A Many-Splendoured Thing

by Margaret Pemberton

  ‘That boy has been so good,’ Charity Merrill was saying to Lucy. ‘He shot enough birds to keep us in meat every day.’

  ‘And how have you fared?’ Fletcher Merrill asked as they gathered around the fire. Only Dart remained apart, standing in the shade of Lydia Lyman’s wagon.

  ‘Nearly lost our lives a while back,’ Josiah said, giving a graphic account of the flooded creek.

  ‘If it hadn’t been for the Major we’d still be at the other side of it with our provisions dwindling.’

  ‘If it hadn’t been for the Major, my daughter would be drowned, as would Polly,’ Susannah said quietly.

  The Merrills turned and looked curiously at the blue-uniformed, gold-epauletted figure.

  ‘He looks kind of intimidating,’ Charity Merrill said with a whisper to Lucy Marriot.

  ‘He certainly doesn’t look the kind of man to be travelling with God-fearing Christians,’ Fletcher agreed in a low voice.

  Nephi leant across to him, a strange light in his usually-kind eyes. ‘The Major is the friend of every man, woman and child on this train, Brother. He may not be a Mormon, but we Mormons don’t have exclusive rights to courage and integrity. Brother Brigham has said that himself and I’d like you to remember it.’

  The Merrills remained silent but unconvinced. Emily Merrill kept sliding her eyes in Dart’s direction, as if he were the devil incarnate.

  Dart noted the tight little mouth and unbecoming hairstyle. Emily Merrill’s face was one full of character, but not seduction. For her, Jared Marriot would be the answer to a prayer. He noticed that though Polly had welcomed her warmly, Emily had quickly removed herself from Polly’s touch and had seated herself as far as possible away from her. Two girls of the same age should have been talking ten to the dozen. Emily Merrill seemed reluctant even to look in Polly’s direction.

  Dart replaced his flask in his hip pocket and strolled across to them.

  ‘We can either camp here and ride into Richardson Point tomorrow, or continue and arrive at Richardson at dusk.’

  ‘Onwards!’ Nephi cried, leaping to his feet. ‘Are we in agreement?’

  The women, hoping that those ahead of them had contrived comforts that they so far lacked, agreed, and the drum of flour and water casks that served as seats were hastily rolled back into the wagons.

  Emily Merrill moved forward to speak to Jared, but he was already striding towards Polly and at the expression in his eyes Emily halted, her face a mask of misery.

  ‘It will be good to ride together again, Polly,’ Jared said, seizing her hand and leading her towards the Marriot wagon.

  ‘Jared, I must talk to you …’

  ‘And I to you, dear heart. But not now. Later, when we can speak without being overheard.’

  He grinned at her and helped her into the teamster seat. Behind them Lucy and Tom Marriot sat within inches, Lucy’s knees jolting occasionally into Polly’s back.

  Emily spun on her heel towards the wagon Jared had driven so jubilantly only a short while ago. If she had hoped he would ride it again, she had been mistaken. Blinking back tears she climbed up into her seat and took the reins while her parents made themselves comfortable behind her.

  Dart mounted his horse and rode down the line. When he reached the Marriots’ wagon he raised a quizzical eyebrow at Polly, but said nothing.

  ‘I suppose,’ Jared said with unaccustomed bitterness as Dart returned to the head of the convoy, ‘that I should thank him for saving your life, but truth to tell, Polly, I can’t help feel that it was he who endangered it.’

  ‘What on earth do you mean?’ Polly nearly fell off the seat with surprise.

  Jared flicked the reins bad-temperedly. ‘Ordering you to cross the creek as he did. He should have waited until the water subsided. It was foolhardy and why Brother Cowley and Brother Spencer can’t see it, I can’t imagine.’

  ‘The water would not have subsided,’ Tom said soothingly. ‘The snow had only just begun to melt. If we hadn’t crossed when we did, we could have been stranded there for months—and without food.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I don’t like the man,’ Jared repeated stubbornly.

  Polly’s hands were screwed up tightly in her lap. She could not tell Jared of her change of feeling when his parents were within earshot. She could say nothing until they were alone.

