The cavalry

Not long after the raid above mentioned, we formed a company of cavalry, known as Minute Men. At the origination John Hunt was chosen captain and I was chosen as a Lieutenant. We had to furnish ourselves with a horse and saddle, gun, pistol, and ammunition at our own expense and be on hand at a moment's call. When the bugle called we dropped everything, mounted our steeds and met on the public square ready for service, to go where we were sent. We had to drill every Saturday afternoon. When on picked guard or on a raid we had to furnish our own grub or go hungry. For several years we kept this up. We, the cavalry, guarded from Pine Creek on the north to Fremont on the south, day after day, sunshine or storm. We were out two to four or often as many as ten at a time, watching for Indians to keep them as much as possible from raiding and stealing our stock, and perhaps killing some of our people. I think I am safe in saying that I was out on every raid; some I will mention: when they killed Jim Low's ox; when hunger was gnawing, killed a calf belonging to Bill Smith; the Lee raid; the time we found a pistol and some meat; one when Cap. Hunt ordered us to camp under a large cedar tree in an opening on a clear moonlight night. We had followed this trail as long as we could that night; took it up the next morning as soon as light. One, the Lee raid, I was about the fifth or sixth man at the scene of the fight. At South Creek, Lee had a fight with the Indians. Two were killed. They attacked them at daylight in the morning. Joe Lilleywhite was shot through the right breast, but not killed. He lived for several years after. The Indians set fire to the roof of the house. The women put it out with milk. They happened to have a good supply in the house.

I only went to about halfway through the Dog Valley Canyon. One of the parties horses gave out. I was riding a little mare that was so tender footed that she could hardly walk without limping. Captain Hunt ordered me and another man to stay with the give-out and the two men of us to get home the best we could. Jim Anderson and myself walking and leading our horses made home sometime in the night, two or three o'clock. We passed within some two rods of where an Indian was found dead under a cedar tree. Had he been alive when we passed he most likely would have taken a shot at us, or perhaps there being two of us he would let us pass.

In the year of 1865 a party of us were ordered to go to Fort Sanford to relieve the men that had been guarding the Sevier County. We only stayed in Sanford two or three nights when ordered to Circleville to guard the settlement there 'till the people could move away. We were away about one month on that expedition and glad to get home.

The company was formed about the year 1861 or 1863 and continued in service until about 1867. Most every year the companies, both cavalry and infantry, were ordered out to a grand muster, all from St. George on the south to Beaver on the north, and we had to go or be court-martialled, leave one's work, no matter how pressing. The last grand muster held at Harmony, I had a good time. I belonged to the Beaver Martial Band and was excused from drilling, guard mountain, etc. We furnished our share of music. Others did the guard duty. I took my wife and children along this time. They enjoyed a treat. I think this was in the year of 1865 or 1866. Remember, we had to furnish ourselves, no one put up a cent. Don't you think the government should give us old standbys a pension? I do. We were pioneers in the desert. We made it possible for others to come and enjoy the fruits of our hardships and trials, but very few will give the old pioneers much or any credit for what they have done for them. Our sons and daughters can hardly believe what we passed through: hunger, cold, scant living, meager or poorly clothed, sleeping on the cold hard ground, many times clear the snow off the best we could and camp down. When not scouting we would have to guard the town. At night when on scout duty we would appear to camp for the night in some open spot, hobble our horses out to graze, make fire, get our supper, as soon as it got dark we would saddle up and move a mile or two, hold our horses and not turn them out that night again. One would sleep awhile, while the other watched and listened. Then the other would sleep. There were always two together or more, never less than two. Sometimes there would be a guard or scouting party of ten or fifteen. They would camp as I have stated, after dark move to a certain place, fixed upon before leaving home, where the guard that was to relieve them would meet the first ones at midnight. All of this was done with as little noise or confusion as possible. When out like that we were never sure that we would bring our scalp home with us.

Our company even went so far as to get uniforms and armed ourselves with sabers which cost, oh I can't tell how much, enough you may be sure. We needed a drill master. There was one Dan Martain, but he had no horse, saddle or bridle. We took the matter and bought him a complete outfit and made him a present of it. In return he put us through our paces, I tell you.

I must tell one incident that was quite amusing. We were drilling one day when the order came to draw sabers and charge. One man by the name of Nelson had a horse that was kind of slow or lazy. To hurry him up a little he hit him a whack across the rump, the blow broke his saber leaving about a foot in his hand. If that wasn't a funny scene, him charging a foe with about a foot of broken saber. I will leave you to imagine the rest and how we did laugh when we came to rest.

With all our hardships, we had our pleasure. Our military balls were something to look forward to.

