City of Nauvoo
To the Marshal of said City, greeting.
You are here commanded to destroy the printing press from whence issues the Nauvoo Expositor, and pi or scatter the type of said printing establishment in the street, and burn all the Expositors and libelous handbills found in said establishment; and if resistance be offered to your execution of this order by the owners or others, demolish the house; and if anyone threatens you or the Mayor or the officers of the city, arrest those who threaten you, and fail not to execute this order without delay, and make due return hereon.
By order of the City Council,
Joseph Smith, Mayor.
A few hours later, city marshal John P. Greene handed the order back to the mayor and the city council with the following written at the bottom:
Marshal’s return—The within-named press and type is destroyed and pied according to order, on this 10th day of June, 1844, at about 8 o’clock p.m.
J. P. Greene, C. M.
“Pa?”
Joshua looked up in surprise. “Will? What are you doing back already?”
Caroline was equally surprised. “I thought you went to Carthage.”
Will nodded. “I did. Something’s come up. Can I talk with you, Pa?”
Caroline knew her son too well. He was supposed to be gone with the other teamsters for a full three days. She laid the book down that she had been reading. “Is everything all right, Will?”
He fumbled at that. “It’s . . . well, it’s just something I need to talk with Pa about, Mama. Can you come out to the wagon, Pa? I need to show you something.”
Caroline started to rise, pushing up with both hands, the awkwardness of her body clearly discernible. But Joshua was up and laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll go see what it is, Caroline. Don’t you be getting up.”
She frowned at him, and yet beneath it she was pleased at his concern. “I’ve got another full month, Joshua. I’m not going to break in pieces.”
“We’ll be right back. You just sit there.”
But Joshua’s calm demeanor disappeared the moment they stepped outside. Will’s wagon and team were tied up close by, but Will made no move toward them. “What’s wrong?” Joshua asked in a low voice.
“You’ve heard about the Expositor affair?”
“Who hasn’t? The whole county is in an uproar.”
“Did you know that one of the men who helped publish it went to Carthage and swore out a warrant against the Nauvoo City Council for destroying private property? They sent a constable from Carthage to serve the warrant.”
“No, I didn’t know that. I’ve been at home all day. With all the furor, your mother is very nervous. Warsaw is like a war camp.”
“We should have moved, Pa. We should have moved weeks ago.”
Joshua’s first reaction was to flare back at him, but the worry was too heavy on his mind. “When the sale of the freight yard fell through, I had no choice but to stay. But maybe it’s time to leave. I’ll just have to come back and handle the other.”
Will wanted to lash out at him. In Carthage, Will had actually been frightened. Four different times he had been accosted by men on the streets, demanding to know where he was from. When he told them he was from Warsaw, that had ended it. But he was grateful they had not asked the more pertinent question. Are you a Mormon? But things were heating up rapidly. Word in Carthage was that Joseph would probably slip out of the warrant by once again going to the municipal courts of Nauvoo. If that happened, it would be like pouring kerosene on a fire.
“Pa, we’ve got to go now. Tonight!”
“Tonight! Are you crazy? Your mother has to be moved very carefully. We’ll have to put a bed in the wagon. Find a place to stay and—”
Will turned on his heel and walked to the wagon, where he retrieved a large sheet of paper. In the darkness, Joshua couldn’t see clearly what it was. When he returned, Will was obviously afraid. “If you’ve been in the house all day, then I assume you haven’t seen the latest issue of the Signal.”
Joshua felt his stomach drop a little. “No.”
“Well, let me just read you one small paragraph from your friend Mr. Thomas Sharp, and then you tell me if you think we ought to wait for things to calm down a little.” He moved closer to the house again where there was sufficient light from the lamps coming through the window. He looked at his father. “In the first part of the article, Sharp talks about what happened in Nauvoo. He’s incensed, of course. He rails on and on about how the Mormons have destroyed freedom of the press and all that. But then, this is how he concludes it.”
