by Diane Noble
First time he kissed me, he but only kissed
The fingers of this hand wherewith I write;
And, ever since, it grew more clean and white.
Now, my hand is frail and white, and trembles even as I write. But God help me, I remember Gabe’s first kiss, and I weep.
I hear the approach of horse hooves. I pray it is Gabe and Bronwyn with good news about our son and young Sarah James.
Chapter Six
Gabe’s thoughts were as bleak as the landscape as he studied the ground for signs of Coal and the girl, Sarah James. Though Bronwyn rarely changed her mind about anything, this time her worry over the young people took precedence, and she agreed to lead Gabe to their hiding place. Once Gabe and Bronwyn discovered they had left the wagon and were missing, he’d then convinced Bronwyn to ride back to Winter Quarters for help with the search.
Instructing Bronwyn to do anything these days did about as much good as telling one of the ravens circling above to drop manna from heaven. Not only had his rifle-toting wife interrupted a sacred ceremony, she’d made off with Coal and one of the brides, dared reenter camp without them, insisted on accompanying him to the James’ tent cabin—determined to get them to call off the wedding, which only increased their ire against her.
When it came right down to it, more than likely it was her fear for Coal and Sarah that finally spurred her to go for help. Nothing he said.
The situation had gotten out of control. He almost laughed, albeit bitterly. When had his wives been under control?
His second wife was about as malleable as a hedgehog. He wondered if she’d always been like that, or if life on the harsh frontier had changed her. In reality, he hadn’t known her well when they married. He’d been attracted to her physical beauty—blinded by it—long before her husband Griffin died. She had spent much time in his household. Mary Rose was her dearest friend, and Griffin, Gabe’s closest friend. The four had taken to the new religion and Nauvoo itself with growing conviction that their friendship was God-ordained, that meeting on the Sea Hawk was more than coincidence, that they would be together on their new journey from earthly time on through eternity. Even Griffin, a man of few words, grinned from time to time, socked Gabe on the arm affectionately, declaring they were friends closer than family.
Even back then, he’d had no illusions that he was immune to the feelings Bronwyn stirred in him. He couldn’t help his attraction to her, the way his heart drummed in her presence, or his hope that when she entered a room, her eyes would seek his first.
Sometimes they did; more often, they did not. That alone stirred his heart to craziness.
Gabe moved farther away from the wagon, and then stooped to examine hoofprints on the trail; they were deep, obviously made by a horse carrying at least one rider. He hoped it was the same horse Coal had earlier hitched to the getaway wagon. A Dakota campsite was nearby, not more than a few miles, and Gabe’s stomach twisted at the thought of Coal and Sarah on the back of that horse, wandering too near the camp. Some of the Indians the company had come in contact with were curious about the Saints, sometimes wanting to trade or steal. Still others were openly hostile. Brigham taught that they were the dark-skinned descendants of the Lamanites, one of the lost tribes of Israel, and that Mormons were to follow his lead and treat them fairly and with respect.
Right now, that didn’t matter to Gabe. He knew of the atrocities that native people had carried out against those invading their land. Some tribes might return the respect Brigham preached, but others likely wouldn’t from what Gabe had heard from other travelers. Right now, all that mattered was finding Coal and Sarah before the Dakotas did.
He straightened and gazed out over the prairie, now dusk gray. Barely visible were buffalo and Indian trails through the tall grass, bare traces of others too, perhaps made by wolves. As the sky darkened and stars began to appear, he returned to the saddlebags for a lantern and his telescope.
He lit the lantern, and then he inched his way along the trail, looking for signs of his son and his companion.
Coal was like a son to him. He couldn’t love the boy more had he been his own flesh and blood. The best decision he and Mary Rose ever made was to march Coal and his little sisters out of their great aunt’s house in Boston, taking them in to raise as if they were their own. He couldn’t imagine the heartbreak Mary Rose would feel once she found out the boy had disappeared.
Mary Rose.
