“Do you hear me?” Fielding shrilled. “You cannot baptize these poor souls.”
Mr. Kimball looked drawn and weary, and yet there was a quiet majesty about him. He looked at Mr. Fielding, then with quiet patience he simply said, “They are of age, Mr. Fielding, and they can act for themselves. I shall baptize all who come unto me, asking no favors of any man.”
He pushed past the angry minister, and the other missionaries followed. The candidates for baptism fell into step behind them. The Ingalls brothers, the Pottsworths, and the others did the same, leaving the pastor trembling and spluttering as though he had a terrible chill.
A stir swept through the assembled crowds as the party came out of the narrow side street and into Avenham Park, which ran along the riverbank. The River Ribble was a broad but quiet stream, lined with trees and greenery. In the bright sunlight of this next to last day in July, the waters shimmered and sparkled. It was a glorious day indeed.
“You may prepare yourselves here,” Elder Kimball said to the candidates. Then, without waiting, he quickly stripped off his coat. He sat down and removed his boots and stockings. He unhooked his suspenders, then fished in his pockets, removing a few small items he carried there. He handed them to Willard Richards, then strode over to where there was a small path down to the water. A ripple of sound swept through the crowd as he hesitated not at all but waded out until he was waist deep. There were one or two catcalls, but also a light smattering of applause. The crowd was certainly not going to be hostile.
“Come on, Peter,” Derek said. “I want to see better. Let’s go over by the riverbank.”
As they moved down to the grassy slope that dropped off into the river, they came near to two men who were still in the process of readying themselves for baptism. The taller one worked in Derek’s factory in the carding sheds. Derek did not know his name. He was speaking to another man whom Derek had met a couple of times. He lived several houses up the street from where Derek and Peter did. His name was George Watt.
The taller man turned and gazed across the short distance to where Heber C. Kimball stood waiting in the river. “I shall go down first,” he said to Watt. “I shall consider it a privilege to be the first soul baptized into the restored Church in the British Isles.”
Watt was just finishing shucking off his outer shirt. He looked up in surprise, then grinned. “Sorry, mate,” he said, “but I have chosen that honor for myself.”
The other man whirled. “I say not, sir.”
Watt’s grin only broadened the more. “Shall we say that the better man wins? Eh, what?”
It took only a second for the other to grasp the import of what Watt was suggesting. “Indeed, sir!” he cried.
In an instant they were at a dead run, dashing across the cobblestones and then the grassy riverbank. It was several rods from the starting place to the path that led down to the water. The man who worked in the mills had the longer legs, but Watt was the younger and the swifter. Watt was at the path, and then into the river, sending forth a great spray as he hit the water at breakneck speed. The loser pulled up, the disappointment evident on his face. A cheer went up from the crowd.
As Watt waded out to join the American elder, the watching throngs quickly quieted again. Heber Kimball pulled Watt around so that they half faced each other. There was a quick whispered interchange, then Kimball raised his right arm to the square.
“Brother George Watt,” Elder Kimball said loudly, “having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
He took him by the hands and leaned him back. Down under the water he went. Elder Kimball held him there for a moment, looking quickly to make sure he was totally immersed, then brought him up. Watt came up beaming like a schoolboy, the water streaming down his face. He looked at Elder Kimball, and then they embraced.
The man who had lost the race was waiting to shake Watt’s hand as he came out of the river, and the crowd greeted that with enthusiasm. They loved a good loser.
“Derek?”
Derek turned and looked down at his brother.
“I . . .” Peter looked away.
Derek smiled at him. He was closer to this boy-turned-man than anyone else in the world. “You want to be baptized too, don’t you, Peter?”
Peter looked up. He had been afraid that Derek would laugh. “Yes.”
“Oh, Mama,” Jenny Pottsworth said, “I do too.”
Mrs. Pottsworth was weeping quietly. “We shall, Jenny girl, we shall.”
