The Veil

by Diane Noble

  Ellie was now on her knees in the sandy soil by the barn, clutching her arms to her chest and rocking herself in silent sobs. She could scarcely take in the horror, the treachery, that she’d just overheard.

  She drew in a shaky breath, forcing herself to be silent as the council broke up and the men made their way from the barn.

  “You’re coming back with us?” a younger man asked.

  “This was just a meeting place,” said a voice that was obviously Steele’s. “Not a stop for a social call—even to see my wife. We’ve got a meadow full of trouble waiting. I’d say there’s no time to think of anything but what’s ahead … for any of us.” He paused, and the others fell silent. “Now, brothers,” he said quietly, “let me bless you before our mission begins.”

  The men knelt before John Steele in a circle, hands folded, heads bowed, and one by one, he pressed his palms to their heads. Bowing his head, Steele kept his voice low when he began to pray his blessing on the men. His voice faded into an unintelligible murmur. Ellie could hear only the soft intonation of religious-sounding words.

  Ellie dared not breathe for fear of being heard. When the blessing was over, the men stood, shook hands, then mounted and rode into the darkness. She gathered her thin nightclothes above her ankles and slipped back down the path and into the house.

  Once inside the bedroom, she stooped by Faiths cradle, kissed the baby softly, then pulled on the clothes she’d arrived in days earlier. She lit the lamp, keeping the light dim so Faith wouldn’t awaken. Then she hurriedly scribbled a note for Hannah and Sophronia, asking them to watch over her child.

  She didn’t tell them where she was headed or what she’d heard. The man named John was surely John Steele, and she didn’t want to place the young woman in any greater danger.

  But Ellie knew that now she really didn’t have any other choice. She had to get to Mountain Meadows without being seen by any of the men who were now combing the territory to call out their brothers.

  She had to warn Alexander, because she knew how John Steele was going to trick the entire Farrington company into surrendering … a promise of safe passage to Cedar City and protection from the attacking Utes. Alexander and the others wouldn’t recognize the real enemy.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  The night he was tried for apostasy, Lucas Knight was found guilty. But John Steele had been wrong—the only reason he hadn’t been put to death at once was because of his relationship to the Danite leader. No one was willing to slit the throat of John’s adopted son. So a compromise had been struck, and Lucas was imprisoned in a house outside the valley to await John’s return so that he himself could carry out the act of blood atonement.

  “You better keep up your strength for diggin’ your own grave,” the first of his guards had taunted one night when bringing Lucas his supper. “And for lettin’ your own blood.” He’d laughed the evil laugh of those Danites Lucas knew to be young and inexperienced. They were always exhilarated with new power.

  “Spare me the details,” Lucas replied, assessing the man’s weaknesses. “I’ve witnessed blood atonement more times than I care to remember. I know exactly how it’s carried out.”

  The young guard shrugged and went about his business. But as days slipped by, it was obvious John Steele was in no hurry to make the journey north. And Lucas planned his escape while studying his series of guards. Some he knew, some he didn’t. None were as young or naive as the first.

  One night when he was guarded by the same young Danite, he moaned as if with a bellyache, carrying on until the young man rushed into Lucas’s room.

  He waited until the young guard bent over him, then he reached up and clamped the boy’s neck in a choke hold, twisting his arm behind him. Lucas could have broken the thin neck, but he didn’t. The young man seemed to expect the worst from the evil apostate and looked up at Lucas in mute surprise as he was bound and gagged and thrown onto the bed unharmed.

  “Now you may be the one executed for failure of duty,” Lucas said with a mock salute as he left. Though it wasn’t true, he thought he’d give the Danite something to consider until his rescue.

  Spitfire was corralled nearby, and within minutes Lucas had mounted and was riding deep into the mountains.

  He had been riding south now for days, staying away from settlements and ranches where he might be identified. He kept off the trail, listening for bands of Indians and whites, both equally dangerous to him. The Indians were controlled by John Steele. They knew Lucas as his son and wouldn’t hesitate to report back to John that they’d sighted him. And he was certain the white settlers throughout the territory would by now have been warned about his escape.

