The first man turned and walked backwards so he could face them as he talked. “Why, ain’t that sweet, Luke? Miz Smith here has done gone and got herself an escort.”
Nathan felt his temper rising but he merely increased his step slightly, causing the man to nearly trip and to turn around to walk a step behind them. Across the street three more men came out of the tavern. They stopped for a moment to watch, then hurried across to the sidewalk, blocking any progress now. Nathan stopped, sensing this was quickly getting out of hand. Two women coming in their direction on the same side of the street also stopped, then moved closer, cautious but curious. A passing buckboard with a family in it slowed, then pulled to a stop, close enough to hear without actually joining in.
“Please let us pass,” Nathan said quietly.
“He even says please and excuse me,” the second man said with mock solemnity.
Emma suddenly went up on tiptoes, peering over the heads of the men. Her hand shot up. “Joseph! Joseph!”
Across the street, Nathan saw the tall figure of Joseph Smith striding along. He felt a quick stab of relief as Joseph looked up in surprise, then swerved to come across to them. He pushed through the men and quickly stepped to his wife. “Emma, are you all right?”
“Yes. Nathan was helping me.”
Joseph reached out and gripped his hand. “Hello, Nathan.”
“Hello, Joseph.”
The grip tightened in a squeeze of gratitude. “Thank you.”
Nathan nodded, but it was not over yet. With that mysterious ability of small towns to smell anything out of the ordinary, the people of Palmyra were suddenly being drawn to the scene in the street like ants to a spilled jar of maple syrup. The barber-shop behind them contributed four men, including the barber in his long leather apron. A dress shop just ahead disgorged two clerks and three customers. More men were coming quickly from the tavern. A group of four or five boys, who had been rolling an iron hoop along with sticks, now raced toward them, a mongrel dog at their side barking furiously at, as yet, he knew not what.
“Where you been, Joe?” the man with the bloodshot eyes called. “I hear you been out looking for more treasure down Pennsylvany way.”
“Hey, Joe,” someone else called from the back, “seen the devil lately?”
Joseph took Emma’s arm. “The wagon’s down by the barn. Let’s go.”
Nathan stepped in front of them to make a way through the crowd. The man who had first accosted them fell back before Nathan’s determined gaze, but there was nowhere to go. Those pushing from the back did not move.
“You got that gold Bible yet?” This was a woman’s voice from behind them.
“Make way!” Nathan barked sharply. He straight-armed an older man gently but firmly. The crowd behind him began to shuffle back enough to clear a path. Nathan pushed into it with Joseph and Emma close behind him.
But just as they nearly cleared the crowd, someone stepped directly in front of Nathan. “Make way for what?”
It was Will Murdock, still holding a pewter mug half-filled with beer.
“We’re coming through, Will.” Nathan was finding his patience rapidly disappearing.
“Come on, Nate. We just want some answers from ol’ Joe Smith here,” Will said loudly. “Ain’t nobody gonna get hurt. We just want to ask Joe some questions.” He suddenly raised his arms to the crowd. “Ain’t that it, folks?”
Interestingly enough, many of those looking on would not normally have so much as given Will Murdock the time of day if they had passed him on the street. But if he was willing to take the point for them, now they’d go along with him. “Yeah!” they cried. “Let him ask the questions.” “All we want are some answers.” “Tell us, Joe. Tell us.”
“Get out of the way, Will,” Nathan said sharply. “Leave these people alone.”
Will threw back his head and laughed. Then his eyes narrowed dangerously. “Now that ain’t no way to talk to an old friend, Mr. high-and-mighty Nathan Steed.”
He turned and looked behind him. “This a relative of yours, Josh?”
Nathan was stunned. Joshua stepped forward to stand beside Will Murdock. “Reckon I’d have to say it was,” Joshua said grimly. His eyes were cold and Nathan knew he was still smarting over his presence in the store.
Joseph stepped up to stand beside Nathan, with Emma close behind him. “Hello, Joshua,” he murmured.
“Hello, Joseph.”
