The Work and the Glory (180 page)

He stopped. Rebecca had turned her head away from him, as if she were no longer listening. His face colored slightly. “I need to make my own way if I’m ever going to have my own family.” She didn’t turn.

Benjamin came to his rescue. “Nathan and Matthew and me just planned to have you work our land with us, Derek.”

“I know, and I thank you for that. But . . .” He shrugged.

Benjamin nodded slowly. “I understand.” He looked at the faces around him, studiously avoiding looking at Rebecca. “Well, it’s only about thirty miles from here. It’s not like we’ll never see him and Peter.” But everyone knew that thirty miles was a full day’s travel one way. It would happen, but not frequently.

Rebecca got up quickly. “I’d better go see what the children are doing,” she said. “I haven’t heard them for the last few minutes.”

John Griffith stood, pulling Jessica up too. Though he was the newest addition to the Steed family, he sensed immediately what was happening. “We’ll come too,” he said to Rebecca. “It’s time to round up our kids and start for home. We’ve got a three-hour ride ahead of us.”

Rebecca nodded, and as the three of them walked away, going toward the back of the house, Derek stared after them, his face drawn and his eyes desolate.

* * *

Nathan and Lydia lived three blocks away from Nathan’s parents in a small cabin on the north edge of the town. With Derek and Peter staying at her parents’ house, Rebecca still lived with Nathan and Lydia as she had since they had arrived in Far West. Originally the plan had been to build a small cabin behind Nathan and Lydia’s so that the two Britons would have a place to live; but limited funds had not made that possible, and Rebecca had stayed with Nathan and Lydia so that Derek and Peter could stay at her parents’ home. All that would change now, she thought, as she walked steadily toward her parents’ house. Derek and Peter were leaving, and she would be able to return home again. It did not cheer her.

Suddenly she pulled up. A familiar figure was coming down the street toward her. The sun had gone down now, and the final minutes of twilight were fading, but there was no mistaking the broad shoulders, the strong, sure gait, or the thick-cut hair on which a small woolen cap was precariously perched.

Derek’s head was down, and he seemed to be deep in thought as he strode along. She waited, smiling to herself. As he nearly reached her, she spoke sharply. “I beg your pardon.”

It was as though he had walked into the side of a barn. He fell back a step, eyes wide and startled.

“Do you always go around running people off the sidewalk?” she said gravely.

“Rebecca. I didn’t even see you. I—”

“Good evening, Mr. Ingalls.” Her voice was as sweet as maple sugar. “And where might you be going in such a hurry?”

“I . . .” He swept off the cap. “I was comin’ to see you, actually.” He jammed his hat into his pocket. He always felt like such a dolt around her. “I . . . I wanted to speak with you.”

That pleased her greatly, and the desire to tease him quickly died away. “That’s interesting,” she murmured. “Actually, I was coming to see you.”

“You were?”

“Yes.” She turned and started walking slowly again. “Yes, I was.”

He fell into step beside her. They walked along for a time, neither one speaking, but he kept giving her quick, sidelong glances. Finally, he cleared his throat. Instantly she stopped, holding up one hand. “No, Derek,” she said. “I would like to speak first.”

“All right,” he said tentatively.

“I wanted to say . . .” She took a quick breath. She had rehearsed this over and over in her mind, but now it wouldn’t come out quite as easily as it had then. He was leaning forward slightly, watching her intently. “I wanted to apologize for the way I acted this afternoon,” she said. “It was childish of me. I think it’s wonderful that you’re going north with Joseph.”

He blinked. “You do?”

A tiny smile played around the corners of her mouth. “Well . . . I kind of do. It just took me by surprise when you announced it like that.”

“That’s what I wanted to come say to you,” he said eagerly. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you first today, but there was never a chance.”

She looked up. “You had no obligation to tell me first.”

He looked a little hurt by that. “I know, but I wanted to.”

She nodded, pleased. “I understand why you want your own land.”

He shuffled his feet, looking at the ground. “Your family has been very good to me, Rebecca.” His eyes raised quickly, then dropped again. “Nathan lent me that money to get me and Peter out here. Your father and mother have been giving us board and room free of charge. I’ve got to make my own way.”

“There’s nothing wrong with letting people help you. And neither Nathan nor my parents expect you to pay them back.”

“Well, I do. Peter and me didn’t come to America to live off’n others.”

