Star Light, Star Bright

by Marian Wells

“Yes. That wasn’t a mob Patten and his men attacked; it was men sent out by the state militia.”

  Joseph Smith leaned back in his chair and the smile disappeared from his face.

  Mark had to say the obvious. “Joseph, there’s bound to be trouble over this.”

  Chapter 20

  The day was cold and moisture hung in the air like the draperies of mourning. Fitting, Jenny thought as she left Morgans’ cabin to join Andy and Sally for the ride into town. She commented, “Looks like the eternities themselves are mourning for Captain Patten. The sky seems ready to weep.”

  Sally pulled her shawl close, shoved the black bonnet more securely on her blonde hair and turned a tear-reddened face to Jenny. Jenny shivered. Sally’s sad, hopeless face was the epitome of the collective emotions in Far West today.

  There were a few wagons moving into town for the funeral. But when they reached Far West, Jenny saw the mass of people swarming into town from the cluster of campsites on its fringes.

  Tom and Mark joined them as they stepped out of the wagon. Jenny clung to Mark and tried to believe his unresponsiveness was related to the occasion.

  Jerking his head toward the group just driving into town, Tom said, “That’s the bunch from Haun’s Mill. I was at the store earlier today when Jacob Haun came in to protest Joe’s order to evacuate all the settlements and move into Far West. Seems he doesn’t want to give up the mill. Can’t say I blame him. The Gentiles won’t grind our grain for us, and we can’t live on dry corn all winter.”

  “Joseph did hear him out,” Mark said soberly. “He left the decision up to Haun, saying it was better to lose the mill rather than their lives. He told me later that he was confident they’d sacrifice their lives for their decision.”

  Jenny shivered. “Why didn’t he insist they come?” And when Mark didn’t answer, she asked, “Will those from Adam-ondi-Ahman be coming for the funeral?”

  He was avoiding her eyes as he answered tersely. “Most of the men are already here, called in to guard Far West. It’s best the remainder of them stay there.” He looked squarely at her for the first time, and she saw the shadows in his eyes. “Since we’ve left they’ve been building siegeworks in the middle of town.”

  “Then it is bad,” she said slowly.

  Again he met her eyes and said, “Jenny, we’re getting very close to being in a real skirmish. The men Patten attacked weren’t a mob. They were militia sent out by Boggs, part of Atchison’s company. Do you realize this is part of the company sent out to make peace?”

  Jenny shivered, “Mark, what is going to happen next?”

  His voice was weary as he slowly said, “I don’t know. I’ve tried to get Joseph to come to his senses. I—”

  Abruptly he stopped. Jenny searched his eyes and what she saw there made her shiver again. “Are we really safe at the Morgans’ place?”

  “Andy insists so. But he did promise me that he’ll make plans to move you and Sally out by the first of November. I’ll try to be free to join you then.” He pressed her fingers and her heart lifted, but in the next moment, the somber notes of the bugle drew their attention to the crude coffin in front of the schoolhouse.

  As Joseph took his place beside the coffin, a pale wintry gleam of sunlight pierced the clouds and shed a glow about the dark-suited man. Jenny looked curiously at Joseph, wondering briefly why he had stopped by their cabin.

  The light against his hair seemed momentarily to bring back its youthful brightness. Although his features were heavy with strain and sorrow today, she was reminded of the long-ago boy. For a moment her heart yearned for that peaceful yesterday, filled with foolish, girlish dreams. Abruptly his words began to filter through her thoughts.

  “The missiles of death will cut down a Saint, just like any other man,” he was saying. “You have not the right to believe that just because we are the Lord’s chosen, we will never escape the judgment of the Lord. We have not got a magic circle drawn about us, protecting us from what folly we have chosen to bring upon ourselves.”

  He paused and the group standing before him shifted restlessly, and Jenny was piercingly aware of the wooden coffin. She clung more tightly to Mark’s arm while Joseph’s words continued to build fear in her.

  His voice was sad as he continued. “I have been communing with the Lord these days, seeking wisdom. Now I must advise you that the Lord is angry with these people, yea, even the chosen of the Lord. They have been unbelieving and faithless. A stubborn generation this is, refusing to give to the Lord the use of their earthly treasure. How can any one of you expect the blessings of the Lord in the face of disobedience?

