The Work and the Glory (519 page)

Caroline was astonished.

“She drives a mean bargain too,” Emma said ruefully. “I can tell she’s worked a lot with you in the store.”

“So what do I do with her, Emma?”

She was thoughtful for a moment. “Well, you know how I feel about going west, but as I listened to her, Caroline, she is absolutely convinced that her father is going to change his mind and take you with him because she prays about it every day. She wants to do her part to be ready when that happens.”

“I know. I’ve told her and told her that she can’t get her hopes too high. Joshua is pretty set on this. But it doesn’t make any difference to her.”

“So I wouldn’t do anything.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“No. If it means that much to her, I’d let her make the trade. It will break her heart if you bring it back.”

Caroline thought about that, then finally nodded. “I suppose that may be best, at least for now.”

Emma was smiling again, watching as the two figures trudged up the street. “You can’t help but love her, can you?”

“No,” Caroline said wistfully. “There’s no helping that.”

Nathan let the flap of the tent close and moved over to the fire. His mother was sitting on a log there. Now that supper was done, the fire was dying down and was mostly a bed of hot coals. He sat down beside her. Behind them, the sun was low in the sky. It would be dark in less than an hour. The air had cooled noticeably since the sun had set, but it was still not unpleasant.

“How’s Lydia?”

“Very tired.”

“She has a right to be. Today was enough to tire a normal person out, let alone a woman who is less than two months from delivering a child.”

Nathan nodded wearily. He couldn’t imagine how Lydia had done it. Young Joshua—Josh, he corrected himself—and Emily had taken the responsibility for watching the three younger children. Yesterday they had come about five miles from Sugar Creek. The weather had been beautiful and much warmer. Today had been the same. That was a blessing in one way, a challenge in another. By midday the temperature reached the midforties, Nathan guessed. That made for pleasant walking, with light coats or sweaters on. On the other hand, under the bright sun the ground quickly thawed, and the soil that had been rock solid for the past two weeks turned soft and muddy. The Steeds were back about a third of the way in the great line of wagons. Between the warming air and the weight of the wagons in front of them, the road quickly became a morass. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like for those at the back of the last company.

They had reached the east bank of the Des Moines River and would follow its path now. This would keep them close to water and timber, but it also made the terrain a series of one gently rolling hill after another. Normally, one would not have given these hillocks a second thought. They barely caught the attention of the eye from a distance. But start up each one when the wagon wheels were six inches deep in mud, when the hooves of the oxen or the horses found little solid grip, when your own boots were like great clogs of lead and every step was labor, then those seemingly gentle inclines became dreaded obstacles.

At Nathan’s insistence, Lydia had started out in the wagon yesterday, but that lasted less than a quarter of an hour. The wagon had springs, but even then the jolting, pounding, hammering ride was too much for her and she had elected to walk. The image of Joseph and Mary came into Nathan’s mind. How was it Luke had described Mary’s condition? She was great with child. How far was it from Nazareth to Bethlehem? A hundred miles? More? Maybe less? Well, Lydia was also great with child, and they had perhaps a thousand miles ahead of them. Joseph had been fortunate to find a stable when there had been no room at the inn. Where Nathan was taking Lydia, there were no inns and there would be no stables.

She was doing well in her coming motherhood and made light of his growing anxiety, but that didn’t make it go away. It said much that she had accepted his suggestion after supper that she should lie down for a while. Normally, she would not tolerate any attempt on his part to coddle her.

He sighed now and decided to change the subject. “I’m sure you’re tired too, aren’t you, Mother?”

“Oh yes,” she answered easily. “But it feels so good to have started at last.” There was a quick smile. “I’m not very patient at waiting.”

“It does feel good, doesn’t it?”

“It’s only the second day of many, but at least we’re counting now.”

