Morning Star (33 page)

“Then, Joseph, what is the mystery of Christ?”

Jenny felt as if her head whirled with knowledge. But her heart was even heavier than it had been when she had first entered the office.

She shifted John Mark to her other arm and hesitated. Joseph waited. “You tell us the Bible isn't translated correctly,” Jenny said. “You give us so much wisdom and knowledge, spirit direction. But, Joseph, I don't understand it all.

“Why is it that when I read the Bible, the words sing through me? I can't forget some of them. God so loved us that He gave, that whosoever might have eternal life just by believing in Jesus. Aren't we ‘whosoever'? Joseph, who was Jesus? Why does He say we must be born again?”

Clayton was at the door waiting to come in. Apologetically he said, “I don't mean to bother, if you need more time.” Jenny shook her head, but her eyes were studying the books and the large charts he held. He shuffled through them and lifted one. “'Tis of the heavens. The Prophet and I have been seeking the ancient knowledge of the heavens. My, what amazing things we've discovered.”

“About the universe?” Jenny questioned.

“No, about the influence of energy and the stars. Of their magnetic force released on the people of the earth. Did you know we are under these influences?”

Feeling even more confused, Jenny shook her head and left the office. As she got into the buggy she murmured, “I still don't understand the mystery of Christ. Why wouldn't the princes have crucified Him?”

“Being a mama is harder on a lady than I thought.”

Jenny looked up. Tom was standing beside the buggy, grinning at her and reaching for his nephew. “Hey, big fella. When we goin' huntin' together?” John Mark drooled and reached for Tom's beard.

“I'm sorry; I just didn't see you. Where are you headed? Do you want a ride?”

“Going up to Nauvoo House. Emma's all set to take off on the steamboat, bound for St. Louis to buy some fancies for the place.”

Jenny exclaimed, “Oh, the luck! I wish I were going, too. New clothes and new furniture, oh, my! But where do you fit in?”

“Joseph just wants me to settle the lady in. So I'll go up and drive her in the carriage to the wharf.”

“Come out for supper with Mark.”

He shook his head. “Lee's outta town. Joseph's tapped me for duty at the house tonight. I do want to see Mark; you might let the word drop. I got a lot on my mind, and I want his advice.”

“Love or finances?” Jenny teased. Tom glared, and she laughed. “Well, come when you can. It's been a month since you've been out.”

“Yeah.” He paused. “I heard Mark ruffled Pratt's feathers a couple of weeks ago.”

“It's been around,” Jenny mused. “Seems Mark's having a harder time keeping quiet lately. Tom, I'm worried for him. He won't sign up for the endowments. You heard the sermon. What does that mean to John Mark?”

“Maybe nothing at all.”

Tom stood watching his sister drive out of sight. Her slender figure in the dark calico seemed especially vulnerable, fragile; he wondered at his uneasiness.

Walking back to the stables behind Nauvoo House, Tom was pondering the effect of the summer's assignment on his feelings. “A body can't help being influenced by it all.” He muttered, thinking of what he had seen and heard during the past months.

“One thing's for sure. I'll be very happy to chuck this job and go back to tending horses. They don't give me no surprises.”

But later, as Tom settled himself on the cot in the back hall of Nauvoo House, he advised himself, “Can't complain about this assignment.” Joseph had been finished with his calls early. The two of them had been back at Nauvoo House before ten o'clock. After a quick nightcap, Joseph had gone upstairs, leaving Tom to the devices of the kitchen maids.

New ones, they were, and he missed the friendly Partridge girls. He was still chuckling over the two as he settled himself to sleep close to the foot of the stairs.

The creak of the stairs awakened Tom. Dawn touched the windows with a rosy glow. As he sat up on the cot, Tom saw the heels of Brother Rushton, the steward, disappearing up the stairs. Realizing the man was going after the keys, Tom started up the stairs after him.

By the time Tom reached Joseph's door, Rushton had already tapped and pushed open the door. Tom was behind Rushton as the startled young woman sat up in bed. “Oh!” She pulled the sheet higher and smiled at the two. “My, you startled me nearly as much as I startled you!” She turned and reached for the keys. “Well, for this week, you'll just have to pretend I'm sister Emma.”

