Through Cloud and Sunshine

by Dean Hughes

  “It is what’s needed,” Liz said. But now she was holding her finger to her lips, reminding Will again to lower his voice.

  “At the end he says that we ought to extend the nation from ocean to ocean—but we ought to get the permission of the Indians first. See how he always thinks about the people who haven’t been cared for. Slaves and Indians and people who are mobbed.”

  “Well, that’s good. I hope people will listen.”

  But her voice said that she didn’t think they would, and Will was feeling some loss of his initial enthusiasm. He had come in wanting to say that he would serve another mission and carry these ideas to as many people as he could—but now he wondered. He still didn’t know how he could leave before the spring planting.

  “Liz, you have to remember, the people in Hancock County could drive us out of here, and when they do, our government, once again, wouldn’t do a thing. Maybe this is the only way we can protect ourselves—work hard to get Joseph elected.”

  Liz was nodding, but she didn’t say anything for a very long time, and Will wondered what she was thinking. Finally, she said in a soft voice, “Maybe it’s already too late for that.”

  “Why? What do you mean?”

  “I need to tell you. Something happened that has me worried.”

  “What?”

  “I think I saw George Samples not long before you got home. He and his brother.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  “They were two big men on horses—both with black beards spread out across their chests, exactly the way you described them.”

  “What were they doing?”

  “They just rode by, along Rich Street, but I could see them through the trees, and they were staring back here, like they were looking for our house.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I got the pistol out. And I watched and waited. They didn’t turn in, and they haven’t come back.”

  All the air was suddenly gone from Will. How could he ever serve another mission? How could he leave Liz here alone? Joseph could talk all he wanted about setting prisoners free, telling them to repent, but there were evil people in this world who would laugh in Joseph’s face if he tried to preach to them.

  Chapter 18

  Will wasn’t sure what to do about George and Blake Samples. He couldn’t think of any reason why they would need to ride past his house. If they had been coming from Warsaw, they were likely to ride along the river, and if they had ridden in on the Carthage Road, they should have angled straight to Mulholland, not come in by way of Rich Street. What was worse, though, was that they had been staring toward the house, which seemed to mean that somehow they had found out where he and Liz lived. “I’m going to ride over to Mulholland,” Will told Liz. “I want to see whether those boys are still in town.”

  “No, Will. You know what could happen. Just stay here with me.”

  “I’ll be back soon—long before dark. But if I’m going to meet up with them, I want to do it on my terms, not theirs.”

  “Will, I’ve been praying, and trying not to be too scared. But I prayed mostly that you would come home. Please don’t leave me again.”

  Will almost changed his mind at that point, but he didn’t want to lie awake all night wondering what might happen. A Mormon farmer near Warsaw had had his house burned to the ground and been lucky to get himself and his family out in time to save their lives. “Let me just take a look around and see if I can’t end this before it starts.”

  “Take the pistol.”

  “No. That’s the last thing I want with me. I’m not going after them. But if they come after us, we may have to defend ourselves. Don’t hesitate if you have to use it.”

  Will was sorry to leave Liz looking so upset, but he thought he knew what he had to do—if he could find them. So he rode Socks north on Rich Street and then west on Mulholland. He saw no sign of the men at any of the shops or businesses along the street, so in front of the temple he turned north again and headed for Pratt and Snow’s general store. That was when he saw the big chestnut-colored horse with the worn-out saddle. It was George Samples’s horse, and tied next to it was another horse about the same color. That would be Blake’s.

  Will tied his horse next to theirs and walked inside. There were not many people in the store, but the Samples brothers were standing at the counter. They had made a purchase, it seemed, and George was counting out coins as a clerk watched. Will waited. He was nervous, but he thought this might be a good place to make it seem an accident that he had met up with them. And they weren’t likely to pull out weapons in the store.

  The clerk, a frail young man of twenty or so, had wrapped up something in a brown-paper parcel. When George had paid, he grunted something that might have been a thank-you, and then he turned. Will was pretending to look at some bridles that were hanging near the door. He waited until George and Blake walked toward him, and then he glanced up and acted surprised. “Oh, George,” he said. “Blake. How are you? I didn’t know you ever came up this way.”

  Will had spoken in a friendly voice, and he noticed the brothers’ confusion. Neither spoke, but George nodded a little in response, as though he didn’t quite know what to do.

  “This is a well-equipped store, isn’t it? Is that what brings you this far up the river?”

  Both brothers stared at Will, but neither spoke. A drop of tobacco spit dribbled from the corner of George’s open mouth. Will could smell the two of them—a stench like rendered lard gone sour.

  “Listen, George,” Will said, “I guess you know I gave up that road I was cutting. Did you take the contract to do that work?”

  George took his time, but he finally said, “No.”

  “Is that right? So you decided against it?”

  George nodded.

