Mary Ann winced and Melissa jerked around, her eyes wide and trying to warn her husband off. Immediately after the death of Nathan and Lydia’s child, Nathan had gone to Joseph and withdrawn his name from the list of volunteers. Though he never said anything about it, those close to him knew the pain that not going was causing him.
Instantly Carl sensed his mistake, but before he could speak, Nathan looked up. “No, I’m not going,” he said.
Lydia’s eyes were on her husband’s face. “Yes, he is,” she said softly at exactly the same moment.
They left Nathan’s parents’ home immediately and walked to the temple site. There Nathan brushed off one of the large stone blocks that had been cut and dressed for placement during the coming week. He took Lydia’s elbow and guided her to it. “Let’s sit down.”
She nodded, sweeping her skirts around in front of her. When they were settled, he reached out and took her hands. “Look, Lydia,” he began, without preamble, “this is all settled. I’ve talked to Joseph and he understands perfectly why I can’t go with them on Zion’s Camp. Until you’re stronger and feeling—”
She moved quickly, putting a finger up to his lips. “No, you listen to me for a moment.”
“But—”
She pressed her finger more firmly, cutting him off. “Please, Nathan. Just listen for a few moments. This will be difficult enough for me.”
He finally nodded and she took her hand away. For a moment she let her eyes wander across the construction site, collecting her thoughts. Finally she took a breath and began. “You’ve been wonderful these past two months, Nathan. You’ve rarely left my side. You’ve been attentive to my every need and wish.”
Suddenly her voice broke and she had to stop. She shook her head, angry at herself for losing control. “If you hadn’t—” She took a quick breath. “If you had insisted on going to Zion at that point, I don’t know what I would have done. Fallen completely apart, I guess.”
She forced a short laugh. “Not that I didn’t anyway.”
“Lydia, what you went through was not an easy thing.”
“No,” she whispered, “it wasn’t.” For a long moment she was still, except for a slight trembling in her lower lip. Finally she looked up at him. “But it means a great deal to me that you were willing to tell Joseph that you couldn’t go. That you knew how badly I needed you.”
She laid her head against his shoulder and he put his arm around her. “I know this past year has been a hard one for us,” she went on, choosing her words with care. “I don’t know what’s happening to me, Nathan. It’s like things are slipping between my fingers, no matter how hard I clench my fists to try and stop them.”
She began to rub his arm with her hand. “I’ve been a real witch. I’m sorry.”
He turned to her fully now. “Lydia, you haven’t been a witch. It’s not just you, you know. I haven’t made things any easier for you.”
She smiled at him. “No, you haven’t,” she agreed ruefully.
Laughing, he gently poked at her shoulder. “You were supposed to disagree with me, at least a little.”
Sobering again quickly, she shook her head. “But I’m stronger now, Nathan. I’m not out of it completely yet, but I’m stronger.”
“Not strong enough.”
Now it was she who slugged him. “Well, thank you!”
“I didn’t mean it that way, I—”
“I know. But I am better. Really.” She took a quick breath. “You need to go to Zion, Nathan. I know that. When I think of what those families are going through—Jessica and her baby, the Knights, Thankful Pratt, all the people we know and love—how can I ask you to stay here and watch over a blubbering wife who can’t seem to get her life in order?”
“There are others who can go—”
She shook her head. “Right,” she mocked him. “That’s why the Lord asked for five hundred men and only a hundred have volunteered.”
Now he looked anguished, but he said nothing.
“You have to go, Nathan,” she said earnestly. “I’ve come to accept that. I couldn’t live with myself if you don’t. Will you go to the meeting Joseph has called for tonight?”
“But what will you do?” he said. “We’ll be gone for two or three months. I can’t just leave you alone. You still don’t have all your strength back.”
Lydia stood up abruptly and walked a few steps away from him. For several moments she stared at the partially raised walls in front of her, then she turned her face toward the sky. “The weather has finally turned warm now.”
That unexpected turn caught Nathan off guard. “Yes, it has,” he said slowly.
