* * *
Word spread through Far West like a lightning bolt that Joseph and Hyrum and the others had been taken south. There had been great fear for their safety before, but now? Jackson County! The Saints knew firsthand about that place. The very name left everyone filled with a deep sense of foreboding. It was a bitter blow indeed, and by the time night fell over the city on that evening of November second, the gloom descended with even greater thickness than the darkness.
The two babies—Jessica’s and Lydia’s—were so tired, the family decided to put them to bed first, then have supper. After supper, Benjamin suprised everyone by standing up abruptly. “All right,” he said. “Who wants a story?”
There was an instant chorus of “I do’s” from the children.
“Then get yourselves a pillow or a blanket and gather over there by the fireplace.”
Mary Ann raised one eyebrow at him, not in question but in surprise. He shrugged. “The children don’t understand all this,” he murmured, waving his hand in a half circle, as though that could possibly define all that they were experiencing.
Mary Ann’s face instantly softened. “Of course,” she said. “They’ve had enough fear and terror. Thank you, Ben.”
Lydia stood up now too. “It’s a wonderful idea, Father Steed. As we cleaned the cabin yesterday, I found our book of
Grimm’s Fairy Tales.
It’s torn a little but still usable. Would you like me to read to them? You look tired.”
He nodded. “I think they would love to hear you read, but I’m not too tired to join you.” He looked around at the children, who were scrambling to get something to sit on and a place to put it. “Tell you what.” He reached down and scooped a pillow out of young Joshua’s arms. “How about Grandpa being the pillow?”
He moved a short distance beyond the fireplace where the wall was clear and there was open space on the floor. He sat down, placing the pillow behind his back, and leaned against the wall. “All right, now.” He patted his legs. “Who wants to lie on Grandpa?”
There were squeals and shouts and a mad rush. Young Joshua sat right beside his grandfather, underneath his left arm. Emily and little Nathan curled up against Benjamin’s hip on the same side. Rachel and her two stepbrothers, Mark and Luke Griffith, laid their pillows on his other leg and stretched out happily. They looked like a clutch of baby chicks gathering to the wings of the old mother hen.
The women watched with warm affection as each child snuggled in against this big and gentle man. Benjamin looked down at the place beneath his other arm, opposite where young Joshua sat. “I’ve still got room right here,” he said to the children. “Anyone want it?” They all shook their heads. They had already gotten their first choices.
Rebecca was sitting with Derek on the bench. Suddenly she stood up. “I want it, Grandpa,” she said shyly. She moved quickly and sat down beside him. Surprised, but deeply pleased, he enveloped her with his arm and reached down and kissed the top of her head. “This is
my
baby girl,” he said to Emily. “Did you know that?”
Emily put her hand to her mouth and giggled.
Then a thought struck Benjamin. He looked at Peter and Derek. “We take children of all ages here,” he said. Peter looked startled, but Derek laughed and in a moment was over sitting beside his wife. Peter moved over to sit by young Joshua. The moment Peter was settled, Emily, showing all the fickleness of a six-year-old, scooted over and sat on his lap.
“Come on, Mama,” Rachel called. “Come sit with me and Luke and Mark. There’s room.”
As Jessica smiled at her daughter and complied with her wishes, Benjamin wiggled over a little, pushing Joshua over some more. He looked up at Mary Ann. “We even take beautiful grandmas.”
Mary Ann laughed in embarrassment. “I’m all right. It’s too crowded.”
“No, Grandma, come on!” It came out as one chorus from the children. Laughing happily, she surrendered, stepped across the children, and snuggled in beside her husband.
“That’s better,” he said. Then he smiled up at Lydia. “All right. I think we’re ready.”
* * *
By nine o’clock, all of the children were asleep. Rebecca and Derek sat at the kitchen table, talking quietly as they held hands. Lydia, Mary Ann, and Jessica were working on patching a quilt that had been violently ripped open during the looting of the cabin. Peter was reading the fairy tale book to himself, and Benjamin was reading in the Doctrine and Covenants. It was the first quiet time they had had for nearly three days, and it felt wonderful to have a moment of peace.
