“It’s Joseph Smith,” Rachel shouted joyously. “Joseph Smith’s here.”
As the children all scrambled to their feet, two other figures—a man and a woman—stepped out from behind the shed. The man swept off his hat and dropped to one knee. “He’s not the only one who’s here, Rachel.”
For a moment Rachel was stunned, then she gave a piercing squeal of joy. In one bound she was off the stile and running hard toward the kneeling figure. “Grandpa! Grandpa!” she shouted. With one flying leap she hurled herself into his arms.
Benjamin buried his face against her lean little body, hugging her tightly to him. Then he stood and held her at arm’s length. “Say hello to your grandmother, Rachel. Then let’s go find your mother.”
* * *
Matthew was around the back of the small cabin in Far West, chinking mud in the cracks between the logs. John Griffith had not fully finished the cabin when Matthew had made the trade with him for the farm in Haun’s Mill. In the intervening seven weeks since then, Matthew had finished the last few major items and had started an addition of two small rooms off the back of the house, but the jobs had often been pushed aside as he took whatever jobs he could find in order to get enough food or goods to see him through the coming winter. But today was the first day of November. He knew that the pleasant weather would shortly turn, and he could not keep putting off completing what he had begun.
He had a flat board on which was a pile of thick mud mixed with dried chopped prairie grass. He was trowelling the makeshift mortar into the gaps between the logs, some of which were as much as three or four inches wide. A soft noise behind him brought his head around. He nearly dropped the trowel when he saw Rachel standing there alone. “Rachel?”
“Hello, Uncle Matthew.”
He straightened, looking around. “Rachel, what are you doing here? Is your mother with you?”
Gravely she shook her head, her blue eyes dark and concerned.
He felt a lurch of fear. “Brother John?” Maybe her stepfather had brought her to Far West. It was twelve miles, not a journey a five-year-old made by herself.
But again there was the solemn shake of her head.
He set the mortar board and trowel down quickly. “What’s happened, Rachel? What’s wrong?”
Then she couldn’t hold it any longer. An impish smile stole across her face, and the blue eyes were suddenly dancing. “I came with somebody else.”
Matthew had started toward her. Now he stopped dead as Mary Ann stepped around the corner of the house. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened. Then, in two great strides, he was to his mother, sweeping her up in his arms. “Hello, son,” she said huskily.
“You made it,” he said, as his father and Joseph Smith and Sidney Rigdon stepped out now too. “You made it.”
* * *
The arrival of Joseph Smith in northern Missouri was a great cause of rejoicing to the Saints in Missouri. It had been almost two years since they had last seen him, and with hundreds of new converts pouring into Missouri from the various branches established by missionaries throughout the East and the South, there were many who had never met the Prophet. Oliver Cowdery and David Whitmer had both arrived in Far West earlier (David, sometime in July; Oliver, sometime in October), and their arrival too had been greeted with rejoicing. That meant that two of the three special witnesses who had seen Moroni and the gold plates of the Book of Mormon were now in Missouri.
A meeting of some of the Church was held on the sixth of November in Far West. Joseph had been shown around the countryside by then, and it was determined that there was sufficient room in Daviess and Caldwell counties for additional stakes and that Missouri should be the place of gathering for the Saints. Joseph determined that the building of a temple in Far West should wait further instructions from the Lord.
At a general assembly of the Church held on November seventh in Far West, the leadership of the Church was to be sustained as directed by the Lord in the earliest beginnings of the Church. All the business of the Church was to be done by the principle of “common consent.” Common consent meant that the leadership of the Church proposed which officers were to serve in various callings, then the general membership—both men and women—voted as to whether they would sustain those proposals. They could choose not to sustain them if there was good reason not to. Joseph was unanimously accepted as the President of the Church. Sidney Rigdon was again sustained as First Counselor. But as had happened at Kirtland, the Saints rejected Frederick G. Williams as Second Counselor in the First Presidency, even though Bishop Edward Partridge and other leaders spoke warmly in his defense. Hyrum Smith was sustained in his stead. David Whitmer was nominated to be president of the Church in Missouri. There were immediate objections by some, but David had confessed the error of his ways in the events in Kirtland, and several spoke on his behalf. He was finally sustained. Sustained as assistant presidents for the Church in Missouri were John Whitmer, David’s brother, and W. W. Phelps. Other Church officers were sustained and other Church business conducted, and the conference adjourned.
