by Marian Wells
“Tom, for the years you spent following the Prophet while he did his money digging, you are a mite sarcastic. I’d expect more sympathy. Would you like me to give you a love potion?” He reddened, and Jenny pressed on, “I intend to have the power, no matter how it must come about.”
“What you want power for?” Jenny closed her eyes for a moment and tried to line up the reasons, but saw only that vision of Sally, assured and confident. “Jen,” he said impatiently, “why is it you can never be satisfied with anything?”
“It goes deeper than being satisfied. I suppose I’m just tired of being a nothing.”
Tom’s eyes widened. “Married to one of the most important men in town outside Joseph and his twelve, and she calls it nothing.”
“It’s how I feel.” Now the new thought came. Jenny contemplated the visions of Joseph. “Maybe,” she said slowly, “I need to go talk religion with Joseph.”
Tom frowned again. “Meaning?” His eyes were watchful.
“Meaning, I can’t spend all my time with the sewing circle or at Sally’s. Meaning, sometimes I have serious thoughts in my head.”
She knew he was still watching her as she headed down the street toward Joseph’s office. Her heart was heavy as she contemplated the lonely figure of her brother—silent, faithful, undemanding. She couldn’t help wondering whether he ever had experienced this brooding need to split through the seams of life and discover something for himself.
Unexpectedly, her latest discovery burst into her mind and she shivered. Would autumn’s terrible vision ever leave her? Again she murmured, “I’m through with the craft forever.” The familiar discontent settled upon her. All the spirit-world’s promises of power and knowledge had come to naught. Except for the bid for higher status offered only through the dreaded sabbat, she had tried every trick of the craft, and still she was only weak Jenny.
As Jenny approached Joseph’s store, she began to wonder how she would win an audience with the Prophet alone. Surely Mark—or at least some of the twelve—would be with him.
She hesitated at the bottom of the long flight of stairs stretching up the exterior brick wall of the store. She was self-conscious, aware that every eye on the street would take stock of Jenny Cartwright going to Joseph’s office. “And every Saint in town will be chewing over Jenny, wondering what problem has sent her running to the Prophet for advice.” Jenny abruptly decided she needed a bit of cloth to stitch.
Joseph was inside, in his shirt sleeves, stocking shelves as casually as a junior clerk. When he noticed her he said, “Mark’s gone to Carthage for me. Business. You could buy a ham or a nice new plow while you are here.”
After greeting him she lowered her voice. “Joseph, it’s you I must see.”
His hands slowed among the boxes and rolls of twine. She nearly squirmed under the questions in his eyes, the faint smile. “I need advice. Joseph, it’s important. There’s no other place to go.”
“Have you seen Dr. Bennett? Surely he can help you out.”
“What? Joseph, not medical. I want to talk about the craft and—religion.”
He frowned, then his face cleared in a smile. “Then wait by the stove.” He jerked his head toward the women in the store. “They’ll soon be gone.”
When the store was empty, he came back to her. Sitting down on the bench beside her, he clasped his hands and leaned forward. “Jenny, my dear, what seems to be the problem?”
She backed away, too conscious of the small space between them and the warmth of him reaching through her chill. Caught by the significance, she frowned in annoyance. For a moment she studied his face, wondering again at the magnetism of this man. His smile was encouraging.
“Joseph,” she groped for a beginning. “Do you still have the talisman?”
“Yes, but I’m wise this time; I’ll not take it out for you to see.”
“I’d forgotten that,” she said, and his grin flashed, underscoring the lie while she blushed. “Joseph, I didn’t forget. I just didn’t want you getting the best of me right off.”
“Right off?”
She ignored the thrust. “I need to know. Do you remember in Missouri at Captain Patten’s funeral you said that you had the power to give to those who wanted it? I want that power.”
He was silent for a long time. In the dim building, the fire snapped in the stove and the red light of it shone through the open door, reminding Jenny of the mirror and the spirit world she had seen. She shivered, and he lifted his head. Now shadows from the threatening storm were hiding Joseph’s eyes.
“Jenny,” he said slowly, while she peered at him. “I believe you are serious; but let me ask you some questions. You mentioned the talisman. I’ve told you I’d renounced the craft. No longer do I get my power from this source. It is through the church and the promise given to the priesthood that I now know power. Are you unaware that the promise of the priesthood is only for men and, through them, their wives?”
“I don’t understand the priesthood, I’ve heard little about it. Seems no one knows enough to talk about it now.”
“That’s good. Most of the details haven’t yet been revealed. It shall be soon. I’m waiting for my people to purify themselves through the ordinances; then the Lord has promised the fullness of the gospel will be given.”
“But, power!” Her voice broke. “Joseph, the need is destroying me. How long can a person take the promise without the fulfillment? I tremble with fear of my inadequacy. Please—”
“Don’t push. There’s nothing I can do unless you meet the requirements of the gospel. Have you prepared yourself by reading the Scriptures? Are you paying your tithing, doing your part to build up the Saints?”
“I . . . I don’t know. There’s much I don’t know right now.”
“I suggest you become a learner. I’ve plans to have some of the older women teach the younger all the ordinances of the faith. Until we can do this, just do your work at home.”
