As if the sluice in a dam had suddenly been pulled, the skies opened and the rain poured down, whipped into great sheets in front of them. In seconds they were soaked to the skin. Water poured from the roofs of nearby buildings. What had been thick dust just moments before was now a river of thick, gooey mud that stuck to their feet like binder’s glue. They were half running, half stumbling now, fighting the rain and mud, struggling against the tearing wind, raising their hands up to their eyes to keep the rain from blinding them.
Less than a minute later, the first of the white pellets came streaking out of the sky. Almost before they could comprehend what had happened, the sheets of water turned to curtains of hail. The ground danced as though it were suddenly alive, the pellets bouncing like popcorn kernels on a hot griddle. The roar of the wind and thunder was now joined by the steady rattle of hail. There was a blinding flash, followed almost instantly by a thunderous crack that nearly knocked them off their feet.
Jenny gasped and nearly tripped, but Matthew scooped her up and steadied her. He raised one arm to try and cover her head. “Carl’s brickyard is just ahead. We’ll go there.”
“Ow!” Alice cried, throwing her hands above her head. Matthew winced too as his arms were suddenly peppered with stinging blows. The hail was no longer just snow pellets but hard little ice balls, about the size of a pea. It was as though a thousand little devils were cracking tiny whips on the surface of their skin. Matthew looked up, trying to see how far they were. And then he saw the round dark shape off to their right. “There!” he cried, pointing. “We’re here! Take cover!”
“No!” cried Jenny. “We’ve got to get home. Kathryn will be—” Her words were cut off by a cry of pain. A larger hailstone struck her directly on the bridge of her nose. One hand flew up to grasp the spot. Tears of pain sprang to her eyes. When she withdrew her hand, her nose was bleeding from a shallow scratch.
“Run!” Matthew exclaimed, taking Alice by one hand and Jenny by the other. There was no protest on Jenny’s part now. It was as though the gods above had emptied their buckets of the pea-sized gravel and had gone to the next larger size. Hailstones the size of marbles were drumming around them now, cutting leaves from the trees above them, turning the puddles into violent, churning cauldrons. Already the ground was whitening with a layer of summer “snow.” Every blow stung sharply now, even through their clothing.
They ducked behind the shelter of the nearest brick kiln, but it provided only marginal protection. A few feet away was one of the drying sheds. The hail on the wood shingles sounded like the roar of a great waterfall. Matthew reached it in three great leaps, threw open the door, and dragged the two women inside.
They leaned over, gasping for breath, water streaming from their hair down into their faces. Alice’s bonnet hung around her neck like a child’s washrag. Jenny’s was gone completely. Matthew was standing at the door, staring out in dumbfounded amazement. “Look!” he commanded.
The women came to stand beside him. What he was looking at was hailstones the size of hen’s eggs. Now it was not the rattle of a hundred drummers on the roof but that of a thousand rifles blasting off all at once. Limbs were stripped from the trees and whipped away by the wind. Across the street, through the hail, a cornfield looked as though it were being shredded by invisible hands. Above the roar he heard the terrified neighing of a horse.
He moved forward a little, putting one hand above his head. “You stay here,” he said to Jenny. “Don’t leave until it stops.” But before he could move, there was a sharp crash behind them. They whirled to see one of the windows along the north end of the building shatter and spray glass along the floor. Crack! A second window exploded inward, followed by a large hailstone which bounced off the low counter and onto the floor.
“No, Matthew!” Jenny cried, turning back to grab his arm. “You can’t go out in this.”
Matthew started to pull away, then looked at the devastation being wreaked all around them. He stepped back, staring out at the storm. “What about Kathryn?” he asked.
Jenny just looked away, shaking her head.
“I’m scared, Kathryn,” Betsy Jo whined, burying her head against Kathryn’s shoulder. Outside, the storm was raging. The almost constant crash of thunder now was virtually drowned out by the roar of the hail on the roof.
