The Wedding Dress (9 page)

Ann Samuels picked up the dishtowel and began drying the dishes Rebecca had washed. “I hear things are kinda dragging for the teachers at the school.”

Rebecca nodded, “It's hard to keep interested when there are no books.”

“But you have the Bible and the Book of Mormon.”

“Brother Taylor's scratching the bottom of the barrel,” Rebecca admitted; “he set us to memorizing the Bible.”

“I hear that David Fullmister's a little soft on you.”

She laughed, “He's just looking for someone to snip at him. I've never seen a person who could cause an argument over so little. Now he's decided he's going to memorize more Scripture than I can.”

As winter wound down through January, the morale of the Saints was beginning to spiral down too. There was much sickness. The inadequate houses were drafty, and spirits sagged with the effort to keep ahead of the demands of living.

One day Rebecca pried herself away from a cozy fire and crossed the settlement to Cora's house. Under her shawl she was carrying a tiny knitted cap. As she walked, Rebecca's skirt dragged through the heavy wet snow, gathering a crust on its hem. She paused to shake it before she hopped the ice-bound creek.

“Rebecca!” John, one of her pupils, ran toward her. “I hear tell that you and David Fullmister are going to be treatin' us at the Valentine's party.”

“What party? I didn't know—what are we to do?”

“Oh, they're trying to get up a little funnin'. The bishop said since you and David were good at scrappin' with each other, you'll do your Bible memorization.”

“A contest,” she wailed, “I'll not—”

“Everybody's betting on you to put that uppity David down.” He ran off laughing, and after a moment, Rebecca shrugged and continued on her way to Cora's.

As Valentine's Day approached, the late winter air was astir with excitement. The talk began by centering around valentines and ice cream; now the excitement of ice cream took second place. Talk focused on David and Rebecca.

Bishop Taylor warned her. “It looks like the whole settlement is going to be at this party. Are you prepared to give them a good show?”

“Of quoting the Bible?”

“You can't let them down.”

“I didn't expect our little funning to come to this.”

“Neither did David. Plan on living up to their expectations.”

With dismay she said, “I don't feel right using the good Book this way.”

“At this time of the year,” he said dryly, “anything, even a dog fight, would draw a crowd.”

At dinner that evening, Mr. Samuels asked, “Well, how's the Scripture memorization coming? I hear that you've even taken up talking in your sleep.”

“She mutters between bites of supper,” Andy said.

“I know three hundred, I think.”

The Samuels' eldest howled, “We have to listen to you say three hundred?”

“Not hardly,” Rebecca said ruefully. “I'll probably make a mistake on the first one, then it'll all be over, and you'll have your ice cream.”

“Oh, mercy!” Ann exclaimed. “You'd better not do that! We aren't starting the ice cream until seven o'clock. You'll finish before we're done churning.”

The night of the fourteenth arrived with a touch of spring softness in the air. As Rebecca watched the steady stream of people moving toward the council house, she moaned, “Oh, the whole town's coming. It'll be a disaster, I know it will.”

“It'll be a disaster if the whole thing takes until midnight and I go to sleep before I have my ice cream,” Andy muttered.

When Rebecca entered the council house, she felt the excitement. David was waiting on the platform, and a whisper reached Rebecca. “They make a sweet couple.”

“Oh, oh, that's it, Valentine's Day,” she muttered. “David, we're being put up to this.”

While Bishop Taylor addressed the crowd, David whispered, “It'll learn you to argue with my greater intelligence.” She wrinkled her nose at him.

“Now, Rebecca and David.” Bishop Taylor turned to smile at them. Holding his big pocket watch high, he said, “The Scripture must be quoted correctly with the reference given. A two-second pause will be allowed. There will be three matches of ten minutes or one error. Miss Becky, you will begin.”

Rebecca jumped to her feet. “‘Jesus wept,' John 11:35.” The audience groaned.

“‘He must increase, but I must decrease,' John 3:30,” David said. More groans. With Jack-in-the-box movements, they continued to call their verses. The audience stirred.

“Come on, Rebecca.”

“David, don't let a girl show you up!”

David got to his feet, and with a dramatic whisper he recited, “‘Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest….'”

Now Rebecca was catching the spirit of her role, and as he finished she bounded to her feet and raised a compelling arm. Excitement was moving through the room again, and David was catching it too. The words bounced back and forth. Cheers rose first from the fellows and then from the girls.

“Do it, do it, Rebecca—show him!”

The bishop was right, Rebecca was thinking as she finished a verse and sat down. Even a cockfight would have served the purpose.

She was hearing the words David was saying. He was talking about faith and God and love while the crowd cheered, not because of his words, but because his voice rang with challenge and authority.

Now one match was completed, then two. Bishop Taylor raised his watch. “Time—it's a tie.”

“No, it isn't, she won!” cried a female voice from the rear of the room.

