The Wishing Star

by Marian Wells

  Looking back on it all later, Tom continued to marvel at the tilting of events that had so quickly tumbled him back into Joe Smith’s life again.

  The easy camaraderie among these men made the whole situation nearly unbelievable to Tom. But life seemed to fluctuate incessantly. The group shifted from gaiety to desperate prayer and fasting until Joseph sent them two by two into the surrounding area with their bundles of books and the tale of the new church.

  All the while, Tom stood by as a spectator, watching the events surrounding Joe. New converts continued to flock forward for baptism, and opposition continued, too. Just as quickly as Joe erected dams for his baptismal pools, townspeople tore them out.

  Tom watched Joe struggle with the tension between his new converts and the need to support his wife. Joe finally went back to farming. On a day that Oliver Cowdery paid his visit, Tom was pitching hay while Joe drove the team of horses.

  When Tom rammed his pitchfork into the ground and walked up to the wagon, he heard Oliver Cowdery chiding Joe about neglecting the church. Even Tom breathed a sigh of relief when Joe recited a new revelation from the Lord, telling him that the new church was to support him and his wife. But the hard words at the end of the revelation, stating the Lord would send curses instead of blessings if His people didn’t follow this command, left Tom feeling uneasy.

  The first leaves had donned autumn colors before Tom gave serious consideration to the winter ahead. He chewed a straw and pondered the end of the carefree summer. “Tom,” he addressed himself, “it’s time for funnin’ to end. The winter will be hard and hungry if’n you don’t get yourself a real job and snug in for the season.”

  He was still muttering to himself when Joe came out to lean on the fence rail beside him. “Tom,” he said, facing him with that penetrating gaze which still made Tom squirm, “I’ve been meaning to have a talk with you. Seems you’re still on the fence about your beliefs. Now, Tom, you know I’m not pushing a single person to accept what his mind refuses to entertain. But, my friend, I must caution you to not delay. If you are convinced that all this is from the Lord, then choose ye whom ye will serve.”

  “Joe, it isn’t that. You’re my good friend, and I’m happy bein’ around you, but this is all like a box canyon. I gotta get out and be gettin’ on with life. I’ve a livin’ to earn, body and soul to keep together.”

  His lips twisted at his attempted humor, but Joe’s steady gaze tore the grin away. “You’re not facing the seriousness of it at all. Tom, if this is from the Lord, there’s no way you can turn your back on it without losing your soul.”

  Tom chewed his straw and thought. Finally Joe said softly, “I’m not of a mind to persuade anybody. Tom, you must decide for yourself, but I can give you some help. The Lord gave some good advice to Oliver and I’m prone to use it to help you. He said to him that a body is to be studying out truth in his mind. Then he should ask the Lord if it is right. The Lord will cause his bosom to burn within as a testimony if it is.”

  “Joe, it isn’t that I doubt. It’s just that I don’t care for religion. Seems to me there’s enough trouble in life without gettin’ connected with more. And I see you headed for opposition.”

  “So, other things are more important than following the Lord’s commandments? You need to open your heart to what He’s revealing. I’ll be praying that the Lord will convince you otherwise.” Joe paused for a moment and then added, “You’re footloose now. How about coming to Fayette with us for the general conference of the church? Might help you to see how the Lord’s operating now.”

  At the church conference Tom listened as Hiram Page stood to his feet and humbly confessed the sin of having used a seer stone. With a voice full of contrition, he admitted, “I was a-tryin’ to elevate myself. I promise to give it up. I know now it is only the Prophet who has the gifts. I’ll never use the stone again.”

  Tom met Newel Knight at the conference and heard his story. “The Prophet cast a devil out of me,” he said soberly. His tiny wife nodded at his elbow, as he added, “If it hadn’t happened, I’d be dead now. Satan had me by the throat squeezing the life outta me, and I was even unconscious for a time. When you have a testimony like this, you know this has gotta be the right church.”

  ****

  In October, Tom left Fayette with a group going on the first missionary journey to the Lamanites. When he returned, there was a new face among the converts—Sidney Rigdon. Rigdon was a preacher, formerly a member of the Cambellites.