Invisible terror

There is one incident that happened during our raids or scouting that I would like to have had explained. There was a party of some twelve or fifteen of us. We had stopped or camped at one of the springs in Buckskin Valley. We broke camp and started to cross the valley. At the south end of the valley is a large grove of cedars. They extend down the valley in a V shape getting thinner and further apart as they reach about mid-way. We were crossing at the lower end of these cedars. Where we crossed they were scattering and far apart. As we arrived at the end and about halfway across, the dogs, we had three with us, made a furious rush ahead of us, barking and snarling as though some enemy or beast was there. We immediately drew our guns and scattered out, we had been all bunched up, talking and laughing.

Indians, was the thought of each of us. The next was to be ready for an attack, but none came. The dogs came sneaking back whining, with their tails between their legs, their bristles standing straight up, no they were not straight up, they leaned forward. The owners of the dogs set them on again. They went some ten of fifteen feet and back they came, whining almost scared to death and would not leave the horses, but got as close to them as they could, almost stepping on them. I have never seen, before or since, dogs as scared as they were. They whined and whined as if something was going to harm or kill them. They were in perfect terror. They were to be pitied.

We could see nothing, enemy or anything, that looked anyway dangerous. There were no large bushes or trees where they could hide; nothing but sage brush with now and then a scrub apple bush or sarvice berry bush. We hunted and circled around and around, but nothing larger than a lizard or chipmunk did we find, not even a hole where anything of size could hide. This has always been a mystery to me. I would like some wiseacre to tell me what those dogs saw; what scared them and made them tremble so. They saw something that we could not see.

Hard work

The first year in Utah, there wasn't a day that I wasn't on a horse, looking after our stock and herding cattle or horses. I herded the horse herd with one Charles Bills for one month to pay for stock being herded by others; any balance over, I was to be paid for. I never received a dollar for my extra work. We had to take the herd out to feed at daybreak in the morning; herd them all day 'till sunset, bring them in and put them in the corral for the night. If anyone thinks this wasn't lonesome and dangerous work, try it; then the danger from attack by Indians and perhaps lose all the herd and our scalps. As good luck would have it, we never lost a head.

The road up Birch Creek was made when we arrived, but it would wash out every spring. I helped repair it every time. That was the only way we had then to get house logs and saw logs and poles, which we had to have. The logs made our houses. The poles fenced our fields. The way we fenced our fields was, they were surveyed in one large field, the land divided among the people. Each party put up fence according to what land they owned. Thus our fields were protected with very little hardship to anyone. In after years each fenced his own separately.

Our ditches were made by each doing their portion of work; no person claiming that they did more than their share. All worked together in harmony. All the right we had to land was a squatter's right. After the land was surveyed and came into market, persons homesteaded it and divided it up and gave each their deed, the claimants paying what it cost to homestead. By being honest, one with another, each got their right.

Being in need of more saw timber, Birch Creek being almost logged out, some eight or nine of us made a road up North Creek Canyon, from the mouth to the swamp. Shepherd put up a sawmill on North Creek. I with others hauled many saw logs to the mill and had them sawed into lumber to make our homes more comfortable.

As lumber became more valuable, it became necessary to open new fields. Indian Creek offered a good site for a mill. One Willis Coplan offered to put in a number one circular sawmill if the people would build a road or help build one. The people turned out and built the road. I worked on the road from the mouth of the canyon to where he put his mill. After some years, Indian Creek being worked out, up the Beaver River offered a splendid chance, there being an enormous amount of saw timber. The next question was road. It was a hard proposition to tackle a road up there. Finally, Kane Canyon was selected as the best and only route, as Coplan said it was impossible to build a road up the river. It looks different now, don't it? An auto road. Cop said that the only way to get through the narrows was to bridge it all the way through.

All this work was done free. We furnished our own tools, and food, and bedding. The food we cooked on the campfire. Our bed was two or three quilts laid on the hard ground and two or three to cover us, no tents to protect us from the rain or cold. If it rained or snowed we had to take it as it came. Many nights I have lain in wet bedding, shivering with cold.

Building a school house

As time rolled on and children increased in number, it was necessary that we have more room. The people of the south west of the town met and decided to build a school house. After debating the question pro and con, it was decided to build a log house. Some four or five of us volunteered to furnish teams and haul the logs. We went up south creek for them. That evening as we sat around the campfire we discussed the question of building the house of logs or lumber. We came to the conclusion that lumber would be much better, provided we could make arrangements with Edward Thompson, who owned and operated a sawmill, not far from where we were camped. We soon made arrangements satisfactory to all and instead of logs we loaded up with lumber.

Thompson, being a carpenter, he made out a bill of what was needed to complete our school house. I labored on the building from hauling the lumber out of the canyon until the completion of the building, even making benches and desks, all of this without one dollar of recompense in any shape or form. I helped build the central school house, the rock house, The Park Building, meeting house, all on the same terms, via 0-0-0.

