by Marian Wells
As Tom and his tentmate had bedded down a couple nights later, Matt commented on the large white dog, curled up in front of Joseph’s tent. “Seems strange,” he muttered, pulling off his boots. “The Prophet being on such good terms with the Almighty, getting revelations that the Lord will fight our battles for us, and yet he gets an old dog to stand guard.”
During the second watch of the night, a single gunshot brought the men running from their tents. Joseph was kneeling in the dust before his tent, and the white bulldog was making his last convulsive movements. The apologetic guard stood hat in hand. “Forgot about the dog,” he muttered. “Just saw a movement and shot quick.”
When Tom and Matt crawled back into their tent, Matt yawned and said, “Well, guess now Joseph’s going to have to rely on men and angels.”
Chapter 19
The confrontation between Joseph and Sylvester soon was pushed into the background, forgotten in the light of a more compelling issue.
Orson Hyde and Parley Pratt rode into camp after their conference with Governor Dunklin. They had barely dismounted when the entire army surrounded to hear the news. Taking their cue from the men’s grim faces, the foot soldiers waited quietly as Joseph and Lyman Wight joined them.
“It’s not good news,” Pratt said shortly. He wiped his hands wearily across his face before continuing. “Unbeknownst to us, Governor Dunklin has been working for our cause. He’s been dickering with the War Office to secure a federal arsenal, with plans to build it in Jackson County.” He paused and added, “Right in our own backyard, along with the federal army as a guard.”
“Glory be!” Wight exclaimed. “There’s not much chance of the Gentiles fightin’ us under those circumstances.”
“But wait,” Pratt interrupted, “on top of that, Dunklin was considering dividing Jackson County so our people and the Gentiles would have equal shares. Later in our meeting he dropped the information that on May 2, he dispatched orders to Colonel Lucas to restore the arms they took from us. But before Lucas got the order, news of the coming of Zion’s Camp leaked.” He looked slowly around the assembled men. Deliberately he added, “Dunklin said the Missourians stormed the jail where our arms were stored and took every one of them.”
With a muttered curse, Wight flung his battered old hat to the ground and stalked away. Joseph watched him go, then turned back to Pratt. “Before any action could be taken they ravaged the rest of our property. Every last one of the hundred and fifty houses was destroyed.”
Groans of dismay erupted in angry words, and finally Joseph lifted his hand. His face white and rigid, he said, “Let’s hear the rest of it.”
“Well, that cooked our goose with Dunklin. He was pretty frosty. Said the comin’ of Zion’s Camp plus the fact that all our houses were destroyed made it impossible at this time to restore our property to us.” He paced the trampled ground in front of Joe.
Watching Pratt, Hyde added, “News about the army has traveled fast. We’re findin’ out it ran like wildfire ahead of us. Militias from four different counties have moved out to meet us. They had our number right off. They knew we were an army, not a bunch of farmers with a sack of grain to plant. The word was passin’ ahead of us, with people yellin’, ‘The Mormons are comin’; they’ll murder our women and children!’”
The group turned to Joseph and waited in stunned silence as he paced back and forth, head bowed, hands clasped behind him. Wight had crept back to the edge of the crowd, and Joseph stopped in front of him. “I tell you, it’s best we don’t make a wrong move; we’re sitting ducks!”
Wight bristled, looking at the men clustered around them. “We can’t go back, not after comin’ this far!” A rumble of assent rose from the men, and Tom remembered the confident assertion that angels would fight for them.
Finally the army moved out, advancing cautiously, disheartened and confused. The men needn’t be told that Joseph was as deeply disturbed as they. On the second day further bad news drifted back. An armed band was waiting across the Missouri with plans to attack.
Immediately Joseph Smith ordered the men to move out to the prairie.
“Smith!” Lyman Wight roared. “These men’ll have neither decent water or wood for fire. I say let ’em all spend the night in the woods.”
Joe turned back to argue the matter, and then impatiently wheeled about. Raising his voice, he shouted, “Thus saith the Lord God, march on!”
