“Read it. First couple of paragraphs just state who he is and so forth. Start about the third paragraph.”
Joshua’s eyes dropped and he scanned quickly. Then, as he began to read more slowly, he felt a chill settle in upon him.
I hereby testify that the Mormons have among them a company, considered true Mormons, called the Danites, who have taken an oath to support the heads of the Church in all things that they say or do, whether right or wrong. Many, however, of this band are much dissatisfied with this oath, as being against moral and religious principles. On Saturday last, I am informed by the Mormons, that they had a meeting at Far West, at which they appointed a company of twelve, by the name of the “Destruction Company,” for the purpose of burning and destroying, and that if the people of the town of Buncombe came to do mischief upon the people of Caldwell, and committed depredations upon the Mormons, they were to burn Buncombe; and if the people of Clay and Ray made any movement against them, this destroying company were to burn Liberty and Richmond. . . .
Their prophet, Joseph Smith, accepts this notion, and it is believed by every true Mormon, that Smith’s prophecies are superior to the laws of the land. I have heard the Prophet say that he would yet tread down his enemies, and walk over their dead bodies; and if he was not let alone, he would be a second Mohammed to this generation, and that he would make it one gore of blood from the Rocky mountains to the Atlantic ocean.
Beneath the signatures of Marsh and the justice of the peace there was a brief statement, which read: “Most of the statements in the foregoing disclosure I know to be true; the remainder I believe to be true.” It was signed by Orson Hyde and likewise attested to by the justice of the peace.
Joshua swallowed once, then again, then finally looked up, handing the paper back. “I don’t believe that, sir.”
Atchison leaned forward, his mouth pulling into a line. “You don’t?”
“No, sir. I think Joseph Smith is a deluded and misled man. I think the Mormons, including my own family, are foolish for following him in religious things. I think the whole idea of Mormonism is a fraud. But . . .” He took a quick breath. “But I know Joseph Smith. I know the Mormon people. They are not out to bathe this country in blood. I do not believe for a minute that they will try to burn us out. I don’t know why this Marsh and Hyde have decided to say these things, but I don’t believe them.”
He sat back, trying not to let his breathing be too heavy. Atchison and Parks were both watching him closely, and he felt a tiny bead of perspiration begin to form on his lower lip.
A noise in the outer office drew their attention. The general’s aide was standing there with a well-dressed and fine-looking man. Atchison looked up for a moment, then to Joshua. “Is this man Thomas B. Marsh, as you remember him?”
Joshua studied the man’s face for a moment. Marsh did not look at him. Finally, Joshua nodded. “Yes, sir. It is the man I remember.”
Atchison tossed his head slightly and the aide led Marsh away again. He turned back once more to Joshua. “Thank you, Captain. That will do. You’re dismissed.”
Chapter Notes
There has been much controversy about Sampson Avard and the Danites. Many non-Mormon authors have used the Marsh statement and later testimony by Avard himself to try and discredit Joseph Smith and the Church. However, two excellent articles in
BYU Studies
reveal several important points: (1) Sampson Avard was keenly opportunistic and a known liar. (2) The companies of the armies of Israel organized in Far West were not commonly called the Danites by the Mormons. Joseph Smith occasionally used that term because Daniel the prophet had talked about the Saints in the last days. Joseph did not take the name from the warlike members of the tribe of Dan. This is confirmed by the only known eyewitness account actually written at the time the events were happening. (3) The companies organized under Joseph’s direction were far more than military groups and filled the function of caring for the Saints as outlined in this and the previous chapter of the novel. (4) The oaths and secret signs and death threats were part of Avard’s way of keeping his true purposes hidden. (5) Once Avard’s true colors were discovered, he was excommunicated from the Church. (See Leland H. Gentry, “The Danite Band of 1838,”
BYU Studies
14 [Summer 1974]: 421–50; and Dean C. Jessee and David J. Whittaker, eds., “The Last Months of Mormonism in Missouri: The Albert Perry Rockwood Journal,”
BYU Studies
28 [Winter 1988]: 5–41.)
