The Gift From Salt Lake

by Effie W. Adams

Isabell glanced out the back of the canvas cover of her wagon-box home. Her look was anxious as she scanned the pink ledges which lined the road into St. George. She had expected William back from conference in Salt Lake a week ago. The late October sun was still hot in St. George and the wagon box was uncomfortable, but if she opened the cover the sand blew in. However, the floor where the baby and little Will played was cool. William had placed the wagon box on the ground and banked the sand up around the lower sides. He traveled in the bare wagon frame which was the usual mode of conveyance for those who traveled to Salt Lake. The oxen pulled it easily and they could bring back a load of supplies from the tithing office.

Isabell turned from the opening and picked up the baby to gt ready for the Thursday fast meeting. He whimpering because of the restraint of his long denim dress and a desire for attention. With one practiced free hand Isabell broke off a couple of small pieces of bread and put on a drop of sorghum. Twisting them into small lumps she tied them into the corner of the small white rag. They would help keep the baby quite during fst meeting. She put them into the deep pocket of her heavy denim dress. It was from the same material as the baby's dress, as was the suit William had worn to conference, as was also Little Will's pants. The material had come to them through a lucky trade with a trader who had come through on his way to California and needed food. William hadn't wanted to trade with him because Brother Brigham discouraged trade with outsiders, but Isabell had dared express reluctance to let anyone go from her home hungry. Seldom did she offer any idea that opposed William's. He was stern and would wither her with a glance if he thought she was presuming to not recognize his place as head of the household.

Isabell had seen into the pack of the man as he unrolled the denim. He had shoes, some jewelry, two shining pans, and carefully wrapped inside the bolt of denim was a mirror. Isabell knew William would disapprove any interference, so she dared not step close enough to look into it. She hadn't looked into a real mirror since she left Scotland a dozen years ago. As a young girl she had seen many of them reflecting the color and beauty of the old castle where her mother worked as a maid. Now she had a brief longing to see her own fresh beauty, her lovely soft skin and shining hair as she remembered herself.

Now she hurried to finish preparing for the fast meeting. She set the baby Edward down, brushed over Will's face with a damp cloth hung on a spool behind the washstand box. Then she combed her own hair and pinned it tightly into a round flat layer which had become her say of subduing it. She wondered absently if William would mind if she tried a new style like Miriam Snow's frizzed bangs, or Abigail Haight's puffed side sweep. But without a mirror she would never dare. She must be the first to see herself.

She picked up the baby, took little Will's hand and hurried along the dusty road to the meeting house. She placed on the table by the door three potatoes as her fast offering. She felt lonely without William even though he always came early and sat on the side with other presiding brethren.

Miriam Snow waved to her from across the room. Miriam was sitting with her husband's other three wives surrounded by their children, and her own baby was on her lap. Isabell waved back, then settled the little boys in the seat beside her. She tried to think about the coming sermon but suddenly gave a quick giggle.

"Oh, I mustn't think that," she whispered to herself. How dared she feel this surge of relief that although she was alone, she did not have to share her husband with other wives.

When the meeting ended Miriam hurried to meet Isabell outside the door. "Captain Averett and John Chidester got in late last night. Did they tell you William would be here tonight?"

"No," said Isabell, "I guess they didn't have time to stop."

"That's funny," said Miriam, "They said two or three times that he was bringing a gift for you and wanted to let you know."

"I guess they know you'd tell me," laughed Isabell.

"They said he had a load of things for the tithing office, so I guess he wouldn't have room for much else," volunteered Miriam.

She seemed to wish Isabell would give her a hint of what she was expecting from Salt Lake. William was not known for his generosity. In fact, quite the opposite, and everyone know he would not sacrifice one inch of space on his wagon on which he could carry church goods to satisfy his of his family personal wishes.

As Isabell walked quickly toward the wagon-box home she thought of the gift coming from Salt Lake. Could William for all of his careful frugality be bringing some new material to relieve the monotony of the blue denim? For she let her mind linger on the mirror she had seen inside th bolt of denim but she had not been able to look into. The material - - a very dim and questionable "maybe." The mirror, a firm and unalterable "no."

As she walked quickly to the wagon-box home she wished she culd clean windows sparkling clean, and lay an white cloth on a table filled with good things to eat to welcome William home. But these things she did not have, and even if she had them she know William would be stern in voicing his reprimand for extravagance.