“What do you mean?”
Joseph took a deep breath and reached for her hand. “Jenny, your husband is as nearly apostate as I can tolerate. He’s always given me a difficult time. Without disclosing the details of our talk, my instruction to you is that you win him to the church by your saintly life. This is very important. Without a husband to take you to the highest degree of heaven, you’ll never receive the power on this earth, never be more than a slave in the hereafter.”
It was snowing hard when Jenny left the store, but she was so deep in thought that she was unconscious of the wet, cold flakes against her face. She was also unaware of Mark dismounting and walking toward the store just as she hurried away.
Looking after her retreating back, he frowned and faced Joseph. “That was Jenny. Why was she here?”
“Mark, remember, I’m Jenny’s spiritual advisor. Why else would she be here? I’ve told her to pull up tight the reins around home and in time she will inherit all the blessings of the Lord, which she so desperately longs for.”
For a moment he frowned at Mark and then he clapped him on the shoulder. “Come in and tell me what you’ve been able to come up with in Carthage.”
****
Mark reached the livery stable just as Jenny stepped back in her buggy. Tom was beside her, and Mark handed the reins of his mount to him. “Old Nell’s had enough for the day. Put her up for the night. I’ll drive Jenny home.”
Jenny slid over and Mark said, “Your nose is like a cherry already, and we’ve nearly five miles to go. Why did you venture out in such a storm?”
“There were only a few flakes when I left—besides, I was taking your advice. I was sick of my own company.”
“Did Joseph give you some good advice?” He stressed the word slightly and Jenny glanced up at him. She frowned, and Mark was instantly sorry. He settled into his overcoat and reached for the lap robe.
He was still berating himself for allowing his jealousy to show as he tucked the robe around Jenny. “Now, let’s see how fast this rig will move,
” he said lightly.
He flicked the reins across the back of the mare and headed through Nauvoo. Glancing at Jenny he saw the faint smile on her lips and felt that twinge again. Was it related to the angry scene he had interrupted in Joseph’s office this morning?
Jenny turned her head toward him and asked, “Did you have a good trip to Carthage?”
He shook his head. “So Joseph told you. Actually, I could see no reason to have gone. The fellow I was to contact has been out of the state for a month. His business partner looked at me as if I were slightly deranged when I asked after him.” He was silent, thinking again about the confrontation between the two men that morning. Those words had capped all the ugly rumors he had been hearing. He knew a confrontation with Joseph was fast approaching.
Mark shot another glance at Jenny. The faint smile was still on her lips. “You look pleased,” he stated. “That must mean your meeting went well.”
She turned to him with a puzzled look. “It was the snow I was smiling about. It’s pleasant now that I needn’t ride home alone. I don’t know what to think about my meeting with Joseph. I’m feeling more was left unsaid than was said.”
“How’s that?” he asked cautiously.
“There are so many gaps in my religion. So much I don’t understand, and so much more I need. Joseph put me off by saying there’s new revelations to be made to the church in the future. He didn’t give me any help except to tell me to go home and read the Scriptures.”
Mark straightened and turned to study Jenny’s face intently. She was busy flicking snow off her shawl and drawing it more tightly around her head, and she didn’t see his excitement. Carefully he settled back and compared this with the information rolling around in his mind. So Jenny isn’t happy with her religion! he mused.
He felt his grin disappearing. New revelations. That seemed to fit in with the scene he had interrupted between Joseph and his brother, Don Carlos.
This morning he had arrived early at the office over the grocery store. Obviously neither man had anticipated an audience to their angry scene. He had heard Don Carlos as he walked in. The man’s flushed, angry face had emphasized his words, and his wrath had delivered the rest of them. Turning to Joseph, he shouted, “I don’t care if you are my brother and the Prophet of the living God. Sure as I stand here, you’ll go to hell if you preach the spiritual wife doctrine. Hyrum feels the same. He told me last night that he’s confident it will break up the church.”
The angry red left Don Carlos’ face, and he paused on his way to the door. Mark saw the anguish in his eyes. “Hyrum said it could cost your life. I don’t know what he meant by that unless—” Suddenly he noticed Mark. He ducked his head and hurried out the door.
Mark became aware that Jenny was throwing worried glances at his frowns, and he snatched up the conversation again. “Jen, tell me where your church has failed you.” He saw the startled expression and watched her shrug.
In the morning, Jenny was still wondering how to answer Mark. As she broke eggs into the sizzling fat, Mark came into the kitchen. “One thing I did find out yesterday,” he said, as he turned the bread toasting on the stove, “Joseph has had communication from Dr. Bennett.”
“Isn’t he in Springfield?”
“Yes. He wrote that the Nauvoo Charter passed the house without being read.”
Jenny dropped the knife she held. “You mean after all the fearing you and Joseph went through over that charter, they didn’t even read it?”
“That’s right.” She studied his frown and waited. “Seems like careless legislation. I have a hard time reconciling that with my friend, Lincoln. But those are the facts. The state has granted the little Mormon municipality a charter that, if it goes unchallenged, virtually makes us a state within a state.”
“Well, tell me what the charter is all about.”
