Feramorz Little (1820-1887)

In summer 1851, prior to his baptism into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Feramorz Little was a contract employee. His job: carry the monthly mail between Salt Lake City and Fort Laramie—five hundred plus miles of desolation, except for a few scattered trading posts and military Fort Bridger.

Feramorz and Ephraim K. Hanks, fellow employee and brother-in-law, departed for the first trip from Salt Lake to Laramie on August 1, with an expected arrival time of the 15^th. The inaugural round trip was uneventful except for enormous 13 inch long bear tracks found one morning, prints which were not there when two postman retired. Yet a trip about a year-and-a-half later, was anything but uneventful.

On 1 November 1852 Feramorz was paired with a Frenchman from Canada named David Contway to complete the postal circuit. It started like any other normal winter run: cold with a timely arrival by the middle of the month in Laramie. Unfortunately severe snowstorms delayed mail delivery from the east until the 25^th, and when it finally arrived, an awkward mounting of a mule left Feramorz with “his ankle out of joint” (23). The fort’s army surgeon begged Feramorz to stay and recover: departure in blinding snow storms and in his condition was a death wish. Yet, Fannie, Feramorz’s wife, was waiting, and he would not be restrained. Fannie, was pregnant with their third child and due shortly; he was anxious to leave Fort Laramie and be by her side.

Feramorz and David petitioned help from an Indian named Yodes to guide them on the arduous return journey. (Yodes was an expert guide and able to provide assistance across the extremely snow covered wilderness.) In ten days, probably around the 5^th of December, the three companions and some mounts traveled about 110 miles to Devil’s Gate; once there they were warned by owners of a trading post to stop and wait for the trails to clear, going on was “useless” (23). Two nights out from the trading post, with a winter storm raging, David thought about turning back to Devil’s Gate: “Mr. Little, you are going on, are you?” Feramorz resolutely stated: “Yes, I am going on.” Feramorz offered a horse if he wanted to return, but David ultimately decided, “I can stand it if you can” (24).

As the party continued on to the next trading post in Green River—a distance of about 130 miles—Feramorz struggled along on his lame leg, with the biggest difficulty being the use of a crutch once off the mount; the threesome found little to burn, though they once dug six feet to the ground to start a fire; they at times slept peacefully under buffalo skins, blankets, and a top layer of falling snow which served as insulation; and the horses and mules found bunch grass to sustain them.

When they arrived in Green River Feramorz’s “leg had improved and here he threw away his crutches” (26). The advice from this trading post owners was more discouraging than the last, considering fresh evidence: failure is assured; recently two men left with five ponies; they made it 25 miles before three of the ponies died; the two men walked back with the two remaining, exhausted mounts. Once again, David hedged, but once again “decided that he could endure as long as Mr. Little, and concluded to stay with him” (27). Two days before Christmas the trio began the approximate 50 mile trek to Fort Bridger. Since Feramorz no longer needed crutches the company walked, saddled horses cut the snowy trail with the men and pack mules behind, and mail bags drifting down the icy river in waterproof bags. Such a routine prevented animal exhaustion, an example of which they saw when the passed the remains of what could only have been that of a pony lost by the previously mentioned party of two.

Fort Bridger offered a welcome, albeit brief, respite. The party also increased in size. Military man, Major Holman, and his three assistants, and two gentlemen, James Gammell, and Robert Holliday, tired of cabin fever, asked to join the trek to Salt Lake—their courage apparently revived by the success of the determined party of three. On the first day of the final leg of the journey (approximate 100 miles) a fine snow fell with intensely cold temperatures. Feramorz knew the temptation in those circumstances: build up and stand around large campfires. To do so, he warned, would only make them more miserable and cold. They disregarded the tip. (Notice the irony: Feramorz did not heed the warnings of the army surgeon and trading post owners.) “Large fires were made and the clothing on the side of the body next to the fire soon became saturated with melting snow.  As that side was turned from the fire the clothes froze hard, and by this change of alternately freezing and thawing, the outer garments became such a cake of ice that it could not well be gotten rid of.  By getting into bed in this condition the heat of the body would thaw the ice and thus thoroughly water-soak both clothing and bedding, making the future far more uncomfortable than the present” (29–30).

