Pillar of Light

by Gerald N. Lund

  But on this night, when the guards came back into the house after their dinner, things were especially bad. Even before Benjamin smelled whiskey in the air, it was obvious that Price and his men had gotten a generous ration of liquor as part of their meal. They immediately forced the prisoners to lie down and warned them that one word would bring a rifle butt to the side of their heads.

  There was no possibility of sleep. The alcohol made the men even louder and meaner than usual, if that was possible. Nine o’clock passed and they did not tire. Ten and eleven o’clock came and went, and they only got the more boisterous and ugly. There were obscene jests, horrid oaths, the most dreadful of blasphemies, and the filthiest language Benjamin had ever heard.

  And then as the hour of midnight neared, the conversation took another, even more terrible turn. Price’s men had been present at the fall of Far West. They began to regale one another with tales of their exploits there. Benjamin’s disgust and revulsion now turned to something else—a sickness in his stomach that made him want to retch.

  Murder, robbery, looting, destruction—each man tried to outboast the other, telling more and more horrible stories of what they had done. One bragged of smashing in the head of a young father with his rifle butt. It had fractured his skull but hadn’t killed the man, so they had carried him about in the back of a wagon for two days until he died. Another one said he personally had killed a man while his young son watched.

  Benjamin was between Lyman Wight and Parley Pratt. Wight was as rigid as a steel rod, and Benjamin could feel Parley’s body trembling with rage and disgust. On the other side of Parley, Joseph Smith lay on his back. Benjamin raised his head. In the dim light from the one lamp that burned in a far corner, he saw that Joseph’s eyes were open and that he was staring at the ceiling, his jaw clamped shut tightly.

  “Well, you boys ain’t done nothin’ like me and Carl Thompson did,” the next voice called out, cackling obscenely. “We came to this one cabin. Thought at first it was empty. Then we found this woman hiding under the bed. She had a young’un, but we drove him out of the house screamin’ and hollerin’. We took her outside and called a bunch of our comrades. She was screamin’ and cryin’ and beggin’ for mercy.”

  “And I’ll bet you were real merciful!” someone hooted.

  “We were,” he retorted seriously. “We tied her hands down to a bench so she wouldn’t hurt herself thrashing around and all that. Then we—”

  There was a sudden and sharp rattle of the chain, and Benjamin saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. His head came up just in time to see Joseph leaping to his feet.

  “Silence, ye fiends of the infernal pit!”

  It was like a clap of thunder, or the roar of a lion as it rides down its prey. The guards jerked around violently, stunned by what they saw before them. Joseph was facing his captors, hands out in front of him, fists clenched into hard balls, his eyes like a flame of fire.

  “In the name of Jesus Christ I rebuke you, and command you to be still! I will not live another minute and bear such language. Cease such talk, or you or I die this instant!”

  Joseph ceased to speak. He stood fully erect and in terrible majesty. Though he was chained and without a weapon, he was nevertheless unruffled and dignified as an angel.

  A rifle clattered to the floor. Benjamin whirled. What he saw was as shocking as Joseph’s sudden eruption. There was absolute silence in the room now. The guards had shrunk back. Their weapons were lowered—one had dropped his rifle completely—and they were quailing like children in front of a furious schoolmaster. Their knees smote together, and their eyes were wide and frightened.

  The nearest suddenly dropped off his chair, falling to his knees a few feet in front of Joseph. “I’m . . . I’m sorry,” he stammered. “Forgive me, sir.” And with that, he jumped up and slunk out of the room, averting his face from his fellow keepers.

  Joseph did not even look at him. He remained standing for what seemed like a very long time but was actually less than a minute. Then he calmly lay back down again and continued to stare up at the ceiling.

  One by one the others slunk away, going into the next room or outside to smoke quietly until the changing of the guard. But inside or out, there was not another word of revilement from those men for the remainder of their time of duty.

