Joseph brightened. “No, Brother Williams. But he promised that if we would come here to Missouri, he would reveal the place to us.”
“Wonderful,” Ziba exclaimed. “That’s wonderful.”
“It is to be the gathering place for his people,” Martin breathed. “The Colesville Branch will only be the first of many.”
“Will you then leave Kirtland?” Oliver asked.
“No,” Joseph said firmly. “For now, at least, we are to build up both places.” He pushed his plate aside and leaned back. “We are trail worn and weary. We would like to rest for today, then tomorrow we shall have you show us around this country. Maybe then the Lord will show us his will concerning Zion.”
“Brother Lewis?”
“Yes.” The farmer stood in the doorway, framed by the light from within.
“My name is Nathan Steed. I’m with the group of Saints that just arrived from Ohio this morning.”
“Oh yes,” Lewis said. “Come in, come in.”
Nathan didn’t move. “I understand you have a woman living with you now, Jessica Steed?”
“Yes, we—” His eyes widened. “Nathan Steed did you say?”
Pain filled Nathan’s eyes. “Yes, I’m her brother-in-law. If you don’t mind, I wonder if I might speak to her outside.”
There was some concern in the man’s eyes, but he finally nodded. “I’ll ask her to come out.”
“I don’t blame him anymore,” Jessica said softly as they sat on a log out behind the Lewises’ sod hut. “I betrayed him in a way. I can see why he got so angry.”
It was not yet full dark, and in the soft light, the bruises around her eyes and mouth were muted, softened considerably. But even in the fainter light, and even after close to a week of healing, they still contrasted so starkly with her fair skin that it made one gasp to think of what must have caused them. Nathan’s jaw set, and he shook his head angrily. “There is no excuse for what he did to you, Jessica. None!”
She sighed, her eyes filled with a different kind of pain now. “He wasn’t always like that. But when he drank...” She couldn’t finish and looked away.
Nathan changed the subject and began to talk of his family. He told her about his mother and father, about Melissa and her beau. His eyes were soft with loneliness when he began to describe Matthew and Rebecca. She asked questions, hungry to know more. Finally, she looked across to him. “And what of your wife?”
So he began to talk about Lydia, told of her beauty, told of her decision to join the Church even at the cost of losing her family. And then he told her about little Joshua, told of his experience when he blessed him. His eyebrows pulled down into a deep frown. “Now,” he said, “I am all the more puzzled as to why I was to call him Joshua.” He shook it off. “Anyway, I’d really like you to meet Lydia sometime,” he finished.
She gave a short, soundless laugh. “I’ve always hated her, you know.”
That really startled Nathan, and this time she laughed out loud. “Strange, isn’t it? I’ve never met her, and yet I’ve hated her—or rather, I’ve hated what she was in Joshua’s mind.” And it all began to come out. Jessica had never had anyone to talk to about the hurt and the loneliness and the longings she had felt. But somehow the kindness in Nathan’s eyes and his burning indignation over what Joshua had done to her opened up a gate inside her and it all came flooding out. She talked quietly but steadily for almost fifteen minutes. She told him of how Joshua had come to her that night, drunk and hurt, and asked her to marry him. She told of his long absences, of his drinking, and of his poker. And eventually she told him of Doctor Hathaway and the curse she bore in her body. It was as though she had been carrying around a burden for so long that now that she had a chance to set part of it down, she wanted to set it all down.
When she finished, they sat silently for a long time, listening to the final night songs of the birds and the whispering of a breeze in the prairie grass. Finally, Nathan stirred. “Jessica?”
“Yes?”
“Once we get the Saints settled here, I’ll be going back. Why don’t you come with me? Come live with my family.”
Now it was her turn to be startled. She had not expected that. After a moment she shook her head.
“Why not? My father has a spacious house. You need a family now, Jessica.”
