There was a quick shake of her head.
“Are you going to tell him?”
Again, her head went back and forth. “I don’t think so.”
“Did he . . . ?”
“No. Nothing. He knew something strange was happening. As you could tell coming home, he is quite bothered by it all. He wouldn’t talk about it.” She turned around to face him now. “And frankly, I’m glad. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“What’s strange,” Joshua began, almost musing now, “when this whole thing with plural marriage started, and Carl and I and Nathan were starting to investigate it, Carl was far less troubled by the whole idea than I was. He was so logical about it. He didn’t believe that it had been given to Joseph by God, but he could see that Abraham and others had practiced it in the Old Testament.” He stopped, remembering how maddening it had been that Carl wasn’t as infuriated by it all as he was. “What changed him, Melissa? He is so absolutely against it now.”
“I did,” she said simply. At the look in his eyes, she went on quickly. “When he saw how it upset me, even the very thought of him having another woman as his wife . . .” She had to look away again. “I think I would die, Joshua. And I’m not just saying that. If Carl ever took another wife, I think I would just lie down and die of a broken heart. Seeing that, he really turned against it.”
He left her and walked back to the sofa, but he didn’t sit down. He looked at her. “Then what does that mean, Melissa? If you think you saw Joseph today, then what? Does that mean you believe God wants Brigham to lead the Church? And if so, what about how God feels about plural marriage?”
Her lower lip was trembling slightly, barely visible in the soft lamplight. But there was no mistaking the glistening in her eyes. “It doesn’t change how I feel, Joshua,” she said in a low whisper. “It should, but—” A shudder ran through her body. “Even if I knew for absolutely sure that it was God’s will, it wouldn’t change how I feel about it.”
He nodded, wishing now that he hadn’t come. “I’m sorry, Melissa. I didn’t mean to pry. I just . . . Well, I’d better get back. Caroline said she might wait up for me.”
As he started to the door she remained motionless. When he reached the hallway he stopped and looked back.
“We’ve always been honest with each other, Joshua,” she said softly, not only repeating his words but also using the same tone of voice.
He laughed. “Not always, as I learned tonight.”
“Did you see anything today, Joshua?”
He didn’t move. It was as if someone had shot off a cannon beside him and his ears were ringing so loudly that he hadn’t heard. Then, as though someone from outside of himself was making his body move, he slowly shook his head.
“I saw you,” she said, coming toward him now. “I saw you go rigid and then straighten up. You saw something!”
“I . . .” For several moments, mind racing, he searched for the right words. Then he shook his head, this time with an attempt at firmness. “I didn’t see Brigham turn into Joseph Smith,” he said, with more sharpness than he intended. “If that’s what you mean, the answer is no. I didn’t see anything.”
With a quick, humorless smile he stepped to her, bent down, and kissed her on the cheek. “How come you and me ended up in this family, Melissa?” he said. Then, without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked out into the night.
By the time Joshua returned home the house was dark. He stopped on the porch and removed his boots, then went inside, moving carefully so as not to make any noise. As he moved through the entryway, past the arched opening into the main parlor, Caroline spoke. “I’m in here.”
Surprised, he set his boots down and went in to join her. “I thought you’d gone to bed,” he said, bending down to kiss her.
“I told you I’d wait up.”
“Yes.”
“How is Melissa?”
There was no moon outside tonight, but they always kept a lamp burning in the hallway upstairs for the children, and it put enough light in the house that he could see her face dimly. He peered at her in the near darkness, then chuckled. “You women. A man doesn’t stand much of a chance against your intuition, does he?”
Caroline reached out and took his hand. “Returning the book was a pretty thin excuse.”
“That’s what Melissa said too,” he replied.
“Was Carl there?”
“No, he’d gone to bed.”
“So?”
“So what?” It was feigned ignorance and obviously so.
There was no response, but he could feel her reproachful look even if he couldn’t fully see it. He sighed softly. “She is very troubled.”
“Because . . . ?” she prompted.
“Because she thinks she saw it too.”
For several seconds Caroline considered that, then softly asked, “I assume that by ‘it’ you mean the transformation of Brigham Young?”
His head bobbed once curtly.
“Was that the way that Melissa put it, that she thinks she saw it?”
He started slightly at that, only now realizing that he had used that word. He finally had to shake his head. “No.”
There was a soft murmur, an expression of sorrow and empathy and concern all at once. “No wonder she’s troubled.”
“Sidney Rigdon would have made things easier for her.”
“I know.”
Then, wanting to change the subject, he snapped his fingers. “By the way, George Galloway came by the stables this evening. Guess who he saw heading for the boat dock with his valise in hand?”
“Who?”
“John C. Bennett.”
Caroline slowly nodded. “So he knows it’s over.”
“Evidently. There’s the old saying about rats and sinking ships. I think after today, Bennett knows that Rigdon’s ship is sinking.”
“Good. I’m glad he’s gone. He is an evil man.”
