“Thank you.” She gave her daughter a gentle push, and they all came into the room. Since the cabin had only one main room, the family was now in clear view of Joshua and Emily, who were eyeing them with unabashed curiosity. Lydia motioned toward the bench. “Won’t you sit down while I get my husband?”
The woman smiled briefly but shook her head. “We’ll wait here.”
When Lydia opened the back door, she was surprised to see Nathan just standing there all by himself. As she opened the door, he turned. “It was Oliver,” he said. “He’s gone. He’s leaving. I can’t—”
She stepped out and half closed the door. “There’s a woman here.”
He stopped, surprised. “Who?”
Her shoulders lifted and fell. “I’ve never seen her before.”
Nathan looked perplexed. This was certainly not a typical night at home. Still troubled by his encounter with Oliver, he followed Lydia back inside. He slowed for a moment as he saw the visitors, then walked across the room quickly. “Hello,” he said.
Lydia immediately started for her own children. “Come, Emily and Joshua. We’ll go upstairs.”
The woman turned quickly. “No.” She was embarrassed by her abruptness and smiled to soften it. “Please stay. I’d like you to hear this too.”
Lydia nodded.
The woman turned back to Nathan and took a quick breath. “You are Nathan Steed?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry to come this late. We’ve had a long journey today.” She shifted the child to her other arm and held out her hand. “My name is Caroline Steed.”
Nathan took her hand slowly, peering at her. “Steed?” he echoed. Lydia also was staring.
“Yes. My husband is Joshua Steed. I believe you and he are brothers.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Obadiah Cornwell was waiting for Joshua when he came down the gangplank of the riverboat that had just tied up at the wharf at Westport, Missouri. Joshua slowed his step at the sight of him, then pushed his way through the disembarking crowd. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said abruptly.
From the lines in Joshua’s face and the weariness in his eyes, Cornwell could tell it had been a wearing trip. And from the clipped tone of his voice, he knew his partner was in a foul mood.
“Did you bring the wagons?” Joshua asked.
“Yes. Six of them.”
“That should be fine.” He turned and started moving toward the nearest warehouse office. “Let’s get the stevedores and get those bales of cloth goods transferred.”
“I also brought your horse,” Cornwell said.
Joshua stopped and turned around slowly.
“I think you’d better get on to Independence. I’ll see to the shipment.”
There was a quick flash of concern. “Is there something wrong with my family?”
Cornwell took him by the elbow and pulled him to a spot where they had some privacy. And then he told him. He told him about Caroline’s demands for a wagon and her refusal to take no for an answer. He told him where she went and why. He rushed on quickly as he watched the disbelief in Joshua’s eyes slowly turn to fury. “I tried to tell her you wouldn’t like it, Joshua. But you know how she can be sometimes. There was no talking her out of it.”
“Where’s my horse?”
Cornwell pointed. “Tied there, second building down.”
Joshua spun on his heel and stalked away. Cornwell watched him go, shaking his head. The one thing he hadn’t told his partner was that it was Caroline who had sent him to Westport and told him exactly what to say.
* * *
“Caroline!” He stepped inside the door and shut it hard behind him. “Caroline!” His voice reverberated through the house. It was past seven o’clock now, and the last rays of the afternoon sunshine were coming through the west windows, leaving the hallway filled with softly muted light.
He flung his hat at the table and went in quick, stiff steps to the stairs. “Will! Olivia!” He thundered it up toward the second floor.
“They’re not home, Joshua. Mrs. Payton has them.”
He whirled. Caroline was standing another five feet down the hallway in the doorway that led to their sitting parlor. She had not been there moments before. “It’s just as well,” he muttered, moving toward her. “Obadiah met me at the dock. He told me you went to Far West.”
“I know,” she said calmly. “I told him to.”
That took him aback some. “You what?”
But she had stepped back inside the room, out of his sight.
