Pillar of Light

by Gerald N. Lund

  Rebecca giggled a little at Derek’s dismayed expression. “Mary, this is Derek Ingalls, my fiancé. Derek, this is Mary Fielding Smith.”

  “How do you do?” Derek said, extending his hand.

  Mary took it and curtsied slightly. “Very well, thank you.” She stepped back, looking him up and down with unabashed directness. Derek blushed as Rebecca took his hand, smiling and waiting for the verdict.

  Finally, Mary gave one curt nod. “My congratulations, Rebecca. While I find these North Americans to be an acceptable lot for the most part—my husband being one of the best, of course—you have shown wisdom beyond your tender years by selecting a man privileged-born in the mother country. Very wise. Very wise indeed.”

  Derek was startled. Then, as Rebecca laughed happily, he realized he was being teased—and being approved.

  “I understand you’re from Preston, in Lancashire, where my uncle James has a congregation.”

  “Yes,” Derek said. Then, emboldened, he cocked his head to one side, as though listening to her more carefully. “And I would dare say you’re from Bedfordshire.”

  Mary clapped her hands. “Well done, sir. You are absolutely correct. I was born in the hamlet of Honidon. You have a good ear.”

  “My brother and I lived in Bedfordshire for a time, before we came to Preston.”

  She sized him up and down one more time, this time with open approval in her eyes. Then she turned to Rebecca. “You have done very well for yourself, Miss Rebecca Steed. He’s a handsome lad, this one.”

  Rebecca slipped her arm through Derek’s, who was now blushing furiously. “I know, Mary,” she said. “I know.”

  * * *

  Caroline once again found herself impressed. At first it hadn’t seemed possible that order could be brought out of the milling ocean of people, but at ten minutes to the hour of ten, Joseph Smith climbed up on a box and began shouting instructions. Immediately design began to impose itself upon chaos and the procession started to form.

  “You know the order of march, brothers and sisters,” Joseph was saying. “Everyone take your place.”

  First came the infantry, meaning those in the militia who did not have horses. There were no uniforms, and their weapons represented a diversity of arms. One or two of the men even carried muskets that dated back to Colonial times. They lined up in semi-neat rows with some good-natured jostling for positions. But uniforms or no, Lydia’s Emily was so excited to see them, she kept running back and forth, looking up into their faces and calling back excitedly to her parents.

  Immediately behind the infantry, a distinguished-looking older gentleman took his place, standing all alone. It was instantly obvious from the comments among the crowd and the few calls to him that he was held in great respect and deference.

  Lydia leaned over to Caroline. “That’s Joseph Smith, Senior, Joseph’s father. He’s the Patriarch to the Church.”

  “Patriarch?”

  Lydia laughed. “I keep forgetting that we Mormons sometimes have a language of our own. I’ll try to explain it later to you. It’s just an important office in the Church.”

  “Look,” young Joshua cried, “there’s Brother Joseph and Brother Hyrum.”

  “Sure enough,” Nathan said.

  Benjamin had Savannah up on his shoulders. He turned to Joshua and Caroline. “Brother Joseph was elected president of the day’s festivities; Hyrum is vice president.”

  “They look alike, don’t they?” Will Mendenhall said.

  “Yes, very much so,” his mother agreed.

  “The man in the blue suit,” Benjamin went on, “that’s Sidney Rigdon. He’s the orator for the day. He’ll speak to us after the cornerstones are laid. The man behind him is Reynolds Cahoon. He’s the chief marshal. The others are assistant marshals and the clerk for the day.”

  Savannah babbled something and reached out for her mother. Caroline took her and gave her a quick hug. Nathan picked up where his father had left off. “The next group is the Quorum of the Twelve. They are the Apostles for the Church. After that, you—”

  Olivia, always the practical one and always one to speak her mind, looked up to her uncle. “But I only count eight.”

  “Olivia!” Will said quickly, embarrassed by his sister’s boldness.

  She gave a toss of her head, causing her hair to flash as it rippled in the sunlight. “Well, I do. Uncle Nathan said there were twelve.”