  It didn’t take Tom long to see this new convert’s impact on the scraggly bunch of farmers who comprised the new church. This dignified man had the voice and demeanor of a professional orator.

  Standing in the shadows watching the two men together, Tom saw Joseph stumble in his youthful inexperience. He also saw the attention the new convert was attracting and began to wonder if Joe was losing out to the newcomer. But while pity was stirring in Tom’s breast, the Lord spoke to Joseph again.

  When Tom heard the revelation read, he breathed a sigh of relief for Joe. “That’s right good,” he muttered to Martin Harris standing beside him. “Now we all know for certain that the Lord sent Rigdon to Joseph just as He sent John the Baptist to Jesus. Rigdon’s to be Joe’s helper. It’s good to know that the Lord approves of Joe just the way he is, and He isn’t faultin’ him ’cause he’s not the smooth talker Rigdon is.”

  Chapter 14

  “I tell you, these are the last days!” Tom was watching as Joe Smith leaned forward to rest his hand on Rigdon’s knee. Joe’s earnest gaze was fastened on the older man as he repeated, “The last days. It wouldn’t surprise me none to see Jesus Christ return during my lifetime. Sidney, we’ve much to do before His return!”

  It was the end of October 1830. Joe, his family, and some of his followers had taken up residence in Fayette, New York. They were on the Whitmer farm where the new church had been started the previous summer.

  Tom looked around the tiny room where that event had taken place. Rigdon’s voice was taut with excitement as he answered Joe, and Tom felt a shiver run up his back. “I know, I know. The whole country is feeling it, talking about it, and doing nothing at all.” He paced the room, saying, “Every other soapbox has a prophet on it nowadays, proclaiming the return. But they will all fail.”

  Joe’s voice overlapped Rigdon’s, “We’ve a big mission for these few short years. With the Lord on our side, nothing on this earth will stand in our way. Priestcraft has corrupted the church Jesus started; no wonder He swept truth from the earth! But now the true church of Jesus Christ has been restored in these latter days.” He stressed his next words, “In this dispensation God has prepared men’s hearts to accept the truth.”

  Rigdon’s eager hand reached out, but Joe shook it off. “That guarantees success,” he continued. “But it isn’t only telling about the true, restored church and bringing the lost tribes into the fold.” His voice deepened. “There’s something else that must be done.”

  Rigdon shifted forward on his chair and waited. Tom’s attention was caught by the older man’s excitement before he heard Joe’s words.

  “Zion,” he said. “We have been given the task of building Zion on this continent. Jesus Christ is going to return to this continent, not to Jerusalem. How do I know? He’s told me so. Let me read to you from the latest revelation.”

  The sun of the late October day streamed through the window. Joe wiped perspiration from his face and picked up a sheaf of papers. Clearing his throat, Joe began, “Now this is just part of it: ‘And Enoch and all his people walked with God, and he dwelt in the midst of Zion; and it came to pass that Zion was not, for God received it up into his own bosom; and from thence went forth the saying, Zion is fled.’

  “Enoch built such a perfect city God removed it from earth.” In the quiet Tom heard a fly buzz against the window. Joe sighed and leaned forward. “Sidney, my friend, we have been given the task of building the New Jerusalem. When Christ returns, the city of Enoch will des
cend out of heaven to that very spot.”

  Sidney Rigdon jumped to his feet and paced the room in quick, hard strides. He stopped in front of Joe, his eyes burning with excitement. Surprisingly his voice was low and controlled. “Smith, we’ve got a whole bunch of converts just sitting out there waiting for us.”

  Joe looked startled, and Sidney explained. “Kirtland, Ohio. These people are ready for the message right now, and we mustn’t delay.” He paused and then added, “You know, converting them will be easier if we’re all there.”

  Astonished, Tom cut into the conversation. “We’re to uproot the whole lot and move to Ohio? Get the people from Manchester and Palmyra, Colesville and Bainbridge all to move? Rigdon, that’s asking too much.” Tom looked at the man’s square jaw and hastily added, “I guess I’d better get busy with my chores.”