  He watched for signs of the Farrington wagon train as he rode, though he knew it was unlikely he’d spot anything, being so distant from the trail. He figured he was one week or so behind the company. A single rider could travel much faster than a caravan of wagons with several hundred head of cattle, so he hoped he could get to Mountain Meadows before they pulled out.

  As always, his thoughts turned to Hannah as he rode. His rage had lessened somewhat, but only because he knew his energy would be better spent planning their escape.

  Spitfire slowed now, and patting the horse’s neck, Lucas let him take his lead along a forested ridge.

  Lucas drew in a deep breath, gazing up at the moonlit sky through the branches of some spindly pines. He looked forward to seeing the Farringtons again, getting to know the family better on the trail to California.

  He smiled, thinking of Ellie’s words about God the time they had danced in the night circle near Laramie. She said that God had brought Lucas to them. He remembered how, afterward, he’d looked up at the sky, considering a God of forgiveness and love, a God who required his life in exchange for what Ellie had called “an abundance of all he is, living in us.”

  And she had spoken about her tomorrows—Alexander’s and her children’s—all resting in God’s hands. He’d seen the trust in her face, and he knew when she spoke the words that she meant them from the very depths of her being. Her expression when she spoke of God now suddenly reminded him of little Meg’s when he’d placed the whittled flute in her hands. The look on the child’s face had been one of pure joy, a delight that the giver of such a wonderful gift had chosen her to give it to. Ellie’s face had been so like her daughter’s when she spoke of the abundance of all God is, living in her.

  Spitfire danced sideways on the trail as a fat raccoon sauntered by in the brush. Lucas reined the stallion away from the creature and steadied him with another pat on the neck and some soothing words.

  He thought again of Ellie, the glow of love on her face, her childlike trust and her strong yet gentle ways. If God was living in her, it followed that it was God Lucas recognized within her spirit … and had from the beginning.

  He understood that what she’d said that night was true: God had drawn Lucas there for a purpose. And that purpose was to meet the only true, living God.

  He felt like shouting or at least throwing his head back and laughing aloud. While he had been held captive by the Avenging Angels, he’d had lofty thoughts that God had led him to the Farringtons to be their Moses—to take them safely through the territory.

  Now he knew that wasn’t it at all.

  He halted the stallion as the truth soaked into his soul.

  No, he’d been led to Ellie and Alexander so that he would see God … the true God behind the veil of the Saints … the veil of deceit.

  He looked heavenward, feeling an inexpressible depth of emotion. He wanted to weep and shout and laugh. Instead, he remained silent, staring up at the velvet sky. At the eastern horizon the silver crown of dawn outlined the mountains. Lucas held up his arms and said simply. “Here I am, Lord. I’m yours.” And a voice answered deep in his soul:

  I am the true God, the living God, the everlasting King.

  I have drawn you with lovingkindness.

  And you are mine, my son.

  As t
he sun rose, Lucas rode on instead of halting for the day. Suddenly, it seemed more important than ever to get to Hannah and Sophronia … to get all three of them into the Farrington company as quickly as possible.

  He rode all day and by sundown could see the red cliffs of Cedar City glowing in the last rays of the sun. He skirted the town and headed straight for the mountain pass to the southwest. He was within a few miles of Hannah and Sophronia, but exhausted, he now stopped to camp for the night. He chose a small canyon, protected by a screen of cedars and scrub pines, knowing that the closer he got to the Steele ranch, the more dangerous it was for him. John Steele commanded a militia numbering in the hundreds at this end of the territory.

  Lucas slept soundly then rose in the ashen light of predawn, saddled Spitfire, and headed toward the Steele ranch. He kept well off the trail, only stopping from time to time to listen for other riders. But the nearby trail remained strangely vacant.

  Just as the sun rose over the eastern ridge of the mountains, Lucas spotted first the pond and then the rough-hewn ranch house belonging to John Steele. He had been there with John on some of their travels through the territory.

