by Marian Wells
“I’ve a copy of the Warsaw Signal which some brother shoved in my hand as I started up the stairs. It contains an article by Foster. I’ve only scanned it briefly, but here’s one damning statement which will not escape the public’s notice. Foster accuses you of hiring Porter Rockwell to shoot Boggs.
“How long do you think it will be before Governor Ford gets wind of this? Have you anticipated your defense for destroying a newspaper in a land which holds great stock in freedom of speech?”
Mark paced the room again, took a deep breath, and headed back to Joseph. “As your attorney I suggest you start mending fences now. First, before those fellows sue you again—which would ruin you—go offer to settle out of court by financial reimbursement and a promise to allow their newspaper to publish within the city. Then,” he paused and took a deep breath, “give them what they want. Your repentance and confession.”
Joseph’s face settled into lines of suffering. “Mark, will you be a Judas, too? You are asking me to deny my Lord by refusing to acknowledge the priesthood and honor the revelation.”
“Hogwash!” Mark exploded. He paused long enough to control his temper, then said, “Joseph, I resign as your attorney, as of this minute. I’ve stayed here much longer than I should have. But it was always with the hopes of giving you the real help you need. I see now that’s impossible.”
“I agree with your decision,” Joseph said stiffly. “You have been around much too long. You realize I hired you only because of Jenny.” He acknowledged Mark’s astonishment with a grin. “I’d had my eye on her for years. I just didn’t dare make her my spiritual wife until I could do so without fear of disclosure. I no longer want her.”
Mark carried his box of legal books down to the livery stable. Dropping his load just inside the tack room, he addressed Tom. “I’ve left Joseph’s office. Until I come in with the buggy, may I leave my books here?”
Tom’s astonishment changed into a grin. “Man, am I ever glad to hear that! The way things are going around here, I was beginning to fear for you.” He shot Mark a look.
“There’s rumbles about blood atonement. You know that’s doctrine. At meeting Joseph referred to his translation of the New Testament in Matthew and Mark where he said the arm and so forth really means a brother, that it’s better to do away with a brother than to let him pull you into hell.”
When Mark turned toward the door, Tom added, “By the way, I just got word that when Joseph and his bunch moved in on the newspaper office last night, the Laws, Fosters, Higbees, and a few others headed for Carthage.”
Mark sighed with relief. “So that’s where they are. Law told me they might go.”
Tom added. “I heard this morning they’ve sworn out warrants for Joseph, charging him with riot and arson.”
The door banged. Simpson came into the tack room. “Did ya hear? Sheriff from Carthage tried to serve Joseph and the others with a writ. They’re all over at city hall right now.”
“What’s going on?” Mark asked.
“Well, the sheriff wanted to take the bunch into Carthage, but Joseph pointed out the writ didn’t specify which justice of the peace, so the fella had to give in. They’re meeting with the Nauvoo justice right now.”
Mark sighed. “Well, that settles that. Under the Nauvoo Charter the case will be dismissed. Those fellows had better hightail out of town or Joseph’ll shove them in jail for coming after him.”
Chapter 44
At first Jenny reacted with shock to Mark’s news, and then she exclaimed, “Then we can leave Nauvoo right away! Oh, Mark, I’ll be so glad to go. Something dark and brooding hangs over the whole city.”
“I’ll go into Nauvoo tomorrow to see about selling the livestock and placing the farm for sale. Do you want to go?”
Jenny replied, “Yes, I’m curious.” But she said it with a shiver as she searched Mark’s face for reassurance.
On the trip into Nauvoo the next day, they met Francis Higbee. He pulled his horse to a stop and said, “I hear you quit Joseph flat. Made any plans?” As Mark explained, Higbee held out his newspaper. “See this editorial in the Warsaw Signal? Might be a good idea to get out of here. You’re between Warsaw and Nauvoo. That won’t be good if there’s problems.” As he turned to go, he said, “You might be interested in the parade going on day after tomorrow. Joseph’s rallying the Legion.”
