The Work and the Glory

by Gerald N. Lund

  Joshua looked around, not sure what Will was looking at. “No. Why?”

  “This is pier number seventeen.”

  “So?”

  “That sign there was the only thing I could see from the coal bin they locked me in,” he said softly. “Pier number seventeen.”

  “Coal bin? Locked you—” And then understanding came. It had been here in St. Louis that Will had been kidnapped and sold to a riverboat captain, who then took him to New Orleans and sold him off to a packet ship captain. He slowly nodded.

  “It was not a wonderful time, Pa. I thought you were dead. I had stolen money from Mama in Savannah, then run away, with her not knowing where I was. I had a broken wrist. I had just seen two men gunned down and killed because of my stupidity.” He laughed in soft self-mockery. “I was fourteen and I was going to solve everything.”

  “You were trying to make things right, Will.”

  “I was a fool, Pa. Why I’m not dead, I don’t know. I was very nearly killed.”

  “I know.”

  “After Charlie dragged me down here and sold me to the boat captain, they locked me in the coal bin. The only light I had was from one small crack in the outside wall. In the morning, before we left St. Louis, I peeked out of that crack. The only thing I could see was that sign there. Pier number seventeen.” He looked at his father now. “It wasn’t much, but it was all I had. I knew I was still in St. Louis, and for a few hours it gave me hope.”

  Joshua said nothing. Will had told him about that terrible time when he had come back to Missouri seeking to avenge what he thought was his father’s death, but he had never before shared these details.

  “You know what, Pa? For a long time, especially after I was sold to that sea captain, I was terribly bitter. Life had dealt with me in some pretty awful ways. I fought back. I tried to run away. Nothing worked. It only made things worse for me.”

  “I can’t believe that you came through it as well as you did.”

  “Do you know why I did?”

  “No.”

  “Because one day I realized that reality was reality. I was on a sailing ship in the Caribbean. My family thought I was dead. There was no way to escape. Whether I liked it or not, that was reality. When I finally realized that, and accepted it, that’s when things began to turn around.”

  “Hmm.” Joshua was looking at his son with new respect and admiration, starting now to understand what he had been saying previously.

  “It’s pier seventeen all over again, Pa. Walter can either accept reality and make the best of it, or he can not accept reality and make the worst of it. That’s what he needs to see, Pa. That’s what you need to help him understand. That’s why I said that I’m not trying to plead my cause, or Alice’s cause. It’s his cause. It is the best for him and for his wife.”

  Joshua gave his son a long, appraising look, then slowly nodded. He had not fully believed it until now, but now he saw it clearly. And Will was right. That didn’t mean he agreed with him, but he could see he was right.

  Will had a sudden thought. “Pa, suppose this were a business venture and not a family matter. Then what would you say to him?”

  Joshua leaned back, remembering that first day in Savannah when he had stepped off the boat and been greeted by a cocky, swaggering twelve-year-old who offered guide services to the city. He shook his head. What a pivotal meeting that had turned out to be! He came back to the present. “A business deal? I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Suppose you and Walter were talking about a business deal here and not a family matter. Let’s say that you have a failing business. You don’t like it; in fact, you desperately do not want it to fail. But you have tried everything. Nothing works. The reality is, it’s going to fail. What would you tell him to do?”

  Joshua’s mouth opened and then shut again as he thought about that. It took him only a second or two to know the answer. “I would tell him to cut his losses.”

  “Meaning?”

  “If you really can’t turn it around, then throwing more money at it is not the answer. So you cut your losses. You get out before you lose any more. You stop throwing good money after bad.”

  “In other words,” Will said softly, “once you accept reality, you try to make the best of it.”

  “Yes.” Joshua sighed. “It’s very hard, though. Especially if you have a huge investment in it. It’s hard to finally say, there’s nothing more we can do.”

