The Work and the Glory (491 page)

Nathan did not miss the irony. The enemies of the Church had succeeded in having the Nauvoo Charter revoked. Others would gladly take advantage of that loss and try to plunder the Saints. And so John Kay and Howard Egan provided entertainment while they stood guard duty, and the young people came to gather around them. His own son, now fourteen and a half, was somewhere else in the city. Would there be young people coming to spend time with him as well? It was sad in a way, and yet it was somehow encouraging at the same time.

He stood now and went over to stand beside his wife, who was looking out the window again. “They are not burdened down with the same concerns that us old folks have, are they?” he said.

“No, and I’m glad.”

He nodded and slipped his arms around her. “Me too.” After a moment, he turned her around to face him. “Will you sing for me?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Here? Now?”

“Yes.”

She looked at her two children playing in the room around them. “Not here,” she said, embarrassed.

“Why not? I would like my children to know what it was that made their father fall in love.” He kissed her. “I’d like them to know how he saw this beautiful slip of a young girl, dancing among the apple blossoms one spring, singing the beautiful ‘Barbara Allen.’”

She laid her head against his shoulder. “That was just day before yesterday, wasn’t it?” she murmured, with just a tinge of sadness.

He buried his face in her hair, kissing the top of her head. “I was thinking it was just this morning.” And then he added softly, “I shall have that picture in my mind for as long as I live. Thank you for these fifteen years, Lydia McBride. Thank you for having that farmer’s boy who was such a dunce.”

She looked up at him and put her arms around his neck. “You know what makes me feel bad?”

“What?”

“That you knew before I did.”

“Knew what?”

“How much we were going to love each other.” She went up on her toes and gave him a long, lingering kiss. Elizabeth Mary, who had been watching the two of them out of the corner of her eye, started to giggle. “Look, Joseph! Mama’s kissing Papa!”

They clapped their hands and squealed with joy, but neither Lydia nor Nathan seemed to hear them.

Joshua looked up as Caroline opened the door of the freight office and stepped inside. There was a brief draft of cold air and the papers on his desk stirred a little. Before he could even say hello, she held up an envelope in her gloved hand. “This just arrived at the post office.”

“From Will and Alice?”

She shook her head. “No, from Walter Samuelson.”

He pushed the accounts book aside and stood. “I’m surprised we haven’t heard before this. It’s been almost three weeks since they left here.”

He walked around the desk and she held out the envelope for him. “Did you read it?” he asked.

“No. It is addressed only to you.”

Frowning, he looked at the address. The handwriting was firm and bold and unmistakably that of his business partner. Turning it over, he slipped a finger under the flap and tore it open. He took out the paper. Caroline saw that it was only one sheet and had only a few lines of writing. Joshua read it, grunted, then handed it over to her.

It was dated November sixth, five days before.

Joshua—

  Imperative we meet. Will be at Riverside Hotel in Quincy on nights of November 13, 14, 15.

Samuelson

Caroline handed it back to Joshua. “I suppose he wants to discuss the situation with Will and Alice, don’t you?”

“Hardly. You read Will’s letter.”

“Yes,” she murmured. The heartrending letter written by Will had come about ten days after they left Nauvoo. It was posted just before he and Alice caught a steamer for Cairo, where they would then try to transfer to a boat going up the Ohio River. The meeting with Alice’s parents had been even uglier than they feared, Will explained. Judith Samuelson had gasped when Will told them that Alice had been baptized. Walter had gone a deep, mottled red. But when they then told them that they had also been married, that they were even then on their way to New York to catch a ship that would sail to California around the tip of South America, Judith Samuelson had fainted and gone into a state of shock. She was still in her bed at the time Will had written.

Samuelson’s rage had been staggering. Deadly grim, he had driven them from his home that very night, refusing to let them stay under his roof after such a betrayal. They had finally found a seedy hotel down on the riverfront. The next morning a curt note arrived. It was a simple but unmistakable ultimatum. If Alice so chose, her father would find a lawyer and bring him round to have the marriage annulled immediately. Will Steed would be sent packing, to New York or back to Nauvoo, it mattered not to them. Otherwise, that same lawyer would redraw the family will. There would be no inheritance in the future and no help of any kind in the meantime, no matter how desperate Alice’s condition might become. The family would be instructed under pain of losing their own inheritance to make no further contact of any kind with her. For all intents and purposes, it would be as though she had died.

