The Work and the Glory (415 page)

“We’re not asking you to go back to Nauvoo, Pa. And we understand that you’ve got to get the freight business sold up there before we can leave here.”

“Then what? What are you asking?”

“Stop working with them.”

Joshua looked puzzled. “What? Working with whom?”

“You’re going to tear us apart, Pa. It’s bad enough to stand by and cheer when you see a ship sinking, although we can even live with that. But when you go on board and kick holes in the planking to help it sink just a little faster, especially when your own family is on the ship . . .” There was a grimness to him now that was sobering. “Well, that’s something else again.”

“You fight for what you believe in. I’m fighting against
what . . .” Joshua caught himself, seeing where he almost stepped.

“You’re fighting against what you
don’t
believe in,” Will finished for him with bitter irony. “That’s just it, Pa. You’re not fighting
for
anything. You just want to destroy the Church.”

Joshua flushed. “I’m fighting to keep my daughter out of the clutches of some very evil men.”

“I know that’s what you think, and even though I think you’re wrong, I understand that. That’s why we’re here with you. We’ll live with Warsaw and its anger for a while. And we’ll move with you to St. Louis or whatever. But when you start working with those who are trying to destroy everything we believe in, it’s not just saving Olivia anymore. Or me or Mama. It’s destroying the Church. It’s destroying part of us.”

Now at last Joshua understood. “You want me to simply back away from all of this?” He gestured around, including the city and all that it implied in the movement. “Be a dispassionate observer?”

“That would be nice, but I can even live with a passionate observer. But not a participant, Pa. That’s what I’m saying.” He leaned forward, wanting so badly to help him see. “Let me ask you a question, Pa. Do you still feel guilty about what happened to Nathan that night in Jackson County?”

Joshua looked away. “You know the answer to that,” he said shortly.

“But why?” Will came right back. “You never lifted a finger against him. You never touched the whip. All you did was walk away. Why are you feeling guilty?”

Now Joshua was watching him intently, and Will finally nodded. “It’s because you were responsible. You don’t have to hold the whip to be responsible for the whipping, Pa.”

They both sat there, staring at nothing, their chests rising and falling softly as the emotions surged through them.

Will stood now. “I wasn’t there in northern Missouri, Pa, so I don’t know. But the rest of the family were. And they’re scared, Pa. Grandpa says right now it’s just like it was then. This is how it all started.”

He leaned forward now, hands on the table. “You think about that the next time you’ve got that crowd howling for the blood of the Mormons. You think about young Joshua and Emily and Betsy and little Joseph and Rachel and young John. You think about them facing another Haun’s Mill.” He straightened and passed a hand before his eyes. “You told me about the horrible things that happened to women there. Well, not all of those kind of men live in western Missouri, Pa. I saw some of them on the street, right here, last night.”

“I . . .” Joshua shook his head.

Will straightened, turned, and walked to the door. He stopped there, his hand resting on the knob. “It’s Far West all over again, Pa, and right now, you’re part of it. It makes me sick enough, to think that you want to stand by and cheer when you see that happening, but I can live with that, I guess. What I’m not sure I can live with is knowing that you’re not just standing on the side anymore, that you’ve gone and got yourself right in the middle of it and that you’re whipping up the mobs all over again.”

Ten days following the departure of Joshua and his family, Mary Ann and Benjamin had a second devastating blow. Just after supper, Melissa came to their house. At the look on her face, Mary Ann jumped up, but Melissa handed her a letter. It was very short.

Carl—

I know Mother has written you about Pa’s health. I know also that she worries too much, but this time she is right. If you do not come immediately, you will likely not have the privilege of seeing Father alive again. Hurry!

David

It was dated about ten days before.

“Oh, Melissa,” Mary Ann said, sinking back into her chair.

Melissa started to cry. “We’ll be leaving day after tomorrow.”

Benjamin stood up and took her in his arms. “We’re so sorry, Melissa.”

Now her body began to shudder and she threw her arms around his neck. “I don’t know if we’ll ever come back, Papa. I don’t know.”

