“You’re father is coming.” She was peeling carrots at the cutting table. Rebecca and Lydia were at the main table deboning a boiled chicken and dropping the pieces of meat into the stew pot. Both of their heads turned to look at her. She set the carrot and the knife down, and turned slowly, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. “He’s running.”
The chicken was forgotten. Rebecca was on her feet, wiping her hands on her apron. Lydia swung around on the bench so that she was facing the door. There was no sound in the room except for the soft gooing of Lydia’s baby from her cradle in the corner.
There was a clumping sound on the porch, then the door flew open. Benjamin took only one step inside. “Brigham and the men are coming in,” he said.
“Derek?” Rebecca asked, holding her breath.
Benjamin nodded. “Fine. Nathan. Matthew. They’re all back.”
Relief flooded across the faces of all three women. That morning, word had reached Far West that a huge company of militia was on the march from the south, and Joseph had sent Brigham Young and Heber C. Kimball out with about a hundred and fifty men to scout the situation. Now it was five o’clock, and there had been no word. The worry had been weighing more and more heavily on their minds.
“Are you sure they’re all back?” Lydia asked.
“Yes. They were chased by a large party of men as they tried to come in, but Brigham says he knew the lay of the land too well and easily eluded them.”
“Thank the good Lord for that,” Mary Ann half whispered.
Benjamin looked at his wife. “Where are the children?”
“Out back.” With the worry lifted, she felt a need to let out her emotions. She smiled. “They’re playing school. Young Joshua is the schoolmaster. Rachel is the teacher. The little ones are the pupils. Emily is—”
“I think you’d better get them inside.”
Mary Ann’s hands gripped her apron, her knuckles suddenly white.
“The army that chased Brigham’s party are marshalling just south of town. There’s another two thousand men—maybe more—camped down by Goose Creek.”
Rebecca drew in her breath sharply. Lydia and Mary Ann both blurted out the same word at the same time. “No!” Lydia was on her feet now too, her greasy hands completely forgotten.
Benjamin nodded gravely. “Joseph is going to send out a flag of truce and see if we can talk with them.”
“But—”
Benjamin hurried on quickly. “Our militia is forming a line along the south edge of town. . . .” He didn’t finish. He just looked at Mary Ann, trying to lessen the impact of what he was about to say. Then he shook his head. “It might be well if you begin gathering whatever valuables we can carry if we have to leave. You’ll have to—” He shrugged helplessly. This was not the time for counsel about the need to travel light. “Don’t come out until you hear something from us.”
And with that, he backed out of the door and shut it quietly, leaving the women to stare at each other.
* * *
General Alexander Doniphan had command of the brigade of the right flank as the army marched northward. When he learned that a large party of riders was seen approaching Far West from the east, he sent word to General Lucas and asked permission to take his brigade and try to cut them off. Permission was granted, and Doniphan and his men rode off at a hard gallop.
The main body had reached Goose Creek by then, which was about a mile south of Far West, and Lucas gave the order to start camp there. But about half an hour later, a rider from Doniphan came tearing back to camp. Doniphan had chased the men, definitely a company of Mormon militia, but had been unable to intercept them before they reached the town. Now Doniphan had his men deployed about two hundred yards south of Far West and was waiting for further orders. Then the thoroughly frightened messenger added his own assessment of the situation, though Doniphan had not given him leave to do so. The Mormons were forming a line behind the barricades. He had seen them with his own eyes. There were over eight hundred of them, and they were heavily armed with rifle and cannon.
The messenger was about six hundred men too high in his estimate, but the damage had been done. Furious, and fearing a trap, Lucas ordered another brigade to march at full speed to link up with Doniphan.
When Joshua Steed got the news of the order to march, he immediately mounted up and went to Lucas’s tent. Lucas was inside, putting on his full dress uniform. Joshua went past the aide with barely a nod. Lucas had been furious. Now Joshua was trying to reason with the general.
“Sir, I’ve been to Far West. I know the lay of the land. I can help.”
“No.” He didn’t even look up from pulling on his boots.
“But, sir, I am the captain of a mounted company. I—”
Lucas looked up, peering at him over the top of his spectacles. “Steed, I’ve already ordered General Graham’s brigade forward. You are not part of that brigade.”
