by Diane Noble
Her eyes fluttered open as Bronwyn walked toward her. She gave her a feeble smile. “Tell me,” she whispered. “Don’t leave out anything.” Even the effort of speaking those few words seemed too much for her. She lay back on her pillow, her complexion pale.
Bronwyn nodded to Ruby and Pearl, giving them a silent signal to take Joey and Spence from the room.
Mary Rose managed a small smile. “Every detail,” she whispered again.
Ruby and Pearl each grabbed a toddler, and with Little Grace reluctantly trailing behind they skipped through the doorway.
Before Bronwyn could answer, a voice carried from the doorway.
“Every detail?” Enid laughed, a short bitter sound, as she entered the room. “The wedding didn’t happen, if that’s what you want to know.” She still wore her wedding dress, and her red hair flew about her face as she strode toward Bronwyn. “If that’s what this is all about, you can congratulate yourself. Your plans were a roaring success.”
Mary Rose exchanged a glance with Bronwyn. She coughed and then closed her eyes as Cordelia swabbed her forehead with a damp cloth.
“Stopping the marriage of a child to an old man was our intent. And I’d hardly call it a success, at least not yet.”
Enid said, “You haven’t wanted me to marry Gabriel from the beginning. You’ve both resented me, knowing that I held his heart first, and will to the last.” She stepped closer. “Don’t you realize what you’ve done to Gabriel? Don’t you realize you’ve shamed him in front of the entire community?” Her eyes flashed, even in the dim light. “Did you stop to consider what this would do to him—to have you come barging in carrying a rifle like some outlaw wildcat?”
Behind her, Mary Rose let out a weak gasp. “You took a rifle?”
Cordelia snorted. “Now, that must’ve made those Saints sit up and take notice.”
Enid surprised Bronwyn, surprised them all, by laughing. “Actually, it did. You should have seen Brother Brigham’s face. He turned several shades of red before turning purple.”
Bronwyn looked at her in wonder. “You’re not angry?”
“Of course I am. But ladies”—she frowned as she looked from one to the other—“you must understand that this won’t stop me. I intend to marry Gabriel MacKay.” She stared at Mary Rose, whose eyes remained closed. “You gave him permission to take a third wife, specifically to take me as that bride. I know you as a woman of honor. I know you wouldn’t go back on your word.”
She turned her fiery gaze on Bronwyn. “But you acted like a brazen hussy today. Unforgivable. Surely, you knew that neither I nor Gabe were aware someone as young as Sarah James would be among the brides.
“You’re right about one thing. She shouldn’t marry until she’s older; and she should marry someone nearer her own age. I may agree with many of the prophet’s edicts, but his decision to marry off a child bride to an old man isn’t one of them.”
The room fell silent, and then Bronwyn spoke. “Stopping your marriage to Gabe was incidental—”
“Ha!” Enid stepped closer. “I would say that was your primary reason for doing what you did. Stopping the child bride’s marriage to the apostle was incidental.”
“He belongs to Mary Rose, his first love. I was there. I saw how they fell in love.”
Enid laughed again. “I see the way you moon over him, how you take delight in his presence—how you try your best to be alone with him. You flutter those long lashes, smile secretive smiles, blush when he’s near. You don’t think anyone else notices?”
Bronwyn willed the wood-plank floor to swallow her up. Her cheeks flamed, for there was an element of truth in the accusations. She hadn’t acted on her heart’s longings since leaving Nauvoo, but she didn’t think anyone else had noticed. She couldn’t bear to look into Mary Rose’s eyes.
Enid laughed again, only this time the sound was laced with bitterness. She turned to Mary Rose. “You no longer want him anyway. I’m right about that as well, correct?”
When Mary Rose didn’t answer, Enid turned again to Bronwyn. “And you dare to criticize me? You, Mary Rose’s dearest friend, married her husband and betrayed the pact you’d made about allowing him to bed you.”
Her crass words made Bronwyn blush again, and when she spoke she couldn’t help the stammering quiver that crept into her voice. “I was wrong in what I did. I’ve asked Mary Rose to forgive me . . .” Even as she spoke she wondered how Enid could have known such an intimate subject. It had to have been Gabe who told her. The troubled place in her heart twisted once again. She’d thought that what went on between them was private.