On the tenth of November, another meeting was held. It was unanimously voted to enlarge the town plat of Far West from one square mile to two. A short time later, Joseph and Hyrum bid the Missouri Saints farewell and started back to Kirtland to return to their families.
* * *
Rebecca threw open the door, a wide smile splitting her face. “Hello,” she started, “come . . .” The smile froze on her lips. “In,” she finished lamely. Mary Fielding had promised she would come over in the afternoon to help Rebecca and Lydia make a quilt. But it was not Mary Fielding who stood on Nathan and Lydia’s porch. It was two men—or rather a young man and a boy.
At the sound of the knock, Lydia’s children had come running. Joshua slid to a stop at the sight of the strangers. Emily collided with him, intent on the men at the door. Little Nathan, just two now, came toddling up behind them, not sure what all the excitement was about but not wanting to miss out.
“Yes?” Rebecca asked, trying to cover herself. She noted quickly that the two were poorly dressed. The weather had finally turned, and there had been snow the previous day. It was late in the day, and the sky was leaden and lowering for another storm. Yet both had on only light jackets, and those were tattered at best. She glanced down. They did not wear boots but only thin leather shoes. The younger one had a scarf around his neck but nothing on his head. The older one wore a small woolen cap that perched on his head but did not cover his ears, which now were tipped with bright red that matched the redness of his nose.
He swept off his hat, a little startled by the warmth of the greeting. “Excuse me, ma’am, but would you be Sister Steed?”
Rebecca was struck with three things all at once. His features were congenial—open and pleasant with a hint of a smile around his mouth. The second thing was his eyes. They were a striking blue—like Brother Joseph’s. And they had that same clearness, the same gentle intensity. And most noticeable, he spoke with a strange accent. Suddenly she remembered he had asked her a question. “Yes,” she said quickly, “I’m Sister Steed.”
There was a momentary look of surprise, as if he had expected her to say no, but then he quickly nodded. “And is your husband at home?”
That really startled Rebecca. Emily, who had pressed up against Rebecca’s leg and was peering up at the strangers, erupted into giggles and answered for her. “Rebecca’s not married, silly.”
“Hush, Emily,” Joshua commanded, embarrassed by his sister’s boldness.
“Oh.” Flustered now, the young man blushed deeply. “I wondered. You look too young to be married and have children.”
For some reason that stung Rebecca. “I’m probably as old as you,” she retorted.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” he apologized hastily. His cap was going around and around as he twisted it in his hands. “It’s just that . . .” He could see that that was not going to do anything but get him in deeper, so he thrust his hand in the pocket of his jacket and drew out a slip of paper and looked at it quickly. “We were looking for Brother and Sister Nathan Steed.”
“He talks funny, Joshua,” Emily said, trying to whisper but still speaking loud enough that everyone heard it.
The young man smiled at that. He bent down slightly, looking into Emily’s dark brown eyes. “Where we come from, everyone would say that it is
you
who talks funny.”
Being inhibited had never been a problem for Emily. At five, she felt completely comfortable conversing with adults. She screwed up her face into a puzzled expression. “We don’t talk funny. You talk funny.”
He laughed pleasantly and turned back to Rebecca, who was embarrassed by her previous curtness. “I’m Rebecca Steed,” she said. “I’m Nathan’s sister.” Then she looked at the two of them more closely, realization dawning. “You’re from England.”
“Yes, from Preston. My name is Derek Ingalls, and this is my brother, Peter. Elder Heber C. Kimball gave us some names of people to see when we got here. He said to be sure and find Nathan Steed.”
Joshua was staring up at Derek in open awe. “From England?” he said. “Did you come on a ship?”
Derek laughed. “Only across the ocean. We walked most of the way from New York City.”
“Why didn’t you take a stagecoach?” Emily asked bluntly.
“Emily!” Rebecca said sharply. Then she gave Derek an apologetic look.
He just laughed and looked down at her. “Because stagecoaches cost a lot of money.”
