The Work and the Glory (248 page)

Dear Melissa, Carl, and children,

We received your letter dated November 4th just today. Mail service in Far West has been greatly delayed and is still spotty at best. I know not when I shall have another opportunity to reply, so am writing this while your father and the others sleep.

I wrote you of your father’s imprisonment and his return in a previous note. I hope it has reached you. His health continues to improve, but he is still very frail. With our freedom of movement outside town still restricted somewhat, wood is becoming scarce. We keep a fire only to cook and the nights in the cabin become quite chilled, which seems to slow his recovery.

Things in Far West have settled down into a numbing routine. Food is very short and limited in both variety and quality. General Clark supposedly granted a few permits for some of the brethren to pass in and out of town freely for purposes of gathering food, but that is merely a fantasy. He has withdrawn almost all the militia forces now, leaving the countryside open to roving bands of ruffians who fall on any who are found away from town. Homes are still plundered. Stock is driven off or butchered. The only thing we have in any abundance is parched corn, and we try to find various ways to serve it to break the monotony of our diet. More and more it looks like the promise that we can stay until spring will not be honored. Many of our number—those with the means to do so—have already left. For those who have lost almost everything, such as ourselves, we do not know how we shall effect a trip across many miles of prairie in wintertime.

For now our destination seems to be eastward to Illinois. To the west there are vast tracts of land, but, as you know, that is Indian Territory. To the north is Iowa Territory. There is plenty of land there too, but very little timber, except along the scattered streams and rivers. Our numbers are such that this would never suffice for settlements. Going south means moving through countryside filled with our enemies. No one considers that an option. So that leaves the east. Many are finding safe refuge in Quincy and the people there are treating them kindly.

There is one bright spot in all this. With some families leaving the city, the housing shortage is not quite so critical as it has been. We have been able to move back into our cabin. We are still crowded but nothing like when we were all at Nathan and Lydia’s. Jessica started a school for our family a week or so ago. Not only is this a blessing to the children, but it helps to keep her from grieving too much for John. Word has gotten out now and the neighbors beg Jessica to teach their children as well. They have promised her a cabin in which she can live and teach as soon as a family leaves next week. Lydia helps by teaching arithmetic, and our dear Peter Ingalls is their assistant. He loves it and will make a wonderful schoolmaster of his own someday.

I wrote you the whole story of what happened when Joshua saved us and ended up getting shot. We have learned since then that his one leg is crippled. Nathan has gone to help him find Caroline. Caroline has fled to St. Louis and farther. But they are going to look for her. That is a whole tragic story in itself but there is not time to tell it now. We pray for them night and morning and have faith they will have some success in reuniting Joshua with his family.

Rebecca has some wonderful news. She is with child. They will be expecting sometime in early summer. She and Derek are filled with joy in spite of our dark circumstances. She promises to write the next letter, so I will let her tell you more then.

Well, enough about our lives. How are things with you and Carl? We were very pleased to hear that Carl’s livery business continues to prosper. He is a hardworking and decent man. It is no surprise to your father and me that he does well. We miss the children fiercely and speak of them often. I fear by now they will have forgotten their “other” grandma and grandpa. Most painful is to know that we have a new granddaughter and can’t even see her. Kiss little Sarah for all of us. Oh, how we wish we could see you all again! All our love. Write soon, my dearest Melissa. We love you and always will. God be with you.

Mama

She laid the pen down, then carefully folded the letter over into thirds and addressed the outside of the second sheet. There were no envelopes available and this would have to do. Then Mary Ann shook her head as she remembered something else. She opened the letter, picked up the pen, and added:

P.S. I am embarrassed that we have to send this to you without the postage being paid. Our cash money is practically non-existent here in Far West right now. We barter for almost everything we need, but could not do so for the postage needed to send this to you. Sorry.

* * *

As they walked down the wharf toward the Mississippi, Nathan let his eyes gaze across the river, here well over two hundred yards wide. The Missouri River came into it a short distance north of where they were, and it made an impressive sight. They were headed for the great riverboat tied up at the dock, black smoke pouring from its twin stacks. As they approached it, Joshua slowed and then stopped. Nathan went on two or three steps before he realized it and stopped as well. He turned back. “Come on, Joshua. They’ll be pulling the gangplank in a few minutes.”

Joshua didn’t budge. He leaned heavily on the crutch Matthew had made for him, his face lined with weariness. It was ironic that, although several business acquaintances in St. Louis had suggested he purchase a professionally made pair of crutches—tailor-made to fit his height, with padded cushions and hardened tips—Joshua flatly refused to even consider it. He was growing stronger each day, and he swore that more feeling was starting to return to his foot. It was as if he gave the credit for such improvement to Matthew’s crutch and it had become a good-luck piece for him.

“Come on, Joshua. We’re almost there. Then you can rest.”

Joshua looked at his brother steadily for a moment. “I want you to go back, Nathan.”

Nathan’s jaw tightened stubbornly. He strode to his brother and took him by the arm. “We’ve gone over this enough, Joshua. I’m going with you.”

“Your family needs you.”

“I wrote to Lydia. I told her we’re headed for Savannah.”

“Christmas is only nine days away!” Joshua exploded. “Go home!”

Nathan’s mouth softened and he looked his brother directly in the face. “Joshua, believe me when I say this—if Lydia were here, she would make me get on the boat with you. Now, stop being so blooming stubborn and let’s go.”

