“All right. One. Two. Three. Heave!”
The two Ingalls brothers swung their arms in unison, and the chunk of sod—nearly a foot wide, and two feet long, and six inches thick, and weighing close to fifty pounds—went up and onto the top of the back wall of the hut. The wall was well over five feet high now, and Peter couldn’t quite reach it. His end of the sod draped over the side and started to pull the rest of it over and down into his face. But Derek stepped to the side quickly, caught it, and pushed it back up into place. He lined it up carefully with the other sod bricks, then tamped it down into place.
Finally, he stepped back, wiping at his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. “Done,” he said with great satisfaction.
“Done?” Peter cried. “We’ve still got to do the whole roof.”
“I know that,” Derek replied, a touch impatiently, “but the walls are done. When we get back from Far West, Lyman Wight and the other brethren will help us put the roof on.”
“And what if it rains while we’re gone?”
“Then the inside will get wet. It’s not like we’ve got a lot in there that will be hurt.”
Peter had a petulant look on his face. “The Independence Day celebration isn’t until Wednesday afternoon. That’s five more days, countin’ today. Why can’t we finish the roof first and just go down on Tuesday?”
Derek sighed wearily. “The first reason is that it’s not really five days. Today’s already half over. Tomorrow is the Sabbath, and we can’t work then. The second reason is that some of the brethren are leaving early too and won’t be here to help us if we do stay. And you know we can’t do the roof by ourselves. We don’t know how to do it.”
“And the third reason,” Peter said, “is that yesterday my brother heard that there’s a young man from Tennessee who’s recently moved to Far West and is takin’ a great interest in Miss Rebecca Steed.”
Derek’s eyebrows lowered and the irritation flashed across his face. “That’s got nothin’ to do with it. What Miss Rebecca Steed does is her business.”
“Yeah, sure,” Peter said soberly, mocking his brother’s seriousness.
Derek bent over and wiped the Missouri dirt from his hands on the prairie grass. “What’s got into you, anyway? I thought you wanted to go to Far West for the celebration.”
“I do. But if we wait we can get a ride with one of the families. If we go today, we have to walk.”
Derek suddenly laughed. “Is that all that’s botherin’ you? Didn’t I tell you? Brother Wight is going down this afternoon. He says we’re welcome to ride with him.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Well, all right,” Peter said happily. “Then let’s go today.”
Derek boxed at his ears playfully. “Since you’ve come to America you’ve gotten to be kind of a lazy bloke, you know that?”
Peter cocked his head. “Eh? What’s that, mate?” Then he jumped quickly as Derek swung at him.
“Come on,” Derek said. “Let’s get down to the river and wash up. Brother Wight said he’d be passing by here about two o’clock.”
“We’d better,” Peter said. “If we don’t get some of that dirt and sweat off you, Rebecca isn’t even goin’ to let you into the same house with her.”
He gave a yelp and darted away as Derek picked up a clod of dirt and sidearmed it at him, smacking him on the back. Derek stepped inside the sod hut and grabbed the one towel they owned between them, then with a shout started after his brother, who was hightailing it down the hillside and across the fields toward the trees that lined the riverbank.
* * *
It was Saturday night in Independence, and Jackson County’s saloons were jumping with activity. The laughter and raucous merriment spilled out of the open doors and into the streets, beckoning any passersby to enter in and partake. But Joshua Steed passed them by. He didn’t even raise his head. He was in no mood for merriment, and he was bone-tired from throwing himself into the work at the freight yard with an intensity that had shocked the boys and men who worked for him. Now all he wanted was to take off his boots and lie out on the bed. So he walked on swiftly, trying not to think about having to face an empty house for the second night in a row.
The spacious two-story house looked like a barn in the darkness. It looked particularly foreboding with all its windows dark. Caroline always left at least one lamp on for him so that there would be light in the house no matter what time he arrived home.
