The Work and the Glory

by Gerald N. Lund

  Caroline considered that. It still made no sense. Where would she be going with those kinds of things? “And she had Charles with her?”

  “Yep. He was pushing the wagon.” She smiled. “I called out and asked them where they were going. She said they were going to the store. But then she turned south and not north.”

  “She didn’t come to the store.”

  “Maybe she meant the Red Brick Store. That would be the right direction.”

  Caroline started a little at that. “Why would she be going there?” And then, realizing that Melissa wouldn’t know, she made up her mind. “Can I leave Livvy here while I go look for them?”

  “Of course.”

  Emma Smith glanced out the window; then, surprised, she walked over to it and looked more closely. Two children were just pulling a small wagon filled with an assortment of things up to the store. They were bundled up in their winter clothing, and for a moment she couldn’t tell who they were. Then the larger of the two turned and looked up at the store. There was no mistaking that face and the tufts of red hair poking out from beneath the woolen cap.

  Smiling, she moved to the door and got her coat, then stepped outside.

  Savannah looked up. “Oh, hello, Sister Emma.”

  “Good afternoon, Savannah. How are you today?”

  “Fine, thank you.”

  “And good afternoon to you too, Charles.”

  He had a scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face and looked like a bear cub with nothing but eyes peering out at her. “Afternoon, Sister Emma,” came the muffled reply.

  “What brings you out on a cold, wintry afternoon?”

  Savannah stepped forward. “Trading.”

  “Trading?” Emma asked in surprise. “Trading for what?”

  “For supplies to go west.”

  Emma’s eyebrows lifted and she nearly smiled, but Savannah was very serious and Emma decided she had better be too. “I see. And who are these supplies for, may I ask?”

  “For us,” Charles said proudly.

  “And you are going west?” Emma asked. “I thought your family had decided they weren’t going to go west. At least not yet.”

  Savannah’s wide green eyes shadowed momentarily. “That’s what Pa said, but me and Charles are praying every day that he will change his mind.”

  “You want to go west.”

  “Oh, yes. Very much.”

  “Maybe it’s better if you wait until you’re sure you are going before you start trading. What do you think?”

  There was an emphatic shake of her head. “No. If Heavenly Father answers our prayers, we have to be ready, don’t we, Charles?”

  There was a nod of deepest gravity. “Yep.”

  Emma was fighting now not to smile or laugh aloud. “All right, and what do you have to trade?”

  Savannah turned to the wagon and pulled a dress off the pile of clothing at the back. “This,” she said, not without some sadness.

  “But isn’t that the dress your father bought you in St. Louis for Will’s wedding?”

  “Yes. It’s my best one. He paid fifty dollars for it.”

  “Fifty dollars!” Emma looked suitably impressed. “I don’t think I could give you fifty dollars for it.”

  “How about some sugar and salt?”

  “For the dress?”

  There came that emphatic nod again. “Won’t be much use for a dress like this out on the trail,” she said soberly.

  “I see.”

  Savannah turned now and went through the rest of her merchandise, holding it up and briefly describing it and its value, as though she were an old mountain man bringing in his load of furs for the buyers to evaluate.

  The last thing she held up was a large doll with porcelain head, arms, and feet. She held it longingly for a moment, then handed it to Emma. “This is Betsy.”

  “And you want to trade Betsy away?”

  “I have to,” came the short reply.

  Now Emma wanted to cry. “You’re absolutely sure?”

  Savannah looked away. “We can’t expect Heavenly Father to bless us if we are not willing to give some things up.”

  Caroline saw them while still half a block away, two small figures putting things in a child’s wagon in front of the Red Brick Store. She also saw a woman standing with them. She broke into a half run. “Savannah!”

  Savannah turned in surprise, then waved cheerfully. “Hi, Mama!”

  She came up to them, feeling a great relief and a growing anger. “Savannah Steed, where in the world have you been?”

  Savannah looked surprised. “Here.” Her cheeks were red from the cold and emphasized the innocence in the wide green eyes that looked up at her mother.

  Charles said nothing, and Caroline was sure that in this case, as in so many others, he was the follower. He had just turned six two weeks before, and though he had an independent streak of his own, he adored Savannah and seemed to enjoy being led into her various exploits, even though it frequently got them both into trouble.

  Caroline bent down, taking Savannah by the shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me where you were going? I’ve been worried sick, Savannah. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  “But Mama, I left you a note.”

  That stopped Caroline. “You did? Where?”

  “I wrote it on the kitchen table, and—” There was a sudden widening of the eyes, and then a sheepish look. “Oh!” She fished in her coat pocket and a moment later withdrew a crumpled note. “Sorry, Mama.”

  Caroline straightened and blew out her breath and looked at Emma. “Hello, Emma. Have my children been bothering you?”

  “Oh, not at all. I wondered if you knew where they were.” There was a faint smile. “We’ve been doing some trading.”

  “What?”

  Emma laughed softly. “Your daughter and I have been doing some trading. I think you and I had better talk.”

  “You’ve been trading?” Caroline asked Savannah, still not quite comprehending.

  “Yes, Mama, for when we go west.”

