Amanda

By Jackie Gibson Villarreal

This book tells the story of the life of Amanda, her family, and those who lived around them. Together, they were a strong, devoted group.

All of them were here in a new country and had a new religion.

Sometimes giving too much information about the story ruins the whole story and leaves very little to your imagination to discover how surprised you’ll be at its conclusion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 31, 2019
• ISBN: 9781796013597

Jackie Gibson Villarreal

Jackie Gibson Villarreal Born in Utah, but raised in California. Growing up, her family lived on a farm. This was the best time of her life.She always loved writing short stories, but for some reason, when she started "Amanda" she just kept on writing and writing. She didn't want it to end. She hope whoever reads the story will feel the same. It made her laugh and it made her cry. Just like real life!

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

A feeling of suspense and anticipation filled the air as my elder brother Aaron, my little sister Melissa, and I sat around the kitchen table. We were anxiously awaiting the big announcement our father was about to make.

Mother sat in her rocking chair near the fireplace and gazed out the nearby window. All of us were sitting quietly as Father cleared his throat and stepped closer the table. Taking a deep breath, he began. Well, the time has come to tell you the latest news. We’re going on a great journey tomorrow morning. We’re moving! I realize this must come as a huge surprise, and I’m sure you are wondering where and why. As for where, the Dakota Territory. Before I tell you why, there is something I almost forgot tell you. The Stuart and the Swenson families will be leaving with us.

Aaron jumped up, almost knocking his chair over. Moving? What’s wrong with where we are? This will be the third time since moving to America.

If you would have given me another minute, I would have gotten to why we are moving. The fact is it’s no longer safe for Mormons to live in Missouri. During the past several months, there have been several raids on farms owned by Mormons. The fact is this type of raid has been going on for a very long time. Other than being Mormon, all the farms that have been raided are owned by a Mormon family. There is no other apparent reason for these raids. We don’t want our family to be among their victims.

Melissa, too young to understand what we were talking about, excused herself and ran across the room to be near Mother. Smiling as she picked Melissa up, she sat her gently on her lap and wrapped her securely in her loving arms.

No longer able to control my curiosity, I had to ask, What do you mean Mormon farms? I don’t understand.

There are people here who have taken it upon themselves to rid Missouri of all Mormons. This unfair assault on members of the church has been going on for quite some time. We haven’t been bothered because our farms are farther out than most of the other farms that have been raided. Just like the Swenson and the Stuart farms, we’re far enough out of St. Joseph. These raiders might not know we’re out here. That’s one reason we moved here.

Then we should be safe here, shouldn’t we? Aaron asked.

You children have no idea what mobs made up of angry men are capable of doing when they’re all fired up. This past winter mobs of angry men ran families out of their homes in the middle of the night, only allowing them to leave with the clothes they happened to be wearing. No shoes or coats. It didn’t matter if they were children or the elderly. There have been instances where male members of the church were tarred and feathered and sometimes run out of town on a rail, Father said, slightly upset by our questioning.

As I listened to Father, I realized he had reason to be concerned about his family’s safety. It wasn’t just his words; the expression on his face said it all. I glanced at Aaron, and I could see he was also troubled by what he had just heard.

So! We’ll be leaving in the morning? Aaron asked as he placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Father, why didn’t you mention this move before now? Why did you wait until the last minute before you told us anything?

I didn’t say anything before because there wasn’t any need to get the whole family in a panic before it was necessary. Taking a deep breath, Father continued. We need to get everything loaded into the wagon I pulled in front of the house earlier this morning. Aaron, you can help me get everything out of the barn, and then we’ll get the heavy stuff from the house loaded for your mother. Amanda, you can help your mother by keeping an eye on Melissa so your mom can get her packing done. With that said, he started out the door.

Aaron got up from his chair to join Father, and together they went outside. I looked across the room to Mother, who was still sitting quietly holding Melissa close to her. There was a look of sadness on her lovely face that overwhelmed me. I had to fight back the tears as I watched her and was filled with a need to say something comforting, but what could I possibly say that could take away the overwhelming sadness she was feeling? I got up and walked across the room. I love you, Mother. I bent down and hugged her tightly.