On the ninth of March, the citizens of Warsaw joined in a day of fasting and prayer. They made no excuses about the object of their petition. They wanted Joseph Smith brought down and the Mormon church destroyed, and they were appealing to God to help it happen. That night there was another massive rally planned. By late afternoon, the streets were thronged with people. Joshua now had his family in a small rental house near the northern edge of town, but Caroline still locked the doors and pulled the drapes.

To her surprise, after dinner Joshua got down a large book of stories and offered to read to Savannah and Charles. “Aren’t you going to the rally?” she asked.

He looked up, ignoring the sudden piercing look Will was giving him.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said, then patted the sofa and motioned for Charles to climb up beside him.

As spring gradually spread across the Great Plains, and the efforts of the dissenters increased, Joseph spent more and more time in council with the Quorum of the Twelve. His journal became peppered with entries like, “Spent the day in council,” or “In the afternoon, met with the Twelve in prayer.”

In keeping with that pattern, on Tuesday, March twenty-sixth, he and nine members of the Quorum of the Twelve met for most of the afternoon in the upper room of his store. It was a long meeting devoted to instruction and counsel and correction. As the afternoon wore on, Brigham watched Joseph with growing concern. He could see that Joseph was getting tired. Of equal worry was the fact that he seemed to be more and more pensive of late, often withdrawing into his thoughts or sometimes even sorrowful. Since that day some twelve years before when he had finally decided it was time to be baptized a member of the Church, Brigham had never wavered. There had never been a day when he had doubted Joseph and never a day when he had doubted that God was at the helm. But in these past few weeks, he had felt Joseph’s power and calling as never before. It was as if Brigham were filled to overflowing each time the Prophet taught, then renewed all over again the next time they met. “When I think that I am sitting at the feet of Joseph and being tutored by him,” he told his Mary Ann one night, “I feel to shout, Hallelujah! all the day long.”

He felt that way now, and as he looked around at the faces of his brethren in the Quorum, he saw that they felt that way too. Joseph was finally done. He stepped back and laid his scriptures on the table, then reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes wearily. “Thank you, brethren,” he said, his eyes still closed. “It has been another wonderful time together. I appreciate your attentiveness.”

They watched him, the weariness etched into their faces now too. Then Joseph’s hand dropped and he opened his eyes. For what seemed like an eternity, he let his eyes move from face to face, searching, probing, commending—and all without a word. Finally, he nodded. “Brethren, I feel to say something to you and I would like you to pay special heed.”

That banished any thoughts of tiredness in an instant. Every eye was on him now.

“Brethren, the Lord bids me hasten the work in which we are engaged. Some important scene is near to take place. I do not know what it is. It may be that my enemies will kill me.”

There was a soft collective gasp.

“You know as well as I that even before the Church was organized, the Lord intimated to me that I might have to die for the work. In March of 1829, while I was still translating the Book of Mormon, the Lord said to me, ‘Be firm in keeping the commandments, and if you do this, behold I grant unto you eternal life,
even if you be slain.
’ Less than a month later, the Lord called attention to his own death, telling me, ‘They can do no more to you than they did to me.’ ”

Seeing their faces, he smiled briefly. “Oh, there have been the reassuring promises as well. You remember that during those dark days in Liberty Jail, he told me that my days were known and that my years would not be numbered less.”

Hyrum was nodding. “And there was Father’s blessing too.”

“Yes, that’s right.” He turned back to the Twelve. “On the day my father died, he gave each of us his blessing. To me he said, ‘Joseph, you shall even live to finish your work,’ at which I cried out, ‘Oh! my father, shall I?’ ‘Yes,’ came the answer. ‘You shall live to lay out the plan of all the work which God has given you to do.’ ”

“And that you shall,” Wilford Woodruff spoke up. “There is still much to do, Brother Joseph.”

“Aye, that there is,” he agreed. “But if you suppose that Brother Joseph cannot die, this is a mistake. It is true there have been times when I have had the promise of my life to accomplish such and such things, but, having now accomplished those things, I have not at present any lease of my life; I am as liable to die as other men.”

