Now Will smiled. “Pa always calls Jenny ‘that English girl.’”
She laughed again, and shook her head. “It says so much about what they’re feeling, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“But, Will, that’s what this coffee stain means to me now. You see, Nathan didn’t much like my father either.” She shook her head, remembering well some of the collisions between the two most important men in her life. “He was especially upset when they sent me away because I wanted to be a Mormon. But—” She stopped, very earnest now. “And this is what I want you to think about, Will. In spite of all his feelings about my father, Nathan went back to Palmyra with me. Twice!”
She smiled softly now, her eyes misting again. “You know how Nathan hates being a storekeeper.”
Will couldn’t help but chuckle at that as he nodded.
“In spite of all that, Nathan went back with me and he worked in my father’s store. When my father got sick, he ran the store completely. Do you understand what I’m saying, Will?”
He looked away. “I . . . I think so.”
“The Church can divide us from those we love, Will. Sometimes we have no choice in that, but it shouldn’t stop us from loving them. If we let anger and contention dominate that relationship, how can we say we truly follow the Savior? My father hated the Church and he didn’t like Nathan, but Nathan didn’t let that determine how he would respond to my father.”
She leaned her head against the baby’s, letting the tears flow. Now her voice was barely audible. “And when my father died, he loved Nathan as though he were the son he always wanted. And if he ever, in the world of spirits, accepts the gospel and realizes how blind he was here, it will be because of Nathan, not because of me.”
For a long time they both sat there, Lydia weeping quietly, Will withdrawn deeply into his own thoughts. Finally he stood. “Thank you, Aunt Lydia.” There was a quick, regretful grin. “It wasn’t what I wanted to hear.”
She smiled through the tears. “I know,” she whispered. “But then, you should never ask a McBride for an opinion unless you’re willing to hear what you’re not expecting.”
“Thank you. Don’t get up. You’ll wake him. I’ll show myself out.”
She stood anyway. “Will, I want to ask a favor of you.”
That surprised him. “What?”
“It’s not something that has to happen now. Maybe when you get up there if you go.”
“All right. What is it?”
“I want you to read something.”
He looked forlorn. “I’ve already read that passage in Moroni a dozen times or more.”
She laughed. Every Mormon in the world asked nonmembers to read the promise the angel Moroni had made to those who would read the Book of Mormon with an honest and sincere heart. “No. I want you to read a parable in the book of Luke.”
“A parable?”
“Yes. It’s not long, only the first few verses of chapter eighteen. It can be troublesome in a way. I want you to really think about it.” She held his gaze. “Will you do it?”
“Will it give me my answer?” he shot back, challenging her in return.
She had to answer that honestly. “I don’t know. But it might help you know how to get the answer.”
It was close to midnight when Joshua jerked up with a start. Caroline gave a low moan and turned over. Joshua cocked his head, wondering what had brought him out of so deep a sleep. Then it came again. There was a soft knock on their bedroom door.
He sat up completely, trying to shake the stupor from his mind. “Yes, who is it?”
“It’s me. May I come in?”
Caroline sat up now too, pulling the covers up around her. “Will?”
The door opened and a dark figure stepped inside.
“Where have you been, son?” Joshua asked, feeling a quick jolt of concern.
“Out walking.”
“What? Have you been with Jenny again?”
“No.”
“What’s wrong, Will?” Caroline asked, jabbing Joshua hard with her elbow.
“Nothing. I’ve just been thinking about things. And I’ve made a decision.”
“What decision?” Joshua exclaimed, exasperation heavy in his voice.
“I’ll be going with you to the pineries, Pa. I thought you ought to know that.”
Chapter Notes
Don Carlos Smith, the youngest son of Joseph and Emma, died on 15 August 1841, just eight days following the death of his uncle and namesake (see HC 4:402). This was the fourth loss in the Smith family in eleven months. Joseph Smith, Sr., died in September 1840, never having fully recovered from the shock of the persecutions the family suffered in Missouri. Samuel Smith, another of Joseph’s brothers, lost his wife, Mary, in January of 1841. She too had suffered permanent damage in 1838 after being compelled, with her children, to leave their home and being exposed to the inclement weather. Finally, there were the tandem deaths of the senior Don Carlos and his namesake.