An interesting footnote to Sampson Avard’s life: After the fall of Far West, Avard was found hiding in a thicket and was arrested. In an attempt to turn blame away from himself, Avard testified that Joseph had authorized the secret society and sent them on a mission to kill and plunder. (So much for his sacred oath never to reveal the secrets of the society, even at the risk of his own life!) Though others testified as to his lack of integrity and that his testimony was perjured, the Missourians never punished Avard for his actions against them prior to his defection.
The bulk of Avard’s speech to the captains as presented in the novel is taken virtually intact from Joseph’s record, as is the affidavit signed by Thomas B. Marsh (see
HC
3:180–81, 167). John Taylor later noted that it may be possible the enemies of the Church embellished Marsh’s statement to make it worse than it was. However, he also notes that it was still a very terrible thing Marsh and Hyde did. (See
HC
3:167–68n.)
It should also be mentioned that Orson Hyde was ill with a violent fever at the time of his defection and may have been more susceptible to Marsh’s persuasions. Hyde returned to the Church a few months later, asked forgiveness, and was reinstated to the Twelve in June of 1839. Thomas B. Marsh was out of the Church until 1857 when he came to Utah and publicly confessed his error and was rebaptized into the Church. (See
CHFT
, p. 199; see also Lyndon W. Cook, “ ‘I Have Sinned Against Heaven, and Am Unworthy of Your Confidence, But I Cannot Live Without a Reconciliation’: Thomas B. Marsh Returns to the Church,”
BYU Studies
20 [Summer 1980]: 389–400.)
Chapter 14
Lydia lurched up into a sitting position, one hand at her throat, the other clutching at the empty air, trying to find something to steady her. The cabin was pitch black, and for a few terrifying seconds she thought she had been buried alive and was smothering. Then, as suddenly as she had come awake, she came to awareness. They were in her mother-in-law’s cabin, sleeping in Rebecca’s old bed. She and Nathan had moved in with Nathan’s parents and given their cabin to other families. The baby slept in a small bassinet beside them. Her other children were just through the curtain from her.
Reaching out in the darkness, she felt Nathan’s bulk beneath the blanket. She lay back down slowly, the pounding in her chest gradually slowing now.
It must have been a nightmare
. She had not slept well since she and Nathan had moved their family—
Her head jerked up again and cocked to one side. And then she knew what it was that had awakened her. The sound was faint, having to come through thick log walls and narrow window openings, but it was unmistakable. Somewhere from the direction of the courthouse someone was sounding a trumpet. “No,” she whispered. “Oh, dear Lord, no. Please no!”
There was silence for just a moment. Then the hauntingly beautiful and coldly terrible sound started again, carrying in the stillness of the night across the whole of Far West. Now it was joined by a deep booming sound. The signal drum. Then a rifle fired. Then another. Then another. Three shots!
Suddenly her hands felt as cold as if they had been packed in snow, but she knew what she had to do. She leaned over and shook her husband roughly. “Nathan! Wake up!”
“Huh? What?” He was mumbling as he half turned.
“Nathan, listen!” she hissed. “They’re sounding the call to battle.”
* * *
There were almost a hundred men on the public square when Nathan, Benjamin, and Matthew arrived. It was just after the hour of midnight. The twenty-fifth day of October 1838 had just begun. The trumpet was still now, but someone on the far side of the square was still beating the big bass drum with slow, heavy beats. The sound was both forlorn and ominous at the same time. The brethren milled about, some talking in quiet whispers, others standing motionless, hugging themselves against the chill, looking grim-faced and a little numb.
As the Steed men joined the crowd, Nathan saw his good friend Parley Pratt. “Parley,” he called.
Parley turned, peering at them in the darkness. “Ah, Nathan.” He came over, sticking out his hand. “Hello, Father Steed. Matthew.”
“What’s happening?” Nathan asked.
“Two more men came in from the south a short time ago,” Parley explained. “There’s more trouble.”
Nathan felt his heart sink. Just after sundown a rider had come in from the southernmost part of the county. The report he brought sent a shock wave through Far West. For the past several days a band of about thirty Missourians from Jackson County—under the command of a Reverend Samuel Bogart, one of the Mormons’ most bitter enemies—had been patrolling the line between Ray and Caldwell counties. The group was a unit of the militia and supposedly was there to make sure the Mormons and Missourians didn’t clash. But this morning Bogart had taken his unit across the line into Mormon country.