In disgust, Wight silently turned aside and waved his men to camp in the woods. Sylvester turned to shout at Joseph’s men, “Who are you following? Wight’s in charge of this army!”
That night, just as Wight predicted, Tom and the group who had followed Joseph were forced to drink bad water and eat raw pork.
The following day, Tom was surprised to hear Joseph defending his position before the men. Stepping close to Joseph, Tom growled from the side of his mouth, “Forget it, ’tis all come to naught.”
But Joseph pressed his case. “By the Spirit of God I know when to sing, to pray, to talk, even to laugh.”
Wight and some of the other men became apologetic, but Sylvester raged. “You want a man in bondage, without the freedom to speak! These prophecies, they’re lies in the name of the Lord. You’re as corrupt as the devil himself in your heart.”
Joseph seized the horn used to call the men to prayer and threw it at Sylvester. Tom caught his breath, then gasped with relief as the horn missed the man and smashed into pieces.
Three days later, the Camp of Zion moved up the bank of Fishing River, just on the border of Clay County. But before Joseph could advance his troops, cholera struck.
One by one the ranks of Zion’s Camp fell victim to the dread disease. Within two weeks sixty-eight of the army had succumbed.
Thus far Tom had been spared, but each day he counted his chances with a sinking heart as more of his comrades took to their pallets. Carrying water and the common remedy of whiskey mixed with flour, Tom made his rounds among the sick. At the same time, Joseph moved among his men, praying and laying hands upon the stricken.
Early one morning, Joseph approached as Tom filled his jugs. “You’re looking mighty worried this morning,” Tom said as he mixed the whiskey and flour together.
“Leave that mess for someone else,” Joseph ordered in a low voice. “I’ve another task for you.” He led Tom away from the men. “I understand today’s the day of the confab across the river in Clay County. You know we’ve promised to stay put until the business is settled, so I can’t stick my nose over there. I hear a Judge Ryland is meeting with the Gentiles and the Mormons to read them all the governor wants done to settle this problem.”
Tom looked at him for a moment and said slowly, “You want me to slip over easy-like, huh?”
Joseph nodded, “I want a quick report from someone I can trust to give me the truth.”
“Still scratchin’ for a fight?”
“Not me,” Joseph said bitterly. “I want a peaceful settlement of all this. It’s Wight who’s itching to use that cannon.”
Tom nodded slowly. “You’re bein’ cautious, but I heard the fellas talkin’; from something you’ve said, they’re believin’ that once they strike a sword, there’s gonna be angels right there fightin’ for them.”
Joseph turned away. “Just get over there and find out what’s going on. Keep your mouth shut as to who you are.”
Tom cut downstream and found a youth idly fishing from the security of his crudely made raft. Pulling a packet of fishhooks from his pocket, Tom hailed the boy. “You headin’ across the river?”
The boy poled closer to shore and blurted, “Them’s hooks? I wasn’t, but I would for hooks.”
It was nearly noon when Tom sauntered into the clearing where the two groups belligerently faced each other. Another group of men approached, and Tom silently merged with them, resisting the urge to pull his hat down to his ears.
He was eyed suspiciously, but was momentarily forgotten as a gentleman entered the clearing. The d
rift of conversation about him stopped as he surveyed the two groups. “Come close, men; I’ve no intention of straining my voice. The original settlers of Jackson County have drawn up a list of proposals to present to the group of Mormon settlers. With no further ado, I intend to read them to you, and then, gentlemen, the mode of settlement is upon your shoulders.
“Be advised that Governor Dunklin insists that a settlement be agreed upon. Adherence to the settlement will be enforced by law. There are a number of points that need to be made before we read the proposals, points made by legal counsel which must be taken into advisement before a satisfactory solution to the problem can be reached. First of all, Governor Dunklin points out that the Constitution of the United States guarantees that the citizens of any state shall be entitled to privileges and considerations in all states; the state boundary is no license for discrimination regarding emigration. The constitution of this state allows men the right to bear arms in defense of themselves. Also, the Constitution of these United States guarantees freedom to worship according to the dictates of a man’s conscience.
