Gospel Story Finder

Moroni Rubio was only 16 when he earned the number one ranking among sprinters in Mexico, after breaking records in the 100- and 200-meter sprints. That same year, 2002, he took first place in the 100 meters at the Central American Junior Championships and was named athlete of the year in the state of Yucatán.
His dreams are pinned on his feet, which are expected to carry him all the way to the 2008 Summer Olympics in Beijing, China. But even if, for some reason, his feet don’t take him to the Olympics, they will have already accomplished a great work.
His feet have put his unique name in the spotlight, bringing him numerous missionary opportunities. Because of Moroni’s success, he’s been on television a number of times—each time with his name right there on the screen.
“I’m asked about my name a lot,” says Moroni, a priest in the Mérida México Lakín Stake. “It’s a great opportunity to talk about the gospel. And when I race, the members watching always know I’m a member too—by my name. I think it’s something they’re proud of.”

As a boy of fifteen I was called to preside over a quorum of teachers. Our adviser was interested in us, and we knew it. One day he said to me, “Tom, you enjoy raising pigeons, don’t you?”
I responded with a warm “Yes.”
Then he proposed, “How would you like me to give you a pair of purebred Birmingham Roller pigeons?”
This time I answered, “Yes, sir!” You see, the pigeons I had were just the common variety trapped on the roof of the Grant Elementary School.
He invited me to come to his home the next evening. The next day was one of the longest in my young life. I was awaiting my adviser’s return from work an hour before he arrived. He took me to his loft, which was in a small barn at the rear of his yard. As I looked at the most beautiful pigeons I had yet seen, he said, “Select any male, and I will give you a female which is different from any other pigeon in the world.” I made my selection. He then placed in my hand a tiny hen. I asked what made her so different. He responded, “Look carefully, and you’ll notice that she has but one eye.” Sure enough, one eye was missing, a cat having done the damage. “Take them home to your loft,” he counseled. “Keep them in for about ten days and then turn them out to see if they will remain at your place.”
I followed his instructions. Upon releasing them, the male pigeon strutted about the roof of the loft, then returned inside to eat. But the one-eyed female was gone in an instant. I called Harold, my adviser, and asked: “Did that one-eyed pigeon return to your loft?”
“Come on over,” said he, “and we’ll have a look.”
As we walked from his kitchen door to the loft, my adviser commented, “Tom, you are the president of the teachers quorum.” This I already knew. Then he added, “What are you going to do to activate Bob?”
I answered, “I’ll have him at quorum meeting this week.”
Then he reached up to a special nest and handed to me the one-eyed pigeon. “Keep her in a few days and try again.” This I did, and once more she disappeared. Again the experience, “Come on over and we’ll see if she returned here.” Came the comment as we walked to the loft, “Congratulations on getting Bob to priesthood meeting. Now what are you and Bob going to do to activate Bill?”
“We’ll have him there this week,” I volunteered.
This experience was repeated over and over again. I was a grown man before I fully realized that, indeed, Harold, my adviser, had given me a special pigeon; the only bird in his loft he knew would return every time she was released. It was his inspired way of having an ideal personal priesthood interview with the teachers quorum president every two weeks. I owe a lot to that one-eyed pigeon. I owe more to that quorum adviser. He had the patience to help me prepare for opportunities which lay ahead.

So when the high school football coach asked Jake to be the water boy for the team, Jake jumped at the chance. “I’ve always liked football. There was never any doubt that I would say yes. I was pretty excited,” says Jake.
Jake is happy to be part of the team, and his positive influence also lifts the spirits of those around him.
Riley Davis plays center on the football team and is one of Jake’s longtime friends. He says the players “were all sophomores coming into the school and didn’t have too many friends. But when Jake joined the team, everybody wanted to be his friend, and then we all started being friends together.”
Another player on the team, Sheen Beard, found Jake to be a tremendous help to him. Injured before the season began, Sheen was unable to play on the team and became a water boy alongside Jake. Jake helped him not only with water and equipment but also by easing the ache of being unable to play. Sheen says, “It turned out well; we worked as a team. He made it fun and had a really good attitude the whole time.”
“Jake has never allowed his problems to affect his life too much,” his mother says. “Of course, he couldn’t do it alone. Joining the football team has made it a lot easier for him and for us, as parents.”
Jake and his parents are especially grateful to Coach Mike Miller for giving Jake such a tremendous opportunity. “This new opportunity gave Jake something to look forward to at a time when he really needed it,” his mom says.
“Jake also receives help from his good friend Riley,” she says. “He has always been the one to go out of his way to do things with him.”