  During the following weeks Tom held his tongue while the members of the new church argued with Joseph. Through it all ran Joseph’s quiet persuasion as he reminded the people of the Lord’s instruction. “Kirtland is the eastern boundary of the promised land. We must claim our inheritance.”

  When the next general conference of the church convened, winter was well upon New York State. Outside the crowded building snow was falling steadily. When Joe Smith arrived, the sixty members met him with worried gazes.

  Moving purposefully, he turned the pages of the newest revelation he had received from the Lord. “My friends and fellow laborers together, I beg your attention while I instruct you with the Lord’s wisdom.” Tom was sitting where he could see the faces as Joe read the words. There were smiles of satisfaction at the description of Zion. “ . . . a land flowing with milk and honey.” But Tom saw their despair at the words, “And they that have farms that cannot be sold, let them be left or rented as seemeth good.”

  Later as the people pushed their way out of the hall, Tom listened to the comments. “Lucky for us he’s appointed someone to take care of the poor; I’m feeling we’re all going to fall in that category.” “At least we know the riches of the earth are the Lord’s to give; maybe we’ll get some of that by and by.” “Do we have to wait fer the Second Comin’ to get ’em?”

  One terse remark that reached Tom’s ears troubled him for weeks. He had nearly reached the door when he heard, “I think Joe himself invented that revelation just so he can get a spot of cash from all these farms.”

  During January and February, the first line of wagons and carts headed for Ohio. Joseph Smith and his pregnant wife left by sleigh. Some of the more fortunate had shipped down Lake Erie to Cleveland, but Tom bartered a ride in a sleigh traveling along behind Joseph.

  Nearly as quickly as the first body of believers descended on Kirtland, the eager and the curious began to pour into town to see this new prophet.

  The story of the golden Bible attracted them, but they stayed when they saw the miracles and heard Joe’s sermons, which kept the listeners in gales of laughter, or suddenly reduced them to tears.

  While the growing community of New Yorkers settled in the town of Thompson, Joe Smith took up residence in the Whitney home and began his translation of the New Testament. Tom had found a position working in the livery stable. From there he watched and marveled.

  ****

  The weather had just begun to soften with a hint of spring when Emma’s second pregnancy ended in the loss of twins. Tom had known nothing of the event on the day he rode out to visit the Prophet. He had nearly reached the Smith farm when he spotted the lonely figure trudging toward him.

  “Hello, Joe, my friend!” he hailed. As Joe drew near, Tom slipped from his horse. “What’s wrong, Joe?” The Prophet’s face was white and drawn, and his eyes were troubled.

  “Why is it,” he asked Tom, as if continuing a conversation, “I’ve the power to heal everyone except my wife? I can bless others with health, but I can’t call down the power to deliver my wife of a live child.”

  Tom shook his head, startled.

  “Twins this time; they both died. I was powerless. It was only the gift from heaven that kept Emma from following them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “God gave us twin girls. Their mother died in the birthing. Another man’s loss, my gain.” Joe seemed to brighten, to toss aside the dark questions. As they rode toward his farm, and Joe talked about the translating and the newest revelation, Tom remembered his mission.

  He interrupted, “Joe, my friend, I feel I should report the gossip.”

  Joseph grinned wryly. “Let me guess. It’s the revelation on the United Order, isn’t it?”

  “Well, every other religion’s pullin’ the same thing. Rigdon’s fellow Campbellites had been practicin’ communal living, sharin’ everything. They said a body could expect to see his shirt goin’ down the street on someone else’s back. It’s not settin’ too good with people who’ve been right particular about their belongings. I’m reluctant, too, about sharing my money and horse.”

  “Don’t fault me,” Joe said defensively. “You know this isn’t my idea; it’s a revelation from the Lord. My only responsibility is to teach it.”

  “Part of the bad feelings have to do with Rigdon’s flock bein’ caught up in this before we came.”

  “Don’t forget we got a church full of people along with Rigdon,” Joe cautioned. “Count it wisdom of the Lord to show us how to live together.”

  Tom still hesitated, “Well, revelation about the Order was a mighty long one, and it just hit wrong.”

