“All right.” He didn’t look up at her.
“When you told me about Feenie Barton last night, you said that thinking about her got you to thinking about me. Was I old enough? Was I mature enough? Would I have the same kind of faith and courage as she did?”
His head came up. “I’m not ashamed of asking those questions, Edie. We were still getting to know each other then.”
“But did you ask the same kind of questions about yourself? About Mitch Westland? Was he ready for marriage? Would he be the kind of man I would be looking for? Would he turn out to be a man of faith and courage? Doesn’t that seem only fair?”
His head dropped. “No, I didn’t. And I can see now I was wrong. I am so sorry, Edie. So sorry.”
She went to him then, coming up right next to him so she could look up into his eyes. “I love you, Mitch Westland. I love you with all my heart. I can’t tell you what it meant to me to finally you hear you say that you love me too. But before I can answer your question, I need you to answer one more for me.”
He braced himself. “Go on.”
“All right, this time it isn’t a hypothetical question. Emma Decker has asked to go back up with them and stay through the summer. We learned last week that my grandmother will not be here until the fall, so that is not an issue. So I am asking you now. Do you think I should go?”
He was cornered and he knew it. “Of course I want you to go. You think I want to be away from you for the next six months?”
“That’s not what I asked you. Do you think I should go?”
“I . . . It’s not my decision. You don’t need my permission.”
“I know that, and you know that,” she cried. “But again, that’s not what I’m asking. Do you think I should go?”
Their eyes locked for several seconds. Then he shook his head.
“That’s what I thought. So, with that, no, Mitch, I will not marry you. And I’m so sorry.”
This time there was no kiss. With her lips trembling and her shoulders starting to shake, she turned and walked slowly away.
He watched for a moment, and then the pain was too great. He sank down on the log and buried his face in his hands.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he heard the rustle of sand to his left. He looked up and then leaped to his feet. “Edie?”
She took two steps closer to him, coming out of the shade of a cottonwood tree into the moonlight. He could see that she was weeping openly now. He started for her, his heart leaping with hope, but she raised her hand, as if to block his path.
“This isn’t fair to you, Mitch. It isn’t fair to you in any way, but I have to ask.”
“Okay.”
“Last summer, when Evelyn Adams lost the baby, did you notice anything unusual in the way I reacted?”
Startled by that question, he nodded vigorously. “Yes. I noticed how deeply it affected you. Far more than the other women, though they were grieving for Evelyn too. But it was like it had been your child. In fact, I wrote about it in my journal.”
That surprised her. “You did?” Then she waved that away. Wiping at the tears with the back of her hands, she went on. “As you know, I am the only child of my parents.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know that my mother is also the only child of her parents?”
“No. I didn’t know that.”
“My mother had two more children after me. One, a boy, who was stillborn. The other, a beautiful little girl, who lived two days and then died. I remember both of those births well, because I was five when the first one happened and eight when the second one occurred.”
He was so shocked that he couldn’t begin to find words.
“My mother,” she went on, as if he weren’t there, “was the third of four children.”
“But . . . I thought you said she was an only child.”
“She was. The only child that lived. Her mother had two stillborn children and one that lived not quite a week.”
The reality of what she was saying was slowly dawning on him. “And you think that you might have the same problem as your—” He had to stop as the enormity of that hit him.
She looked up through her tears. “Maybe that’s another reason we shouldn’t marry, Mitch.”
“No, Edie, I—”
She cut him off with a wave of her hand.
He sat down again, sick at heart and sick to his stomach.
“And here’s another little thing you should know about me while we’re baring our souls. Bishop Nielson just got word that the Supreme Court has ruled that the Edmunds-Tucker law is constitutional. Now they’re saying that the Church will be forced to stop plural marriage before the year is out. Do you know how sick that makes me?”
That one came from so far out of nowhere that he just gaped at her. “You mean you’d want me to have more than one wife? I’d heard talk that it might happen, but I thought that you’d be happy about it. I would be happy about it. I don’t want to love anyone but you.”
