[The following is in relation to the rescuing of the young survivors of the Mountain Meadows Massacre of 1857. Some context of the massacre, courtesy of Wikipedia: “The Mountain Meadows Massacre was a series of attacks on the Baker–Fancher emigrant wagon train, at Mountain Meadows in southern Utah. The attacks began on September 7, 1857, and culminated on September 11, 1857, resulting in the mass slaughter of the emigrant party by members of the Utah Territorial Militia from the Iron County district and purportedly aided by Native American allies. The extent to which Native Americans participated in the massacre is disputed and up until recent decades much of the blame for the massacre was unjustly attributed to the Native Americans. The militia, officially called the Nauvoo Legion, was composed of southern Utah's Mormon settlers (members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or the LDS Church). Intending to leave no witnesses and thus prevent reprisals, the perpetrators killed all the adults and older children—about 120 men, women, and children in total. Seventeen children, all younger than seven, were spared.” These seventeen children were later rescued, about two years later, by an American delegation under armed escort. Here, we see a moment when one of the rescued children was finally reunited with relatives back in Arkansas. For clarification, it’s worth nothing that the survivor’s mother was murdered at Mountain Meadows.]
”When we got around to our house,” Baker [the survivor] reminisced,
Grandma Baker, the one who refused to go to California, was standing on the porch. She was a stout woman and mighty dignified, too. When we came along the road leading up to the house she was pacing back and forth but when she caught sight of us she ran down the path and grabbed hold of us, one after the other and gave us a powerful hug. Leah, our old Negro mammy, caught me up in her arms and wouldn’t let me go. She carried me around all the rest of the day, even cooking supper with me in her arms. I remember she baked each of us children a special little apple turnover pie… I remember I called all of the women I saw “mother.” I guess I was still hoping to find my own mother, and every time I called a woman “mother,” she would break out crying.
Source:
Denton, Sally. “Mountain Meadows, May 25, 1861.” American Massacre: The Tragedy at Mountain Meadows, September 1857. Vintage Books, 2004. 206-7. Print.
Further Reading:
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