Will really had no desire to fight the man. He had done what he needed to do, and now he just wanted to disengage and get out of there. But he had made one miscalculation. As the man went over the top of him, his knee caught Will squarely in the side. It felt like someone punching a hole through the side of a barrel. Will too went sprawling, rolling over and over, clutching his chest, gasping for air.
The man was up again, and Will managed to stagger to his feet. People were shouting and running towards them. Already there was a small circle gathering around them. On the voyage to China, Will’s ship had stopped at Lisbon, on the Iberian Peninsula, to get supplies and to provide some much-needed shore leave for the crew. That Sunday, the captain had taken the ship’s officers to a bullfight. That was the image that came to Will’s mind right now. The typesetter’s head was down and swinging slowly back and forth, as though targeting his prey. Then he lunged. This time Will did try to sidestep, driving his fist into the man’s tremendous girth as he passed by. But the man was too quick for him. He hooked left with one of those huge fists. Fortunately, Will’s shoulder was still up from throwing his punch and that took the main force of the blow. But the man’s fist, still hooking, glanced off the shoulder and smashed directly into Will’s face.
Will went down and he went down hard. Blood spurted from his nose, and suddenly there were brightly colored lights flashing behind his eyes. Somewhere he heard a voice shouting at him. “Get up, Will! Get up!” He was conscious of the danger. If the man dropped on him while he was down, it would be over. He tried to push himself up, realizing with some wonder that the voice was his own and that it was only in his mind. And then his elbows gave way. With a low moan, he fell back down, face first into the dust of the street, and everything went black.
“I think he may have cracked a rib, and his shoulder is definitely sprained.” The doctor glanced at Will, but then went on talking to his father. “The nose is fine, but I suspect he’ll end up with an eye that is a real conversation piece.”
“How long should he wear the sling?” Joshua asked.
“About a week, I’d guess.” He turned now to Will. “You’ll know. When it stops hurting when you move it, then you can get rid of the sling.”
“What about the binding around my chest?”
“The same. When you can take a really deep breath and not have it hurt you too badly, then it’s fine. You’ll still be tender, but you’re young. You’ll heal soon enough.”
Joshua stood. “Thank you, Doctor. What do we owe you?”
“Two dollars will cover everything.”
“I’ll get it,” Will said, trying to reach around for the purse he kept in his back pocket. He gasped, wincing with the pain.
Joshua just shook his head, trying to hold his patience, and paid the man.
As they came back out on the street again, Joshua looked at his son. “You ready to talk about it now?”
Will shook his head. “No.”
“You know that Thomas Sharp is one of our customers, don’t you?”
Will’s head came up with a jerk.
“That’s right. I’ve hauled many a load of paper for the Signal.”
“Then I’d like to stop doing that.”
Joshua’s nostrils flared and there was a quick intake of breath. But Will wasn’t up to any more battles today. Holding his damaged arm with the other, he moved away, not waiting for his father to say anything further.
Chapter Notes
It was 1837 when a French scenic artist named Louis Jacques Mandé Daguerre, having worked in partnership with an inventor, perfected the process of fixing photographic images permanently on sheets of silver-plated copper. This was to become the forerunner of modern photography. Daguerre’s first photos required several minutes’ exposure time. By the end of 1840, a change in the chemicals used, coupled with a significantly improved lens, not only greatly reduced the time necessary for the photo but also gave a richer image. Even then, head clamps were often used to ensure immobility during the picture taking. Though expensive, daguerreotypes were widely used in Europe and the United States until the 1850s when ambrotype, tintype, and paper photographs replaced them. (See World Book Encyclopedia, 1994 ed., s.v. “Daguerreotype.”)
Though it may seem odd to modern readers to have school starting in early August, the traditional school year that we are familiar with was not yet established back in the mid-1800s. Many of the schools of that day, particularly in areas that depended heavily on farm labor, had very short terms, generally during the winter months only. But as cities, such as Nauvoo, began to develop, longer terms were tried by some schools. We know of one Nauvoo school which had a term that went from May to December. (See In Old Nauvoo, pp. 242–43.)
