The Work and the Glory (108 page)

Brigham Young bowed his neck a little. “You didn’t listen, Heber,” he said forcefully. “I didn’t say we shouldn’t fight, I said the Lord may come to our aid so we don’t have to fight.”

Nathan smiled a little. It was always an experience to watch these two converse. Brigham was slight of build and slim of waist, though he had broad shoulders. He wore his hair in a pageboy cut, brushed back away from his face, which gave him a little bit of a boyish look, even though he was four years older than the Prophet. Heber C. Kimball, on the other hand, was the son of a blacksmith, and fit the part to perfection. Though he had later become a potter, his early years had been spent learning his father’s trade. He boasted that he was the only man alive whose chest measured the same front to back as it did from side to side. He was already balding and, though the same age as Brigham, looked several years older. Brigham was five feet ten inches tall, Heber six feet. Heber looked a little like a stout oak tree that had been lopped off where the foliage starts to grow.

If a person who didn’t know them listened to them talking, he might be led to conclude that there was some friction between them, but just the opposite was true. One of Brigham’s older sisters—Brigham was the ninth of eleven children—was stepmother to Heber’s wife. In addition to being related through marriage, back in New York they had been next-door neighbors and the closest of friends. In fact, it was a measure of their closeness that they could speak their feelings with complete honesty.

Brigham and Heber’s discussion had become vigorous enough now that the other men were turning around to listen. Parley Pratt had finished with Joseph. He watched for a moment, then moved over to join them. Joseph, for the moment, seemed content to listen.

Brigham’s older brother Joseph Young had still not agreed to go to Missouri, and Brigham was trying to convince him to accompany them. He saw all this talk of fighting as being counterproductive to his efforts. But Heber’s dander was up and he wasn’t about to back down. “And what if some Missourian sticks his gun in your face and tells you to get out of town?” Heber demanded. “Are you just gonna turn around and walk away?”

Someone from the back spoke up. “I don’t think we should be going if we’re expecting that kind of trouble.”

Parley exploded. This was not a matter of abstract theorizing for him. He had been there. “How can we redeem Zion if we back down from a confrontation? Those farms are ours. We paid for that land. And God has said we can use force if necessary to get back what is rightfully ours.” He turned and appealed to the others. “Zion is part of our destiny. How can we carry out God’s purposes if we don’t go in there and redeem it?”

Joseph Smith now stirred from his place near the front of the room. The men quieted as he walked back and stood between the two Young brothers. He laid a hand on each of their shoulders. “Brother Brigham and Brother Joseph,” he said firmly, “if you will go with me in the camp to Missouri, and keep my counsel, I promise you, in the name of the Almighty, that I will lead you there and back again, and not a hair of your heads shall be harmed.”

The room fell deathly quiet now as the men sensed that the spirit of prophecy had settled on Joseph. Every eye was on him or on Joseph Young. Finally, Brigham’s brother looked up, then slowly he nodded. “Then, accompany you I shall, Brother Joseph. I accept your promise as a promise from God.”

“Good.” The Prophet turned and surveyed the group. His face had grown very solemn now, and a little thrill shot through Nathan. This was the look Joseph took on when the Spirit of God was upon him.

“Brethren, I want to say to you, before the Lord, that you know no more concerning the destinies of the Church and kingdom than a babe upon its mother’s lap.”

His voice rose in power and majesty as he saw the shock register in their eyes. “You don’t comprehend our destiny. It is only a little handful of priesthood you see here tonight, but this church will fill North and South America—it will fill the world. It will fill the Rocky Mountains. There will be tens of thousands of Latter-day Saints who will be gathered in the Rocky Mountains, and there they will open the door for the establishing of the gospel among the Lamanites.”

Nathan turned and looked at his father. He was stunned, as were all the rest of them in the room. The Rocky Mountains! They had been talking about Zion. No one had said anything about the Rocky Mountains.

“Now,” Joseph continued, his voice dropping to a more mild tone again, “I suggest we turn our attention to the business at hand and conclude this meeting. We have much to do on the morrow.”

Lydia clung to Nathan, feeling the power in his arms as he hugged her tightly. “Please be careful, Nathan.”