His thoughts turned to those early days of their love and marriage. She was all he’d ever wanted, all he’d ever dreamed of. But then came Bronwyn. . .
How had things become so complicated? He didn’t have to ask why Mary Rose had turned against him. He knew why, knew the exact day and time, and too often he saw the sorrow in her eyes when she turned to him. The first wave of sorrow came when he married and later made love to Bronwyn; the second wave came when he told her that he was taking Enid as his third wife.
She’d borne it all with her head held high, adopting a regal stature that made him proud. She’d taken her own sweet time, but eventually she gave her permission, as all good and saintly wives were encouraged to do.
Never again did she look at him with love—and trust—in her eyes. If love was there, it was buried beneath a veil of sadness and disappointment. And trust? She’d made it clear that she would never trust him with her emotions again.
Only once after he married Bronwyn had Mary Rose allowed him to love her the way a husband should love his wife. Miraculously, a child resulted from that union, their son Langdon Spencer Ashley MacKay. Everyone called him Spence, and just looking at him made a person smile. He had reddish brown curls just like his mother’s, a sprinkle of freckles, and a dimple in his chin. Gabe often thought, especially during the nights when he longed for Mary Rose to cuddle next to him and whisper and laugh and talk till dawn the way they once did, that the only reason she’d lain with him after Bronwyn became his second wife was to have something of her own to love: a child. Someone to love who would never break her heart.
Maybe someday he would make it up to her. After all, he’d taken a second wife to ensure their place in eternity as a family. They would be together forever. God had decreed it; who was he to dispute the word of God as given to the prophet?
Bronwyn’s image, in all its exquisite beauty, drifted into his mind. He almost laughed. Reasons of theology . . . or lust? Who was he kidding?
An escarpment lay dead ahead. He climbed to the top and peered into the growing darkness. The gray-green sea of prairie grass was as empty from this vantage point as it had been from below. Squinting, he caught a movement in a stand of trees silhouetted against the sky. For an instant he followed the shadowy image, which seemed to be a horse without saddle or rider, then he pulled his telescope from his pocket, extended it, and lifted it to his eye. But before he could get a bead on the animal, it had disappeared into the darkening sky. He blinked and stared again into the scope. This time there was no sign of the horse.
It could have been an Indian pony. Or Coal’s horse. Whichever it was, it carried no rider.
He stood, surveying the landscape. Off in the distance he saw riders heading toward him. Pinpoints of lights bounced along with them as they galloped. Lanterns. He breathed easier. Not Dakota. Bronwyn had indeed done as he asked. Men from camp were on their way to help.
A breeze kicked up from the west, whistling as it sailed across the grass.
Frowning, Gabe cocked his head. Above the distant thud of horse hooves and frog song, almost as if riding on the wind itself, rose the sound of someone crying.
He heard the shouts of the men on horseback now, calling for him as they rode to the site of the empty wagon. Gabe didn’t answer. Instead, he called out in a soft voice, “Sarah . . .”
The sobbing stopped.
“Coal . . . Are you there? Sarah . . . ? I’m here—it’s Coal’s father, Brother Gabriel. Can you hear me?”
Only the night sounds of crickets and frogs met his ears. Th
at, and the shuffling of the dismounted riders moving around the wagon.
“Sarah?” he whispered, this time louder. “Is it you? Do you need help?”
He waited. The men were moving upstream, closer to where he squatted near the water. A voice of warning from somewhere deep inside told him not to give away his location. Perhaps it was because he recognized, among the cacophony of voices, that of Apostle Hyrum Riordan, who, judging from his tone, was most anxious to find his young bride.
For a moment Gabe didn’t think he could breathe. The reasons for the daring deed that Bronwyn and Mary Rose had planned and Bronwyn and Coal had carried out flashed through his mind in sickening clarity. “Stay here,” he wanted to say to whoever was hiding. “I’ll come for you later and see that you’re given safe passage.”
