* * *
Eight hundred miles to the east, in a grove of maple and hickory trees about a mile east of Kirtland, Rebecca and Matthew Steed were enjoying a brief respite from the summer’s heat. Off to the west the first clouds of what would develop into an afternoon thunderstorm were just beginning to build. The air was heavy and still, laden with enough humidity to bring beads of perspiration to Matthew’s brow even in the coolness of the deep shade.
Just beyond the trees lay fifteen acres of chest-high corn. It was one of three farms owned by Benjamin Steed. Normally, Matthew’s brother Nathan took care of this plot and the one just beyond the next woodlot, but Nathan and Benjamin had gone with Joseph and Sidney Rigdon to visit some branches of the Church in the adjoining counties. So Matthew took over in their absence. Rebecca had brought him out some fresh bread and honey and a crock jar of cold milk. They had lunched together, and now Matthew dawdled, postponing the time when he had to go back out into the heat of the sun.
He was stretched out on the matting of leaves, his hands behind his head, his straw hat pulled down over his eyes. Becca surveyed his lankiness, noting how long his legs had become. He had outgrown her somewhere around his fourteenth birthday, almost two years ago. Now he towered a good half a foot above her five feet four inches, and he was still growing. She also noted that all traces of the little-boy softness were gone. He did a man’s work now, and it showed in the lean hardness of his torso and the muscular lines of his upper arms and shoulders. His face was deeply tanned, the hair on his arms bleached almost bone white against the darkness of his skin. Though his hair still had a touch of blond, it had darkened considerably and was now more of a light brown, like Nathan’s.
He turned his head and pushed the hat back slightly with his thumb and looked at her steadily, his blue eyes wide and innocent. She smiled at him with genuine affection. They were only a little more than two years apart in age, and being the youngest children in the family, they had been friends for each other since the time Matthew could walk. She reached out with her foot and nudged him slightly. “A penny for your thoughts.”
“I was thinking of Jessica and Rachel.”
Rebecca sobered. “I think of them often too. I miss little Rachel.”
“Me too.” Matthew laughed softly. “But I don’t think any of us miss her as much as Grandpa does.”
“No,” she agreed, “no one could miss her that much.”
Matthew sat up, reaching out to a nearby elderberry bush. He broke off a small branch and began to methodically strip off the leaves, shredding them neatly as he did so. His face had grown thoughtful. Finally he looked at his sister. “Do you think Jessica still has hopes that she and Joshua will someday get back together?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“You don’t? Why not?”
“Because she doesn’t, that’s why.” She couldn’t tell him about the conversation she and Jessica had about this very subject just before Jessica’s departure from Kirtland.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’m sure,” Rebecca said flatly. “They won’t get back together. Not ever. Not after what he did to her.”
Matthew flipped the branch away. “What did Joshua do to her? All I ever hear are all these dark hints.”
Rebecca shrugged. “You’ll have to ask her. She asked me not to say.”
“Come on, Becca,” Matthew pleaded, sounding suddenly more like her little brother. “I won’t tell anyone.”
She gave him a long look. “It’s no worse than what he did to Nathan.”
That brought his head up with a jerk. “What did he do to Nathan?”
The thought brought pain to Rebecca’s face. “You’ve seen his back.”
Matthew’s mouth dropped open. “Joshua did that?” he whispered. “Nathan told me he was caught by some Missouri mobbers.”
“He was. But Joshua was there. He could have stopped it.”
For a long moment Matthew let that sink in. Then in a mixture of awe and horror he went on. “No wonder Mama won’t talk about it.”
“And no wonder Papa won’t even say his name.”
They both fell silent for a moment, busy with their own thoughts. Finally Matthew spoke again. “Becca, I . . .” He dropped his head, still watching her out of the corner of his eye, afraid she would laugh at him, or worse, rebuke him. His hands were suddenly fidgeting, plucking at the dead leaves around him.
“What?”
He was searching her eyes, clearly wanting to finish what he had started, but then he lost his nerve. “Nothin’.”
“What, Matthew?”
He shook his head. He decided to change the subject. “I saw Arthur the other day.”
Now it was Rebecca who was taken aback. Her mouth tightened.
“He was at the harness shop when I went to see Melissa and Carl.” Matthew waited for a response, but there was none. However, he saw that her hands, which had been folded in her lap, were now twisting slowly.
The blue in Matthew’s eyes darkened perceptibly. “I waited for him up the street.”
She whirled. “You what?” Then a look of alarm crossed her face. “What did you do?”
Matthew smiled slowly, but it was only a surface smile. Behind it his eyes were hard and the muscles along his jaw were tight.
“Matthew! What did you do?”
Slowly his face relaxed, and the smile became a genuine Matthew-grin. “I was real polite and all that, but I told him if I heard any more about him spreading those stories about you, I was going to improve on what the Lord had chosen to give him for a face.”
For a second Rebecca looked horrified, then suddenly she started to giggle. “You didn’t!”
Relieved at her reaction, he chuckled. “I did. I told him I could give him eyes to match the color of his boots.”
The giggles burst out into peals of laughter.