Thomas Sharp and the Warsaw Signal were to play an important role in the history of the Saints during the Nauvoo period. The editorial stance and accusations depicted here accurately reflect his bitter opposition to the Saints.
Chapter 7
Caroline looked up as the bell in the front entry began to tinkle. “I got it,” Savannah shouted from in the dining room. In a moment, she came racing around the corner on a dead run and nearly skidded into the wall as she hit the throw rug at the end of the hall.
“Careful, Savannah.” Caroline sighed wearily. “Oh, that girl.”
Olivia, who had been at the piano practicing, swung around to listen for who it was. Will, lying on the sofa reading, laid his book down and did the same.
“Well, good morning, young lady.”
“Hello, Brother Joseph,” Savannah’s voice came back.
At the sound of Joseph’s voice, Caroline straightened and put aside her knitting. Will groaned as he pulled himself up, careful not to bump his one shoulder. Olivia stood and walked to the parlor entry.
“And how is the prettiest redhead in all of Nauvoo today?” they heard Joseph say.
“Grandpa says I’m the prettiest redhead in the whole county,” came the quick reply.
As they heard Joseph’s explosion of laughter, Caroline stood too. Shaking her head, she moved to stand beside Olivia just in time to greet Joseph as he came, still chuckling, to where the entry hall opened into the parlor. “Hello, Brother Joseph,” Caroline said. “I see you’ve already been greeted by my humble daughter.”
“I have,” he laughed. He reached down and picked Savannah up, lifting her until her face was right next to his. “Actually,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper, “I would be surprised if you’re not the prettiest redhead in three counties.” She giggled, knowing now that she was being teased but accepting the compliment anyway. Joseph let her down again and stuck out his hand. “Good morning, Caroline. Morning, Olivia.”
“Hello, Brother Joseph.”
Joseph looked past Caroline into the room, and then his jaw dropped a little. “Oh, my!” he exclaimed.
“Hello, Brother Joseph,” Will said, looking embarrassed but coming forth to shake hands too.
Joseph peered more closely at the blackness that covered all of Will’s right eye and most of his upper cheek. Then he looked at the swollen nose. “Nathan wasn’t exaggerating, was he?” he said with a low whistle.
Caroline looked at her son. “No, and I think we haven’t seen the worst of it yet.”
Joseph reached out and barely touched the sling. “And how’s the arm?”
“Getting stiffer,” Will admitted. “But the doctor said that would happen.”
“Well,” Joseph went on with a rueful smile, “when Nathan told me that I had a defender of the faith in Warsaw, I thought I’d better come and offer my personal thanks.”
Will colored deeply. He had only told the family the details of what had happened under pressure from his father, who was still half-irritated by the whole affair and yet clearly proud of Will’s courage in the matter. Will didn’t want the incident getting around as common knowledge. “Uh, it just kind of happened,” he said.
“Uh-huh,” Joseph grinned. “That’s kind of how Nathan des
cribed it too.”
Caroline reached out her arms and Savannah transferred over from Joseph. “Come, Olivia. This is a good time to get those things from the store.”
“Oh, you don’t need to go,” Joseph said.
“That’s all right,” Caroline answered. “We really were just talking about getting some things we need. That will give you and Will a chance to talk.” Then to Will she added, “If you’ll listen for the baby, he should sleep for another half an hour at least.”
“Yes, Mama.”
As they left, Will came back into the room and showed Joseph to a chair. The Prophet sat down and crossed his legs. “Tell me what happened, Will. I’d like to get it straight from you.”
Will did, trying to explain some of his feelings as well as just reporting what had transpired. When he finished, Joseph was silent for a time. Then Will saw that his eyes were glistening a little. “Thank you, Will,” he finally said in a husky voice. “It is a wonderful thing to have a friend who’ll stand up for you like that.”
