The Work and the Glory

by Gerald N. Lund

  “Do I look like I could be sixteen? The other day Papa told Mama that it made him sad because I look like I’m sixteen.”

  “Why would that make him sad?”

  There was a sigh, evidence of great suffering. “Because he doesn’t want me to grow up, I suppose.” Her lower lip jutted out slightly. “You’re not going to answer me, are you?”

  Sitting up, Rachel laughed. “No, Emily, I don’t think you look like you’re sixteen. Fifteen and a half maybe, but not sixteen.”

  “Really?” Emily asked eagerly, turning back to survey herself again.

  “Really,” Rachel assured her. Though Rachel felt quite the inferior to Emily when it came to physical attractiveness, there was no strain between the two cousins because of it. First of all, while Emily was keenly aware of her beauty and enjoyed the effect that it had on young men, Nathan and Lydia had gone to some lengths to stress that beauty was a gift from God and therefore not a basis for pride or conceit. Emily not only accepted that idea, she believed it. She had never once acted as though she saw herself as superior to Rachel in any way.

  In reality—and this would have shocked Rachel greatly if she knew it—Emily carried a bit of envy for Rachel. Rachel was beloved by everyone in the family and by all who knew her. Taller than Emily by almost two inches—one of the primary reasons for the envy—Rachel had a quiet loveliness of her own that made her stand out from other young women. Her hair, medium brown and never cut, hung almost to her waist and glowed in the light like aged honey. Near the end, it curled naturally into gentle ringlets. Her skin was as smooth as expensive porcelain, setting off the large blue eyes. These were darker than one might expect, like the deep blue of lake water on a summer day. And where Emily was vivacious, full of life, impetuous, and daring, Rachel was more reflective, slower to judge, more mature in her outlook. Those differences, and the mutual envy and respect they held for each other, made them closer than many sisters and the best of friends.

  Emily turned back around. “Well, are you ready?”

  Rachel didn’t move. “Are you sure we’ve been invited?”

  “Of course,” Emily said airily. “Vilate and Helen Mar asked me just this afternoon.”

  “But—”

  “They specifically asked me to be sure and bring you.” She reached out and took Rachel’s hands and pulled her up. “I swear.”

  Rachel’s shoulders lifted and fell. The thoughts of this evening excited and frightened her at the same time. These weren’t just any girls they were going to be with. Vilate Young was the daughter of President Young. Helen Mar Kimball was the daughter of Heber C. Kimball, the chief Apostle behind President Young. Others would also be children of prominent Church leaders. She managed a smile. “Is Joshua coming?”

  Emily frowned. “No. He has guard duty tonight. He wanted to.” There was suddenly a mischievous grin. “Mary Beth Sanders is going to be very disappointed.”

  Rachel considered that for a moment, then squared her shoulders, as though steeling herself to face something difficult. “All right,” she sighed.

  Emily laughed. “It will be fun, you watch,” she said. Then on impulse, she threw her arms around her cousin. “I know this isn’t a happy time for our people, Rachel, but I’m so glad your family has come to live in Nauvoo now. When you were in Ramus, I missed you so.”

  At that, Rachel could nod without reservation. She enjoyed Ramus, particularly the role she had in helping her mother with the school. And her mother’s marriage to Solomon Garrett had proven to be a wonderful blessing for all of them. But Nauvoo was so alive compared to those small outlying settlements. And then to have the family too—she was glad they would spend their last months here and not out there.

  “I just love Uncle Solomon,” Emily said, as if sensing her thoughts. “He has made your mother so happy.”

  “Yes,” Rachel said softly. “And us too. He is very good to us.” Her chin dropped slightly and her cheeks colored momentarily. “He is going to legally adopt us before we leave in the spring.”

  Emily clapped her hands. “Really? That’s wonderful, Rachel!”

  “Yes.”

  Stepping back, Emily was suddenly sober. “So now it will be Rachel Garrett.”

  “Yes.”

  “And when you’re married, just think of it. You’ll have four last names. First you were a Steed, and then a Griffith. Now you will be a Garrett.” She paused for a moment, impishness in her eyes. “And someday, you’ll be Mrs. Barnett.”

