by Marian Wells
“How do the Gentiles feel?”
“Excepting me?”
“I keep forgetting you’re a Gentile—fact, I think you’d make a pretty good Mormon. Wanna join?”
Mike chuckled and shook his head. “More interesting just to watch. Them others? Mad. More mad because it was Joe sayin’ that’s where old Adam came out of the Garden of Eden and built an altar to worship Jehovah; he advised us ’tis prophesied through Joseph that Adam, the ancient of days, will return there to visit his people, sittin’ on a fiery throne of flame, like is predicted by Daniel.”
Mike snorted softly. “Old Handley, he’s a Gentile, he’s been tellin’ me that Ancient of Days means God, and ole Adam sure ain’t God.” He shrugged, and his eyes were carefully examining Tom. “Where you been, watcha been doin’?”
Tom had just started on his plate of eggs when the door behind him creaked open. Mike’s face brightened. “Joe!”
Tom stood and pumped the large hand of the Prophet. “Hey, Joe, it’s good to see you!”
Joseph slid onto the stool beside Tom and accepted the glass Mike shoved toward him. “So, you’ve been gone a long time. How’s things in Kirtland?”
“Ghost town.”
“I can’t feel sorry; they’ve brought the troubles upon themselves. Now I know how deep a man’s loyalty goes—just as deep as his pocket. Satan buffeted me sorely there with the money problems, but now that’s all behind me—why did it take you so long to get back?”
Tom waved toward the town square. “I brought back a load of furniture for my brother-in-law. Also, I tried to sell their house while I was there. There’s just no buyers.”
“I gave specific instructions concerning that.” Joseph’s voice was sharp. “The Lord said just leave the places if they couldn’t be sold. I know it seems hard to us, but if that’s His will—” He shrugged. In another moment he asked, “Mark, huh? He and his wife moved out this way? I didn’t know they were here. I’ll have to see them.”
“Mark going to be working for you again?”
There was a long pause, then Joe slowly said, “He’s a lawyer, isn’t he? I’m thinking myself that Rigdon and I should be studying law. Sure’s anything, we’re going to need all the law knowledge we can get. We’ve been thrown a few loops already. We need to be on our toes.”
Tom finished his egg. “Where you livin’?”
Joe looked as if he’d just come back into the room; he slowly focused on Tom and said, “Living? With the George Harris family, just a couple of miles outta town. Emma’s just produced another son for me. Things are going well, and I plan on building my own place pretty soon.”
“Harris,” Tom said slowly. “Is his wife that pretty gal who used to be married to the anti-mason fella who got murdered? Think Morgan was his name.”
“That’s the one.”
“She’s a right pretty gal.” Tom stood up and reached for coins. “This is quite an interesting place. Looks like the biggest building in Far West now, since that section was added on.”
“It is. Come look around.” Tom followed Joseph to the other end of the long dark building. Rows of shelves and piles of barrels formed narrow aisles which, Tom saw with surprise, unexpectedly opened into a wide space in front of a second stone fireplace. There was a table littered with papers and books. An easy chair was drawn close to the fireplace.
Tom said, “I’m guessing I’ve just discovered your hideout.”
“And it will be until there’s time to build a proper office building.”
They walked back to the bar and Joseph pointed to the line of pigeon holes. “’Tis a post office too.” He turned to Tom. “What’s your plan now?”
“Find Mark and get rid of my load. Then look for a way to occupy my time.”
“I’ve got you tagged.”
“What d’ ya mean?”
Joe jerked his head toward the door and with a shrug toward Mike, Tom followed him out the door.
Behind him he heard Mike say, “Looks like Joe’s tagged another one for his Danite group.”
****
Jenny stood in the clearing and looked around. Although it was only the second week in August, on their bluff overlooking the Grand River she sensed a touch of autumn coolness in the air.
Behind her the neat little cabin was rising in the clearing Mark had hacked out of the woods. He had hired two men to help him with the construction. Just today the three of them finished lifting the last log into place. Jenny was hoping that by tomorrow they would be ready to use the pile of shingles Mark had been cutting and stacking to dry.