Nor did that end it. Two weeks later, on 27 August 1841, Robert Blashel Thompson, husband of Mercy Fielding Thompson and brother-in-law to Hyrum Smith, died of pneumonia. Robert had served as the associate editor with Don Carlos Smith at the Times and Seasons and as a scribe to the Prophet. The Smith family counted Robert’s death as another loss of one of their own. (See HC 4:411.) Finally, on 25 September of that same year, not even one month after Robert’s death, Hyrum Smith, Hyrum’s son, died at the age of seven years four months (see HC 4:418), making the sixth death in the Smith family in one year’s time.
Chapter 11
He’s back in the corral, Mrs. Steed. They’re trying to get Elena into a harness.”
“Elena?”
“Yes, ma’am. She’s that little mare your husband took in on trade about a week ago.”
“Oh. All right, thank you.” Caroline started for the door.
The boy cleared his throat quickly. “Uh . . . Mrs. Steed, ma’am?”
She half turned. “Yes, George?”
“Uh, Elena is real skittish, ma’am. They’re having a h—” He caught himself. “A heck of a time with her. Maybe it’s . . . uh . . . maybe you’d like to wait here for Mr. Steed, ma’am.”
She smiled sweetly at him. “Thank you for your concern, George. But I’ll go quietly and not disturb them.”
He started into his stammering drawl again, but she waved airily and walked out. The moment she left the building, she heard the battle going on behind the stables. A horse was snorting, then there came a sharp whinny. A moment later there was a heavy crash followed instantly by a burst of profanity. She slowed her step, glad that it wasn’t Joshua’s voice.
“Whoa, there! Settle down, girl!” This was Joshua, and she could hear him trying to keep his voice low and soothing. Another crash sounded, this one more like a hoof flashing back against a bucket or something. There was one short swear word—this time from Joshua—and the horse began to snort again.
As Caroline came around the front of the stable to where the corral was, she saw why they were swearing. The horse, a beautiful gray, was plunging backward, her head up, eyes wild. One man was just getting up from the ground. Another was circling around, a looped rope in one hand, trying to snare the horse’s head. Joshua was on the halter rope, heels dug in, but being dragged along as though he were a child. His boots left deep furrows in the soft dirt of the corral.
“Get her head! Get her head!” Joshua shouted.
The man in the dirt leaped up and grabbed the rope to help Joshua hold her. The second man threw his rope but the mare saw it and jerked away, and the rope missed her completely. Whinnying wildly now, the mare backed into the corral fence, which was made of thick posts and cross beams lashed together with long strips of rawhide. The whole fence trembled, but it stopped her backward progress for just a moment. Joshua flung himself forward, leaving the other man to hold the rope. In three steps he was to the mare. He grabbed her ears, locking his arms around her neck as he did so, a
nd lifting his feet off the ground so she carried his full weight. “Easy, girl!” he shouted as she jumped back with a startled snort. “Easy, Elena.”
She tried to shake him off, but Joshua hung on doggedly. She reared up, her hooves flashing out, dragging the rope out of the other man’s hands. One of the hooves caught Joshua in the back of his calf and Caroline heard him grunt with the pain. She nearly cried out, but cut it off with a hand to her mouth, knowing that it would only make things worse.
Freed now of the man on the rope, the mare was bucking wildly, trying to dislodge this terrible weight hanging on to her head. Joshua was swinging back and forth, like a clock’s pendulum gone wild, but he wouldn’t let go and finally his weight was too much for her. The bucking stopped, then the swinging of her body from side to side, and finally even the tossing of her head. She came to a halt, her head down, her nostrils flaring, her sides heaving. Joshua slowly straightened, not letting go. He reached out with one hand and began to rub her nose. “There now, girl. We’re not trying to hurt you.” He reached up and scratched at her ears. “See there? Nobody’s gonna hurt my Elena now.”
