The Work and the Glory (184 page)

Derek Ingalls stood a short distance away from Benjamin and Mary Ann Steed, who—along with Jessica and John Griffith and Lydia—were talking with Parley P. Pratt and Reynolds Cahoon. Lydia and Jessica both had their babies in their arms. But Derek was not watching the Steeds, at least not the ones who stood together nearby. His eyes were fixed on a spot about three or four rods away where Rebecca Steed and two other girls stood with their backs to him. All three of the young women were looking up at Isaiah Jensen, a twenty-three-year-old recent arrival from one of the branches in the South. Though he was speaking to all of them, Derek could see clearly that it was Rebecca who was drawing most of his attention. As he watched, Isaiah smiled down at her and Rebecca’s head tipped back as she laughed back at him.

Derek looked quickly away, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, one finger absently poking itself through the hole in the bottom of one of them. The reports about the Jensen family and the eldest of their children had not been exaggerated. Derek’s head came up and he stole another look, noting glumly the differences between him and the young man from Tennessee. Isaiah was tall and slender, with long, graceful hands. Derek was barely five feet nine, with a body built more like that of a Shetland pony. Isaiah’s hair had been recently cut and had a natural wave to it. Derek’s was thick and shaggy, whacked off with a sharpened knife by Peter in preparation for their trip here. Jensen’s clothes, though not expensive, were obviously Sunday only. Derek had washed his best pair of trousers and shirt the night before they left, pounding out the prairie soil and grass stains as best he could against the scrubbing board.

“Grandma?”

Derek’s attention was pulled back to closer at hand. Seven-year-old Joshua, Lydia and Nathan’s oldest, was at the head of a troop of grandchildren. Rachel—Jessica’s daughter—and her two stepbrothers, Luke and Mark Griffith, were right behind him. Emily, Joshua’s sister, had little Nathan, now nearly three years old, by the hand just behind them. Derek’s brother, Peter, seven years senior and a good foot taller than any of them, brought up the rear.

Mary Ann turned. “Yes, Joshua?”

“Can we go to our house and change our clothes?”

Lydia turned now too. “We’ll be coming in just a moment, Joshua.”

Joshua wasn’t about to be deflected. “It’s hot, Mama. Peter says he’ll go with us.”

Lydia looked at Mary Ann, who smiled and nodded. Lydia finally nodded too. “All right. But I want you to play quietly in the house. Remember, this is the Sabbath.”

“Yes, Mama.” He turned to his siblings and his cousins, who were grinning happily. “Let’s go.”

“Emily,” Lydia called after them, “you watch Nathan close, now.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Derek watched them for a moment, then turned back in the direction of Rebecca. The girlfriends had moved off now to join another group of young ladies. Rebecca and Isaiah were standing together, just the two of them. Rebecca had changed position enough that Derek could see her face in profile. She was listening earnestly to whatever it was he was saying to her. Derek swung back around to Lydia and Mary Ann. “I’ll go with them,” he said.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Lydia said. “They’ll be all right.”

“No, I don’t mind,” he said, trying not to sound too morose. “I’ll help Peter keep them out of trouble.”

* * *

“There you are,” Matthew said as he rounded the cabin and saw Derek sitting on the back step.

“Hello, mate.”

Matthew gave him a sharp look, then moved over and sat down next to him. “I’ve been looking for you. Brother Joseph came over to speak with us. He was particularly looking for you and Peter. He got a letter from Heber C. Kimball.”

Derek looked up in surprise. “He did?”

“Yes. It just came yesterday. Brother Heber’s back in Kirtland.”

“Really?” Derek cried. “In Kirtland? They’ve come back from England?”

“Yes, he and Orson Hyde came home together. They’re coming here.”

He shot to his feet. “To Far West?”

Matthew nodded. “Yes, he said they and some others will be leaving Kirtland on the first of this month.”

“But that’s today!”

“Yes,” Matthew agreed. “If all went well, they left this morning.”

“That’s wonderful news. Peter will be thrilled. How long will it take them to get here?”

“About a month, he thought.” Matthew’s face darkened slightly. “Brother Kimball says things in Kirtland are terrible. It’s like a ghost town. He says most of the rest of the faithful are preparing to leave. They’ve formed what they’re calling the Kirtland Camp. About five hundred Saints in a wagon train. They’ll be leaving shortly after him. He said the wagon train stretches almost a mile and a half.”