Will had expected no less, but the savagery of the rejection shook him deeply. Alice was shattered, but held firm. Two days later they left St. Louis on the
Carl Henry,
bound for Cairo. They left without either of them seeing Alice’s parents or any other family members again.

Joshua turned and tossed the letter onto the stack of papers, bringing Caroline back to the present. “Let me see who’s free to drive me down to Quincy; then I’ll come home with you and pack some things.”

“Could you tell me which room Mr. Samuelson is in?”

The clerk looked up from the register. “He’s in room fourteen, Mr. Steed. But I saw him in the dining room about a quarter of an—” He looked past Joshua. “Oh, here he is now.”

Joshua turned. Walter Samuelson was coming across the small lobby of the hotel. “Hello, Walter.”

“Joshua.” The greeting was icy and detached. “I saw you come in.”

“We just arrived,” he said smiling, forcing joviality. “What’s for supper?”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like us to speak together first. In my room.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned to the clerk. “Will you see that Mr. Steed’s bag is put in his room?”

“Of course.” The man handed Joshua a key. “You’ll be in room six.”

“Thank you. My driver is putting the carriage away at the livery stable. When he comes in, will you tell him to go ahead and have supper without me?”

The clerk glanced at the register again. “That’s Mr. Warren?”

“Yes.”

“I will. He’ll be in room seven, which is adjacent to yours.”

“Thank you.”

Samuelson was already walking to the stairs, his gait measured, his back stiff. Joshua pocketed the key and followed after him, shaking his head. Perhaps it was just as well. Let Samuelson get it off his chest; then they could go down and have supper together to smooth things out again.

To his surprise, when Walter turned the key and opened the door to his room, two men inside the room stood immediately. Both were men he had never seen before, and that was a little strange, since he knew most of the men the two of them employed. Without a word, the St. Louis businessman gave them a curt nod and they immediately got their hats and left the room. As the bigger of the two brushed past him, Joshua caught a glimpse of the butt of a pistol stuck in his belt beneath the jacket he wore.

As they shut the door, Joshua looked at his longtime friend and partner. “You’re traveling with body guards now, Walter?” he said with a touch of a smile. “Am I that intimidating?”

There was no answering smile, not even so much as a grunt.

“Look, Walter,” Joshua began, wanting to see if he could salvage something from what was about to happen. “This whole thing with Alice and Will came as a huge shock to me too. I was as angry as you are when I learned what they planned to do.”

Walter’s head came up slowly. “If you were as angry as I was, the marriage would have been in St. Louis and your son would now be working for me instead of being on his way to California.”

Joshua moved over to the overstuffed chair in one corner of the room and sat down heavily. “Walter, Will is twenty-one. Alice will be nineteen next month. They’re adults now. Neither you nor I can tell them what to do. Lord knows I tried. I even spoke with Brigham Young.”

Walter, still standing in the center of the room, lowered his head into his shoulders, as though he were either preparing to charge or getting ready to be attacked. “Joshua, I am no longer interested in sharing a business partnership with you.”

Joshua shot out of the chair. “
What?
”

“It’s over, Joshua.”

“I . . .” He spun away, then whirled instantly back. “Look, Walter, I know you’re upset by all of this, but this is not my fault.”

“Perhaps not. Perhaps you could not have prevented it. But you didn’t even try. Not really. So I am holding you and Caroline, and especially your family, responsible. And I am no longer interested in being in partnership with you.”

Joshua was aghast, not believing what he was hearing. “You’re throwing away over ten years of our lives together because I couldn’t make Alice do what you yourself could not make her do?” He fought down the anger. “Come on, Walter. This is insane.”

