Pillar of Light

by Gerald N. Lund

  “But that is why we have come,” Caroline explained. “We were hoping you had seen him.”

  Joseph’s eyebrows narrowed, and then he snapped his fingers. “But of course, he was in the militia, Nathan told me. Was he up north?”

  The disappointment was sharp. “Yes. You didn’t see him at all?”

  Will spoke up then. “He’s an aide to General Atchison. But the general sent him up to serve with General Lucas.”

  “General Doniphan was there, but we didn’t see Atchison or your husband,” Hyrum said. “General Doniphan left Far West two days ago. He was coming down to Liberty.”

  “Really?” Caroline cried. Liberty was only a few miles north of the river in Clay County. If Joshua had come back with Doniphan to rejoin Atchison, he could easily slip home for a short time, even if he was not formally released. But then her face fell again. “And what of Joshua’s family? Do you have any news of them?”

  A great look of desolation swept across Joseph’s face as he shook his head. “We”—he gestured at his companions—“were taken prisoner several days ago. We have no news from Far West except what the soldiers have told us. They boast of awful deeds. Our brethren were disarmed, and the mobs sacked the city. The reports have been terrible.” He brushed a hand across his eyes. “Looting, pillaging. We have been told that some men and women were killed, though thankfully the numbers are small.”

  Will’s head dropped. “Grandpa Steed? Grandma? Are they all right?”

  “I don’t know, son,” Joseph whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  * * *

  By nightfall of the Sabbath day, Far West was very quiet. Nathan and Matthew left the thicket about an hour after dark and moved quietly and cautiously into the town. But they saw no one. Many of the windows were covered and showed only slivers of lamplight. Others were totally dark, though they could see smoke coming from the chimneys. It was as if the city were under the equivalent of some massive house arrest.

  “Look,” Matthew whispered, pointing, “there’s another one.”

  Nathan turned. Against the horizon he saw the skeleton of a cabin. The roof was gone. Several of the upper courses of logs had been pulled down or left hanging at a crazy angle. He looked more closely as they passed. The windows had only shards of glass, the door had been ripped from its hinges, the yard was littered with debris. And they had seen more than a dozen just like it. It was mute but powerful testimony to the forces that had been unleashed here.

  And I was running away! I left Lydia to face this alone. Nathan shook his head, disgusted with himself, sensing what anguish he would feel if they returned only to find out something had happened to Lydia or the children.

  “Shall we go to our house first?” Matthew asked.

  Nathan shook his head. “Ours is closer. Then if they’re not there, we’ll go to Pa’s.”

  As they stepped onto the porch a few minutes later, they could hear the murmur of voices through the door, but it went instantly quiet as one of the boards on the porch creaked loudly. Nathan tried the door. It was fastened shut. He rapped on it sharply. For a long moment it was totally silent. Then they heard footsteps coming slowly toward the door.

  “Who is it?” It was his mother.

  Nathan grinned at Matthew and nudged him to speak. “Two hungry boys looking for something to eat,” Matthew said in a high, falsetto voice.

  There was a fumbling at the latch, then the door opened a crack. “I’m not sure you have—” There was a gasp, then the door flew wide open. Mary Ann hurtled through it and threw herself at her youngest son. “Matthew!” she cried. “Nathan!”

  * * *

  It took nearly ten minutes before the family settled down enough for the adults to talk. Nathan held the baby while young Joshua and Emily and little Nathan danced around their father, chattering excitedly, pulling at his sleeve, vying for his attention. Lydia’s tears of joy were gone now, and she sat beside Nathan on the bench, one hand on his knee, smiling at her children.

  After holding Matthew tightly for a considerable length of time, Mary Ann had finally surrendered him to Jessica’s children, who were giving him the same treatment Nathan was getting from his. Then Jessica gave her baby to Peter, and she and Rebecca and Mary Ann began to cook johnnycake and some thin slices of ham, the best of what they had left in the house.

