The Work and the Glory (620 page)

“We have to hurry, Mercy,” Joseph said. He turned and spoke gently to Mary. “If we don’t leave soon, we’ll not get across the Mississippi tonight. We have to go.”

Then he turned to Melissa and took one hand. “I will try to find Carl and talk to him if you want me to, Melissa.”

Sick to her stomach, she considered that, her mind racing. From outside she heard the children laughing, and that made up her mind. “No, Joseph. You get your family across the river. I’ll find Carl.” She reached in the pocket of her dress, pulled out a letter, and thrust it into Mary’s hand. “When you see my family, will you give them this?”

Mary nodded, then kissed Melissa on the cheek. “Hurry,” she said. “If you come across the river, you can travel with us.”

“Thank you.” Melissa gave Mercy a quick kiss, shook Joseph Fielding’s hand, and walked swiftly out the door.

When she was still half a block away from her home, Melissa saw Carl exit their house, then turn down the street toward her. She called and waved. At the sound of her voice, he broke into a trot toward her. As he ran up, he spoke before she could.

“There you are. Thank heavens.”

“I was saying good-bye to Mary and Mercy,” she said.   “Didn’t young Carl tell you that?”

“Yes. I was coming to get you.” He grasped her hands. “We’re leaving, Melissa. We’ve got to pack some things.”

She gaped at him, not believing her ears. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes! Things are falling apart here. The mob is camped about—”

She cut him off. “I know. Joseph told me. Oh, Carl. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

He took her by the arm and started walking swiftly toward their house. “We’ve got to hurry. I want to be out of the city before dark.”

“Joseph said that he thinks we can still take the ferry across the river tonight. We could travel with them and—” She stopped speaking at the curt shake of his head. “What?”

“We’re not going that way. We’re going east. I’ve got some friends in Peoria who will watch you and the children until I can come back.”

She stopped, jerking free of his grasp. “Come back?”

“Yes, Melissa. I can’t leave our house and the brickyard. I can’t expect the men here to defend our property. I have to come back and help them.”

“I don’t care about the house, Carl. I don’t care about the brickyard. I just want us safe. I want to go west.”

“No.” He tried to take her arm again, but she spun away. Exasperated, he barked at her. “Melissa, we don’t have time for this.”

“Why can’t we go with our people, Carl? I want to be with my family.”

He stepped to her and took her gently but firmly by the shoulders. “Listen,” he said, “if we go west, there’s nothing. They don’t even have homes yet. You read their last letter. They’re living in tents and wagons and dugouts in the riverbank.”

“I don’t care,” she cried.

He shook her gently. “Think, Melissa. Our daughter is very ill. Sarah is sick now too. You’re still not completely better. What is there if we go west? Nothing. In Peoria there will be doctors and medicines. We can rent a house.”

She had started a retort, but his words cut her off. She hadn’t thought it through that far.

“Winter’s coming, Melissa. We have to think of the children.”

“I—”

He pulled her to him. “I know you want to find your family, but we have to think of
our
family first.”

She laid her head against his chest. She thought of her two-year-old daughter, who was so weak and listless now that Melissa stayed by her side every moment when she was awake. “Is Mary Melissa still sleeping?”

He nodded. “Carl’s with her. I’ve already set the other children to packing.” He stopped for a moment, then smiled faintly. “I have a wagon, Melissa.”

Her head jerked around.

“Hidden in the shed at the brickyard. It’s already stocked with some food and supplies. Not a lot, but enough to get us to Peoria.”

She wasn’t sure if he was telling her the truth. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you worrying.”

She threw up her hands. “That’s exactly why you should have told me.”

He kissed her softly. “Go. Help the children. I’ll get the horses and bring the wagon.”

She finally nodded, then kissed him back. “Thank you, Carl.”

“Go,” he said again, giving her a little shove. “I’ll hurry.”

The first thing that caught Carl’s eye as he came around the shed was the two or three loose bricks that lay on the ground in front of the double doors. One of the bricks had been dragged across the ground, leaving a reddish brown skid mark. Then he saw the bright slash of splintered wood on the small door that allowed entry without opening up the big wagon doors. He leaped forward, his heart suddenly plummeting.