He looked around. Joshua was over helping Solomon Garrett and Jessica secure their tent ropes. Next to them, Matthew and Jenny were outside their tent, Matthew scraping off the thick goo from his boots. Jenny held little Emmeline in her lap with a blanket over her, and Nathan suspected she was nursing her. Across the fire from where they sat, he could see the shadows of Derek and Rebecca on the walls of their tent. There was a burst of giggles and Nathan smiled. Derek was probably telling his three children a story. That would account for the laughter. He would begin straight-faced, using his finest English accent, telling one of the fairy tales as originally written. Then, without warning, he would give it an unexpected twist. Papa Bear would come home and instead of going to the house he went out to the barn. “Someone’s been driving my wagon,” he would thunder. The children would squeal in delighted protest, pounding him on the arm to get it right. Back he would come to the original, but only for a few minutes. They loved it and sat on the edge of their seats waiting for the next digression.

“Nathan?”

“Yes, Mama?”

“Did your father ever tell you about my dream?”

He turned. “What dream?”

There was a long, slow release of breath, as though she had been holding something in for a long time. “About the plain?”

He shook his head. “I guess not. That doesn’t sound familiar.”

“Oh.”

She was staring into the fire now, her eyes hooded and distant.

“Tell me, Mother.”

She looked up, a little surprised. “Tell you what?”

“About the dream.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” She straightened, folding her hands in her lap. “The dream.”

Nathan waited, watching her face with concern, but he could see that she was not necessarily saddened. It was more like she was thoughtful, bemused rather than sorrowful.

“It first came while we were still in Far West. It came once, and then I had it again several times over a matter of weeks.”

“And you told Pa about it?”

“Yes. It really bothered him, though I did not find it disturbing in any way.”

“Bothered him? How?”

“Well, actually, he never said anything at first, until that July.”

That July? And then as his mind went back, Nathan understood. “The time when Papa was so sick?”

“Yes. Along with everyone else.”

He nodded. In the summer of 1839, the ague had swept through the new settlement on the Mississippi River that would come to be called Nauvoo. Hundreds were desperately ill. Many died, including his own son. His father had contracted the sickness and hovered near death. He had nearly lost Lydia as well.

Now Mary Ann was staring down at her hands, which lay open on her lap, as though she were surprised to find them there. “He was sure he was going to die.”

“So were we,” Nathan said softly. “Remember how he called us around to give us his last blessing and counsel?”

“Yes, I remember it perfectly.” She looked up. “Well, one night, when he was at his sickest, he asked me to tell him about the dream again. I was surprised, because it hadn’t happened for several months and I had all but forgotten it. At first I wasn’t sure why he had remembered it.”

“What was the dream?”

She closed her eyes. It was over seven years ago now. After that initial period when it came several times, the dream had never been repeated, but it was still vivid and clear in her mind. She let the images sweep over her and felt the joy all over again. It had been a wonderful thing, and it had come at the most desolate time in Far West.

She began speaking softly, more to herself than to her son. The dream had begun on a vast, open plain. She was the only one there at first. She was walking steadily forward. There was not a tree anywhere to break the vastness of the landscape, but neither was it desolate or barren. There were flowers everywhere, butterflies, birds—the beauty of it all filled her with a great sense of joy and wonder. Only after a time had she realized that she was moving towards a glittering point in the distance, a source of light so brilliant that it seemed to be the source of the radiant daylight rather than a sun overhead.

She turned to Nathan. “I was surprised to see you there suddenly. You were the first. Suddenly you were just there, coming toward me. You called and waved, and ran to join me. I was so happy to see you. I remember that you took my hand.”

Nathan watched her closely, saying nothing, amazed to see the joy that infused her face.

“A moment later, Melissa appeared. It was in the same way. Suddenly she was just there and running toward us, laughing and calling. Then it was Matthew.”

She half closed her eyes, seeing it all again. Her family began appearing rapidly now, each one raising a hand in greeting and coming to join them. There was no particular order. They just came, first one by one, then in pairs and small groups. There was Lydia, Derek and Rebecca, Jessica and Rachel and the two Griffith boys that Jessica had adopted as her own when she married John Griffith.

“Was John there?” Nathan asked, cutting into her thoughts.

She considered that for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, he was.”