  Chapter Notes

  We are indebted to Parley P. Pratt for the account of the rebuke of the guards (see PPP Auto., pp. 179–80). The account in the novel follows closely his description. Parley concluded: “I have seen the ministers of justice, clothed in magisterial robes, and criminals arraigned before them, while life was suspended on a breath . . . ; I have witnessed a Congress in solemn session to give laws to nations; I have tried to conceive of kings, of royal courts, of thrones and crowns; and of emperors assembled to decide the fate of kingdoms; but dignity and majesty have I seen but once, as it stood in chains, at midnight, in a dungeon in an obscure village of Missouri” (PPP Auto., p. 180, italics in original).

  Chapter 28

  “Matthew! Matthew! Wake up! Quick!”

  Matthew jerked up, looking around wildly, and nearly cracked his head on the low ceiling above him. The McIntire cabin had one small bedroom above the main room, and a tiny attic loft above that. With Joshua in the main bedroom where the girls usually slept, they now slept with their mother, and Matthew slept above them. The loft was barely long enough for his six-foot form. The ceiling sloped, so even at its highest point he could not sit up fully.

  Jenny was kneeling at his side. She was in her long nightdress with a robe over it. Her hair was loose and hung down past her shoulders. It was obvious she too had recently been asleep.

  He rubbed his eyes, fighting to come alert. “What is it, Jenny? What’s the matter?”

  “Mama says to come quick.” She backed up and started partway down the ladder that led up to the loft. “Hurry, Matthew! Joshua’s gone!”

  * * *

  As he came down the stairs three at a time, Matthew could see into Joshua’s room. The bed had not been slept in.

  He spun around again. “Where is he?”

  Mrs. McIntire mutely held out her hand. There was a piece of paper in it. Matthew took the paper and turned to the lamp.

  Mrs. McIntire—

  How does one repay a gift of the heart? I know in your mind there has never been any expectation of repayment. That is one of the things that make the gift of such great value. I don’t know how, or when, or where, but someday I shall return and say thank you in a proper manner. Until then, know of my great esteem and affection for you and your wonderful daughters.

  Joshua Steed

  Matthew lowered the paper and stared at Jenny and her mother. “That crazy fool! He’s in no shape to—”

  “Read the back,” said Mrs. McIntire.

  In surprise, he turned the paper over. There was Joshua’s scrawl on that side as well.

  Matthew—

  I’m sorry to run out on you like this, but knowing what an insolent pup you are, I didn’t feel like discussing it with you. Don’t worry about me. I’m much stronger now. (I did sixteen rounds yesterday.) But strong or not, I have to go. It can’t wait any longer. Go home. I shall write when I know something. Thanks for the crutch. I hate it!

  Joshua

  Mrs. McIntire sighed deeply. “I shouldn’t have told him.”

  Matthew dropped the note on the table. “Told him what?”

  She sighed again. “Yesterday, when I went to town? There were some men talking at the store. One of them said they’d been out riding past our place and had seen a man walking around my barns on a crutch.”

  Matthew drew in his breath sharply.

  “I made up some story about it being a boy I’d hired.” She crossed herself quickly. “Lord forgive me, when they pressed I just straight out denied it.”

  Matthew’s mind was in turmoil. There was no question now about what had to be done. The fact that Joshua was gone made it easier in one way. I
t frightened him, but Joshua was stronger. Yet not strong enough to outrun men on horseback. He looked at Mrs. McIntire. “I’ll get my things together.”

  “No!” Jenny stepped forward, her eyes pleading.

  Matthew looked at her, started to say something, couldn’t decide what could possibly help, and then looked helplessly at her mother.

  Mrs. McIntire turned slowly, wearily. “Jenny, there’s no choice. If the men come out here looking . . .” She shrugged and looked at Matthew. “Joshua’s right, you know.”

  “About what?” Matthew asked.

  “About going home.” The kindliness of Mrs. McIntire’s face was more evident than he had ever seen it before, and she had always been a wonderfully sensitive woman. “He’s got several hours’ head start on you, Matthew. And you don’t know which way he went. Go home. Tell Nathan and your family.”

