Person:Mary Whittaker (4)

From the Whittaker family record in an Old Testament compiled by Ellen W. Lunt. Now owned by Hattie Thornton Snow. Born 11.55 P.M.

Mary Whittaker:

Heart Throbs of the West Heart Throbs of the West: Volume 10 Western Folklore My Precious Quilt This is my Mother's own story: She was Mary Whittaker Thornton. It was in the spring of 1857. I had been married just six months when the urge came to half a dozen young missionaries to the Indians to take their wives and move twenty-eight miles west from Cedar City, Iron County, to Pinto Creek, Washington County. My husband was one of those missionaries. The valley was covered with wild hay and looked very alluring for a good dairy business. Our first home was a "dug out" where we lived while the log cabin was being built. The Indians were not yet very friendly, and I was a girl bride of only eighteen years. It was a strange new venture and took all the courage and faith we could muster to meet situations that constantly confronted us. But, we put our trust in our Heavenly Father and were happy. Then came this experience. When you are alone do you ever feel the presence of someone looking at you although you have never heard a sound of approaching footsteps? Well, I did one morning as I was at work in my new log Cabin home. Instinctively I turned, and there, standing in the doorway was a stalwart Navajo Indian, dressed in the colorful regalia of his tribe. At that time, 1857, the Navajos were the fiercest and most dreaded tribe in the south. I was almost paralyzed with fear. With a keen eagle eye he was surveying my cabin, and me when his eyes rested on a new varicolored pieced quilt on my bed. Then in deep guttural tones he said, "Give me quilt." I was so anxious to be rid of him that I would have given him anything he asked for, but oh! Why the quilt. I had gathered the pieces of calico by dint of the most rigid economy and effort. It was my prize possession. It gave life and color to my little home and would look so pretty on my bed when the baby came

"How much you give me?" I managed to say.

He handed out seven silver dollars. The quilt was carefully folded, and with trembling fingers handed to him. The exchange being made he glided away as noiselessly as he had come. Shaking and tearful I counted the money. Seven silver dollars looked like a fortune. Oh what can I not buy for my little layette. Everything was needed and almost nothing ready for the little daughter that was soon to come to us. With mixed emotions of sacrifice of my beloved quilt, every stitch hand-made, I gazed at my silver dollars and felt that God was good to me in this strange and frightening experience.--Hattie Thornton Snow.

1.   Beverly Cannon. (Information obtained from a gedcom submitted by Beverly Cannon).