by Marian Wells
One evening as he hung his hat and coat behind the door, he said, “I can’t pretend to be hopeful about the situation. Since the state militia’s pulled out, the Mormons and the old settlers are acting like they’re trying to outdo each other in devilment. First one side burns a barn, the next does one better—he takes the cattle and burns the barn.”
He snorted in disgust as he sat down to the table. Bowing his head, he prayed, “Bless, O Lord, this food. We thank You for the bounty of this good land.” He cleared his throat, “Please set Your hand upon these people and restrain the wicked one. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done. And help our good sister here to be guided by Your Spirit. She has a need to know about You. Supply her need. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
As Jenny looked curiously at him, he sliced the meat and held out his hand for her plate. “Not a bit better.” He was answering her unspoken question. He said, “Riding toward Gallatin today I saw at least ten fires over the valley.”
“Oh.” Jenny took her plate and slowly said, “I must be going home. Just being there, well, it might help. Surely they wouldn’t burn it down while I am there.”
Mrs. McBrier shook her head, chiding, “Child, you don’t realize how dangerous it is. The stories rollin’ in here don’t promise a thing for the strongest man, let alone a little woman like you.”
They ate in silence, and then Jenny broached the subject which had caught her attention during the prayer. “Sir, you said I had a need to know God. I do know God, perhaps even better than you.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because we have Joseph’s book and he has the keys to the kingdom. Besides that, I’ve been studying out the secrets and the power through—” Suddenly she stopped.
Looking around the room she was seeing it as if for the first time. By the glow of delicately shaded china lamps, she was seeing things she had missed before. The comfort of the surroundings was more than material. There was a serenity about the home; she saw reflections of it in the polished wood and colorful quilts. She also noticed the black-bound Book on the table beside Mr. McBrier’s chair. Her thoughts overlapped it with the picture of the green and gold book, and unexpectedly she saw the garish contrast. She looked at the McBriers; they were still waiting.
While Jenny fumbled for words, Mr. McBrier said sharply, “And I suppose you’ve decided to join the Protestants and the Catholics as well as the Mormons. Jenny, wee girl, it’s reading God’s Holy Bible and letting God himself have a dwelling place in your heart that makes you know something about himself.” He studied her face for a moment and the twinkle came back into his eyes. “Besides, I’ve been on the way of following Jesus for these past forty years, and I know myself less learned and less worthy each year I live.”
Two days later Jenny decided to take matters in her own hands. In her restlessness, she felt that these good people were determined to smother her with kindness when there wasn’t a need.
After breakfast she packed her valise and headed for the barn. With her horse saddled and wearing her cloak, she searched out the McBriers and announced her intention. “I do appreciate your goodness to me, but I simply must push on. Don’t worry about me.”
She could see from their expression that they realized the futility of arguing further. With a sigh, old Mr. McBrier said, “Then go, we pray, with God’s blessing and His care.” At the end of the lane, she turned to wave to them.
Jenny knew the direction she must ride to reach Adam-ondi-Ahman before pressing on to the farm. First she headed toward the main road and then turned north. Between the McBriers’ home and the road the trees were thick and tall. A screen, she thought, between herself and the rest of the world.
As she started out, Jenny realized sight was blocked, but not sound. She had not yet reached the road when she began to hear gunfire. Pulling on the reins, she hesitated. Suddenly there was the sound of pounding hooves. But only when Jenny heard shouts and the crash of horses, only as her own mount snorted with terror, did she wheel her horse and slap her with the reins. Jenny dug her heels into Patches’ ribs, forcing her into the undergrowth beside the trail.
Before Jenny had time to dismount the riders galloped past her hiding place and disappeared. She saw they were going in the direction of the McBriers’ home.
She hesitated, wondering, yet not believing those gentle people would suffer at the hands of these men.
At the moment she heard the crack of the whip, Jenny’s horse was rearing, snorting with pain.
Over her shoulder she saw the man as he lifted the whip again. “Be off, you Gentile! The Army of the Lord is here and the wealth of the Gentiles is ours. Begone, or we’ll have your horse, too!”
