The Work and the Glory (347 page)

“No!” The roar of Joseph’s voice almost made the lamps beside the bed tremble. “How dare you? How dare you shift the blame to them?”

There was silence. The lion had evidently cowed the wolf. The silence stretched on; then again there was the murmur of Bennett’s voice, too soft to make out the words.

Joseph’s answer was now heavy with weariness. “I have no choice, John. You leave me no choice.”

“You can’t expose me, Joseph. I’ll repent. I’ll change. I swear to you! Give me one more chance.” The desperation was driving his voice into a high, shrill whine. “If you expose me, Joseph, my reputation here will be ruined. I won’t be able to practice medicine. How can I face people?”

Again Joseph’s voice thundered out. Nathan could visualize him, risen to full height, his blue eyes like twin swords. “How can you face God, John Bennett?” he cried. “That is the question that should be foremost in your mind at this moment. You have offended God with the enormity of your sins. And I fear for your everlasting soul.”

“I know!” came the wailing reply. “I fear I have lost my soul too, Joseph. So please, don’t make me lose everything else. Please don’t expose me.”

Again there was silence, and Nathan, though he was shamed at having to overhear, nevertheless found himself straining to hear. And then came the words, filled with utter, irrevocable finality. “I cannot let this pass, John,” Joseph said. “You have gone too far this time. You have broken too many promises. I have no choice.”

There was a strangled cry, the scrape of a chair, followed by the sound of the door slamming. And then the house was silent.

Emma’s nephew left Nathan sitting on the bed when little Don Carlos started to fuss in the adjoining bedroom. He didn’t come back to where Nathan was. Only when a knock sounded below about ten minutes later and Nathan heard Brigham’s voice did he finally stand and make his way slowly back down the stairs. Both Heber and Brigham had returned. They were standing next to Joseph by the front door, talking quietly. At the sound of Nathan opening the door into the parlor, they all turned in surprise.

“Nathan?” Joseph said.

Nathan moved quickly to him. “Joseph, I’m sorry. I was here with Lorenzo, waiting for you, when you and Doctor Bennett came. I was going to come out, then I realized what was happening. We went upstairs, trying to get as far away as possible. We didn’t mean to listen.”

Joseph slowly nodded. “You heard it all?”

“Most of it.” Nathan dropped his head, but not before he saw the haunted look in Joseph’s eyes, the lines of weariness around his mouth.

Joseph was silent for a moment, then slowly nodded his head. “That’s good. I am glad to have a second witness. And Lorenzo?”

“He heard it too. He’s upstairs with the baby now.”

Joseph sighed, accepting that. Then he motioned to the chairs behind them. “Can you stay for a while, brethren? Brigham, you need to hear what I’ve just done.”

“We saw Bennett going toward his house,” Brigham answered. “He looked like a whipped mongrel.”

Nathan cleared his throat, feeling very awkward now. “I’d best be leaving now. Again, Joseph, I apologize. It was not my intent—”

“No,” he said, “I understand. It’s all right. I’d like you to stay, Nathan. Brigham was just telling me that you have something to report.”

“Yes,” Nathan said, “but there is no need now.”

“There is need,” Joseph said, sinking into a chair and pointing to another. “I need to hear it all, and then to counsel with you. This may take some time. Will your wives be upset if you don’t return by bedtime?”

“Lydia knew I was coming to see you,” Nathan answered. “She won’t expect me until she sees me walk in the door.”

“We’re fine too,” Brigham agreed.

Joseph leaned forward, putting his face in his hands, and began to massage his temples very slowly with his fingertips. “Then, brethren,” he finally said, “let’s see if we can’t sort this whole thing out.”

It was almost ten o’clock when a shout outside Joseph’s house pulled the four men out of their huddle. Joseph got to his feet, peering out the window.

“Brother Joseph! Brother Joseph! Come quick!” It was a man’s voice and it was filled with urgency.

Joseph went to the door and stepped out onto the porch. The other three stood and followed. As they came outside, Nathan saw the man. He was jogging toward them, waving his hands, coming from the direction of the main part of town.

It was Hosea Stout, clerk for the Nauvoo high council. He came through the gate and into the yard, then pulled up as he saw Joseph and the others. “Brother Joseph!” he gasped. “You must come.”

“Yes, Hosea. What is it?”

“It’s John Bennett, Joseph.”