There’s something different about Kory Cecil, Melissa Hinson, and Stephanie Shaw of Davidson County, North Carolina. Everyone in town notices it. Could it be that they’re the only LDS girls in their high school?
They were nominated to be the representatives of the sophomore, junior, and senior classes, respectively, on the homecoming court. When they were presented to the public, the whole town got an earful of the girls’ church activities and positions, on the loud speaker. It prompted at least one friend to tell Melissa she wanted to hear more about the gospel.

One evening Anthony Obinna dreamed of a beautiful building he had never seen before. Several years later, while confined to his home during the Nigerian Civil War, Obinna read an old issue of the Reader’s Digest. He was stunned to see the building from his dream in an article about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“From the time I finished reading the story,” Obinna recalled, “I had no rest of mind any longer.” He immediately told his family about his discovery, but more than a year passed before the political situation in Nigeria allowed Obinna to contact Church headquarters. In 1971 LaMar S. Williams of the Church’s Missionary Department sent him a copy of the Book of Mormon and other Church literature but informed him there were not yet plans to organize the Church in Nigeria.
Despite his disappointment, Obinna continued the correspondence and shared the gospel with friends and neighbors. In 1975 he became a member of Ime Eduok’s committee to coordinate unofficial Latter-day Saint congregations in Nigeria. Within a few years, 71 people were regularly attending the meetings Obinna held. The group built a small church, which they called the LDS Missionary Home, and posted a sign on the roof announcing it as the home of the “Nigerian Latter-day Saints.”
In November 1978, soon after the Church announced the revelation extending the priesthood to all worthy male members, Rendell N. and Rachel Mabey and Edwin Q. and Janath Cannon became the first missionaries sent to West Africa. Almost immediately, they sought Obinna and soon met him at the Missionary Home. “It has been a long, difficult wait,” Obinna said, “but that doesn’t matter now. You have come at last.”
Elder Mabey told Obinna that the other congregations needed to be visited and estimated it would be six weeks before they could return to baptize his group. Obinna protested. “No. Please,” he quietly implored. “Please, if it is humanly possible—go ahead with the baptisms now!” Mabey agreed, and on November 21, 1978, 19 converts were baptized in the Ekeonumiri River. Anthony Obinna was the first.
Anthony Obinna was called to preside over the newly organized Aboh Branch with his brothers Francis and Raymond as his counselors. Obinna’s wife, Fidelia, was called as Relief Society president.
“We are happy for the many hours in the Upper Room of the Temple you spent supplicating the Lord to bring us into the fold,” the Obinna brothers wrote to Church leaders after the branch was established. “We thank our Heavenly Father for hearing your prayers and ours,” they added, expressing gratitude that “revelation has confirmed the long-promised day, and has granted the holy priesthood to us, with the power to exercise its divine authority and enjoy every blessing of the temple.”

When the McCanns first saw it set amongst acres of pine trees on idyllic Kangaroo Island, they knew they had to secure the holiday home. Evonne and David Sandelin McCann envisioned retreats here with their five children and youth camps for their stake in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
In the years since, all their dreams became reality. The McCanns generously opened their home to friends and the Church’s youth groups, who have wonderful memories of staying there—experiencing dusk surrounded by kangaroos, wallabies, possums, and spotting koalas snuggled in the boughs of the eucalyptus trees.

In 1989, a friend, Father François Laborde, asked Sister Pelous to help set up a home, school, medical dispensary, and farm for forty-seven homeless children—twenty-one of whom were also blind—in Nepalganj, Nepal. From Bengal, Cécile went to Nepal and assessed the needs. Back in Paris, she undertook to raise the necessary funds, but without success. Then an event—that Cécile credits to Heavenly Father’s goodness—saved the project.
A real-estate agency made her a very generous offer for her home, which was ideally located in a suburb near downtown Paris. Cécile immediately accepted their offer. She would buy a less expensive house—though not so rich in memories—and with the money she saved, she could fund the projects in Nepal. The homes and school were built in 1990, and Cécile is now looking for funds for the dispensary and farm projects.