Enid lifted her chin. “The point is, no matter what imagined romantic notions either of you carries in your heart for Gabriel MacKay, neither of you is willing to be his wife, to know him, if you want to put it in biblical terms, as a real wife should, to bear him children, to be a first wife to him and help him be the best father, husband, and Church leader he can be.” She paused. “Have you considered that someday there will be another prophet and president of the Church? What if that chosen one is Gabriel? Have you thought about that?”
Mary Rose wearily opened her eyes.
Cordelia cackled. “What? Gabe MacKay, a prophet?” She shook her head. “I would venture to guess he doesn’t believe half of the edicts of the prophet Joseph Smith or Brother Brigham.”
“It’s evident that none of you believe in him,” Enid said. “It’s also evident that neither of you ‘wives’ want anything to do with him. That, in my thinking, leaves me to take care of all his needs.” She stared at them a moment longer then said, “Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .”
But before she reached the doorway, Bronwyn heard Gabe talking to the children outdoors. His voice was low and solemn as he asked if they had seen Mother Bronwyn.
A moment later, his frame filled the open doorway, backlit by the sun, his face shaded, his expression unreadable.
Bronwyn swallowed hard and waited for him to speak. Mary Rose reached for her hand.
After a moment when it seemed to Bronwyn that every living creature on earth quit breathing, the thud of hoofbeats carried toward them. Above the shouts of the posse, the thud of horse hooves, the squeak of leather and jangle of tack as the men dismounted, was the distinct timbre of Brother Brigham’s voice.
“You must come with us,” Gabe said to Bronwyn. “The prophet’s orders.”
Chapter Three
In a clearing outside the tent-cabin, Brother Hyrum shoved his face in Bronwyn’s. As he spoke his skin turned the color of the ruddy end of a turnip, the contrast with his snow-white beard giving him the look of Father Christmas with yellowed teeth. “Where have you taken my bride?”
Bronwyn shivered. Coal and Sarah remained in their hiding place on Bronwyn’s orders to stay put until she returned.
The other men, Brigham among them, formed a barricade around Bronwyn. Gabe stood at her side, though whether to protect her from the other men or keep her from bolting, she couldn’t tell.
“I will tell you as soon as I have your word that you’ll give her a few years to grow up before marrying her,” Bronwyn said. She kept her voice soft and gave him a cool smile as she spoke, more to show she was unafraid than to show any softness of heart.
He made a snorting sound and looked first to Brigham and then to Gabriel as if expecting them to do something.
“You have enough wives to secure your place in the holiest, highest heaven,” Bronwyn said. The hue of his complexion deepened. He drew himself up taller, lifted his snowy jaw, and then turned his back to her. “I trust that you will handle this in the appropriate manner,” he said to Brigham, and then turning back to Gabe, he added, “And sir, this is your wife. I would have thought you would have taught her to know her place as a woman, and as a good Saint.” He shook his head in disgust. “You, sir, should be ashamed.”
Gabe drew in a deep breath. After a moment he reached for Bronwyn’s hand and clasped it tight. She took comfort in the hope that he
meant it as a gentle gesture, not to keep her from running. “Brother Hyrum,” he said, his voice calm. “I will handle this situation with my wife. I’m sure she meant no disrespect.”
Brother Hyrum sputtered. “No disrespect? She entered a holy place with a loaded rifle. She pointed it at the prophet’s heart, waved it around at the rest of us, abducted my bride. Disrespect?” He thumped Gabe on the chest with his forefinger. “You, sir, do not know the meaning of disrespect if you excuse her for this behavior . . . if you do not punish her for every crime against God and the Church, from disrespect to apostasy.”
“It wasn’t loaded,” Bronwyn said. Even as she spoke her mind whirled with the escape plans that she and Mary Rose talked about late at night when everyone else slept. Take the children and Cordelia, make off with horses and a wagon full of food to see them back to the States, or to Mexico . . . any place where they could be free.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she considered that she might not ever have that chance.
What if she were accused and convicted? She would be shunned, made to leave without the children, even the two who were hers by blood— Little Grace and Joey. Panic welled in her throat.
