by Ward, Marsha
James stroked his moustache. “I reckon I’ll listen,” he said.
Robert nodded. “I don’t mind talking a bit of religion.”
George and Ned looked at each other. George made a sour face, but Ned quirked an eyebrow. “I reckon our souls are saved, but we’ll hear what you have to say.”
“It appears you’ll have a crowd,” James said, and went to look after his animals.
Chapter 29
Ned grabbed a tin plate from a stack and got in the line of men that approached a kettle at the first fire. Jessie wasn’t in sight, or he would have cut the line to be with her. She’s likely serving food down the way, he thought. When he got to the kettle, he sniffed the aroma of stew, and his mouth watered. He looked up to hold out his plate, and nearly dropped it.
A tall girl with long brown hair stared back at him, a smile playing on her lips. “How do,” she said, and ladled the stew onto his plate.
Ned tried to return her greeting, but his heart seemed to have left his chest to clog up his throat. He swallowed, nodding to the girl. The firelight swirled in her dark eyes. “If you need more, come back, you hear?” she said, and gave him a slow wink.
Ned nodded again. Although he couldn’t speak, his body seemed more alive than it had ever been, warmth spreading through his vitals and limbs. He moved past the girl, looking back to memorize her face and form. Who was she? What was such a beguiling creature doing in the wilderness? He kept his gaze on her as long as he could, and when the line came to the next fire, he accepted a biscuit from Jessie’s hand and hardly knew it. Then he realized who she was: his betrothed, his beloved, his Jessie. He pushed down the warmth and tried to smile at her.
“Jessie,” he said. The smile finally came, feeling forced and false. Before he could say more, the press of the man behind pushed him along the line.
Jessie. I’m going to marry Jessie. I love her. I’ve always loved her.
His head turned, as though he had no volition, to stare back at the dark-haired beauty at the first fire. Who is that girl?
~~~
Maggie felt a touch on her sleeve. For a moment longer she let her gaze follow the handsome, curly-haired man who had just stood before her, but was passing down the food line. She locked her knees to keep from falling, from melting away into a puddle. Her heart raced.
“Maggie!”
The voice in her ear made her snap upright, the ladle waving in the air. She let out her breath in a rush and looked up at her mother. Mama looked sad.
“Maggie, what are you thinking?” Her mother’s voice was so low a whisper that Maggie leaned sideways toward her to hear it.
“Come again, ma’am?” Maggie replied in an equally low tone.
“You winked at that young man.”
Maggie’s eyes widened. She blinked. “I did?”
“You did, missy. He’s going to think you’re a bold flirt.”
“A flirt? Oh no, Mama. I didn’t mean anything of the sort.” She dished a ladleful of stew onto the plate of the next person who came through the line. She could feel the heated flush of embarrassment on her face and neck. “I reckon I …” She stopped, then started over, still whispering. “He seemed so nice, but kinda shy-like. Tongue-tied. And so nice. And shy.” Her words came out in fits and starts.
“Nice. And shy.” Something caught in her mother’s voice, and she coughed.
Maggie glanced at her again. Mama looked like she was trying to stifle a smile.
“So you winked at him.”
“If I winked, I couldn’t help it, Mama. He appeared to be so … nice.”
“And shy?”
“Yes, shy. I reckon I was surprised into winking. I had no thought to be bold or brazen, Mama. He’s just … so nice.”
Her mother’s light touch on her arm became a pat. She said in a strangled voice, “He does seem nice,” and walked away as if she had an urgent errand to attend to. Maggie heard her coughing again. Mama surely was acting odd. Maggie sighed and looked down the line, but the fair-haired stranger was gone.
Chapter 30
Due to the combined efforts of both parties, the meal was tasty and filling. Soon the women began to clear away the food and the dishes.
