The Work and the Glory (667 page)

“Oh, hello.”

“We were just coming over to see you,” Lydia said.

“What for?”

“Why don’t you come and have supper with us tonight?” Jessica said.

“Nonsense. Don’t feel like you have to have me every night for supper. I’m perfectly capable of cooking a meal for myself.” When they first arrived, she had moved into the same cabin as Matthew and Jenny. Then, knowing her need for independence and knowing that she would never express it, her sons and sons-in-law built a one-room extension on the back of Matthew’s cabin with its own fireplace.

Lydia gave her a look of mock severity. “Now, Grandmother Steed. You know that the children are all still clamoring to have you spend time with them.” She smiled now. “This is part of your duty as a grandmother.”

Before Mary Ann could respond, there was a shout from outside the gate. They turned as a rider came racing in and pulled to a halt in a spray of dust. He leaped from his horse. “Elder Taylor! Elder Pratt!”

From the building that was serving as a temporary Council House, the two Apostles who had brought in the Big Company appeared. “Yes?” Parley Pratt said.

“There’s a group of men coming in from the north. I think it’s the Mormon Battalion.”

At that, a great cry went up, racing from mouth to mouth, house to house, and wagon to wagon. Men, women, and children came popping out as everyone started running toward the gate of the fort. Lydia turned to Emily. “Go get Jenny and Kathryn and Melissa.”

Jessica nudged her daughter. “Rachel, go tell your father.”

As they raced away, Lydia took Mary Ann’s arm. “Oh, Mother Steed, it could be Peter and Josh.”

Mary Ann gently pried her hand away. “Go, Lydia. Don’t wait for me. Go find Josh.”

With a cry of excitement, she nodded and started forward, pulling off her bonnet and flinging it aside.

As Mary Ann came out of the gate, all around her people were sprinting past, calling and shouting with excitement. Mary Ann strained to see, and then in a break in the crowd she spied what it was the rider had seen. About half a mile away there was a double column of men approaching. As she looked closer she could see that one of the two at the front of the column carried a long pole from which fluttered the American flag.

Jenny, Kathryn, and Melissa came rushing up, herding the younger children. Jenny was carrying Nicole so that Kathryn could use her crutches and keep up with them. “Where are they?” Kathryn exclaimed.

Mary Ann just pointed.

Then Solomon, Matthew, and Carl came on the run. Just behind them were Nathan and Joshua. The first three went by without seeing her. But Nathan saw her, and he and Joshua changed direction and ran up to her. “Mother,” Nathan blurted. “It’s the Mormon Battalion coming in.”

She smiled and nodded. “I know.”

“Come on. Let’s go see them. Josh could be there.”

“And Will and Alice,” Joshua cried. “Come on, Mother. We’ll help you.”

She shook her head. “You go on. I’ll be along.”

“Mother!” Nathan exclaimed, surprised at her calmness.

“No. They’re your children. Get up there. There will be time enough for Grandma later.” When they still hesitated, she gave Nathan a gentle shove. “Go on. Mind me, now.”

Sensing that she really meant it, they spurted away, joining the crowds streaming northward.

To her pleased surprise, she had gone only a short distance when she saw that the crowd had stopped. They were divided into two groups now, forming a wide path for the incoming column to pass through. Everything went silent as a great sense of anticipation swept across the waiting Saints. And then Mary Ann heard it. It was the sound of a drum. It sounded tinny and had a high pitch, but it was a drum nevertheless, and it was beating a steady cadence.

In two or three minutes, as the drumbeat grew louder, the column appeared. Now she could see the flag clearly and that one person—perhaps their commander—marched to one side of the first row of men. She also saw that the men in the columns carried muskets on their shoulders and each wore a wide white belt and bandolier. Though they were only thirty or forty yards now from the first of the people, no eyes pulled away from staring straight ahead; no heads turned to the right or to the left. The right hands held their muskets, but their left ones swung back and forth in perfect rhythm. Every foot lifted and fell at precisely the same moment. This wasn’t a group of individuals walking in; it was a company of infantry, marching as one man to the beat of their makeshift drum.