  ‘He’s arrogant and overbearing,’ Jared continued undeterred. ‘Who does he think he is, assuming leadership as if it were his by right?’

  No one answered him. The subject of the Major was not even one that Tom wanted to discuss further. He was tired and weak, but he had seen the way the Merrill girl had looked at his son. Now, if Jared would only turn his attention in that direction, they would have no more worries.

  Jared showed no intention of doing so. His eyes were so often on Polly’s pert little profile that it was a wonder the Marriot wagon remained in the convoy. He talked incessantly to her: about Brother Merrill’s illness, about how calm and unflappable Emily Merrill had been, alone on the trail with two sick parents; of how he did not intend to stay at Richardson Point, but to forge ahead with Brother Brigham and his party of pioneers. Unspoken, but obvious, was the assumption that she would travel with him and that his parents would remain at Richardson Point with the main body of pioneers until the spring came and the journey West would be less hazardous.

  If he intended her to accompany him West with Brother Brigham and the others, then he also intended that she should marry him before they set out. Marry him at Richardson Point.

  Polly’s fingers continued to twist in her lap. If only Tom Marriot would take the reins and allow her and Jared to walk awhile. Then she could tell him that she could never marry him. That she was in love with Major Richards.

  Twice it was on the tip of her tongue to ask Tom to take over, but on his son’s return Tom had sunk back into exhaustion and looked almost as ill as Brother Merrill.

  Dart remained at the head of the party and Polly tried to listen to Jared’s eager conversation and not to be constantly trying to catch a glimpse of Dart. If Jared and the Merrills had not returned, she would probably be riding with him, or at the very least sitting beside him as he drove the Marriot wagon, seeing strong brown hands on the reins instead of fair, blunt-fingered ones: a tailored, blue uniform instead of buckskins and cape. More importantly still, a dark laughing face instead of Jared’s boyish countenance. She pursed her lips. It was a face that did not always laugh. Sometimes it looked distinctly forbidding and she could well understand Sister Merrill’s reluctance to approach and be friendly with him. In repose, there was a savagery in Dart’s features that intrigued and aroused her. It was a face she would never tire of looking at, not by sunlight nor by moonlight.

  ‘We’re there!’ little Jamie Spencer cried. ‘I can see the tents and wagons!’

  Polly felt a tight knot of apprehension growing in her stomach. Very soon she would have to speak to Jared and she knew he would not take the news placidly.

  Guided by the Merrill wagon, the little convoy drew up to the outskirts of the large camp and stopped. Close on five hundred wagons formed in an orderly manner, some with tents pitched alongside, some without. Friends that had not been seen since Nauvoo ran to meet them—Lees, Kimballs, Fieldings, Smiths.

  Lucy was in tears of relief. Just being amongst so many friends and neighbours gave her the sense of security she so badly needed.

  ‘I’m off to tell Brother Brigham we have joined him safely,’ Jared said, springing to the ground and raising his arms to circle her waist.

  Polly was quite capable of jumping to the ground with the same agility, but there was no refusing the outstretched arms without being hurtingly impolite.

  Lydia Lyman pretended not to notice, but Dart made no such pretence. He felt a sudden blazing anger at the sight of another man touching that supple waist, holding her close.

  ‘I must talk to you first, Jared. It’s very important.’

  He frowned. ‘Is somet
hing wrong? I noticed that you were quiet on the wagon, but then I thought you were tired …’

  Throngs of well-wishers were milling around them. She took hold of his hand. ‘Let’s move away, Jared. We can’t talk in the middle of a crowd and what I have to say is very private.’

  She led him away from the camp fire and the sound of reunions and greetings. As he watched them walk away into the darkness, there was a sudden flexing of muscles along Dart’s jawline.

  Whatever suspicions he had held were now confirmed. His first assessment of Polly Kirkham’s character had been correct. He had been a diversion for her—nothing more. His blaze of anger turned cold and hard and he turned on his heel and went in search of the Mormon leader.