“Are you part of this too?” Joseph let his eyes sweep the crowd briefly.
For a moment the calm demeanor and the simple question caught Joshua off guard. His eyes dropped. But Will Murdock swung around to glare at him and Joshua jerked back up again. “Well, to be honest, I’m kind of curious about those questions too.”
“Joshua!” Nathan cried.
Joseph laid a hand on Nathan’s shoulder, still meeting Joshua’s eyes steadily. “No answers today, Joshua,” he said easily. “Emma and I were just leaving.”
Joshua stepped squarely in front of Joseph. “I asked you once last spring, and you wouldn’t answer then either. What about them gold plates, Joseph? Is there such a thing?”
“That’s enough!” Nathan shouted, grabbing at his brother’s arm. “You’ve shamed the family enough. Now let us pass.”
Joshua whirled, flinging Nathan’s hand away, his eyes blazing. Nathan fell back a step before the fury he saw on Joshua’s face.
For a moment no one in the crowd moved, the tension as thick in the air as static electricity before a summer thunderstorm. Then suddenly Will Murdock pushed in and thrust his nose up into Joseph’s face. “Ain’t it true you’re getting close to getting them gold plates, Joe?”
For a moment Joseph looked startled and Nathan saw Will’s shot had hit home. But just as quickly as it had come the look passed. Joseph just shook his head, as though dealing with a naughty child. “Does this mean you believe all them stories you’ve been hearing, Will?”
There was a snicker from several in the crowd. Taking advantage of the sudden lull in the tension, Joseph took Emma’s arm and pushed past both Joshua and Will Murdock. Will’s brother, David, reached out and grabbed Joseph’s sleeve. “Don’t let him get away until he tells us what he knows.”
Joseph turned slowly, staring down into the twisted features of the younger Murdock. He was half a head taller than David and probably outweighed him by thirty or so pounds. For the first time his eyes had turned the color of glacial ice as he looked first at David, then down at the hand clutching at his sleeve.
The boy tried to meet the icy gaze, but finally dropped his eyes and let his hand fall to his side. Without another word Joseph pushed through the last of the crowd and walked away, his back straight, one arm coming up to hold Emma close to him.
There were murmurs rippling through the crowd and a few catcalls as the couple walked away. Nathan whirled. “That’s right,” he cried, “show him what you’re made of.” Eyes dropped as he stared them down, his chest rising and falling. “Go ahead. All you fine Christian people who get your courage out of a bottle or from hiding in the back of a crowd. Show him the color of your bravery.”
One by one heads dropped and people started moving away. Some were whispering, some glanced back over their shoulders, their faces angry. Seething inside now, Nathan turned back to face Joshua and his two drinking companions. Will Murdock smirked openly. David was still trying to recover his swaggering bravado. Joshua just met Nathan’s stare, his eyes hooded and dark.
For a moment Nathan was tempted to hurl one last withering remark, but something inside him warned it might lead to something both would later deeply regret. He finally just shook his head, not trying to hide his disgust, and started away.
“Tell Ma I won’t be coming for dinner,” Joshua called loudly after him. “I wouldn’t want to shame the family.”
Nathan turned back slowly. “Perhaps it’s just as well,” he said quietly.
Joshua spun around on his heel, and he, the Murdocks, and the
other men who had poured out of the tavern retraced their steps and disappeared. Nathan didn’t move, just stood and watched them go, vaguely aware the crowd was disappearing now as rapidly as they had assembled.
With a deep feeling of weariness, Nathan finally turned around. He stopped dead. Lydia was standing near the door to the barbershop, her eyes wide, her mouth open, staring at him. Something in him felt suddenly sick. “You too?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.
She rocked back. “I just came to see what was happening.”
He shook his head, the revulsion welling up inside of him, and started past her.
“Nathan, I didn’t say anything.”
He stopped, his eyes raking across her features. Another face in the nameless crowd. It hurt him more sharply than he could have imagined. “You didn’t have to,” he said bitterly, and walked away.
Chapter Ten
Sir!”
