“That man you saw me talking to last evening when we docked at Warsaw?”
“Yes.”
“He wasn’t just a salesman come on board to find a buyer. He was one of Joshua’s teamsters.” He began to laugh, pleased with his surprise. “The family did get our letter. Joshua sent him down there and he’s been meeting every boat for the past four days. And I’ll bet he had a long, wet ride last night to beat us here and pass the word.”
“Look,” Lydia said, jerking on Melissa’s coat. “There’s Joseph.”
Melissa leaned forward over the rail. Joseph had been in Liberty Jail when she and Carl had brought the wagonload of food out to the family a year ago last February. That meant she hadn’t seen him since the Saints had left Kirtland, over two years before. But there was no mistaking the tall figure. He hung back behind the family, letting them surge forward. His hat was off and he waved it slowly back and forth. “There’s Joseph Smith, Carl,” she said, pointing. “There in the back.”
Joseph stayed at the rear of the crowd while the Steed family had their reunion. There were tears and smiles, children dancing around the dock and shouting excitedly, adults shaking hands or embracing warmly. Young Joshua, acting very mature, introduced the Kirtland cousins to their Nauvoo counterparts. Jenny and Kathryn McIntire joined Mary Ann, Jessica, Lydia, and Melissa to cluster around Caroline and the new baby. Joshua began giving Nathan and Carl a quick update on the store and the freighting business until Caroline shot him a dirty look and he said they would take it up after they got home. Mary Ann hugged Carl and gave each of his sons a piece of hard candy. Benjamin, holding Savannah, introduced her to Melissa and baby Sarah.
The riverboat was gone again and almost out of sight upriver before things on the dock finally began to settle down a little. Then Joseph stepped forward. Without a word he swept Nathan up in a hard embrace, pounding him on the back. “Welcome home, Nathan. Welcome home.”
He turned to Lydia, taking both of her hands in his. “Sister Lydia, it is so good to have you home again. I was most sorry to hear about your father. He was always a fair and honest man.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. How like Joseph not to hold bitterness toward one of his avowed enemies. “Thank you.”
“And you?” he asked softly, peering deeply into her eyes. “How are you?”
She nodded quickly, smiling through the tears. “I’m fine, Joseph. I really am fine.”
“That’s wonderful! Emma wanted so much to come, but as you know the baby is due in a couple of months now and I advised her to stay home.”
“How is she doing?” Lydia asked.
“Fine, fine. Don’t know whether this one is a boy or a girl, but it’s got the kick of an irritated mule,” he said proudly.
Now he turned to Melissa. “Dear Melissa.” He took her hands now too. “How good to see you again after so long.”
“And you, Joseph. It is good to see you again.”
“Welcome to Nauvoo.” He looked at Mary Ann and smiled. “The whole city heard your mother’s whoop when Nathan’s letter came the other day saying you were moving out to join us. That was good news for all of us.”
“Thank you.”
Now he looked up. Carl was standing right behind his wife. “Carl Rogers.” Joseph extended his hand. “It’s been a long time.”
“Yes it has. How do you do, sir?” Carl said, a bit awkwardly, taking Joseph’s outstretched hand.
“You are the main reason I came down to meet the boat today, did you know that?”
Carl reared back a little. “I am?”
“Yes.” Joseph was very solemn now. “I wasn’t here when you and your wife came out from Kirtland last year. But I have heard much about it. I have been hoping that I would have the chance someday to thank you personally for what you did.”
Carl was at a loss for words. It was so straightforward, and yet so genuinely meant. “It was . . .” He shrugged. “We wanted to help the family.”
“You helped many more people than that. It is a pleasure to welcome a man of such integrity to our city.”
“Why, thank you.”
Joseph nodded, then turned around to face the group. “Well, I suspect you’ve got some celebrating to do, and I promised Emma I’d stop and get some bread from the bakery.” He gave a cheery wave, then turned and strode off.
“Well, wasn’t that nice?” Melissa said, deeply pleased.
