Life History of William Heber Roundy Sr. (Son of Lauren Hotchkiss and Johanna Carter Roundy) Otho Roundy, his youngest son.

1 Life History of William Heber Roundy Sr. (Son of Lauren Hotchkiss and Johanna Carter Roundy) Otho Roundy, his youngest son. William Heber Roundy was born 5 February 1846, in Nauvoo, Hancock County, Illinois. His father was Lauren Hotchkiss Roundy, oldest son of Shadrach Roundy who was the first Roundy to join the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in this dispensation. William Heber had one brother, Byron Donalvin, who was about two years older than William. Their mother was Joanna [at times written as Johanna] Carter, daughter of John Sims Carter, who died in Zions Camp. The Saints were driven out of Nauvoo in the spring of 1846, shortly after William Heber was born. The weather was cold and stormy. It appears that his mother never did recover completely from those trials of that trip in such cold weather with that young baby, camping out at night in tents or perhaps sleeping in the wagon at night. Winter Quarters in Pottawattomie County, Iowa, was the next main stopping place after the Saints left th Nauvoo. Most of the Saints stayed at this place through the coming winter. On the 5 of February 1847, Joanna Carter died [Johanna Carter Roundy died of canker according to Dr. Willard Richards.] when her baby was one year old to the day....a few years back one of our pioneer writers put an article in the Church magazine that told her passing away. It noted that she told the sisters who had been taking care of her that she was going to go, that she could not stay here any longer and asked them if they wanted to send any message to their loved ones who had died. Several of them gave her verbal messages to take to their dear ones who had died. She told them she would deliver their messages then closed her eyes and passed away. That left her husband, Lauren Roundy, with those two small boys. One was three years and the baby one year old. It is just too bad we didn t get these valuable histories from the ones who know them, before they pass away. So from here through the next 20 years or so I will just have to piece in what I remember of what the folks talked about. I think the grandparents, Shadrach and Betsy Roundy took custody of these two boys and brought them on across the plains to Utah. Of course the father, Lauren was with them and helped when he could. But it appears that the children made their home with Shadrach and Betsy until their father, Lauren married again here in Utah. He took up a homestead in Springville and married Jane Ann Koyle in April of 1855. [Lauren and Jane Ann Koyle married in late 1848 or early 1849 as their first daughter, Julia Rebecca, was born in late 1849. They lived in Centerville until Brigham Young called Lauren to move to the Spanish Fork area about 1851. Within a couple of years they moved to Springville.] Now, the story for the next few years I can only tell as I got it from my older brother, John, as he got it directly from our father, William Heber. The new wife of Lauren s soon had children of her own and it appears that she resented very much having the two boys to care for. She treated them very unkindly. She wouldn t let them eat at the same table with her own children, but would set them a table outside in warm weather and in winter at a table by themselves in the house. It seems she treated them like two little slaves. They were now old enough to help their father on the farm. But it seems they could never forget the kind treatment they enjoyed at their grandparents, Shadrach and Betsy s home. Their father would send them to the field to hoe weeds. When they got tired they would lay their hoes down and walk out to the road and thumb a ride to Salt Lake to the home of their grandparents. Shadrach would keep them a few days and when he got time he would hitch up his team and bring them back home and in a few weeks the same thing would happen again. It seems that their father never did go after them. But the grandparents would keep them a few days and then bring them back. This seems to have kept up for several years. I just can t understand why the boy s father let that woman treat the boys like she did; but it appears that she ran her husband and the boys and the whole roost. Now I just don t know how old they were when

2 they left home and went out on their own. But I think they must have started out at 16 or 18 years of age. I have very little information of those two boys from the time they left their home until they were about twenty years old. However, Byron being the older boy by two years became quite a horse rider and as a boy I remember of hearing him tell of carrying messages on horseback to and from President Brigham Young, about the Indian raids on the Mormon settlers. I think this was mostly done while he was living in Springville. From events that happened later, it appears that they had gone to southern Utah by the year 1865 or perhaps before. In the year of 1865 a group of Mormon families had gone to Kane County to start a settlement at Kanab. This was about four miles north of the Arizona line. In the group of settlers was my mother s father, John Davis Parker with his family and Lorenzo Roundy. Lorenzo was later drowned in the Colorado River. Lorenzo had one of his wives and family with him and Byron who was 21 was with them. There were also ten or twelve other families with them. During the winter of 1865-66, there were four children who died there. John Parker lost a little girl about eight years old and a boy of four years of age. His name was Otho and my mother named me after him. Lorenzo Roundy lost a little girl and a man by the name of Joseph Smith lost a little girl. They were buried there west of the old fort on a little hill. We have never been able to trace any genealogy of this Joseph Smith. In the spring of 1866 when the warmer weather came, the grass began growing green and beautiful on that desert south and west of Kanab. There was