Derek looked grave, and he saw Peter’s face fall. Slowly a smile stole over his face. “I have only one regret.”
“What?” Peter said, the hope rising in his eyes.
“I wish we had decided to do it t’day. I think I could have beat Mr. Watt to the river.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
It was a hot August afternoon in Independence, Missouri, and though Caroline Steed had the windows open, there was not even a stirring of the curtains. She felt the dampness around her forehead and the stickiness of her dress. “Come on, little one,” she said. She quickly finished doing up Savannah’s diaper. “Let’s go back downstairs where it’s a little cooler.”
Downstairs there was the sound of the front door crashing open, followed immediately by a shrill voice crying, “Mama! Mama!” Caroline’s face registered surprise. She hadn’t expected them back this early. “I’m up here, Olivia.”
She lifted the baby to her shoulder, then turned just as Olivia came bursting through the door. She slid to a stop, gasping for breath.
“My goodness, Olivia,” Caroline said with a smile. “Did you run all the way home from Westport?”
She shook her head, panting hard. Below, Caroline heard heavier footsteps and the front door closing. Joshua and Will had arrived home too.
“Mama, Joshua let me drive the team.” Her eyes were wide, and the green in them was alive with excitement. “All by myself!”
“No,” Caroline said, feigning complete shock.
“Yes, Mama. I got to drive all four horses.” She cocked her head, causing the auburn hair to bounce lightly on her shoulders. At nearly ten, she was already starting to show the beauty that would be hers as a woman. “Will said I couldn’t do it, but I showed him. I took them right down Main Street.”
“Well, good for you.”
Olivia instantly changed focus, looking up at her baby sister. “Hello, Savannah,” she cooed. “Hello, baby.”
The baby, now five months old, stared at Olivia wide-eyed, then finally smiled. Olivia opened her arms, and Caroline handed the baby to her. She turned at the sound of footsteps. Will came through the door first. “Hello.”
Caroline stepped across to him and opened her arms for a quick hug. As she held him close she could smell the dust on him and a trace of the horses. She touched his hair. He had turned thirteen in March, and the top of his head was nearly up to her nose now. Another year and he would be well past her in height. “Hello, son,” she whispered.
Joshua came in now too. She smiled at him across the top of her son’s head but still spoke to Will. “Olivia tells me you were a doubting Thomas.”
Will looked up, his face puzzled.
“You said I couldn’t drive the team by myself,” Olivia said.
Will looked up at his mother and winked. “I didn’t think she could,” he said soberly, “but she did, Mama. And she did real good too.”
“Yes, she did,” Joshua said with equal solemnity.
Olivia beamed.
“I’m real proud of you, Olivia.” Caroline let go of Will and stepped to Joshua. She went up on tiptoes and kissed him. “You made good time.”
He nodded. “The riverboat arrived almost an hour ahead of schedule. They had the freight already on the dock when we drove up.”
“I’m glad.”
“Let me hold Savannah,” Will said, stepping to Olivia.
“No,” Olivia wailed, “I just got her.”
“I want to see her too.” He held out his arms. “Come on, Savannah. Come see Will.” Savannah eyed her brother without blinking.
“No,” Olivia said, jerking away. “It’s my turn.”
“Hey,” Joshua said easily, “I know how to solve this.” He walked to Olivia and took the baby. “We’ll let Papa take her.” He held her out at arm’s length, then lifted her up high above him. “Hello, little carrot head.” He looked to Caroline. “I swear her hair gets redder with every passing day.”
“I think so too.” She reached up and touched the baby’s cheek. “And she’s getting to be so much fun now.” Finally, she turned back to her other children. “You hungry?”
“I am!” Will cried.
“Me too,” echoed Olivia.
“I didn’t expect you for another hour or more, but it shouldn’t take too long. Olivia, you come help me. Will, you go out in the smokehouse and fetch that side of pork and slice me off some thin strips.” As they started toward the door, she looked over at Joshua. “The mail’s down on the table in the hall. The newspaper from Richmond also came this afternoon. It’s there too.”
