The Work and the Glory

by Gerald N. Lund

  They lay there for several seconds, both men gulping in huge draughts of air, bodies trembling, sweat pouring down their faces. The Steeds stood silently, staring down in disbelief. Finally, Joseph rolled over, turning just enough so his face looked across at Nathan’s. “That’s two,” he gasped. And he reached out to grasp Nathan’s shaking hand.

  Benjamin walked over and, taking each one by the hand, pulled them both up. He slapped Nathan on the shoulder, then turned and gave Joseph an appraising look. “Next time we’ve got one of them hickory stumps to come out, I think we’ll just hook you up and spare the mules.”

  “That’s as close as I’ve come to losing in a long time,” Joseph managed between breaths.

  Nathan shook his head. “If that’s supposed to make me feel better, it ain’t working.”

  Joseph put his arm around him, trying to laugh between his gasping. “Next time, I think I’ll stop at Matthew.”

  Chapter Three

  Joshua pulled the mules up, stopping the wagon across the street from McBride’s dry goods store. He handed the reins to Nathan. “Look, we could save some time if I go in and get the supplies Ma needs while you and Joseph go on down and get the seed.”

  Nathan guffawed. “Since when were you worried about saving time while you were in town?”

  Joseph Smith, who sat on the wagon seat between the two brothers, looked at the younger Steed soberly. “I don’t know, Nathan. I understand this Lydia McBride girl is real slow when it comes to waiting on certain customers.”

  Joshua, who had jumped down from the wagon, looked up sharply, but he couldn’t hold it and a sheepish grin stole across his face. “Well, there’s no sense all of us going in.”

  Nathan had gone as serious as Joseph. “Don’t know ‘bout that. What if Lydia’s mother comes out to help you? You might need someone in there to keep her occupied.”

  Joshua frowned. That hit closer to the truth than he wished. There was always the chance Lydia’s father or mother would be working behind the counter. And Lydia’s mother was as sour as cider left too long in the cellar, particularly when one Joshua Steed hovered too long around her daughter.

  “Tell you what, Nathan,” Joseph said, making as if to get down. “I’ll take her pa and keep him busy. You hog-tie her mother down. That way Joshua’ll get to at least say hello to that young lady he fancies.”

  Joshua flushed, and waved them off. “I’ll get by,” he growled.

  He shook his head as they laughed and Nathan clucked at the mules. Was his eagerness to see Lydia so transparent? Not that it would change things much if it was. It had been almost three weeks since the day he had come in to get supplies and to meet Joseph and Hyrum and bring them back to the farm. Twice in that time his father had come to the village, leaving the boys to work in the fields. Both times Joshua had volunteered to go in his stead, hinting as broadly as he dared, but as usual his father paid no attention and went himself. But today there was a wagonload of wheat seed to get, and a light rain that morning had left the fields too wet to work. So Hyrum Smith had gone home to work at the Smith farm, and Joshua, Nathan, and Joseph were sent for seed while Benjamin cut planking for the new smokehouse.

  Now, as Joshua watched Nathan and Joseph drive off, he shook his head again. Good thing his father didn’t know about his real motives for coming to town. Being a New Englander through and through, Benjamin Steed had a farmer’s basic mistrust of highbred city folk, and somehow Joshua knew his father would not approve of his burning interest in Lydia McBride.

  Taking a quick breath, Joshua turned and went inside. But his anticipation was quickly dashed. The only person in the store was Lydia’s mother. A prim woman with a pinched mouth and tiny, fluttering hands, she was polite but cool. There was nothing Joshua could do but give her the list of the items his mother had requested. He was back out on the steps in less than five minutes, keenly disappointed. It was mid-April, and with the weather warming fast now, that meant plowing and planting time. It would likely be another two or three weeks before he got a chance to come in again.

  Glumly he walked to the edge of the boardwalk, set the box of supplies down, and settled in to wait for Joseph and Nathan.

  “Why, Mr. Steed, I didn’t know you were in town.”

  Joshua stumbled to his feet with a sudden leap of joy. Lydia was coming down the walk in company with two other young girls of the same age. They were all dressed in Sunday best, their bustle skirts rustling as they walked, parasols twirling merrily.

