Will threw back his shoulders proudly. “Yes sirree! I’m gonna be one of the best. Just like Mr. Wesley.”
“Good for you.” Joshua was surprised at the warmth of his feelings for this boy. He straightened, taken with a sudden thought. “I think maybe I’ll pay a call to Mr. Wesley tomorrow.” He stopped, musing. “Savannah’s a big city, though. I could use a guide to help me find my way back here again.”
Will’s head jerked up so fast that it was lucky he didn’t pull a muscle. “Really?” he cried.
“Really,” Joshua said soberly. “Now, come on. You’ve still got a bunch of city to show me.”
* * *
Joshua and Will were sitting on a stone bench in Emmet Park near the end of Bay Street. Their seat commanded a wonderful overlook of the river, and Joshua watched for a moment as another packet ship nosed its way toward a berth. They were eating some roasted pecans Joshua had bought from a street vendor. Two squirrels edged their way closer, hoping for a handout. It felt good to Joshua to just sit. Will had walked him steadily for nearly two hours. “So that’s why all the streets are so straight?” he asked.
Will nodded soberly. “James Oglethorpe laid out the whole city before they even started building houses.”
“How long ago was that?”
“The year 1733.”
Joshua marveled. “You learn all that in school?”
Will looked up mischievously. “Some. Mostly I read books.”
“Why aren’t you in school today?”
“Our teacher quit last week. With summer comin’, we won’t get another teacher until September.”
“Oh.” It was obvious to Joshua that Will wasn’t emotionally shattered over the loss. “So what do you—”
A sharp call cut Joshua off. “William Donovan Mendenhall!”
Both of them turned their heads. Coming across the grass toward them was a woman in a full-length dress and matching bonnet. She had a young girl in tow, who was almost running in order to keep up with the woman’s purposeful stride.
“Uh-oh!” Will muttered. He stood quickly, brushing off his shirt and squaring his shoulders.
Joshua stood too. “Your mother?” he said out of the side of his mouth.
“Uh huh.” It was barely audible.
The skirt of the woman’s dress was fully hooped and it snagged on a small bush, but if she noticed, she made no sign. Her eyes, flashing with anger, were pinned on the boy standing next to Joshua. She pulled up short, not even giving Joshua so much as a second look.
“William Mendenhall! Where in the world have you been for the past three hours?”
“I—”
“Didn’t I tell you not to go farther than where I could call you? Didn’t I?”
“Yes’m.” Will was definitely cowed. There was little evidence in his manner of the impudent young man who had been guiding Joshua around the city.
She shook her head, clearly exasperated. “What am I going to do with you? You never mind my wishes anymore.”
Joshua was glad she hadn’t yet taken note of him. This allowed him a chance to study her as she spoke. There was no question about where Will got his auburn hair. Beneath the bonnet her hair was full and long. He could see that in the back it came down over her shoulders and disappeared beneath her light shawl. Her features were fine, her nose straight and well proportioned, her mouth full and nicely formed. But the most arresting feature was her eyes. They were large and remarkably green, like the crest of an ocean wave with the sun behind it.
“Mama, I just wanted—”
“No!” she burst out. “I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses, Will. I’ve had enough of this. Do you hear me?”
Without realizing it, Joshua had removed his hat and now held it in his hand. “Ma’am, beggin’ your pardon, but don’t blame the boy. I’m afraid I’m the one at fault.”
She stopped, as if startled by his presence. Her chin came up, bringing her face full into the sunlight. The emerald eyes were wide and curious as she appraised him slowly.
He smiled and stuck out one hand. “My name is Joshua Steed. I’ve just come off a ship from New Orleans.” She made no move to take his hand, and he slowly let it drop again. “Young Will here was showing me around Savannah. I’m sorry if I kept him . . .”
Her lips compressed into a tight line and her eyes were blazing. Beside him, Will stiffened, and though he didn’t understand why, Joshua realized he had just added significantly to Will’s problems.
“Will, you didn’t!” his mother cried. “Not again.”
Will ducked his head.
“Give it back!” she said, her voice thin with anger.
