Morning Star (4 page)

When they stepped through the door of the general store, Mark and Jenny were struck by the mingled odors. “It's obviously a store carrying everything,” Mark muttered. He could identify smoked ham, pickled herring, even sour pickles crowding the open barrel. The smell of leather goods, and the nose-prickling lint and dye wafted from the far corner. But the line of black books caught his attention.

As Jenny swung her basket and headed for the dry goods, Mark stopped in front of the display of books. “Them's just Bibles, we're outta the
Book of Mormon
,” the youth behind the counter advised him.

The excitement was growing in Mark, but he carefully picked up the book and slowly turned. “Jenny, you don't have a Bible, do you? No good Mormon should be without one.”

As she stopped and turned, he saw the wary expression in her eyes, and for a long moment those gray-brown eyes held him as if searching out deep thought. Did her ivory cheeks pale even more? He waited. “No, Mark, I don't,” she said slowly. “I've never felt the need—maybe the curiosity, but not the need.”

“Curiosity should be enough,” he said, reaching into his pocket for coins. “Besides, we're reforming.”

Again there was that stillness as she waited. “We haven't been as faithful about attending the Sabbath services as we ought. Now I intend to take my wife to church each Sabbath,” he said, looking into her eyes. “And you'll need this black book to go with your new dress.”

Her dimples broke through and she laughed up at him. Coming to him, she said, “Then, my husband, it seems I need a new bonnet with a plume of ostrich feathers to make the costume complete.”

With a grin he answered, “You may have two if you can find them here.”

She wrinkled her nose, “I win. Not here, but I've seen them already. Down the street a home has a display with a sign advertising bonnets made to order.”

The clerk was nodding his head vigorously as he accepted Mark's coins. “That's Hannah Ells; she's a dressmaker.”

Jenny finished her shopping and the clerk accepted more of Mark's money, saying, “You're new, but Nauvoo's a goodly town already.”

Curiously Mark questioned, “How do you know we are new? Nauvoo is growing too fast for you to know everyone.”

The clerk looked surprised, then cautious. “Seems the careful thing's to make a point to know your neighbor. I must say, there's a good feeling about the state. Sir, you don't know, but when we first came from Missouri, we were a sorry lot—hungry and nearly naked. But the folks in Quincy were right good about taking us in and giving us a hand until we got on our feet. We'll not be forgetting their kindness. Makes a person take a deep sigh of relief after Missouri.”

Chapter 3

Jenny had made her curtains, scrubbed the worn floors, and stocked the large pantry. She polished the banister on the stairs that led to the two bedrooms on the second floor, and bemoaned the lack of a clothes press.

Mark pruned apple and pear trees, cut underbrush, and pulled weeds. He also grinned mysteriously at Jenny but said nothing until the day Tom came and the two of them harnessed the team.

At her questioning frown, he responded, “It's a surprise. We'll be needing a hot apple pie. I put a basket of early pippins in the kitchen.”

The pie was fresh from the oven and Jenny's cheeks still flushed with the heat when the team returned. She reached the front door in time to see Mark and Tom wrestling a blanket-shrouded bundle out of the wagon. On the porch they paused to wipe their sweating faces and unwrap the blankets.

Jenny caught her breath and reached out to touch the satiny wood. “Cherry,” Mark informed her. “It was the only clothes press to be had in town, and because we're Mormons, it cost twice what it should. There're some carpets too.”

Jenny was still stroking the wood, remembering for an unaccountable reason the gleam of the McBriers' furniture as it was being carried out of their home and loaded into a wagon. For a moment she wanted to gather the clothes press into her arms.

Tom snorted in disgust and Jenny looked up at him. “After what happened today, I'm guessing the Missouri stories have made their way to Illinois. The things they said!”

“Weren't overly friendly,” Mark agreed mildly.

With a sinking heart, Jenny whispered, “Tom, tell me. Don't keep anything away, that's worse than not knowing, even if it's only stories.”

“Oh, they started in on Joseph for what he gave out at conference time. Said if that's the case, they wouldn't be extending credit.”