Joseph straightened perceptibly. “John Bennett? What about him?”

“He’s tried to kill himself, sir. You’d better come quick. He’s real bad.”

Lydia sat up in bed, the pillows behind her back, watching Nathan slowly undress. “Does he even know that Rebecca has talked to us?”

Nathan was unbuttoning his shirt absently. “No. I had no chance to tell Joseph before the confrontation with Bennett. I told him later, but no, Bennett doesn’t know anything about it.”

“That’s good. I wouldn’t want him to ever come back against Rebecca.”

Lydia scooted down in the bed, letting the black hair cascade out across the pillow. Now there was genuine sadness on her face. She knew Nathan wasn’t—couldn’t—tell her everything. But what he had told her was enough. She felt a great abhorrence for the man behind all this, and yet at the same time, she saw him as a tragic, broken figure. “So you think he’ll live?”

“Yes. George Robinson was working furiously to save him. Bennett was fighting like a wild man. It took two of us just to hold him down. But he’s past the crisis now.”

He paused for a moment in front of the small mirror, passing a hand through his hair, then rubbing his eyes. He moved over and blew out the lamp. In a moment, he was in bed beside her, pulling her over to curl up in his arms.

“Thank you, Nathan.”

“For what?”

“For doing that for Rebecca.”

“It wasn’t just for Rebecca. That man had to be stopped.” Then he gave a quick shake of his head. “Let’s not talk about it anymore.”

“All right.” She went up on one elbow and kissed him on the forehead. “I love you, Nathan Steed.”

“And I love you, Lydia McBride.” As she lay down again, he pulled her to him, suddenly fiercely protective of her. “Don’t you ever leave me, Miss McBride.”

“Leave you?” she said in surprise. “What ever made you say such a thing as that?”

He kissed her now, not with passion but with sweet tenderness and longing. “Just don’t you ever leave me, all right?”

Chapter Notes

Lorenzo Wasson, a nephew of Emma Smith who would become a member of the Church in March 1842, was present on the day Joseph and Bennett had the blowup. According to his report, Joseph gave Bennett “a tremendous flagellation for practicing iniquity under the base pretence of authority from the heads of the church.” (
Times and Seasons
3 [15 August 1842]: 892; see Andrew F. Smith, “The Saintly Scoundrel: The Life and Times of John Cook Bennett” [unpublished ms., Brooklyn, N.Y., 1994], p. 118.)

It is difficult to pinpoint the exact timing of the events leading up to Bennett’s attempted suicide. Joseph also reported the confrontation and said that soon afterwards Bennett made his suicide attempt (see
HC
5:36–37, 42–43). Whether these took place on the same day is not clear. An article in the 23 July 1842 issue of the
Wasp,
a local paper published in Nauvoo, pinpointed the date of the suicide attempt as 27 July 1841, which has been followed here. There seems to be little doubt that it was Joseph’s threat to expose him publicly that drove Bennett to take poison.

Chapter 5

   Matthew came running out of the bedroom, pulling up his suspenders over his shoulders as he came. “Coming!” he called.

Whoever was outside their door either didn’t hear him or didn’t care. The heavy pounding started again.
Bam! Bam! Bam!

“I’m coming, I’m coming!”

He reached the door and opened it, blinking at the bright morning sunlight.

“Well, what do you know,” Brigham Young boomed, “there really is life in there after all.”

“Good morning, Brigham,” Matthew said, trying not to look too surprised.

Jennifer Jo came out of the bedroom. She was dressed except for her feet, which were bare. Her hands were up, pulling her hair into a braid at the back of her head. “Who is it, Matth— Oh, Brother Brigham. Good morning.” Instantly the smile filled her face, wrinkling her nose and pushing the freckles into one another so as to make them all the more noticeable.

“Good morning, Jennifer.” Though the family had taken to calling Matthew’s sweetheart Jennifer Jo to distinguish her from Jenny Pottsworth, Brigham never called her anything but Jennifer.

“Do come in,” Jennifer Jo said. “I’m just going to start breakfast. Will you join us?”

To Matthew’s surprise, Brigham immediately nodded. “Don’t mind if I do. We were up with the children last night, so I told Mary Ann to sleep in.” He slapped his stomach, which had just a touch of paunch to it now. “Wouldn’t hurt me at all to miss a meal or two, but I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings by turning down the invitation.”

