The prophecy about the gathering to the Rocky Mountains declared to those preparing to leave on Zion’s Camp was given in 1834 and was reported by Wilford Woodruff (see Ivan J. Barrett, Joseph Smith and the Restoration: A History of the Church to 1846 [Provo, Utah: Brigham Young University Press, 1973], p. 278).
The details of various happenings in the United States during 1846, including the declaration of war against Mexico, come from two sources (Timothy Foote, “1846: The Way We Were—and the Way We Went,” Smithsonian, April 1996, pp. 38–42; and James Trager, The People’s Chronology: A Year-by-Year Record of Human Events from Prehistory to the Present, rev. ed. [New York: Henry Holt and Co., 1992], pp. 440–43).
Chapter 19
Parley Parker Pratt had celebrated his thirty-ninth birthday on April twelfth, less than a week following the sixteenth anniversary of the founding of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. For nearly sixteen of those thirty-nine years he had been a member of the Church. Within days of his baptism in upstate New York, he had received a call to go to the western borders of the United States on a mission to the Lamanites. Since then he had left his home many times in the service of the Lord—to Upper Canada, to the eastern United States, to England. Now he was on a different kind of mission. On this morning of May sixteenth, 1846, he was one of the company sent ahead by President Young to find the Grand River, in Iowa Territory, and then choose a site where a second semipermanent settlement for the Saints could be established.
The Grand River, which was estimated to be about two hundred miles west of Nauvoo and about two-thirds of the way across Iowa, shouldn’t be that hard to find, he thought. If you kept moving west, surely you would come across it sooner or later. But things were not as simple now. Since Brigham Young had made the decision not to take the Saints into Missouri, they had left the road and turned to the northwest. Guided only by compasses, they moved across the fertile but trackless prairie. Each new stream, lined with trees or underbrush, and usually with steep banks or swampy ground on both sides, presented a new challenge for the wagon train. The crossing of even the smallest creek could turn out to be a fiendish task that exhausted teams, tried men’s tempers, and broke equipment.
They had been on the road for five days now, and still there was no sign of the Grand River. By the previous night, the group had grown quite discouraged. Had they miscalculated? Were the reports they had received incorrect? Or worse, were they striking off in a direction that just might miss the river altogether? One degree off course could take you right past the river without ever seeing it. Parley discounted that one. Their compasses were reliable, and the reports said the Grand River went another fifty miles north of their intended crossing. But the gloom in the camp had been real nevertheless. So while the others were still rising and preparing breakfast, Parley had saddled his horse and ridden out to see what he could see. He had come three, maybe four miles. The sky was thinly overcast, but the light was full enough and the air perfectly clear.
He went up in his stirrups now, peering ahead, letting his eyes scan the western horizon carefully, looking for any signs of a river. Up about a mile ahead, a little north of due west, he could see what looked like small groves of trees dotting a series of gently rolling hills. There was no distinct tree line that gave promise of a river, but that was to be expected. A river as substantial as the Grand would flow along a floodplain below the bluffs.
Feeling a stir of excitement, Parley sat back in the saddle and kicked his heels into the horse’s flanks, pointing the mare’s head at the highest of the hills before him. She broke into an easy lope and he leaned forward and let her run.
When he crested the bluff about five minutes later, he reined in abruptly. There was a sharp intake of breath. Differing shades of green—the yellow-green of new grass, the deeper hues of brush and shrubbery, and the richness of trees in full leaf—were mingled with a sprinkling of reds, yellows, blues, and purples of a thousand prairie wildflowers. The river snaked through it, brown from recent rains. It was a remarkable sight, and he drank it in with breathless excitement.
Enthralled, he clucked softly and his horse moved forward. There was a sudden movement. Two deer, startled from their morning’s browsing, bounded away. A moment later he saw a flash of gray in the underbrush. Peering more closely, he saw that it was a wolf watching him warily. In a moment it was gone, like a momentary puff of smoke taken by the wind. He took a deep breath, savoring the air and the scenery. It was as if he were looking down upon an exquisitely groomed English park.
