A Time of Fear and Death

A Time of Fear and Death
Written By James H. Martineau

In the summer of 1882, the small village of Show Low, in Apache County, Arizona stood upon the banks of the creek of that name, which is one of the tributaries of the Li5ttle Colorado River. Show Low obtained its peculiar name from the following circumstance:

The whole surrounding country was possessed by two men, Gentiles, whose herds roamed over its grassy hills and vales, but who after a time began to disagree, feeling that the estate, though large enough for one, was not big enough for two. They finally agreed that its sole ownership should be decided by chance. Sitting by a rude table in their cabin, after having been for some time engaged in card playing, they agreed to shuffle well the cards and each one cut; he who could show “low” to own the whole ranch. This they did, the loser departing contentedly to seek pastures new. And so from this little game of “Show Low” the place took its name.

Only eight Mormon Families dwelt here; and as farm land near by was limited in area, some of the men took up farms in the timber land or “forest” as it was called, some miles away. Among these were John Reidhead and wife, and Benjamin Samuel Johnson and Elvira, his wife; daughter of J.H. Martineau formerly and for many years a resident of Logan City, Utah who took adjoining f arms about seven miles from Show Low. Here they built a double log house in which both families lived during the time of planting, cultivating and harvesting their crops. When this labor was over, they would then return to the little village.

It was about the first day of June when the following tragic scenes were enacted: It was a season, apparently, of most profound peace with the Indians. Not a speck darkened the sky of the toiling settlers – not the faintest rumor of impending evil disturbed the quiet of their daily lives. They were busy as bees, clearing the land, plowing and planting, fencing and building, and already had made quite a creditable showing in the way of substantial improvement. But all this was suddenly to cease; trouble, fear and death were waiting to succeed this time of peace and prosperity.

While these two families of Johnson and Reidhead were thus laboring industriously and contentedly upon their lonely farms, unsuspicious of approaching danger, their guardian spirits one day gave them a gentle whisper, not sufficient to alarm them, but which caused them to find a place of safety, unknowing, themselves, the cause of their action. One morning after breakfast, Reidhead said, “I believe I’ll go down to Taylor and get my wagon fixed.” Said Johnson, “I think I’ll go with you.” Then said Mrs. Reidhead, “If both of you are going, I’ll go too.” “I too” said Mrs. Johnson. “Well,” said Johnson, “Let’s all go” “Yes,” said Mrs. Johnson, “and take the cows and everything.” And so, without any premeditation, and obeying a sudden impulse, but without any real or well defined reason, they did that which no doubt saved the lives of all of them.

They hitched up their teams, loaded up their household gear into their wagons, and with their cows and chickens went to Show Low, intending ere long to return. As the little party thus proceeded on their way to Show Low, Mrs. Johnson, an experienced pioneer, who had already passed through many dangerous and trying scenes with unflinching courage, relates that she felt a fear and unrest which caused her often to look over her shoulder – a nameless dread, which hastening events soon explained. Arrived at the little village-“What did you come in for? Any trouble?” said the surprised people. “No trouble, we just thought we’d come back for a little while.”

But there was trouble, though they knew it not. The dreaded Apaches had again broken out, and were even then upon the war path, plundering scattered settlers horses and shooting their stock. On Wednesday, June 1st, Brother Nathan Robinson, a resident of Show Low, was killed by Apaches, only 1 ½ miles from his home. Riding peacefully along the road, he say a small party of Indians gathered about a dead animal not far from the road; he rode up next to them and while examining the dead ox, was murdered, stripped, and his mangled corpse thrown into the creek and weighted down with stones.

Although no breath of ill rumor had as yet, ruffled the peace of the villagers, the wife of the murdered man felt a sad premonition and alarm for her husband all day- a fear which her neighbors endeavored in vain to dispel. With streaming eyes and wringing hands she exclaimed again and again-“My husband is dead! My husband is dead! I know he is killed!”