Putting the children inside, she hurried to the slow trickling spring with a bucket. She brought back precious water and sprinkled the ground around the entrance to the wagon. William would chide her for wasting the water, but she was anxious that the sand be packed and not be tracked into the wagon box. She patted the sand with the back of the shovel until it was smooth and a damp smell came from it. She stepped carefully so as not to mar the smooth surface. Turning backwards she smoothed out her footprints behind her, making little scalloped rings with the end of the shovel.

"That will show William the way to the door in case he's forgotten this long time he has been gone." She talked to herself often when the children were not with her. She loved being alone at times and hugged to herself the luxurious feeling of privacy she so appreciated. She often laughed sympathetically with Miriam who came often to visit saying she just had to get away from the other wives.

Isabell lifted the wagon cover and went inside. Their belongings were not many. In the small box they were stacked along both sides and one end until there was only room for a step or two in the middle where the children played and where she moved to prepare meals.

The children's bed was high in the end above the big box William built when they left Ogden. He had filled it with seeds and his fruit trees when they came down, but now it held her small store of household items including the quilt and precious down pillow her mother had given her when she (Isabell) was married. Her mother's down tick, precious pillows and other beloved items were thrown over board out of the New York harbor when they came from Scotland. Elder Willie had instructed everyone that the best way to travel to Zion was by handcart, and they were allowed 32 pounds which would not allow much room for bedding. However, one pillow and quilt had been carefully held back by Ellen. No good Scotswoman ever sent her daughters into marriage without the makings of a good bed and this much Isablell must have.

She hurried to feed the children their flour mush. She kept back the sorghum usually used to sweeten it so there would be extra for William's supper when he came. The little boys fussed about eating but she coaxed and helped until their bowls were emptied. If they didn't eat their mush for supper they fussed during the night and cried for something to eat. After they were asleep on their bed shelf she pulled out the tick which she and William used for their bed. She fluffed it and brushed off the sand carefully then folded it back on the chest.

She heard the clank of a wagon coming, and the blowing of the oxen as they pulled it. She hurriedly went over her little wagon-box, straightened everything. She pulled the covering the covering as far as she dared over the children's faces so they would sleep. She wanted these first few hours alone with William. She moved to the entrance to welcome her husband. He was climbing down from the seat of his wagon with a flat package in his arms. He held it carefully. Isabell started to go out to greet him but he was striding toward her. He seemed in a hurry and she wondered fleetingly if he could be as glad of their reunion as she was. He didn't kiss her. He never did. He handed her the package as he climbed into the wagon box.

"A gift for you," he said. "Didn't think we were going to get here with it, but I'm sure it isn't broken.

Isabell unwound the wrappings. She was so excited her fingers trembled. William was looking at the children and straightening the covers on them. Then he stood and smoothed his beard as he always did when he was nervous. The warp was off and Isabell turned over the flat object in her hands. It was a mirror! She could not believe William had succumbed to this extravagance. Carefully she held it without looking into it.

"This is the most wonderful thing you could bring me. You didn't meed to bring me a gift. Just you for myself is all I want, but I do appreciate it." There were tears in her voice.

William cleared his throat nervously. "Well we were careful with it. Mary carried it on her lap all the way from Salt Lake."

Isabell looked up quickly. "Did you bring another family down with you? I thought you would be loaded with tithing goods."

"No," said William, "No other family. Just another gift for you." He turned and again straighted the covers on the children.

"Isabell, Mary is my wife. We were married in Salt Lake three weeks ago." For just a minute his eyes looked pleadingly at Isabell, then he put on his armor of sternness. His English accent became very sharp as it did when he exerted his authority in church meetings.

"I will bring her in then take the goods to the tithing office. Get us some supper, and make her a bed in the wagon box. You have extra bedding." He looked at the chest where her precious quilt and pillow lay. He gave her no look or touch as he went past her to the wagon.

Turning back before he reached the wagon he said, "I'll put up the tent tonight, and tomorrow you can hang a curtain partition across the wagon box."

Isabell still held the mirror close to her.

"Yes, William," she said as she always had and always would. "Yes, William." Then she held the mirror away and looked into it. She saw that her hair was grey, her eyes were red rimmed and tired, and her skin was the color of th road dust outside the wagon box.

(This is a story of a true incident in the life of William Wadley, Isabell McKay Wadley, and Mary Byard Wadley.)