Kathryn didn’t dare touch Betsy Jo with her hands. They were shaking so badly she was afraid it would frighten her all the more. “I know,” she said, “I know. It’s all right, Betsy Jo. It won’t hurt us. It’s just loud and noisy.”
She turned again to the trundle bed, steeling herself to reach down and pick up the baby, who was wide awake and starting to whimper. There was a sharp crack and then the sound of shattering glass. Betsy Jo screamed in terror. Kathryn jerked up so violently she nearly turned the wheelchair over. Instantly the curtains were dancing wildly and a blast of cold, wet air swept through the room. The baby started to shriek.
Kathryn threw her arms around her body, hugging herself fiercely to try and regain control. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she wanted to fall to the floor and roll under the bed. She forced herself to straighten. “It’s all right! It’s all right!” she stammered. She had to shout to make herself heard over the tremendous noise of the storm. “Help me get the baby up, Betsy Jo! Come on, help me!” She didn’t realize that she was sobbing, walking the very edge of hysteria herself.
But the sharpness of her voice was enough to pull Betsy Jo out of her own terror. She stepped up to the bed and together they leaned over and lifted the baby up and put her into Kathryn’s lap. It was almost more than Kathryn could do to hold little Emmeline on her lap, her body was shaking so badly.
Though it was still an hour or so from sunset, the house was as dark as though it were eventide. Suddenly, every room in the house was lit brightly by a terrible flash. Instantly there was a tremendous blast of sound and the house shook from rafter to root cellar. Betsy Jo dropped to her knees, screaming at the top of her little-girl lungs. Her face was contorted and twisted in sheer terror. But Kathryn couldn’t help her. She was clutching the baby, fighting her own blind panic, and it was taking every effort of will not to drop the baby and throw her hands over her eyes. “Help me, Jenny!” she cried, her voice sounding much like that of Betsy Jo’s. “Please, Jenny! Please!”
In the next room the front door crashed open. Kathryn started, thinking the wind had blown the door open. There was another blinding flash and she clamped her eyes shut tightly, fighting to stop from screaming out herself. One more paralyzing flash and she would be undone, leaving these two children to fend for themselves.
She opened her eyes again and gave a little cry. There in the doorway to her bedroom stood Peter. He was soaked to the skin, his shirt stuck to his chest as if it had been dipped in paste. His hair was wildly disheveled and dripping water. His boots looked twice their normal size, so plastered with mud were they. In three leaps he was across the room and dropping to his knees beside her. He put his arms around her. “It’s all right, Kathryn. I’m here. I’m here.”
She stared at him as though he were an apparition; then, with a racking sob, she threw one arm out to him. “Peter! Oh, Peter!”
“It’s all right. It’s all right,” he soothed. “I’m here now. Everything is all right.” He moved around the chair and scooped up Betsy Jo. “It’s me, little Betsy Boo! It’s Peter.”
Peter came to the house to read to Kathryn or just to visit two or three times a week now. He and Betsy Jo were the best of friends. At three now, she wouldn’t stand for the nickname she had been given as a child—except from Peter. With a look of pure joy, she threw her arms around his neck and thrust her face against his shoulder.
“Are you all right?” Peter asked, reaching out with one hand to lay it over Kathryn’s trembling arm.
“The window,” she started, pointing numbly, wanting to act as though there was at least some semblance of control still left in her.
“I know. The hai
l broke several windows at the printing office too. But it’s all right. I’m here now.”
And then for the first time, she really looked at him. There was a small cut just below his left eye. Another one on his forehead. A third lower on the opposite cheek. The blood had been half washed away, but a fresh trickle was starting down his cheek. And then she looked down and gasped. His arm looked as though he had thrust it into a rosebush. There were half a dozen cuts, all bleeding and mingling with the wetness of his arm.
“Peter, what happened?” And then her mouth opened wide as she answered her own question. “The hail?”
He nodded. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” he murmured. “It’s like running through a shower of rocks.”
Understanding slowly dawned. “You came for me?” she said in awe.
