He stepped onto the porch, stopping a moment to notice the front door. It was of fine chestnut, and Benjamin noted with satisfaction that Nathan had used shiplap joints, which meant that the vertical and horizontal boards both had a notch cut out so they fit together like a tight puzzle. Mitered joints might look all fancy, but as soon as the wood cured, they pulled apart and the door began to jam. It pleased him that Nathan had listened and learned.
The hammering had stopped now, and Benjamin suspected his son had heard his footsteps on the porch. He set the ax down, opened the door, and stepped in. Nathan was on his knees, laying down the next row of “cellar strips” to which the planks would be nailed. When he saw who it was, he straightened slowly, laying the hammer down.
“Mornin’, Nathan.”
“Mornin’, Pa.” There was a definite coolness in the air which Benjamin sensed almost immediately. Nathan could not afford glass at this early stage of being on his own and had put up oiled paper across the two front windows. The back door was open, letting in a little more light, but the cabin was half in gloom and Benjamin could not see Nathan’s face clearly.
“Heard you were putting in your floor. Thought maybe you could use some help.”
“Who told you that?”
“Saw Martin Harris down doing some early-morning fishing. Said he’d been here day before yesterday.”
Nathan’s head came up. “He tell you why he was here?”
“No.” Benjamin noted the sudden tightness around his son’s mouth. “Why?”
Nathan shrugged and picked up his hammer again.
Benjamin was puzzled by what seemed to be some undercurrent of resentment, but brushed it aside. “Where you got the planks? Looks like you’re about ready for some more.”
Nathan stood, letting the hammer hang down at his side. “Ma tell you I was over to the house this morning?”
That caught Benjamin off guard. “No. This morning?”
He nodded.
“What for?” Then a thought struck him. “You come to ask for help?”
“No.” It snapped out, like a blacksmith’s tongs clipping a nail head.
Benjamin unslung the tool pouch, perplexed. Something was definitely eating at Nathan, but he had not the slightest clue what it might be.
Nathan’s chin came up. “I brought Ma a Book of Mormon.”
He lowered the tools carefully to the floor. “You what?”
“I brought Ma a Book of Mormon. I went into town day before yesterday and bought her one.” His lip curled in disgust. “Oh, don’t worry, Pa. She wouldn’t take it. Said you’d already threatened her if she did.”
In one moment his perplexity turned to cold anger. “It’s a good thing.”
Nathan stepped forward, his jaw working, his fingers clenching and unclenching. “No, Pa. It is not a good thing. It’s wrong. Real wrong, Pa.”
“Now, look—”
Nathan’s voice had risen a step. “No, you look! What right do you have to tell us what we will or won’t believe?”
“You believe what you want, just stay away from Joseph Smith and his devil ways.”
Nathan threw up his hands, then whirled away, too angry to speak.
“You and your ma want to join some normal church, thump the Bible a little, say your prayers, that’s your business. But when you start taking on with evil, then I draw the line.”
Nathan spun back around, eyes blazing. “That’s right. Call it evil. That makes bigotry all right, then. That’s what the Christians said about the Jews before they slaughtered them by the thousands. They were Christ killers, so wipe the whole lot of them out.”
Benjamin rocked back.
“And so it goes. One religion persecuting another. After all, if they’re different they’ve got to be evil.”
“I don’t—”
But Nathan bored in, overriding him. “That’s what I thought America was all about. No more kings telling people what to believe. No more churches persecuting other churches.” He stopped, breathing hard. “Is that what Grandpa Steed gave his leg fighting for? Freedom to believe in whatever you want as long as Benjamin Steed or Josiah McBride happens to approve of it first?”
“You know that’s not what I’m—”
Nathan’s voice dropped to a bare whisper. “Grandpa must be real proud about now.”
For one moment, Benjamin felt the same blinding rage that had exploded in him the night in the saloon when Joshua had laughed at him. The very memory hit him like a blow alongside the head, nearly taking his breath away. He stepped back, his eyes burning, his chest heaving. Nathan’s eyes held his, full of condemnation, full of shame.
“I came here to help,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I don’t need to stand here and take this.” In one movement he reached down and grabbed his tool bag, then spun on his heel and started for the door. As he grabbed the latch, he heard a strangled sob. He stopped, his flight arrested.
“No, Pa,” came the hoarse whisper from behind him. “Go. I don’t want your help.” There was an agonized silence for a moment, then, “I’m not proud to be your son anymore.”
The tinkling of the bell echoed through the store as Melissa shut the door, stopping to peer around the room. After the brightness of the sunshine, it took a minute for her eyes to adjust. When they did, she felt her hopes fall, for there was no one in the store except Josiah McBride. He was behind the counter, his account books spread before him, a quill pen in one hand. He looked up and smiled pleasantly. “Good morning, miss.”
Dropping the package to her side and moving it slightly behind her, Melissa moved slowly forward. “Good morning, Mr. McBride.”
“How may we help you?” He was still smiling, and it was obvious he had not yet recognized her. She decided she would capitalize on the advantage quickly.
“Is Miss Lydia here?”
He shook his head. “No. Lydia has gone with her mother and her aunt to Canandaigua to shop.”
