Morning Star (44 page)

“Might as well know the council has denounced the paper as a nuisance. We've had a lengthy hearing, and that's the conclusion we've reached.”

“What will happen now?” Mark asked.

“It'll be removed.”

Anger swept through Mark, leaving him feeling powerless. He got to his feet, saying, “So much for democracy and freedom of speech. It was nice while it lasted. But I suppose that was to be expected.” Mark saw the dark expression in Harris's eyes, and as he headed for his office, he wondered if just perhaps the man was uncomfortable with the decision of the council.

When Mark reached the livery stable, there was a cluster of men hanging around. He met Tom's eyes, saw his questioning eyebrow, and waited.

“Mark, know what's going to happen?” He shook his head. “If the Prophet's innocent, he'll smooth the matter out.”

“Maybe he will if he's guilty.”

“No doubt. Either way, we won't know.”

One of the men shuffled his feet. When Mark looked at him, the man's anger erupted. “It's a shame we can't know what's going on around here. It's also a shame a fella can't express himself or uncover dirt without being fired upon.”

“You'd better keep
your
mouth shut, Simpson, or the roof'll come down on your head,” another man warned.

The next morning Mark knew his first moment of uneasiness when he passed the tree where William Law had been meeting him. He had pulled the mare down to a walk, hoping Law would catch up with him.

The rumble of the Daniels' wagon approaching caught his attention. He turned to salute old Daniels. “It's been a long time since I've seen you folks.”

Daniels nodded and licked his lips. “Got rid of my cows. The boy's taken off to go west, and I couldn't handle them myself. Now I'm going into town to see what new exitement is poppin'.” Remembering Daniels was a Gentile, Mark studied his face, noting the sparkle there.

“Excitement?” he repeated slowly.

“Yeah, old Smith tore up the new
Expositor
press and punched out a few lights—that is, poked a few adversaries.” He paused to study Mark's face and added, “I hear Missouri's promised to send a bunch over here to help out Warsaw and Carthage when the fightin' starts.”

“You think there'll be a fight?”

“Think Joe's not going to start a ruckus?”

Mark hastily bid farewell and dug his heels in the mare's sides.

When Mark dashed into Joseph's office, for a moment he felt as if he'd been dropped back into yesterday. Joseph's feet were on his desk, his hands behind his head; he was grinning broadly.

Mark folded his arms. “What's been happening?”

“Well,” Joseph drawled, “there's this little newspaper trying to start up. Seems nobody around here liked it much. You might say it's closed, outta business.”

“What happened to freedom of speech?”

His eyes widened. “
We
still have it.”

“Joseph, you know what I mean. I read that sheet. The charges brought against you were true. And they were brought by a man deeply burdened for truth, honesty, justice and—righteousness.”

Joseph's chair hit the floor, and his grin vanished. “Mark, you're my employee. I bode no insurrection.”

“Or unfettered thought.” Mark paced the room, thinking. When he returned to Joseph's desk he said, “What is your next step?”

“Just to hang in here and fight all the brush fires.”

“How much longer do you think you can manage? Joseph, that paper used the term
despotism
. Are you aware of the number of responsible, thinking people in Nauvoo who see you that way?

“I've a copy of the
Warsaw Signal
which some brother shoved in my hand as I started up the stairs. It contains an article by Foster. I've only scanned it briefly, but here's one damning statement which will not escape the public's notice. Foster accuses you of hiring Porter Rockwell to shoot Boggs.

“How long do you think it will be before Governor Ford gets wind of this? Have you anticipated your defense for destroying a newspaper in a land which holds great stock in freedom of speech?”

Mark paced the room again, took a deep breath, and headed back to Joseph. “As your attorney I suggest you start mending fences now. First, before those fellows sue you again—which would ruin you—go offer to settle out of court by financial reimbursement and a promise to allow their newspaper to publish within the city. Then,” he paused and took a deep breath, “give them what they want. Your repentance and confession.”

Joseph's face settled into lines of suffering. “Mark, will you be a Judas, too? You are asking me to deny my Lord by refusing to acknowledge the priesthood and honor the revelation.”