“I can give you a copy to read, but for now here are the facts: Besides the expected items such as incorporating the city, even providing for a university, there’s the clause calling for a militia to be called the Nauvoo Legion.
“The charter will give the city council power to make and execute ordinances not repugnant to the state or United States constitution.” He paused, adding, “Note this, my dear, it is an ambiguous statement wide open to all kinds of interpretation.
“Among other items, the mayor of the city will be chief justice of the municipal court, empowered to issue writs of habeas corpus, with the power to try those issued from other courts, including trying the original actions in the case. In effect, the court has the power to cast out everything that goes against the desires of—you guessed it—Joseph. I don’t think he’ll have to worry about Missouri as long as the charter is in effect.”
“This is the first big step toward getting approval to be designated a territory.” Jenny’s eyes were wide, and Mark winced. “That’s not good?”
“It will be impossible. I just wish he would give up on his foolish dream. Jen, if I’d any idea Joseph hadn’t learned his lesson in Missouri, I would never have accepted his job offer.”
“The people here have been so good to us, except for those in Warsaw, Warren and—”
“And anyone else close enough to be touched by the Saints.” He followed Jenny to the table. He had only taken two bites of his breakfast when he said, “Lincoln made a statement concerning the law that goes something like this: municipal law, that is, local law, is a standard for conduct approved by the state governing bodies, and it’s for the purpose of fostering right and correcting wrong.”
“But you’re talking about law—not about a community set up to live under God’s holy Prophet and kingdom rules.”
“Jenny, my dear, you sound too Mormon.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I can practically quote chapter and verse. You don’t really believe that. Why don’t you think it through? Why don’t you read and question, even argue just as you have done in the past?”
“I suppose because I am an adult now. I should have the questions settled. It isn’t mature to go through life fussing over everything.”
“It isn’t mature not to, if you know a question deep down inside.”
She was slowly lowering the dishes into the dishpan when he came back into the kitchen. He was wearing his coat and drawing on the mittens she had knit for him. “Jenny, what’s wrong? Why don’t you bring your questions to me instead of to Joseph? I saw how torn you were in Springfield when you were practicing what you called your nature religion, worshiping in the forest by the light of the moon. That didn’t satisfy you—as a matter of fact, it was destroying you. Now I’m seeing the same dissatisfaction. Will you let me help you?”
“Mark, you are apostate.”
“Perhaps. Yet Joseph values my judgment enough to offer this position.”
Chapter 6
Events concerning the Mormons seemed to move just as rapidly as spring was moving upon the country. Jenny stood on her front porch watching the birds flitting back and forth across the pasture, carrying twigs to the large oak tree beside the barn. Some of the events taking place in Nauvoo were puzzling to her.
The town was growing rapidly. Just this month ten thousand had gathered at the temple for the ceremony of laying the cornerstone. Nearly every Sabbath, the meeting in the temple clearing produced a larger crowd and new faces. She thought of last week’s sermon and winced. Even Mark didn’t know the reason behind Brigham Young’s sermon. His face had been very sober as he had watched the stranger turn and slip out of the crowd just as Brigham Young had put his pistol back inside his coat.
Now Jenny shook her head. “Brigham, I don’t know you very well, but I’d always credited you with more intelligence than that,” she murmured to herself. “In the past Joseph’s always made the wild statements, but you nearly capped them all when you said what you did.”
Shivering, Jenny whispered the words Brigham had roared at the crowd: “‘The earth is the Lord’s and therefore it belongs t
o the Saints!’ But Brig, you shouldn’t have waved that pistol and said this is the way we intend to take it.”
Walking back to the house, she stopped at the pasture to look at the lambs. The chickens were nesting, and there was another new lamb in the pasture. Mark predicted the cow would be freshening soon. Even the women of Nauvoo seemed to be blossoming with expected life.
Everyone except Jenny. It was becoming increasingly painful to go to the weekly sewing circle—except that it was a good place to pick up the latest gossip. She chuckled, shaking her head.
“Jenny.” Mark came down the stairs two at a time. He paused to finish tucking his tie under his collar and then said, “There’s a parade and speeches in town today; want to ride in with me?”
“Oh, I suppose so. I’ve nothing much else to do.”
“It isn’t that bad, is it? It’s spring and the world is blossoming out all over, even in our pasture.”
“Everywhere except in me,” she sighed, turning away.
He nuzzled the back of her neck. “Don’t give up yet,” he murmured.
“Do you suppose I should see Dr. Bennett?” she turned.
Mark’s head snapped, his answer explosive. “No!”
“What is the problem? Mark, he’s the only real doctor in town and you should see the way people—”
“People, or only women?”
“Well, the women at the sewing circle. I must say I can’t understand them. Just mention his name and there are all kinds of funny reactions. Still, it seems safer to go to a qualified doctor instead of that fellow who just hands out herbs.”
He looked at her quizzically, “A couple of years ago you were handing out the herbs.”
“True.” She paused, frowning over the things she had heard. “There’re whispers of Dr. Bennett misbehaving with some questionable women—those fancy ladies living down by the wharf. I heard he’s responsible for that brothel. Remember? Sally pointed it out to us.”