  “Savannah, we’re not going west. Not for a long time.”

  “Don’t say that, Mama. I’ve been praying and—”

  Caroline threw up her hands, looking heavenward. “Savannah!”

  “Well, we have,” she said, not flinching at all from her mother’s anger.

  Caroline stood there, looking down at her daughter, this redheaded, stubborn imp that was so full of tease, so in love with life, and so much like Joshua sometimes that it frightened her. “You and Charles go on home now,” she finally said. “I’ll be along in a minute.”

  “Yes, Mama.” Savannah reached down and got the handle to the wagon.

  “No, leave the wagon.”

  “Mama! You’re not going to trade back, are you?”

  “Just leave the wagon.”

  Her grip on it only tightened. “No, Mama, you can’t. I don’t want my doll back.”

  Emma stepped closer to Caroline. “It’s all right,” she said softly. “We can work out something later if you wish.”

  Caroline blew out her breath. “All right, but you go right home, young lady, and don’t you leave until I get there.”

  “Yes, Mama,” Savannah said dejectedly. Charles nodded gravely and fell in behind the wagon to help her by pushing.

  As they walked away, Caroline shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with that girl.”

  “Give her a hug and a kiss,” Emma smiled. “I think she’s the most endearing child I’ve ever met. No wonder she had Benjamin wrapped around her little finger.”

  “And her father too.” She turned away from the children. “So what all did she bring in?”

  “Several dresses—probably her nicest, I would guess—a few toys, and that beautiful doll. She also had three dollars and fifty cents cash.”

  Caroline was astonished.

  “She drives a mean bargain too,” Emma said ruefully. “I can tell she’s worked a lot
with you in the store.”

  “So what do I do with her, Emma?”

  She was thoughtful for a moment. “Well, you know how I feel about going west, but as I listened to her, Caroline, she is absolutely convinced that her father is going to change his mind and take you with him because she prays about it every day. She wants to do her part to be ready when that happens.”

  “I know. I’ve told her and told her that she can’t get her hopes too high. Joshua is pretty set on this. But it doesn’t make any difference to her.”

  “So I wouldn’t do anything.”

  “You wouldn’t?”

  “No. If it means that much to her, I’d let her make the trade. It will break her heart if you bring it back.”

  Caroline thought about that, then finally nodded. “I suppose that may be best, at least for now.”

  Emma was smiling again, watching as the two figures trudged up the street. “You can’t help but love her, can you?”

  “No,” Caroline said wistfully. “There’s no helping that.”

  Nathan let the flap of the tent close and moved over to the fire. His mother was sitting on a log there. Now that supper was done, the fire was dying down and was mostly a bed of hot coals. He sat down beside her. Behind them, the sun was low in the sky. It would be dark in less than an hour. The air had cooled noticeably since the sun had set, but it was still not unpleasant.

  “How’s Lydia?”

  “Very tired.”

  “She has a right to be. Today was enough to tire a normal person out, let alone a woman who is less than two months from delivering a child.”

  Nathan nodded wearily. He couldn’t imagine how Lydia had done it. Young Joshua—Josh, he corrected himself—and Emily had taken the responsibility for watching the three younger children. Yesterday they had come about five miles from Sugar Creek. The weather had been beautiful and much warmer. Today had been the same. That was a blessing in one way, a challenge in another. By midday the temperature reached the midforties, Nathan guessed. That made for pleasant walking, with light coats or sweaters on. On the other hand, under the bright sun the ground quickly thawed, and the soil that had been rock solid for the past two weeks turned soft and muddy. The Steeds were back about a third of the way in the great line of wagons. Between the warming air and the weight of the wagons in front of them, the road quickly became a morass. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like for those at the back of the last company.

  They had reached the east bank of the Des Moines River and would follow its path now. This would keep them close to water and timber, but it also made the terrain a series of one gently rolling hill after another. Normally, one would not have given these hillocks a second thought. They barely caught the attention of the eye from a distance. But start up each one when the wagon wheels were six inches deep in mud, when the hooves of the oxen or the horses found little solid grip, when your own boots were like great clogs of lead and every step was labor, then those seemingly gentle inclines became dreaded obstacles.

  At Nathan’s insistence, Lydia had started out in the wagon yesterday, but that lasted less than a quarter of an hour. The wagon had springs, but even then the jolting, pounding, hammering ride was too much for her and she had elected to walk. The image of Joseph and Mary came into Nathan’s mind. How was it Luke had described Mary’s condition? She was great with child. How far was it from Nazareth to Bethlehem? A hundred miles? More? Maybe less? Well, Lydia was also great with child, and they had perhaps a thousand miles ahead of them. Joseph had been fortunate to find a stable when there had been no room at the inn. Where Nathan was taking Lydia, there were no inns and there would be no stables.

  She was doing well in her coming motherhood and made light of his growing anxiety, but that didn’t make it go away. It said much that she had accepted his suggestion after supper that she should lie down for a while. Normally, she would not tolerate any attempt on his part to coddle her.

  He sighed now and decided to change the subject. “I’m sure you’re tired too, aren’t you, Mother?”