Tom saw the bedcovers heave, and another head appeared. Joseph sat up. Tom's fascinated gaze froze on the brilliant red nightshirt the Prophet was wearing. After several silent seconds, the Prophet added, “You heard the lady—now be off.”

He was still glaring at Tom as Brother Rushton closed the door behind them. “Tom,” Brother Rushton said, “I have an idea the General would rather we didn't mention seeing him under these circumstances. Particularly since we'll have to put up with sister Emma being gone all week.” Tom watched him go slowly down the stairs, shaking his head.

When Tom reached the farm the next evening, Mark was in the barn milking. He said, “For a young fella without the burden of land and family, you sure do look down in the mouth.”

“Might say I am. Might be 'cause I'm fearing what you've indicated.”

“Aw, it isn't so bad, dear brother-in-law,” Mark was laughing until he lifted his head from the cow's flank. Then his face sobered and he said, “It is? Better pull up a log and tell me about it.”

“It's this priesthood thing. I suppose you've heard the rumors, even if you haven't been tapped for it yet.”

“I'm on the council. I'm guessing. It's the everlasting covenant of marriage, isn't it.”

Tom nodded. “I don't even have one wife, and can't say I'm overanxious for one. Now Joseph is saying I do or be damned. Mark, I've been right happy with the church all along, seemed a jolly way to have religion, even in the rough times.”

“Even in Missouri?”

“Aw, that was rough on the women and children. But most of the fellas managed to tough it through.”

“Not minding it?”

“How do I say it? When you listen to a fella like Joseph, you manage to swallow the questions and just get on with it.” He looked at Mark. “Sure, I know with a family there's fears a body wouldn't have otherwise.”

“Tom,” Mark said slowly, “do you ever get the idea we might be heading the same direction now?”

“As Missouri? I hate having you put it out in words.”

“Maybe it's time for all of us to get our heads out of the sand.” Mark had finished the milking and fed the pigs before he asked, “What's on your mind?”

Tom looked astonished, “I thought I said.”

“I had the feeling it was something more.”

“Aw, I busted in on Joseph and the wife of one of the elders.” Mark said nothing, and so Tom added, “At six in the morning they weren't discussing the doctrine of the church.”

“I understand there's quite a bit of that thing going on.” Mark's voice was muffled as he pitched straw into the corner of the barn.

“You don't act too concerned.”

“Let's say there's little one fellow can do. If you want to join a committee for reform, you just might find a bunch of husbands around who are willing.”

Tom shook his head. “I have the feeling Joseph will be converting the husbands faster than we can.”

“Meanwhile, there's your problem,” Mark said soberly. “You want to make it in the hereafter, but on your own terms—which differ somewhat from the Prophet's.”

“Aw,” Tom grinned sheepishly, “you don't make me sound so good. Matter-of-fact, I guess my big problem is I'm starting to have some questions about the whole deal. I guess I'll just have to find somewhere to sit tight until I get a few answers. I'd hate to decide I'd made a big mistake about Joseph, the church, and his new ideas about the kingdom of God, and wake up to find I have four wives and sixteen kids.”

“Matter-of-fact, Tom, that's about the wisest thing I've ever heard you say.” He slapped Tom on the shoulder. “Let's go have some supper.”

Chapter 33

Jenny was peering out the window when Mark came into the kitchen. “Last night's storm blew the rest of the leaves off the trees,” she said, “and now it looks like it's going to snow.”

“I'm not too crazy about you and tyke out on the road, especially just for Relief Society meeting.”

“I hate to miss. Not just the quilting for Nauvoo House, but the gossip. I never imagined this fall and winter would be shoving up such things to talk about.”

“Like?”

“Orson Pratt and another fellow are headed for Washington, carrying a petition to Congress. Sarah told me a little about it. She says it's pushing our plea to be made into an independent federal territory. Joseph's also asked that the Nauvoo Legion be incorporated into the United States Army and that the mayor of the Nauvoo be given authority to call out the United States troops whenever necessary.” She stopped suddenly and Mark looked up. “You know all this; why are you getting me to talk?”

