The Work and the Glory (602 page)

The clamor erupted again, but now any sense of celebration was gone. There were cries of disappointment and calls for the children to come together. The reality of separation was suddenly very much upon them. The crowd quickly separated into dozens of smaller groups to say good-bye to fathers and brothers, uncles and cousins—and, in some cases, mothers and sisters and aunts.

Mary Ann took a breath and moved forward to Rebecca. Till now her youngest daughter had been filled with excitement, talking animatedly about what lay ahead for her and her family. Her face was flushed and her eyes flashed happily. Then her mother stood before her. There had been promises all around not to cry, but no one remembered them now. The others held back as Mary Ann stepped forward slowly and faced Rebecca and Derek. For a moment no one moved; then Rebecca’s shoulders began to shake and she threw herself into her mother’s arms.

“Oh, Mama! How we shall miss you!”

“I know,” Mary Ann soothed. “And we shall miss you.” She looked at Derek, who was blinking quickly to stave the burning in his own eyes. “You take care of her and the children, now, do you hear me?”

“I will Mother Steed. I promise.”

She went to him, hugged him fiercely, then turned to the children. As she took Christopher’s hands, she tried to laugh through the tears, but it came out more like a sob. “Shame on you,” she scolded. “You’re not even sad to be leaving your grandmother, are you?”

Christopher had his father’s build. At seven, he was already nearly as heavy as his mother. He also had Derek’s even temper and mild disposition. He tried to smile, knowing that Mary Ann didn’t mean it, but instead his lower lip started to tremble, his eyes filled, and he threw his arms around his grandmother and began to sob.

“It’s all right,” she said through a choked voice. “It’s all right, Christopher. It will only be for a year.”

Josh stood back as the family went one by one to make their farewells. Derek, watching him through it all, finally motioned him over. Josh was now two or three inches taller than his uncle, but Derek pulled his head down until their foreheads touched. “Josh?”

“Yes?”

“There are many ways and many places to serve God.”

“I know.”

“We have chosen one way, and I know you wish you were going, but it isn’t the only way. It may not even be the best way.”

“I keep telling myself that.”

Derek nodded. “You’re a good boy, Josh. The Lord will use you where you can do him the most good.”

Josh nodded, unable to fully push aside the gloominess, then shook Derek’s hand. “You take care, Uncle Derek.”

“We will.”

Behind them, listening and watching intently, Lydia began to cry again. Nathan too was watching and knew that his wife’s tears weren’t just for Derek and Rebecca now.

The bugle sounded again, this time running up and down the scales in the call for assembly. Amid the final cries, the last handshakes, the last hugs and kisses and tears, the four companies began to assemble.

“How come there’s no Company D?” Luke asked his father.

Solomon shrugged. “They still haven’t had enough people volunteer, is what I hear. Why it’s Company D that’s short and not Company E, I’m not sure.”

In five minutes the four-hundred-plus men of the Mormon Battalion were lined up by companies, one to each side to form a hollow square. Now came the formalities. One by one the Twelve spoke briefly to the assembled men. There were good wishes, promises of doing the Lord’s will, reassurances that their families would be cared for. Willard Richards caused the greatest stir when, after reminding them that they were serving not only their country but also their God, he said, “Brethren, I feel to say something to you. I know you are marching off to war, but I tell you, if you are faithful in keeping the commandments of God, not a man of you shall fall by an enemy.” He stopped again as the impact of his words raced through the crowd. “Yea, there will not be as much blood spilled as there was at Carthage Jail, and as one who was there, I say that gives me great comfort.”

Finally, President Young turned to where Lieutenant Colonel James Allen, recently promoted from captain, stood at stiff attention. “Colonel Allen,” he said loudly. “I hereby present to you this Mormon battalion and commend them to you as good and faithful men.”

Allen saluted smartly and stepped forward. He unrolled a paper in his hand and held it up high. “By virtue of the authority given me by Colonel Stephen W. Kearny, commander of the Army of the West, I hereby assume command of the Mormon Battalion, raised at this place for the service of the United States. We shall now march to Traders Point, where you will receive the first of your equipment. Thereafter, you will be held in readiness to march at the shortest notice, and as soon as the fifth company is filled, all will be ready for our departure.”

He stopped. The silence across the field was total. Then Allen straightened and threw out his chest. “Companies! Ten-
hut!
” There was a snap of feet and the slap of hands against trousers as the men came to attention. “For-
ward
. . .
march!
”

Company A immediately began to move forward in a column of twos. The men in the other companies began marching in place, waiting for their turn to fall in behind. Though they were not in uniform and there were several who were out of step with each other, it was a stirring sight nevertheless. There were a few wives and mothers who were weeping, but for the most part all were smiling and waving.

Lydia turned to see how Josh was taking all of this. To her surprise, he was no longer standing behind her. Nathan saw her looking around and motioned with his head. She turned and looked, not sure what she was looking for. Then she saw a solitary figure walking slowly away from them up the knoll that was Redemption Hill. His head was down, his hands were thrust in his pockets, his back was turned.

Lydia finished nursing Tricia. “All right, my little ball of butter,” she said, putting her on her shoulder and patting her back. “I think that’s enough for now.” She got two great burps from her, then wrapped her in her blanket and tucked her into her crib. She stood for a moment to be sure she was going to sleep, then went outside.

Josh was there by the wagon, working on something in a deep gloom. He didn’t look up, and she decided there was no sense in saying anything to try and change things. Once the battalion was completely gone, it would get better. She heard the sounds of a horse coming on the run and turned. It was Nathan, coming back from across the river. He pulled up, not dismounting. “Lydia?”

“Yes?”