She sighed, not unhappily. “I’ve only been with the Lewis family about a week now, but they have asked that I stay with them permanently. I could help with the children.” She paused, becoming more sure of herself even as she spoke. “Missouri is my home now. And the Lewises are really wonderful.”
For a moment Nathan considered pressing the issue, but he could sense that Jessica had spoken from her heart, and so he only nodded.
“I’m reading the Book of Mormon now.”
“Really?”
She nodded.
“And?”
“Brother Lewis is going to ask Joseph if I can be baptized.”
Spontaneously, Nathan reached out and touched her arm. “That’s wonderful. I would like to be there.”
Her eyes widened for a moment with a thought. “Could you do it, Nathan?”
“I...well, yes, of course. I’m an elder.”
“I would like that, I think.”
“So would I.”
A thought jumped into Nathan’s mind. He gave her a sharp look.
“What?”
“Jessica, I...” His mind was racing. “In the Church we have the priesthood. The priesthood is the power to act for God on the earth.”
“Yes, Brother Lewis has talked about it.”
“In the book of James, in the New Testament, it says that when we are sick we should call for the elders of the Church, and they shall pray for the sick and anoint them with oil, and the Lord shall raise them up.”
“But...” She was totally perplexed. “But I’m not sick, Nathan.”
“Not in the normal sense,” he said, his voice eager now, the words coming in a rush. “But something’s wrong with your body that you can’t carry a child.”
She looked away. “I know.”
“But that’s just it,” he cried. “Let us give you a blessing. Let us bless you by the power of the priesthood which we hold. I can’t promise you anything, but it is worth a try.”
For a long, long moment Jessica stared into his eyes. “All right,” she finally said. There was little hope in her voice as she spoke.
Chapter Seventeen
Though not nearly as large or comfortably furnished as the home Benjamin had built for them in Palmyra, the new Steed home, purchased from one of the early settlers, was still one of Kirtland’s finer places to live. It was one story along the front, but the roof was built after the New England, Cape Cod style, sloping upward to the back of the house, then dropping vertically. This allowed for an attic in the back part of the house large enough to provide bedroom space for all three children, though Matthew and Becca shared one of the two rooms so that Melissa could have the other to herself.
Mary Ann was still finding furnishings as best she could, so the parlor was still bare except for three wooden chairs Benjamin had purchased from the Whitney store. The sitting room, where they spent most of their time when not in the kitchen, had a sofa and a high-backed stuffed chair. Against her better judgment—guests should always be received in the parlor—Mary Ann had agreed that they would meet in the sitting room.
There was a knock at the door. Melissa was up in an instant. Mary Ann smiled. “Your father will get it, Melissa.”
“I know, I know.” She hurried to the kitchen door and looked into the entryway. “Papa?”
“I’m coming, I’m coming.” The grumbling voice came from the bedroom where her parents slept. Melissa waited for a moment; then when her father still didn’t appear, she swung around. “Mama, maybe you’d better go.”
“I’ll get it,” Matthew cried, getting up from his chair.
“You will not!” Melissa cried. “You and Becca are to s
tay in the kitchen. Do you hear?”
Becca stuck out her lower lip. “I want to hear,” she pouted.
Melissa gave her sister her sternest look. “I’ll tell you everything later. You stay here.”
The knock sounded again.
“Mama!” Melissa was pleading. But at that moment the bedroom door opened and her father came out. He was smoothing down his hair, which he had wet from the bowl of water on the dresser and brushed hard to make it stay down. Melissa hurried and shut the kitchen door as her father walked past and moved to the front entrance.
“You look lovely, Melissa,” Mary Ann whispered. She was suddenly having very tender feelings for this oldest daughter of theirs whom they were about to lose. She had on a long dress of deep pink, which showed off her dark eyes and fair skin wonderfully. A ribbon of matching color pulled her black hair back away from her face.
If Melissa heard, she gave no sign. She was listening intently at the door. There was the murmur of voices, and then the front door shut firmly. Melissa couldn’t bear it. She swung around. “Oh, Mama, do you think Papa will be nice?”