“Caroline!” In three strides he was at the door. He swung his head. She was standing near the window, her hands at her sides, her face composed. “Caroline, what have you done? What in the name of—”
“I know you’re angry,” she said quickly, “and I understand that. But swearing isn’t going to change anything, Joshua. Neither will yelling at me.”
His mouth opened and closed again. He stepped inside the room and shut the door with a bang, as if there were someone in the house whom he wanted to prevent from overhearing what was about to happen. He planted his feet, fighting to keep his voice under control. “All right,” he demanded, “just what in the world possessed you to go to Far West?”
“I wanted to see your family.”
He whirled. “She wanted to see my family,” he mimicked, speaking to the wall.
“I went because you won’t.”
He spun back around. “You had no right! Do you hear me, Caroline? No right at all. I can’t believe you’ve betrayed me like this.”
“Joshua, I know what—”
He was still raging, not even looking at her now. “And you went deliberately while I was gone because you knew—” His breath exploded in disgust. “You knew I would say no.”
“Yes, I did, Joshua, and I know that it was wrong now.”
“Oh,” he mocked, now addressing the nearest chair, “she thinks she did wrong. Ain’t that wonderful?”
“Joshua, if you’ll let me explain, I’ll—”
“And did you and my family all get to sit down together?” he hissed. “Did you have a nice warm chat about good old Joshua and what you might do to smooth over all the wicked things he’s done? I’ll bet my father just hooted at that!”
She didn’t even try to answer him, but moved slowly over to the rocking chair and sat down. He started striding around the room, speaking to himself, throwing out his arms as he talked. “And you and Jessica? Did you two get to let your hair down and share horror stories about me? Or maybe you got to bring Lydia in on it too! I’ll bet there were some good laughs out of that, comparing notes about the courting habits of Joshua Steed from the time he was just a boy.”
“Are you through?” she asked quietly.
“Through!” he roared. “I’m just barely beginning.”
“Joshua, I did not see your father.”
“You get something in your mind and think that you can . . . ” He stopped as he realized what she had said.
“I did not see your mother. I did not see Jessica or your daughter.”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“I didn’t. I had planned on it, but then I realized that I had no right to do this without you.”
“So you just drove by and waved?” he asked sarcastically.
“No. We only went to Nathan’s house. I didn’t—”
“Only Nathan?” he asked, feeling suddenly sick. “You only went to Nathan’s house?”
“Yes. We stayed overnight. We were going to go to your parents’ the next morning, but I didn’t sleep all night. I knew I was wrong to do it this way, forcing your hand.” She looked down. “So we left first thing in the morning without seeing anyone else.”
His mouth was a tightly compressed line now, and his eyes had gone cold. “And did you ask Nathan if he would show you his scars?” he sneered.
“No, I did not,” she snapped right back at him. “I didn’t have to. I’ve already seen them.”
He was already forming another withering comment, but that stopped him as sharply as if she had shoved a gag down his throat with a ramrod. “You have?” he said.
“Yes.” Her eyes conveyed the sickness she was feeling inside. “I’ve seen them a thousand times in my mind since you told me. I don’t need to see them again to know what you did to your brother.”
“And you’re going to fix all that too, right?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Well, who asked you?”
“No one,” she answered, her chin lifting. “No more than anyone asked you to interfere in my affairs with Berrett and Boswell back in Savannah. But you did anyway because you said you cared for me.”
“Well, I . . .” He stumbled over that one.
She pressed in. “And while we’re at it,” she continued, a touch of asperity hardening her own voice, “who are you to tell me my daughter has no right to meet her own grandparents? You know, Joshua, they aren’t just your family anymore. They’re Savannah’s now too. She has grandparents. She has aunts and uncles and cousins. She has every right to know them.”
Her chest was starting to rise and fall now as the anger began to build inside her. “You’re furious because I tried to interfere in your relationship with your family. Well, what about you? What gives you the right to interfere with Savannah’s relationship to her family just because you’re living in your own private little hell?”
