The Work and the Glory

by Gerald N. Lund

  “Then you’d best get them to bed so we can continue this discussion, because we’re not through with this yet.”

  Melissa jumped into action without being told. In a moment she had herded the children out of the door for a quick trip to the outhouse. The three of them stood quietly, not looking at each other. A minute or two later Melissa brought them back in and shooed them up the stairs. For once there was no protest from Matthew.

  As Melissa came back down, Benjamin turned on his wife. “This has gone far enough, Mary Ann. I mean it. I’ll not have my family mixing with crazies or sharing their ideas. People are already talking.”

  Something burst in Mary Ann. For years she had stood by this good man’s side. They had shared the same bed, watched children die, fought the land, and stood miles apart on their feelings of religion. She loved him deeply. He was a good man, a good father and good provider. But she also knew the depths of his stubbornness, knew how foreign spiritual matters seemed to him. And she had accepted it all. For years she had longed for some sign in him of the inner fire she felt when she read the Bible or prayed. But it was never there. Oh, he joined with them in Bible reading. He made no objections when she taught the children to pray, but she could always tell it was a little beneath him. It was all right for the children, maybe even good for them. But he didn’t need it. He had his own strength to rely on, his own values driving him.

  She turned away, not wanting him to see the tears.

  He assumed it meant surrender. Nodding in satisfaction, he turned to his son. “Nathan, there’ll be no more Joseph Smith. No more going to his place, no more talking with him or about him. You understand?”

  Mary Ann whirled. “And if he does?”

  Startled, Benjamin stared at her, then his brows lowered. “He’d better not.”

  “What will you do, Benjamin? Drive him out of the house too? Do we lose another son because you refuse to accept anything but what you feel?”

  Behind her, Mary Ann was barely conscious of Melissa’s gasp and Nathan’s stunned look, but she was past the point at which wisdom was going to dictate her words.

  She had shocked Benjamin too, but not into silence. “That’s enough, woman,” he warned, his voice low and filled with menace.

  “Is it, Benjamin?” she cried. “Is it? And just how old will Nathan have to be before you let him choose who he talks to and what he believes? You tell him now, so he can make his plans.”

  His mouth opened, then clamped shut again. She saw the muscles along his jaw tighten and the veins on his neck swelling out. Not many times had Benjamin Steed been talked to in those terms, and never from his wife. He looked at Nathan, then at Melissa. Neither would meet his eye. He glanced once more at Mary Ann, then whirled and plunged out of the door, slamming it hard behind him.

  Behind her, Nathan let out his breath slowly. “I should have waited to tell you,” he said. “I should have known how Pa would feel.”

  “I know,” she said wearily. “I know.”

  It was nearly midnight before he came back in. He shut the door quietly and dropped the latch. He had left without getting his coat, and the September air was close to freezing. Even in the barn it would be very cold. In bed, Mary Ann felt her eyes burning. There was so much pride in the man.

  He went to the pail of water at the sink, got a dipper full, and drank it in two noisy gulps. Only then did he part the curtain that separated their bed from the rest of the room. She lay still, not pretending to sleep, but not wanting him to feel she was waiting for him either.

  He undressed slowly, folding his pants and shirt neatly to put under the covers at the foot of the bed. Carefully he climbed in beside her, shifted his weight a little as he pulled the covers up, then lay still. For several minutes they lay that way, silent but aware of the other, and both aware of the other’s awareness.

  Finally, Mary Ann turned over. “Ben?”

  He stirred but didn’t answer.

  “I’m sorry, Ben. I didn’t mean to get angry.”

  The silence stretched on and finally, sure he wasn’t going to respond, she turned back onto her side, filled with a mixture of sadness and resentment.

  After another minute or two he spoke. “Mary Ann?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll not be speaking of Joseph Smith again.”

  She waited, not sure exactly what that meant.

  He took a quick breath. “If you and Nathan insist on it, I’d prefer you do it out of my presence.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. It wasn’t much, but she knew what even that much had cost him. This was a proud man, but a decent one. One who loved his family, maybe not perfectly, but loved them strongly nevertheless.

