Morning Star (45 page)

After service Tom joined Mark and Jenny. He shook his head at their offer, saying, “Joseph has put me on to guard him. Sending so many of the men outta town to campaign for him has left us short-handed. Fortunately, it won't last for long. He's dispatched letters to them all, telling them to hightail for Nauvoo.”

“Then he's getting worried, isn't he?” Mark asked. Tom nodded, saying, “Much as I am uneasy about this whole affair, I'm trapped. I'll be dogging his heels until some of the fellas are back in town.”

“It could take a long time to round them up,” Mark cautioned with a worried frown.

Tom was shaking his head. “Naw, maybe not.” After a moment he added. “Don't worry about me. I did some thinking about it all. Seems I've ended up feeling sorry fer Joseph. I see him a-pullin' his house in on his head. Right now I'd just like to stick close.”

He was silent for a moment and then added, “Just a few minutes ago, Joseph was getting set for an inspection tour of the defenses around the city when a guard came up to him with a note from Governor Ford. Seems he's had wind of the
Expositor
burning, and he's asked Joseph to send some of his men to Carthage to confer with him. Taylor and Bernheisel have gone. They're pretty levelheaded.”

“Tom!” Mark exclaimed, “I don't like the sounds of that at all. It's what we've all been fearing, though. Does Joseph have counsel to represent him?”

“I don't have any information. Look, Mark, I'll keep you informed. You folks lay low out at that farm.”

Tom was at Nauvoo House late Monday night when the two men returned to Nauvoo. It was Taylor who said, “Joseph, Ford insists you go to Carthage for trial. He's saying it will help everyone to see you're interested in obeying the laws of the state. I didn't like the sight of so many of your enemies hanging around Carthage, and told Ford so. I think he's a tad uneasy too, but he said to come without a Legion guard for the sake of peace. He'll see you're protected.”

Without answering, Joseph paced back and forth before the cold pit of the fireplace. The tension in the room rose; Richards mopped his brow while Bernheisel shifted uneasily on his chair. There was a sound of scratching at the door and Joseph whirled.

“Just that mongrel dog of yours,” muttered the guard, shifting his rifle.

“Let's go in the dining room!” Joseph snapped. “Tom stay outside the door. Are you armed?”

It was dawn when the door to the dining room flew open and Joseph came through. “Tom, I'm convinced the mob's after just Hyrum and me. Get into town and see that everyone settles down to business. You know, life as usual, just as if there's not a fear afoot. When the militia comes in, let 'em search.

“Hyrum and I'll cross the river tonight as soon as it's dark.” He turned to the guard at the door. “Get a replacement in here. Now, here's a list of things we'll need. I'm taking Rockwell, Tom, and a couple of others. We'll be headed west before Ford knows what's happening.”

The next night, across the river in Montrose, Tom, with Joseph and Hyrum, worked in the shed behind the home of the Saint who had taken them in. “Nearly finished,” Joseph grunted, yanking on the ropes securing the load on the wagon. “Wish Rockwell would get over here with the rest of the goods. I'd like to be out of here while it's still dark. A hard day of riding will put us into the trees in Iowa, then we'll be running free.”

Tom was grateful for the darkness hiding the dismay on his face. When the board snapped outside, Joseph swung his gun and crouched. Porter's heavy voice said, “Joseph?”

When he came into the light, Joseph slowly put his gun away, saying, “What's the problem?”

Rockwell sat down and scratched his head. “The feeling's bad in Nauvoo. Everyone's seein' this as you skipping out on them instead of helping. They're callin' you a coward. Emma's sent you a letter.”

Joseph moved close to the lantern and, after reading, said slowly, “She's begging me to come back and face trial. I can't believe she'd ask this.” His voice was stunned.

The silence had become almost intolerable when Joseph sighed and looked at Rockwell. “What do you think I should do?”

Rockwell's jaw dropped. He looked uneasily around. “Joseph, how come you're askin' me?” He shrugged helplessly and Joseph turned to Hyrum.

“Before we left you voted to face the music. What do you think we should do now?”

Hyrum's face brightened. “If we return they'll be convinced of the divine call behind our mission.”

There was silence for a long time, and finally Joseph nodded. Rockwell said, “The boat's waiting at the dock.”

