have to deed the grove over to them just to handle their family gatherings.
The original plan had been to have Joseph perform the marriage. He had long admired Jessica’s unwavering faithfulness in the face of great trials and wanted to be the one to participate in this happy time for her. But on that very day, as Joseph was eating with Emma and the children, three law officers suddenly burst into the main room of the Homestead. While the intruders were delayed by one of the brethren standing watch, Joseph slipped out the back door and went into hiding again.
The news that their prophet was being hounded cast a pall over the wedding celebration, but Hyrum would not let it linger. Nor would Emma, who, once she was sure Joseph was safe, came to the grove shortly after the marriage had been performed. The Lord had once again delivered Joseph from the hands of his enemies, she said, and this was cause for rejoicing. Legal action was under way to overturn the warrant and prove its illegality. Until then, the Prophet would simply stay out of the grasp of his enemies. Soon the mood brightened again. The festivities celebrating Jessica’s newfound happiness went on until late into the evening.
The following morning, Nathan, Derek, and Matthew kissed their families good-bye and accompanied Solomon and Jessica and the children on their return to Ramus. At Ramus, they split up—Nathan moving south to intersect the Ohio River, Derek and Matthew traveling together on a more northerly route.
The week following the departure of Nathan, Derek, and Matthew, Carl and Melissa received a letter from Kirtland, Ohio. Hezekiah Rogers had taken ill. Carl’s mother was gravely concerned. She and the brothers begged Carl to come home for a visit. This was all the nudge they needed to help them make up their minds. Leaving the brickyards in the hand of his partner, Carl left with his family five days later.
Mary Ann felt a great sense of sadness as she watched the wagon disappear down the road. For many years her family had been apart—Joshua lost to them, Carl and Melissa in Kirtland. But for the last two years the family had been reunited. It had been a season of great joy for her and Benjamin. Now suddenly once again the family was scattering to the four winds. Will was gone to England for at least a year, maybe two. Nathan, Matthew, and Derek were on their missions in the East and wouldn’t return until just before Christmas. Carl and Melissa were now headed to Kirtland for an extended stay. They would not even commit as to whether they would be back for Christmas.
During the Christmas season of 1840, with the help of the Pottsworths and their English Christmas traditions, the Steed family started some traditions of their own. On Christmas Eve they gathered all together at Joshua and Caroline’s house for dinner. Then after dinner, the children made their Christmas stockings and hung them on the fireplace mantel in preparation for a visit from Santa Claus, or Father Christmas. Names had been exchanged among the cousins, and simple gifts had been made in secret over the past two weeks. These were now exchanged to the accompaniment of oohs and aahs, much applause, and happy hugs. Then Benjamin read the Christmas story from the Gospels of Matthew and Luke as the small children acted it out with shining eyes. An occasional unique innovation by this child or that—one of the Wise Men telling King Herod, for example, that if he tried to kill the infants, he’d knock him off his throne—brought smiles to the faces of the adults.
The circle of the family had dwindled now. Nathan had returned just after Thanksgiving, Derek and Matthew two weeks following that, so they were back again, but that was all. The Pottsworths, who had been with them during the two previous Christmases, were not there. With Jenny’s marriage to Andrew Stokes and her new baby, Sister Pottsworth had moved across the river to Zarahemla and rarely came over anymore. Carl and Melissa decided to stay on in Kirtland until the weather broke, even though Carl’s father was better again. Will, of course, was only represented by a letter propped up on the mantel.
Though the absence of Carl and Melissa and their children was a source of sadness to all of them, there was compensating news. Gladly, Jessica and Solomon had come over from Ramus, and in addition to adding their numbers to the circle, they announced that the following July they would have a child of their own. Jessica was thirty-eight now and her child-bearing years were limited, so this was received with particular joy. Lydia and Nathan added their own announcement to that, revealing that they were expecting to add a fifth child to their family in June.