They fell silent, and after a few moments, Joshua straightened. “Well,” he said, pulling on her hand to bring her up, “you must be exhausted.”
She didn’t respond. She kept his hand, but didn’t rise. “I am. But I wouldn’t have missed this day for the world. Thank you for taking me.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad I was there.” At that moment Joshua wanted to turn to her, to ask her exactly what it was she thought she had experienced today. He wanted to probe, to question, to challenge her assumptions, to dissect and analyze the whole experience—because of all the family, Caroline was the most troublesome to him. First, he had absolute confidence in her honesty. Second, she had been the first. He might be able to explain away Savannah and Christopher as having been influenced by the others, but Caroline had been first. No one had told her what to look for, what she should be seeing. But somehow he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was not sure he wanted to hear what he was fairly certain she would say.
“Joshua?”
He tensed inwardly. “What?”
“Tell me about today.”
He found that his breath had caught momentarily. He forced himself to let it out, and then answered with studied casualness. “What about today?”
That won him a second look of reproach. She wasn’t going to let him play that game with her. He straightened, remembering his words to Melissa. “Well,” he grunted, “I didn’t see Brigham Young turn into Joseph Smith, if that’s what you mean.”
“Was that what I meant?” she asked sardonically.
“I don’t know, Caroline, what did you mean?”
“I asked you to tell me about today.”
“Well, Pa was right. Brigham Young did speak with great power. Aside from all of the other, that alone was enough to convince the people that he should lead them. I’ve never seen Sidney Rigdon so lifeless and dull. It was—” He stopped. He had almost said “remarkable.” “It was unusual,” he finished, knowing how lamely it came out.
She waited, watching him steadily. He began to squirm a little
under the directness of her gaze. Then finally she shook her head slowly. “Why you, do you suppose?”
His head came up quickly. “Why me what?”
Caroline reached out with her other hand so that she held his hand with both of hers. “Joshua, I won’t force you to tell me anything, but I was sitting right beside you, remember? Something happened to you today.”
“I saw nothing,” he said sullenly.
“I know that you saw nothing,” she said, repeating the one word with soft emphasis to let him know that she saw through his little ruse. Then it was as if he were no longer there and she was speaking to herself. “But why you? Father Steed neither saw nor heard anything unusual. Nathan. Rebecca. They didn’t either. And they have never faltered in their faith. So why me and why you? It is strange.”
And then, before he could answer—if he had wanted to answer—she stood. “I really am very tired, Joshua. Let’s go to bed.”
“All right.”
They moved across the darkened room and into the hallway. Now the pale illumination from the lamp above shed more light on them. As they reached the stairs, Caroline stopped and turned to face him again. “Joshua?”
He sighed wearily. He was not going to say anything more about today. “Caroline, I don’t want to—”
She lifted a hand and touched his lips, cutting him off. “Did you mean what you said to Nathan today? Do you really think the crisis is over?”
“Yes. Sidney is through.”
“Then can we stop talking about leaving Nauvoo?”
It was her eyes that cut off his retort and kept him still. By “crisis” he assumed she meant the leadership crisis and he had answered accordingly. The other was another matter altogether. Walter Samuelson mentioned it in almost every letter he sent. His sources from Quincy and Warsaw were reporting that the opposition was intensifying, deepening, consolidating. He had some wonderful business opportunities for the family in St. Louis. Every day they delayed increased their danger. Joshua didn’t feel the sense of urgency that his partner did, but he knew that the death of Joseph had not satisfied his enemies. His mouth opened slightly but then shut again. There was so much weariness there on her face, in her eyes, in the way her body seemed to droop, and he knew it was more than just the result of a long and tiring day. With Olivia’s fatal accident and her own brush with death, Caroline’s physical and emotional reserves were drained. She needed something to hold on to.
Finally he nodded. “All right,” he said softly.
He saw the flicker of concern and knew that she knew what he was thinking. But it was enough, what he had said, and he also saw her instant gratitude. “Thank you, Joshua.”
He slipped his arm around her waist and started up the stairs, helping her, feeling her lean against him as though the effort of climbing was too much for her all of a sudden.
She didn’t speak again until she was in bed, propped up against her pillows, watching him fold up his shirt. When he finally turned and saw her watching him with those large green eyes, he stopped. “What?” he asked.
“What are you thinking about? You are frowning something horrible.”
He chuckled. He had not been aware that his thoughts were showing so clearly on his face.
“Come on. Be honest now.”
“I was thinking that I need to go to St. Louis. Walter has had to deal with all that flood damage by himself and—” He stopped, surprised by the smile on her face.
“I know you have to go, Joshua. And I know why you haven’t dared leave me before now. But I’ll be all right now. I really am doing much better.”
He set the shirt on the top of the dresser. “Will is pretty good at taking care of you. If it weren’t for—”
“Take Will with you, Joshua.”
He turned, startled.
“I have your family. There is more help around than I can accept. Take Will with you.”
“But why?”
She gave him a pitying look.
His eyes widened. “You mean Alice?”