“Mama, I didn’t—”
She reached out and grabbed a shoulder and shook him firmly. “Give it back, Will!” She turned, and Joshua saw that her cheeks had colored with shame. “I’m very sorry, Mr.—?” She stopped, even more embarrassed that she had not gotten his name.
“Steed,” he said. “Joshua Steed.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Steed. How much did my son take from you?”
Understanding dawned. Joshua wanted to smile. So this was not the first time Will had offered his guide services. But he didn’t smile. He was aware that Will was looking up at him, anxiety clearly written in his eyes. “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am?”
“How much did Will charge you for”—her voice became heavy with sarcasm—“showing you around?”
For the first time the little girl spoke. She was a miniature of her mother, and when Joshua looked at her more directly, he could also see a strong resemblance to Will. “Will always asks men for money,” she said primly, clearly enjoying her brother’s discomfort.
“You hush, Olivia!” Will hissed.
His mother swung back around to him, but before she could speak, Joshua broke in. “Ma’am, this young man of yours did not ask me for any money, nor have I given him so much as a single penny.”
Will’s eyes widened for a moment, then there was instant relief. He looked at his mother in triumph.
“I won’t have any more of—” She stopped, and her head came up again.
Joshua shook his head slowly, his eyes grave. “Not a penny.”
She was clearly taken aback, and he was enchanted to watch as both surprise and gratitude played around the corners of her mouth.
“This is my first time to Savannah—to the South, for that matter—and I was in need of someone to show me around. Your son has been a perfect gentleman and of the greatest service to me. I would happily pay him, but to this point all he has allowed me to do is buy him some roasted pecans.”
Will was fighting hard not to look smug. “That’s right, Mama. I was just helping him out a little.”
She stepped back, her eyes still not fully believing. “If you are sure, then . . .” She was clearly embarrassed at her earlier outburst.
“I am,” Joshua said firmly. “But I apologize for not being more thoughtful of his time. I didn’t mean to create worry for you.”
“Mr. Steed is from Missouri, Mama,” Will burst out. “He’s come out to buy a shipload of cotton.”
“Where’s Missouri?” Olivia said, squinting up at him.
Joshua bent over and smiled at her. She was going to be as beautiful as her mother. “It’s a very long way from here.”
“It is I who must apologize, Mr. Steed,” the woman said, finally holding out her hand. “Mrs. Caroline Mendenhall. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Straightening, he took her hand briefly, then let it go. “No apology necessary.”
“William has this habit of disappearing on me. But it was most rude of me to barge up like this without so much as a hello.” She smiled, and brief as it was, it was dazzling. “Well, if you’ll excuse us, we must be getting home. Come, Will. You have studies to do.”
Will turned and stuck out his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Steed.” It was said with great fervency.
Joshua shook the boy’s hand. “Thank you, Will. I
feel like I know more about Savannah than I know about Independence.” He looked at Will’s mother. “Your son is very bright. You should be proud of him.”
“I am.” She shook her head ruefully. “And believe it or not, I love him very much.”
“That is obvious,” he said gallantly. “It is a poor mother who lets a son roam free all day without worrying.”
She curtsied slightly, pleased. “Thank you, Mr. Steed.” She took Olivia’s hand and motioned for Will. “I hope you have a pleasant stay in Savannah.” She turned and they started away.
Joshua stared for a moment, suddenly realizing he was about to lose contact. Then he remembered something. “Will?”
They stopped, all half turning back toward him.
“Remember, you promised to take me to Mr. Wesley’s office tomorrow.”
His mother looked startled for a moment, then instantly was shaking her head at Will. “I’m sorry, Mr. Steed, but Will needs to spend some time with his studies. Our schoolteacher has left us, and he mustn’t get behind.”
Joshua was not about to be swayed from the only opportunity that lay at hand. He moved over to face her. “Mrs. Mendenhall, I don’t know how things are here in the South, but where I come from, when a gentleman gives his word he’s expected to keep it.”
“It is no less so here,” she said, the puzzlement evident in her eyes.