I love you too, Amanda, she said with a faint smile. "Will you watch Melissa for a while? I still have things to do before we go to bed tonight and so much packing that still has to be done.

Of course, I’ll watch her. She can help me pack all of our things, can’t you, Melissa? I quickly took hold of her little hand as she slipped down from Mother’s lap; together we went into our bedroom.

As we entered our room, we looked around to see where to start. Melissa looked up at me as she pointed to the corner of the room. Amanda, we can put everything in that old trunk, she said as she skipped happily over to where it was.

It didn’t take long to pack our clothes into the large trunk. We gathered all of Melissa’s toys and all the books we shared and placed them into the trunk as well. We looked around the room, checking to make sure we hadn’t forgotten anything. Not seeing anything but the clothes we planned to wear the next day, our hairbrushes, and a few other necessities, I pushed open the bedroom door a little wider and asked, Mother, what do you want me to do with the bedding?

Just fold the quilts and stack them on the floor. Father will be in soon to load your bed and that trunk into the wagon. You and Melissa can sleep on the quilts tonight. Be sure to keep your pillows with the rest of your bedding.

What about our dresser and Melissa’s little table? How is everything going to fit into that wagon? I asked as I looked at the furniture in our room.

We’re not taking it with us. Your father will make new furniture when we get to the Dakotas, and you were right! There isn’t enough room in the wagon for everything.

The rest of the day was spent packing. By late evening, when it was finally bedtime, I was beyond tired. I didn’t think I could lift or move one more thing. Besides being tired, I was filled with excitement and anticipation all at the same time. This was one night that I was actually ready to go to bed when Mother announced, It’s time for bed.

I couldn’t be more tired if I tried. I was looking forward to a good night’s sleep and dreams filled with adventure. I snuggled up in the quilts that were stacked on the bedroom floor, and Melissa was asleep as soon as her head hit her pillow. It wasn’t long before I, too, was sound asleep.

In the past, my dreams were sometimes a little odd, even weird, but they were never frightening. This night, however, my peaceful dreams were replaced by frightening images of men dressed in black. They were carrying torches that burned brightly in the dark night. I was being chased into the woods, and no matter how fast I tried to run, the men kept getting closer and closer. I felt like I was running in quicksand; my legs felt heavy and unresponsive to my desire to get away.

Again, I heard, Amanda! This time, it was followed by a gentle shaking of my shoulder. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, trying to focus.

The room was dark, except for a stream of light coming from the open door. Finally, I could see Mother kneeling next to me, smiling. She said, It’s time to get up, sleepyhead. She got up and walked to the door. Just as she reached to doorway, she paused. Amanda, would you please wake your sister and help her get dressed and ready for the long journey ahead of us?

Yes, Mother, I answered. I was so relieved she wasn’t one of the men in my dream. I would have gladly done anything she asked and without a single complaint. I looked at the small figure sleeping so peacefully. Her blond curls spread softly across her pillow. She looked like an angel. I smiled to myself as I thought, Only when sleeping!

I decided to let her sleep until I had dressed and had my hair brushed. I got up and walked to the open doorway. There in the light from the kitchen I could see a pitcher of water and a washbasin sitting on the bedroom floor. A small towel and a bar of soap lay next to the washbasin. Kneeling down, I poured a small amount of water into the basin and washed my face and hands. I quickly dried off with the small towel Mother left for us. I got up and walked to the window, opening it all the way. The crisp morning air felt cool and refreshing against my skin. With a sigh, I walked across the room to the doorway, picked up the basin of water, and returned to the window, tossing out the water.

My shoes and socks were lying next to my brush. Oh, bother! I grumbled as I sat down to put them on. Still sitting, I brushed my hair again and then braided it into a long single braid that fell to the middle of my back.

With that task done, I crawled to where Melissa was sleeping. Shaking her gently, I whispered, Melissa! It’s time to get up.

She sat up, stretching as she looked toward the window. It’s still dark. It’s still nighttime, she said as she flopped back onto her pillow, her curls flying.

Missy, we must hurry. Remember? We’re moving this morning. I was beginning lose my patience, what little I had.