Nathan had stopped by a rail fence along Stafford Road. An older man was in the field about fifty yards away, raking meadow hay into neat windrows. He looked up, wiping his brow.
“Sir, could you tell me which house is the Smith family’s?”
“Eh?” the man called back, cupping one hand up to his ear.
Raising his voice, Nathan called again, “Could you tell me where the Joseph Smith family lives?”
The man shook his head, and for a moment Nathan thought he was refusing to answer, but he laid the big wooden rake down and came over to where Nathan was standing.
“Sorry, son,” he said, his voice heavy with a Boston twang, “my hearin’ ain’t what it used to be. Say again.”
Nathan smiled. The man looked like a weather-beaten tree stump, lined with proof of the years, but solid as Vermont granite. “I’m looking for the Smith farm. I understand it’s somewhere along here.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, turning to point. “Third house south of here. Another half mile or so. A white frame house on the east side of the road.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded, matter of fact. “Glad to be of help.”
Nathan half turned, then had a thought. “You know the Smiths very well?”
“We been neighbors since 1818. That’s going on ten years now.”
Nathan stuck out his hand. “My name is Nathan Steed. My family bought the farm next to the Martin Harris place, north of town.”
Again came the quick nod, as though the announcement was not news. “Heard tell your pa is doing well for his first season.”
“Yes.”
“Glad to hear that.” He straightened. “Well, third house down, on your left.”
“Tell me about the Smiths,” Nathan blurted, before the man could leave. “We keep hearing all kinds of wild stories.”
The lines around the mouth deepened. “You ought not to be listenin’ to fool talk, son.”
“I don’t,” Nathan amended hastily. “Joseph and Hyrum worked this spring for my pa, helping us clear the land. I thought they were fine young men. That’s why the stories seem a little strange.”
He softened a little. “The Smiths are a good family. They work hard, pay their debts, and mind their own business.” The last comment was accompanied by a sharp look which clearly suggested that others, including Nathan, ought to do the same. “I don’t cotton much to all this talk about angels and gold Bibles, but I figure a man’s religion is his own affair. But all this nonsense about the Smiths being lazy no-accounts and dishonest blackguards is just plain slop for the hogs. Comes from people who ought to be working and not standing around flapping their jawbones.”
Nathan laughed. “I agree. Thank you again.”
He was still chuckling as he continued south, turning once to wave to the old man. It was refreshing to know someone had a kind word to say about the Smith family. Each time he thought about the narrow-mindedness of people, he began to seethe all over again. The old man was right. Maybe all this talk of angels and seeing God in the woods was crazy, but it wasn’t like Joseph was trying to push it off on people. He had only told Nathan after he had pressed him for it. And three times now Nathan had seen him parry Joshua’s attempts to get the whole story out of him.
The confrontation in town earlier that afternoon had left a sour aftertaste in Nathan’s mouth, and he had not felt like going home. His mother would be waiting to ask if Joshua was coming Sunday, and Nathan couldn’t bear the pain that would fill her eyes when he told her no. And if he said anything about what had happened in town, it would only further alienate and anger his pa against Joshua. So for a time he had sat on the grassy banks of the Erie Canal, watching the barges go by. He thought of Joshua, he thought of Lydia, trying to push back the disappointment he had felt when he saw her in the crowd. But mostly he thought about Joseph and what Emma said about the gold Bible.
That’s when he had decided to come south, see if he could find Joseph, and ask him directly. Since the day last spring when they had sat in the meadow and Joseph had told Nathan of his vision, Nathan had gone over it and over it in his mind. One part of him recoiled at the thought of it. God himself coming down to earth? And to visit a boy? And a farm boy at that. He had said as much to his mother, and she countered with examples from the Bible in which the Lord had called common folk or young people to do his work. Samuel was but a child when the Lord called to him in the temple. Gideon, in the book of Judges, was an unknown farmer and the youngest son in his family when he was asked to deliver Israel from the oppressive hand of the Midianites. Peter, James, and John were humble fishermen. Joseph the son of Jacob was but seventeen when he was sold into Egypt and went on to become vice-regent to Pharaoh.