  Joshua swept off his hat, nodding quickly. “Afternoon, Miss Lydia.” He bobbed his head at the others, barely taking his eyes off Lydia’s face. “Good afternoon.”

  The girls curtsied, suppressing giggles behind the lowered lashes.

  “Joshua Steed, these are my best girlfriends. Miss Elizabeth Ann Rowley and Miss Mary Beth Beesley.”

  “How do you do, Mr. Steed?” Joshua felt his face flushing again as they held out their hands, appraising him with unabashed openness. Then with knowing smiles they excused themselves and hurried away, glancing back over their shoulders and tittering as they went.

  Lydia watched them for a moment, half embarrassed, half amused, then turned up her head and smiled at him, a dazzling smile that revealed the even whiteness of her teeth. “I’m pleased to see you again, Joshua.”

  “Me too.” He stopped, aware of how foolish he must look and sound. He looked down at the box. “We had to come in for some seed and things,” he finished lamely.

  Just then the sound of a wagon caught his attention. He turned around, frowning. It was Nathan and Joseph already returning, the wagon creaking heavily under the weight of two dozen bags of wheat seed. Trying to hide his disappointment, he turned back. “Well…uh…I guess we’ll see you again next time we get to town.”

  She watched the approaching wagon for a moment, then spoke quickly. “Will you be coming to the barn raising Saturday afternoon?”

  Joshua’s head came up, suddenly eager. “Hadn’t heard there was one.”

  “Yes. Calvin Rupert’s adding on to his livery stable down on the east end of Main Street. All the men folk will pitch in and help. The women will be fixing supper. There will be games for the children.”

  “I’ll tell Pa. Mr. Rupert helped with our cabin last fall.” And, he suddenly decided, if Pa was too busy getting stumps out, then Joshua would come in alone.

  “Good.” She smiled shyly up at him. “I’ll watch for you.”

  She looked up as Nathan pulled the wagon up to the hitching rail.

  Taking the box of supplies he had bought, Joshua walked to the wagon and swung them over the back gate, jamming them down between two of the bulging sacks of grain. Nathan had swung down to help, but seeing Joshua had it done he turned around and came face-to-face with Lydia.

  He stopped, his mouth dropping slightly. Joshua stepped to him and poked him with his elbow. “Miss Lydia, this here’s Nathan, my younger brother. Nathan, meet Miss Lydia McBride.”

  Nathan jumped a little, his face coloring. He stuck out his hand, suddenly shy and awkward. “I’m right pleased to meet you, Miss Lydia,” he managed to say.

  She took his hand briefly, smiling. “Yes,” she said, “I could have guessed you were a Steed. You look very much like your mother.”

  “Afternoon, Miss Lydia.”

  She looked up to where Joseph was sitting. He had taken off his hat and was smiling pleasantly at her.

  “Hello, Mr. Smith.” Joshua started a little. There it was again. The instant coolness swept the smile from her face as it had the last time she had spoken to Joseph.

  As before, Joseph gave no sign of having noticed. “Hope things are well with you and yours.”

  “They are, thank you kindly.” She quickly turned to Nathan. “Pleased to meet you, Nathan.” Then to Joshua, “Well, my family is expecting me. I’d better go in.”

  He nodded. “We’ve got to get back too. Good-bye.”

  “Hope you can help with the barn raising.” />
  Joshua nodded eagerly. “I’ll—we’ll be there.”

  Nathan swung up on the wagon seat. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss—”

  A raucous cry cut him off in midsentence. “Why, there’s ol’ Joe Smith.”

  They all swung around. Across the street three men were stopped. One was pointing towards them.

  “Why, it is, it is!” crowed another. “It’s ol’ Joe Smith.” He grabbed the arm of his nearest companion. “Let’s go pay our respects.”

  The three locked arms in mock solemnity and started across toward them. Joshua shot a sideways glance up at Joseph. The smile was gone now and he looked straight ahead. Lydia, her intent to go inside forgotten, turned back to await the trio.

  The three came round the wagon and hopped up on the sidewalk to face Joshua and Lydia. The one who had first called swept off his hat and bowed with exaggerated courtesy. “Afternoon, Miss Lydia.”