The next morning, “with outer garments so stiff with ice that it was difficult to get into their saddles without breaking the cloth” (30), the group determined to return and recover from their conditions at Fort Bridger. Though frustrated by the delay, Feramorz’s softened his protest when he learned that two Flat-head horses resided in the fort which could be purchased by the party—Flat-head horses were “raised in a country where snow fell deep in the winter,” and capable of great distances and privations in such conditions (30). After the nine men returned, rested for a day, and purchased the horses, which raised the level of mounts to sixteen, they set off for Salt Lake Valley again.

Within two weeks the party reached Echo Canyon, 30 miles east of the valley. Major Holman and his three assistants halted their progress and wintered with a Lewis family in the vicinity. Further, the horses, even the flat-heads, were deemed unfit to make it the rest of the roughhewn way—they were left in the canyon until the spring. The nine remaining men, dragging 140 pounds of mail and essentials, continued.

Now January 1853, things were desperate. The next five miles up the East Canyon Creek to the foot of Big Mountain were daunting. Feramorz’s ankle caused him severe pain, having no horse to carry him—his gimpy gate regularly caused a chuckle to slip from Yodes’s mouth (35). Upon arriving at the foot, James Gammell, his “beard and face nearly covered with icicles,” determined sit, relax, and camp (33). This course was folly—their physical conditions, lack of mounts, and slim provisions warranted continued progress over the mountain that day. Feramorz took the lead in preventing respite. He circumspectly asked Yodes to “get a switch from a tree” and “wake up” James. With a “grin of satisfaction,” Yodes whipped James across the legs. Aroused, James made for Yodes, but the Indian side-stepped and “put in occasional doses of the switch.” Feramorz continued to incite the beating by calling out: “Wake him up Yodes!” Fury raging and expletives erupting James blood boiled, and saved his life.

Though the party did not make it to Salt Lake the day of the whipping, they did make it to a point on the opposite side of the mountain where snow was easily cleared and a roaring fire blazing—they spent “the night [in] the best possible advantage” (33–34).

With seventeen miles left, no further shelter in sight, laborious foot travel required, and very minimal necessities, the company determined to make the drive for the valley in a single day. The mail was left to be retrieved later. Despite his pain, Feramorz blazed the trail in the soft, with the discomfort rising once they began walking across hardened paths and roads.

By the end of the day, 20 January, the company arrived. Feramorz recovered for two weeks in his home, which recovery included the arrival of baby girl Juliette on the 23^rd.

Though Feramorz’s mother and oldest brother joined the Church in 1832 with Brigham Young’s family in Mendon, New York, Feramorz did not. In fact, he was not even with his mother in that year. His father died prior to the families contact with the Church, and his step-father’s “hard treatment” influenced Feramorz to live with a Chamberlain family elsewhere (11–13). Though Feramorz had occasional contact with his blood relatives, including an extensive visit in Nauvoo, Illinois, in the fall of 1844, he did not join the Church. After his marriage to Fannie in 1846 their paths led to Salt Lake City in eventual hopes of reaching California and the fair fortune and opportunities it provided. Yet in 1853—the year the trying trip from Laramie concluded—Feramorz softened his heart sufficiently that he accepted baptism into the Church and remained faithful the rest of his life (14–35).

(Source: James A. Little, Biographical Sketch of Feramorz Little [Salt Lake City: Juvenile Instructor, 1890], 1–35, as summarized by Matt Crawford, 3^rd great-grandson; mileage approximations used by using “as the crow flies” found at https://www.freemaptools.com/how-far-is-it-between.htm).