Derek considered that somberly. “That will pretty well empty the city of Latter-day Saints, then.”

Matthew looked down at the ground. “Except for my sister Melissa.”

Mentally, Derek kicked himself. He knew that. He knew that leaving Melissa and her family behind had been one of the hardest things the Steeds had ever done. They tried not to dwell on it too much. “Well,” he said, trying to bring Matthew’s mind to other things, “I’m so excited to think we’ll be seeing Brother Kimball and Brother Hyde again. That’s wonderful. I can hardly wait to hear how things have gone in England.”

“They’ve gone wonderfully,” Matthew said. “Brother Joseph said that Heber himself baptized nearly a thousand people in eight months. Add to that what the others have baptized and that means there are over fifteen hundred Latter-day Saints in England now.”

“So did some of the other missionaries stay?”

“Yes. Brother Fielding and Brother Richards were left to preside over the Church there, along with a British convert named William Clayton. By the way, that reminds me of something Brother Heber wrote. Do you remember a young woman by the name of Jennetta Richards?”

“Aye. A fine young woman. Daughter of a minister in Walkerfold. In fact, after he baptized her, Brother Kimball wrote to Brother Richards and told him that he had baptized Brother Richards’s wife that day.”

“Yes, that’s what Joseph said too. And though they have the same last name, Jennetta and Willard are not related, right?”

“No, there was no relation.”

Matthew had a tiny smile around the corners of his mouth, savoring what he was about to report. “That’s what made this so funny. Listen to this. Just this past spring Willard was visiting the branches of the Church in the various towns and met Jennetta. He offered to walk to a meeting with Jennetta and a friend. While they were walking along, Willard looked up and said, ‘Jennetta, I have always liked the name of Richards. I never want to change it. How about you?’ I guess that startled Jennetta a little, and she replied, ‘No, I do not want to change it.’ Then she smiled at Brother Richards and said, ‘And I think I never will.’”

Derek laughed aloud, picturing both the lovely Jennetta and the mild-mannered Willard Richards. “How delightful. I’m glad for them both.”

“It’s a different way to propose marriage, I’d say.” Matthew gave Derek a shrewd look. “Too bad my family’s last name is Steed and not Ingalls.”

Derek went instantly red. “What makes you say that?” he stammered.

“Then you could use that same line on Rebecca.”

Derek felt his face burning, and he looked away quickly.

“She came looking for you, you know.”

“She did?”

Matthew’s nature was always to be scrupulously honest with himself and with others, so he pulled back a little. “Well, actually she came back to join the family, but she asked where you had gone.”

“I’m surprised she even noticed,” Derek muttered.

Matthew’s eyes narrowed, then he laughed. “You mean Isaiah Jensen?”

Derek didn’t answer, just pushed at the dirt with the toe of his shoe.

“He’s a fine young man,” Matthew said, a mischievous look in his eye.

But Derek wouldn’t rise to the bait. “I know,” he agreed dejectedly.

A look of mild disgust pulled down Matthew’s lip. “Derek, I don’t know how it is in England, but in America there’s an old saying: ‘If you don’t put your sign on the gate, how are people supposed to know whose property is behind it?’”

Derek turned to his younger friend. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

There was an answering look of total disbelief. “Let me ask you this—just what are your intentions with my sister?”

Derek stamped on the pile of dirt he had made with his shoe, sending a little puff of dust shooting out. “Until I get me some land and a way to make a living, I can’t have any intentions. And by that time, Rebecca will probably have chosen another.”

“Are all you bloomin’ Englishmen this daft?” Matthew asked.

In spite of himself, Derek laughed that Matthew was picking up some of his and Peter’s expressions. He sobered quickly again. “No, not all Englishmen. Just the ones in the Ingalls line.”

“I didn’t ask you what your assets are,” Matthew retorted. “I asked you what your intentions are. Do you want to marry my sister?”

Derek was dumfounded by his directness. “I . . .”

“Well, do you?”

Derek looked away, his eyes suddenly filled with longing. “I don’t know if she’ll have me.”

Matthew leaped up, throwing up his hands in frustration. “Will you just answer the question, mate? Do you or do you not want to marry my sister?”

There was only a moment’s hesitation. “Yes.”

“Then tell her.”