Matthew was enjoying himself now. “Or lips big enough to kiss a cow.”
“Stop it!” she cried, holding her sides. “You didn’t really, did you?”
He sobered a little. “Well, not the lips.”
She caught her breath, wiping at the corners of her eyes. “Matthew, what were you thinking of? Arthur is a good two or three inches taller than you and outweighs you by at least twenty-five or thirty pounds.”
He shrugged as if offended. “Remember back in Vermont how Mr. Anderson’s little terrier would take on some of them big ol’ hunting dogs in town? His lip would curl back. He’d start toward them, all stiff-legged, the hair on his back bristlin’ up like a porcupine’s.”
She was nodding, smiling with the memory. “And nine times out of ten those big dogs would turn tail and run.”
“That’s right. And that’s what Arthur Wilkinson did. Remember, dear sister, it ain’t how big the dog is that matters; it’s how big what’s in the dog that counts.”
Still smiling, but now with her eyes moist, she reached out and laid a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Matthew.”
“Well,” he said, “it made me mad when he started saying those things about you. They were mean and vicious things.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Well, it does to me.”
She gazed at him for a moment. “Thank you, my little terrier.”
He lay back down and pulled the hat over his eyes again, embarrassed by her emotion. She watched him for a moment, still sensing a certain tension in him. “Was that what you were going to talk to me about?”
His eyes opened and he searched her face.
“Come on. Please tell me.”
For several moments he lay there, chewing on his lower lip, his hands on his stomach, the fingers drumming slowly on his shirt. Finally, he turned his head, knocking the hat back so she could see his face clearly. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
The corners of her mouth softened. “Of course I won’t laugh.”
He took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. Took another. Then he plunged. “Becca, I wa
nt to go to Missouri.”
* * *
Will and Olivia went racing through the house, exploring the rooms at breakneck speed. Joshua stood in the living room, half smiling as he listened to their excited squeals and cries to come see this or come see that. Caroline, who had dropped into one of the big overstuffed chairs in the main room of the big two-story frame house—one of the nicest in Independence—watched the ceiling, her ears following the progress of her offspring as they explored the bedrooms upstairs.
Will came to the head of the stairs and stuck his head down low enough to see them. “Which room is mine?” he called.
“The one on the end,” Joshua answered. “The big one at the head of the stairs is your mother’s and mine. The one next to that is Olivia’s.”
“Yippee!” came the cry from behind Will, and off they went. In a moment the squeak of the bed could be heard as Olivia tested the mettle of her new accommodations.
Joshua turned to Caroline. “Is that all right?”
“Of course. I’m glad they’re so excited.”
His head bobbed once, but his eyes were sober. “I wish their mother were more so.”
She was instantly up and walked to him, the contrition clearly written on her face. “I’m just very tired, Joshua. It’s been a hard trip.”
“I know.” His eyes said, I also know that’s not the only reason.
She slipped her arm through his. “This is a lovely home. It will be more than adequate for our needs.”
There was a quick, impatient shake of his head. “Only until I can build you one of your own. And believe me, it is going to be the finest home in all of Jackson County.” He snorted at his own shortsightedness. “No, it’s going to be the best house west of St. Louis.”
Her eyes widened at that. This was the first he had said anything about building a house for her. “I don’t expect that.”
“Well, I do,” he said shortly. “You’re gonna have a home every bit as big and beautiful as that home you had in Savannah.”
She stepped around to face him squarely, searching his eyes. “Is that what you think? That I’m disappointed in this house?”
“I . . . no, but . . .” He shrugged, and turned when there was a noise above them.
She reached up and touched his face, turning his head back to her. “But what, Joshua?”
He didn’t answer.
“Joshua, this house is fine. I mean it. I don’t want you—”
He was shaking his head.
“It is!” she said more forcefully. “I mean it.”
“No. I won’t have you living here. I’m sorry we have to come here for now. But as soon as possible, we’re putting you in your own home.”
Suddenly she understood. She laughed, touched by his concern. “You think I’m bothered by the fact that your first wife lived here? Is that it?”
He pulled away from her and walked to the window.
“That is it, isn’t it?” She went to him and slipped her arms around his waist, laying her head against the broadness of his back. “Thank you for even thinking of it, Joshua, but that doesn’t bother me. Not in the least.”
“I won’t have you living here,” he said shortly. “Not permanently.”
She stepped back, a little baffled by the strength of his feelings about the matter. Before she could speak, Will came thundering down the stairs, his younger sister right behind him. “Is that your barn out back, Joshua?”
“Our barn,” Joshua corrected.
“Can we go see it?” Olivia asked, her eyes like two great green lamps shining out from her face.
“Sure.”
“Be careful,” Caroline called after them as they raced for the back door. Then she laughed hopelessly. “They are having so much fun.”
He nodded, and she saw that the tension in his face had softened a little. “Thank you, Joshua.”
“For what?” he asked in surprise.
“For caring for my children. For treating them with respect. They adore you, you know.”
She was surprised when he looked away. “I’ve always wanted children. And you have two of the finest.”