Jessie found herself in the company of Mrs. Julander, who stood over the dishpan. The older woman handed Jessie a tin plate to wipe dry, and said, “I feel too young for you to be callin’ me ‘Mrs. Julander,’” she said. “I hope you’ll call me ‘Sister Becky,’ or ‘Miss Becky.’” When Jessie nodded her assent, she continued. “It’s odd that both of our parties are travelin’ in wintertime. What puts you folks so late on the trail?”
Jessie took the plate and swiped at it with a worn tea towel. “We’ve had hard luck with our wagons, Miss Becky, and sometimes we had to stop and work for supplies.” She sighed. “It’s been a long journey.”
Miss Becky laughed. “It that a fact? It sounds like your luck was similar to ours.”
“Yes. Now we’re crossing paths. You’re going up the trail and we’re headed down.” Jessie handed the plate to Hannah, who made a stack of the tin plates with one hand while she cradled her baby in the other.
“Maybe we’re meeting because God has a purpose in mind.”
“What do you mean, Miss Becky?”
“Maybe he wants us to talk together,” Miss Becky said, and smiled. “You know, He loves us and wants the best for us.”
“He does? I always thought God was a sort of gruff spirit who likes to torment us.” Jessie wiped another plate and gave it to her sister.
“Oh my, no! God’s not like that at all, my dear. He’s your Heavenly Father. He loves you like your earthly father does.”
“My father’s dead. That’s one reason we left Virginia. His legs was shot off, and he couldn’t defend us from the Yankee louts invading our town. Then he died, and my sis—” She broke off speaking, glanced at Hannah, and straightened her shoulders. “Here we are, a long time later, and we’re nearly to Albuquerque. I’ll be so glad when I can sleep in a real bed again.”
Miss Becky shook water from her hands. “I’m sorry about your father, and the trouble you’ve had on your journey. God does love you, and he won’t ever give you more trials in this life than you can handle with His help.” She took up the water-filled dishpan, swirled it a bit, and tossed the water behind her toward the rear of her wagon. A goat’s offended bleats cut through the air.
Miss Becky laughed, and called out, “Sorry, old Mike.” She turned to Jessie and Hannah. “I forgot our billy goat was tied to the back of the wagon just there. He’s a bit of a rascal, and we have to tie him up or he’ll eat everything in sight.” After a bit, the animal fell silent. She put away the pan, grabbed up a flour-sack towel and dried her hands, then said, “Let’s go sit and talk a spell. Do you mind that?”
“Oh, no. You say things that make sense.”
Hannah asked, “May I come too?”
Miss Becky smiled. “Certainly. I want to get a better look at that precious babe.”
~~~
James sat down off to the side of a campfire, absently patting the dog on the head until it lay down with its nose between its paws. Robert came over and sat near James. George and Ned joined them.
Brother Jeff took a seat, placed a Bible in his lap, and said, “We had a pair of preachers come to our county several years before the unpleasantness started. My wife and I were new married, but we let them stay with us for a while.” He smiled. “They gave us a book to read, and they held meetings around the countryside for a few weeks. Becky and me felt convicted that we should become Saints.”
“Saints?” Robert raised his eyebrows.
“We believe that the same gospel Jesus Christ preached has been restored to the earth again. The members of Christ’s church called themselves Saints, and we do, as well.” Brother Jeff rubbed the Bible. “A lot of folks ‘round about took exception to that. We lost a few friends.”
“That’s a hard thing,” James said.
; “We found other friends in the members who joined the church. Most of them are in this party.”
“Where is it y’all are going?” George asked. “Oregon? Wyoming?”
“We’re bound for the Great Salt Lake Valley.”
George sat back. “I thought only Mormons lived in that country.” His voice had a hard edge.
Brother Jeff moved a bit in his seat, but didn’t seem to take offense at George’s manner. “That’s a name we’re given from time to time. We’re members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Like I said, we call ourselves Saints.”
James stroked his beard. “So you’re Mormons. I have a relative who followed that path, or so my ma told me. That was twenty-odd years ago, before I was born.”
