Pioneer Stories - Amy Loader

                                                           

James Loader had died nearly a month before the last crossing of the Platte, leaving his wife, five daughters, and 10-year-old son to endure the most difficult part of the trek on their own. Telling of the family's trials on October 19, his daughter Patience wrote: "We came to the last crossing of the Platte River. [We] had orders from Captain Edward Martin to cross the river that afternoon and evening. . . . We started to cross the river and pull our own cart. The water was deep and very cold, and we were drifted out of the regular crossing and we came near to being drowned. The water came up to our armpits. Poor mother was standing on the bank screaming. As we got near the bank I heard [her] say, 'For God's sake, some of you men help my poor girls.' Mother said she had been watching us and could see we were drifting down the stream. Several of the brethren came down the bank of the river and pulled our cart up for us, and we got up the best way we could. . . .We had to travel in our wet clothes until we got to camp. Our clothing was frozen on us, and when we got to camp we had but very little dry clothing to put on. We had to make the best of our poor circumstances and put our trust in God our Father that we may take no harm from our wet clothes. It was too late to go for wood and water. The wood was too far away. That night the ground was frozen so hard we were unable to drive any tent pins and the tent was wet. When we [had taken] it down in the morning it was somewhat frozen, so we stretched it open the best we could and got in under it until morning."

The Martin company moved to Martin's Cove on November 4. To get to there, they had to trudge two and a half miles through the snow. Worse, they had to cross another river in wintry conditions. The pioneer trail's nine crossings of the Sweetwater River did not normally include this one, but Martin's Cove was off the trail, and the extra crossing was necessary to get there. Although the Sweetwater was not as wide or deep as the Platte, John Jaques wrote that "the passage of the Sweetwater at this point was a severe operation to many of the company. . . . It was the worst river crossing of the expedition."  

Recalling the last crossing of the Platte River two weeks earlier, many felt that they could not face a similar ordeal at the Sweetwater. Men and women shrank back and wept. Patience Loader said that when she saw the river, "I could not keep my tears back. I felt ashamed to let those brethren see me shedding tears. I pulled my old bonnet over my face so they should not see my tears." John Jaques provides the following account of a man who had a similar reaction: "When [we] arrived at the bank of the river, one [man], who was much worn down, asked in a plaintive tone, 'Have we got to go across there?' On being answered yes, he was so much affected that he was completely overcome. That was the last straw. His fortitude and manhood gave way. He exclaimed, 'Oh, dear! I can't go through that,' and burst into tears. His wife, who was by his side, had the stouter heart of the two at that juncture, and she said soothingly, 'Don't cry, Jimmy. I'll pull the handcart for you.'" As it turned out, rescuers carried both of them across. 

This crossing of the Sweetwater was the site of great heroism by some of the rescuers. Seeing how traumatized the people were by the prospect of wading through another freezing river, the rescuers carried many of them across. John Jaques identified four of these rescuers as David P. Kimball (17; son of Heber C. Kimball and brother of William Kimball), George W. Grant (17; son of Captain Grant), C. Allen Huntington (25), and Stephen W. Taylor (22).  By the time everyone was across, darkness was beginning to fall and these men had spent hours in the river. Recalling this service, Patience Loader wrote: "Those poor brethren [were] in the water nearly all day. We wanted to thank them, but they would not listen to [us]." Patience also reported that David Kimball "stayed so long in the water that he had to be taken out and packed to camp, and he was a long time before he recovered, as he was chilled through and [afterward] was always afflicted with rheumatism."