  “I understand, Ben. We’ll honor your wish.”

  She felt him nod, then he turned over, his back to her.

  “Thank you, Ben.”

  There was no answer, but she felt him relax a little. In a few minutes his breathing deepened and he was asleep. But for a long time after that, Mary Ann lay there, staring into the darkness. She was glad for the truce, but felt an aching sense of loss that one was even necessary.

  “Do you think this is it?” Lydia asked, anxiously peering up the dirt road to where she could see the small cabin with smoke curling upwards from its chimney.

  “It’s got to be,” her cousin replied. “Mr. Harris said it was the next road up from him, just across the creek.”

  Lydia took in a quick breath, then let it out slowly, her courage slipping away rapidly.

  Robert smiled, his eyes teasing. “Sure you don’t want to just ride on up with me and get that little filly I’ve got to pick up?”

  She was tempted for a moment and he laughed. “If you don’t go in, no one will ever be the wiser.” He was the youngest of her Aunt Bea and Uncle Karl’s children and only two years older than she, and in many ways was the older brother she had never had. “On the other hand,” he chuckled, “if you do go in and get this over with, maybe I’d get some conversation out of you on the way home.”

  “Oh, Robert,” she burst out. “It looks so forward of me, coming to his home and all.” It had been four days since the incident with Emma Smith, but she had not been able to get it out of her mind. And each time she thought of it, she could feel Nathan’s gaze burning into her flesh as it did when he saw her in the crowd. The prospects of facing Nathan and trying to apologize had so occupied her thoughts on the way up from the village, she had hardly spoken.

  “Would you like me to come up to the house with you?”

  “Oh, would you, Robert?”

  He shook his head, trying hard to look put out, but totally failing. “You know what Uncle Josiah is going to do to me if he finds out I brought you out here?”

  “He won’t,” she answered, feeling a quick jolt of concern about her father knowing of this, “not unless you tell him.”

  “All right, let’s go.” He clucked at the horses, pulling on the reins so the buckboard swung into the dirt lane that led to the Steed cabin.

  Matthew, who was feeding the chickens in the barnyard, spotted them first. He set the leather bucket of wheat down and came to the fence, squinting to see better. Then he gave a whoop. “Miss Lydia!”

  “Oh, I should have brought some candy,” she murmured.

  Becca was around the side of the house pulling up a bucket of water from the well. Matthew’s call brought her around on the run. And she too gave a cry of joy. The two of them started toward the wagon, running pell-mell.

  “Well,” Robert observed sardonically, “it looks like at least two of the family are glad to see you.”

  As they swung the buckboard around in the yard, the children running alongside, Melissa came out on the porch. Lydia had talked with her once or twice and was pleased to note the instant recognition and the smile of genuine surprise. “Hello, Melissa.”

  “Why, Miss Lydia, what a surprise!”

  For some reason, Lydia had always thought of Melissa as Joshua’s little sister,
but as she stood before her now, she realized she was fully a woman. With a start Lydia remembered that Melissa was only two years younger than Lydia’s own eighteen years. She could see both Joshua and Nathan in her features, and her mother as well.

  She turned to look down at the two faces peering up at her. “And how are my two favorite customers?”

  “Fine, thank you,” Becca said demurely.

  “Great!” shouted Matthew. “How come you came to our house?”

  “Matthew!” Mrs. Steed had come to the door and caught the last interchange. “You be polite now.” She turned to Lydia. “Good afternoon, Miss McBride.”

  “Afternoon, Mrs. Steed.” She had evidently been baking bread, for there was flour on her apron and she was rubbing pieces of dough off her hands. Then Lydia suddenly remembered she was not alone. “Mrs. Steed, this is my cousin, Robert Johnson. Robert, these are the Steeds—Matthew, Rebecca, Melissa, and Mrs. Steed, Joshua and Nathan’s mother.”

