The Work and the Glory

by Gerald N. Lund

  “Good,” Mary Ann said. “Where’s your pa?”

  “He’s still over to Mr. Harris’s house.”

  Mary Ann nodded, pleased. Perhaps Martin was making good on his promise to talk some more to her husband about Joseph and the Restoration.

  Matthew started to shuck off his coat, but at that moment there was the sound of steps on the front porch. The door flew open and Melissa came bursting in. Flakes of snow speckled her coat, and her cheeks and nose were bright patches of red. She was breathing hard, her breath frosting in the cold air that she brought with her into the house.

  “Melissa,” her mother said in surprise. “I thought you were going to stay over at Carma Lynn’s house tonight.”

  “I was,” she gasped. She pushed the door shut, leaning over to better catch her breath.

  “My word, Melissa, what’s the matter?”

  “I ran. Most of the way.”

  “You what?” Her mother moved to her in alarm.

  “I’m all right.” She turned to Matthew, still panting heavily. “Get Nathan and Lydia. Tell them to come. Quick!”

  Now Mary Ann was really alarmed. “Melissa, what is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing bad. I saw Hyrum. In the village.” She stopped, noting that Matthew hadn’t moved. “Go, Matthew!” Then to her mother, “There’s important news from Joseph.”

  Melissa had her hands wrapped around a bowl of hot soup, savoring the warmth. She sensed that she had the undivided attention of her family, and seemed to enjoy holding them in suspense for a moment.

  Nathan knew exactly what she was doing and couldn’t wait any longer. “All right, Melissa, what is it? You had Matthew running like a scared rabbit.”

  “And Matthew almost threw us into a panic,” Lydia said. “We thought the house had caught on fire or something.”

  “Yes, Melissa,” her mother said, “tell us about this news from Hyrum.”

  She pushed back a strand of her dark hair from her face, her eyes shining with excitement. “Well, you know about the two men who came from Ohio to see Joseph two weeks ago?”

  “Yes,” Nathan said. “Sidney Rigdon and Edward Partridge.”

  “And you know all about their report of what is happening there?”

  “Yes.”

  The arrival of the two men from the West had come as an exciting surprise for the Saints in New York. Sidney Rigdon and Edward Partridge were two of the converts Oliver Cowdery, Parley Pratt, and the other two missionaries to the Lamanites had made in Ohio, though Partridge was not actually baptized until after they met Joseph. When the four missionaries continued their journey westward, Sidney and Edward had determined to come east, meet the Prophet, and tell him what had happened in Ohio.

  It was a startling report. After preaching the gospel at an encampment of Indians of the Cattaraugus tribe near Buffalo, New York, Oliver Cowdery and the other missionaries to the Lamanites had continued westward. Parley Pratt convinced his companions that there might be merit in setting their path through the Western Reserve in Ohio. He had not forgotten the “seekers” and the preacher who led them.

  Nearly two years earlier the Lord had given a revelation to Joseph Smith, Sr. “The field is white already to harvest,” he promised. “He that thrusteth in his sickle with his might, the same layeth up in store that he perish not.”

  How true that proved to be in Ohio! Parley and his companions went directly to the house of Sidney Rigdon, Parley’s friend and former spiritual leader, who lived in Mentor, Ohio. Sidney was skeptical at first but agreed to listen. And more important, he agreed to “seek.” He convinced most of his congregation to do the same. Five miles from Mentor was the village of Kirtland, where many of Sidney’s congregation lived. The missionaries went from house to house, bearing the news of a restoration.

  The people thronged the missionaries night and day, so much so that they had little time for rest or retirement. Many came out of curiosity; others to mock and dispute and disrupt. But Sidney Rigdon had prepared the soil well. He had planted the seeds, and now it was time to reap the harvest. Within three weeks of the arrival of the missionaries, they had baptized one hundred twenty-seven people! Among those baptized were Sidney Rigdon and a goodly share of his congregation.

