“But then it will be too late,” Matthew exclaimed. “Now we’re just twenty-five miles away. Once we leave the state there’s no way they can come that far.”
Jessica wanted to weep for having to quench the joy she had seen in his face, and yet she couldn’t try to soften it for him. The realities were too final. “I know, Matthew. But do you really think we can ask them to come here, when we’re not even sure how long we’ll be here?”
For a long moment he just looked at her, then his shoulders fell. He shook his head slowly, then turned and walked away.
Chapter Notes
The letter from Joseph discussed by Benjamin, Matthew, and Derek is found in Joseph’s history (see HC 3:226–33). The conditions in the jail and the attempt to feed the prisoners human flesh are recorded by several sources (see, for example, Restoration, p. 423).
Chapter 30
Nathan kept his eyes on the dark line along the horizon off to the west of them. Somehow the Georgian coast—low and flat, but solid and unmoving in a world of constant movement—steadied his stomach. He got up out of his deck chair and walked to the rail. With brief stops in a couple of ports in Florida, they had been within sight of land for most of the way, which cheered him greatly. Seeing nothing but water stretching to the horizon in every direction left him with a deep sense of uneasiness. He peered at the coast. It was probably a mile or so away. But in an emergency a man could swim that far. . . . He shook his head, chiding himself for his foolishness.
This was their fifth day on the packet ship out of New Orleans, and Nathan thanked whatever fates there were that the weather had been almost perfect the entire time. Even then, he had lost his meals twice to the constant rolling motion of the ship, a fact which Joshua delighted in noting several times a day. Nathan shuddered as he considered the return trip that still had to be made. The chances of having good weather both ways were marginal, and his imagination was already working overtime in contemplating what it would be like.
He turned to where Joshua was stretched out in his chair, hat pulled down over his face to shade it from the early-morning sun. “How long would it take to go from Savannah to New Orleans overland?”
His brother didn’t move, but there was a throaty laugh. “A lot longer than five days, you can count on that. It’s seven, maybe eight hundred miles.”
“Oh.”
The laugh deepened, and Joshua reached up and pushed his hat back with his thumb. “Look, a man of faith like you should be able to get good weather going both directions.”
“I was just wondering,” Nathan said tartly, irritated that Joshua had seen through him so easily.
“What’s today?” Joshua asked, sitting up.
“December thirtieth.”
“I mean what day of the week?”
“Sunday.”
Joshua got up and moved over to stand beside Nathan. “That’s perfect. When I was last here, the packet ships sailed for New Orleans on Mondays and Thursdays at one p.m. I think you can make tomorrow’s sailing easy. Won’t be this ship, but one just like it.”
Nathan turned fully from the railing now to look at his brother. “You’re really sure they’re here, aren’t you?”
“They’re here.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“They’re here!” Joshua said, a bit more snappishly.
“But you said that Savannah is a big town. We may not find them in one day. I may not make tomorrow’s boat. And I’m not leaving until we know.”
Joshua shook his head patiently. “I know right where Caroline is. I’ll make you a wager that by midafternoon I’m holding her in my arms.” Joshua set the crutch against the side of the ship and leaned on the rail. “You should be back home in a couple of weeks.”
“Like I said, I hope you’re right.”
“You are the jolly one today, aren’t you?”
Nathan looked up, surprised. Then he understood what he had been doing. “I guess your being this close to your family makes me miss my family all the more.”
“Will they still be there?” Joshua asked softly.
After a moment, Nathan shook his head. “I hope so, but who knows? Originally the militia said we could have until spring. Now . . .” His shoulders lifted and fell. “I hope so.”
Joshua reached down and massaged his leg slowly. “Can I ask you something without making you angry?”
Nathan’s head reared back a little. “Angry? Why would I get angry?”
“I mean it,” Joshua said, more soberly now. “I don’t want to give offense.”
Nathan laughed softly. “Which means this is about religion. Well, go ahead. You’ll find we Mormons are pretty tough skinned.”
Joshua nodded, but went on staring out across the water, deep in thought.
“Come on,” Nathan teased, “I told you I can handle it.”
“All right.” Joshua’s head came around. “Why don’t you give up?”
That caught Nathan completely by surprise. “Give up? Give up on what?”
“You know what I mean. Joseph’s in prison. So are the rest of your leaders. You’ve already dug enough graves on the prairie to fill a city cemetery. You’ve been kicked from pillar to post. The better part of the state of Missouri hates your guts. Now you’re about to be kicked out again. All those farms and orchards and houses that you’ve worked so hard to get. You’ll end up with nothing again, just as you did in Jackson County. So give it up. You’ve done enough, Nathan. Pa’s done enough.” He looked away. “Jessica has given more than enough.”
For almost a full minute, Nathan stared down into the water that slid past the hull of the ship below them. Joshua watched him out of the corner of his eye, then finally looked down again. “Sorry,” Joshua said. “It’s none of my business.”
“No,” Nathan said slowly, “it’s not that at all. I’m just trying to find a way to help you understand. I know that on the surface it must look absolutely crazy.”
