The Work and the Glory

by Gerald N. Lund

  Stepping away from his tree, Will shouldered his ax. “What is it, Pa?”

  Joshua jerked his head and started off without a word. Puzzled by the cold abruptness of his manner, Will followed. They moved silently through the trees for almost five minutes, going deeper into the forest. When they were clearly out of earshot of the other men, Joshua stopped and turned. As Will came up, he saw the planted feet, the rigid jawline, the crackling eyes. He lowered the ax and set it against the nearest tree, then straightened slowly, looking squarely at his father. “Care to tell me what this is all about?” he asked quietly.

  For several seconds, there was no response. But Will could see that his father was breathing deeply, fighting for control. Then it came. “Would you care to tell me about your decision to join the Church?”

  It was as if Will had just plummeted over Black River Falls in a canoe. He just stared at his father, stupefied.

  “I see,” Joshua said after a moment. “And did Nathan baptize you too while I was safely out of the camp?”

  “Nathan?” Will shook his head. “I haven’t been baptized yet, Pa, I—” And then he understood. “You think it was Nathan who convinced me?”

  It didn’t even register. Joshua went on, his voice rising sharply now. He was almost raving. “I leave you two alone for a few weeks so I can go see to things at home and what happens? No wonder Nathan was so eager to come over to our camp and stay with you.”

  “It wasn’t Nathan, Pa.” Will was feeling a little dizzy now, still reeling from the suddenness of the realization that his father knew, and rapidly sensing that he had made a terrible mistake in not telling him before.

  “Right!” It came out with heavy sarcasm. “And it wasn’t your mother who encouraged you. And it wasn’t Grandpa Steed who got his licks in every chance he got. Oh, no! It wasn’t anything like that, was it?”

  That cut deep and Will lashed back. He laughed softly, sadly, derisively. “It’s always that, isn’t it, Pa?”

  “What?”

  “It’s always somebody else’s fault, isn’t it? It never occurs to you that I might do this completely on my own.”

  “Yeah. And I suppose Jenny had nothing to do with it either.”

  Will stopped in surprise. “Jenny?” Then his mouth pulled back into a tight line. “Jenny who, Pa?” he asked.

  Joshua looked at him as if he were daft. “Jenny Pottsworth, who else?”

  “It’s not Pottsworth anymore, Pa. If you remember, it’s now Jenny Stokes.” Then he was very tired. “No, Pa. Not Jenny. Not Nathan. Not Mama. Me! Just me! Sorry that you don’t think I’m capable of that, but it’s only me.”

  Joshua’s head swung up and his eyes were blazing. “Don’t you get smart with me, mister.”

  “Oh,” Will flung right back at him, “so it’s mister now, is it? Now that I’ve decided to become a Mormon, it’s no longer Will or son. Now it’s mister.”

  “A son of mine would have the courage and the integrity to come to me and tell me about this before I learned it from someone else.”

  “Pa, I wanted to tell you, but things were going so well up here for us, I thought—”

  “No!” Joshua shouted. “You didn’t think! You didn’t care.” He flung one hand out. “You didn’t care enough to even face me and tell me the truth. And now you’re trying to sell your bag of beliefs to Jean Claude. Well, I won’t have it, Will. Do you hear me? I won’t have it!”

  “Jean Claude?” Will repeated dumbly.

  “Yeah, that’s right. He let it slip. Let it slip that you’ve been feeding him all this tripe about Nauvoo and Joseph Smith.”

  “I’ve answered questions that he has, that’s all.”

  There was an explosion of total disgust. “Don’t, Will! Save your excuses for Nathan and the family. Personally, I’m sick of all the lying and the deceit.”

  Joshua spun around and started away, took only three steps, then whirled back again. “Well, I was planning on taking Frenchie south with us on the rafts, but not now, I’ll tell you. Not now.”

  The sickness in Will was shoved aside by flaring, white-hot anger. “It must be a terrible burden for you,” he shot back, “protecting all the world from the evil influences of Mormonism.”