“Well, actually,” Will said with a deadpan face, “had I taken a little longer to size the man up, I may have decided just to mail in my complaint.”
That won him a quick grin and a nod. “Nathan says your father said the man was huge.”
“Ever seen one of those great big old bull buffalo out on the prairie?”
Joseph nodded.
“Well, I think this guy uses one of those for a back brush when he takes a bath.”
Joseph laughed merrily. “And you just up and ripped that paper right off the window, right there in front of him.”
“Yeah,” Will admitted, for the first time starting to see the humor in it, “I guess I did.”
“You’re lucky Joshua didn’t bring you back in a bucket.” Now Joseph sobered a little. “But thank you, Will. I really do appreciate it.”
“What made me the maddest was all that stuff about you sending people to burn your own houses. They were trying to make it look like the Mormons were to blame for everything. I think of Jessica at Haun’s Mill. John being killed. Then I remembered what happened to Rebecca and Lydia and Grandma there at Grandpa’s cabin in Far West.” He shrugged. “I just saw red, I guess, and went in to do something about it.”
Joseph leaned back in his chair, half closing his eyes. “You know, Will, it seems strange to me, though I am getting used to it now.”
“What’s that, Brother Joseph?”
He opened his eyes again. “I know you’re not sure if the Church is true yet, but Nathan tells me you’ve got a pretty good testimony of the Book of Mormon.”
Will nodded. “It makes me feel good when I read it.”
“That’s good. What I was going to say was, that first night in 1823, when the angel Moroni came to my room, he said something very significant to me.”
“What?”
“After telling me that God had a work for me to do, he said that my name would be had for good and evil among all nations, kindreds, and tongues.”
“Really? What did he mean by that?”
“I suppose that good and evil should be spoken of me among all people.”
“Well, Thomas Sharp’s paper calls you the ‘Superior Ugly Devil,’” Will said with a grimace. “I suppose that would count for evil, right?”
Joseph’s smile was fleeting. “I suppose. But Thomas Sharp is not the only one. Many newspapers are publishing lies about me by the wholesale. If I were to try to enumerate them, I could write nothing else. It would take all of my time. Suffice it to say that every falsehood wicked men can invent, assisted by their father the devil, is trumpeted to the world as sound and true doctrine.”
“That must get awfully discouraging,” Will said, thinking of the terrible feeling he had experienced just by reading the slanderous things Sharp had said, and it wasn’t even about him personally.
Joseph brightened. “Do you have a Bible nearby, Will?”
Will pointed to the piano where their family Bible sat. Joseph stood and retrieved it, opening it even as he sat back down. He thumbed a few pages, then ran his finger down the page. Will saw that he was in the Gospel of John. Now Joseph looked up at him. “I would get discouraged, except for these words. It is the Savior speaking to his disciples the night before his life was taken.”
He looked down again, found his place, and began to read. “‘If the world hate you, ye know that it hated me before it hated you. If ye were of the world, the world would love his own: but because ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hateth you.’” Now his voice slowed a little. “‘Remember the word that I said unto you, The servant is not greater than his lord. If they have persecuted me, they will also persecute you; if they have kept my saying, they will keep yours also.’”
Will was nodding. “Yes, I understand, Joseph.”
The Prophet shut the Bible and returned it to its place. He did not sit down again. “Well, I won’t keep you, Will. I just wanted to personally come and say thank you and tell you that I’m really glad the man knocked you out with that first blow.”
Will laughed softly. “I was afraid he was going to sit on me.”
Joseph pulled a face. “Then Joshua wouldn’t even have needed a bucket for you.” Then he leaned forward a little. “Nathan also tells me you’re having a bit of a struggle getting an answer to your prayers.”
Now Will looked glum, an expression made all the worse by the huge black eye. “It just doesn’t seem to come.”
“Do you remember Brigham’s advice to you on the ship?”
