True Sisters (15 page)

“Ye have no business to do it.”

“It is the Lord’s business to help one another.”

“Do not tell me the Lord’s business!” Nannie said sharply. “I mislike your words and will not be preached at by ye.”

“There was a time when you held my preaching dear.” He reached out a hand, but Nannie only clutched the buffalo chips she had picked up and backed away.

“Aye. And there was a time when ye held me dear. But ye found another to be dearer, and ye, with all your fine manners, hae not even the grace to tell me yourself, but put it in a letter. Do not preach to me, Brother Levi.”

In the dark, Nannie could not see the face of the man to whom she had been betrothed, the man who had betrayed her, but she saw his shoulders slump and his head turn back toward the camp. “I was tempted by a pretty face and golden hair. And I was found wanting. Now God punishes me with a wife who is selfish and weak in the faith and addicted to idle chatter. Not a single day passes that she doesn’t complain.”

“And ye want
my
sympathy?” Nannie’s shawl had slipped off her head, and her flaxen hair was limp and wet, but she would not set down the disks of manure to replace the head covering. She held them in front of her to keep Levi away.

“I believe you still care for me, as I do for you.”

He grasped at her hand then, but Nannie dropped the fuel she had gathered and snatched her hand away. She had dreamed about this, about Levi coming to her, contrite, confessing his mistake, asking her forgiveness, but she hadn’t yet dreamed about what she would say to him, and she was at a loss for words. She wrapped her arms around herself, not sure if the shaking was due to the cold or the discomfort of standing next to a man she had loved and listening to him, or to her disgust with herself for holding on to his words.

“It had to be said,” Levi told her when Nannie didn’t respond.

“Why? It disna good,” she said at last. “Better that ye had kept still.”

“And let someone else speak for you? I have watched you, Nannie. Your faith is strong, and I admire you as much as I always have, perhaps more. You are more pleasing to me than any other female. I believe the Lord intends us to be together.”

“Ye already hae a wife.”

“We are Mormons.”

Nannie stared at him, silent, and her silence seemed to encourage him. He added, “I have seen how your Scottish nature keeps you going. Your forcefulness will make you a good wife in Zion, because we require women who work hard. If you join with me, you will be an instrument of the Lord.”

He reached out and took Nannie’s filthy hand, but she jerked it away. “What are ye asking, that I be your second wife—or maybe your third one or your fourth? Do ye already hae wives in the valley? How many, Levi? Are ye asking me to become part of a harem?”

“Hush, Nannie. I have only one wife, and I want no other one but you.”

“Until when? Until ye meet another who charms ye? Will ye write another letter to tell me about her?” she cried.

Levi ignored the sarcasm. “Celestial marriage is our way. You knew about the doctrine of plurality before you left Scotland. It is God’s way.”

“It was told that it was only for the chosen few. Polygamy is not
my
way.”

“You would put yourself over the Lord?” His voice boomed out, just as it had when he had preached in Scotland and had thrilled her almost to ecstasy.

“Don’t preach at me. Ye hae done me great harm with your preaching.”

“Harm? My preaching brought you into the church.”

Nannie could not deny it, and she felt as if she were in a battle with herself. His words of affection stirred up a torment in her, but nonetheless, she was disgusted at the idea of becoming a second wife. She had assumed when she was betrothed to Levi that he would abstain from practicing the doctrine, just as Andrew had promised when he married Ella. She had been so sure that theirs would be a perfect marriage, with just the two of them, that she had not thought it necessary to bring up the subject of polygamy. Now she wondered if Levi had expected to practice it all along.

Levi was right, of course. Plural marriage was no surprise to her. She knew it was ordained by God. What had she expected would happen when she reached the valley? Had she believed there were single men waiting to meet the emigrants, men who wanted only one wife, men looking for a girl who had a pair of red silk wedding shoes? Nannie and Ella had joked that Levi might want her for a second wife, but they had not been serious.

Now Nannie stood looking at a man she had expected to marry and heard him once again ask her to become his wife. And as shocked and disgusted as she was, she found herself considering what he had said. She looked down at her bedraggled skirt and wished she were not as wet as a sop.

