The Work and the Glory (142 page)

Benjamin whistled softly. A total of nearly twenty thousand dollars!

Now Joseph turned to him, his face pained. “So I ask you again, Ben. The Lord promised that if we were humble and diligent and exercised the prayer of faith, he would send means to us for deliverance from our debts. Yet here we are, more than two years later, and still deeply in debt. If the Lord fulfills his promises, then what would you conclude, Brother Steed?”

Benjamin was staring at the horses’ feet, listening to the soft clop-clop of their hooves on the road. “That we have not met the Lord’s conditions.”

“Aye,” Joseph said wearily. “I see no other conclusion.”

They rode on in silence for several minutes. Finally, Joseph spoke again. “I have given this a great deal of thought, Brother Ben, and here are some of my conclusions.”

“I’d like to hear them.”

“Part of our problem has to do with the gathering. The Lord commanded us to gather to Ohio, but he said it was to be done in order. He said the branches of the Church were to gather their moneys and send them with their people so that land could be purchased and all things could be done in the proper order. How often is that happening?”

There was only one answer to that. “About one time in ten.”

“That’s right. Generally the rich stay back while the poor come with nothing to their names except a belly full of hunger and a cart full of children. The contributions cannot keep up with it. Here’s something else the Lord warned us about.” He began to quote softly. “ ‘Wo unto you rich men, that will not give your substance to the poor, for your riches will canker your souls! And wo unto you poor men, whose bellies are not satisfied, and whose hands are not stayed from laying hold upon other men’s goods, whose eyes are full of greediness, and who will not labor with their own hands!’ ”

Joseph sighed, then finally looked at his companion. “Ah, Ben, is it any wonder the Lord has not fulfilled his promise to us?”

“So what do you propose, Joseph?”

Joseph forced a laugh. “That’s what I have been praying about.”

“And?”

“Well, something has been much on my mind of late.”

“What?”

“To start a bank.”

One eyebrow shot up, but immediately Benjamin began to nod thoughtfully.

Joseph went on eagerly. “We could sell stock, use the money to capitalize the bank. Then we would have our own financial institution. All the interest we are paying to others would be saved. Our own people could borrow from us, and we could use that interest earned to pay off our debts and also to help meet the needs of the poor.”

“That would help with the cash problem as well,” Benjamin threw in. “Almost everything we are doing now is on credit. That’s one of the reasons prices are rising so fast. We need capital. We need cash money.” A thought struck him. “Would you print your own bank notes?”

“I don’t know. I think so.” Joseph laid a hand on his arm. “That’s why I need the counsel of wise men like you, Ben. Then I want to take the idea to the Lord for his final approval.”

“I like the idea, Joseph. Let me think on it. I think it has real merit. Anything else?”

The blue eyes clouded, and when Joseph spoke, it sent a quick chill through Benjamin’s soul. “We lost the privilege of laying the foundations of Zion, Brother Ben, because the Lord will not be mocked. He warned us that we had to be pure in heart. But we were filled with petty jealousies, covetousness, contentions.” He looked down at his hands. The palms were open, as if in supplication. Then he looked at Benjamin. “And if we are not careful, the Lord may have to chasten us again. And I, for one, do not look forward to that in the least bit, Benjamin. Not in the least bit.”

* * *

There was a soft knock on the door. Elizabeth Ann Whitney, wife of Bishop Newel Whitney, arose and went to the door. The chatter among the dozen or so women in the room instantly stopped. Sister Whitney opened the door, smiling, then stepped back. “How glad we are that you could come!”

She moved back, and three women stepped into the house. The first was tiny Mother Smith, still as full of fire and spunk at sixty-one as many women half her age. Next came Emma. In her arms she carried a small bundle wrapped in a white blanket. Behind her was Eliza Snow, who was living with Joseph and Emma.

In one moment the women were around Emma. Soft oohs and aahs came out in a chorus. Smiling, her dark eyes filled with unabashed joy, Emma pulled back the blanket.

“Oh, would you look at that!”

“He’s darling, Emma. Just darling.”

“I think he’s got Joseph’s nose and mouth.”

“I can see a little of Mother Smith in him too, can’t you?”

Joseph’s mother beamed at that, nodding as though she had seen the same thing herself.

Mary Ann Steed looked into Emma’s face. “So he’s almost a month now?”

