Matthew smiled, still a little bewildered by this early appearance. Brigham was not an early riser but preferred working late into the night. They never started at the carpentry shop before half past eight, and often Brigham wouldn’t come until nine or later. It was barely seven o’clock now. “Come in and sit down,” Matthew said, pushing aside his perplexity.
Brigham did so, dropping his hat on the bench inside the door. Then he moved over to the table. If he had had a late night, Matthew thought, he certainly didn’t look it. Brigham had celebrated his fortieth birthday in June on their way home from England, but he looked younger than that. He wore his reddish hair down to his collar but was clean shaven. His face was normally round and a touch boyish, but was filling out even more with age. He had blue-gray eyes that could dance with amusement or crackle with anger. Now they were filled with humor.
As he sat down, he grinned up at Jennifer Jo, who had moved to the stove. “Actually, if the truth be known, I’m here to check up on this young man. I thought it best to do that without any warning so he couldn’t cover his tracks.”
“Check up? On me?” Matthew frowned. “What have I done wrong?”
“Don’t know that you have,” Brigham said solemnly. “That’s what I’m here for. Now, Matthew, I’m going to ask your bride some questions, and I don’t want you butting in and trying to answer them for her. Understood?”
Jennifer Jo was laughing, but her curiosity was piqued as well. “Questions for me?”
“Yep. Question number one. How long have you been married now?”
There was no hesitation. “Seven days.”
“A whole week? And you still love this tall, gangly goose here?”
Her face melted as she looked at Matthew. “More than I thought possible.”
“Is he treating you right?”
She giggled with delight. “Perfectly!”
“Hey,” Matthew grumbled. “What about asking me if she’s treating me right?”
“Just hush now, boy, or we’ll send you out to do the chores.” Brigham turned back to her. “You think you want to try another week of this wedded bliss?”
Jennifer Jo was completely into the game now. “Could I just commit to three or four days and see how it’s looking by then?”
As Matthew let out a howl, Brigham nodded, ignoring him. “Wise choice. It never hurts to be cautious. And how about his Irish? Is he learning to speak to you like a true son of the Emerald Isle?”
“Alas,” she said mournfully, “this is one area where he has completely failed me. After spending all that time in London, all he can manage is a poor imitation of a Cockney accent. It is an offense to my ears, to be completely frank.”
“Aye,” Brigham averred solemnly. “No wonder you’re cautious about committing too heavily to the boy.”
“Look,” Matthew growled, moving over to the stove to stand beside his wife, “if you two are just going to sit here and jaw, and that looks like that’s about all you’re good for, let a hungry man get some breakfast started and on the table.”
“Hmm,” Jennifer Jo said, cocking her head to one side. “With that kind of offer, I just may extend my contract to another full week after all.” She went up on tiptoes and kissed Matthew lightly.
“Away with you, girl,” he warned ominously, actually not doing too badly with his attempt at an Irish accent. “You’ve wounded me deeply now, and there’ll be no winning me back with your insincere and flattering ways.”
Matthew watched Brigham mop up maple syrup with the last half of his fourth pancake. “By the way, did you see Bennett’s grave?” Matthew asked.
There was a startled look. “His grave? He didn’t die. He’s past the crisis now.”
Matthew chuckled. “I know that, but this was evidently the work of some wag with a sense of humor. It was a pile of sand and a fake tombstone.”
“Really?” Brigham asked. “No, I hadn’t heard about it.”
“Tell him about the epitaph,” Jennifer Jo urged Matthew.
“Well, we weren’t sure what it all meant at first,” Matthew started. “Fortunately, Peter was with us. And you know Peter. He always has his nose in a book. He seems to know everything.”
“Yes,” Brigham agreed, “that’s Peter, all right.”
“It said something like, ‘In memory of Major General John C. Bennett, who died at the siege of Philter, in the defense of the cause of Venus, July 27, 1841.’”
“Philter?” Brigham asked with a blank look.
