Others ever so humbly stepped up to claim they were the chosen one. A short time after the August eighth meeting, a man by the name of James J. Strang came forward. He had been baptized by Joseph Smith a few months before his death. Now Strang claimed he had a letter from Joseph which appointed him as Joseph’s successor and which designated Voree, Wisconsin, as the gathering place for the Saints. Brigham and the Twelve stamped the letter as a blatant forgery and counseled Strang to withdraw his claims. Bright, proud, charismatic, he refused and started to sway others to follow his lead. He too was excommunicated.
As August passed and September came and went, things began at last to settle into a calmer and steadier course.
For the Steed family, it looked for a time as though things would do the same for them. They had experienced their own turmoil. Now a more stable and normal pattern of living seemed in the offing.
In late August, Rebecca and Derek made a joint announcement with Matthew and Jenny. In the late spring of 1842, the two women had given birth to babies—Rebecca a boy, and Jenny a girl—just eleven days apart. Now they announced that they would be giving Mary Ann and Benjamin two more grandchildren in the early spring, again within a few weeks of each other. If all went well, the two new ones would be the twenty-third and twenty-fourth living grandchildren. In early September, while visiting from Ramus, Jessica and Solomon Garrett announced that Jessica would make it number twenty-five in early to mid-April.
With Brigham’s new role as leading officer in the Church, he virtually had to abandon his partnership with Matthew in the carpentry and cabinet shop. Ever more skilled in his woodworking expertise, Matthew expanded the shop once, then a second time as the growth in Nauvoo continued unchecked. He hired a second full-time apprentice and then a third and a fourth.
Carl also benefitted from the continuing building boom. He ran the brick kilns from dawn to dark six days a week and still could not keep pace with demand. Neither he nor Melissa attended worship services anymore, though they did not stop Jane Manning from taking the children each Sunday. The women of the clan made no more attempts to convince Melissa that plural marriage was a principle revealed from God. “We’ll just show Melissa that we love her no matter how she feels,” Mary Ann said to the others one day, a few weeks after Carl and Melissa had returned. “Hopefully her heart will soften as time passes. But if not, well, she’s still our Melissa and that doesn’t change how we feel about her.”
In a similar fashion, Joshua determined that he would say no more to Caroline about leaving Nauvoo. But that didn’t change his mind about the need to do so. In September, just as things were settling down again for the Saints, Levi Williams, of Green Plains, just south of Warsaw, called for a great “wolf hunt.” Williams was one of the men who had led the mob from Warsaw that had stormed the Carthage Jail and killed Joseph and Hyrum. Since wolves were now an extreme rarity in this section of the country, there was little question in anyone’s mind but what the call was nothing more than a thinly disguised excuse to ride against the Mormons. Nevertheless, it was advertised in many newspapers throughout Hancock County and stirred up considerable excitement.
Stung by statewide criticism that it was his lack of forceful leadership that had allowed the deaths of the two Smith brothers, Governor Thomas Ford reacted with uncharacteristic swiftness. He sent a contingent of state militia to Warsaw with instructions to stay through the winter and keep the peace. The wolf hunt fizzled out almost as quickly as it had begun.
But all of this only convinced Joshua more strongly than ever that Samuelson was right. It was going to be only a matter of time before this whole thing exploded, and Nauvoo would be right in the middle of it. Quietly, not even articulating his strategy to Will, he began some long-range preparations. He and Will made additional trips downriver to St. Louis. Twice Samuelson came to Nauvoo, bringing Alice with him both times. It was a simple plan and, as was typical of most of Joshua’s dealings, profitable as well. New business enterprises were undertaken in St. Louis, each one carefully chosen with the idea that eventually a family member could come into it and find employment. The two partners bought a struggling construction company and aggressively went after the booming St. Louis building market. They added the subsidiary businesses that were needed to handle both commercial and residential building projects—a sawmill to process the great rafts of lumber coming down from Joshua’s Wisconsin pineries operation; a brickyard, chosen only after careful consultation with Carl; a foundry; a milling shop.