Will looked up in surprise. “You know about that?”
“Yes, Brigham has a great affection for you, you know.”
“I think a lot of him too,” Will said, greatly pleased.
“Well, you just remember that advice. You don’t hurry the Lord. All you need to do is make sure you’re listening when he finally speaks.”
“And if the answer does come,” Will said, quite depressed now, “I don’t know if Pa will allow me to get baptized.”
Joseph nodded slowly. “I know. I know what your mother is going through too. But your pa is a good man, Will.”
“I know that. It’s just that he’s as stubborn as four span of mules.”
Joseph laughed right out loud at that.
“What?” Will asked.
“It takes more than four span of mules to light into a man who uses a bull buffalo for a back scrub.” And then he sobered again. “Just don’t hurry the Lord, Will. He knows your heart, and he knows your mother’s heart. And . . .”
Will thought he was going to say, “And he knows your father’s heart,” but he didn’t. He just smiled and finished with, “And he knows a good man when he sees one.”
It was just past noon when Joshua came running into the house. He stuck his head in the parlor and saw Will there. If he saw the Book of Mormon in Will’s hands, he gave no sign of it.
“Will, where’s your mother?”
“Upstairs with Charles.”
“And the girls?”
“Over at Lydia’s.”
Joshua’s voice dropped and he grinned openly. “He made it, Will. He’s here.”
For a moment that lost Will; then his eyebrows shot up. “Pickerell?”
“Yes. He was on the ten o’clock boat. He’s down in the field behind the stables setting up right now. You get your mother. I’ll go tell the rest of the family.”
“All of them?” Will asked in surprise.
“You bet! We promised Pickerell we’d make it worth his while. Who better than the whole Steed clan to make that promise good?”
“Yes!” Will agreed instantly. “That’s a wonderful idea.”
As his father spun around and started out again, Will called after him. “Pa?”
Joshua stopped, turning back impatiently. “What?”
“You brought Livvy and Savannah back new dresses again from St. Louis. And Mama too.”
“Yes.” Joshua alwa
ys did that. Every trip without fail. “So?”
“You have another daughter too,” Will said quietly.
Joshua visibly flinched.
“I know why you don’t talk about it much, Pa, and that’s all right. But did you see Rachel’s eyes last time when she saw Livvy’s new dress?”
Joshua stood there for a moment, his face a mask. Then he looked down. “Sometimes a man can make a fool of himself by sticking his hand into a sack when he doesn’t know what’s in it.” There was just a touch of bitterness to his voice now.
“I understand,” Will said, accepting the rebuke. “Just remember that she’s your flesh and blood too.” And then he hauled himself up and started toward the stairs. “I’ll go tell Mama.”
“Tell her that everyone’s got to be in their best dress,” Joshua said, his enthusiasm returning now. “She’ll shoot us if she finds out what this is all about and the girls don’t look their best. I’ll send Livvy and Savannah back here to change clothes.”
Joshua shook his head, feeling a sense of uneasiness even as he swelled with pride. Olivia was up on the driver’s seat of the buckboard with Savannah and Peter, who was driving the team. Joshua was in the carriage with Caroline and baby Charles, which left him free to study this stepdaughter whom he had adopted as his own. It was eerie. With every passing day, Olivia was looking more and more like Caroline. People who didn’t know Livvy at all would come in the store and instantly say, “You’re Caroline Steed’s daughter, aren’t you?” And there was no denying it. Her auburn hair, straight and past her shoulder blades now, had that same lustrous quality of her mother’s, glinting like burnished copper in the sunlight. She had the same large green eyes that could be so arresting, the same flawless complexion, the same slenderness of body—though she would pass her mother by an inch or two before she was through growing. It was this similarity to her mother that gave Joshua his sense of uneasiness. Though just now becoming a young woman, Olivia was already keenly aware of her effect on the young men of Nauvoo, and what was worse, he knew she absolutely gloried in it.
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