She watched the stubborn set of his lips and the squareness of his jaw. “Are all Englishmen this proud?” she asked lightly.

His head came up sharply. “In England, at least where Peter and me come from, only the ladies and gentlemen could afford such a thing as pride.”

She was taken aback by the fierceness of his reaction. “You’re a gentleman, Derek.”

He hooted in disbelief. “I’m an unlearned and unschooled working-class donkey. Good for shoveling coal or writin’ notes in a ledger book. There aint’ nothin’ to be proud about there.”

“Unlearned and unschooled are not the same thing, Derek Ingalls, and you know it.”

He was angry now, and it surprised her. “Look at your family. You’ve all been to school. You talk nice and act nice. You know how to do so many things.”

She started to object, but he overrode her. “Take Matthew, for example. Not yet eighteen, and yet he can do almost anything—drive a team of horses, plow a straight furrow, shoot a rifle, build furniture, shoe a horse. He can read and write. He knows arithmetic.”

“You can read and write,” Rebecca exclaimed, “and you taught yourself to do it. You and Peter have made it completely on your own all this time. We all admire you tremendously for that. Stop berating yourself.”

He pounced on that. “Berating? You see, that’s a word I don’t even know. Your family uses words all the time that I don’t know. I watch them at supper. They set the table and say grace and pass the food one to another all polite like. Me and Peter, all we ever did was set out bread and cheese on a piece of metal plate and eat it with our hands.”

“Stop it, Derek!” Her eyes were blazing. “My family has not tried to make you feel inferior. Not ever.”

He was staring at her in disbelief. “Do you think that’s what I’m saying? Your family are the most wonderful people me and Peter have ever known. That’s what makes me feel so awful. I want to be like you. I want to know where to put the knife and where to put the fork. I want to be able to do what Nathan and your father and Matthew and John and everyone else in America seem to be able to do.” He looked at her, pain pulling little lines around the corners of his eyes. “Then maybe I can come down and be among you and not feel like a donkey in a horse race.” His gaze held hers for a moment. “Then maybe I can come down and see you and not be . . .” He shook his head and turned away.

Rebecca was staring at his back, shocked by his outburst. Finally, her head lifted. “You are a fool, Derek Ingalls.”

There was a short, humorless laugh. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Rebecca Steed.”

“A stubborn, bullheaded English fool.” Her mouth opened and shut. There was nothing more to say. She turned and walked away, not looking back.

* * *

Obadiah Cornwell had been hired to drive wagons for Joshua Steed when Joshua had first come to Independence. As the freight business expanded, Joshua made Cornwell his yard foreman, giving him responsibility for the stables, the storage sheds, and all of the live and the rolling stock. Then, as Joshua branched out into other ventures—the textile mills in St. Louis, the purchase of cotton from the South, investments in the fur trade—he had brought Cornwell into full partnership in the freight business. Though a rough man outwardly, Cornwell was a family man, full of integrity, totally dependable. And completely loyal to Joshua Steed. So now he looked at Joshua’s wife with just a touch of panic. “Mrs. Steed, you know I can’t do that.”

Caroline had expected no less of him. “I’m not asking for anything more than a wagon with a team. Put some beds in the back and a few supplies. That’s all I need.” She laid a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Will is fourteen now. He is a capable driver.”

Cornwell looked at Will and smiled. If Joshua Steed had not legally adopted Will Mendenhall and given him his name, Obadiah Cornwell would have gladly done so. “Will’s as fine a driver as I have. That’s not the point.”

“The point is, Obadiah,” Caroline cut in swiftly, “I need a wagon. My husband is gone to St. Louis and can’t give the yard foreman permission, so I’m asking you, as his partner, to authorize it.”

He blew out his breath in exasperation. “Why didn’t you talk to Joshua before he left?” He brightened. “Or why not wait until he gets back? He should return before the first of July. That’s less than two weeks now. Why don’t you wait?”

Caroline liked and respected Joshua’s partner as much as Joshua did. She couldn’t lie to him. Besides, he knew her well enough to know it instantly if she tried. She smiled briefly at him. “Because he will say no.”

Cornwell threw up his hands. “Exactly! Do you know what he’ll do to me when he finds out I’ve helped you in this?”

Her smile broadened. “He’ll rant and rave and cuss a little. But I’m the one he’ll be most angry with, and I’m ready to deal with that.”

