Nathan pointed. “How many more planks are below the waterline?”
McDonnell shrugged. “About that many more, I suppose. Frenchie will know this, but you’ve got to be careful you don’t make your platform too thick or your draft will be too deep.” He swore amiably. “And believe me, getting this little boat unstuck from a sandbar is no picnic.”
“I can believe that,” Nathan said. “How in the world do you steer this thing?”
“Come on, I’ll show you.” As they went aboard the raft, Nathan noted that two temporary shacks had been built on this section.
Another man, cooking something over a small fire in a brazier near one of the shacks, watched them curiously but said nothing. The Irishman moved to the front center of the lead section. There a huge oarlock and a massive oar had been attached to the raft. The oar was tipped down so that the blade was up and out of the water, and Nathan could see the oar’s whole length. The blade itself was three to four feet long, and the handle another fifteen or sixteen, making the whole thing a good twenty feet long.
McDonnell laid out his shirt on the deck to dry, then moved to the oar. “These oars are used for basic maneuvering in the current. In shallower water we also use long poles.” He turned and pointed. “There’s an oar at the front and rear of each section. One or two men are at each oar. You just work together.”
Nathan whistled softly. “And it really works?”
“Well, you gotta know what you’re doing. And you have to remember that you can’t turn this thing like a carriage.”
“So you live right on the boat?” Nathan asked, turning to look at the two hastily constructed wooden shacks behind them.
“Well, kind of. We sleep out on the deck unless the weather’s bad. Some always prefer to sleep on shore. The smaller shack is the cook shack. But the same thing holds true there too. If the weather’s good we cook on deck or on shore.”
“You tie up every night, then?”
“Oh, yes,” McDonnell said. “You’ll not be wanting to float this thing down the river when you can’t see what’s ahead of you.”
“How big a crew does it take to run this?”
“We’ve got four men for each platform section, plus a cook.”
Nathan moved to where long lateral boards, spaced at about eight-foot intervals, tied the whole platform together. He dropped to one knee to examine the system more carefully. At three-foot intervals all along the lateral boards, holes had been drilled and long steel pins driven into them.
He looked up at McDonnell, who had come to stand beside him. “The pins go all the way through?”
“Have to, otherwise the bottom layers would shift on you. Ever seen a raft auger?”
“No.”
“It’s just a very long brace and bit.” He demonstrated with his hand. “The bit is about five feet long, and the brace is about here.” His hands were at chest height. They started turning, as though he were drilling a hole. “You just drill straight through the whole lot, then drive the pins all the way through.”
Nathan straightened. It was incredible. There was no other word for it. Even now, standing right on top of it, he could hardly believe what he was seeing. But what a savings of manpower. “Can you imagine trying to haul this much lumber six hundred miles by wagon?”
McDonnell laughed shortly. “You can try that if you like. Me, I’ll stay with the river rafts.”
By the time Will had been in bed for two hours he was into the deepest part of his sleep. The first three knocks on the door had no effect. Then, as the sound continued more loudly than before, it finally penetrated his consciousness. With a groan he finally opened his eyes. He threw the covers back and swung out of bed. Rubbing at his eyes, he stopped at the small table by the window and peered at his clock in the dim moonlight coming through the window. It was five minutes after eleven. He moaned. What idiot was out and about at this hour?
When he opened the door and saw Nathan standing there in the darkness, he just stared dumbly at him.
Nathan grinned. “Sorry, Will. Were you asleep?”
“Nathan?”
“Yes, Will. It’s your uncle. Remember me? I’m back.”
“But I thought . . .”
Nathan pushed his way inside, not waiting for an invitation, and set his bag down on the floor. “I know. You didn’t think I was coming, did you?”
“No. Pa said he wrote you.”
“He did. And I got it. I also got your letter. I decided it was best that I be here.”
Will was awake now, though still a little dazed by the sight of his uncle standing there before him. Then he spontaneously reached out and hugged Nathan. “I’m glad.”
“Me too. How are things?” Nathan asked quietly.
Will shrugged, shutting the door now. “All right, I suppose. I tried to apologize once and he just brushed it off. Said it wasn’t that important, to just forget about it.”
