“Don’t, Joshua.”
“No,” he said, his voice cracking like a whip. “Don’t you give me that turn-the-other-cheek business, Nathan. They’ve ruined me. I can understand Walter’s part in this. It was a terrible thing he did, but I can understand why he did it. But the others? No, there’s a very large score to be put to rest on that account.”
“You’re not only going to put yourself in danger again, but you’re going to break Mother’s heart if you go after them.”
He shrugged. “Once you leave Nauvoo, Mother won’t know.”
Nathan blew out his breath, wanting to grab him and shake him as if he were one of the children. “Think about what Brigham said, Joshua. A whole new civilization. A brand-new start. It’s what you do best. Come with us.”
Joshua turned away. “It’s been a long two weeks, Nathan. I’d better round up Caroline and the children and go home.”
Nathan stood now. “I’m sorry, Joshua. I know this isn’t the time to talk about that. But will you at least think about it? If you’ve got to start again anyway, at least—”
Joshua’s look stopped him short. His eyes were like the smouldering coals left after the rest of the stables were gone up in smoke. “Let me tell you something, Nathan,” he said in a very low voice. “I’ve been pretty cooperative with your God lately. I let Will and Caroline be baptized. I gave in on Savannah. I was willing to help the family with anything I had. I even went toe to toe with Samuelson so that things would work out between him and Alice. And what has all of that got me?”
He rubbed his hand along his jaw, looking very old now. “I lost a daughter in a terrible accident. My son is on his way to California and I may never see him again. And now I’m back where I was in life fifteen years ago.”
“Joshua, I—”
“You go ahead and be faithful to what you believe, Nathan. But from now on, I think I’ll try it on my own.”
“Watch it, Kathryn, your foot’s catching on the rug.” Peter started to rise. “Here, let me move it.”
“No,” she cried. “Please, Peter, don’t.”
He sank back down, still poised to leap out of the chair and catch her if she tripped.
“If I can’t even lift my foot above a throw rug, how will I ever get around a campground?” Gripping the crutches, she adjusted her feet slightly to balance her body, then swung the crutches forward, setting them down solidly before pulling the rest of her body forward again. Barely waiting to get set again, she repeated the action, coming smoothly forward another foot, then another.
He clapped his hands. “Good, Kathryn. That’s very good.”
She was beaming now, more pleased than a child who has just mastered her first step. She did it again. And a fifth time.
He stood, applauding loudly. “Bravo! I think you’ve got it.”
Breathing in short, quick gulps, straining with the concentration of making her body obey her mind, she crossed the remaining distance and fell into Peter’s arms. She let the crutches slip from her grasp and clatter to the floor. “I’m getting it, Peter,” she breathed excitedly. “I really am getting it.”
He kissed her on the nose. “You are, Kathryn. I can see that you are.”
He meant it, and she saw that he meant it. Letting him take her weight in his arms, she threw her head back and laughed triumphantly. “I can walk!” she cried. “I can walk.”
“I think with some more practice you will have it mastered.”
“I have to,” she said, her expression sobering. “I can’t use a wheelchair on the trail. Even the best of campgrounds will be too rough. I have to be able to get around at least somewhat.”
“I’ll be there to help you, Miss McIntire.”
“Mrs. Ingalls to you, sir,” she murmured airily, still euphoric.
He helped her over to the bed and saw her seated comfortably, then pulled a chair around to face her. They were living in the small house that had once been Benjamin and Mary Ann’s first home in Nauvoo. Benjamin and Mary Ann now lived in the two-story “second house” to the side of this one, and this house had become the traditional home for newlyweds in the family.
Her face was still flushed with excitement and with the effort it had taken to cross the room. He watched her, marveling at her beauty, still a little dazed that she had finally consented to marry him. Others might complain about a bad hailstorm, he thought with a smile, remembering that terrible, wonderful evening in early September, but he never would again.
“What are you thinking?” she said.
“Well, I wanted to talk with you about an idea that’s been percolating in my mind.”
She laughed merrily. “Percolating? You should write poetry, Mr. Ingalls.”
He smiled, then went on, earnest now and a little concerned as well. “Do you remember Levinah Murphy?”
Kathryn’s lips pursed slightly. “I don’t believe I do.”
“She’s a widow. She and her children lived here in Nauvoo for a time, but they’ve all since moved back to Tennessee—all, that is, except for her married daughter Sarah, who I think now lives in St. Louis.”
“Oh?” Kathryn couldn’t figure out why Peter was telling her about this family.
“Anyway, a few years ago, back when we were doing baptisms for the dead in the river, Sister Murphy was one of the first to participate. So was I. That’s how I met her and her children, and learned about their situation. Seeing all those children, seven of them, and knowing they had lost their father not long before that—well, it reminded me of how I lost my parents, and it made me feel bad. So now and then I tried to find opportunities to help the Murphys out around their place. It wasn’t much, but I tried.” He suddenly got an embarrassed look on his face. “I guess Sister Murphy’s always felt grateful to me for that, and so I’ve gotten an occasional letter from her since she moved away.”
