The Work and the Glory (195 page)

As the great procession reached the center of Far West, Joshua Steed nodded to himself. You had to give it to the Mormons for that. They had picked a great site for a new home. They were moving slowly now as the people began to form a great circle around the outside of the square. The women and smaller children took the front places; the men and older children filled in behind. The cavalry then moved their horses up behind them to complete the ring. 

As the Steeds found their places, Joshua was suddenly staring. Over the heads of the women he could see mounds of rich, black prairie soil. He stretched a little and then realized that the people had surrounded a shallow but massive excavation right in the center of the square. It was no more than a couple of feet deep, but it was huge! He let his eye run along it, trying to estimate its size.

Beside him his father was watching him, sensing his amazement. “It’s one hundred ten feet long and eighty feet wide,” he said in a low voice.

“A hundred and ten feet?” Joshua echoed. That was as big as some of the warehouses he and his partners owned in St. Louis. “You’re really going to build something that big?” Joshua whispered back.

“Yes. When we built the temple in Ohio, it was one of the largest buildings in the state. But this will be even bigger than that one—longer by about forty feet and wider by twenty.”

Matthew was standing next to Olivia. Or better, Olivia had made sure that once they got into place she was standing next to him. Now he took her by the arm. “See that pole, Olivia?” He was pointing to a tall, narrow, and carefully trimmed tree trunk buried in the ground to make a flagpole. At the top of it, barely stirring in the light breeze, flew the stars and stripes of America.

She glanced quickly at Matthew’s hand on her arm; then, obviously pleased, turned to where he was pointing. “Yes, I see it.”

“That’s the liberty pole.”

“The liberty pole?”

“Yes.” He gave a sidelong glance at Peter. “We put it in special just for this day. This day we celebrate whupping the British and kicking them out of our country.” He grinned mischievously, looking straight at Peter now. “No offense intended, mate.”

Peter kept his face impassive. This was a running joke between him and Derek and Matthew. “It’s all right, bloke. I think it’s nice that the colonies finally got their own flag. They need
something
to make them feel important.”

Before Matthew could retort to that, Joseph stepped to the makeshift pulpit that had been placed at the north edge of the excavation. He raised his hands and instantly a hush swept over the crowd. Even the children fell silent. The air of expectation was strong.

“Brothers and sisters.” He was speaking loudly, turning his head so his voice would carry to the surrounding crowd. “It is time for the laying of the temple cornerstones. We shall begin by having our choir sing that wonderful hymn written by Brother W. W. Phelps, ‘Now Let Us Rejoice in the Day of Salvation.’ At the conclusion of the singing, our brother Hyrum Smith, vice president for today’s celebration, will lead us in prayer.”

Savannah, who was in Rebecca’s arms for the moment, suddenly turned and looked up at her father. “Hold me, Papa,” she mumbled. She held out her hands, trying to wiggle free.

Joshua reached out and took her. Immediately she snuggled against his chest and her eyes began to droop. As he began to stroke her hair gently, Caroline’s eyes found him. Her lips never moved, but he read the question on her face as clearly as if she had spoken. “Are you leaving?”

He shook his head slightly and saw the relief in her face. The night before, as they had lain in bed discussing the upcoming day’s activities, Joshua had warned her that once the parade was over, he was going to take Savannah home for a nap. It was one thing to go to a Fourth of July celebration; it was quite another to participate in a Mormon worship service.

Caroline had gotten a little angry. They were sleeping at Nathan’s cabin, which at night was partitioned off with blankets to give them separate sleeping quarters, so she had gone up on one elbow and leaned over to speak directly into his ear. “That will really hurt your family,” she said firmly. He started to protest, but she hissed at him with even greater vehemence. “You’re not going to die if you stay through the whole thing.” So he had backed off, not giving in to her but not absolutely refusing either. He would wait and see.

But now Joshua wasn’t thinking about leaving. At least not yet. In spite of himself, he was somewhat curious about what was about to happen.