He pushed the thoughts of her aside angrily as he climbed the steps to the porch and opened the front door. He had vowed he was not going to mope. When she came home—and he knew she would eventually—there would be much to straighten out. His only fear was that somehow this time the rift would not completely heal. He wasn’t sure it would for him. The duplicity she had shown in going to Far West was too deep, the perfidy too damaging. Once inside, he turned, and twisted the lock on the door with a hard snap.
For a moment he stood there, debating whether to go into the kitchen and find something to curb the hunger that was gnawing at his stomach. But then he shook his head. He could wait until breakfast. Tonight what he needed was bed. Without bothering to light a lamp, he climbed the stairs and went into his bedroom.
He walked to a basin and pitcher of water that stood on the night table and poured some water into the bowl. For a moment he stared balefully at himself in the small mirror hung on the wall, then he leaned over and scooped up handsful of water and started washing his face. Suddenly he straightened with a jerk. He cocked his head to one side, listening intently. There was nothing. He grabbed the towel in disgust. Was his imagination betraying him now too?
But then it came again. Someone was rapping sharply on the front door downstairs. With a surge of hope, he swung around, toweling his face rapidly. He had locked the door. If she had returned, Caroline could not get in. He threw the towel in the direction of the bed and walked swiftly out, taking the stairs two at a time. But as he reached the entry hall, his pace slowed. Through the glass he could make out a dark shape against the moonlit background. It was too big to be Caroline. He stopped, the disappointment in him sharp and hard.
He almost turned away. He couldn’t imagine who might be calling—it was already past ten—and he had no desire to see anyone. But the shape through the glass moved and the knocking began again, this time even more sharply and insistent. Joshua realized that his nighttime caller had heard him come down and now was surprised that he had not yet opened the door. With an angry shake of his head, he stepped forward, turned the lock, and opened the door.
With no lamp on in the house, the man at the door was backlit by the moonlight, and his face was in deep shadow. “Yes?” Joshua growled.
“Hello, Joshua.”
It was like that split second in time when the trigger pin is kicked out of a trap and you know with terrible clarity, even before the steel jaws slam shut, what you have done. The knowledge is almost more horrible than the actual physical pain that comes an instant afterwards. Joshua fell back, his jaw slack, his eyes gaping wide. He felt as if he were strangulating. “Nathan?” he cried in a hoarse whisper.
“Yes, Joshua. It’s me. May I come in?”
* * *
As the lamplight filled the room with a soft glow, Joshua blew out the match. He saw that his fingers were trembling slightly, and he dropped the match quickly, as though it had burned him. He stood there, looking down. He didn’t want to turn. He didn’t want to see that face in the light. It had haunted him, dogged his worst nightmares for four years. Now it was as though the reality would be even more terrifying than the chimera of his dreams. He laid his hands on the table and leaned forward, staring down at them, willing them to be steady. “Why did you come here?”
Joshua had not invited Nathan to sit down, and so he still stood in the center of the room. Nathan lifted his hands and stared at them, as though he might find the answer written on them. “That’s what Lydia asked me, too. And Pa
. They both think I’m insane.”
Joshua whirled on him. “You are insane!” he exploded. “Do you think they won’t remember who you are? This time they’ll dump you in the cemetery instead of on a doorstep.”
Nathan smiled wanly for a moment. “I don’t exactly plan to parade myself through downtown Independence.”
“I don’t want you here. Please go.”
It was as though he hadn’t spoken. In fact, Nathan didn’t react at all, just simply continued to watch his brother with a steady gaze. And then suddenly Joshua understood. His eyes narrowed and filled with fire. “This was Caroline’s idea, wasn’t it?”
That broke through. “What?” Nathan exclaimed.
“She put you up to this, didn’t she?” His breath exploded in a burst of disgust. “What’d you do, agree to meet in Liberty?” The pieces were dropping into place like stones in a rock wall. “That’s why she went to the hotel last night. She needed to get an early start to meet you.”
Nathan just stared at him. When Joshua finally stopped for breath, Nathan shook his head. “I haven’t seen Caroline since she came to our house last week.”
