As Warren came up behind Joshua and took the pistol from his inside jacket pocket, the smaller man named Billy jumped off his horse and strode to the carriage. He leaned over the side, peering into the rear seat where Joshua’s luggage was visible. There was a moment’s silence, then he swore. “It’s not here, Dan.” He pawed around a little, then turned, looking sharply disappointed. “There’s no chest.”
“Ah,” Joshua said softly, “so that’s it.”
The man called Dan swung down from his horse and stalked to the buggy. The single valise Joshua had brought with him from Nauvoo was jerked out and slammed down to the ground. In seconds, the big man had it open and was pawing through the clothing and other articles inside. He stood, kicking at it savagely. “Nothing!” he exclaimed. Suddenly he had an idea. He moved to the back of the buggy where there was a large pouch for carrying baggage. He thrust his hand in it. It was empty.
“How big of a cut does Samuelson give you for this?” Joshua asked when the man came back to face him.
There was a snort of disgust. “That old fool! If you hadn’t showed up so quickly, there would have been no chest to give you when you came.”
“They weren’t expecting us till today,” Warren grunted, as much to himself as to Joshua.
Joshua said nothing but felt a tremendous relief. Walter Samuelson’s bitterness had virtually devastated Joshua’s financial situation, but had Samuelson been part of this it would have been a terrible thing indeed.
“Where is it?” the man called Dan asked tightly.
Joshua looked bland. “You mean the chest?” He shrugged. “I told the banker he could keep it. Once the money was gone, I had no further use for it.”
“The bank?” Warren cried in dismay. “You took it to the bank?”
There was contempt in Joshua’s eyes. “Good heavens, man! You think I’m fool enough to drive around with twenty-five thousand dollars in cash?”
Billy groaned and rolled his eyes. “Twenty-five thousand! Is that how much there was?”
The big man was watching Joshua narrowly. “The bank wasn’t open before you left this morning.”
Joshua scoffed openly at him. “Warren, how many times have I done business with the bank down here?”
“Dozens.”
“Has old Mr. Barker ever opened the bank for me after hours?”
Warren’s face fell. He looked at his two partners. “Barker would keep the bank open all night if Mr. Steed here asked him to.”
Dan swore, the bitterness like fire in his eyes. “We should’ve just done it last night,” he muttered. “We just should have done it.”
Joshua smiled wickedly. “Seems like there’s an old saying about striking while the iron is hot.”
He jumped back, but not quickly enough. The big man swung his fist and drove it into Joshua’s stomach. He gasped and dropped to his knees, retching.
“You know,” Dan said, mimicking Joshua’s jaunty tone, “I don’t like you very much.” He leaned over and snatched Joshua’s wallet from the inside of his coat. Joshua was gasping frantically for air and made no move to stop him. Dan opened the wallet, withdrew a wad of bills, and counted quickly. “Sixty-eight dollars,” he said in disgust. “It could have been twenty-five thousand, and we get a lousy sixty-eight dollars.”
He swung around, clubbing downward with the butt of his pistol. There was a soft thud and Joshua went down face first into the dirt without a cry. “I don’t like you at all,” Dan said, breathing heavily now.
He shoved the money into his trouser pocket and jerked his thumb at Billy. “Cut his horse loose. We can’t have him coming back to town before we’ve cleared out.”
Warren had watched all that had transpired in stunned astonishment. Now, as Billy started unhitching the horse, Dan swung on him, raising the pistol. “What are you staring at?”
“I . . .” He backed up a step. “Nothing. I was just—”
“Tell you what, Warren,” the big man said, his voice low with menace now. “Billy and me don’t cotton to the idea of having you around these parts to be talking about what’s happened here today. And knowing this man’s reputation”—he reached out and gave Joshua a shove with the toe of his boot—“if I were you, I’d not want to be anywhere he will ever find you either.”