“Maybe I wanted to hear what was going around in Relief Society.”

“Do you think we're getting things differently?”

“Yes. In fact, I have a feeling you ladies are adoring slaves of the Prophet, and that he can convince you to say anything.”

Speechless, Jenny looked at Mark. Finally she said, “It's a good thing your eyes are twinkling, otherwise—”

“What?” Now she saw his eyes were very serious.

“Mark!” She rushed to him, and he caught her tight against him. “Oh, Mark, what's happening to us? It isn't just to us two, it's everyone.”

“You tell me.” His voice was flat, and she leaned back to look at him. Slowly she raised herself on tiptoe and put her arms around his neck. He met her lips, but she saw the shadows in his eyes. He was first to turn away. “Maybe this early storm has more significance than we guessed. Could be a barometer of Nauvoo.”

“A gathering storm in Nauvoo?” She paused, then insisted, “But—loyalty to the church. Mark, you just don't give up on a thing because the going is rough.”

“Jenny, are you trying to convince yourself?”

She whispered, “Let's have a happy Christmas. Last year was wonderful because of the excitement of a baby coming. This year let's celebrate and celebrate. Let's invite everyone we can think of.”

“Jenny,” he chided with a smile, “this isn't Nauvoo House. There are limits to the number of people who'll fit into this house.”

Jenny made her Christmas plans. But life in Nauvoo continued to change. Before Christmas Joseph Smith's petition to Congress had been rejected.

Mark had been there with the other members of the council when Joseph had received the news and then got to his feet to speak. “I prophesy,” he roared, “through virtue of the office of the priesthood, in the name of the Lord, that if Congress chooses to deny our petition, they shall suffer destruction! They will be broken up as a government—God will damn them. There shall be nothing left of them, not even a spot of grease!”

Later Mark explained it to Jenny as he sampled the Christmas cookies. “It was like an explosion of gunpowder. Nearly blew us all off our seats. I guess some of us had our hopes higher than we thought. But I expect by the beginning of the year, something new will be brewing in the fertile mind of the Prophet.”

He was thoughtful as he studied the disappointed droop to Jenny's lips, deciding he couldn't admit to her just how little he knew about the unrest in Nauvoo right now. But he admitted to himself that not knowing was downright frightening. One thing was certain. The words
apostate
and
dissenter
were becoming common words in Nauvoo.

Mark had other things on his mind. As he watched Jenny cutting Christmas cookies, he found himself thinking he would like to be a mouse in the corner of Relief Society meeting.

Last summer he had first become aware of the cloak of secrecy being thrown up around the society. But last summer, Mark admitted, the whole town writhed under the weight of submerged feelings. The Prophet had started it when he had introduced the revelation on everlasting marriage to some of the elders.

Then in August Joseph Smith had begun mentioning
emigration
. In September Tom had been one of a group of men who suddenly disappeared. Only Mark, the Prophet, and a sprinkling of others knew the men had been sent on an expedition by the Prophet.

Mark had been in council meeting the day the Prophet had faced the men. His usual jovial air was only slightly dampened as he spread the map on the table and began pointing out territories. “This here is Texas; right now it doesn't belong to the United States. It's land for grabs. I want Lucian Woodworth to go see what it'll take to get a big hunk of land.”

With his finger he sketched out an area from the big river in Texas to the gulf of Mexico, from the Rio Grande River to the territorial boundary of the United States.

“But we're not going to lap up the first offer. We want to investigate every alternative. Fellas—” he paused to fix a commanding gaze on them all, one by one, “Things are getting tight.”

In a moment he continued, “This here is Oregon. And this area around the Rocky Mountains is barren—worthless, but empty.

“There are high mountains, according to a fella I've been talking to. Good places for a people to hide out and live their lives without the kind of oppression that's been our lot.” His voice had been brooding as he said, “Never will we as a people escape persecution. It's a fact that the holier a people are, the more they're bound to suffer for their religion.”