Slowly he let her go and stepped back. She turned her head to eye him warily, but she was too winded to fight anymore. Joshua turned and walked slowly back to the other two men. As he did so, his eyes lifted and he saw Caroline. There was a flicker of surprise, and a brief wave, but he didn’t change course.
“What are we going to do?” the one man said. “We’re short on teams.” Then Caroline saw the harnessing lying on the ground near the fence. Just out the gate was a wagon waiting, with one horse already hitched in the traces.
“Go get Old Red,” Joshua said. “Bring him in the corral.”
“Yes, sir.”
As the two of them headed for the wagon, Joshua came over to see Caroline. She saw that he was limping heavily but trying not to wince.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. What brings you here?”
“Lydia and I went to see Emma today. I needed to tell you something so I came by here on my way home.”
“Oh.”
“What’s the matter with her?” Caroline said, looking at the horse now.
He turned too. “She’s real high strung by nature,” he said. “And this is still all new to her.” There was a note of disgust in his voice. “Besides, I think that teamster was selling me a load of buffalo chips when he told me she was a good wagon horse.”
“So what do you do?”
“I’ll try one more thing. If that doesn’t work, I’m going to have to sell her off again. We can’t go through this every time we want to hitch her up.”
Caroline felt sorry for the gray. She still stood where Joshua had left her, her head down, her belly still rising and falling.
“What did you have to tell me?”
It took Caroline a moment to come back to that. “Will stopped by the house on his way to get that load from the boat landing. He won’t be home for supper. He’s going to Jenny’s.”
There was an instant frown.
“Joshua,” she reminded him, “he told us that last night. You leave for Wisconsin in two days. Tomorrow night we’ll have the family dinner, so this is the last night he can be with her.”
He blew out his breath in disgust. “Like some lovesick kid. Can’t even leave her alone for one day.”
Caroline sighed, not wanting to fight about that right here. “He just wanted you to know so that you wouldn’t worry when he didn’t make it back with the wagon. He said he’ll bring the team in after supper.”
“Don’t know why he bothers to let me know anything,” he muttered. “Nothing I say or do makes any difference.”
Again Caroline let it pass. She was about to turn and go, when she saw that the two men had unhitched the other horse from the wagon and were bringing it into the corral. Joshua went up and gave Caroline a perfunctory kiss over the top rail. “I’ll be home about six,” he said, then turned to intersect the other two men.
Curious, Caroline decided to see what would happen next. She recognized this second horse they were bringing in. He had been in Joshua’s stables for many years. For a long time, he had been called just Red, being sorrel in color. In the last few years he had become Old Red.
Still in most of his harnessing, Old Red came forward at a steady, plodding gait. Joshua reached out and took him by the strap of his bridle. He waved the other two men back, then started walking Old Red toward the mare.
Immediately her head came up and her ears lay back. Her eyes started to roll again. Speaking softly, moving slowly, Joshua made a wide circle so that when he started in toward Elena he was coming at her head on. Old Red lifted his head and snuffled quietly. Elena shook her head, as though still trying to clear the weight of Joshua, then snuffled back. Joshua stopped and waited for a moment, then moved forward again, even more cautiously than before. Elena was wary, but she stood her ground. Ever so slowly now, stepping back to walk beside Old Red and not in front of him, Joshua eased forward. In a moment the two horses were head to head.
They sniffed at each other for a moment, then dropped their heads so they were side by side. Gingerly, Joshua reached out again and began to rub behind Elena’s ears. She shuddered slightly, as horses do, her flesh rippling back in little waves. Her tail was flicking back and forth, but steadily now, not in any kind of excitable pattern.