“Thank you.” She actually managed a fleeting smile. “That was the right thing to say.” Then she took a breath. “A lot of people don’t know this, but do you know why Aunt Mary Nielson Jones, Kumen’s first wife, gave Kumen permission to marry May Lyman?”
He shook his head, still thoroughly baffled with where this was going. “Because he needed the permission of the first wife?”
“No. Well, that too, but that wasn’t the reason. It’s because they couldn’t have children. They went four years, but she could never conceive a child. As you know, she’s a midwife, Mitch. Who knows how many babies she’s helped deliver. But never one of her own. Can you imagine how she must feel?
“Then one day she received a blessing. I don’t know if Kumen gave it to her or her father, Bishop Nielson. But in that blessing she was promised that if she would consent to Kumen taking another wife, she would be blessed with a child.
“And so Kumen married May Lyman, who’s had a baby about every two years. Think how that must have made Mary feel. But she trusted in the blessing and now, guess what? Aunt Mary recently announced that she is with child. Her blessing is being fulfilled.”
And now Mitch understood. It hit him with such force that he sat down again on the log, putting his face in his hands. “And so you have been thinking that if you can’t give me children, then a second wife could?”
“Yes,” she whispered numbly. “And now it looks like I can’t even do that.”
He shot to his feet again. “Why didn’t you tell me all of this, Edie?”
Her head came up very slowly, and in the moonlight he saw that her cheeks were wet with tears. “Because you never asked me, Mitch. Not once. You never asked.”
With a cry of anguish, she whirled and stumbled away into the darkness.
The next morning, when Mitch came into the cabin for breakfast, he saw that his mother had been crying. He went to her. “What’s wrong, Mother?”
Sniffing back the tears, she turned and pointed to the table. “Edie came by this morning. She left something for you.”
He didn’t turn around. He already knew what it was. “You keep it here, Mama,” he said. He started for the door. “Mama?”
“Yes, son?”
“I’ll be leaving right after breakfast.”
“Where are you going?” she cried.
“To the Blue Mountains.” And he went out to saddle his horse.
As the door shut behind him, Gwen went over to the table and picked up the music box. She opened the lid, and as the tiny little ballet dancer began to whirl, she listened to the first strains of “Beautiful Dreamer.” She shut the lid quickly, unable to bear it. Then, as the tears started again, she whispered, “Oh, Mitch. Oh, my son.”
Note
Kumen Jones and Mary Nielson, daughter of Bishop Jens Nielson, were married in the St. George Temple on December 19, 1878, just ten days before they were both called to go to San Juan with the first company of pioneers. Sometime in 1882, M
ary received a blessing that promised her that if she agreed to Kumen taking a second wife, she would be blessed with her own child. Kumen and Lydia May Lyman were married on December 2, 1882, in the St. George Temple. May went on to have ten children with Kumen, all but one of whom were boys. In 1889, after eleven years of marriage, Mary finally gave birth to a son, whom they named Leonard. “Aunt Mary” outlived her son by two years. She died in 1933 at the age of 75 (see Saga, 314–15).
Chapter 21
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April 3, 1888—Monticello, San Juan County, Utah Territory
As Mitch unloaded cedar poles from the Walton sleigh he kept one eye on the northern sky. From this vantage point, he could normally see as far out as The Needles and North and South Six-Shooter Peaks. But now a wall of gray blotted everything across the landscape. And to his left, the tops of the Blue Mountains had disappeared and he could actually see the gray descending as if it were sliding down the snow-covered slopes.
“Steady, boys,” he called to his team. “I’m as anxious to get out of here as you are.”
With an elevation at the base of slightly over 7,000 feet and with three peaks over 11,000 feet, the Blue Mountains could take a serious spring storm and twist it into something really dangerous. And this one felt like one of those.