a very beautiful patch of good feed in a valley just south of what is now Pipe Springs. There was also water there for their stock. It was such an inviting place that some of the brethren couldn t resist the temptation of driving their cattle out there to pasture. Two men by the name of Whitmore and MacIntire and another young man about 18 years old, took a bunch of cattle out there intending to pasture them through the summer. They had only been there a short time when some hostile Indians raided them one night killing Whitmore and MacIntire. But the young man ran into some brush and hid so the Indians missed him. After they had driven the cattle off one old Indian who was friendly with the white people saw the boy get away. He searched in the brush until he found him and told him to get into Kanab soon as he could and tell the people of this affair. This has been called the Whitmore-MacIntire Massacre. It was late in the afternoon that the young man reached town with the news the next day. Bishop Stewart called the colony together and asked for a volunteer to ride to St. George to take the message so it could be telegraphed to President Brigham Young. A man by the name of Bill Ford seemed to have a very choice little saddle animal. Byron Roundy who was then 21 years old stepped up and offered to take the message through to St. George if Brother Ford would let him have that little mare to ride. It was nearly dark when he got started on that ride. The route took him right past Pipe Springs where the massacre took place. Byron said at that point and one other place, he knew that little mare could smell Indians by the way she snorted and tried to run. But he made the trip through to St. George safely. When Brigham Young got the news he sent word to the settllers to move out and abandon Kanab for the present. It was several years before they went back and made a permanent settlement there. We have no account of just where William Heber was at this time, but I am sure he was in the southern part of the state. My mother s family, John Davis Parker, moved from Kanab and settled in Kanarraville in Iron County, and made that their permanent home. Malinda Parker was John Davis Parker s third child and oldest daughter. She said that several years after they settled in Kanaraville her father came home one night and told the family he had hired a Roundy to come and work for him. A day or so later when this man Roundy arrived to start working they found him to be William Heber Roundy. This appears to be the first time that he and Malinda had met. It also appears that their courtship soon developed. A year or so later William had acquired a good team of horses and a wagon and went to Peoche,

Nevada, to work for the silver mines which had been opened up there. He worked about a year, cutting timber and hauling it into the mines. This is where he made his wedding stake. There were several other Utah men there working with him. About a year before William went to work at Peoche, his brother Byron married Matilda Roundy, his cousin and one of Lorenzo Roundy s daughters. He lived in Panguitch, Garfield County. [Byron D. And Matilda lived for a short time in Springville where their first child was born and died before moving to Panquitch.] When William came back from Peoche the two of them got together and went searching for a good place to take up a homestead and make their new home. They found the most beautiful little valley in Southern Utah, located on the extreme head of the Kanab Creek and about 30 miles north of Kanab. It was under the vermillion cliffs of the East Fork Mountain. They each took a homestead of 160 acres right in the heart of the valley, side by side. They each built a log cabin to live in as there were no saw mills in that county at that time to make lumber. They got some crops planted and growing and the cabins finished up in early summer of 1872. William went to Kanaraville, got his bride-to-be, Malinda Parker. I think some th of her folks went with them to Salt Lake City where they were married the 19 of August 1872, in the Endowment House. He then took his new bride back to the homestead where they began their life together in their little log cabin in that beautiful valley of Upper Kanab. This valley is about 7000 feet elevation with beautiful mountains all around. In those days they would have heavy snow in the winter often three to four feet deep. These two brothers were the first permanent settlers in this valley. One or two had tried it there before but had moved and probably on account of the Indians. But Byron and William never did have any trouble with the Indians. They were always good to the Indians and would give them anything they asked for; so the Indians soon found that these two men were the best friends they had. They would never bother the animals or livestock at all whenever they came around. They would come to the house and ask for something to eat, usually some flour or potatoes or a piece of pork and they always got something which the folks could spare. I think from here on in this history, I shall refer to William and Malinda as father and mother. By late summer of 1873, mother was expecting her first baby; so due to the lack of help and no one to care for a confinement, it was decided she should go back to her mother s place at Kanara for her confinement. Father took her out there a few weeks before her time of delivery and had to go back to the ranch to harvest crops th and tend the stock. Her baby came on the 20 of August 1873. A little girl and mother named her Marion. The whooping cough was very bad in those days and this baby took it when she was a few weeks old and died the first of October. There was no established mail service at that time through those settlements. At least it was very irregular. Father got the letter announcing the birth and the one telling of her death at the same time. He saddled up the best horse he had and rode straight through those mountains to Kanara to see mother, a distance of