Gosh! You don’t have to be so bossy. She groaned. I’m just a little girl, and it takes me a little longer to get myself moving. Gosh! Remember? I’m only four.

She got up, still protesting as I led her to the doorway and into the light. I poured water into the basin and helped her wash her face and hands. I then took her petticoat and dress off the door hook and slipped them over her head. As I was buttoning her dress, Melissa turned to me and asked, Aren’t you going to wash behind my ears?

OK! OK! I’ll wash behind your ears.

I no sooner finished washing behind Melissa’s ears than Mother called out from the kitchen, Don’t forget to wash behind your ears.

Melissa and I looked at each other and began to laugh. She whispered, "Why do mothers always say that?

I thought for a minute and then answered, I don’t really know. I guess it’s just what mothers do.

There in the light of the open doorway, I began to brush Melissa’s hair. We watched as Mother finished packing the dishes in a large barrel sitting on the floor next to her. She wrapped each piece carefully in old newspapers. When she finished, she looked around the large room to see if she had missed anything. Seeing nothing else, she placed the lid onto the barrel and then tightly secured it with a metal ring.

Melissa and I continued to watch as Mother slowly crossed the room to her chair, standing quietly as though remembering all the good times she had spent sitting on it, telling stories of years gone by.

I finished brushing Melissa’s hair, neatly parted it, and began to braid it into two braids. My mind wandered back to the wonderful stories Mother would tell us. We loved hearing stories about the times long before we were born. Times long gone but never forgotten! How she met Father and when they were married. One of the favorites was about how they met the Mormon missionaries and were converted. Shortly after our conversion, we moved to America to follow our new religion in 1838.

Mother had many memories to share with us. Sometimes, Father would tell his stories about his youth in Scotland. It didn’t matter to us who was telling the stories; we loved hearing our parents speak about the past. We looked forward to any time they would share their memories with us.

As Mother stood next to her chair, running her hands gently across the wooden back, I could see tears running slowly down her cheeks. Suddenly, she took a deep breath and continued with the task of getting all the things we were taking with us, ready to be loaded into the wagon.

Amanda, she called out, bring all the bedding out of your room and then just put them on the porch.

OK! I answered. Once again, I felt a need to say something to comfort her. I couldn’t think of one thing that would possibly make her feel better. With a sigh, I asked Melissa to bring the pillows, as I carried all the quilts out to the porch. She followed close behind, almost hidden by the large pillows she carried. Once on the porch, we stacked the pillows and quilts in a neat pile. We could see the sun slowly rising, giving an eerie glow to the ghostlike fog whirling upward from the fields below.

With my hand, I shielded my eyes from the glare of the sun so I could see more clearly. I saw Aaron coming from the barn with a team of horses. He had already put the harnesses and rigging on them. The sound of leather rubbing against itself squeaked, while metal rings and fittings clanked together, almost musically, as they make their way up the hill.

My attention was drawn once again to the barn. Father was carrying two torches in his hands. He threw one torch into the hay loft; the other he kept as he hurried around the perimeter of the barn, setting fire to the dry straw and hay he had placed around the barn earlier that morning. The flames quickly rose up the sides of the dry wood. It reminded me of a hungry dragon eating and licking its way up the sides of the barn. Flames shot up into the sky, sending hot embers and smoke everywhere the morning breeze would carry it.

Father ran up the hill, calling out to all of us, Make sure you have everything out of the house that you plan to take with us.

By now, Aaron had the team of horses hitched to the wagon and was loading the pillows and quilts into it. Then he walked into the house to help Mother with the barrel of dishes. It was so heavy he had to roll it out onto the porch where Father helped load it onto the wagon. Mother followed close behind, carrying her chair.

Oh! I forgot the water basin and pitcher, I called out.

I’ve already packed it in with the dishes, Mother answered.

Aaron tied our cow, Bess, to the back of the wagon, leaving her little calf to follow close behind. Then he led his horse, Cricket, around to where we were standing, waiting for further instructions. We quietly waited for Father to tell us what else he wanted us to do.

Amanda, you and Melissa get up on the seat and sit next to your mother, he suggested.