“Yes. Peter says that a philter is a drug or a potion which is supposed to cause someone to fall in love with you.”
“Oh.” Brigham’s eyes sparkled. “Sounds like someone knew him pretty well.”
“And Venus is the goddess of love,” Jennifer Jo added shyly, blushing even now as she remembered the boldness of the statement.
Brigham speared the last piece, stuffed it in his mouth, and chased it down with the final two swallows of milk. He leaned back. “So, there are others who are skeptical too, eh?”
That caught Jennifer Jo’s attention. “Skeptical?” she asked. “What do you mean?”
Brigham set the mug down. “There are some, including Matthew’s own brother, who have doubts about whether this was a serious attempt at suicide or not.”
Jennifer Jo looked dubious. She knew that Nathan didn’t like John C. Bennett, but she hadn’t heard anything about this. “How could that be? The man nearly died.”
Brigham answered with some tartness, making Matthew wonder if he might not share in Nathan’s doubts a little. “Bennett is a doctor. He specializes in medicines and herbs. It’s likely that he would know exactly how much poison to take to make it look real but without actually risking his life.”
It wasn’t enough for Jennifer Jo, who by nature trusted everyone. “But Nathan said he fought off any attempts to keep him alive.”
Brigham just grunted and said nothing more. Matthew reached over and took her hand and smiled at her. Jennifer Jo McIntire had come to America from Ireland with her mother and her younger sister, and they had eventually made their home in the sparsely settled area of northern Missouri. Their farm was some miles from the nearest town, and so for the two growing girls there hadn’t been much of what the Latter-day Saints called the “worldly influences.” That was one of the reasons Matthew had fallen in love with her so quickly. There was an innocence about her that was very precious to him.
He watched her now, admiring and loving her all over again. The freckles, once bright in childhood, had faded somewhat, but still provided a light sprinkling across her nose and upper cheeks. The tip of her nose turned up just slightly, as if she had bumped against something before the clay had set. All of that, combined with sky blue eyes and a smile that made him soften up like
butter on the fireplace hearth, made her seem almost childlike sometimes. Brigham’s skepticism about Bennett’s motives was clearly distressing to her.
Matthew decided to change the subject. “Nathan says Joseph is going to give Brother Bennett another chance and not bring him before the council.”
“That’s true,” Brigham agreed. He looked at Matthew thoughtfully. “He’s willing to see if this deep outward remorse is really proof of an inward change.” At Matthew’s frown, he went on quickly. “This is not to say that Joseph has turned a blind eye to the whole matter. He has instructed the Twelve to watch the situation very carefully. If we see any signs that there has not been true repentance, we are to let Joseph know immediately.”
“That’s good,” Matthew said. “I feel better about that.”
“Me too,” Jennifer Jo chimed in.
They were silent for a moment. Then Matthew gave Brigham a crooked grin. “So if you don’t mind my asking, is the reason you dropped by this morning to have breakfast or to encourage my wife’s continuing ill-treatment of me?”
“Ill-treatment in a pig’s eye,” Brigham snorted. “This girl is just wise enough to know that she’s got a real job on her han
ds here, getting you made into something valuable. The breakfast was an accident of timing, nothing more.” He slapped his stomach. “And a darn good one, I might add.”
He stood up, and the smile slowly faded. “No, actually I came by to tell you I’m not going to be in the shop today either, Matthew. Joseph wants us to spend the day with him.”
Matthew shrugged. “That’s fine.” Since their return from England, that was occurring with increasing frequency.
Brigham stood, walked to the door, and retrieved his hat. “If it doesn’t take all day, I’ll come over.” He opened the door and stepped outside.
The young couple followed him. “When it comes time to do those fireplace mantels though,” Matthew said, “I’m going to need you. That’s still a little beyond me.”
Brigham nodded absently, his mind already moving off to other things.
“Brother Joseph is spending a lot of time with the Twelve now, isn’t he?” Jennifer Jo asked. “That must be wonderful.”