about 60 miles through the mountains, and heavy timber. Mother always said that he was the first man to ever ride a horse through those mountains in a day. Then he had to make another trip out with his team and wagon to get mother. The road went through Panguitch and Bear Valley which was about a three day trip each way. In a year or so other settlers began moving in. Daniel Seegmiller took a homestead up the valley joining Byron s place on the east and A.D. Findlay took a place down the valley joining father s place. Over the ridge and about six miles to the west was another little valley on the head of the Virgin River. Five or six families settled here, and they were nice and friendly people, all of them. This formed a group of ranchers which were a lively thrifty group of people and they had many good sociable times together. The land in these valleys was very fertile and productive. It was only a few short years until father had 160 acres all under cultivation, part in pasture, and the grass grew thick and high. Father was a good farmer, and he soon had a good bunch of Durham cattle and fine horses, both work horses and saddle animals. The family began increasing. Now little Roundys began arriving about every two years. The next child was a boy named after his father, William Heber, Jr. And was born 25 February 1875. 3

4 Then John Davis was born 3 November 1876. The next child was a girl, Middie May, born 19 February 1879. Then another boy named Lauren Hotchkiss, born 25 November 1881. A girl came next, Maud Samantha born 30 April 1884. Then another girl named Sophia, born 3 May 1886. Then another boy named Quimby, born 8 January 1888. Then another girl named Joanna born 13 June 1890. I was the last boy born 22 September 1892, and they named me Otho. As the older children became of school age, the community built a school house which was also used as a church house and for all social gatherings. All these families were Latter-day Saints. A Branch was organized about 1890. My Uncle Byron Roundy was the first Branch President. On account of the snows falling so deep and such cold weather in the winters they held school in the summers only. Now before this school house was built at the ranch, all of the family except we two younger ones were old enough for school. So for several years father moved the family to one of the larger settlements for the school year and he would stay on the ranch to feed and tend the stock. We were in Glendale two winters and in Kanab one winter. I well remember the winter we spent in Kanab. I was about four years old and I remember so well about father coming down at Christmas time and bringing a supply of provisions from the ranch. One day he went up town; I suppose mainly to visit with his friends and acquaintances. He took me with him. It seemed to me that we spent a good share of the day there and every one father met seemed to be one of his friends. A whole crowd gathered on one corner where the main two streets intersected. How I enjoyed listening to them talking about their cattle and horses and farming. I think they were all either livestock men or farmers. It seemed to me that father knew everybody he met. I sure thought I was somebody to spend that day with father and that crowd of men. I was the only boy in the group. Another thing happened that day that impressed me so I never forgot it. There seemed to be a group of very wild boys in that school, and they had hired a professor by the name of Christensen from Salt Lake City to take charge of the school. There was a group of boys about sixteen years old that were always causing trouble. This particular day he had kept six or eight of these boys in after school to see they studied awhile. I suppose the professor had left the room that these boys were in. They all made a break to get away. All of a sudden they came running out of that school house and hid themselves in the large wood pile back of the school. All the schools in those days were heated with large heaters with wood, and they usually had a pile of wood nearly as large as the school. These boys all crawled in the crevices of that pile of wood. Soon the professor came to the door and looked one way and then another. Then he ran around the corner of the house, and finally one of the men on the street called to him and told him his boys were hid on the other side of the wood pile. He ran around there and grabbed one by the feet to pull him out, then another, and another until he got all of them. He marched them back in the school room. I remember several of those boys and knew them when they grew to adulthood, and they were the worst roughnecks in all the country. I well remember several other things when I was about four years old. There is a beautiful lake about 20 miles south of Panguitch up in the mountain. There was excellent fishing there. It was very accessible for the three southern counties of Kane, Garfield, and Iron, They had made a half mile race track there, and every th th summer they would have horse racing there for about three days either on the 4 or 24 of July. When I was four years old, father took the whole family up there. We all rode in the wagon except the three older boys, William Jr., John, and Lauren, who rode their saddle horses. We camped there in a tent for three days. I really thought that was great to camp there with all the family. Father got a photographer to come and take a picture of us. That was the only picture we ever had of all the family. As I said, I was 4 years old and the old brother, William Jr. Was 21. He was a very tall and handsome man. It seemed that everyone who knew him just idolized him. Mother and father I know, thought he was the cream of the family. He was also a great athlete. He could beat anyone in the county on the 100 yard sprint and also in the broad jump. He had a beautiful chestnut sorrel horse that he had broken to ride and nobody else could ride that horse. If one of the other boys got on the horse he would throw them high as a kite.