“I will.” He let her go and stepped back.
“You
be careful.”

“I will.”

“I’ve talked to the captain. Once you arrive in Buffalo, he’ll see that you are taken to the dock where the canal boats come in. From there it’s straight to Palmyra.”

“I know. Thank you.” Suddenly she started to cry. She brushed quickly at her eyes with the back of her hand.

He took her in his arms again. “Good-bye, my darling Lydia. I’ll miss you.”

There was a muffled cry, a choking sound. “I’m sorry, Nathan.”

He pulled back in surprise. “Sorry?”

Great sobs now began to rack her body. “I wanted so much to be perfect for you. I’ve tried so hard.”

He encircled her in his arms. “Lydia, Lydia, please. Don’t say that. You’re all that I’ve ever wanted. All that I hoped for. I love you.”

She just shook her head against him, as her body shuddered convulsively over and over. He stood there, gently stroking her hair, helpless, not knowing what else to do. People on board the steamer and those passing them to go up the gangplank watched them with open curiosity.

Gradually the shaking subsided and the sobs stilled. But it was a full minute before she dared to look up. “I’ll be better when you come home,” she whispered. “I promise.”

“Lydia, I don’t—”

But the blast from the boat’s steam whistle shattered the air, cutting off his words. “All aboard,” a man’s voice shouted. “All nonpassengers ashore.”

Lydia turned. Matthew and Rebecca were hurrying along the deck of the boat, pushing through the people, young Joshua in tow behind Becca, and Emily in Matthew’s arms.

Lydia went up on tiptoe and her lips brushed Nathan’s cheek. “Good-bye, Nathan. I love you.”

“Good-bye, Lydia. And I love you!”

She nodded, the tears welling up again, then turned and bolted up the gangplank, not looking back until she had the children safely in hand.

The boat was far out into Lake Erie, the people no longer distinguishable, when Becca finally tugged at Nathan’s sleeve. “Come on, Nathan,” she said. “We’d best be getting back.”

It was early morning on the fifth of May when Joseph gave the signal. They had gathered in front of the Whitney store, a huge crowd come to see the men off. The last farewells had been made, the last desperate kisses for wives and children given. Now everyone stood back. Joseph looked up and down the line of the company of about eighty-five men, nodding proudly (an advance party of about twenty had left four days earlier). He turned to the crowd. “As we, the men of Zion’s Camp, prepare to depart in obedience to God’s commandment, we invoke the Lord’s blessings on our endeavors and on you who remain behind. May we all be kept, as the prophet Isaiah has said, in the hollow of His hand.”

“Amen!” came the murmured cries from throughout the crowd. Joseph turned to Emma, took her into his arms and kissed her good-bye, then mounted his horse and turned it around to face eastward, their route taking them that direction to Chardon, then south to New Portage before turning west. He raised an arm high. “Forward!” The arm dropped.

“Ho, you team!” the wagoner shouted. There was the crack of leather and harnessing, then the lead wagon began to move, creaking and groaning under the weight of its cargo.

A ragged cheer went up. “Good-bye, Papa!” “Godspeed.” “Good-bye.” “Good-bye.”

Handkerchiefs waved. Women turned away, wiping at their eyes. Men kept their eyes to the front, trying to look brave, trying to look untouched by their emotions.

Nathan was near the rear of the column. As he came by the store, he saw his family standing on the porch. Mary Ann’s cheeks were wet, as were Melissa’s. His father, face grave but steady, slowly raised his arm in a salute. Matthew did the same but could not hide the quivering of his lip and the glistening eyes.

“Good-bye,” Nathan murmured. Then he turned his eyes to the front and fell into step with the man just ahead of him.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Monday, May 5th

I have determined that I shall keep a journal, and record the experiences which shall be mine on this important trek to redeem Zion. I know from my previous experience as a missionary that important things are quickly forgotten if not recorded. This will provide me an opportunity to share in some small way this Zion’s Camp experience with Lydia upon my return.