Jenny leaned over Mark’s shoulder to look at the paper. “Oh, Mark, it says ‘war and extermination.’ We must go! There’s John Mark to think about. Look at these words—this is a challenge to action. The editor’s calling the Saints infernal devils and advocating powder and balls to settle the matter.”
She leaned back to look at him. “Jenny, don’t look so frightened. This is Illinois, not Missouri.” But he added thoughtfully, “Joseph’s ability to arouse so much opposition everywhere he goes is frightening.”
Mark and Jenny had completed their errands by noon. Mark was shaking his head in disappointment as they carried their picnic basket into a heavily wooded area between the stream and the temple. “Taylor didn’t offer me much encouragement about selling the place. Seemed harassed and impatient. I know he had more important things on his mind. The talk going around is gloomy.”
They ate their lunch in silence while they listened to the distant clamor of Nauvoo.
John Mark went to sleep and Jenny’s eyes were heavy when Mark whispered, “I’m going back into town. I need to stop at the stable for my box of books. Why don’t you nap, too?” Jenny nodded and curled up beside the baby.
Voices awakened Jenny. Her first thought was of the baby, but he was sleeping soundly. Cautiously she sat up. The note of anxiety in the hidden speaker caught her attention. As the voice rose, she recognized it. It was Joseph.
Quietly she shifted her position and listened. A heavy, sober voice answered him, and Joseph returned bitterly, “We are ruined people.”
The heavy voice questioned, “I don’t understand; why do you say that?”
“It’s this spiritual wife doctrine. It will prove to be the downfall of us.”
“I know.” For a moment the older voice caught, nearly sobbing, then asking, “Joseph, Joseph, what can be done?”
Joseph continued, the bitterness twisting through his voice. “I’m convinced this path leads to destruction. Do you see? I have been deceived. It doesn’t promote glory—instead it’s a curse. Unless this can be stamped out of the church immediately, we’ll be forced to leave the United States, fleeing for our lives.”
Jenny didn’t hear the older man’s reply, but Joseph’s voice rose again. “You haven’t accepted the doctrine. You go to the high priesthood and threaten to excommunicate anyone practicing plural marriage. Only this route will rid the church of the damnable heresy.”
Jenny heard the buggy, and the voices stopped. She watched as Joseph and his companion got up and moved out of the trees. She saw them pause to greet Mark before leaving.
When he came to her with the question in his eyes, she pulled him close, relating the conversation.
Mark and Jenny were there in the early morning when Joseph stood on the reviewing stand outside Nauvoo House and faced the troops. The sun glinted off his sword and brightened the gold braid adorning his blue jacket. As he waited motionless, Jenny saw the breeze pick at the ostrich plume on his helmet, giving life to a scene which suddenly seemed unbelievable.
Then Joseph moved and the crowd below him stirred. The unreality was gone, and life moved on. Jenny slowly turned to see the cluster of men in uniform, fanning out across the city street. Beyond them clustered the entire populace of Nauvoo. As Joseph began to speak, Jenny sensed the rapt attention of his audience.
He referred to the Warsaw Signal article, which Mark and Jenny had seen, saying, “We are American citizens. The liberties our fathers won shall be cherished by us.” His voice deepened, “But again and again it seems we shall be forced to stand for right. My men, you must be prepared to defend your lives, homes, even our godly
heritage.
“Some think the enemy will be satisfied with my blood, but I assure you they will thirst for the blood of every man whose heart contains a spark of the spirit of the fullness of the gospel. The enemy will destroy everyone—man and woman alike—who dares trust and believe in all God has inspired me to teach. But I tell you, Israel, there must be freedom for all! Freedom to live and worship. Will you stand by me to the death? Will you promise—” The shouts of Hosanna! drowned the voice of the Prophet.
Jenny watched his smile and waited. In the silence he said, “It is well that you have promised. Otherwise I would have gone there,” he pointed westward, “and raised up a mightier people.” Unsheathing his sword, Joseph shouted, “I call God to witness. Freedom and justice for the people, protection from the mob, or my blood shall be spilled in the effort of freedom.”
The Sabbath day came upon the heels of Joseph’s address to the Legion. On that morning Mark looked at Jenny and said, “Do you want to hear Joseph today?”