Joshua stood there, speaking so low that his voice was only a murmur. Caroline watched in amazement as Elena’s head finally came up and her eyes were calm again. Joshua took her by the halter rope, and still holding on to Old Red’s bridle, he began to walk the two horses, with him in between. Around the corral they went. Once. Twice. Old Red plodded along without hesitation. And soon Elena was doing the same.
After the third circuit, Joshua came to a stop next to where the harnessing lay on the ground. He motioned with his head for one of the men. The younger one came forward, moving slowly so as not to startle her again.
“Take their heads,” Caroline heard Joshua say. Then he stepped around and picked up the bridle from the pile of harnessing. Almost in slow motion, he brought it back around to Elena’s head. He held it out for her to smell. He rubbed it along the side of her face. Back and forth, talking gently all the time. And then almost before she realized it had happened, Caroline saw that he had slipped the bit between the mare’s teeth and then had the bridle on over her head.
Old Red looked as if he were asleep on his feet. His eyes were half closed and his head half down. Elena would keep moving her head across to touch his for a moment. He would push back at her, then return to drowsing. In five minutes she was completely harnessed. Coming back around, Joshua took the horses and walked them out the gate and to the wagon. One more minute had them hitched up and the teamster drove the wagon out of the yard.
Joshua was a little surprised to see Caroline still there. He came back over to see her.
“I can’t believe that was the same horse I saw when I first got here.”
He laughed softly. “Don’t give me the credit. That Old Red, he’s like a wise old grandfather with a granddaughter going out with her first suitor. She just needs a steadying influence, that’s all.”
“Joshua?”
He didn’t look up from reading his copy of the Warsaw Signal.
“Joshua!”
He lowered the paper slowly. “Caroline, I don’t want to talk about it. All right?”
The “it” he referred to was the clash between him and Will that had happened half an hour before. Will hadn’t gone straight to Jenny’s house. Finishing early at the dock, he had decided to come home and wash up before going back to the Pottsworths’. Joshua couldn’t bear to let him come and go without firing off at least one of his usual barbs. To everyone’s surprise Will had shot to his feet, his eyes blazing—normally he just gritted his teeth or looked away. “I’m going to the pineries, Pa. We leave day after tomorrow. If you’d rather I didn’t see Jenny tonight, that
’s fine. Find someone else to go north with you and I’ll just see her after you’ve gone.” And with that he had stomped out of the house.
Caroline just shook her head in weariness. “Actually, I don’t want to talk about it either. Savannah wants you to come and kiss her good night.”
“Oh!” Feeling rather foolish, he laid the paper on the table and stood up. As he walked past her and up the stairs, she didn’t meet his eyes.
“Hi, Papa.”
“Hello, sweetheart. Are you ready to go to sleep?”
“No.” It was petulant and angry. “But Mama says I have to.”
“That’s right. It’s after eight o’clock.”
“But I’m a big girl now. I’m four years old now, you know. I’m almost five.”
He laughed as he sat beside her on the bed. “You little wart. You’re not going to be five for another”— he calculated quickly—“six months.”
“Livvy doesn’t have to go to bed when I do.”
“And Livvy’s almost fourteen. Baby Charles goes to bed at seven.”
“I’m not a baby,” she said.
He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “No, you’re not, Savannah. You’re Papa’s great big girl.”
“Then can I stay up just for a little while, Papa? Please?”
He shook his head. This was how it was with her. Every night was a major negotiation. When he gave an inch, she demanded five more. If he held firm, then she would settle for the inch. She had raised stalling to an art form. He stood up and pulled the sheet up around her neck. “Savannah, it’s late. And Mama and I need to talk.”
Her deep blue eyes were round as half-dollars, and almost black in the half light. “Is Will going to run away, Papa?”
Startled in spite of himself, he reared back a little. “No, Will is going north with Papa, but he’s not running away.”
“Why are you angry at Will, Papa?”
“I’m not—” That was a little hard to deny after what had happened. “Will and I just had a disagreement. We’re not angry with one another anymore.”
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