“I know, Joshua,” Nathan said quietly. “If you remember, I arrived in Independence just a day or two after that. I saw her face.”
“Yes, I remember.” Bitterness twisted his mouth now. “And I’m supposed to believe that if I repent, it will be like nothing ever happened? That’s ridiculous. Then Jessica would still be my wife and Rachel my daughter. What happens to Caroline and Solomon and all the rest?”
“I never said it makes things like it never happened, but it can—”
But Joshua was not about to be detoured. “If I truly repent, will the Savior take away those scars on your back and chest and make the skin smooth again? No!” And then just that quickly, the flat hardness, the rigidity, was gone and there was a forlorn note in his voice. “If I were to go to the nearest creek right this moment and be baptized, would it bring Olivia back?”
“No, it won’t bring Olivia back,” Nathan said softly.
“Then what’s all this talk of redemption, then? I don’t give a fig about having someone look all somber and say, ‘Joshua, your sins are forgiven.’ You find a way to put things back the way they were, and then I’ll be there standing in line to praise your Savior for what he did.” Joshua frowned suddenly as he saw Nathan’s expression. “What? Have I offended you with that comment about the Savior?”
“What you said saddened me, Joshua, it did not offend me.”
“Saddened you?” He was suddenly bristling. “I don’t need you feeling sorry for me.”
“Who said I was feeling sorry for you?” Nathan shot right back at him. “I wasn’t even thinking about you. I was thinking about Olivia. And suddenly I was sad.”
“Oh.” Joshua looked a little embarrassed. He took a breath. “Anyway, that’s it. You call it redemption. I don’t believe that true redemption is possible.”
“You’ve thought pretty deeply about this, haven’t you?”
“Well, the Book of Mormon is full of references to the Atonement and to Christ as our Redeemer. So yeah, I’ve thought a lot about it.”
“All right, let me try and answer that for you.” Nathan paused, trying to decide how best to begin. “First of all, there’s a difference between redemption and restoration. What you’re talking about is restoration, putting things back as they were before. That is not what redemption is. Christ is the Redeemer because he paid the price for our sins, Joshua. In his sacrifice he took the pain of our sins upon him, he took the effects of our transgressions upon himself.”
“Isn’t the fact that Olivia is dead one of the effects of my transgression?”
Nathan took a breath, frustrated that he couldn’t find the words. “Yes, but—”
At that moment there was a cry from up at the head of the line. “Rider coming in.”
Both Nathan and Joshua stood in their stirrups, peering ahead. Then Joshua dug his heels into the horse’s flanks. “Let’s go see who it is,” he said as his horse went into a brisk trot. Nathan kicked his horse into a trot as well, relieved for the interruption. This would give him some time to think through how to answer Joshua’s concerns.
The rider turned out to be Lorenzo Snow, sent to them by Parley and Orson Pratt. Nathan and Joshua and several other men of the company gathered around Brother Snow as he dismounted and strode to President Young. His face was filled with excitement. “We found it, President,” he said before he even reached him. “We found the Grand River and a beautiful place for our settlement.” He described it quickly, not trying to hide the excitement in his voice, moving his hands in grand sweeping gestures as he talked.
“This is good news, Brother Snow,” Brigham said when he finished. “How much farther is it?”
“About four miles. We should be there in an hour.”
“Very good.”
“President?”
“Yes.”
“Elder Parley Pratt is the one who found the place. He has a name he’d like to suggest.” Lorenzo explained quickly about Elder Pratt’s feelings on seeing the river and how the Old Testament example of Moses had come to his mind. “He’d like to call it Mount Pisgah,” Lorenzo concluded.
Brigham was silent for a moment, considering that; then he smiled. “If it was good enough for Moses, I think that’s good enough for us. Mount Pisgah it shall be.”
For Melissa Rogers, it started out only as a walk through Nauvoo to enjoy the first really warm spell in almost two weeks of unsettled weather. Carl had the three boys with him, delivering a rare load of bricks to Carthage, and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. By three o’clock, there had been only two customers in the store the entire day, so she got out Mary Melissa’s baby carriage, got a bonnet for herself and Sarah, and locked the store. She didn’t even bother putting a note out explaining why she had closed early.