When the knock came at the door there was an instant flutter of fear. They all looked at one another, then Benjamin rose slowly. Derek also stood and walked to the door with him. Every eye in the room followed them. For a moment, Benjamin hesitated; then he lifted the latch and pulled the door open.
“Brother Steed?”
Benjamin blinked in surprise. “Good evening, Brother Salisbury.”
“I’m sorry to bother you so late.”
“It’s all right. We’re still up. Come in.”
William Salisbury lived across town, and Benjamin knew him only because they had worked on a building committee together a few months before. He was a small man, barely five feet six, and was of a quiet demeanor and an unassuming manner.
Benjamin shut the door behind them and quickly introduced him around the room. Then he motioned to a chair. Brother Salisbury swept off his hat, and they all sat down again. “I can’t stay long. My wife is very nervous.”
Benjamin nodded. Considering the past seventy-two hours, that wasn’t surprising. “All right, how can we help you?”
“You probably can’t. I only came because someone suggested your name.” Everyone in the cabin was watching the man closely now, wondering what this was about. “A strange thing happened yesterday about midday.”
Lydia gave him an incredulous look. Yesterday at midday was right at the height of the mobbing.
Only one thing was strange?
“My wife saw a man get shot.”
That brought a little involuntary intake of breath from both Rebecca and Jessica. Benjamin straightened a little. This wasn’t what they had expected. Derek stepped forward. “Who was it?”
“Well, that’s just it. He’s at our home right now, but we don’t know who he is. He’s badly wounded, hasn’t gained consciousness at all. I don’t think he’s one of us.” He shook his head, clearly puzzled. “In fact, he looks like an officer in the militia. But that’s what is so strange. It was two of the mob who shot him and—”
Derek shot to his feet. Salisbury looked a little surprised but went on. “My wife and children were hiding in the cornfield behind the barn. They saw these two men arguing with some other militiamen. The one was shouting and swearing at the others, said he had to have a rifle right now. He finally got one, then the two ran toward the fence and dropped down to hide. My wife says that pretty soon she and the children saw this other man coming, kind of sneaking along, and one of these two men who were hiding up and shot him. Then the two saw someone coming and got scared and ran.”
Rebecca had one hand to her mouth. “Were the two men dressed like Indians?” she whispered.
Salisbury jerked around. “Yeah, they were. How did you know?”
Benjamin came up out of his chair now too, staring at Rebecca in astonishment. He spun back around to their visitor. “And you’ve no idea who this man is?”
“No. But somebody said you had a son who was in the—”
Derek’s sudden movements cut him off. The young Englishman had whirled and gone to the door in two steps, grabbing his hat from the pegs that were on the back of it. Benjamin was right behind him. “Come show us,” Benjamin said grimly.
* * *
Benjamin looked down at his son and shook his head gravely. “If we move him it’s going to have to be very carefully. With a litter. I think even a wagon will be too much for him.”
Sister Salisbury had a frightened look on her face. “We can’t keep him here. What if the men who shot him come looking for him?”
Benjamin felt a flash of irritation, but it left him as rapidly as it had come. She was right. Someone had gotten the body of the man Joshua had shot out of Benjamin’s cabin. That meant someone knew that a militia officer had shot and killed one of his own. So there was bound to be a search.
He turned to Brother Salisbury. “Do you have anything we could use to make a litter? We’ll take him to our home.” Nathan’s home wouldn’t be a solution for very long, but they had to get him away from the Salisburys’.
Salisbury considered that for a moment. “I can find something. And I’ll get a couple of men to help. It’s a long ways back to carry him.”
As he hurried out, Benjamin turned and looked down at his son. His mind was racing. What did they do now?
* * *
It was about a half hour before dawn on the morning of Sunday, November fourth. The sky was overcast, and the night was pitch black. It had rained on and off for the past twelve hours, leaving the prairie wet and soggy, perfect for muffling the sounds of footsteps or crackling grass.
Nathan reached over and gripped Matthew’s shoulder, slowing their pace even more. They were about a quarter of a mile north of the outskirts of Far West. It had been a shock when they arrived and saw the line of campfires. Far West was under quarantine. So they had settled down to wait. Then the rain had come, and the guards began to draw in to the fires, making only sporadic patrols. So Nathan and Matthew had decided to risk it.
