johnathan Little Story
submitted by: Alva Leon Matheson
No one seems to know when Johnathan Little arrived in the Cedar Valley of Southern Utah. The pioneers in Iron County presumed he had been sent by President Brigham Young to assist in their efforts to produce iron from ore deposits near Cedar City, Utah. The “Iron Mission,” as it became known, would be the first smelter for iron west of the Mississippi River, established on November 11, 1851.
Not much was known of Johnathan’s origins. It was suggested that he had emigrated from Wales due to a decided accent, but John was well known in his community, if not by sight, then by name and reputation. He freighted goods and carried messages between struggling pioneer communities, becoming an indispensable asset to each of them.
Johnathan Little, or “Little John Little,” as he was often called because of the play on words, was no stranger to hard work. But it was apparent everyone that work was a stranger to Little John. Perhaps it was because he was just that, little! Barely five feet tall with his boots on, he was muscular and capable enough, but Little John hated farming. He even showed his aversion to farming by wearing a flat-topped straw hat and chiding his neighbors when they sported their “farmer’s furrow.” Ranchers preferred a smooth ten-gallon style of cowboy hat to better shed the rain. His distaste for farming eventually led him to become a teamster, or in those days, a person who was called a “drover.”
Little John earned a good living by driving wagons of commerce throughout the area—and he was good at it. He was honest, cheerful, dependable, and he soon became an indispensable fixture in pioneer life. His forte was riding a freighting circuit from Parowan, Utah, to the struggling settlements of Santa Clara and St George, beginning in 1857. He later capitalized on the discovery of silver near Pioche, Nevada, in 1864. The discovery of silver in Leeds, Utah, in 1866 added another stop to his widening circle of service accounts.
Basically, Little John became the “Uber” drover of an earlier life. He delivered seasonal fruits, produce, wine, and other commodities from one farm to another and from one settlement to another. He soon became indispensable to various mining communities as well. They were starving for deliveries that only he could make. Why? Because among other things, Little John was prudent enough to have invested in, of all things, a “Studebaker” freight wagon!
Little John’s Studebaker wagon was the envy of all who saw it. It was a stable and rugged tool, with excellent balance and wide steel tires that would support heavy loads in sandy terrain. The novel Studebaker made it possible for Little John to earn a comfortable living and eventually he purchased a ranch near “The Meadows” of Cedar Valley, close to a newly platted city called “Aberdeen,” Utah. His land was west of Johnson Springs Camp (Enoch) near Stevensville and
adjacent to The Old Spanish Trail, which gave Little John easy access to the pioneer trails he regularly traveled. The ranch was also rural enough that ne was not bothered with the mundane details of life, like being involved in church and community affairs. It was not that he was averse to participating, Little John Little just enjoyed his privacy and isolation, and the long hours he spent on the trail gave him time for reflection and contemplation.
By the time his oldest daughter was approaching the age of sixteen, Little John had a thriving freight business. He would routinely ride a circuit between settlements, pick up goods and messages in one community, deliver and/or sell them to another community and then return the proceeds to the seller. Since cash money was always in short supply many farmers came to depend on Little John for their livelihood. He was also essential to co-op activities, particularly the dairies above Summit and Parowan. With an early start to his day, Little John could expect high profits from delivering fresh dairy supplies to waiting miners in Pioche, Nevada. Then he continued his circuit to the Virgin River. He would travel as far as Toquerville for wine before returning through St. George, Santa Clara, and Veyo with a load of fresh fruit and produce to once again exchange miner gold for an empty wagon.
For years, his Little John’s daughter begged and pleaded with him to let her join him on his forays into the wide world. She was often seen riding beside him on the high spring seat and driving the team herself, while Little John would bask in her skill and the attention she often received from admiring neighbors. One thing he would not condone, however, was his daughter’s persistent begging to see the big city mining centers of Pioche and Leeds. They were strictly off-limits to her! Lawless and rowdy, Pioche alone was known as the “Murder Capital” of the west. Three quarters of all homicides in Nevada occurred in Pioche at that time; none were of women. Leeds was not far behind either Pioche or Gold Strike in tolerating debauchery. Nope! No! Not! Never going to happen! Not on my watch, young lady.
His resistance lasted only until the young lady was approaching her coming-out party at the age of 16. The only thing she wanted at that auspicious moment was a chance to see the city lights of Pioche. Her pleading never ceased until Little John finally capitulated, although with manifest reservations and precautions. He insisted that his daughter must dress in homely garb. She was to “wear a hooded bonnet at all times.” She was to “wear a shawl at all times.” And she was to “speak to no one, do you understand? No one!”
On the appointed day, Little John set off toward Parowan on his circuit of dairy farms to collect trade goods before returning to his ranch on The Meadows. There he picked up his waiting daughter (though with some evident trepidation) and the pair headed west along The Old Spanish Trail to Iron Springs, Utah. They left the Trail at Antelope Springs, and turned west to Panaca, Nevada, before heading north to the mining district at Pioche; a total distance of some 70 miles.
