by Adell Harvey
Ingrid smiled. He seemed to know everything, yet was so humble and unassuming; so comforting, yet uncondescending. Unbidden, a comparison of Major Crawford and Brother Rasmussen entered her mind. Both were elegant, well read, intelligent, and eloquent. But there the comparison ended. Where once she had thought of Brother Rasmussen as kind and loving, she now remembered him as condescending, somewhat pompous. Why did he come off so unfavorably when compared with Major Crawford?
Ingrid quickly changed her thought patterns. This way of thinking would lead to nothing but trouble.
As if reading her thoughts, Andy strolled over to where she was resting against a tree, chewing on a cool blade of grass. “Getting awful friendly with the Gentiles, aren’t you.” It was a statement, not a question.
She attempted to brush off the ill-concealed warning in his voice. “The soldiers are a big help to Anne Marie and me.” Unable to resist a nasty jab, she added, “We sure don’t get any help from the menfolk among the Mormons.”
Andy grimaced, evidence that her remark had hit its target. “Nevertheless, I’m warning you not to become too friendly with the Gentiles. It ain’t seemly, you being a married woman and all.”
Ingrid poohed him away. “This life is so dreary, I’ve got to have something to keep my mind off it,” she argued. “Major Crawford knows so much about this area, about the Cheyennes, about everything… he’s very interesting.” She paused, increasingly uneasy under Andy’s scrutiny.
His expression darkened with an unreadable emotion, and his eyes chilled with distrust. His voice absolutely emotionless, he warned, “Nevertheless, it isn’t proper for you to spend so much time with him. I insist you find something better to do with your time.”
A flicker of apprehension coursed through her. “Is that a threat?”
Andy shrugged. “Call it what you want.” With that, he turned and walked away.
Ingrid hesitated, torn by conflicting emotions. Who did he think he was, ordering her around like that? Considering his words, her anger slowly evaporated, leaving only confusion. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was enjoying Major Crawford’s company a bit too much. She would concentrate instead on Anne Marie’s problems.
Her concern for Anne Marie grew in proportion to her friend’s growing stomach. Other women on the trek were pregnant, but they had husbands to help them. Ingrid wondered about the lack of gossip as Anne Marie’s condition became more apparent. Back home, an unmarried mother was the object of scorn and shame. These Saints certainly were different!
She knew Andy would have to realize soon that Anne Marie was pregnant. Then he would have to do the honorable thing and marry her, even without permission from the elders in Zion. Surely it would be better for Anne Marie to tell him herself, before he discovered her secret.
It was Sunday, their final day of rest before the upward climb toward Scotts Bluff and Fort Laramie. “Let’s go down to the riverbank and soak our feet,” Ingrid suggested after the preaching service.
“That sounds good,” Anne Marie responded. “My feet are killing me, and the cold water will feel good!”
As the two friends sat on the banks of the muddy Platte, dangling their feet into the cool water, Ingrid broached the subject that had been on her heart and mind for weeks. “Anne Marie, you’ve got to tell Andy you’re pregnant,” she insisted.
Anne Marie hung her head. “It’s getting obvious, isn’t it?”
Ingrid merely nodded.
“But he’ll hate me … I can’t tell him.”
Ingrid put her arm around Anne Marie’s shoulder. “It happens to lots of girls. It’s not such a bad thing. And I know Andy loves you. He’s sure to understand. If you don’t say something soon, you’ll have to marry one of those old men in Salt Lake.”
Anne Marie pulled away, a shocked expression clouding her face. “You think this is Andy’s baby? What kind of woman do you take me for?”
“But, I mean…” Ingrid stammered. “If not Andy, then who?” she finally whispered, her voice trailing off.
Realization hit Anne Marie with a colossal thud. “You don’t know, do you? I thought you had finally figured it out and accepted it. I thought ours was one of the sisterhood that was really working. I wondered why you were always so nice to me, when most first wives treat us second ones like dirt.”
“First wives, second wives… whatever are you talking about?” Ingrid demanded.