He nodded, then smiled, stroking Betsy Jo’s hair now, whispering softly into her ear. The great shudders of relief were lessening now and she was no longer crying. Finally he looked at Kathryn. “I saw Matthew this morning on his way to the temple. He told me Jenny was going to bring him supper. I was at the printing office and suddenly I wondered if you were alone.”
She jumped visibly again as another flash of lightning, followed by another thunderous crack, shook the house. He moved closer to her, pulling Betsy Jo with him. Smiling, he put one arm around her, putting his body against her leg so as to help brace the baby too. “It’s all right, Kathryn,” he said. “I’m here.”
She closed her eyes, her body sagging back against the seat. “Yes,” she murmured softly. “Yes.”
“I can’t believe it,” Will said, shaking his head. “Pa and I must have seen thirty or forty windows broken out, and that was just coming here from the northern landing.”
“The boat captain nearly ran aground,” Joshua said with a nod. “For a while there, we couldn’t see ten yards ahead of us. The river looked like it was boiling.”
“I believe it,” Matthew said. “For a time there, I could barely see the ground.”
They all nodded, each remembering with a trace of horror the storm that had swept over them just a couple of hours before. They sat in Matthew and Jenny’s main room, filling every chair and bench. Though it was smaller than the other houses, by common consent everyone came here because they knew that with the heavy mud and the street littered with debris it would be hard for Kathryn to maneuver her wheelchair. They gathered naturally, without any specific call to do so. They were here to discuss the damage and make plans for correcting it. To their great surprise and relief, they had barely gathered, when Joshua and Will had arrived, returning from their trip to Galena a day earlier than expected.
And so began the reports of the damage. Every house had windows shattered and shingles gone. Carl had lost a whole run of bricks when several inches of water flooded one of his drying sheds. Derek’s cornfield was little more than a forest of stubs and shredded stalks. His watermelons and cantaloupe looked like they had been blasted with buckshot. At the dry goods store, the two north-facing windows had both been blown in, and a room full of barley and wheat had been flooded. A cabinet, finished except for receiving its stain and varnish and which had taken Matthew over a month to construct, was sitting directly under one of the windows at the cabinet shop that had been blown out. It was now sodden and terribly warped.
“Let’s just hope the rain has stopped for now,” Derek spoke up. “We need some time to get those roofs patched up again before more comes.”
Joshua grimaced. “I’ll bet there is damage at the freight yard. I just hope the men had sense enough to get the stock in.”
“They did,” Peter spoke up. “I walked down there just before dark to check on things.”
“You did?” Joshua asked in surprise.
“Yes. The stock was all inside the stables and the men said your warehouse lost a few shingles, but that’s all. You don’t have windows, so nothing seems to have been flooded.”
“Well, thank you, Peter,” Joshua said, completely surprised by that. Kathryn too was giving him a strange look.
Matthew was looking at Peter oddly as well. “You had a busy night tonight, didn’t you?”
He shrugged and looked away.
Joshua reached out and took Caroline’s hand. “I was going to go check on things later tonight, but I’ll take Peter’s word on it that everything’s all right.”
“What about the rafts of lumber?” Nathan asked. “Will they be all right?”
“I think so,” Joshua answered. “They’re probably a day, maybe a day and a half behind us. The storm may have missed them completely.”
“Normally,” Will added, “they tie up on shore if a storm is coming. I think they’ll be all right.”
“And are you taking the lumber on down to St. Louis?” Alice asked. She spoke to Joshua, but it was Will who was getting the sidelong glances.
Will smiled. “Pa thinks we can sell off about a third of it here. Frenchie will take the rest on down to your father.”
“So you won’t be going?” Alice blurted. There was no mistaking the open pleasure in her voice, and several smiled, including Joshua.
Will shook his head firmly. “Nope. I’m here to stay for a time.”
“Frenchie?” Nathan broke in. “So Jean Claude is still your foreman up there?”
“Aye,” Joshua said, “and there’s not a better man in all the pineries either.”
“Yes,” Nathan said softly. “He’s a good man.”
