The Work and the Glory (168 page)

He shook his head. He couldn’t debate her. She had a way of turning him inside out with her logic and her quickness. He turned away now too, leaning on the hitching rail as he stared out into the night. Behind him, Caroline spoke again. Now her voice had taken on a pleading note. “Joshua, I want you to close your eyes and picture something for me.”

He shook his head. He wasn’t in a mood for any of her games.

“Remember Olivia’s eyes this afternoon?” she asked softly. “After you let her drive the team? Do you remember what they looked like?”

He turned slowly.

“They were so full of love and adoration.” A tear welled up in the corner of one of her eyes and started slowly down her cheek. “She loves you, Joshua.”

She brushed at the tear with the back of her hand. “Last night, while you were working late, Will and Olivia and I talked about having their names changed.”

He blinked in surprise. “You did?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “They want your name, Joshua.” She had to stop, and she looked away quickly. “They want you to be their father.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he said huskily.

“I was going to tonight.”

He felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. Again she shook her head quickly. “That’s not the point I’m trying to make. I want you to think about Olivia’s eyes today. Do you remember?”

“Yes,” he said softly. “I remember.”

She nodded. She took a deep breath. “Now I want you to picture those same eyes tonight, when you were talking about the Mormons being like lice. Did you see them, Joshua? Did you? Did you see Olivia’s eyes?”

He looked down, unable to meet the piercing power of her gaze.

“They were terrified, Joshua. She saw the ugliness that’s eating away at you down inside, and it frightened her. It even frightened Will.” She sat back down on the step, heavily. “It frightened me, Joshua.”

He didn’t know what to say. There was nothing to say.

After the silence had stretched on for several minutes, Caroline looked up at him. “I got my Bible out of that chest a few weeks ago.”

His head came up sharply.

She watched him steadily. “The day after Savannah was born, I prayed again for the first time in nearly two and a half years. I thanked God for our beautiful, healthy little girl. I thanked him that you loved her so much.” She smiled sadly. “I’m glad to report that while I turned my back on God, he didn’t respond in like manner. I felt like he’d been waiting—just waiting for me to heal enough to see what a fool I’ve been.”

She stood and moved over to Joshua’s side. “I’d like to start taking the children to church.” There was a pause. “Would you mind terribly if I did that?”

He hesitated only a moment. “No, I suppose not.”

She slipped her arm through his. “Thank you.” She laid her head against his shoulder. Finally, he slipped his arm around her and just held her.

Again, after several minutes had passed in silence, Caroline spoke. “My papa died when I was seven. I can barely remember him. But Mother told me once something Papa taught her.”

“What?”

“He said that if you’re bitten by a rattlesnake, you can do one of two things. You can grab an ax and try and chase that rattlesnake down and kill him. But all the time you’re chasing him, the venom keeps pumping deeper and deeper into your system. Or . . .” She took his hand and pulled it more tightly around her. “Or you can forget about the snake and sit down and try and get the venom out of your system quick as you can before it kills you.”

“Caroline, I—”

She put a finger up to his lips. “I’ll not be saying anything more to you, Joshua. You’ve got to work this out yourself. But I am telling you, what you’re harboring down deep inside you is poison. I know, because I’ve been doing the same thing.” Her voice caught. “I never thought I could change either, Joshua, but I have. In these past few months I’ve felt what it’s like to put the hate away. I’m hoping for your sake that someday you’ll be able to do the same. That’s all.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

I saw Martin Harris at the saddle shop. He said he wants to see you before the meeting tomorrow morning.”

Benjamin looked up, then away again. There was no mistaking the disapproval in Mary Ann’s eyes. “Did he say what for?” he asked.

She watched him steadily, knowing exactly why he wouldn’t meet her gaze. “You know very well what for. Joseph’s gone to Canada. Most of the Twelve are on missions. It’s the perfect time for them to move.”

He had an ax handle he was smoothing down with a wood rasp. He held it up and eyed it carefully, then lifted the ax head and tried the fit. It was close but not close enough. He picked up the rasp again and began to stroke it across the wood methodically.