Rebecca took Emily by the shoulders and turned her around. “Go find your mother, Emily. Tell her we have visitors.” As Emily started off, Rebecca picked up little Nathan and then opened the door more widely. “Nathan is not here right now. He’s down at the livery stable helping my brother-in-law with some repairs.”
“I’ll go get him,” Joshua volunteered eagerly.
“Yes,” Rebecca said. “Tell him we have visitors from En-gland.” Joshua grabbed his coat from the rack and shot out of the door. Rebecca stepped back. “Come in. You must be very cold.”
Derek smiled gratefully. “Only from the toes up and the head down.”
Rebecca laughed. “Then come in and sit down. My brother will be very pleased to meet you.”
* * *
Nathan rolled over onto his side. He peered carefully at his wife in the darkness, but the bedroom was almost totally black and he could not see if her eyes were open. He rolled back.
“I’m awake,” she said.
“Good.” He turned again and took her hand. “I’ve been thinking.”
“About what?”
“About Derek and Peter.”
“Aren’t they wonderful boys? The children adore them.”
“They’re both fine young men. I can’t believe they’ve come all this way completely on their own.”
Lydia smiled sadly in the darkness. “They’ve been on their own a good deal of their lives.”
“I know.” He fell silent, thinking through again the whole situation. In the two days since their visitors had arrived, the Steeds had grown surprisingly fond of Derek and Peter. He took a quick breath, fearing how his idea was going to be received. “I think they need to go to Missouri.”
There was a quick intake of breath, and Lydia turned her head to him. “No, Nathan. They just got here.”
“I know, I know. And it’s not that I wouldn’t love to have them stay with us all winter, but you’ve seen Derek’s reaction to that. He’s not about to take any charity. He wants to make it on his own.”
“And that’s bad?”
“No, of course not. It shows what kind of young man he is. But you know what the situation is in Kirtland now. There’s no work. Prices are impossible. Far West isn’t a paradise, but from all reports, at least there’s work. And . . .” He sighed. “And the problems in the Church here.” He shook his head. “Over a hundred people have been excommunicated or disfellowshipped now. There’s so much bitterness. It’s not a healthy environment for two young men so new in the Church.”
“I don’t think you need to worry there. When I listen to their testimonies—so simple and yet so strong—I think they’ll be all right.”
Nathan had not come to this conclusion lightly. “Joseph has said that Missouri is the place of gathering for the Saints now. If they don’t go now, they’ll want to go with us in the spring. Now will be a better time for them.”
“They don’t have enough money for steamboat fares,” Lydia said. “They’ll have to walk.” She hesitated. “That’s eight hundred more miles.”
Nathan lay there for a moment, then squeezed his wife’s hand. “Not if we gave them enough from our savings.”
He felt her body stiffen. “We’ve got almost fifty dollars now,” he went on in a rush. “I think half of that would get them there. And with Carl’s giving me employment . . .” He smiled ruefully. “I think Carl’s feeling guilty about taking Melissa away from us. He’s got enough work to keep me going most of the winter.”
“I hate for you to be dependent on him,” Lydia said softly. “It’s like it proves his point that we can’t take care of ourselves.”
He moved over closer and took her in his arms. “I know, but he’s being good about it. And all I care about is getting enough money so that we don’t have to have you and the children walk next spring. I know that twenty-five dollars is a lot of money, but I can—”
She put one hand up to his lips. “I don’t care about the money,” she said. “I think it’s wonderful that you are willing to share with the boys.”
Nathan chuckled. “I’m not sure that Derek qualifies as a boy anymore. He’s a man. Been acting like one since he was twelve, it sounds like.”
For several moments Lydia was quiet. Then softly she came to the heart of her objection. “Rebecca will be very disappointed.”
Nathan turned his head, puzzled. “About what?”
She laughed, poking at him. “Are you so blind?”
“What?”
She shook her head.
He came up on one elbow. “You mean her and Derek?”
“Yes,” she said in mock exasperation, “I mean her and Derek. I know my instincts for matchmaking are maybe acting up, but I think there are some definite possibilities there.” She shrugged. “But if Derek and his brother go now, it’s not like it would cut things off completely for Rebecca and Derek. Just delay them a little.”