  As Lucas rode closer to the ranch, he could see smoke curling from the chimney, disappearing into the clear morning sky. That meant that Hannah and Sophronia were home. His gaze took in the grassland beyond the barn. The distinctive bay that John Steele usually rode was not among the other horses. He hoped that meant the man wasn’t home.

  He rode a ways into the brush, tethered Spitfire to a low oak, then made his way to the front of the house. He listened for voices, still worried about John Steele being present, but was surprised to hear nothing except an infant’s cry.

  Lucas knocked and waited as he heard footsteps approaching. Sophronia answered the door. At first she stood perfectly still, her eyes full of love and welcome. Then she held open her arms, and Lucas fell into them.

  “My child,” she whispered. “You’ve come back to us.”

  He had just stepped into the house, his arm encircling Sophronia, when Hannah appeared in the kitchen doorway, holding a small bundled baby.

  “Lucas!” she whispered. “You’ve come …” She moved toward him, her eyes never leaving his face.

  “Hannah,” he said meeting her gaze. For a heartbeat neither of them spoke, then he looked down at the infant.

  Hannah noticed his puzzled expression and smiled gently at the child in her arms. “This is Faith—Ellie’s baby.”

  “Ellie?” he said. “Ellie Farrington? How—?” Ellie had somehow found Hannah and Sophronia. He tried to take in the wonder of it. “Is she here?”

  Hannah and Sophronia exchanged a glance, their expressions worried. “No,” Hannah said. “She had come here for supplies when this little angel decided it was time to come into the world.” Her voice dropped. “But something terrible’s happened at Mountain Meadows, Lucas. She found out, and I’m sure that’s where she’s gone.”

  He was instantly alarmed, and all the fears he’d had for the group in Salt Lake City returned full force. “What’s happened?”

  “There’s been an Indian attack. The Utes began a siege some six days ago now. The last we heard, though, it’s a standoff.”

  “Are you sure it’s the Indians?”

  Again the worried looks. “I’ve been afraid to consider anything else, Lucas.”

  “I’ve thought of it plenty, though,” said Sophronia, her eyes snapping. “I think it’s some white Indians. It’s been done before, you know.”

  Lucas nodded. It was no secret. “And you think Ellie left to go there?”

  “I kept her from leaving for two days. But she took one of the mares during the night. Left us a note.” The baby started to fuss, and Hannah lifted her to her shoulder. “I told her of the danger, but I didn’t tell her the Mormons might be carrying it out. I didn’t want to consider it myself.”

  “I’ll go for her,” Lucas said immediately.

  “I think John’s involved in this, Lucas,” Hannah said. “He’s been gone from here for a week, though some of the neighbors said they’ve seen him out riding.”

  Lucas nodded. “I’ll watch for him,” he said.

  “Be careful, Lucas,” Hannah said. She handed the baby to Sophronia and walked with Lucas to the door.

  He took her hands in his. “Hannah, I’ll find Ellie and be back. There’s so much we need to talk about …” His words faltered.

  “I know,” she said, touching his cheek. “There will be time later, Lucas. God be with you. I fear for what you’ll find.”

  He turned and headed quickly for the stallion. Within minutes the horse was galloping down the trail toward Mountain Meadows. If he could keep to the trail he would arrive there within the hour.

  At daybreak, Ellie Farrington, riding one of the Steeles’ mares, arrived at the pass that led into Mountain Meadows. She’d stayed a distance from the trail, though keeping it in sight so she wouldn’t lose her way in the dim moonlight. Riders had passed her from time to time, but she’d remained behind the thick cover of piñons and cedars. She needn’t have worried. They hadn’t so much as glanced in her direction but rather had seemed lost in discussion, some arguing loudly, others speaking favorably about the activities at the meadows.

  Ellie was feeling weak now from the ride and knew she could start bleeding again. But she ignored any thought of herself and kept her mind on getting to Alexander in time to save the company.

