The Fugitive Son by Adell Harvey, Mari Serebrov Page B

Then as an afterthought, he introduced Andy to his men. “You’re probably wondering who our new friend is,” he began. “This is Andy Rasmussen, a fellow who came through Laramie last year guiding a group of travelers. They met up with a terrible fate along the way, and he’s trying to go it alone to his destination. He’s suffered much, so let’s take it easy on him till we part company.”
    Andy was overwhelmed with gratitude for the major’s kindness. He also noticed how carefully Major Crawford had phrased his words to keep his connection with the Mormons hidden without lying about anything.
Now that’s a real Christian!
The thought rose unbidden into his mind.
    Later, Andy and the major walked a short distance away from the others who were lounging around a campfire. “Do you plan on going back to your post with the Legion?” the major asked.
    “I don’t know,” Andy replied. “I don’t want to. But if I don’t, they’ll shoot me as an apostate or a deserter. If I go on to the Great Salt Lake, I’ll be as good as dead, too. Seems pretty hopeless right now.”
    “How about if you hide out around here till they quit looking for you? When it’s safe, you could head south, bypassing Utah. The Utes are fairly friendly.”
    “I’m not even sure they’ll be looking for me. They plan to stay at Fort Bridger for a while, till the Army arrives,” Andy said. The major pointed up into the cliffs that towered above them. “There’s some mighty fine, livable caves up there. Places where a fella could hide out pretty easily. Lots of grub here along the river, too.”
    Returning to camp, he ordered his troops to turn in and get rested for an early start in the morning. In a subdued voice, he told Andy, “I’ll show you a path up through the canyon to a nice cave and draw a map of a southerly route when you decide it’s safe to leave this area.”
    Listening to the soft sound of the river tumbling over the rocks that night, Andy soon fell asleep, his worries for the moment forgotten.
    He joined the soldiers early in the morning as they washed up in the cold waters of the Green River. “Nothing like a cold splash to wake a body up,” he remarked. “This water is downright invigorating!”
    The soldiers agreed and set about packing up to continue their ride.
    After a hearty breakfast, Major Crawford told the men, “I’ll be back in about an hour.” Motioning for Andy to mount up and follow him, he added, “We’re going up the canyon a ways so I can show him a southerly route out of here.”
    Andy couldn’t help comparing Major Crawford’s leadership with that of Old Port and some of the other Mormon leaders. The major’s men obeyed him with respect and without question, while the church leaders seemed to demand obedience out of fear and sheer terror at what would happen if they didn’t comply. He wondered what made the difference.
    Riding up the narrow animal path that led higher into the pinyons, the two men didn’t talk much, focusing all their attention on the steep, rocky path. When the desert flora began to merge into trees and flowers of a more temperate climate zone, the major halted his palomino. “Look carefully along those shrubs,” he said, pointing to a large, bushy area.
    Andy followed his gaze and saw it – an entry to a large depression in the rock, well hidden and easily missed by a casual observer. They dismounted, tied their horses in a shady spot behind the copse of shrubs, and entered the cave.
    “Think you can comfortably hole up here for a while?” the major asked.
    Andy surveyed the huge, dry cave. No wild animals had chosen to call it home, and no bats or swallows flew about. “Looks good,” Andy agreed. “Much better than some places I’ve had to lay my head.”
    They spent a few minutes going over the crude map Major Crawford had drawn to help Andy bypass the Mormon-occupied areas and colonies. “One more thing,” he said as he handed Andy a well-worn Bible.