With Aaron’s assistance, we were soon sitting next to Mother. Then with little effort, he climbed onto the saddle and was sitting comfortably on his horse, Cricket.

We watched as Father walked into the house and proceeded to spread lamp oil on the walls and floor. He then set fire to the curtains in the windows. The fire spread quickly, and within seconds, the whole house was engulfed in flames.

Mother didn’t look toward the house as Father climbed up onto the wagon. Taking the reins in his strong hands and then with a sharp snap, we were on our way. Mother didn’t look back. She sat very still, her eyes fixed on the road ahead.

I turned to take one last look at our home. I could see smoke rising from two different directions in our little valley. The Swenson and the Stuart farms were now burning. Our house was totally burned within a few seconds, leaving nothing but smoking debris. I turned to Father and asked, Why are you setting fire to everything? I don’t understand.

Someday, you will completely understand, he answered. "As I told you yesterday morning, we have to leave our farm before we, too, are run off by a mob of prejudiced people who do not understand our ways. Leaving Missouri is difficult enough. We are also taking a chance by not joining the other Saints in their exodus from Missouri. Yet many Mormons stayed behind, not wanting to surrender everything they had worked so hard for.

"We could end up like so many Mormon families who had no knowledge of what was about to happen to them. As to why we are burning everything? We don’t want to leave anything these people can use. We also don’t wish to give them any satisfaction for their wicked deed.

Now, we need to get as much distance between us and the local citizens before they’re aware we have left. Our friends will be waiting for us on the other side of Miller’s Creek. Father was once again silent.

We rode for some distance, each in our own private world. Finally, Father broke the silence. I want you children to learn one thing about this whole experience. Never judge anyone by their religion, by their skin color, or by the place of their birth. Treat all people with the respect they have earned. I’m sure this is what our Heavenly Father would want us to do.

Just as I was about to say something, I could hear the sound of voices in the distance. In a cluster of trees near the creek, Brother Swenson and their fourteen-year-old twin daughters, Julie and Kristen, stood patiently waiting for our arrival. Brother and Sister Stuart, along with their three sons, seventeen-year-old Shawn, sixteen-year-old David, and fourteen-year-old Jared, were also there.

We came to a stop by the other wagons and got down from our wagon to join them. I could see Sister Swenson had been crying. Mother quickly walked over to her, placing a reassuring arm across her shoulders. We’re all going to be all right just as soon as we get to the Dakota Territory and far from here and all that has happened.

The Dakota Territory seemed so far away. My imagination began to conjure up all sorts of ideas. I wondered if we would be attacked by Indians, perhaps even scalped. I shook my head as I shuddered at the thought as we huddled close together. Father asked, Brother Swenson, before we get started, would you like to say a prayer for safe journey?

I would be honored, he answered.

I didn’t hear all of his prayer. Once again, my mind wandered off to the journey that lay ahead. It would be weeks before we got to our destination and weeks of traveling with the Stuart boys. I rolled my eyes at the thought. I then heard, Amen.

CHAPTER 2

Our small wagon train headed north, following the Missouri River. When supplies were needed, Father, along with one of the men, would venture into the small towns that were near. There, they would get any additional supplies that were needed so we could continue our journey north.

I was surprised how quickly the days passed. No longer just counting days, we were counting weeks. It was during this time, Julie, Kristen, and I became closer friends than we had been before. We spent most of our free time reading and sharing our ideas about the things that were really of interest to young girls. I would relate tales of knights and kings; they would tell me about their days in Sweden.

Every morning before heading out for another day on the trail, those of us who were of school age, including Melissa, gathered to study our lessons. This also included a few minutes to study the scriptures. This was for one hour, and during this time, the adults would go over their plans for the day.

We were like one large family. It was during one of these early morning gatherings that I heard about some Saints that left Missouri and were now in Ohio, along with Joseph Smith. I also heard Father, Brother Swenson, and Brother Stuart talking about the farm land they were able to purchase from an old friend of Father’s. His name was Mark Campbell. They discussed building houses, barns, and other outbuildings. They also discussed the necessity to get them built before the first snow fell.