Jenny vainly tried to control the fleeing animal under her; she clung to the mare and was conscious only of the roar of wind in her ears. At last the horse stood quivering and snorting. Jenny realized they were in a clearing looking down over the McBriers’ homestead.
As she swallowed the dryness in her throat and pressed her hand against the pounding of her heart, her attention was drawn to the activity far down the hill.
She watched a wagon being drawn close to the house. Soon men were running in and out of the McBriers’ house, carrying bundles. She caught the gleam of dark wood. The dining table. The pile of brightness was Mrs. McBrier’s colorful quilts. The sun glinted off a shiny lamp. Jenny pressed her hand against her mouth and moaned. The words that man had yelled were still with her.
Powerless, Jenny watched from her lookout. After the cattle were led from the barn, it was set ablaze. She was numb with shock as she watched the fire. In a short time, the wagon pulled away, leaving the house burning in an explosion of flame and smoke.
The last timber had crashed with a shower of sparks flying up from the blackened ruins before Jenny tore her fascinated gaze away from the scene and rubbed life into her numb arms and face. The McBriers—where were they? Had they perished in the blaze?
Jenny dug her heels into the horse’s ribs and wheeled back the way she had come. When she rode up the McBriers’ lane, she found the couple standing in their yard, shivering under wraps too scanty to cut the chill of the afternoon. Throwing herself from the horse, Jenny rushed to them.
They moved like wooden figures. Mrs. McBrier said, “Why, Jenny, you’re crying.”
It was the old gray-haired gentleman who wiped the tears from her face and listened as she screamed, “I hate them for what they’ve done to you! Hate, hate, hate! They are animals!”
“Come, child.” They both drew her close and the three of them settled on the log beside the watering trough. Jenny saw bits of charred wood floating in the water. At her feet a hen pecked listlessly as if she must concentrate on that tiny portion of her world.
The tears had dried on Jenny’s cheeks. She had wrapped her cloak around Mrs. McBrier, and now the old gentleman patted his wife’s hand and said, “There, there, Mother. It’s going to be all right. God’s in His heaven and He’s never failed us yet.”
Mrs. McBrier pressed her face against her husband’s shoulder. Jenny was surprised to see serenity in the midst of tragedy reflected on those old faces as the couple rested on the log. Mrs. McBrier spoke slowly, heavily, “I guess I can’t complain; we’re no better than the others, and many have lost as much.”
“Our men have been guilty, too,” Mr. McBrier said slowly. “I just can’t reconcile the causes. Seems people ought to be able to live in peace, regardless.”
Jenny watched his boot push at the charred wood and needed badly to say live where? but the fearful question wouldn’t come. Suddenly he lifted his head and smiled. It was like a ray of sunshine in the dark, and Jenny watched him wordlessly wondering how it was possible.
Mrs. McBrier squeezed her husband’s hand and he smiled down at her, saying, “One good thing has come out of this.” They waited patiently and finally he continued. “Seems every man who’s ever searched for God ends up desiring more of Him. Makes a body prone to not want to wait for et
ernity. Right now we’re wanting new visions and glimpses of heaven. Some claim to have them.
“I’ve not envied a man’s horses or cattle, but I’ve wanted to be one of those privileged to sit in God’s presence. For a time, listening to them talk about the visions of glory, their calling to build a city for God; hearing about the gold plates and the angels, well, my heart went yearning. Almost I was ready to run after these Mormons.
“But even while looking at this, I recall hearing that Joseph Smith said these people are the most righteous people who ever lived. And no other religion has the keys of the kingdom. Then, sitting here, I got to thinking about what the Holy Bible says about love. You know, Jenny and Mother, God’s Word is full of love. It says without love even the prophecies are nothing. Even if we give up ourselves to be burned, if we don’t have love, the sacrifice is nothing. And the Bible says God is love, that He loved us so much He gave His Son for us.”
He was silent a moment; then he lifted his head and looked at Jenny with his gentle blue eyes. “Sister, I guess it was worth losing everything to find out that love isn’t in the Mormon camp.” He shuddered slowly, shaking his head. “I came close to being enticed into making a terrible mistake.”