  “That’s Walter’s problem, Pa. I know he and Judith have a huge investment in Alice, but they’re going to throw it all away if they’re not careful. Somehow, he’s got to see that.”

  For a long time, Joshua was silent.

  “You don’t know this,” Will said, bringing him back to the present, “but I come down here almost every time we are in St. Louis.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. It reminds me of some important things about life, about myself. And I always end up saying a prayer before I leave, thanking my Heavenly Father for taking a foolish, immature fourteen-year-old and watching over him until he could grow up a little.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me all this?”

  “It wasn’t the right time.”

  “And now it is?”

  Will nodded slowly. “I hope so.”

  Joshua stood up. He stared across the river to the Illinois side, thinking paradoxically of Nauvoo and home. He was filled with a sudden longing to be there, to talk to Caroline about the remarkable young man she had raised. Will got to his feet and came to stand beside him.

  “I don’t think right now is a good time,” Joshua said.

  “A good time for what?”

  “For trying to talk to Walter.”

  Will smiled sadly. “Probably not.”

  “But we will tonight.”

  “We?” Will said in surprise. “I don’t think that is a good idea. Really.”

  After a pause, Joshua’s head bobbed up and down once. “Perhaps you’re right.” He took a breath. “All right, Will. I’m not making any promises, but I’ll talk to him. To them. I think Judith needs to hear this too.”

  “I agree. Thank you, Father.”

  They started back up the wharf, toward the street. As they stepped over the chain, Joshua turned and looked back. “How big was the coal bin?” he asked.

  Surprised, Will thought for a moment. “Oh, maybe five feet by ten feet. Why?”

  “I was just wondering. Normally, the best schoolrooms are larger than that.”

  Alice turned over and sat up the moment the door opened. The light from the hallway put the figure in her doorway in shadow, but she recognized the bulky outline of her father immediately. “Papa?”

  “Are you still awake?”

  “Yes.”

  He came in, walking slowly. For a moment he stood over her, looking down at her, his face still in shadows and unreadable. She slid over and patted the bed. He hesitated, and then sat down beside her.

  “What is it, Papa?”

  He looked away, and now the light from the open doorway fell on the profile of his face and she could partially see his forlorn expression. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she wasn’t sure it was what he needed right now. So she waited.

  “What did you and Will do tonight?” he asked.

  “We went for a walk down by the river.”

  “To pier seventeen?”

  Alice started a little. “Yes. How did you know?”

  “A wild guess,” he said dryly. “Had he ever taken you there before?”

  “Yes, but he never told me why before.”

  “Oh.” There was a long silence, and then, “Is he right?”

  She didn’t have to ask what he meant. She knew full well the emotion behind that question. She took a deep breath. “Yes, Papa.”

  “Is there nothing your mother and I can do to change your mind?”

  She hesitated, wanting so badly to say what had to be said, but also wanting to say it in the right way. �
��Can I ask you a question before I answer?”

  “Of course.”

  “Grandpa Wilson was not happy when you asked him for Mama’s hand, was he?”

  He turned and she could see his frown. “That’s not fair, Alice.”

  She laughed softly. “I’ve been holding this argument back for just the right time.”

  “I expected you would have used it before now.” He sighed. “But no, he wasn’t happy.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he was this big wealthy plantation owner, and I was the son of a cotton factor. A very successful cotton factor, but a cotton factor nevertheless. But”—he raised a finger and shook it at her with some vigor—“although he wasn’t happy, he did not forbid it.”

  “And if he had?”

  He sighed again. “I don’t know what your mother would have done.”

  “I would have gone with you to St. Louis.”

  They both turned as Judith Samuelson stepped into the room. She came over and sat down beside her husband.

  “You would?” he said in wonder.

  “I would have gone with you anywhere,” she smiled. “You were so bold, so impetuous, so determined to go on your own and make a fortune. Yes, anywhere.”

  Walter reached out and took her hand and squeezed it. Then Judith turned to Alice and her face was stern now. “But I was not talking about going off after some wild religion, abandoning everything I believed in.”