  “It’s a big investment, isn’t it? A man needs at least four or five yoke of oxen or strong horses, and six teams is even better. Do you know who took the job?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you. After we talked, I felt it was the fair thing to give you your chance. I hope we can consider ourselves all square now. There’s just no reason we can’t all live together in this county.”

  George finally gathered himself. “Get out of my way,” he said. “Nothin’s changed ’tween me and you.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, George. But let’s declare a truce. We may not be best friends, but we certainly aren’t enemies.” Will held out his hand.

  George stepped closer to Will and looked hard into his face. He spoke in a low grumble. “What you need to do is git out. You and this whole bunch up here. If you clear out, we’ll jist let you go. But you stay and we’ll burn you out.”

  “But why do we have to—”

  “I know where you live, Lewis. I know where your wife is. And yer boys. I know all about that. So don’t think you kin put a little honey on yer tongue and sweet-talk me into forgittin’ what ya’ done to me.”

  “George, listen, I’m sorry I pulled you off your horse like that, but you know what you said about my wife—and that would make any man angry. All the same, it’s not too late to let it go. I think we all believe in Jesus Christ, and He would have us—”

  Blake had been hanging back, but he suddenly bolted forward, shoving Will aside as he walked on by. “I’ve heerd enough of this,” he said.

  George grabbed Will by the coat and pulled him close. The smell of tobacco and decay was powerful on his breath. Spittle sprayed as George said, “You don’t have any more time. There’s a lot of boys in this county who feel jist like me and my brother. We’re gittin’ together to do somethin’ ’bout it. Joe Smith ain’t got long to live, and you don’t either, unless ya’ go some’eres else.”

  Will didn’t respond. He had tried to take a higher road, but there was no dealing with a man like this.
At least he had no impulse to knock him down again. He only felt sad that things had come to this. He watched the brothers walk out the door, and then he glanced to see whether the clerk had been listening. Parley Pratt was now standing next to the young man. “What was that all about?” Parley asked.

  Will walked back to the counter. He shook hands with Brother Parley, a man Will had come to like very much. Since Parley had opened his store, Will had stopped by now and again while temple stones were being unloaded from his wagon. The two had always found things to talk about. Parley spent most of his time writing pamphlets and letters for the Church. He wasn’t really cut out to be a man of business, Will thought, but he was a man of great intellect as well as faith, and Will never got tired of hearing him explain the deeper doctrines of the Church.

  “Those are the Samples brothers,” Will said, “from down by Warsaw.” He explained to Parley the conflict that had developed while he had been grading the road in that area.

  Parley nodded as he listened. He was a strongly built man with a broad face and a receding hairline, but it was his intense eyes that always engaged Will. When Brother Pratt listened to Will, his entire face showed his concentration. “It’s happening again,” he said solemnly, “just the way it did in Missouri.”

  “I don’t understand it, Brother Parley.”

  “It’s the gathering. People fear us because we come in such numbers. But that’s going to change.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We have to think differently now. Joseph has been telling us lately that all of America, North and South, is Zion. Nauvoo is the center place, and the temple is here, but we need to start establishing stakes in all directions. We’re looking to the west, but we’re also considering Texas and the area where we cut pine in Wisconsin. We just can’t keep bringing more and more people to Nauvoo.”

  Will had heard others speculate about going west, but he had never liked the idea. On the other hand, when he considered what George Samples had said about burning people out, he knew his family might be better off if they did leave. “How soon would any of that happen?”

  “Soon. For over a year now, we’ve been exploring some of the places we might want to consider for settlements. We’re still seeking redress from the government for what happened to us in Missouri, and we’re going to help Joseph with his campaign for president, but a group of men—a council—is being called to consider our future and to move forward.”

  “I guess we have to look at all the possible choices.”

  “It’s more than that, Will. Christ will reign upon this earth before much longer, and a government must be ready to welcome that reign. In the true order of things, the gospel and the government will not be two things, but one.”

  It was what John Taylor had said. “So is this a council that’s separate from the First Presidency and the Twelve?”

  “Yes, and it includes people of other faiths who live with us here. But not much of that will be voiced around. Suffice it to say, the Lord is preparing us. Joseph is receiving deeper truths every day. All will be manifest in time, and the Saints must be ready to accept doctrines that will introduce new realms of glory, new covenants.”

  “The temple is part of that, isn’t it?”

  “More than you know, Brother Will. We must finish the temple even as we look for other places to establish stakes. Think back on what Joseph has preached to us the last two times he’s spoken at the grove. He’s talked of Elias and Elijah and the power to seal. There’s work to do for the dead in the temple, but we’ll also be sealed up unto heaven with our families. It’s all in the Bible, just as Joseph tells us, but it’s a mystery to those who lack the prophetic power to see it. And I think you know, Will, some are being prepared, both men and women, to perform those ordinances when the temple is ready.”

  “Do you really think the end is coming soon, Brother Parley?”