Whoever had taken a crowbar to the hasp and the padlock had carefully put them back in place so that from a distance it looked as though the door were still locked. With a cry of dismay, Carl tossed them aside, jerked open the door, and darted inside. One look was all it took. The false wall that he had so carefully constructed of boxes and brick was scattered in great heaps up and down both sides of the shed. Whoever had done it—sometime during the night, he guessed—had left just enough room to back a team of horses up to the wagon and then take it out through the doors. He turned and leaned against the wall, his head against his arms. He felt sick. Who? Who had known? Was it some Mormon so desperate for escape that he had eliminated Carl’s family’s chance? Was it river scum who somehow had known it was here?

He shook his head. Whoever it was, they had effectively nullified all of his careful preparations, wiped out nearly a thousand-dollar expenditure, and effectively condemned Carl Rogers and his family to one option. Now there was no choice but to stay.

“Melissa, I tried. I thought—”

She put a finger to his lips. “I know, Carl. Thank you. I know you tried to keep your promise.”

He turned and got his rifle down from its place above the fireplace.

“Do you have to leave?” she asked quietly.

He nodded grimly. “The only way I can keep you and the children safe now is to go out on the defense line with the others and help keep those men out of the city.” He looked at young Carl. “Son, I’m leaving you the shotgun.”

“Yes, Pa.”

He turned back to Melissa. “That’s just a precaution. I won’t leave you alone. If they start to break through, I’ll come here first and get you.”

“I know.”

“Stay in the house. Don’t let the children out.”

“We’ll be all right.”

He laid a hand on her cheek, anguish filling his eyes. “I love you, Melissa Steed Rogers.”

“And I love you, Carl,” she whispered. “Be safe.”

“I will.”

Joshua Steed straightened, arching his back in an attempt to stretch out the muscles a little. “I am definitely getting too old for this,” he muttered to no one in particular.

Nathan groaned and got to his feet, dropping the sickle and letting it lie where it fell. He followed Joshua’s example, stretching like a cat. They were down by the Missouri, in one of the flat areas the river had scoured out sometime long ago and which now provided a lush green meadow with grass that grew past their thighs.

Matthew, on his knees in the meadow hay, making long, smooth cuts with his sickle, grinned over at Solomon. “Hey, old man,” he said, “how come you’re still down here working while those young bucks are standing around moaning?”

Solomon laughed. The four of them had started out together in a rough line about six feet apart so that they overlapped one another. Now his six-foot swath was out ahead of the other three by at least ten feet.

“Because he’s cheating,” Joshua growled.

Solomon straightened, hands on his knees. “How do you figure I’m cheating?”

Joshua shook his head. “I don’t know. But you must be. Look how fast you’re going.”

Nathan went to the bucket of water and filled the dipper, then drained it quickly. “So what is your secret, Solomon?” he asked as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

Solomon answered with a sly smile. “I’d say about ten acres. In Mount Pisgah I contracted with some families to cut hay for their stock in exchange for food. It turned out to be about ten acres.” He smiled demurely. “I got to be pretty fast at it by the time I was done.”

Now Joshua groaned aloud. “No wonder we can’t keep up with you.”

Solomon stood up. “Why don’t we all take a break and rest for a while?”

“Let me ask all of you a question,” Joshua said from beneath his hat. “You’re the expert Mormons here.” There was a moment’s silence. The four of them were lying side by side in the shade of an elderberry bush. Joshua came up on one elbow. He wasn’t smiling now. “How do you tell the difference between a prompting by the Holy Ghost and your own feelings?”

Nathan turned his head in surprise. Solomon and Matthew turned now too. “That’s no easy question,” Matthew said. “I’ve wondered that many times.”

“As have I,” Solomon responded.

Nathan gave his older brother an appraising look. Joshua was asking questions all the time, but usually it was about a verse of scripture or about something Brigham or one of the other brethren had said at worship services. “Can you give us an ex-ample of what you mean?”

Joshua lay back down in the grass and pulled his hat down again. “I can give you the actual problem I’m struggling with.”

“All right,” Nathan said.

“For about the past week I’ve not been able to get Carl and Melissa out of my mind,” he said.

