by Dean Hughes
“I don’t know, Abby. It probably gets pretty routine to them. They—”
“Maybe so, Jeff. But I can’t take all the soaring out of you. There has to come a time when you feed the family but feed yourself, too. Feed your soul.”
Jeff nodded. “Maybe it’s myself I need to change more than my job.”
“You’re doing that, honey. But I don’t think you can be happy if you’re not learning. That’s just who you are.”
“But there are all kinds of things to learn. Most of them don’t come from college classes.”
“You’re a gifted man, Jeff. It’s not right to ignore that and never find out what you could do with your life.”
Chapter 26
As autumn of 1844 came on, a little optimism had begun to return to the people of Nauvoo. The Saints did what they had always done best: they worked hard. They took up the work on the temple with new zeal and even harvested a fairly decent crop in spite of all the spring rain and the harassment they had experienced at planting time. Will began to work at his farm, but he didn’t wander beyond it. He had heard the Samples brothers were home now, both up and around, and he wondered every day whether they were planning anything, but he saw no sign of them and, so far, heard no report that they were spreading accusations about him.
Ague came again in late summer, as always. Will experienced some recurrences of his own fevers and chills, but he was able to obtain quinine powder again, and that helped greatly. With the resurgence of work on the temple, he and his oxen were needed again. He devoted much of his time to the quarry, and to hauling stone, but he worked with Jesse and Daniel as often as he could, and all three harvested enough corn for their own winter needs and turned enough into cash to make payments on their land or to trade for other commodities.
Liz had become quite competent at curing pork and storing produce from her garden. Will was amazed at the strength she had developed. She was as beautiful as ever, as far as he was concerned, but her mother would have been shocked to see how tanned her skin was, how rough her hands had become, and what strong muscles she had developed in her arms. She had learned to pack her baby around on her hip the way other farm women did, and she could be firm with Jacob when she needed to. Will had even seen her give him a swat on his backside more than once, and somehow he had never expected to see that.
It hadn’t taken long for Will to recognize that the Church was not leaderless. Brigham Young had spoken of the Twelve holding the authority, but Brother Brigham was the president of the quorum, and he was clearly directing the affairs of the Church. He was not a polished speaker but a powerful one, and he was not afraid to call the members to repentance. He offended some people with his bluntness, but Will liked his practical, no-nonsense way of doing things. When Will thought of Brother Joseph—and good Brother Hyrum—he felt their absence and knew that no one could replace such men. But Brigham wasn’t going to allow the Saints to look backward. He was going to march the membership forward and chastise the stragglers along the way. Joseph had brought spiritual enlightenment to the world; Brigham was going to turn Joseph’s doctrines into realities.
One October evening, after the nights had become cool and the days glorious, Will came into the house after doing his afternoon chores. “Walk out with me a little, Liz,” he said. “There never was a finer evening.”
“I’ve been wanting to do that,” Liz said, and she took off her apron. “Come on, Jake,” she said. “Should we walk outside?”
Will picked up Daniel and, once outside, swung him up on his shoulders. He was almost eight months old now, and a burly little boy. There seemed no question that he was going to be bigger than Jacob, and probably more of a handful. He laughed now to have this ride, and Will laughed to hear him.
They walked along the trail that they often used to cut through the woods to the lower part of the city. They came to a place where they could look down on Nauvoo and on the great bend in the river. Close to the river, the willow trees were a bright yellow, and among the houses and cabins were scattered maples, brilliant red. Chimneys were emitting smoke in gray columns that bent to the south and then diffused into a layer of haze, down the valley. But west, out over the river, the air was remarkably clear. The sun had gone behind some torn clouds just above the horizon, and everything—sky and clouds and river—was tinted in tones of amber. As they watched, the color gradually brightened, turned golden, and then began to take on shades of orange. Two great birds—blue herons, Will thought—swooped through all that golden light and skidded to a landing on the river, close to the shore.
“All this beauty—and the sunset—makes me think of Wellington Heath,” Will said, his voice quiet.
“It’s not very like it, though, is it?”
“Not really. But the light was like this sometimes in the fall, and the colors in the trees. There’s not the pastures and hedges and sheep and all—but there’s peace. Finally.”
Jacob had found a stick to play with, and Daniel was squirming to get down. Will pulled him down from his shoulders but knew that Liz wouldn’t want him crawling in the grass. When Daniel reached for his mum, she took him in her arms.
“Do you sometimes still wish you were home in England?” Liz asked.
“I wish I could see it again, and see my mum and dad and all the family, but I wouldn’t want to work for another man ever again.”
“Not even the Crawfords?”
“That wasn’t so bad. But I still hold out hope that we’ll someday have a better life than we could have had in England. After everything we’ve gone through these last two years, I still feel blessed that we’re here.”
“Well, we do have a good life,” Liz said.
Will looked at her. She had given up almost everything, and she had to work very hard, and yet, she did seem satisfied.