“Brother Rasmussen and I were married just before he took his wagon train west last spring. At first, I supposed you knew, because he promised when we got to Salt Lake, we’d go through the Celestial Wedding at the temple endowment house together. The first wives take part in the wedding, giving their permission for the second one, and so on… ” She rattled on, before realizing Ingrid was no longer listening to her.
She was stretched out on the riverbank in a dead faint.
Chapter 7
ANDY RACED TO the riverbank the moment he heard Anne Marie’s scream, certain Indians had attacked. Instead he found her bent over Ingrid’s limp body, bathing her forehead with cool water from the stream.
“What happened? Did she fall?”
“No, no, it was nothing like that. I told her about me and your Pa, and she fainted.” Anne Marie stopped for breath. “I didn’t mean to hurt her… I thought she already knew! ”
Andy pulled Anne Marie’s head up and turned it so he could look into her face. “What about you and Pa?” he whispered, his voice fairly choking out the question.
“I meant to tell you, too, but I just couldn’t.” Anne Marie broke into sobs. “Oh, Andy, I love you so. I’ve always loved you. But when your Pa came and got me at Florence, he said the Lord had chosen me to be his wife, and the leaders agreed.”
Andy went white, dead white. His voice came as if from some dark hollow of his soul. “Pa… my very own Pa.”
Ingrid stirred, and the young couple instantly knelt beside her, their friend’s health giving them cause to think of something less painful for them. As Anne Marie continued to bathe Ingrid’s forehead, Andy vigorously rubbed her arms and hands.
Ingrid groaned, then slowly opened her eyes and looked at them. “What on earth? What happened?”
“You fainted,” Andy told her. “Probably the heat getting to you.”
Ingrid’s mind began to uncloud, and she remembered clearly, too clearly, what had happened. “No, it wasn’t the heat,” she cried. “It’s that awful man who tricked me into coming here. The Promised Land he called it. Ha! More like the land of broken promises.” Her bitterness spilled out.
Andy was smitten to his very depths. “No, Ingrid. You must understand. Pa didn’t trick you. And there really is a Promised Land. It’s just that the Lord’s commands are sometimes hard.” Defending his father, Andy asked, “Pa didn’t promise you’d be his only wife, did he?”
“Of course not, but he didn’t have to. Nobody has more than one wife – I never dreamed of such a thing, even in my worse nightmares.” Sitting up, Ingrid was thoughtful. “He did tell me about your ma, about her dying and all, but I naturally thought I would be his only wife. I’d never have come otherwise.”
Anne Marie had remained silent during their conversation. “And I’d never have married him if I had known how it would hurt you. You’re the dearest friend I’ve ever had. I was so happy, thinking you had accepted me as the second wife.”
Ingrid winced involuntarily. Even hearing someone else talk about being her husband’s second wife hurt. She squeezed Anne Marie’s hand, warmly. “Won’t make any difference in our friendship,” she promised. “Even though he married me first, you’re his real wife.”
Glancing meaningfully at Anne Marie’s swollen stomach, she flushed, embarrassed to talk about it. “We never, you know, well, I mean you’re carrying his baby.” In a faint whisper, she added, “We were never together that way, so he’s truly your husband.”
Andy cleared his throat in a way that reminded Ingrid of his father’s habit. “This will probably co
me as a shock to you both, but Pa has two more wives in Deseret, so neither of you is first, anyway.” He sounded almost bitter as he spoke.
“Two more?” The girls shouted in unison.
“Yes, and a passel of kids. I knew he had married Ingrid in Copenhagen because he asked me to come escort her to Salt Lake. But he said nothing about you,” he looked directly at Anne Marie, his eyes filled with a strange mixture of love and sadness. Ingrid could only imagine the pain he was feeling.
“He told me he would tell you,” Anne Marie said, her eyes lowered to avert his gaze. “But the way you acted when you got to Iowa City, I knew he hadn’t, and I didn’t have the strength to say anything. I was that scared.”
“Pa did say he had something he wanted to talk to me about when I got back,” Andy admitted. “But I figured he was going to tell me it was time I married and started building up the Kingdom.” He kicked at the ground. “Fat chance of me getting married, if they keep marrying all the young ones!”