  Rachel’s cheeks went instantly crimson and Emily laughed aloud. On a visit to Nauvoo some months before, Solomon Garrett had stopped at the Browning gunsmith shop to have a pistol fixed. Afterwards, chortling triumphantly, and to Rachel’s complete mortification, Mark and Luke had told everyone that one of the boys working in the shop had talked with Rachel the whole time, inquiring after her name and seeming quite disappointed when he learned she was not from Nauvoo.

  “What shall we call you then?” Emily mused, thoroughly enjoying Rachel’s discomfiture. She struck an exaggerated pose. “Good morning,” she said in a deep voice, “and how are you, Sister Rachel Steed Griffith Garrett Barnett?”

  Rachel slapped at her playfully. And then, face flaming, she added shyly, “Sister Barnett will be just fine.”

  Emily rocked back a little, shocked by such candor. “Rachel Garrett!” she exclaimed.

  “Come on,” Rachel said, pleased to have taken Emily by surprise for once, “we’d better go.”

  As they started out the door, Emily got suddenly very serious. “Do you ever think of Uncle Joshua as your natural father anymore, Rachel?”

  Rachel was startled. “No, not really.”

  “He tries not to show it, but you can tell he treats you differently than the other cousins.”

  “I don’t think so. I never really knew him as my father, you know. I was very small when . . . when Mother left him.”

  “I know.”

  “Mother never tried to hide it from me, but she told me once that it would be easier for her, easier for Joshua, and easier for me if we just forgot the past and let things take a different course now. So to me, he’s just Uncle Joshua.”

  “Mama says it was Joshua who sent Solomon to see Aunt Jessica’s school. He was hoping they might fall in love.”

  “I know. My mother says that too.”

  “It is so romantic,” Emily said dreamily. “I wish I had all those wonderful things in my life.” She twirled around, her eyes half-closed. “Emily Steed”—she fluttered her eyelids—“Eberhardt.”

  Rachel just laughed. “Oh, Emily, you’re so silly. Now, come on, let’s go or we’ll be late. And Charles Eberhardt won’t like that one little bit.”

  As they came down the stairs, Nathan and Lydia were in the sitting room with two of their other children. Lydia looked up, then stood immediately. She went to the two girls and gave them an appraising look. “You both look lovely,” she said.

  Nathan was grinning. “Rachel, try to keep a rein on Emily for us, will you?”

  “Ah!” Emily grunted in dismay. “I think it should be the other way around. You should have heard what your niece just said.”

  “What?”

  Horrified, Rachel gave her a sharp look. Emily just laughed and shook her head. “Maybe later, Papa.” She moved in and kissed him on the cheek, then bent down to two-year-old little Joseph, who was sitting at his father’s feet, playing with some wooden blocks. “Bye, Joseph. Will you give Emmy a kiss?”

  He dropped the blocks, stood, and gave her a resounding hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Elizabeth Mary, a precocious seven now, was reading a book. She smiled at her sister. “Bye, Emmy.”

  “Bye, Elizabeth Mary.” She looked around. “Where’s Josiah?”

  “Sleeping over at Christopher and young Benjamin’s house,” Lydia answered. She gave Emily one last hug. “You two have fun, now.”

  “We will, Mama.”

  As they left a moment later, Nathan looked to his w
ife. “Well, they seem excited enough.”

  “But of course,” Lydia said wisely. “Don’t you know what this is all about?”

  “A get-together with some of the girls?”

  “Yes,” she said, smiling. “At the Young house.”

  “I thought they were going to be outside. The weather’s nice enough.”

  Lydia gave him a patient look. “It will be outside. Don’t you know which men stand guard outside the home of Brigham Young?”

  Now Nathan’s head came up. “John Kay,” he said slowly.

  “And Howard Egan,” she added.

  “I see,” he said, understanding finally dawning. “So that’s it?”

  “The young people love both of those men. Howard is a great one for telling stories. He’ll have the whole circle of them laughing until their sides hurt.”