  That hit home and Joshua rose up to his full height, his jaw jutting out. But Will rode right on, giving his emotions full spur now and the devil with the outcome. “You want to know why I didn’t tell you?” he cried. “Because I knew it would be just like this. It doesn’t matter what I believe. It doesn’t matter that I found that answer totally on my own. No, you can’t accept that. Being a Mormon is something so awful that you can’t face it. And so yes, I was afraid to tell you. You had me cowed, just like you have Mama cowed.”

  Joshua came stalking back, his fists clenching and unclenching, his eyes dark with fury. Will tensed, sure he was coming to strike him. In spite of his desire to stand his ground, he fell back a step in the face of what was coming.

  “Cowed!” Joshua roared. “I’ve told your mother she can be baptized any time she chooses. She’s the one who says she’s going to wait.”

  Will hooted right into his face. “Only a dolt could be that blind.”

  Joshua’s left hand shot forward, grabbing the front of Will’s jacket. The other hand cocked back, fist doubled.

  Now Will didn’t flinch. “Is that what you did to Jessica when she wouldn’t cheat for you at poker, Pa?”

  Joshua froze, the fury suddenly laced with pain.

  Will leaned forward, sticking his face out, daring Joshua to strike it. “Or maybe you ought to take a bullwhip to me like you let someone do to Nathan,” he said contemptuously. “That’s another way of handling things, isn’t it?”

  The fist dropped, the hand released his coat. Joshua stepped back, staring at his son—staring through his son—his eyes filled with a look Will had never seen before.

  “You know not of what you speak,” Joshua said in a hoarse whisper.

  “Oh?” Will said, close to tears now. “You told me, Pa. Remember? That day when the other kids beat me up in school, you told me about Jessica. You told me about turning your back on Rachel.” His voice strangled now, and what followed was half a sob. “She was your baby, Pa.”

  “That was a long time ago,” came the reply, in a voice that sounded far away.

  “Was it? Then why don’t you do something for Rachel now? You act like she isn’t even your child. You finally let her be first with the daguerreotype, but only because I said something to you. You give Savannah and Olivia all those beautiful things every time you come back from a trip. Why don’t you ever, ever do something for Rachel?”

  Joshua turned away from him, as though Will were no longer there. “We’ll be starting to put the rafts together tomorrow,” he said in a dull voice. “I want you to help Jean Claude with that.”

  Will stared at him in amazement. “What?”

  He stopped, but didn’t turn. “I’ve changed my mind. Jean Claude will be going with us to Nauvoo. We need his experience, taking all that lumber down the Mississippi.”

  He started on again, moving into the trees. “Pa!” Will shouted, crying now in rage and frustration. He didn’t slow his step. “Pa, when we get back, I’m going back to sea again.”

  There was a moment’s hesitation, and then he strode on, disappearing from Will’s view.

  Black River, Wisconsin—Sunday, 6th March

  Dear Nathan,

  This will be just a quick note, but I thought I’d better write it now so it will reach you in time for you to alter your plans. The cutting of timber continues to go well here in the camp. Jean Claude is guessing that the Mississippi should be clear enough to raft on by the 2nd or 3rd week of April. We plan to start sending the smaller rafts downriver to La Crosse around the 5th of April. That should take about a week. Then at La Crosse we’ll tie them together into one big raft that we can take down the Mississippi.

  But what I wanted to say to you was that I think it is not
necessary for you to come back up here to help us. I know we talked earlier about needing your help, but I’ve asked Jean Claude to accompany us and we should be fine. You have been away from your family enough for one season. We’ll see you when we arrive in Nauvoo.

  Joshua

  Joshua laid down the pen and sat back. He read the letter again, picked up the pen, leaned over to make an addition, then changed his mind. Instead, he blew on it until the ink was dry, then folded it and wrote Nathan’s name and address on the outside. He took the candle and tipped it so that a drop of wax sealed the fold shut. Then he tossed that letter aside and took another sheet.

  The second letter was considerably longer than the first, taking almost two full sheets. When he finished, he read it over, scratched out a duplicate word, and corrected the spelling on another by writing over it twice. When the ink was dry, he folded the two sheets together and sealed them shut with another splotch of candle wax. He picked up the pen again and wrote the address in bold letters:

  John C. Bennett, Mayor

  Nauvoo, Hancock County, Illinois

  Alpheus Cutler, the foreman of the Mormon lumber operations on the Black River, was surprised when he opened the door and saw Will Steed standing there.