She raised her hands to her mouth and called, “Mark! Men! Come to dinner!” She knew she needn’t call a second time. With a smile she turned back to her stone oven and checked the bread browning within.
“Miz Cartwright, that bread sure smells good.”
It was John, the youngest member of the building team. Jenny had known his family in Kirtland; in fact, his mother had been Jenny’s greatest nursing failure. She still winced thinking about Annie. With a sigh, Jenny turned away from the thoughts and went to lift the pot of meat and vegetables from the fire.
Mark was beside her now, carrying the heavy pot to the crude table. When he brought the jug of milk from the stream cutting through their property he said, “Jenny, you won’t even have a chance to get your nose nipped by frost before you move into your new castle. By the way, you can start chinking anytime now.”
Jenny wrinkled her nose in pretended disdain. “I’d thought myself too old to play in the mud.”
Homer cleared his throat. The older man was graying and bent, but after watching him wrestle the heavy logs, Jenny realized he was still powerful. His words were so few that when he spoke everyone took notice. Today he said, “I hear the election in Gallatin didn’t go well.”
“That’s the county seat of Daviess County,” John informed Jenny.
She passed him the bread and replied, “I know. We’ve been there. Not much of a town for a county seat. Ten houses, and three of them saloons. I couldn’t even buy a hank of thread there.”
Mark’s words were overlapping hers, and she heard the tension in them. “What do you mean, Homer?”
“The Saints round about decided to vote. First time in five years, since that time in Jackson County. They weren’t supposed to.”
“One of the stipulations?”
He nodded and continued. “Now Joseph Smith’s moved out here from Ohio, things are different.”
“How’s that?”
With his head to one side, he paused to think. Casting a quick, almost apologetic glance at Mark he said, “I don’t rightly know. Don’t want to pin any blame on the presidency, but we were all treadin’ lightly.
“Seems in general, since this place was to be Zion, we needed to be making the best of the situation. People movin’ from Jackson to Caldwell County had one desire—that was to make a go of clearing their land and buildin’ up their places. They were tryin’ hard to get along with everyone.”
He paused for a moment while he used bread to sop up the last of his gravy. “It’s like peace fled since he came. Take the Danites. None of us gave a thought to such a thing—an army to scourge those who disagreed, sending them fleein’ for their lives?”
Mark was leaning forward now. “What about Jared Carter?”
The man’s expression was wary but he answered Mark, “Started out to be the big shot in the Danite group. See, you have to understand the oaths they take.”
John’s eyes were focused on Homer as he slowly said, “But the Lord’s raised up a prophet. ’Tis only right we give him the best.”
Homer’s eyes were steely as he leaned across the table and demanded, “Boy, did you join up?”
John shook his head. “My pa wouldn’t let me. But one of my friends who joined says with all the fussin’ and rumbling goin’ on, soon all the fellas will be required.”
Homer’s eyes were still holding John’s as he said, “The oaths instruct th
at a man not question nothin’, not even the orders given, whether they agree or not. No one is to speak evil of the presidency, every fella’s to be completely subject to their control. The secrets of the bunch are not to be let out on pain of death.”
When the silence became uneasy Mark prompted, “Carter?”
“He complained to Joseph about something Rigdon said.” Homer paused for a moment before he added, “He was dumped as leader. According to Danite principles he should have been killed. Peck told me himself that Carter deserved death according to the oaths. Joe admitted he should have cut his throat but didn’t do it. They had a trial in front of the Danites, and Huntington said at the trial he came within a hair of losing his head.”
The memory of that conversation was still with Jenny that next week when Tom came.
“How did you find us?” Jenny cried. “I’d nearly given up on you.”
“Joe gave me a clue. It’d help if you were a little more friendly with the neighbors. Nobody in Adam-ondi-Ahman had heard about you.”
“But they are mostly Gentile.”
“Not now. There’s several families from Kirtland livin’ just a couple of miles away. The Hansens, and the Lewis family.”
Jenny could see Tom was thin, and he looked strained and tired. Jenny led him into her house and seated him at the table. “You can live with us. There’s not much room, but you could sleep in the loft.”