By the time the hymn and invocation were over, Savannah was asleep against his chest, so Joshua turned his attention back to the proceedings. Joseph began to explain who would set in place each cornerstone. He used words that were not always familiar to Joshua—
priesthood quorums, stake presidencies, bishop,
and
bishopric
—but as Joseph spoke, men stepped out of the congregation and came forward. They divided themselves into four groups of three each, and Joshua realized these were the presidencies to which Joseph referred.

“Would those twelve who will be assisting the presidencies and the bishopric also step forward,” Joseph called. To Joshua’s surprise, far more than twelve men came forward to stand behind the four groups. He counted quickly. There were forty or more stepping out now. Then, as they grouped themselves equally behind the leaders, Joshua understood. There were twelve men in each group beside the presidency.

Will had evidently seen the same thing. He turned to Benjamin. “Why are there twelve in each group, Grandpa?”

Benjamin smiled. “How many tribes of Israel were there in the Bible?”

“Twelve,” Olivia blurted, following along closely with the conversation.

“So?” Will said, still not understanding.

Benjamin glanced out of the corner of his eye toward Caroline and Joshua, who were watching them now. “To have twelve men on each corner reminds us that we are God’s covenant people and that he is restoring the house of Israel in the last days, just as was prophesied in the Old Testament.”

“Oh,” Will said, still not fully understanding but satisfied now.

Joseph gave a signal and the four groups moved off in solemn processions, splitting so that they were soon headed for each of the four corners of the excavation. Only then did Joshua notice that there were four large, flat boulders, each nearly three feet long and at least two wide, waiting for them there.

Joseph waited until the four groups had lined up behind each of the four great stones; then he called out again. “All right, brethren, it may not take every one of the twelve of you to lift each stone, but I would like all to participate anyway. The architect for the temple will see that the stones are laid precisely in place. We will proceed in the following order: The presidencies of the Caldwell County and Di-Ahman stakes will go first, laying their stone at the southeast corner. The elders will follow, laying theirs at the southwest corner. Bishop Partridge, you and your brethren of the Aaronic Priesthood will lay your stone next, at the northwest corner where you now stand. The northeast cornerstone will then be laid by the teachers quorum.”

The men in the first group started to move forward, but Joseph raised his hand. They stopped and he instantly sobered again. “Before we proceed, I would like to say a word or two about the importance of cornerstones. Brethren and sisters, as you know, the cornerstones are used to lay out the rest of the building. If they are not put precisely and correctly in place, the rest of the structure will suffer. Today we lay the cornerstones for another temple to our Lord and God. This will be the house of the Lord. May we never forget for whom we build it. The Apostle Paul tells us that if we make Jesus Christ the chief cornerstone the whole building will be fitly framed together. That is true of this temple, which will be his house. It is true of the temple of our lives. Jesus is the chief cornerstone. May we ever look to him as the model for building lives worthy of all acceptation to him.” He paused for a moment, letting his eyes sweep the congregation and finally come to rest on the group at the southeast corner. He nodded. “Brethren, you may proceed.”

From the time he was small, Joshua Steed had chafed under the touch of spiritual things. When his mother read the Bible to the family in the evenings or on the Sabbath, his span of attention was the shortest of any of the children’s, even though he was the oldest. He had found some of the stories, especially those in the Old Testament, compelling, but the long sermons, the doctrinal expositions, and some of the interminable “begat” passages left him squirming like a worm in an ant bed.

Adult life had done little to change that. His experience with organized religion left him feeling something between faint disdain and total disgust. If pressed, Joshua probably would have admitted that he did believe in a supreme being, but that did not mean he believed in a deity that took an active role in the lives of men. Divine Providence. That title best fit how he saw God. Somewhere in the distant past some Divine Providence had created the universe, including the world on which men now dwelt, and then basically had given it a shove to get it started, and that was that. The world and the men in it were left pretty much on their own to work and wear out their lives.