Mary Melissa, who would turn two in July, loved to ride in the carriage and chattered gaily as Sarah, now seven and a half, pushed her along the boardwalk and pointed out things of interest—a beetle pushing a piece of leaf in the dust, a mongrel dog with four puppies trailing along trying to snatch a meal as she walked, a passing wagon pulled by a horse and a mule hitched awkwardly together. Melissa was barely aware of her children as she walked along. Everywhere her eyes were drawn filled her with foreboding. Nauvoo was a city in the process of dying. The public dedication of the temple on the first of the month had galvanized the opposition. The Mormons were not going to leave after all, went up the cry; otherwise why were they dedicating their temple? Rumors swarmed as thickly as mosquitoes along the riverbanks. Men were being caught and beaten outside the city. Haystacks had been burned, cattle shot. It was Missouri and Carthage and Warsaw and Yelrome all over again. Carl, openly disdainful, said that if one story in ten were actually true it would surprise him. She had retorted that even if only one story in twenty were true, she was growing increasingly more terrified.
The weather had at last turned warm, at least for a time. The roads were drying again, and Nauvoo was on the move. She felt like weeping as she passed house after house that stood deserted. Here and there was scattered furniture in the front yard, along with boxes of personal goods—abandoned when the wagon filled up and there was room for nothing more, the owners not even bothering to return them to the house. Across the street stood a two-story frame home with a front window broken out and the door ajar. It was like a gaping corpse. Amid the abandoned, deserted homes were the others with wagons and teams standing out front and with people scurrying back and forth with boxes and barrels and bedding.
As they reached Parley Street, Melissa was amazed. The lineup for the ferry at the west end of Parley Street, where the ferry landing was, stretched back for half a mile, almost all the way to Durphy Street. Wagons of various sizes stood in three parallel lines. Oxen, mules, and horses stood with heads down and eyes half-closed. People milled around talking. Many lay on the grassy shoulders of the street. Some were soundly asleep.
She shook her head, finding the sight astonishing. All these people, and that was with the ferry running day and night for the last week. And the word was that the ferry at Fort Madison, upriver a few miles, was also going around the clock. No wonder the city seemed deserted.
She raised a hand against the afternoon sun. Though it was almost a mile from where she stood, she could see the bluffs that marked the Iowa side of the river. It looked like a hillside of teeming ants. Tiny black figures moved everywhere. The wagon covers appeared to be seedpods carried on the backs of the tiny insects to some unseen anthill.
“Mama?”
She turned. “Yes, Sarah.”
“Is everybody in Nauvoo going?” she said.
Everyone but us. But she didn’t say it. She just smiled. “No, Sarah, many people are going, but a lot are staying, just like us.”
“Oh.”
Melissa couldn’t tell if Sarah was disappointed or relieved. “And there are people moving in too. We won’t be alone.”
“Papa says the new people are making a group so they can be strong.”
“Yes, that’s right. They’re calling themselves the ‘new citizens.’ ” She didn’t add that the primary motive behind that designation was a fear that the anti-Mormons might not distinguish between Mormon and non-Mormon when they came in looking for a chance to expropriate property.
Melissa had turned back toward the bluffs now, her eyes looking for something other than the people who swarmed over them. But she was too far away to pick it out. Perhaps if she was actually down at the river’s side. Then a thought struck her with such power that it nearly took her breath away. She rocked back a little. And then, before her rational side took control again, she turned to Sarah. “Sarah, let me push Mary Melissa. Stay right with me.”
The ferryman just stared at her, wondering if she had had too much of the sun.
She bit her lip, fighting not to scream at him. “I have money.”
He shook his head in disbelief, gesturing toward the line that stretched back from the river. “It ain’t a question of money, ma’am.”
“Look, I have to get across. I have no wagons. Just the three of us. And we’ll be coming back later today.”
“Coming back won’t be any problem at all,” he said shortly. “You can have the ferry to yourself if you want. But these people have all been waiting for hours. I can’t—”
A man beside the last wagon loaded on the ferry was listening. “We can squeeze her on with us,” he called.
“Oh, thank you,” Melissa cried. She turned back to the ferryman.