By the time Mitch got under way again, the first snowflakes were swirling around him, and the wind had picked up by ten or fifteen miles per hour. With a flick of the reins, he urged the big bays into a steady trot. “There’s hay at the barn, boys. Take her home.”
The team sensed that they were at the turnoff before Mitch saw it. When they started to slow, Mitch raised his head and shook the snow off the hood of his jacket. “Good boys,” he called. “Sharp eyes. We’ll be home in about twenty minutes now.”
But as they started to make the turn, Mitch suddenly jerked up and grabbed the reins. “Whoa!” They pulled to a stop, their breath making explosions of mist as they snorted and stomped their feet. Mitch looked around. Were they where he thought they were? There was no sense looking for major landmarks. Visibility was now down to less than twenty yards. But he had the distinct feeling that something was wrong. He pulled himself up, shielding his eyes from the snow with one hand. No, this was the junction. He was positive of that.
Keep going straight.
He peered to the south. He could see nothing. It wasn’t a voice or anything, but the feeling was very strong. Keep going straight.
“Not a good idea,” he muttered. Going straight would not get them home. He was not going to keep on going south. He picked up the reins and slipped them between the fingers of his gloves. Then he stopped.
Go south.
As he wondered what was going on, he suddenly remembered that night up on Elk Mountain with Moenkopi Mike. A situation that could have turned deadly had been completely altered when Kumen Jones had suddenly had the feeling to offer Mike a slice of bread covered with molasses. That was how he had described it when Mitch asked him about it later. A feeling. Like he was experiencing right now.
With a sigh, he wheeled the horses back around and turned them south again. There was a problem with feelings, though. You were always having feelings of one kind or another. How did you know when it wasn’t just you being your worrisome self?
Go south. Keep going straight.
“All right,” he muttered. “I’m going. I’m going.”
He told himself he would go two miles. If nothing was wrong, then he would turn back. But when those two miles were covered, the feeling was stronger than ever. So he went two more miles. And another feeling started pressing in on him. The snow up here was almost two feet deep, and the team was laboring to keep the sleigh moving. They were a strong team, but they had already brought down two loads of cedar poles that day. If they got too exhausted, Mitch could end up being the one with a very serious problem.
He reined up and sat there for a minute, debating with himself as he stared out into the swirling snow. It wasn’t yet five o’clock, but it was nearly dark. It would be an easy thing to get lost in a whiteout like this. This was crazy. No one would be out here on a night like this.
One more mile.
“Okay,” he grumbled. “But that’s it. Then I’m turning around, no matter what.”
Not even two minutes later one of the bays suddenly whinnied and jerked his head up. Mitch pulled the team to a stop. He threw off the blanket covering his legs and stood up in the sleigh. “What is it, boy? What did you hear?”
He pulled back the earflap of his hat and turned it away from the wind.
“Help!”
It was so faint, Mitch nearly missed it. He swung his head back and forth, looking for the source of the sound. Now the other horse was snorting and blowing. There was definitely something out there. Leaping out of the sleigh, Mitch ran and grabbed their heads. “Easy, boys. Easy.”
“Help! Help us! Please!” He was astonished. It sounded like a woman’s voice.
And then, as a gust of wind whipped the snow away for just an instant, he gasped. There were figures up ahead. Human figures! “What?” he gasped.
He grabbed the reins and tied them to a nearby cedar tree and then lumbered forward, pushing his way through the deep snow. In a moment they came into a view. Three figures, huddled together. No, four! One of them was holding a child.
Thrusting the snow aside with powerful strides, he ran to them, stunned speechless. What he found shocked him even more. As he came up, the tallest woman pulled the scarf away from her face. A gasp was torn from his throat. “Evelyn? Evelyn Adams?”
The second figure pulled her scarf away and waved a hand weakly. She croaked something, but Mitch couldn’t understand what she said. But he recognized Leona Walton.
