I was a Mormon girl for most of my life. My immediate and extended family are a stronghold of devout members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (the preferred name for the religious organization). I grew up singing songs about pioneer children crossing the plains with handcarts. I learned about the heartbreaking stories of Haun’s Mill and Winter Quarters, where violent mobs killed and harmed Mormons for their religious and political beliefs. I read The Book of Mormon, attended Brigham Young University, married in the temple, and served as a Relief Society President.
I was a believer, through and through. So were my ancestors—several of whom inspired main characters in this novel. Lucrecia (Lucy) Robison and Joseph Robison Jr. (who I renamed Vick to avoid confusion with the other key Joseph in this story) are my great, great, great grandparents. The Robisons helped settle Fillmore, Utah, and their apple orchards still grow there today. Proctor Hancock Robison was my great, great, great uncle.
Lucy was a devout woman who did her best to live a life of faith. She and Joseph were so eager to be baptized into the LDS faith that they cut a hole through the ice in the Oswego River. Soon after, Lucy and her family traveled west to Utah to escape religious persecution. From all accounts, she struggled there, saying, “If these rocky mountains were made of gold I would gladly give them all for old New York state . . . it is only because of my testimony of the gospel that I came here and that I remain here.”
Lucy’s grandson Albert’s account of the wagon train headed for Mountain Meadows states this: “A vivious [sic] company of travellers [sic] moved southward through Utah enroute to California. Among them were some vindictive Missouri Mobsters, and in their hatred of the Mormons, they left poison in some of the springs or water-holes where they camped . . . Among the animals that died from poison was a cow … Cowhides were too valuable to waste at that time, and the fourteen-year-old boy, Proctor, was sent to skin the cow. While he was engaged in this job, his face itched, and without thinking he scratched it with his stained fingers. The mischief was done; neither his mother nor any medical skill could counteract the deadly effects of what those murderous people had put in the water. He was struck down in the bloom of youth.” There is no mention of what happened next.
While it’s true that Proctor’s death near Corn Creek fueled false rumors about the gentile wagon train poisoning the creek and steers, his parents did not, to my knowledge, participate in the massacre itself or adopt surviving children. That said, many of the men who participated in the killing remain anonymous. Church leaders and citizens of Utah Territory worked diligently to hide all knowledge of the massacre, and most men who participated kept their oaths to blame the massacre on Native people and hide the events from anyone, including their wives.
In 2011, the LDS Church exhumed Proctor Robison’s body in an effort to investigate longstanding rumors that his death was caused by poison left by the California-bound wagon train. While the soil samples proved inconclusive given the amount of time that had passed since his death, historians theorize that “cattle anthrax” (an infectious disease in cattle that can cause violent death in humans) or toxic levels of locoweed consumed by the cattle were the likely causes of his death—not poison.
I thought I knew the story of Mountain Meadows before I started writing this book. The tragedy came up from time to time as a side note in the history of Utah pioneers. For most of my life, I had a vague idea that some Native Americans—and maybe a couple of wayward Mormons—had ambushed a wagon train and killed a number of settlers.
I was deeply wrong.
The LDS Church did not acknowledge responsibility or officially apologize for what happened at Mountain Meadows until 2007. The LDS Church has purchased the land where the Mountain Meadows Massacre took place and maintains a memorial there.
The topic of Mountain Meadows is still taboo, and many leaders and members still perpetuate false narratives about Native people planning and executing the attack, or the Arkansas wagon train provoking the attack by poisoning a creek and ultimately killing Proctor Robison.
It’s worth noting that the state of Missouri did not officially rescind—or apologize for—the governor’s Mormon Extermination Order—until 1976.
I have spent the past several years researching and reading every credible source I can find about the events that took place at Mountain Meadows (about an hour south of Cedar City, Utah) in 1857. If you are interested in learning more about the Mountain Meadows Massacre, I strongly recommend Blood of the Prophets by Will Bagley; Vengeance Is Mine by Barbara Jones Brown and Richard E. Turley Jr.; Massacre at Mountain Meadows by Glen M. Leonard, Richard E. Turley Jr., and Ronald W. Walker; and The Mountain Meadows Massacre by Juanita Brooks.
The vast majority of the names, events, places, quotes, and people in this book are historically accurate and based on careful research. Some characters (like Kanosh and the Robisons) are composites, who represent the experiences of several real people. The story itself is so captivating and outrageous that, if anything, I had to resist the urge to tone down certain events for the sake of believability. Any choices I made to deviate from real chronology, names, events, or details were made for the sake of condensing this story into a cohesive narrative. Whenever possible, I made every effort to stay true to real events.
The term “Paiute” is another notable composite. While there is evidence that Southern Paiutes did agree to help raid wagon trains’ cattle at Mormon leaders’ urging, it is extremely difficult to parse out which individuals might have played a role in the massacre. Because of local government and church leaders’ decision to scapegoat Native people, rumors and blatantly false narratives persist to this day. Historians essentially agree on one thing: The attack was overwhelmingly planned, perpetrated, and covered up by white Mormons in Utah Territory.
