by Marian Wells
Tamara held up her arms and Jenny took the child. “Sally, I know just what you’ll be saying next. You’re going to start chiding me because my faith is feeble and you’ll tell me again that to question is to doubt, and that doubt is sin. Somehow I can’t just accept anything in life without giving it a few questions. Why did God make me this way if asking questions is wrong?”
“Tell me what sense it makes to question?”
“Well, for one thing, I suppose it gives a person a good desire to change what ought to be changed.”
Sally picked up her mending and asked, “Just what would you change in this affair if you could?”
Jenny looked around the little cabin. There were things from their past which had been disturbing her for some time. She had been recalling Kirtland. Closing her eyes she could see the Morgan home with its spacious rooms and big windows. She pictured the flower garden, the white picket fence, and the flock of chickens picking at sunflower seeds.
“Sally, don’t you pine for that lovely house in Kirtland?”
Sally sighed and nodded, “And the furniture we couldn’t bring with us.” She stopped abruptly and Jenny saw her press her lips tightly together before she continued. “Jenny, we can’t be fussing over things. Every one of us is called upon to make sacrifices for Zion.”
“I don’t know why I’m thinking like this right now,” Jenny said slowly. “Maybe it is not having Mark around. Up Adam-ondi-Ahman way I could see the poor lot we had, but somehow it seemed to be just a passing thing; I expected it to be better tomorrow. Now—maybe it is just missing Mark.”
Sally shook her head over her sewing. Her voice sounded wistful as she said, “No, it isn’t just that. Seems you can take anything if you believe in it. I guess what you’re trying to tell me is that maybe you no longer believe?” She lifted her head and searched Jenny’s face. “Doesn’t it make you feel terrible to not believe?”
Jenny stared thoughtfully at Sally, seeing the worried frown on her face, the anxious lines that had replaced the smiles. Sally didn’t seem to know how she had changed. Finally Jenny said, “Sally, you wanted to know what I’d change. It’s the helpless feeling.”
“Helpless? Jenny, we’re to be praying, trusting the Prophet to bring the word of the Lord to us. We’re to believe everything will work out just the way Joseph prophesied it would.”
“And if it doesn’t?” For a moment fear spread across Sally’s face and then she straightened on her stool and opened her mouth to speak. Hastily Jenny said, “See, deep down you’re scared to death it won’t. Well, that’s where we’re different. You’ll sit and shake in your shoes. I intend to get out and make certain it does happen.”
Jenny began to grin. She could see from the sparkle of hope in Sally’s eyes that she had her attention. “And,” she leaned forward, “one of these days, I’m going to say, ‘Joseph, remember the hard times in Missouri’s beginning days, back before we really became Zion with all these riches? Remember when we lived in log cabins instead of these white mansions? Remember when it looked like we were losing? Well, Joseph, that’s when I—’”
Jenny stopped abruptly. It was as if she had suddenly dropped back into Sally’s presence, and here was this weak, timid woman waiting for her to change the world.
Sally was holding her breath, waiting. Now Jenny didn’t dare say those final things. Sally’s little-girl eyes gazed at her with eyes so much like Tamara’s. She wouldn’t understand. For a moment Jenny felt as if she were Sally’s mother. Her heart swelled with love for the timid little one, and then she knew, for one brief moment, the surge of power.
But even now it seemed life was falling back into a pattern of failure. She was very aware of a spirit of powerlessness and fear twisting around her, like the fear mirrored in Sally’s eyes and echoed in Tamara’s whimpers.
For a moment she teetered, powerless to help either herself or her friend, and then she remembered her resolve. She must see Joseph, now. She must tell him about all that was going amiss in his church. But would he listen to her?
Just two days ago he had brushed off her words as of no account. She puzzled over that; what had happened to the Joseph she had known in Kirtland, the man who had seemed eager to keep his finger upon the pulse of the church?