“About two o’clock the next morning,” says Mrs. Johnson, “I was suddenly awakened by a rough shake of the arm and the voice of a boy calling out: “Mrs. Johnson! Get up quick and run to the barn! The Indians have broken out. Run quick!” and away he sped to awaken others.” The night being warm, and her husband absent, she had made her bed out of doors, upon the ground. Hastily dressing, she snatched her child and fled to the barn – the rendezvous appointed – crossing in her flight a deep rocky gulch upon two long, slim poles which lay across it – a feat she would not have dared assay at any other time, as a misstep would result in almost certain death or broken limbs. Arrived at the barn, she found the people all gathered – three old men – the rest being women and children, whose husbands and fathers were away from the settlement. Who may know the agony of those helpless ones, as the night dragged slowly along; the nameless dread that their loved ones already might have been butchered, and the uncertainty of their own fate. With what intensity is every faculty strained – how many uncanny sounds they hear – or think they hear. With what piercing glances they fearfully peer into the surrounding gloom, fancying, every now and then, that they see dusky forms stealthily approaching. Tears dim their eyes and prayer fills their hearts as mothers look upon their darling children, and think, with a chill shudder, of what has been and of what may be again.

But while others were in dread, Mrs. Johnson was calm. Her husband and four year old boy were absent, and should, as he intended when he went to Taylor, have returned the day previous. No one knew what was hindering his homecoming. Should not she, too, be very anxious? Here is the key to her calmness – a little secret well worth knowing by the youth of Utah; she was a woman of faith, and had been trained from her youth that the Father hears and answers the prayers of those who trust in him; she went by herself and asked that if her husband and boy were alive and should return to her, that she might have the testimony of a peaceful mind and an assurance of their safety. She arose with this testimony in her soul, and thenceforward felt no fear, much to the surprise of her associates – a faith fully justified next day when her loved ones returned safe and unharmed. The writer mentions this little incident to impress upon the youth the fact that God is ever willing to hear and answer the prayer of faith and give peace to the troubled soul.

We will here mention that about 11 p.m. it was decided to send a messenger to Taylor, nine miles distant, for aid; but who would venture alone upon such a dangerous errand? Should one of the men go? There would be only two left to defend the helpless flock in case of attack; and how could a woman undertake such a fearful risk? But a boy of fourteen years – John Reidhead – volunteered and went. Every heart was filled with supplication to the Father that he might reach his destination in safety, for who could say that he might not fall into an ambush of skulking savages? As he sped along the rocky road, it seemed to the anxious listeners in the barn that the resounding clatter of his horse’s hoofs could be heard for miles, and must surely be heard by the Indians and bring them upon him.

He reached Taylor and informed Bishop Standifired of the danger of the people in Show Low. The Bishop seized his gun, stepped to the door and fired his piece as a signal of alarm. As the report echoed through the stillness of the night, men hastily sprung from their beds and hurried to the Bishop’s to learn what was the matter. A party of twenty men quickly volunteered to go to the relief of Show Low, arriving there about daylight, much to the joy of the waiting ones.

But Brother Nathan Robinson had not yet returned, nor did any one know aught concerning him. Parties well armed went out in search and were for hours unsuccessful, until someone, passing by the crystal stream, saw something under the water and under a pile of stones, that drew his attention. It was the body of Brother Robinson, stripped and mangled. Nearby they found some of his clothing. Tenderly, and sorrowfully, they laid his stiffened form across two horses, and so they brought him back to his sorrowing wife and children. Guided by the moccasin tracks of his murderers, they found the place where he had been killed, and where still lay the remains of the ox. They found too, the trail of his horse, where unsuspicious of danger, he had turned from the road and ridden up to a place occupied by supposed friends, but instead, he rode into the gloom of death. Who may know his thoughts, when suddenly assailed wounded and beaten to earth, he knew the hour of his death had come – his beloved wife and children to be evermore deprived of his loving, helpful hand! But his was not a solitary case; in this beautiful southern clime, such has been the fate of hundreds!

After some days it was decided to abandon Show Low. The people there were too few to hold the place; and other settlements near it were not strong enough to furnish constant aid. So willing hands and teams helped move the settlers to places of greater safety, some of whom never saw their homes again. Mrs. Johnson says that so it was with her and her husband; they abandoned home, farm, crops, a shingle mill and almost all they had, and were suddenly brought into a state of destitution. But with that innate irrepressible vitality, so characteristic of Mormonism, they yielded not to discouragement, but again set to work with stout hearts and industrious hands to repair their fortunes. And as it was with them, so has it been with many Mormon pioneers. They have indeed made the desert bloom, but its thirsty soil has been moistened by their tears, and their weary sighs have stirred in pity the leaves of the lone mesquite. But now the dawn begins to appear - the beginning of the end approaches; and soon shall the words of Father Jacob be fulfilled, and the seed of his beloved son possess the land he gave him.