He reined in again, and for a long moment just sat there, totally transfixed. Then, unbidden, an Old Testament image came to his mind. When Moses and the children of Israel moved up the east side of the Jordan toward the promised land, the Lord had directed Moses to the peak of a mountain that overlooked the river and the land beyond. Moses had recorded that from that mount he could see the promised land, eastward and northward, southward and westward. He named it Mount Pisgah.
With a flood of joy, Parley Parker Pratt removed his hat and lifted it high in the air. “This is Mount Pisgah,” he cried. “This is where we shall make our next place of rest.” He did not ride down farther. He had seen what he needed to see. With a whoop of elation, he turned the mare around and headed back toward the camp.
The afternoon sun, combined with the monotony of the endless trail, was taking its toll on Nathan. After several days of on-again, off-again rain, the sun felt so good. His eyes kept drooping and his head bobbing as his horse plodded steadily along beside Joshua’s. It was May eighteenth, their sixth day since leaving Garden Grove. They had started out pretty good, making a total of twelve miles the first two days. But then the rain began again. They made only five miles the third day, and four the next. Yesterday it was bad enough that they had barely gone two miles before camping again. But the weather had cleared, and Nathan guessed that they had come about another eight or nine miles already. Being on horseback, had they been alone the two of them could have made a lot better time. But in a wagon train it was not the fastest man who set the pace but the slowest. And so they rode alongside the rear wagon, reins hanging loosely to let the horses pick their own way.
“Nathan?”
Nathan’s head came up and he forced his eyes open. Joshua was not looking at him and so had not seen that he had brought him back from the verge of falling asleep. “Yes?”
There was a long silence. Nathan waited, coming fully awake, curious now.
“I’ve been reading the Book of Mormon.”
Nathan stiffened so abruptly that his horse flinched beneath him, startled by the sudden movement on its back. “You what?” he finally managed.
Joshua was looking at him and grinning now. “I told Lydia I was worried about whether your heart could stand this or not.”
“You’re reading the Book of Mormon?” Nathan repeated slowly.
“That’s what I said.” Joshua was greatly amused.
A hundred questions came in a rush to Nathan’s mind. “How long?” he finally settled on.
“Since I took Lydia’s book from the tent several weeks ago.”
Nathan’s eyes widened. “That was you?” he exclaimed.
Joshua’s smile broadened and now he was laughing softly at Nathan. “Yes, that was me. And yes, Lydia knows. I told her before we left Garden Grove. And no, Caroline doesn’t know anything about this. Only you and Lydia and Mama know. Are there any other questions?”
Nathan wanted to rub his eyes, make sure that he had come fully awake. Finally all he could think of to say was what he was feeling. “That’s wonderful, Joshua!”
“Thank you.” Now Joshua’s face pulled into a partial scowl. “I don’t want you jumping to conclusions. I am not ready to become a Mormon. Not by a long shot. Don’t know if I ever will be. I’m just telling you this because I have some questions. Lydia said I should let you know so I could ask you about them, that is, if you’re willing.”
“Willing?” Nathan blurted. “I am so thrilled right now, you’re lucky I haven’t jumped on your horse and started pounding you on the back.”
Now any trace of Joshua’s former humor was gone. “That’s what I mean. That’s why I hesitated telling you and the others. You’re going to think this means a lot more than it does.”
Nathan sobered now too, understanding fully what lay behind that concern. “I know, and I’ll control myself. But if you think I can hide the fact that I am absolutely delighted with this news, then you’ve got your head stuck in a jug.”
“Delighted is all right,” Joshua conceded. “I just would like to take this at my own speed, all right?”
Nathan nodded. “I’ll tell you what. I will let you take the lead. I won’t ask you anything, I won’t push you in anyway. When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here. If you’re not ready, I’ll wait. Fair enough?”
Gratitude showed in Joshua’s eyes. “That would be the way I would prefer it. I’m not sure what I’m even doing on this path, Nathan. And right now it feels awfully slippery to me.”
“I understand. You’ve got the lead. It will probably take every ounce of self-control for me to behave myself in this, but I will, Joshua. I promise.”
Joshua was looking at him directly now, debating whether to say something else.
Nathan suspected what it was. “I won’t tell anyone unless you say I can. You have my word.”
“Thank you.”
“I do think you need to tell Caroline, though. I’ll just say that much.”