  Alice’s first impulse was to cry out against that. She was not abandoning what she believed in. Instead, for the first time, she felt that the things she believed in had taken on a more complete meaning now. But instead she turned to her father. “Is Will so horrible as all that, Papa?”

  “Well, no . . . you know how we feel about Will. It’s just this Mormon thing.”

  “Mama has never met any of the rest of the Steeds, but you have, Papa. Are they such horrible people?”

  “Well, no, but . . .”

  “No buts, Papa. Are they or aren’t they?”

  “No,” he finally admitted. “They are fine folk.”

  She said nothing more.

  “So,” her father asked, “back to the original question. Is there nothing Mother and I can do to change your mind?”

  She looked at both of them and tears welled up. If only they knew how dearly she loved them! But she slowly shook her head.

  “What if we say yes to the marriage?” her mother asked. “Would you consider waiting for a time to become a Mormon?”

  She started to shake her head again, but her mother went on quickly. “If once you’re married you still feel like this is what you must do, then . . .” She looked away. “We’ll say nothing more.”

  “Mother, I know you think I am joining the Church only because of Will, but it’s so much more than—”

  Her father cut in quickly. “It’s easy to fool yourself, Alice. What’s wrong with Mother’s suggestion? Once you’re married, if you still feel the same, then we’ll not say anything more.”

  Alice leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her knees. Was that a reasonable compromise? Here they were offering reconciliation, and her spirit was soaring with that prospect. She wouldn’t have to lose them. There wouldn’t be this terrible, final severance. Could she bend a little? Would Will be disappointed in her? The questions tumbled over and over in her mind. And then she saw her father’s eyes, the hope and pleading in them, and she knew what it meant for him to have bent this far.

  Finally she looked up. “All right, Papa. I’ll do this. You think it was just my being up in Nauvoo, under the influence of his family. But you’re wrong. I’ll not be baptized right now. If we wait for Will’s grandparents to return from Nashville, it will be late October, or even the first of November, before we can be married. I’ll wait until then. You can do everything in your power to try and convince me I am wrong. But if you haven’t been able to change my mind by then, I will be baptized before I marry Will. Is that fair enough?”

  Her father drew in his breath, but his wife quickly laid a hand on his arm. “That’s a compromise, Walter.”

  Finally he sighed. “All right, but you must promise to listen to what we have to say. I’d also like you to talk to the parson.”

  Alice nodded quickly, for the first time her hopes rising that there might be a way out of this terrible impasse.

  “Now, there’s one more thing.”

  Her heart dropped. “What, Papa?”

  “I know that a woman needs to go with her husband, wherever that may be.”

  She felt a sudden tug of anxiety. “Yes, Papa?”

  “I know that Will wants to take you back to Nauvoo.” He almost said, “And then he wants to take you to the Rocky Mountains with the rest of the Mormons,” but he resisted it, as much for Judith’s sake as for Alice’s. He took a quick breath. “You know that I’ve wanted Will to come here and work with me in the business.”

  Her eyes were downcast. “Yes, Papa.”

  “It’s not like that is such a terrible thing, is it? He’ll be handsomely paid. Then your mama will have you close for a time.”

  “I don’t know if I can ask that of him, Papa.”

  “I’m not asking for a permanent commitment. But will you give it a chance just until spring? Then if he still wants to go back to his family, we’ll not stand in your way.”

  She searched his face. Is this why he was such a successful businessman? He knew when to compromise, but only enough to win, not enough to make serious concessions. The hope in Alice had died. Will had no interest in running her father’s businesses. He had no desire to stay in St. Louis. On the other hand, it would be nice for her. The thoughts of leaving her family had weighed on her heavily.

  “Will you at least talk to him about it?” her mother asked. “Please, Alice? Just until spring?”

  Finally she nodded, not meeting their gaze. “I’ll talk to him in the morning.”