In the summer of 1897, father and William Jr. went down in the Kanab Canyon to work on the road for a few weeks. It was in the latter part of the summer. While working there, William Jr. took sick and got so weak he couldn t work. So father brought him home. They soon found he had a severe case of typhoid fever. On 16 November he passed away. It was a real trial for the family, especially for father and mother because they thought so much of him. I was five years old and not old enough to realize what death was. I remember so plainly standing by mother watching her rub his hands and face, with tears just streaming down her cheeks. I wondered why she was crying so hard. At that time, there wasn t any designated grave yard. So father selected an elevated spot that overlooked the farm and buried him there by a large grove of oak trees. By this time father and the boys and Uncle Byron and his boys had developed those two farms until they were the two most beautiful farms in all the country and produced the best crops. Father had built a new two-story house and two large hay barns, each a hundred feet long. He would have those two barns full of hay every year and the granary full of grain and cellar full of potatoes. We always had all the beef and pork the family wanted to eat. There was a grist mill in Glendale, a distance of about 15 miles from the ranch. Father raised plenty of wheat and would haul it to the mill to grind for flour and germade for cereal. Father had now about 100 head of Durham cows. We would milk the best milkers through the summer. Mother would make cheese and put butter in 5 gallon cans to do through the winter. As the winter season was so long and cold, we would just milk one or maybe two cows through the winter so as to have plenty of milk and cream for the family. Every fall we would have about six or eight good fat pigs to butcher and would salt them down so they would keep through the winter. Then father would kill a good beef and sometimes he would make jerky out of about a half of a beef. We would salt it, and hang it up in the granary to dry. Father could make the best jerky I ever did eat. We would hang all the meat up in the top of the granary on nails driven in the rafters. By the time winter set in you could open that old granary door and those rafters would just be lined with hams, side meat, bacon, jerky and at least four quarters of beef. As winter passed by that supply would gradually disappear; but there was always enough there to do the family through the winter. At the bottom of the granary was a full sized cellar under ground which was always filled with potatoes. Father always raised a good field of corn which was harvested and stood upright in two large sheds. In the winter time when we finished with the farm chores, we boys would go in the shed and get about a dozen ears of that corn and after supper in the long winter evenings we would fill a frying pan full, roll some hot coals out of the fire, place the pan on the large rock hearth and parch it till it was a good and brown. Mother had an old coffee grinder that Grandma had given her. We would grind that parched corn in the old coffee grinder, then put cream and sugar on it. That made the best dish I ever ate. We used to parch that corn and eat til mother would tell us it was bed time. She would often make that our entire supper, usually with some dried jerky with it. Finally after the membership grew they changed the Branch to a Ward. Graham D. McDonald was the first Bishop. I remember him so well. He was a well-built fine-looking man, with good humor and very pleasant. As a boy I used to think he was the greatest man in the world, next to my father. At one time father was quite active in the Church and was Superintendent of the Sunday School for awhile. This was probably before I was born, but in later years he became quite inactive and very seldom went to Church. But he would always let the family have the team and wagon to go. I think very likely his inactivity was caused by some trouble he had over a financial deal with two of the Stake Presidency. The Stake President and one of his counselors had taken up a farm up the valley just above father and Uncle Byron. It joined right onto Uncle Byron s place. For some reason they kept wanting to buy father s farm and his cattle. He had a beautiful herd of Durham cows, and the farm was very productive. He had built the new home and two hay barns and other buildings. During the year of about 1885, there was quite a drought in the country. The crops were poor and there was a sort of a national famine on and money was hard to get. Again, the two men of the Stake 5

6 Presidency came to father and wanted to buy him out, both farm and cattle. So father made them a price on the place. He asked so much for the farm and buildings and so much for the cattle and told them if they wanted to pay his price he would sell the whole layout. They never said whether they wanted to take it or not. Sometime went on and a year or two passed and good storms began to come. The famine began to be over, and everything came back to a flourishing condition. The price of cattle was about double what they were before, and the farm land had also about doubled. About two years after father made them the offer, they sent one of their men down to see dad. He had a down payment and told dad they had decided to take his offer on the farm and stock. Dad said, You don t think I m foolish enough to take that deal I made you over two years ago. Cattle and land and everything is worth double what they were then. You certainly don t think you can make that offer hold good now. The man who came to see dad at the home was a brother of the Stake President and a member of the Stake High Council; so they had him go to the High Council and file a complaint against dad to have him tried for disfellowship in the Church because he wouldn t stay with the old offer. They sent the same man to dad with the summons to appear before the Stake Presidency and High Council to stand trial for disfellowship in the church. Dad was so disgusted with their dishonesty and underhanded work, he told his brother Byron that he wouldn t have anything to do with them any more. This is where father made a very serious mistake. The senior member of the High Council told mother a few years later, that if father had answered that summons and appeared for his trial, there was not a thing against him; and he would have been cleared of the charge. But father was so disgusted with that Stake President he would never have anything to do with them any more. Now, all this happened six or eight years before I was born. I have gotten this story about the farm affair and the trouble that followed from my brother, John, and my mother. John was about eight years old at this time. Since, my mother and John have both passed away. I have gone into the Church Historical Office and read the minutes of the High Council meetings pertaining to the proceedings of father s trial. The record shows that they sent him three notices to appear before the High Council, but he was still so offended he never paid any attention to them. The minutes of these three meetings each showed that the Stake President opened the meeting and then turned a time over to his First Counselor to then to the business. He tried every way he could to get the High Council to vote to excommunicate father from the Church. In each of these three meetings there were some of the members who seemed to be in favor of father and would ask for a postponement. I suppose they hoped father would come in and appear for the next meeting. Several of the High Council suggested that he should only be disfellowshipped until they could get to talk with him. It appeared that the Counselor of the Stake Presidency was determined to excommunicate him and wouldn t listen to anything else. In the second meeting, he pressured the Council until they agreed that if father did not answer the next summons, he would stand excommunicated. Father still wouldn t honor the summons: So they excommunicated him on contempt of the High Council. He never did try to get back into the Church. Father was a good man in many ways and honored the teachings of the Church. He was a strict observer of the Word of Wisdom. I have talked with men who knew him who said he would never touch tobacco or liquor. One old brother told me he had seen men just coax him to smoke with them, but he would never touch it. He never drank tea or coffee in the home, and I don t think he drank it any place else. He was a strict observer of the Sabbath Day. There was never a bit of work done on the farm except to tend water turn when it came on Sunday. He always had the work done up so everybody rested on Sunday except for the water. Father was very neat and clean in his appearance. Mother would usually keep the bath tub busy with us children bathing Saturday evening. But on Sunday morning, I remember father would bathe and clean up and get the newspaper and take a chair out on the large porch and sit reading it while the rest of us went to Church and Sunday School.

