The Work and the Glory (290 page)

“What?”

“No will. Nothing except this cabin. Not much.”

“Pa, stop it! You’re going to get better.”

It was as if Joshua hadn’t spoken. “Nothing of the world, anyway,” Benjamin said. “Nothing to put in a box.”

“Pa—,” Joshua started, but Benjamin gripped his arm with sudden power, cutting him off. “You’re happy, aren’t you, Joshua?”

Joshua rocked back slightly, completely caught off guard by the question. “I . . . well, yes.”

“
Really
happy?”

“Yes, Pa. I’m happier than I have ever been.”

“Good.” Benjamin breathed more deeply, as though trying to gather strength. “Caroline’s wonderful.”

“Yes,” Joshua murmured. “The best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Children wonderful.”

“Yes, they are. We have really been blessed.”

There was a small triumphant smile. “By whom?”

Under different circumstances Joshua might have responded with another answer, but he looked down at his father and said simply, “By divine providence.”

“By God.”

Joshua shrugged. “Whatever you want to call him.”

“By God,” Benjamin repeated. His eyes slowly closed again.

“You’d better rest now, Pa. We’ll talk some more in the morning.”

The eyes didn’t open, but a smile stole slowly across his face. There was a deep chuckle. “Don’t panic, son,” he said. “I’m not going to preach to you.”

Joshua’s eyebrows lifted, and then he saw that his father was looking at him. He chuckled now too, amazed that his father had read his discomfort so clearly. “All right, but you’re not going to make me into a Mormon, Pa.”

“Don’t want to,” came the instant reply. “Only you can do that.” With an effort he turned onto his side, putting his hands under the side of his face so that he could look directly at Joshua. “I was happy too.”

•  Joshua nodded slowly. “I know you are, Pa. I can see that.”

“No, not just now. Before.”

“Before what?”

“The Church.”

“Oh.”

“I was!” he said firmly. “Good life. Farm. Wonderful family.” His voice softened. “A wife that . . .” He couldn’t finish, just shook his head. “A good wife.”

“Yes, Papa. Mama is a wonderful woman.”

“Like you,” Benjamin said. There was an urgency in him now. “It was good. No complaints.”

Joshua nodded, not exactly sure what his father was trying to say.

Benjamin drew in a deep breath, staring past Joshua now. “But when the gospel came . . . So much more. Thought I had everything. But so much more.”

Now Joshua saw where all this was going, and strangely he didn’t resent it. He leaned forward. “I know, Pa. I can see that it has made you very happy. And I’m glad for you.”

Benjamin’s voice grew fainter now. “But there’s more, Joshua. So much more.”

Joshua didn’t answer, just touched his father’s arm to let him know he understood.

A great sigh went out of Benjamin, and Joshua knew this had been what he wanted to say. On an impulse, Joshua leaned over and did something he hadn’t done since he was a boy. He kissed his father on the cheek. “You rest now, Papa.”

Benjamin’s eyes flew open in surprise, then he smiled. “Yes.”

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

There was a bare nod and the eyes closed again.

Joshua stood and stepped back from the bed. But he didn’t move beyond that. For a long time he stood there, watching this frail old man who had come to mean so much to him. Finally, when Benjamin’s breathing had deepened and he was clearly asleep, Joshua turned and left the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

Chapter Twelve

  By the morning of July twenty-second, 1839, Nauvoo, and Montrose across the river from it, looked like one vast battle zone. In a matter of weeks, the ague and the bilious fevers had taken a greater toll than Governor Boggs’s infamous extermination order, and a quiet desperation had settled over the settlements of the Saints.

“What if the Prophet is still too sick to come?” Derek said, between breaths.

Nathan shook his head, hurrying along. “I don’t know.”

Mary Ann had come to Nathan’s cabin in a panic an hour before, totally distraught. Benjamin was in a semi-coma and slipping rapidly. Mary Ann, still very weak and only half functioning herself, had begged them to go for the Prophet. Joseph had healed Benjamin once, in the jail at Richmond. It was their only hope, she said.

“I don’t know,” Nathan said again grimly.

As they turned south on the road that would take them to the Old Homestead, Nathan pulled up short. Derek nearly bumped into him, then stepped around him to see what had brought him up.

A large crowd of people was coming toward them. Joseph was in the lead, but the people swarmed around him, some running out in front, some trotting backwards so they could listen to what he was saying as he strode along. Everyone was talking excitedly. Some were jumping up and down, greatly exercised. Several of the Twelve were walking alongside Joseph.

