September 15, 1857
I overheard Momma and Father talking again, and this time he said that the Nauvoo Legion has been activated. Again. His words raised the hairs on the back of my neck and I was reminded of one of my earliest memories.
I was probably only three years old at the time. I remember we lived in a house with yellow walls. Momma's lace curtains, the same ones she uses in our house here in Deseret, hung at the windows. I asked about it once, and Momma said that the house with yellow walls was in Nauvoo, in a place called Illinois.
It was cold out, nighttime, and when Father opened the door and came in, snow swirled in with him. I was so happy to see him. He picked me up, so I could reach the little toy soldier that Momma had put on a high shelf.
Just as I grabbed it, a pounding came on the door, and a gruff voice. It turned out that it was Brother Orson Pratt, come to warn us that a mob was approaching. Brother Pratt, I learned much later, was a member of the Nauvoo Legion. Father went outside to talk to him, and Momma started bundling me in warm clothes.
Sure enough, just as Brother Pratt had warned, the mob soon arrived, bearing torches and shotguns. They asked if we were Mormons, but Father would not answer.
We were able to escape that night, but I don't know how. Momma hid me and my little brother under blankets in a wagon. All I remember was the jostling and the shouting and the sound of fire crackling behind us as Father drove the team away.
And now that the Nauvoo Legion has been activated again, and the soldiers are swarming all over Salt Lake--well, I don't know what will happen now. We had to flee from Nauvoo, and I wonder if we will have to leave this place as well.
It seems we are destined to be always on the run.