They quickly reached an isolated settlement and began to terrorize a man by the name of Thoret Parsons, a member of the Church who lived there with his family. Brandishing weapons, Bogart and his men told Parsons he had better be gone by ten o’clock the following morning or he would be shot. Bogart also bragged that Cornelius Gilliam was on his way from DeWitt to bolster Bogart’s forces. Gilliam was bringing a small cannon, and they would give Far West “thunder and lightning” by noon of the same day.
Parsons dispatched a rider to Far West to warn Joseph and the Saints. Joseph had immediately put the whole city on alert. It was decided that the sound of the trumpet, the drum, and three rifle shots would serve as the call to battle. So the men of Far West went to sleep with their clothes on and their weapons close at hand.
Parley looked around, as if he was expecting to see someone; then when he didn’t, he turned back and began to explain. “This morning, two of our brethren saw Bogart’s men out and about again inside the county line. They decided to follow them at a safe distance and see what they were up to. Those are the two brethren who rode in just a short time ago.”
“What did they say?” Matthew asked eagerly. “Is Bogart still coming?”
Nathan looked at his younger brother and shook his head. Supper at the Steeds’ had been a tight-lipped affair. Nathan and his father could not shake a heavy sense of dread. His mother and Lydia had barely held back the tears. But there was none of that in Matthew. After Lyman Wight’s militia had frightened the mobs out of Daviess County, things in the north had quieted down somewhat, and Matthew had been pulled off the communications relay line. That had been three days ago. He had chafed under the interminable waiting. He was hungry for action and was almost dancing now in anticipation. “Did they find Bogart?” he pressed.
Parley nodded slowly, staring at the ground.
“Well?” Benjamin said.
“Eight of Bogart’s men went to the Pinkham place, in the same general area as the Parsons farm. They threatened him, same as Parsons, but they also stole four horses, some food, and Brother Pinkham’s firearms.” He let out his breath in a long, pain-filled sigh. “What’s worse, they took three prisoners.”
“No!” Benjamin exploded.
“Yes,” Parley went on grimly. “Pinkham’s boy and two other men. As they rode away, they told Pinkham they’d all be dead by morning.”
Matthew whistled softly. “Then we’ve got to go after them.”
Nathan laid a hand on his brother’s arm, still looking at Parley. “Do they know where they’ve taken them?”
“We think so. The two brethren followed Bogart until he seemed to be making camp. That was on the ford of the Crooked River, about twelve miles from here. The prisoners were still with them and alive at that time, near as they could tell.”
“Where’s Joseph?” Nathan asked, looking around now too.
“He took the two messengers to Judge Higbee. He wants them to give their report to the judge. As you know, he’s the highest civil authority in the county. And a crime has been committed.”
“What good will that do?” Matthew demanded. “We’ve got to go save those men.”
“Joseph wants to—”
But just then someone called out. The crowd of men went instantly quiet as they turned. Joseph was coming with two brethren whom Nathan didn’t recognize. They were accompanied by several of the Church leaders. The men stepped back, opening a place for them in the center of the crowd. Joseph waited until they closed in again, then lifted his hands. Now all noise stopped.
“Brethren,”—he held up a paper and waved it back and forth—“we have what we need. After hearing the testimony of Brother Holbrook and Brother Juda, two brave men, Judge Higbee has ordered Colonel Hinkle to call out the militia.”
The crowd erupted into a ragged but triumphant cheer.
“That’s great!” Matthew nearly shouted into his father’s ear. “It’s about time we did something besides stand around letting the mob have their way with us.”
Joseph continued, “We are asking for about seventy-five volunteers to help us carry out Judge Higbee’s order to disperse the mob and rescue the prisoners.” As the excitement began to sweep across the group again, Joseph spoke more loudly. “I remind you brethren, we go not out as a mob or as an unauthorized body of men. Brother Hinkle is a lieutenant colonel in the Missouri militia. Now the ranking, duly elected official in Caldwell County has given Colonel Hinkle power to activate the militia. You go now with full legal authority.” He turned and motioned for a man on the front line to come up. “Colonel Hinkle.”