Nathan grunted. “Just like he has forgotten it, right?”
“Yeah,” Will responded glumly. “We talk when we have to, but that’s about all. And even then it’s only about the business here.” He tried a smile. “But I’m still here. That’s something, isn’t it?”
Nathan nodded. He pulled out one of the two simple chairs in front of the table and sat down. “I know this is not the best time, Will, that you need your sleep, but I don’t know what’s going to happen once your father knows I’m here. Maybe he won’t let me stay.”
Will took the other chair and sat down across from him. He considered lighting the lamp, but decided against it. They could see each other well enough in the moonlight through the window. “All right. But if you’re going to tell me that what I did was stupid, you may as well save your breath. I know that. I’ve kicked myself a hundred times for losing my temper.”
“You’re not the only one at fault here,” Nathan answered. “And it’s not just you and your decision to be baptized that caused it. This whole thing with your mother and . . . well, I don’t need to tell you all that.”
“I know.”
Nathan shook his head slowly. “You know part of it, Will, but there are some other things you need to hear. I’m glad you told me what you said to your father about Jessica and Rachel.”
“I shouldn’t have said those things to him,” Will cut in morosely. Then suddenly he flared. “But darn it, Nathan! Jessica used to be his wife. Rachel
is
his child. It’s not right that he just pretend that she’s not.”
“Will, I want you to listen for a minute. You may not agree with it. I’m not even sure I do. But that doesn’t matter. What’s important is that you see into your father’s heart.”
“Yes.” Will sat back, his demeanor very subdued.
“Good.” Nathan took a deep breath, then let it out in a long, weary sigh. “I’m not going to go into all of what happened in the past. You already know that. I think you also understand that when your father was reunited with the family it created a very awkward situation between him and Jessica and Rachel.”
“Yes. I know all that, but—”
Nathan’s hand came up, cutting him off. “Maybe it wasn’t the best choice. I’ve asked myself many times what I would do. I’m not sure. But his choice was not made out of selfishness or because he didn’t care, Will. That’s all I’m trying to help you see. You may fault him on his wisdom, but you can’t fault him on his intentions.
“Did you know that your father risked his life to go into Haun’s Mill and get Jessica and Rachel out?”
“I knew he went in, but he had the militia with him.”
“The militia had specific orders not to help the Saints in any way. Your pa was under the gravest of danger when he disobeyed that order. Did you know that your father paid for Jessica’s house here in Nauvoo?”
“Yes, but he helped everybody else too.”
“That’s right, but he didn’t just
help
Jessica, Will. He paid for it. The rest of us have tried to pay at least some of that back. He wouldn’t let Jessica pay him anything.”
Nathan bored in relentlessly now. “Did you know that some of the money from Jessica’s students came from your father?”
Will’s head came up. “What?”
“That’s right. Joshua hired some men at the freight yard specifically with the understanding that with the wages he paid them they would enroll their children in her school. It was a way of getting cash to her without making her feel like she was on charity.”
One hand came up and Will began to rub slowly at his eyes. “No, I didn’t know that,” he said softly.
“And there’s one other thing. I just learned this a few days before I left to come here. Jessica’s engaged to be married again.”
“No!” Will exclaimed. “Really?”
Nathan nodded, watching him steadily now.
“To whom?”
“To Solomon Garrett.”
“That schoolteacher guy who asked her to come to Ramus?”
“The same.”
“But that’s wonderful!”
“Yes, it is, Will. And do you remember how that whole thing came about? Somebody told Garrett about Jessica and he came over to watch her teach. He was so impressed, he offered her that position in Ramus.”
“Yes, Mother told me all about that.”
Nathan was silent for a moment; then very quietly he asked, “Would you care to guess who it was that told Solomon Garrett that he ought to come and see Jessica Griffith’s school?”
“Who?” Will started, then suddenly he reared back. “No!” he said again.
Nathan nodded slowly. “I’m not positive, but when I asked Solomon who had told him about Jessica’s school, he said that a teamster was passing through Ramus and delivered an anonymous letter to him telling him all about her. He can’t remember the name of the teamster, but he remembers the name of the freight company.”