Joshua’s lips pulled back in a snarl. “Liar!” he shouted. “If you came down from the north, you would have passed her, seen her along the way.”
“As you may remember,” Nathan said evenly, “I wasn’t received too warmly the last time I came to Independence. So this time I stayed off the main roads. I avoided everyone I saw coming.” He let his breath out wearily. “I did not see Caroline. I have not seen Caroline. I assumed she would be here too.”
The rage went into an icy calm. “I don’t believe you.”
Nathan shook his head, a sadness pulling at his mouth. “I know. Because that’s easier than believing she left because of you.” His eyes raised a fraction. “Just as it was with Jessica.”
“You son-of—” Joshua leaped forward, one arm cocking back, his fist doubled.
Nathan didn’t flinch, did not so much as even blink. He just stood his ground, awaiting the blow. Joshua started the swing, but at the sight of those eyes, watching him without fear or anger, he pulled up. His chest was heaving, his whole body trembling. For several moments—moments that seemed like full minutes—they stood there, eye to eye, rage and calm locked together in a contest of wills. And then Joshua spun away. His hands dropped to his sides, the fists came unclenched. “Get out of my house,” he said. He walked across the room to the window. “Just get out of my house.”
Joshua felt sick inside. Empty. As hollow as a cooper’s new barrel. Without thinking, he raised his hands and began to massage his temples with his fingertips. He realized there had been no sound behind him. No footsteps across the floor, no opening of the door. He lowered his hands again. “Please go, Nathan,” he said quietly. “I know what you’re trying to do, but it’s no good. Tell the family to forget it. There’s too much trail behind the wagon now.”
“Yes, there is. I should have come years ago. Before it went this far. But now it’s time to settle it.”
Joshua swung around. “Why won’t you go?” he cried. “Don’t you see, it’s no . . .” His words died in his throat. Nathan was unbuttoning his shirt in slow, deliberate motions. Joshua’s eyes locked on Nathan’s fingers, appalled at the sight of what they were doing. “No, Nathan,” he exclaimed, falling back a step. “Please!” He wanted to hurl something at Nathan, stop that dreaded, inexorable movement. Something shouted at Joshua from the dark recesses of his mind to throw his hands in front of his eyes, to turn and bolt out of the room. But instead he stood transfixed. Nathan’s fingers moved in slow motion, like in a dream. And then, eyes wide with horror, Joshua watched as Nathan shucked the shirt from off his shoulders and pulled it down around his belt, baring himself to the waist.
Nathan stood for a moment, watching Joshua steadily, then turned so that his back was to him. In the soft glow of the lamplight the marks of the bullwhip were soft tracings against the smooth flesh, as if a child had tamped down a patch of dirt with his foot and then scratched out a random pattern of lines back and forth across it. It made Joshua gasp inwardly. Now the nightmare had become reality. He looked away quickly as Nathan turned back, pulled up his shirt, and started to button it again. “Nathan,” Joshua whispered, “I—”
Nathan cut in quickly, “They’re healed now.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Joshua,” Nathan said more sharply. “Did you hear me? I said the scars are healed. They’re getting less noticeable every year. That’s why I came. I wanted you to see that they’re healed.” He took a deep breath, his eyes suddenly filling with sorrow. “But there are stripes inside you and inside me that are as raw and bloody as the night this happened. It’s time to heal those too.”
Joshua turned and sat down heavily in a chair. He dropped his head in his hands. “Some things are done. You can’t change the past—not what’s been said, not what’s been done.”
Nathan finished the buttons and tucked his shirt back into his belt. He walked to the corner of the room and picked up a spindle chair that sat in front of Joshua’s desk. He brought it over in front of Joshua and set it down. He stood for a moment, looking down at the top of his brother’s head, then he sat down facing him. “I want you to listen to me, Joshua. Just listen till I’m done. Then I’ll go.”
Joshua didn’t look up, but neither did he protest. Nathan nodded slowly, then took a breath. He held it for a long moment, then it came out in a soft laugh filled with self-mockery. “Want to know the irony of this whole thing? I’ve been beating myself with the memory of that night for the last four years, just like you have.”