Mary Ann finally stood and moved to her daughter’s side. “Yes, dear,” she soothed. “Believe it or not, your father can really be quite charming when he wants to. Now, what say you and I make our entry and find out if this young man of yours is here for what we think he’s here for.”
“You’re not Mormon, are you?”
Carlton Rogers blinked, but Melissa’s jaw dropped a little. She shot a glance at her mother, who was also staring at Benjamin. If he noted the effect his question had on his wife and daughter, he gave no sign of it.
“I beg your pardon?” Carl Rogers blushed deeply, the effect of which was heightened all the more because of his red hair and freckles.
“You’re not a member of the Mormon church?”
“No, sir.” The oldest son of the owner of Kirtland’s largest livery stable had recovered his composure.
“You know that Melissa is?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Papa!”
Benjamin turned to Melissa and waved her off with his eyes.
Mustering his courage now, Carl answered. “Bother me, sir? Why should it? Melissa and I have discussed it thoroughly.”
“Well, as you know, there are some people in the area who have taken it into their heads that Mormons are a threat to their way of life, or at least to their religion. There’s already been articles in the newspapers.”
“Yes, sir, I’m aware of that.”
“Do your parents know that Melissa is a Mormon?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Does that bother them?”
“Not that they’ve said. They very much like your daughter, sir.”
“Hmm.” Benjamin sat back, giving the boy a long, careful appraisal. Melissa looked to her mother, her eyes beseeching her to intervene. But her mother was almost in as much shock as Melissa that Benjamin Steed was pursuing this line of questioning.
Carl smiled briefly at Melissa, then turned back to her father. “You’re not a Mormon yourself, are you, sir?”
Benjamin’s left eyebrow lifted slowly. “No,” he finally said.
“But your wife and children are?”
“Yes.”
“Does that bother you, sir?”
Benjamin’s mouth opened, then shut again. Melissa almost clapped her hands with the joy of seeing her father nonplussed. And she could have hugged Carl for being bold enough to answer back. Then in panic she focused her eyes on her father. If Carl made him angry, it would not be a good thing.
For several moments, the room was in complete silence, the only sound being that of a wagon rattling past outside the window. Then Ben’s eyes seemed to soften, and Melissa read begrudging admiration there. “No, not anymore,” her father finally said.
Carl took a deep breath, and his face grew red again. “Then, sir, if I may, I would like to ask you and your wife if I may have the hand of your daughter in marriage.”
For the first time during the interview, Melissa’s mother spoke. “May I ask you a question, Carl?”
“Of course, ma’am.”
“Do you love my daughter?”
He leaned forward, his eyes filled with relief. Here was a question he was more comfortable with. “I sure do!”
Melissa felt her heart melt as she looked at him. It thrilled her that he felt that way too.
“Will you treat her right?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Benjamin watched him for several moments, his face impassive. Melissa held her breath, then felt a tremendous surge of relief when she saw the corners of her father’s mouth relax. Finally, he was smiling at her. “Is this the man you want to spend your life with, Melissa?”
She nodded quickly, her heart feeling as though it were going to burst. “Yes, Papa.”
“Then it seems like that’s what ought to happen.” He stood and walked to Carl, hand outstretched.
It was the second day of August in the year of our Lord, one thousand eight hundred and thirty-one. It was a bright and glorious morning. A flock of crows was circling above the river some distance away, and their faint cawing joined in with the ever-present hum of a thousand honeybees busily servicing the dozen or more varieties of wildflowers that dotted the prairie landscape.
Nathan Steed stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Jessica Roundy Steed, who was flanked on the opposite side by Brother and Sister Lewis. Nathan was aware of the heat of the sun on his back, but his mind was on Jessica. It still felt strange to think that this quiet, resolute woman standing next to him was his sister-in-law. This was Joshua’s wife.
It had been the hardest thing Nathan had ever done in his life when he sat down and wrote to his mother about Joshua and Jessica and what had happened. When the letter was posted, from that moment on Nathan had not spoken Joshua’s name aloud again.