One morning a good many years ago, a member of the Council of the Twelve came to my office and told me of a beautiful, touching experience that had happened to him that day. He had gone to the old Deseret Gym to enjoy the steam bath for a while. As he sat there in the heavy steam, he heard the door open and looked upward toward the door to see who was entering. He could not see anyone, but he had a feeling someone else was there in the room with him. After a few minutes he saw a young Primary-age boy about eight or nine years old who had seated himself two or three feet away. The boy gradually slid closer to the Apostle, and they finally said “hello” to each other. Then the boy moved even closer until he could look up into the face of the Church leader. The little boy said, “Mister, I think I know who you are.” The Apostle said, “Who am I?” The boy said, “I think you are one of the Apostles of the Church. I think you are the one who travels all over the ocean on big boats and little boats and all kinds of airplanes—and you are the one who never gets sick or hurt in any wrecks.” The Apostle acknowledged that he was the one who was having those great experiences. The boy then said to him, “Do you know why it is you don’t ever get killed or get hurt?” The Apostle said, “No, why is that?” The little Primary boy said, “That’s because I pray for you.”
What a touching, lovely expression of faith in a simple, wonderful way! This experience happened forty years ago, but I think of it frequently. There is far more power in simple prayer than many of us think possible.

Phoebe Carter was similarly led 750 miles (1,200 km) from Scarboro, Maine, to Kirtland, Ohio, in 1835. Phoebe was 28 years old when she determined to gather with Church members, even though she had to make her trek alone. As she later reported: “My friends marvelled at my course, as did I, but something within impelled me on. My mother’s grief at my leaving home was almost more than I could bear; and had it not been for the spirit within I should have faltered at the last. My mother told me she would rather see me buried than going thus alone into the heartless world. … ‘Phoebe,’ she said, impressively, ‘will you come back to me if you find Mormonism false?’ I answered thrice, ‘Yes, mother, I will.’ … When the time came for my departure I dared not trust myself to say farewell, so I wrote my good-bye to each, and leaving them on my table, ran down stairs and jumped into the carriage. Thus I left my beloved home of childhood to link my life with the Saints of God.”6

At that point Phoebe had no idea that her footsteps of faith would lead her on a journey much longer than the 750 miles (1,200 km) to Kirtland. She would marry Wilford Woodruff and join with him in journeying through Missouri to Nauvoo and then on the 1,350-mile (2,170-km) trek through wilderness lands to the Great Salt Lake Valley.

There was a hailstorm in Monterrey, Mexico, last night, and this morning the unpaved roads are rivers of mud. Sister Miriam Sosa and Sister Laura Alcala bundle up in sweaters and coats. (It’s not always sunny here!) The sturdy shoes they’re wearing have seen muddy streets before.
You’d think these two had known each other their whole lives. They’re certainly best friends now. Both have a bright excitement in their eyes and a spirit of enthusiasm as they speak. Both are third-generation Latter-day Saints. Both have fathers who have been stake presidents and brothers who are currently serving missions.
Most important, both are filled with the spirit of missionary work. Although some may say it is hard to give fifteen discussions here in a week, they’ve given over sixty-five a week more than once.
“Consecration is the only way,” says Sister Sosa. Her humility is genuine. “We have put absolutely all our confidence in the Lord.”
“And we truly love the people we’re teaching,” adds Sister Alcala. “We want to share what we have with everybody.”
During Sister Sosa’s eight months in the field, she has had fifty-five baptisms. Most are complete families and are preparing for the temple. They’ll have ten more baptisms this weekend.
As they slip and slide through the muddy streets this morning, they joke about getting stuck or falling down. But they’ll do neither; their pace is quick and sure. They knock on the door of a tiny house: the parents aren’t home, but the grandpa and three granddaughters are. A single bulb lights the room. The toothless grandpa, blind in one eye and complaining of a sore arm, has a lot to say—but he listens, too. The oldest granddaughter holds the youngest on her lap; she and the middle sister listen attentively, read scriptures, and answer questions correctly. At the end, one of the girls offers a prayer and the missionaries leave, promising to return when the parents are home.
More mud. Now they cross a field, singing “I Am a Child of God.” At their next stop, they teach another discussion. Afterward, the mother says she felt good during the lesson. “That’s the Spirit of God bearing witness to your heart that these things are true,” says Sister Alcala. The family promises to come to Church on Sunday.
Back out in the street, the sister missionaries squeal their delight. As they round another muddy corner, Sister Sosa exclaims, “This is such a beautiful place to work!”

