Morning Star (8 page)

During that first year Mark and Jenny lived in Nauvoo, they watched with trepidation as the bold prophet continued to lay claim to more territory.

While Jenny had held her breath because of the daring of the Nauvoo Charter, Mark cringed at the political machinery of the Saints released upon the state. The influence of the Saints' solid voting bloc caused Illinois to tremble.

In 1840 when the Saints voted as a man, their unified action helped place the Whigs in power. Again in 1841, Joseph Smith boldly declared the Mormon vote would shine most brightly on the party willing to extend favors.

It would have been a daring move for any group of people; but for the Prophet it seemed the ordinary, logical result of seeking the will of the Lord.

Nearly as soon as the Nauvoo Charter passed the House, Saints and Gentiles became increasingly aware of the role John C. Bennett was playing in Nauvoo—and not only in politics.

Rigdon, ill since the Missouri days, was replaced with Dr. Bennett as Joseph's right-hand man. Mark carried home the news to Jenny.

“Mark,” she said slowly, studying the frown on his face, “this should be good news—after all, Rigdon was a drag on the heels of everything happening in Nauvoo. Why are you so troubled?”

As he hung up his coat, he responded, “I distrust that man's ambition. Joseph seems entirely blind to a personality that is causing most of his friends to shudder.”

He took a deep breath and paced the floor of their kitchen. “There are letters. From the beginning Bennett has had some of us puzzled and worried. He's just too smooth. Now Joseph's had letters saying he's held in disrepute back east. The letters state he's abandoned a family, and the Masonic Lodge expelled him. I have no idea what the charges are.” Mark paced the floor and then turned to Jenny. “All of this mess is enough to make me want to quit, to get out of Nauvoo while I still have my sanity.”

“Oh, Mark, you wouldn't, surely!”

He looked at her pleading face close to his shoulder and tried to grin. “No, my sweet, I wouldn't.” He watched her brow smooth and tried to guess her secret desires.

Mark still carried the churning need to help others understand the mystery of Jesus Christ. The compulsion pressed against his heart each time he saw the confusion on Tom's face. And what about Jenny? He turned away with a sigh. How true it was that the most difficult burden was the one nearest a person's heart!

Chapter 7

May had arrived, and in the temple grove the air was warm and heavy. Brigham's voice droned on. Some of the other women moved restlessly, no doubt thinking—as Jenny was—of the basket dinner. Jenny wondered whether she had remembered to pack butter.

When Mark moved impatiently and yanked at his collar, Jenny realized her mind had been wandering. She glanced at him as he began chewing at the corner of his mouth. Brigham Young's voice carried clearly over the crowd; she tried to listen as her gaze skimmed the crowd pressing as close as possible to the speaker.

Nancy Rigdon turned her head and flashed a dimpled smile at Jenny. She was standing close to Sarah Pratt, and it was Sarah's turn to glance at Jenny.

As Jenny smiled toward the women, she was thinking of the sewing circle. In the past months, since spring had offered more diversions, the crowd had dwindled. Recalling with amusement the fun she had shared with Sarah and Nancy, Jenny couldn't regret the change.

What a strange pair the two were! Nancy, the youngest daughter of Sidney Rigdon, was all spice and froth. Much younger than Sarah, she obviously adored the graceful, attractive woman. Sarah was married to Orson Pratt, one of the twelve. Jenny knew they had one small child.

Mark stirred again, now frowning. Jenny tried to fasten her wandering mind on the sermon. Brigham's monologue poured out more words and Jenny sifted through them, looking for the ones irritating Mark. She heard, “Our religion is founded upon the priesthood of the Son of God.”

Jenny was still puzzling over Mark's reaction when she heard more: “The Son of God labors to build up, exalt, create, purify all things on the earth, bringing it to His standard of glory, perfection, and greatness. I want you to know, my friends, that we are to be helping Him. When the fullness of time has come, we will have been partakers in the task of bringing the kingdom to perfection. Those who buck this perfection will just have to go. Also, I want you to understand that Jesus Christ can't return to this earth until we have the kingdom prepared for Him.”