Joshua lowered his hands and lifted his head, his eyes questioning.
“That’s right, Joshua. All this time I’ve been kicking myself for being such a fool. I don’t blame you. I blame myself.”
“But it was—”
“No,” Nathan went on swiftly, “let me finish. I came to Jackson County that night because I wanted to make peace with you. I was so filled with determination. We were going to bury this ugly thing that lay between us once and for all. Be brothers again. But what did I do instead? I lost my temper. I lashed out at you, goaded you into a fury. Your friends weren’t the only ones with a whip that night, Joshua. I laid my words across your back as surely as they took the whip to mine.” A weariness filled his voice now. “I wrote you twice. Tried to tell you that I was going through hell. Tried to beg your forgiveness.”
“I tore them up,” Joshua murmured.
“I figured as much. Then we were told you had moved to Georgia. I thought I had lost the chance forever, that I’d never get a chance to tell you how terribly, terribly sorry I was.” He sat back, his eyes looking at the wall behind and above Joshua’s head. “And then Caroline came that night. We couldn’t believe it. It was like an answer to prayers.” He shook his head quickly. “It was an answer to prayers. I have begged God to let me find you again so we could make this right.”
Joshua’s eyes were wide with wonder and disbelief.
“I was so excited to tell Mother and Father. I wanted to tell Matthew it was you he saw on the road that day. I wanted the whole family to meet Caroline and the children. I wanted Pa to listen to her talk about you, to listen to her tell how you’ve changed.” His eyes bored into Joshua’s. “I wanted them to see the love this woman carries in her eyes for their son.”
There was a long pause, and only the quiet chirping of crickets outside the window broke the silence. Then finally Nathan continued. “But Caroline left first thing the next morning. She wouldn’t go see them. Said it wasn’t right to do it this way, without you. That was a bitter disappointment, but I knew she was right.” He stopped again, his eyes getting a faraway look in them. “For over a week now I’ve had nothing else but you on my mind. I knew this was the chance I had been pleading for. If I let it go, perhaps . . .” He couldn’t finish. Finally, he swallowed quickly. “So I came. Risk or no risk.”
�
��Pa didn’t want you to, did he?” Joshua asked in a half whisper.
“No,” Nathan said simply. He couldn’t lie about that, not even soften it for him. “But Mother did. She wanted to come with me. So did Rebecca and Matthew and Lydia.”
“But not Pa.”
“No. The hurt runs pretty deep, and he’s still as stubborn as a wet piece of oak. He’s mellowed a lot. But some things . . .” He let it go unfinished.
“Deep feelings. That’s something I can understand.” Joshua glanced quickly at Nathan. “But I’m glad you didn’t bring the others.”
Nathan nodded. Then his eyes searched Joshua’s face. “What I said earlier, about you driving Caroline out?”
Joshua looked away. “It’s true.”
“I didn’t mean it as a gibe, Joshua. Lydia and I, we were only with your wife for a few hours, but it’s like we’ve known her for years. That’s a fine woman you’ve found for yourself, Joshua Steed. Don’t let her get away from you.”
“I’m afraid she already has.”
Nathan shook his head. “She’s hurting too. There’s a cure for that.” He sighed, then stood slowly. “I’ve got a long ride back. And it’s best I go at night.”
Joshua looked up at him, but before he could respond, Nathan went on. As he spoke, his fingers absently rubbed at the flesh beneath his shirt. “Whenever I remember that night, you know what makes me the sickest, Joshua?” Suddenly his voice caught and his eyes were glistening. “It’s not the pain, not the horror of the whipping.” He blinked quickly, angry that his emotions were betraying him. When he spoke, his voice was low and deep. “It’s wondering how these four years might have been different if only I had held my tongue.”
With that, he turned and walked swiftly to the door. “Good night, Joshua. I’ll watch for Caroline. I’ll tell her to come back. It’s going to be all right.” He reached out and took the door handle.
The Work and the Glory Page 143