  They exchanged greetings and pleasantries for a moment, then as it fell silent, Lydia knew the time had arrived. Matthew had been the only one open enough to ask her why she was here, but the curiosity was evident in all of their eyes. “Is Nathan here, Mrs. Steed? I needed to talk with him for a moment.”

  Lydia felt the quick surprise in his mother’s eyes. This was so forward of her to come. Proper young ladies just didn’t come chasing after men. She felt like she owed his mother some explanation. “I—” She took a breath. “The other day in town, I did something that hurt Nathan. I’m ashamed of it. I’d like to make my apologies.”

  Understanding came then and Mrs. Steed smiled. “Nathan’s down by the creek, laying a rock wall to keep the mules out of the winter wheat.”

  “I’ll take you,” Matthew blurted, already starting around the wagon.

  Becca cut him off. “No, you’re feeding the chickens. I’ll take her.”

  Melissa smiled sweetly at her sister. “And you’re getting water for the baths tonight. Pa will be back from huntin’ in an hour or two, and the water had better be nice and hot. I’ll take Lydia.”

  Both of the children started to protest, but Mrs. Steed overrode them. Lydia blushed slightly, knowing these two Steed women were seeing to it that she and Nathan would have an opportunity to talk undisturbed.

  “Well, it should take me about an hour to get that horse,” Robert spoke up.

  Lydia nodded. “I’ll be waiting out by the road.”

  “No. I don’t know exactly how long I’ll be. Just wait here.”

  “All right.” Lydia jumped down and waved as he drove out of the yard.

  “Children,” Mrs. Steed said firmly, “on with your chores.” Then she smiled at Lydia. “I’ve got the first loaves baking now and we just churned some fresh butter. Why don’t you bring Nathan back up when you’re done and we’ll sit a spell.”

  “I’d like that,” Lydia replied, a little surprised that she really meant it. She had been dreading this moment for four days and now unexpectedly found herself feeling quite at home with this warm, open family.

  As Melissa led out and Lydia fell into step by her side, they didn’t speak, but it was a comfortable silence. The Indian summer that had prevailed earlier in the week had gone now as a gray overcast ran from horizon to horizon. But while it was cool, it was still pleasant, and the top leaves on the birch and maple trees along the creek were just starting to turn yellow and orange. Another week or two and the whole countryside would be a spectacular festival of color.

  As they came around a patch of brush and small trees, Melissa stopped and pointed. Nathan was about seventy-five yards ahead of them, his back to them as he worked, moving stones from the creek and stacking them into a wall.

  They watched him for a moment, then Melissa smiled mischievously. “I’d like to watch his face when he turns and sees you.” She turned to go. “See you back at the house.”

  Lydia touched her arm. “Thank you, Melissa.” Thank you for fending off the children. Thank you for not taking me all the way to him, even though you’d love to see his face.

  Melissa nodded, half turned to go, paused for a moment, then shook her head quickly, as though chiding herself. She started away.

  “What?” Lydia said quickly.

  Melissa stopped, her back still to Lydia. Again there was the quick shake of her head.

  “What, Melissa? What were you going to say?”

  She turned, her dark eyes searching Lydia’s face, but still she hesitated.

  “Come on,” Lydia urged. “Say it.”

  Her shoulders lifted, then fell as she gave in. “You’ve come because of what happened in the village the other day with Joseph’s wife, haven’t you?”

  Startled, Lydia gave a quick nod. “Did Nathan tell you about it?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did he say? I mean…”

  “He was very angry with the people.”

  “I know,” Lydia said in a low voice.

  “The fact you were there bothered him most of all.”

  Her head came up quickly in defense. “But I didn’t say anything. I just saw the crowd gathering and came to see what was happening.”

  “That’s what I told him too.”

  Lydia blinked. “You did?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you know?”

  Melissa smiled, her eyes softening. “I guessed.”

  Lydia laughed, really pleased. “And what did Nathan say to that?”

  Now Melissa laughed, a low, husky sound of delight. “I think he wanted to believe me.” Then instantly she sobered. “I’m glad you’ve come to talk to him about it.”

  She took a quick breath. “I hope he’ll listen.”