My husband and I had a hard time getting married in the temple—and not because we didn’t want to! There were many things that kept preventing us from making this sacred covenant.
But through this journey of hardship, growth, and love, I have gained a greater testimony of the temple and the blessings that sacred place can bring into our lives.
Things were hard soon after we got engaged. For a while, a lot of unfortunate circumstances prevented us from moving forward to marriage in the temple. So after what seemed like forever, we finally set our endowment and sealing dates for May 2020. Almost everything was planned out. This was finally the time!
But then the world was hit by the COVID-19 pandemic, and our country, South Africa, went into full lockdown.
Once again, the temple and our marriage were postponed.
I started to think I wouldn’t ever be able to enter the temple. And I wondered if it was even worth all the effort. My husband and I still hadn’t even received our endowments, and I felt discouraged because after preparing for most of my life to be worthy to go, things still weren’t working out.
But I thought of everything that prophets had taught about the importance of attending the temple and the many blessings we receive when we make covenants with the Lord. President Russell M. Nelson taught that “the supreme benefits of membership in the Church can only be realized through the exalting ordinances of the temple.”1
So I was still determined to go when the time was right.
Over the next few months, my husband and I fasted, prayed, and exercised faith that we would remain worthy and be able to get married in the temple. And miraculously, in September 2020, the Johannesburg South Africa Temple had a limited opening that allowed my husband and me to receive our endowments.
Words can’t express how much closer I felt to Heavenly Father and the Savior inside the walls of the temple. It was a spiritually intimate moment that I will never forget. And it was worth the wait.
Soon after, my husband and I were finally able to get sealed for time and all eternity in the Lord’s house.
Our sealing day was so sacred. We were the only couple in the temple at the time, making that eternal covenant to each other and the Lord. I was beyond happy. I felt as if the Savior were sitting beside both of us, saying, “I’m pleased with your faith—you finally made it!”
And we are excited to start a new journey together, in which we can return to the temple again and again.

When she was 16 years old, Sister Michelle D. Craig learned that her family would be moving from Provo, Utah, USA, to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, USA, so her father could begin an assignment to serve as a mission president.
She was happy to be with her family, but the move left young Michelle “lonely socially” during her junior and senior years of high school.
“Those were really formative years,” Sister Craig said. “Instead of relying on friends, I relied on my family and my testimony, and church became a lifeline.” She valued most her relationship with Heavenly Father and the Savior.

Rose bounced on her toes as she peeked out the window. Their friends would be here any minute!
Every year at Christmastime, Rose and her family acted out the Nativity. They always invited people to come over and join them. This time they had invited their neighbors and the missionaries! Rose was excited because their neighbors had a baby to be baby Jesus.
Everything was almost ready. Mom was taking the treats out of the oven. Rose’s little brothers had picked up all their toys. Ellen was getting the costumes. And Rose had even taped a big, yellow star to the wall for decoration.
“Rose,” Mom called from the kitchen. “Can you help Ellen get the costumes ready?”
“OK, Mom!” Rose turned to help her sister, who was carrying an armful of blankets.
“We have blankets, towels, and dress-up clothes from the closet,” Ellen said. “We can even use this basket as a pretend manger.” She handed Rose a big basket. Rose put a soft blanket inside it for the baby.
“Perfect,” said Rose.
Rose’s little brother Jack pulled a gray blanket over his head and made a funny face. “Can I be the donkey?”
Rose laughed. “No, silly! You wanted to be a Wise Man, remember?”
“Oh yeah!” said Jack. He grabbed the toy crown and put it on his head.
Then there was a knock at the door.
“They’re here!” Rose said. “I’ll get it.”
Soon the house was full of happy people. Rose helped everyone get their costumes on. The sister missionaries were the shepherds. Her brothers and sister were the Wise Men. The cute baby was baby Jesus, and his parents were Mary and Joseph.
Rose put on a soft, white hat. She was a sheep.
Finally everyone was dressed and ready to go. Elder and Sister Yancey, a missionary couple from their ward, opened the New Testament to the Nativity story. They read the verses out loud. Everyone acted out their part.
At the end of the story, everyone sang “Silent Night.” Rose felt warm and happy. She knew she was feeling the Holy Ghost. It felt like Jesus was close to her heart.
After the song, Mom played the video “Samuel and the Star.”* Ellen said a prayer. Then they brought out the treats. Everyone had fun visiting.
“So, what was your favorite part?” Sister Yancey asked.
“I liked singing the song,” Ellen said. “And playing with baby Jesus.” Ellen bounced the baby on her lap. She had been playing with him ever since the song ended.
“I liked bringing Jesus gifts,” Jack said. He was still wearing the pretend crown.
“What about you, Rose?”
Rose spread her arms out wide. “I liked everything!” she said in a loud voice. “But most of all, I liked having everyone here to celebrate Jesus. Because that’s what Christmas is all about.”