With a sigh she studied his face. “It’s hot and the oppression lies heavy upon me, but yes. Like you, I’m anxious, too curious to stay away. I wonder, what will he say next?”
As Mark and Jenny rode into Nauvoo, they were very conscious of the line of frosty-eyed men guarding the roads. Jenny whispered, “Mark, what is going on?”
“It’s obvious. Joseph is not going to let one stranger into Nauvoo. He’s established martial law. You might say in the midst of freedom, we are a fortified city.”
When Joseph began his sermon, Jenny sighed with disappointment. He was talking about consecration.
Raising his arm, Joseph cried, “My people, I want you to prove your loyalty in time of need. Consecrate—yes, come forward and give us all your property that the manifold blessings shall rest upon you. Place your all at the feet of the apostles. There must be a speedy completion of the temple if the wishes of the Lord are to be fulfilled.”
Abruptly he turned to face the line of elders and high priests behind him. His voice was deep and accusing as he charged, “There are those among you who will betray me. You have delivered me up to the enemy to be slain.”
After service Tom joined Mark and Jenny. He shook his head at their offer, saying, “Joseph has put me on to guard him. Sending so many of the men outta town to campaign for him has left us short-handed. Fortunately, it won’t last for long. He’s dispatched letters to them all, telling them to hightail for Nauvoo.”
“Then he’s getting worried, isn’t he?” Mark asked. Tom nodded, saying, “Much as I am uneasy about this whole affair, I’m trapped. I’ll be dogging his heels until some of the fellas are back in town.”
“It could take a long time to round them up,” Mark cautioned with a worried frown.
Tom was shaking his head. “Naw, maybe not.” After a moment he added. “Don’t worry about me. I did some thinking about it all. Seems I’ve ended up feeling sorry fer Joseph. I see him a-pullin’ his house in on his head. Right now I’d just like to stick close.”
He was silent for a moment and then added, “Just a few minutes ago, Joseph was getting set for an inspection tour of the defenses around the city when a guard came up to him with a note from Governor Ford. Seems he’s had wind of the Expositor burning, and he’s asked Joseph to send some of his men to Carthage to confer with him. Taylor and Bernheisel have gone. They’re pretty levelheaded.”
“Tom!” Mark exclaimed, “I don’t like the sounds of that at all. It’s what we’ve all been fearing, though. Does Joseph have counsel to represent him?”
“I don’t have any information. Look, Mark, I’ll keep you informed. You folks lay low out at that farm.”
Tom was at Nauvoo House late Monday night when the two men returned to Nauvoo. It was Taylor who said, “Joseph, Ford insists you go to Carthage for trial. He’s saying it will help everyone to see you’re interested in obeying the laws of the state. I didn’t like the sight of so many of your enemies hanging around Carthage, and told Ford so. I think he’s a tad uneasy too, but he said to come without a Legion guard for the sake of peace. He’ll see you’re protected.”
Without answering, Joseph paced back and forth before the cold pit of the fireplace. The tension in the room rose; Richards mopped his brow while Bernheisel shifted uneasily on his chair. There was a sound of scratching at the door and Joseph whirled.
“Just that mongrel dog of yours,” muttered the guard, shifting his rifle.
“Let’s go in the dining room!” Joseph snapped. “Tom stay outside the door. Are you armed?”
It was dawn when the door to the dining room flew open and Joseph came through. “Tom, I’m convinced the mob’s after just Hyrum and me. Get into town and see that everyone settles down to business. You know, life as usual, just as if there’s not a fear afoot. When the militia comes in, let ’em search.
“Hyrum and I’ll cross the river tonight as soon as it’s dark.” He turned to the guard at the door. “Get a replacement in here. Now, here’s a list of things we’ll need. I’m taking Rockwell, Tom, and a couple of others. We’ll be headed west before Ford knows what’s happening.”
The next night, across the river in Montrose, Tom, with Joseph and Hyrum, worked in the shed behind the home of the Saint who had taken them in. “Nearly finished,” Joseph grunted, yanking on the ropes securing the load on the wagon. “Wish Rockwell would get over here with the rest of the goods. I’d like to be out of here while it’s still dark. A hard day of riding will put us into the trees in Iowa, then we’ll be running free.”
