Pillar of Light

by Gerald N. Lund

* * *

  Joshua stood for a moment in the doorway of the barn, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light, then he stepped inside. “Will?”

  The milk cow in one of the stalls looked up. Her large brown eyes watched him with curiosity for a moment, her mouth rotating slowly as she chewed her cud. Beyond her, Joshua’s horse swished his tail, then again. But other than that, there was no sound, no movement.

  He walked in farther and raised his voice. “Will, are you in here?”

  Above him, in the loft, something stirred. Joshua turned, walked to the ladder, and climbed it slowly, his mind going four or five times faster than his feet.

  Will was in the far corner, half lying, half sitting back against a pile of dried meadow hay. Joshua noted that the loft window was slightly ajar—which meant that Will had seen him coming.

  “Hi.”

  The head did not raise.

  “Mind if I sit down?”

  There was an almost imperceptible shake of the head. Joshua moved over and sat down, putting his back up against one of the beams that supported the roof. He picked up a long stem of prairie grass and began to chew on it slowly. Will raised his eyes without lifting his head; then when he saw Joshua was watching him, he looked down again quickly—but not quickly enough that Joshua missed the look of betrayal that filled the brown eyes.

  Joshua smiled sadly as an image flashed in his mind. It was of an impudent young lad standing on the cobblestone streets of Savannah, knickers held up with suspenders, a French beret perched jauntily on his head. “I know everything there is to know about Savannah,” he had said with a boyish swagger. From almost the first moment they had met, something had clicked between Joshua Steed and William Mendenhall. Over the past nine months, that bond had deepened into something that meant a great deal to Joshua. He was surprised now how badly it hurt to see the disappointment on Will’s face. And what hurt even worse, he wasn’t sure he could say anything that would make it go away.

  “Can we talk about it?”

  Again there was no answer, but one shoulder lifted in a brief shrug.

  Joshua tossed the stem of grass aside. “Look, Will, I’m not very good at guessing. Why don’t you just ask whatever questions you’ve got tumblin’ around in your head?” He blew out his breath. “I’ll try and answer them as honestly as I can.”

  The silence stretched on for well over a minute. Twice Joshua thought about trying again, saying something else, but something told him to give it time. So he waited. Finally, Will shifted his weight. He brought his knees up, hugged his arms around them, then rested his chin on top of them. He was no longer staring at the floor, but neither did he look at Joshua. He was staring at a knothole in one of the boards of the barn wall.

  “Is it true?” he finally murmured.

  “Your mother said your friends told you a lot of things,” Joshua responded after a moment.

  Will’s voice was low and still carried hurt. “They weren’t tryin’ to be mean to me. They were braggin’ on you. They said you were one of the bravest men in Jackson County. When they told me what you did, I said they were lyin’, that my step-pa wouldn’t do those kinds of things.”

  “And that’s when you fought?”

  He nodded quickly.

  “So, ask your questions.”

  “Did you really beat your wife up?”

  Joshua winced. When Caroline had chosen a word to describe what the boys said about him and Jessica, it had been hit. He had hit his wife. Beat was a much more brutal word. But he forced a nod. “Yes, Will, I did.”

  The brown eyes, nearly black in the dimness of the light in the barn, seemed to be trying to drill the knothole out of its board.

  “You ever seen a drunk, Will?”

  There was faint disdain at the inanity of the question. “Of course.”

  “I mean someone who is really drunk? Out-of-his-head drunk?”

  “Yes. My buddy, John Watkins, and I used to sneak down to the saloon and watch the men come out sometimes.”

  “Well, liquor is a poor excuse for anything, Will, but it’s the only one I have. Jessica—my first wife—and I had a lot of hate building up between us. It seemed like everythin’ we did just fanned that hate all the hotter. One night, she did something that really made me angry. Now, as I look back on it, I guess I can’t say as I blame her, but that night I was furious with her. Instead of lettin’ it burn out, I went to the saloon and got mean, out-of-my-head drunk. Then I went lookin’ for her.”

  He shook his head. “If there was a kind God anywhere in this world, he’d let us go back and undo some of the stupid things we do, Will. But that isn’t part of life, it seems.”

