by Marian Wells
****
It was well into September 1833 before another communication was received from Jackson County, Missouri.
The day it came, Joseph stopped at the livery stable and waited until Tom finished shoeing Hyrum’s horse before he showed the letter to him. “My friend,” he said, “much of this matter with Zion can’t be discussed with just anyone on the street. Bear with me while I tell you about this letter and air the problems. It relieves me to see they’re handling the situation in a worthy manner, but still—” He unfolded the letter.
“Phelps, the writer of those articles, explains the explosion down there. Seems it started with his article in the Star; he was just trying to handle a sticky problem. Since Missouri is a slave state, they’re mighty edgy over the issue, more so than ever since they know we prophesied that slavery will be abolished.”
Tom added, “Cowdery admitted to me that part of the problem is our own people bein’ too free with the prophecy that Jackson County is goin’ to be cleared of the Gentiles and become the inheritance of the people of God.”
Joseph moved his shoulders impatiently and continued, “They got wind that some free Negroes had converted to the church and were trying to emigrate to Independence. Phelps discovered a Missouri law that decreed they must have citizenship papers from another state before they could enter Missouri. After that came the article stating that the church had no policy regarding colored people. That blew the powder keg! Phelps says he tried to right things by admitting he wasn’t only trying to stop them from coming, but to prevent them from joining the church.”
“Doesn’t seem enough to start those problems!”
“The Gentiles said it was an open invitation for the Negro to emigrate, and that it would stir up problems with the slaves in the state,” Joseph sighed.
“Phelps said they’ve petitioned the governor for troops to keep order until their suit for damages is settled. Since that’s under control now, Sidney and I can make our trip to Canada with an easy conscience.”
“And since you’re leavin’, I think I’ll be makin’ my own missionary trip,” Tom stated. Joe turned to look at him, and Tom added, “To see my sister Jenny.”
“You bringing her back with you?”
Tom shook his head. “I’ve no ideas on that line. I just feel the spirit’s urge to talk to her about her salvation.”
Tom didn’t bother to write to Jenny that he was coming. Reflecting on her teasing about his letter writing, he decided he could beat the letter there.
****
When he walked into the Bartons’ kitchen that October evening, Jenny’s surprise held her motionless, and then she threw herself into his arms, crying, “Tom! I am so glad to see you!”
As she continued to cling to him, hugging and patting, he said, “Well, Joe thinks I should bring you back with me.”
She tipped her head and slowly said, “Whatever for?”
“He thinks you’d make a good Mormon.” In a moment she began to laugh. “That surprises you?” he asked. “Well, Joe doesn’t think of much else.”
Later Tom met Clara, and then Mark Cartwright made an unexpected appearance. As Tom shook his hand, he said, “Jen didn’t tell me she was expecting company.”
“I’m not really company,” Mark said with a glance at Jenny. “I’m over this way frequently since my Uncle Thomas is ailing. I offer only moral support, but Auntie seems to need it.”
Clara was unable to take her eyes off Tom, saying, “So you’re the Mormon.” Jenny wished desperately that she hadn’t shared her secrets with Clara.
During the following week Mark stayed in Cobleskill because of his uncle’s health, and Tom lingered on at the Bartons’. In the evenings, after the Bartons and Clara had gone off to their bedrooms, Mark, Jenny, and Tom sat by the fire with apples and corn to pop.
Mark asked a flood of questions about Joseph and his new church. Jenny listened and watched his keen eyes probing her brother’s as Tom talked.
Mark’s voice was low. “I’ve not forgotten the things that happened in South Bainbridge. Tom, you and I both know that an awful lot of shady things came out at that trial, and there were many unanswered questions. Wouldn’t the Lord demand a higher level of integrity in choosing a prophet?”
Tom’s gaze was just as earnest. “Mark, Joseph was just a happy-go-lucky youngster back in those days. You have to know Joseph the Prophet. The mantle of authority and righteousness clearly rests upon him.”