Mother Smith answered for Emma. “He was born on the twentieth of June. So he’ll be a month one week from today.”

Mary Ann reached out and touched Emma’s arm. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. “We are so happy for you, Emma.”

Emma turned. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I almost can’t believe it. He’s so perfect.”

Sister Whitney interrupted them. “I believe our food is ready. Shall we eat?”

* * *

Mary Ann gazed down into the tiny round face. One eye was fluttering slightly, as though little Frederick Granger Williams Smith were dreaming some unknown thoughts of the heaven whence he had so recently come. Mary Ann reached out and touched the eyelid very gently with the tip of her finger. It steadied. There was a soft sigh, and then he seemed to settle even deeper into sleep.

She settled back on the sofa, glad she had waited to be last to hold the baby. Now he was sleeping and she would have him for the longest amount of time. She looked across the room to where Melissa, her older daughter, sat. She and Thirza Cahoon, wife of Reynolds Cahoon, were crocheting a lace tablecloth for the sacrament table in the temple. Melissa had the ball of yarn propped on the roundness of her belly. Mary Ann’s mouth softened at the sight of her. Two more months and there would be a new baby in the Steed family too. She looked forward to that eagerly. The last one born—Lydia’s little Nathan Joseph—was now nine months old and pulling himself up to everything around the house. Cute as they were at that stage, there was nothing quite like having a newborn.

Lydia was sitting next to Mary Ann. She leaned over, her eyes tender as she looked down at Joseph and Emma’s newborn son. “Isn’t he adorable?”

Mother Smith was sitting in a rocking chair next to the sofa. She chuckled softly. “He’s not a whole lot bigger than his name, is he?”

From across the room, Emma laughed. She and Joseph had decided to call the baby after Frederick G. Williams, Emma’s doctor and Joseph’s Second Counselor in the First Presidency. “Father Smith says we should just call him ‘F. G.W. S.’ for short.”

Sister Cahoon looked up. “Can you imagine calling him and my son to dinner at the same time?”

Melissa gave her a puzzled look. “What is your son’s name?”

Eliza Snow, sitting two chairs away, lowered the needlepoint piece she was working on. “You mean you haven’t heard that story?” she asked.

“Oh, tell her, Thirza,” Elizabeth Ann Whitney spoke up. “This is delightful.”

“All right.” She looked at Melissa. “A few months ago I had a little boy. Reynolds and I couldn’t seem to settle on a name for him. Even after four or five days we hadn’t come up with something that was satisfying to the both of us. Well, one afternoon my husband looked out of the window and saw the Prophet Joseph passing by. On impulse, he hurried to the door and called after him. ‘Brother Joseph,’ he said, ‘how would you like to come in and give my son a blessing?’ Joseph, of course, immediately agreed to do so and came into our home. Then, as Reynolds handed him the baby, he suggested that since we hadn’t been able to settle on a name, perhaps Joseph could name him as well.”

Melissa was nodding. “And?”

“And so Joseph named him . . .” She paused for effect. “Mahonri Moriancumer Cahoon.”

Melissa blinked. “Mah . . . Mah–what?”

Eliza Snow clapped her hands in delight. “Mahonri Moriancumer.”

“Oh my goodness,” Melissa managed.

Thirza Cahoon laughed. “That’s what I thought too.”

Lydia leaned forward. “It’s quite an unusual name, but tell Melissa what Joseph said about it.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth Ann said, “that’s the most interesting part.”

Sister Cahoon turned back to Melissa. “Do you recollect that in the Book of Mormon there is one prophet who was never called by his own name? His brother was named Jared, but all they ever called this man was—”

“The brother of Jared,” Melissa finished for her.

“That’s right.” She was nodding. “Well, Joseph said it had been revealed to him that Mahonri Moriancumer was the name of the brother of Jared. And so he named our son Mahonri Moriancumer.”

“Really?” Melissa said, suitably impressed.

“Isn’t that just like Brother Joseph?” Sister Cahoon said. “Even in little, day-to-day things, the Spirit whispers to him. While I joke about it a little, we’re very proud it was through our son that we came to know the actual name of this great prophet.”

“It is a noble name,” Mary Ann spoke up. “The brother of Jared was a man of great faith and righteousness.”

Emma and Brigham Young’s wife, Mary Ann Young, were in the process of hackling flax, combing out the long fibers and letting the tow, or short fibers, pile up on the floor at their feet. Sister Young turned to Eliza Snow. “Speaking of brothers, Eliza, I understand your brother Lorenzo was finally baptized.”