  For the first time, Will was looking at Joshua, watching him closely, eyes wide and vulnerable. Joshua met his gaze. “Words are cheap,” he said softly. “But right now, Will, there’s nothing else to offer you. All I can say is that I’m deep-down shamed at what I did—enough that I made myself two promises.” He shook his head angrily. “No, more than promises, solemn vows.”

  “What are they?”

  “First, I vowed that I’ll never let whiskey take me over again. Not ever. It’s a terrible master, Will. I know that now.” He paused, then added. “That’s been almost five and a half years ago now, Will. I haven’t been drunk since. Not one time.”

  Will’s wide eyes blinked once, then again, and Joshua sensed at least some acceptance of that. He took a quick breath and went on. “Two, I’ve vowed I’ll never, ever, lift my hand against a woman again. It was a cowardly thing, and I’ll carry the shame of it to the grave.”

  He stopped, wanting to see if Will would respond. He didn’t. Instead he looked away again. “Other questions?” Joshua finally asked.

  Will turned. “Why do you hate Mormons so much?”

  Joshua’s lips tightened. “Because they’re bad people, Will. Evil people.”

  “What did they do?”

  “They—” Joshua stopped. “Well, it’s not so much what they do, but what they are.”

  Will looked faintly disgusted at that.

  Joshua felt an urgent need to help him understand. “They came in here trying to change everybody, claimed all of us Missourians were going to have to leave so they could build up a perfect society. They’re high-and-mighty, filled with all kinds of ideas that are rubbish.”

  “Mama says it’s not good to hate people simply because they’re different.”

  Joshua nearly flashed out with a quick retort, but caught himself. “Your mama’s right. I don’t hate Mormons just because they’re different. They’ve done bad things. That’s why we drove them out of the county. Sometimes a man has to take a stand against bad things.”

  Will seemed lost in his own thoughts. “When we moved to Savannah, lots of people warned us to stay away from Negro people. They said they were bad. Couldn’t be trusted. They called them ‘niggers’ and all kinds of stuff. Mama said it’s not right to judge people like that. There were two black boys down on Factors’ Walk who were my good friends. I didn’t think they were niggers.”

  Joshua smiled, his eyes softening. “Your mama is a very good woman, William. A strong woman. You listen to her.”

  Will nodded. He unclasped his hands from around his legs and stretched. Joshua sensed a softening but knew the crisis hadn’t passed yet. “Do you have other questions you want to ask me, Will?”

  He looked away.

  “Go on, Will. We can’t let this be hanging between us.”

  He took a breath. Finally he turned and looked Joshua full in the face. The look in his eyes wrenched Joshua like nothing he had ever felt before.

  “My friends said you drove your wife and your baby out of their house. They said it was a cold night and you drove them out with whips. Made them walk all night across the prairie. They said some people died.”

  Joshua closed his eyes, leaning forward, his head down. The words had brought back memories that knifed through him with terrible pain.

  “Is it true?�
� Will asked.

  After a long time, Joshua looked up. “Sometimes, Will . . .” His shoulders lifted and fell. “Sometimes we start things that we can’t control. I . . . we, a bunch of us, had been fighting the Mormons. There was a battle out near the Big Blue River. Two of my men were shot and killed. One of the Mormons was killed. Several on both sides were wounded.

  “Emotions were very high. My men wanted revenge. And I’ll be honest. I did too. It was like we were on the verge of an explosion. We decided to drive the Mormons out so no more trouble could happen.”

  His voice became distant, far away, as if he had moved back into the past again. “I was leading a group of about a hundred men out to the Mormon settlement. It was night. I knew that Jessica . . . actually she was not really my wife by then; we had been divorced. But anyway, I knew that Jessica and our little girl were there. Jessica’s father was with me. I sent him on ahead. Told him to warn her to get out fast. But I couldn’t hold the men back. They broke loose and went riding in, shooting and hollering and sending everybody running.”

  He shook his head, and his voice dropped to little more than a whisper. “Turned out it was mostly women and children. The men had gone off somewhere.” There was a long pause. “It wasn’t a great night for bravery.”