Then she realized the connections. She needed power at her disposal before she could be successful with Joseph. Jenny looked down at her hands lying limp and useless in her lap.
Was it all a dream, a useless, futile dream, or was there really power out there for the having? She waited, checking the response of her own spirit. There was that time, just before coming to Missouri, when she had known the only hope for power was through Joseph’s church, through obedience to the Prophet.
For the rest of the day the two women tried to skirt the fearful things they had conjured and content themselves about the fire. But in the night, when chatter was done, Jenny’s mind was filled with that painful picture of Mark, seeing him again as he was surrounded and marched out of her life.
During the dark lonesome hours, Jenny did a great deal of thinking, and she came to a single conclusion. She knew, with a deep-down spirit conviction, that Joseph was doomed to failure unless much more power were brought to bear upon the forces fighting him.
Now Jenny moaned softly as she twisted her face into the pillow. What careless folly! During the rush of the day, just before leaving their cabin at Adam-ondi-Ahman, Jenny had forgotten to pin the talisman into the folds of her fresh dress. It was still pinned to her work frock, left hanging behind the door of the cabin. And the green book. At the last moment she dared not hide it in the buggy lest Mark stumble across it. She whispered into the pillow, “No matter what the cost, I must go after the talisman and the book!”
The next day, as soon as she dared, Jenny was into the forest, searching the undergrowth for the power-filled mushrooms and herbs to round out her dwindling supply. The memory of the charms and chants in the green book were as fresh and alive in her thoughts as they had been the last time she had used them.
Unfortunately, there were many sections of the book she had never had the occasion to use. She thought of the book secreted back at the little cabin perched above the rapids of Grand River. How desperately she needed that book! And Adela. How badly she needed that woman’s wisdom and counsel now, before it was too late!
With renewed passion, Jenny fought desperately for spirit power and the strength to know the secret vibrations of the other world. The following day she spent hours in the forest, while a listless Sally rocked beside the hearth and played with her child.
When Jenny returned to Sally’s cabin, there was a strange discontent wrapping itself around her heart. Coming out of her meditations in the forest, she felt as if she were trading reality for a misty world without substance.
But that night, when the faint glow of the fire touched the shadowy room, Jenny felt herself alive to the spirit influence. She beamed her prayers toward the full moon and directed her spirit energy toward pleasing those fearful spirit entities.
Just two days after the men marched out of Far West, heading toward Adam-ondi-Ahman, an unseasonable snowstorm paralyzed Missouri for a brief time.
Jenny watched the snow from Sally’s window and fretted about Mark, but at the same time she was taking credit for the storm. The influences from the spirit world knew better than she just what power must be used.
Heartened by victory, she redoubled her efforts, now adding incantations that left her shivery with the sense of power flowing through the universe. Meanwhile, Jenny watched Sally’s fears and doubts grow day by day. But Jenny observed her friend’s anxieties with an oblique sense of detachment, aware of her own power growing.
On the day that the snow melted back enough to reveal the crushed grasses and brown-earth path, Jenny rode Patches into Far West. Her plans were vague, but she knew she must try to find Joseph, even if it entailed walking up to the Harrises’ front door and facing Emma Smith with her demands.
> As she rode slowly through the deserted streets, she felt the air of desolation, even abandonment, and she shivered in response. In front of the sprawling log building, Jenny slid from the horse and tethered her beside the only other horse. She measured the gelding with a critical eye. Black, several hands taller than her mare, with a deep, powerful chest. As she headed for the door, she smiled to herself. That could be Joseph’s horse. Just possibly she would have him to herself!
Inside, the man behind the high counter was polishing glasses. “Hello, Mike,” she said, pulling the mittens from her hands.
“Miz Cartwright.” His genial face crumpled into a frown. “No matter what you’re a wantin’, we probably don’t have it.”
She cocked her head and nodded with a pleased smile. “Yes you do. I hear Joseph’s voice, and it’s him I want.”
