The Work and the Glory (242 page)

As she stumbled out into the hall, she saw Will’s door open. “Mama? What is it?”

“I don’t know, Will. You—”

Olivia’s door opened and she came out, rubbing at her eyes.

“Will, stay here with Livvy,” Caroline commanded. She walked swiftly down the hall and to the stairs. The pounding had stopped now, and as she reached the bottom of the stairs, she could see no one through the glass of the front door. Then she leaned forward. There was something there. A dark, square shape through the glass.

Cautious now, but also puzzled, she crossed the room to the door. She peered through the window. The porch was empty, but the dark shape was a piece of paper fluttering softly in the night breeze. Looking once more to make sure she was alone, she unlocked the door and opened it.

The paper had been tacked to the wood just above the glass. She tore it loose and stepped back inside.

“What is it, Mama?” Will and Olivia were both on the landing above her.

“I don’t know. A note of some kind.” She walked over to the table where a lantern filled the room with a barely discernible glow. She had almost turned it off before going to bed; then, on impulse, she had left it on its lowest flame. She had found the total darkness more than she could face.

She reached down and turned the wick up slightly higher. The glow brightened, and she leaned over, holding the paper. It was crudely scrawled with large block letters.

MRS. JOSHUA STEED:

THREE DAYS AGO, YOUR HUSBAND KILLED SOME MORMONS IN FAR WEST. NOW YOU HAVE OUR PROPHET, JOE SMITH, IN YOUR JAIL. WE KILLED YOUR HUSBAND IN REVENGE FOR WHAT HE DID. BUT THAT IS NOT ENOUGH. YOU MUST PAY TOO. PREPARE TO DIE!

THE MORMON DANITES

She dropped the paper as though it were hot and the words seared into her hands. One hand came up to her mouth as she stared down at the hastily printed letters. The ink was smudged in one place. In another it had not been blotted properly and showed someone’s thumbprint. Then, horrified but unable to help herself, she picked it up again.

“What does it say, Mama?” Will asked, starting down the stairs.

She whirled on him. “No, Will! Don’t come down!”

The sharpness of her voice made him jump, and he backed up hastily. And then fear stabbed at Caroline’s heart. She heard a sound coming through the kitchen from the back door. It sounded like someone was scratching at the window. Chills coursed up and down her back, and for one second she stood there, frozen into immobility. Then the sound started again.

Mobilized now, she jammed the paper in the pocket of her robe, whirled around, and grabbed for the lantern. She gave the wick control a hard twist and the room plunged into darkness. “Will,” she hissed, “get the rifle.”

Will had heard it too. He took the steps three at a time and raced across to the cabinet where Joshua’s rifles were kept.

“Mama?” Olivia was at the top of the stairs. 

“Livvy! Go in with Savannah. Don’t come out until I tell you.”

As Livvy darted back in, whimpering as she went, Caroline ran to join her son. “There’s someone out back, Will.”

He was fumbling with the weapon, trying to get the ball into the breech. Even in the darkness she could see he was trembling violently. She laid a hand on his shoulder, realizing that her own panic was terrifying him. “It’s all right, Will,” she said, fighting back the urge to scream. “It might be just—”

There was a crash against the back door. She jumped, then gasped. There was a dancing, yellow-orange glow lighting up the back windows. Even as she stared, the light doubled in brightness and size.

“Fire!” Will screamed. “Fire!”

Caroline whirled, took three steps toward the growing fire, then stumbled backwards again. Then she was to the stairs in two leaps. “Savannah!” she screamed. “Savannah!”

* * *

“They’re both asleep,” Mrs. Cornwell said. She shut the door carefully and came into the parlor where Caroline sat with Obadiah.

Caroline nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Emma Lou.”

Cornwell’s wife walked to the window. It was shortly after dawn now, and the smoke rose in a towering pillar from the south end of town. The neighbors had come first and formed a bucket brigade, but the watering trough behind the barn was emptied in a few minutes and the hand pump couldn’t keep up with the need for more water. By the time the firefighters had come with the fire wagon, the fire had spread to both stories, front and back. There had been nothing to do but stand back and watch as the largest and most expensive house within a radius of a hundred miles, and everything in it, went up in flames.