  Will’s eyes were wide. “Did you whip them?”

  He looked up, a little surprised, as though he had forgotten Will was there. Then he shook his head firmly. “No. I didn’t whip anybody that night. Will, once things calmed down some, I turned around and went home.”

  For a long time they sat there, Joshua waiting, occasionally watching Will’s face for some clue as to his feelings, letting him think about all he had heard. Finally, Joshua stood up. “I’m sorry you think less of me, Will. That hurts a lot. A real lot. But I understand. All I can say is that those things happened a long time ago. I’m sorry now. But like I said, you can’t go back and undo things you did, no matter how much you want to.”

  Will’s face was unreadable as he considered Joshua’s words. “You ready to come in now?” Joshua asked softly after a moment. “Or do you want to stay out here for a little longer?”

  Will dropped his head again. “I think I’ll stay.”

  Joshua nodded. “I’ll tell your mother where you are.” He flashed a weak grin. “Probably beats goin’ back to school anyway, right?”

  “Yeah.” Will didn’t smile.

  Joshua moved slowly across the loft to the ladder. He started down, but stopped after two or three rungs. “Will?”

  The boy’s head came up.

  “I . . .” Suddenly Joshua’s tongue was thick and heavy. Will was looking at him curiously. “I . . . I just wanted you to know that I think of you as if . . . well, it’s like you are actually my own son.”

  Flustered now, he rushed on. “I know you loved your real pa, and all that. And I’d never want to take that away from you, but . . .” He shook his head. This was worse than taking a ten-mule team down the side of a muddy riverbank. “One of the things I wish for most in this life is that, someday, you’ll feel like you can . . . like maybe you could call me your pa, too.” He shook his head, giving it up. “I’d be right proud if you ever did, Will. Right proud.”

  With that he plunged down the ladder and walked swiftly out of the barn.

  * * *

  Dinner was a painful experience. Caroline spoke pleasantly to the children, but didn’t even so much as look at Joshua. Will answered when asked a question directly, but spoke in monosyllables and monotones. Olivia seemed puzzled, but even at nine years of age, she was aware that this was not the time for her usual chatter and, for the most part, ate quietly and kept shooting sidelong glances at her brother.

  Joshua had wanted to talk with his wife when he came back into the house, to tell her how it had gone with Will, but she had been at the table, preparing dinner. She had heard him come up behind her—there was no question of that—but she did not turn around or acknowledge his presence, and he had finally left and gone back to the freight yard.

  After the dishes were done, Caroline read to the two children for almost an hour, twice as long as she usually did, while Joshua stayed bent over the books from the business, pretending to concentrate. The sun went down, and as twilight came the room darkened to the point that it became difficult to see. “Would you like me to light a lamp?” he finally asked.

  Caroline stood, pulling Olivia up to stand beside her. “Not for us. We’re going upstairs. I’m going to tell the children stories for a time.”

  There was not a murmur of protest from either Will or Olivia, something unheard of when it was still not even seven o’clock. They seemed glad to escape his presence as they trooped up the stairs.

  For a long moment Joshua stared at the empty stairwell, his emotions churning. He expected hurt. He expected anger. But this? He shoved his chair back with a jerk. This was how Jessica had been. Withdrawing into her shell. Fighting back by not fighting. Was that what it had come to again? And what would tomorrow bring? The bitter invective? Words hurled like lances? He felt sick and angry and hurt and frustrated all at once. Only now did he realize how much those battles had drained him.

  And that had been with Jessica. He knew now he had loved Jessica Roundy. In his own limited way. But Caroline! The pain tore at him. Caroline consumed him. The one thing he wanted most was to make her happy, to see her smile, to hear her laugh, and know it was because of him.

  And now there was no laughter, no smiles, not even angry words. He could cope with those. Try and reason with her. At least be talking. But this ice-block approach . . . He blew out his breath in a quick explosion of disgust. The anger was starting to win out inside him now. He swore softly to himself. He had changed. He was shamed by the past, and he had vowed it would not be repeated. Didn’t that count for anything? She wouldn’t even listen to him, wouldn’t even give him a chance to try to explain.

