The Wedding Dress (40 page)

“Leaving!” Jumping to her feet and spinning away from the fire, she looked wildly about the smoke-filled hut. From the soft couch of rabbit-skin robes which had been her sanctuary since Eagle had carried her unconscious and wounded to the Indian village, to the mounds of pelts for barter and the storage baskets holding their winter provisions of food, this humble hut had been home. She reached out to stroke the curved walls, saplings woven into protection against the elements.

“Leave,” she whispered again, her voice reflecting disbelief. She trembled to think of that world beyond the confines of the village. “No!” Her voice out of control, she pressed her knuckles against her lips and tried to calm herself.

“Becky, Rebecca,” Joshua pleaded, his voice both placating and firm. “There's to be no arguing. I didn't ask. I'm tellin'. I'd be obliged if you'd ask no questions. There isn't time. Just get your things together.” He turned to Solali, “Please—”

“I go too.” Shaking her head, Rebecca tried to grasp the Indian woman's arm. Ignoring Rebecca, Solali continued, “You need help.”

“I do, more than—” He swallowed hard. Abruptly he got to his feet and reached for his hat. As he left the hut Solali followed him out into the crisp morning air.

Flakes of snow were beginning to obscure the sky. Joshua watched them swirl about and turned to Solali. “'Tis terrible weather for anybody to be startin' a journey. I'm wondering if Rebecca will make it. If you'll be telling me no, well, I'll be settin' my mind to some other solution.”

For a moment Solali stared up at him. Her reply was simple. “Indians don't stay in the mountains during the cold times. Soon the Saints will be wondering why the village has not moved down to the warm, dry desert. Then they will visit the village, and they will find your Becky.”

For a long moment Joshua was silent; then slowly and deliberately he spoke. “She's thin and frail. That whiteness and the terrible stillness inside scares me, but I'd rather have her die in my arms halfway to Oregon than to have them get their hands on her.”

“Then we go.”

They both heard the gasp and turned. Rebecca was standing in the doorway, clutching the deerskin curtain with both hands.

Joshua moved toward her. “Becky, you'll need to hear me out. Go back inside; you'll freeze out here.” He pushed at her motionless form and beckoned to Solali.

Inside, on the bed of coals, the pot of water was boiling. Solali moved past Rebecca and Joshua. They watched her kneel beside the fire and stir meal into the pot.

Now Rebecca was aware of Joshua's scrutiny; reluctantly she turned to face him. Speaking slowly as he studied her face, he said, “Eagle's come with news. You've got to understand, Becky, this isn't my own idea. I'd be willin' to stay here 'til warm weather, but 'tisn't safe.”

He paused to pace the tiny circle around the fire before adding, “The dear Lord knows I'm worried about the trip and a'wishin' there would be a spot in the Territory where you'd be safe.” He deliberately stopped in front of her and stared intently down at her. “You understand what I'm saying, don't you?”

With a sigh she turned away. A touch of bitterness colored her voice as she replied, “I'm knowin' well.”

For a moment he measured her fear and bitterness against what he must say. Trying to soften the impact, he touched her shoulder. “Now you'll hear me out. Eagle's been riding the Territory these past weeks, doing the scouting I dare not do.” She looked up with a surprised frown and he explained, “You need to know, Brigham Young has cracked down on every stranger in the Territory. He's issuin' permits to all the travelers hereabouts. I'm understanding, from all that's been told me, that it bodes no good for the man without one. That's another reason we must leave, and quickly. Every day we wait, we stand a greater chance of being challenged by one of his men when we
do
try to go.”

Restlessly he paced to the door. “I wish Eagle would come back. I sent him to round up some horses.” When he returned to the fire, he saw Rebecca's face lifted to him, the face of a bewildered, lost child.

“Another reason?” she whispered. “Then there's more bad news you've had.”

Nodding curtly he faced her and said, “You know since last summer President Buchanan has had federal troops moving this way. They say it's nothing to be feared, it's only the normal thing, and I believed it so. Oregon Territory was right proud to have the troops and the colors on its home ground. Makes a body feel protected. Seems here it was taken all wrong.”