Before he could think through his reaction, Brigham climbed into view on the creek bank above Gabe. He swung his lantern out, gathering into its stark and blinding light the muddy creek bank, flowing water, every stone and blade of grass—and the hollowed-out cave across the creek with a small human figure curled up inside.
“There you are,” the prophet and president of the Church boomed, his steely eyes on Gabe. “Find anything?”
“Thought I heard something down here,” Gabe said, standing and brushing himself off. He straightened, shrugged, and started up the creek bank. He hoped Brigham wouldn’t spot the girl.
“There, look over there,” Brother Hyrum said, now standing beside Brigham. “On the far side of the creek. I see Sarah. Oh, my lovely, lovely Sarah.”
The old man started down the bank, half stumbling, half falling, as he searched for footholds down to the creek bed. It took him only minutes to reach the weeping girl.
He tenderly gathered her into his arms, whispering soothing words as if to a child. “Now, now, dearest. It will be all right now. I’ve found you. That’s all that matters.” She was so small, even at his advanced age, Hyrum had no trouble lifting her as he stood and carried her across the creek.
“Thank you,” he said to Gabe. “You’re quite the hero. You found her. The little lost lamb has been found.” Triumphantly, he carried her up to where the other men waited. He heard her say that Coal had just ridden off without her and she didn’t know where he went.
Brigham hadn’t moved from where he stood with the lantern. His piercing eyes seemed to slice through to Gabe’s heart. His expression said he knew that Gabe had come close to hiding the girl from the apostle.
“Did you find your son?” Brigham said finally.
“No.” Gabe started back up the incline.
“We’ll ask the girl what happened, son. Maybe she knows more than she let on.” Brigham threw his arm around Gabe’s shoulders, and they walked back toward the other men.
The warmth of his manner calmed Gabe’s soul. He’d expected a reprimand; instead, he received understanding and, he supposed, a surprising mercy. “I know what the boy means to you. We’ll leave no stone unturned until we find him.” He halted before they reached the others. “Today, he acted through no fault of his own. I suppose you could say he used poor judgment, but he fell under the influence of Sister Bronwyn. I think a strong warning will likely keep him on a better path.”
“Thank you, Brother.”
“Once he’s back, however, I want him to live with the boys taking care of the herds. Learn what it is to work hard morning, noon, and night.”
Gabe frowned as the impact of the prophet’s words settled. “He’s a scholarly one, Coal is. He’s smart, smart enough to go to any university of his choice. He can’t get enough of his books and writing. I don’t think he’ll take to working on a ranch from sunup to sundown.”
“Unless his excess energy and imagination is channeled, he’ll never be one of us. As for university studies, they aren’t needed among our people. The world’s end is coming soon, so we can’t waste time with such things as formal educations.” He lowered his voice. “I recognize that young Coal is exceptionally quick. I want him groomed for Church leadership. Yes, he’ll have book learning with the best minds of our converts. But first, he must learn obedience. You’ll soon see. Working the herd will leave him little time for anything else—especially time to plan the abduction of a celestial bride.”
“What about Bronwyn?”
“You’re hoping she will not be brought up on charges of apostasy, of course.”
“Of course.”
He studied Gabe, his face full of wisdom and strength. His was a face a person could trust. Gabe knew this to be true from his work with him in Nauvoo, on the trail during their exodus, and here in Winter Quarters.
He surprised Gabe by chuckling. “There are those who would rush to judgment, but I’m not one of them, at least in this case. The situation bears watching, however. I suggest you take charge of her every activity, monitor who she sees, what she does. You might speak to Foley about how to handle this. He’s an expert in such things. I daresay he would tell you to give her charge of the household chores, even the most menial—emptying the chamber pots, scrubbing them until her knuckles peel, beating the rugs until she can no longer hold up her arms. Though I might think it harsh, Foley will tell you himself, that you will see good results. He would say to keep her too busy to think. Watch her constantly. Perhaps even have her followed. Discreetly, of course. She’s going against our ways . . . we can’t let that continue. We can’t let other wives follow her example.”