  Benjamin sat quietly back, content after his initial welcome and embrace to watch it all. Though he was filled with rejoicing, worry lines pulled at the corners of his mouth too. It was obvious he was waiting for a chance to talk with his sons. Finally, Lydia noticed his expression. She immediately stood, taking baby Elizabeth from Nathan, and shooed Joshua and Emily and little Nathan aside. “Come children. Papa has to talk to Grandpa now. It is time to get ready for bed.”

  Jessica turned. “Rachel, Matthew needs to talk too. Will you get Mark and Luke into their nightshirts?”

  “Yes, Mama,” Rachel said reluctantly.

  The men moved over to one corner. Derek motioned for Peter to come too, and Benjamin nodded his agreement. Peter had proved himself a man now, and would be part of any family decision making. He walked over and laid Jessica’s baby in the small rocker crib, then joined them.

  “What happened?” Nathan said in a low voice, once they were in a circle. “The town looks like it has been hit by cannon fire.”

  “Worse than that,” Derek said bitterly. He and Benjamin took turns describing the events of the past few days. When they finished, Nathan whistled softly, no longer wondering at the destruction they had seen.

  “That’s not the half of it,” Benjamin said. “There’s more.”

  “Joseph? What about Joseph?” Nathan asked.

  Benjamin shook his head. “Still a prisoner. They took him and the others—Hyrum, Sidney, Parley—they took them all to Independence. They say they’re going to shoot them.”

  “They can’t do that!” Matthew said hotly.

  Benjamin reached out and touched Matthew’s shoulder to calm him. “There are other things you need to know. About what happened here. To our family.”

  “What?” Nathan demanded.

  Benjamin sighed. “You’d better see something first.” He walked across the room to where blankets hung from ropes, dividing off the room into sleeping and living spaces. Mary Ann and the other women stopped what they were doing to watch. Their faces were grave. Benjamin took a deep breath, then reached up and pulled the blanket back.

  For several seconds Nathan and Matthew just gaped at the figure on the bed. Then Nathan stepped foward and dropped to one knee. “Joshua?” he whispered. When there was no answer, he looked up at his father. “What happened?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

  * * *

  “He’s lost a lot of blood,” Lydia said. “We had Doctor Williams come look at him. The bullet went through one lung. He’s very weak.”

  “I can see that.” Nathan had been shocked by how gray Joshua’s face was.

  Benjamin held up one hand. What was pressing on his mind couldn’t wait. “Today there was a company of militia searching for him. They came to the Salisburys and others around there. No one is telling them anything, of course, but it’s obvious that what Joshua did has been reported. The Missourians are not sure if he was killed and the Mormons just stole the body, or if he’s being hidden somewhere. But it won’t be long before they learn that he had family here. Then . . .”

  Nathan didn’t need him to finish it. “We’ve got to move him.”

  “He’ll die,” Mary Ann cried.

  “If they find him,” Benjamin said bitterly, “he’ll do more than die.”

  “We had an idea,” Derek broke in. “But until now we didn’t know how we could do it.”

  “What?” Nathan asked.

  “We know a widow woman, a few miles out of Di-Ahman. She’s not a member of the Church, but she’s a fine woman. A real Christian. Peter helped her dig a well, and I helped her get in her corn crop. She’s horrified by what is happening to our pe
ople. She said if we ever needed help—”

  Mary Ann was aghast at the implications of what Derek was saying. “Di-Ahman is over twenty-five miles away!”

  Benjamin took a deep breath. “We’ll give him a priesthood blessing and ask the Lord to strengthen him enough to endure the journey. You’ll have to change his bandages, Mother. Bind him up real tight.” He wanted to say more, but it wouldn’t come. “Real tight,” he said again, very softly.

  Tears began to flow down Mary Ann’s cheeks. Her shoulders lifted and fell, and she spoke in a whisper. “All right.”

  Nathan was thinking quickly. “We’d have to rig up a travois, like the Indians use.”

  “Our thoughts exactly,” Derek said eagerly. “We’ve already found two poles and some blankets.”

  “It will be rough. He might not make it. But”—His voice became more resolute—“it’s the only chance. If they find him here, it won’t be just Joshua that is shot.”

  “The town is surrounded by soldiers,” Matthew noted with concern. “Nathan and I barely made it in. And we were on foot.”

