Morning Star (7 page)

She turned to him with a puzzled look. “It was the snow I was smiling about. It's pleasant now that I needn't ride home alone. I don't know what to think about my meeting with Joseph. I'm feeling more was left unsaid than was said.”

“How's that?” he asked cautiously.

“There are so many gaps in my religion. So much I don't understand, and so much more I need. Joseph put me off by saying there's new revelations to be made to the church in the future. He didn't give me any help except to tell me to go home and read the Scriptures.”

Mark straightened and turned to study Jenny's face intently. She was busy flicking snow off her shawl and drawing it more tightly around her head, and she didn't see his excitement. Carefully he settled back and compared this with the information rolling around in his mind.
So Jenny isn't happy with her religion!
he mused.

He felt his grin disappearing. New revelations. That seemed to fit in with the scene he had interrupted between Joseph and his brother, Don Carlos.

This morning he had arrived early at the office over the grocery store. Obviously neither man had anticipated an audience to their angry scene. He had heard Don Carlos as he walked in. The man's flushed, angry face had emphasized his words, and his wrath had delivered the rest of them. Turning to Joseph, he shouted, “I don't care if you are my brother and the Prophet of the living God. Sure as I stand here, you'll go to hell if you preach the spiritual wife doctrine. Hyrum feels the same. He told me last night that he's confident it will break up the church.”

The angry red left Don Carlos' face, and he paused on his way to the door. Mark saw the anguish in his eyes. “Hyrum said it could cost your life. I don't know what he meant by that unless—” Suddenly he noticed Mark. He ducked his head and hurried out the door.

Mark became aware that Jenny was throwing worried glances at his frowns, and he snatched up the conversation again. “Jen, tell me where your church has failed you.” He saw the startled expression and watched her shrug.

In the morning, Jenny was still wondering how to answer Mark. As she broke eggs into the sizzling fat, Mark came into the kitchen. “One thing I did find out yesterday,” he said, as he turned the bread toasting on the stove, “Joseph has had communication from Dr. Bennett.”

“Isn't he in Springfield?”

“Yes. He wrote that the Nauvoo Charter passed the house without being read.”

Jenny dropped the knife she held. “You mean after all the fearing you and Joseph went through over that charter, they didn't even read it?”

“That's right.” She studied his frown and waited. “Seems like careless legislation. I have a hard time reconciling that with my friend, Lincoln. But those are the facts. The state has granted the little Mormon municipality a charter that, if it goes unchallenged, virtually makes us a state within a state.”

“Well, tell me what the charter is all about.”

“I can give you a copy to read, but for now here are the facts: Besides the expected items such as incorporating the city, even providing for a university, there's the clause calling for a militia to be called the Nauvoo Legion.

“The charter will give the city council power to make and execute ordinances not repugnant to the state or United States constitution.” He paused, adding, “Note this, my dear, it is an ambiguous statement wide open to all kinds of interpretation.

“Among other items, the mayor of the city will be chief justice of the municipal court, empowered to issue writs of habeas corpus, with the power to try those issued from other courts, including trying the original actions in the case. In effect, the court has the power to cast out everything that goes against the desires of—you guessed it—Joseph. I don't think he'll have to worry about Missouri as long as the charter is in effect.”

“This is the first big step toward getting approval to be designated a territory.” Jenny's eyes were wide, and Mark winced. “That's not good?”

“It will be impossible. I just wish he would give up on his foolish dream. Jen, if I'd any idea Joseph hadn't learned his lesson in Missouri, I would never have accepted his job offer.”

“The people here have been so good to us, except for those in Warsaw, Warren and—”

“And anyone else close enough to be touched by the Saints.” He followed Jenny to the table. He had only taken two bites of his breakfast when he said, “Lincoln made a statement concerning the law that goes something like this: municipal law, that is, local law, is a standard for conduct approved by the state governing bodies, and it's for the purpose of fostering right and correcting wrong.”

“But you're talking about law—not about a community set up to live under God's holy Prophet and kingdom rules.”

