Carter stiffened. “The general said I was to report directly to him.”
“Then you’ll just have to wait until morning.” The aide turned toward the tent door and waved his hand. Outside it was cacophony. Men yelling. Horrid shrieking. Occasional gunfire. “For heaven’s sake, man! Can’t you hear what’s going on out there? We’ve got Joe Smith! We’ve got the Mormon leaders. The Mormons are going to surrender in the morning. General Lucas has more important things on his mind right now than you and your Captain Steed.”
* * *
Hyrum and Mary Fielding Smith had a modest home in Far West, but it was comfortably furnished and ample for the needs of them and their children. As Rebecca came up the walk, she could not see anyone in the lamplit windows. As she reached the porch, she stopped for a moment. A little shiver ran up and down her spine. The sounds of shrieking and yelling coming from the south of town carried faintly but clearly on the cold night air. Even though it was several hours later, the Missourians were still celebrating their capture of the Mormon prophet. It was enough to give you waking nightmares. Rebecca flinched as she heard a rifle shot, then another. Turning, she looked anxiously in that direction. Then she raised her hand swiftly and knocked on the door.
The door opened almost instantly to reveal Mary Smith. Now less than three weeks away from delivery, she was, as the scriptures say, “great with child.” Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks tearstained. But when she saw who it was, her face lit up and she smiled. “Oh, Rebecca. Come in.” As she stepped back, almost waddling, she braced her back with one hand and winced at a momentary flash of pain.
Rebecca followed her inside and shut the door. “I was hoping you would still be awake.”
“How can we sleep with that?” She grimaced and flung one hand toward the window and the sounds coming to them from the far camp. Her face softened and she laid a hand on her belly. “And with this?”
“Are the children asleep?”
“Yes, thankfully.” Mary sank down wearily into a chair. “Hyrum put them down before he went over to Joseph’s house to comfort Mother and Father Smith. I tried to talk him out of it. He’s so sick.”
Rebecca shook her head. “How is Emma holding up?”
Mary frowned. “It’s hard for her, of course, but Emma’s strong. She’s doing better than Joseph’s father. When they heard all the shooting just after Joseph was taken, Father Smith was at the doorway to their home. He threw his arms across his chest. ‘Oh, my God! my God!’ he cried. ‘They have killed my son! They have murdered him, and I must die, for I cannot live without him.’” Her eyes were glistening suddenly. “He collapsed and they put him to bed. He’s barely moved since. He’s so frail.” She tipped her head back and massaged her neck.
Rebecca picked up a stool and set it down in front of Mary, then sat down to face her. “Are
you
all right? You should be in your bed.”
“I’m fine,” Mary managed. Then there was a smile in spite of it all. “If I could just get this boy to stop kicking me night and day.”
Rebecca laughed. “You think it is a boy?”
“If it’s a girl,” Mary responded, “she’s not acting much like a lady.” Then she sobered. “It frightens me to think of having a baby with all this.” She gestured again toward the south and the sounds that filled the air.
Rebecca had not come for this, in fact just the opposite. She clapped her hands together as if having a sudden thought. “I’m here to bring you some cheer.”
Mary closed her eyes, the lines around her mouth softening slightly. “Now, that I could use.”
Rebecca laid a hand on Mary’s knee. “Forget about Missouri right now and all that’s happening. Tell me about England. Is it really as beautiful as Derek says it is?”
Slowly Mary Fielding Smith’s face smoothed out. She closed her eyes, and a quiet smile spread across her mouth. “Ah, yes, Rebecca. ’Tis a sight to behold, all green and lovely and. . . .”
Rebecca smiled and leaned back, pleased that her idea was working.
* * *
Joshua considered briefly trying to get to his horse, then decided against it. It was not much more than a mile to Far West, and he couldn’t risk being caught by the sentries. He moved westward first. Far West was to the north, so the guards here were fewer and, as he hoped, much less alert. Once he was clear of the camp, he swung around to the north and broke into a jogging run, a black wraith moving swiftly through the rain and darkness of the early-morning hours of the first day of November.
* * *
Benjamin looked steadily at Mary Ann, feeling her grief as sharply as if it were his own. “There is no choice, Mother,” he said firmly. He turned to his two sons. “Nathan, Matthew. Pack some things. You’re going with the others.”