It was midafternoon before Jenny and Mark left Nauvoo. Jenny was thinking about Nancy's new frock when she recalled Mark's reaction to the sermon. She studied his face, saw that he was miles away in thought, and said, “Who was the man standing beside you? He's as big as Joseph and looks nearly as important.”

“He's a Canadian; William Law is his name. Was converted to the church in Canada and has just arrived this spring. Seems to be an enthusiastic person, full of ideas. More than willing to do his share around here.”

She waited a moment and then asked, “Why were you so irritated by Brigham Young's sermon?”

Mark looked surprised. “I'm displeased because what he had to say doesn't line up with what the Bible teaches. I'm hearing more of this all the time, particularly slanted toward an idea that's being whispered about.”

“What's that?”

He moved restlessly and glanced at her. “A kingdom of God that is going to take over—and I'm quoting current whispers—‘Illinois, Missouri, Iowa, and finally all the states and then the world.' Now you are frowning—why?”

“I'm wondering how you've come to know so much about what the Bible teaches.”

“Jenny, I've been reading. It's right there just as plain as it can be for anyone who cares to read.

“Joseph told me to read the Scriptures. I think he meant both the Bible and the
Book of Mormon
. But then the sermons tell me so much, it seems foolish to waste time reading.”

“You read to check it out—to make certain what you're hearing lines up with God's Word. Matter of fact, if you
don't
compare the revelations and the
Book of Mormon
with the Bible, how do you know you aren't being—” He stopped and both of them looked up as they heard the horse rapidly approaching.

“It's Tom!” Jenny exclaimed. “Is he coming from our house?”

“Well, he wasn't in Nauvoo this morning.”

When Tom wheeled his horse around, Jenny noticed the lines of strain around his mouth. “I'd given up waiting for you and decided to head for Nauvoo.”

“Sabbath meeting,” Mark said tersely, then waited.

“Joe's in big trouble. I've been sticking with him, fearin' to leave him for a minute until today. Thank goodness he finally was able to get a writ of habeas corpus.”

“What's happened?”

“Joseph had a meeting with Governor Carlin. On the way back to Nauvoo, a sheriff from Missouri with his posse appeared on the scene. 'Twas so well-timed I'm thinkin' it was planned higher up.”

“So Joseph's wild prophecy has reached the ears of Missouri, particularly Boggs.”

“You mean the prophecy he gave out a couple of months ago, sayin' that within a year Boggs would die? Mark, that was from the Lord. Did you expect Joseph would fail to give the warning? Of course he wanted Missouri to hear.” Tom shrugged. “They nabbed Joe, and I just tagged along, tryin' to figure out what to do.”

“And?” Mark prodded.

“They hauled him clear to Quincy before there was a chance to take a breath. That's gettin' mighty close to Missouri. We tried several places to get a writ and not a soul would issue one. Don't think they'd a done it in Quincy but for the fact his old friend Stephen A. Douglas was in town hearing a case.”

“Douglas is on the Supreme Court,” Mark said thoughtfully. “That should mean something.”

“You're tooting right. Word barely leaked about Douglas stickin' his neck out for Joe when a couple of Whig lawyers scooted for Quincy to offer
their
services. Douglas being Democrat and political himself done the trick. We're about ready to have a caucus over there.”

“For once Joe's politics is standing him in good stead,” Mark remarked dryly.

“Yes, but he needs all the help he can get. He told me to fetch you.”

Mark sighed and glanced at Jenny. “I don't like leaving Jen alone; also there's a pile of paper work at the office.”

“Can't be as important as this.”

“It could be more important. There's going to be a real storm if we don't get Joseph's financial affairs in order before the next meeting of the district court.”

Tom's horse pawed impatiently. “Head back for Quincy,” Mark said. “I'll ride over, but if things are under control, I won't stay.”

“I'm to alert the men.”

Mark winced. “The Danites. That's the worst order Joe could have given.”

“Not the Danites,” Tom stressed the words, “nor even the Legion. His
bodyguard
.” He wheeled away without waiting for a reply.

Jenny couldn't restrain her dismal words. “It's like Missouri all over again.”