  “That’s why we didn’t know what to do,” Derek answered. “We think it will take at least three of us. One to go ahead and make sure the way is clear, one to guide the horse, and one to watch Joshua. So your coming is a godsend.” He turned to Rebecca, his eyes dark with regret. “I—”

  She cut him off instantly. “I know. But you go. I—We owe him everything. Do whatever it takes to save him.”

  Lydia looked sick. Her husband had not been home even an hour yet. But she didn’t hesitate. “Yes, Nathan, go.”

  Matthew looked at his mother. He didn’t have to say it. She bit her lip.

  Nathan stood. “We’ll have to leave immediately. There’s no way we can get out of here in the daylight, and we can’t risk waiting another day.”

  * * *

  It took them ten minutes to get things ready. When they came out of the cabin, the horse and travois were ready. Four men stood beside it, waiting. Benjamin looked up in surprise. The nearest was Brigham Young. “You’re going to need a diversion to get through that line,” he said. “We’re here to provide it.”

  Joshua had come out of his unconsciousness as they rebandaged his wound, then moved him outside. Now he lay on the bed, his eyes laced with pain and filled with dread. He motioned weakly at Nathan, who leaned over him and put his ear to his mouth. “We must warn Caroline,” he whispered.

  Nathan reared back a little.

  “Yes!” Joshua said fiercely. “She is in danger.”

  Nathan immediately understood. When word reached Jackson County that one of their own had turned Mormon-lover, it could get very ugly. He nodded, then turned to his wife. She had come close and heard. “We’ll get a letter off tomorrow, Joshua. I promise.”

  He lay back and closed his eyes.

  “All right,” Nathan said. “Dawn’s coming fast. Let’s get rolling.”

  * * *

  On Monday, November fifth, another major blow befell the Saints in Far West. General John B. Clark had arrived at the camp of General Lucas with an additional sixteen hundred men on Sunday afternoon. Word quickly reached the city. Clark was the commander-in-chief of all militia forces in northern Missouri. He had come to see to the final disposition of the “Mormon problem.”

  First thing the next morning, an order was sent around the city commanding the Saints to gather at the public square at twelve noon. They came slowly and reluctantly, not daring not to show up but heavily fearful about what this new demand might mean. Mary Ann said nothing as she and her family moved along with the others, but she had a profound sense of foreboding and could barely force herself to put one foot ahead of the other.

  Clark was already there, sitting astride his horse at the head of his troops, as imperious and arrogant as an Oriental emperor, sneering with barely disguised contempt at the assembly of the vanquished. His men stood in ranks along the streets, weapons at the ready, moving in behind the last of the Saints to form a circle around them. Mary Ann was disgusted. Clark had brought over a thousand men with him, as though the disarmed and demoralized Mormons were some kind of threat to be reckoned with. She started to say something to Ben, but there were soldiers close by and he warned her off with his eyes.

  Precisely at twelve noon, Clark stood up in the stirrups and began, without preamble, to speak to the crowd in a loud voice. “I am General John B. Clark. I have been appointed by His Excellency, Lilburn W. Boggs, governor of the state of Missouri, as commander-in-chief of all militia forces in northern Missouri.”

  There was an undertone of angry rumblings at the mention of the governor’s name. He it was who had issued the extermination order.

  Clark’s voice went up a note in shrillness. “The Mormon war is over. You are defeated. Several of your leaders are in jail awaiting execution. But . . .” His eyes swept up and down the lines of men, women, and children, who were watching him intently. “There are others who are likewise responsible for this outrage.” He punched out every word now with harsh anger. “And they must be punished too!”

  He spun around to the officer seated on the horse closest to his. “Major Crosby, you may proceed.”

  Crosby nodded, threw Clark a quick salute, and prodded his horse forward a few steps. “All men between eighteen years of age and fifty-five years of age, please step forward and form a line.”

  There were audible gasps. Then quickly these turned into angry mutterings, cries of alarm, moans, and the first whimpering cries of children. Husbands and wives stared at each other. Someone even had the temerity to shout at Clark and demand to know what was going on.