Tom was grateful for the darkness hiding the dismay on his face. When the board snapped outside, Joseph swung his gun and crouched. Porter’s heavy voice said, “Joseph?”
When he came into the light, Joseph slowly put his gun away, saying, “What’s the problem?”
Rockwell sat down and scratched his head. “The feeling’s bad in Nauvoo. Everyone’s seein’ this as you skipping out on them instead of helping. They’re callin’ you a coward. Emma’s sent you a letter.”
Joseph moved close to the lantern and, after reading, said slowly, “She’s begging me to come back and face trial. I can’t believe she’d ask this.” His voice was stunned.
The silence had become almost intolerable when Joseph sighed and looked at Rockwell. “What do you think I should do?”
Rockwell’s jaw dropped. He looked uneasily around. “Joseph, how come you’re askin’ me?” He shrugged helplessly and Joseph turned to Hyrum.
“Before we left you voted to face the music. What do you think we should do now?”
Hyrum’s face brightened. “If we return they’ll be convinced of the divine call behind our mission.”
There was silence for a long time, and finally Joseph nodded. Rockwell said, “The boat’s waiting at the dock.”
Early the next morning Joseph dispatched a message to Ford, advising him that he would surrender. Then he sent messengers to round up the city council, officers of the Legion, and trusted members of the priesthood.
It was past noon when Joseph came out of Nauvoo House and mounted Charlie. Facing Tom he said, “I want you to come with me. For your information, I’ve instructed the men to gather up the personal arms in the city and stack them. We don’t want to be caught short like we were in Missouri. I’m certain Ford will be in here to gather up the state’s arms. If he happens to think that’s all there are, well, fine.”
Just outside of Nauvoo, the little band met Captain Dunn with a company of militia. Dunn reined in. “Sir, we’ve been commissioned to procure the state’s arms.”
Joseph nodded and said, “Come. I prefer escorting you to avoid any problems. I’ve some men who are more loyal than thoughtful.”
The gathering of arms took up most of the afternoon. The shadows were long and the sky full of pastel clouds when the group turned their horses toward Carthage. Just outside of Nauvoo the Saints lined the road, watching their Prophet, Hyrum, some of the elders, and members of the city council as they passed o
n their way to Carthage.
Joseph raised his hand in answer to their salute. “Israel, take care. Like a lamb to the slaughter, I go. My conscience is clear. Toward God and man there is no taint of offense.”
Chapter 45
It was late when the party reached Carthage. As they rode down the city streets, Tom was seized with apprehension. Every mile of the way was lined with troops.
By the time the group reached Hamilton House, the troops pressed close on their heels. Now Tom could spot a new group sprinkled throughout the troops.
Shabby in their dress, faces set, unmoving as stone, they watched the Saints. Porter muttered, “Them’s from Warsaw and Quincy. I recognize ’em.”
As the militia parted, allowing Joseph and his party to enter the hotel, the rumble of sound erupted into jeers and cat-calls.
Through the open door the group from Nauvoo could see the crowd pressing close. As the tempo of the shouting grew, just as abruptly there was silence. From overhead came a crash and a thin reedy voice shouted, “Go back to your homes! You want to see Joseph the Prophet? Tomorrow will be soon enough. Go!”
“Governor Ford,” muttered the desk clerk. He nodded at Joseph. “May want to confer with you. Dan’l here will take you up to your rooms.”
Assembled in Joseph’s room, they listened as he gave terse orders. Tom watched the play of expression across the Prophet’s face and felt his own heart squeeze with fear.
“Rockwell,” Joseph said, “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I mistrust these hoodlums. Stay as close as possible tomorrow. If it looks like trouble, head for Nauvoo. The Legion will have enough munitions to rescue me.”
The next day Tom still sensed the restless, heavy mood of the town. When they had breakfasted and followed the governor out into town, they discovered the troops were again lining the street.
Governor Ford gave his instructions in a low voice, and Joseph turned to his men with a sardonic smile. “We’re on exhibition.”