  The report of this incredible success in Ohio shocked the New York Saints. As 1830 drew to a close, Joseph estimated that stretching from Palmyra to Canandaigua, from Fayette to Colesville, there were about seventy members of the Church. That report was received with gratitude and amazement. Seventy members, in less than nine months! Then Sidney and Edward had come with the report that there was now twice that number in Ohio. In one stroke the four missionaries sent to the Lamanites had nearly trebled the membership of the Church!

  “Yes, yes,” Mary Ann was saying, “we know all about that. So what is this news from Hyrum?”

  “Yes, Melissa,” Lydia said, “don’t make us wait a moment longer.”

  Melissa smiled secretively, then reached in the pocket of her dress and pulled out a half piece of foolscap. There was writing on it. She waved it triumphantly in front of them. “Joseph received a revelation yesterday. Hyrum let me copy it.”

  Nathan reached for it, but Melissa laughed and snatched it away.

  “Melissa!”

  “Say please.”

  “What does it say? What does it say?” Matthew was getting as impatient with her games as the rest of them.

  She laid the paper down on the table and smoothed it out carefully. She looked up, the excitement fairly dancing in her eyes. “It’s a short one, but what it says is very significant.”

  “Just tell us, for heaven’s sake,” Mary Ann burst out.

  Laughing lightly, Melissa bent her head and began to read. “ ‘Behold I say unto you, that it is not expedient in me that ye should translate any more until ye shall go to the Ohio.’ ”

  She stopped, pleased to see the sudden shock on Nathan’s face. It was not the word translate that threw Nathan. He knew that Joseph and Sidney had been working on a translation of the Bible during the past two weeks, a project begun by Joseph back in June. This was not a translation in the normal sense of working from the original languages and putting them into English; rather, it was using the power of the Spirit to restore what had been lost or to correct what had been changed over the centuries. Several significant things, including the lost Prophecy of Enoch, had been given to Joseph during this period. What had caught Nathan’s attention was another word. “Joseph is going to Ohio?” he said slowly.

  Melissa nodded, as wisely as though she were a sage. “But that’s not all. Listen to this.” Again her head dipped as she looked down at the paper. “ ‘And again a commandment I give unto the church, that it is expedient in me that they should assemble together at the Ohio, against the time that my servant Oliver shall return unto them.’ ”

  She sat back, folding the paper. The game was over and she was suddenly completely sober. “There it is,” she said softly. “The Lord has called the Church to move to Ohio.”

  Joshua came home about midnight. He opened the door with great care, then shut it softly. He would sleep on the sofa, not go upstairs at all. There was no sense disturbing Jessie tonight. Morning would be soon enough. Right now he felt like a sheep hide stretched out on a rack and left in the sun to cure. His eyes felt puffy and inflamed.

  He took off his coat and tossed it on a wall peg near the door. He tiptoed to the table, found the candle in its holder, then moved to where a few coals still glowed in the fireplace. He knelt down and touched the wick to the hot spot, blowing softly until it burst into flame. He straightened, waiting a moment for the flickering light to fill the room, before turning. When he did so, he jumped, nearly dropping the candle. Jessie was sitting in the large overstuffed chair, watching him, her eyes large and dark in the flickering shadows of the dimly lit room. He recovered his composure quickly. “I thought you were asleep.”

  “No.”

  He moved to a chair and sa
t down, setting the candle on a small table close by. “Look, Jessie, I...” He undid the top button on his shirt and leaned back. He had once thought of her eyes as being like those of a fawn—eyes that told him she was shy, frightened, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. Not tonight. Now her eyes were steady, filled with determination. “Look, I know this last thing has upset you, but—”

  “It’s not a thing, Joshua. It’s called a miscarriage. It’s called losing the baby.”

  He shook his head. This was going to be even worse than he feared. “I know that,” he said. “I also know you’re upset.”

  “Do you?”

  “Of course,” he snapped. “I’m upset too. You think I wanted you to lose it?”

  She looked away. “No,” she whispered, “I don’t think that.”

  “Then why are you takin’ on like this?”