The seeds of testimony frequently do not at once take root and flower. Bread cast upon the water returns, at times, only after many days.
I answered the ring of my telephone one evening to hear a voice ask, “Are you related to an Elder Monson who years ago served in the New England Mission?” I answered that such was not the case. The caller introduced himself as a Brother Leonardo Gambardella and then mentioned that an Elder Monson and an Elder Bonner called at his home long ago and bore their personal testimonies to him. He had listened but had done nothing further to apply their teachings. Subsequently he moved to California where, after thirteen years, he again found the truth and was converted and baptized. Brother Gambardella then asked if there were a way he could reach these elders who had first visited with him, that he might express to them his profound gratitude for their testimonies, which had remained with him.
I checked the records. I located the elders. Can you imagine their surprise when, now married with families of their own, I telephoned them and told them the good news—even the culmination of their early efforts. They remembered Brother Gambardella and, at my suggestion, telephoned him to extend their congratulations and welcome him into the Church.

I remember the same mixture of feelings on a much smaller scale when I was a teacher in Provo Ninth Ward. When the presidency of the quorum became vacant, I felt qualified to assume the position. However, another young man was selected. I did not question his worthiness and capacity, but I did ask myself if I were not as worthy or prepared as I should have been. I resolved to try to keep my life constantly in order and to improve myself so I would be ready for any future church calling which might be extended to me.

“Then there was the time on the bus. (The girls and boys teams ride together.) I was reading the Book of Mormon. I have a big quadruple combination, and it was kind of conspicuous. One of the guys who had been living in Utah said he’d never seen a Book of Mormon before and wanted to see it. He started looking through it and asking me questions about it. Before long, the whole back of the bus was involved in a discussion about the Book of Mormon. It was as if a curtain had been drawn between the front of the bus and the back, because up in front they were telling dirty jokes.”
Jodi has been known to “give out copies of the Book of Mormon like crazy.” She always carries a spare in her bag with her soccer uniform, bringing comments like, “It’s nice to see someone who really lives her religion.”
“People have said good things about the way I play soccer,” said Jodi, “But that’s really the best compliment I’ve ever been paid.”
No, there was never a question about playing on Sunday—not even in this tournament. But making her teammates understand was another story.
“Look,” she tried, “if I don’t play on Sunday, sure, I’ll disappoint my team, and I feel bad about that. But if I do play on Sunday, I’ll disappoint so many more. I’ll disappoint myself, because I’d be breaking a promise. I’d disappoint my parents, who know how important that promise is to me. I’d disappoint my cousins, who don’t play on Sunday because of my example, and I’d disappoint my seminary teachers, who have taught me better. But most important of all, I’d disappoint God. I just can’t do that.”
It was a great explanation, but it didn’t do Jodi much good. All Saturday night the team tried to convince her to play. They made fun of her. They called her every name they could think of. Finally, at about midnight, Jodi called home in tears. It wasn’t that she was tempted to give in. It’s just that she felt so alone.
Her parents listened. Her parents understood. Both her mother and father got on the phone and had a prayer with her. After they hung up, they called an old friend in the Bay area and asked her to give Jodi some support.
The next morning Jodi got up and got dressed—in a dress, which she wore as she stood on the sidelines watching her team play. They ended up tying their opponents, 1–1, and afterwards, many of her teammates apologized for being so critical of her.
The team ended up tying for third in the tournament, which was better than they’d ever done before. Jodi thought this would be a good note on which to end her soccer career, even though she was a junior in high school and could play for one more year.
“I’ve achieved just about everything I wanted to with soccer,” Jodi said. She had been ranked as the number one goalie in the state and had been scouted by a number of universities, but when they heard of her policy on Sunday play, they lost interest. “I’d like to try to develop some other talents now—things like music and acting. Plus being on the seminary council will require a lot of time,” Jodi said.
So Jodi’s senior year in high school will be a busy one, despite the lack of soccer, the sport she’s dedicated so much to for so long. She says she won’t miss it too much and that the things she’s learned from it will help her in other parts of her life.
“‘To everything there is a season,’ and the soccer season is over,” said Jodi. “I have no regrets. Because of soccer, many missionary doors have been opened. The Lord has blessed me, and others through me. I haven’t gone unrewarded. I’ve been humbled, pushed, and just about everything else, but I learned that I can stand up to it. The Lord knows he can count on me, and I know I can count on myself.”
Jodi couldn’t be happier knowing that she didn’t let one little game spoil all that.