Jenny was pondering his statement, wondering, ready to ask her question when she heard the sound of hoofbeats. A lone horseman was coming fast, and Jenny slowly got to her feet.
Dread filled her as she faced the road. When the man jumped down from his horse and hurried toward them, Jenny recognized the man who had sent her here, John Lee. Still waiting beside the McBriers, she watched his face twist with disbelief, then settle into a mask of grief.
Going to Mr. McBrier he said, “I’d heard. I just couldn’t believe they’d do such a thing after the way you’ve befriended so many of ’em.”
Crossing his hands behind his back he paced restlessly back and forth across the yard. When he stopped in front of them he said, “This trouble-making is wrong. I’ve told Joseph this has got to stop! It can only lead to disaster for the whole camp. You can rest assured that your neighbors will avenge you for this.”
Mr. McBrier was shaking his head even as Lee spoke. “I don’t want revenge. I want to see no more hurt on either side. Oh, God,” he murmued, “what will be the outcome?”
Lee paced again and when he stopped, shoving his hat back on his head, Jenny saw the sadness in his eyes. Slowly he shook his head. “I don’t understand, but I see clearly that religion hasn’t the power to subdue this passion in man. It ought not be this way. As soon as the church takes its thumb outta their backs, these men become beasts. They’re as bad as if they’d spent all of their lives being the most degraded of criminals.”
Lee’s words sank deep into Jenny’s mind—confusing at first, then shaming her with a nameless guilt. Later she helped John Lee gather up the small bundle of belongings the McBriers managed to salvage and the two of them took the McBriers to the nearest Gentile neighbor.
Late in the afternoon Jenny and John Lee turned their horses toward Adam-ondi-Ahman.
Lee said, “Your husband was quartered in town until two days ago. Joseph called for him to go into Far West. It was something to do with legal questions.”
Jenny’s heart sank, but she bravely said, “No matter. I’ll just ride up to our farm. You might tell him I’m going there when you see him.”
“You’ll be safer in town. We’ll find a place for you to stay.”
Jenny shook her head. “I’m not afraid. I’ll be doing what needs to be done up there, pack up a few things and go back to Far West.”
Finally he shrugged and watched as she turned her horse off the road and headed up the trail to the cabin over-looking the Grand River.
Chapter 18
When Tom pushed open the door of the general store in Far West, the first person he saw was Mark. His brother-in-law was sitting close to the fireplace, his leg propped high on a stool.
“What’s the matter with you?” Tom stopped in front of the leg and studied it.
“Got it banged up a bit fooling around with the horses. What are you doing back in town?”
“Called back. Them up there insisted they don’t need all the troops. Mostly scared of having so many to feed. So they sent a pack of us back here.”
“Could I get you to hunt for Jenny?”
Tom raised his eyebrows, “You here all this time and haven’t seen your bride?”
Mark’s grin was twisted. “Don’t forget, I’ve a bad name, they’re calling us the Oh, don’t men. That’s as bad as being a dissenter; they just didn’t have the evidence to hang that on me. Meanwhile, I’m being shunned. Twisted my leg bad enough I can’t take sitting on a horse right now, and I can’t get a soul to ride out to the McBrier place and bring Jenny back for me.”
“Sorry, old man. I’ve a little job to do, so Jenny’ll have to stay out there another day or so.”
Tom grinned at Mark’s frown and then asked, “I’d heard you were here. What’s Joe got you up to?”
“I don’t know yet. He sent me ahead, promising he’d be back here in a couple of days. He mentioned law problems. Seems to feel his friends Atchison and Doniphan don’t understand the ramifications of the war problems. I’ll worry about that later.”
“Worry? Sounds like you aren’t too sold on Joe’s problems and the need for a body to counsel him.”
“Tom, you know that.” His voice was low. “A fellow wanting to make it in the legal profession would find plenty here to make him squirm if his intentions were to play the game fair and square.”