  “To expect the favor of God, we must learn to blindly trust Him. I tell you, my people, if you would do so, the very windows of heaven would be opened and showers of blessings would be poured upon you. All that the people could contain of blessings will be the reward of obedience to the will of God given to mankind through the prophet of God. Verily, I say, when you are obedient, you will enjoy all the wealth of the world. God will consecrate the riches of the Gentiles to you.”

  The mood of the crowd changed from outrage to excited hope. When the flutter of excitement passed, he added, “I have been charged with the restoration of the house of Israel in these last days. Called of God, I have been given the power and authority from God to accomplish His purposes. I can help that power to rest upon all who will do His will. Again I remind you that Saints from the four corners of this earth will be gathered to Zion, this holy land. We shall set up the kingdom of God, ready for the second coming of Christ in these last days. This is the word of the Lord to you.”

  Jenny and Sally went home with the chastisement and the future promise of blessing still swirling in their thoughts.

  Briefly Mark and Andy lingered before returning to their posts. As they were preparing to leave, a wagon stopped beside the cabin door. From the conversation, Jenny realized it was a man who had been at Crooked River. She could see a bandage showing under the rim of his hat.

  Carefully tilting his hat, he nodded as Andy introduced Sally and Jenny, still standing in the doorway. Then addressing Andy, the man, Byman, said, “Hyde, Tom Marsh, and a couple of others slipped outta Missouri during the night. Joseph sent a bunch after them, but they never did catch up with them. Had their families with them, but they were sure traveling light to have slipped the bunch trailing them.”

  “Fortunate for them,” Mark said heavily. Jenny pressed her fingers against her eyes, trying to crowd out the memory of Rigdon’s face and the words he had shouted from the steps of the schoolhouse.

  Byman nodded soberly. “And after Joseph’s threat today, there’s not many men who’d dare. They were brave.”

  Andy added, “I don’t know. Things are getting sticky enough around here; maybe it’s worth the chance.” His brooding eyes studied Sally and Tamara.

  Mark and Andy Morgan rode away together. Mark was shaking his head soberly as he said, “It makes me uneasy to leave the women there alone.”

  “Well, if yours would just stay put, they’d be safe enough,” Andy drawled.

  Mark threw him a quick glance, saying, “She’s promised. I don’t know what got into her, but I think she’s convinced it isn’t safe.”

  He was thinking about the mittens and talisman when Andy added, “That Gentile mob out there is crowding us close. And Doniphan’s not far behind. ’Tisn’t that I’m really fearing him, but that’s the reason I’m reluctant to move the women at this time.”

  Mark added, “Haun’s Mill is a mighty attractive target. I keep hoping the Gentiles don’t take it into their heads to latch on to it. Maybe it hasn’t occurred to them that they’d about starve us out if they controlled the mill.”

  The next morning, like a chess game subjected to a gentle, seemingly harmless maneuver, the whole scene started to change. What had been a contest of will and power had begun to develop into open war. That which had seemed insignificant had become strategic. Strangely, dissenters from the Mo
rmon camp made the move.

  Mark and Tom were with the men in the town square when the fellow rode in. Mark recognized him as the man sent out to spy when he had returned from Richmond.

  Tom grasped his arm and spoke softly, “Mark, something’s wrong. Tucker looks half-dead, and that horse is lathered. I’ll take care of his mount; you get Tucker in to Joseph.”

  In Joseph’s office, Tucker drained the mug of water, wiped his hand across his face and gasped, “Joe, it’s bad. Soon as I found out Marsh and Hyde had dispatched a message to Boggs, I tried to intercept it. Couldn’t catch up with the kid carryin’ it. Musta had a twenty-mile start on me.

  “I laid around Boggs’ stable, hopin’ to have a little chat with the fella later. Found out he’d left before I got there. But the whole place was buzzin’ with the talk.”

  Mark interrupted impatiently, “What makes you think they leveled with you?”

  “They weren’t talkin’ to me. ’Twas all between themselves as they were preparing to move out.”