There was a soft cry from Lydia, but she bit it back instantly. Nathan turned to her and held out his arms. Instantly she was into them and clinging to him in desperate longing. But when she spoke, it was loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Father Steed is right, Nathan. You’ve
got
to go. If they arrest you, we may never see you again.”
Nathan turned to Joshua. “You’re absolutely sure of this?”
Joshua threw up his hands. “Who’s sure of anything out there? It’s a madhouse. But yes, I heard one of Lucas’s officers give the order. Any of the men who rode against the Missourians at Crooked River are to be arrested and taken south for trial.”
“But how can they know?” Matthew said.
Joshua was grim. “You keep forgetting that some of your own people are with us, Mormons who have become bitter against you, men who are being offered money to finger the leaders and any others the militia wants.”
Benjamin was very anxious. Joshua’s arrival had been a pleasant surprise, but his news had spread alarm throughout the city. “The time for discussion is past. All those who they can find are gathering at the square in ten minutes. If you’re not there, they’ll leave without you. You’ve got to be long away before first light.”
Mary Ann went to her youngest son, now eighteen and towering almost a foot above her. She put her arms around his waist. Neither could bear to speak. They just held each other, and Matthew patted his mother’s shoulders awkwardly, and in great pain.
Joshua cleared his throat. “I’ve got to get back before anyone realizes I’ve gone.”
Benjamin swung around. “Son—” His voice caught, and he shook his head, frustrated that his emotions rose up so easily.
In the lamplight, Joshua could see that his father’s eyes were suddenly shining. He felt a great lump filling his own chest. He raised one hand. “You don’t have to say anything, Pa. I’m just glad I found out about this.”
Jessica had been sitting quietly in one corner of the room. She stood now and came to the man who had once been her husband. She stepped in front of him, her eyes large and filled with sorrow. She reached up and touched his face with her bandaged hand. He saw now that the bandage was new and clean. “This is twice in two days you’ve come to our aid, Joshua.” She took a quick breath. “Whatever debts you may have incurred in the past, they’re paid now. A hundredfold.” She went up on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”
Joshua started to speak, but found himself too deeply moved to get the words out. He finally shook his head gruffly, turned, and spoke to his father and mother. “I don’t know what’s going to happen today. I’ll try to come in with my troops, but . . .” He shrugged. Promises were cheap right now.
In two steps Mary Ann was to him, throwing her arms around him. “Oh, beloved Joshua, my son, my son.”
They stood there for several moments, holding each other tightly. Then finally Joshua stepped back and turned to face Nathan and Matthew. “Be careful,” he said, gripping Nathan’s hand. “Don’t stop until you’re in Iowa Territory.”
Nathan nodded, gripping his hand tightly. “We won’t.”
Joshua and Matthew hugged, then Joshua went to the door. He looked at his father, then at his mother. There was a curt nod. Then he lifted one hand briefly, opened the door, and disappeared back out into the darkness of predawn.
* * *
They were seated around the kitchen table—all but Rachel, young Joshua, and Emily, who sat on chairs and held their breakfast plates in their laps. The meal was almost done, and tension had begun to fill the air. In less than an hour the brethren in Far West, the ones who had not fled before dawn, would gather in the central square, then march out of town to give up their weapons to the Missourians. It meant surrendering the only thing that gave them hope of holding the armies at bay. The thought of it weighed heavily on everyone’s mind.
Then Derek cleared his throat and raised his hand. Benjamin looked up in suprise. “Yes?”
Derek cleared his throat again. For most of his youth and all of his adult life, Derek Ingalls had learned to keep his emotions to himself. He rarely spoke of feelings, even more rarely exhibited those feelings openly. So this did not come easy to him.
“Go on, Derek,” Rebecca urged.
“All right.” He looked around at the family. Even the children had stopped eating and were watching him. He cleared his throat a third time. “Peter and me? We . . . well, we never had any family. Not since we were little. We had to fend for ourselves. It wasn’t always easy.”
Peter was nodding soberly.
“But since we came to America . . .” He looked down, his hands and fingers twisting around each other. “Well, we found us a family.”
