by Diane Noble
“Someone must have brought it here,” he shrugged as if there were too many details to keep track of. “The Indians, you know, killed so many …” He spoke in a false, halting way. “There were survivors. Young children. We had to see to their disposition. They’ve been taken in by families in the area.” His voice was hoarse with fatigue, yet still held the familiar tone of arrogance. “So many details to attend to, bodies to bury, cattle to round up …” He shook his head.
“So I understand,” she said.
He threw down his coat and moved toward the kitchen. She could hear the squeak of the hand pump as he drew himself some water. “Where’s Sophronia?” he called to Hannah.
“She’s in the barn, seeing to the horses,” Hannah said, willing her voice to remain calm. Surely he was not about to demand his rights as her husband. Not now! She clutched the baby closer.
“And I see the child sleeps,” he said as he walked back into the great room. Hannah stared at his boots. They were covered with splatters of blood mixed with dried mud.
He had reached her now, and he cupped her chin with rough fingers, forcing her gaze upward until her eyes met his. “Why don’t you put it in its bed?” he said. His expression was frenzied, red-eyed, and wild. Images of the Farrington party came to her mind, and she caught her breath in fear.
“I want to rest,” he continued. “And I want you beside me. You are my wife.” He paused, one brow arched. “Need I say more?”
Hannah glanced down at Faith, sleeping so peacefully in her arms. She would do whatever was necessary to keep her safe. Before she acted against this man who dared to call himself her husband, she would first steer him as far as possible from the child.
“No, John, your words are as eloquent as usual,” she said. “I understand perfectly.” Swallowing hard, she stood and carried Faith to her cradle. She laid the still-sleeping baby on the soft quilted pad and tucked the blanket around her tiny shoulders.
John moved toward her. Hannah glanced at the rack where Sophronia’s Hawken usually hung. It was empty. Her blood pulsed painfully up the side of her neck and into her temple, and she touched her forehead, thinking she might faint.
John’s boots thudded across the wood floor as he stepped still closer. His arms were open to her. But Hannah couldn’t stop staring at his boots. The mud. The dark spatters of blood. The blood of mothers with their children, their husbands and fathers and grandfathers … their families … who’d been slaughtered … by the hand of this man who stood before her. The man wanting to draw her into his embrace.
Hannah covered her mouth, knowing she was about to be sick.
Just then, Sophronia’s voice carried toward them from the front door. “I think it’s high time you headed down the road, Mister Steele,” she said, her voice low and calm. “I don’t care where. Or how. Just get.”
John turned, seeming confused in his fatigue. The barrel of her Hawken was pointed dead center at John’s chest. Before the surprised man could grab Hannah for protection, she quickly stepped away from him.
He rubbed his head, staring dumbfounded at the older woman, confused in his fatigue. “Have you lost your senses, woman?”
“Never had a clearer thought in my life,” she answered, the rifle still aimed at his heart. “And nothing would do me more pleasure than pulling this trigger. As I said, you better be on your way before my finger itches any more than it does right now. You’ve got plenty of places to go where your welcome will be much warmer, I’m sure.”
He shook his head slowly, edged a menacing glance at Hannah, then reached for his coat. Sophronia stepped back from the door, her aim unchanged, as he strode through and headed toward his horse. He mounted slowly, looking back, a dark expression on his face. Moments later, he rode from the ranch and headed down the road to Cedar City … the same direction Lucas had ridden just hours before.
Hannah gazed at her aunt, her wild white hair, her fierce eyes. She didn’t think she’d ever loved her more than she did that moment. “Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely.
“Thank our heavenly Father, child,” Sophronia answered with a smile. “He was the one helping me hold this thing steady.”
“You’ve never had trouble taking aim before,” Hannah said. “I had full confidence—”
Sophronia interrupted. “Always before, I’ve had time to load it with ball and powder.” She smiled. “I took it down to clean it last night. This thing’s as empty as a church pew on Monday morning. Knowing something like that can give a person quite a case of the shakes.”
“You’re a wonder, Sophie.”
“The wonder will be if John Steele keeps away for good, child.”