I listened intently as I helped clean up the breakfast dishes with Mother. I noticed something else while I was standing next to her. This traveling must be good for me. I’m sure I must have grown at least a foot taller since we left Missouri.

Perhaps an inch or two, replied Mother. She chuckled out loud and sighed. As we stood closer to one another, she was now almost a head shorter than me. Mother walked away, still shaking her head in disbelief. You’re only twelve. I hope you don’t grow to be as tall as your father.

Personally, I didn’t think that was such a bad idea. I thought to myself, Father was over six feet tall. I could show those Stuart boys a thing or two. No more pulling and yanking on my hair. I laughed at the idea as I skipped happily off to find Kristen and Julie. Even though Julie and Kristen were a little more than a year older than me, they treated me as though I was the same age. Perhaps it was because I was taller, and they were small and petite, like Mother. Of course, this was my own personal observation.

Seeing me as I passed our wagon, Melissa ran up to me, taking a tight hold of my hand as she whispered, Can I come along?

I looked down at her and smiled. Sure, you can.

Melissa smiled, excited to be included with the rest of the young females. Look! I even brought my book of scriptures so I can help you girls with your lessons.

Well, Melissa! I’m sure we can use all the help we can get, I said. Then, smiling, I thought to myself, It takes so little to make her happy. Besides, how could anyone refuse anything this little girl asks for?

*   *   *   *

Julie and Kristen were sitting on a bench, patiently waiting. It seemed like we no sooner started to read than Brother Stuart called out, Time to get going for another exciting day on the road!

Well! That was really short, Julie said as she looked down at Melissa. Kind of like you, Melissa.

We all laughed good-heartedly, along with Melissa, as we helped gather all the benches and the rest of the mess we had spread around the camp. With the task done, we were on our way once again.

*   *   *   *

After several weeks of walking behind the wagons, I realized I didn’t particularly like being at the rear while all the wagons were moving. They created so much dust; I could hardly breathe, let alone see anything ahead of me or around me. I also discovered I couldn’t walk in front of the wagons, as Father politely pointed out, You walk too slow!

Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, we crossed the Missouri River and headed due west, now following the White River. We still hadn’t seen any Indians, and I was feeling a little disappointed.

I wonder what they look like, I thought out loud. Fortunately, no one was close enough to hear me.

The green tree-covered hills gave way to miles of rolling hills that seemed to be bare, except for a few clusters of buffalo grass scattered here and there. You could always tell where there was water of some kind. It was about the only place you could find a tree.

Aaron and Shawn rode ahead of the wagons as they scouted for deer and other wild game. They also kept an eye out for Indians. If they happened to be lucky enough to get a deer or some other game, we would all share it. They were both very skillful hunters, and it was something they both enjoyed doing together.

Julie and Kristen and I managed to keep busy reading, sewing, and helping our mothers with cooking and other chores. Mother was always busy with her chores, and she was also our teacher. I never ceased to be amazed by the way she could keep up with everything.

CHAPTER 3

It was July 12, my birthday. I was so excited; I could hardly wait for when it would be time to stop for the day. It wouldn’t be until after we had eaten supper that my family would celebrate my thirteenth birthday.

The day seemed to drag on for hours. Finally, we stopped to set up camp near a small stream that ran through a grove of cottonwood trees. In the shade of the trees, there was a slight breeze, making the leaves like small fans, cooling the late afternoon air considerably.

As soon as we had eaten our supper, Mother brought out some sugar cookies she had made the night before. To me, everything that evening was more than delicious. It was the best meal ever! Especially the cookies!

While we were still sitting, Mother brought out a large package wrapped in brown paper. On the package was neatly written, Happy Birthday! Love, Father, Mother, and Melissa. I carefully opened the package, and to my surprise, there was a beautiful neck scarf and a pair of mittens inside. The colors were bright blue, red, and yellow. Oh, thank you, I cried out. They’re just beautiful!

I helped Mommy knit those, boasted Melissa.

Thank you so much, I said as I bent down to give her a big hug.