  “What was hitting wrong? The part about murder and there being no forgiveness, or was it about loving your wife with all your heart and not cleaving to anyone, not committing adultery? The people of God ought to be able to live with that instruction.”

  “No, ’twasn’t that; it was the money thing. The part about writin’ a deed, which can’t be broken, givin’ all a man’s belongings to the church. That’s pretty hard. What’s a man to do if he decides he don’t want to be a part of the church anymore?”

  Impatiently Joe said, “Tom, are you suggesting that I change the revelation? Do you realize what you’re saying? This is the Lord’s command! Not a word is to be altered. Changing’s saying God doesn’t give perfect revelations.”

  Tom stuck his hands in his pockets and muttered, “Sorry, Joe. That wasn’t what I had in mind. If you could just find a way to make it a little easier to swallow.”

  “Well, we’ve found it! You know the people from New York have all settled in Thompson. Thanks to their obeying the Lord, Leman Copley and Ezra Thayer have given generously of a big chunk of land to provide for the people.”

  “You don’t say!” Tom exclaimed, slapping the reins of his horse across his hand, “That’s Jim Dandy. Just the verification that everybody’s been lookin’ for.”

  “Verification?” Joseph stopped and turned a sorrowful look on Tom. “I’m surprised you even admitted it. Tom, that isn’t faith!” He continued to study Tom with sad eyes.

  In the silence Tom remembered another reason for his visit. “Joe, I wanted you to know I’m plannin’ a trip to see my sister for a bit. She’s hanging on me, since we’re family, but I’ll be back.” But Joe Smith was lost in thought and he merely nodded.

  ****

  In May, Tom once again sat in the Bartons’ kitchen. He watched Jenny moving about her work, marveling at the stroke of luck that had provided this work for her. He also measured her size and the changes in her body.

  “Jen, this place agrees with ya. I left a little ’un; now you’re taller and fillin’ out like a young lady should.” Surprised to see her blush, he exclaimed, “Aw, Jen, I’m your brother.”

  She detoured from dashing about the kitchen, and pressed a kiss against his beard. “I’m not faulting you. It’s just unexpected, having family. Do I look better?”

  He studied the coil of dark hair on her neck and admired the way the smooth sweep of her hair emphasized the heart shape of her face. “That widow’s peak, I guess they call it, makes your gray eyes twice th
e size they oughta be. I ’spect next time I see you, the fellas will be a-sparkin’ ya.” She threw him a startled glance, and he hooted, “So! They’re startin’ already.”

  “No—” She drew out the reply slowly, then quickly looked at him. “It’s just Mark. He don’t count, though.”

  Mrs. Barton swished through the door and said, “Jennifer, the word should be doesn’t. Mark is coming to tea. I’m sure he’d like to see your brother.” With a quick nod in Tom’s direction, she left the kitchen.

  At tea, sitting stiffly in the Bartons’ sitting room while Jenny served them, Tom juggled his new images of his sister. Which picture is the true Jenny? he wondered. And when he saw Mark’s attention wholly devoted to her, he added another picture of her, one colored with respect.

  Curiously he studied the young man in the well-tailored suit, admiring the silk string tie and the polished boots. As Mark talked, Tom became sharply aware of the contrast between Mark and the fellows Tom had been listening to lately. You just automatically hang a “gentleman” tag on him, Tom mused.

  Returning his attention to Jenny, Tom noticed the new neatness, the polish that hadn’t been there a year ago. Jenny was becoming a lady. Glancing quickly back to Mark, he decided that anything was possible.

  During the days Tom spent with Jenny, he followed her about the Barton household, talking about all that had happened to him since he had last seen her. He held the basket of laundry while she fastened the sheets to the lines. “I’d no intention of going Bainbridge way,” he admitted, “but once there, it was like old times. There were new faces in the crowd, the Whitmers and an odd fellow named Thompson, but with Joe around, everybody was easy-like.”

  Jenny frowned and jerked the clothespin from her mouth. “I suppose you were all off digging.”

  Tom shook his head, “No, there wasn’t time. The new church seems to keep him hoppin’. People are at him all the time. Seems he’s preachin’, or prayin’, or doin’ his paperwork constant like.”