Father was always kind to people and helpful to any one in need. The Indians would often come up around the ranch in the summer time and would continually come and ask for food such as potatoes, flour, sugar, and bacon. I don t think father ever said no to any of them. He would often let them put their horses in the pasture or feed them hay. Mother told me a story about a little Indian squaw who was on her way from Panguitch which was 30 miles north of our place; to Kanab, which was 30 miles south of our place. There had come a heavy snow storm much earlier this year than they usually came. This little girl had left Panguitch that morning and run into this heavy snow. It had snowed all day there at our place and piled up a good foot of snow. Just at dark that little squaw arrived at our place. Mother said she never saw a person so nearly frozen as she was, and her horse was completely fagged. Father said, We ve got to take care of her until we can get her out of this snow. Mother got her warmed up and dried her clothes by the fire place. The poor little thing acted like she thought she would never get back to her people. The snow kept falling for two more days and she would just sit on the floor and cry. The tears would roll out of her eyes like rain drops. She would get up and look out of the window to see if the snow was still falling. On the morning of the third day, the clouds cleared away and the sun came out bright and clear. Father said, I think we can get her out of this snow and start her on her way today. Mother fixed her a lunch to eat on her way. The snow was two feet deep when the storm abated. Father took John with him, and they put one of the best teams on the bob sleigh, filled the sleigh with hay to ride on. Mother brought out a quilt for the little squaw to wrap up in and tied her little horse behind the sleigh and off they started with that team plowing through that two feet of snow. It was about 12 to 15 miles down to the head of the Kanab Canyon. The elevation lowered considerably in that distance, and the snow got more shallow as they traveled. When they arrived at the head of the canyon, the snow was only about six inches deep. They put the saddle on the squaw s horse, helped her on, and she motioned for John to cut her a whip out of the brush at the side of the road. She nodded her head to them in appreciation and put her whip to the horse and headed down the canyon, the happiest little Indian you ever saw. Father would never turn his back on anyone who needed help like that Indian. About this time, I am not sure if it was the same year, there had been a family by the name of Wells who came to settle over the ridge about six miles from our ranch. They were not familiar with the weather conditions there and got caught in the early winter with almost nothing to eat. They had several children beside the man and his wife. They stayed there through one winter and then moved back up into Idaho. He settled and stayed until an old man. Years later when the first World War was on, my sisters, Sophia and Joanna were living in Salt Lake City. One evening a knock came at their door, and there stood an old feeble gray-haired man. He asked if they were some of William Roundy s family. They told him he was their father. The man said that he had been hoping he could see some of that man s family ever since he had heard of his untimely death. Then he told them who he was, a Brother Wells, who had lived in Southern Utah. One year, he said, William Roundy saved him and his family from starving to death. He said, When I get over on the other side, they are going to hear something about that man that they have never heard before. He said, that his wife had passed away and all the children were married and he had come to spend the last few years of his life doing temple work. He said that as soon as he arrived in Salt Lake he got the telephone directory and went through all the Roundys in it, and these two names seemed familiar. So they were the first ones he had called on. He was really happy to find some of father s family. Then he told them the following story which I will retell as nearly as I can remember it. The girls were too young to remember this story at the time it happened. It was sometime about 1888 that he came to Southern Utah and started to take a homestead about six miles over the ridge west of father s ranch, on the extreme head of the Virgin River. There were four or five other families who had settled in this small valley. Brother Wells took a small homestead just across the valley 7

8 from Brother Ruben Jolley. They were only a few hundred yards apart. He had not gotten there in time to raise any crops that year and had not had much work; and had accumulated very little to care for his family. The snow and cold weather came early that year, and he soon found what little he had for his family was soon used up. Brother Jolley, who lived next to him, had a cellar full of potatoes and told Brother Wells he could have all the potatoes he wanted out of the cellar. The snows coming early made it impossible for him to get work to supply the needs of his family. They lived on potatoes for about three weeks with no other food to eat. He decided he would have to see if the Church would help him. He went to the Bishop who lived only about two miles away and told him of his plight. The Bishop said, I can t do anything for you. You will just have to get along on your own. This about floored him. So he then went to the Stake Presidency at Kanab which was about thirty miles distant. He thumbed his way to Kanab, thinking the State President would surely help him. But he got the same answer from the Stake President who told him he would just have to take care of himself, and that the Church could not help him. You can see that the Church wasn t looking after people in need then like they do now. When Brother Wells came back from Kanab, Brother Jolley said to him, Why don t you go over the ridge in the other valley and see William Roundy? He is always helping somebody who is down and out like you are. I m sure he would help you. As Brother Wells family had been so long on potatoes and nothing else, he lost no