“Oh.” There was no hiding her disappointment.
“She won’t be back until tomorrow night. Is there something I could help you with?”
Melissa bit her lip, considering the options quickly. She knew the importance of putting this into Lydia’s hand directly, but she also knew she had been lucky to get away and come to town without a major confrontation with her father. He had come back from Nathan’s, silent and withdrawn, and gone straight to the barn to work. When Melissa had approached him to ask permission to go to the village, quaking at the thought of what she would say if he asked her purpose, he had merely shrugged, brushing her away as if he hadn’t heard. Another day and she might not be so fortunate.
Then Josiah McBride took the decision out of her hands. His eyes had dropped and was looking at the package she had half-hidden behind her. “Is that something for Lydia?” he asked.
Slowly she brought it around, nodding. He reached out for it. She could only withhold it from him by making a lot of explanations. Reluctantly she handed it across to him. “Yes. I was asked to deliver this directly to Miss Lydia. Could you see she gets it?”
“Of course.” He smiled again. “Any message to go with it?”
Greatly relieved at his pleasant demeanor, Melissa shook her head. “No, thank you. If you will just see she gets it.”
“That I will.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded absently, set the package down, and was back to looking at the books even as she turned around and headed for the door, pausing once to look over her shoulder.
Josiah McBride realized his eyes had strayed once again to the package sitting on the counter beside him. Something was nagging at him and he finally set the pen aside and picked it up again. It was wrapped in plain brown paper tied neatly with a string. One word—Lydia—was written boldly on the front. He picked it up, looking more closely at the handwriting, knowing it looked vaguely familiar. It was definitely a book. He could feel its shape, and the weight of the package confirmed it.
Suddenly h
e started. The girl was a Steed. That was why she had looked familiar. He peered at Lydia’s name, a sick feeling coming over him. It was Nathan’s handwriting. That could mean only one thing. Looking quickly around the store and seeing he was still alone, he carefully untied the string and let the wrapping paper fall away. There was a sharp intake of breath when he saw the title of the book that now lay exposed before him.
Five minutes later he refolded the letter and put it back inside the book. He had read and reread it three times, each time his lips becoming more compressed, each time his eyes growing colder. As he shut the book there was no hesitation in him. He swept up the wrapping paper and string, along with the book, and strode to the back of the store where they kept the large trash barrel. He had just emptied it that morning. With great satisfaction he slammed the book into it. Then he moved to where he had been unpacking some bolts of material from the mills of New England. He gathered up the paper wrappings which had protected them, wadded them into balls, and stepped again to the trash bin. When he was finished, he leaned over and looked inside. The book and its wrapping were now completely covered with several more inches of paper.
Satisfied, he went back to the counter and turned to his account books.
“Are you sure you told Pa supper’s ready?”
Matthew looked at his older sister as though she were daft.
“Yes, Melissa, I told him twice.”
Mary Ann looked up. “What did he say, Matthew?”
“Nothin’. He just moved his head up and down and kept staring out the door.”
Becca looked worried. “That’s what he was doing when I went out to feed the chickens too, Mama.”
Melissa turned to her mother. “And this afternoon, when I asked him if I could go to the village. It was like he barely heard me.”
Mary Ann stood up. “You children go on and eat. I’ll go talk with your father.”
She took off her apron and took down a shawl from the pegs near the door. “Melissa, there’s more lamb in the pot.”
“Yes, Mama.”
It was nearly full dark, and with the sun gone the air had turned crisp and chill. She pulled the shawl more tightly around her, dreading what was about to come. When her husband had announced after breakfast that he was going over to Nathan’s to help with the flooring, she had nearly dropped the dish she was washing. But as she had grappled with how to say there might be a better day, he had got his hat and was gone. Then, no more than twenty minutes later he had come back. She had watched him from the window, stiff as an ax handle, not looking to either side, striding forward with eyes grim and mouth taut. With a sinking heart she knew her fears had been realized.
She stopped at the barn door, took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then stepped inside. He had lit no lamp, and the interior of the barn was getting quite dark now. She stood there for a moment, letting her eyes adjust, finally making out his dark shape sitting on the workbench he used to fix the harnessing equipment. She moved slowly to his side, feeling more than seeing his eyes upon her. For several moments, she stood beside him, neither one speaking, then she reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. He did not move.
“Ben, what happened between you and Nathan?”
He stirred but said nothing.
“You’ve got to remember, Ben, he’s still very upset over Lydia.”
“He said he brought you a Book of Mormon.”
His voice was empty, hollow sounding, and she felt herself tense. “Yes, but I told him I couldn’t take it, not without your blessing.”
“He said that.”
She squeezed his shoulder a little, suddenly realizing that in spite of all the frustrations, she loved this man deeply. “I’ll not be going against your will, Ben. I told you that.”
He nodded in the darkness, then again the silence stretched out. Finally he straightened. “Does it mean that much to you?”
“What?”
“Joseph and the Book of Mormon?”
She felt her breath catch in her throat. “Yes,” she finally whispered. “It means more to me than anything besides you and the children.”
She could feel the disappointment in him, but his next words hit her like the weighted end of a hayrack in full swing.