We departed Kirtland at approximately 8 o’clock this morning to a fine crowd come to wish us farewell and godspeed. I am not much given to emotions, but this week has brought them close to the surface more than once. Parting with my wife and children at Fairport was almost more than I could bear. I still have deep misgivings about sending Lydia off to her parents. They seem to have relented much in their feelings toward me and the Church of late, but I cannot yet feel good about her going, though I cannot begrudge her the chance to return to her home and introduce our children to their grandparents.

The sorrow of that parting was only compounded this morning when I marched past my family, come to bid me farewell. Knowing that we go to the land where our enemies are sworn to exterminate our kind from off the earth leaves me wondering if I shall ever see my wife and children and the rest of my family again. O Lord, let it be so if it be thy will! Through thy Prophet, thou hast promised Brigham and Joseph Young a safe return. May I be worthy of the same.

Our column is a stirring sight. At the lead, we carry a white banner with the word “Peace” written thereon. Brother Joseph is finely dressed and rides a good horse. He is perhaps the best armed of any of us with good sword and a fine pair of pistols with brass barrels. He has also brought along his dog for guard duty. It is a massive bulldog which looks as though its face and the flat side of an anvil iron have met company on more than one occasion.

We made 27 miles today. Most of our feet are not up to such a walk as yet. Brother George Albert Smith (Joseph’s young cousin) purchased a new pair of boots for the march and did not take time to break them in. By mid-day his feet were blistered and bleeding badly. Joseph removed his boots and gave them to George A.

We are now camped in the barn of a Mr. Ford not far from the town of Streetsborough, Ohio. Brother Brigham Young rode away upon our arrival in company with his brother, Joseph Y., to the home of a member near here, an Israel Barlow. He will seek additions to our company and perhaps food for our stores.

There is the trumpet blast—one of our number has an old French cornet—the signal for group prayer, lights out and bed. It will be welcome this night.

Tuesday, May 6

Trumpet called us awake at 4:00 a.m. for prayers. This will be our usual schedule. We marched to New Portage, about 50 miles south and west of Kirtland. Met with wagons and men who departed previously. Others continue to join us. Israel Barlow joined our camp this morning as did two other families brought by Brother Brigham.

Wed. 7th

Had difficulty getting to sleep after lights out last night. Was very tired, but could not get my thoughts off Lydia and my children. They should be in Palmyra by now. I pray all is well with them.

Spent the day under Joseph’s direction organizing the camp. Leaders were appointed including as paymaster, Frederick G. Williams and commissary general, Zerubbabel Snow. With our consent, F. G. Williams collected all moneys from individuals and will disburse them from a common pot as needed.

Our number is above 130 now with 20 baggage wagons. Most are young and nearly all are Elders, Priests, Teachers or Deacons.

Joseph split us into companies of approximately twelve men each. We are to select our own officers, including two cooks, two firemen, two tent men, two watermen, one runner, two wagoners and horsemen, and one commissary. I am in the same company with Brother Brigham and HC Kimball. I rejoice in that for their faith is strong. Brother Brigham was chosen as our captain.

Spirits are still high. The day spent in organizing was good. Our feet are very thankful.

Th. May 8th

Made 12 miles today. Camped in a beautiful grove at Chippeway, Ohio.

Sunday, 11

Sabbath today. Last three days have passed without incident save it be the tedious marching. Last night shortly after our arrival here (near Mansfield, in Richmond County) we were joined by several elders from the north part of Vermont. Joseph was much pleased to have their company. This morning, eight more came from Richland and Stark Counties. They are mostly Germans but a welcome addition to our numbers which now approach 150. A few men have brought wives and children now, something which I did not expect. We have eight or ten sisters and about that many of their children. These sisters will serve as cooks and washerwomen, but having women and children with us slows our march somewhat. This is a trek for the strongest only and we worry what will happen when we reach Missouri and may have to fight. But Joseph evidently knew all along, since these men and their families plan to stay in Missouri once this is all over.

Received the sacrament of bread and wine. Elder Sylvester Smith preached a fine sermon. He is not related to Joseph.

My thoughts are constantly with Lydia, young Joshua and Emily. I miss them terribly. I also long for the company of my father and mother and all.

Monday, May 12