  Nathan laughed. “You are exactly right, Livvy. There are only eight.” Then he sobered. “Sadly enough, in the problems that arose in Kirtland, even some of those closest to Joseph turned on him. Four members of the Quorum of the Twelve were excommunicated.” He looked at Olivia. “That means they left the Church. So now there are only eight. Joseph is in the process of selecting replacements for them now.”

  “Oh.”

  Mary Ann smiled. “You’re very observant, Olivia.”

  “Sometimes she’s very impudent, too,” Will growled.

  Before Olivia could retort to that, a cry rang out. It was Joseph Smith. “It’s ten a.m. Let the procession begin.”

  Instantly a cheer went up. Someone beyond their sight started beating a measured cadence on a bass drum. Then suddenly band music began. It was noticeably rough, but it was band music nevertheless. Joshua was surprised. He swung around to his father. “You have your own band?”

  Benjamin grinned, trying not to look too pleased. “It’s not much yet, but yes, we have a band. Only four or five instruments, but as you can hear, we also have a drum.” He looked at the children. “And you can’t have a parade without a drum now, can you?”

  There was a chorus of assent. Jessica’s daughter, Rachel, started clapping in time to the drumbeat. The two Griffith boys, her stepbrothers, picked it up, and in a moment even the adults joined in. Off to their left, Joseph Smith raised one arm, turned to see that everyone had their eyes on him, then dropped it. “Forward march,” he shouted.

  It may not have been much in a city like New York or Boston, but for being no more than forty miles from the western border of the United States, it was a grand parade. The militia moved out slowly. For a moment a few were out of step, but there were some quick hops and shuffling and then they went forward in rhythm to the music. Following the Quorum of the Twelve came other Church officers and dignitaries—the presidencies of the Far West and Di-Ahman stakes and the members of their two high councils, the bishop and his counselors, and the architects for the new temple. Then the crowd fell into line. Ladies and gentlemen marched arm in arm; children ran alongside them excitedly, calling to one another.

  The Steeds waited until near the end so that young Joshua could have his wish. As the last of the thousands moved away, the men on horseback—the cavalry portion of the militia—wheeled into line behind them. The horses were dancing, their hooves throwing up small chunks of dirt, their shuddering whinnies betraying their excitement.

  Young Joshua kept turning around to watch them, his seven-year-old eyes wider than a startled owl’s. His uncle couldn’t help but note his enthusiasm. Finally he moved over and laid a hand on young Joshua’s shoulder. “You like horses?”

  “Yes, Uncle Joshua. I love horses. I think they’re just grand.”

  Joshua smiled. “Tell you what. When you come down to Jackson County—” He stopped as Nathan’s head jerked around. “The next time me and Will come north to St. Jo,” he corrected himself quickly, “we’ll come by this way and get you.” He turned to Nathan and Lydia. “Think you could spare your boy for a day or two? I could use another driver to get that freight delivered.”

  Young Joshua’s jaw dropped. “Really?” he cried.

  His uncle laughed. “Really.” He stepped over closer to Nathan and elbowed him in the side. “What do you say, Pa? Maybe you could even come. I could give you a lesson or two in driving a wagon. As I remember, you never could keep a team moving in the right direction.”

  Nathan’s face twisted. “Oh, now, that hurts. As I remember, it was me w
ho first taught you how to handle a horse.”

  Matthew joined in now. “Why don’t you let me come too? Then me and Will and young Joshua can drive, and you old men can sleep in the back of the wagon.”

  They were all laughing now. Except for Jessica. She was watching Joshua in wonder. This was a side of this man she had never seen when she was married to him. There was a momentary stab of sadness, then instantly she pushed it aside. Joseph was right. Joshua had changed. And what she had never had with Joshua she now had with John Griffith. It was right to put the past aside. She reached out and took her husband’s hand and joined in the laughter.

  Joshua finally sobered a little and turned to Lydia. “How ’bout it, Mrs. Steed? Can we borrow your husband and son for a few days and try to teach them a few things?”

  Lydia’s mouth softened, and suddenly her eyes were shining. “Nathan said he told you how we came to give Joshua your name?”

  One eyebrow came up. That was not the answer Joshua had expected. “Yes, he did.”