He was shaking his head as he helped himself to the bread Jenny placed in front of him. “Too far for me to be travelin’ back and forth.”
“What are you doing?”
“Shoeing a few horses, pounding some nails, and plowing a few acres.”
“You bought land?”
“Naw, just helping my friends.”
“It doesn’t sound like much.”
He finished eating his slice of bread and drained the cup of milk. “You got yourselves a cow?”
“Yes, chickens too.” There was laughter in her voice. “Oh, Tom, you should have seen Mark struggling to be a farmer. He didn’t know how to milk a cow. He’s just not cut out for the plowing and such.”
“I ’spect Joe’ll be tappin’ him on the shoulder. Way things are goin’ around here, there’ll be clashes, and Joe needs all the legal help he can get.”
Jenny stopped to look at Tom, her eyes searching for clues in his face as she said, “It seems all we’ve been hearing the past few weeks is fearful rumbles about trouble between the Saints and the Gentiles. What is causing this? All the Saints I know want nothing but peace and a chance to have a decent life.” She paused, but when he didn’t answer, she asked, “How do you know Joe needs legal help?”
He didn’t pretend innocence. “I’ve joined the Danites.” When he saw that she understood, he added, “We’re keepin’ busy, such as the Gallatin affair.”
“Old Homer Thompson mentioned Gallatin when he was over helping Mark build the cabin. The conversation got side-tracked and I didn’t realize until later that he’d never finished his story. What happened when the Mormons tried to vote?”
Tom leaned back and whistled softly. “You are isolated up here.” He got to his feet and paced to the fireplace and back. “In Gallatin not too much happened. Oh, there were a few heads cracked and then the Saints were allowed to vote. It was the stories that circulated afterward that did the damage. It’s like there’s a bunch of soreheads out there just waitin’ to swing their fists.”
“Mormons, too?”
“Yes, I believe so.” He was quiet for a moment. Jenny watched him chew at his lip, but she couldn’t guess the reason behind it. “Though there were only a few heads that got knocked and a few insults spilled, rumor was there were men killed. I talked to John Lee later while he was busy tryin’ to calm Joe down before he did more damage.”
“More damage,” Jenny said in a low voice. “What did he do?”
“Joe was told that Justice of the Peace, Adam Black, was gettin’ together the Gentiles to chase the Mormons out of Adam-ondi-Ahman.”
“But that’s us!” Jenny’s hand clenched over her mouth.
Tom continued. “Result was, Joe took his army and headed for Gallatin. The beggars took to the woods like scared chickens. But Joe couldn’t be content to let sleepin’ dogs lie, and he strong-armed his way into Black’s cabin.”
He paused before saying soberly, “This took place after he went to Adam-ondi-Ahman and found out the rumors were false.” Tom took up his pacing again.
Finally he said, “Shoulda had sense to head for home. Anyhow, he forced Black to sign a paper sayin’ there would be peace. As soon as he was out the door, things started rollin’. Old Black went a stompin’ out of there and got up a warrant for Joseph’s arrest.”
“I—” Jenny paused listening. “That must be Mark. He’s been into town.” She moved to the door just as Mark appeared in the doorway. “What’s wrong?” Jenny whispered.
Mark was still frowning as he lifted his face and looked around the room. “Tom, I’d heard that you were back in the state.” He threw a quick glance at Jenny and answered, “I’ve just come from the miller’s. Things are bad. Joseph was arrested for strong-arming Justice Black the other day. There was a trial but he got off with only a fine. They could have done much worse. It was brought out that the Saints were crossing county lines with arms. That’s a pretty serious offense in Missouri.”
Tom responded, “Yes, we were there, tucked just over the county line to make sure no one tried to do in our Prophet.”
Jenny moved impatiently, “Oh, Tom! No one’s going to kill the Prophet. Don’t be so morbid.”
Mark’s steady eyes moved from one to the other. Finally he spoke. “Perhaps not do him in, but he’s causing trouble for the rest of us. There’s not a miller in this end of the state who’ll grind a sack of wheat for us.”