“I don’t think I can bear it if he returns, Sophie.” She glanced at little Faith, who was stirring in her sleep. “It would be worse than ever before. Now—” Her voice faltered. “—now that there’s even more to protect.”
Understanding her meaning, Sophronia walked across the room to the cradle and knelt beside it, adjusting the blanket. She planted a soft kiss on the baby’s head, gazed at her a moment, then stood and smoothed her skirt. “It’s in our favor that most of John’s work is with the Prophet,” she said. “I think there will be a lot of explaining to do as the tale spreads about the ‘Indian’ massacre. The Prophet’s going to need all the help he can get. Maybe that’ll keep John in Salt Lake valley.”
“Especially after Lucas tells the truth outside the territory,” Hannah added, feeling more hopeful.
Sophronia smiled gently. “I liked what Lucas said when he left … his words about leaving us in God’s hands. I saw you watching the road John took, likely worried about him catching up to Lucas.” She paused thoughtfully. “You know, child, we’re placing our Lucas in God’s hands—just where he said he was leaving us.”
“And there we’ll all remain,” Hannah said, grateful for the reminder, “until we meet again.”
“And after,” said Sophronia with a knowing smile. “Forever after.”
THIRTY
Utah Territory
May 1860
Hannah climbed up onto the driver’s bench of the carriage. Sophronia had just settled into the back, and tiny, elfin Faith, whom they now called Fae, cuddled in her arms. They made quite a picture, Sophronia with her wild white curls, Fae with her dark, silken hair and round, happy face.
Hannah craned to look at the two and smiled. Fae had become so much a part of their world she couldn’t imagine life without her. For nearly three years now, Hannah had been the only mother Fae had known. And of course, Sophronia had more than willingly filled the place of Fae’s grandmother, or “Nanny,” as she called her.
Fae gave Hannah a big smile and sighed as she leaned back into Sophronia’s arms. “How long this time, Mommy?” Fae asked. Hannah thought she would never tire of the sound of Fae’s sweet lisping voice. She now asked endless questions, and of course, whenever they started on one of their journeys to visit the wagon train children, she always wanted to know how long they’d be on the road.
Hannah grinned. “We’re going to see your sisters. You’ll like that. And it’s not far.”
“Sarah and Meggie?”
“Yes, Sarah and Meggie. They’ll be so happy to see you. We’re going to take them on a picnic. Won’t that be fun?”
Fae looked up at Sophronia. “Nanny, make Mommy go faster. I wanna have the picnic.” Then she popped her thumb into her mouth and sucked noisily.
Hannah laughed as she turned to flick the reins over the backs of the two-horse team, and the carriage rocked as it moved forward. She knew they spoiled Fae terribly, but it couldn’t be helped. Hannah’s love for the little girl filled her heart to overflowing. Even tough Sophronia fussed over her like a true grandmother. They both worried about the inevitable; Farrington relatives from Arkansas would someday arrive to claim Fae as their own. Even now there were rumors flying through the territory that a government agent had finally come to gather the children and take them home.
Of
course Fae would go with them. Ellie and Alexander would have wanted her safe in the arms of grandparents or aunts and uncles. The knowledge that she would lose little Fae sliced through Hannah’s heart, and she tried to put it from her mind.
So she took one day at a time, visiting at least two of the children each week, keeping records of who they were with, where the families lived, which children had had their names changed through legal adoption. After the 1860 census, Hannah had even visited the courthouse in Salt Lake, poring over census records to make sure that not one of the Farrington train children had been overlooked.
She kept special watch over the children as they grew older and came of an age to be worked too hard. She’d worried that some of the families might have taken them in just to have extra farmhands to help with chores. But she found that the children had been welcomed into the families and were treated well.
Hannah tried not to mention the massacre, not wanting to cause any further sadness, but in the early months some of the older children brought it up anyway. They would wait until out of earshot of the family then mention such things as, “I saw Mrs. Rutherford wearing my mama’s dress,” or, “Did you know that when some bad men asked Nancy Huff what she remembered, and she told them—they shot her?”