Early the next morning Joseph dispatched a message to Ford, advising him that he would surrender. Then he sent messengers to round up the city council, officers of the Legion, and trusted members of the priesthood.

It was past noon when Joseph came out of Nauvoo House and mounted Charlie. Facing Tom he said, “I want you to come with me. For your information, I've instructed the men to gather up the personal arms in the city and stack them. We don't want to be caught short like we were in Missouri. I'm certain Ford will be in here to gather up the state's arms. If he happens to think that's all there are, well, fine.”

Just outside of Nauvoo, the little band met Captain Dunn with a company of militia. Dunn reined in. “Sir, we've been commissioned to procure the state's arms.”

Joseph nodded and said, “Come. I prefer escorting you to avoid any problems. I've some men who are more loyal than thoughtful.”

The gathering of arms took up most of the afternoon. The shadows were long and the sky full of pastel clouds when the group turned their horses toward Carthage. Just outside of Nauvoo the Saints lined the road, watching their Prophet, Hyrum, some of the elders, and members of the city council as they passed on their way to Carthage.

Joseph raised his hand in answer to their salute. “Israel, take care. Like a lamb to the slaughter, I go. My conscience is clear. Toward God and man there is no taint of offense.”

Chapter 45

It was late when the party reached Carthage. As they rode down the city streets, Tom was seized with apprehension. Every mile of the way was lined with troops.

By the time the group reached Hamilton House, the troops pressed close on their heels. Now Tom could spot a new group sprinkled throughout the troops.

Shabby in their dress, faces set, unmoving as stone, they watched the Saints. Porter muttered, “Them's from Warsaw and Quincy. I recognize 'em.”

As the militia parted, allowing Joseph and his party to enter the hotel, the rumble of sound erupted into jeers and cat-calls.

Through the open door the group from Nauvoo could see the crowd pressing close. As the tempo of the shouting grew, just as abruptly there was silence. From overhead came a crash and a thin reedy voice shouted, “Go back to your homes! You want to see Joseph the Prophet? Tomorrow will be soon enough. Go!”

“Governor Ford,” muttered the desk clerk. He nodded at Joseph. “May want to confer with you. Dan'l here will take you up to your rooms.”

Assembled in Joseph's room, they listened as he gave terse orders. Tom watched the play of expression across the Prophet's face and felt his own heart squeeze with fear.

“Rockwell,” Joseph said, “I don't know what's going to happen. I mistrust these hoodlums. Stay as close as possible tomorrow. If it looks like trouble, head for Nauvoo. The Legion will have enough munitions to rescue me.”

The next day Tom still sensed the restless, heavy mood of the town. When they had breakfasted and followed the governor out into town, they discovered the troops were again lining the street.

Governor Ford gave his instructions in a low voice, and Joseph turned to his men with a sardonic smile. “We're on exhibition.”

As instructed, the men grouped and fell in behind Governor Ford and General Deming. Tom watched the dapper young governor stride toward the first line of troops. With a slight bow he said, “Gentlemen, I present to you the Prophet, General Joseph Smith and his brother, General Hyrum Smith.”

So they proceeded down the line until they reached the Carthage Grays. As Governor Ford started to deliver his introductions, a ripple of unrest swept through the troops—a sneer, a shout, then cat-calls were thrown at the men. Under the blast of sound, Tom heard the Governor's mild rebuke, but General Deming wheeled and approached the men.

“Men, you have shown conduct unworthy of the uniform you wear. I hereby place you under arrest!” he barked.

As Joseph, followed by Hyrum, Porter, and Tom, returned to the hotel, the Prophet used the cover of noise to say, “I've retained two Iowa attorneys to represent me. They should be here by the time we appear before the Justice of the Peace. Tom, you keep your eyes on the street. I want Porter inside.”

Just before noon, Porter appeared, his face long. “Nearly made it home scot-free for now. The case got set up for next court, and Joseph and the other city council fellows were released on bonds. But lo and behold that fella Bettisworth, the one turned loose on Joseph by the apostates, well, he slapped Joseph with a warrant charging him with treason and rebellion against the state of Illinois.

“They were sayin' the charge was for calling out the Legion to make war on the citizens around the county and then for puttin' Nauvoo under martial law.”