  Her head came back around. “Like what, Joshua?”

  “I brought Doc Hathaway out here for one reason and one reason only. It cost me a lot of money, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why did you send him away?”

  “Did you ask me, Joshua?”

  “Did I ask you what?”

  “Did you even think to ask me how I might feel about that?”

  “Feel about what?” he shot back. “Do you want a baby or not?”

  It was as if he had struck her. She looked away and her eyes were filled with tears. Instantly he was contrite. He got up and walked over to her. “Jessie, I’m sorry. I know how badly you wanted to carry each of these babies.”

  He laid a hand over hers, which were locked together and lying rigid in her lap. “I just wanted to help. Doctor Hathaway is the best there is. I thought it would help.”

  “Doctor Hathaway is an insufferable prig.”

  For a moment he just stared at her, then he grinned. “You know, all this book learnin’ you’re doing lately is sure making you talk fancy all of a sudden.”

  For a moment she stared at him in disbelief, then she quickly withdrew her hands from his and turned away. He sighed. He’d done it again. He hadn’t meant to make fun of her. She just sounded so unlike the Jessica Roundy he had married. “I’m sorry, Jess. I didn’t mean that.”

  “I won’t see him again,” she said coldly.

  He straightened, feeling the throbbing in his head. He felt as though somebody had pumped it full of Missouri River mud. He was too tired to negotiate his way through the subtleties of feminine emotions tonight. “Whatever you say. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

  He started to move toward the stairs, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt.

  “Losing the baby’s only part of it, isn’t it?”

  He stopped, not turning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “This thing that’s drivin’ you to the bottle. I know you’re sorry that we can’t have children, but that’s not the only thing eatin’ at you, is it?”

  He swung around. “Leave it alone, Jess,” he warned.

  She leaped up. “No! I won’t leave it alone. Because you won’t leave it alone. She still keeps eatin’ at you.”

  He dropped his hands from his shirt. “Lydia McBride has nothing to do with this issue.”

  “Doesn’t she?” Jessie cried. Her voice had gone shrill now. “You and your precious Lydia. Ever since you learned that she’s up and married your brother, that’s all you can think of anymore.”

  He let out his breath slowly, trying to keep his temper in check. Then he thought about the baby and the anguished look on her face when it had all started again. He stepped to her and reached for her hands. “Jess,” he said softly, “this has been a hard two days for you. You’re upset. Let’s talk about it in the morning.”

  She jerked away, flinging his hand aside. “Don’t you patronize me!”

  He stepped back, stung. “Patronize?” he sneered. “Is that what I’m doing, your highness of the big words? Patronizing you?”

  “That’s right. You can’t stand it that I’m learning things, can you? That I don’t have to depend on the mighty Joshua Steed for my every need anymore?”

  He shook his head wearily. “I’m not gonna talk to you when you’re like this. When you’re ready, then I’ll talk. Until then, good night.” He turned, but hesitated, almost daring her to contradict this final edict.

  “I’ll tell you what you’re looking for in the bottom of that bottle.” She flung it at his back, desperate now to wound him. “You’re looking for some way to blot out the picture of your dear, sweet Lydia married to your brother. Well, she’s probably carrying his baby by now.”

  Joshua spun around and slapped her, hard—hard enough that it snapped her head back. For a moment shock and hurt filled her eyes, then they narrowed. Her chin came up and she squared her shoulders. The imprint of his hand was already showing bright red on her cheek, visible even in the dim light. “That won’t make it go away either,” she whispered.

  His hand came back up, and for several seconds he stood there, chest heaving, eyes blazing like the infernos of hell itself. Then he let his hand drop to his side again. “At least,” he breathed, “Lydia can have children.”

  He turned, grabbed his coat, and stalked out of the front door, slamming it hard enough that it rattled the windows.

  As the sound echoed through the room, Jessie dropped her head into her hands. There was no sound, but in a moment, her shoulders began to shake convulsively and her fingers dug into the flesh of her face.