“Hogwash!” Mark exploded. He paused long enough to control his temper, then said, “Joseph, I resign as your attorney, as of this minute. I've stayed here much longer than I should have. But it was always with the hopes of giving you the real help you need. I see now that's impossible.”

“I agree with your decision,” Joseph said stiffly. “You have been around much too long. You realize I hired you only because of Jenny.” He acknowledged Mark's astonishment with a grin. “I'd had my eye on her for years. I just didn't dare make her my spiritual wife until I could do so without fear of disclosure. I no longer want her.”

Mark carried his box of legal books down to the livery stable. Dropping his load just inside the tack room, he addressed Tom. “I've left Joseph's office. Until I come in with the buggy, may I leave my books here?”

Tom's astonishment changed into a grin. “Man, am I ever glad to hear that! The way things are going around here, I was beginning to fear for you.” He shot Mark a look.

“There's rumbles about blood atonement. You know that's doctrine. At meeting Joseph referred to his translation of the New Testament in Matthew and Mark where he said the arm and so forth really means a brother, that it's better to do away with a brother than to let him pull you into hell.”

When Mark turned toward the door, Tom added, “By the way, I just got word that when Joseph and his bunch moved in on the newspaper office last night, the Laws, Fosters, Higbees, and a few others headed for Carthage.”

Mark sighed with relief. “So that's where they are. Law told me they might go.”

Tom added. “I heard this morning they've sworn out warrants for Joseph, charging him with riot and arson.”

The door banged. Simpson came into the tack room. “Did ya hear? Sheriff from Carthage tried to serve Joseph and the others with a writ. They're all over at city hall right now.”

“What's going on?” Mark asked.

“Well, the sheriff wanted to take the bunch into Carthage, but Joseph pointed out the writ didn't specify which justice of the peace, so the fella had to give in. They're meeting with the Nauvoo justice right now.”

Mark sighed. “Well, that settles that. Under the Nauvoo Charter the case will be dismissed. Those fellows had better hightail out of town or Joseph'll shove them in jail for coming after him.”

Chapter 44

At first Jenny reacted with shock to Mark's news, and then she exclaimed, “Then we can leave Nauvoo right away! Oh, Mark, I'll be so glad to go. Something dark and brooding hangs over the whole city.”

“I'll go into Nauvoo tomorrow to see about selling the livestock and placing the farm for sale. Do you want to go?”

Jenny replied, “Yes, I'm curious.” But she said it with a shiver as she searched Mark's face for reassurance.

On the trip into Nauvoo the next day, they met Francis Higbee. He pulled his horse to a stop and said, “I hear you quit Joseph flat. Made any plans?” As Mark explained, Higbee held out his newspaper. “See this editorial in the
Warsaw Signal
? Might be a good idea to get out of here. You're between Warsaw and Nauvoo. That won't be good if there's problems.” As he turned to go, he said, “You might be interested in the parade going on day after tomorrow. Joseph's rallying the Legion.”

Jenny leaned over Mark's shoulder to look at the paper. “Oh, Mark, it says ‘war and extermination.' We must go! There's John Mark to think about. Look at these words—this is a challenge to action. The editor's calling the Saints infernal devils and advocating powder and balls to settle the matter.”

She leaned back to look at him. “Jenny, don't look so frightened. This is Illinois, not Missouri.” But he added thoughtfully, “Joseph's ability to arouse so much opposition everywhere he goes is frightening.”

Mark and Jenny had completed their errands by noon. Mark was shaking his head in disappointment as they carried their picnic basket into a heavily wooded area between the stream and the temple. “Taylor didn't offer me much encouragement about selling the place. Seemed harassed and impatient. I know he had more important things on his mind. The talk going around is gloomy.”

They ate their lunch in silence while they listened to the distant clamor of Nauvoo.

John Mark went to sleep and Jenny's eyes were heavy when Mark whispered, “I'm going back into town. I need to stop at the stable for my box of books. Why don't you nap, too?” Jenny nodded and curled up beside the baby.