“Do you still wish your sister would immigrate to Nauvoo?”
“I do wish she could come, but I don’t think she should just now. No one’s coming, and I understand why.”
“But if things calm down, and people around here decide they can live with us, maybe there won’t be so many problems. I keep thinking, maybe we can work things out so that we can have our temple and our life the way we like it, and no more bloodshed.”
“But you always say that some of us will have to leave.”
“Aye. It’s the one thing that will take the threat away, so other folks don’t worry so much about us.”
“What if our leaders ask us to leave?”
“I don’t know how that will be organized. Maybe some will be called to leave—or maybe enough will choose to leave that we won’t have to. But if we’re given our choice, I’d rather stay. Jesse and Dan and I have invested too much sweat out there in those fields just to let the work go for nothing. And I hate to think of Jake and Faith Winthrop, just arriving and already facing such hard things.”
“Faith told me she’s not sorry they came.”
“I know. And maybe they’ll be able to build something here. I know I still see that brick house on our lot one day.” He smiled at Liz. “And fine rugs on the floor and a pianoforte in our living room.”
“Brother Benbow told you houses aren’t so important, and you told me you believed him.”
“I know all the things that are more important, but I still think I’d like to have something nicer for you and the children.”
“Won’t farming always be the same? As many bad years as good ones, and no way to get any savings put away?”
“Aye. That’s the way of things. But Jesse and I talk about opening a business of some sort—along with our farming. During the winter, when the riverboats are stopped by the ice, a man could make a pretty penny on overland transport. We could add more oxen to our herd and keep busy all the months when the river is closed off. Certain goods still have to be carried north, even in cold weather.”
“And
I’d worry every minute you were gone. If boats unloaded below the rapids, in Warsaw, how would you dare go there?”
“That’s the worry, all right. But who knows? I’ve thought of going to ol’ George Samples and saying, ‘How about the two of us becoming business partners?’ If he thought he could make some money, you never know; he might say, ‘These Mormon fellers ain’t so bad after all.’”
Liz laughed at Will speaking like a backwoods American, but she said, seriously, “Will, you broke his head. You almost killed him and his brother. You always think you can change people’s minds, but you will never change the Samples brothers.”
“But it’s going to take more of that sort of thing to change how people feel about us. It’s not good to separate ourselves from others so completely. Zion is a fine idea, but we live in this county, and we need to trade with the people, do business, even compare beliefs and find out we’re not so different as they think we are.”
“You think you can make friends with anyone. But sometimes that’s not possible.”
“I know. One thing for sure, if we all start putting in crops again next spring, Tom Sharp will be getting people riled up to come after us.”
“And what will we do? Will we fight back?”
“No. I doubt it.”
“What about you? What if George Samples comes after you one day? Are you going to try to reason with him then?”
Will had never told her about everything he had experienced in Carthage. The details, at the time, would have been too frightening to her. But now he said, “That first night when I arrived in Carthage with the Prophet, George Samples was there. He was shouting and threatening, and he tried to get to Joseph. I took hold of him, and I was about to throw him down on the ground, but Joseph grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back. He said, ‘It’s no use to fight them. It’s what we have to learn.’ He knew how quick I’ve been to take on a fight—and he was always that way, too—but he said he was putting his life in God’s hands. It’s what I’m trying to remember now.”
“But we had the Legion, and Joseph talked about defending ourselves.”
“I know. He unsheathed his sword. He told us to be ready to spill our blood if that was what it came to. But I think, when he saw all that hatred, he must have envisioned what would come if he kept the fight going. On the way over there, he seemed to know he was going to his death, and he accepted that. I think he did it so the rest of us wouldn’t be destroyed. But his advice to me, personally, was not to fight. And that’s what I’m trying to remember.”
“What else could you have done? Two men were standing over you with guns pointed at you.”
“They told me that if I’d promise to leave, they would let me live.”
“You didn’t believe that.”
“No. I guess I still don’t. But sometimes I wonder whether I shouldn’t have accepted their promise and then moved away—the way I told them I would. I actually meant it at the time. I find myself thinking that I’ve broken my promise by staying.”
“Will, that makes no sense. It’s not a true promise when a man threatens to kill you—and has a gun pointed at your head.”
“But I wanted them to believe me and let me go. So maybe we still need to leave.”
“No. That’s what the mob wanted in Carthage. They’re willing to kill some of us in order to drive the rest of us away. And that’s not right. We own our land. They can’t force us to leave.”
“That’s true. But I don’t ever want to strike a man like that again. I’ve used my muscles way too much already in my life. I want to be better than that.”
• • •
Liz was moved by Will’s sweet desire to be a better man. She hoped he was right—that he never would have to fight again. But there was too much evil around them. She hoped he would always be willing to defend her and her children.
