“Thank you, Brother Lewis. I’ll be fine.”
He nodded, then slowly shut the door behind her. For a moment she stood there, her eyes wide and unreadable. Then, she came forward a few steps. “Hello, Joshua.”
“Hello, Jessica.”
“Pa said he wrote you and told you to come back.”
“Yes.”
“He was afraid you’d gone on somewhere else, hadn’t got the letter.”
“I was up in Pueblo with a load of mercantile goods. I didn’t get the letter until about two weeks ago.” For a moment he was angry with himself for feeling that he had to explain. Then he let his eyes drop to her arms, and he softened a little. “Your pa told me about the baby. I couldn’t believe it.”
“Yes, it’s wonderful, isn’t it?”
He made a rueful face. “No Doctor Hathaway, I assume.”
She laughed softly. “No, no Doctor Hathaway.”
Jessie stepped up to him, pulling the blanket away from the baby’s face. She was sleeping, the tiny features peaceful in repose. He bent over, peering at his daughter in wonder. “Clinton told me you’re going to call her Rachel,” he murmured. He reached out and tentatively touched the slender fingers.
“Yes, for my mother.”
“She’s beautiful.”
Jessica smiled down at her daughter. “I think so too. Would you like to hold her?”
He fell back a step.
“Go ahead, it’s all right. She sleeps well when she’s full.”
Gingerly he took her, cradling her in his arm. He pulled the blanket away from her body so he could see her full length.
Jessica watched him, her eyes soft. “She’s growin’ real good. Sister Lewis says she eats like the strongest pup in the litter. And she’s got a real good disposition. She hardly ever fusses.”
A mosquito buzzed in and circled for a moment over the baby’s head. Joshua flicked his hand at it, then wrapped the blanket around her again. “She’s real sweet, Jessie. I’m real happy for you. You always wanted a baby so bad.”
“So did you,” she whispered.
He stood there uncomfortably for a moment, then handed Rachel back to her mother. “Yes,” he finally said. “Yes, I did.” He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. His hands plucked at the bone buttons on his deerskin jacket. “Jessie, I...”
She waited, watching him steadily.
“I’m sorry about what happened that night. I was so out of my head drunk. When I lost everything, I went crazy. I...” He shook his head and looked away.
“What’s done is done. I’m not bearing a grudge, Joshua.”
“I should never have hit you.”
She thought about that, then shook her head. “No, you shouldn’t have. But I healed.”
He looked down again. “And now you have a baby.”
She smiled. “Not a baby, Joshua. Our baby.”
“I know.”
“Did Pa tell you why I have the baby? why I was able to go the full time?”
He frowned. “He said Nathan came.”
“Yes, he gave me a blessing by the priesthood—”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
Her head came up slowly. “Nathan also baptized me a member of the Church—”
He spoke sharply. “I said I don’t want to hear it. I know all about Joseph Smith and his wild tales. It angers me, Jess, that my own brother would come out here and fill your head with all that nonsense—”
“Joseph Smith was here, Joshua.”
He stopped. “He was?”
“Yes, not long after you left. I met him. I watched him. I listened to him, Joshua. By the time Nathan came, my mind was already made up, so there ain’t no use you blamin’ your brother for this.”
“That don’t surprise me none. Joseph’s always had a way of swaying people with his lies and foolishness.”
“I’ve been baptized, Joshua. It’s done, and I won’t have you talking about Brother Joseph that way.”
“Brother Joseph?” he hooted. “Brother Joseph? Is that what we’ve come to now?”
Jessica half turned back toward the house. “Sister Lewis,” she called.
In a moment the door opened. A farm woman in a plain dress and no shoes stood there.
“Can you take Rachel and put her back to bed?”
“Of course.”
She came to Jessica, keeping her eyes averted away from Joshua, lovingly took the baby, then returned into the house. When she was gone, Jessica turned back to Joshua, her face calm and serene. Joshua fought down the anger, cursing himself for letting it get away from him. For several moments, neither spoke, then he cleared his throat. “So, what now?”