Warren may not have been one of the world’s brighter lights, but he didn’t need more explanation than that. He backed up farther, his eyes fixed on the muzzle of Dan’s pistol. Then, reaching his horse, he turned and swung up in the saddle. In a moment, he was racing away to the south, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.
Dan watched as Billy finished loosing Joshua’s horse from the buggy. He slapped its rump hard, sending it speeding off, then came back to join his partner. For a moment they stood together, looking down at the still figure lying in the road. “Sixty-eight dollars!” Dan muttered. “Sixty-eight lousy, stinking dollars!” He kicked out viciously, driving his boot into Joshua’s ribs. The body jerked, but there was no response.
“Come on,” Dan snarled. “We’d best be making tracks before someone comes along.”
Joshua jerked awake as the pain in his head stabbed into his consciousness. “Easy!” a voice commanded. “Take it easy.”
He opened his eyes. Above him, a man peered into his eyes.
Joshua tried to turn and gasped as another lancing pain shot through his side.
“You’ve been hurt,” the man’s voice said. “Just lie easy.”
Joshua rolled his head. He saw a horse, and then another carriage. Not his own. A woman watched with anxious eyes. Two children in the seat behind her looked frightened.
“Help me up,” Joshua said, trying to rise, gasping through clenched teeth.
The man moved around, got his hands beneath Joshua’s arms, and pulled him up to a sitting position, dragging him back enough to prop him up against the wheel of his own buggy.
“What happened?” the man asked, coming around again to face him.
Joshua looked around at the upturned valise and the clothing and personal items scattered across the road. “Three men. They jumped me. Took my wallet.”
The man nodded grimly. “We’d better get you into town. Ursa’s just about a mile north of here.”
“No,” Joshua said sharply. Then more softly he went on. “I’d better stay here with the carriage. But if you could send someone back with a horse. Maybe a doctor if there’s one nearby.”
“Your head is bleeding,” the woman called.
He reached up, gingerly touching the lump on the back of his head. His fingers came away sticky. He reached inside his pocket, wincing with every movement, and withdrew his handkerchief. He folded it, then pressed it over the wound. “I’ll be all right. Just send someone back.”
The man considered further protest, then nodded, sensing Joshua’s determination. “We’ll have someone back in half an hour. No more. Are you sure?”
“Yes. Thank you for stopping.”
“All right.” The man walked back to his buggy and climbed up. He took the reins, waved briefly, then drove off. The heads of the children pivoted, their eyes wide and grave as they moved away.
Joshua waited until they were two or three hundred yards down the road; then he rolled away from the wheel, easing his body down again, groaning as he did so. He was on his back now, looking up at the underside of the carriage. He stared for a moment, then closed his eyes. It was still there—the thick packet which he had wrapped tightly in two of his shirts and then secured, using the sleeves of the outer shirt, firmly to the bottom of the buggy.
It was still there.
“What in the world did he hit you with?” Willard Richards probed gently at Joshua’s ribs, watching him wince out of the corner of his eye.
“The toe of his boot, I suspect,” Joshua said dryly. “Actually, I wasn’t awake at the time.”
Caroline leaned forward, her eyes dark with anxiety. “You can’t see it, Joshua, but you’ve got a bruise the size of a dinner plate
.”
“Does it hurt, Papa?” Savannah asked gravely.
“Only if I breathe.” He smiled to reassure her. “It’s a little tender, but I’m going to be all right.”
“The head is going to be all right,” Richards said, “but I think you’ve got a broken rib. Maybe two.” Willard Richards had been a pharmacist and practicing physician at the time of his conversion near Boston, but he rarely practiced any longer, being caught up in the press of his role as an Apostle and as a clerk to Brigham Young and the Twelve. He was also Church historian. But when Brigham had learned that Joshua Steed had arrived in Nauvoo, driven by a hired man from south Hancock County, he immediately sent Willard over to help.
“Oh, Joshua,” Mary Ann said. “I can’t believe this has happened.”
Benjamin raised his head. “You can’t be going to St. Louis.”