In an instant Mary Ann Steed’s eyes filled with tears. It was not that she had seen one of her family members coming in. It was not that she was stirred by the sight of them marching in such perfect order, though that was indeed a stirring sight. It was that in one brilliant burst of emotion, the memory of her dream came back to her, and with it came that same sense of incredible peace she had felt that first night that the dream had come to her.

She blinked quickly, trying to clear her vision, but then gave up. It didn’t matter if she could see who was there or not. She didn’t have to see them to know. She knew with perfect certainty that Peter and Josh were there, and that Will and Alice and the great-grandson she had never seen had come with them.

“Bat-tal-
yun!
” Captain Jefferson Hunt called out, his voice ringing out like a trumpet. “
Halt!
”

As one, the two columns came to a stop in the midst of the waiting onlookers. Still no eye flickered; no head budged as much as a fraction of an inch all up and down the long columns.

Hunt, still facing forward, withdrew his sword from its scabbard and lifted it high in the air. “
Bat-tal-yun!
” This time he let the word hang in the air for what seemed like forever. Then the sword flashed as he dropped it sharply. “
Dis-missed!
”

With a mighty roar the men broke ranks and threw themselves into the waiting crowd. Now Mary Ann could stand it no longer. With a cry of joy she rushed forward, aiming directly at where she saw a tall bearded young man pick Lydia up and begin to swing her around and around.

Joshua leaned forward, putting his arms around Caroline’s waist. “It’s not quite the same as Steed Row, is it?”

She turned, smiling at him, and shook her head.

The full Steed clan had come together, but there was no cabin big enough to hold them all. Not that such a simple thing would deter them. The Steeds were reunited, and even if they didn’t have a large porch on which the adults could sit and a grass-filled yard where the children could play, they were going to have their evening together.

Once supper was done, they brought out every stool, every bench, every box and barrel and bag they could find to provide seats, and then gathered for another “night on Steed Row.” First they asked Josh Steed to tell them the story of the Mormon Battalion. He was a natural storyteller, and by the time he had finished with the story of the Battle of the Bulls, the smaller children had moved closer to their parents to be safe. He finished to wild applause and a tearful, joyful kiss from his mother.

Now Will and Alice were telling about their voyage and the year they had spent in California. Grandma Steed held Jared on her lap while his parents spoke. As they talked about storms and miracles and the struggle it had been for the first few months after landing, Joshua was transfixed. His son and his bride had left as young newlyweds—naive, vulnerable children. Now they were mature, confident young parents. Alice was especially enchanting as she teased Will about his love of the sea and the difficulty of learning to walk on land again.

None of the children had been put to bed. This was a night for exceptions, and now Joshua was glad. They sat wide-eyed and totally enthralled, still perfectly content after almost an hour together. He was glad this next generation was hearing what their parents, uncles, aunts, and cousins had done.

When Will and Alice sat down, again to enthusiastic cheers and wild jubilation, the family fell quiet. It was past nine o’clock now and getting cold. They sensed it was time to end the day, but weren’t sure just how to do it. After a moment, Joshua looked at Nathan and motioned for him to get up. Nathan looked surprised. “I’m not the eldest here,” he said easily. “You get up.”

Joshua was nonplussed. “But you’re the head of the family,” he protested.

“No,” Nathan said slowly. “I was for a time, but that was before Joshua Steed became a man of the covenant. You’re the eldest.”

Looking around, flustered by this unexpected turn of events, Joshua wasn’t sure what to do. He had taken the lead on the trail but only because Nathan had gone ahead. Then he looked at his mother. She nodded. “Nathan’s right, Joshua. You’re the eldest.”

Caroline turned, her eyes glowing. “Go on,” she murmured. “You know what to do.”