  “Soon, yes. But you heard what Joseph said. It’s certainly not coming in the next forty years. There’s too much work to be finished. And a great deal of the work lies on the shoulders of the Twelve. I can’t be a merchant much longer. Last year, when I returned to Nauvoo, Joseph told me to take a year off from missionary work and to build a house for my family. I’ve done that now—right across the street—but it’s time to be about my Father’s business. I’m never so happy as when I’m serving the Lord with all my heart.”

  Will felt the words like an accusation, even though he knew Parley didn’t mean them that way. “To tell the truth, Brother Pratt, I’ve concerned myself with settling in—building a house and establishing a farm—more than I have about serving missions. Maybe it’s time for me to change the way I think.”

  “No question. We need houses, though, and we must provide for our families. It’s the first thing to think about, especially for a young man. But you won’t be able to hide away much longer. Trust me, Will, the Lord, in His own time, will come looking for you. Be ready.”

  Will liked hearing that in some ways, but the idea also frightened him. He had come to America to be with the Saints, but he had also wanted good land and a chance to rise in the world. He wasn’t ready to give all that up—not the way Parley had done.

  “Are those Samples brothers a threat to you, Will?” Parley asked.

  “Yes. Not immediately, I don’t think. But they will be.”

  “Then go home. Watch over your family.”

  Will had been thinking the same thing. He didn’t think George and Blake were heading to his house now—they were too cowardly to try something in daylight or to attack someone in the midst of so many Mormons. It would be more like them to come at night, and if they burned farms, they would probably choose those in outlying areas. Still, they had left angry, and there was some reason they had decided to come to Nauvoo. Will decided to head for home.

  “What did they purchase here?” Will asked.

  “That’s what I wanted to tell you,” the clerk said. “They bought black powder. They said they use it to take out stumps on their farms.”

  “Can’t they buy black powder in Warsaw?”

  “I’m sure they can.”

  Will left immediately.

  • • •

  Liz kept checking out the window to the east—watching the trees and the road beyond, and listening for any sound outside. Jacob was restless, seeming to want her attention more than usual, and she found herself impatient with him. He had cried over some little thing and had awakened Daniel, who was ravenous, as usual. So she had nursed him, and now she was standing at the window, holding him wrapped in a blanket, but she had never stopped watching and listening.

  When Liz saw Will through the trees, riding his horse along Rich Street, and then saw him turn toward the house, she was greatly relieved. While he had been gone, she had let her mind run to all the possibilities. What if Will were to take those men on and they pulled out guns or knives? He had taken no weapon, and she doubted very much that reasoning was going to work with such people. But here he was, seeming all right, and if the Samples brothers came now, at least Will would be with her.

  When Will came inside, he pulled off his coat and hat and hung them by the door. “It was the Samples boys,” he said. “I talked to them.”

  “Did you settle anything, or are they still out for revenge?”

  “They want us out—no question about that. They think all the Saints should leave. But I don’t think they’ll do anything to us for now.”

  Liz heard something she didn’t like—as though Will were trying to show confidence but straining to do it. “What do you mean, ‘for now’?”

  “They’re big talkers. They say that we better leave the county soon or they’ll ... well, they don’t say what it is they’ll do, but they talked about burning houses.”

  “Burning? Would they do that?”

  “They might. But they won’t start with us.
They don’t have the courage to come into Nauvoo and start here. They know how many men we have in the Legion, ready and trained, and they don’t want to face that kind of force.”

  “What will they do, then?”

  “Mostly talk. That’s what I’m expecting. Men like them might throw their weight around a little down by Warsaw or around Carthage, but I don’t think they’ll ever come against us.”

  Will did sound a little more confident now, and Liz took some comfort in that. And in the days that followed, she breathed more easily as she saw nothing more of George and Blake Samples. Her world was filled with her boys and her chores, and with sewing shirts whenever she had time to do it. But one day Sarah Kimball came by to see her, and she brought new worries.

  Sarah had actually come by to talk about families in need and women who were sick or had sickness in their families. One of the new spring immigrants, a Brother Hastings, had lost his wife to a fever during the ocean crossing. Female Relief Society sisters were helping the husband care for three small children he wanted to keep. “I think he wants to find himself another wife, fast as he can,” Sarah said. “I suppose I don’t blame him, but if I died, I’d hope that Hiram might wait a few days before he looked around for a replacement.” She laughed.

  Then Sarah had admitted that she was worried about her husband. He had joined the Church the previous summer, but now he had entered into a dispute with Joseph Smith over taxes. He owned his wharf and the land around it, and he had been there before the Mormons had come to Nauvoo. He saw no reason why he should be required to pay city taxes. He had hired lawyers and taken the issue to county officials in Carthage, and Joseph had taken an equally strong position, denouncing Hiram and his lawyers at a city council meeting. “I don’t know where it’s all going to end, Liz,” Sarah said. “Hiram’s a stubborn man, and he thinks he’s right. I tell him just to pay the tax—to support the city—but he won’t back down.” And then she added something that took Liz by surprise. “There’s so much of that sort of thing going on these days.”