“With all due respect, sir, I believe you’re holding me back because of my family.”
Lucas stood slowly, his face reddening. “You listen, mister,” he said tightly, “I’ve got a war on my hands here, and I’ll put you where I need you.” He stopped, daring Joshua to contradict him. When Joshua didn’t say anything, he went on. “If you’re so all-fired anxious for something to do, you take your company and ride guard duty along the eastern flank.”
“But, sir—”
Lucas overrode him heavily. “You patrol all the way up across the road that comes from the east. They already just got a hundred and fifty men back into town. I don’t want them getting any more reinforcements.”
Joshua’s mouth opened to protest, but Lucas spun around and reached for his coat that hung over his chair. He didn’t look back. “That duty will start immediately, Steed,” he snapped. “Dismissed.”
Too angry now to speak, Joshua turned on his heel and stalked away. Lucas finished buttoning the coat, brushing at the gold officer’s braid on the shoulders, then turned, beckoning to his aide standing just outside the front of the tent. The man stepped forward smartly. “Sir?”
Lucas was buckling on his sword now. “Send a rider to Graham. Give him the word that I don’t want to be caught in a trap. He’s to get Doniphan and they’re both to withdraw back to camp immediately. We’ll wait until tomorrow for any engagement.”
“Yes, sir.” The aide started to pivot.
“Owens.”
He turned back. “Yes, sir?”
“Find Lieutenant Carter. Tell him I want him to ride with Captain Steed.”
There was a momentary flash of surprise, but he nodded immediately. “Yes, sir.”
“You tell him I want him to stick by Steed every minute. He’s to report to me personally if anything out of the ordinary happens.”
The man saluted. “Yes, sir. I’ll tell him, sir.” And with that, he was away.
* * *
As the two brethren who had gone out with the flag of truce came walking back toward the barricades, the brethren nearest to Joseph pushed in close to hear their report. As a leader of the home defense, Benjamin Steed was right next to Joseph. Nathan, Matthew, and Derek were about fifty or sixty yards down the line, and all they could do was watch from a distance. The men huddled in a circle for two or three minutes, then they backed up a little as Joseph Smith began to speak to them. He waved an arm in one direction, pointing out things, then turned, doing the same in the other direction.
“Look, the army’s leaving.” Matthew was pointing at the long line of men down the rise from them. Just as the negotiations between the Mormons and Doniphan’s brigade got under way, there had been a ripple of panic along the Mormon line when a second group, about the same size as the first, had appeared coming toward them at a hard march. But now there was no question about it. Both groups were retreating, moving slowly down the hill.
Nathan turned back and saw that Joseph’s instructions were finished and that Benjamin was approaching them. As he came up, the men around Nathan and Matthew and Derek gathered in close so they could hear what was going on.
“What did they say?” someone blurted as Benjamin joined them.
Benjamin’s mouth was drawn into a tight line. “Governor Boggs has issued an order to the militia. That’s why they’re here.”
“What order?” Nathan demanded. “I thought they’d come to protect us.”
Benjamin was staring at the ground. Slowly his head came up. “They aren’t here to protect us.”
There were cries of stunned surprise and horrified shock.
“But why?” Derek exclaimed. “We’re not the aggressors here.”
Benjamin was weary. “
Why
doesn’t matter. The man read the order to our brethren. Their army is pulling back to Goose Creek for the night. Tomorrow . . . ?” His shoulders lifted and fell. And then he grew very businesslike. “Joseph wants the barricades strengthened. He wants every wagon, every spare table. These cabins along the edge of town, tear them down. Use the logs to strengthen the walls. Any unused lumber or logs, get them here as quickly as possible.”
The men were still too stunned to protest. They just stared at him. Their obtuseness made Benjamin suddenly angry. “Move!” he shouted. “We’ve got no more than twelve hours to get ready.”
They moved swiftly away, in groups of twos and threes. Benjamin watched them go, then turned back to his sons. “Derek, you and Matthew go home. Tell the women what’s happened. Make sure they’ve started to pack our things. Tell them food will be important. Warm clothes for the children. Anything they can use for bandages.”
Derek passed one hand over his eyes. He was dazed too. “Yes, Father Steed.”