  “And Kay—isn’t he the one who sings?”

  “Yes. He has a wonderful baritone voice. They all love to hear him.” Now she laughed merrily. “In fact, I taught him a song the other day when he came in the store.”

  Nathan turned and gave her a quizzical look. “You did? Which one?”

  “‘Barbara Allen.’”

  “Ah!” It came out in a soft expression of surprise and pleasure.

  “I think he’ll sing it to them tonight.”

  “But John Kay and Howard Egan are married.”

  She shook her head patiently. “Howard and John only provide the excuse for the young people to get together. It’s being together that they like.” She turned away from him to look out the window. The sound of girls laughing came in softly through the glass. “The one Emily is all agog over is Charles Eberhardt. She’s a young woman now, Nathan. There are some girls in the city who are getting married at fourteen, you know.”

  He snorted in disgust. “Not with the encouragement of the Church leaders.”

  “Oh, I know, and I don’t want Emily to be thinking about it for two or three years yet, but it’s good for them to be out among the young people. And Rachel too. Did you see how radiant she looked?”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “She has become a beautiful young woman.”

  She laughed softly. “The other night when they were all together, Heber’s boy William hitched up a wagon. They all climbed aboard and then persuaded John Kay to take them for a ride in the moonlight.”

  There was a noticeable frown. “While he was on guard duty?”

  “Oh, it was all right,” Lydia said with a touch of reproach for his stuffiness. “Emily said that all they did was go around the block over and over so that each time they would pass Brigham’s gate, John could see that all was in order.”

  “I see.”

  “They had so much fun. That’s why Emily wanted to take Rachel tonight.”

  Nathan did not miss the irony. The enemies of the Church had succeeded in having the Nauvoo Charter revoked. Others would gladly take advantage of that loss and try to plunder the Saints. And so John Kay and Howard Egan provided entertainment while they stood guard duty, and the young people came to gather around them. His own son, now fourteen and a half, was somewhere else in the city. Would there be young people coming to spend time with him as well? It was sad in a way, and yet it was somehow encouraging at the same time.

  He stood now and went over to stand beside his wife, who was looking out the window again. “They are not burdened down with the same concerns that us old folks have, are they?” he said.

  “No, and I’m glad.”

  He nodded and slipped his arms around her. “Me too.” After a moment, he turned her around to face him. “Will you sing for me?”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Here? Now?”

  “Yes.”

  She looked at her two children playing in the room around them. “Not here,” she said, embarrassed.

  “Why not? I would like my children to know what it was that made their father fall in love.” He kissed her. “I’d like them to know how he saw this beautiful slip of a young girl, dancing among the apple blossoms one spring, singing the beautiful ‘Barbara Allen.’”

  She laid her head against his shoulder. “That was just day before yesterday, wasn’t it?” she murmured, with just a tinge of sadness.

  He buried his face in her hair, kissing the top of her head. “I was thinking it was just this morning.” And then he added softly, “I shall have that picture in my mind for as long as I live. Thank you for these fifteen years, Lydia McBride. Thank you for having that farmer’s boy who was such a dunce.”

  She looked up at him and put her arms around his neck. “You know what makes me feel bad?”

  “What?”

  “That you knew before I did.”

  “Knew what?”

  “How much we were going to love each other.” She went up on her toes and gave him a long, lingering kiss. Elizabeth Mary, who had been watching the two of them out of the corner of her eye, started to giggle. “Look, Joseph! Mama’s kissing Papa!”

  They clapped their hands and squealed with joy, but neither Lydia nor Nathan seemed to hear them.

  Joshua looked up as Caroline opened the door of the freight office and stepped inside. There was a brief draft of cold air and the papers on his desk stirred a little. Before he could even say hello, she held up an envelope in her gloved hand. “This just arrived at the post office.”

  “From Will and Alice?”

  She shook her head. “No, from Walter Samuelson.”

  He pushed the accounts book aside and stood. “I’m surprised we haven’t heard before this. It’s been almost three weeks since they left here.”

  He walked around the desk and she held out the envelope for him. “Did you read it?” he asked.

