The Work and the Glory (496 page)

“Hello, Lydia,” he said heavily.

Recovering somewhat, she opened the door wider. “Joshua, when did you get back?”

“Just a while ago.” He looked past her. “Are Caroline and the children here?”

“The children are, but Caroline is over at Derek and Rebecca’s helping put together some things for the temple.”

“How about Nathan?”

She stepped back, motioning him in. “He’s in the kitchen. Go sit down. I’ll get him.”

Joshua nodded, looking numb, and went into the sitting room. A moment later, as Nathan appeared, Joshua heard Lydia rounding up all the children and suggesting they go upstairs to read a story.

Joshua took the hardback chair by the lamp table. Nathan sat down on the sofa so he would be facing him directly. For a moment he studied his brother’s face, then spoke. “Not good?”

There was a slow, heavy shake of the head.

“Tell me about it. What happened? We’ve been worried sick about you. How are the ribs, by the way?”

Joshua waved that away. “A little tender, but I’m all right.” Then he continued, his voice dropping to a dull monotone. “First of all, you have to understand how things are in St. Louis. The news about Alice and Will is all over town. Judith had sent out the letters of invitation for the weddings already. Walter had bragged to everyone about hiring a riverboat and bringing the whole family down. So when Alice and Will showed up with their news, it became a major scandal. Everyone is outraged.” His dark brows knitted together even more. “Unquestionably, it was having to face all those people that was part of Judith’s illness. But aside from that, I can tell you that the Steeds are not high on anyone’s list of favorite people down there right now. And having the whole situation be caused by a call to follow some Mormon missionary assignment doesn’t help any either. Not in Missouri.”

Nathan felt sick for Joshua. He and Walter were, if not at the very pinnacle of St. Louis society, then very close to it. To fall from there would be long and precipitous. That it had been exactly that showed in the dullness in Joshua’s eyes. He looked as if he had endured an extended whipping, then been dragged behind a team of horses. “So what happened on your loan?” Nathan asked softly.

“Well, to no one’s surprise,” Joshua went on, his voice void of life, “Ben Barber had already been around town, talking to people we do business with about the awful thing Joshua Steed had done. How could you ever trust a man like that? Even his own lifelong business partner, the venerable Walter Samuelson, had broken things off with him because his word means nothing now.”

Feeling was coming back into his voice now, but it was dark, bitter, every word coming out as though it tasted of bile. “You’d have to know Ben Barber. He’s water moccasin, cobra, and prairie rattlesnake all rolled into one. He’s a harlot in a business suit, smooth as silk and deadly as arsenic. And he’s been after our businesses for two years now.”

“I can’t believe Walter sold out to him, knowing that he’s that kind of a person.”

“Walter was betrayed, at least in his mind. He feels that selling out to Barber was no more than what I deserved.”

“Was he still there?”

“He and Judith left the day after I arrived. He wouldn’t see me.”

Joshua leaned forward now, elbows on his knees, and put his face in his hands. He began to rub his eyes. “I’ve had a lot of dealings with my banker over the years, so at first I thought it would be all right.”

He looked up, and his eyes were dark and withdrawn. The look in them shocked Nathan. He had never seen him look so vulnerable, so totally beaten.

“But,” Joshua continued, “when I explained about my stables being burned out, the bank panicked. Note how I said that. The banker assured me that he still trusted me completely, that he knew I was good for the debt. But the bank? Now, that was a different story. It was not in the best interests of the bank, he was most sorry to say, to have that big a loan outstanding with only a burned-out business for collateral. I tried to tell him that I’ll have another raft of lumber coming downriver first thing next spring, which will bring in more than enough to pay back what I owe. I was even willing to consign the whole thing to him.”

“But he wouldn’t accept that?”

“Well, at first I thought he was going to go for it. But two days later he called me back to the bank.” There was a long silence. Joshua was staring at the wallpaper now, letting his eyes trace the spiraling pattern. “Barber and his little weasel brother were there. They had heard about the fire and ‘come to help.’” His voice dripped with needle-sharp sarcasm. “They told the banker they wanted to buy out my share of all the businesses we were now ‘partners’ in, thanks to Walter. That would pay off the debt to the bank and leave me free and clear.”