Shyly, Aaron stepped forward, taking a small package from behind his back, and shyly handed it to me. It was wrapped in brown paper. Inside was a necklace made of small hand-carved wooden beads that looked like tiny roses. Each rose was about the size of a pea. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I stepped forward to give him a big hug, but he quickly stepped back and said, A simple ‘thank you’ is sufficient.

What a great birthday! It was way too hot to wear my neck scarf and gloves. I slipped my necklace over my head, proudly displaying it for all to see. By the time I had made my way around our little camp and had given everyone the opportunity to admire my great gifts and to wish me a happy birthday, it was time to go to bed.

It had been an absolutely marvelous day. The Stuart boys hadn’t tormented me for the first time in weeks. That alone was reason to celebrate. As I slipped under the blankets that were carefully laid out in the wagon, I smiled to myself as I reflected on the day. I said my prayers and quietly fell asleep.

*   *   *   *

Several days after my birthday, we were only about one week from our destination. By this time, we were all very trail weary and seemed cranky and very irritable. On this particular day, we made camp earlier than usual. It was a hot, dusty day. Even the animals were hot and tired.

After the evening meal and all the chores were done, Julie, Kristen, and I sat together, exchanging short stories we created. We could hear the boys running around, laughing at some mischief they were probably planning or had already committed.

Boys can be so immature, Julie said. Just listen to them.

Anyway, it sure doesn’t sound or look like they are. I carefully shifted myself on the barrel I was sitting on. Julie and Kristen were sitting next to each other on a long bench.

Suddenly, without warning, Jared came running from behind our wagon, yelling wildly. As he passed by me, he yanked on one of my braids so hard that I lost my balance and fell back off the barrel. I landed on my rear like a rock, my legs flying up in the air.

Horrified, the twins ran over to me, bending down and asked in unison, You OK?

It took me a second to catch my breath. I got up, brushed the dust from my clothes, and answered, I’m just fine! I looked around to see where the boys had gone. They were standing by the Stuart wagon, bent over in roaring laughter. Aaron was standing close by. He seemed to be between a rock and a hard place, not knowing exactly what to do or say.

I took a deep breath, and without another word, I marched straight toward the group of boys, stopping in front of Jared. Pretty funny, huh? I asked, looking Jared straight in the eyes. He was still laughing, which irritated me even more. It wasn’t funny! Before I could control the urge, I doubled up my fist and punched him right between the eyes.

Jared bent over in pain. His nose began to bleed. He yelled, Look what you’ve done to my nose. You broke it!

The other boys just stood there, as if in shock. The twins stood in place, not even a twitch, with their mouths wide open and their eyes as big as saucers. By now, the whole camp had run over to see what all the commotion was.

Sister Stuart wrapped her arm around Jared, trying to comfort him as she held a rag up to his nose with her free hand.

It was Amanda! Jared groaned.

Things happened so quickly I hardly had time to realize what I had done. I saw Mother. She was heading my way. She was definitely not pleased with me. Amanda Parker! I can’t believe you did such an awful thing, she said in disbelief. You apologize to Jared.

But, Mother! I couldn’t believe she wanted me to apologize.

Now, Amanda! she insisted.

I held my head up as I walked to where Jared was standing. He took a step back, as I approached.

I’m sorry you got a bloody nose. I was only slightly apologetic. Realistically, I wasn’t a bit sorry.

Jared just glared at me. His brothers looked at me as if they, too, were in shock. Mother grabbed my hand as she led me toward our wagon. You are to go straight to bed! And be sure you say your prayers. Before turning to leave, she added, You ask the good Lord to forgive you.

But, Mother, I said as I tried once again to explain. I wanted her to understand why I did what I did. Of course, there really wasn’t any good excuse for punching someone, even Jared.

Not another word, Amanda was the last thing Mother said before I climbed into the wagon. Once inside, tears began to stream down my cheeks. I was feeling very sorry for myself. I realized that punching Jared wasn’t one of my better ideas. Planned or not planned. However, just thinking about the expression on his face when I punched him and the shocked look on Shawn’s face and David’s made the experience almost worth the trouble I was in.

After washing my face, I put on my nightgown. With a deep sigh, I turned down the covers and crawled into bed. Before I had a chance