time in heading for the Roundy Ranch. The next morning he hooked his half-starved team on his wagon and started out with the snow about one to two feet deep. It took him all day to make that trip of six miles. He arrived at the ranch just at sunset. When he told father of his condition father said, I think we can help you. Put your horses in the barn, and feed them; and we will see what we can do in the morning. The next morning after breakfast, dad told the boys to hook the span of Sorrel horses on Brother Well s wagon and pull it around in front of the granary. Brother Wells said that when the boy spoke to that team, they acted like they were trying to step over the neck yoke. He said he had never seen such a beautiful fancy team in all his life. They had filled the wagon box full of hay to load the provisions on. Brother Wells said when dad opened that granary door, he never saw such a store of provisions in all his life. The cellar was full of the most beautiful potatoes he ever saw. The grain bins on both sides of the entrance were full clear to the top. In the back and between the grain bins were 2 or 3 tons of flour, corn meal and germade. The rafters in the top of the granary were lined with hams, side meat or bacon, dried jerky, and four quarters of nice fat beef. He told Brother Wells to get in the wagon and place the stuff while they brought it out to him. He first brought out 2 seamless sacks of flour which is equal to about six fifty pound bags, a large sack of corn meal, a 50 lb. sack of graham for cereal. They he got about six hams and some slabs of bacon. They filled a fifty pound sack full of dried jerky. Brother Wells said he began to wonder if that man was ever going to stop carrying stuff out of that granary. Then he said here came a quarter of that beef. Then dad came out and looked over the things in the wagon and told the boys to climb up in the top of the grain bin and dig out a couple of round cheeses. Brother Wells said the boys came rolling two cheeses down out of the grain which look more like a couple of wagon wheels than anything else he could compare them with. Then mother brought several cans of salted-down butter from the house and dad said, Let s get several sacks of potatoes out of the cellar. Brother Wells told him that Brother Jolley would give him all the potatoes he needed; but dad said, You don t want to eat those little marbles when you can get good potatoes. Then they got several sacks of potatoes. Brother Wells said those were the largest potatoes he had ever seen. Then dad told the boys to hook that Sorrel team on the wagon and pull it up over the hill. There was quite a hill to go over as the road lead from the ranch. From there it was mostly down grade on back to Brother Well s place. When spring came, Brother Wells came over to the ranch to see if he could work for dad awhile to pay on the provisions he got. Dad told him to go get a job where he could make some money and take care of that family and not to worry about paying for what he got. Brother Wells said he had plenty of everything to do

his family the entire winter. Before the summer was over, he decided to move back north where he settled in Idaho. He lived there until he came back to Salt Lake to work in the Temple the last few years of his life. He said he never did pay the Roundy family a penny for that help they gave him, and he considered that saved his family from starving that cold winter. From the statement Brother Jolley made to Brother Wells, you could see that he knew dad was known to be a man who was always helping someone, and I have heard similar stories from other people whom I have known. My bother John told me of one thing that happened there at the ranch which created quite a laughable sight, but yet could have been a real disaster. There had been a very heavy snow fall one winter. The storm let up, and there was a good four feet of snow. It happened that there was no wind, and the snow lay right on top of all the buildings just as deep as it was on the ground. Dad was little fearful it might cave the roof of those large barns. There was a family by the name of Siler who lived down the valley about four miles from our place. For some reason, they never seemed to be very prosperous. They had two boys about the same age of dad s two oldest boys, William Jr. And John. These two Siler boys were very tall, about six foot six inches each of them. They often came up to our place to see if dad had any work for them to do. A day or two after this snow storm they came up there on their snow shoes. The snow was so deep you couldn t get a horse through it. Dad asked them if they wanted a job shoveling the snow off those two barns. They were glad to do it. They got a long rope and a ladder that reached up to the cone of the barn. They worked their way up through the snow until they got on top of the roof. Their names were Bill and Hint. Bill was to stay over the top on the opposite side of the roof and shovel the snow from the bottom edge up. Just as Hint got to shoveling, the vibration of them on the barn seemed to loosen the snow, and the whole of it started to slide all at once. Of course, Hint was going with it. He hollered, Hold me Bill, Bill said, I can t. Just then the force of the snow with Hint on it pulled Bill right over the top of the roof. It was very lucky that Hint landed on his feet. He was standing straight up, that snow packed around him clear up to his neck, his head was all that was sticking out. He couldn t even move his arms. Dad told the boys to dig him out after they had all had a good laugh. It was quite a shoveling job to get Hint out of that snow. Dad could have just as well had his own boys shovel the snow, but he gave the Siler boys the job just to help them. Father and his brother, Uncle Byron, were both great livestock men. They could tell a good animal the minute they looked at one and always had the best horses, both to work and to ride. I have had many men who knew dad, tell me he drove some of the most beautiful teams they had ever seen. He also raised some thoroughbred horses. Several of these he trained on the race track and took them over to the Iron County Fair, and