  “Hello, Brother Cutler.”

  “Well, good evening, Will. We missed you at worship services today.”

  “I know. I . . .” He looked away momentarily. “I may not be able to come again before we leave. Things are getting pretty hectic for us.”

  “Us too. That’s too bad. Is there something you need?”

  Will stuck his hand into his coat and withdrew a letter. It was one sheet, folded over and with the address written on the outside of it. “Could you see that this goes out with the next mail sled?” He reached into his trouser pocket and brought out some coins.

  Cutler took the letter without comment, but was looking at Will strangely. The mail and supply sled from La Crosse would go through the Steed camp before it came here. Will could give it directly to them. But he kept his face expressionless. “Sure,” was all he said.

  Will dumped the coins into his hand. “I don’t want my father to know about this,” he said evenly.

  So that was it! Cutler nodded. He didn’t know Joshua Steed well at all, but he knew about his feelings toward the Mormons. “I understand.”

  “Thank you.” Will turned and walked away.

  The Mormon high priest watched him go, then looked down at the letter. It was addressed to Nathan Steed on Granger Street in Nauvoo, Illinois.

  Chapter Notes

  Joseph F. Smith, the firstborn son of Mary Fielding and Hyrum Smith, went on to become the sixth President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

  Joseph’s “borrowing” of a baby, his ability to distinguish between the identical twin girls, and his caring for little Mary when she was fretting are all true. According to those who knew about this, he kept bringing Mary McIntire to his home until Emma could be comforted. (See Preston Nibley, Joseph Smith, the Prophet [Salt Lake City: Deseret News Press, 1946], pp. 378–79.)

  A meeting was held in early March at the Sarah Kimball home to propose that a ladies’ society be formed. Eliza Snow was given the task of drafting the bylaws and a constitution. (See Women of Covenant, pp. 26–27.)

  Chapter 18

  The hastily called meeting finally ended up at Caroline’s because Charles had just gotten up from his nap and was still a little crabby. Melissa was over at the brickyard helping Carl with some paperwork, but all the rest were there. Jennifer Jo and Rebecca, both awkward now in their coming motherhood, sat on chairs. Most of the rest stood. The children—except for Charles—were allowed to play outside under the care of the older ones.

  Mary Ann looked at the eager faces and smiled. “I just talked with Sarah Kimball.”

  “And we are ready to form the Ladies’ Society?” Jennifer Jo asked eagerly.

  “Well, as you know, in our last meeting Sister Eliza Snow was given the assignment to draft a constitution and a set of bylaws for us. She did that, but decided to let Joseph look at what she had written first to see if he had any suggestions.”

  Caroline cut in now. “And what did he say?”

  “He didn’t like it.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence, then a chorus of disappointed groans. Mary Ann smiled. She was enjoying this. “Well, that’s not really true. Actually, he said it was the best constitution for such an organization that he had yet seen.”

  Rebecca was relieved. “Really? He really thought that?”

  Mary Ann sighed. “Yes, but he doesn’t want us going ahead with our organization.”

  Down they plunged again. “No,” Caroline cried. “Why not?”

  Mary Ann was milking the moment for its maximum worth. “Because he thinks our constitution and our bylaws are not appropriate to the purposes of the Church as a whole.”

  The effect of that news was devastating. “But we were doing this to help others,” Lydia said, clearly bewildered by this turn of events.

  “Did he say what specifically was inappropriate?” Caroline asked, equally dismayed.

  “No, he didn’t,” Mary Ann said. She paused, and now an elfish little smile stole across her face. “But what he did do was tell Eliza to come back to the group and see if we could meet at his store on Thursday afternoon next.”

  Their heads came up, and for a moment they weren’t sure whether to believe her or not. Mary Ann nodded, her eyes beaming now. “Yes. Joseph said that he wants to meet with us and provide us with something much better than a written constitution.”

  That took a moment to sink in. She looked around from face to face, smiling broadly now. “He said that he wants to organize the women of the Church under the priesthood, after the pattern of the priesthood.”