  “Where?” Joseph’s voice was taut.

  “Here. Seems troops were layin’ over near Jefferson City, and their commander was called in to confer with Boggs when he got the dispatch.”

  “So it was from Marsh and Hyde. What did they pass on to Boggs?”

  “First off, they gave him the details about the Danites. Told about spoilin’ Gallatin and backed up their comments by giving the details of your Mahomet talk, when ya said you’d take your sword and make a gore of blood from coast to coast. Seems they also said something about the Danites planning to burn Richmond, ’cause they mentioned that and something about them poisoning the wells of the old settlers to start a pestilence.”

  When Tucker finally got to his feet and headed for the door, he turned. “Joseph, I forgot to tell you—Atchison’s real mad.” He hesitated and then left.

  Mark was watching the play of expression across Joseph’s face. When he spoke, his voice was bitter. “So even my friend Atchison has turned against me.”

  But in another moment, Joseph started for the door, saying, “Come on, there’s lots to do. Spread the word that all the Saints from all the outlying areas are to move into Far West as quick as they can get here. Could be their lives will depend on it. I’m going to start those lazy fellas around the fire building a fortress in the middle of town, even if they have to tear down every house to get wood.”

  It was the next day, the Sabbath, before Mark finished contacting the outlying communities and put in motion the exodus to Far West.

  When he rode back into town, he was feeling the effects of the gloomy day and the cold drizzle of rain; he was also brooding over Jenny and dismally accepting the sense of loss which was slowly wrapping itself around everyone. He had seen it on the faces of the men and women, and he had been unable to offer hope.

  He stopped first to warm himself at the fire burning feebly in the center of the square. He noticed that in just a day’s time the fortification had grown to a haphazard, rearing chunk. Looking at the barricade, feeling the message of hopelessness it transmitted, Mark shook his head and turned his back.

  The men grouped around the fire looked as dismal as their handiwork. Shifting from foot to foot, they blew on their reddened hands and kicked at the embers. Mark’s terse greeting was acknowledged by a grunt. He rubbed his hands and searched for something to say.

  “Hey, you fellas there!” Mark heard the angry growl and recognized the Prophet’s voice. Joseph strode up to the fire. Like the others, his coat was damp and his hands red, but he didn’t slow his stride. Moving from man to man, he grasped them by the shoulders and spun them away from the fire. “Come on!” he roared. “Move, jump, run! Anthing but mope. Let’s wrestle! A soldier will win at anything.”

  Joseph was still moving, shoving the men into a ring. Stepping into the middle he threw back his head and laughed. The challenge was out. Within seconds, Joseph was the center of a laughing, brawling group.

  With a smile, Mark stepped back to watch as the men, one by one, tried to throw Joseph.

  “Stop, stop!” Mark turned and watched Sidney Rigdon charge into the midst of the wrestling match. He was waving his sword. Astonished, Mark noticed the man’s face was contorted with rage. “You will not break the Sabbath in this manner! I forbid any more of this! I will not suffer it!”

  Instantly the men were subdued, scuffling their feet and glancing at Joseph from the corners of their eyes. A braver one exclaimed, “Brother Joe, you put us up to this! Now clear our names.”

  Joseph moved. “Brother Sidney,” he said in a low, deliberate drawl, “You best get out of here and leave the fellas alone. It’s my orders putting life into them. You are an old man. Go get ready for meeting and leave them be.” Suddenly he moved. Mark had only time for a choked protest as he watched Joseph knock the sword from Rigdon’s hand, spinning him around. A pleased grin swept across Joseph’s face, and with another quick movement, he swept the hat from the smaller man’s head, and dragged him bodily from the ring. Now grasping his fine coat, he gave one quick yank, ripping it in two.

  Rigdon’s voice rose in protest, but Joseph turned to his men. Breathing heavily, he said, “My lads, don’t ever say I got you into something that I couldn’t get you out of.”

  ****

  On that day when the first of the troops stationed outside of town trickled back, Mark was in the square. He saw their crestfallen faces and asked, “What’s happening out there?”