The front door opened and closed, and in a moment Will had joined them. He had a valise in his hand. “Here’s our clothes, Mama.” He looked at Cornwell. “It was right in the wagon where you said it would be.”

Cornwell had told Caroline about the emergency wagon Joshua had had him prepare for her, just in case. Part of that preparation had been a valise of clothing. Cornwell had sent Will for it so they would have something besides their nightclothes.

Caroline put her hands on the sofa and pushed herself up. “All right, Will. I’ll go change.”

“Caroline.”

She stopped and looked at the man who had started out as Joshua’s stable hand, then become his driver, then foreman, and then his business partner. Joshua had made him into a prosperous man, and Obadiah Cornwell would never forget it. “Can’t you wait?” he asked. “There’ll be a boat coming upriver in two or three more days. Then I’ll go with you.”

She shook her head.

Emma Lou Cornwell went quickly to stand beside Caroline. “Really, Caroline, you are exhausted. You are in shock. This is no time to be setting off for St. Louis.”

Reaching into the pocket of her robe, Caroline drew out the piece of paper that had been tacked to her door. She held it out for Cornwell. He came over to her. “What is this?”

She didn’t answer, just watched him as he read. Cornwell’s mouth opened slightly, then slammed shut. Anger flashed across his face. He shoved it out for his wife to read. “Where did this come from?”

Emma Lou rocked back a step. “In the name of heavens!” she gasped.

“Someone tacked it to my door just before the fire broke out,” Caroline said. “Their knocking is what woke us up.”

“What kind of monsters would do such a thing?” Mrs. Cornwell cried in outrage. She was deeply shocked.

“I don’t know,” Caroline replied. She was too jaded to even feel anger anymore. “But I won’t have my children waiting around here until they try again.”

“They can’t be . . .” Cornwell’s voice trailed off to silence. He had been about to say “serious,” but a few blocks to the south of them, a smoking pile of rubble bore silent witness to how serious they were. His shoulders lifted and fell. “I can’t believe it. I’ve heard about these Danites. They’re also called the Destroying Angels. But I never believed the stories. I—” 

Caroline didn’t want to think about them. She broke in quickly. “We’ll let the girls sleep for an hour or so while Will and I get things ready.” She stopped, suddenly realizing what the practical realities were going to be. “Obadiah, I would appreciate it if you could go to the bank and get out whatever money Joshua has there.”

“All right. But you’re not going alone. I’ll go with you.”

She was instantly shaking her head. “No.”

“Caroline, don’t be a fool. You can’t possibly—”

She stood and walked to him. She took both of his hands. “You dear, dear friend. How Joshua trusted you. How I have come to depend on you. But no, Obadiah, I must go alone. Not even you must know where I am for a time.” Her mouth tightened with a momentary flash of fear. “If they found us once . . .”

Will stepped forward. “We’ll be fine, Mr. Cornwell. I can drive the team now.”

“I know that, son,” Cornwell said, the grief twisting at his face. “But—”

“We’ll be all right,” Caroline said. “I’ve got the money from the sale of my home in Savannah. Joshua made me put it in a bank in St. Louis. He wouldn’t ever let me spend it.” Tears were there again, burning at her eyes. “He used to tease me about it. ‘You never know when you’re going to tire of me,’ he would say.” She bit down on her lower lip. “‘Keep your nest egg safe, just in case.’”

She fought back the hurt, not wanting to start crying again. “It will be enough to keep us comfortable.”

“All right.” He put an arm around her shoulder. “But you and Will sleep now too. It will take some time to get ready. I also want to get some more things for your wagon.”

Her mouth opened to protest, but he went on quickly. “No one knows you’re here. Wait until tonight. Then you can get out of the city without being seen.”

Will was nodding. “That’s a good idea, Mama.”

She considered it, then surrendered. “Yes, that would be fine. I’m so tired.”

“Yes,” Emma Lou soothed, coming forward now too. “Just sleep, and we’ll get everything ready.”

* * *

Will waited until his mother had climbed up in the wagon, then he motioned for Cornwell to step aside. “Mr. Cornwell?”

“Yes, Will?”

“I’d like to ask a favor of you.”

“Anything, Will.”

“Mama wants you to have the freight business now, and so do I. But will you take a thousand dollars of my pa’s share and hold it out.”