“I mean Alice.”
He reared back, his face wreathed with sudden pleasure. “Do you think something is developing there?”
“I think it has potential.”
His eyes narrowed. “How can you tell? They’ve been such friends for so long, I didn’t notice any difference when she was here.”
She laughed. “That’s why you married me.”
He came over to the bed, reached down, and kissed her. “I didn’t know just how smart I was that day I asked you,” he murmured.
She kissed him back. “I did,” she said with a wise smile.
He shook his head in wonder. Then he straightened, his mind going back to his original question. “You’re sure you’ll be all right?”
“I’ll be fine. You take Will and go. Everything is going to be fine now.”
Will waited until he could stand it no longer. They were walking along Front Street, the street that ran alongside the bank of the Missouri River, a block or two before it joined the Mississippi. As soon as dinner was over, Alice had suggested that they come down here so Will could see with his own eyes the extent of the damage done by the great flood of two months previous. As they walked along, she pointed out this and that, chatting gaily, obviously happy to be in his presence. But now he could bear it no more.
“Alice?”
“Yes?”
“Have you started reading the Book of Mormon yet?”
Her step slowed and her chin dropped slightly, so he couldn’t see her eyes. “Yes,” she finally said.
“And?” he asked, half holding his breath.
She glanced at him briefly, then suddenly turned, pointing. “Look! There’re the Baker warehouses,” she said. “Old Mr. Baker wouldn’t believe Papa. He moved his cotton to the loft and said it would be fine. Papa says he lost almost half a million dollars’ worth of raw cotton.”
Will had fallen a step behind her. He was staring after her. Had she not heard?
But as they moved forward, she went on as if he hadn’t spoken. She darted here and there, rattling off facts about the greatest flood in St. Louis history—how many acres of farmland were ruined, the number of cattle that were drowned, the smell that filled the air, the businesses that had been damaged.
He listened, his mind only half on it. Clearly she had sidestepped his question and didn’t want to answer it. He felt a deep gloom settle in on him. This was not a good sign.
Suddenly she dropped back and grabbed his hand. “Oh, come, Will! You must see this. They just put this up.”
“What?”
She pulled him over to the side of the street, near a three-story warehouse and office building. There, beside one corner, was a stone monument, towering upwards eight or ten feet above the street. As they approached, he could see that letters had been chiseled into it.
“What is this?”
She didn’t answer but pulled him around to the front of it. The inscription was simple. About two feet above Will’s head a line had been cut into the stone across the width of the monument. Below it were the words: “High Water June 27, 1844.”
“Oh,” Will said, understanding now.
“Yes,” Alice said eagerly. “That shows how high the water got. Eight feet above flood stage.”
“No wonder,” he said softly. Eight feet! How did you protect your cotton—or anything else, for that matter—from something eight feet above flood stage? He half closed his eyes, trying to imagine what this whole district must have been like.
“It was awful,” Alice said, subdued now. “They’re still not sure how many people died. There were riverboats up on the banks, like they had been pulled there by some angry giant of a child. Some buildings just collapsed from the pressure of the water.”
Will leaned forward, peering at the inscription again. “June twenty-seventh?” he asked.
“Yes. That was the day it reached its highest point.”
“Do you know what day June twenty-seven
th is?”
She shook her head, puzzled. “No.”
“It is the day that Joseph and Hyrum Smith were killed at Carthage.”
“Hmm,” she said, digesting that. “So?”
He shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just an interesting coincidence. On the very day that the world made its ultimate rejection of the Lord’s prophet—an act that would cause many Missourians to rejoice—you were undergoing a tragedy of your own down here.”
“Are you saying that God caused this as a punishment?”
“No,” he said quickly, wishing now he had said nothing. “I don’t think God works that way. I was just struck by the oddity of it, that was all.”
That seemed to satisfy her. She looked up at the sky. The sun had set now and evening was coming on quickly. “Maybe we’d better go,” she suggested. “Front Street isn’t the best place to be after dark.”
“Okay.”
She looked up and grinned at him. “So you like my word, do you?”
“Yep. I use it all the time now. Is that okay?”
“That’s okay!” she said, laughing. And they turned around and started back the way they had come. They went about a block, when Alice glanced up at him, and then away again. “Will?”
“What?”
“I want to do this on my own.”
That took him by surprise. “You want to do what on your own?”
“Find out about your church.”
She ignored his astonished look and hurried on. “I don’t want you asking me questions.” There was a quick, impish grin. “If I have questions, I’ll ask you, but I don’t want you asking me how I’m doing. When I’m ready, one way or the other, I’ll tell you. Fair enough?”
He was stunned. So she had heard his earlier question. And now here was her answer. “Of course,” he finally said.
“Good.” And with that it was as if the subject were totally forgotten again.
Chapter Notes
Though it was actually put in place a few months later than shown in the novel, there was a stone monument erected on Front Street in St. Louis commemorating the high-water mark of the great flood of 1844, which occurred on 27 June (see HC 7:316).
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