Mike’s eyebrows arched in surprise, “Well—”
Another voice roared through Joseph’s murmured words; both Jenny and Mike faced the jumble of shelves and boxes that shielded the far end of the building. Jenny didn’t recognize the voice, but she forgot that as she listened.
“I tell you, there’s no other way. We will prevail. We will win! The Lord himself has given us this plan; you’ve said so yourself. The law of consecration will not support the building of the temple. These people are too poor. We must convince them that this new plan will work. Think of it—everyone divided into four companies, everyone placing their property under his company for the good of all. Everyone with a task to do, and we’ll all prosper.”
The roar subsided to a low rumble and Jenny looked at Mike. “Who is that?”
He cast her a pitying glance. “You best get acquainted. That fella is a big shot who’s gonna get bigger. That’s Avard, the wheel that runs the Danites.”
“Avard!” She’d only time for a gasp of surprise when the man thumped his way into the room. He elbowed past her and slapped the bar.
“Mike, a stiff one.” Now he turned with a sardonic grin, and she guessed he had been fully aware of her presence when he pushed into the room. “Well, well. A camp follower?”
“I’ll thank you, sir, to watch your manners. I am a wife.”
He slapped his knee and howled with laughter. “Aw, got your temper up, didn’t I? Now you see me, what do you want?”
“Want? Nothing, I—” Stepping closer she peered up at him, “So you’re the famous Avard who runs the Danites. I’ve heard about you. Why must you have such a fearful, secret army? Isn’t it more proper to be all out in the open? I mean, if you’re in the right and there’s to be a fight, why the secret?”
“Well, now,” he scratched his head and then grinned. “I guess ’cause the fellas like it.”
“That’s no reason. I’ve heard the menfolk are frightened, scared to step a toe over the line. They’re talking about you having absolute control of the men. Why, I’ve heard that even Joseph Smith doesn’t know what you’re doing behind all that secrecy—”
“I’ve heard,” he mimicked, with a snort of a laugh. “That ain’t so. Joe knows what’s goin’ on. When we organized, he came before us to bless us. The presidency gave us to realize we’re here to do a marvelous work on this earth. It’s promised to us that we’ll have glorious military victory, and it will be by the power of God. The revelation said that one of us will put a thousand to flight; besides that, we’ll be assisted by angels in the work of the Lord as we go out to battle.”
“You think you will?” Jenny’s voice was only a whisper. She was thinking of Mark and Tom.
His glance was shrewd. “He prophesied that the time has come for us to take up arms in our defense. Joseph even promised that if trusting in him fails, we can use his head for a football.” He was studying her face with eyes so sharp that Jenny steeled herself to endure the scrutiny.
Slowly he spoke, “You know what the worst thing on this earth is for a Saint?” She shook her head and he added, “To disbelieve or go against the Prophet and his men.”
In a moment she recovered enough to say, “I heard you talking about the companies of workers.”
He nodded, his gaze was still piercing as he said, “All persons who attempt to cheat by deception, holding back some of their property from the church, will meet the same fate as Ananias and Sapphira did. Peter killed them.”
He turned back to the bar and lifted the glass. But Jenny was caught motionless. When he faced her again, she was still waiting. “There’ll be a fight, lady, whether you and the Oh, don’ts want it or not. I do, and we’ll see the matter out; there’s no other way.” He finished his drink; without another word, he headed out the door.
Jenny heard his shout and the sharp whinny of his horse before she recalled the reason she was here. She turned to Mike. “Joseph. I must see him.”
Mike was still polishing glasses. His look was level as he said, “Went out the back way ’bout five minutes ago. He’s headed home and walkin’. I suppose you could catch him.”
By the time Jenny was back on her mare and headed for the edge of town, she could see the dark figure cutting away from the road and moving into the trees. She was certain it was Joseph. That fellow had pointed out the George Harris home just beyond those trees.