“Nathan was talking to Lyman Johnson this morning. They’ve been having secret meetings. They’re still trying to make David Whitmer president.”

He didn’t look up. “They’ve been talking about doing that for a long time now. They don’t have the stomach for it. Besides, now that David has gone back to Missouri, it will die out.”

“That’s essentially what Nathan said too, but Brother Johnson swears things are different now. They’ve found a girl who has some kind of black stone that supposedly has magical powers. Using that, she’s prophesied that Joseph has fallen because of transgression and that the leadership will now fall on David Whitmer or Martin Harris. They say David can preside from Missouri. Or Martin’s name has been mentioned too. Martin likes that idea, of course. This girl has told them that the time for action has come. They have to get rid of Joseph.”

Benjamin set the rasp down and finally looked up at his wife. “What they do is their affair. Let them wallow in their own stupidity. They can try and call up the dead, for all I care. I’m not part of it.”

“But they think you are!” she burst out.

“Well, they’re wrong,” he shot back. “My feelings about Joseph are my affair, and I’ve never given that bunch one minute’s encouragement.”

She sat down on the bench to face him. She took a deep breath, knowing she could well be pushing him too far, but there was too much at stake now to let it go without saying something. “Ben,” she started tentatively.

He had picked up the rasp again and was studying it carefully. He did not look up.

“You know they’re just using Martin to get at you,” she went on. “They think they can still convince you they’re right, that Joseph has to be replaced. They want your support.”

“Well, they don’t have it.”

“But they don’t have your opposition either. You can bet they’re not still trying to get Brigham Young to listen to them. Why? Because he has come out foursquare against them. There’s no doubt about what his position is.”

“I’m not Brigham Young,” he muttered.

“Ben, you know that’s not what I’m saying. But we’re coming to a crisis. These men are becoming bolder. I understand that, before he left, David Whitmer was bragging that he has been given the power to either raise Joseph to the highest heaven or thrust him straight down to hell.”

“David Whitmer doesn’t have the power to raise a handkerchief off the table. They’re blowhards, every one of them. They bow and scrape and smile when Joseph’s around, then the minute he’s gone they start talking real big.”

“Then say that, Ben. There are so many people who respect you and look up to you. And right now they’re taking your silence to mean that you agree with the opposition.”

He picked up the handle again and began working it, pushing the rasp across the oak in hard, vicious strokes. She had to move back a little, away from his flying elbows.

Mary Ann shook her head slowly, sensing that once again she had lost. “At least tell Martin you won’t see him as long as he continues to associate with them,” she finished quietly.

There was a momentary pause in his strokes. “Martin’s my friend, Mary Ann. Whether or not I agree with him, he’s still my friend.”

“Not if he’s doing things that can harm you.”

His head came up sharply, and for a long moment he met her gaze steadily, his face a mask. Mary Ann felt a chill run through her. Once before she and this man she loved so fiercely had stood on opposite ground about Joseph Smith. It had not been a happy time for either of them. These past few years since Benjamin had joined the Church had been the best of their marriage. But now the spectre of apostasy hung heavy over Kirtland. Evil men were poisoning the minds of many of the Saints toward the Prophet. Even former stalwarts were wavering. Ben hadn’t gone over. Not yet. But he was teetering perilously close to the edge, and it frightened her more deeply than anything she could ever remember.

Finally he looked away, staring out of the small window of the toolshed into the August sunshine. “That’s not what’s really bothering you, is it?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“What’s really worrying you is that you’re not sure where
I
stand yet.”

Her chin came up. “Are
you
, Ben?” she asked softly. “Are you sure?”

For several moments there was no sound in the toolshed. He continued to stare out of the window, not turning to meet her probing gaze.

She stood quickly, turning away from him, afraid he would see the bitterness of her disappointment. She hugged herself, feeling the chill deepen somewhere down inside her. Finally she turned back around. “Ben, do you remember how Carl said the Mormon church breaks up families? It was while you were gone to Missouri. I told you about it.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Do you remember what I said to him?”