“No, Joseph,” said John Taylor, “please don’t talk that way.”

He shrugged. “I understand my mission and business. God Almighty is my shield, and what can man do if God is my friend? But fear not; I shall not be sacrificed until my time comes. Then I shall be offered freely.”

Brigham stiffened. Joseph had made intimations like this before, but never so direct and never so extensive. He shook his head, stunned by the implications of what Joseph was saying.

Joseph saw that look and turned now to speak directly to Brigham. “If that should happen, and if the keys and powers which rest on me were
not
imparted to you, they would be lost from the earth.” He stopped, his face as grave as Brigham could ever remember seeing it. Then he seemed to straighten a little, as if resolved to the task before him. “But if I can only succeed in placing them upon your heads, then let me fall a victim to murderous hands if God will suffer it. Then I can go with all pleasure and satisfaction, knowing that my work is done and the foundation laid on which the kingdom of God is to be reared in this, the dispensation of the fulness of times.”

No one moved. No one spoke. Every eye was searching the face of their beloved Joseph. Now his head turned and once again he was speaking to them all. “Upon the shoulders of the Twelve must the responsibility of leading this church henceforth rest until you shall appoint others to succeed you.”

After a long silence, Orson Hyde spoke up. “Joseph, you make me want to weep when I hear you speak like that. Never fear, we shall not let your enemies have you.” Others immediately nodded and murmured assenting comments.

Now Joseph smiled, and it was almost dazzling in contrast to what had preceded it. “Weep?” he asked incredulously. “Brethren, I feel to rejoice. Now if they kill me, you have got all the keys and all the ordinances and you can confer them upon others. Now the hosts of Satan will not be able to tear down the kingdom as fast
as you will be able to build it up. Is not that indeed cause for rejoicing?”

He clapped Brigham on the shoulders. “Come,” he said with sudden exuberance. “A good stick wrestle out in the air would get us all out of this gloomy mood. What say ye? Can any of the Twelve—or all of you together, for that matter—outpull Brother Joseph?”

It was on the evening of April fourth, shortly after sundown, that a knock sounded on the door of Joshua Steed’s rented home in Warsaw. He was in the washroom giving Charles a bath. “Caroline, can you get that? I’ve got Charles in the tub.”

He heard her footsteps come down the hall, and then she was at the door to the washroom. “I’ll watch him,” she said.

He grunted, irritated. She refused to go to the front door anymore. It was always someone for him, and she did not like the looks she got from the people who came to see him. He got up and pushed past her without a word. He knew it was time to move, to wrap up the business in Nauvoo and leave. The atmosphere in Warsaw was oppressive to his family. Even Savannah, he thought—his little toughy who stood up to just about anything life could toss at her—had grown silent and morose.

Well, it would be over soon, he thought. He had a group of five men who were very interested in buying his freight business in Nauvoo. They would take it lock, stock, and barrel, and were even now trying to raise the funds. Caroline had gotten a letter from Lydia saying the family was not going to do anything with the house yet. They had covered the furniture and locked the doors, nothing else. But as far as Joshua was concerned, that was their affair. He had deeded it over to his father and was free of it now. When the sale of the business was final, then Joshua and his family would leave! In St. Louis he’d buy Caroline a house like she had never had before. Or maybe build one. In a neighborhood where being a Mormon wouldn’t matter. But then, too, he was still toying with the idea of striking out for somewhere new. Philadelphia maybe. Or Boston—the opportunities there were rich enough for about any businessman. Maybe he could open up a shipping company and rekindle Will’s interest in the sea.

He crossed the small living room and went to the door and opened it. To his utter surprise, Robert Foster and Wilson Law were standing there. Behind them was Chauncey Higbee and another man Joshua didn’t know.

“Hello, Steed.”

“Yes?”

“May we come in?”

They had so caught him by surprise that he was still just standing there. “Uh, of course.” He opened the door wider.

As they filed in, Joshua heard a soft noise behind him. He turned. Caroline was standing at the point where the hallway started. Her mouth was tight and she was staring at the four men.