He stood slowly, feeling awkward and embarrassed. His eye caught Carl’s, and he felt a sudden warmth as he saw Carl nod his encouragement. Then, as he looked from person to person, he saw that same support and encouragement on every face before him. He took a breath and began, speaking slowly, trying to collect his thoughts.

“This morning, as I was walking back from the creek, I was looking around at our little home in the wilderness. Suddenly I was struck by the fact that this was, in many ways, just like it was in Winter Quarters. It was as though we had changed locations but not our situation. We are still living in crudely built cabins or, in some cases, the backs of wagons. We have little money”—he grinned—“except for Peter, who now has more money than all the rest of us put together.”

They all laughed at that as Peter blushed. What no one but Kathryn knew as yet was that the five hundred dollars that James Reed had given him had already been turned over to Elders Parley Pratt and John Taylor to use as they saw fit.

“There is no doubt,” Joshua went on, quite serious now, “but what this winter will be very much like our last one—inadequate housing, scarcity of food, unsanitary conditions, sacrifice, suffering, and yes, perhaps even death.” He took a deep breath. “All of that was on my mind as I looked around today.

“But then suddenly I had a different thought. Yes, there were many things that were the same, but then I realized we have changed much more than our location. For one thing, we won’t spend the winter preparing to leave in the spring. This time we won’t abandon our homes and our fields and our city. Our homes are meager now, yes. But in time the wagons will become tents, the tents will become cabins, the cabins will become homes. True, the streets will be filled with traffic, but it won’t be headed west. The empty lots that are now no more than stakes in the ground will become neighborhoods. We will build churches, schools, businesses, maybe even a theater again as we had in Nauvoo.”

The family listened intently to his every word. Several, including Carl, were nodding thoughtfully.

Joshua felt his face burn a little. “I didn’t mean to give a speech, but . . .”

“Give us a speech, Joshua,” Nathan said quietly. “This is a great day. It deserves a speech.”

“Hear! Hear!” Matthew called out.

“Well, I’ll tell you what else I was thinking today.” He looked at Savannah, who was watching him with adoring eyes. “I realized suddenly that there was another way in which we had done much more than simply change locations from Winter Quarters to Great Salt Lake City. For almost four months on the trail I kept thinking of the Valley as being the end of the journey. Now I realize it is only the beginning. Think what this valley means for Savannah. For Rachel and Emily. For Mark and Luke and David and Sarah. The nearest mob is now more than a thousand miles away. Our littlest ones—Emmeline, Livvy, Betsy Jo, the two babies—these children will never know a Far West, a Haun’s Mill, a Carthage Jail. They may go to bed hungry this winter, but
they will not go to bed afraid.
”

He stopped, very thoughtful now. “The Valley represents much more than that, though. Like Israel of old, we have come through the wilderness and entered a land of promise. Not a promise of milk and honey—though I suspect those shall come too—but a promise of renewal, of growth, of vision—of Zion. Think of this. Our children will raise up children who have never known any life but life in this valley. Think of that”—his voice dropped suddenly—“and rejoice.”

“Well,” he said, smiling, feeling a little chagrined at the passion he had shown. “We have come many, many miles from those first days in Palmyra. We have come by many paths and at different speeds. Some—like Papa, Olivia, and Mary Melissa—were buried along the way. But the rest of us came on. Think for a moment how remarkable that is. One of those many paths went by way of a ten-thousand-mile sea voyage. Another took a shortcut that proved to be the longest and most tragic possible way. Some went by way of the Santa Fe Trail, some by way of Pueblo and Sutter’s Fort and Independence Rock.”

He straightened, knowing it was time to finish. “But now those paths have converged again. From here and there, from near and far, they have come together right here, on this very night and at this very campfire.”

He looked at his mother and now his eyes were filled with the deepest of joy. “Mama, the dream you had so long ago has at last become a reality. All is well. Our family has come home.”