On the 5th of January 1854, Phoebe Melinda Butler was married to George Washington Sevy, a son of George and Hannah Libby Sevy. They lived in Spanish Fork for a time, and the fun and hardships of building homes in a new country were many. Their house was a single log room with a fireplace. The cooking was done by hanging an iron kettle on a hook suspended from the fireplace. Phoebe said she had as good a straw bed as anyone—except for the tick. She was industrious and frugal, and it wasn’t long until she had a fine garden, a cow, and some chickens. Four of her children were born in Spanish Fork.

In 1861, George Sevy was called to help settle Utah’s Dixie. His destination was to be Fort Harmony, later known as New Harmony. This pioneering couple answered the call and assisted in this settlement. Phoebe helped in making the adobes that went into their new home, and was ever at her husband’s side doing her part. They had a few sheep and she washed and carded and spun the wool, then wove it into cloth for clothes for her little family. Her husband made their shoes when they had any. He was assisted by her in every way, being thrifty people, and prosperity rewarded their efforts.

In 1871, her husband was again called [to pioneer], this time to Panquitch, Utah to help in the resettling of the community. They were ever ready to do the bidding of their leader, so they went. It took them about three days from Paragonah to reach Panquitch Valley. The homes of the former settlers had not been molested so there were some who located in them. There were about twenty-five families in this second company. Their first winter was very cold, with lots of snow, poor roads, and their provisions were very low. Wheat that had been saved for seed had to be used to sustain the settlers. Phoebe boiled it so that none would be wasted, and the people had to come to her for their rations. They killed some of their cattle, and finally some of their men went over the mountain to Parawon on horseback [to get] some flour.

Phoebe was a hard worker. She milked cows and made butter and cheese. Her son Tom once said that she used to get up in the morning, warm a pan of milk, put some bread in it, give each of them a spoon, and the children would surround a stool on which she placed the pan and they would have bread and milk for their breakfast while she was doing her morning chores.

A short time before leaving New Harmony, George had married a plural wife, which was a great trial to Phoebe. However, she had her interests in her family, and her Church. She was a counselor in the Relief Society. In the summer she ranched on Panquitch Creek about ten miles from town, where her husband operated a sawmill. When the older boys took a load of lumber to Pioche, Nevada to sell, Phoebe would send her cheese and butter too. The first she sent netted her $400. Now, she determined, she would have the kind of mattress of which she had long dreamed. In the beginning they had had a straw bed, but no tick. Now she would have a feather bed with a good tick, for they were prospering as well as happy.

One day while the family [was] living at the sawmill, her son James, fourteen years old, was driving some horses, and when he was crossing the bed of the creek, the hammer of a gun he was carrying caught on some willows and discharged. The bullet [went] into the calf of his leg. The family tried in vain to get a doctor, and after six weeks [of] suffering terribly, the boy died, despite all their best efforts.

Phoebe was the mother of fourteen children. Four were born in Spanish Fork, where her second child, little George W., died when he was eight months of age. Six more were born in New Harmony, the first two being twins, whom she named Joseph and Hyrum, for the prophet and his brother. However, these two she lost too—Hyrum when eleven days old, and Joseph when four months old. Phoebe’s last four children were born in Panquitch: Sarah Adeline, Martha Jane, Mary May, and Pearl. Along with the hardships of settling new territory, there seemed to be ever the heartaches of sickness and death that visited their home—the fourth time it was little Mary May, only three years old.