“I still say it’s evil,” Ingrid asserted. “And I’ll have no part of it. I’m going to do what I came to do in Salt Lake, then I’m leaving! Nobody can make me live this kind of life.”
Andy and Anne Marie exchanged knowing looks, and finally Anne Marie broke the long silence that followed Ingrid’s outburst. “You can’t leave Deseret. That’s called apostasy, and apostates burn in Hell forever. The Saints make sure to keep you from that fate.”
“I don’t believe it. The God I know wouldn’t send me to Hell forever just because I don’t want to share my husband with a horde of other women. Saints or no Saints, I’m not staying in Salt Lake!”
Andy gave her a pitying look. “Ingrid, you still don’t understand. The Principle is God’s commandment, designed to prepare us for Celestial Glory. Many plural wives are happy living the Principle. You and Anne Marie are such good friends, you’ll make it work. I know you will.”
Ingrid gave him a hostile glare that would have melted ice. “How can you say that? You and Anne Marie are in love with each other, and yet your own Pa married her to add to his houseful of pretty young girls.” She stopped her harangue to catch her breath. “What kind of God would allow nonsense such as that?” she demanded.
“Listen, I know you’re upset by all the sudden changes,” Anne Marie said, attempting to quiet her. “But you’ll get used to the idea. When we first lived in Nauvoo, it was such a happy place. When people started whispering about the prophet’s new revelation, things got harder and harder. But just about everybody has accepted it as the Lord’s will now, and it’s the only way we can build up Zion.”
Andy drew Ingrid to her feet. “It’s time we were getting back to the others,” he announced. “Anne Marie and I will pray that you submit your will to Heavenly Father’s. He will help you understand.”
“Never!” Ingrid shouted. “Not by a jugful, I won’t!”
She had been avoiding Major Crawford, acutely aware of Andy’s distrust of the man. Now, however, she was determined to spend time with the soldiers and deliberately flaunt her friendship with them. She would show these Saints a thing or two! Nobody could make her live in such evil, no matter how religious they made it sound.
Girding herself with resolve, she turned her back on Andy and Anne Marie and stalked over to where Major Crawford and Lieutenant Horne were resting against a cottonwood tree. “May I join you?” she asked curtly.
Major Crawford moved over and patted to a spot on the ground. “Sure. Have a seat.”
Ingrid dropped her voice, making certain no one else could hear. “I want to leave the Saints. Can you help me?”
He noticed the tremor in her voice, stirring an oddly disconcerting emotion deep within him. “Leave the Saints? Why?”
His question was direct, but not prying. Yearning to talk to someone she could trust, Ingrid accepted his invitation to sit down. “I’m leaving my husband. He’s a Mormon and believes in plural marriage. I don’t.”
He nodded. “I had a hunch you weren’t like the others. A woman like you – well, somehow, I just knew you were different. Lieutenant Horne and I were just talking about how somebody like you got tied into this bunch.”
Lieutenant Horne chimed in, “I think that polygamy stuff is just plain sin. Can’t imagine why those guys need more than one wife. And the stories we hear comin’ out of Utah…” He shook his head in disgust. “My own sister, she married up with a Mormon doctor back in Illinois. He promised her she’d be his only wife, but he’s got three or four now. I think she’s miserable out there in Utah, but once the women get out there, they can’t seem to find a way to escape.”
Major Crawford patted his friend’s shoulder. “We get a new president elected, he won’t stand for all this nonsense. He’ll settle things with old Brigham once and for all.”
Ingrid found herself on the defensive. “The Mormons I knew in Copenhagen were good, decent folk. But none of us knew about this plural wife doctrine.” She stifled an anguished sob. “They deceived us all. But I won’t be a part of it. Once I take care of some errands I promised to do in Salt Lake, I’m leaving.” She pulled on a dry blade of prairie grass and absently shredded it. “I thought maybe you would be able to tell me the best way to get away from there.”
Major Crawford grew pensive. “It might be harder for you to leave than you imagine. The truth is that we get constant reports of women and even children being killed if they try to escape Utah.”