“Amen!” Peter said quietly but fervently.
Derek looked at his father-in-law. “Father Steed, we just wanted you to know. No matter what happens today or in the days to come. We’re Steeds now too. You can count on us to be here. No matter what.”
“That’s right,” Peter said, more loudly now.
Derek looked over at Lydia, then to Jessica. “I know your husbands are not here, that you have children.” His shoulders straightened. “But I want you to know, they are my children now too. You are my sisters. More dear to me than the sisters I lost when I was a young boy.”
“And me too,” Peter murmured bravely.
It was absolutely quiet in the cabin. Jessica, sitting directly across from Derek, was staring at him in wonder. Mary Ann was blinking her eyes rapidly. Benjamin was looking at him with open affection and admiration. But it was Lydia, sitting on the other side of Rebecca, who finally broke the silence, though her voice was very soft when she spoke. “Rebecca?”
“Yes, Lydia?”
“I have a favor to ask of you.”
Rebecca looked surprised. “What?”
“I would like your permission to give your husband a great big hug, and maybe even be so bold as to kiss him on the cheek.”
Rebecca smiled, then turned to Derek. She reached up and brushed a lock of hair back away from his eyes. “I think that would be most appropriate, Lydia. You have my permission.”
* * *
This is madness! It can’t work!
Benjamin felt like throwing up his hands and screaming into the air. The time for praying had passed. The children had been sent behind the curtain to play school with young Joshua and Rachel. Now it was just the adults and Peter. In a few moments Benjamin and Derek would have to report to the square with the rest of the Mormon men and prepare to surrender their arms. And when they set out, there would be twelve women and children—two of them infants not yet a year old—left here with a fourteen-year-old.
Benjamin’s shoulders lifted and fell. Weariness and worry etched deep lines into his face. His eyes were pinched and bloodshot. He had never felt so totally desolate in all his life. He stepped forward and took Peter by the shoulders. “Son?”
“Yes, Father Steed?” Peter’s dark eyes were wide and intent, but there was no sign of fear.
Benjamin reached down and took the pistol from the waistband of his trousers. “I’m not going to surrender this one, Peter. You need to hide it. They’ll probably search for other weapons. Hide it good, but you’ve got to be able to get at it quickly if you need to.”
“Benjamin—” Mary Ann started, but he held up his hand, cutting her off, not moving his eyes from Peter’s face. “Do you understand, Peter?”
“I understand.”
“I . . .” He glanced over at Mary Ann, trying to reassure her with his eyes. Then he came back to Peter. “I don’t want to do this, Peter. But you’re the safest bet. The women are too . . .” He couldn’t finish that thought.
The women are too vulnerable
. He took a quick breath. “The women need to hide with the children and keep them quiet. If the mob comes, they’ll be looking for grown men. They shouldn’t bother a boy.”
“Yes, sir.” Peter licked his lower lip, his mind flashing back four days earlier when two evil-smelling men had tied him to a tree and prepared to whip him into unconsciousness. The fact that he was a boy hadn’t seemed to deter them. But he only nodded. “Don’t worry, Father Steed. I’ll be fine.”
Benjamin straightened, the corners of his mouth pulling down. “I know. Colonel Hinkle says Lucas has promised that once our arms are grounded he’ll let us return to our homes. So I hope we’ll be back in an hour or two.”
Derek came forward one step to stand in front of his brother. “The moment Father Steed and I are released, we’ll come right back here.”
Peter nodded, fighting to keep his eyes calm. He could already feel his pulse start to race a little at the thoughts of being alone, the only man left in the family, but there was no way he was going to show his feelings of nervousness.
Benjamin was very tired. He glanced at the front window. “Watch closely. If you see anything, Peter, any sign of trouble, you get everyone into the root cellar.”
“I will, Father Steed.”
“Good.” Benjamin took Peter’s shoulder, turning him around. He pointed to the large, round rug Rebecca and Mary Ann had woven from rags the previous winter. “That’s big enough to cover the door to the cellar. Once everybody is inside, pull it over and put something on it. A chair, a table . . .”
“I understand. I will.”
Benjamin slowly straightened, looking first at his wife, then at his daughter and daughters-in-law. “God be with you,” he said softly.