Brigham turned, the surprise and then the pleasure showing in his eyes. “Yes,” he said softly, “he really is.”
He wasn’t the only one surprised. Matthew was looking at his wife with a bit of amazement. Brigham was gone a lot, but Matthew hadn’t really thought about what it meant for the Apostle.
“It is more than wonderful, Jennifer,” Brigham said. “It is incredible. Joseph is so different now. So . . . So . . .” He shook his head in frustration. “I don’t know how to describe it. So much broader. So much deeper. So much more—”
“So much more the Prophet?” Jennifer Jo guessed.
“Yes, exactly! It’s marvelous. Ever since we returned from England. He’s been opening the scriptures to us, teaching us the doctrines. He says that the time has come for the Twelve to take a larger role in the work of the kingdom.”
He was eyeing this young Irish girl with open respect now. Then he put his hat on and turned to Matthew. “This is a fine young woman you’ve found for yourself, Matthew Steed. You treat her right or I’ll be putting you through the lathe and trimming your head down to size.”
Matthew put his arm around Jennifer Jo and pulled her shoulder up against his own. “I know, Brigham. I know.”
By the middle of 1841, it was becoming increasingly common for the Saints to have two houses. Virtually everyone except the newest arrivals had a “first house.” Usually it was a log cabin or a small hut made of mud and sticks, or even a rough lean-to put up against the side of a barn or some other outbuilding. Here the family did everything—eat, sleep, cook, socialize. Often these “homes” had only one large room and no doors or windows. It was not uncommon even after two years of remarkable growth to see some of these first houses with quilts hung across the front door to provide some privacy and to keep out the Nauvoo flies, those ever-present mothlike insects that plagued the city in summertime. Often the chimneys were no more than holes cut in the ceiling or wall, with a funnel or piece of tin twisted round to fit the hole and vent off at least some of the smoke from the cooking fires.
But with hard work came prosperity, and after two years of diligence more and more families were building a second home, what was commonly called the “big house.” It was usually located beside or just behind the first house. This second home was normally made of brick and was two stories—thus its name. It would generally have a separate kitchen and eating area, a parlor or sitting room for company, and several bedrooms for the family.
The block on Granger Street between Ripley and Mulholland was rapidly coming to be known as “Steed Row.” This was where all the Steeds had built their homes. Along the west side of Granger, from north to south, there was Jessica’s combination house and school, then Benjamin and Mary Ann’s cabin, flanked on the south by Nathan and Lydia’s place. On the east side of the street, Derek and Rebecca (and Derek’s brother, Peter) lived across from Nathan; Joshua and Caroline lived directly east of Benjamin and Mary Ann; and Carl and Melissa lived across from Jessica. All of these were what were known as “first homes.”
While the Steeds had fared better than most with their first homes—largely thanks to Joshua’s generosity—they were still fairly modest dwellings, with the exception of Joshua and Caroline’s home. But by summer 1841, the Steeds were prospering also, and started to add their own big houses. Not surprisingly, Carl and Melissa were first. Using brick from his own kiln, Carl had built them a fine two-story Federal-style home with a large, airy kitchen and five upstairs bedrooms. That proved to be perfect timing for Matthew and Jennifer Jo, who immediately moved into their first house.
Now two additional big houses were under construction. With the store doing a steadily growing business, Lydia and Nathan were just digging the foundations for a new home behind their old one. And over Benjamin and Mary Ann’s consistent protests, Joshua had hired a crew to begin work on a big house for his parents. It was now up to the first five or six courses of brick—furnished at no cost from Carl’s kilns—and though it would be smaller than either Joshua’s or Nathan’s, it would be a wonderful improvement for the patriarch and matriarch of the Steed clan.