“It does,” Joshua agreed instantly. “I used to think you were the devil’s fools, you Mormons. Now I can’t help but admire your courage. But is a courageous fool any less the fool?”
Nathan took a breath and straightened. “Let me ask you a question first.”
“All right.”
“When you came to the cabin and found those men with Mother and Lydia and Rebecca? From what they said, you never hesitated one moment. You just plunged in, even though you were outnumbered and outgunned. You really put your life at risk. Why?”
Joshua snorted in derision. “You know the answer to that as well as I do. And you would have done exactly the same thing.”
“Probably. But that’s my point. Why did you do that? Well, it comes down to one word, doesn’t it? Love.”
Joshua gave him a strange look. He hadn’t thought of it in those terms.
“Doesn’t it?” Nathan persisted.
Joshua nodded.
Nathan turned and leaned against the railing, his face pensive now. “Jesus said that a man has no greater love than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” He looked around again, his eyes soft with thankfulness. “And you came about as close to doing that as anyone I’ve ever met.”
There was nothing to say to that. The crutch Joshua carried was evidence enough.
“Can you even begin to imagine how we feel about what you did? Me? Derek? Pa? You saved our women from something so horrible it makes one shudder to even think about it. How can we ever repay that?”
“You’re here with me now,” Joshua said without hesitation.
Nathan smiled. Joshua had walked right into his trap. “Why?” he asked again softly.
There was only one answer. “To show your gratitude. Love.”
“Of course.” Nathan straightened now, choosing his words with great care. “And that’s exactly how we as Latter-day Saints feel about the Savior.”
Joshua look openly dubious.
“Yes,” Nathan said earnestly. “Don’t you see? What Jesus
did for us is all that you did for our family and infinitely more. He loved us so much, he gave his life for us on the cross. He suffered beyond description. Why? To save us from an eternal destiny too horrible to describe. And once you come to believe that—no, not just believe it, but accept it, live it, breathe it!—then you are willing to endure anything, do anything, give everything in return as your way of saying thanks to him.”
He shook his head slowly, wanting so much to help Joshua understand. “You yourself are living proof of the power of love. Can’t you see that, Joshua? Christ gave his life for all mankind. Can we as Saints do any less if we love him in return?”
Joshua was staring at Nathan. Nathan forced a quick smile, a little embarrassed by the passions that had stirred him to speak with such fervor. “You asked. That’s the answer.”
“I understand,” Joshua said slowly.
“Do you, Joshua?” Nathan said. “Do you really?”
Joshua started to nod, but then suddenly the image of a row of bodies—men and boys—stretched out along the ground in Haun’s Mill flashed into his mind. There was no looking down your nose at that kind of commitment, but in his heart Joshua still could not fathom feeling that strongly about God or one’s church. He shook his head slowly. “No, I guess I don’t, Nathan. I guess I never will.”
* * *
Julia Montague took the stairs of the plantation house two at a time, even though the long, silken skirts dragged three steps behind her. As she burst through the door and into the sitting room, she had to stop and lean against the wall for a moment to catch her breath.
“My goodness, Julia,” Caroline said, coming out of her chair in alarm. To see Julia walk briskly was enough to signal that something was terribly wrong. In nearly ten years of friendship, Caroline had never seen her run.
“Caroline,” she gasped, “come quickly!”
Caroline walked swiftly to her and took her hand. “What is it, Julia? What’s wrong?”
Julia’s bosom rose and fell as she pressed one hand against it. “You have a”—there was a quick gulp for breath—“a visitor.”
Now it was Caroline who lost her breath. She fell back a step. “A visitor?” she stammered. “But who—” Then her eyes widened. “Is it a man?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, no,” she cried. “Where are Livvy and Savannah?”
“They’re out in the pecan orchard with Abner and the servants.”
Caroline looked around wildly. “We must hide. Did you tell them I was here?”
Suddenly Julia understood. “No, no!” she exclaimed. “It’s not those men who are after you. It’s one man. And he says he is Joshua’s brother.”
Caroline’s head stopped swinging and turned to stare at Julia. “Joshua’s brother? You mean Nathan?”
Julia nodded, still trying to steady her breathing. “That’s what he said. He said he must talk with you.”
“Nathan?” Caroline said again, her mind not comprehending. “In Savannah? How can that be? Are you sure it’s him?”
Julia gave her a quizzical look. “How would I know that? He called you Caroline and asked after the children.”
Caroline’s mind was racing. Nathan? All the way from Missouri? She shook her head. That was impossible. But what if the men who had followed her to St. Louis had somehow tracked her here as well? That seemed nearly as improbable, but then she remembered the newspaper articles about the Mormon Danites. They took a blood oath, it said, and would follow their enemies to the ends of the earth if necessary. Posing as Nathan might be just a ploy to get her out of the house.
“Julia, what did he—” Then she stopped. She realized she had never seen her would-be assailants. A description wouldn’t help very much.
“I asked him to wait outside,” Julia was saying. “It was very rude of me, but I was so shocked when he said who he was. He said it was most urgent that he speak to you.” She wrung her hands. “Oh, Caroline, I’m sorry. I never thought that it might not be him. What shall I do?”