“She didn't!” Confusion broke, but there were smiles and laughter.

Rebecca sighed. “I guess we did what we were supposed to do—entertain.”

On February 15 Cora's baby was born. Mr. Wright stopped by the Samuels' cabin. Looking at his beaming face, Rebecca heard him say, “It's the most wonderful thing that's happened to me. It's like being given another chance.”

Rebecca was still wondering about his strange words that afternoon as she readied herself to visit Cora. Ann handed her a jug of milk. “I hear things aren't going too well over there.” She chewed at the corner of her lip. “I hate to poke in where I'm not wanted, but take this. It isn't much, but then I don't suppose Cora feels like much. You see she drinks some of it while you are there, hear?”

Now the settlement's most-traveled paths were bare of snow, and in the soggy mat of old grass there was a touch of green.

Rebecca tossed her head back and breathed deeply of the freshness in the air. Woolly lamb clouds scooted across the blue sky. Back home things must be greening. Soon the buds on the apple tree would begin to swell. Back home. She caught herself. That place was no longer home. Strange how dear that shabby old cabin seemed.

In less than two months she would be having another birthday. She was thinking of the wedding dress. She could almost feel the heavy silk and the soft, pink velvet flowers. Would Joshua think it important to bring the dress to her?

She recalled the things he had said before leaving. It wasn't like Joshua to be so wordy. Even his joking hadn't wiped out the seriousness in his eyes. For a moment her throat ached with loneliness.

She caught sight of the Wrights' cabin and began to run down the path.

Cora was in the tumbled bed. Now there was a tiny scrap of crying humanity beside her. Her pale face brightened with joy and pride when she saw Rebecca. “Oh, come and see our little Joseph,” she whispered.

Bessie, who had opened the door for Rebecca, was inspecting the contents of the jug. “Milk—our cow's about dry. I haven't had a good drink of milk for ages.”

She reached toward the cups on the mantel, and Rebecca said quickly, “Mrs. Samuels sent the milk for Cora.” Bessie seemed about to speak; then, shrugging, she went to her chair beside the fire.

Cora was fumbling at the wrappings around the fussing baby. “I don't have any milk yet, and I think he's getting pretty hungry.” Rebecca accepted the tiny bundle, noting the distressed groping and the thin hands.

“Takes milk to make milk. Have you had any?” Cora shook her head, and her eyes reflected her worry. Rebecca returned the baby and went to the row of cups. “Mrs. Samuels said I was to make sure you drank some while I'm here.”

There was an uneasy expression of Cora's face as she looked past Rebecca, but she accepted the milk and drank it eagerly. Later Cora tried again to nurse the child. Rebecca could see the infant was either being satisfied or exhausted. He soon went to sleep. “Mr. Wright's sure proud of the little one,” Rebecca said.

As Rebecca plodded home through the mud, she recalled Cora's reference to Bessie's childless state, but what were the words she had used? Hadn't Cora referred to their marriage as Mr. Wright's chance to make it in the next world?

She shoved aside her questions as she wiped her feet and entered the Samuels' cabin. “I made her drink two mugs full,” Rebecca explained, returning the jug. “I don't think they have much to eat. You know, I think Bessie would have drunk it if I hadn't told her what you said.”

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Samuels murmured, “I think you'd better carry a little milk over there every day or so until Cora's back on her feet.”

“Mr. Wright doesn't seem to notice that anything's wrong.”

“Well, Bessie's first wife. Sometimes men are blind to facts, don't forget that.”

Rebecca was watching Ann's face. “Well, I know one thing; I'll never get mixed up in a plural marriage like Cora did. I don't think she realized—”

Ann was shaking her head. “Don't say that. If it's what the Lord has ordered, we'll all do it sooner or later. Make up your mind to it.”

Rebecca shook her head. “Never. I don't even want to get married. Brother Taylor's promised me a teaching position when we get to the Great Basin.”

“But you don't understand the principle—” The door opened and Mrs. Samuels said no more.

Kanesville vibrated with the news. Brigham Young had set the departure date for the 15th of March. On the Sabbath the congregation listened as the bishop detailed the plans. Even now there was much to be done to prepare for the last leg of their journey to the Great Basin.

A week later, while Rebecca and Ann Samuels were stretching canvas across the ribs of the wagon which would be home during the coming months, Ann said briskly, “Rebecca, I've talked to Mr. Samuels, and he's of a mind to have you travel with us rather than the Wrights.”

Rebecca's hands dropped to her lap, and she sat back on her heels. She knew her relief was showing on her face as she grinned up at Ann. “Oh, Mrs. Samuels, I would like it so much. You don't know how I've been thinking and wondering.”

“You'll be able to spend lots of time with Cora later,” Ann said gently, “more than now. She really needs your friendship. The young wives suffer most.”