“I wish to point out that whereas the state allows arms for defense, it is strictly illegal for any group to promote the use of cannon. That is considered aggressive action, not defensive. It is rumored that both sides of this faction are preparing to use cannon.” An angry growl swept through the crowd, and Tom noticed hostile looks turned his direction. He held his breath and returned the glances with a level stare.
“Now,” continued the judge, “the proposals set out by the residents of Jackson County are as follows. With due appraisal by disinterested parties, the residents of Jackson County are prepared to buy the property of the resident Mormons of Jackson County at double the appraised value, to be paid within thirty days. If this proposal is not met with agreement by the Mormons, then the counter-proposal, the sale of the Missourians’ land under the same agreement, is also made.”
Silence held both groups. Tom was busy thinking of all the implications. The foremost memory he had was that revelation from the Lord. Briefly he closed his eyes and could clearly hear those words: “Zion shall not be moved out of her place. . . . There is no other place appointed.”
When Tom opened his eyes, Phelps was walking toward the judge. His voice rang with confidence and conviction. “Sir, we cannot accept your proposals at this time, but I do promise you that until a settlement is reached, Zion’s Camp will remain in their position on Fishing River.”
Tom straightened his shoulders, and his heart soared. Phelp’s statement brought to mind all those other revelations concerning Zion—surely not one of them would fail!
The Gentiles didn’t look as if they were planning to give up any of their positions, either. So the two groups parted with the understanding that the governor would look further into the matter.
As he made his way back across the river, Tom thought about the revelation the Lord had given Joseph in 1831. Of all the promises, this one was the most vivid, telling Joseph that Satan was stirring the Missourians to anger, to the shedding of blood, and that the land of Zion couldn’t be obtained except by purchase or the shedding of blood. Well, it didn’t look like there would be a purchase.
In Zion’s Camp, the cholera continued to claim its victims. The number of dead rose to fourteen before the disease abated.
Just two days after Tom’s foray as spy, Gilliam, Clay County’s sheriff, visited the camp. Handing Joseph Smith a copy of a letter written by the chairman of the Jackson County committee, he settled back and waited for him to read it.
When Joe folded the letter, he said, “I understand you want me to pay particular attention to the section underlined, in which it is noted that our communication is signed by persons not directly owning land in Jackson County, in other words, the heads of the church; and therefore we have no right to our claims. It’s correct that we don’t directly own land there, but we are spokesmen for the church.”
The man spoke dryly, “We understand your church has given all the property into the hands of the leaders, but around here I don’t think that’ll work. It’s each man for himself.”
Joe chewed his lip. “You are also using a revelation from the Lord to prove we have come with the intent of shedding blood. The Lord was only alerting us to the character of the inhabitants of this county. You’re trying to prove we have no intention to come by the land honorably. Seems you’re using this means to force us to buy out the Gentiles. I refuse to be threatened.”
The man pressed, “Dunklin’s directive has also stated that militia from outside the counties is unlawful. You’ve no legal right to enter the county with weapons unless you have permission from him. It is obvious you have come to Missouri with only one intention—to show force.”
“That is not the truth.” Joseph paced back and forth before the man. “We’ve come in peace!”
Tom listened as the men continued to argue; finally Joseph drew himself erect. “Gilliam, I have a plan to offer you.” An expression of surprise and relief crossed the sheriff’s face. While Joseph explained his plan, Tom watched Gilliam’s jaw drop. Then he jumped to his feet as Joseph said, “We will purchase all the property of the settlers who’ve been the warmongers. Have twelve men set the price, to be paid in one year. Then from that price we shall deduct the amount of damages sustained by our people.”
“Only if you throw in the moon to boot!” Gilliam exploded as he stomped out of the camp.
Tom watched Joseph turn away. Without another word, he entered his tent. Late in the afternoon, Joseph reappeared and called his men together to hear the latest revelation from the Lord.