“Would the elders please step forward.”
Gratefully, Nathan let his thoughts pull away from Joshua and back to the proceedings. The small group—close to a hundred, counting the older children who were present—was gathered in a half circle in front of a small patch of ground that had been cleared of its grass. The largest body was, of course, those who had recently arrived from the East. There were nearly sixty in the Colesville Branch group. Another half dozen had been in Joseph’s party. The rest of the group consisted of new families baptized during the past several months by Oliver and his missionary companions.
Several men stepped forward, faces long with solemnity. Joseph led out, followed by Sidney Rigdon, Martin Harris, and Oliver Cowdery. Newel Knight, president of the Colesville Branch, stepped forward, as did his father, Joseph Knight, one of Joseph’s earliest supporters.
Joseph stopped at the end of a long, freshly trimmed log cut from the timber near the river. Nathan counted quickly. There were twelve men, all elders in the Church. Joseph reached inside his breech coat and took out a folded piece of paper. After unfolding it, he had to hold it in both hands to stop it from flapping in the sharp breeze that was blowing.
“Brothers and sisters,” he called, lifting his voice against the wind, “before we ever left Kirtland, the Lord promised that if we would gather to Missouri he would reveal to us the place where Zion was to be located.”
An expectant hush fell over the group.
“Well, as you know, the Lord has kept his word. I received the following revelation the day after Martin and I and the others arrived here in Jackson County. I would like to read again to you the word of the Lord on the matter.”
He found his place, then began to read in a loud, clear voice. “ ‘Hearken, O ye elders of my church, saith the Lord your God, who have assembled yourselves together, according to my commandments, in this land, which is the land of Missouri, which is the land which I have appointed and consecrated for the gathering of the saints.’”
He paused, then read more slowly and with greater emphasis. �
� ‘Wherefore, this is the land of promise, and the place for the city of Zion. And thus saith the Lord your God, if you will receive wisdom here is wisdom. Behold, the place which is now called Independence is the center place; and a spot for the temple is lying westward, upon a lot which is not far from the courthouse.’”
He looked up. “On the morrow, we shall go to that site. It is at the knoll of the hill about half a mile west of the courthouse. There we shall dedicate the land for the building of the temple of the city of Zion, the New Jerusalem.”
Nathan looked at Jessica and they smiled at each other. A temple on the earth again! The other night, around an open camp fire, Joseph had spoken of the prophets of old and how they had foreseen the days when Zion would again be built upon the earth. Prophecies millennia old were being fulfilled, and they were here to be witness to it. Nathan felt like crying and he felt like shouting aloud. It was a glorious day.
Joseph lowered the paper and put it back inside his coat. He let his eyes sweep across the crowd. “So it is, on this day, we are gathered to lay the first log for the first house built by the Saints on the land of Zion. Twelve of us—all elders of God, called and ordained of him to carry forth his work in the latter days—will carry and put this log in place. And why are there twelve?” He paused, letting his question hang in the air. Then he nodded slowly. “Because we represent the twelve tribes of Israel, whose gathering together again has now begun.”
As one, the men bent over and lifted the weight of the log. There was a soft grunt or two, though Jessica could not tell from which men they came. They moved forward slowly, coming to the shallow trench which had been dug to receive it. They stopped. “With the laying of this log,” Joseph said loudly, “we hereby signify that we are laying the foundation of Zion.” He nodded and they lowered their burden and placed it carefully in place.
Instantly there were murmurs of approval. Some of the children clapped excitedly, and the group erupted into a spontaneous cheer. Several of the women were weeping.
The men returned to their places. “Brother Sidney,” Joseph said, turning to his companion.
Sidney stepped forward. He looked over the crowd with great solemnity, then took a breath. “My brothers and sisters,” he called loudly, “do you receive this land for the land of your inheritance with thankful hearts from the Lord?”
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