The air was crisp and fresh with the tang of spring in 1860 as grandfather hitched his team of horses to the wagon that had been carefully packed the night before.  Then helping his wife and babe into the wagon, they started for the canyon.  Birds were singing in the bushes and willow trees that were strewn along the way as if they were overjoyed at the advent of spring and warmer weather.  In fact it seemed as if the whole of Cache Valley had at last come to life after the long and bitter cold winter.

John Paul and Susanna Cardon had arrived in the valley just recently and had not yet been able to build themselves a home.  Living in a wagon was too rough and dangerous as well as not being warm enough for the mother and child.  Grandfather was very desirous of building his family a warm substantial home of their own.

As they traveled along the rough trail they smiled and dreamed aloud of the future possibilities of this new and beautiful valley where they and others might live in peace and harmony and worship their God according to the dictates of their own conscience.  There were just two real dangers they needed to look for--Indians and wild animals.  The Indians were still very unfriendly and caused much concern.  Grandfather had his well-loaded gun by his side and felt reasonable secure.  He must get to the canyon for logs and finish his home during the summer months.

Eventually they reached the canyon and found a trail to drive to the desired spot on a gentle knoll where Grandfather pitched his tent.  He fashioned a crude fireplace with flat rocks while Grandmother gathered dry firewood to pile by its side.  He shot a wild chicken and left it with her.  As he kissed her and the baby, he bade her goodbye leaving a firm warning to look out for Indians and wild animals.  If she saw any, she was to step outside of the tent and give one of those loud whistles which they used for a warning signal of danger.  The best trees for logs were some distance on the mountainside above the camp; Grandmother busied herself about the tent, bringing it to order, preparing the chicken and putting it in the big iron pot to cook for dinner.  She bathed and fed her tiny babe, then placed it in the cradle Grandfather had made. She made noodles to put in the soup which was filling the tent with its delicious aroma.

All at once she saw an ominous dark shadow pass over the tent.  She whirled around to look straight into the face of a huge Indian squaw with a little red face papoose on her back.  The only opening in the tent was completely filled by her presence, so it was impossible for her to get outside and summon help.  Panic froze her heart as she had never weighed more than 95 pounds and this squaw was about 200 lbs.  The Indian sniffed the air, then lurched forward toward Grandma, grunting, "We want chicken, we want chicken."

Grandmother answered, "I can’t give you this chicken.  It is all the food I have for my hungry husband."  The angry squaw repeated again, more emphatically and threateningly -- "We want chicken, we want chicken."  This time little Grandmother was really frightened, but she was just as determined to not let that Indian steal the only food she had for her husband.

By that time even the noodles were blending in with the chicken to emit the most delicious aroma you can ever imagine in the crisp air of the canyon.  The squaw sniffed enviously, then looked around the tent area, she spotted for the first time the cradle with the tiny white infant sleeping.

Grandmother could just feel the icy fingers clutching her heart.  The squaw with a wicked grin on her face, waddled over to the cradle and held a sharp knife directly over the child’s head and said, "Give me chicken or I kill pale face papoose."

In petite little Grandmother’s mind her thoughts were racing like lightning.  Had she joined the Mormon Church and undergone all the tortures and antagonisms of a hated and shunned people, plus pushing a handcart all the way across the plains to lose the most precious possession she owned–her own beloved first child?  She had great faith in the Lord.  Hadn’t he brought all of them through these trials safely.  Hadn’t he guided them to this beautiful valley where they could worship in peace?  She quickly offered a silent prayer to God to deliver her from this danger.

As she opened her eyes, she spied the red-hot poker in the coals of the fire.  Instantly she seized it and held it directly over the head of the Indian papoose on the back of the squaw, shouting "Get out of here right now or I will ram this hot poker right down on your papoose."

Fear spread over the countenance of the squaw, and screaming loudly she dashed out of the tent and disappeared down the mountain side.

With a great sigh of relief, Grandmother watched her disappear out of sight then  ran to her precious infant, and threw her arms around its tender form.  She dropped on her knees by the crib and thanked her Father in Heaven for His sudden answer to her prayer.

(Carrie Ricks Salvesen written, 25 Feb 1968)