Nathan had chosen a spot midway between two of the campfires, but that still left men on either side of them no more than thirty or forty yards away. He fought the temptation to look back and see if anyone had seen them and was coming. But he didn’t give in. If they were sighted, they would hear about it soon enough. They were past the patrol line now, still close enough to be seen but moving closer to safety with every step.
“Hey! Who goes there?” The shout came from behind them and to their left. “Halt!”
“Go!” Nathan hissed. He ducked down and exploded into a run. He heard Matthew coming right behind him. There was a rifle blast, and now men were shouting.
“They can’t see us!” Nathan cried. “Run!” Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash, then another, followed instantly by the explosions. It only lent heels to their flight.
When they reached the tree line that marked the course of Shoal Creek just to the north of the city, Nathan knew they had made it. He plunged into a thicket of elderberry bushes, ignoring the scratching and tearing at their clothing and faces. He dropped to the ground, pulling Matthew down beside him. Nathan turned to look back. He could see shadows milling back and forth in front of the nearest campfire. He held his breath, listening intently, trying to hear the sound of footsteps over the drizzling rain. There was nothing. He laughed softly. “I guess they don’t care if Mormons come into the city,” he said in relief. “Only if they try to get out.”
“Then let’s go home,” Matthew said, panting heavily.
Nathan shook his head immediately. “Not until tonight.”
“What? Tonight? Why not now?”
“It’s going to be dawn in a little while. We don’t know what’s waiting for us in Far West. If the whole city is surrounded . . .” He let it go unfinished. “We’ll hole up here until it gets dark again. Then we’ll go in.”
Chapter Notes
The depiction of Hyrum’s being brought home under guard and the militiamen’s heartless forcing of Mary to rise from her bed to get his things is based on true accounts. Similar scenes were repeated with the Prophet Joseph, Sidney Rigdon, and Parley P. Pratt. (See
MFS,
pp. 77–78;
PPP Auto.,
p. 162.)
It was after the prisoners were returned to the wagons from their various households that word came to the Prophet’s mother that her sons were about to depart. The novel’s detailed account of her attempt to bid farewell to her two sons at that departure is drawn from her history (see
Mack Hist.,
pp. 290–91).
Chapter 24
The Mormon war is over!”
Caroline stared at Obadiah Cornwell blankly, his words not registering.
He smiled. “That’s right. It’s over, Caroline. The Mormons have surrendered. They’re bringing Joe Smith to Jackson County right now. We just learned they’re camped down by the river.”
“Joseph Smith?”
“Yes. He and several others are in chains. Far West has surrendered.”
She swayed a little, a mix of emotions washing over her. “Joshua? Is there any word from him?”
Joshua’s partner shook his head. “No. It will be at least a week before they get things settled, but it’s over. The war’s over.”
“Thank heavens.” Then a thought struck her. “I’m going to go see him.”
“Joshua?”
“No, Joseph Smith. Maybe he knows something about Joshua.”
Cornwell was genuinely shocked. “That’s not a good idea, Caroline.”
“Why not? He knows us. He’s good friends with Joshua’s family.” Suddenly her eyes darkened. “Oh, maybe he can tell me about Joshua’s family. I’ll bet it’s weeks before we get mail from them.”
“He’s a prisoner, Caroline!” Cornwell exploded. “Don’t you understand? They’re bringing him here to execute him.”
Caroline looked away, her mouth pulling into a stubborn line. “All the more reason to see him now. I’m going, Obadiah. Please don’t stop me.”
* * *
When Caroline and Will pulled up in the buggy, Caroline was surprised to see that they were not alone, not by any means. There were two dozen buggies or wagons out from town, and a crowd of people milling around the army wagons. She understood immediately. Joseph Smith would be a source of great curiosity to many. She tied the reins to a bush and, with Will in tow, hurried over to join the people, looking to see if she could spot Joseph.
As she came around the edge of the crowd, Caroline saw Joseph immediately, and he saw her. She saw one eyebrow go up in surprise, then a faint smile. But he immediately turned back to the people. He was speaking to a woman, or rather, she was speaking to him. Caroline recognized her. She was the wife of one of Jackson County’s wealthier farmers. Caroline moved closer so that she could hear.