  “Come on! Come on!” Crosby shouted. “Move forward or we’ll drive you out of there at the point of a bayonet.” Encouraged by their officers, the first rank of troops took a step forward, their weapons coming up slightly. Slowly at first, but then more rapidly as some of the other officers started shouting at them, the Mormon men moved away from their families and began to form into lines.

  “Benjamin, no!”

  Benjamin turned to his wife and grasped her hand for a moment. “Be strong, Mary Ann. It will be all right.” He stepped out and joined the others.

  Crosby watched until he was satisfied. Then he took a paper from his tunic. “The following men are under arrest. As I read your name, move foward one step.”

  “Arrest?” someone down the line from Benjamin shouted. “On what charges?”

  Clark whirled as though a sniper were hidden in the trees and firing at them. “Put that man in chains!” he roared. Four soldiers leaped foward and dragged a struggling figure forward. Now the crowd was too stunned to do anything except stare.

  Crosby let his eyes sweep across the assembled line of men. “Anyone trying to hide will be shot. Step forward smartly the instant I read your name. You will be taken to the camp tonight, and then taken by forced march to Richmond on the morrow, there to be tried for your crimes.”

  And so the “roll call” began. Women cried or dropped to their knees as their husbands’ names were called. Children began to wail, and Major Crosby had to shout loudly now.

  By the tenth name, Benjamin knew exactly what was happening. This was not a random list. Someone had furnished the Missourians with the names of the remaining leadership of the Church. And he thought he knew who had done so. He went up on the balls of his feet, trying to see beyond Clark and his officers to where a group of men were gathered in a tight knot behind them.

  Then he came back down. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth to the brother standing next to him. “It’s all of our old friends.”

  “Who?” the man beside him asked.

  “William McLellin—all the old stalwarts.” Benjamin’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. The apostates would have their revenge now on their former friends and associates who had kicked them out of the Church.

  “Quiet!” Crosby roared. “Or I’ll have every one of you standing out here.
Quiet!”

  The noise dropped off sharply, though the children could not be totally quieted. Somewhat mollified, Crosby continued.

  Benjamin Steed was twenty-first on the list. It came as no shock. What did catch him by surprise was that the name of Nathan Steed was thirty-seventh. Benjamin had hoped desperately that Nathan and Derek would be spared, since they were younger and weren’t in prominent positions at the moment.

  Crosby glanced up, then down again, ready to read the next name, but when no one stepped forward, his head snapped up. “Nathan Steed!” he said more loudly.

  When nothing happened, Clark spurred his horse forward a step or two. “I’m warning you,” he cried, “come forward now or risk being shot.”

  “Nathan Steed was one of those who fled north to Iowa Territory,” a voice called.

  A neighbor who lived a few houses down the street from the Steeds had been the one to call out. Benjamin gave him a quick look of gratitude.

  “Nathan Steed!” the adjutant roared. “Step forward.”

  “He’s gone,” Benjamin said. “He’s my son, but he’s gone.”

  Suddenly McLellin was pushing through the crowd. He came to Clark’s horse and said something up to him. Clark frowned, then nodded. The former Apostle walked swiftly down the line. Benjamin shot a quick glance over his shoulder. Mary Ann was white. Lydia had her hand to her mouth.

  McLellin stopped directly in front of Benjamin. “Steed? You are known as being a man of integrity and honesty. I want you to look me in the face and answer two questions. Swear to them.”

  Benjamin did not answer.

  McLellin took that as agreement. “Did your son Nathan Steed ride north with those who were at the battle of the Crooked River?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “And he is not here now? Not anywhere in Far West? Swear it!”

  “I swear it,” Benjamin said evenly.

  The former Church leader stared at him for a long moment, then finally turned away. “His son is gone, sir,” he called to Clark. “He’s not here.”

  Chapter Notes

  A few months before the fall of Far West in 1838, Joseph Smith prophesied in a public meeting that before the year was out, one of the elders of the Church would preach a public sermon in Jackson County (see HC 3:201; PPP Auto., p. 165). The prophecy seemed incredible at the time, but it was fulfilled when Joseph preached in chains to the assembled crowd outside Independence.