Mark took a deep breath and said, “We can leave any time you give the word.”

Jenny considered and shuddered, remembering that shadowy image. Only to herself did she dare admit the alternative was unthinkable. She said, “You'll be away tonight.”

“Do you want me to take you to Sally?”

“It's so far, and you need to hurry. Is there a chance you'll be back tonight?”

She felt him studying her face. Slowly he said, “I'm of a mind to make certain I'll be back.”

“Oh, Mark,” she whispered, “thank you.” She blinked tears out of her eyes as she smiled at him.

She saw the concern. Always it was there, but sometimes it nearly forced the words she didn't know how to say. “Jenny,” he began, then gave a feeble grin. “Lock the doors and read your Bible. That'll keep the spooks away. I promise I'll be back before midnight.”

He helped her from the buggy and went to saddle up. She was still staring after him, wondering whether the light words carried a hidden message. What a strange way to tease!

When Mark disappeared down the road, Jenny went into the house. She dropped the latch into place on both doors and pulled the curtains over the windows. Although the late spring afternoon was warm, she stirred up the coals in the stove and added wood, still thinking about Mark's statement.

Since the afternoon she had broken the mirror with her bare fists, Jenny had not made another attempt to use the charms and book. At times she trembled with a fearful urgency to be back into the craft. But the memory of those contorted images was stronger.

When the water was boiling, Jenny brewed tea for herself and settled down in the rocking chair. As she sipped her tea, she studied the smooth leather cover of the Bible Mark had given her. “Like a talisman,” she mused, “he wants me to read it to keep away the spirits. Only read, not rub it like I would the medal.”

Suddenly she began to giggle. “How silly!” The picture was strong in front of her—Jenny briskly buffing the black cover and chanting the prayer to Luna the moon goddess. Now a new thought took over. Was it any sillier than stroking the medal and burning the herbs?”

She shivered. “I may not be seeing the power I hope for,” she murmured. “But certain as I sit here, there's something out there, and I'm finding it very frightening.”

Jenny silently explored all the reaches of her thoughts, knowing with certainty that a question was being forced upon her. “It was the green book in the beginning that opened it all up, but then Clara taught me more. And Joseph.”

She closed her eyes and relived the excitement of South Bainbridge. With the digging and witching that went on that year, with the sure thread of strange excitement moving through them all, there could be no doubt. An idea presented itself, and she must consider it. Would she go back to it all? It was strangely attractive, drawing with an appeal that was more real than the chair under her.

But even as she was slipping into a floating sense of ease, being drawn gently in, Jenny abruptly faced reality. She remembered that day with the mirror—her own face, twisting into ugliness. And the sabbat awaited her—a threat which would never leave as long as she poked into the spirits' territory.

She jumped to her feet and reached for the black Book. Holding it tightly against herself, she waited for her wildly beating heart to slow. But she couldn't stop the forbidden thought and the wish. “I wish I could see Adela; she was so beautiful! She could tell me what has gone wrong.” Once verbalized, the wish was an uneasy cold spot against her heart.

The afternoon light was becoming dim; ahead lay all those dark hours before Mark would come. Jenny picked up the Bible and her empty teacup.

Back in the kitchen she lighted the lamp, stirred up the fire and cooked an egg, which she didn't eat. The Book lay on the table in front of her.

“Funny,” she mused. “Since I could say the alphabet I've wanted to read everything in sight. Now I have this Book, and no desire for it.”

Outside the wind was rising. Jenny could hear the moaning in the trees and she tried to force her mind away from the curious question: Was it wind? She reached for the Book and held it tightly.

The wind continued. Abruptly she envisioned Mark fighting the wind. Darkness was total now, and it was too early for the fragment of moonlight. Jenny peered through the curtains and hoped the chickens were safe, and the lambs. There had been wolves sighted. Were there Indians? But no matter—at least Indians were flesh and blood.

With a shiver she went back to her chair and opened the black Book to the middle.

“The Lord is my shepherd,” she read slowly, then paused. The picture that came before her eyes was not the same kind of picture she saw when Joseph preached about the Lord commanding the Saints to avenge Him of His enemies.