  “Well, I think it would be only fitting and proper that the man for whom my Joshua was named should be the man who teaches him how to drive a team of horses.”

  Chapter Notes

  The marriage of Mary Fielding to Hyrum Smith shortly after the death of Hyrum’s first wife is accurately described in the novel (see MFS, pp. 43–44).

  Chapter 3

  The original plat for the city of Far West had been one square mile, but additions were quickly made as the population swelled. A large public square lay right at the heart of the original plat, and it was approached by four main roads, one coming from each of the four principal directions. The other streets of the city were more in keeping with other towns and villages, but these four main roads were a full one hundred feet wide. The effect was to open up the central part of the fledgling city with a great sense of spaciousness. And since Far West stood atop the highest swell of any of the surrounding prairie, one could see for miles in every direction.

  As the great procession reached the center of Far West, Joshua Steed nodded to himself. You had to give it to the Mormons for that. They had picked a great site for a new home. They were moving slowly now as the people began to form a great circle around the outside of the square. The women and smaller children took the front places; the men and older children filled in behind. The cavalry then moved their horses up behind them to complete the ring.

  As the Steeds found their places, Joshua was suddenly staring. Over the heads of the women he could see mounds of rich, black prairie soil. He stretched a little and then realized that the people had surrounded a shallow but massive excavation right in the center of the square. It was no more than a couple of feet deep, but it was huge! He let his eye run along it, trying to estimate its size.

  Beside him his father was watching him, sensing his amazement. “It’s one hundred ten feet long and eighty feet wide,” he said in a low voice.

  “A hundred and ten feet?” Joshua echoed. That was as big as some of the warehouses he and his partners owned in St. Louis. “You’re really going to build something that big?” Joshua whispered back.

  “Yes. When we built the temple in Ohio, it was one of the largest buildings in the state. But this will be even bigger than that one—longer by about forty feet and wider by twenty.”

  Matthew was standing next to Olivia. Or better, Olivia had made sure that once they got into place she was standing next to him. Now he took her by the arm. “See that pole, Olivia?” He was pointing to a tall, narrow, and carefully trimmed tree trunk buried in the ground to make a flagpole. At the top of it, barely stirring in the light breeze, flew the stars and stripes of America.

  She glanced quickly at Matthew’s hand on her arm; then, obviously pleased, turned to where he was pointing. “Yes, I see it.”

  “That’s the liberty pole.”

  “The liberty pole?”

  “Yes.” He gave a sidelong glance at Peter. “We put it in special just for this day. This day we celebrate whupping the British and kicking them out of our country.” He grinned mischievously, looking straight at Peter now. “No offense intended, mate.”

  Peter kept his face impassive. This was a running joke between him and Derek and Matthew. “It’s all right, bloke. I think it’s nice that the colonies finally got their own flag. They need something to make them feel important.”

  Before Matthew could retort to that, Joseph stepped to the makeshift pulpit that had been placed at the north edge of the excavation. He raised his hands and instantly a hush swept over the crowd. Even the children fell silent. The air of expectation was strong.

  “Brothers and sisters.” He was speaking loudly, turning his head so his voice would carry to the surrounding crowd. “It is time for the laying of the temple cornerstones. We shall begin by having our choir sing that wonderful hymn written by Brother W. W. Phelps, ‘Now Let Us Rejoice in the Day of Salvation.’ At the conclusion of the singing, our brother Hyrum Smith, vice president for today’s celebration, will lead us in prayer.”

  Savannah, who was in Rebecca’s arms for the moment, suddenly turned and looked up at her father. “Hold me, Papa,” she mumbled. She held out her hands, trying to wiggle free.

  Joshua reached out and took her. Immediately she snuggled against his chest and her eyes began to droop. As he began to stroke her hair gently, Caroline’s eyes found him. Her lips never moved, but he read the question on her face as clearly as if she had spoken. “Are you leaving?”

  He shook his head slightly and saw the relief in her face. The night before, as they had lain in bed discussing the upcoming day’s activities, Joshua had warned her that once the parade was over, he was going to take Savannah home for a nap. It was one thing to go to a Fourth of July celebration; it was quite another to participate in a Mormon worship service.