Evelyn dropped to her knees as Mitch took the child from her. “Oh, Lord,” she sobbed. “We’re saved. We’re saved.” Her head dropped on her chest. “Thank you! Thank you.”
Mitch reached down, took her elbow, and lifted her up. “Come,” he said. “Let’s get you in the sleigh.” As she started to follow him, the third woman pulled back her scarf, knocking two inches of snow from the top of her head and revealing long, dark hair.
As Mitch went rigid as a cedar post, Edna Rae Zimmer stepped forward, shivering violently. And yet she managed a tiny smile. “Is that really you, Mitch? Or are you an angel from heaven come to take us home?”
Fortunately, the Waltons always kept extra blankets and quilts beneath the seat of the sleigh. Unfortunately, the seat itself only held two people. Mitch started barking directions as soon as they returned to the sleigh. “Evelyn, Nean is in bad shape. It looks like her core temperature has really dropped. I’m going to put her in the corner right behind me. Then you and Leona huddle in against her. We’ll wrap you up good in quilts.”
They nodded, too exhausted for words.
He looked at Edie. “We can put you in the other corner. Up on the seat with me is the coldest place because it catches the wind. But you could ride up there if—”
“I’ll ride with you,” she said, hugging herself and stomping her feet.
“Good.” He took three-year-old Cornelia, or Nean, as everyone called her, wrapped her in a quilt, and lifted her over the side of the sleigh. She moaned softly as he placed her carefully in the corner. When the two women were in place around her he wrapped them up tightly in three quilts. “I’m guessing we’re about thirty minutes from home. Will you be all right?”
There was one quick nod.
He was so dumbfounded, he was still trying to take it all in. “What were you doing out here on foot? Does George know you’re coming?”
She shook her head. When she spoke, her teeth were chattering so badly he could barely understand her. “It . . . it . . . it . . . was sup . . . supposed . . . to be . . . to be . . . a . . . a . . . sur . . . sur . . . sur . . .”
“A surprise,” Edie finished for her. She caught Mitch’s eye and shook her head. “I’ll explain later,” she murmur
ed
Mitch helped Edie up and got her wrapped in a thick quilt and then swung up himself and took the reins. “Gee-up,” he shouted, pulling on the reins and turning the sleigh around in a wide arc. He looked back over his shoulder. “The snow will cushion the ride somewhat, but I’m going to let the team have their head, so it may get a little bumpy.”
“We’re all right,” Leona said. “The faster the better.” Then she buried her face into the quilt.
Mitch started to speak several times, but each time he looked over at Edie, who was wrapped in a quilt from head to toe, with only a small slit for her eyes, he changed his mind. He was still shocked almost beyond words at what he had found, but he was remembering their last time together and held his tongue.
Finally, after about fifteen minutes, she pulled the quilt away from her face and half turned in her seat. “Evelyn decided that she wanted to surprise George and come up early,” she began, speaking in a low voice.
Mitch leaned closer so he could hear her over the sound of the horses and the whistling wind.
“Leona thought that was a great idea too. She’s coming up to cook for the men. The weather was perfect in Bluff. It was eighty-five degrees and the skies were clear for as far as we could see. It was like summer had arrived.”
But Bluff is 3,000 feet lower than we are here. Didn’t anyone think of that? But again he bit his tongue and just nodded.
“The Deckers aren’t leaving for another couple of weeks,” she went on, “so when Evelyn asked me if I wanted to join them, I thought, ‘Why not?’” Her head lifted and her eyes met and held his. There was a touch of defiance in them. “I didn’t come for you, Mitch. Emma’s having a hard time with the baby. She needs me.”
He held up a hand in protest. “I didn’t say anything, Edie.”
“I know. I know.” She brushed one mittened hand across her brow. “I’m sorry. I’m not myself. This was such a terrifying experience. We were sure we were all dead and wouldn’t be found until summer.”
Only the Brave Page 24