Kathryn nodded. She wasn’t surprised that she had not heard about this from Peter before. It was just like him to do something nice for another person and not talk about it. So why would he be telling her about it now? Before she could ask, Peter went on.
“I recently received a letter from her. She’d heard that the Saints plan to head west, and she would like to join us. But given her circumstances—she’s a widow with five unmarried children now, living in Tennessee, far from the main body of Saints—it seemed like a difficult proposition. One of her concerns is that she not be a burden. She is determined not to be a burden to the Church.”
Kathryn was listening carefully to him, wondering again why he had brought these matters up. It seemed to be more than just idle conversation. “So what is she going to do?”
“Well, that’s what is interesting. She says in her letter that she’s now found a possible way for getting herself west so she can meet us there.”
“What? You mean go alone?”
“Not alone, just a different way. She says there are many emigrant trains that will be headed to California and Oregon in the spring, and she plans to take her children and go with one of those trains. If she has to, she says she can even hire on as a laundress or cook. But she may not have to do that if her two married daughters and their husbands go. So she sees this as an opportunity to make the journey west and at the same time not be a burden on the Saints.”
“Yes,” Kathryn said slowly. That was the third time he had used the word burden, and now she thought she knew where this might be leading. Her chin lowered and she stared at her legs. “I don’t want to be a burden either.”
He jumped a little, then was instantly contrite. “Kathryn, it’s not you I’m worried about.”
She gaped at him. “Then who?”
“Me!”
“You! How would you be a burden?”
“Well, first of all, I have nothing. No money, virtually no job now, no wagons, no food. Unfortunately, Kathryn McIntire Ingalls, you married the absolute poorest member of this family. I was hoping that I could do things for Joshua and Carl, help pay for their assista
nce.” He shook his head. “But now that neither of them has money, I don’t know quite what to do.”
Her eyes were soft and misty, touched by his honesty about himself, and more touched that he hadn’t thought of her when he was thinking of burdens.
“And that’s only part of it,” he went on. “Oh, I know the family will help us. We won’t be left, but think about this. We will have six families going, seven if Joshua and Caroline decide to accompany us by some miracle.”
“Yes?”
“The ideal number for a wagon is a family of four or five. More is a real challenge.”
“So?”
“Think about it. Mother and Father Steed will likely go with someone, most probably Matthew and Jenny, since they have only two children.”
She started to interrupt, but he held up a finger and went on quickly. “Derek and Rebecca make a family of five. Nathan and Lydia have seven, so they’ll be more than full. And Jessica and Solomon have eight.”
Now she saw clearly why he was troubled. “That doesn’t leave much room for us, does it?”
“No,” he responded. “Derek says we’ll go with them, or just get another wagon. But you know we’ll be lucky to have five wagons. And that’s not to say anything about food and a hundred other items.”
The euphoria she had felt a few minutes before had totally evaporated.
Peter went on in deep dejection. “And if that’s not bad enough, there’s one other thing. I’m going to be the least helpful person on the trail. I can’t make anything. I’ve never driven a team.” He held out his hands, staring at them. They were soft and stained with ink. “I’m a printer. Don’t suppose there’ll be much use for that on the road west.”
“That’s not true,” she exclaimed. “You’re not useless. Look at all you’re doing now. Keeping a record of everything. Making sure everything is accounted for. Everyone knows you are valuable to the family.”
“I don’t deny that. But once we cross the river, how much bookkeeping will there be? We’ll be eating our inventory, not recording it. Who’s going to need to keep track of how much money we do or don’t have then?”
She waited, hurting for him, wanting to reach out and smooth away the lines around his mouth. “So what are you suggesting?” And then, remembering that he had started this conversation with mention of Sister Levinah Murphy, her eyes grew wide. “You’re not thinking of us going separately!”
“Just hear me out, Kathryn. It’s just an idea.”
“I’m listening,” she said, looking suddenly very dubious.
“A few weeks ago, I saw an article in one of the Springfield papers. It reported that there are some wealthy farming families around the capital who are talking of going to California and Oregon in the spring. They’re having weekly study meetings, reading all the books and looking at the maps, so they’ll be better prepared. One of the men they interviewed said that once the weather breaks, they’ll be looking for others to go with them, especially young men they could hire to help along the trail. He said they’ll be looking for tutors for the children, drovers, teamsters.”
“Not go with the family?” she said in a small voice. It completely overwhelmed her. “Besides, as I understand it, we’re not going to either Oregon or California, Peter. I thought Brother Brigham said we’re going to the Rocky Mountains.”
“I know, I know. But most of the way it’s the same trail. I’m not saying this is what we’re going to do, Kathryn, but think about it for a minute. Suppose we could hire on as tutors. We both helped Jessica when she had the school here. That’s one thing I can do. Then we’d have a way, we’d not have to worry about having our own outfit. We . . .” He stopped, overwhelming himself with the breadth of his thinking. “We could go with them as far as Fort Laramie, or something like that, then wait for our group to come.”
“They’ll not want a cripple with them any more than our family will.”
He gave her a sharply critical look. “My worry is convincing them to hire me,” he said. “But we could teach the children, Kathryn. Then neither one of us would be a burden to them. I know it’s slim, but maybe there’s a chance it would work.”
