Star Light, Star Bright

by Marian Wells

  Mark continued, “Things were starting to settle down a mite. The Saints from Jackson moved to Caldwell, just like the state legislature told them to. You recall I told you what some of the old settlers told me? They were talking about how it was until Joseph came to town last spring. The word was peaceful.

  “This one fella told me the Jacksonites have one desire and that is to build a place up, get in a crop and live at peace with their neighbors. Sounds good as far as it goes, but peace is out of the question. Why? Now along with the information that hordes of Mormons are moving into the area, the Gentiles hear Joseph is building up an army with the intent to take the state, the country, and eventually the whole world.”

  He heard her protest. For a moment Mark paused to study Jenny’s face. There was bewilderment and disbelief on it. He took a deep breath, conscious of the sure feeling that now was the time to face his wife with the facts she had chosen to ignore.

  “Jenny,” he pleaded, “right now I’m not asking you to judge his merits; instead, just try to put yourself in the Missourians’ shoes. Their state isn’t taking the action they feel is needed so the men are scared. They’ve resorted to mobbing, trying to make things miserable for the Saints, hoping they will leave on their own. Of course it isn’t working, not under Joseph’s hand. These people dare not leave under threat of being labeled dissenter. But in addition, some of the Saints are thieving and burning right back. For every bad tale you hear about the Missourians, there’s another one about the Saints.”

  “Mark, I don’t believe that. They say—” she paused and lifted her chin. It was at that moment Mark realized the change in Jenny.

  His despair overrode his good sense and he whispered, “Jenny, what is happening to you? From the very beginning I saw what a wonderful mind you had. I watched you because I knew you were special, and I fell in love with that special person. You’re closing your mind! Don’t let others do your thinking for you—not now, not after all these hard years of scrapping for room to stand tall.”

  She was caught, and her eyes widened. She was wondering as she looked into his face. Was it possible Mark was seeing something she didn’t? For a moment she toyed with the idea that at times she did feel as if her thoughts were only echoes of some other voice.

  In another moment she shook her head. Whispering, she said, “Mark, you’re wrong. My ability to think, to grasp what is right, that’s just the very thing that’s bringing me along the way to be a strong person.” He pulled her close. For a moment, just before Mark bent to press his face against hers, she saw the shock in his eyes and the white line his lips had become.

  Chapter 11

  Late that same afternoon Mark thought about Tom again. That bleak conversation with Jenny had pushed the incident from his mind, and now he knew he couldn’t discuss his unexpected meeting with Tom.

  In Adam-ondi-Ahman, Tom and some of his fellow Danites had been assigned the task of building a fort in the middle of town.

  What a shock, walking into the town square and finding the crude fortification! The silent streets, the sullen expressions on the faces of his Gentile neighbors hurrying about their business had alerted him to change, but when he heard the pounding of hammers, his heart sank.

  When he confronted his brother-in-law, Tom’s crooked grin hadn’t cancelled the dark, hard look in his eyes. Tersely he said, “We’re building Joseph a fort. Under siege, we are. Gentiles are banding together, moving this way. Like locusts, they’re comin’. Like tender grass, we’re moving. Joseph says head for Far West or Adam-ondi-Ahman.”

  His eyes followed the movement of the Gentile crossing the road, hurrying toward his horse. “We’ll run ’em out. Next year this time there’ll be only Saints about. The Lord’s goin’ to fight our battles for us.”

  Today Mark paced his lean-to, cracking his knuckles and reviewing Tom’s statements. That expression in his brother-in-law’s eyes! The angry frown that had underlined the words made it impossible to dismiss the unbelievable statements. But he was wondering what was twisting his brother-in-law’s placid disposition.

  Tom was talking as if the Danites were the Lord’s avenging instrument, a sword to be lifted against the Missourians.

  But it was the anger in Tom which had bothered Mark the most. Mark had been about to point out that the Danites’ being in town would make it impossible to live in peace with these Missourians. He was about to point out that Gentiles owned as much of the town as the Saints did, when Tom’s tight-lipped statement had cut off the conversation. Tom snapped, “Remember Rigdon’s speech. Your concern comes too late.” Mark knew Tom was referring to the Independence Day speech when Rigdon had thrown down the gauntlet.

