Pillar of Light

by Gerald N. Lund

  My feelings of impending tragedy only deepen with each day. Oh, my beloved Kathryn, shall I ever see you again?

  The wagons were lined up along the fence in front of the house. Children were playing around them and waved happily, but Melissa could see no adults. She stopped, not wanting to intrude, looking toward the house, feeling the warmth of the loaf of bread beneath her arm. After a moment, the door opened and Joseph Fielding came out carrying a pile of bedding.

  As he came down the steps, he caught sight of her and smiled. “Hello, Melissa.”

  “Good afternoon, Brother Joseph.”

  “Mary and Mercy are inside. Go on in.”

  “Thank you.” As she opened the gate for him and then stepped through herself, she looked toward the wagons. “Are you nearly loaded?”

  He nodded, lifting the bedding up and tossing it inside the nearest one. “When you are leaving almost everything behind, it doesn’t take too long to pack.”

  “Yes,” Melissa said sadly, then turned and went up the walk. The door was still half-opened, so she pushed it a little farther open and called inside. “Hello.”

  Almost immediately Mary Fielding Smith appeared. She had a dust rag in her hand and a scarf around her forehead. “Oh, Melissa. What a pleasant surprise!”

  Melissa held out the loaf of bread wrapped in a dish towel. “Here’s something for the children.”

  Mary took it and pressed it to her face, breathing deeply. “Mmm, it smells wonderful. Thank you. Come in and sit for a minute.”

  “I know you’re about ready to leave.”

  “It doesn’t take long,” she said wistfully. “Not when you’re leaving almost everything behind.”

  “That’s what Joseph said too.”

  Mary turned and looked around. “Look at this. It’s a completely furnished house. There are dishes in the cupboards and blankets on the beds. There are even some clothes left in the wardrobes. The trees in back are loaded with peaches that will be ripe in a few more days. All of that, and we’re going to simply close the door and drive away.”

  Melissa watched the sorrow in Mary’s eyes. This was a graceful, cultured, educated woman. Even after these many years, she still spoke with a noticeable English accent. Melissa could still remember when she had first seen Mary Fielding. Mary and her sister Mercy had come to Kirtland from Toronto, in Upper Canada, in company with Joseph Fielding and John and Leonora Taylor. Rebecca and the tall, graceful English girl struck up an immediate and deep friendship, though Mary was some years Rebecca’s senior. It was a friendship that had endured for over nine years, and through it all the family had grown close to Mary. Melissa felt a great loss to know that it was over now.

  “I suppose Emma hasn’t changed her mind about not going with you.”

  There was a quick shake of her head. “Emma’s leaving but not with us. She’s going upriver to Fulton, Illinois, to stay with the Marks family.”

  “Oh,” Melissa said. That wasn’t a surprise. From the time of Joseph’s death, Emma had made it clear that she was not going to follow Brigham Young anywhere.

  The door opened and Joseph Fielding came back inside. He glanced at the two of them, then quietly went into the next room and began to gather up more things.

  “What about Mother Smith?” Melissa asked.

  There were instant tears in Mary’s eyes. “I took the children and we went and said good-bye to her this afternoon.” She stopped, brushing at her eyes. “It was very difficult. She’s so old and feeble now. We both knew that we’ll never see each other again.”

  Tears welled up in Melissa’s eyes too, and her throat constricted so tightly that she could barely speak. “I don’t think the two of us shall ever see each other again either,” she whispered.

  Mary set the bread down on a chair and opened her arms. Melissa stepped into them, weeping openly. “Nonsense,” Mary said. “Someday you’re going to be reunited with your family.” She smiled brightly. “And where they are, that’s where we will be.”

  “I don’t think so,” Melissa sniffed. “I don’t think I’ll ever see them again either.” Her shoulders began to shake as the utter loneliness took over.

  To her surprise, Joseph Fielding was suddenly standing at the entrance to the room. “Melissa?”