  On the second day of January in the year 1831, a conference of the Church was held at the Peter Whitmer, Sr., cabin in Fayette. The revelation received a week or so earlier had caused no small stir among the Saints. Following Joseph’s opening remarks several people asked him about the call to gather to Ohio. In the presence of the congregation, Joseph inquired of the Lord and immediately received a revelation.

  As Lydia McBride Steed listened to Joseph give them the Lord’s answer, part of the words struck her with great force.

  “ ‘And that ye might escape the power of the enemy, and be gathered unto me a righteous people, without spot and blameless: wherefore, for this cause I gave unto you the commandment, that ye should go to the Ohio: and there I will give unto you my law, and there you shall be endowed with power from on high.’ ”

  Lydia felt a great cry well up inside her. But what about our farm? What about the cabin Nathan built for me with his own hands? What about my flower garden and my vegetables?

  Over the past months Lydia had developed some surprising feelings about the plot of land that she and Nathan lived upon. She was a village girl, born and raised above the store that her father owned. She had never had the pleasure of seeing land plowed and sown, the sweeping green carpet of spring wheat replacing the rich black of the soil and then eventually becoming a waving sea of gold as harvest time approached. She had loved their little plot of land. She loved working at Nathan’s side as he tamed it and made it submit to his will. Were they simply to walk away from all that now?

  And then, as though the Lord had heard her inward cry, a few moments later came this: “ ‘And they that have farms, that can not be sold, let them be left or rented as seemeth them good.’ ”

  She turned to Nathan. She could see the sorrow in his eyes too. But there was also something resolute on his face. “Are we going to go?” she mouthed silently to him.

  For several moments he just looked at her; then finally, slowly, but with no doubt in his eyes, he nodded, then nodded again.

  Chapter Seven

  As the wagon loaded with bags of wheat swung around and headed down the lane, Melissa raised her hand and waved. “Good-bye, Papa.”

  Benjamin turned and lifted a hand.

  “Good luck with those men from New York City.”

  He waved again, then turned his attention back to the mules pulling the wagon.

  She watched him until the wagon turned onto the road that led south into Palmyra Village. A moment later he and the wagon d
isappeared behind the trees that lined the creek between their farm and the Martin Harris property. He had high hopes for the day’s wheat auction. The buyers from Baltimore and Philadelphia and New York City were moving through western New York buying everything they could get their hands on. The market was good, and it looked like Benjamin Steed would continue to prosper.

  Melissa stood on the porch for another minute, then the cold began to penetrate beneath her coat. Shivering, she turned and hurried into the house.

  As she came into the warmth of the main living room of their cabin, her mother gave her a strange look. Melissa knew why. Her father went into Palmyra several times a month for one reason or another. Normally Melissa gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and said good-bye from the comfort of the house. Today she had bundled up and gone outside to watch him load the last of the wheat, then stayed on the porch long enough to see him gone.

  Well, there was a purpose in that, and Melissa decided there was no profit in delaying it further. She took off her coat and scarf and hung them up, then slipped the heavy woolen mittens in the top drawer of the chest that stood by the door. When she was finished she went to the table and sat down. “Mama, can we talk?”

  Mary Ann was in the portion of the room that served as their kitchen. She was pounding some coarse cornmeal into a finer flour, using a wooden pestle and a large wooden bowl. She stopped. For a moment she debated. The cake needed to be started soon or it would not be done by the time Benjamin returned.

  “Please, Mama.”

  She set the bowl aside, dusted off her hands on her apron, and came over to sit beside her daughter. “What is it, Melissa? You look troubled.”

  “I am troubled,” she cried. She had been stewing and fretting about this for almost a month, and now the emotions came out in a rush. “Mama, I want to go to Kirtland.”

  Mary Ann’s face softened. “I know, Melissa. I know.”

  “No, Mama, I really want to go!” Instantly she was sorry, and reached out and placed her hand over her mother’s. “I know you do too, Mama. But I also know that Papa will never agree. You’ve heard what he says.”