thursday.”
She started toward the door.
“Sit down, Abby,” he said. “Talk to me so I don’t fall asleep.”
“I . . . I should finish the books.”
“I don’t hear them calling for you. With the door open, you can see if anyone comes in.”
She sighed. “I have been on my feet a lot today.” She walked around her father’s desk and took his chair. From there she could see out into the lobby as well as talk directly to David.
“Tell me about this stake conference,” he said. “Why in Parowan? I would think you had more members here in Cedar City than up there.”
“We have more members, David,” she teased. “Remember, you’re part of this stake too.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said sheepishly. “Keep reminding me.”
“Parowan was the first settlement here, and they have two wards, where we only have one.”
That made sense. “Your father’s telegram said there might be something going on.”