That sobered them all. “I’ve been worrying a lot about them too,” Solomon said. “The reports coming out of Nauvoo are not good.”

“That’s just it,” Joshua said. “Maybe that’s all this is. I’ve heard those reports, and there is cause for worry. So is that all it is? Am I just worrying about them as any normal person would do? Or is it something more?”

Solomon and Matthew both looked to Nathan, willing to let him take this one.

“Tell me a little more,” Nathan responded. “You say they’ve been on your mind a lot. Like what?”

“Well,” Joshua growled, “for one thing, I’ve been thinking about taking a good length of hickory wood and knocking Carl alongside the head. What’s the matter with him? Why can’t he see that it’s foolish to stay there?”

“Because he doesn’t see things the way we do,” Matthew volunteered. There was an impish smile. “We once had another person in the family like that too, but he’s not with us anymore.”

Joshua gave him a slow grin. “Wouldn’t be anyone I know, would it?” Then he went on. “But seriously, I just keep thinking that maybe we need to go get them.”

Nathan nodded slowly. Matthew, on the other hand, was shaking his head. “You read Melissa’s last letter. Carl won’t come out here with us.”

“I know. And as much as I’d like to force him to see the light, just like Nathan did me—”

“What?” Nathan cried in feigned offense. “I didn’t force you to do anything.”

“But you did, little brother,” Joshua said softly. “You took me along and asked the Lord to open my eyes. What if we went back and tried that with Carl?”

They were all silent for a time, considering that. Then Nathan leaned forward, probing Joshua’s eyes. “How do you feel about all this? Are you inclined to think it’s just worry, or do you think it’s something more?”

“I’m not experienced in these things,” Joshua said, throwing up his hands. “That’s why I’m asking you.”

“I know,” Nathan persisted, “but when it’s all said and done, what do you feel about it?”

For a long time, Joshua sat silently, staring out across the fields. Then he looked at Nathan. “I think it’s more than worry,” he said slowly.

Nathan nodded. “Then I think we’d better call a family council tonight and talk about it.”

When they returned to camp just before sunset, there was already a family council of sorts under way. As the four men approached, they saw the whole family gathered around the cooking fire. At the sight of their fathers, Emily and Rachel both jumped up and went running to them. “We got a letter from Kathryn,” Emily bubbled as she reached Nathan.

“We got a letter from Melissa,” Rachel called to Solomon.

“Two letters?” Joshua asked in surprise.

“Well,” Rachel explained, “actually Kathryn’s letter went to Nauvoo; then Melissa wrote her own letter to go with it and sent them both on to us.”

“Girls, girls,” Jessica called. “Let your fathers come in and get some dinner. Then we can tell them all about it.”

It was almost ten p.m. and time for lights out when Nathan stepped outside the tent to uncrick his back and saw Joshua sitting by the dying fire. He moved over and sat down beside him on the log. “We got another long day tomorrow. Aren’t you tired?”

“I am.”

Nathan waited, sensing that something was troubling Joshua. When his brother didn’t speak, Nathan decided to make conversation. “That’s wonderful news from Kathryn, don’t you think? We’ve worried about them all this time. Now they’re halfway across the plains, while we sit here and wait.”

“They’re probably to California by now,” Joshua observed. “It was the end of June when she wrote. That’s more than two months ago.”

“True. Makes you kind of envious, doesn’t it?”

“More than kind of.”

“And Melissa’s letter was sure positive. It sounds like she and Carl have worked out this whole problem of what to do.”

“Maybe,” Joshua said somewhat hesitantly.

“What do you mean, maybe?”

“Oh, there’s no question that Melissa has come to terms with Carl’s unwillingness to bring her here to join us.”

“Yes,” Nathan said, sensing there was more.

“Remember our conversation today?”

“I do.”

“When you asked me how I felt and I told you I thought it was more than worry?”

“Yes, what about it?”

“I was so sure that I finally understood. Then in a matter of hours we come back here and there’s a letter waiting and the whole problem is solved. Carl has promised to get the family out of there if things get too bad.”

“And that makes you think you were wrong?”

“No,” he said shortly, “it doesn’t make me
think
I was wrong; it proves I was wrong. So much for learning how to recognize the voice of the Spirit.”