“Well, I gave my word as a gentleman that I would take Will with me tomorrow to see the man he tells me is the best cotton factor in Savannah. Now, I know I did that without askin’ for your permission, and I apologize for that. But a man’s word is his bond.”
She cocked her head to one side slightly, examining his face closely. “I don’t know how it is out west,” she said, with just the faintest trace of a smile, “but here gentlemen don’t take twelve-year-old boys with them to do their business.”
He matched her expression. “Hmm,” he mused. “In Missouri we take twelve-year-old boys and make them into men.”
He could see she wanted to laugh, but she didn’t. Her eyes told him that she accepted his besting of her.
“Oh, please, Mama,” Will exclaimed, grabbing for her hand. “This could be my only chance to meet Mr. Wesley. Please, Mama, please!”
She looked down at her son, then back to Joshua. He raised his right hand. “I promise to bring him right home the moment we’re through.”
Her shoulders lifted and fell in a shrug of defeat. “All right.”
Will nearly leaped into the air. He could not stop the grin from nearly splitting his face in two. “Thank you, Mama!”
“Yes, thank you,” Joshua said to her. He turned to Will. “I’ll meet you right here at nine tomorrow morning, then?”
“Yes, sir!” Will said. “I’ll be here.”
Chapter Four
The Steed clan stood in front of the Newel K. Whitney store down in Kirtland Flats. A lone wagon sat on the roadside. It had been only four days since Jessica had stunned the family with the announcement that she was returning to Missouri. Now they had gathered to say good-bye.
Little four-year-old Rachel broke down first. Her lower lip started to tremble. The large blue eyes filled with tears. She spun around and buried her face in her mother’s skirts. “I don’t want to go, Mama,” she sobbed. “I don’t want to go.”
That set Emily off. Emily was Lydia and Nathan’s second child, and was just six months younger than Rachel. From the moment Nathan had brought Jessica and her daughter to Kirtland, Rachel and Emily had become more like sisters than cousins. Not that they looked a lot alike. Emily was going to be a miniature of Lydia. She had long, dark hair, thick and lustrous. Her huge eyes were of such a deep brown that sometimes they looked black. Her features were as finely shaped as her mother’s. Rachel, on the other hand, had some of her mother’s plainness. Her hair, dark brown and with a natural curl, was worn long. She was a solemn child, with grave blue eyes and a way of seeming preoccupied most of the time.
Jessica took her daughter’s face in her hand. Her own lips were quivering too, and she blinked rapidly. “I know, Rachel,” she soothed, “I know.”
Mary Ann watched the interchange, feeling that her own heart was going to break. At her side, Benjamin was trying to be stern. “All right, now,” he said gruffly, “we all made a promise we weren’t going to make this any harder for Jessica than it already is.”
He stepped forward and went down to one knee, touching his granddaughter’s shoulder. At first Rachel just buried her head all the tighter against her mother’s legs. Jessie straightened, smiling down at her. “Rachel, it’s Grandpa.”
Rachel swung around blindly and threw her arms around his neck. That was too much for Mary Ann, and she felt a great sob well up inside her. Her husband loved all of his grandchildren, but from the day she had arrived, Rachel had taken a special place in his heart. She was always tagging after him, one tiny hand in his, her lips puckering in concentration as she would help him with this task or that.
Matthew—tall and straight, and at almost sixteen, too much of a man to cry—looked away. He had become the big brother, almost the father, that Rachel had not had, and he had taken Jessica’s announcement hard. Rachel’s happy cry of “Uncle Matt, Uncle Matt” would be sorely missed around the Steed household.
Surprisingly, Carl Rogers had come with Melissa and their children. That meant his taking off work at the livery stable, something Carl rarely did. But Jessica had kept books at the stable for him, and so Carl had made an exception in this case. It was obvious that Jessica was touched. Carl and Melissa’s two boys started to whimper now too—young Carl because he understood what was happening, little David because he saw the girls crying.