  Matthew started nodding even before she finished. “Yes. That’s right.” He felt a great relief. The thought of striking off to try and find Joshua in a countryside swarming with men out looking for Mormons was staggering to him. “Be sure there’s no sign that we were here.”

  “I will,” she said. She touched his arm. “You’d best hurry.”

  * * *

  “Jenny, Kathryn, I’d like to speak with your mother alone for a moment if I could.”

  The girls looked a little surprised, but Jenny immediately shepherded her sister into the bedroom where Joshua had slept, and shut the door. Matthew turned slowly back around, letting the small valise with his stuff drop to the floor. “Mrs. McIntire, you’ve been so good to us. Derek was right when he said you were a Christian woman. I . . . well, just thank you.”

  There was a touch of mistiness to her eyes. “Actually, it is we who thank you. It’s been marvelous to have your company. It gets pretty lonesome this far out.” She looked toward the bedroom. “Especially for young people.”

  Matthew nodded; then, with time pressing him, plunged in. “Mrs. McIntire, I’d like to give Jenny a gift. But I don’t want to do it without you knowing.”

  One eyebrow had come up. “I think that would be nice, Matthew.”

  He swallowed quickly. “I’d like to give her my Book of Mormon.”

  The eyebrow positively arched now.

  “I know you have your own religion and all,” he said hastily, “and I’m not trying to make her into a Mormon or anything like that. But, well, she said she wanted to know more about what we believe. And . . .” Now he was totally flustered. “The Book of Mormon is the most important thing I have with me right now. I’d like to . . . I’d like her to have it, if it’s all right with you.”

  Nancy McIntire leaned back slightly, eyeing him very carefully. “Do you like her, Matthew? Do you like my daughter?”

  He ducked his head, unable to meet her probing gaze. “Yes, I do.”

  She bored in more forcefully. “I think you know how I mean that?”

  “Yes.” He looked up quickly, then down again. “Yes, I do.”

  There was a sudden warmth in her eyes. “Then yes, I give my permission. You may give her your book.”

  He couldn’t hide his surprise. “But—”

  She smiled up at him. “It’s been wonderful for Jenny to have you here. It’s the most alive I’ve seen her in a long time. If you give her a present, it is going to mean a great deal to her. I just had to make sure it would mean as much to you as it will to her.”

  * * *

  On the last day of November, the Steed family received three wonderful surprises. Over breakfast, Rebecca and Derek announced that Rebecca was with child. Then shortly after noon, a very weary Matthew Steed walked up the street toward his brother’s cabin. Derek and Peter were out back cutting firewood. Peter looked up and nearly dropped the ax. Then with shouts to alert the house, he and Derek both raced to greet Matthew. This time the joy in the Steed household was tempered by the news that Joshua had left the McIntires’ and was trying to make his way back to his family. During all that time he was there, Matthew had not dared to send a letter home from Daviess County. Any mail going to Far West would have instantly brought the McIntires under suspicion, so the news that Joshua’s leg was partially paralyzed also came as a shock to them. That only added to the gravity of the situation. Nathan called for a family council right after they finished the midday meal.

  But the third surprise, the most wonderful of all, came about an hour later, just as the family council got under way. Nathan had just opened up the discussion on what they should do, when they heard a noise outside.

  Everyone turned toward the door. It was the noise of people, and it was swelling rapidly. People were shouting and calling out. Curious, Peter went outside. The rest of the adults followed. Half a block up the street there was a small crowd of people gathered in a circle. A woman gave a shriek of joy and started dancing around. Children were yelling, people were pouring out of their houses to see what was going on.

  “What is it?” Lydia asked. “What’s happening?”

  A man broke loose and came running toward them. He was waving his hat. “The brethren are coming! The brethren are coming! The rest of the prisoners have been released!”