“We had no way of knowing it wasn’t loaded.” Brigham held up a hand and stepped forward. “Let’s make no more rash accusations until we have a hearing. We need to listen to Sister Bronwyn’s side.” His piercing eyes met Bronwyn’s. “You may not know, my dear, the seriousness of your offense. Charges of apostasy may indeed be brought against you.”
“I have not spoken out against God or Church.”
“Excuse me, gentlemen.” The voice was so weak it almost went unnoticed.
Bronwyn turned to see Mary Rose leaning against the doorway, pale and thin, her face gaunt. Cordelia stood by her side, her arms wrapped around the younger woman to keep her upright. Even so, Bronwyn could see Mary Rose’s knees trembling beneath her dressing gown.
Mary Rose met Bronwyn’s eyes and smiled.
She swallowed hard and bit back her tears. Her betrayal of Mary Rose had been laid open once more, as surely as if Enid had sliced open her torso and yanked her heart out for the world to see. Yet here was her friend, radiating love and forgiveness in her gaze.
“Gentlemen,” Mary Rose said. “I am the one to blame, not Bronwyn. She was carrying out the wishes of a dying woman. I had my reasons, and my sister understood them well.” Mary Rose clutched a rough wood that made up the doorjamb.
Bronwyn rigidly held her tears in check as Mary Rose defended her.
“You all know Bronwyn’s gentle nature,” Mary Rose said in a hoarse, low voice. She coughed hard, closing her eyes. When she caught her breath she continued. “Left to her own devices, she would never have thought of or, more importantly, deemed it possible to carry out such an act.” She tried to take a step forward and almost fell. The frail and aging Cordelia nearly went down with her. Gabe let go of Bronwyn’s hand and raced to Mary Rose’s side.
“I can’t let you take the bla—” Bronwyn began, but Mary Rose narrowed her eyes in warning. The very moment Gabe reached her, Mary Rose went limp in his arms. If Bronwyn hadn’t known better, she would have thought Mary Rose had planned it that way.
“Your valor in standing up for your sister wife is noted,” Brother Hyrum said. “But it’s obvious that because of your friendship, you are attempting to take the blame for her act.”
Foley Gunnolf, head of the prophet’s police force, stepped forward. “I say we go ahead with the trial.” He fixed his small eyes on Gabe. “You should be one of her accusers. Your sacred ceremony was interrupted. Not only is your wife Bronwyn a bad example to the other women, she could have hurt or killed any one of us, including Brother Brigham.”
His expression turned wild as he looked around at the curiosity seekers that had gathered, Saints all, women, men, and children. “You all remember how Brother Joseph was gunned down in the Carthage jailhouse. The same could have happened to Brother Brigham this morning.” A corner of his lip twisted into a snarl as he turned back to Bronwyn. “By one of our own.”
There were grunts of agreements among the men and worried whispers among the women.
“You’re wrong about Sister Bronwyn,” Mary Rose said, her voice weak. Gabe still held her close, his arm around her shoulders. “You all know her. She’s gentle and kind. There’s not a sick one among us who hasn’t known her ministrations. She teaches our children, loves them all.”
Mary Rose met Bronwyn’s gaze and smiled. “She’s a friend to us all. Don’t you see what she tried to do this morning? She tried to save a girl from marrying too young.” She looked across the men in the posse, then stared straight at Foley Gunnolf. “Is that a crime? If it is, then I am guilty too.” She shook off Gabe’s arm, and took a step forward.
“And so am I,” Cordelia said. “I was in on the planning. No young girl’s going to marry a man twice my age as long as I’m around.”
One of the men snorted. “Twice your age?”
“As if you’re some sort of spring chicken,” someone else said, though his voice was lighthearted.
Some of the others laughed.
“You tell them, Sister Cordelia,” one of the women shouted. “I’m with you.” A few others joined in.
Bronwyn couldn’t help smiling as the tension seemed to melt away. Then she saw Brigham’s flaming eyes. The tension may have dropped, but the danger wasn’t over.