after winning first prize money would sell them. Two of these horses he sold to California men. They traveled with them all over the United States from one racing tournament to another. Dad would make a trip to Salt Lake City every few years to get machinery and furniture. On one of these trips he bought an Arabian stallion from his father, Lauren Roundy, who lived in Springville. That was really an outstanding horse. Dad got only one crop of colts from that Arabian horse. There were six geldings and one little spotted mare. These six geldings were some of the best horses that were ever raised on that ranch. Dad really took good care of them. Their names were Borax; Barton and Rajah, both were solid bay in color; Bald Hornet was a black bald-faced horse; Puppy was a pretty brown and Moose was a large yellow horse. All these animals were eventually sold except Barton and Puppy. We kept them on the ranch until they died of old age. I was old enough to remember these two horses before they were sold. One was a solid bay color, his name was Moose. The other was a beautiful chestnut sorrel color and his name was Borax. I thought this horse was the most beautiful animal in the world. One time when dad was training him for the Iron County Fair, he took me out to the track one day to see old Borax run. This was just a day or so before he was to leave for the fair, and dad was going to speed him to see what time he could run a half mile. I was so excited I remembered everything that took place. 9

10 My older brother Lauren was about 16 years old and was a jockey. He was rated as the best jockey in the county. I watched dad help Lauren on the horse, put the surcingle over Lauren s knees and tightened it up good. Then he said to Lauren, I want you to urge that horse all you can by talking to him, around the first curve and up the back stretch. When you hit the second curve, put the whip on him from then on out. Dad got his stop watch out, and when Borax crossed the starting line, dad started his watch. When Lauren got to that second curve, he started lashing old Borax with the whip. The horse looked to me like he was flying when he reached that curve and started down the home stretch. There were loose cattle in the pasture where the track was and about half way down the pasture where the track was and about half way down the home stretch was a large bunch of willows right by the side of the track. A bunch of steers was shaded up in the willows, and when they heard that horse pounding the earth, it scared them, and one large steer ran out right in front of the horse. I saw him leap to try to get over the steer, but he was so close, Borax couldn t quite clear him. His knees caught that steer s back and the horse rolled just like a big cart wheel. It broke Lauren s leg about half way between the knee and hip, but never hurt the horse at all. Dad put John on a little yellow horse named Creamy, and sent him to Panguitch for a Doctor Stiner to come set the leg. I have heard John tell that he rode that little horse to Panguitch in 2½ hours, a distance of 35 miles. Dad took old Borax out to the fair. I think he took the main prize and then dad sold him to a California man. Dad had a picture taken of old Borax with the jockey on him that he got to ride him in that fair. That picture was in Joanna s possession when she died, and I have never been able to find it since. Dad had another stallion named Billie, and he was working them [the Arabian] together. One day as he led the two of them to water, they got to fighting. As dad was trying to separate them, one kicked dad and broke his arm just above the elbow. Of course, that turned the horses loose to finish their fight. Billie kicked the Arabian horse and broke one of his legs, so he had to be killed. A horse with a broken leg will never mend so they are not any good again. Before the railroad was put into southern Utah, they had to drive to Salt Lake City by team and wagon to get all the machinery and equipment for the farm. On one of these trips, father made to get a load of new machinery, he was traveling with a man from Panguitch, who seemed to be rather a smart style of a fellow, or at least he thought he was. After tending to their business and getting their wagon loaded in the city, they started on the return trip. On the second day they stopped at noon for lunch and to feed and rest their horses awhile. This stop happened to be at Spring Lake here in the south end of Utah County. This place is still known as Spring Lake. It was quite a camping site for travelers in the early days. A nice spring of fresh water was there and a large willow grove for shade where one could eat lunch. As they were hooking up their teams to continue on the journey, dad noticed a very nice-looking man come walking out of the willows. He stopped by dad s wagon and started talking to him. When he first spoke to dad he called him Shem and during their conversation he kept calling dad Shem nearly every time he spoke to him. Dad was really astonished at his conversation and also interested because of his fine look and appearance which intrigued dad. So he just couldn t quit looking at the man. He said one could tell he was no ordinary man but all the time he was conversing with dad, this other man who was with dad just continually kept getting off some of his smart talk. Nearly every time he would say something to dad, this other man would chip in some gab. The man was standing right at the side of dad s wagon as he finished hooking up the team and then dad put the grub-box on the wagon. When he turned to ask the man to get on the wagon and ride with him, the man was gone. Dad walked around his wagon and looked in every direction but no one was in sight. He asked this partner of his if he saw where the man went. He only got off some of his smart stuff. But dad said that the man couldn t have gotten out of his sight in any physical way during the moment he had his back turned to him. When dad turned to set his grub-box on the wagon. Dad never did say anything about the kind of clothes he was wearing except that he was very clean and neat and carried a beautiful cane the most beautiful cane he had ever seen.