  With a dejected sigh a young fellow said, “We’ve been called into retreat. We were guarding the county line. Captain said, ‘Head for Far West’; and we did.” Even as the man spoke, Mark saw the picket guards and scouts coming into town. From their drooping shoulders and slow steps, it was easy to guess that the rest of the men had been ordered in.

  The men were still milling around in the town square when a scout and Joseph came out of the grocery store. “They’re mobbers,” the scout declared as the men began pressing around Joseph.

  “Are you certain?”

  “Couldn’t be no other. Every Gentile in the state’s gathered out there, just waitin’ for us to make a crooked move. Chased us in here. I wanted to stay’n fight. The Lord’s promised—”

  An angry voice rose, “There’s a multitude out there. We’ve only a handful. Don’t even have sufficient arms.”

  Excited voices rose as the restless crowd jostled the men about. Joseph abruptly turned and leaped upon the line of barricades the men had been erecting. The silence of the crowd caught Mark’s attention, and he turned to study the faces of the men as Joseph addressed them. Those hungry faces devoured every word their leader said.

  But Mark’s despair grew as he watched their emotions change to hope.

  Someone cheered, and Mark turned to listen to Joseph’s charge to valor. “We must fight for everything we hold dear—our homes, our Zion. God is for us!”

  While Joseph was speaking, Mark’s attention had been caught by the dark line of the Gentile mob moving slowly across the prairie toward Far West.

  When the final cheer was over, Joseph’s men took formation and moved to the edge of the prairie.

  Mark climbed to the top of the breastwork to watch the confrontation. Cautiously the Saints moved across the prairie toward that dark mass of Gentiles waiting for them.

  Mark winced and started to jump from the breastwork when something caught his eye. It was a dot of white being hoisted.

  He could hardly believe his eyes as he watched the flag of truce waving in the Gentile ranks. Frowning, he strained to see, trying to comprehend the significance. “Surely that big bunch of Gentiles isn’t giving in to Joseph’s men without a fight. There’s something very strange going on,” Mark muttered to himself.

  Mark had only begun to limp his way toward the store when some of the men started to trickle back into town. He called to the nearest soldier. “What’s going on out there?”

  Joseph came out of the store in time to see the man’s strick
en face. Together they heard the words. “Them’s not the mob we’ve been after; it’s Doniphan’s militia. Won’t be easy straightening this out, taking after the state militia when we thought it was mobbers. I’m feelin’ like we got our hands smacked good.”

  Mark followed the Prophet back into the store. He watched Joseph drop heavily into his chair. Head in hands, he sat beside his fire. Mark held his silence, waiting.

  Later, when the scout came, Mark was there to listen as Joseph received the news. The man spoke heavily, “It’s Doniphan’s troops.” He ran his finger along the crude map spread on the counter. “He’s positioned them between Haun’s Mill and Far West, just one mile out of town.”

  When the ragged soldier turned and left the store, Mark wheeled, “I’m going to the Morgans’ for the women.”

  Joseph stepped in front of him. “No, you are not. If one Saint sees you leave, he’ll shoot without asking questions. Simpson’s said every Gentile in the state has surrounded the town, and they’re all holding their guns on Far West. Maybe that’s so, maybe it isn’t. But I’m not making a move until I figure out what’s going on. If you want activity, then start praying.” He paused, then added, “I’ll shoot that lame leg out from under you just to save your life if I must.”

  Mark turned to leave and collided with a man standing in the shadows behind a stack of barrels. “Beg your—” He saw the uniform. Instantly Mark grabbed the man. “Spy!” he cried, and Joseph was towering over the man, gripping the dirty uniform around his neck like a noose.

  The man gasped, “Doniphan sent me. Message.”

  Joseph released the man and shoved him against the wall. “Hand it over.”

  The man trembled as he smoothed out the sheets of paper and handed them to Joseph. While Mark kept his gaze on the soldier, Joseph moved close to the lamp.

  Mark heard the exclamation as Joseph whirled around, smashing the papers between his hands. His voice was thick as he yelled, “Get out!”

  The youth trembled. “No message?”

  Joseph shook his head and paced the floor until the soldier had disappeared. Stopping in front of Mark, he shoved the papers at him. “You are a lawyer; read these. Tell me what it means.”