He finally looked at Nathan. “The fact that their offer was worth about thirty cents on the dollar was purely incidental, of course.”

“No,” Nathan said slowly. “And the banker did it? Couldn’t you refuse to sell to them?”

“Yes, if I hadn’t owed the bank forty-six thousand dollars.”

Nathan sat back, deeply shaken. “So it’s done?”

There was a bitter laugh. “Signed and delivered. Joshua Steed no longer owns business or property in St. Louis, Missouri. None. Zero! Not a single bale of cotton.”

“I can’t believe it,” Nathan said, his voice thin and strained. “Just like that and it’s all gone?”

“Gives one thought, doesn’t it?” Joshua said with a mocking smile. “Here, just a few days ago, I was offering to bankroll the family’s trip west. Now . . .” He shook his head. “Caroline and I will be lucky if we can make it through the winter until I can get that lumber down here and sold.”

For several moments there was silence as each considered all that this meant. Finally Nathan leaned forward. “The store is yours, Joshua.”

His head came up with a start.

“Caroline put twenty thousand dollars of her money into it.”

“We’re not going to take the store,” he said shortly.

“Why not? It’s half yours anyway. We’re leaving. We’ve got to sell it.”

“Carl wants it.”

Now the sick feeling in Nathan deepened even more as he began to realize just how profound this disaster was proving to be. “Carl can’t buy it. To no one’s surprise, the construction business has collapsed here in Nauvoo. Carl hasn’t had an order of bricks for two weeks. He still wants Derek’s farm, but he won’t be able to pay him anything for it until spring, when hopefully things will pick up again.”

Joshua just stared at him.

“We’re still pretty well off,” Nathan went on quickly. “We have the store. We’ve had people coming to look at the house. We used those three wagons that were partially burned to make two good ones.”

And then suddenly his chin lifted and his eyes widened. “Come with us, Joshua!” Nathan said.

“What?” Joshua said, startled out of his thoughts.

“Come west with us. There’s nothing to hold you here now.”

There was one soft hoot of derision. “No thank you.”

“Why not? You’ve got to make a new start anyway. Why not out west? Why not with the family?”

Abruptly, Joshua stood up, his face hard. “Well, in the first case, I’ve got some scores to settle. There’s that little matter of burning me out. I’ve learned the names of at least some of the men who did it. And then there’s the Barber brothers.”

“Don’t, Joshua.”

“No,” he said, his voice cracking like a whip. “Don’t you give me that turn-the-other-cheek business, Nathan. They’ve ruined me. I can understand Walter’s part in this. It was a terrible thing he did, but I can understand why he did it. But the others? No, there’s a very large score to be put to rest on that account.”

“You’re not only going to put yourself in danger again, but you’re going to break Mother’s heart if you go after them.”

He shrugged. “Once you leave Nauvoo, Mother won’t know.”

Nathan blew out his breath, wanting to grab him and shake him as if he were one of the children. “Think about what Brigham said, Joshua. A whole new civilization. A brand-new start. It’s what you do best. Come with us.”

Joshua turned away. “It’s been a long two weeks, Nathan. I’d better round up Caroline and the children and go home.”

Nathan stood now. “I’m sorry, Joshua. I know this isn’t the time to talk about that. But will you at least think about it? If you’ve got to start again anyway, at least—”

Joshua’s look stopped him short. His eyes were like the smouldering coals left after the rest of the stables were gone up in smoke. “Let me tell you something, Nathan,” he said in a very low voice. “I’ve been pretty cooperative with your God lately. I let Will and Caroline be baptized. I gave in on Savannah. I was willing to help the family with anything I had. I even went toe to toe with Samuelson so that things would work out between him and Alice. And what has all of that got me?”

He rubbed his hand along his jaw, looking very old now. “I lost a daughter in a terrible accident. My son is on his way to California and I may never see him again. And now I’m back where I was in life fifteen years ago.”

“Joshua, I—”

“You go ahead and be faithful to what you believe, Nathan. But from now on, I think I’ll try it on my own.”

“Watch it, Kathryn, your foot’s catching on the rug.” Peter started to rise. “Here, let me move it.”

“No,” she cried. “Please, Peter, don’t.”

He sank back down, still poised to leap out of the chair and catch her if she tripped.