Jessica gave a soft laugh, not without a bitter edge to it. “You tell me, Joshua? What now?”
“Well, I’m back. We still have the house. It needs some cleaning up but—”
She was shaking her head.
“What?”
“I’m not unhappy here, Joshua.”
He looked incredulous. “A one-room sod hut on the prairie, ten, twelve miles from anything?”
“These people took me in. They’ve been good to me.”
“What about us?”
Her chin came up, and now there was anger in her eyes. “Yes, Joshua, what about us? It’s been almost a year. This is the first time I’ve heard that question in all that time.”
He looked away, knowing it would come to this. “I had to run, Jess. I had no choice.”
“And what about a letter, Joshua? Did you even once think about me? Where I was? If I had a place to stay? If I had any money?”
His shoulders lifted, then fell. “I didn’t dare write,” he said lamely. “I didn’t know if they’d send someone out after me.”
“I see,” she said, making no effort to hide her feelings. “Well, I’m sorry if I’m finding it a little hard to throw myself into your arms.”
“Look, Jessie,” he said, his voice rising, “I told you I’m sorry for all that. I know what I did was wrong, but I want to make it right now.”
“Do you?” she cried softly. “Do you really, Joshua?”
“Yes.”
“Have you stopped drinking?”
He rocked back slightly. “I—”
“Are you still gambling?”
His brows furrowed into a deep crease and his jaw tightened. “Now, look, I said—”
“And what about Joseph Smith and the Mormons? I’m one of them now, Joshua. Are you willing to accept that if I come back.”
“I won’t have no talk of Joseph Smith in my house,” he said darkly. “And I certainly won’t have my daughter raised to be one of them.”
Jessie turned away, folding her arms and hugging herself. “My house. My wife. My daughter. That’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it, Joshua?”
He let out his breath. It was always like this, the twisting of his words, the sharp, jabbing attacks. He stepped forward and touched her shoulder gently. “Look, Jessie, I ain’t said nothing about you causing me to lose everything I owned. I’m willing to forget what’s past.”
She spun around, and he saw tears in her eyes. But they were not tears of hurt, they were tears of frustration. “So am I, Joshua. You don’t believe that. But what about the future? If things go bad again, what promise do I have you won’t get ugly drunk and mean again? How do I know that a year from now you won’t throw another year’s worth of work into the center of a poker table on the hopes you’re better than the man across from you?”
“Jessica—”
She rode right over him. “And what if I’m not willing to give up the first decent thing that’s come into my life? I didn’t become a Mormon just because the Lewises were nice to me, Joshua. I believe it. I’ve accepted it. I can’t just turn my back on it. I won’t!”
Inside him, all the images of Palmyra flashed across his mind: the rainy night when he, the Murdocks, and Mark Cooper had been made to look like fools; Lydia’s going to get his father and Nathan
to stop him from getting the gold plates; his father slapping his face. Joseph Smith was at the heart of all that, and on this issue there was no bending in him.
Each word came out hard and flat and final. “I will not have my daughter raised to be a Mormon.”
She gave a curt nod. “Then, I guess it’s settled. Good-bye, Joshua.” She turned and started for the house.
He leaped forward and grabbed her shoulders. He jerked her around roughly. “Don’t you walk away from me! I’m talking to you.”
“No, you’re not. You’re shouting at me.” She yanked free of his grasp and turned again.
“Jessie!” This time when he grabbed her arm his fingers dug into her flesh and she gasped with the pain. “You listen to me—”
The front door to the sod hut flew open and Joshua Lewis stood there with a double-barreled shotgun pointing at Joshua’s head. “Let her go!”
For a moment Joshua just gaped at those two huge holes staring down at him.
“I said, let her go!” Lewis barked sharply. “I mean it.”
Joshua released his grip and stepped back, his eyes narrowing. Jessica stumbled quickly over to stand beside the farmer.
“Mister, I’d suggest you get on your horse and ride on out of here.”