Dad always felt disgusted at his pal getting off those wise cracks all the time he was talking to the man. It also astonished dad at the man calling him, Shem. I suppose it was dad s liberality and interest in strangers that brought some characters around that ranch that never seemed to stop any where else. There was an old tramp by the name of Sim Walters that got to coming there to spend the summers for six or eight years. He came every summer and then would go down to Arizona to stay through the winter. He had three little scrub horses and a buckboard to haul his belongings in. He also had two large blood hound dogs. As soon as warm weather came every year, there would come old Sim. Dad would pasture his horses and give him everything he wanted to eat. He was quite clean and respectable in some ways. The folks would often ask him to come in and eat with the family. He was all the time telling us children what to eat to keep in good health. My Brother Lauren and his cousin, Hyrum, who was Uncle Byron s boy, were the same age. You never saw two youngsters more full of mischief and fun than these two were. One day they got Sim on a runaway horse. You never saw such a show as that was. I don t know where that old tramp would have ended up if that horse had not run straight into a thick bunch of oak trees which stopped him. He came back and hit straight for the house and said to mother, If you don t do something for that boy of yours, he is going to land in the penitentiary as sure as he is an inch high and that cousin of his, Hyrum, won t be far behind him. John came out of the other room and asked Sim what had happened. Poor old Sim said, My John, they got me on Creamy. (Creamy was the horse s name.) Another old brother that often stopped to see dad and mother was a convert to the Church from England. It seemed he always had a hard time getting along financially. I guess he wasn t very work brittle. This fellow was Robert Laws but everybody called him Bobby Laws, except dad. Dad always called him Robert. I never heard dad call anybody by a nickname. One day this old gentleman came by and stopped to visit with dad and to look at the livestock. Dad happened to be feeding the pigs. He had a beautiful litter of small pigs all white and fat as a bunch of butter balls. There were about twelve or fourteen pigs in the litter and with that many, there is usually a little runt. There was one very little runt in the bunch. When brother Laws looked at them he asked dad how much that little run was worth. Dad just wanted to have some fun, and he said, Robert, I think that pig should be worth about ten cents. Old Brother Laws looking earnest and sincere said, Well, Sir, if I had the money I would take that pig. That was a by-word around the ranch for years. Then dad told one of the boys to get a gunny sack and put the little pig in it, and give it to Brother Laws when he got ready to go. That is the way dad always treated people when they were just hinting for something. A few other things I remember of dad saying. There was a neighbor next to dad s ranch on the south. The two farms joined each other. This gentleman seemed to be rather at outs with the Church. Dad said he had seen this man lay around all week and then hook up his team and go to mowing hay on Sunday morning. One other thing I remember dad saying about this man. One day he came on horseback and stopped to talk a bit. When he rode away dad said he could smell his feet stink through his boots. As I said before, dad was quite particular about his appearance and never liked to see anyone go dirty. Dad was also starting into the sheep business and the last few years of his life. He had a herd of about 800 head of sheep when he died. In the spring when I was five years old he was lambing them in the hills right south of the farm. He had a tent there to camp in so he could stay with the sheep all the time. We could see the tent from the house. Several times mother let me walk over in the evening and stay with dad. I sure thought it was great to eat supper with him around the firelight, then go to bed in the tent. In the morning he would get a doggy lamb for me to carry back home, and we would feed him on cow s milk.... [On the morning of 23 July 1899, a tragedy occurred that left two families without a father. William Heber went to see Daniel Seegmiller regarding his water turn. What exactly transpired in the next hour only two men know, and they are gone. But William Heber came home and told Malinda and John Davis he had 11