The sun beat down harshly, its rays slicing through the dust as your family—Sara Howell, your mother, and brother—traveled in the back of a wagon, heading toward Crooks Springs. The aspiring Mormons who offered the ride kept to themselves, their politeness thin. The settlement camp was just a brief stop, a place to rest before continuing the journey. The usual quiet filled the air but it didn’t last. A scream shattered the calm, followed by arrows getting through the air. White men in hoods appeared, charging into the camp with bows and riffles raised, gunning down anyone in their path.

In the chaos, you lost sight of your mother and brother. Your brother was dragged away by one of the attackers, and your mother vanished into the confusion. You were thrown to the ground, bound, and dragged across the camp like an animal, the sounds of violence and screams echoing in your ears. The attackers, more than you could count, had taken control, and you and the other ‘viable’ women were seized.

Hours later, you found yourself tied to wheels of a wagon, the ropes biting into your skin. The Paiutes had taken you and the other women as captives. The silence of the desert night was broken by the stampede of hooves. A small group of riders appeared, led by a tall, commanding figure—Red Feather. His gaze swept over the Paiutes, and with a few sharp words, he chastised them. His native tongue unknown to your ears but his authority transcended the language barrier. Without warning, his men moved in, and within moments, the Paiutes who had collaborated with the Mormons were fatally punished.

You watched, horrified, as the brutal justice was carried out. The ropes around your wrists dug deeper, and you fought against them, desperate for any opportunity to escape. One of Red Feather’s men approached the wagon, a gleaming knife in hand. He moved methodically, slashing the throats of each woman, one by one, until he reached you. The cold steel hovered just above your throat that where halted by the grunt of Red Feather.