She watched him for a moment, aware of how little she knew this man she had married. He stood motionless, still looking toward the back door. “Will you tell me about her, Joshua?” Caroline asked softly.
He jerked around. “Who?”
“You know who. Your first wife. I don’t even know her name.”
He shook his head in one quick violent motion.
“That’s your response every time I ask you. I know you don’t want me to be hurt, but not knowing anything about her isn’t the answer. You know about my husband.”
He turned his head away from her.
Other times when she had asked, she had run into the same wall. Now it was time to break through it. “Please, Joshua,” she pleaded. “Tell me about her, then I’ll not ask again.”
He started to shake his head again, but caught himself. His eyes had a faraway look in them, one of bitterness and anger. But at least he had not cut her off. She took that as at least some sign of agreement. “You said before that you married quickly. Was she young?”
He shrugged. “A little older than me.”
“What was her name?”
“Jessica. People usually called her Jessie.”
“Was she pretty?”
He gave her a sharp look, then his eyes looked disinterested. “Not particularly. Not anything like you.”
It was meant as a compliment, but somehow it cut Caroline. He had answered the question so quickly, almost callously. That was a side of him she had not seen before. She knew very little about this Jessica, but suddenly she felt sorry for her.
“I’ll go out and see how the kids are doing.”
She reached out and touched his arm. “You said she left you because of religion?”
His breath exploded outward in a burst of genuine anger. “Yes. She became one of them Mormons!” he spat.
“A what?”
“A Mormon!”
She looked a little bewildered. “I’m sorry, Joshua, I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s a . . .” He groped for an adequate word. “A church. A religion. But a bad one. An evil one. The people are crazy. Talkin’ all the time about angels and revelations. Tryin’ to make everybody believe like they do. Sayin’ we’re all goin’ to hell ’ceptin’ them.”
Caroline stood motionless, a little aghast at the bitterness he was showing. “Are they around here?” she finally managed.
“Not anymore!” he said with angry satisfaction. “We drove them out at the point of a gun. They’d better not be comin’ back.”
A chill ran up her back. “What happened to your wife? Was she driven out too?”
He swung around, his mouth tight. “You asked your questions, Caroline, and I answered them. Now, there’ll be no more talk about the Mormons or about the woman who left me to become one of them.”
He turned and stalked to the back door. He paused only for a moment. “I’m going to take the children up to the freight yard to show them around. I know you’re tired. Why don’t you rest for a while.”
Without waiting for a response, he went out, shutting the door sharply behind him.
* * *
Mary Ann was crying softly. Rebecca was wiping at the corners of her own eyes with a small handkerchief. Matthew got up from his chair and went over to sit beside his mother on the sofa. He put one arm around her awkwardly. “Mama, it’s not that I’m not happy here. I just—”
She reached up and took his hand. “I know, Matthew. I know.”
“I just feel like I need to be in Zion. I worry about Jessica and Rachel so, but it’s more than that. I just can’t get it out of my mind.”
“I know,” she said again, trying to smile through her tears. “I’ve known for two weeks now.”
He reared back, his eyes widening. “You have?”
Rebecca was as surprised as Matthew. “Yo
u have, Mama?”
She nodded. “I told your father over a week ago, didn’t I, Benjamin?”
Matthew’s father was standing in one corner of the room. His head bobbed up and down once. It was clear this wasn’t easy for him either.
“But how?” Matthew began. He shook his head. “How could you have known? I hadn’t said a word to anyone until I told Becca this afternoon.”
Mary Ann sniffed back the tears, and pulled his arm off her shoulder so she could take his hand in both of hers. “I think the Lord knew I needed some preparation for this.”
Matthew leaned forward eagerly. “Really?”
Benjamin sighed, looking first toward his wife, then back to Matthew. “Your mother and I have been talking. We are very concerned about Jessica and Rachel being out there alone.”
Rebecca nodded vigorously at that. “Matthew and I were talking about that very thing today.”
“I think maybe it’s time for Nathan and me to go to Missouri and make sure she’s all right. Get her established. We could leave in September, as soon as we get the crops in.” His shoulders lifted and fell. “If you still want to go, then—”
Matthew shot to his feet, his face ecstatic. “Of course I will!”
His father stepped across the room to face him, now very solemn. “There is one condition, Matthew.”
“What?”
“You must give us the most solemn promise.”
“I will. I will. What is it?”
“Under no circumstances—none!—are you to ever try to see your brother in Independence.”
That nearly bowled Matthew over, but immediately he nodded, now as sober as his father. “I understand, Pa.”
“And you must never go into Jackson County. No matter how good your reasons. Not ever.”
“I won’t, Pa.”
“Swear it!”
Matthew hesitated only a moment. “I swear it, Pa.”
Mary Ann stood slowly and opened her arms. Suddenly there was a terrible catch in Matthew’s throat, and his chest felt as if it were collapsing inward. He stepped into her arms, and encircled her with his. “I’m sorry, Mama. I’m going to miss you all terribly.”
“Don’t talk about it,” Mary Ann whispered hoarsely. “Just don’t talk about it. I’ve still got my baby boy for another two months.”
The Work and the Glory Page 113