  Emily Merrill stared unwaveringly at Jared and Polly’s retreating backs. He hadn’t looked at her once since they had joined up with the others. For three days he had laughed and talked to her, begun to teach her to shoot, promised to teach her to fish. He had not kissed her, nor said he loved her, but he had enjoyed being with her and once, when his arm had circled her shoulders as he taught her to hold a rifle, she had been sure that he had been as aware of her body as she had been of his. She would make him a far better wife than Polly Kirkham. Blonde ringlets and summer-blue eyes were not enough to compensate for being an unbeliever. After living for five years with a Mormon family and not embracing the faith, Emily doubted very much that Polly ever would. There was an undercurrent of wildness beneath Polly Kirkham’s pretty exterior. The mother had been an unknown quantity and the daughter was as well. In Emily’s opinion Polly would never fit in: would never become one of them. Why was the same instinct so lacking in Jared? Why could he not see how unsuitable Polly was to become the wife of a future church leader?

  She blinked her tears away angrily. She would try praying. It was the only course left open to her.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Jared asked again, as they stumbled away from the clamour of the camp.

  Polly stopped walking and turned to face him, her heart racing uncomfortably.

  ‘I cannot marry you, Jared. Major Richards has made it impossible …’

  Jared’s face whitened. ‘What did he do to you? In what way did he harm you? Did he …’ He gagged on the words, his eyes glazing with such ferocity that Polly nearly fainted with fright.

  ‘No! No! You don’t understand Jared. He …’

  Jared swung on his heel, his hand on the knife at his belt. She ran after him, pulling on his arm.

  ‘Please stop and listen. It isn’t as you think.’

  ‘It’s enough! I knew the man was carnal the minute I set eyes on him, but that he should take advantage of you the minute I rode away …’

  He shook her off and began to run back towards the camp.

  ‘Jared! Jared! Wait! Listen! Oh please! Please!’

  He was yards away from her now, running and leaping, and she could not catch up with him. Her long skirts caught on unseen brambles and then she fell. Sobbing, she stumbled to her feet but could no longer see him.

  She lifted her skirts and began to run, her heart hammering wildly. She was aware of people giving her strange looks, but she did not care.

  ‘Have you seen Jared Marriot?’ she asked breathlessly. ‘Have you seen the Major?’

  ‘The Army man went off to see Brother Brigham,’ an unknown voice said. ‘Down there’s the way. At the far end of that row of wagons.’

  ‘Thank you. Oh, thank you!’

  She began to run again. Jared would not know where Dart had gone. He would look for him among their own tiny party.

  ‘I think you’ve an infernal cheek,’ Brigham Young thundered, his mane of white hair making him look like a patriarch from the Old Testament. ‘You expect me to round up a battalion of men to fight for a government that has failed to protect us, that has forced us out into the wilderness?’

  ‘Those are not my orders, but they soon will be. I’m only advising you of the facts and asking that you supply the men now and so save time later.’

  ‘Rogue!’ roared the Mormon leader with a gleam in his eye. ‘You’re out for promotion and to beat someone else to the job.’

  Dart nodded. ‘So I am. A Captain James Allen has orders to intercept you at Council Bluffs and form a battalion of your men to fight in the Mexican war.’

  ‘And if you can do it, so much the quicker, there’ll be more gold braid to fancify your shoulders?’

  ‘Maybe, but I think you should listen to the proposal carefully. On the surface it is insufferable that after such persecution and lack of help from the government, they should call on your men to fight. But every man who volunteers will be paid full army wages. They’ll go first to Fort Leavenworth and then to California.’

  The Mormon Leader’s eyes sharpened beneath his bushy eyebrows. ‘California?’

  ‘Exactly. You can have a whole army of men transported to the far side of the Rocky Mountains without expense to yourself. Your food supplies will last longer, for there will be fewer mouths to feed.’

  Brigham Young rose to his feet and slapped Dart on the back. ‘I like your gall, Major, and I like your way of thinking. But until we reach Council Bluffs I need every man that I have.’

  Dart shrugged. What the Mormon leader was saying was true, and he would not want to argue a case that would leave women and children in hazardous conditions. It was a pity though. It would have done his career no harm to have arrived at Fort Leavenworth with a full battalion of Mormons ready and willing to fight in the war against Mexico.