On subsequent evenings Mark asked about the Book of Mormon, and Tom could admit to knowing only what he had heard read aloud. Mark persisted, “Then what do some of these other men have to say about the book? What about Sidney Rigdon? I’m hearing he’s a Campbellite preacher and well-educated. Has he investigated it all?”
“Well, in the beginnin’ he wasn’t sold on the idea, but after he took the occasion to ask the Lord for a sign, he could believe. He said that if we aren’t familiar enough with our God to ask for a sign from Him, and if He weren’t willin’ to give us one, well—I think he said God was no better than a Juggernaut, whatever that is.”
Mark slowly chewed his apple, swallowed, and said, “Juggernaut is the American title for the Hindu Vishnu; it means lord of the world. So Rigdon thinks a God that doesn’t do what is demanded of him is really no god at all!”
And when Mark ceased asking his questions, Tom turned his earnest argument on Jenny. “You’ve heard Joseph and the others preach. You know yourself that we ought not neglect our salvation. Jen, I’m wantin’ to see you join up. Joseph said that to turn our backs on the revealed truth in these last days means we won’t make it. That’s eternal damnation.”
Jenny shivered and Mark laughed. “Tom, you take life and other men’s thoughts too seriously.” There was a touch of scorn in his voice as he leaned forward and added. “The plain, good, old-fashioned religion has been around long enough to convince me that the tried and true way can be depended on. But right now, religion doesn’t interest me. I intend to leave it all until I’m so old I have nothing more important to think about.”
His eyes danced toward Jenny, “And now I do have more important things to think about. I’d like to squeeze your pretty little hand before I say good night, and I’d also like to extract a promise that you’ll accompany me to the Christmas festival the first week in December.”
And so Mark departed and Tom prepared, rather gloomily, to leave Cobleskill for Kirtland in the morning. Jenny was left to muse over their conversations; her only reaction had been a hearty laugh over Mark’s silly conclusion to the matter.
That night as she prepared for bed, she chanced to see a corner of the green book protruding from under a stack of schoolbooks; her heart grew heavy with its old burdens. One thing is certain, she decided as she pulled pins from her thick dark hair, at times Mark nearly tears me away from that resolve. She frowned. I wonder, she thought briefly, whether that is good or bad.
****
By the time Tom reached Kirtland, Joseph Smith and Sidney Rigdon had returned from their preaching mission in Canada. Within two days of his return, Tom heard rumbles in the community against Joseph for his lack of action in defense of Zion. But things settled down with time.
Soon Oliver Cowdery returned from New York with his new printing press. Joseph had promised him the position as editor of the Star if he would set up the press in Kirtland.
One crisp morning in early December when Tom walked into Whitney’s store, he found Joseph Smith clutching a letter and Whitney stoking the potbellied stove.
Tom glanced at Joseph’s sober face and then at the letter. “Soon as I think things are runnin’ smooth around here,” Tom said, “you get another letter.”
Joe lifted it. “It’s from Missouri. On October 31, fifty men attacked us just west of the Big Blue River. They ruined ten cabins and whipped our people into the forest. Later they got into the storehouse and were caught redhanded. For the trouble of catching the culprits, our men were jailed.” His voic
e dropped to a rumble as he studied the letter. “Next, David Whitmer banded together a bunch to protect their places. They tangled with the Gentiles, and in the scuffle two Gentiles and one of our men were killed.
“Whitmer says here the story got blown twice its size, and soon the Gentiles were threatening to kill those in jail. Well, the militia was sent out to meet our men, and old Boggs sweet-talked our men into laying down their arms.”
“Who’s Boggs?”
“The Lieutenant governor of Missouri.” Joseph continued, “That night every Mormon community was attacked, and by morning all twelve hundred of our people were driven out of their homes. A few of them went to Clay County, he says, but the rest of them are shivering in the cottonwoods along the river. Everything’s gone.”
He continued reading. The Mormons’ lawyers had won support from Governor Dunklin. Dunklin quickly gave the Mormons the promise of military escort to return to their homes. Dunklin also instructed them to raise a militia and granted them public arms.