“Yes,” Carl replied, still watching the retreating figure. “That was very nice.”
Chapter Notes
Wilford Woodruff received word of the arrival of the rest of the Twelve on 9 April, the same day as the rock-throwing incident. In Wilford’s journal entry for that date, he briefly describes the shower of stones and being hit. He was struck more than once, but the blow to the head was the most serious. Referring to that hit, he writes, “But the Lord saved me from falling & I continued untill I had closed my Baptizing & my mind was stayed on God.” (See MWM, pp. 128–29; also CHFT, p. 230.) Nearly all the names of those mentioned as being baptized by Wilford Woodruff in this and other chapters are the actual names for British converts baptized on the days described.
Chapter Twenty-Two
When Caroline walked into the bedroom, she stopped short. Joshua was standing at the full-length mirror. He had on a pair of best-dress trousers and a long-sleeved white shirt. He was adjusting the cravat that he liked to wear when he wanted to dress his best. He saw her face in the mirror and his fingers paused for a moment. “We did some business with Mr. Brunson,” he said, noting her startled look, “so Carl thought maybe we should go too.”
“Oh.” She nodded slowly. When she left to take the children over to Jessica’s, he had said nothing about going to the funeral services. She went over to the wardrobe and began unbuttoning her dress. “The children are settled. Kathryn and Peter are going to stay too, so Olivia will really only have to watch the baby. I feel better about that.” Charles was six months old now. Caroline had considered taking him, but he did not do well in the humid heat, so she had taken him over to Jessica’s and nursed him before leaving. He would be good for three or four hours now.
“The whole family is going?” he asked, finally stepping back and surveying himself. He seemed satisfied.
“Of course.”
Seymour Brunson was a relatively young man, not yet forty-one years old, so his death a few days earlier had come as a shock to the community of Saints. Caroline knew him and his wife only through a few visits they had made to the store, but the rest of the Steeds had known him for several years. He had been one of the very early converts to the Church, a priesthood leader, and a longtime laborer in missionary work.
Caroline slipped off her housedress and took out the blue gingham dress that was the coolest thing she owned. It was the middle of August, and it would be midafternoon by the time the services actually started, so it was going to be hot. As she slipped into the dress, Joshua came over to help her since it buttoned up the back. She moved over to the mirror and began to brush her hair as he did so.
“This will be the first time Carl has heard Joseph preach,” she ventured. And the first time you’ve done so for a long time.
He grunted, not looking at her.
Caroline and the children were attending worship services almost every Sabbath now, going with the rest of the family. Joshua wasn’t particularly pleased by that, but he never said anything openly against it, and she didn’t ask him directly in case he said no. Carl didn’t go either, but he kept promising Melissa he would when things settled down a little. Since their arrival in Nauvoo four months before, he had been so busy building a house and getting established with Joshua at the freight office that generally he worked every Sunday.
So Melissa and Caroline took their children and went with the family while their husbands found other things to do. At first, Caroline’s primary motivation had been to get her daughters attending church. She also liked the association with the family. But then, as the wee
ks went on, she found herself drawn by the services themselves. She had grown up in a religious home and had attended church regularly until the death of her first husband. She had always enjoyed a well-preached sermon. But she found the Mormon services markedly different. At first they seemed a little less polished, a little less controlled, but she quickly came to appreciate that. She found she liked it when people were spontaneously called upon to pray to open or close the services. Sometimes they stammered a little, sometimes they were frightened, but the prayers definitely came from the heart. Having them read from a prayer book or having the minister read a prepared invocation or benediction did not produce the same feeling for her. She liked having the men of the congregation pass the sacramental emblems rather than just the minister or the leaders of the church.
Most of all she loved to hear Joseph teach the people. And that, she thought, was the best way to put it. Rather than just giving sermons, he taught the people. There were the exhortations to better living, of course, but much more frequently he would pick up the scriptures, select a verse or a chapter or a principle, and begin to expound it. He was clear and yet often profound; he could be precise and yet practical. He did not launch into harangues and try to drive people to change their lives by frightening them with visions of hell or stoking up their guilt to the point that they felt compelled to repent. He would teach a principle, then show how the people could implement that principle in life and how it would bless them if they did.