“I disagree,” Gabe said, fighting to keep his voice even. “I couldn’t treat someone I care about in such a manner. Foley is wrong—”
Brigham took a step closer, his eyes piercing. “There’s been more than one instance. After her behavior this morning, Foley talked to some of the sisters. He found out she’s quite open about her discontent with celestial marriage, especially when husbands take younger brides.”
Gabe forced himself to breathe. He couldn’t get Bronwyn’s image out of his mind—the image of Foley’s punishment, turning the beautiful Bronwyn into an old crone, aged and used up, before her time. His fists clenched just thinking about what he’d like to do to Foley’s face should the man ever suggest it.
With great effort, he forced his attention back to what Brigham was saying.
“He also found out that just a few days ago she told the children in her charge that there is more than one way to reach heaven, that there is more than one true church. It seems she’s telling our impressionable children much of what she was taught in her native Wales—I daresay a mix of the heresy taught by the Church of England mixed with the truth of our beloved first prophet and president, Brother Joseph.”
He paused. “She is a woman of great beauty. But I believe she has the capacity to use her beauty as a weapon. I can’t put this strongly enough: Sister Bronwyn cannot be trusted. After the report Foley gave me just hours ago, I’ve concluded that Sister Bronwyn can no longer teach our children.”
“That will hurt her deeply.”
“She brought this upon herself.” Brigham met his gaze. “Perhaps this will ease the pain for her. Let her know that her punishment is light because of you, Gabe. I plan to bring you into my celestial family as my adopted son. Bronwyn is your wife. I want to give you—and her—every opportunity to join me in eternity, all of us, in one delightsome family.”
Gabe was stunned. For a moment he couldn’t speak. He’d heard of this practice among the Quorum of Twelve, the Church’s governing body patterned after Christ’s twelve apostles, and the prophet’s closest advisors. It was an honor of the highest order . . . especially so, when he was about to be adopted by the prophet himself. He couldn’t help the smile that took over his face.
He had been devastated when, many years ago, his earthly father had died at sea.
Brigham seemed to read his thoughts. “Sometimes, the greatest rays of light and hope come in the dark despair of our souls. Sometimes, when our families disappoint us, or godly men with their feet of clay let us down, our Lord sends us messages of hope
from unexpected places.”
Gabe’s heart lifted at the prophet’s words.
“One last word of advice,” Brigham said. “Keep your beautiful young wife busy with babies. Her own babies.” He gave Gabe another wise smile. “One right after another. I daresay, she’ll not have time to think of anything else. This is God’s way, not man’s. It is your wife’s God-given duty. She needs your godly council as head of the household, as father to her children, and as a priest. Let her know that obedience is a godly virtue, required of a Mormon wife in good standing, and with you, who have been given the godly and honorable position of ruling over her. If then she does not respond, her trial for apostasy can commence at any time I say, and excommunication will follow.”
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”
Gabe tried to absorb the impact of all that Brigham had said. For a moment, he simply stood and watched the scene before him unfold: the prophet returning to the group of men, the young bride standing trembling in their midst, the old apostle smiling as though the pearl of great price had been placed in his hands.
Gabe finally urged his leaden legs to move, and walked over to Sarah, who looked up at him wide-eyed, the sheen of dried tears on her cheeks. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Tell me where Coal is,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Why did he leave you alone?”
“He hid me,” she said, her voice trembling. “He said he had to. We heard someone coming. He thought it might have been the Dakota, but I don’t think it was. I think he thought you all were coming for us. He hid me and then was going to make a false trail. He said he’d come back for me when it was safe to come out. But I got scared after it got dark.” She shivered again.
“A false trail?”
“Yes sir,” she said. “So nobody would find us ever.”
Brigham came up to stand beside him. “Remember what I told you, brother. He’ll come back. And I guarantee you, he’ll never run away again.”
“What will happen to him?” Sarah said, starting to cry again. “He’s my friend. He wanted to help me.”