  She had remembered the setting of the meadow well, its bowl-like shape framed by low mountains. She figured that if she could get to a vantage point where she could see without being seen, she might find an opportunity to slip into the wagon circle. Her chances were probably next to none, but she had to try.

  Rounding a corner, she heard voices carrying toward her from ahead on the trail. She nudged the mare deeper into the brush then reined her to a halt until the riders passed.

  One of the voices, deep and resonant, sounded familiar. It was one of those she’d heard last night. John Steele. She tried to make out his form through the thicket of brush but could see only brief glimpses of his silver-gray hair and stocky build. He rode a high-stepping deep red bay.

  He spoke for a few minutes to a couple of men who were with him, calling one “Roe” and the other “Isaac.” She caught only snatches of the conversation, then one of the men began to pray, offering what sounded like a blessing on John Steele’s mission.

  Ellie fought the waves of fear and nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. She drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes for a minute to calm herself, holding on to the saddle horn to keep from swaying. The men had now ridden toward the meadow, and she waited until they had moved a distance ahead of her on the trail before kicking the mare forward again.

  As soon as she came over another rise, agony and realization cut through her heart like a knife.

  She was too late. Too late!

  The circle of wagons was surrounded by men. Not Indians in the hills, but white men with rifles—members of the Mormon militia she’d heard being discussed last night—standing within yards of each wagon.

  Ellie covered her face with her hands and prayed for courage … for those in the wagon circle … for herself.

  Dismounting, she tethered the mare’s bridle to a small cedar a distance into the forest. She leaned against a tree for a minute, closing her eyes and trying to steady herself. She was weak, nearly too weak to step toward the shelter of rocks she’d spotted.

  But she bit her lips together in sheer determination and moved slowly from the cover of trees to the outcropping of granite. She had just moved into position when John Steele, riding on the blood red bay, made his way to the Farrington company, waving a white flag.

  Alexander met him, and Steele dismounted as some of the other men gathered round. She could see Billy Farrington, Jesse O’Donnell, and Abe Barrett standing nearby; behind them others began to crowd around. Reverend Brown stood off to one side. And she could barely make ou
t Liza Barrett speaking with him. Alexander spoke to John Steele, and the conversation seemed animated. She hoped that her husband would see through Steele’s plan, but she noticed that there seemed to be no wariness among any of the Farrington party.

  She wanted to run down to them, risk an arrow in the back or a bullet through the chest, just for the chance to cry out to her husband, to tell him not to listen. Then Faith’s tiny face slipped into her mind, and she knew she had to stay out of sight. No matter what happened, she wouldn’t walk from this place only to face certain death.

  The sun was higher now, beating hot and harsh on her face and head. She felt so weak. Unbidden, her eyes fluttered closed for a moment. She was beginning to see shimmering lights across the meadow grasses, and she blinked to clear her mind and vision. Her thirst was terrible, and as she looked down she knew the bleeding had started again, worse than before.

  There was a commotion in the meadow, and she tried to focus again on the train. The shimmering was more pronounced now, and she couldn’t quite make out the high-arched wagons. Wildly, her gaze flicked among the people, all standing in the train’s center corral. She searched for her friends, Liza Barrett, Polly O’Donnell, Mary Farrington. They were there, holding on to their children and grandchildren.

  She blinked again, trying to send away the awful shimmering, trying to see her precious Meg and Sarah. Her babies. Her sweet babies. There they were! First skipping to stand beside Alexander. Then no, he’d sent them away. Sent them to stand by Liza.

  Ellie was pleased. Liza was more precious to her than a sister. It was fitting that the children each held one of her hands. Meg— Margaret Elizabeth—had been named for her, Ellie’s precious friend.

  She should be with her friends, her husband, her babies. She started to rise to walk down the mountain then remembered she couldn’t … She couldn’t because the grass was on fire. She had first noticed it the other night. Even Meg and Sarah had seen it. That must be why it was shimmering so, shimmering golden in the sun.