“What is this?” Derek asked, gaping at the sight. To see so many people up and walking was amazing. And Joseph. Joseph was better again.

Before Nathan could answer, the Prophet turned off and walked to a tattered tent. A woman was at the tent flap, brought out by the noise. The Prophet went right up to her and took her hands. He said something. She nodded and stepped back. Joseph followed her inside the tent. Heber Kimball and John Taylor went in after them.

Then Nathan gasped, leaning forward, gaping. “There’s Parley!” he exclaimed.

“Parley Pratt?” Derek asked dubiously. “How could that be?” Back in November, Parley had been part of a group of brethren charged, unjustly, with murder in connection with the Battle of Crooked River in Ray County; and so he and four others had remained prisoners in Richmond, while the Prophet and five others, charged with treason, were taken to Liberty Jail in Clay County. In April, Joseph, Hyrum, and the others with them had escaped from Missouri. But Parley had not been so fortunate. The last Derek heard, the Apostle still had not been released. Could it be that he had somehow managed to get free and make his way to Illinois?

“It
is
him!” Nathan cried. He broke into a run, waving his hat. “Parley! Parley!”

Derek saw Parley now too. He was standing beside his brother Orson and John E. Page, another member of the Twelve. He darted off, sprinting to catch up with Nathan.

Parley saw them coming and shouted something. Then he too was running, arms outstretched. He and Nathan collided hard, nearly knocking each other down, but Parley recovered and swept Nathan up in a huge bear hug, swinging him around and around. Derek was grinning widely as he came up to join them.

“I can’t believe it,” Nathan said finally. “When did you get free?”

“July fourth,” Parley said, laughing merrily. “Independence Day. Best one I ever had. But I didn’t arrive in Quincy until a few days ago, and I’m just now up here.”

Nathan stepped back, eyeing his friend up and down. Parley Pratt was a stout man, built somewhat along the lines of Heber Kimball, but he didn’t look it now. He had lost thirty or more pounds, and his clothes hung on him loosely.

Parley sobered. “It is a marvelous story. There isn’t time now to tell it, but I shall come see you.” He clamped a hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “How are you, old friend?”

A frown darkened Nathan’s brow and he shook his head. “Not well. My father is dying. We have already lost one son. Our baby is critical.” Nathan turned now, looking at the crowd milling around the tent waiting for Joseph. “We came to see if Joseph might be well enough to come give my father a blessing.” And then he couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. “We were afraid that Joseph was still sick. What is going on, Parley? What is happening?”

“A miracle!” Parley burst out. “A marvelous miracle.”

“What?”

He grabbed Nathan by the arm, his fingers digging into the flesh. The excitement danced in his eyes. “I’ve only just joined them, but Orson has told me the full story. This morning Joseph
was
ill, very ill. But as he was lying in his bed, he said the power of God came upon him. He rose from his bed and blessed Emma. She was immediately made well. He blessed his children. They were made well. Filled with the Spirit of God, he began to move about the house. As you know, he has many people there, caring for them.”

“Yes, we know,” Derek responded.

“He healed them, each one. Then he went out into his yard. That’s where Orson was. He too was very sick. Joseph moved from tent to tent, commanding people to rise or to be healed. He then sent Orson for the Twelve so we could accompany him. That’s when I joined them.”

“And all these people?” Nathan began, his voice tinged with wonder.

“Most of them were too sick to walk as this day began,” Parley said eagerly. “We’ve been moving from house to house, from tent to tent. Time after time, Joseph reaches out.” He shook his head, his eyes shining. “It’s a miracle!”

At that moment, the noise behind them rose again. They turned. Joseph and the others were out of the tent. The woman came out behind them. She was sobbing with joy, and threw her arms around the Prophet. “Thank you, Brother Joseph. Oh, thank you!”

He smiled, patting her on her shoulder. “Thank the Lord, Sister Bonner. I am only an instrument in his hands.”

John Taylor saw Nathan and Derek talking with Parley and walked over to join them. He was smiling broadly.

“Again?” Parley said to his fellow Apostle.

Brother Taylor nodded, his eyes filled with wonder. “Yes, again and again, over and over. It’s unbelievable. He reaches out and speaks a word, and they are healed.”