  Rebecca was the first to speak after several seconds of silence. “You mean that . . .” She stopped, groping. “We’ll be a part of the Church?”

  “Yes,” Mary Ann exulted. “Think of that. This won’t be just another benevolent society. It won’t be just us and Sarah and her friends. It will be part of the Church, for all the sisters. And the Prophet is going to organize it.”

  There were only four members of the Steed family women’s council who came to Joseph’s red brick store on Thursday, March seventeenth, 1842. Abigail Pottsworth felt that she could not take time away from work. Jenny Pottsworth was married and had moved across the river. Caroline and Olivia demurred—over Lydia’s vigorous protest—fearing that their not yet being members of the Church might make their presence awkward. Kathryn McIntire and Jessica Griffith were no longer in Nauvoo. And Jennifer Jo had taken ill two days before and was feeling very weak. With her being in the family way, she and Matthew decided it wasn’t wise for her to leave her bed. So it was only Mary Ann, Lydia, Melissa, and Rebecca who represented the family here.

  They sat near one side of the lodge room on the second floor of the store. When they arrived, there were already nearly a dozen women there. Sarah Kimball was there, of course, accompanied by Margaret Cook, the seamstress who had first suggested to Sarah the idea of sewing clothes for the temple workers. Eliza Snow stood near the door, talking with Elizabeth Ann Whitney, wife of Newel K. Whitney, the second man called as bishop in this dispensation. Nancy Rigdon, one of Sidney’s unmarried daughters, sat beside her sister, Athalia Robinson, wife of George Robinson, former Church recorder. Though Mary Ann recognized most of the women present, some she knew only as passing acquaintances. Most were married, but there were two teenaged girls, two widows, and others, like Eliza Snow, who had not as yet married.

  Just then, the door opened and two more women came in accompanied by Elder John Taylor. The first woman was Elder Taylor’s wife, Leonora. The second was also a wife of one of the Apostles. Bathsheba Bigler had married George A. Smith shortly after his return from England the previous summer. She was not yet twenty and was vivacious and full of life. Mary Ann liked her very much. The ne
wcomers greeted Eliza and Sister Whitney at the door and the Taylors stopped to talk with them. Bathsheba saw the empty chair beside Lydia and immediately came across the room towards them, nodding at others she knew.

  “Hello, Lydia,” she said as she sat down. She reached across and squeezed Mary Ann’s hand. “Mother Steed.” She nodded to Rebecca and Melissa. “Joseph and Willard Richards are just downstairs. They’ll be here in a moment. Emma’s with Joseph.”

  “Oh, good!” Lydia exclaimed. “I know she very much wanted to come. I’m glad she’s feeling up to it.”

  “She looks much better,” Bathsheba said.

  As they nodded, pleased with the news, the door to the room opened and the Prophet entered, followed by Emma and Willard Richards. Immediately the conversation in the room dropped off. Leonora Taylor, Eliza Snow, Elizabeth Ann Whitney, and Sarah Kimball all moved in to greet Emma. Joseph stepped back, conferring quietly with Elder Richards and Elder Taylor for a moment. Finally, Emma finished and Joseph escorted her to her seat.

  To Mary Ann’s surprise, after an invocation, Joseph made a few introductory remarks, then asked the sisters to discuss what kind of organization they had in mind. Instantly, hands shot up. He simply nodded, encouraging them to speak. “We have talked about this being a benevolent society, like other such societies in America,” Sister Robinson said. “This was how the whole idea got started.”

  “Yes,” Melissa spoke up. “We should have as our primary goal serving others.”

  “But I think we need to be different than other organizations,” Lydia said. “They have noble goals for the most part, but they aren’t working from a gospel perspective.”

  Sarah Kimball raised her hand. All eyes turned to her. “As many of you know, I lived in Utica, New York, for a time. It is one of the centers of the women’s benevolent movement. As Lydia says, those organizations have become a wonderful and powerful force for good throughout America, but there have also been serious abuses.”

  A sister that Mary Ann knew only as Sister Cowles was nodding vigorously. “Where I came from, some of the funds were used to buy personal clothing and house furnishings for some of the members.”