“I can’t, Mrs. Steed. I just can’t. He’ll kill me.”

Will stepped forward. “Mr. Cornwell, I know how you feel. But Mama’s right. We need to do this.”

Caroline tipped her head back, brushing a strand of hair away from her eyes. Her mouth turned down, and her voice lowered. “You know why I want to go up there, don’t you, Obadiah?”

He looked all the more glum. “Yes.”

“It’s his
family,
Obadiah. And he’s not going to do anything. He’s afraid to. Someone has got to make the first move.”

Cornwell’s chest rose and fell. He was torn. He had tremendous respect for Caroline Steed and for what she had done for Joshua. There was very little resemblance between the man Cornwell had first started working for and the man he worked with now. But he also knew that Joshua was not going to like this. Not one bit. And he had seen Joshua Steed when he was angry.

Caroline’s green eyes flashed with determination. “If you won’t help me, I’ll find someone who will. There are others with wagons here.”

“And Pa wouldn’t like that either,” Will threw in.

Cornwell stared at her for several moments, then finally he passed one hand before his eyes. “All right,” he said wearily. “All right.”

Caroline was elated. “Thank you.”

“I’d better send a man with you. You’re going right into the heart of Mormon country.”

There was a quick frown of irritation. “I wasn’t here when the Mormons were in Jackson County, Obadiah. But if the reports are correct, it wasn’t
them
who took up arms against you; it was the other way around. I’m not worried about going amongst them.” She laid an arm across Will’s shoulders. “Besides, I already have a man to go with me.”

* * *

Nathan was at the small table reading. There was a knock, but to his surprise it was at the back door of the cabin, which was in the far corner of their one large open room.

Joshua jumped up from where he was working on a writing assignment. “I’ll get it.”

Lydia was on the wooden bench that served as their sofa now, teaching Emily how to sew a simple design on a pillowcase. She gave Nathan a questioning look. He shrugged, and they both turned to watch Joshua. He opened the door. There was no one there. He stuck his head out; then, to their surprise, stepped clear outside. In a moment he was back, looking suddenly spooked.

“Papa.” His blue eyes were wide and frightened. “There’s a man out back. He says he’s got to see you right now.”

Nathan shut the book and stood up. Lydia’s curiosity had turned to anxiety. “Be careful, Nathan.”

He smiled. “This isn’t Kirtland, Lydia.”

“There are many people from Kirtland here,” she retorted, “and not all good ones. Be careful!”

He nodded, and walked swiftly to the door. Joshua followed behind him. Nathan opened it. There was no one there. Puzzled, he stepped outside, stopping for a moment on the landing. There was no moon and the night was dark. He peered into the blackness, feeling a sudden eeriness. Then a figure stepped out from behind the darker shape of the outhouse. “Nathan. It’s me, Oliver. Can you come out?”

Nathan waved an arm, feeling a rush of relief. He turned to Joshua. “Tell your mother it’s just Oliver Cowdery.” As the door shut, Oliver came forward, looking around furtively. He had something white in his hand.

Nathan felt a quick jolt as he saw the fear on Oliver’s face. “Oliver, what’s the matter?”

Oliver thrust his arm out. It was a piece of paper he held. “Have you seen this?”

Nathan took it, turning so that he caught a ray of lamplight from the window. He recognized it immediately without reading it. “Yes,” he said, handing it back.

“Yes,” Oliver burst out. “That’s all you’ve got to say, is yes?”

Nathan took his friend by the arm. “Come inside. Let’s talk.”

Oliver jerked away. “No. I don’t want to be seen.” He looked around quickly. “We’re leaving. Tonight.”

“What?” Nathan was stunned. “This paper is hogwash, Oliver. Something meant to scare you. Surely you don’t believe anyone—”

“Well, it worked,” he exclaimed. He thrust the paper right in front of Nathan’s nose and shook it. “If this had your name on it, wouldn’t you take it seriously?”

Nathan started to say something, but Oliver’s question had brought him up short. Two days before, Sidney Rigdon had delivered a sermon that had left all of Far West buzzing. It had quickly been dubbed the “Salt Sermon,” because Sidney had used for his text a verse from the Sermon on the Mount. “Ye are the salt of the earth,” Jesus said, “but if the salt have lost his savour, . . . it is thenceforth good for nothing, but to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men.” Sidney then compared the apostates who had left the Church and the dissidents still in it to the salt that had lost its savor.