“Tom, what are you talking about? We weren't here in April and we've no way of knowing—”

“Joseph cancelled all the Saints' Missouri debts. He just plain outlawed them, saying it was unchristian to demand payment, anyhow.”

Jenny was still staring at Tom incredulously when Mark said, “That's only one thing we heard. Right now it seems they're looking for offense, and there have been other irritations. The people of Hancock and Adams counties are fussing about the Legion, and they're also saying Ripley has been running surveys.

“The charge today in Warsaw is that Ripley has been plotting out the whole countryside for Mormon territory. Seems a Mormon community to be called Zarahemla is being plotted to take in Montrose County across the river. Most certainly Ripley and his men didn't win friends for the cause when they drew up street and property lines running right through the homes of the Gentiles living there. The townfolk took it to be a pretty good hint that they should pack up and leave.” Mark was silent for a moment, then said thoughtfully, “I hadn't realized there was a move to create a new territory of this section of the state.”

Tom shrugged and added, “Now they're blaming us for runnin' off their cattle, stealin' their tools and everything else. Boats get cut loose and we get blamed. A store is robbed and they look at the Mormons. Now they're a-callin' the Nauvoo Ferry the horse thieves' ferry.”

Mark nodded soberly. “I'd heard back in Springfield that Nauvoo is a haven for criminals from three states. I discount that, but since we've arrived, it seems obvious there's an undue amount of traffic in stolen horses.”

Mark saw Jenny's stricken face and reached for her. “Now, don't fret. Surely you didn't think we'd be free of problems, did you?” He circled her with his arms and looked at Tom. “Come on, let's go have some of that pie.”

“Let's get this monster upstairs first,” he grunted. “I'd enjoy my pie more knowing we've lived through the task.”

The next day while Mark was dressing for his first meeting with Joseph, Jenny picked up the conversation. “In Springfield they were talking well of the Saints.”

“Springfield's not neighboring with the Saints. Right here we're close; in fact, you might say we're sitting on the fence between the Mormons and the Gentiles.” He paused to grin, but Jenny saw the mirth didn't reach his eyes as he added, “We might need to adjust to having them heaving rotten pumpkins back and forth over the fence.”

“Things can't be that bad?”

“I don't suppose they are, but the talk won't help. The Saints'll get their back up and then there'll be trouble. Right now, Illinois is in big trouble with her finances. There's also the political side. Every fella with dollar signs or votes in front of his eyes will be currying the favor of Joseph. That won't help his cause with his neighbors.

“When Joseph first landed in Quincy in '39, a bunch of politicians were there, among them Stephen A. Douglas. Joseph lost no time in getting acquainted and extracting promises from him to get the state legislature to guarantee protection for the Saints.”

Jenny was wearing a thoughtful expression when he turned from the mirror. “Look, I'll be in a meeting with Joseph all day. Put on your bonnet and come along. You can visit with Sally, and I'll join you there this afternoon.”

When Mark slowly climbed the stairs to Joseph's office, he was thinking of the last time he had seen the prophet. He winced and his steps faltered. “Mark Cartwright, whatever possessed you to show that letter to Jenny?” he muttered to himself.

Surprisingly, as Mark walked into the room, Joseph stood and leaned across his desk with his hand outstretched. “Mark Cartwright! Am I ever glad to have you join our staff! I'll need all the legal advice I can get during the next few years. As you can see, the Lord has important plans for the people. Granted, when we were in Missouri, everything looked hopeless. Little did I dream we'd have to take the Illinois route to accomplish the Lord's designs.”

His grin was disarming and his expression frankly curious. But Mark decided to avoid mentioning the last time he had seen Joseph.

Mark took a deep breath and said, “I must admit, it is because of Jenny that I've agreed to come.”

“At least I've one loyal Saint in the family,” Joseph said with a faint shrug. “You challenge me. I'll trust the Lord to make a loyal follower of you.”

He turned to pick up a sheaf of papers and Mark realized the Prophet was once more in control. He winced abruptly as he realized Joseph was also his employer once again.