  Mark watched Jenny walk slowly down the path toward the tumble of wildflowers still vibrant with color. She bent to bury her face in the blossoms and his heart constricted with fear. “Dear Jesus,” he murmured in agony, “help me. I’ll never forgive myself if I stay here one moment past the time it takes Jenny to get her eyes open to the truth. I know it could mean the difference between life and death. My Lord,” he pleaded, “I can’t lose her now!”

  In the following week, Mark and Jenny watched events pile up and then tumble like a rock slide, growing, crashing, sweeping up everything in its path.

  The bands of desperados continued to plunder; the Saints daily reported new losses.

  After visiting the nearest neighbors, Jenny brought the latest stories to Mark. “The Andersens are saying the mobs are concentrating on DeWitt and Adam-ondi-Ahman because they’ve made up their minds to rid the county of Mormons. There’re only two Mormon families in DeWitt, the poor souls. If nothing else, they’ll die of fright.”

  And still he was silent. But it was a troubled silence as he recalled Tom’s angry face and the sound of hammers in the streets of Adam-ondi-Ahman.

  In the middle of September, on the day Mark returned home with news of Joseph’s petition for redress, Jenny had noticed the touch of autumn. Distant hills, rolling up and away from Grand River, were touched with a new glow of color. She also saw the grasses in the valley turning golden.

  While Mark sat at the table and hungrily spooned up the wild plum preserves, Jenny ladled out bowls of barley soup. Mark commented, “The honey with plums gives a good flavor. I like it better than sugar.”

  He finished the soup, and Jenny said, “I can tell by your face that there’s something brewing.”

  Startled he looked up. “Oh, I was pondering it all, trying to understand.” He was silent while Jenny waited. Finally, “I’ve just heard Joseph has petitioned the judge of Ray County. I suppose he just didn’t know what else to do. It’s on behalf of those of us in Daviess County who are being threatened with expulsion.”

  “Are we being threatened with expulsion?” Jenny asked slowly. Then she added, “Is that what they call the mob action against us?” She waited, then asked, “There’s more?”

  He nodded soberly, speaking reluctantly, “Word’s run ahead of them. General Lucas has dispatched Generals Atchison and Doniphan to settle our differences. They are headed this way with five hundred men under them. Quite a bunch to keep peace in a county this size.”

  “What does Joseph’s petition ask?”

  “He’s complained about the treatment the Saints are receiving at the hands of the Missourians. About the fights, the looting, the harassment.”

  “When will these men arrive,” Jenny whispered, “and, Mark, what shall we do?”

  “I don’t know.” When he threw her a worried glance, her hand crept to her throat. “Don’t start worrying yet. We’re far enough from town; probably won’t even know they’re there. Besides, these men represent the state. They’re coming to settle the differences, not start a war.” He grinned at her.

  He was picking at a piece of cornbread when Jenny stated, “Mark, you’re not saying, but you’re thinking the Saints are making a mistake.”

  “Yes,” he said slowly, “it’s just a feeling, but seems Joe would be smart to d
o his best to keep the peace by cooperating instead of pushing his luck. I can’t help thinking the old settlers in the county are seeing it in the same light as a youngster running to his pa to complain because he’s being mistreated, when in truth his teasing caused the problem in the beginning.”

  Jenny lifted her head. “I hear a horse.” They both went to the window. As the horseman turned off the road, Jenny exclaimed, “It’s Tom!”

  And when he was standing in their cabin, holding out his bowl for soup, he said, with a grin, “Mind if I call this home for a spell?”

  “What’s that to mean?” Jenny asked, searching his face.

  “I’ve just come from Far West. Seems Joe’s sent a petition askin’ for help to—”

  “So we’ve heard,” Mark interrupted.

  Tom sat down at the table and added, “Well, then you know that Doniphan stopped in Far West with orders for that place.”

  “What were they?”

  He piled plum preserves on his cornbread before looking up with a pleased grin. “To disband all parties found under arms. And he found a heap of us, even caught us totin’ our guns around. We were ordered to clear out of there and head for our homes.”