  Again an impish smile stole across Melissa’s face. “If he doesn’t I’ll talk to him tonight. With the razor strap.” On sudden impulse she reached out and touched Lydia’s arm. “It will be fine. Go do it.”

  For a moment Lydia just looked at her, feeling a great rush of warmth for this girl. Then spontaneously she gave her a quick hug. “Do you know what, Melissa? I think you and I could become very good friends.”

  “I think so too.” Melissa smiled slowly, then instantly the mischievousness returned. “I hope we will, Lydia.” She laughed as Lydia blushed, then turned and hurried back toward the house.

  “Well?” Robert said as they turned out of the Steed lane and back onto the main road to Palmyra Village, the yearling mare trotting steadily behind the buckboard.

  “Well, what?” Lydia answered, playing it coy.

  “You know what. Did you get to talk to him?”

  She leaned back, tipping her face to the sky and closing her eyes. “Yes. We had a nice talk. Thank you for bringing me, Robert.”

  He grunted, pleased for her. They rode on for several minutes in silence, then he turned to her. “And what about the brother?”

  Lydia sat up quickly. “Joshua? What about him?”

  He spoke with mock seriousness to take some of the sting out of his words. “Are you going to make a choice or are you going to create family warfare by driving both of them completely out of their minds?”

  She laughed. “Oh, Robert,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Well, you told me you think part of Nathan’s holding back is because Joshua thinks you’re his girl.”

  “Well, I’m not,” she snapped.

  “Does he know that?” Robert asked quietly.

  She hesitated. “ ‘He’ meaning Joshua or Nathan?”

  He shook his head. “Either one.”

  The corners of her mouth pulled down. “I don’t think so.”

  “Then maybe it’s time you made up your mind.”

  She looked at him for a long moment, then suddenly slid over to sit right next to him. She slipped her arm through his and laid her head on his shoulder dreamily. “I already have, Robert.”

  He gave her a sharp look, then slowly smiled. “Mother will be pleased. She’s favored Nathan since he first came out t
o the farm that night.”

  Lydia laughed. “Not just favored, Robert. She’s been doing her best to make sure I don’t make any mistakes with him. Who do you think put me up to this trip today, anyway?”

  Now it was Robert’s turn to laugh. “That’s my mother.”

  Again they both fell silent, lost in their own thoughts. Then finally Robert turned to her. “And when do you tell Joshua all this?”

  Lydia did not move for several moments, just looked out across the sweeping farmland. Then with a deep sigh she shook her head. “He wants to see me night after tomorrow when Mama and Papa are in Canandaigua. I’ve decided to tell him then.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Joshua looked up at the lowering sky, squinting against the dust that filled the air. The first serious storm of the fall was on its way into western New York, and while the rain would probably not come before midnight, the wind was gusting heavily now, at times almost reaching gale force. The village of Palmyra was already littered with broken tree branches and with rubbish plastered up against picket fences and anything else that blocked the wind’s path.

  “Bet you a tankard o’ rum she ain’t comin’.”

  Joshua let the wind push the livery-stable door shut again and turned to face Will Murdock. “I told you, her pa cancelled his trip to Canandaigua because of the storm. It ain’t going to be easy for her to get away.”

  There were five others besides Joshua in the barn. The two Murdock boys and their cousin Mark Cooper; another cousin, Mark’s sallow-faced, flat-chested fifteen-year-old sister named Hope; and Sarah Black, a neighbor girl Will Murdock had brought along. Sarah was attractive enough, though shabbily dressed, and obviously taken with Will. Hope, on the other hand, couldn’t have been more poorly named. Her hair was greasy and hung down straight as a horse’s tail. Her clothes were patched and soiled. She rarely smiled, and her eyes, large and dark and sunk deep into her face, reminded Joshua of the expression of a yearling calf on its way to the slaughterhouse.

  “That fortune-teller ain’t gonna stay all night,” David grumbled.

  Sarah nodded quickly. “It may be our only chance to find where Joe Smith’s got them plates hid.”