She didn’t have the heart to discourage him, so she finally nodded. “I think you’re right, Peter. I think it is something to think about.”
His face lit up. “I think so too. Maybe it will never happen, but it is something to think about.”
Chapter Notes
On 30 November 1845 the Twelve met with other priesthood leaders and dedicated the attic story of the temple in preparation for its being used for the administration of the endowment (see HC 7:534–35). At this time the Saints worked busily to provide the temple’s attic story with plants, mirrors, paintings, and other furniture (see Women of Nauvoo, pp. 150–51). On 7 December 1845, the cotton veil that the sisters sewed for use in the endowment was hung in the attic story.
Chapter 27
The tenth of December, 1845, dawned dazzling bright. As the day wore on it became pleasantly warm, at least ten degrees warmer than the blustery cold of the day before. The snow from a previous storm was gone, and had it not been for the bareness of the trees and the brown grass, it might have passed for an early spring day. It was a fitting day to begin the administration of the endowment to the general membership of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
With hundreds upon hundreds of Saints anxiously awaiting their turn to participate in the ordinance, the Twelve were faced with the decision of where to begin. In May of 1842, Joseph Smith had introduced a small group of men to the endowment. So now, until they could share the ordinance with more men and women in the temple, there were only a limited number to help in giving it to others. That limited the numbers of who could receive it at first and raised the question of who should be first. Finally, it was determined that they would start with those of the Twelve who had not received it under Joseph’s hand, their wives, and a few of the other General Authorities and their wives.
The work began at 3:00 p.m. on the afternoon of December tenth. It would take twelve and a half hours before the thirty people—fifteen men and fifteen women—were finished. Two widowed sisters were also present at that first session—a singular and yet well-deserved honor. Agnes Smith, wife of Don Carlos Smith, Joseph’s beloved younger brother, was there. She was accompanied by her sister-in-law Mary Fielding Smith, wife of the martyred Hyrum Smith.
As a member of the temple committee, Benjamin and his wife, Mary Ann, had been invited by President Young to be there as well on that first night. Benjamin had been there on that day in 1842 when Joseph first introduced the endowment, but Mary Ann had not. Sorely tempted to be part of this historic occasion, they finally opted to wait for a few days so that the rest of the adult members of the Steed family could all receive their endowments at the same time.
At about three-thirty a.m. on the morning of the eleventh of December, a very tired but jubilant Brigham Young and Heber C. Kimball left the temple with their wives. They went to the Joseph Kingsbury home, just a short distance from the temple, rested for a few hours, had breakfast together, then returned to the temple and started the second group.
This day more leaders and their wives came—the seven Presidents of the First Council of Seventy, presidents of the priesthood quorums, members of the high council. Fifteen more people—seven males and eight females—were endowed on that day. Among them were two additional widows from Joseph Smith’s family. Lucy Mack Smith, beloved mother of the Prophet and revered Saint in her own right, was there. She was accompanied by Mercy Fielding Thompson Smith, plural wife to Hyrum after her husband, Robert Thompson, had died, and sister to Mary Fielding Smith.
In later life, Brigham Young would observe how some Saints said, “We never began to build a temple without the bells of hell beginning to ring.” That lesson was reaffirmed in December 1845, for on the very day the long-awaited giving of the endowment began, Brigham received a letter from Samuel Brannan in New York City. It was
filled with much news of his progress in chartering a ship to go to California. It also contained news that showed that Satan’s opposition had flared up once again.
Brigham was standing outside the main door to the temple talking with several people. The moment he spied the Steeds coming up the walkway, he excused himself and strode over to greet them. “There you are!” he boomed pleasantly. “How good to see you all here!”
He moved from couple to couple, shaking hands and speaking briefly with each one—Matthew and Jenny, Peter and Kathryn, Derek and Rebecca, Solomon and Jessica, Nathan and Lydia, and finally, Benjamin and Mary Ann. Caroline had been invited to come, but decided under the circumstances—Joshua was still under a dark cloud following his return to Nauvoo—that it was best that she wait.
Brigham turned to Mary Ann. “I received a letter from New York a few days ago.”
She brightened instantly. “From Will and Alice?”
“No, from Samuel Brannan. But he scribbled a quick note at the bottom of his letter saying that our young couple had just arrived that afternoon. It was dated the twenty-eighth of last month.”
“Oh, good. Caroline will be so relieved.”
“So how are the preparations for their voyage coming?” Nathan inquired.
“Good. They have chartered a ship, the Brooklyn by name, and plan to leave in mid-January. They are enrolling the Saints in the East now. However,” he said, his face darkening, “there is news that is not so good.”
“What is that?” Benjamin asked.
“Well, two things. The first didn’t come from Sam Brannan, but it’s news from Springfield. Have you heard about the indictment handed down by the United States circuit court there?”
Benjamin harrumphed in total disgust. “Yes, Brother Pratt told me about that yesterday. Eight members of the Twelve were indicted for bogus-making.”
“What?” Nathan cried. “I haven’t heard about this. Counterfeiting? Surely that’s some kind of a joke.”
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