For many years before emigrating, Amy Loader had been in delicate health and was unable to walk even a mile. When she learned that she was expected to walk 1,300 miles—and to pull a handcart as well—she was understandably distressed. As a result, her voice against pulling a handcart is one of the strongest on record. Once she began the journey, however, she became a stalwart example of strength. After Amy Loader had walked more than 600 miles, her husband died. Looking ahead, Amy saw another 700 miles without a man to help pull the cart. The miles would be the most sandy, the most rocky, the most hilly—the most difficult even in favorable weather. They would include at least a dozen dreaded river crossings. Although Amy had already far exceeded what she thought she could do, she knew she would have to do even more. Besides bearing an increased burden of physical labor, she would be the sole parent in caring for her six children—all while grieving the loss of her husband. That three of her daughters were adults did not make their illnesses and struggles any less taxing for a loving mother. Amy Loader could have murmured or despaired. She could have told her adult daughters and even her younger daughters and 10-year-old son that they would have to pull her through. Instead, as conditions deteriorated, this 54-year-old woman of delicate health was one of the most resilient, resourceful, and hopeful people in the company. Patience Loader tells of her mother finding ways to keep extra socks and underskirts dry while crossing the rivers so her daughters could have some dry clothing afterward. Patience also tells of her mother finding creative ways to feed her children. But the depth of Amy Loader's love and influence is best revealed in the story of her dance at Martin's Cove. Patience recalled: "That night was a terrible cold night. The wind was blowing, and the snow drifted into the tent onto our quilts. That morning we had nothing to eat . . . until we could get our small quantity of flour. Poor mother called to me, 'Come, Patience, get up and make us a fire.' I told her that I did not feel like getting up, it was so cold and I was not feeling very well. So she asked my sister Tamar to get up, and she said she was not well and she could not get up. Then she said, 'Come, Maria, you get up,' and she was feeling bad and said that she could not get up." At that point Amy Loader would have been justified in raising her voice and desperately asking her daughters, "Do you want to die? Do you want me to die? Are you just going to lie there and freeze to death? Are you going to get up and do your part?" But there was no anger, no impatience, no frustration, no imposing of guilt—only this remarkable incident: Mother said, 'Come, girls. This will not do. I believe I will have to dance [for] you and try to make you feel better.' Poor, dear mother, she started to sing and dance [for] us, and she slipped down as the snow was frozen. In a moment we were all up to help [her,] for we were afraid she was hurt. She laughed and said, 'I thought I could soon make you all jump up if I danced [for] you.' Then we found that she fell down purposely, for she knew we would all get up to see if she was hurt. She said that she was afraid her girls were going to give out and get discouraged, and she said that would never do. . . . We [had never] felt so weak as we did that morning. My dear mother had kept up wonderfully all through the journey."

After being accused of apostasy for his family's objections to traveling by handcart, James Loader had declared his faith by vowing to pull a handcart even if he died on the road doing so. He ended up paying that price, dying near Ash Hollow, Nebraska. After thinking she could not walk even one mile, much less pull a handcart, Amy Loader walked nearly a thousand miles, riding in a wagon for only a brief time after her husband died and again after leaving Martin's Cove. James Loader's death left Amy with five daughters and a 10-year-old son to finish the most difficult part of the journey on their own. Amy could have become paralyzed by grief or bitter with resentment. After all, she had known better than to try this. Instead, she led and cheered even her adult daughters through times of starvation and frozen stupor. Largely through her faith and determination, she and all her children survived.

As we look at Amy Loaders story, as with all the pioneer stories, I see many lessons of faith and cheerful obedience. Her story made me think this week of the following quote by Elder Ballard:

And how will we feel then, as we stand shoulder to shoulder with the great pioneers of Church history? How will they feel about us? Will they see faith in our footsteps? I believe they will, particularly as they view our lives and experiences from the expanded perspective of eternity. Although our journeys today are less demanding physically than the trek of our pioneers 150 years ago, they are no less challenging. Certainly it was hard to walk across a continent to establish a new home in a dry western desert. But who can say if that was any more difficult than is the task of living faithful, righteous lives in today’s confusingly sinful world, where the trail is constantly shifting and where divine markers of right and wrong are being replaced by political expediency and diminishing morality. The road we travel today is treacherous, and the scriptures tell us it will continue to be so until the very end. But our reward will be the same as that which awaits worthy pioneers of all ages who live faithfully the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ, make right choices, and give their all to build the kingdom of God on earth.

I hope that as I face challenges in my life I can be as resilient, resourceful and hopeful as Amy Loader and that as I stand one day shoulder to shoulder with her she will indeed see faith in my footsteps. I see that as a worthy goal to strive for!

Have a great week!

Sister McHood