  Caroline had gotten a little angry. They were sleeping at Nathan’s cabin, which at night was partitioned off with blankets to give them separate sleeping quarters, so she had gone up on one elbow and leaned over to speak directly into his ear. “That will really hurt your family,” she said firmly. He started to protest, but she hissed at him with even greater vehemence. “You’re not going to die if you stay through the whole thing.” So he had backed off, not giving in to her but not absolutely refusing either. He would wait and see.

  But now Joshua wasn’t thinking about leaving. At least not yet. In spite of himself, he was somewhat curious about what was about to happen.

  By the time the hymn and invocation were over, Savannah was asleep against his chest, so Joshua turned his attention back to the proceedings. Joseph began to explain who would set in place each cornerstone. He used words that were not always familiar to Joshua—priesthood quorums, stake presidencies, bishop, and bishopric—but as Joseph spoke, men stepped out of the congregation and came forward. They divided themselves into four groups of three each, and Joshua realized these were the presidencies to which Joseph referred.

  “Would those twelve who will be assisting the presidencies and the bishopric also step forward,” Joseph called. To Joshua’s surprise, far more than twelve men came forward to stand behind the four groups. He counted quickly. There were forty or more stepping out now. Then, as they grouped themselves equally behind the leaders, Joshua understood. There were twelve men in each group beside the presidency.

  Will had evidently seen the same thing. He turned to Benjamin. “Why are there twelve in each group, Grandpa?”

  Benjamin smiled. “How many tribes of Israel were there in the Bible?”

  “Twelve,” Olivia blurted, following along closely with the conversation.

  “So?” Will said, still not understanding.

  Benjamin glanced out of the corner of his eye toward Caroline and Joshua, who were watching them now. “To have twelve men on each corner reminds us that we are God’s covenant people and that he is restoring the house of Israel in the last days, just as was prophesied in the Old Testament.”

  “Oh,�
�� Will said, still not fully understanding but satisfied now.

  Joseph gave a signal and the four groups moved off in solemn processions, splitting so that they were soon headed for each of the four corners of the excavation. Only then did Joshua notice that there were four large, flat boulders, each nearly three feet long and at least two wide, waiting for them there.

  Joseph waited until the four groups had lined up behind each of the four great stones; then he called out again. “All right, brethren, it may not take every one of the twelve of you to lift each stone, but I would like all to participate anyway. The architect for the temple will see that the stones are laid precisely in place. We will proceed in the following order: The presidencies of the Caldwell County and Di-Ahman stakes will go first, laying their stone at the southeast corner. The elders will follow, laying theirs at the southwest corner. Bishop Partridge, you and your brethren of the Aaronic Priesthood will lay your stone next, at the northwest corner where you now stand. The northeast cornerstone will then be laid by the teachers quorum.”

  The men in the first group started to move forward, but Joseph raised his hand. They stopped and he instantly sobered again. “Before we proceed, I would like to say a word or two about the importance of cornerstones. Brethren and sisters, as you know, the cornerstones are used to lay out the rest of the building. If they are not put precisely and correctly in place, the rest of the structure will suffer. Today we lay the cornerstones for another temple to our Lord and God. This will be the house of the Lord. May we never forget for whom we build it. The Apostle Paul tells us that if we make Jesus Christ the chief cornerstone the whole building will be fitly framed together. That is true of this temple, which will be his house. It is true of the temple of our lives. Jesus is the chief cornerstone. May we ever look to him as the model for building lives worthy of all acceptation to him.” He paused for a moment, letting his eyes sweep the congregation and finally come to rest on the group at the southeast corner. He nodded. “Brethren, you may proceed.”

  From the time he was small, Joshua Steed had chafed under the touch of spiritual things. When his mother read the Bible to the family in the evenings or on the Sabbath, his span of attention was the shortest of any of the children’s, even though he was the oldest. He had found some of the stories, especially those in the Old Testament, compelling, but the long sermons, the doctrinal expositions, and some of the interminable “begat” passages left him squirming like a worm in an ant bed.