“You've no doubt kept informed of all that's gone on in Nauvoo. You can see the progress we're making in building up the city. Now let me tell you about what's going on behind the scenes. I trust you're aware of the conversion of Dr. John C. Bennett.”

“No, but from your voice I gather I'm supposed to know something about the man.”

“He's a doctor, a physician, but he's also informed about politics. We need help on that score. Right now he's working hard to get the Nauvoo Charter through the state legislature.”

Mark frowned, “I'd heard the Mormons were asking for preferential status. I discounted that just as I have most of the other rumors, such as asking the Nauvoo area be designated as a separate territory.”

Joseph grinned, “Rumors do fly about. That's all right—doesn't hurt people to know we have a little power.”

For a moment Joseph's eyes were fastened on Mark's. A growing question loomed in those eyes, and for a moment Mark thought he should throw all the rumors out before the Prophet. But Joseph returned to the sheaf of papers.

“I'll have you meet Bennett later and go over the charter. Right now it reads just the way I want it to read, and I don't want an item changed. I just want you to check the spots which might cause problems. Don't bother to say all the goody things. I know the Lord will work out the details.”

“Then why do you want me to look at it?”

He paused and straightened in his chair. “Because if there are problems, I want to be able to say, ‘The esteemed Springfield attorney, Mark Cartwright, has checked the charter and approves of it.' Do you get the picture?”

“I get the impression that you are trying to buy me. What's the price?”

“Only a place in the kingdom. I promise you, Mark, your sins are forgiven. You shall inherit the kingdom along with the best of my men. Eternal kingdoms are yours.”

“You mean I can skip the other steps? The surrender of property, the obeying of the laws, the—well, whatever you come up with tomorrow. You know you've done a lot of that. In the beginning I had to join the church or be damned. Now I have to do this, that, and whatever else you say, or I'll be damned.”

“Mark, I can't make special concessions to you. I don't know what the Lord will demand of us tomorrow. Remember, I'm in this just like you are. He demands obedience of me and I can't buck Him on that.”

Joseph jumped to his feet and paced quickly back and forth in front of Mark. “Prison was a humbling experience to me. I grew closer to the Lord, more holy than I've ever been before. He showed me the order of things. Mark, you've no idea of all the Lord has in store. I can't reveal it all now; there just isn't time. Besides, some things must wait—the Lord hasn't given me the complete plan yet.”

“Joseph, I'm not wagering for a part in your kingdom. You know how I feel about all this. I didn't hide my feelings when we were in Missouri.”

“Not my kingdom—it's the Lord's kingdom. Besides, Mark, you love your wife. You wouldn't want to make decisions that would completely cut you off from her, both now and for eternity.”

Mark was still pondering the last statement of Joseph's as he walked back to the Morgan home. There had been an underlying note of excitement in the man's voice, an excitement which stirred uneasiness in Mark.

The Morgans' log house was little better than their Missouri home. Sally opened the door to him and immediately turned back to Jenny. With amusement, Mark studied the sparkle on her face and realized that Sally and Jenny were scarcely conscious of his presence. Playfully Andy clapped his hands over his ears and grinned at Mark.

Sally interrupted her discourse long enough to push around Andy. “Oh, Mark, stay for dinner—we need to talk.”

“With me?” he asked in surprise.

“No, Jenny and I. It's been so long.”

“I hope we survive this meal,” Andy said gloomily. “Let's take a walk. I want to show you a few things.”

“No,” Sally declared. “Dinner is ready. Here, Jenny, put the plates on.”

Andy raised his voice. “Did Joseph tell you about the writ?”

“Sit down, Mark,” Sally ordered. “Here's the applesauce.”

“What writ?” Mark asked cautiously.

“Then he didn't, or you'd know.”

“Andy, don't talk business.”

After dinner they walked through Nauvoo's streets. Sally and Jenny chattered; under the cover of their talk, Andy muttered, “Joseph's been served with a writ from the new Missouri governor, Reynolds. The Missouri problems have reared their head again.” He glanced at Mark. “I knew he'd got wind of it this afternoon. Must have hightailed outta there just after you left his office.”