He finally nodded. “The baby carriage will have to stay here. I’ll keep it there by the hut. That’ll be seventy-five cents for the round trip.”
She reached inside her pocket and withdrew the small purse. She gave him a dollar. As he reached for the box where he kept the fares, she shook her head. “Thank you for letting me go.”
The spring grasses had nearly obscured the gravestone, and if she hadn’t known to look for the solitary oak tree, she likely would not have found it. While Sarah and Mary Melissa played tag, Melissa patiently cleared the grass away. When she was done, she looked up. “Sarah?”
“Yes, Mama?”
“Why don’t you and Mary find some wildflowers for Grandpa’s grave.”
“Yes, Mama.” Immediately they set off. It would not be a hard task. The hillside was covered with yellows and purples and pinks.
She turned back, raising a hand to wipe away the dust from the letters etched into the stone.
Benjamin Steed
Born: May 18, 1785
Died: February 9, 1846
He found joy in the service of the Lord.
He was beloved of his family.
As she reached the last line of text, she spoke it aloud. “ ‘Good-bye until we meet again.’ ”
The children returned with arms full of flowers. “That’s wonderful, Sarah. Grandpa will be so pleased.” She took them and laid them carefully across the mound, now grass covered.
Surprisingly, she was not crying. She felt a deep peace and understood now the urgency of her need to come here.
“I miss him, Mama,” Sarah said.
“I know. I miss him too,” she whispered. Mary Melissa nodded gravely, though her memories of her grandfather were already dimming. Melissa looked up at Sarah. “We’ll have to be starting back soon. Why don’t you and Mary Melissa play a little more. I’ll call you.”
“Yes, Mama.” She took her sister by the hand and moved away, understanding her mother’s need to be alone.
Melissa turned back to the gravestone. “I’m reading the Book of Mormon again, Papa. I wanted you to know.” She brought her knees up and hugged them tightly. “Carl is a little dismayed. He doesn’t know exactly what’s happening.” There was a soft laugh. “To be truthful, neither do I.”
She closed her eyes, letting the memories of days gone by wash over her. How she longed for one more chance to move into those wonderful arms and feel his breath upon her hair as he told her that she would always be his little Melissa. Then she decided that if that was not possible, then this was second best. She looked up. “I’m back, Papa. I don’t think Carl will ever leave Nauvoo, so you’ll have to tell Mama if you can. I’ve been away from the Church, and from my testimony, but I’m back now.”
Chapter Notes
When Elder Parley P. Pratt returned to his camp and announced to the others that he had found the Grand River, he jubilantly reported what he wanted to call their new settlement there. They agreed, as did Brigham, and thus the name of the second way station along the trail became Mount Pisgah. (See Parley P. Pratt, Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt, ed. Parley P. Pratt, Jr., Classics in Mormon Literature [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1985], pp. 307–8.) Mount Pisgah was about 191 miles from Nauvoo. Elder Pratt found Mount Pisgah on 16 May 1846. Brigham Young’s company arrived there two days later on 18 May.
Once the temple was publically dedicated on 1 May 1846, a great urgency to remove from Nauvoo swept the remaining Saints. That urgency was partly driven by the rising tide of opposition from the enemies of the Church. On 10 May, Wilford Woodruff spoke to three thousand Saints at the temple, his last public address in Nauvoo. He used a text from Ecclesiastes (see 3:1), “There is a time to all things; and for every purpose under heaven there is a season.” (See Wilford Woodruff’s Journal, 1833–1898, typescript, ed. Scott G. Kenney, 9 vols. [Midvale, Utah: Signature Books, 1983–85], 3:47.) The Saints interpreted that as a call to leave immediately. Large numbers responded, and the second of three major departure waves (in what would come to be known as the spring exodus) took place. (See Iowa Trail, p. 64.) By the end of June, over twelve thousand Saints would be gone and on the trail somewhere between Nauvoo and the Missouri River, leaving less than a thousand behind.
Chapter 20
I have another question.”
Nathan looked up. He had a small mirror propped in the fork of a tree and was shaving. Joshua was bent down in front of their small morning fire, stirring a pot of mush. “We didn’t get a chance to finish answering your first one,” Nathan said to him.
“That’s all right,” Joshua replied. “This one kind of goes along the same lines.”