As they half turned, Benjamin spoke again. “Matthew?”
“Yes, Pa.”
“There’s a good chance they’ll fire the houses. Move anything of value we can’t carry with us outside. Far enough away it won’t burn. Maybe we can salvage something once this is over.”
* * *
“Someone’s coming!”
Half a dozen men in Joshua’s company saw the approaching horsemen at the same time. Rifles whipped up and everyone went on instant alert. But as Joshua squinted to try and see them better, he relaxed almost at once. It was a large party—more than two hundred, Joshua guessed—and they were raising a cloud of dust along the road. But even at this distance Joshua could see that many of them were painted to look like Indians.
He swore under his breath and raised one arm. “They’re ours, boys. Stand easy.”
Some of the lunatic fringe that was now part of Lucas’s army had decided that they could convince the Missourians that there had been an Indian uprising—something that would strike terror in the heart of any Missourian. So they had put red on their clothes and painted their faces. If the sight hadn’t disgusted him so much, Joshua would have laughed. Even at a distance they looked no more like real Indians than boys playing games in the school yard.
Joshua’s men began calling and waving to the riders, and they cantered up to join them. As they approached, Joshua suddenly felt his stomach drop. The men were carrying the spoils of war. Some carried two rifles. One had a woman’s dress draped across his saddle. Another had a small leather trunk between him and the saddle horn. Several were leading extra horses by their bridles or halter ropes. A boy not yet twenty was swinging a length of a woman’s beads.
“Captain Joshua Steed,” Joshua called to the man who was obviously in charge. “First Brigade, Third Division.”
The man was grinning broadly. “Nehemiah Comstock and my boys from Livingston County.” He leaned across his saddle, extending his hand.
Joshua started to reach out to take it, then recoiled in shock. The hand had dark red smears all across the palm.
Comstock looked down, then hooted. “Hey, boys, tell ’em what we’ve been doing.” He looked at Joshua and cackled fiendishly. “We just come from Haun’s Mill. We been killing Mormons.”
* * *
“Lieutenant?” It took every ounce of the control Joshua had learned in a thousand poker games to keep the look of repulsion from his face and the nausea from his eyes.
“Yes, Captain.” Lieutenant Carter owned a hat shop in Richmond. He was married and had a young family. Joshua saw, with some relief, that his face was nearly as gray as his coat. Some of the other men in Joshua’s company were hollering and shouting out their regrets that they hadn’t been part of Comstock’s attack, but Carter had paled at what he was hearing. He had nearly fallen off his horse when one man, the front of his clothes stiff with dried blood, had told in graphic detail how he had hacked an old man to pieces with a corn cutter.
Joshua pulled himself out of his thoughts with a real effort. “Lieutenant, you and the men take Mr. Comstock and his men back to General Lucas. I’d like to ride on a little, make sure there’re no Mormons out here.”
Comstock roared with laughter. “Ain’t no live ones, that’s for sure.”
Joshua ignored him. “Tell the general I don’t think there’s much—”
“Sir?” Carter cut in.
“What?”
“We can leave a detail out here to watch the road. I think you and me need to accompany Mr. Comstock back to camp.”
Joshua wanted to scream out at the man, curse him for standing between him and getting to Haun’s Mill. He had to know. He had to see with his own eyes if it was as horrible as Comstock said. He had to know if Jessica and Rachel were still there. But while those thoughts raced through his mind, he kept his face impassive. “I’ll be fine. You ask the general to send out a relief for me. Then I’ll come in.”
Carter’s hand came up and rested on the butt of his pistol. “Begging your pardon, sir, but I think it’s best if you come back with us.”
A sudden quiet fell over the men. They weren’t sure what was going on, but they sensed the tension between their two officers.
And then, with a jolt, Joshua understood. Lieutenant Carter might be green when it came to military action. And he might be a little gray around the gills right now, but he was also totally loyal to General Samuel Lucas. And Samuel Lucas had sent him to watch Joshua.
Knowing he had lost, and almost physically sick at the thought of it, Joshua nodded, forcing his voice into a studied nonchalance. “Well, maybe you’re right. Pick twelve men to stay here.” He turned to Comstock. “Let’s go. General Lucas is gonna want to hear what you have to say.”