  ‘Good day to you, sir,’ Brigham Young said, shaking him vigorously by the hand. ‘I’ve heard good things of you from Nephi Spencer, and Brother Spencer is not a man to give praise easily. May I ask what your plans are now?’

  ‘I shall return East,’ Dart said uninterestedly.

  ‘Then our ways diverge, for we go forward to establish a camp on the banks of the Chariton.’

  Dart did not press him further. He knew the route the formidable man in front of him intended taking and he had heard enough about the so-called Promised Land.

  Cordially they parted and he strode away between the wagons and tents and camp fires, to his horse. He would not think of her. Let her marry her Mormon man and let her go into the wilderness with the rest of them.

  At the sight of his grim profile, the Saints fell silent. There was something menacing about his striding figure. Charity Merrill saw him and shuddered. She could not share her friends’views of him. As they had been the last to arrive, the Spencers, Cowleys and other wagons were on the very perimeter of the camp and had not, as yet, made their own camp fire. Instead, with great relief, they had joined friends and relations and the wagons were deserted except for Charity’s as she returned for provisions.

  It was dark away from the fire and there was no moon. She could no longer see him, but she heard the rattle of bridle and reins. He was leaving them. ‘Thank the Lord,’ Charity whispered and descended from the safety of her wagon with a fresh supply of wheatcakes in her apron. Jared knocked them flying to the ground as he raced up to her, gripping her arm so hard that she cried out in pain.

  ‘The Major! Where is he? Have you seen him?’

  ‘Jared, my arm! You’re hurting …’

  ‘The Major!’ Jared’s face was that of a man half crazed.

  ‘You wanted me?’ The voice was insolently careless. The reins were dropped as he jumped lightly to the ground.

  Jared’s hesitation was momentary and then he lunged at the shadow in the darkness, hitting out viciously with his fist, and sending Dart reeling.

  ‘That,’ he yelled triumphantly, ‘is for Polly. For defiling her. For …’ He got no further.

  Dart had hoped to avoid the indignity of a fight with a mere boy by talking to him and pacifying him. Now, with lightning speed, he retaliated. From being the victor, Jared found himself victim, sprawled flat on his back, the breath knocked out of him.

  ‘She’s not worth fighting over,’ Dart said contemp
tuously, making no attempt to continue the fight.

  Jared struggled to his feet. ‘She’s betrothed to me! You knew that, yet still you … You …’

  ‘I did not know it and certainly the lady, if that is the correct terminology, did not advise me of the fact. Indeed, she seemed most forgetful of it.’

  ‘Liar!’ Jared’s fist shot out again and Dart’s lean hand circled it with panther-like speed.

  ‘Have sense. I’m leaving. You’ll only get hurt if you continue this idiocy.’

  ‘Not me, Major! Not me!’ With his free hand he reached for his belt.

  Dart saw the flash of steel and sighed. The young man would have to be taught a lesson. He hit him once and then again. At what point the crowd began to appear, Dart had no idea. He only knew he was not going to be stabbed in the back by a stripling youth, demented with jealousy.

  Jared bled from the nose and the mouth. Barely able to see, he staggered to his knees, fumbling for the elusive knife.

  Dart hauled him to his feet, steadied him with one hand and struck him on the jaw with the other. When he released him, Jared fell senseless. In Dart’s judgment he would remain like that for several hours.

  The crowd that had gathered backed away, horrified. They were accustomed to violence from outsiders, but not in their midst. Not in their hymn-singing camps on the trail.

  Polly saw only a half-senseless, defenceless Jared being dragged upright, only to be hit with calculated viciousness. She pushed through the crowd, eyes wide, barely comprehending what she had seen. All fear for Dart’s safety fled. Jared was the one who was hurt. Jared the one lying unconscious. She flew to his side, cradling his head in her lap. Above her Dart drew on his gauntlets, his face cold and hard, the face of a stranger.

  ‘Savage!’ she hissed as Jared moaned in pain. ‘Savage!’