Sitting on the edge of the crowd, Tom studied the men’s faces. Some of them were recovering from cholera, others had watched their friends die. All of them, from the beginning, had fretted over the whole sad situation. All were listening intently. For the first time in days, Tom watched relief and hope flicker on their weary faces.
Tom turned his attention to the words Joseph was reading. “Wait for the redemption of Zion. I will fight your battles for you. I will send the destroyer in my time to lay waste mine enemies . . .”
Tom’s relief and satisfaction were total—almost, until he heard the final words. As he walked back to his tent, the man in front of him limped along slowly, quoting the words bitterly. “‘It is expedient that they should be brought thus far for a trial of their faith.’” He turned and saw Tom. “I can’t see a blessing in the temple helping out those lads who died. That was a sore trial for the Lord to put on us.” He continued on his way, sadly shaking his head. At the sound of an angry voice rising beyond the circle of tents, Tom stopped and listened. With a sigh he turned back.
It was Wight. Standing in front of the Prophet’s tent, he shouted. “If you choose to back out now, all right, but I’m going to fight! The Lord has promised to help, and I’ll hold Him to it!”
As Tom reached the tent, Joe Smith stepped through the doorway, revelation in hand. Thrusting the papers at Wight, he spoke quietly, “Here, read it for yourself. I know you’re disappointed, but thus saith the Lord. It may help you to know that in three years’ time, we’ll march against Jackson County, and there won’t be a dog to open his mouth against us. The Lord revealed the date unto me. The day for the redemption of Zion has been set—September 11, 1836.”
That night Tom accompanied the Prophet across the river to visit the Mormons in Clay County. Joe comforted the little band of discouraged settlers with his promise to return to Ohio and raise money to buy all of Jackson County.
Finally, Joe ordered the leaders of Zion to return with him to Kirtland, Ohio, to receive their special endowments in the temple. Before they left Missouri, Joe instructed the people remaining behind to hold no public meetings and to stay away from the upcoming elections. “Don’t give them opportunity to quarrel with you,” he concluded.
Zion’s Camp tarried just long enough to hear that their settlement proposal had been rejected.
Phelps rode into
camp with a copy of the Liberty Enquirer. There was a wry twist to Joseph’s grin as he read the paper. Tossing it aside, he said, “The educated opinion of the editor is that the Mormons have scattered and that the war is over. Little do they know the Lord has promised to sweep away their pollution from the land.”
Chapter 20
In May of 1834, Jenny received a letter from Tom which disrupted the peaceful procession of ordinary days on the farm. Suddenly her mind was filled with the romantic picture of Joe, astride his steed, commanding Zion’s Camp as they marched into Missouri to claim their sacred possession.
Together with Clara in the kitchen, Jenny was preparing to feed haying crews. Caught up in her thoughts of Joseph and Missouri, Jenny stood at the kitchen window. The sun-baked fields of ripening grain and the mounding hay stacks retreated into a haze of sun-shot gold. Opening her eyes wide, she sighed and blinked.
“Jenny!” Clara waved a butcher knife at her. “You’re goin’ to blind yourself starin’ into the sun. Give that chicken a turn and go to shuckin’ that corn. Those fellas are going to be in here for their dinner. Mrs. Barton won’t be a bit happy if we make ’em wait for it.” She continued to study Jenny. “You haven’t said much lately. What’s the problem?”
Jenny walked to the stove and picked up the meat fork. “I’ve Tom on my mind a bit. He’s gone out Missouri way with Joseph Smith’s army to rescue their settlers there. I’ve been feeling lonesome, thinking how it would be if he were killed. Clara, you don’t know what it’s like, when you’ve got ten brothers and sisters. Tom’s all I have.”
“If you were being sensible, you could have Mark.” Clara sighed, shook her head, and began to slice bread to stack on the platter. “Shall I do three loaves? There’s all that corn and ’taters. I hope the rhubarb pie is sweet enough.” She threw a quick glance toward the door. “With a fella as promisin’ as Mark, with all that money he’s bound to inherit from his mother, and bein’ an attorney, I’ll never understand how you got your stars crossed and ended up wantin’ that preacher Smith.”