Will turned to Alice. “It was Jean Claude and Nathan who pulled me from the river up there. They saved my life.”
Caroline shuddered slightly. “Please, don’t talk about that. I had nightmares for months after I learned what happened. I can’t bear to think about it.”
“Is he still a Mormon?” Lydia asked.
Joshua pulled a face. “Frenchie? Yes, and converting half the camp as well.” But it was said without rancor.
“Really?” Nathan exclaimed with open pleasure.
Will laughed at his father. “He’s converted four others. That’s hardly half the camp.” Still smiling, Will went on. “In truth, he could convert the whole territory of Wisconsin and baptize them Mormons, and Pa wouldn’t do much. He’s too valuable. If he loses Jean Claude, he’ll have to go up there himself again.”
“Perhaps we ought to send your father back up with Jean Claude, Will,” Kathryn said with a straight face. “Maybe the Frenchman could get him baptized as well.”
For a moment everyone looked startled, none less than Joshua, then several laughed. Joshua turned and gave the girl in the wheelchair a fierce look. She smiled coyly at him. Of all the family, only Kathryn dared tease Joshua about the Church.
Jenny was delighted with her sister’s boldness and clapped her hands. “I say we take a vote. How many want to send Joshua up to Wisconsin for the winter so he can find religion?”
Every hand shot up, including Caroline’s. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Joshua turned to Alice. “My greatest fear is that one of these nights a member of the family is going to creep into my bedroom, knock me over the head with a truncheon, and drag me down to the river. I’ll be baptized and a holder of the priesthood before I even wake up.”
There was a moment of stunned astonishment. Joshua was joking about being baptized?
To everyone’s further amazement, Carl jumped in too. “I lock my door and post a watch every night, just in case,” he suggested evenly to Joshua. For one long moment, there was shocked silence as everyone stared at Carl and Joshua. Then Carl grinned shyly and the room exploded with laughter. Carl too? That was a healthy sign. Even Melissa was laughing.
“Actually, Joshua locks our door too,” Caroline said mischievously, “but if you let me know when you’re coming, I’ll see that it’s open.” That really brought a roar from the family as Joshua yelped in protest.
Alice waited for things to subside, and then tentatively spoke up, looking at Will as she did so. “Well, if someone will just knock on my door, they w
on’t have to drag me at all.”
For a moment Will’s expression was that of disbelief; then he lit up as though a lamp had just been turned onto his face. “Are you saying that . . .” He reared back a little, not daring to believe.
She nodded.
“What?” Joshua asked suspiciously. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’ve made up my mind. I am going to be baptized.”
The room went totally silent. This was no longer just speaking in jest, and Joshua’s face had lost all humor now. He repeated his question. “What are you saying, Alice?”
Alice had not said what she did on mere impulse. She had been waiting for the right moment, and she guessed what the reaction from Will’s father would be. She was ready for his question. “I came up here to find out for myself, Mr. Steed.” Her head was up and her eyes steady. She did not flinch from his perturbed glare. “And don’t be thinking your family has pushed me into it. This is my decision, and my decision alone.”
Will was out of his chair, standing before her, staring down at her in wonder. “You mean it?” he blurted. “You really want to be baptized?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Your father will be livid,” Joshua said, shaking his head. “You just can’t come up here alone and make a decision like that. You have to talk to your father.”
“I have talked with my father. I am quite clear on where he stands.”
He whirled on Caroline. “I could have guessed.”
Again to everyone’s surprise, Carl spoke up. “Actually, it was not Caroline’s doing, Joshua. Of all of us, she has been the most circumspect in not trying to sway Alice’s feelings.”
“You too?” Joshua cried, feeling betrayed. “You support this too, Carl?”
“No, I don’t,” he answered evenly. “As a matter of fact, Melissa and I tried to convince her that she should not be baptized. If anyone’s been preaching at her, trying to change her mind, it’s been us.” He smiled at Alice warmly. “Obviously we failed. But it really is her decision, Joshua. Not yours. Not her father’s.”
The Work and the Glory Page 366