  “Like little boys with their hands slapped.”

  “Aw, Sis. You’ve never seen a bunch of fellas so glad to go. We’re hopin’ this means the end of havin’ to snatch up a gun and run when there’s orders.”

  Mark was studying Tom with keen eyes. Slowly he said, “That surprises me. From all I’ve heard about the Danites, I had it figured you were all spoiling for a fight. I thought you were reconciled to having to take Zion by force, and the sooner the better.”

  “Mark, you have it wrong. Given our druthers, you’d find most of us a peaceful bunch. Oh, sure, there’s a few hotheads in the group. But we fight because our salvation’s at stake.”

  “Obey the Prophet or be damned,” Mark said slowly, and Tom nodded.

  Jenny sighed deeply. “I’m glad to have you. Seems we need all the kin we can get. Even Mark’s worried about affairs around here.”

  “Well, they’re not good,” Tom continued soberly. “The bunch of Danites holed up here’bouts, they tell me, has been livin’ on cattle, hogs and honey. They’re callin’ it bear, buffalo, and sweet oil. But they’re not foolin’ a soul. There’s bound to be more’n a few heads cracked when the old settlers get fed up with havin’ their stock feedin’ the bunch fightin’ them.” Jenny saw the look the two men exchanged, and shivered; she dared not question further.

  Tom stayed on with Mark and Jenny. In reflecting on the whole uneasy situation, Jenny decided that had Tom taken up whittling or fishing—anything except running about the country, she would have been able to dismiss the strange visit as loneliness.

  Her worst fears were confirmed late one evening when Tom came home long after supper was cleared away, when the evening mists were creeping down the crimson hillsides.

  He dug into her stew of venison and dumplings made of corn as if only it stood between him and starvation.

  Sensing his troubled spirit, Mark and Jenny waited until he had finished eating. He drank the last of the milk and said, “I’ve been over Far West way. I’m mighty uneasy about how things are goin’ to set. Joseph’s got his ire up and it’s bound to cause trouble.”

  “Haven’t the troops Joe stationed in Daviess returned to Far West?”

  Tom nodded. “It’s DeWitt now. The old settlers have been tryin’ their hardest to get those two Mormon families out of there. Finally they drew up a resolution statin’ they couldn’t live with Mormons. We found out it was decided they would use force to get rid of them. But before they could get goin’ on it, Joseph moved a big bunch of Canadians into the area. He was mighty set on keepin’ a foothold in DeWitt, since it’s a good river port.”

  Mark got to his feet and paced the room. “Tom,” he said thoughtfully, “Doniphan’s been trying to negotiate a settlement in Adam-ondi-Ahman. Things were starting to look pretty good for us.” Jenny listened to the growing excitement in his voice and looked at him in astonishment. She was beginning to understand his frequent and unexplained trips into town as he talked.

  He was saying, “The way things were going, the Missourians were ready to sell out to us. I was ready to plunk down money myself. How’s this new event going to set?”

  “Not good,” Tom said slowly. “That’s why I’ve come back.”

  “I don’t understand,” Jenny said dully, her heart sinking in response to the anger and discouragement on Mark’s face.

  Tom continued and his voice was level, emotionless. “I’m a Danite. Joe’s ordered us to DeWitt as soon as we can get there. I’m not here for arms, like Joseph’s thinkin’; I’m here, Mark, to beg you to get my sister out of Missouri. Even if you have to leave without a thing and on horseback, just go!”

  “What about you?” Jenny whispered.

  Tom’s face twisted in a half grin. “Accordin’ to the promises Joe’s given us, there’s nothin’ that can touch the Lord’s anointed. He’s promised God will send angels to do the fightin’ for us.”

  Tom gathered up heavy clothing and took the gun Mark pressed upon him. Your life may depend on it,” Mark added; “besides, I’ll have yours.”

  “Just don’t go to DeWitt. The Missouri mobs are gatherin’ as fast as they can.”

  “Whatever for?” Jenny cried. “Surely a few families of Saints couldn’t have brought that on.”