Mary Ann kept saying that it was the Spirit that she liked, and Caroline didn’t dispute that. When Caroline tried to put into words how she felt after Joseph taught, she came up with things like lifted, inspired, enlightened, or joyful, peaceful, comforted. Paul told the Galatians such things were the fruits of the Spirit, so she supposed that what Mary Ann said was true.
Her head came up as she realized Joshua had finished buttoning her dress and was watching her with a slight frown. “Thank you, Joshua,” she said, putting the brush down. She turned, went up on her toes, and kissed his cheek. “I think it’s nice that you and Carl would go to honor Mr. Brunson. Your father says he expects half the city will turn out for the memorial services.”
Again he grunted, a response she had learned was his way of answering without having to commit to anything. “I’ll go bring the buggy around front.”
Benjamin was right. A large group of people turned out in honor of Seymour Brunson. With the summer’s heat, Brother Brunson had been buried immediately, but today there would be the services so people could pay their last respects. They met at the grove, a stand of trees at the base of the bluffs which provided afternoon shade and almost a natural amphitheater. It was one of Joseph’s favorite places for teaching the Saints.
The Steeds arrived early, and as the men moved over to visit with Joseph, the women took the opportunity to swarm around Emma Smith and the baby. It was her first time out with him in a public gathering.
“What are you going to call him?” Rebecca asked, as Mary Ann took the little boy from Emma and began to rock him in her arms.
“Don Carlos, after Joseph’s brother.”
“We’re so happy for you,” Lydia said. For Emma, never one of strong health, there had been enough tragedies in her life with childbirth, so every healthy baby was a blessing of special significance.
Emma reached out and touched Lydia’s arm. “Thank you. Nathan told me about your news. That’s wonderful.”
Lydia blushed a little, but smiled happily. “Yes. We’re hoping for a boy too. Right after the first of the year.”
“My turn, Mother Steed,” Caroline said, holding out her arms. Then, once she had him, she looked at Emma. “He’s adorable, Emma. So much like Joseph with that nose and those wide eyes.”
She laughed. “Yes, even Joseph says that, and with obvious pride.” Then she half turned her head, looking over to where Joseph was standing with Benjamin, Joshua, Carl, Nathan, and several other men, talking quietly while they waited for the rest of the people to assemble. “I see Joshua is with you today, Caroline.”
“And Carl too,” Melissa broke in. “I was really pleased when Carl said he would like to come. He talked Joshua into it.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“I’ll tell you what’s wonderful,” Mary Ann mused, her eye also on the men. “And that’s to have Joseph preach to us so often now.”
“Oh, yes,” Melissa agreed. “I wish he had done more of that in Kirtland.”
Caroline looked a little surprised, and Emma saw it. “It’s interesting,” she explained, “Joseph has always taught the Saints from time to time, but he used to feel like he wasn’t very good at sermons. He’d have Sidney Rigdon or Heber Kimball or Hyrum do the teaching. But since Liberty Jail, that all seems to have changed.”
Jessica was nodding now too. “A lot of people have commented on it. It’s like he wants to make up for all the times he missed before.”
“Yes, exactly. He keeps saying that there is so much that he needs to teach the Saints, there is so much more they need to know.”
Jenny didn’t want to break in on the conversation, but she gave Caroline an imploring look and held out her hands. Caroline reluctantly handed little Don Carlos over to her. As she did so, Mary Ann spoke to Emma. “He is different since Missouri, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” she said simply, “he is. Very different.”
Caroline chuckled a little. “He was in the store the other day and said he was driving you to distraction. Said you’re not used to having him underfoot so much.”
Emma’s eyes were very soft now. “It has been wonderful. We’ve had Joseph with us more this past year, except for the trip to Washington, than almost all the rest of our married life. The children can’t get enough of him.”