  She wiped at her eyes with her handkerchief, then turned. “Yes?”

  “You must leave Nauvoo. Time is running out.”

  “I feel that too,” she exclaimed, “but I can’t convince Carl.”

  “I will talk to him.”

  She shook her head. “It won’t do any good.”

  He glanced at his sister, then went on. “Have you heard the news today?”

  Melissa’s chin lifted. “What?”

  “Major Parker has withdrawn. He says he can’t do anything.”

  Both women were surprised at that declaration.

  “Governor Ford appointed another man to take his place—Major Flood, the commander of the militia in Adams County. But Flood is afraid of angering the non-Mormons and refuses to intervene.”

  Melissa’s hand came to her mouth. “What are we going to do?”

  “Oh, the governor finally appointed a Major Clifford to take charge of things here.” The very tone of his voice indicated how effective he thought that would be. He took a quick breath, not sure how much to say, and yet knowing this was far too serious to leave Melissa unprepared. “There’s now a mob of about seven hundred armed men camped a few miles out of town on the Nauvoo-Carthage Road. Reportedly they have three or four cannons. Major Clifford is calling for men to take positions along the high ground just east of the temple.”

  Melissa fell back a step, her eyes wide with shock. “Does Carl know this?”

  “I don’t know. If he’s been in the meetings, yes. I just heard it from Daniel Wells, who was on his way to join our defense group.”

  Mercy Thompson, Mary’s sister, came running lightly down the stairs with a box in her arms. “I’m ready, Joseph,” she called. Then she stopped when she saw Melissa with Mary. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Then, seeing their faces, she came forward anxiously. “What’s wrong?”

  “We have to hurry, Mercy,” Joseph said. He turned and spoke gently to Mary. “If we don’t leave soon, we’ll not get across the Mississippi tonight. We have to go.”

  Then he turned to Melissa and took one hand. “I will try to find Carl and talk to him if you want me to, Melissa.”

  Sick to her stomach, she considered that, her mind racing. From outside she heard the children laughing, and that made up her mind. “No, Joseph. You get your family across the river. I’ll find Carl.” She reached in the pocket of her dress, pulled out a letter, and thrust it into Mary’s hand. “When you see my family, will you give them this?”

  Mary nodded, then kissed Melissa on the cheek. “Hurry,” she said. “If you come across the river, you can travel with us.”

  “Thank you.” Melissa gave Mercy a quick kiss, shook Joseph Fielding’s hand, and walked swiftly out the door.

  When she was still half a block away from her home, Melissa saw Carl exit their house, then turn down the street toward her. She called and waved. At the sound of her voice, he broke into a trot toward her. As he ran up, he spoke before she could.

  “There you are. Thank heavens.”

  “I was saying good-bye to Mary and Mercy,” she said. “Didn’t young Carl tell you that?”

  “Yes. I was coming to get you.” He grasped her hands. “We’re leaving, Melissa. We’ve got to pack some things.”

  She gaped at him, not believing her ears. “Do you mean that?”

  “Yes! Things are falling apart here. The mob is camped about—”

  She cut him off. “I know. Joseph told me. Oh, Carl. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

  He took her by the arm and started walking swiftly toward their house. “We’ve got to hurry. I want to be out of the city before dark.”

  “Joseph said that he thinks we can still take the ferry across the river to
night. We could travel with them and—” She stopped speaking at the curt shake of his head. “What?”

  “We’re not going that way. We’re going east. I’ve got some friends in Peoria who will watch you and the children until I can come back.”

  She stopped, jerking free of his grasp. “Come back?”

  “Yes, Melissa. I can’t leave our house and the brickyard. I can’t expect the men here to defend our property. I have to come back and help them.”

  “I don’t care about the house, Carl. I don’t care about the brickyard. I just want us safe. I want to go west.”

  “No.” He tried to take her arm again, but she spun away. Exasperated, he barked at her. “Melissa, we don’t have time for this.”