Brother Jeff laughed. “Our path, as you put it, has many doctrines to recommend it. We believe our first prophet, Joseph Smith, received a vision while he was just a lad. He saw God and his Holy Son. Brother Joseph was chosen to restore Christ’s Church and the power of God to earth. That power is called the priesthood.”
Robert said, “You say he’s a prophet, like the ones in the Old Testament? I thought all the prophets were dead.”
“The old ones are for sure, but many of them prophesied that after a falling away, the truth would come again to men. We believe that began to happen in 1820, when Brother Joseph had his vision.”
“So he’s a prophet, living and breathing and talking to God?” Robert moved his foot around in the dirt for a moment before he spoke again. “That’s an amazing thing.”
“It is amazing and wonderful, for a fact, but he was reviled and hated, and finally killed by a mob.”
“I have some experience of mobs,” James said, and looked away, a bitterness descending over him at the thought of the men rushing down the hall of the hotel in Trinidad.
Brother Jeff gazed beyond the fire. “We heard about Brother Joseph’s death, his and his brother’s, while we were trying to get up funds to move to Illinois to join the Saints. That news set us back some.” He looked down at his clasped hands. “We didn’t know what would happen to the Church with the prophet dead. We had contact for a while, and kept saving our traveling money. We found out Brother Joseph had given the power of God to lead the Church to others, so it kept on going. Later, we heard the Saints had been driven out of Illinois and went west.”
“Why didn’t you join them?” Ned spoke for the first time.
“We tried, but with crop failures, and one thing and another, we couldn’t ever seem to scrape together enough money. We had our young ones and it took a lot of doing to raise them. Finally, we got the cash together, and were fixin’ to leave, but the fighting started, and we were stuck in Mississippi.”
The dog stood up and woofed, and James patted it on the head and said “Quiet, now,” but it slipped from under his hand and left the fire. James looked at Brother Jeff. “It must be sweet to you folks to be so near your goal at last.”
“We’ve had our hard times, but you’re right. In a few more months, we’ll be safe with the Saints.”
The men spoke together for several minutes. James recalled something that had caught his attention when he heard it said at the accident scene.
“When your young sister died, a man comforted Miz Eliza by saying, ‘We’ll join her to us in Zion.’ What did he mean by that?”
Brother Jeff tipped down his head and stared at his feet for a moment. After a while, he looked directly at James and said, “I’ll tell you that, but first, let me give you a little background.” He hesitated a moment as he looked around the circle. “You might find some of our teachings a mite odd. For example, we believe that husbands and wives can be bound together in marriage for eternity, by the priesthood power given to men. Love doesn’t stop when someone dies, so why should a marriage end?”
Startled, James half rose to his feet. His heart pounded in his chest. This was exactly what he’d been telling God. He sank to his seat again, heaved a great sigh, and said, with a voice that sounded to him as though he were being strangled, “I don’t find that odd at all.”
Brother Jeff peered at him. “You’ve lost your wife,” he said. It was a statement.
“Yes. About New Year’s. She was a good girl, and didn’t deserve to die so young.”
Brother Jeff leaned forward and squeezed James on the shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear of your loss, very sorry.”
“Much obliged,” James said, looking up at last. “Please, won’t you tell me more about marryin’ forever?”
Chapter 31
The three women found seats beside one of the fires. Miss Becky asked, “May I hold your dear little one?”
Hannah nodded and gave her the baby.
As Miss Becky cradled the baby in her arms, James’s dog came up to sniff at her, then lay down beside Jessie.
“Ooooo, you are so precious,” Miss Becky cooed to the infant, counting its fingers. She kissed him on the forehead, then cuddled him against her bodice. “I’d forgotten how good it feels to hold a baby to my breast,” she whispered. “Mrs. Fletcher, you are so blessed to have this sweet little bundle fresh from the arms of God.” She admired the child for a few more moments, then passed him back to his mother.
“Do you really believe what you said before, Miss Becky?” Jessie stroked the dog’s head. “That God loves me?”