He nodded absently, then looked at the baby as he lowered her down again. “Is it time for her to sleep?”
“No, she just woke up.”
“Good.” He tucked her in the crook of his arm. “Then what say, young lady? Shall you and me go for a walk while your mama gets some supper on?”
Joshua swore and slammed the newspaper down on the table. Will and Olivia looked up in surprise from where they were playing a game of tic-tac-toe with a slate board and a piece of soapstone. Caroline was in the adjoining room folding the clothes that Will had gathered in from the clothesline after supper.
Joshua leaned over the paper, read some more. His heavy brows came almost together as the anger swept across his face. He swore again, this time bitterly and in a stream of curses.
“Joshua!” Caroline said sharply.
His head came up. “What?”
“You have children present.”
There was a quick glance to where the two were sitting. The game had stopped now and they were watching him with dismay. But it was as if their presence wasn’t registering with him. He shook the paper at Caroline. “I knew we should have finished it! I told them that we had to finish it!”
She set down the trousers she was folding, stood, and came into the room. “Should have finished what?” There was an edge of warning in her voice.
He missed it totally. He turned the paper around, thrust it out toward her, and jabbed his finger at a spot on the lower part of the page. She came closer, peering at the place where he was pointing. After a moment, she straightened, her mouth tightening into a hard line. “So?” she said.
“So!” he exploded. “So the Mormons are taking over again. Look at that!” He slapped the paper with the back of his fingers. “They say there’s over four thousand of them now and more coming all the time. They’ve completely taken over Caldwell and Daviess counties.” He snatched up the paper and began to read furiously. “‘With their growing numbers, the Mormons now control most political offices in both counties. It is estimated that there are now fifteen Mormon constables and six or seven county judges who are Mormon. Reports received in Richmond indicate they have even started to form their own militia.’” He slammed the paper down. “And you say, ‘So?’”
Caroline moved so that she stood between Joshua and the children. “Yes,” she said quietly. “So? You said that’s why they went north. So they could be alone and not bother anyone. What do you care what they’re doing up there? That’s two days’ ride from here.”
He looked at her incredulously. “They’re forming their own militia, Caroline. Do you know what that means?”
Her head came up slightly. “Maybe after what happened to them in Jackson County, it means they want to protect themselves.”
He slapped the table hard, making the lamp on it jump. “It means they’re gonna be comin’ back here to claim their precious land of Zion again. Is that what you want?”
At that point Caroline made a mistake. She laughed, openly scoffing at the idea. “You surely don’t believe that.”
Joshua shot to his feet, nearly knocking over the chair in which he had been sitting. His eyes were blazing. “You don’t know them, Caroline,” he shouted. “Mormons are like a swarm of lice. If you don’t squash ’em one by one, before you know it there’s gonna be ten thousand more.”
“Joshua!” She snapped it out hard and angrily. “You are speaking in front of your children. I won’t have you talking like that.”
Joshua looked beyond her at Will and Olivia. They were staring at their parents, their mouths half-open in shock. Olivia shrank back against her brother, her eyes large and wide and frightened. Joshua turned back to Caroline. “Then I suggest they find somewhere else to be while we talk.”
Her shoulders came back. “Or maybe you’d better find somewhere else to be until you can calm down enough to stop talking like a wild man.”
His mouth opened, then clamped shut again. The muscles along his jaw stood out like cords of rope. For a long moment he stood there, chest rising and falling. Then without another word, he spun on his heel, and without bothering to get his hat, he stalked out of the door, slamming it behind him.