  “Why can’t we go with our people, Carl? I want to be with my family.”

  He stepped to her and took her gently but firmly by the shoulders. “Listen,” he said, “if we go west, there’s nothing. They don’t even have homes yet. You read their last letter. They’re living in tents and wagons and dugouts in the riverbank.”

  “I don’t care,” she cried.

  He shook her gently. “Think, Melissa. Our daughter is very ill. Sarah is sick now too. You’re still not completely better. What is there if we go west? Nothing. In Peoria there will be doctors and medicines. We can rent a house.”

  She had started a retort, but his words cut her off. She hadn’t thought it through that far.

  “Winter’s coming, Melissa. We have to think of the children.”

  “I—”

  He pulled her to him. “I know you want to find your family, but we have to think of ourfamily first.”

  She laid her head against his chest. She thought of her two-year-old daughter, who was so weak and listless now that Melissa stayed by her side every moment when she was awake. “Is Mary Melissa still sleeping?”

  He nodded. “Carl’s with her. I’ve already set the other children to packing.” He stopped for a moment, then smiled faintly. “I have a wagon, Melissa.”

  Her head jerked around.

  “Hidden in the shed at the brickyard. It’s already stocked with some food and supplies. Not a lot, but enough to get us to Peoria.”

  She wasn’t sure if he was telling her the truth. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want you worrying.”

  She threw up her hands. “That’s exactly why you should have told me.”

  He kissed her softly. “Go. Help the children. I’ll get the horses and bring the wagon.”

  She finally nodded, then kissed him back. “Thank you, Carl.”

  “Go,” he said again, giving her a little shove. “I’ll hurry.”

  The first thing that caught Carl’s eye as he came around the shed was the two or three loose bricks that lay on the ground in front of the double doors. One of the bricks had been dragged across the ground, leaving a reddish brown skid mark. Then he saw the bright slash of splintered wood on the small door that allowed entry without opening up the big wagon doors. He leaped forward, his heart suddenly plummeting.

  Whoever had taken a crowbar to the hasp and the padlock had carefully put them back in place so that from a distance it looked as though the door were still locked. With a cry of dismay, Carl tossed them aside, jerked open the door, and darted inside. One look was all it took. The false wall that he had so carefully constructed of boxes and brick was scattered in great heaps up and down both sides of the shed. Whoever had done it—sometime during the night, he guessed—had left just enough room to back a team of horses up to the wagon and then take it out through the doors. He turned and leaned against the wall, his head against his arms. He felt sick. Who? Who had known? Was it some Mormon so desperate for escape that he had eliminated Carl’s family’s chance? Was it river scum who somehow had known it was here?

  He shook his head. Whoever it was, they had effectively nullified all of his careful preparations, wiped out nearly a thousand-dollar expenditure, and effectively condemned Carl Rogers and his family to one option. Now there was no choice but to stay.

  “Melissa, I tried. I thought—”

  She put a finger to his lips. “I know, Carl. Thank you. I know you tried to keep your promise.”

  He turned and got his rifle down from its place above the fireplace.

  “Do you have to leave?” she asked quietly.

  He nodded grimly. “The only way I can keep you and the children safe now is to go out on the defense line with the others and help keep those men out of the city.” He looked at young Carl. “Son, I’m leaving you the shotgun.”

  “Yes, Pa.”

  He turned back to Melissa. “That’s just a precaution. I won’t leave you alone. If they start to break through, I’ll come here first and get you.”

  “I know.”

  “Stay in the house. Don’t let the children out.”

  “We’ll be all right.”

  He laid a hand on her cheek, anguish filling his eyes. “I love you, Melissa Steed Rogers.”

  “And I love you, Carl,” she whispered. “Be safe.”

  “I will.”

  Joshua Steed straightened, arching his back in an attempt to stretch out the muscles a little. “I am definitely getting too old for this,” he muttered to no one in particular.