Sally’s character is based on Sally Young Kanosh, whose given name was Kahpeputz. She was kidnapped from her village when she was seven years old and sold to Brigham Young’s fourth wife Clara as an indentured servant. She was later “gifted” to the real Chief Kanosh at Corn Creek near Fillmore as a plural wife. Chief Kanosh was baptized as a Latter-day Saint and, along with many Native leaders, met with Brigham Young regularly. It’s unknown what became of Kahpeputz, but there’s some speculation she may have been killed by another of Kanosh’s wives.
Preserving and sharing Sally’s story was particularly important to me in writing this book. The story of the Mountain Meadows Massacre is a painful subject for descendants everywhere, but particularly for Native people in Utah who suffered and were scapegoated for this crime for generations. Rumors STILL persist among Latter-day Saints that the Mountain Meadows Massacre was an “all-Indian massacre.” This blame, coupled with the fact that the United States government unapologetically massacred thousands of Native people in the spirit of “manifest destiny”, is horrifying and heartbreaking. I’m grateful to early readers with Native heritage who were willing to read this difficult material and help me stay true to Kahpeputz’s story and culture.
It feels important to note that because Brigham Young was the registered “Indian Agent” of Utah Territory, he had access to funds that were supposed to be used in preserving relationships with Native people and providing safe passage for wagons headed west. Instead, Brigham Young used these funds and his position of power to manipulate Native people into aligning with the Mormon church against the government. To Young and religious leaders at the time, this fulfilled the prophecy in The Book of Mormon that “If the Gentiles do not repent,” the so-called “Lamanites” would “cut off” their enemies.
There is a great deal of documented evidence that, when the U.S. government moved to remove Brigham Young as governor, he authorized and encouraged cattle raids, in an effort to illustrate just how dangerous passage through Utah could become if he were removed as governor. A letter from Daniel Wells with instructions from Brigham Young to militia leaders stated, “Instruct the Indians that our enemies are also their enemies … [the Native people] must be our friends and stick to us, for if our enemies kill us off, they will surely be cut off by the same parties.”
Historians generally agree that what happened at Mountain Meadows was intended to be another large cattle raid that then escalated to violence.
Katrina’s character is based on Saleta Huff, widow of Peter Huff, who died in the Mountain Meadows massacre. Her daughter, Nancy Saphrona Huff, survived. She was adopted by the Willis family in the aftermath. She said of the massacre, “The Mormons got all the plunder. I saw many of the things afterward. John Willis had in his family, bed clothes, clothing, and many other things. When I claimed the things, they told me I was a liar and tried to make me believe it was the Indians that killed and plundered our people, but I knew better.”
Seventeen children, the oldest just six and the youngest infants, survived the massacre. They were chosen based on their age, being “too young to tell tales.” These survivors were taken to the home of Rachel and Jacob Hamblin, who lived near the Meadow. While the fifty or sixty men who had carried out the massacre returned to hide what they had done, bury bodies, and redirect the approaching Duke wagon train, Rachel Hamblin cared for the children that long night. She later described that horrifying scene, “In the darkness of night … most of them with their parents’ blood still wet upon their clothes, and all of them shrieking with terror and grief and anguish.”
While seventeen children survived the massacre, many others did not. In a Sacrament meeting service held immediately after the massacre, Lee spoke at the pulpit, bragging that he had killed a father and child with a single bullet—when the father refused to give up his baby.
In the weeks and months after the massacre, Church leaders worked diligently to deter anyone who might reveal what had happened at the Meadow, encouraging members to keep silent. Isaac Haight delivered a sermon in which he told everyone to “Join the [k]no[w] nothings, to mind our own business and hold our tongues.” Other sermons encouraged church members to “Know nothing that will injure our brethren in righteousness.”
The surviving children were scattered among homes across Southern Utah. Many, into homes of the men who had murdered their families in front of their eyes. Most were rebaptized, given new names, and told to forget what they had seen at the Meadow.
When the United States Army emancipated the children and returned them to their relatives in Arkansas, some of the families actually attempted to bill the US government for the food and shelter they had provided the children after the massacre.
The true scope of what had happened at Mountain Meadows didn’t come to light until twenty years after the event took place. Federal authorities indicted twelve men for the Mountain Meadows Massacre, including Colonel William Dame, Isaac C. Haight, and Philip Klingensmith. All held significant positions of leadership and responsibility within the church. Both Dame and Haight were stake presidents. Klingensmith was a bishop. Several of these men went into hiding with the help of church members and evaded arrest. At one point, the United States government posted a reward of $5,000 (more than $120,000 in today’s money) for the capture of key massacre participants.
Only one man was ever indicted, tried, and convicted for his role in the massacre: John D. Lee.