“Along with everyone else,” Mary Ann said with a rueful smile. “I can’t ever pass your house without seeing a horse and buggy there, or a lineup of people waiting to talk with him.”
Emma shook her head, watching Joseph throw back his head and laugh at something Benjamin was saying. There was a touch of exasperation in her eyes, but much love as well. “Yes, that’s just part of our life. And if he goes off to do an errand, I can never expect him back very soon, for he is always stopping here or there to talk, or going off to help this person or that.”
“That’s exactly why everyone loves him,” Mary Ann said.
“I know. But it hasn’t always been easy for his family. Everyone expects so much more of us. It’s like we must be perfect.”
Lydia, sensing the sudden downturn in her mood, stepped forward and hugged Emma quickly. Lydia had known Emma even before the Church was organized. They had been close friends now for over ten years. Being the Prophet’s wife had not been an easy road, but Emma had borne it with grace and courage and faith. She was a model and a mentor for many of the sisters in the Church. And on more than one occasion, Emma had been the personal inspiration that carried Lydia through some difficult times.
“To me, Emma,” Lydia whispered in her ear, “you are pretty near perfect right now.”
“And thus, brethren and sisters, we pay our last tribute to a good man.” Joseph stopped and let his eyes run across the large crowd seated in front of him. “He was a man of faith. With his dying words he bore testimony of the gospel he had embraced.” He looked down at the woman and children sitting on the front row. They were Seymour Brunson’s family. “Such a man was Seymour Brunson.”
People all across the congregation were nodding, and there were several soft murmurs of “Amen.” Caroline looked around, a little surprised. She had expected Joseph to say more. It had been a warm tribute to the man, but barely ten minutes had passed since the service had begun. She had hoped for more than that. She looked at Melissa and saw her disappointment as well. She too was hoping for something that would let Carl see Joseph at his best.
And then, to her relief, Joseph turned and took a Bible from Emma’s lap. “Now, my brothers and sisters, while we are on the
topic of the resurrection, there is something more that I should like to unfold to you. I should like to begin by reading some of the words of the Apostle Paul.”
Caroline felt a quick pang of regret. Normally she brought a Bible and a Book of Mormon to the services, but she hadn’t thought about needing them for the funeral. Evidently not many others had either, for there were very few who reached for their scriptures.
Joseph opened the Bible, turning slowly until he found his place. “I shall read to you from the fifteenth chapter of the First Epistle to the Corinthians.”
Feeling a movement beside her, Caroline turned. Jenny was scooting up beside her. She had a Bible open to First Corinthians, holding it out so they could both read from it. Caroline smiled gratefully at her and gave her a quick squeeze. How fortunate Matthew was, she thought. Jenny was a jewel of rare quality.
Surprisingly, Joseph read nearly the whole chapter to the congregation. This was Paul’s great sermon on the resurrection, a chapter that Caroline had always loved. There was no pessimism here, no talk of hellfire, no pounding the sinner into the ground with threats of eternal retribution. Paul just bore powerful witness to the fact that not only had Christ risen from the grave but, through His power, all men would also rise.
What happened next would be talked about around the tables and over the fences and in front of the fireplaces of Nauvoo for some time to come. When he started in First Corinthians, everyone kind of assumed Joseph was going to give a sermon on the doctrine of the resurrection. But as he finished reading the chapter, he handed the Bible back to Emma, leaving it open at his place.
When he turned back, he let his eyes sweep slowly across the assembled body. Finally, his gaze stopped on a woman and three children. He raised one hand and pointed directly at her. “There sits a good widow woman, a woman who not only lost her husband but also had a child die before she joined the Church and could have that boy baptized. ‘But, Brother Joseph,’ says she, ‘how shall my son do? For the Savior himself said that except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he can in nowise enter the kingdom of God. And, Brother Joseph, doesn’t the word of God, every jot and tittle, have to be fulfilled? How, then, can my son be saved, seeing that he had not baptism?’ ”
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