  Nathan groaned and got to his feet, dropping the sickle and letting it lie where it fell. He followed Joshua’s example, stretching like a cat. They were down by the Missouri, in one of the flat areas the river had scoured out sometime long ago and which now provided a lush green meadow with grass that grew past their thighs.

  Matthew, on his knees in the meadow hay, making long, smooth cuts with his sickle, grinned over at Solomon. “Hey, old man,” he said, “how come you’re still down here working while those young bucks are standing around moaning?”

  Solomon laughed. The four of them had started out together in a rough line about six feet apart so that they overlapped one another. Now his six-foot swath was out ahead of the other three by at least ten feet.

  “Because he’s cheating,” Joshua growled.

  Solomon straightened, hands on his knees. “How do you figure I’m cheating?”

  Joshua shook his head. “I don’t know. But you must be. Look how fast you’re going.”

  Nathan went to the bucket of water and filled the dipper, then drained it quickly. “So what is your secret, Solomon?” he asked as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

  Solomon answered with a sly smile. “I’d say about ten acres. In Mount Pisgah I contracted with some families to cut hay for their stock in exchange for food. It turned out to be about ten acres.” He smiled demurely. “I got to be pretty fast at it by the time I was done.”

  Now Joshua groaned aloud. “No wonder we can’t keep up with you.”

  Solomon stood up. “Why don’t we all take a break and rest for a while?”

  “Let me ask all of you a question,” Joshua said from beneath his hat. “You’re the expert Mormons here.” There was a moment’s silence. The four of them were lying side by side in the shade of an elderberry bush. Joshua came up on one elbow. He wasn’t smiling now. “How do you tell the difference between a prompting by the Holy Ghost and your own feelings?”

  Nathan turned his head in surprise. Solomon and Matthew turned now too. “That’s no easy question,” Matthew said. “I’ve wondered that many times.”

  “As have I,” Solomon responded.

  Nathan gave his older brother an appraising look. Joshua was asking questions all the time, but usually it was about a verse of scripture or about something Brigham or one of the other brethren had said at worship services. “Can you give us an ex-ample of what you mean?”

  Joshua lay back down in the grass and pulled his hat down again. “I can give you the actual problem I’m struggling with.”

  “All right,” Nathan said.

  “For about the past week I’ve not been able to get Carl and Melissa out of my mind,” he said.

  That sobered them
all. “I’ve been worrying a lot about them too,” Solomon said. “The reports coming out of Nauvoo are not good.”

  “That’s just it,” Joshua said. “Maybe that’s all this is. I’ve heard those reports, and there is cause for worry. So is that all it is? Am I just worrying about them as any normal person would do? Or is it something more?”

  Solomon and Matthew both looked to Nathan, willing to let him take this one.

  “Tell me a little more,” Nathan responded. “You say they’ve been on your mind a lot. Like what?”

  “Well,” Joshua growled, “for one thing, I’ve been thinking about taking a good length of hickory wood and knocking Carl alongside the head. What’s the matter with him? Why can’t he see that it’s foolish to stay there?”

  “Because he doesn’t see things the way we do,” Matthew volunteered. There was an impish smile. “We once had another person in the family like that too, but he’s not with us anymore.”

  Joshua gave him a slow grin. “Wouldn’t be anyone I know, would it?” Then he went on. “But seriously, I just keep thinking that maybe we need to go get them.”

  Nathan nodded slowly. Matthew, on the other hand, was shaking his head. “You read Melissa’s last letter. Carl won’t come out here with us.”

  “I know. And as much as I’d like to force him to see the light, just like Nathan did me—”

  “What?” Nathan cried in feigned offense. “I didn’t force you to do anything.”

  “But you did, little brother,” Joshua said softly. “You took me along and asked the Lord to open my eyes. What if we went back and tried that with Carl?”

  They were all silent for a time, considering that. Then Nathan leaned forward, probing Joshua’s eyes. “How do you feel about all this? Are you inclined to think it’s just worry, or do you think it’s something more?”