  “Oh yes,” she answered easily. “But it feels so good to have started at last.” There was a quick smile. “I’m not very patient at waiting.”

  “It does feel good, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s only the second day of many, but at least we’re counting now.”

  He looked around. Joshua was over helping Solomon Garrett and Jessica secure their tent ropes. Next to them, Matthew and Jenny were outside their tent, Matthew scraping off the thick goo from his boots. Jenny held little Emmeline in her lap with a blanket over her, and Nathan suspected she was nursing her. Across the fire from where they sat, he could see the shadows of Derek and Rebecca on the walls of their tent. There was a burst of giggles and Nathan smiled. Derek was probably telling his three children a story. That would account for the laughter. He would begin straight-faced, using his finest English accent, telling one of the fairy tales as originally written. Then, without warning, he would give it an unexpected twist. Papa Bear would come home and instead of going to the house he went out to the barn. “Someone’s been driving my wagon,” he would thunder. The children would squeal in delighted protest, pounding him on the arm to get it right. Back he would come to the original, but only for a few minutes. They loved it and sat on the edge of their seats waiting for the next digression.

  “Nathan?”

  “Yes, Mama?”

  “Did your father ever tell you about my dream?”

  He turned. “What dream?”

  There was a long, slow release of breath, as though she had been holding something in for a long time. “About the plain?”

  He shook his head. “I guess not. That doesn’t sound familiar.”

  “Oh.”

  She was staring into the fire now, her eyes hooded and distant.

  “Tell me, Mother.”

  She looked up, a little surprised. “Tell you what?”

  “About the dream.”

  “Oh. Yes, of course.” She straightened, folding her hands in her lap. “The dream.”

  Nathan waited, watching her face with concern, but he could see that she was not necessarily saddened. It was more like she was thoughtful, bemused rather than sorrowful.

  “It first came while we were still in Far West. It came once, and then I had it again several times over a matter of weeks.”

  “And you told Pa about it?”

  “Yes. It really bothered him, though I did not find it disturbing in any way.”

  “Bothered him? How?”

  “Well, actually, he never said anything at first, until that July.”

  That July? And then as his mind went back, Nathan understood. “The time when Papa was so sick?”

  “Yes. Along with everyone else.”

  He nodded. In the summer of 1839, the ague had swept through the new settlement on the Mississippi River that would come to be called Nauvoo. Hundreds were desperately ill. Many died, including his own son. His father had contracted the sickness and hovered near death. He had nearly lost Lydia as well.

  Now Mary Ann was staring down at her hands, which lay open on her lap, as though she were surprised to find them there. “He was sure he was going to die.”

  “So were we,” Nathan said softly. “Remember how he called us around to give us his last blessing and counsel?”

  “Yes, I remember it perfectly.” She looked up. “Well, one night, when he was at his sickest, he asked me to tell him about the dream again. I was surprised, because it hadn’t happened for several months and I had all but forgotten it. At first I wasn’t sure why he had remembered it.”

  “What was the dream?”

  She closed her eyes. It was over seven years ago now. After that initial period when it came several times, the dream had never been repeated, but it was still vivid and clear in her mind. She let the images sweep over her and felt the joy all over again. It had been a wonderful thing, and it had come at the most desolate time in Far West.


  She began speaking softly, more to herself than to her son. The dream had begun on a vast, open plain. She was the only one there at first. She was walking steadily forward. There was not a tree anywhere to break the vastness of the landscape, but neither was it desolate or barren. There were flowers everywhere, butterflies, birds—the beauty of it all filled her with a great sense of joy and wonder. Only after a time had she realized that she was moving towards a glittering point in the distance, a source of light so brilliant that it seemed to be the source of the radiant daylight rather than a sun overhead.

  She turned to Nathan. “I was surprised to see you there suddenly. You were the first. Suddenly you were just there, coming toward me. You called and waved, and ran to join me. I was so happy to see you. I remember that you took my hand.”

  Nathan watched her closely, saying nothing, amazed to see the joy that infused her face.

  “A moment later, Melissa appeared. It was in the same way. Suddenly she was just there and running toward us, laughing and calling. Then it was Matthew.”

  She half closed her eyes, seeing it all again. Her family began appearing rapidly now, each one raising a hand in greeting and coming to join them. There was no particular order. They just came, first one by one, then in pairs and small groups. There was Lydia, Derek and Rebecca, Jessica and Rachel and the two Griffith boys that Jessica had adopted as her own when she married John Griffith.

  “Was John there?” Nathan asked, cutting into her thoughts.

  She considered that for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, he was.”

  “Even though . . . ?”

  “Yes, even though he had been killed at Haun’s Mill a few weeks before. He was there, but not necessarily with Jessica and the children. He was just there and it felt all right.” She smiled softly now. “At first it was just the adults, but then the grandchildren joined us too. I remember that young Joshua—or Josh—and Emily were there too. Only they were older, more like they are now. I can remember how proud I was of them. Soon we were all there, moving together across the plain toward the great light. We were laughing and singing and pointing toward our destination, which we could now tell was a glorious city, lying on the horizon, shimmering with light, beckoning us onward.”