Tom said slowly, “You know they captured the cannon taken out of DeWitt. Found it over in Livingston County.”
Mark sighed wearily. “That’s just one more in the catalog of wrongs, on both sides. It’s an offense to carry arms from county to county, and it’s pretty hard to overlook a cannon.”
It was the next day that Corrill came into the store and found Mark. “Well, you’ve pulled a soft assignment,” he joked. “Almost as soft as the Prophet.”
“What’s he doing?”
“When I left Adam-ondi-Ahman he was wrestling in the mud.”
Mark snorted, “Corrill, even I won’t swallow that one.”
“It’s the truth. I was there; just ask him.”
“When’s Joseph coming back? When he sent me down here, he said he’d be along shortly.”
Corrill looked surprised and then he frowned. He shot Mark a quick look and said, “Did Lee tell you that your wife has gone back to your place?”
Mark sat up straight, “Jenny in Adam-ondi-Ahman? Lee mentioned that he found her out on the road and took her to the McBriers’ place to stay until things settled down. I’d no idea she had left. When did she leave for our place?”
“Well, I overheard Lee telling Joseph to pass the message on to you. I expected him to be here by now.” Corrill paused for a moment and then said, “Sorry, old man.”
The door closed behind him. Mark sat staring at the door while the man’s words rolled through his thoughts. What did Corrill mean? Abruptly Mark heaved himself to his feet and tested his weight on his lame leg.
Wincing, he walked slowly around the room and then he approached the counter where Mike was polishing glasses and watching him. “If someone asks for me, tell them I had to take a quick trip to Adam-ondi-Ahman.”
“Anyone? Even Joe?”
“Particularly Joe.” Mark knew his voice was bitter as he pushed open the door.
****
It was late when Jenny approached her own front door. For a moment she sat on her horse, feeling the quiet and thinking that the forest stillness seemed to have taken possession of her home.
In another moment she realized the silence meant the chickens and cow were gone. “Tyler was to be caring for them,” she whispered. “Could he have taken them?” The door of the makeshift barn hung open. It was evident the bags of grain were missing from the rafters of the lean-to.
Filled with dread, she slowly slipped from t
he mare, led her to a grassy spot, and then went to the house.
Surprisingly she found the one-room cabin as she had left it—with one notable exception. Standing in the middle of the room was a handsome walnut grandfather clock. She moved slowly toward it. Was it another spirit trick?
The polished surface was cool and real under her fingers. As she ran her fingers over the wood, the clock chimed out the hour. Six o’clock. “That must be pretty close to accurate,” she murmured. “Whoever brought you here was interested in seeing whether or not you still worked.”
She frowned in the effort to think through all the implications of the clock’s being there. It was John D. Lee who had told the McBriers that stolen goods were being spread around in order to avoid any one person being blamed should they be discovered. Jenny lifted her head. Slowly she said, “If that is so, Mark Cartwright, attorney-at-law, could be charged.”
Jenny slowly sat down and studied the clock. Obviously it was costly. She sighed and tried to find a solution to the situation. Of course, it would be too heavy for her to lift. She cringed, thinking of the neighbor’s reaction were she to ask for help. Finally she got up and shrugged off the problem. She found flour, several eggs and some moldy bacon in her larder, and went to start a fire in the fireplace. After sliding Mark’s shutters into position and fastening them securely, she prepared her supper. While she was frying the bacon she addressed the clock, “I think it is a very good thing I came up here. You are beautiful and I would love to have you, but, too bad. I think I need to find some way to shove you into the Grand River.”
As she ate her lonely meal, Jenny’s thought was full of the unbelievable events of the day. The memory of the McBriers’ faces knotted her throat into a miserable lump; but at the same time, she was accepting the conviction that once she left this house, she would never see it again.
Would she see Mark? For a moment her spirit plunged and then soared: there was Joseph’s prophecy and there was her commitment. Only by obeying the Prophet completely would there be a surety of having her wishes granted. Too often she had heard him remind the Saints that there was no safety except in obeying the Prophet. But there was another thing, too—all the promises of power through the green book. And she intended to use every one of them.