  He was about the same age as Joshua and of the same height but much more solidly built. A flannel shirt was hanging out of baggy, worn pants held up by filthy suspenders. His hair was thick and black and greasy, his beard a rough, three-day growth of whiskers. The two with him were younger and slightly smaller; but other than that, there was little difference between the three.

  Surprisingly, Lydia responded to them quite amiably. “Good afternoon, Will. Afternoon, David. Hello, Mark.”

  The other two spoke as one. “Hello, Miss Lydia.”

  The one called Will shot a quick look up to where Joseph Smith sat on the wagon seat, then back to Lydia. “Miss Lydia, you out here learnin’ more about them there angels, are you?”

  Lydia laughed lightly, studiously not looking up at Joseph. “No. I was just coming from the piano recital over at Miss Carrie’s boardinghouse.” She turned a little. “This is Joshua Steed. His father bought some acreage next to the Harris farm north of town.”

  The leader stuck out a hand, heavily calloused and with dirt under the fingernails. “Will Murdock,” he said.

  Joshua took it, not surprised that the grip was weak, almost flabby.

  “Heard a new family had come in.” Then, remembering his manners, he jerked his head slightly toward his companions. “This here’s my brother, David. And this is my cousin Mark Cooper.”

  Joshua shook hands with both of the others, trying not to show his distaste. He then motioned toward Nathan. “This is my brother Nathan. And Joseph you seem to know.”

  “Oh yes,” Will said gravely, “we know Joe Smith, don’t we boys?” He looked up at Joseph, his face as innocent as a baby’s, as the other two hooted. “And how are you today, sir?”

  “I’m fine, Will.” Joseph answered easily and with a half smile. “I see you’ve been warming the stools down at Phelps’s tavern again.”

  Will’s mouth tightened and his eyes got suddenly ugly. “You got the gold Bible yet?” he sneered.

  There was no response from Joseph, but the question certainly got a reaction from the Steeds. Both Nathan and Joshua jerked around to stare first at Will, then at Joseph.

  “What?” Will chortled. “Ain’t ol’ Joe here told you about his gold Bible yet?” He looked up. “Why, for shame, Joe. People just love that story, especially the part ‘bout them angels flying round your house.”

  Joseph remained calm and unruffled, as though bearing with considerable patience the mindless pattering of a child. He just looked at Will Murdock steadily, the clear blue eyes not wavering. Will tried to match his gaze, then started to squirm and finally turned away.

  When it became obvious there would be no further response from Joseph, Joshua turned to Lydia, the look on his face clearly asking for an explanation. She just shook her head slightly. Then, as an afterthought, she looked up and said, “I heard tell, Mr. Smith, the waiting time is up this fall. Is that true?”

  Joseph turned slowly and looked at her. Once more it was a steady gaze, without malice, but probing, searching. Will Murdock had looked away under the intensity of Joseph’s look, but Lydia’s chin only came up a fraction of an inch higher. “Well? Is it true? Will you be paying for your supplies in gold from now on?”

  He shook his head, his eyes amused. “No. I think we’ll be buying our things same as other folks. You can count on that.”

  Will’s brother, David, stepped forward, chin jutting out, chest expanded. “Hey, Joe, tell us what an angel looks like? Was it a boy angel or a girl angel?” He started to laugh. It was a jarring sound, like the barking of a dog trying to clear a bone caught in its throat.

  “Yeah,” echoed Mark Cooper. He openly sneered. “Why don’t ya send one of them angels to tell us how to find some buried treasure?”

  Lydia laughed aloud, tossing her head in contempt. Again Joshua was taken aback by her reaction. What was it that she and her pa had against the Smiths? He lifted one eyebrow, silently questioning her, but she refused to meet his probing look. He turned back to Joseph, curious now. “What are they talking about, Joseph?”

  But at that moment the door to the store opened and Lydia’s father stepped out. “Lydia!”

  It brought them all around. Josiah McBride was not a tall man; in fact he was an inch or two shorter than his wife. But he was one of Palmyra’s leading citizens, an elder in the Presbyterian church with his own family pew, and a member of the recently elected town council. He was short, but no one in Palmyra thought of him as a little man. And now he was drawn up to his full height, the anger obvious on his face.