As Jenny guided the mare away from the road and into the trees, she lost sight of Joseph. “Oh dear,” she murmured, “one second and he’s disappeared. I was certain he was moving that direction, and now—” Jenny blinked.
The path in front of her had been empty, but now there was a figure moving toward her. She had guessed it was a woman wearing a dark cloak, and now she saw a flash of red with every step the woman took. Red. Surely not.
Jenny leaned over the horse’s neck and peered through the shadows. Was her silly heart playing tricks again. Had her deep need conjured an apparition? “Adela,” she whispered. Her heart was pounding in confirmation of what she was seeing.
At the moment Jenny straightened and screamed, “Adela!” she brought the reins down across Patches’ flanks. The horse lunged and reared. Jenny fought for control as they plunged through the bushes.
When Jenny had calmed the horse, she slipped from Patches’ back, still trembling.
Joseph came loping through the bushes. “Jenny Cartwright, is that really you?” He reached for her with a pleased grin, then exclaimed, “What happened?”
“Nothing, really. This mare took off like a scared rabbit when I yelled.”
“That was you? Who were you calling?”
“The woman. Did you see her?” Jenny ran past him to the path and stopped. “That’s strange. She’s completely disappeared. I would have expected that—” She shrugged and turned back to Joseph. “But it’s you I’ve come to see.”
He was frowning, looking around uneasily. When he turned back she saw he was puzzled, lost in thought. She studied his uneasy grin, saw how hard he tried to concentrate on her words, and, surprisingly, a crushing disappointment settled over her.
“Joseph, remember a long time ago in Kirtland, you said you needed me.” She saw the astonishment flare in his eyes and paused only to wonder as she continued. “You said you needed a friend, to—to let you know what was going on. Do you still need me? I’ve been hearing so much—she faltered when she saw the thundercloud expression.
“Of course,” he said hastily. “What is it?”
“The people. Please give them a chance. They grumble and argue, but they daren’t tell you what they are thinking. Joseph, it hadn’t ought to be.” For a moment she was lost in reflection, and then recovering, she added, “Even I miss the old Joseph. You were so much fun, and they adored you.”
His eyes softened for a moment and then with a sigh, he said, “Those were the old days, Jenny. How I wish I could have held them forever in that way. But no! It is not that I wished differently; it was them.”
His eyes were blazing and he grasped the hand she held outstretched. “Jenny, I’ve found how deep their devotion goes. It’s only as deep as their pockets. If I am a cynic, it
is because I have discovered I can trust no man. They want to own me, shape me to their image. I will be owned by none. I am the Lord’s anointed. I hold the keys of the kingdom. If I must control these people with an iron hand in order to bring them into the kingdom of heaven, then I will do so.”
“Love?”
It was a question, and he stared into her eyes as he slowly asked, “What do you mean?”
“Mark says God is love. He thinks it is possible for people to be controlled by love.” Joseph’s mouth was twisting in amusement, and hastily Jenny continued, “I don’t agree. I think it’s power.” She recalled the woman. “That’s why I was so excited when I saw her. Do you still have the talisman and the seer stone? Do you still believe—”
Now Joseph threw his head back and laughed heartily, “Jenny, my dear! Do you mean to tell me that you haven’t outgrown those childish ways? How have you escaped the pious clutches of your husband’s holy fervor?” Now he leaned close and whispered, “Don’t be foolish, my dear! Of course I don’t believe the old witching tales. I am Prophet, Seer, and Revelator. I am the anointed. What I say is the word of God to my people. Don’t forget that. When I say jump, my people must jump. When I say a thing will happen, it will happen.”
“Like the riches of the Gentiles will be ours?” She was staring into his face. Without wavering, his eyes met hers. Slowly, she whispered, “Joseph, I wish with all my heart that I could believe as surely as you do. Then maybe it wouldn’t make any difference whether I ever saw Adela again, whether I got back my talisman and the book.”
He blinked. “What’s happened?”