“That’s why my sister’s still there,” Lieutenant Horne added. “We’ve written and asked her to come home several times, but I don’t think she even gets our letters.”
“It sounds like a prison!” she exclaimed. Trying to put all the pieces together, she said pensively, “Then I must leave the Mormons before we get to Salt Lake.”
Major Crawford studied her intently. The tragedy and rigors of life on the trail had etched composure and dignity into her face. The intensity in her lowered voice shook him to his depths. He would give anything to help this lovely woman, but what? “Where would you go? There’s nothing between here and Salt Lake but Indians, mountains, and a couple of forts.”
“And the forts are no places for women, that’s for sure,” Lieutenant Horne added. “The Mormons come through Fort Bridger and Fort Laramie all the time, so they’d find you there anyway and make you go with them.”
Major Crawford chewed thoughtfully on a blade of grass. “It might be possible to hide you at the fort until spring, then get you a ride on a wagon heading back east. But it would be awful risky. And what about your friends? They’d tell your husband you were gone, and he’d come looking for you, wouldn’t he?”
She drew in her breath. She hadn’t considered that possibility. Would Charles come looking for her? And where could she go, with no money, no home, no friends, and not even a good command of the King’s English?
“I should have stayed in Copenhagen,” she whispered, almost sounding defeated.
“We said it was risky, not impossible.” Major Crawford attempted to reassure her. “It’s another month at least until you reach Salt Lake, and maybe we can figure something out before then.”
His calm assurance gave her renewed hope and a sense of conviction that he could be trusted. Her expression a pool of appeal, she murmured softly, “I’m not for certain that I have a husband.”
He glanced up in surprise. “Do you have reason to believe he’s dead?”
“No, no, ‘tis not that. We went through a ceremony in Copenhagen, but there were no civil papers, no minister. I don’t think it was a lawful wedding.”
“Ain’t that just like those hornswogglers?” Lieutenant Horne exclaimed, “That’s exactly what that fella did to my sister! Took her off to the Meeting House and told her there’d be a real wedding in Salt Lake. But he didn’t bother to tell her about the other wives already waiting for him there.”
Ingrid lowered her head. “I’m that shamed that I believed him, that I was so gullible. Or maybe I was just that anxious to get t
o America,” she admitted.
Major Crawford had said little during the discussion. Kicking at a dirt clod with the toe of his boot, he regarded her with a speculative gaze. “Even if the marriage isn’t legal, still, in God’s eyes, you’re married to him.”
Ingrid winced. “But we never – I mean, we didn’t… ” She felt the familiar flush on her cheeks and a shudder of humiliation rush through her.
He let out a long, audible breath. With a slight tinge of wonder in his voice, he asked, “You mean you were never together as man and wife?”
She replied in a husky whisper, “Never. Brother Rasmussen left for America immediately after the ceremony, and I’ve had but one short letter from him.”
Speaking with cool authority, Major Crawford announced, “Well, then, I don’t see that we have much of a problem. We’ll hide you at Fort Laramie and get you on a stage back east soon as we’re able.”
Lieutenant Horne agreed it was a good idea. “But what will you do back there?” he asked practically. “There’s not much work for women but school teaching, or maybe street peddling. Maybe you can earn enough to go back to your family in Copenhagen?”
A sad wistfulness shadowed her face. “I have no family in Copenhagen.” Determined, she lifted her chin. “Somehow, I’m going to build a new life for myself, I’m going to grow whole again. Whatever it takes.”
“Well, if anybody can make it, I’m sure you can!” Major Crawford grinned at her, sending tiny warming shivers through her. “And we’ll help you in any way we can. ”
She smiled. “You’ve already helped, more than you know.” Surprised, she realized he had helped. He was so easy to talk to, showing an honest interest without pity. Andrew be hanged, she was going to spend as much time with Major Crawford as she wanted to!
The handcart train had left the flat Nebraska prairie, and the high buttes of Scotts Bluff came into view. Day after day, they plodded toward the buttes, the blazing sun continuing to burn everything it touched. The grass was gone now, leaving little for the oxen and draft animals to eat. Lacking nourishment, they grew weaker each day, slowing the walkers down considerably.