The most joyous surprise came early in the evening’s celebration. All the family had arrived except for Matthew and Jennifer Jo and Kathryn. Dinner was ready and they were all seated waiting for the late arrivals. Benjamin was about to send someone over to Matthew’s house looking for them when there was a sound on the porch. They all turned as the front door opened. A moment later Matthew wheeled Kathryn down the hall to where it opened up into the large sitting room where they were preparing to eat. Matthew and Jennifer Jo—Jenny now again to everyone but Matthew—waved their greetings and offered their apologies as they shed their coats and tossed them onto the bench in the hall. But then to everyone’s surprise, Matthew and Jenny left Kathryn sitting there in the hallway as they came over to the table and sat down. Jenny handed the baby to Mary Ann as an embarrassed hush swept over the group. Peter leaped to his feet to go bring Kathryn in as well, but Matthew grabbed his hand and pulled him back down. “We have an announcement,” he said solemnly.
Seeing their looks, Matthew grinned broadly. “No, I’m not talking about another baby. Actually, it’s not our announcement. It’s Kathryn’s.”
All eyes turned to her. Kathryn’s face was glowing and she had a teasing smile in her eyes. “As you know,” she said, “when Matthew left for the East, Jenny got pretty lonely. She and I decided we needed to do something to keep us both occupied.” Casually, almost as if she weren’t even thinking about it, she raised her arms above her head, stretching lazily.
There was a collective gasp. In the past few months, Kathryn had regained a limited ability to use her hands, but her arms were still barely able to lift an inch or two off the bed. Everyone was stunned.
She smiled all the more broadly. “Jenny has been helping me do some exercises. I think it’s paid off.” Then, milking the moment for every drop of emotion she could get out of it, she slowly lowered her hands to the wheels of her chair. Gripping the rims tightly, she proceeded to propel herself into the room. Now there wasn’t a sound. Even the children gaped in astonishment. Laughing and half crying, she pulled up alongside Benjamin, who sat at one end of the table. She reached out and punched him gently on the shoulder. “How’s that, Father Steed?” she asked.
There were tears in his eyes as he looked at her. Without a word, he pushed his chair back and stood on his feet. He bowed slightly toward her and began to clap his hands. In an instant the whole family was up and applauding thunderously.
That had set the mood for the rest of the evening, and now as they gathered around the piano, three and four deep, to end the night by singing carols, they still basked in a warm glow of happiness and contentment. Nathan was at the back of the group, holding Josiah in his arms. Benjamin stood by his side. As Olivia began playing the last verse of “Silent Night,” Nathan looked around, then in a whisper said to his father, “Where do you think next Christmas will find us, Pa?”
Benjamin too looked around at the crowded room, then half turned so that the others would not hear his reply. “Are you thinking about Joseph’s prophecy?”
Nathan nodded soberly. “Yes.”
“He didn’t say it was coming right away.”
“I know, but—”
“I predict that come next Christmas, we’ll be standing right here again, singing carols around the piano.”
Nathan smiled, cheered by that thought. “I hope so.” He let his eyes turn to where Kathryn sat beside Olivia, singing in full voice with the rest of the family. “And maybe Kathryn will be standing here by our side.”
They had started their last song now, the carol that always closed their evening’s celebration. Suddenl
y the words registered in Nathan’s mind.
Joy to the world! the Lord will come!
And earth receive her King;
Let ev’ry heart prepare him room,
And saints and angels sing.
He felt his heart lift and the melancholy push back. There might be difficult times ahead, but there was also that other great day to look forward to as well.
Rejoice! rejoice! when Jesus reigns,
And saints their songs employ:
While fields and floods, rocks, hills and plains,
Repeat the sounding joy.
It was true that Carl and Melissa were gone and might not return, but there stood Joshua, one arm around Caroline, one hand resting on Livvy’s shoulder. At least that crisis had been averted. And Jessica was married to a good and decent man. Kathryn was pushing herself around the house on her own. Wasn’t that joy worth repeating?