Near Parowan, Hannah reined the horses onto a dusty road leading to the Rutherford ranch. The house lay up against the mountains, a sprawling dormitory filled with wives and children who lived under the tight rule of Luther Rutherford. He’d been at Mountain Meadows and had claimed Meg and Sarah for one of his barren wives. They now called Eliza Anne Rutherford “mother,” but Hannah wanted them to never forget Ellie. She’d sworn to herself she’d keep their real mother’s image alive for the little girls.
The twins, dressed in identical pinafores, saw her heading up the road and ran to meet the carriage almost before she’d halted the horses.
She stepped down, and both girls threw their arms around her, then Meg reached up to help Sophronia, and Sarah took Fae into her arms. Hannah smiled at the three little girls. Fae’s smile was identical to her sisters’, her hair the same mahogany color.
Eliza Anne Rutherford stepped out on the porch and waved as the small troop headed toward a grassy field shaded by cottonwoods and sycamores. She was a pale, tired-looking woman who seemed not to mind the days that Hannah came to visit the twins. In fact, most of the women didn’t give it much thought that Hannah seemed to hold such interest in the welfare of the children. Hannah often thought it was ironic: Though he seldom spent time with her at their mountain ranch, her status as John Steele’s wife gave them no cause to question her motives.
Hannah carried a worn quilt for sitting on, and beside her, Meg carried a basket of fried chicken and cornbread. Around them butterflies flitted in the sunlight, and spring birds twittered their songs. Fae wiggled and squirmed and said she wanted to walk, then, when Sarah put her down, said she wanted to be carried.
After a few minutes they found just the right spot for a picnic, and Meg and Hannah spread the quilt. Sarah sat Fae in its center, and they all settled around her.
“I have a surprise for you,” said Sarah to Fae as Hannah reached into the basket for the chicken.
“What is it?” Fae asked, wrinkling her little nose.
Meg scooted closer on the quilt. She wore a knowing smile as if she’d been in on the idea. “Hurry,” she said to her sister. “I can’t wait for Fae to see it.”
“Well, first,” Sarah said dramatically, “Fae, you need to know how special my present is.” Little Fae bobbed her head up and down excitedly as Sarah continued. “This is something I would not give to just anyone. Only you … because you’re special.”
Fae was up on her knees now, her eyes wide with excitement. Sarah reached into her pinafore pocket and drew out a worn wooden doll, though its clothes looked new.
“This is Phoebe,” said Sarah softly. She placed the doll in Fae’s arms. “Our papa carved it with his own hands.”
“And Mama helped us make the clothes,” added Meg.
“It’s a baby,” said Fae examining the painted face with her finger.
“Phoebe. Her name is Phoebe.”
“Phoebe,” repeated Fae, frowning at the sound of the new word. “Pretty Phoebe.”
Hannah handed out napkins and cold fried chicken legs to everyone while Sarah and Meg told the story of Phoebe’s adventures, from falling into the river to returning in the arms of a little Indian girl. The twins laughed about how Sarah had nearly caused an Indian war by fighting the little girl for the doll, then how it was found miraculously one morning on the wagon bench. They told how Meg had given her own doll, whom she’d never bothered to name, to the girl in return.
Hannah and Sophronia delighted in the story, asking questions about the Indians. But the twins abruptly stopped talking about the adventures, both of them turning somber. Hannah knew it was the memory of the wagon train that had caused it. She and Sophronia glanced at each other in silent agreement to ask no more questions.
“Phoebe’s so you’ll never forget me,” Sarah said suddenly to Fae.
“What do you mean, honey?” Hannah asked, noticing the child’s worried look. “Why would she ever forget you?”
Meg and Sarah exchanged glances, then Meg answered for her. “Mother told us that she heard someone’s come for us. Someone from the government is in Salt Lake City right now. They’ve got some relatives with them. Mother also said that we can’t expect to stay together—not even Sarah and me.” Tears filled her eyes as she spoke. Eyes that had seen too much tragedy.
Hannah’s heart went out to the little girl. “Meggie,” she said, reaching over to hug her, “we don’t know anything for a fact. Do you remember any of your aunts and uncles or your grandparents?”
Meg shook her head. “No,” she whispered.