Nathan grabbed the Apostle’s arm, his voice urgent, but for the first time on this day it was filled with hope. “My father,” he said. “He’s dying. Do you think Joseph could come?”

The Prophet had turned from the woman and was looking in their direction. He came swiftly over. “Nathan. Derek. Good morning.”

“Brother Joseph,” Nathan said, taking his outstretched hand. “Father is very bad. Can you come see him?”

Pain filled Joseph’s eyes. “My old friend and counselor? But of course I shall come.” He looked up, his eyes measuring the number of tents and cabins that lay between where they were and the Steed homesites. “We will be stopping along the way,” he said after a moment. “But you return to Mary Ann. Tell her we are coming. We shall be there soon.”

Nathan nodded, the relief so powerful he didn’t trust his voice to speak.

“Thank you, Brother Joseph,” Derek said huskily. “We’ll tell her.”

“I’m coming,” Joseph said calmly. “Tell her I’m coming.”

“Brother Benjamin.”

There was no response. Benjamin Steed lay motionless on the bed, his face as gray as the previous night’s ashes in the fireplace. His chest rose and fell quickly, and there was a raspiness to the sound of his breathing.

“I think he’s in a coma,” Joshua volunteered.

Joseph ignored that. “Benjamin Steed,” he said in a commanding voice.

There was a flutter of eyelids and the body stirred slightly.

This time the Prophet spoke even more firmly. “It’s Joseph, Benjamin.”

Mary Ann held her breath. Nathan leaned forward, staring. Matthew, who was sitting by the bedside, holding his father’s hand, looked up in surprise. “He just squeezed my hand,” he whispered.

Joseph laid a hand on Matthew’s shoulder. “May I?” he said.

Matthew slipped out of the chair, passing Benjamin’s hand to Joseph as the Prophet sat down in his place. The five Apostles who were accompanying Joseph had come into the cabin with him. There wasn’t room in the small bedroom for everyone, so some stood at the door looking in. Heber went up on his toes so he could see over Mary Ann’s head. “Brother Benjamin,” he called. “It’s Heber Kimball. We’ve come to say hello to you.”

Joseph took Benjamin’s hand in both of his and raised it up in front of him, as though he were going to pray. The movement was enough to break through the veil of unconsciousness. Benjamin’s eyes opened slowly. For a moment, he simply stared at nothing; then finally he turned his head slightly.

“Hello, dear friend,” Joseph said, smiling warmly.

The tip of Benjamin’s tongue darted out, licked briefly at the cracked lips. “Hullo.” It was no more than a croak.

Joseph pulled the hand closer to him, and leaned over so his face was only a few inches away from Benjamin’s. “It’s time for you to get up, old friend.” He heard the gasps from behind him, but went on smoothly. “There’s a lot of sickness across the river. Brother Brigham is sick. We’re going over to see if we can help. I’d like you to come with me.”

Joshua took a step forward, anger darkening his features. “Joseph, are you out of your—”

Nathan reached out and caught his arm, holding him back. Mary Ann turned and shook her head quickly at him.

Benjamin seemed unaware of any of that. But a look of amazement filled his eyes. He shook his head back and forth once. “Can’t,” he whispered hoarsely. “Thought you had come—” He had to stop and draw in several quick breaths. “To say good-bye.”

Joseph laughed lightly. “Nonsense, old friend.” The smile faded away. “Do you want to die, Benjamin?”

Again came the almost imperceptible shake of the head.

Joseph straightened. His shoulders pulled back, and his face was infused with sudden determination. It was as though a bright light had suddenly been thrown across his features. His eyes shone with fire and power. “Then in the name of Jesus Christ,” he said in a voice loud enough that it startled those behind him, “I command you to rise from your bed and come with us across the river.”

For several moments time hung suspended. No one moved. Not a sound came from anywhere. Every eye was locked on the figure lying motionless on the bed. Then, slowly at first, and with considerable effort, Benjamin began to draw in a breath. It was as though he hadn’t breathed for several minutes and now needed to take in sufficient air to make up for the loss. Even as his chest rose, expanding outward and then outward even farther, his eyes cleared and color flowed into his cheeks. At last his lungs had reached their full capacity. For a moment, he held the air in, body frozen immobile, and then in a long, slow sigh, it all came rushing out again. It was a sound of great relief, a sound of poison being expelled from both mind and body, a sound of shucking off the clutching hands of whatever it was that had him in its grip.