  He stood abruptly, slamming the ledger book shut. Well, he wasn’t going to sit here moping like a kicked hound dog, waiting for her to throw him a condescending glance. He started for the coatrack, making up his mind. He’d see hell freeze over before he stood still for another round of this.

  Suddenly the longing for whiskey was as sharp as a stab in the side with a forked stick. He stopped, as though struck. His mind was already in the saloon. Go to Clinton Roundy’s and get a bottle of whiskey! Let that fix things.

  He looked at his hands. They were visibly shaking. He stared at them. It had been over five years since he had gone to the bottle to escape. Five years!

  He turned and walked slowly in the half darkness back to the chair and dropped into it heavily. He sat back, staring at nothing, waiting for the darkness to envelop him.

  * * *

  It was past nine o’clock when Caroline came down the stairs. After the children had finally gone to sleep, she had gone into the bedroom where she and Joshua slept. For a long time she lay there on the bed, wondering if he would come up. She knew she had hurt him terribly, and for a time she had fought feelings of gladness. She wanted revenge. Longed for it. The hurt he had dealt her was so deep, so vast, that she wanted a price exacted in return. But then the more rational part of Caroline’s mind finally began to speak. It was a whisper at first, but it wouldn’t go away. It had taken almost an hour for her to sort through the thoughts, decide what to say, then rehearse it over and over in her mind, playing off against his every possible answer.

  Now she came softly down the stairs. She was only half-surprised that the house was dark. Upstairs she had listened carefully and had heard no sound. Now there was a momentary stab of fear that he had slipped out without her hearing, but then she saw the darkness of his shape by the table where she had left him.

  She stopped on the last stair. She saw his head come up. Her pulse quickened. Now that the moment had arrived, she nearly lost her courage. But she knew that if she turned around now, a knot in the line would be tied that might never be undone.

  �
��Joshua?”

  He straightened.

  She sighed softly, feeling the pain rising up again. “The women in town have tried to tell me all about the past. I want you to know I haven’t listened. I won’t listen. I won’t learn what happened between you and Jessica from gossip, from some petty little person eager to dump trash onto my doorstep.”

  She could feel his eyes on her in the darkness. “But I keep asking myself,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper now, “are there two Joshua Steeds?”

  A great sadness began to overwhelm her, and she fought the choked feeling that was starting in her chest. “Most of the time I see this man I met in Savannah. He’s handsome, charming, wonderful with my children.” There was a long pause, then more quietly, “I was even finding myself starting to love him, down deep, in a way I didn’t think was going to be possible again.”

  She heard his soft intake of breath, but she hurried on, afraid if she stopped now it would not ever come out. “But from time to time, that Joshua suddenly disappears. He goes behind this great wall. I call to him, but there’s no answer. And then I—” She bit her lip. This was far more difficult than it had been when she was doing it in her mind. “And then I see another man. Just a shadow. It’s someone I’ve never met. Someone I’m not sure I ever want to meet.”

  She sat down on the step, suddenly finding that standing required too much effort. She hugged her legs, staring across the room at the dark shape. “I can’t make you tell me what’s back there, Joshua. You can show me all of it or part of it. I won’t know if you’re being completely honest with me or not. But I know this—if there is ever to be anything between us besides sharing the same bed and raising our children, you are going to have to take me behind that wall and show me there’s nothing there to be frightened of. Because right now, I am very frightened.”

  For several long moments she sat there. There was no movement, no sound. Shaking her head, feeling the burning behind her eyes, she stood abruptly, turned, and ran up the stairs.

  * * *

  Caroline’s first awareness was that it was still dark outside the window. And yet she sensed it was morning. Perhaps five o’clock or even six. She turned over lazily, not wanting to come up out of the deep sleep she had been lost in. Through the haze, she remembered the fitful hours she had spent before she finally slipped into the depths. Then suddenly she remembered what had happened before she came upstairs to bed, and lifted her head. The bed beside her was empty. She fell back. The disappointment was so sharp she could taste it.