The Wedding Dress (8 page)

Cora shoved her bonnet back. “One advantage of being in the family way.” Her smile was strained.

Rebecca caught her breath as she studied Cora's face. “I don't know what to say…” She paused. “You don't seem upset.”

“Well, it's bound to happen sooner or later. I was hoping that you'd just accept it without making me do all this explaining. I'm Mr. Wright's wife.”

Rebecca sucked in her breath. She was trying desperately not to let it make a difference.

“Becky, I just couldn't bring myself to put it all in words when I saw that you didn't catch it at once. You're…well, you're so young.”

“How can I be young when I'm sixteen, the same as you are?”

She turned away. “Becky, you have a lot to learn. When I'm feeling better, I'll have a lot of teaching to do. Someone's got to do it.”

“Bessie seems—”

“Mrs. Wright isn't taking it well. After all, they've been married fifteen years, and there's no young'uns.” She shrugged, “I'd not like it either. But, then, it's his only chance to make it in the next world. Hers too. And me…” Her voice trailed to silence, and with a sigh she headed for the bean patch.

When it was time for the wagon train to move out, Cora's cheeks were again round and red with health. As her waistband tightened, her spirit expanded with joy. More often now she rode in the wagon while Rebecca walked alongside, watching Cora use the needle on the pile of white cloth.

One morning Mr. Wright announced, “There's a touch of frost in the air. Talk's for pressing hard to Winter Quarters. Old timers are saying it's to be a hard winter.”

“What's Winter Quarters?”

He turned to look at Rebecca. “The camp Brigham set up on the Missouri last year. It's pretty close to Council Bluffs and the last likely spot for a settlement before heading west.” He paused, “You might say it's the jumping-off place.”

“Does that mean we'll be spending the winter there?”

“I expect so. It'll be like these other camps. A place to fortify ourselves and help those who'll be coming after us.”

Later Rebecca learned that the Winter Quarters had been settled in June of the previous year by the Saints who had left Nauvoo in February 1846. Crippled by the binding mud and inclement weather, that first weary train had been ordered by Brigham Young to settle and plant crops there. Before the first month was out, before Brigham could send out a scouting party west, the United States government had requested a battalion of five hundred men from the group to serve in the war with Mexico. With such a number of their most vigorous young men gone, moving west that summer was impossible. During that summer and fall, a gristmill and a council house had been built. Each family raised their food and constructed shelter for the winter.

When Rebecca and the Wrights were ferried across the Missouri, they could see the town and appreciate the struggles that had brought it into existence. After being welcomed, the newcomers found cabins and, with the help of the settlers, they were moved into their new homes.

The Wrights had only a tiny cabin over against the bluffs, and Rebecca was taken into the home of the Samuels. Mr. Samuels was the overseer of the camp and his home was comfortable and large, in contrast to the poor huts that surrounded them.

Rebecca was caught up in the routine of daily living as the Saints settled in for the winter. There were vegetables to harvest and wild fruit to dry. There was laundry to be washed and a packed-earth floor to sweep smooth.

With her hands submerged in suds, she carefully handled Mrs. Samuels' dishes and marveled at the contentment she was feeling. Almost she could forget the Smyths' fireside and cease wondering whether Jamie had found someone to teach him to read.

One evening while Rebecca bent over the fire, stirring the kettle of stew suspended above the flame, the youngest Samuels boy dashed into the cabin. “Come on, everybody!” he shouted. “They're coming. I saw them!”

“Who's coming?” Mrs. Samuels continued to cut thick slices of bread.

“Brigham Young and some of the twelve. We were on the bluff and saw them coming.” He yanked at Rebecca. “Come on.”

“You go with him, Rebecca. I'll follow along later.”

Rebecca threw her shawl about her shoulders and followed. “You've never even seen him.” Timmy was dragging her by the hand.

By the time the wagons wound their way into town, the streets were lined.

“Brigham, Brigham, Brother Brigham!” The children took up the chant, and it spread to the adults. There were eager, reaching hands as the wagon approached. Someone grabbed the lead horse, and the wagon stopped. Rebecca watched the man get to his feet. He moved as if extremely tired, but his smile flashed across the faces turned to him. She saw a chunky man of medium height, undistinguished except for his bright blue eyes.

He raised his hand; the shouting stopped. “It's been a weary five months,” he said, “and if I start answering questions now, it'll be a weary six months. Let me go home to my family, and I'll tell you all the details on the Sabbath.”

Brother Brigham kept his promise. In two days the Saints gathered in the shelter of the stockade walls to listen to Brigham Young tell them about their new home.

“It's the Great Basin. We've named your Zion the Great Salt Lake City of the Great Basin of North America.” A joyous cry went up. He continued, “As soon as I saw it I knew that this is the land to which we are called.” He went on, “It won't be an easy life. We'll labor diligently.

