On 15 May 1855, mother left her home in Council Bluffs and started for Utah, with us children. The team we had was a yoke of cows and yoke of 3 year old steers. When we got to the Missouri River, while they were ferring [ferrying] the wagons across, my brother Thomas and I were playing by the river and a gust of wind came and blew my new red hat, that mother had just purchased for me into the river. I jumped in to get it and nearly drowned. My brother Thomas pulled me out, but I got a good ducking and lost my hat besides.
One night there was some wild animal, or other, killed one of our cows and tore her to pieces. Mother got a big baldfaced cow from the church to go on with. The church had some loose cows to use if they were needed by anyone.
One day near Devil’s Gate, my brother Thomas and me were ahead of the teams and a white wolf got after me. I started to run, but Thomas called me back. I went back and we pelted it with rocks until we killed it.
When we got to the big hill, to go down into Echo Canyon, the men tied long ropes to the wagons, to help hold them back. Mother’s brother, Uncle Joseph Garlic, met us there with a team to help us on in. He took us to his home in Springville, for a while. We were about 4 months on the plains, getting to Salt Lake about the middle of September 1855.