“Pa’s?” Will asked in a whisper.
“Exactly.”
Now Will dropped his head into his hands. “And I said those horrible things about him not caring.”
Nathan reached across and laid a hand on his shoulder. “What’s done is done, Will. But I felt that if you understood, if you knew what had been in his heart, whether you agree that it was right or not, it would be a first step to making things right again.”
Will looked up in anguish. “What do I say to him?”
“Nothing. Not yet. When the time is right, just understanding him will help you know what to do.”
Nathan stood. “Now, let’s go to bed. I’m exhausted. You’re exhausted. And there’s still your father to deal with in the morning. And I don’t think he’s going to be very happy to see me.”
When Joshua looked up and saw Nathan and Will entering the dining room together, he nearly dropped his fork. But there wasn’t much of a chance to do any more than that. Nathan had been well liked during his stay in Joshua’s camp, and he was warmly greeted by the crew. Jean Claude and Will eventually brought him over to sit across the table from Joshua, who smiled with forced warmth. “This is a surprise,” he said. “Didn’t you get my letter?”
“Yeah, it came an hour or two before I left. But I was all packed by then, so . . .” He smiled. “So here I am.”
Frenchie clapped Nathan on the shoulder. “Well, we could have done it without you, but it’s always good to have another man on rafts as big as we’re going to have.”
“Oh,” Nathan said, turning to look at the camp foreman, “that reminds me. I bring you greetings from Patrick McDonnell.”
“McDonnell!” the Frenchman cried. “Where did you meet that old bundle of gristle?”
And they were off as Nathan began to tell them about his experience in Prairie du Chien. After listening for a few moments, Joshua finished the last of his cup of coffee and stood. Nathan glanced up at him but Joshua didn’t return his look. He moved to the door and started out. Then he paused, turning his head. “We’ve got some rafts to build, men,” he said. “Let’s not be spending the morning chawing on a piece of rawhide.”
Ten minutes later the door to Joshua’s office opened and Nathan stepped inside. Joshua didn’t seem at all surprised and finished making an entry in the journal that kept the daily record of cuttings before he looked up. “You really did take me by surprise, little brother.”
“I thought I would.” Nathan came over and sat down on a chair beside him.
“If you got my letter, why did you still come?”
Nathan had expected that to be one of the first questions he would be asked and he had thought about it all the way up. There was only danger in trying to play games with Joshua in this matter, so he answered honestly. “I also got a letter from Will that same day. He told me everything. Then I knew why you were telling me not to come.”
Joshua sat back, putting the tips of his fingers together and making a steeple with his hands. “So,” he mused, “you jumped on a horse and came up to save us from each other?”
“Something like that,” Nathan smiled.
There was no answering smile, not even a grunt.
“Joshua, I—”
“You’re not needed, Nathan. This is none of your affair.”
“Oh, I see,” Nathan said. He had thought through this conversation too, so with just a touch of asperity in his voice he went on quickly. “If your boy falls in the river you want me to be there. Any other problem, it’s none of my affair.”
If the shot hit its mark, Joshua gave no sign.
“I’m not here to take sides against you, Joshua, in spite of what you think. I’m here to—”
“What time did you get in last night?” Joshua cut in bluntly.
“About eleven.”
“Why didn’t you come and wake me up?”
Nathan shrugged. “It was late. When I was here before, I always slept with Will. I thought waking you could wait till morning.”
“So you two lay awake all night talking religion and moaning about Will’s wicked father.”
Nathan slowly shook his head. “Wrong on both counts. Actually, I don’t think the subject of religion was even mentioned.”
“You didn’t talk at all about his decision to become a Mormon?”
“Not a word.”
Joshua’s eyes were dark and brooding and there was no mistaking the suspicion in them. Nathan went on evenly. “Nor did we spend the night rehashing your battle.”
“So you just came in, shook hands, said your prayers, and went to bed.” Now the derision was open and contemptuous. “Or maybe you discussed the going price of lumber down south, eh?”
“No, we talked for about ten minutes. We talked about the family. I told him the news.”