“I know that everyone back home is praying for your safekeeping. They’re going to do the very best they can to give you a home. All three of you. They love you with all their hearts.”
Meggie suddenly threw her arms around Hannah’s neck. “But I don’t want to leave you!” she sobbed. “You’re the only one who loves us.
By now Sarah had moved across the quilt to Hannah’s other side. She snuggled up close. “And you knew our mommy,” she whispered. Fae sensed her sisters’ sadness and went to Sophronia’s lap, sucking her thumb and holding on to Phoebe.
Hannah prayed silently for the right words. Still holding the twins in her arms, she said, “We don’t always know what’s ahead for us, but God does. He knows, and he’s got us in his hands. He is with us now—all of us. And he’ll be with us when the time comes for you to leave.”
“Can’t you come with us?” Meg asked, looking up into Hannah’s face. She gave Sophronia a teary and loving look. “And, Nanny, you too?”
Hannah saw a glimpse of Ellie in her expression, and it nearly broke her heart. “I don’t know what the future holds for us either, honey.” She smiled and gave them a big hug. “But God does.”
On a sunny afternoon two weeks later, Hannah was planting squash and beans in her garden just beyond the pond when the sounds of distant hoofbeats and the creak of carriage wheels carried toward her. Sophronia and Fae were both napping, and she looked up, wondering if she should get the Hawken from its high rack just inside the door.
But before she could do more than stand and dust off her gardening pinafore, the carriage rolled into view followed by a small regiment of soldiers.
She walked down the hillside, around the pond, and to the front of the house. The carriage had now halted, and the driver stepped down and opened the door for a young couple and a leathery-faced man in uniform. All three looked hot and tired. The soldiers had halted their horses and dismounted.
“Mrs. Steele?” the officer inquired before Hannah could say hello.
She gave him a curt nod.
“We would like to ask you some questions,” the officer said.
“Would you mind telling me w
hat this is all about?” countered Hannah, growing irritated with his brusque demeanor and lack of manners.
The young woman stepped forward. She was pretty, with dark mahogany hair and pale skin, and when she spoke, her voice was soothing. “You’ll have to forgive us,” she said. “We’ve not had the most pleasant of stays—or receptions—in your territory. It makes us a bit out of sorts when we meet someone new.”
She looked pointedly at the officer then back to Hannah. “My name is Amanda Roseanne, and this is my husband, Matthew. And this is Major Middleton, who’s been sent by the president to help us. We’ve come about the children.”
Major Middleton stepped forward and shook Hannah’s hand. “We were given your name as someone who will help us find them all-Hannah’s heart caught. “Lucas? Lucas Knight gave you my name?” She gave them all a wide smile.
He nodded. “He’s been instrumental in getting attention brought to this crime. He would have come with us, but he cannot safely enter the territory.”
“I know,” she said. “Do you know where he is now?”
“When we left he was still working on getting charges brought against the people involved here. His plan, however, was to meet us at Fort Bridger.”
“Fort Bridger?” Hannah smiled again, feeling her heart skip. That was as close as Lucas dared come to Utah. Then she turned to the young couple. “You’re related to some of the children from the train?”
“Yes,” she said. “My father was the wagon master, Alexander Farrington.”
“The captain? But, I thought,” Hannah began, confused, “that there were only three Farrington children.”
Amanda Roseanne’s husband had stepped forward to stand near his wife, and Hannah noticed for the first time his clear wide eyes and pale wiry hair. His expression told her he was a good man, a man a person could trust. He smiled at her kindly. “The captain’s first wife was Charity Anne Farrington. She died when Mandy was a child,” he explained.
“Mandy?”
Amanda Roseanne smiled. “That’s what Matthew calls me.” She glanced at her husband affectionately. “He thinks Amanda Roseanne is terribly long.” She laughed lightly before going on. “Ellie Farrington was a wonderful mother to me and my brothers and sisters,” she said. “I was eight when she married my father, but she’s the only mother I remember.” She swallowed hard. “My two brothers, Hampton and Billy, and their wives were on the wagon train. Also my Aunt Jane and her sons, my cousins James and Robert. But it was my papa—” Her voice broke, and she couldn’t go on.