“This woman is my wife,” he cried hoarsely. “That’s my child in there. I’ve got my rights.”
“I saw your wife the morning after your so-called poker game,” Lewis said in utter contempt. “I saw her black eyes and her battered face.” The shotgun lowered to point squarely at Joshua’s chest. “You got no more rights, mister. Now I suggest you git.”
On June twentieth, 1832, after being home only two months, Nathan Steed received a call to preach the gospel in eastern Ohio and western Pennsylvania. He left almost immediately in company with three other brethren. Two weeks after his departure, on the fifth of July, Lydia McBride Steed gave birth to a baby girl. It was a prolonged and difficult labor. Lydia was bedfast for two weeks. Before Nathan left, he and Lydia had discussed possible names. If it was a girl, Nathan favored Sarah, Lydia wanted Emily. In the press of Nathan’s leaving, the question was never finally resolved. Lydia named the baby Emily.
Benjamin found the Smith brothers—Joseph, Hyrum, William, and Samuel—in a woodlot, cutting and chopping wood for their winter firewood needs. The air was cold and crisp, frost still visible where the pale November sunlight did not reach the ground.
“Ho, Brother Benjamin,” Joseph called as he saw Ben coming through the trees. He set down his ax and stuck out his hand. “How are you, good friend?”
“Fine, Joseph. I just learned this morning that you and Bishop Whitney had returned from your trip to Albany, New York, and Boston.”
“Yes, we returned two days ago.”
“And did you get the funding for the new store?”
“We did. We negotiated a loan for the goods. We shall open the mercantile establishment immediately.”
“So you returned in time for the birth of your new son?”
Joseph’s face fell a little. “No, I returned shortly thereafter.”
Hyrum walked over to join them. “Hello, Brother Steed.”
“Good afternoon, Hyrum. How are things with you and yours?”
“Fine, thank you.”
Benjamin turned back to Joseph. “Mary Ann made some stew for you and Emma.”
“How thoughtful of her!” Joseph exclaimed.
“Emma was asleep, so I just left the food.” He sobered. “How is she doing?”
“It was a difficult labor, and she is still very weak, but she will be fine. To have the baby”—his eyes were suddenly moist—“to have one finally live, that is the most wonderful medicine she could receive.”
“Yes, we are all very happy for the both of you. What shall you name him?”
Joseph beamed proudly. “Emma thinks we should name him Joseph Smith the Third.”
Benjamin nodded his approval. “I think that would please both you and your father.”
“It does, thank you. And thank your wife for the food. She’s an angel, you know.”
“Yes, I know.”
Joseph clapped him on the shoulder. “And what can we do for you?”
Benjamin smiled as he shucked off his outer coat. “The question is, what can I do for you? I have nothing at home waiting. Do you have an extra ax?”
Little Joshua shrieked with delight as his Uncle Matthew rolled him on his back and buried his head in his tummy.
“Matthew!” Lydia cried.
He looked up, a little surprised at the sharpness in Lydia’s voice. Joshua stopped laughing too and looked at his mother, his eyes suddenly grave.
Lydia took a breath, and forced a faint smile. “Melissa and I are trying to talk, Matthew. Can you take Joshua in the bedroom and play?”
“Sure.” He scooped Joshua up, ruffling the dark, curly hair. “Come on, Josh, I’ll be a tiger, and you can be the goat.”
Off they went, already starting to giggle as they started into the adjoining room.
“Matthew!” Melissa said sharply, pointing towards the loft above them, “you’ll wake the babies.”
He turned, waved an acknowledgment, and clapped a hand over his mouth in mock horror, which only sent his nephew into peals of laughter all over again.
Lydia shook her head, wanting to be angry but smiling in spite of herself. Matthew would be thirteen this coming July and was fast becoming a man. The little boyishness in him was gone, and he would likely pass both Lydia and his mother in height by his birthday. Young Joshua was twenty months old, and loved his Uncle Matthew with unswerving devotion. In large part that was due to the fact that when Matthew and Joshua got together, Matthew reverted to all boy again. No wonder young Joshua so loved him.