On a happier note, the letter ended with the tale of a miraculous display of meteor showers. To the exiles, it was a glorious sign of the end of the world.
****
As soon as the news of the letter was out, the city of Kirtland rocked with confusion. These were kinfolk and neighbors; these were the children of Israel, and this was their Zion! Joseph sent a quick dispatch to the leaders in Missouri, ordering them to remain as near Jackson County as possible. He also ordered them to retain their lands.
The following Sabbath when Joseph stood before his people and relayed the information to them, a mighty cheer went up. When he raised his hand for silence, he added, “I believe in law and justice. The Lord inspired noble men to write the Constitution of the United States. Justice will prevail.”
As the crowd voiced their hearty approval again, Tom sat back and beamed with pride. Lately, Joseph had disappointed him; he had thought there should have been action and encouragement, and that Joe had a blind spot.
Now Joseph lifted another sheet of paper. “Brethren,” he called, and there was instant silence. “I instructed Phelps to petition Washington for help. I have also prepared a letter to President Andrew Jackson, which I mailed along with a copy of the latest revelation given by the Lord. I will read to you only snatches of this December 16 revelation, because it is very long and I don’t want any of you to go to sleep on me and fall off your benches, as Michael Williams did last week.” The levity caught everyone by surprise, and Joseph waited for silence. Even Tom grinned, remembering the youth’s embarrassment.
Joseph rattled the paper. “Oliver Cowdery has our new press set up, and he will be glad to sell you copies of the revelation for one dollar apiece.—Now, referring to the people in Kirtland: ‘Verily . . . I the Lord have allowed the afflictions in consequence of their transgressions. . . .’” A sigh and murmur swept the room. “‘Zion shall not be moved; there is none other place appointed for the gathering of my saints. A commandment I give to all the churches: purchase all the land around Zion which can be had. There is already an abundance of money to redeem Zion.’”
Above the murmur sweeping the room, Joseph’s voice rose: “Now regarding their present trouble: ‘Let them importune the judge . . . the governor . . . the president. If he will not heed, I the Lord will arise . . . and vex the nation.’”
In April the Kirtland council dissolved the United Order. Tom heard about it at the livery stable, and he crossed the street to Whitney’s store to confront Joseph.
“I hear the Order’s finished,” he said. “And I also am hearin’ funny things about the revelation dealin’ with it.”
Joseph got to his feet and stared down at Tom. “They’re saying it’s funny, huh? Well, the revelation isn’t to be given out just yet. It’s dealing with the distribution of property and it’s the business of the council.”
Tom returned his stare, unwavering. “Joseph, they are also sayin’ you’ve had a letter from Phelps in Missouri, that the people are in desperate condition. Is it right that the innocent must suffer with the guilty? Surely all of those people there aren’t sinnin’.”
“You’re suggesting that I step in and do something about it? Any such action before the Lord gives the command puts my soul in jeopardy. Let the Lord handle it. I understand most of the people have settled in Clay County. I’ve instructed them to hang on to their land.” He paused a moment, then added, “About the revelation, the council is mindful of who’s involved. No one else need know.” Joe’s level gaze quickly reminded Tom he had no business probing into the Prophet’s affairs.
The silence stretched between them until suddenly Joe smiled. “Tom, looks like you might just get your wish to visit Missouri. Pratt and Wight are back in town and they have some pretty good ideas. They also brought the news that Governor Dunklin is working for us; among other things he’s urging the church to apply for public arms, and go to work defending themselves. But, as the fellows pointed out, even with all our men holding guns, the old settlers still have us outnumbered.”
“Now, who was it preachin’ that in Bible times the children of Israel were outnumbered mighty often, and the Lord was pleased to do their fightin’ for them?” Tom murmured.