His jaw tightened, then jutted out. “Don’t try and twist things, Caroline. I can’t debate you, you know that. But what you did was down-deep wrong. You knew I would be furious, and you still went ahead and did it.”
Suddenly her voice was pleading. “I told you, I know that now. I’m sorry I was so headstrong. But I’m not sorry I got to meet Nathan and Lydia.” She looked up at him, her eyes filled with wonder. “Did you know they named their oldest son Joshua?”
“Yes,” he snapped. “I met him that day on the road, remember?”
“They don’t hate you, Joshua. Do you think they’d call their own son by your name if they still felt bitter towards you?”
“He was born before most of the things happened.”
“He has your father’s name too,” she said, fighting down her impatience. “They could call him Ben if they detested you so much.”
He shook his head stubbornly. “That’s got nothing to do with the issue at hand.”
Caroline looked up at him, her eyes suddenly hopeful, her mouth soft. “They’re having a Fourth of July celebration in Far West on Wednesday. Jessica and her husband will be coming over. Everyone except your sister in Ohio will be there. Nathan suggested that maybe we could come up and meet—”
She stopped at the look of utter disbelief on his face.
“We could meet them all, Joshua,” she rushed on. “I know it won’t be comfortable. Not at first. But then . . .” She let her voice peter out into silence. His eyes were as hard and impla-cable as steel plates.
“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?”
“I have, Joshua. I—”
He spun on his heel and stalked to the door. He yanked it open. “I’ve got six wagonloads of freight coming in. Don’t wait up for me.” He stepped out and slammed the door hard behind him.
Caroline stared at the door for a long moment, then slumped back in her chair, her face lined with weariness and filled with bitter disappointment.
* * *
It was way past eleven o’clock when Joshua returned from the freight yard. He was exhausted and still seething inside. He felt as if he had been horsewhipped, then run over six or seven times by a Conestoga wagon. He stopped on the porch and removed his boots so that he wouldn’t wake anyone. He was in no mood for additional battle. Not tonight. Morning would be soon enough.
As he moved slowly up the staircase, he winced as the third stair creaked loudly, as it always did. But he needn’t have worried. When he entered the bedroom he saw in the faint light that the bed had not been slept in. He swore, and moved quickly to the table. Fumbling, he got a match, struck it, and lit the lamp. The room was empty.
He went out and down the hall swiftly, still carrying his boots. Olivia was gone. Will was gone. Savannah was gone. As he walked back to his bedroom he hurled his boots against the wardrobe. “You want to play the hotel game, do you? Well, fine.” He started unbuttoning his shirt with vicious jerks. “You go ahead and sleep there. Then maybe I can get some sleep around here.”
* * *
“Gone? What do you mean she’s gone?”
The desk clerk of the Independence Hotel was stammering like a kid getting ready for a “lickin’ ” from his teacher. “I’m sorry, Mr. Steed. She and the children were up early and checked out.”
He felt a lurch of concern and a flash of anger at the same moment. “What time was that?”
“About six, sir.”
Six! He couldn’t believe it. Caroline hated early mornings. It took her almost an hour every day, sliding back and forth between sleep and wakefulness, before she finally came to life again. And Joshua, who was an early-morning person, had been so mentally and physically exhausted that he had slept straight through until nine-thirty that morning. He cursed himself for not waking up earlier, then looked at the clerk. “Did she say where she was going?”
“No, sir. Not to me, Mr. Steed. But you may want to ask Mr. Cornwell. I saw her with him a little over an hour later.”
“What?”
The man’s hands began to flutter. “I thought you knew that, Mr. Steed. Mr. Cornwell was helping her with the wagon and the horses.”
Joshua slapped the counter so hard that it made the clerk jump, nearly dislodging the glasses perched on his nose. Joshua swore under his breath, then without another word he spun around and left the hotel. On the street he did not hesitate. He turned right, and ignoring the glances his angry muttering was garnering, he strode down Main Street toward the freight yard.