As for Alice and Will, she was true to her word. As the months went on, she said nothing more about the Church or her investigation of it. Will knew that when she was in Nauvoo she peppered other family members, particularly the women, with questions. But she never asked him anything, nor did she give him any indications of her feelings. Though it drove him to distraction, he kept his word to her as well and never once pushed her for details.
On the third day of October, 1844, a huge wooden crate arrived at the south riverboat dock with Joshua Steed’s name on it. It was the Knabe piano he had ordered three months before. Though Olivia’s birthday wasn’t until November third, they decided not to wait. It was unpacked and assembled, to the great celebration of the family, and set up in Caroline’s parlor. The old piano was given to Nathan and Lydia, who started Emily on piano lessons at the same time that Caroline started Savannah. On the front of the piano, above the ivory keys, Joshua placed a small engraved metal plaque. It read simply:
In memory of Olivia Mendenhall Steed
November 3, 1827, to June 13, 1844
Happy Birthday, Livvy!
Five days later, on Tuesday morning, October eighth, the third day of October’s conference meetings, any thoughts that the Steeds’ family life was going to be normal ended once and for all.
It had been a wonderful conference thus far. The questions that had divided the Saints about who would follow in the footsteps of Joseph were behind them. The call for the “wolf hunt” had been put down with dispatch because for once the state government was acting like a state government. Things were calm, though certainly not amiable. The Church was moving forward and organizing itself to cope with the continuing growth. Benjamin considered all of those as good omens.
Brigham had spoken, of course, and taken most of Sunday morning’s meeting. To everyone’s surprise, John Taylor spoke to the afternoon assembly. It was his first public address since being gunned down at Carthage. He still carried some of the remnants of the balls that had struck him in his body. He was pale and still down by fifteen pounds or more, but he spoke with power and authority. More than one pair of eyes—male and female—shed tears that day, touched by what they saw before them.
Monday was devoted to business. The authorities were sustained—the local stake and quorum authorities as well as the Twelve and the Presiding Bishopric. Then Parley Pratt and Heber Kimball addressed the congregation. Brigham had concluded the meeting, startling everyone near the end of his speech when he began to talk about those who had fallen as martyrs. At first, Benjamin had thought he was simply reaffirming the fact that Joseph had not fallen before his time. He reminded the congregation of that day when Joseph and Hyrum had been arrested at Far West. As they were loaded in a wagon, some of the Missouri militia rushed forward, snapping their pistols and trying to shoot them. But it was not Joseph’s time to go, he reminded them. Every gun had misfired that day.
“The Lord never let a prophet fall on the earth until he had accomplished his work,” Brigham went on. “And the Lord did not take Joseph until he had finished his work, and it is the greatest blessing to Joseph and Hyrum God could bestow to take them away, for they had suffered enough.”
Then suddenly he had brought every adult head in the congregation up with a snap.
“They are not the only martyrs that will have to die for the truth,” he cried. “There are men before me today who will be martyrs, and who will have to seal their testimony with their blood.”
Benjamin did not remember much of what was said after that. He had been so struck by the words that nothing else registered. He looked around again even now—at his own family, at the Twelve, at the various other leaders. And some of those would die for their testimony? That was enough to sober any man.
This morning they had assembled for the third day of meetings. Benjamin could tell the crowd had lightened somewhat. Many from outlying areas, such as Solomon and his family, had to return to the last of the harvest or to other occupations. But there were still several thousand gathered together for the last day. John Taylor had just finished speaking about some new economic policies to be inaugurated in Nauvoo. As he finished, Heber C. Kimball stood up.
“Brethren and sisters, President Young will speak to us shortly, but I have a matter of business first. As you know, the call of the seventy is to take the gospel into all the world. The elders are to watch over the Church, the high priests to administer in all spiritual things. But it is the role of the seventy to carry the word to the world and proclaim the gospel. There is much to do in that regard, brethren, and the number of our seventies is limited. We have sent elders and priests out as missionaries, but primarily this should be the work of the seventies. Elder George A. Smith, therefore, has a proposal.”