No more will sin and sorrow grow,
Nor thorns infest the ground;
He’ll come and make the blessings flow
Far as the curse was found.
He moved away from his father now, over to stand beside Lydia. Slipping his free arm around her waist, he pulled her closer to him. She looked up in surprise, but he just smiled down at her and now sang without restraint.
Rejoice! rejoice! in the Most High,
While Israel spread abroad,
Like stars that glitter in the sky,
And ever worship God.
And ever and ever worship God.
Chapter Notes
The large number of historical references in this chapter cannot all be singly documented. The story of these turbulent months—including the details of John C. Bennett’s apostasy and his bitter campaign against the Church, the attempted assassination of Lilburn Boggs and its aftermath, the Orson Pratt incident, and the response of the Church to the threats against it—is accurately portrayed here (see such sources as Andrew F. Smith, “The Saintly Scoundrel: The Life and Times of John Cook Bennett” [unpublished ms., Brooklyn, N.Y., 1994], pp. 125–71; Danel W. Bachman, “A Study of the Mormon Practice of Plural Marriage Before the Death of Joseph Smith” [master’s thesis, Purdue University, 1975], pp. 223–60; Richard Lloyd Dewey, Porter Rockwell: A Biography [New York: Paramount Books, 1986], pp. 49–59; CHFT, pp. 263–71; HC 5:18–146).
Joseph’s remarkable prophecy about the Saints going to the Rocky Mountains was given on 6 August 1842 to a group of brethren (see HC 5:85–86).
Joseph remained in semi-hiding through December 1842, working with the courts and the governor to resolve the legal problems stemming from Boggs’s deposition against him. In December, the case went to the Illinois Supreme Court, which threw out Boggs’s deposition as groundless and illegal. On their way back to Nauvoo after that wonderful news, Joseph’s carriage slipped on icy, frozen roads and went over an embankment, breaking the fore axle-tree. In high spirits, the company agreed that the bill for the repairs ought to be sent to Lilburn W. Boggs. Joseph arrived back in Nauvoo on
10 January 1843, and his people joyously proclaimed a day of jubilee to celebrate the triumph of their prophet.
In one of those interesting twists of fate, John C. Bennett wrote a letter to Sidney Rigdon and Orson Pratt in January of 1843. He said he was planning to go to Missouri to help a grand jury find enough evidence to indict Joseph again. Sidney, who for months now had vacillated back and forth between loyalty to Joseph and sympathy for Bennett, did not say anything to Joseph but passed the letter on to Pratt. It had been six months since Orson was excommunicated. In that time, his wife had repented and so had Orson. They wanted to come back to the Church. Thus when Orson got the letter from Bennett, he went straight to Joseph with it. Seeing his action as proof of his sincerity, Joseph and the Twelve accepted Orson and his wife back into the Church and Orson was reinstated to the Quorum. Ironically, this changed his order of seniority in the Quorum, a fact that much later would bring John Taylor to the presidency of the Church instead of Orson Pratt.
Porter Rockwell was not as fortunate as Joseph. Because of his reputation, a reward was posted and by spring of 1843 it had climbed to three thousand dollars. As he was returning to Nauvoo in March, he stepped off a riverboat in St. Louis and walked right into the hands of a bounty hunter. Thus instead of rejoining the Saints in Illinois, Orrin Porter Rockwell was clamped in leg irons and taken to Independence for trial. When he brought forth witnesses who testified that he had been several miles away from Independence on the night of the attempted assassination of Lilburn Boggs, the charges that he had shot Boggs were dropped. But Porter Rockwell was wanted on other charges stemming from his part in the Mormon War. Tried on those charges, he was found guilty and was thrown into a filthy, unheated jail cell. He would not see freedom again for another ten months.
“Joy to the World” was included in the first LDS hymnbook. Today its lyrics have been slightly modified so that it is a carol of the first coming of the Savior. Originally it was a hymn of the Second Coming: “Joy to the world! the Lord will come!”