“Will you shut up and listen for a minute?”
The sharpness in Obadiah Cornwell’s voice shocked Joshua into silence.
“I didn’t give her one of our wagons. I think she knew I wouldn’t do that again.”
“You mean she bought her own wagon and horses?” Joshua looked dubious.
“That’s right. She’s got her own money. And she used it. Paid out more than three hundred dollars.”
“Why didn’t you stop her?”
“Why didn’t you stop her?” Cornwell shot right back at him.
Joshua glared at his partner. “Because I didn’t know she was going!”
“Did you know she was gone last night?” Cornwell asked quietly.
“I . . .” Now he was suddenly defensive. “When I came home last night, I figured she had gone to a hotel. She threatened that once before.”
“And you didn’t go looking for her?”
Joshua bristled. “It was late. You know that. We were here until past eleven.” He realized how lame he was sounding. “Then this morning I slept later than I planned,” he finished sheepishly. “When I found where she’d stayed, she was already gone.”
“Yeah, I know. She roused me out about quarter past seven. By that time she’d already been to the livery stable and picked out a wagon and team. She came to me and asked me to help outfit the rig.”
“Why in the world didn’t you come and get me?” Joshua asked, thoroughly disgusted.
Cornwell stood up slowly and leaned over the desk. “Look, Joshua,” he said in a tight voice. “I’m not your mother and I’m not your employee anymore. Caroline is my friend as much as you are.” He straightened, his face reproving. “She said to tell you that if you had come for her she might have changed her mind. But you didn’t.”
Joshua sat down heavily in the wooden chair across from the desk. “And she’s going to Far West.” It wasn’t a question.
Cornwell nodded. “Ain’t no secret about that. She wanted you to know so that if you change your mind you’ll know where to find her.”
&n
bsp; “Well, it’ll be a cold day in hell when I change my mind.”
Cornwell gave him a long, appraising look, then shook his head at his old friend and partner. “It’s a good thing I’m not your mother.”
Joshua looked up, his thoughts only half on Cornwell.
“If I were I’d take you out in the woodshed and bust a stout piece of oak across your backside. Or maybe on your head.”
Joshua shot to his feet. “Well, you’re not my mother,” he said hotly. “And judging from this morning, you’re not much of a friend either.” He kicked the chair back, almost knocking it over. He glared one last time at Cornwell, then left, slamming the door behind him.
* * *
On a gentle knoll that poked its nose into the valley of Adam-ondi-Ahman sat the beginnings of the new Mormon settlement which the Saints had affectionately named Di-Ahman. It was a striking setting. The valley—no more than a mile wide—followed the meanderings of the Grand River, whose course was marked by thick stands of willow, cottonwood, river birch, and heavy undergrowth. The valley floor was flat and rich and fertile, the results of the numberless times over the centuries that the river had flooded its banks. Once only grassland and low brush, now some of the valley’s expanse was marked off in patches and squares stitched together by knee-high strips of prairie grass left to mark property lines. Some of the fields, plowed too recently to be planted this year, showed almost jet black. They would lie fallow over the winter to let the thick sod start to decay and break down. But elsewhere, where the earlier settlers had been given land, various crops were responding to the richness of the deep and fertile topsoil. Here there was waist-high corn, there the deeper green of a potato patch. Two or three fields showed a lighter yellow-green, the winter wheat just starting to turn toward the golden brown that would mark its harvest time.
On the bluffs north of the river, at a point not too far from the road that led south to Gallatin and Far West, signs of a vigorous human presence were everywhere apparent. Simple sod huts were the most frequent form of buildings; but there were also several log cabins, and there was one frame building that housed the store. The wagon tracks were quickly becoming roads, and the narrow pathways broadening to become hardened dirt sidewalks. About half a mile from the main center of Di-Ahman, on a small lot marked off not too far from the top of the bluff, a shell of a sod hut was nearly completed.
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