So Joshua found himself a bit taken aback by the feelings he was experiencing now. There were grunts and soft groans of exertion as the men in the first group stepped forward, went into a crouch, then hefted the large stone to waist level. Moving forward with a great reverence, they laid the stone in place, not setting it down until the man who Joshua assumed was to be the architect gave them the signal. One by one the other groups followed suit. Then, with a mighty shout, the people thundered out their response.

“Hosannah! Hosannah to God and to our liberty!”

He had come prepared to feel disapproval at all this. He might not have been too surprised even at open curiosity. But . . . What? He couldn’t think of a good word to describe his reactions. Admiration? Maybe even a touch of envy? For years he had nursed a deep rage toward Joseph Smith and his followers. Then two days ago Nathan had brought him home, home to his family, home to a whole clan of Mormons. Now he was honest enough to admit that that was what his previous feelings had been—blind, hatred-driven prejudice. Suddenly it wasn’t so easy to accept the idea that these Mormons were the wild fanatics or deluded fools he had assumed them to be.

His mind jumped back five years. In November 1833, Joshua had ridden with about fifty armed and angry Missourians out to the Big Blue River west of Independence with the avowed purpose of driving the Mormons out of Jackson County once and for all. They had fully expected the Saints to scatter like a flock of chickens at the sight of the fox. But they didn’t. Outnumbered two to one, the Mormons marched straight into the muzzles of the Missourian guns. Two had been hit almost immediately; one was fatally wounded. But they did not falter. On they came. Then, much to Joshua’s disgust, it had been his men who broke ranks and fled, leaving their dead and wounded behind in their wild retreat.

His eyes moved to the northwest corner where Bishop Edward Partridge stood with his group; then he looked away quickly. Earlier that same year of 1833, Joshua and a man named George Simpson had stood face-to-face with this quiet man and another Mormon, Charles Allen, and demanded that they deny their belief in the Book of Mormon or be tarred and feathered and run out of town on a rail. Not only had Partridge and Allen not denied their faith, they submitted to the violence and humiliation with such a calm and peaceful demeanor that the mob had finally slunk away in shame, leaving Joshua and Simpson to face the two Mormon men alone.

You could say what you wanted about the craziness of Mormon teachings. You could talk all day about their being strange and different. But you couldn’t so easily dismiss their faith. Joshua knew for himself. It was a faith strong enough to die for. He could not help but admire that.

Yesterday at the barn raising, Edward Partridge had showed up a few minutes after Joshua and his family had arrived. Joshua had nearly turned and walked away, afraid that Partridge would remember his past tormentor. He did. But instead of recoiling in horror, Partridge dropped his hammer and came straight for Joshua, smiling warmly and stretching out his hand!

It
was
just a touch of envy he was feeling, Joshua realized now. He knew that he wasn’t man enough to do what Edward Partridge had done. And he realized that for all his skepticism, all his unwillingness to believe in a deity that spoke to men and told them what to do, he recognized there must be something very comforting in this kind of devotion, this kind of simple, life-directing faith.

He turned to his family. Every eye was on the four groups of men who were marching back to their places. He let his gaze move from one family member to another. Nathan was holding little Nathan. The faces of father and son were equally alive with excitement. Mary Ann held Emily’s hand, a look of deep contentment infusing her features. He turned to his father. Benjamin was solemn, but Joshua could see the joy in him as well. Lydia, Jessica, John Griffith—one by one he searched their faces in profile. It was present in all of them. Even Caroline. She wasn’t a Mormon, and Joshua suspected that she found aspects of this ceremony as strange as he did, but she had the same look in her face. It was what had brought her back to prayer and church and Bible study after years of bitterness over the loss of her first husband.

And then a great sadness filled Joshua’s soul. He realized now with painful clarity that it was this that made him different from the rest of them. This was the underlying factor in the years of alienation, the years of separation.

He turned, not able to look at them any longer. For at that moment he realized something else. There might be admiration. There might even be a touch of envy for such simple faith. But down deep, rooted in his soul so firmly that it would never come out, he knew that this part of him would never completely change.