There was a deep, throaty blast of sound as the captain of the boat let steam through the boat’s horn. Joshua didn’t look up at all. “I know Caroline’s in Savannah, Nathan. I can make it from here. All it takes is sitting on a boat for a few days and—”

Nathan shook his head and turned around. He started walking slowly toward the boat. “There’s not another boat until day after tomorrow, Joshua. I’m going. If you’re not, I’ll write you from Savannah.”

Joshua watched Nathan’s back for a moment, then swore softly under his breath. Then he moved forward, hobbling quickly to catch up with his brother. “Stubborn, hardheaded fool!” he muttered as they reached the bottom of the gangplank together.

Nathan turned and grinned at him. “Guilty as charged.” He punched Joshua lightly on the shoulder. “Care to guess who I learned it from?”

* * *

When Benjamin, Matthew, and Derek returned from the special meeting of the priesthood, the Steed women set aside their preparations for supper and gathered around them. A letter had been brought from Liberty Jail the previous evening by some of the brethren who had been able to briefly visit the Prophet Joseph and the others held prisoner there.

Anxious for any news and counsel from their prophet, the Steed family had gathered at Benjamin and Mary Ann’s cabin to hear the report. It was still only midafternoon. The weather had warmed slightly, and the children were outside playing in the last hours of sunshine. They would leave them there while Benjamin told the adults what they had heard at the meeting.

“Well,” Mary Ann said, “we are dying to hear. How are Brother Joseph and the others?”

Benjamin frowned. “In good spirits, considering the situation in which they find themselves.”

“Is there any hope of an early release?” Rebecca asked anxiously.

Derek looked at his wife and shook his head slowly. “No. They say nothing about that in their letters, but Porter Rockwell has been able to visit Joseph two or three times. The Missourians still continue to talk about a trial, but no one is in any hurry to see it happen. Porter thinks the Missourians know they don’t have enough evidence to get a conviction, and yet they are not anxious for an acquittal so that Joseph can go free.”

“How are they?” Rebecca asked. “Are conditions there terrible?”

Derek nodded gravely. “According to those who’ve been there, it is more a dungeon than a jail. The walls are of stone and timber and nearly four feet thick. Guards stay in the room above them while they are kept in a single cellar room below. There are only two tiny barred windows for ventilation, and there is no place for a fire or heat of any kind. And with the severe winter we’re having this year, you can only imagine what it must be like down there.”

“The only way into that bottom room,” Matthew added, “is through a hole in the ceiling and a rope. And Brother Rockwell says that the ceiling is not high enough for a tall man—like Joseph or Hyrum—to stand up straight. They must stay hunched over all the time.”

Derek stood and began to pace. “The food is coarse and filthy, and only extreme hunger drives them to eat it. Porter has risked his life now several times to pass food into them, but for the most part they have to make do with what they are fed by the guards.”

Benjamin reached up and began to rub his eyes. The report of those who had been to Liberty had shaken him deeply. “The guards torment and abuse them continually,” he said slowly. “On at least two or three occasions now, large doses of poison have been put into their food.”

“Poison!” Lydia cried in horror. “They’re trying to kill them?”

“Yes,” Derek said grimly. “Fortunately, the Lord watches over them. Their enemies have made the doses too large and their stomachs rebell. They become violently ill, vomiting over and over for two or three days. But their lives have been spared.”

“That is horrible!” Lydia whispered, obviously shaken. “That will terrify Emma all the more.”

Benjamin looked down at his hands, debating about whether to share the rest of it. He decided they would hear it sooner or later. “Nor is that the worst that has been attempted,” he explained.

To this point, Jessica had sat quietly. Now she looked up in alarm. “There is something worse than poison?”

Benjamin looked away. “Yes. Joseph doesn’t mention this in the letter, but the brethren who have gotten in to see them say both Hyrum and Brother McRae told them something almost too horrid to utter.”

“What?” Mary Ann whispered, not sure she wanted to hear and yet wanting to know what trials their leaders were enduring.

Benjamin took a quick breath. “Recently they were served a dish that seemed strange to them. It was a piece of roast meat, but it looked very dark, as though it had been burned. They said that Hyrum took the carving knife and fork to hand, but as he attempted to cut it, they fell from his hands. He tried again, and the second time the knife and fork fell from his hands. Then Joseph stood up. He said he felt a strong impression. ‘Do not touch it,’ he cried, ‘for it is human flesh.’”

Jessica rocked back. Lydia gasped and threw one hand up to her mouth. Mary Ann was suddenly pale.

“It was true,” Matthew spoke up. “Later the guards boasted that they had taken it from the body of a man who had died.”

Mary Ann was staring at her hands. “Is there no limit to the depths of their depravity?”

Benjamin was overcome with that same sense of horror and outrage that he had felt when they had heard the reports in the meeting, but he didn’t want to dwell on it any longer. “But, as usual, Joseph will not let things get him down. He actually was quite positive.”

He took a small slip of paper from his pocket. “Listen to this. This so impressed me, I asked Brigham if I could copy it.” He smoothed it against his leg and began to read. “‘Dear brethren, do not think that our hearts faint, as though some strange thing had happened unto us, for we have seen and been assured of all these things beforehand, and have an assurance of a better hope than that of our persecutors. Therefore God hath made broad our shoulders for the burden. We glory in our tribulation, because we know that God is with us, that He is our friend, and that He will save our souls. We do not care for them that can kill the body; they cannot harm our souls.’”

The room was completely quiet now as they contemplated the realities of what their prophet had said. Then Derek slowly straightened. He looked at his wife, and then at his father-in-law. “Amen!” he breathed softly.