“I must warn you about the Indians. These people are savages; they will murder and steal. We must be on guard against them, but don't you once forget that these are the people we must reclaim for the Lord. They are the lost tribes of Israel; they are our brothers in the Lord. Joseph Smith has given us the sacred message from our Lord that we are to convert these people. You will be called upon to suffer at their hands, but God will deliver us.”

He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice had deepened. “We are a people oppressed and hounded. We've been driven from our homes and for no other reason than because we are living the true, restored gospel of Jesus Christ. We are a thorn in the side of the government. Washington would like to see us wiped from the face of the earth, but we will prevail. We shall win our new territory and set up the kingdom of our Lord on this earth. It won't be easy. If Washington has fought us in the past, they will do so again. You must be strong.”

The people around Rebecca were shifting. It was as if they must be off and running to reach that place. The feeling was contagious, and spirits were high. Soon the winter would be over and they would be on their way.

The next week Brigham Young announced that Winter Quarters would be vacated. All the Saints would be moving to the east bank of the Missouri where a permanent settlement would be built.

The new community was named Kanesville in honor of Colonel Thomas L. Kane, who had proven himself a true friend to the Saints in their effort to obtain land.

The new year had dawned before Rebecca wrote her promised letter to the Smyths. “Dear Ones,” her letter read, “it is the first day of 1848 and I must celebrate by writing to you. There is a good feeling in the camp of the Mormons. Brigham Young has returned to us from his Zion. This next spring all the Saints here will be moving west to the promised land. The worst of the struggle is over. The hunger and fear is behind, and we will have a home.

“Although the houses were poor at Winter Quarters, the crops were very good. There is hay for the cattle and grain for bread. We have moved back across the Missouri River to settle a new community. It is called Kanesville, and it will be a permanent post, a link between the Great Salt Lake City and the emigrants.

“There is much talk of Saints from all over the world moving to this new land; indeed, Brother Brigham is urging them to do so. I am feeling that I am truly a part of a whole new era. The most sacred commandments of our Lord have been revealed, and these people will hasten to bring peace and harmony to the world. They cannot fail; they possess the glorious fulfilled gospel of Jesus Christ.

“I am lonesome for all of you. Jamie, are you continuing with your reading? Even the newspaper is better than nothing. Have you heard from Joshua? I will write next when I am settled in the Great Salt Lake City. I will look forward to hearing from you. If you go to Oregon, we will see each other.” She signed her name slowly, still caught by thoughts of those she had left behind.

There had been a slackening of outside tasks as autumn crumpled into winter. When the snows began, Rebecca discovered a whole new community. It was the sisterhood of the women. If the Latter-day Saints as a group were isolated, there was within the isolation a nucleus of life, and it was the women.

The men could build houses and erect communities. They could guard their homes and run their church. But in the end it was the women who held together the rough fabric of daily life.

And rough it was. Rebecca wryly surveyed her cracked fingers and watched her tougher sisters. They were struggling with the task of preparing wagon covers and tents for the springtime move. Like busy birds, they had been flying from spot to spot. As they hovered in one cabin after another, clustered about the canvas, their tongues flew as fast as their needles.

One day, as the din of the children competed with the woman talk, Ann Samuels lifted her head. With a sigh, she said, “What we need is a school.” Eyes fastened on Rebecca. Hadn't she admitted to teaching Jamie to read?

No reply was needed. Slates and pencils were produced. A Bible and a Book of Mormon were donated. A battered primer appeared. A fireside was selected, and then Grannie Holstow made her contribution—a stout switch. Only the twinkle in her eyes kept the children from bolting. After her initial terror, Rebecca gladly surrendered her needle and marched her pupils to Ann's house.

Soon the lively students made Rebecca realize her own shortcomings. “If only we had a dictionary,” she mourned, “and interesting books.”

Brother Samuels tried to help with arithmetic. As they struggled together, Mrs. Samuels said, “Rebecca, you like teaching these young'uns. I'm going to speak to the bishop. We need more schools around here. I have the feeling he should be helping others learn to teach.”

The idea caught on, and Bishop Taylor was given the task of educating the teachers. On the first evening, Rebecca looked around the room and her heart sank. Tired housewives harbored little enthusiasm for learning. But there was David Fullmister.

Immediately Rebecca was drawn to David. When she heard the deep cough, she guessed why he wasn't in the woods helping the men cut and haul wood. His gentle eyes made her think of Jamie.

On the evening of their first meeting, Brother Taylor rapped smartly on the table. “We've our school cut out for us. Brother Brigham says we're to teach religion, and if they by chance learn any reading, writing, and arithmetic from the Scriptures, so much the better. Becky, commence reading.”

“Sir, I was hoping that we'd learn a little arithmetic and history.”

“We'll start with the feeding of the five thousand and divide them into groups. How's that? Then we'll study the history of the American Indians.”

“American Indians?”

He gave her a puzzled frown, “Surely you're familiar with the Book of Mormon.”