“I don’t have any choice. I’m probably already too late.”
“Joshua,” Caroline started. She stopped at his look.
“If I give the Barber brothers free rein down there, I’ll have nothing within six months’ time. Nothing! That’s their specialty.”
“Then I’m going with you,” Nathan said evenly.
“No!” He started to chop his hand downward, wanting to cut off the debate, but the movement sent a jolt through him and he gasped softly. “No, Nathan,” he said more slowly. “You are needed here. Every one of you is needed here. There’s too much work to do.”
“We finished the first wagon,” Benjamin said. “Started on the second.”
“Great,” Joshua growled, “and you only need six. Why are you so stubborn? Why won’t you just take some of my wagons?”
“Because,” his father answered patiently—they had gone over this half a dozen times or more—“you have a freight yard to run. It’s a little hard to carry freight on your back.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“So will we,” Mary Ann said right back. “There are others who will need help much more than we will. If you have extra wagons, sell them to them.”
He just shook his head. “Well, that only means it is all the more important that Nathan stay here and help. So that’s settled.”
“It is settled,” Nathan retorted. “I’m ready whenever you want to go.”
Doctor Richards cut in before Joshua could protest. “Sit up straight. If you’re fool enough to go running off, then I’d better wrap your chest.” He reached for a bolt of light cotton cloth Nathan had brought from the store.
Joshua straightened, fighting to keep his face from showing the pain. Caroline reached out and took his hands. “Please, Joshua. Won’t you wait for just a day or two?”
He shook his head. “I’m already about a week too late. Just because the sale won’t be final for five more days doesn’t mean Ben Barber hasn’t already started his maneuverings.”
“I can’t believe Walter did this to you,” she murmured, near tears.
There was no more rancor in him. “He’s pretty bitter. Thinks that it was me who betrayed him.”
“But to risk everything you’ve worked for down there,” Lydia cried, “just to get even with you.”
“No, he’s worried about Judith. He’s been talking about selling out and retiring for about a year now. I just gave him a good excuse for doing it.” At that, Joshua looked at Nathan. “Did you get that other matter taken care of?”
Nathan nodded.
“You put it where I told you?”
“Yes. I think you’re right. It’s a perfect place. It will be safe.”
“Tell me when it hurts.” Joshua had his arms raised and Doctor Richards had wrapped the first layer around his chest. Now he was cinching it up. “I want it firm, but not too tight.”
“There,” Joshua said, wincing in spite of himself. “That’s good.”
“I think I’d better go with you two,” Benjamin said. “Maybe Derek too. You can’t be carrying that amount of cash around alone. We’ve already learned the dangers of that.”
“No one’s going to know I’m carrying it this time,” he retorted.
“Why can’t you just leave it where it is, if it’s safe?” Lydia asked.
Joshua sighed. “Because all those bank notes are drawn on St. Louis banks. They’re not exactly worthless up here, but you all know how skittish people are about accepting paper money, especially when it’s paper issued by some bank they’ve never heard of.” He shook his head again. “No, the sooner I’m down there and get it changed into specie, the better I like it.”
Benjamin snorted. “And you’re going to carry twenty-five thousand dollars in gold and silver back with you?”
Willard Richards’s head came up at the naming of the amount, but he said nothing.
Benjamin barely noticed. “That’s only—” He calculated quickly, the largest of all minted coins being worth ten dollars. “A minimum of twenty-five hundred coins. That should only weigh several hundred pounds and fill a huge chest. No one will ever notice.”
“I’ll use some of our employees down there. Men I can trust. We’ll keep it well guarded.”
“And this is my son that is supposed to have such wonderful business sense?” Benjamin snorted.
“I’m going,” Joshua said flatly. “And that’s that.”
“And I’m going with you,” Nathan said, with the same finality. “Keep arguing with me and I’m going to kick you in the ribs again.”
Suddenly Caroline had a thought. “St. Louis is no longer an option, is it?”