After Tom had left, Jenny faced Mark and said, “I didn’t realize we were so cut off from all that’s been going on. It’s my fault. I like being up here alone, feeling like I was part of the whole universe, and that only we existed in this whole world—” Jenny paused, realizing Mark was looking at her with a strange expression.
In a moment he said, “It’s my fault. Partly it’s because there’s not a newspaper in the area. But I don’t intend to be left in the dust again. First thing, lady, we’re going into Far West and see Joseph or someone who’ll tell us what’s going on.”
“Tom told me Joseph and Sidney Rigdon are intending to study law. They’ve talked to Doniphan and believe that with hard work they’ll be able to—to accomplish this within a year. He also said Joseph indicated he’d probably be seeing you, because he thought they’d be needing all the legal help they could get.”
It was a long time before Mark’s resolution to see Joseph was carried out. But late that same night Tom again paid them a visit.
He faced the groggy couple and said, “If I’d been a Missourian intending to take your life or steal your goods, you’d be easy prey. Get out, Mark and Jenny. Do you understand? The Gentiles are heading this way. Soon DeWitt and Adam-ondi-Ahman will be under attack.”
While Jenny shivered in her shawl, Mark passed his hands over his face and sighed. Going to the fireplace, he pushed at the slumbering log and then turned. Slowly Mark said, “Tom, this is unbelievable. Things just don’t happen like this. Under attack? Surely you’re overrating a hot-headed fisticuffs.”
Tom was shaking his head. Jenny could see her brother was trying to remain calm, and that was even more frightening. Tom said, “It’s all because a bunch of hot-headed Missourians want the Saints to get out of their precious state and leave them alone. It started years ago with them fearin’ that Mormons would work to free all the slaves in the state; from then it snowballed into fearin’ we’d shove the Missourians out. All we want is peace and quiet.”
“All?” Mark asked softly. “What about Zion? What about the Saints making no bones about saying the lands and riches of the Gentiles had been given to them by the Lord?”
Tom was quiet for a moment. Now calm, he answered thoughtfully, “It’s the truth. We are the people of God and the place is ours. But I guess you’re right. Comin’ in here and—” He sighed deeply and said, “We’ve got ourselves into a fix. I’m supposin’ we’ll end up fightin’ ourselves outta it.”
While they watched him, Tom paced nervously back and forth. Now his voice rose again. “These madmen will not be satisfied until every home is burned and every Mormon driven into the wilderness.” He whirled on Mark. “It’s the Gentiles turned against us, just like it was in Jackson County.” He paused to take a deep, ragged breath and then in a low voice said, “Mark, take her and go. Guard my sister. She’s all I’ve got.”
Chapter 9
Jenny stood in her doorway and breathed deeply of the crisp morning air. In the distance she could hear the crash of Grand River. Its turbulence was intimidating, but on the bluff high above the river, surrounded by the pine forest, Jenny felt safe.
Mark had chosen to build the cabin on a slight rise, where the morning sun drenched the logs with warmth and the one large window with light. This morning she felt the warmth of the sun on her face as she tilted her head to see the birds. They were disrupting the quiet of the forest, filling the air with their feisty complaints. Now she saw that the squirrels were causing the upset. She chuckled as a jay swooped down on his adversary.
Behind Jenny the pine fire was crackling in the fireplace and the kettle began to steam. With contented eyes, she turned to look around the room. “Not a bad job of chinking for a beginner,” she murmured, but she was measuring the effect of bright quilts and shiny china against the rough bark of the walls.
The aroma of fresh wood still lingered about the cabin. Often at the most unexpected times, Jenny found herself touching fresh pitch, but it was a minor inconvenience.
She was happily aware of harmony in the mix of her belongings, Mark’s saddle and rifle, and the polished rocking chair. She heaved a contented sigh. It was good to be in Zion and settled in her own home. “’Tis a spot of heaven on earth.”
Mark pushed through the open door with an armload of milled lumber. “Oh, there you are,” Jenny said turning with a smile. “I heard the axe. You’ve been out there for ages. What is that?”