Melissa sighed as she watched them disappear into the back bedroom that Benjamin and some of the brethren had helped Nathan add on to the young couple’s little cabin a few weeks earlier. “If it weren’t so cold out, we could send them outside to play.”
She turned back to her sister-in-law and watched her for a moment, trying not to let the dismay show in her eyes. Lydia’s appearance had really shocked her. She looked worn and haggard. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she seemed listless and without spirit. It was so unlike Lydia that Melissa felt a stirring of alarm.
And guilt. She and her mother had talked about the change in Lydia more than three weeks ago, and Melissa had been vowing to come out to the Morley farm and visit with her ever since. But it seemed that nowadays little Carl took so much of her time, and getting him all bundled up against the cold and everything...
“So, where is Nathan?”
“Oh, didn’t Mother Steed tell you? He’s been invited to participate in the School of the Prophets that started a week ago.”
“That’s right. I forgot. She did tell me.”
“He leaves about four in the morning. Usually they don’t finish much before supper time.”
“So you’re alone all day?”
Lydia shrugged. “I’m used to it now.” She looked wistful. “And he’s having some wonderful experiences. Did you hear about the meeting they had a couple of days before the school started?”
“No.” Melissa looked down at her hands. “With Carl not being a member, I don’t hear everything like I used to.”
Lydia was suddenly animated, and her words came in a rush. “It was in that room above the store, the same where they hold the School. It wasn’t just priesthood holders. There were sisters there too. Emma was there. Sister Rigdon, Sister Whitney. Nathan said it was wonderful. After they opened with prayer, Joseph got up to speak—only suddenly he began to speak in tongues.”
That brought Melissa’s head up with a jerk. “Tongues?”
“Yes, just like in the Bible on the day of Pentecost. Nathan said it was an incredible experience. After Brother Joseph finished, Zebedee Coltrin stood. Then William, Joseph’s brother. One after another—the sisters too. Emma prophesied. So
did Sister Whitney. They spoke and prayed and sang hymns, all in tongues.”
Melissa was stunned. She had not heard any of this, which showed just how much she was losing touch with things.
“Nathan said that at first he didn’t understand anything. Some of the others did, though, and interpreted, but near the last, he began to understand too. He said it was really strange—hearing something totally incomprehensible with your ears, but suddenly feeling your heart listening, understanding!”
Gradually the enthusiasm in Lydia’s eyes died, and she went quite still. “It must have been wonderful. Nathan had asked me to come with him. But with the children...” Her voice trailed off, and she turned to stare out of the window.
Melissa leaned forward. “Are you all right, Lydia?”
Lydia snapped around, for a moment looking frightened, like a nocturnal animal suddenly caught in the lamplight. But then she nodded, her eyelashes dropping to cover her eyes. “I...I’m fine.”
“Lydia,” Melissa said gently, “since you married Nathan you and I have grown as close as any sisters. So put away your public face. This is Melissa asking you, remember. Are you all right?”
There was a sudden sheen of tears and Lydia looked away, embarrassed that her emotions were so transparent. The breath came out of her slowly, as if it were painful to let it go.
“Please, Lydia. Please tell me.”
Now the tears began to flow freely. “I don’t know, Melissa. That’s just it. I don’t know.”
Melissa stood quickly and moved over to sit beside her. She reached out and took a hand in both of hers. She had never seen Lydia like this, so bleak, so desolate.
After a minute, Lydia forced a tiny smile. “I got another letter from my mother,” she volunteered.
“Really?”
“Yes. She wants me to come see them this summer.”
That really rocked Melissa. “Back to Palmyra?”
Lydia nodded.
Melissa again had to fight not to look too shocked.
“I can’t, of course. Nathan would never agree to it. He and my father are like ax blade and grindstone. There’s always sparks when they get together.” She paused, her eyes suddenly forlorn and empty. “Maybe a year from this summer. Josh would be three then, and Emily nearly two.”
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