Joshua, Lydia and Nathan’s oldest and about a month and a half short of his fifth birthday, was standing next to Mary Ann, trying very hard to be brave. He and his Aunt Jessica had developed a special relationship, and in the past month Jessica had started to unfold the mysteries of the alphabet for him. Mary Ann heard him sniff and saw him swallow quickly. She took his hand, no longer trying to stop her own tears from flowing.
Lydia evidently saw her son’s reaction too, for she suddenly broke free from Nathan and ran to Jessica, throwing her arms around her. In a moment Mary Ann and Melissa and Rebecca were there too, all of them weeping and trying to hold each other and making promises about writing and never forgetting and maybe coming out to Missouri sometime.
From the wagon, Newel Knight watched soberly. The Knights were making the eight-hundred-mile journey back to Missouri and had agreed to take Jessica and her daughter along. Finally, Newel stepped forward. “I’m sorry, Brother Steed, but it’s time to go.”
* * *
For a long time after the wagon had disappeared from sight, Benjamin and Mary Ann and Rebecca stood together in front of the store. Carl and Melissa had left immediately. Lydia and Nathan, along with Matthew, had taken the children home to try and get their minds on something other than Rachel’s leaving.
Benjamin watched his wife and youngest daughter with a great feeling of tenderness. The two of them were standing together, eyes still red, not feeling a need to speak but only to be there for each other. Mary Ann had been just shy of eighteen when Benjamin had first met her and started courting her. Now Rebecca, at that same age, looked so much like Mary Ann had then, it made him feel as though no time had passed at all. And she had so much of Mary Ann’s nature. He stepped up beside them. “They’ll be all right. They’re traveling with good people.”
Mary Ann turned and managed a smile. “I know. It couldn’t have worked out any better.” A group of Saints from Missouri, including most of the leaders, had come to Kirtland in the past few months to be present for the temple dedication. Now they were returning. Hyrum Smith had loaned the Knights a wagon, team, and driver to get them to the upper Ohio River, where they planned to take a steamer. The Knights had promised to take good care of Jessica and her daughter and see that they arrived safely in Missouri.
&n
bsp; “I just worry,” Rebecca said, “their being alone, without family, and all.”
“Don’t underestimate Jessica,” Mary Ann said. “She is very strong.”
Benjamin said a soft inward amen to that. When the Saints had been driven out of Jackson County, Jessica had fled into the night wearing nothing more than a nightdress, a shawl, and a thin pair of moccasins. She had carried Rachel, not yet two, in her arms for more than twenty miles. The prairie was covered with a thin sheet of sleet and ice. By dawn, she was leaving bloody footprints on the prairie. Yes, Jessica was strong.
Mary Ann took a deep breath, turned to look once more down the road where the wagon had disappeared, then slipped her arm through Benjamin’s. “We’re not doing Jessica and Rachel any good standing around here. Let’s go home.”
* * *
“Will we ever get to see Aunt Jessica and Rachel again?”
Lydia looked up at her older son, then let her sewing drop into her lap. He was sitting across the room from her. The picture book he had been looking through was closed. Now as he looked at her, his light blue eyes were clearly troubled. Her first impulse was to soothe him, cushion the hardness of the reality a little, but then she knew she couldn’t do that. Not with young Joshua. He was so much the child at times, then in an instant could turn into a little five-year-old adult. Like now.
She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know, Joshua. I hope so.”
Emily looked up, the dark bangs around her forehead bouncing slightly. She had a square of slate and a piece of soapstone. She was laboriously drawing a stick family in front of a building. What was obviously a wagon and a horse were nearby. Just thirteen and a half months younger than Joshua, Emily had neither his maturity nor his basic seriousness. “I’ll bet we do,” she said matter-of-factly, always the optimist.
Joshua only saddened the more. “Emmy, you don’t know how far Missouri is. It’s a long, long ways. And it’s dangerous.”
She shrugged that aside. “Aunt Jessica said she will help Rachel write to me.” As if that made everything perfectly all right.
Lydia smiled brightly at her children. “And she will, I’m sure, Emily.” She looked at her eldest. “Joshua, you must make yourself stop worrying about them. They will be all right.”
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