Joseph ignored Tom and continued, “Well, here’s the plan they proposed, and the revelation the Lord gave. They suggest we get us an army together, a well-trained one, but move into the area like a bunch of settlers. The army would just hang around until the church can buy up all the land of those Gentiles opposing us. The Lord’s affirmed that we’re to redeem Zion by power, and that He’s already raised up a man to lead the army of the Lord, like Moses led his people. I’ve already got fellows out recruiting from all the churches. Tom, you can join up if you have five dollars and a good shooting iron.”
Joseph’s army didn’t grow as quickly as Tom expected, but he swallowed his disappointment and continued to work at settling his affairs.
Writing to Jenny, he informed her of his plans. “Right now, it looks like we’ll be leaving this spring and won’t be back until Zion is well-established and prospering. Hopefully, by then there won’t be a Gentile in the state. You know the revelation from the Lord about the settling of Zion; He has said we are to inherit their land and their riches. I don’t feel too sorry for them; they’ve been warned they’ll either have to join us or forfeit it all. I’m led to believe that this very revelation has caused some hard feelings in Missouri. I suppose, if I were one of that bunch, I might have a hard time swallowin’ it, too.”
On May 4, 1834, the day before they were to leave for Missouri, the army gathered in Kirtland to hear an address by Sidney Rigdon. Looking about the packed hall, Tom whispered to James Taylor, “The church could use this kind of enthusiasm every Sunday!”
“Yeah,” James returned, “but it would take a new army every week to see it done.”
During the course of his address, he urged the church to change their name from Church of Christ to Church of Latter-day Saints. The crowd rustled with excitement, and James whispered, “I like the sound of that; it has a good ring to it.”
Tom nodded. “Maybe he’s got somethin’ there. We’d be sheddin’ the tag of Mormonites; nobody’s heard of Latter-day Saints. That could be a real advantage when we run into any opposition.”
The following day, as the army started marching across Ohio, Tom could see that more than just good sense dictated the name change. Looking around at the motley crew called Zion’s Camp, Tom saw old muskets, ancient pistols, and rusty swords. Some of the men were armed with butcher knives. No wonder Joseph Smith wanted as little commotion possible as the army marched westward! It made good sense to divide the army into small groups and take different routes through larger communities along the way.
Joseph was at ease, even content, in his new role. During a three-day rest period at Salt Creek, Illinois, he took over the instruction and drilling practice the men sorely needed. Under his direction, within a short time the men mastered the simp
le maneuvers.
But not many days passed before Tom began to be puzzled about his colorful leader.
James brought up the subject. He and Tom sat together on the far side of the campfire, polishing their rifles. In a low voice James asked, “Does it strike you odd that the Prophet spends so much time hiding who he is? I heard him tellin’ Wight to pass his name off as Captain Cook to strangers.”
Tom drawled, “Well, it might just keep us all safe if there’s questions asked.”
James nodded and added, “But he keeps changin’ his position in the company, even to ridin’ in the supply wagons. And that dog—the nasty tempered thing—oughta be better’n the twenty men he’s askin’ for as bodyguards.”
Tom tried to shrug off the questions, but in the following days he became aware of his own doubts. The feeling guilted him until he saw the measuring look Brigham Young turned on Joseph the day his anger lashed out at Sylvester over the bulldog.
Tom heard the tirade of abuse spilling from Sylvester and came running. He arrived just as the man screamed, “If that dog bites me, I’ll kill him!”
And Joe roared back, “I’ll whip you in the name of the Lord. If you don’t repent, that dog will eat the flesh from your bones.”
After a moment of stunned silence, Thompson exclaimed, “Aw, Joe, that dog is a blamed nuisance all around. There’s not a fella here who can tolerate ’im.”
Tucker, a quiet, serious-minded man, spoke thoughtfully, “Joseph, you ought not go around talking of whipping in the name of the Lord. It’s unseemly for a prophet.”
Joe took a quick step backward, and his words drew that look from Brigham. “You’re seeing how this all looks. I did it on purpose to show you how base your attitudes are! Like animals. Men ought not to place themselves that low.”