“That means the canals are open again.”
His head snapped up.
Now Lydia turned to face him, her face eager and excited. “Nathan, what if you took me and the children to Fairport Harbor before you leave? You could see us off and make sure we had safe passage and—”
He blinked. “Safe passage?”
She came and crouched in front of him, taking his hands. Her words came in a rush, tumbling over each other in her eagerness to get them out now. “Yes. I know we don’t have the money, but Father Steed would help. I know he will. The children and I could take a steamer to Buffalo, then catch one of the canal boats. We’ll be all right. It’s only about a week to Palmyra.”
“Palmyra?” He was still stunned.
“Yes, to visit my parents. Mother has begged me to come, to bring the children so they can see them. It would occupy me while you are gone. Then I wouldn’t miss you so terribly.” She paused for a brief moment, looking at him intently. “Nathan, when we left Palmyra I thought I would never see my parents again. Now I have another chance with them. Joshua and Emily need to meet their other grandparents. And I could see some of my old friends.”
Nathan watched her, his heart sinking. The very thought of Josiah McBride—hard, cold, unbending—made him clutch up inside. But as he looked into her eyes now, eyes that were alive—really alive—for the first time in months, and her face so filled with excitement, he knew he had no choice. How could he dash her hopes?
And there was the other part of it. Telling Joseph that he would not be joining Zion’s Camp had been one of the hardest things Nathan had ever done. He felt as if he were betraying the Prophet and the Lord, and yet there had been no other choice but to stay; he knew if he left Lydia the damage could be—almost certainly would be—irreparable. But now if she went...
“Oh, please, Nathan,” Lydia pleaded. “You know it’s the perfect solution for both of us. You have to go to Zion. You have to! I know that now. But, as I told you, I think this will help me pass the time so I don’t miss you so terribly.”
“I...” He searched her face for several moments. How he loved this woman! How he ached for her pain! He reached out and laid a hand on her cheek. “All right, Lydia. I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
She leaped up and grasped his hands. “Oh, thank you, Nathan. I need this. I need some time to try and find myself again.”
For the moment, Nathan was content to sit back and listen to the discussion going on around him. They were gathered in the little log schoolroom, the room where meetings were often held. Final plans for the departure of Zion’s Camp were under way. Joseph had led the meeting for a time, but currently, under the direction of Parley P. Pratt, the group was discussing which men would accompany the baggage wagons that were to leave four days hence. A moment ago Parley had turned to Joseph to ask a question, and as they talked, the room quickly broke up into a dozen different conversations. Nathan didn’t join in. In his case the decision was already made. It would take every moment between now and the fifth of May to get Lydia and the children packed and taken to Fairport. There was no way he could be ready in four days.
So he listened idly, watching the men around him, the men who would march together on a trek of nearly two thousand miles by the time they returned. There was Wilford Woodruff, a convert of less than four months. W
oodruff was one of the notable exceptions to the rather disappointing response the Eastern Saints had made to the call for volunteers. When Parley Pratt had arrived in Richland, New York, seeking funds and recruits, Woodruff immediately declared his intent to answer the call. He settled up his affairs, and he and two companions had departed for Kirtland, arriving just a few days before.
Across the aisle sat those with more familiar faces—Parley Pratt, Newel Whitney, Frederick G. Williams. Oliver Cowdery and Sidney Rigdon were there too, but they would not be going. They would stay in Kirtland to supervise the continuing work on the temple and regulate the affairs of the Church. Nathan glanced sideways out of the corner of his eye. His father was trying not to show his keen disappointment. He too would be staying, at Joseph’s request, to help maintain things in Kirtland.
“I’m telling you, Brigham, if we are not willing to fight when we get there, then we may as well stay home.” The voice rose above the noise in the room, and Nathan turned around to see who had spoken. It was Heber C. Kimball, and as usual he was punctuating his words with his hands. “I’m not afraid of a little fight.”