“Your wife would not like it. She has a good conceit of herself, and she would make me fetch for her, would make me suffer,” Nannie said, not bringing herself to say the woman’s name.

“Patricia is obedient.”

“Ye have just told me she is not.”

Levi stiffened. Nannie could not see him well, but she knew he had drawn himself up. “She will behave herself when we reach Utah. I’ll see to it.”

Nannie wondered if he would take a stick to his wife or fist her. The idea made her smile a little, and then she realized that if he would strike his first wife, he would surely strike his second. “Ye would beat her?”

“I would correct her. She is too outspoken and presumes she knows too much. A woman cannot have knowledge above a man. She will learn obedience if she wants me to esteem her.”

Nannie had heard about how some of the polygamous Mormon men disciplined wives who displeased them, how they shunned the women who were not obedient, did not provide for them or visit them. It was said that anyone in Utah could tell when a plural wife was out of favor, because she did not become pregnant.

When Nannie said nothing, Levi added, “I am tolerant now. She is not well.”

Patricia was pregnant, Nannie realized with dismay. That was what Levi meant by “not well.” If she became Levi’s second wife, she still would not be the first to bear him a child. She wondered how she would feel if Levi’s other wives—and there would be other wives, Nannie knew, as certain as anything—bore him children.

“Forgive my plainness in speaking, Nannie, but do you want to be my wife or do you want to marry someone you don’t care about, someone who is old, with no teeth and a beard down to his knees, a man like Old Absalom? For those are the men who will be after you. The older ones have first claim.” When Nannie started to protest, he said, “Yes, I saw him pull your cart today. Do you think he did it out of the goodness of his heart? You will marry, of course. Your salvation depends on it. There are no spinsters in Utah.”

He took both of her hands in his, oblivious to the bits of buffalo dung that clung to them, and this time Nannie did not pull away. “I am not such a bad husband. I tell you these things so there will be no misunderstanding between us. If you accept me, you will have a husband who is highly placed in the church, one who will provide for you and cherish you. I made a mistake in marrying Patricia. I should have wed you first and taken her later. You should have had the honor of being my first wife, and for that I am sorry. But I want you to be part of my kingdom as my second wife.” He leaned over and kissed her, a chaste kiss. He had never done that before.

Nannie kissed him back, then turned away.

“I consider us betrothed, then.”

“I hae not said aye.”

“Nor have you said no.” Levi reached out to touch Nannie’s cheek; then, aware of the filth on his hands, he wiped them on his pants. “We have been told by the leaders not to ask for the emigrant women before we reach Great Salt Lake City. They do not want romancings among the emigrants, since many of the elders in the valley are in the market for wives, and it is not fair that the men in the company should take their pick. So we will keep this to ourselves.”

“I hae not said aye,” Nannie repeated.

“It is entirely up to you, of course, but I ask you again whether you want a healthy man who loves you proper or an old one who will be unable to give you children? After all, that is a woman’s purpose, is it not? It is necessary for your future exaltation.” His voice was warm, not dry and dictatorial, just like his words. He kissed her cheek, then left abruptly, and without looking back, he returned to camp.

Nannie stared after him, her heart torn between marrying the man she cared for more than any other and her disgust at becoming his second wife. She had not noticed until then that the rain had stopped. She removed her drenched shawl and, picking up the buffalo chips, wrapped them in the fabric square and started back to camp. As she came close to the handcarts, she saw a figure break away from the camp and start toward her, and for a moment, she thought that Levi was returning. But the man was smaller than Levi and hunched over. In a moment, she recognized Andrew. “Did you think I was lost?” she called, hoping he had not noticed Levi returning to the encampment.

“I came to tell ye I’ve built a fire. A brother gave me enough chips to start it, and I’ve mixed the porridge. Ella is asleep and willna wake till morning. She would want ye to hae her share.”

Nannie unwrapped the buffalo chips and showed the mess to Andrew. “I suppose we can use these in the morning.”

“Ye’ve ruined your shawl,” he said with more feeling than she would have expected.

“It will wash.”

Andrew took the shawl. “What would we do ifna for you, Nannie? You were our strength today. Without ye, Ella and I could not have got this far. I truly believe that ye are an instrument of the Lord.”