The look of horror on Derek’s face brought an explosion of laughter from Matthew. He reached over and slapped his British companion on the arm. “I’m not talking about saying it straight out like that, but you tell her. You let her know what your intentions are. You owe her that. If you don’t, then you can’t be moping around here like a kicked dog when she has the likes of Isaiah Jensen trying to find out if there’s somebody’s name hanging on the gate.”

The thoughts of trying to express what was in his heart to Rebecca like that made Derek look positively sick. “I . . . how could I ever do that? We’ve barely talked at all.”

Matthew straightened to his full height. “Tell you what,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’ll give you until Wednesday night. That’s three more days. If you haven’t told her by the time the Fourth of July celebrations are over and you’re getting ready to go back home, I’m going to tell her myself, and I’ll do it right in front of you.”

“You wouldn’t!” Derek breathed, his face draining of color.

“Yep, I would,” Matthew said earnestly. “I really would. So you better give it some thought, Mr. Ingalls, some very serious thought.” He turned and started away, waving one hand. “Cheerio, mate.”

* * *

It was about six o’clock on that same July evening, when a knock sounded on the door of the cabin where Nathan and Lydia Steed lived. Lydia had her three oldest children gathered around her at the table, reading from the Book of Mormon. The baby was asleep in a simple crib in the upstairs bedroom.

“I’ll get it,” Emily said, swinging around and jumping down from the bench. As she went to the door, they all turned to see who it was. Emily opened it and for a moment just stood there. There was a murmur of a greeting, and Emily nodded and stepped back. Lydia got up quickly and went over. Standing on the small front porch were four people. Lydia’s eyes opened in surprise when she saw who it was. “Caroline?”

“Hello, Lydia.”

She craned her neck a little, looking beyond Caroline and Will, who was holding Savannah. “Did Joshua . . .?”

Caroline shook her head quickly.

On impulse, Lydia reached out and took Caroline’s hand and squeezed it. “Please come in.” She stepped back, looking at Olivia. “Hello again, Olivia.”

“Hello, Mrs. Steed.”

Lydia smiled warmly at her and touched her arm. “Please call me Aunt Lydia.” She turned to Will. “And how are you, Will?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Joshua had come up now too, with little Nathan trailing him. “Hello, Will,” he said eagerly. On their first visit Will had paid special attention to Lydia’s oldest, treating him with respect and talking to him like an adult, and Joshua had responded with open adoration, though at fourteen, Will was seven years older than Joshua.

Will grinned down at him. “Hello, Joshua. Good to see you again.”

As Lydia shut the door behind them, she leaned over closer to Will, looking into Savannah’s eyes. “Hello, little Savannah,” she said.

“Say hello to Aunt Lydia, Savannah,” Caroline said, smiling.

To Lydia’s surprise there was no hesitation. One chubby little hand came up, and there was a soft, “ ’Lo.”

Lydia laughed. “What a little doll you are!” She turned to Caroline. “She’s absolutely adorable.”

“And she knows it,” Caroline agreed. “I’m afraid we’re all spoiling her shamelessly. Not yet sixteen months and she rules the entire household.”

They stood watching the baby for a moment, then Caroline looked around. “Is Nathan home?” She took a quick breath. “I would like him to take me to meet his family.”

Lydia’s face registered dismay. “You mean you didn’t see him?”

That took Caroline aback. “See him?”

“He went to Independence.”

Caroline was shocked. Will reacted to it too. “He did? When?”

“He left on Friday.” Lydia looked away. “We tried to talk him out of it, but he was determined to see Joshua.”

Now it was Caroline’s face that was troubled. “That’s not good.” She looked at Will. “Give me the baby, and maybe you could take the children out and do something with the wagon.”

Lydia immediately turned to her son. “Joshua, put the wagon out back, then take the horses to the pasture.” She looked at Will. “You can put the team in Brother Johnson’s pasture where you put them before.” Then she turned back to Joshua. “You hold Nathan’s hand so he doesn’t get in the way.”

Lydia waited until they exited, then reached out and took Caroline’s arm. “Come sit down. You must be very tired.”

Caroline did not deny that she was. When they were seated at the table, she looked at Lydia with genuine concern. “Joshua was furious when he came home and found that I had been here. There was no reasoning with him. I may have made a terrible mistake to push him.”