Brigham Young bowed his neck a little. “You didn’t listen, Heber,” he said forcefully. “I didn’t say we shouldn’t fight, I said the Lord may come to our aid so we don’t have to fight.”
Nathan smiled a little. It was always an experience to watch these two converse. Brigham was slight of build and slim of waist, though he had broad shoulders. He wore his hair in a pageboy cut, brushed back away from his face, which gave him a little bit of a boyish look, even though he was four years older than the Prophet. Heber C. Kimball, on the other hand, was the son of a blacksmith, and fit the part to perfection. Though he had later become a potter, his early years had been spent learning his father’s trade. He boasted that he was the only man alive whose chest measured the same front to back as it did from side to side. He was already balding and, though the same age as Brigham, looked several years older. Brigham was five feet ten inches tall, Heber six feet. Heber looked a little like a stout oak tree that had been lopped off where the foliage starts to grow.
If a person who didn’t know them listened to them talking, he might be led to conclude that there was some friction between them, but just the opposite was true. One of Brigham’s older sisters—Brigham was the ninth of eleven children—was stepmother to Heber’s wife. In addition to being related through marriage, back in New York they had been next-door neighbors and the closest of friends. In fact, it was a measure of their closeness that they could speak their feelings with complete honesty.
Brigham and Heber’s discussion had become vigorous enough now that the other men were turning around to listen. Parley Pratt had finished with Joseph. He watched for a moment, then moved over to join them. Joseph, for the moment, seemed content to listen.
Brigham’s older brother Joseph Young had still not agreed to go to Missouri, and Brigham was trying to convince him to accompany them. He saw all this talk of fighting as being counterproductive to his efforts. But Heber’s dander was up and he wasn’t about to back down. “And what if some Missourian sticks his gun in your face and tells you to get out of town?” Heber demanded. “Are you just gonna turn around and walk away?”
Someone from the back spoke up. “I don’t think we should be going if we’re expecting that kind of trouble.”
Parley exploded. This was not a matter of abstract theorizing for him. He had been there. “How can we redeem Zion if we back down from a confrontation? Those farms are ours. We paid for that land. And God has said we can use force if necessary to get back what is rightfully ours.” He turned and appealed to the others. “Zion is part of our destiny. How can we carry out God’s purposes if we don’t go in there and redeem it?”
Joseph Smith now stirred from his place near the front of the room. The men quieted as he walked back and stood between the two Young brothers. He laid a hand on each of their shoulders. “Brother Brigham and Brother Joseph,” he said firmly, “if you will go with me in the camp to Missouri, and keep my counsel, I promise you, in the name of the Almighty, that I will lead you there and back again, and not a hair of your heads shall be harmed.”
The room fell deathly quiet now as the men sensed that the spirit of prophecy had settled on Joseph. Every eye was on him or on Joseph Young. Finally, Brigham’s brother looked up, then slowly he nodded. “Then, accompany you I shall, Brother Joseph. I accept your promise as a promise from God.”
“Good.” The Prophet turned and surveyed the group. His face had grown very solemn now, and a little thrill shot through Nathan. This was the look Joseph took on when the Spirit of God was upon him.
“Brethren, I want to say to you, before the Lord, that you know no more concerning the destinies of the Church and kingdom than a babe upon its mother’s lap.”
His voice rose in power and majesty as he saw the shock register in their eyes. “You don’t comprehend our destiny. It is only a little handful of priesthood you see here tonight, but this church will fill North and South America—it will fill the world. It will fill the Rocky Mountains. There will be tens of thousands of Latter-day Saints who will be gathered in the Rocky Mountains, and there they will open the door for the establishing of the gospel among the Lamanites.”
Nathan turned and looked at his father. He was stunned, as were all the rest of them in the room. The Rocky Mountains! They had been talking about Zion. No one had said anything about the Rocky Mountains.
“Now,” Joseph continued, his voice dropping to a more mild tone again, “I suggest we turn our attention to the business at hand and conclude this meeting. We have much to do on the morrow.”
Lydia clung to Nathan, feeling the power in his arms as he hugged her tightly. “Please be careful, Nathan.”