“If I can’t even lift my foot above a throw rug, how will I ever get around a campground?” Gripping the crutches, she adjusted her feet slightly to balance her body, then swung the crutches forward, setting them down solidly before pulling the rest of her body forward again. Barely waiting to get set again, she repeated the action, coming smoothly forward another foot, then another.

He clapped his hands. “Good, Kathryn. That’s very good.”

She was beaming now, more pleased than a child who has just mastered her first step. She did it again. And a fifth time.

He stood, applauding loudly. “Bravo! I think you’ve got it.”

Breathing in short, quick gulps, straining with the concentration of making her body obey her mind, she crossed the remaining distance and fell into Peter’s arms. She let the crutches slip from her grasp and clatter to the floor. “I’m getting it, Peter,” she breathed excitedly. “I really am getting it.”

He kissed her on the nose. “You are, Kathryn. I can see that you are.”

He meant it, and she saw that he meant it. Letting him take her weight in his arms, she threw her head back and laughed triumphantly. “I can walk!” she cried. “I can walk.”

“I think with some more practice you will have it mastered.”

“I have to,” she said, her expression sobering. “I can’t use a wheelchair on the trail. Even the best of campgrounds will be too rough. I have to be able to get around at least somewhat.”

“I’ll be there to help you, Miss McIntire.”

“Mrs. Ingalls to you, sir,” she murmured airily, still euphoric.

He helped her over to the bed and saw her seated comfortably, then pulled a chair around to face her. They were living in the small house that had once been Benjamin and Mary Ann’s first home in Nauvoo. Benjamin and Mary Ann now lived in the two-story “second house” to the side of this one, and this house had become the traditional home for newlyweds in the family.

Her face was still flushed with excitement and with the effort it had taken to cross the room. He watched her, marveling at her beauty, still a little dazed that she had finally consented to marry him. Others might complain about a bad hailstorm, he thought with a smile, remembering that terrible, wonderful evening in early September, but he never would again.

“What are you thinking?” she said.

“Well, I wanted to talk with you about an idea that’s been percolating in my mind.”

She laughed merrily. “Percolating? You should write poetry, Mr. Ingalls.”

He smiled, then went on, earnest now and a little concerned as well. “Do you remember Levinah Murphy?”

Kathryn’s lips pursed slightly. “I don’t believe I do.”

“She’s a widow. She and her children lived here in Nauvoo for a time, but they’ve all since moved back to Tennessee—all, that is, except for her married daughter Sarah, who I think now lives in St. Louis.”

“Oh?” Kathryn couldn’t figure out why Peter was telling her about this family.

“Anyway, a few years ago, back when we were doing baptisms for the dead in the river, Sister Murphy was one of the first to participate. So was I. That’s how I met her and her children, and learned about their situation. Seeing all those children, seven of them, and knowing they had lost their father not long before that—well, it reminded me of how I lost my parents, and it made me feel bad. So now and then I tried to find opportunities to help the Murphys out around their place. It wasn’t much, but I tried.” He suddenly got an embarrassed look on his face. “I guess Sister Murphy’s always felt grateful to me for that, and so I’ve gotten an occasional letter from her since she moved away.”

Kathryn nodded. She wasn’t surprised that she had not heard about this from Peter before. It was just like him to do something nice for another person and not talk about it. So why would he be telling her about it now? Before she could ask, Peter went on.

“I recently received a letter from her. She’d heard that the Saints plan to head west, and she would like to join us. But given her circumstances—she’s a widow with five unmarried children now, living in Tennessee, far from the main body of Saints—it seemed like a difficult proposition. One of her concerns is that she not be a burden. She is determined not to be a burden to the Church.”

Kathryn was listening carefully to him, wondering again why he had brought these matters up. It seemed to be more than just idle conversation. “So what is she going to do?”

“Well, that’s what is interesting. She says in her letter that she’s now found a possible way for getting herself west so she can meet us there.”

“What? You mean go alone?”

“Not alone, just a different way. She says there are many emigrant trains that will be headed to California and Oregon in the spring, and she plans to take her children and go with one of those trains. If she has to, she says she can even hire on as a laundress or cook. But she may not have to do that if her two married daughters and their husbands go. So she sees this as an opportunity to make the journey west and at the same time not be a burden on the Saints.”