It was the second time in only a few minutes that she had been called the Lord’s instrument, and Nannie mulled over the words, wondering if they meant she was pleasing to God only when she was useful to someone else.

*   *   *

Pushing a plow had never been as hard as pushing a cart, Jessie Cooper decided as she put her shoulder to the back of the vehicle and shoved it over a rut. Sutter pulled the cart, and the two of them traded places every so often. The girl, Emeline, pushed, too. She’d been right when she’d said she was as strong as a boy. With Ephraim riding on top of the cart now, it took all three of them to keep the cart going through the heavy sand, and Jessie was grateful for the child’s help.

From time to time, Ephraim insisted on walking, with Maud holding on to him as if they were the halt leading the lame. He tired quickly, however, and little wonder, since, like the other men, he was assigned guard duty for six hours every other night. Even the sick were not relieved of their responsibilities. The lack of sleep, along with the fever from his broken arm, caused him to sweat and grow weak, so after a short time, Maud insisted he get back onto the cart. Each night, the old woman examined the arm and made Ephraim a dressing of herbs to keep the inflammation from getting worse, but both women worried. “It’s not healing right. Look how angry it is,” Maud whispered to Jessie after she had examined the festering wound.

“I hope his arm won’t have to come off,” Jessie said. “I’m bad to worry about it. So is Ephraim. And little Emeline frets about it.”

“No need to worry,” Maud replied quickly—too quickly, Jessie thought.

“You can be plain with me. I don’t need mollycoddling words.”

Maud sighed. “Then I’ll be just frank. Bad as it is, the break ought to have begun to heal by now. I wish I’d brought my salves with me, but they were left in Iowa the first time we lightened the loads. I thought there’d be herbs along the way to gather, and maybe there are, but I don’t know them, so they’re useless to me. Most of what I brought has got used up, what with so much sickness and accidents and even childbirth.” She paused. “I’m doing what I can, Sister Jessie. I know a farmer isn’t much use with just one arm.”

“Ephraim is better with one arm than most men with two,” his sister said.

Maud smiled at her. “Your brothers are noble souls. I never met two men I admire as much. If it wasn’t for them and you, Sister Emeline would be with that foul man, and I’d have been devoured by wolves.”

“And we’d have starved to death without you.”

They might starve to death anyway, Jessie thought as she moved on, pushing the cart. She was hungry enough to eat a rusty nail. Now it seemed they ate barely enough to keep them alive. She knew that Maud was hard-pressed to prepare a supper that would fill their bellies. The night before, the old woman had made a sort of scone cake with a pinch of cinnamon that she had received as payment for doctoring. Jessie had watched Maud cut the cake, giving the others larger proportions than her own. “You have to keep up your strength, too,” Jessie chided her.

“I am not hungry,” Maud insisted, and because sacrifice and fasting were part of the church doctrine, Jessie said no more. Now, watching the old woman plod through the sand, Jessie wondered if Maud was starving herself. Well, they all were, and she just hoped that God would see fit to keep them alive until they reached Fort Laramie. Mormon supply wagons would surely meet them there.

The overcast lifted, and in a moment, a ray of sun shone through the clouds. “Look at that,” Jessie said to Emeline, who was beside her, pushing the cart.

The girl looked up at the bright streak and nodded, saying nothing. She had been mostly silent since the deaths of her parents, and who could blame her? She’d lost her entire family in a single day. Her grieving had turned inward. Maud had drawn her out a little and then had stopped prying, although Maud hadn’t shared her reasons for letting up. Emeline seemed to connect only with Ephraim, perhaps because the one was wounded in body, the other in spirit. Jessie had come across the two sitting side by side, Ephraim saying something in his deep, rich voice, and Emeline chattering like a squirrel. Jessie listened but found they were only talking about the prairie. Ephraim’s arm seemed to bother him less when he was with Emeline, and the girl, too solemn for one her age, brightened when she was near him.

“Where do you come from?” Jessie asked now, as much to relieve the boredom of pushing the cart as to get Emeline to talk. The going was slow that day because Ephraim rode on top of the cart, and others passed them.