Peter Ingalls was thinking about all of that as he left his house and started toward the store. Steed Row was a wonderful place to live. The families were constantly associating with each other, and the children were more like brothers and sisters living in adjacent bedrooms than cousins living in adjacent homes. Peter had turned seventeen in May, and he realized that he would soon have to find somewhere to live other than with Rebecca and Derek. Little Christopher was two now, and soon, he suspected, there would be a second on the way. While they would never say anything to him about it, Peter knew full well what it would mean to them to have his bedroom. And so without their knowing it, he had already visited with Joshua about underwriting Peter’s efforts to finance the purchase of a lot just around the corner from Nathan and Lydia. Peter was working now. He had recently been hired as a typesetter at the Times and Seasons office. It would be a while before he could actually start construction, but now that he was salaried, he felt that he could negotiate something in good faith with Joshua.
As he passed Jessica’s house he turned his head. Kathryn McIntire, Jennifer Jo’s sister, was on the front porch, sweeping it with a straw broom. “Good morning, Kathryn,” he called out.
She turned, raising a hand to shade her eyes from the sun. When she saw who it was, she immediately straightened, one hand going up quickly to brush back an errant strand of hair. “Oh, good morning, Peter.”
He slowed his step and then stopped by the fence. “How are you this morning?”
“I . . . we’re just fine.”
“Getting ready to start school again?”
She smiled at that. “Yes. We start a week from Monday. Jessica has gone down to Warsaw with a couple of other people to see if they can find any arithmetic books.”
“And I heard that you will actually be helping her teach.”
“Yes.” She lowered her eyes, coloring slightly. “Will you be coming to school at all this year, Peter?”
He shook his head, feeling the disappointment in him. It had been he who had served as Jessica’s teaching assistant the previous school year. He would miss that more than he was willing to admit. “No,” he answered. “I’m working every day now.”
Kathryn nodded and Peter saw the disappointment in her eyes. He thought nothing of it, other than its being the reaction of a friend. “Well,” he said, lifting one hand, “I’d better be going or I’ll be late for work.”
Kathryn waved; then as he started north again, she called out to him. “You haven’t forgotten where the printing office is, have you?” she teased. The Times and Seasons was printed in the basement of a warehouse down on Water Street, near the Prophet’s home. That was the opposite direction from the way he was headed now.
“Oh,” Peter responded, “I’ve got to stop by the store. I’ve written a poem for Jenny.”
It was as though someone had blown out the candle in
Kathryn’s eyes. Her face fell and her mouth pulled down. “Oh,” was all she said. Then she turned to her sweeping again, swinging around so her back was to him.
Barely aware of her reaction, and forgetting it almost as quickly as he noted it, Peter started off again, striding out with resoluteness. As he rounded the corner, Kathryn stopped her sweeping and turned to watch him disappear. “Yes, that’s right, Peter,” she muttered. “Hurry and go see your precious Jenny. Will is gone to St. Louis. Now’s your chance.”
Angry at him, angry at herself, Kathryn swung the broom at the last vestiges of the dust on the porch, then spun around and went back in the house, slamming the door behind her.
The Steed Family Dry Goods and General Store was a low structure, made of logs chinked heavily with mud and mortar. Though Caroline had funded the store with twenty thousand dollars she had received from the sale of her home in Savannah, Georgia, most of that went into the stocking of the store rather than the construction of it. It had proved to be a wise move, for their store had a much wider variety of goods than most of the other stores in the city. But there had been no money for a second story. Instead, there were storage rooms all along the back of the store, and thus the low squat profile of the building.
Peter jumped up lightly onto the porch that ran the full length of the storefront. There was a sign in the window that announced the store was still closed, but he tried the door anyway. Jenny was almost always here by eight o’clock, getting things in order for the nine o’clock opening time. The door was unlocked and he pushed it open quietly. For a moment, he couldn’t make out much in the dimmer light; then he saw Jenny over in the corner near the tools, straightening out items on the shelf. He pushed the door open wider and stepped inside.
Jenny heard the noise and turned, then smiled warmly. “Oh, hello, Peter.”
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