* * *
Joshua was playing a desultory game of small-stakes poker in the far corner of Clinton Roundy’s saloon on Main Street. When Joshua had come storming into the bar like a Missouri twister, Roundy knew instantly that his former son-in-law was in a black mood; but he had long ago learned that with Joshua you didn’t ask questions until he let it be known it was all right. Roundy just drew large mugs of beer for Joshua and himself, then gathered up three or four other regulars and started a game. Now, two hours later, he could tell that Joshua’s mood had flattened out considerably.
It was a warm evening outside, and Roundy had propped the two front doors open. A movement there caught his eye. He had been about to call for more cards, but he stopped short. Caroline Steed was standing just outside, looking in. Lowering his cards, he shot Joshua a warning look. For a moment Joshua was too busy concentrating on his own hand and missed it, but finally his head came up. Roundy motioned slightly with his head toward the door. Everyone at the table turned to look. Slowly Joshua put his cards down too.
For a long moment their eyes locked. The sound in the barroom dropped to an instant hush. Finally, Joshua shoved his chair back. “Give me a minute,” he grunted. As he stood, Caroline backed away and disappeared again.
When Joshua stepped outside, Caroline was a few feet down the board sidewalk, her back to him, hugging herself as though it were cold. He moved quietly up behind her and stood without speaking.
After a moment she stirred slightly. “Is that what it’s come to?”
“What?”
“Whiskey and poker again?”
He stiffened. “I’ve won a whoppin’ seventy-five cents in the last two hours,” he said sarcastically. “And I’ve drowned my sorrows in about three-quarters of a glass of warm beer. If that qualifies as ‘whiskey and poker,’ then I guess I’m guilty as charged.”
Slowly she turned around. In the half-light from the windows behind them, he couldn’t tell if she had been crying or not, but now she definitely was not. Her eyes were luminous but unreadable. Finally, she dropped her chin a little. “All right, that was uncalled for. I’m sorry.”
He nodded slightly but didn’t say anything.
“And shall I take the children and move into the hotel for the night?”
One eyebrow went up. “Why would you do that?”
“So you won’t have to wait around here all night to be sure I’m asleep before you feel like it’s safe to come home.”
Again he bit his tongue and waited for a moment until he could speak calmly. “You’re the one who told me to go find someplace to be until I could stop talking like a wild man.” A tiny hint of a smile toyed at
the corners of his mouth. “How am I doin’?”
A little of the tightness in her face softened. “Much better.”
“I was going to come home in a little while.”
“After I was asleep?”
He started to protest, then finally shrugged. “Probably.”
“So?” she said, her eyes challenging him.
He grinned more openly now. “As I recollect, that was the word that got us into trouble in the first place.”
This time she didn’t smile. “So? Do I go to the hotel or not?”
He peered at her more closely. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Joshua, when Donovan Mendenhall found me working in my mother’s dress shop and took me away, everything was wonderful between us. He was handsome, he was rich. I never challenged him on anything.” She shook her head, looking away, the pain evident on her face. “Then the troubles with Boswell and Berrett began. When I found out what was happening, for the first time there were sharp words between us. I wanted to know what was going on between him and his two—partners.” She spat out the last word with utter contempt. “I was worried sick. Donovan would get angry and tell me the business was his business. He’d stomp out of the house, and I’d lay there in bed for hours on end, brooding and practicing my lines over and over for when he returned. But he never would, not before he was sure I was asleep. Then the next morning, we’d kind of tiptoe around each other, talking nice and trying to smile. It was too painful to go through it all again, so we’d just pretend everything was all right.”
She stopped for breath, a little surprised at her own intensity. “Well,” she finally said, more slowly now and with soft bitterness, “it doesn’t work, Joshua. Donovan ended up dead, and I ended up trying hard not to hate him for leaving me—a widow with two children—totally dependent upon the tender mercies of Mr. Theodore Berrett and Mr. Jeremiah Boswell.”
She tipped her head back, the challenge evident in her eyes. “So, I’m not going to sleep alone tonight, Joshua. If you’re not coming home, then I’ll get a room and sleep with my children.”
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