“Even though . . . ?”

“Yes, even though he had been killed at Haun’s Mill a few weeks before. He was there, but not necessarily with Jessica and the children. He was just there and it felt all right.” She smiled softly now. “At first it was just the adults, but then the grandchildren joined us too. I remember that young Joshua—or Josh—and Emily were there too. Only they were older, more like they are now. I can remember how proud I was of them. Soon we were all there, moving together across the plain toward the great light. We were laughing and singing and pointing toward our destination, which we could now tell was a glorious city, lying on the horizon, shimmering with light, beckoning us onward.”

As she fell back into her own thoughts, Nathan was puzzled. “And that bothered Papa?”

She nodded gravely. “Terribly so.”

“But why? It sounds wonderful.”

“Because he was not there.”

Nathan’s head rose slowly. “He wasn’t?”

“No, he was the only one. All the rest of us were there.”

“But . . .”

She nodded. “He was sure that was a sign that he was going to die that night. That’s why he called you all to his bedside.”

Nathan remembered that night very clearly. Then the next morning had been what came to be known as the day of power. Joseph Smith had risen from his own sickbed and started among the Saints. It was as if an angel were passing through the ranks of the sick and the dying. Everywhere he went, the sick were spared, the stricken were healed. And Benjamin was one of those.

Mary Ann was still talking. “I was cross with him. I told him to stop talking like that.”

“You didn’t think that his not being in the dream meant he would die?”

“No. I don’t know why, but I knew he wasn’t going to die.” There was a long pause; then her eyes were suddenly shining in the firelight. “Not then.”

“But why wasn’t he in the dream? I would probably have thought the same thing.”

“Because somehow in the dream I knew that your father was already in the city. I knew he was waiting for us to join him. There was no sadness in me at all.”

“I see.” It came out as a husky whisper, for Nathan now found his own chest constricting as he thought of a headstone on the western banks of the Mississippi River.

For several moments there was no sound except for the crackling of the fire and the soft laughter coming from Derek’s tent.

His mother reached out a hand and laid it over Nathan’s. “The fact that I miss him—sometimes so fiercely that I think I will surely be unable to bear it—doesn’t mean that I am despairing, Nathan. I grieve, but I do not despair. I know he’s there in that glorious city. I know he’s waiting for me and for the rest of us.”

He nodded mutely, taking her hand in his. He slid closer to her and put an arm around her shoulder. “Thank you, Mama. Thank you for telling me.”

A movement off to their left caught Mary Ann’s eye. Joshua called out to Solomon as they secured the last of the tent ropes and pegs.

Suddenly Mary Ann’s voice was urgent. “Nathan, in my dream, no one was missing except your father.”

He wasn’t sure what that meant. “What are you saying?” he asked tentatively.

“Caroline was there. Melissa and Carl were there.” She looked over to where Joshua and Solomon were finishing tightening the guy ropes on Solomon’s tent. “Joshua was there.”

“He was?”

“Yes. Everyone! It’s not right that they are not here, Nathan. Caroline especially. She needs to be here with Joshua.”

“I know, Mama, but . . .”

She shook her head quickly. Joshua was finished and was starting toward them. “I don’t know how you will do it, but you must get them here with us, Nathan.”

And then, as Joshua came up to them, she looked up and smiled. “Come sit down, son. Nathan and I are just visiting.”

There were several more around the fire now—Jessica and Solomon, Derek and Rebecca, Jenny. Jenny was alone, however, as Matthew had guard duty tonight and had gone to take his station. Rachel, Josh, and Emily were with them, feeling more comfortable here than playing games with the children. After lying down for half an hour, Lydia had come out again and sat beside Nathan. It was full dark now and getting chilly again. They sat in a tight circle talking quietly. The subject of Caroline and Melissa and Carl did not come up again.

Then suddenly a noise was heard that brought up every head. Off somewhere in front of them, someone had started to play a trumpet. It was not playing anything in particular, just running up and down scales, as though the player were warming up his horn. In a moment, another trumpet started, and then a trombone.