He lifted the paper and began to read: “ ‘We have only to state that this’—this meaning the destruction of the Expositor—‘is sufficient! War and extermination is inevitable! Citizens arise, one and all! Can you stand by, and suffer such infernal devils to rob men of their property and rights, without avenging them?’ ”
He stopped, his voice a hoarse whisper now. “There’s his question, Pa. Want to hear his answer?” He dropped the paper. He knew the last part almost by heart. “ ‘We have no time to comment,’ he says. ‘Every man will make his own answer. Let it be made with powder and ball!’ ”
For what seemed like a very long time, Joshua stared past Will into the darkness.
“Pa, it’s come. Just like Missouri. We can’t wait. We’ve got to get out of here. Now! Tonight!”
There was a heavy sigh, filled with pain. “We can’t just leave, Will. Not like this. Your mother is going to have a baby in a few weeks. We have to get a better wagon. Fix a bed for her.”
“Then in the morning. No longer!”
“Yes,” Joshua finally said. “In the morning.”
“To Nauvoo?”
Joshua shook his head emphatically. “No, absolutely not. We’ll go to Quincy. It will be better there.”
“Pa, she’s going to need family.”
He just shook his head.
“Pa!”
“No, Will!” he said flatly. “Aside from my feelings, Nauvoo is not the place to go for safety right now.”
“It is for us,” Will said softly. But he knew there was no changing his father’s mind, and he turned away.
They went to the small livery stable—one they had not used before—early the next morning. They came almost ten minutes apart, pretending not to recognize each other, and Will gave his name as Will Mendenhall. Joshua rented a black surrey with a single bay mare to pull it and drove away. Will asked for a wagon to haul some furniture and said he needed it for a full day. With it came a team of two big mules large enough to handle any load. Once they reached Quincy, Joshua would send everything back, along with a fat bonus for the liveryman for the inconvenience of losing his equipment and stock for a couple of days.
As Will handed the man the money, the liveryman jerked his head toward the wagon. “The tarp’s in the back.”
“Yes, I see that. Thank you.”
“Don’t look like rain,” he observed.
Will nodded. “Hope not. But I can’t take any chances.”
“Suppose not.”
Will thanked him, walked to the wagon, climbed up into the seat, and drove away.
Five minutes later and two blocks away, Joshua snapped the reins and pulled the carriage out into the street behind Will’s wagon. Will reined up and jumped down quickly. Joshua climbed out too and they spread the tarp over the wagon bed and started to tie it down. Now Joshua was all business. His words were clipped and came out in staccato bursts. “All right,” he said. “You go first. The mattresses are all ready. Be sure your mother is comfortable. It’s going to be hot under this canvas, but once we get out of town we’ll take it off.”
“Yes, Pa.”
“I’ll be right behind you to get Savannah and Charles.” His brow was deeply creased. “I don’t like this, Will,” he suddenly said. “Maybe we should just risk it and all go together.”
Will shook his head. “If they think you’re trying to get us out, Pa
, there’s no telling what they’ll do. I know they don’t like you much since you refused to help them, but you’re still respected. And you’re not a Mormon. No one is going to bother you.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about,” he said, scowling deeply as he stared down the empty street.
Everything went smoothly at the house. Olivia stood in the alley, watching for anyone who might be coming, while Will fixed the bed beneath the tarp. Then he nodded to his mother. She had already said her good-byes to Savannah and Charles inside. She didn’t want to leave them alone but Joshua was waiting just around the corner; the minute he saw the wagon leave, he would come for them.
Will held the tarp up while his mother climbed onto the tailgate. She rolled over awkwardly, then crawled in under the tarp onto the mattresses. Will lifted the tailgate, pulled the tarp over the edge of it so that no part of the wagon bed was open, and tied it down. “I’ll hurry, Mama.”
“I’m all right,” came the muffled reply.
Will climbed up on the wagon seat. Olivia took one last look up the alley, then climbed up beside Will. “Let’s go.”
Will snapped the reins and the mules started forward. As they came out into the street, Joshua was approaching from their left. Will raised his hand. “See you tonight, Pa.”
“Bye, Papa,” Olivia called.