“There’s something you need to see.”

“What is it?”

“You’ve got to see it for yourself.”

“Where?”

“At the bowery. Come. You can ride sidesaddle behind me.” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Josh. You watch the children.”

“Yes, Pa.”

Lydia moved tentatively toward the horse. Nathan reached down and grasped her forearm, then pulled her up smoothly.

“Tricia’s asleep, Josh,” she said. “The others are over at Aunt Jessica’s.”

“Yes, Mama.” He waved as Lydia put her arms around Nathan and they rode away.

Chapter Notes

It was 16 July 1846, just a little more than two weeks after Captain James Allen rode into Council Bluffs, when the first mustering of the Mormon Battalion took place. Even after vigorous recruiting by Brigham Young and the Twelve, they were still about a hundred short of the five hundred requested by the army. It was while the Twelve were speaking to them that Elder Willard Richards made the remarkable prophecy about their safety. They were then marched about seven miles to the Indian trading post where they were issued the first of their provisions. (See
SW,
pp. 33–34.)

Chapter 15

They were fortunate in that they had to wait for only about five minutes for the eastbound ferry. As usual, going back across the river the ferry was not crowded, and Nathan and Lydia dismounted and walked the horse directly on.

Once they were across, he pushed the horse into a steady trot, and in ten minutes they came up Mosquito Creek to where the bowery was. As it came into sight, Lydia could see that there was a table set up beneath its shade and two men in uniform were seated at it. In front of them a line of men snaked down the length of the bowery, leaving the last four or five men in the sun.

Nathan slowed the horse to a walk and spoke over his shoulder. “We may be too late. It’s been more than half an hour.”

“Too late for what?” Lydia said, seeing now where he was taking her.

“He was near the end of the line. I didn’t think they’d be done that soon.”

“Who would be done that soon?” she asked in exasperation.

But Nathan was peering now at the line of men, trying to see into the darker areas beneath the bowery. Then he was pointing. “There he is, Lydia. Third man back.”

“There who is?” she started to say, but then her eyes followed his hand and she saw. Her jaw went slack and there was a soft gasp. It was William Hendricks, the oldest son of Drusilla and James Hendricks. And there was no question about what he was doing. He had a bedroll tied with a rope slung over one shoulder and a small battered suitcase in the other. He was watching intently as one of the lieutenants signed up the man at the table.

“But . . .” She looked away. It felt as though she had been struck violently in the stomach, and for a moment she thought she was going to gag.

Nathan started to swing down but she grabbed at his arm, digging her fingers into the flesh. “No, Nathan.”

“Don’t you want to talk to him?”

“No. I want to talk with Drusilla. Take me to Drusilla.”

When Drusilla Hendricks looked up and saw them approaching on the horse, she didn’t seem surprised. She removed her apron, put aside the flour she was mixing into dough, and came over to meet them. Neither woman spoke as Nathan helped Lydia down from the horse. Drusilla motioned toward the empty field where they had walked the last time Lydia had come, and they started away.

“I’ll wait here,” Nathan called.

Lydia, only then remembering that he was there, waved gratefully.

“What happened?” Lydia demanded the moment they were away from the wagons. The rawness of her emotions made her voice come out more sharply than she had intended.

Drusilla looked at her and Lydia saw that her eyes were swimming.

“You were so sure the other day,” Lydia went on, more softly. “What happened?”

“This morning William was very depressed. The men had marched away and he was not one of them. He begged me to reconsider. I told him that I couldn’t bear to lose him.”

She looked away, and her voice sounded very far away as she continued. “I was starting to get breakfast. I went to the wagon for some flour. When I stepped up on the tongue to reach inside the wagon, the voice of the Lord whispered in my mind. It was just like a voice had spoken to me, only it was inside me, not outside.”

“What did it say?”

“ ‘Drusilla,’ it said, ‘do you not want the greatest glory?’ ” She finally turned and looked directly at Lydia. “It came so clearly that I answered out loud in my natural voice, as if someone had actually spoken to me. ‘Yes, I do,’ I said. Then the voice said, ‘Then how can you get it without making the greatest sacrifices?’”

“But you have made the greatest sacrifices,” Lydia cried in dismay. “You let James go off to help rescue the brethren at Crooked River and he came back paralyzed. You didn’t turn bitter about that. You stayed faithful. Through all those years when you had to support the family and care for James, you never complained. What more could anyone ask of you?”

Drusilla lifted a hand as though to speak, but Lydia rushed on, wanting to say all that she had been feeling since they had talked last. “And when the call came to go west, you of all people had every right to say no. You had no husband to drive your teams, no man to cut wood and care for your family. But you came anyway. Surely, of all people, you have made the greatest sacrifices.”

Drusilla waited now until she was done, then smiled sadly. “When the voice asked me that question, ‘How can you get it without making the greatest sacrifices,’ all I could think of to say was, ‘Lord, what lack I yet?’ ” She paused, and now the tears could no longer be contained. “ ‘Let your son go in the battalion,’ came the answer.”

At those terrible words, Lydia closed her eyes.

Drusilla watched her, waiting silently until she finally opened her eyes. “There was nothing more to be done,” she said. “I was devastated. All that I had felt welled up in me and I wanted to shout out that I could not accept that. But I knew I had heard the voice of the Spirit. I went back and prepared breakfast, hardly knowing what I was doing. Then, as we were eating, William raised his eyes and looked me in the face, and in that instant I knew as surely as I have ever known anything that he would go. I told him that he had my permission and I was sorry that I had told him he couldn’t go. Now it was too late, for the men had already marched away.”

“And then came the announcement,” Lydia said, her voice hollow and dead.