Lee was executed by firing squad in 1877. In an unusual move, officers escorted Lee back to the Meadow, where he was killed in the very spot he had helped carry out the massacre of so many innocent lives. While Lee never denied his own guilt, he was vocal in his claims that he was a scapegoat meant to draw attention away from higher ranking leaders. His last words before he was executed in the Meadow were, “I have been sacrificed in a cowardly, dastardly manner.”
While it’s difficult to know who bore the most responsibility in the massacre, it’s clear to me (and the firsthand accounts and narratives that are deemed credible by historians) that John D. Lee was a scapegoat for the many Mormon leaders who were involved. Particularly Apostle George A. Smith, Stake President Isaac C. Haight, Commanding Officer William Dame, John Higbee, and of course Brigham Young, whose response of “The Indians, we expect, will do as they please,” when asked for guidance about the ongoing siege in the Meadow, speaks volumes. While there is great debate about how much Brigham Young knew about the massacre, his violent teachings about “Blood Atonement,” thundering sermons about rising against the United States with the “Lamanites,” and efforts to stonewall investigations about the massacre are troubling, to say the least.
Years after the attack at Mountain Meadows, the U.S. Army marked the massacre site with a crudely constructed memorial to the dead that read, VENGEANCE IS MINE, AND I SHALL REPAY. When Brigham Young visited the massacre site years on a subsequent occasion, he ordered the memorial to be torn down and stated, “Vengeance is mine, and I have taken a little.”
As for the lay members of the Mormon church who participated in the massacre, I found their stories both horrifying and incredibly sad. Some arrived on scene at the unfolding siege, summoned by their church leaders to bury bodies from an “Indian attack.” When they arrived at the Meadow carrying shovels, they were then instructed to “do their duty.”
There is only one account of a man who refused to participate. He was chained to a wagon wheel while the massacre commenced. John Higbee, who was instructed to shout “Halt!” as the code word for the killing to begin, initially failed to give the command at the decided time. He waited nearly a quarter of a mile past the agreed-upon ambush spot before finally giving the order. Historians suspect that the sight of so many women and children, grateful to be “rescued” right in front of him, was the understandable cause of his hesitation.
Many massacre participants were tormented until the day they died. On his deathbed, perpetrator Nephi Johnson, screamed “Blood, blood, blood!” When George Armstrong Hicks (who did not participate in the massacre) wrote to Brigham Young in 1867 (twelve years after the massacre) protesting that John D. Lee was still delivering sermons and being approved to marry additional wives, Brigham Young replied that the massacre was, “None of [his] business … that anyone reading [Hicks’] letter to [Brigham Young] would conclude that [Hicks] had taken part in the massacre, and if so he would advise [Hicks] to take a dose of rope around [his] neck.”
There’s no way to deny that some strange things occurred while writing this book. Particularly when I became discouraged or overwhelmed by the weight of trying to craft a compelling, cohesive narrative that stayed true to the very real people who lived these events—many of whom have been relegated to a side note in history or forgotten altogether. Saleta Huff (Katrina in this story) was thirty-eight years old when she died in Mountain Meadows—the same age I was when I began writing this novel. That was part of the reason I chose her as a protagonist.
In the first sources I read about Saleta’s family, she was misidentified as “Saladia Huff, who had a son named William, two other unknown children, and a surviving daughter named Nancy.” I chose names for her unknown children in my notes for the sake of placeholders—Mary and James—then continued with my research. When I returned to dig deeper into Saladia’s story, I found an updated source that named her correctly as Saleta Huff—and revealed the names of her unknown children: Mary and James. While these were common names at the time (which is why I chose them!) it felt less like a coincidence and more like a nudge to keep going.
That same day, I got a text notification from my bank, alerting me of a suspicious charge on my debit card—originating in Benton, Arkansas. Saleta’s hometown. When I called my bank to learn more and cancel my card, the woman on the phone was confused. She could see that the text notification had been sent to my phone about the suspicious purchase, but there was no pending charge on my account. When I pressed her as to whether there would be a record of the charge if it had been attempted and then withdrawn, she insisted there would be. I asked her to check for this record. She put me on hold, then returned a few minutes later, baffled to find that no such record existed. She had no explanation for why the text had been sent.
Again and again, I had the distinct sensation of someone—maybe several someones—standing over my shoulder while I wrote. And as I wrote, I learned again and again that the America of the 1800s wasn’t nearly as different from modern society as I’d always believed. The setting and the era was distinct, but the people were the same. Uncomfortably so.
During my research, I quickly learned that this was never going to be a story about angels and devils, villains and heroes. Those ugly, starkly drawn lines of us-versus-them are at the heart of this tragedy. And yet so is the will to survive, the drive to protect those we love even at great personal cost, and the strength to persist against seemingly impossible odds.
In the end, that is what I will choose to remember most about what happened at Mountain Meadows. The ones who chose humanity. The ones who chose love.
Even if it was the last choice they made.
— Noelle W. Ihli
P.S. If you’d like to hear the soundtrack for None Left to Tell (the songs that played in my head while I wrote this book) you can find it right here.