As they approached Main Street, Will gave his sister a sidelong glance. “Don’t look at anyone, Livvy. Not even if they’re staring at you. Just look straight ahead.”
“I know, Will. I’m not afraid.”
“That’s good.”
It was not even eight o’clock yet, and the streets were still mostly empty. Will felt himself relax a little. But as they started through the downtown part of Warsaw, he suddenly tensed. There was a small knot of people standing halfway down the block. Instantly he knew what they were doing. They were clustered around the big display window of the Warsaw Signal office reading the latest issue of Thomas Sharp’s newspaper. Will felt his skin start to crawl. They were reading words like “war” and “extermination,” and “let it be made with powder and ball.” He moved his team as far out into the center of the street as he dared and looked straight ahead. There was no choice but to drive right past them. “Don’t look, Livvy,” he hissed again. “Don’t look.”
For a moment he thought they had made it. Several people turned at the sound of the wagon and glanced at them, but then immediately turned back. He saw a flash of recognition on a woman’s face and an instant frown, but then she too looked away.
But just as he was pulling past the group, there was a shout. “Hey!”
Will didn’t turn and he grabbed Olivia’s hand to stop her from doing so.
“Hey you! On the wagon!”
There was no ignoring that. He didn’t stop, just turned his head. What he saw sent a shudder running through his body. It was a big man, bald, with heavy features and tiny eyes looking out from paunchy cheeks. He knew the man instantly. It was the typesetter from the Signal. This was the man whom Will had insulted almost three years before right here in the street, and had ended up feeling the blunt end of one of those huge, hamlike fists. He looked away, debating whether to whip the mules into a run.
But the man broke into a run and darted around to the head of Will’s team, grabbing at the near mule’s bridle and bringing them to a halt. He looked up, grinning wickedly. “I thought it was you.”
“Let go of my team,” Will said evenly.
“I understand you’re a Mormon now. Where you going, Mormon!” he cried. The crowd at the window had turned to watch, and the big man’s last words brought a low, angry rumble. The people started to move in his direction.
“My sister and I are on our way to get some furniture. Please let go of my animals.”
“Hey, you know who this is?” the man chortled loudly. “This is a Mormon boy. From Nauvoo.” That won him instant cries of anger and a low, menacing muttering.
“That’s Joshua Steed’s children,” a woman called out. “You’d best leave them alone.”
The porcine eyes narrowed into even tinier slits. “Steed? That old bag of wind who makes all the promises, then never delivers?”
In one quick flash of clarity, Will knew what he had to do. People were moving in now. In a moment, the wagon would be surrounded and someone just might ask what he had in the back. He leaned over, handing the reins to Olivia. “When I say, Olivia, you whip those mules and get out of here.”
She gaped at him. “No, Will,” she cried.
“Yes!” he hissed. “You go! I’ll catch up.” And then he stood up and jumped lightly down into the dust of the street.
There was an instant look of pure joy on the typesetter’s face. “Well, well. Come to finish what you couldn’t do before, Mormon?”
“Somebody get the sheriff,” a voice cried anxiously.
“Look,” Will said reasonably, moving up toward the man. “I don’t want trouble. All I want to do is go get some furniture.”
“This here is a Mormon,” the man yelled, looking around him. “One of them that burns down newspaper offices.”
There were several angry cries, and that’s when Will acted. With a single shout of, “Now, Livvy!” he lowered his head and charged. It caught the man by surprise and Will’s shoulder slammed into his chest at full force, knocking the man back several steps. “Go, Livvy!”
The man’s surprise was short-lived. With a cry of betrayal, he charged. As a great fist came clubbing down against the side of his head, Will heard Olivia’s piercing yell and saw the reins snap. The mules leaped forward, scattering the people in front of them.
Will, half-dazed from the blow, rolled clear of the slashing hooves. The bigger man was not so lucky. The hind leg of the nearest mule, kicking back for traction in the soft dirt, caught the man on the back of his leg. He screamed and went down, writhing in pain. Tasting dust and blood, Will staggered to his feet. The wagon was racing away and he hobbled after it, knowing that once the big man got up, it was finished. But he only made it about ten feet when three young men leaped in front of him. “Going somewhere, Mormon?” The one was licking his lips. Will went into a crouch, but he was much too slow. The nearest man darted in behind him and pinned Will’s arms. The other two waded in, fists doubled, arms already pumping.