Chapter 33
They were out behind Nathan’s house, chopping wood for the winter. Nathan and young Joshua had started; then about half an hour later Matthew came to help, followed ten minutes after that by Benjamin, who had heard the noise of their axes. Together they now had almost a full cord cut and stacked up behind the big house that Nathan and Lydia had finally moved into during the summer. It was the fourth Saturday in November 1843, but the weather had turned quite warm again. The sun was full, and they worked in their shirtsleeves. They were all sweating, and shortly after noon Nathan called for a break and they went to the well for a drink.
As they finished, Matthew stretched lazily and looked around. “I love these Indian summer days. Isn’t this glorious?”
“It sure is,” Nathan agreed. He took one last swig from the dipper and stepped back. “I could live with this right up through March.”
“Uncle Matthew?” young Joshua said. “Why do they call it Indian summer?”
Nathan looked at Matthew and smiled. This was so like his son, always wanting to know things, always asking why.
“I don’t know, Joshua,” Matthew answered. “They just do.”
“Well, actually,” Benjamin cut in, “there is a reason.”
“What?” young Joshua asked.
“There is?” Matthew said.
“Of course, and it’s quite an interesting story, actually.”
Nathan gave his father a suspicious look. “Are you making this up, Grandpa?” he asked.
Benjamin looked offended. “Of course not.”
“What is it, Grandpa?” Joshua pressed.
“Well, when I was a boy, when you said Indian summer, it was a dreaded phrase.”
Nathan cocked his head and gave his father a warning look. “Pa, don’t you be pulling his leg, now.” Which was one of Grandpa’s favorite things to do.
Benjamin grinned mischievously. “You just listen, Brother Steed, and maybe you’ll learn something too.” He turned back to young Joshua. “You see, when the colonists first came to America and began to tame the frontier, it was a very dangerous time. The Indian wars were going on. Many settlers would be out on their own, miles from any town or village. Indians would attack these isolated homesteads and kill or capture the people.”
He paused, but Joshua was hanging on his every word now. Nathan and Matthew were also listening with interest.
“Well, when winter came—and I’m talking about New England winters here, fierce, cold—it drove the Indians to their wickiups and their lodges. All the settlers were grateful. They loved winter for that reason alone. But if the weather suddenly turned warm again—not for just a day or two, but long enough for the snow and ice to melt—the Indians would come out again. Thus it came to be called . . .” He was looking at his grandson now.
“Indian summer!” young Joshua cried.
“Yes. And as I say, it was not something you looked forward to.”
“That’s really interesting, Grandpa,” Joshua said without any trace of doubt. “I’m going to ask my teacher if I can tell that in school. Do you know any other interesting things like that?”
Benjamin tried not to look too pleased as he gave that question some thought. Then he smiled. “Well, I could tell you about a lake in the south part of Massachusetts with a name almost as long as the lake itself.”
“Really?” Joshua said with wide eyes.
Matthew was laughing. “Now I’ve got to ask, Pa. Is this true too?”
Benjamin put his hands on his hips. “You scoffers. Of course it’s true.”
“What was it called, Grandpa?”
With a grin, Benjamin looked at his grandson. “Now, listen carefully, for this is how you have to say it. Chargoggagoggmanchaugagoggchaubunagunganaugg.”
“What?” young Joshua cried, his eyes like saucers. Matthew and Nathan started to laugh.
“Char-gogga-gogg, man-chau-gagogg, chau-buna-gunga-naugg,” Benjamin intoned solemnly. “It’s an Indian word, meaning, ‘You fish on that side, I’ll fish on this side, and no one fishes in the middle.’ ”
Matthew was laughing openly now. “How long did it take you to learn how to say that?”
There was a twinkle in Benjamin’s eye. “Nigh on to a year, I reckon.”
“Spell it, Grandpa.”
“Oh, dear,” he said, “I haven’t done that for years. Let’s see—” Suddenly he stopped, his eyes going very wide. He was staring past young Joshua, eyes narrowing now to see better.
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