It had startled Nathan as his mother rolled off the examples. Clearly she had been thinking about it quite a bit. More surprising to Nathan, she believed Joseph. Even though she had only heard the story from Nathan’s mouth, she believed it. Whenever Nathan and she discussed it—always out of the presence of Nathan’s father—if he began to ask questions or express doubts, she would quietly defend Joseph and give answers that showed she had been thinking of some of the very questions which troubled Nathan. A few weeks ago she announced, quietly but with force and power, that she had gotten an answer to her prayers. Joseph was telling the truth.
Nathan wasn’t sure her answer fully convinced him. On the other hand, he had worked side by side with Joseph Smith for almost a month. He knew him. He liked him. And of one thing he was absolutely certain: Joseph was not a liar. And even if he were, what possible motive could Joseph have for doing it? Gain? How had he profited from the deceit? He and Hyrum had to hire out as day laborers to help the family survive. Glory? Nathan shook his head at that, thinking about the ugliness of the crowd in town that day. If Joseph was after glory, he had chosen an odd way to get it.
For the past few weeks Nathan had largely put it from his mind, and he and his mother had not discussed it further. But the events of the day brought it all flooding back. Emma had referred to the gold plates as though they were reality. And though Joseph had once again neatly parried the questions thrown at him, he had not denied anything. When Nathan thought back, Joseph had never once denied having the gold book!
It was nearly dusk by the time he stopped in front of a house where a board with the word Smith painted on it was nailed to the gate. Nathan looked at the house with a bit of surprise. Joseph had told him his family had recently moved from their log cabin into a new home which the sons had built for their parents. He turned and looked back the way he had come. About fifty or sixty yards up the road and on the opposite side was a small log cabin. It looked more like what Nathan had expected to find.
But this house was a large one, well constructed, with an upper floor over the spacious main level. A front porch ran the full width of the house. The roof came to a tall gabled point over the front door, with wings extending from there both on the north and the south. Two chimneys rose from each end of the house. He calculated quickly, concluding there must be at least four or five rooms on each level. T
he wood was painted a gleaming white and the yard was well tended. And surrounding the house was a handsome-looking farm. Most of the crops were either in or waiting to be brought in, but the land looked rich and well cared for. For some reason it was more than Nathan had expected. He nodded thoughtfully. Again this hardly fit the picture of a family of religious lunatics.
He walked swiftly up to the door and pulled on the door knocker. There were footsteps inside, then the door opened. It was Emma. For a moment she was startled, then instantly broke into a smile. “Why, Nathan, what a surprise!”
“Hello, Mrs. Smith.”
She laughed merrily. “Emma, please. Remember, I’m not much older than you, Nathan. And I’m still getting used to this Mrs. Smith business.” She pushed open the screen door. “Come in, come in.”
Nathan stepped inside, suddenly feeling foolish about coming. But Emma swung around and called up the stairs. “Joseph, it’s Nathan Steed.”
Before he could speak she reached out and touched his arm. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you for what you did today.”
Nathan shrugged, embarrassed by the gratitude in her eyes. “I’m just glad I was there. They wouldn’t have hurt you, it’s just…”
“It’s just that they can’t pass up any opportunity to mock us.” There was no mistaking the soft bitterness which tinged her voice.
“I know. I…I’m sorry one of them was my own brother.”
“You don’t have to be, not after what you did.” She brightened. “But I’m forgetting my manners. Come in and sit down. Joseph will be right down.”
She led the way into the parlor. It was furnished simply but tastefully. A wooden rocking chair was in one corner, a worn but still-serviceable sofa next to the west window. A small table held a large family Bible, and there was a braided rug made from multicolored rags in front of the fireplace. Hand-painted oilcloth curtains hung at both windows, and Nathan remembered that Hyrum once told them his mother was good enough at such painting that she sold them in the village.
There were footsteps on the stairs, and before Nathan had a chance to sit, Joseph bounded into the room. “Nathan! I was planning to come see you tomorrow.”
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