“I will.” He let her go and stepped back. “You be careful.”
“I will.”
“I’ve talked to the captain. Once you arrive in Buffalo, he’ll see that you are taken to the dock where the canal boats come in. From there it’s straight to Palmyra.”
“I know. Thank you.” Suddenly she started to cry. She brushed quickly at her eyes with the back of her hand.
He took her in his arms again. “Good-bye, my darling Lydia. I’ll miss you.”
There was a muffled cry, a choking sound. “I’m sorry, Nathan.”
He pulled back in surprise. “Sorry?”
Great sobs now began to rack her body. “I wanted so much to be perfect for you. I’ve tried so hard.”
He encircled her in his arms. “Lydia, Lydia, please. Don’t say that. You’re all that I’ve ever wanted. All that I hoped for. I love you.”
She just shook her head against him, as her body shuddered convulsively over and over. He stood there, gently stroking her hair, helpless, not knowing what else to do. People on board the steamer and those passing them to go up the gangplank watched them with open curiosity.
Gradually the shaking subsided and the sobs stilled. But it was a full minute before she dared to look up. “I’ll be better when you come home,” she whispered. “I promise.”
“Lydia, I don’t—”
But the blast from the boat’s steam whistle shattered the air, cutting off his words. “All aboard,” a man’s voice shouted. “All nonpassengers ashore.”
Lydia turned. Matthew and Rebecca were hurrying along the deck of the boat, pushing through the people, young Joshua in tow behind Becca, and Emily in Matthew’s arms.
Lydia went up on tiptoe and her lips brushed Nathan’s cheek. “Good-bye, Nathan. I love you.”
“Good-bye, Lydia. And I love you!”
She nodded, the tears welling up again, then turned and bolted up the gangplank, not looking back until she had the children safely in hand.
The boat was far out into Lake Erie, the people no longer distinguishable, when Becca finally tugged at Nathan’s sleeve. “Come on, Nathan,” she said. “We’d best be getting back.”
It was early morning on th
e fifth of May when Joseph gave the signal. They had gathered in front of the Whitney store, a huge crowd come to see the men off. The last farewells had been made, the last desperate kisses for wives and children given. Now everyone stood back. Joseph looked up and down the line of the company of about eighty-five men, nodding proudly (an advance party of about twenty had left four days earlier). He turned to the crowd. “As we, the men of Zion’s Camp, prepare to depart in obedience to God’s commandment, we invoke the Lord’s blessings on our endeavors and on you who remain behind. May we all be kept, as the prophet Isaiah has said, in the hollow of His hand.”
“Amen!” came the murmured cries from throughout the crowd. Joseph turned to Emma, took her into his arms and kissed her good-bye, then mounted his horse and turned it around to face eastward, their route taking them that direction to Chardon, then south to New Portage before turning west. He raised an arm high. “Forward!” The arm dropped.
“Ho, you team!” the wagoner shouted. There was the crack of leather and harnessing, then the lead wagon began to move, creaking and groaning under the weight of its cargo.
A ragged cheer went up. “Good-bye, Papa!” “Godspeed.” “Good-bye.” “Good-bye.”
Handkerchiefs waved. Women turned away, wiping at their eyes. Men kept their eyes to the front, trying to look brave, trying to look untouched by their emotions.
Nathan was near the rear of the column. As he came by the store, he saw his family standing on the porch. Mary Ann’s cheeks were wet, as were Melissa’s. His father, face grave but steady, slowly raised his arm in a salute. Matthew did the same but could not hide the quivering of his lip and the glistening eyes.
“Good-bye,” Nathan murmured. Then he turned his eyes to the front and fell into step with the man just ahead of him.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Monday, May 5th
I have determined that I shall keep a journal, and record the experiences which shall be mine on this important trek to redeem Zion. I know from my previous experience as a missionary that important things are quickly forgotten if not recorded. This will provide me an opportunity to share in some small way this Zion’s Camp experience with Lydia upon my return.
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