Voices awakened Jenny. Her first thought was of the baby, but he was sleeping soundly. Cautiously she sat up. The note of anxiety in the hidden speaker caught her attention. As the voice rose, she recognized it. It was Joseph.

Quietly she shifted her position and listened. A heavy, sober voice answered him, and Joseph returned bitterly, “We are ruined people.”

The heavy voice questioned, “I don't understand; why do you say that?”

“It's this spiritual wife doctrine. It will prove to be the downfall of us.”

“I know.” For a moment the older voice caught, nearly sobbing, then asking, “Joseph, Joseph, what can be done?”

Joseph continued, the bitterness twisting through his voice. “I'm convinced this path leads to destruction. Do you see? I have been deceived. It doesn't promote glory—instead it's a curse. Unless this can be stamped out of the church immediately, we'll be forced to leave the United States, fleeing for our lives.”

Jenny didn't hear the older man's reply, but Joseph's voice rose again. “You haven't accepted the doctrine. You go to the high priesthood and threaten to excommunicate anyone practicing plural marriage. Only this route will rid the church of the damnable heresy.”

Jenny heard the buggy, and the voices stopped. She watched as Joseph and his companion got up and moved out of the trees. She saw them pause to greet Mark before leaving.

When he came to her with the question in his eyes, she pulled him close, relating the conversation.

Mark and Jenny were there in the early morning when Joseph stood on the reviewing stand outside Nauvoo House and faced the troops. The sun glinted off his sword and brightened the gold braid adorning his blue jacket. As he waited motionless, Jenny saw the breeze pick at the ostrich plume on his helmet, giving life to a scene which suddenly seemed unbelievable.

Then Joseph moved and the crowd below him stirred. The unreality was gone, and life moved on. Jenny slowly turned to see the cluster of men in uniform, fanning out across the city street. Beyond them clustered the entire populace of Nauvoo. As Joseph began to speak, Jenny sensed the rapt attention of his audience.

He referred to the
Warsaw Signal
article, which Mark and Jenny had seen, saying, “We are American citizens. The liberties our fathers won shall be cherished by us.” His voice deepened, “But again and again it seems we shall be forced to stand for right. My men, you must be prepared to defend your lives, homes, even our godly heritage.

“Some think the enemy will be satisfied with my blood, but I assure you they will thirst for the blood of every man whose heart contains a spark of the spirit of the fullness of the gospel. The enemy will destroy everyone—man and woman alike—who dares trust and believe in all God has inspired me to teach. But I tell you, Israel, there must be freedom for all! Freedom to live and worship. Will you stand by me to the death? Will you promise—” The shouts of
Hosanna!
drowned the voice of the Prophet.

Jenny watched his smile and waited. In the silence he said, “It is well that you have promised. Otherwise I would have gone there,” he pointed westward, “and raised up a mightier people.” Unsheathing his sword, Joseph shouted, “I call God to witness. Freedom and justice for the people, protection from the mob, or my blood shall be spilled in the effort of freedom.”

The Sabbath day came upon the heels of Joseph's address to the Legion. On that morning Mark looked at Jenny and said, “Do you want to hear Joseph today?”

With a sigh she studied his face. “It's hot and the oppression lies heavy upon me, but yes. Like you, I'm anxious, too curious to stay away. I wonder, what will he say next?”

As Mark and Jenny rode into Nauvoo, they were very conscious of the line of frosty-eyed men guarding the roads. Jenny whispered, “Mark, what is going on?”

“It's obvious. Joseph is not going to let one stranger into Nauvoo. He's established martial law. You might say in the midst of freedom, we are a fortified city.”

When Joseph began his sermon, Jenny sighed with disappointment. He was talking about consecration.

Raising his arm, Joseph cried, “My people, I want you to prove your loyalty in time of need. Consecrate—yes, come forward and give us all your property that the manifold blessings shall rest upon you. Place your all at the feet of the apostles. There must be a speedy completion of the temple if the wishes of the Lord are to be fulfilled.”

Abruptly he turned to face the line of elders and high priests behind him. His voice was deep and accusing as he charged, “There are those among you who will betray me. You have delivered me up to the enemy to be slain.”