Caroline whirled and strode to the window that faced the front of the house. She slowed her step as she reached it, moved to the side, and then pulled the curtain back a little. There was a black covered carriage with a single horse. A man was standing at the door of the carriage, with his back to her. Then, even as she peered at him, he turned around and looked up toward the house. She dropped the curtain and fell back a step. “It is Nathan,” she said, looking at Julia in wonder. She was instantly weak with relief.
Julia was at her side now. “Thank heavens,” she gushed.
But then Caroline was jolted by another thought. How did Nathan know to come here? Suddenly she stiffened. She had gone to some effort to leave no trail of her movements. That meant that the men who had tracked her to St. Louis had reported back to the Mormons.
Slowly, bitterness welling up inside her like a boiling kettle, she moved over to the sofa and sat down. There was no other way that he could know she was here. And if he knew, then chances were that others knew as well—others like the men who had burned her house to the ground.
The disappointment was like a blow to the face. She had lost a husband and a son. She needed time to rest and heal. The thoughts of having to leave again—and go where?—were shattering. There were no more places of refuge. No other friends who might take her in and shelter her.
Julia had come toward her, puzzled and anxious at Caroline’s sudden change in demeanor. “Shall I bring him up?” she asked tentatively.
Caroline’s lips pressed into a hard line. “No.”
Julia had started to turn toward the door. Now she jerked back around, staring.
Caroline made up her mind. “Julia, would you please tell him that I do not wish to see him. I appreciate him coming all this way to inquire about my health. But tell him that everything is fine and that I would prefer not to see him or anyone else of his faith.”
“Are you mad?” Julia cried. “He’s your brother-in-law. He’s come two thousand miles—”
“Make sure he has something to eat and enough money for return passage, but under no circumstances will I—”
Caroline turned sharply. There was a sound on the stairway that Julia had ascended a few moments before. The sound was that of footsteps on the stairs. Caroline raised a hand, as if to shut the door from where she sat, but it was too late. A dark shape filled the frame.
“Hello, Caroline.” His head turned. “I apologize for coming in uninvited, Mrs. Montague, but I saw Caroline at the window. I was afraid she might refuse to see me.”
Caroline stood slowly, rigid as a brass bedpost. “I’m sorry, Nathan, but I would prefer not to speak with you.”
“We got your letter. I understand how you feel.”
“How could you?” she cried. “Your people killed Joshua, and now they’re trying to kill me. And you’ve probably led them right to me.”
He stepped inside the room and removed his hat. “I have something to tell you, Caroline.”
She shook her head and turned away. “I don’t want to hear it!” Then more softly she added, “Please, go away. Tell Mother and Father Steed I’m sorry. Maybe after some time has passed . . .”
She heard him cross the room toward her. She lifted her arms and hugged herself tightly. “Please, Nathan,” she pleaded. “Don’t make me fight you. Just leave me.”
“Caroline, listen. It wasn’t our people who shot Joshua. It was two Missourians, the same two men who came to your house and told you he was dead.”
She half turned, her face registering her surprise.
“Yes, Obadiah Cornwell told us the whole story. But those are the men who set fire to your house. It wasn’t Mormons. And those two men are also the ones who shot Joshua.”
She turned slowly, anger starting to rise. “You’re forgetting one thing. They left me a note, remember? And it was signed by your people.”
“No, they signed our names, but it was those men who did that to you. It was those men who followed you t
o St. Louis.” He took a breath and finished quietly. “It was those men who shot Joshua and left him for dead.”
She was too weary to fight him. “It doesn’t matter now, Nathan. It won’t bring anything back. But I’m sorry, I can’t feel the same toward you and your family anymore.”
He brushed that aside as if she hadn’t spoken. “They wanted to get even with Joshua because of what he did.” Then swiftly, but quietly, he described that terrible day in Far West. He spared nothing. He talked about the mob let loose on an undefended town. He told of the Steed women and children put in a root cellar and Peter’s terrified attempts to hold the men back when they discovered the hiding place. He described Jessica’s being struck with the butt of a gun, Rebecca’s terror as she became the target of the ugliest kind of lust.
In spite of herself, Caroline’s arms slowly dropped to her side and she turned fully to watch him, a look of horror filling her eyes. It never entered her head to question whether he was telling her the truth. There was too much pain, too much revulsion on his face to have it be something made up to win her over. Julia stood frozen by her side, as shocked and horrified as Caroline.
“But,” Caroline broke in, “those men never said anything about seeing Joshua in your father’s cabin.”
“Exactly!” Nathan answered grimly. “The whole story they told you was a pack of lies.” He took a breath. “Joshua killed one of them, and drove the other two out of the cabin. He got Mother and the others to safety. Then he realized that once those men told the rest of the militia what he had done—that he had shot one of his own men, trying to protect the Mormons—they would come after him. He also knew that you and the children would be in terrible danger the minute word reached Independence. It was while he was trying to get out of the city and back to you that they shot him. In the back.”
She jerked away, biting her lip. “Don’t!” she cried softly.
He reached out and turned her so that he faced her, peering into her eyes. “It went clear through his body and out his chest.”
The Work and the Glory Page 195