The men drifted away from the MacKay campsite after Gabe agreed to escort Bronwyn to the prophet’s quarters the following morning. “And you’d better have Sarah James with you,” Brother Hyrum called back to Bronwyn as he hobbled along with the others. “The punishment for apostasy is something you don’t want to learn about firsthand. If you return my bride, we will take that as a sign of your repentance.”
After Gabe carried Mary Rose to her cot and tucked her in, Cordelia moved her rocker closer to watch over her patient. Gabe pulled up a chair beside Bronwyn. Enid, who’d taken the children away from the fray, returned to join them, obviously considering herself part of the family.
“I can understand why you acted as you did,” Gabe said to Bronwyn. “But did you stop to think about the outcome?” He heaved a deep sigh, and then dropped his head into his hands. “Couldn’t there have been another way?”
“I had to take everyone by surprise,” she said. “And I can’t let Mary Rose take the blame. It was my idea from the beginning.”
“You may have thought of it first, but I helped with the details,” Mary Rose whispered from her cot, her voice weaker than before.
“I was the one who thought of the rifle,” Cordelia said, grinning as she rocked.
Gabe shook his head. Enid pulled up a chair beside him, reached for his hand. She visibly squeezed his fingers and gave him a look that said she understood him better than the others did. Then she turned her gaze to Bronwyn. Because she sat to his side and slightly behind him, Gabe couldn’t see her expression. But Bronwyn could. Enid’s face took on a look of confidence, strength . . . and victory.
Bronwyn bit back her irritation. “I’m sorry if my actions shamed you.” She leaned forward earnestly. “But better you shamed, better me accused of apostasy, than Sarah James be given to that old man.”
Gabe met her eyes. They were dark with emotion, but she couldn’t read what was in their depths. Anger? Understanding? Resignation? Gabe was a proud man. She was surprised he let Brother Hyrum, apostle or not, get away with thumping him on the chest.
“I must talk to Sarah’s parents,” she said. “I’m sorry, Gabe, for bringing all this on you—but I’m not sorry for stopping this young innocent girl from being bedded tonight by Brother Hyrum. What happens to me is of no concern. What happens to Sarah is of great concern.”
“Saint Bronwyn,” Enid muttered under her breath.
Bronwyn wondered if any of the others heard the verbal slap. If they did, they didn’t react.
“You’re wrong, Bronwyn,” Gabe sai
d, looking into her eyes. “What happens to you is of great concern—to me and to our children. Don’t ever think otherwise.” His expression warm, he leaned in closer to her. “Especially to me,” he said.
The room seemed exceptionally quiet. A dark shadow crossed Enid’s face.
“I’ll go.” Gabe sighed and stood. “It will be too dangerous to take you along.” His gaze remained on Bronwyn.
“No, I’m coming too,” she said.
“If you do, it will only make matters worse,” Gabe said. “I know you meant well, and I’ll explain that to the Jameses. I’m sure they’ll forgive you.”
Bronwyn withdrew her hand. “Forgive me? How can you even utter those words? They should thank me.”
“They made an agreement with the prophet,” Gabe said.
Enid surprised Bronwyn by speaking up. “What are they getting in exchange for their daughter?”
Gabe held up both hands. “I’m not the culprit here. I’m merely guessing. I do know that the Jameses have struggled. They had barely enough food supplies to make it to Winter Quarters. When Sarah marries the apostle, the family becomes an extension of his. They will all be cared for, each of Sarah’s brothers and sisters, her mother and her father. Her parents probably think that giving her to the apostle is a way to keep the entire family from starving.”
Bronwyn drew in a deep breath. “First of all, shouldn’t we all join together to help them? We’re all struggling. It took us longer to get here than we planned. Our food supplies are miserably short. We have little, but I’m willing to give up a portion of our supplies to save Sarah from a monstrous sham of a marriage. Can’t we all help so she doesn’t have to sacrifice herself on behalf of her family?”
Gabe squinted at her, his expression unpleasant. “Now you are skating very close to the edge, woman. The prophet mentioned apostasy. When you refer to an apostle’s sealing to a new bride, you are referring to a holy union, God ordained. I agree that the bride is young, but in the end, it’s the word of God to the prophet that will decide the matter.” His tone softened. “And would you allow our children to starve to ‘save’ a girl from what will someday be her honor and glory?”