Late that evening Constable Bettisworth appeared again, this time with an order to transfer Joseph and Hyrum to jail.

“No good talking,” Porter grumbled to Tom who was again posted in the hallway. “Governor Ford agrees it's outta line, but he's saying they'll all be safer in jail overnight. Joseph's wrung a promise outta Ford, so it looks like Ford's going to take Joe into Nauvoo tomorrow.”

Porter paused, looked at Tom, and added, “Seems the governor's been getting reports of counterfeiting and other crimes going on in Nauvoo, so he's taking men and going to investigate.” He paused and said, “Don't bring up a fuss if you don't see me no more. Hang in with the Prophet unless it looks like you need to go for help.”

That night, on mattresses spread on the floor of the jail, the men restlessly tossed and talked in low voices until one by one they drifted into sleep.

Even Tom's eyes were growing heavy when he heard the Prophet turn. “Tom—” In the darkness Joseph's voice seemed thin, without its usual vigor. “Tom, are you afraid to die?”

Slowly Tom said, “Joseph, do you really think the time has come?” There was silence and Tom thought about all Mark had said to him about being saved by grace. He thought about his own decision to trust in God through Jesus Christ. He thought, too, of the peace that had come to dwell in his heart. Peace—was it peace? More than peace, it seemed like a happy confidence telling him that he'd taken the only possible course.

“Joseph, seems a body ought to be at peace inside even if he's going to die. I read in the Bible that the Apostle Paul said he'd rather go be with Jesus Christ than to just keep on living. I'm not certain right now that I
wouldn't
rather go on living, but I'm not scared. A bullet can take a man mighty fast.”

In the morning, Joseph told Tom about his dream. “There was mud, rising up to my ankles, clinging, like chains, holding me fast.” Tom saw the sweat beaded on the Prophet's face.

“Joseph, seems from reading the Bible that I get the idea, no matter how bad a body is, God will forgive him if he's just willing to go it Jesus' way.”

Joseph was silent a moment and then he turned. “Here's what I want you to do. Get out on the streets, listen. Find out what's going on. If there's a plot, I want it uncovered.”

As Tom started down the stairs, the guard followed him. Coming close to Tom he murmured, “You look like a nice lad; why don't you just take off? There's going to be trouble. Too much has been wasted to let old Joe escape now.”

For a few minutes Tom hesitated as he stood in front of the jail. Finally he turned and loped down the road toward the center of town.

He found Governor Ford in his office. As Tom related the whispers of the guard, the governor's frown deepened. “Nonsense!” he snorted. “There's no possibility of any such thing happening. The troops from Warsaw are being sent home. Don't worry; your Prophet will live to stand trial. Go home to your people—there's nothing you can do here.”

Tom wandered through the town, trying to listen to the fragments of conversation coming his direction, all the time looking for one familiar face.

In the late afternoon, a chance conversation slipped the news to him that Governor Ford had left for Nauvoo, and the Prophet wasn't with him.

Tom started for the jail at a fast walk. Suddenly he stopped. Porter had seeded his mind with an idea. Joseph needed his men to defend him. Last night one of Joseph's visitors had slipped both Joseph and Hyrum pistols, but that wasn't enough.

Tom turned and headed for the stables. Getting his horse, he rode casually beyond the outskirts of Carthage and then he dug his heels into the mare's sides. Tom was an hour out of Carthage when he saw the cloud of dust billowing above the trees. With instinct born of fear, he pulled his horse aside into the woods and waited.

The group of horsemen swept silently past him. They were moving rapidly, but Tom had time to see their faces. For precious minutes Tom sat in the saddle and puzzled over the spectacle he had seen. All of the men were wrapped in rags, their faces painted in grotesque patterns of red and yellow. Some were crudely painted, smeared with black.

Their hard, swift passage clamored for Tom's attention. Suddenly he whipped around and headed back to Carthage. As he rode he was filled with the sense of the futility of his mission. But he also knew there was no alternative.

Long before he reached the jail, Tom heard the shouts, the gunfire. As he pulled up in front of the jail, Tom threw himself from the horse and ran. Abruptly there was a lull in the firing. For a moment, while all action was suspended, Tom's feet slowed and he looked up.