  “Good.” Her father stood, then bent down and kissed her on the top of her head. “If he will agree to that, there’ll be no more opposition from us.”

  “All right, Papa. I’ll talk to him.”

  He straightened and snapped his fingers. “I have an idea.” He swung around to his wife. “It’s not fair to ask Will to be married here without all of his family. Yet if we go to Nauvoo, our family and friends will miss it.” He reached down, put a finger under his wife’s chin, and lifted her head. “We’ll bring the whole Steed family down here.”

  Both mother and daughter gaped at him, dumbfounded.

  “Yes,” he rushed on. “I’ll charter a boat. We’ll have the wedding here, but we’ll bring the whole family. Everyone! That way you can be married with Kathryn and Peter. Their family will not miss anything. And Mother will get her wish to see her daughter married properly.”

  Alice was spinning a little. “Are you sure, Papa?”

  “Yes, yes!” He started to pace, his mind racing. “That’s the answer.”

  “I’ll bet you Joshua would want to help with the cost,” Judith suggested.

  “And I’ll let him,” Walter growled. “After all, he’s the one who convinced me to give in to all of this.” He turned to Alice. “What do you think?”

  She was still half-dazed. “I . . . If Will thinks it’s okay, then that would be wonderful.”

  “We’ll ask him first thing in the morning.”

  As Walter Samuelson undressed and prepared for bed, Judith watched him in the mirror. She was brushing out her hair with long, even strokes, but her eyes were on him. He turned, saw that she was watching him, and stopped. “What?”

  “I thought you were going to talk to her about going west.”

  There was a quick shake of his head. “I thought about it.”

  “Walter, I can’t bear the thoughts of her going that far away, into a trackless wilderness. I can’t!”

  “I know.” He came over to stand behind her, and put his hands on her shoulders. “It will be all right.”

&nb
sp; “How can you say that?” she cried. “Even Joshua says there is little doubt now about the Mormons leaving Illinois.”

  “Undoubtedly they will,” he agreed. “But that’s not the point.”

  “What is the point?”

  “I’m fifty-four now, Judith. I’m getting tired. There are things I’d like to do, new places I’d like to see.”

  She turned around to stare up at him. “What are you saying?”

  “I think it’s time to think about retiring, Judith.”

  She was flabbergasted. “Retiring?”

  “Yes.” A slow smile stole over his face. “I’m going to use these next few months to let Will start taking over. Eventually—let’s say two or three years—he’ll have it all. We’ll have the income to do whatever we want, and he will become a very wealthy and successful young man.”

  “I . . .” She shook her head. He had not said one word about any of this to her before.

  “I don’t want him knowing my plans right now, Mother, but give me six months and I’ll convince him that he can be a millionaire by the time he is thirty.” There was a soft laugh and he squeezed her shoulders lightly. “Once he understands that, I don’t think we need to be worrying about him taking Alice anywhere. Do you?”

  For a long time Will was silent. He stared out the window across the city, his brow furrowed. Finally, without turning to her, he asked, “What do you think, Alice?”

  “I think I want to be with you. If that is here, that would be wonderful in a way. If it is in Nauvoo, that would be wonderful in another way.”

  “And what if it is somewhere in the West?”

  “So you believe it too,” she said, not with any bitterness, but with just a touch of sadness.

  “Believe what?”

  “That the only reason I’m joining the Church is because of you.”

  He was instantly sorry. “No, Alice. I don’t. Of all people, I know what you’ve gone through. I’m sorry if I sounded like I feel that way.”

  “Then isn’t that answer enough? If I am going to be a Latter-day Saint, and if Brigham Young says the Saints are to gather in the West somewhere, then I want to be with the Saints. I would feel that way even if we weren’t getting married.”

  He moved closer to her, brushing his shoulder against hers. “How come all those times I was here, I thought you were just a good friend? How come I never thought of you as someone I would come to love?”