  “No. It is addressed only to you.”

  Frowning, he looked at the address. The handwriting was firm and bold and unmistakably that of his business partner. Turning it over, he slipped a finger under the flap and tore it open. He took out the paper. Caroline saw that it was only one sheet and had only a few lines of writing. Joshua read it, grunted, then handed it over to her.

  It was dated November sixth, five days before.

  Joshua—

  Imperative we meet. Will be at Riverside Hotel in Quincy on nights of November 13, 14, 15.

  Samuelson

  Caroline handed it back to Joshua. “I suppose he wants to discuss the situation with Will and Alice, don’t you?”

  “Hardly. You read Will’s letter.”

  “Yes,” she murmured. The heartrending letter written by Will had come about ten days after they left Nauvoo. It was posted just before he and Alice caught a steamer for Cairo, where they would then try to transfer to a boat going up the Ohio River. The meeting with Alice’s parents had been even uglier than they feared, Will explained. Judith Samuelson had gasped when Will told them that Alice had been baptized. Walter had gone a deep, mottled red. But when they then told them that they had also been married, that they were even then on their way to New York to catch a ship that would sail to California around the tip of South America, Judith Samuelson had fainted and gone into a state of shock. She was still in her bed at the time Will had written.

  Samuelson’s rage had been staggering. Deadly grim, he had driven them from his home that very night, refusing to let them stay under his roof after such a betrayal. They had finally found a seedy hotel down on the riverfront. The next morning a curt note arrived. It was a simple but unmistakable ultimatum. If Alice so chose, her father would find a lawyer and bring him round to have the marriage annulled immediately. Will Steed would be sent packing, to New York or back to Nauvoo, it mattered not to them. Otherwise, that same lawyer would redraw the family will. There would be no inheritance in the future and no help of any kind in the meantime, no matter how desperate Alice’s condition might become. The family would be instructed under pain of losing their own inheritance to make no further contact of any kind with her. For all intents and purposes, it would be as though she had died.

  Will had
expected no less, but the savagery of the rejection shook him deeply. Alice was shattered, but held firm. Two days later they left St. Louis on the Carl Henry, bound for Cairo. They left without either of them seeing Alice’s parents or any other family members again.

  Joshua turned and tossed the letter onto the stack of papers, bringing Caroline back to the present. “Let me see who’s free to drive me down to Quincy; then I’ll come home with you and pack some things.”

  “Could you tell me which room Mr. Samuelson is in?”

  The clerk looked up from the register. “He’s in room fourteen, Mr. Steed. But I saw him in the dining room about a quarter of an—” He looked past Joshua. “Oh, here he is now.”

  Joshua turned. Walter Samuelson was coming across the small lobby of the hotel. “Hello, Walter.”

  “Joshua.” The greeting was icy and detached. “I saw you come in.”

  “We just arrived,” he said smiling, forcing joviality. “What’s for supper?”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like us to speak together first. In my room.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned to the clerk. “Will you see that Mr. Steed’s bag is put in his room?”

  “Of course.” The man handed Joshua a key. “You’ll be in room six.”

  “Thank you. My driver is putting the carriage away at the livery stable. When he comes in, will you tell him to go ahead and have supper without me?”

  The clerk glanced at the register again. “That’s Mr. Warren?”

  “Yes.”

  “I will. He’ll be in room seven, which is adjacent to yours.”

  “Thank you.”

  Samuelson was already walking to the stairs, his gait measured, his back stiff. Joshua pocketed the key and followed after him, shaking his head. Perhaps it was just as well. Let Samuelson get it off his chest; then they could go down and have supper together to smooth things out again.

  To his surprise, when Walter turned the key and opened the door to his room, two men inside the room stood immediately. Both were men he had never seen before, and that was a little strange, since he knew most of the men the two of them employed. Without a word, the St. Louis businessman gave them a curt nod and they immediately got their hats and left the room. As the bigger of the two brushed past him, Joshua caught a glimpse of the butt of a pistol stuck in his belt beneath the jacket he wore.