George A. Smith, a large man by any standards, was soon up and out of his chair and standing beside his fellow Apostle. “Brothers and sisters, I would like to propose that all men who are currently in the elders quorum who are under the age of thirty-five be ordained into the seventies, assuming they are in good standing, are worthy, and will accept the calling.”
“Second the motion,” someone cried.
“All in favor?” Heber asked. Hands came up all over the place, though now the crowd had erupted in a low rumble of sound.
Matthew and Jenny, sitting beside Kathryn in her wheelchair, looked at each other in surprise. Matthew was an elder. He was currently twenty-four years old. He qualified. Derek and Rebecca were staring at each other as well. Derek was an elder. He would turn twenty-seven next week. He would become a seventy. Will and Peter sat beside each other. Peter was still only a priest and a member of the Aaronic Priesthood, but Will had been made an elder prior to his mission to England. He was twenty now. He qualified. With one quick motion, seconded and sustained, the Steeds had just gained three seventies in the family.
The question was unspoken but clear on their faces. The seventies were called to do missionary service. Usually that happened in the fall, when the harvest was in and winter kept many men basically unemployed for the next five or six months. Now they had three seventies. Rebecca dropped her head, not wanting Derek to see her sudden tears. Jenny reached out and took Matthew’s hand. They looked at each other for a long time. Caroline tried to catch Will’s eye, but he was staring off into space, probably thinking about Alice and what this now meant for them.
Benjamin watched it all, feeling a sudden exhilaration, and yet at the same time a pang of sorrow. The exhilaration came from thinking about members of the family going into the missionary labor again. Nathan in Toronto. Derek and Matthew and Will in England. What a blessing all of those had been to the family! His sorrow came from knowing that he would not be part of it. It was eleven years ago now that he had been baptized. For eleven years he had longed for the opportunity to go out and be a missionary. For eleven years, the Lord evidently had not felt like he could provide that kind of service to the kingdom. Oh, Joseph had tried to dissuade him from having those feelings, telling him that Benjamin’s services were needed elsewhere—on the Kirtland Temple building committee, helping lay out Nauvoo. It was not that Benjamin doubted what he said. It was not that he resented the service he had given. It was just that he had not ever been a missionary. And now his son and son-in-law and his grandson might get that privilege. And once again, he would be left here, a graying old man, keeping the kingdom together but not doing much to expand its reach.
Heber C. Kimball sat down and Brigham stood. He looked around the congregation, nodding in satisfaction. “Brethren,” he said, looking from face to face at those who held the priesthood. “We have another organizational matter to attend to. As you know, shortly after our return from the East, and after we were sustained by your hand, we announced that the United States would be divided into districts, based on the congressional districts, and that we would send out high priests to preside over those branches and to build up the Church.”
Benjamin’s head came up.
“We have eighty-five names of high priests here. We would now like to extend those calls as follows.”
Benjamin was suddenly all ears. He was a high priest. The call to the seventies had just passed him by, but he was a
high
priest. A short distance away, Benjamin saw Lydia stiffen. Nathan was a high priest too, and suddenly Benjamin realized what such a call would mean for them and their young family. Earlier he had heard Brigham explain that this branch presidency was not to be some short-term call. “The design,” he had said, “is not to go out for six months and then return, but to go and settle down. Take your families and tarry there until the temple is built. Then come and get your endowments, and then you can return and build up stakes there as large as what we have in Nauvoo.”
For Benjamin and Mary Ann that would mean leaving the family. And that would be painful somewhat. But for Nathan and Lydia, it would mean taking five children; it would mean leaving the store, their primary source of income.
He felt Mary Ann’s hand take his arm as Brigham opened a large sheet of paper and squinted down at it. He didn’t dare look at her. He was barely breathing.
“David Evans. Abraham O. Smoot. Edson Whipple.”