Walter didn’t answer, but walked around the bed to the far side of the room. There were three pieces of luggage there. He leaned down and with some effort picked up a small trunk, about the size of a square hatbox. Coming back around, he set it on the end of the bed, undid the padlock with a small key on his watch chain, and threw the lid back.

Joshua gaped. The trunk was stuffed with wads of money. As he stared at them, he saw they were twenty- and fifty-dollar bank notes. He moved forward a step. “What is this?”

“We once talked about you selling me your half of the cotton warehouse and mill. Here is twenty-five thousand dollars. That is more than a fair price, I might add.”

Now Joshua felt his face burning. “We talked about it, Walter. That’s all. We just talked about it.”

Walter met his gaze evenly. “Well, I felt that based on previous conversations, you would have no objection to selling out now. Here is the payment. I have some papers for you to sign.” He walked to the desk and picked up a sheaf of papers. “Incidentally, that is why I hired the two men. They will stand guard outside your room tonight. After that, keeping the money safe will be your responsibility.”

“Come on, man!” Joshua cried hoarsely. “Get a hold of yourself. Alice is gone but that doesn’t overturn ten years of friendship.”

“Are you saying you refuse to sell to me?” came the quiet, stubborn reply.

Joshua walked to the window, dazed to the point of nearly being speechless. Then a thought struck him. “And what about my interest in our other businesses—the construction company, the lumberyard? Did you buy me out on those too?” he said, jeering now.

“No. We never discussed selling those businesses, and so I have no right to assume you wanted out.”

“Well, now, that’s downright decent of you, Walter,” he said, feeling the control on his temper slipping fast. “I guess you—”

“So I have sold
my
interest in each of the companies you mentioned.”

Joshua rocked back as though struck. “You what!”

“I have sold out, Joshua. Half of everything is still yours, but the other half now belongs to the Barber brothers.”

It was as if he had been kicked in the stomach. “Ben Barber and that slimy little brother of his?” he cried.

There was a frosty nod. “As you know, they’ve been after one or the other of us for a long time to sell. Judith is still very ill—thanks to your son and his influence on my daughter. So I’m taking my wife back home, to New Orleans. We are leaving St. Louis immediately after I return. Therefore I have liquidated all of my assets.” He thrust the sheaf of papers at Joshua. “I’m sorry, Joshua.”

“Sorry!” he cried. “You’ve just put me in partnership with two of the sleaziest, conniving thieves in St. Louis and all you can say is you’re sorry?”

Walter was unmoved. He stood there, feet planted, shoulders squared, his face like obsidian. “In the winter of ’38 and ’39, your wife and family came to me, Joshua. They thought you were dead. They had two very bad men after them. I helped them, Joshua. Even though it put me at risk, I helped them. I found them a place to stay. I gave them money, and helped them make their way out of St. Louis undetected.”

“You gave them my money!” Joshua retorted angrily.

Walter’s eyes flickered dangerously. “I never touched one dime of your money, Joshua. I used my own. And I spent a considerable amount putting out a search for Will when he suddenly disappeared.”

Backing down, Joshua was apologetic. “You’re right, Walter. I’m sorry. I know you stood by my family at a terrible time. I thank you for that, but—”

“I expected that you would do the same for me, Joshua.”

He threw up his hands. “I tried! I have opposed Alice’s interest in the Church all along. When Brigham Young called them to go to New York, I fought him on it. I told Will he was making a terrible mistake. I tried, Walter.”

“I didn’t just
try
to help your family back then,” came the soft and bitter answer. “I did it. I figured it was the least I could do for a friend and partner.”

“Walter, you can’t do this. You know what Ben Barber will do. He’ll strip out every asset, sell off whatever he can get his hands on. He’s done it to every company he’s bought.”

There was a weary sigh now. “I looked for other buyers, Joshua. Believe it or not, I did. I am not trying to ruin you. But no one else had that kind of cash on hand. And Judith is very ill. I have to leave now before the river closes for the winter.”

“So you sold me out.”

Samuelson flinched but went on doggedly. “The sales are not final until the twentieth of this month. I would suggest you get to St. Louis and do what you can to protect your interest.”

“The twentieth?” Joshua roared. “That’s less than a week from now.”