“Jenny, my dear, you sound too Mormon.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I can practically quote chapter and verse. You don't really believe that. Why don't you think it through? Why don't you read and question, even argue just as you have done in the past?”

“I suppose because I am an adult now. I should have the questions settled. It isn't mature to go through life fussing over everything.”

“It isn't mature
not
to, if you know a question deep down inside.”

She was slowly lowering the dishes into the dishpan when he came back into the kitchen. He was wearing his coat and drawing on the mittens she had knit for him. “Jenny, what's wrong? Why don't you bring your questions to me instead of to Joseph? I saw how torn you were in Springfield when you were practicing what you called your nature religion, worshiping in the forest by the light of the moon. That didn't satisfy you—as a matter of fact, it was destroying you. Now I'm seeing the same dissatisfaction. Will you let me help you?”

“Mark, you are apostate.”

“Perhaps. Yet Joseph values my judgment enough to offer this position.”

Chapter 6

Events concerning the Mormons seemed to move just as rapidly as spring was moving upon the country. Jenny stood on her front porch watching the birds flitting back and forth across the pasture, carrying twigs to the large oak tree beside the barn. Some of the events taking place in Nauvoo were puzzling to her.

The town was growing rapidly. Just this month ten thousand had gathered at the temple for the ceremony of laying the cornerstone. Nearly every Sabbath, the meeting in the temple clearing produced a larger crowd and new faces. She thought of last week's sermon and winced. Even Mark didn't know the reason behind Brigham Young's sermon. His face had been very sober as he had watched the stranger turn and slip out of the crowd just as Brigham Young had put his pistol back inside his coat.

Now Jenny shook her head. “Brigham, I don't know you very well, but I'd always credited you with more intelligence than that,” she murmured to herself. “In the past Joseph's always made the wild statements, but you nearly capped them all when you said what you did.”

Shivering, Jenny whispered the words Brigham had roared at the crowd: “‘The earth is the Lord's and therefore it belongs to the Saints!' But Brig, you shouldn't have waved that pistol and said this is the way we intend to take it.”

Walking back to the house, she stopped at the pasture to look at the lambs. The chickens were nesting, and there was another new lamb in the pasture. Mark predicted the cow would be freshening soon. Even the women of Nauvoo seemed to be blossoming with expected life.

Everyone except Jenny. It was becoming increasingly painful to go to the weekly sewing circle—except that it was a good place to pick up the latest gossip. She chuckled, shaking her head.

“Jenny.” Mark came down the stairs two at a time. He paused to finish tucking his tie under his collar and then said, “There's a parade and speeches in town today; want to ride in with me?”

“Oh, I suppose so. I've nothing much else to do.”

“It isn't that bad, is it? It's spring and the world is blossoming out all over, even in our pasture.”

“Everywhere except in me,” she sighed, turning away.

He nuzzled the back of her neck. “Don't give up yet,” he murmured.

“Do you suppose I should see Dr. Bennett?” she turned.

Mark's head snapped, his answer explosive. “No!”

“What is the problem? Mark, he's the only real doctor in town and you should see the way people—”

“People, or only women?”

“Well, the women at the sewing circle. I must say I can't understand them. Just mention his name and there are all kinds of funny reactions. Still, it seems safer to go to a qualified doctor instead of that fellow who just hands out herbs.”

He looked at her quizzically, “A couple of years ago you were handing out the herbs.”

“True.” She paused, frowning over the things she had heard. “There're whispers of Dr. Bennett misbehaving with some questionable women—those fancy ladies living down by the wharf. I heard he's responsible for that brothel. Remember? Sally pointed it out to us.”

“And you want to see
him
? Why don't you just talk to Patty Session? I've a feeling she'll just tell you to stop worrying.”

“Mark! We've been married nearly five years. I would think—”

She turned away, and he came to put his arms around her. “Hey, tears won't help. Come on now, you need Nauvoo today.”