He looked glum. “That’s what Lydia said too. And you’re both right, of course. It’s just that . . .”
“It will be a bitter disappointment to her if nothing comes of it,” Nathan finished for him.
“Exactly.”
Nathan said nothing. This was something Joshua would have to work through in his own mind. Nathan watched him out of the corner of his eye. He was looking away from Nathan, deep in thought. Nathan fought back the almost overwhelming urge to say something more, to ask a dozen questions. This was going to be hard, he suddenly realized. Joshua had dropped a cannonball out of the sky directly onto his head, and now he wasn’t even supposed to say “Ouch.”
Almost ten minutes passed before Joshua turned to him again. “So are you up to a few questions?”
Nathan felt a leap of exultation. “I think so,” he said calmly.
Joshua reached back and lifted the flap on his saddlebag, then fumbled inside. In a moment he withdrew Lydia’s Book of Mormon.
Nathan shook his head slowly. “So you had it all the time?” he said softly, more to himself than to Joshua.
There was a grunt but nothing more as he opened the book. Nathan saw that he was using a piece of rawhide string as a bookmark. He found his place, then closed the book again. Awkwardly now, he began to speak. “I’d like to say a couple of things first.”
“All right.”
“I may ask some questions that upset you, but I have no desire to offend. I just—”
Nathan cut that off with a shake of his head. “There’s nothing you can say that will offend me. If I can’t handle it, then I shouldn’t be talking with you.”
“Good.” Joshua seemed pleased with that. “The second thing is, I won’t be a hypocrite.”
“A hypocrite. In what way?”
“Joining the Church just to please everyone. Going along like I accept everything. Acting the part of a believer when there’re too many things I don’t believe.”
“No, you would not be like that, Joshua. I know that. So what is it you can’t believe?”
Joshua opened the book now. “Like this, for example. I was reading this last night.” He ran his finger down the page until he found what he wanted. “This is in Alma. But it’s someone named Am-u . . .” He fumbled with the pronunciation.
“Amulek?”
“Yes. He’s preaching and here’s what he says.” He began to read, using emphasis to alert Nathan to the things that were bothering him. “ ‘Behold, I say unto you, that I do know that Christ shall come among the children of men, to take upon him the transgressions of his people, and that he shall atone for the sins of the world; for the Lord God hath spoken it; for it is expedient that an atonement should be made; for according to the great plan of the Eternal God, there must be an atonement made, or else all mankind must unavoidably perish.’ ” He stopped, put the string back in, and shut the book. “There’s more, but let’s start there.”
“Okay. What’s your question?”
“This atonement, this idea that a Redeemer was chosen before the world to come down and take our sins upon him, don’t you find that inconsistent?”
“Inconsistent?” That was a word that took Nathan by surprise. “In what way?”
“You really think one person could take away another’s sins?”
“I do.”
“You can’t change the past, Nathan.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You can’t change what has already happened.”
“I don’t disagree with that. What has that got to do with taking away someone’s sins?”
“Okay, let me put it this way. You know what I’ve done in the past, what I’ve been.”
“Yes, but you’ve changed, Joshua.”
“Of course I have,” he shot back. “That’s what you all keep telling me. So that will make my point even more. The fact that I have changed doesn’t change what I did. It doesn’t make it go away.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
He nodded, seeing that Nathan was concentrating, trying to understand what he was saying. “Even if Christ did suffer, like you say he did, what good does that do for things that are already done? It doesn’t—it can’t!—change one thing.”
“Oh, Joshua, but it does.”
“No! Listen, let’s say that I repent, that I change my life, get a new heart, all the things that you people call it. You say Christ will take my sins upon himself and everything will be made right.”
“Yes, and I think I can explain how.”
“And I say, that is impossible. It’s trying to change what has already happened.”
Nathan leaned forward on the saddle horn, determined not to jump in too quickly until he really saw what was in Joshua’s mind.
Joshua took his silence as a sign of partial victory and went on. “Sure, someone can say to me, ‘It’s all right, Joshua. You’re forgiven.’ But what does that change? Fourteen years ago, in a drunken fit, I went after my wife. She had an infant at that time. That didn’t stop me. I hit her, Nathan. I hit her hard.”