When Nickie and James go for a walk, I always want to go too. But they say, “You can’t keep up. You walk too slow.”
So I get sniffly, and Mom says, “Take him along.”
But by the time I get to the mailbox, they’re already climbing the tree. When I get to the tree, they’re throwing rocks in the creek. And when I get to the creek, they’re halfway up the hill. I guess they’re right—I walk too slow.
When Mom asks who wants to take our dog, Boris, for a walk, I say, “Me! Me!” She looks worried, but hands me the leash. Then Boris drags me down the stairs, and I slip on the grass, and I stub my toes on the rocks. I guess I walk too slow.
When Daddy says, “Who wants to walk to the post office with me?” I grab his hand. But Daddy’s legs are long, and I have to take three steps every time he takes one. Daddy goes for a walk, but I go for a run. I guess I walk too slow.
But when I walk with Grandpa, he takes small steps like mine. We have time to look for rocks, watch bugs, and touch the bark and moss on trees. And when I walk with Grandpa, we talk about things. I like to walk with Grandpa. He walks too slow—just like me!

But one of the best adaptations of all came when Claudia and Sandra announced, out of the blue, that they wanted to be baptized. The Bisgaards had not been pushing their religion on the new family members. After all, they had enough to adjust to at first. But they were always included when they wanted to be. The Spanish-speaking sister missionaries came by now and then, but they were there to translate more than proselyte.
“One day the missionaries told us they were going to a baptism, so we asked them about it,” explained Claudia. “When they told us that in this church they baptize children when they’re eight so they understand everything, we decided that we needed to be baptized now too. We wanted to be members of the Church.”
Their new parents made certain that they understood what they were doing before they were baptized. The girls took the missionary discussions and attended many Church meetings prior to their baptismal date. Brother and Sister Bisgaard wanted to assure that their new daughters didn’t feel pressured into their decision and had sincere testimonies of the truthfulness of the gospel.
As time goes on, more and more adjustments are made and the family becomes more unified. They’re not yet perfect. What family is? There are still occasional tears, but there’s also a lot of laughter. As far as the kids are concerned, the pros far outweigh the cons. “Four new sisters mean four times as much joy,” Christopher concludes, tugging Jennifer’s ponytail as she toddles by.

It had been a long week. I walked into the fireside broadcast late, struggling to filter out thoughts of exams, assignments, work, and friends. I hoped that somehow the words of the prophet could pierce through all these concerns and sink into my heart.
Oh, how I hoped and silently prayed for help to focus on the words of the prophet. And my prayer was answered. I walked into the fireside with my view clouded and troubled. When I left, I had a refreshed outlook on life and some plain, simple truths—a recipe for happiness.
Be grateful, be smart, be clean, be true, be humble, and be prayerful. How simple these statements are. How great a difference they can make in my life!
I know this gospel contains truth that is lacking elsewhere. I know that the prophet loves me. I am grateful that our Heavenly Father and the Savior love us enough to give us specific, individual guidance in our lives through prayer and through the words of our prophet. These things are plain, simple, and true.
Lisa Ware, age 19,Rochedale Ward, Eight Mile Plains Australia Stake

On August 30, in the middle of Wyoming, the teenage driver received a special honor. Captain Joseph W. Young needed to rush ahead of his train to catch up with another wagon company, so he selected Zeb to drive him in a wagon pulled by mules. (Mules travel much faster than oxen.) Zeb drove as fast as he could for three days and then Captain Young, needing to travel even faster, hailed a passing stagecoach, boarded it, and left Zeb to travel alone.
Zeb liked the fast mule team which moved him 20 to 45 miles a day, double what wagon trains could cover. But driving alone on the hot, dusty trail and camping by himself at night had its lonely moments. So he enjoyed catching up to other travelers and visiting with them. Late on September 3 he overtook the Joseph Horne train “where I joined the people in that camp in a dance.” An injured man in the camp needed to be hurried to Salt Lake, so Richard Horne joined Zeb as a traveling companion, “and I was very glad of his company,” Zeb confessed.
Zeb, the teenage driver, put his mule-pulled wagon and injured passenger into Salt Lake City in near record time, arriving on September 7 at breakfast time. He beat his Joseph W. Young wagon train there by 16 days. In total, down and back, Zeb had been on the trail for 18 weeks.