  * * *

  On November twenty-fourth, Judge Austin King released twenty-three of the Mormon prisoners, stating that there was not sufficient evidence to sustain the charges. That had sent the Mormon community into a paroxysm of joy, for it proved what they had known all along—there was no foundation for the charges levied against the brethren. Rumors raced through Far West that Joseph and the rest would soon be released as well. Then on the twenty-eighth, after almost three weeks of false testimony and the most illegal of legal proceedings, Judge King made another ruling. Eleven prisoners would be held over for trial. Joseph, Hyrum, and Sidney Rigdon—all three members of the First Presidency—and three others would be tried in the spring in Daviess County for treason, and in the meantime would be held prisoner in Liberty, Clay County. Five others, including Parley P. Pratt, would remain in Richmond to be tried there for murder in connection with the Battle of Crooked River. The remaining twenty-nine prisoners were released and allowed to return to their homes.

  Benjamin Steed was near the end of the column of men who trudged slowly up the long rise toward Far West. They could see silhouettes of some of the houses on the skyline, and a ripple of excitement swept up and down the line of returning men. But Benjamin was so exhausted that he could barely muster enough energy to raise his head. The two-day march and being outside in the winter weather around the clock had taken their toll on him. His lungs were on fire again. The cough ripped at his insides in regular spasms now and left him gasping and wheezing in agony. It took his total concentration to lift one foot and move it forward after the other one was put down.

  It was only when he heard a great shout go up that he stopped and raised his head again. The column staggered to a ragged halt. He squinted, trying to make out what it was they were seeing against the late-afternoon sun. And then with a powerful, wrenching rush of relief he realized what it was. From out of the city streamed a river of humanity—men, women, children. They were running and shouting and waving their arms. Dogs ran alongside, barking wildly. They flowed toward the column in a great mass and then began to split as they reached the men. Only then did individual faces begin to come into focus for Ben. He recognized Reynolds Cahoon’s wife as she came running down the line, crying out his name. Bishop Patridge was nearly bowled over by his oldest son, then swarmed downed by his wife and other children. Benjamin felt a pang of sorrow as he recognized Parley Pratt’s young wife, holding a baby, frantically looking for her husband. She had not yet been told that not everyone was returning. A man stepped out of line and whispered in her ear. She crumpled visibly and started to weep.

  “Benjamin! Benjamin!”

  He straightened with an effort, scanning the hundred faces that were running towards them.

  “Papa!” “Grandpa!” “Father Steed!”

  Now the
voices took on shape and identity. He raised one hand, waving feebly. “I’m here!” he called, still not seeing them. And then he had them. Nathan was in front, holding Mary Ann’s hand as they ran toward him. Matthew was on the other side of her, guiding her by her elbow so she didn’t trip. Behind them came Lydia and Jessica, Derek and Rebecca and Peter. They were shepherding the children. Lydia and Jessica carried their babies. A great sob tore loose inside him and his knees almost buckled. It was his family. He was back with his family.

  * * *

  Nathan held Lydia’s hand tightly as they walked slowly along, up the street away from their cabin. Neither of them spoke. They both knew what was coming, and both wanted to postpone it as long as possible. Finally he slowed his step. Lydia looked down at the ground, knowing the moment had come.

  “You know it will be suicide if he tries to go into Jackson County,” Nathan said.

  “I know. If they think he’s dead, his appearance will create a sensation. If they think he’s still alive, then there’ll be a price on his head.” They still were not sure what the Missourians knew about Joshua.

  “Exactly. That’s why I’ve got to find him.” Nathan looked down at his wife. He took her hands in his and peered into her eyes. For a moment he was struck again with his great fortune in loving and finally winning this beautiful, dark-haired woman who could have had any young man in all of western New York State.

  He cleared his throat to speak, but she beat him to it. “You have to go, Nathan.”

  That took him aback.

  She looked away, her eyes glistening. “Even saying the words leaves me sick, but you know and I know there is no choice. He’s out there alone and crippled, desperate to find Caroline. But what I said before is still true. We . . . I owe Joshua a debt that cannot ever be repaid. And Caroline—what she must be going through by now!”

  He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them softly. “You know what this means?”