Cornwell looked surprised. “Of course, but for what?”

Will glanced up at his mother, who was looking back at them now. He lowered his voice. “I want you to post a reward. I want you to find out who killed my pa. Find out who burned our home. If you need more, I’ll send it to you when we get Mama’s money.”

Cornwell nodded, not without some sadness. “I understand, Will.” He looked up to where Caroline was watching them curiously. Did she sense the hatred in her son? “I’ll do it. But . . .” He blew out his breath. “What if it was the Mormons? What does that mean for you and Joshua’s family?”

Will’s eyes were hard. “You just find out who did it, Mr. Cornwell. I’ll handle the rest.”

Chapter Notes

General Clark’s speech, given on November sixth, though not given in total here, is taken almost word for word from the written text, which was published some time later by the St. Louis National Historical Company (see
HC
3:202–4).

Chapter 26

   The morning of November seventh was bitter cold. The line of prisoners from Far West rolled out of their blankets and immediately stood up. They began to dance lightly up and down, pounding their ribs to generate some warmth. They were a little more than halfway on the march to Richmond, Ray County. As they finished a miserable breakfast of cold, hard pieces of bread, the first flakes of snow began to drift out of the sky. Almost immediately the wind picked up, coming straight out of the north. By the time they were back on the road, the snow had turned to tiny, sharp pellets that came slashing in almost horizontally.

Benjamin jammed his hat down lower over his eyes, pulled the one blanket he had been given more tightly around his neck, and hunched his shoulders. They were still at least twenty miles from Richmond, and it was going to be a very long and miserable day.

* * *

It was about ten o’clock on the morning of November ninth when Joshua Steed finally came fully out of the haze of pain and hallucination and unconsciousness in which he had been lost for almost a week. For several minutes he lay there, so weak he could barely turn his head. He let his eyes move around the small room where he lay. It was a bedroom. A woman’s or a girl’s, judging from the few things he could see on the chest of drawers. The one window was opaque with frost, and he could see snow piled up in one corner of the glass.

There was a noise, and he turned his head with great effort. The door to his room was open, and he could see into the next room, the main room of the cabin. Two girls—one eleven or twelve, the other sixteen, maybe a little older—were seated at a table. His line of sight was too low to see what it was they were doing, and it wasn’t worth the effort it would have taken to lift his head off the pillow to find out.

The girls were clearly sisters. Though the older girl’s hair was a light brown and the younger’s almost jet black, both had dark eyelashes over wide blue eyes and the same straight noses with just a touch of an upturn at the end. But then there were the older girl’s freckles. She had just the lightest sprinkling of them across her upper cheeks and across the bridge of her nose. It gave her a distinctly impudent look that Joshua found quite charming.

He watched them, wondering who they were and where he was. He searched his memory, but could remember nothing that helped him answer either question. He remembered vaguely waking up, awash in pain, and knowing he was with his family and being prepared for traveling on a travois. Beyond that, there was nothing.

At that moment, the older one looked up directly at Joshua. Her eyes were startled for a moment. Then she dropped whatever it was she was doing and turned her head. “Mama, he’s awake.”

There was a murmur of a woman’s voice and the sound of dishes being put down. Then a woman appeared in the doorway. She had an apron over her long dress and her hair pulled back in a bun. She was round and plump and looked like a kindly grandmother, though it registered in Joshua’s mind that she wasn’t really that old.

“Well, I’ll be,” she said, with a clear Irish lilt to her voice, “he is awake. Good mornin’ to ya, Mr. Steed.”

“Good mornin’.” It came out as a ridiculous croak.

She came forward to stand by the bed. The two girls were now at the door behind her, peering in curiously at Joshua. “And it’s a welcome sight to see you with your eyes open, I’ll tell ya. You’ve had us worried for the past few days, I’ll tell you that straight out.”

“Where am I?” Joshua whispered.

She smiled and stuck out her hand, then realized he wasn’t in shape to take it. She pulled it back and smiled all the more broadly. “You’re in the home of the Widow Nancy McIntire and her daughters. We live about five miles north of the town of Gallatin in Daviess County.” She half turned. “These are my two girls, Kathryn”—the younger one curtsied slightly—“and Jennifer, or Jenny.” The older one smiled shyly at him and lifted a hand.