  “Yes, Father?” Her voice had turned instantly contrite.

  “There’s better things to do than sit in the street and pass on idle gossip.”

  “Yes, Father.” She turned, lowering her voice as she passed Joshua. “Saturday afternoon. I’ll see you there.”

  Joshua nodded with a quick flush of pleasure.

  As Lydia brushed by her father and entered the store, McBride turned to Will Murdock. His voice went suddenly hard. “Unless you boys are planning to buy something, why don’t you move on somewhere else.”

  Will swept off his hat and bowed low, but his eyes were burning with resentment. “Why, sure, Mr. McBride,” he said sarcastically. “Ain’t nothin’ in your store we need.” Then to his two companions, but loudly enough for the storekeeper to hear, he added, “Not at your prices, anyway.”

  With a laugh he turned and started jauntily away, the other two falling in step beside him. Without slowing he called back over his shoulder, “We’ll be waitin’ for you when you get them gold plates, Joe. You can count on that!”

  The storekeeper’s dark eyes swung around to bore into Joshua. Jumping as though he had been burned, Joshua hopped into the back of the wagon as Nathan picked up the reins. “Thank you for the supplies, Mr. McBride,” he said politely.

  The balding man merely nodded, then turned and went inside.

  They drove in silence, moving west along Main Street until they came to the road that led north across the bridge over the Erie Canal. Finally Joshua could stand it no more. He climbed up to the wagon seat, squeezing in between Joseph and Nathan. He was barely settled before he turned to Joseph. “All right. What’s all this talk about angels and a gold Bible?”

  Joseph had picked up a small piece of straw from beneath his feet. Now he pulled it apart slowly, letting the shredded pieces blow away in the breeze. Finally, he turned. He seemed to be choosing his words very carefully. “Joshua, do you really think angels go around showing people where to find buried treasure?”

  Joshua snorted in derision. “Of course not.”

  “Good. I don’t believe angels do that either.”

  “But they were talking about a gold Bible.”

  Joseph flipped the straw away, then leaned back, chuckling softly. “When you hear a donkey braying in the barnyard,” he said, his voice suddenly wry, “it’s one thing to listen; it’s something else to assume the donkey’s saying somethin’ important.”

  Nathan laughed right out loud. “Well said, Joseph. Well said.”

  Jos
hua shot him a withering look. But it quickly became evident Joseph was not going to say any more. He parried two or three of Joshua’s further questions, then changed the subject and began talking with Nathan.

  Joshua sat back, watching out of the corner of his eye the young man who had come to work for them. The Murdocks were clearly less than the salt of the earth, but Joseph had not denied anything they said, just neatly sidestepped Joshua’s questions. Maybe Joseph thought it was over, but Joshua’s curiosity had been piqued. There would be another time with Lydia, and then he would get to the bottom of this.

  Joshua, working in tandem with Joseph Smith, snaked the chain under the end of the log and snugged it tight. As Joseph jammed the hook through one of the links, Nathan let the log settle back into its place. He turned to his father. “All right, take her away.”

  Benjamin Steed was at the head of the mule team. Hyrum Smith, standing nearby, moved back. “Ho, mules,” Benjamin shouted. “Go!”

  The animals lunged forward, hitting the traces. The chain snapped tight, bit into the bark of the log, and the log began to move. Snorting heavily, the mules clawed at the ground. Faster now the trunk slid along the black earth. “Giddyap, mules!” Benjamin called, slapping the near one on the rump.

  “I’ll go help him unhook it,” Joseph said, breaking into a trot to follow them.

  Hyrum watched them go, then cupped his hand to his mouth. “Watch out for hornets.” Joseph raised one hand briefly without turning. It was an unnecessary warning, for hornets were the bane of the frontier farmer. It was still a little early for them to be fully out of their dormancy, but it had been warm enough the past few days to make one be on alert. In a week or two, as the plowing got fully underway, they would have to constantly watch the ground ahead. Particularly in virgin fields like these, one could hit a nest of yellow jackets every second or third furrow, unleashing a deadly cloud of fury that could leave a farmer and his team half-dead.