Joshua turned. “What do you mean?”
“You thought we should move to St. Louis when the family leaves. Now . . .”
It said something about the turmoil he had been in for the past twenty-four hours that this implication had never hit him. He rocked back a little, pulling the cloth out of Doctor Richards’s hands.
“Steady,” the Apostle chided. “I’m almost done.”
Joshua held Caroline’s gaze for a moment or two, then looked away. “I don’t know what it means,” he mumbled.
Elder Richards took the pair of scissors and cut the cloth off. There were now several layers wrapped around Joshua’s midsection. “Hold this, please,” he said to Caroline, motioning to where his fingers held the seam up against Joshua’s body. As she did so, he reached for a small can of straight pins and began to fasten the edge of the cloth to the main portion of it. He glanced up at Nathan. “Did you watch how I did this?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Then at Joshua’s look his face went stern. “You can’t be wrapping yourself, Joshua, so you may as well get used to the idea that Nathan will be with you. And you’d better be careful about doing too much tossing and turning or you are going to feel like you’re sleeping with a porcupine.”
Finished, he stepped back and surveyed his handiwork. “I think that will do it.” He lifted a finger and shook it in Joshua’s face. “I don’t care how urgent things are, you’re not leaving here before tomorrow. Understood?”
He didn’t wait for an answer, just looked at Caroline. “I’ve got some rope if you need to tie him down for a while.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Brother Richards. We really appreciate it.”
He nodded, then glared at Joshua. “You hear me? Tomorrow at the very earliest.”
“Yes, sir,” Joshua said meekly.
As Willard Richards left, Joshua turned to Nathan. “We’ll be making a stop in Quincy on the way down. I’m going to use three hundred dollars of that money to post me a reward for three particular men. And I’ll double it if whoever catches them brings them back to me first.”
Nathan’s mouth opened to say something, then he just shook his head. This was not the time to talk about the foolishness of revenge.
They came in through the fence in pairs, moving slowly so as not to startle the horses in the corral. There was a heavy overcast, and neither moon nor stars gave any light. They were no more than shapes, blobs of slightly more intense blackness moving in a sea of blac
kness.
If it had been two or three years earlier, they would never have made it. Originally, Joshua’s freight company had been in the southwestern part of Nauvoo, out by the river, near the intersection of Sidney and Marion Streets. But as the population soared and land within the city limits became more and more valuable, Joshua sold his land there and bought a large parcel of land out east of town not far from the temple. He built new stables, new barns, and eventually a new freight office, expanding his operation enormously. So had this silent group of men tried to make their way into the city to the old location, they would have been easily detected. The streets were still being patrolled at night by Brigham’s organization of “bishops” and “deacons.” Virtually every corner had a watch posted. But this far east of town there were no patrols, no watch set. And those that came knew this before they ever set out.
Leaving their horses tethered in a thick grove of trees a quarter of a mile away from their objective, they moved swiftly and silently along the dirt road that led to the Steed and Sons Freight and Portage Company.
The lead pair waited at the watering trough, peering into the night, straining to hear the slightest noise above the sound of the horses. Suddenly the leader had an idea. He reached out and rapped his knuckles on the thin layer of ice which covered the surface of the trough. “Pull the plug on this thing,” he whispered.
His partner jerked up in surprise, but instantly he saw the genius of the idea. Sooner or later someone was going to sound the alarm. Why leave them with a ready-made supply of water? He groped in the darkness along the end of the trough that was opposite the pump, found the wooden plug there, and wrestled it out with both hands. There was a flash of a smile as water gushed out onto the frozen ground.
By the time the trough was empty, there were more pairs—twelve of them in all. The smell of kerosene was heavy in the air. Their leader clapped his hands quietly to get their attention. “All right,” he whispered. “You know what to do. Two men to the smaller buildings. Two on each end of the barn and the stables. And don’t just be tossing in the torch and running away. No one leaves until you’re sure your building is completely in flames. Is that clear?”
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