“Yes,” Eliza said, “yes, he was. On the third of June.”

“Good for him,” Mary Ann said. “He is such a handsome and fine young man.”

“Yes, but so stubborn. I’ve been trying to get him to make up his mind to be baptized for the longest time now.”

Mother Smith leaned forward, putting on a face of mock amazement. “Of course, he’s the only one in the Snow family who is strong-minded.”

They all laughed at that. Eliza had first met Joseph Smith shortly after his arrival in Ohio early in 1831, but she had not joined the Church until 1835. She wanted to “prove all things” before doing anything as important as being baptized.

Emma spoke up. “Joseph says he is an unusual young man and that the Lord has great things in mind for him.”

“Well,” Mother Smith said, “then he shall have to be strong. Especially now.”

That took Mary Ann aback a little. Careful so as not to wake the baby, she half turned. “Why do you say that, Mother Smith? Why especially now?”

“Well,” she answered, “after such an outpouring of the Spirit as we have seen in the last few months, you know that Satan cannot be pleased. He will redouble his efforts to destroy the Church now.”

“It’s already starting,” Eliza intoned, her face grave. “Look what’s happening among the people.”

Many nodded in vigorous agreement with that. Sewing was laid in laps, knitting needles paused, the combing of the flax slowed as several began to talk at once. In a lull, Jerusha Smith, wife of Joseph’s brother Hyrum, spoke up. “Can you believe the price of food right now? Six cents a pound for pork. Four for beef. Flour is seven dollars a barrel!”

Vilate Kimball, wife of Heber C. Kimball, chimed in. “I went to buy some butter the other day. Twenty-five cents a pound! I couldn’t believe it.”

Mother Smith was shaking her head. “The prices are shocking, but I’m far more concerned about the fact that we seem to be moving further away from the Spirit. There’s so much contention, it seems. The poor are angry because they feel that no one helps them. Those with more of the world’s goods are upset because there are so many poor who won’t work. It seems like everyone is becoming more critical of everyone else.” She frowned slightly. “But there are some good things happening too.”

Thirza Cahoon had started to crochet again. She stopped. “Like what?”

“Well, for one thing, look how many of our families have other families staying with them. And often they are receiving nothing for rent.”

“That’s true,” Lydia said.

“I hear stories all the time about people helping others,” Mary Ann said quickly.

Mother Smith looked around at the women. “There are many things that should cause us concern. But there are also many good things to be grateful and happy about. We must not dwell only on the bad.”

The conversation moved on to other topics, but Mary Ann didn’t join in. As the sisters droned on, Mary Ann suddenly made a vow to herself. She herself had made one or two comments about how this person or that person was acting, or about how someone was handling things. It was an easy thing to do. But beginning this very day she was going to watch her tongue closely. Mother Smith was right. A spirit of contention and faultfinding was not good. She, for one, would try to stop contributing to the problem.

* * *

“Brethren, we have to face the facts, no matter how unpleasant they may be.” Hyrum Smith looked around at the group of priesthood holders assembled in an upper room of the temple. “We are facing a crisis of immense proportions, and unless we find some solutions, the very growth of the kingdom shall be hampered.”

There were close to fifty brethren present, and everyone seemed a little on edge. Hyrum’s comments did little to soothe them. He had laid it all out for them—the debts on the temple, the costs incurred by the Church in Missouri, the continuing drain on their resources for care of the poor. By the time he finished, a deep sense of gloom had settled over the group.

Martin Harris and Oliver Cowdery were sitting on the row of benches second from the front. Martin stood slowly. Hyrum nodded, acknowledging him. “I know we have problems,” Martin began, “but all is not bleak. I say that in some ways we are doing better financially now than we ever have. We’re in a building boom. From dawn to dusk our streets rattle with the sound of wagons filled with lumber, brick, and stone. New buildings are going up everywhere.”

Oliver Cowdery got up now too, his eyes on Joseph. “We would be fools to say all is well here. But on the other hand, we are making significant progress, Joseph. The Church is beginning to establish itself. We now operate several of our own businesses. We have a brickyard, an ashery, a tannery, our own shoe shop, a steam sawmill, and a lumber kiln. We have a school, a print shop, and this beautiful temple. It’s one of the largest buildings in Ohio.”