The parade had begun by the time Mark and Jenny arrived in Nauvoo. In silence they sat in their buggy and listened to the brass band and the shouts of the people. When the first line of men appeared after the band had passed, Mark whispered, “The Legion. See, there's Joseph standing in the wagon waving to the people.”

“What an elegant uniform!” Jenny exclaimed. “Look at the men dressed in white. Why there's John D. Lee.”

“That's Joseph's special contingent of body guards,” Mark muttered, and she wondered at the note of irony in his voice.

With a glance at him she asked, “What is the significance of the white?”

“I think it's supposed to project the idea of protecting angels.”

Jenny snickered. “I don't think Porter Rockwell looks like an angel.”

Mark turned the buggy in behind the parade and followed it to the clearing beside the temple grove. By the time Mark had found a place for the buggy and they made their way to the clearing, the band was playing again. But this wasn't marching music.

“Dancing!” Jenny gasped when they stepped into the clearing. “In Kirtland it was expressly forbidden.”

The young man in front of Jenny turned with a cheerful grin. “Ma'am, this isn't Ohio. Be glad the Prophet's relaxing a bit.”

“Are there going to be speeches?” Mark asked.

“Seems.” The young man moved impatiently. “Mostly it's a rallying cry to get started building the Nauvoo House.”

“Oh,” Jenny said. “That's to be the boarding house the Lord ordered built, isn't it? Is that all?”

“No, they're saying he's going to lay the polygamy rumor to rest again, and he's going to give instruction about baptism for the dead. Already Brigham Young's declaring it is a great and mighty work we are to be doing for the Lord.” The fellow's face wore a pensive grin for a moment and then he aroused himself, “Personally, I'd rather be dancing and—” He looked at Jenny and, with a teasing salute, walked away.

“Why, Phelps!” Jenny looked up at Mark's exclamation. Mark was holding up his hand, and his glad surprise seemed to embarrass the man. “You've rejoined Zion's camp?”

With a wry grin, Phelps nodded. “Only I'm hearing the Zion part has been put on hold.”

“Then you've been informed about the revelation that Joseph received from the Lord in January?” Jenny asked, nodding at the woman beside him. “My, you missed something; that revelation was chockful of direction for the Saints.”

“I've heard a little about warning the kings and rulers of their prophesied end, and about how Zion must wait until the proper time.” He shook his head sadly. “I'd already started for Nauvoo when I learned Joseph had to drop his plans to begin building up an army to march on Missouri immediately.”

Mrs. Phelps stepped forward, eyeing Jenny curiously. “We heard there are converts streaming in from Canada and England, also that there's a temple to be built here. My, there's excitement in store for the people of God!”

“I don't understand about baptisms for the dead,” Jenny said, “but I hear they've already started. Someone said they heard one fellow got baptized for George Washington.”

“There's going to be great days ahead,” Phelps said.

“But there's much to be done,” Mark warned. “Right now we're having financial problems. Seems the real estate sold to Saints in Iowa was based on fraudulent deeds. A large number of poor Saints are even poorer now. I hear Joseph intends to give some of them work in construction of the temple.”

“Have you heard rumors about the new bankruptcy law?”

“It hasn't passed the house yet,” Mark said shortly.

“Well,” Phelps said lamely, “seems it's an answer to the claims Missouri's been making against us.”

“Oh,” Jenny said brightly, “then you haven't heard that Joseph dismissed those debts a year ago.”

“Jenny,” Mark interrupted, “I must go to the office. I'll take you to Sally's home first.” As they turned to go, Jenny saw the expression on Phelps' face—an incomprehensible question. Phelps didn't trust Mark.

The year 1841 snowballed with one event after another, and through it all the new Mormon community grew at a rate that left Jenny giddy. From a village with two hundred and fifty homes, a straggle of shops and a temple lot gouged enough for a cornerstone, Nauvoo was now spreading into a modest-sized city. From generous lots in town to the farms clustering like timid chicks around their mother hen, Nauvoo was making her presence known in Illinois.