“Then I’ll not be saying anything more about it.”
She stared at him, not comprehending.
“You want to read the Book of Mormon, you have my permission.”
Dropping to her knees in front of him, she clasped his hands. “Do you mean that, Ben?” she cried, hot tears springing to her eyes. “Do you really mean it?”
He nodded slowly. “My feelings about Joseph haven’t changed…” He finally turned to look at her, though his face was nothing but deep shadows in the barn’s gloom. “But I’ll not be making you try to accept my feelings anymore.”
Mary Ann sat back on her heels, her heart soaring. Then a thought struck her, and she felt it plummet again. She took a quick breath. “Ben?”
She felt his eyes on her.
“Joseph is going to organize a church.”
There was a sudden stiffness, but again he only nodded.
“A week from Tuesday, down in Fayette. He invited Nathan and Melissa and me.”
“Melissa too?” It came out almost as a cry of pain.
“Melissa’s not sure if she accepts it yet. And I’ll not be pushing her to it. I promise you that. But Peter Whitmer will be there and I think she’d like to go.” She paused, waiting for a response. When there was none, she took the final plunge. “If I were to be baptized…?”
He stood, moving slowly, as though weighed down with an infinite tiredness. But he took her hand and brought her up to face him. Then, taking her by the shoulders and holding her gently, he said, “I told you, I’ll not be telling you what you can and can’t believe. If that’s what you want, I’ll not be stopping you.”
With a cry of joy she threw her arms around him and buried her face against his chest. “Thank you, Ben! Oh, thank you!”
Chapter Twenty-six
Matthew scurried out of the house on a dead run, flying off the front porch in a great leap. “Nathan, Nathan!” he shouted.
“Hello, Matthew.” He stuck out his hand and pulled his little brother up onto the wagon seat beside him. Grinning from ear to ear, Matthew settled in beside him.
Nathan looked at him solemnly. “Think you can hold the team while I help Ma and the girls get their stuff loaded?”
Matthew whooped. “You bet!” He took the reins, chest puffed up, hands held high. Neither of the two animals was stirring, but Matthew cinched up on the reins a little and called, in his deepest voice, “Ho, mules!” One of the mules turned around, its ears flopping back lazily, and gave him a baleful stare.
Laughing, Nathan swung down and started for the house. As he stepped onto the porch, the door opened and his father came out, carrying his mother’s case. Both stopped short. They had not seen each other for a week now, not since the morning when Ben had come to help with the flooring.
“Hello, Pa.”
“Good morning, Nathan.”
“I…” His shoulders raised and fell again. “Pa, about the other day. I’m sorry for what I said.”
“It needed to be said,” he said gruffly. Then quickly changing the subject, he straightened a little. “Get the floor done?”
A twinge of shame shot through Nathan. “Yes. The planks are already starting to cure. By the time they shrink up, I think it will take another board or two.”
“Probably. Our floor here finally took four more boards.”
Nathan dropped his eyes. “If it’s all right, I thought maybe we could work together on the spring plowin’. Get yours done first, then mine.”
There was a brief smile and a quick nod. Nathan felt a flood of relief. It was his father’s way of saying the apology was accepted.
Melissa came out, followed by Rebecca and their mother. Both girls were dressed in new spring dresses Mary Ann had made just for th
is occasion, and they looked as cheerful and bright as a hillside filled with honeysuckle. Nathan gave Melissa an admiring look and a low whistle. “I think we’d better build a fence round you, keep the wolves from prowling in too close.”
“Go on with you,” she said, slapping at his shoulder and blushing down about three layers deep.
“And look at you, Becca,” Nathan went on, still speaking with mock sobriety. “We could paint a picture of you and sell it in the stores for a double eagle or two.”
Rebecca took the compliment more as her just due, smiling quickly and giving him a quick curtsy.
“And you, Ma. You sure look pretty!” Her dress wasn’t new, but it was one of her two Sunday dresses. Nathan suspected the other was in her valise to wear at tomorrow’s meeting. It was clear she was infused with some inner joy, and she was positively radiant this morning.
“My, my,” Melissa teased. “Aren’t you in the complimentary mood this morning.”
They moved to the wagon. Nathan put their things at the back, then moved forward to straighten the small benches which would provide seating for them on their journey. Satisfied, he swung around in one swift move and grabbed Becca. She squealed as he swung her up.
Suddenly the mood of gaiety quieted as Mary Ann stepped up to face her husband. She started to smile, but in an instant her emotions overwhelmed her and tears sprang to her eyes. It embarrassed Benjamin and he looked away. Going up on tiptoes, she kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Ben,” she whispered.
He nodded, then awkwardly put his arms around her as she hugged him fiercely.
“Joseph didn’t say what time the meeting would be held,” Nathan said, finding his own voice suddenly husky. “If it’s early enough, we’ll come home tomorrow night. If not, we’ll leave first thing Wednesday morning.”
Benjamin nodded and stepped back, letting his wife go. Nathan helped Melissa, then his mother, up into the wagon, then climbed up alongside Matthew. He took the reins. “Goodbye, Pa.”
The Work and the Glory Page 41