Matthew smiled, still a little bewildered by this early appearance. Brigham was not an early riser but preferred working late into the night. They never started at the carpentry shop before half past eight, and often Brigham wouldn’t come until nine or later. It was barely seven o’clock now. “Come in and sit down,” Matthew said, pushing aside his perplexity.

Brigham did so, dropping his hat on the bench inside the door. Then he moved over to the table. If he had had a late night, Matthew thought, he certainly didn’t look it. Brigham had celebrated his fortieth birthday in June on their way home from England, but he looked younger than that. He wore his reddish hair down to his collar but was clean shaven. His face was normally round and a touch boyish, but was filling out even more with age. He had blue-gray eyes that could dance with amusement or crackle with anger. Now they were filled with humor.

As he sat down, he grinned up at Jennifer Jo, who had moved to the stove. “Actually, if the truth be known, I’m here to check up on this young man. I thought it best to do that without any warning so he couldn’t cover his tracks.”

“Check up? On me?” Matthew frowned. “What have I done wrong?”

“Don’t know that you have,” Brigham said solemnly. “That’s what I’m here for. Now, Matthew, I’m going to ask your bride some questions, and I don’t want you butting in and trying to answer them for her. Understood?”

Jennifer Jo was laughing, but her curiosity was piqued as well. “Questions for me?”

“Yep. Question number one. How long have you been married now?”

There was no hesitation. “Seven days.”

“A whole week? And you still love this tall, gangly goose here?”

Her face melted as she looked at Matthew. “More than I thought possible.”

“Is he treating you right?”

She giggled with delight. “Perfectly!”

“Hey,” Matthew grumbled. “What about asking me if she’s treating me right?”

“Just hush now, boy, or we’ll send you out to do the chores.” Brigham turned back to her. “You think you want to try another week of this wedded bliss?”

Jennifer Jo was completely into the game now. “Could I just commit to three or four days and see how it’s looking by then?”

As Matthew let out a howl, Brigham nodded, ignoring him. “Wise choice. It never hurts to be cautious. And how about his Irish? Is he learning to speak to you like a true son of the Emerald Isle?”

“Alas,” she said mournfully, “this is one area where he has completely failed me. After spending all that time in London, all he can manage is a poor imitation of a Cockney accent. It is an offense to my ears, to be completely frank.”

“Aye,” Brigham averred solemnly. “No wonder you’re cautious about committing too heavily to the boy.”

“Look,” Matthew growled, moving over to the stove to stand beside his wife, “if you two are just going to sit here and jaw, and that looks like that’s about all you’re good for, let a hungry man get some breakfast started and on the table.”

“Hmm,” Jennifer Jo said, cocking her head to one side. “With that kind of offer, I just may extend my contract to another full week after all.” She went up on tiptoes and kissed Matthew lightly.

“Away with you, girl,” he warned ominously, actually not doing too badly with his attempt at an Irish accent. “You’ve wounded me deeply now, and there’ll be no winning me back with your insincere and flattering ways.”

Matthew watched Brigham mop up maple syrup with the last half of his fourth pancake. “By the way, did you see Bennett’s grave?” Matthew asked.

There was a startled look. “His grave? He didn’t die. He’s past the crisis now.”

Matthew chuckled. “I know that, but this was evidently the work of some wag with a sense of humor. It was a pile of sand and a fake tombstone.”

“Really?” Brigham asked. “No, I hadn’t heard about it.”

“Tell him about the epitaph,” Jennifer Jo urged Matthew.

“Well, we weren’t sure what it all meant at first,” Matthew started. “Fortunately, Peter was with us. And you know Peter. He always has his nose in a book. He seems to know everything.”

“Yes,” Brigham agreed, “that’s Peter, all right.”

“It said something like, ‘In memory of Major General John C. Bennett, who died at the siege of Philter, in the defense of the cause of Venus, July 27, 1841.’”

“Philter?” Brigham asked with a blank look.

“Yes. Peter says that a philter is a drug or a potion which is supposed to cause someone to fall in love with you.”

“Oh.” Brigham’s eyes sparkled. “Sounds like someone knew him pretty well.”

“And Venus is the goddess of love,” Jennifer Jo added shyly, blushing even now as she remembered the boldness of the statement.

Brigham speared the last piece, stuffed it in his mouth, and chased it down with the final two swallows of milk. He leaned back. “So, there are others who are skeptical too, eh?”