  “I forgot to tell you the Canadians have a breastwork of wagons stationed down the middle of town. That doesn’t sound like innocent settlers bent on plantin’ wheat.”

  ****

  It was dawn when Tom rode his horse into DeWitt. From the bluff overlooking the town he saw the peaceful river port, gently touched by the light of the rising sun. But he also noticed only a few trails of smoke rising from the chimneys of the log cabins clustered along the wharf.

  Until his gaze moved to the center of the community, he had nearly convinced himself that this was a peaceful little river town. Then he saw, stretching down the middle of town, a barricade of wagons. Beyond the breastwork, he saw the Mormon camp and caught his breath in surprise. This was no mild response to the burning of one Mormon house and a few stray gunshots—this was a major offensive. In the pale light of dawn, the positioned Mormon troops were spread, as far as he could see, the length and breadth of the open space.

  Carefully Tom made his way down into town and into Israel’s camp. He found Joseph and his men ensconced with the Canadians behind the breastwork of wagons. Joseph’s usually smiling face was creased into a worried frown.

  He greeted Tom. “We didn’t have any trouble marching into town, but I’m afraid we’re in trouble now.” Bewildered, Tom looked around. He could hear children’s voices overlapping the voices of women, but the area around the fires was empty.

  Joseph was pacing rapidly back and forth. “The settlers from Canada have suffered severely at the hands of the mob. Now the mob won’t give us freedom to leave. What a trick! They let us in while they were pulling reinforcements from every county in the area. They’ll all be down our necks—but we’ll fool them. We’ve only to sit it out.”

  “Not fight!” Joe and Tom turned. Lyman Wight had been listening; his face was red with anger. “We’ve the Lord to fight our battles; march on!”

  But in the end, Joe’s will prevailed. An express was dispatched to the governor, but this time there was nothing of encouragement in the answer.

  Joseph wadded the paper and threw it to the ground. Tersely he said, “The governor informs us that since we got ourselves into this fix, we should get ourselves out.”

  Tom slowly turned. Just beyond the fringe of town, away from the threat of the Canadians’ guns, he could see the cluster of Gentiles with rifles raised. “Is that a cannon?” Tom asked. Joseph nodded briefly; then the Prophet slumped wearily.

  Tom squatted in front of Joseph and said softly, “Joe, these people are in a bad way. The mob’s
been goin’ through the bunch beating them. I guess they were in the wrong, out tryin’ to find something to eat.”

  “I know,” Joseph said slowly. He got to his feet. “For the sake of these people, I guess I have to admit we’re licked for now. Get me a flag of truce.”

  Wight’s face contorted with rage. “You are a fool! Not only are you backing down on the promises of God, but think of the message the Gentiles will get! I promised the Danites would take these people. You’ll make a fool outta me.”

  Tom faced Wight and stated, “I can’t believe you have a better plan.”

  Wight spun on his heel and flung his arm toward DeWitt. “See this little town? They’ll boast they sent us crawling out of here on our bellies.”

  Joseph was still impassive, but he was watching as Wight whirled toward him. Tom cringed as Wight yelled, “You’re embracing defeat like a friend!”

  But Joseph shook his head. Under a flag of truce, the starving, beaten settlers were led to Far West.

  A short time later, Tom was there when Joseph received the dispatch from Adam-ondi-Ahman.

  When the ragged man with the message stood before Joseph, his voice was dull and discouragement bowed his shoulders. “They’re saying up yonder—the Gentiles are—that if Carroll County can turn out the Saints, then Daviess County can too.

  “General Doniphan’s sent word negotiations have broken down and the settlers aren’t going to sell out to the Saints. Sir, we’ve lost more’n DeWitt.” He started to turn away, then added, “They’re saying a mob of eight hundred’s moving toward Adam-ondi-Ahman.”

  Chapter 12

  Jenny stood in the one room of her home, bewildered. All of it was unbelievable: one moment the little cabin had seemed a bit of heaven, her place forever; now it was being wrenched out of her life.

  “Mark, we’ve been here such a short time. It seems we’ve just settled in and now you’re saying we must go.”