The telegraph

In the year 186? the leaders of the church, seeing the necessity for quicker communication between the different settlements in the territory, on account of the Indian depredations, etc., constructed the Deseret Telegraph Line, connecting city, town and village on the line with instruments and operators. The church furnished the wire, instruments, etc., each county putting up their share of poles. It was surveyed and found how many poles it would take, then how many families in the county, then how many poles to the family. Beaver's share was light to what some were, only three poles, lots were drawn where the poles were to set. We, father and I, were in luck, our stunt was down Main Street. I took two yoke of oxen and a heavy wagon and went to the canyon and brought out a load of poles. We used what we needed then sold the balance. Having some pride, we put up the very best poles we could get. While this was going on, they opened a school of telegraphy in Salt Lake City to prepare operators to take charge of each office as fast as one was opened. S. A. Kenner was in charge of the office in Beaver with the privilege of learning someone to take his place that he could return to Salt Lake City. Of course, he with others, were anxious to return. William Ashworth and I were requested to learn the code which we did in a short time by studying almost day and night. We were not first class, but the line being new and many operators no better than we, we managed first rate, as we were learning all the time. We managed to get along well. We managed the office for over one and a half years with not as much as thank you for our labor, same price as the rest of my labor.

Building the temple

In the spring of 18??, I with W. G. Holt, Charles Harris, and George Hales Jr. were called to go to St. George as carpenters to labor on the temple; I having learned the trade fairly well. I furnished a team and wagon and took two of the men, Holt and Harris, and a load of plastering hair from our tannery here in Beaver. We labored there three weeks, intended to stay a month but were subpoenaed as jurors and had to return. In this labor we fared much better than in other donations, for we got our board and lodgings, which was something out of the ordinary. I was not a first class carpenter but Holt was, so he had me work at the same bench with him; double bench. By that arrangement I passed as First Class Hand. We were credited with four dollars per day. In connection with this is an incident that I expect I ought not mention as it shows the selfishness and untruthfulness of one who should have set a better example in the position of a man of his calling.

A promise broken

I, with two other carpenters, were working on a meeting house. The agreement with the (church) president was that we should donate one half and he would pay us for the other half. Flour was very scarce and hard to get. In the agreement I was promised one hundred pounds of flour without fail. When I was loaded and ready to leave, we shook hands with a "God bless you." I said, "Brother M., you won't forget that flour, for the folks have only enough to last them about one week." He said, "Brother Skinner, don't worry. I will see that you get that flour if I have to take it out of my own bin and carry it on my back to your folks." This president, be it remembered, was wealthy; not like me, poor. I went on my mission believing at that time that he was a man of his word, but I soon found out different, he being a President in Zion.

Did the family get that flour? Not much! The children went to bed hungry for the want of bread, and would still be, as far as he cared. I had a friend that I had labored for, but our agreement was that he could not pay me any flour as he had two families to feed. He accidentally heard the condition of my family. He rustled around and secured two sacks of flour, gave one to my wife and children, and divided the other sack between his two families. Which was the better man?

When I returned and found out how I had been treated I asked the most honorable and good President, "Why did you not deliver that flour as you promised?" His answer was, "I couldn't take it out of my bin and carry it down, etc." I said, "You promised me faithfully that you would." His excuses would almost make one sick to hear him. That flour hasn't come yet nor the balance of my pay. That was the most honorable J. R. M.

Return east

In 1876 and '77, I performed a mission to the New England states. I labored in Massachusetts, Maine, and Vermont. It was hard sailing for the elders, as John D. Lee was executed while I was in the field. The elders had the Mountain Meadow Massacre to meet everywhere we went. It lost us many a meal and bed. We often had to ask as many as twelve to eighteen times before would be invited in and given a meal and a bed. Remember, we were traveling and preaching without purse or script. One Sara Robinson was my traveling companion. Being as I was at the trial of Lee and heard all the evidence, I was able to give a correct account of the horrible affair. After hearing my explanation as it was given in the court room, it made a big difference in the feelings of those we met. We were enabled to lay a great amount of prejudice and gained for us many friends, for which we were truly grateful. The prosecution in the Lee case tried to bring in that the leaders of the church knew and sanctioned the deed. But, it was proven that they were in no way responsible for the act. in fact, they condemned it in strong terms.

When we were set apart for our mission in Salt Lake, we were told that we would not be able to do much public speaking. Our labors would be mostly fireside talking, which we found to be true, as we only held some four or five public meetings during all the time we were in the field. We were instructed to gather all the genealogy we possibly could of our respective families, which I did to the best of my ability. If I had had money, I could have done better, no doubt.

Hardly to be believed

I was granted the privilege for visiting first my relatives in Chelsea, near Boston; Mother's sister, Aunt Francis Spinney and family. You may set it down as a fact that they were much surprised and pleased to meet again, as Aunt said, "Little Horace", as she remembered me in childhood. It was a happy meeting after some thirty five years of separation; and so much to talk about; and how strange for those eastern people to listen to tales of the wild old woolly west; and then the questions that were asked and answered; hardships told and wondered at. They could hardly realize the tales told of our travels and adventures since leaving the states. In their eyes it was marvelous, hardly to be believed.

James H. Skinner, 1915
 
 

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