The sun was sliding deeper behind the horizon, and the clouds were red-orange now. The river was glowing. But Daniel was losing his interest in standing around. He wanted to be down on the ground with Jacob. “Put Danny back on your shoulders,” Liz said, “and come with me. Jake and I found something back in the woods, didn’t we, Jakey? Let’s show Papa what we found.”
She took Jacob by the hand and led Will off the trail into the woods. The underbrush was dense enough that the going wasn’t easy. Liz was also not sure she knew exactly where they had been before. She had to pick up Jacob to get him through the bushes, but they finally broke into the little clearing they had found a few days earlier. High in a cluster of black walnut trees was a great nest, but she was startled by what she spotted there. An eagle, its white head taking on the orange light of the sunset, was standing atop the nest, looking out toward the river as though it were enjoying the sunset.
“Oh, look,” she whispered.
But Will had already seen it, and even little Daniel was looking up, as though he understood that he was seeing something glorious. The four stood and watched the eagle for quite some time, but Jacob was a little too noisy, and suddenly the great bird lifted and flew off toward the river.
“Does it have chicks in the nest?” Will asked.
“I don’t know. We only saw the nest before. I didn’t even know for sure that it was an eagles’ nest.”
“Maybe by now the chicks have left the nest for this year,” Will said. “But there must be a pair. That’s how they live.”
“Don’t the males ever run off and look for a different mate?”
“No. I think they stay together all their lives.”
That seemed right to Liz, but it brought up the issue that had been troubling her. She wasn’t sure she wanted to say what she had been thinking, but she felt she had to, and this might be as good a time as any. “Will, we shouldn’t have said those things we said—about men having more than one wife.”
Will’s head popped around. “What do you mean?”
“You said that the doctrine might be from God, but you would go to hell before you lived it.”
“That’s how I feel. I can’t help it.”
“I guess I do too. But we can’t ask so much of God as we’ve asked, and then say we’ll choose what doctrines we’ll live and which ones we won’t. I keep thinking of you telling God no—that you would never sacrifice your son—but that means giving up on being like Abraham. Is that what you want?”
Liz watched Will wrestle with her question, looking intently into her eyes the whole time. “Maybe God can ask too much, Liz. Maybe I just know what I can do and can’t do—and I have to hope that a test like that will never come my way. Maybe some of us could never be like Abraham, however much we tried.”
“But we did give Jacob to Brother Clarkston when he came back and asked for him.”
“No. You did. I was ready to fight.”
“But you let me do it. You accepted when you had to. And then we got our son back. That’s how it works with the Lord sometimes, don’t you think?”
“Aye. But some things, I hope the Lord will never ask.”
“Will, I feel the same way. But let’s not vow to defy God. We’ve come too far for that.”
“All right. I won’t vow. But I still know what I can do—and cannot—and I expect I won’t change.”
Liz was satisfied with that. The last thing she wanted to hear was that he was ready to take another wife. She thought again of the eagles, paired for life. She liked that two animals could comprehend that it was best to stay together and bless one another’s lives. She nestled closer to Will. “Tell me this,” Liz said. “Does the male eagle do all the fishing and hunting?”
“I don’t know. I think males and females both do that. But here’s what’s interesting. The females are actually bigger than the males. So maybe they’re better hunters. I think they do trade back and forth.”
“How do you know such things?”
“What t
hings?”
“That female eagles are bigger than males.”
“I don’t know. Things interest me. I read it, or heard it somewhere, and it stuck in my head.”
Liz was still holding Jacob, and Will had Daniel. Liz took Will’s arm, so the four of them were all locked together. “You’re my eagle,” she said. “Did you see how that one stood there, so magnificent, like he knew he was just about the finest-looking bird in the land?”
“Is that what you think I am? Too impressed with myself?”
“No. I think you’re magnificent—and you look the part, too.”
“That might have been the female, for all we know.”
“I think that’s how things should be,” Liz said. “The two of them look out for one another, work together, raise a family. I’m afraid we make life too complicated most of the time. Sticks seem to make a pretty good home.”
“Aye. It’s true. Maybe I worry too much about that.”
Liz felt a surge of spirit, telling her that life was good. The truth was, she didn’t feel safe—never did anymore—but Will would look after her, and she would look after Will, no matter what dark times might lie ahead.
Author’s Note
Through Cloud and Sunshine is my 100th published book. Some people write one blockbuster and then retire. That hasn’t worked out for me. I’ve been “at it” for thirty-four years. There will be one more book in this series, and then who knows? I might look around for a nice rocking chair.
Actually, I’m not ready to retire just yet, but lately I’ve thought about it. I think this has been the most difficult book of all 100. The challenge of writing about Nauvoo is not that information is hard to find, but that too much is available. It was hard to know where to stop the research and even harder to know how much historical information to include. I drafted and redrafted the book ten or eleven times, and much of my effort was devoted to cutting, trying to create a good novel, not a historical textbook. Still, I hope you learned something about the city that was called the “center place of Zion” and at the same time came to care about the characters.