Joshua had taught Olivia how to drive a team, and occasionally she still drove one of his wagons for him. But it had never been any kind of serious driving. Usually it was just here and there about town, or occasionally for short stretches out on the open road. Now she had two startled mules running at full speed down a city street. The wagon careened back and forth, the tail end whipping dangerously. Fortunately, the street was straight and almost empty.
A block away, two men coming out of the blacksmith shop looked up. They had no idea what had just happened at the newspaper office. All they saw was a runaway team headed straight for them. It barely even registered in their minds that it was a woman at the reins. It said something about their courage that they didn’t hesitate. They darted into the street, waving their arms and shouting, trying to slow the team. But all Olivia could think of was that people were trying to stop her family from leaving Warsaw. The sight of two men out in front of her, waving for the team to stop, only terrorized her. She whipped the mules harder. Then her eye caught sight of a side street coming up fast on the left.
“Hang on, Mama!” she screamed as she yanked on the reins.
The mules alone might have made the turn, but the weight and forward speed of the wagon was too much. As the team jerked left in response to Olivia’s command, the wagon tongue turned sharply, following their lead. The right front wheel bit sideways into the soft dust of the street, starting into a broad slide. With that kind of force, the spokes on the wagon wheel might as well have been made of straw. Three of them snapped clean and the wheel crumpled like paper. The sheer force of the weight and the momentum ripped the whole front axle and tongue assembly out from under the wagon
bed. The wooden tongue whipped around like a giant scythe, cutting the legs out from under the mules. With a horrifying shriek, they went down, kicking and thrashing.
When the front wheels snapped free of the wagon bed, Olivia hurtled skyward, tumbling end over end. Even before she hit the ground, the front corner of the wagon dropped, ploughing into the earth. For a moment it skidded along, but then the corner dug into the soft earth. The tail end of the wagon box flipped up and over, bouncing like a tumbleweed in a windstorm.
For a second or two the silence was total. Dust boiled up in great clouds. But there was not a sound. The two would-be rescuers stood frozen in horror, staring at the carnage and destruction before them. Two blocks away, near the offices of the Warsaw Signal, a small knot of people also stood rigid, staring toward the shattered wagon. And then out of the silence came one long, drawn-out scream. “Mama! Livvy!”
Nathan got up as quietly as he could, so as not to wake Lydia. Normally, the sound of a horse outside his window on a summer night would not have brought him up with a jerk, but these were not normal times in Nauvoo. He tiptoed to the open window and peeked out. Their bedroom faced Ripley Street, and as he looked down, he could see a dark figure just sliding off his horse. There was a grunt of pain as the man got off the horse and hit the ground. He hobbled forward and started tying the reins to Nathan’s fence.
Behind him, Lydia sat up. “What is it, Nathan?”
He waved her to silence. “Who goes there?” he called down loudly.
The man jumped, then straightened, looking up at him. “Nathan? It’s me, Will.”
“Will?” And then in the soft moonlight he could see that Will was hunched over, holding one arm across his chest, and he moved slowly. “Will, what’s wrong?”
“Can you get Derek and Matthew? Bring them to Grandpa Steed’s.”
Nathan didn’t ask any more questions. He whirled around and went to the chair for his clothes.
“It’s Will?” Lydia said, up now and moving quickly as well.
“Yes. And it looks like he’s hurt.”
When they came into the main room of Benjamin and Mary Ann’s house, Lydia stopped and one hand flew to her mouth. Will sat at the table beside his grandmother, who had a wet cloth in her hand and was dabbing gingerly at his face. And what a face it was. His cheeks and jaw were a mottled mass of ugly bruises. One eye was nearly closed. Over it, a smear of blood pointed to a cut in his eyebrow. His lips were puffy and split in one place. “Oh, Will!” Lydia gasped. “What happened?”
The Work and the Glory Page 329