When the pair arrived in Pioche, they conducted customary sales from their wagon box. It was a highly profitable day, trading fresh food for gold. But there was no doubt that the evident presence of a young lady in their city had been discovered by the local residents. Sensing a growing lust from the admiring crowd of miscreant miners, Little John chose to announce that they would be stay overnight and they would return the next morning to take additional orders.
But well before dawn arrived, Little John and his “Little beauty” secretly departed homeward with the gold and cash receipts, and his daughter apparently safe, at least for the moment? But whether through inspiration or filial foreboding, Little John was uncomfortable. He had a profound sense that something was wrong. Listening to his fears Little John decided to take a different route than they usually traveled. Instead of returning south toward Panaca, the pair turned eastward to Pine Valley to then descend Liza Canyon to cross the Escalante Desert.
Urging their team of horses well beyond their usual plodding pace, Little John kept a wary eye over his shoulder. He was convinced that someone was following him. His anxiety only increased as he approached the desert because he would soon be leaving the relative protection of the forested mountains for desert wastelands. The impression of being at risk left him bound by his turmoil and the Spirit’s prompting weighed heavily on his mind. What should he do?
Spying a shallow ridge ahead of him, Little John had an idea. He handed the team over to his daughter and reached behind him for a seldom-used muzzle-loading rifle he kept under the wagon covers. He checked the old gun to make sure it was loaded and properly primed before sharing his plan with her. She was to drive the wagon as fast as the team could go until she crossed an open space and crested the ridge ahead of them. Once she was across the ridge, and out of sight, she was to make a sharp left turn into a grove of trees and abandon the wagon. Then she was to then take their gold from the wagon and hide herself in the juniper forest until he returned.
The sense of pending danger had now become an apparent to both father and daughter.
Little John jumped off the still rolling wagon into a cloud of dust with his single-shot rifle, and his daughter did as she had been instructed. Little John was now on a dead run back along the trail to an outcropping of rocks that had previously caught his attention. The rocks would give him a vantage point from which he could observe the trail behind him without being seen. By the time he was hidden his daughter and the freight wagon had disappeared over distant hill. At least he could take some comfort in knowing she was reasonably safe. Only then did Little John settle to his vigil. It seemed an interminable length of time for him to wait, but Little John was a patient man, and he was convinced that his prompting was inspired.
And so, it was.
In the far distance he saw movement, and then a lone horseman appeared to his view. The rider was following their wagon tracks through the trees at a measured pace, waiting to catch Little John and his daughter on the open desert where they would have no escape.
With great trepidation, Little John silently watched the approaching rider. He recognized the man as having been one of several miners in Pioche, a drifter who seemed to have taken more than a casual interest in both his sales and his daughter. The rider had been conspicuous because he carried a "huge" Winchester 45-90 rifle, and he was wearing black English-style riding boots. It was evident to Little John that the ruffian had been up to no good in Pioche, and he was certainly up to no good now. Little John had only one chance and he had only one shot. He was determined to make the best of both.
Stunned into action by the blast of his own muzzle-loader, Little John was headed toward the wagon well before the smoke cleared. He was confident the threatening horseman intended to rob them, or worse, and now Little John's plan of action was to clear the area as rapidly as possible. He hoped his target would now be wary of a possible second shot while he and his daughter opened the distance between them and escaped. If his shot had connected with the rider, that was all right too. But either way, the father and daughter would be swell on their way home, but now they would have a clear view of the trail behind them.
But Wait! Wait! That is not the end of the story.
Little John Little was a neighbor at The Meadows, as I mentioned before. The events of this incident were preserved by my Aunt Rhoda Wood. She included the story of Little John Little in notes relating to her life on The Meadows, and on the western edge of the desert. The story of Little John had been shared with my Grandfather, Alexander G. Matheson. and my father knew where the trail was through Liza Canyon.
Always conscious of this story during his many travels through the canyon, Alva was convinced that given the opportunity, he could find the actual site of the shooting. Eventually, he looked for a likely location, just as Rhoda had recorded, and he started to search the area where the shooting might have occurred. He was drawn to an outcropping of rocks with a good view of the trail as it entered a forested area from the west. Investigating further, he proceeded to search the area out of simple curiosity. His efforts were rewarded.
First, he found an old Winchester Model 1865 45-90 lever-action rifle. It was well weathered and cankered with rust and scale. It had a hexagonal barrel that was nearly 32 inches long and the gun weighed several pounds. It was, and it and still is, loaded! The heavy rifle was found leaning against the fork of an ancient juniper tree. Nearby he discovered a black leather riding boot buried beneath a single sage bush. The boot had leg bones and foot bones of its original owner still in the boot.
Alva passed away in late 2000, but I still have Aunt Rhoda's notes that tell the tale of little John Little’s narrow escape. Oh, and I still have that Winchester rifle and a boot with bones included.
ALM, Cedar City Chapter, Sons of Utah Pioneers