“You told him he and Melissa ought to make it a matter of prayer, ask God which church they should join so they could be united in their family.”

“Yes,” she murmured. “And isn’t that what Joseph told you to do? You have to find out for yourself, Ben. No one else can give you the answers you’re looking for.”

For a moment a flash of anger darkened his face, then almost instantly it turned to melancholy. “Not everyone gets their prayers answered as easily as you do, Mary Ann.”

“If you ask, the Lord will answer.”

His breath exploded softly in an expression of frustration, then he shook his head. “I have asked, Mary Ann. Over and over. Nothing has come.”

She leaned forward, not trying to hide her surprise. She knew of the challenge Joseph had given him to pray about whether Joseph was still God’s prophet, but he had never said anything more about it, and she had assumed he had decided against taking that challenge. She took a quick breath. “Benjamin, back in Palmyra, when you were still bitter about Joseph, and everybody was preparing to move to Ohio . . .”

He looked up.

“It was prayer
and fasting
that finally brought me my answer.”

Again he totally dumbfounded her. “I know. That hasn’t helped either.”

“You have been fasting?” she blurted.

As he nodded, her mind was suddenly remembering. Three different times in the past two weeks Benjamin had been gone when she came down to fix his breakfast. She had thought it odd, for he never missed breakfast, but she had finally attributed it to their current financial pressures. Ben had lost as heavily in the bank failure as most any two other men, and she just assumed . . . She felt a stab of shame. She had been so sure she knew the heart of this man. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have fasted with you.”

He shook his head quickly. “This isn’t your problem. It’s not your fault your husband is too hard-headed—or maybe too hard-hearted—to get an answer from the Lord.”

“That’s not true,” she cried. “You are as close to the Lord as any man I know.”

He stood up with one swift movement, knocking the ax handle to the floor with a sharp clatter. “Right!” he exclaimed. “That’s why it’s been two months and I’m still no closer to knowing than I was before.”

She moved up to him, putting her arms around his waist and laying her head against his chest. Suddenly, along with the shame inside her, there was a feeling of pride and caring and love so intense that she could barely speak. “Don’t give up, Ben,” she finally managed. “Some things just take more time.”

He sighed. It was a sound of great weariness and discouragement. “There is no more time, Mary Ann. I need to know now, because this thing is tearing me apart.”

* * *

The next morning Benjamin decided he did not want to see Martin. Not before the worship services. His wife was right. Martin was simply mouth for Warren Parrish and John Boynton and the others. They were desperately trying to win allies to their cause. But while inside himself he was a turmoil of questions, there was one thing about which Benjamin Steed was very sure. Even if he decided Joseph had lost his calling from God, even if he determined Joseph had been a fool and was no longer fit to govern, he would not join the men who were howling for Joseph’s head. He wasn’t sure what he would do yet. Maybe move. Find another wilderness to tame. Get a fresh start. He didn’t know what he would do. But he was very sure about what he would not do. He would not join them. And he also knew it was time to tell Martin that much, at least. And that would not be easy. It could wait until after the meeting. Martin would seek him out soon enough.

He walked to the small table by his favorite chair. On it were three books—the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Bible. He picked up the thinnest of the three. Since it had been published in the fall of 1835 the Doctrine and Covenants had become Benjamin’s favorite work of scripture. He enjoyed the Book of Mormon and the Bible—especially the New Testament—but there was something about the compilation of revelations given to Joseph over the years that particularly resonated with his practical nature.

He stood there for a moment, holding the book in his hand, but then he set it back down again and picked up the Bible. The questions in his mind revolved around Joseph. In this case perhaps there was some wisdom in staying with something totally independent of Joseph. Feeling a little foolish, and not without a twinge of shame for being disloyal to Joseph, he tucked the Bible under his arm and walked to the bottom of the stairs. “Mary Ann,” he called up.

He heard her moving in their bedroom, then down the hall. She stopped at the upper landing. “Yes?”