“I do. You two are sisters, isn’t that right?”
Jessie and Hannah nodded.
“Think about your feelings for each other, for your family members, for that baby. How do you suppose you got those feelings of love and kinship? God put them there. You are his children.”
“Doesn’t God punish us when we’ve done something wrong?” Hannah asked, looking down at her baby. “Something really bad?”
The expression on Miss Becky’s face softened as she looked at Hannah. After a moment, she said, “I think sometimes we punish ourselves enough that God doesn’t have to. I reckon you’ve had rough experiences in your life. Maybe some you’re regretting. Our loving Father provides a way to wipe out all our sins and blunders.”
Jessie fidgeted with the fringe of her shawl, thinking about the man she had killed way back in West Virginia. Hannah’s mention of doing wrong things had suddenly brought an apparition to her mind of the man’s grotesque form splayed out before her on the forest floor. Ned had said the man needed killing, but a foul taste filled her mouth. Would she go to hell for shooting him?
Miss Becky had continued talking, and Jessie shook her head to free her mind of the evil remembrance so she could catch up.
“And his true church is on the earth again. Baptism into his church brings forgiveness from God, a newness of soul, a cleansing as though you had just been born. You need faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and his restored church, and a repentant spirit, to receive baptism in it.”
Hannah stirred in her seat, and Jessie glanced over at her. Hannah’s face held hope for the first time in months, Jessie thought. What did she do that was so awful she needs a baptism? The bad things happened to her. A thought struck her, and she sat upright. Did Hannah kill the man who attacked her? Robert always says the brute was dead when it all ended, but he never gives details. She looked away. Were she and Hannah both murderers?
Hannah voice broke into Jessie’s thoughts. “You’re right about me having a rough life. I’ve done regretful things, and I want to know more about receiving forgiveness.”
Miss Becky stared off into the distance for a moment. She looked at Hannah and said, “I have a little book I treasure a great deal. I would like to give it to you. It will show you how other families have gone through many hard trials, and how God has helped them to bear their burdens.” She got up and left the fire for a few minutes. When she returned, she had a small book in her hand.
“This is called The Book of Mormon. It’s scripture, just like the Bible. It will help you know that God and his son Jesus Christ are real, and that they love you. When I read it, I received much comfort in my
heart. I hope it will do the same for you.” She leaned over and held out the book.
Hannah took it and stroked its cover. She looked up at Miss Becky and smiled wistfully. “I don’t know if I can take your precious scriptures, Miss Becky.” She tried to give the little volume back.
“I’ll get another book in Zion,” Miss Becky said, her hands up to refuse the return of the book. She stood up. “Now then, my husband is talking to your men about our faith. I reckon we should go over and let him tell you more.”
~~~
“We have another teaching that might give you comfort,” Brother Jeff told James. “We believe that we can perform ceremonies like baptisms and marriages, and such, by proxy, for our dead loved ones. A living person stands in for the dead. That’s what Brother Martin was talking about when he spoke to his wife.”
James thought for a long time, digesting the man’s words. “I recall Paul mentioned baptizing for the dead in the Bible. I don’t understand about Brother Martin, though. What kind of proxy ceremony will they do for him in Zion?”
“That’s the third teaching I want to tell you about. Do you recall in the Old Testament that Isaac had more than one wife?”
James nodded. “I recollect several of the ancient prophets who did that.”
George hooted derisively. “Solomon had so many he needed to build himself a palace to keep them in.”
Brother Jeff chuckled, but sobered as he spoke. “We believe God gave a commandment to the Saints to do likewise, for a few of the men to provide homes and look after more than one woman. Laurie Sue is Sister Eliza’s blood sister. Brother Martin meant he’s willing to have Laurie Sue sealed to him as a wife, if the new prophet, Brother Brigham, gives permission, of course. That is a comfort to Sister Eliza, to know that Laurie Sue will belong to someone forever as a wife, even though she’s dead.”