Rebecca agreed, her tone dark, “'Tis
all
taken wrong. Everything the government has done rubs them the wrong way. Brigham's fought it all, saying he'll be governor regardless. Why don't they just leave the man alone for the sake of peace?”

Joshua hesitated and peered at Rebecca. When he answered her his voice was flat, low, “Seems you've been whipped beyond reason.”

“I've not,” she replied, astonished.

“You're not understandin'. I'm thinkin' you've been beaten down more than you know.” After a moment he continued, “Hear me out. Brigham's Nauvoo Legion has been standing off the troops. It's bad enough that he's plugged up Echo Canyon with them, but now Eagle says Young's had them harassing the army all winter. First the Mormons burned the supply trains. When Johnston tried to enter Utah by way of the Soda Springs road, they ran off cattle and blocked his way. Then the weather settled in. While he was hightailing back to Fort Bridger, he lost a goodly share of his stock. Now I'm hearin' that five hundred head of oxen and fifty-seven head of mules and horses froze to death on the Sweetwater. Another five hundred head froze before they made it back to their winter quarters.”

He hesitated, then said dryly, “I'm not thinkin' all that stock came along just for the trip. Seems the resistance is a pretty drastic step to take against the whole United States government. There's bound to be problems. I hear the Mormons have burned out Fort Bridger long ago, so that's meanin' the troops spent a miserable winter up there. Now Eagle's sayin' there's new rumbles. In Great Salt Lake City they were getting all ready to start celebrating the spring victory in advance when they heard there's troops a'movin' up the Colorado River.”

“Joshua,” Rebecca gasped, “that's nearly in our backyard!”

He nodded. “And it's more'n a rumor. I don't know who they are, and I'm not so sure they're troops, but Eagle has spotted them. He followed a scouting party up the Colorado. Says they're gettin' mighty close to the Virgin River.”

“Do the Saints know?”

“Yes. Eagle said Hamblin's men were moseyin' right along behind them.”

Joshua watched Rebecca as she stared into the flickering fire. Slowly her hand crept to her throat. “What are you thinkin'?” he asked quietly.

“I'm feeling so sorry for all those people—my neighbors and friends.” She shook her head wearily. “The good people, the followers. It's just like before. Like Ohio and Missouri and Illinois. I'm guessing how badly they're feeling this—the upset and the fear. Now they'll be pressed to the wall again.” She sighed and shook her head, “That proud angry man! Last summer Brigham had them ready to set fire to their homes and destroy everything they've slaved to accomplish—all rather than to settle back and obey the laws of the country. They'll run always. For the rest of their lives they'll run if someone doesn't talk sense into that man.”

“I'm not understandin' why the people stand for it,” Joshua said slowly, his voice rough with worry. “These are free people. Why don't they rise up for their own good and fight for their rights?”

“Free?” Rebecca's voice was scornful. “They aren't free. They've been taught to obey or they'll be damned.” She waved her hand. “See, just like Heber Kimball said, Brigham Young is god to them. And Joseph Smith was god to the people while he was alive.”

“Rebecca,” Joshua was speaking carefully. “Do you understand? They're coming this way.” He hesitated, watching Rebecca as she began to comprehend it all.

“You're meaning them all. The people in Great Salt Lake City and Brigham Young and the twelve. All of them.”

He added, “With troops moving up the rivers and pressing in from the east, this Territory will be overrun.”

She was whispering as if even now they could hear her. “Where will they go? The only place left is to run to the desert. Those people, all the people, from all those towns—Provo, even Cedar, Parowan, Pinto, Harmony.” She pressed trembling hands against her cheeks. Her eyes were darkening as she fought to take deep, calm breaths. As he saw how pale her face was becoming, he found himself doubly determined to leave immediately.

At his shoulder Solali whispered, “Bad as the dreams, it is.” He looked at her dark, brooding face.

She said, “I go, too.”

He stepped closer to Rebecca. “It's only February, there's snow and cold. It'll be fearsome until we reach the Willamette. The dear Lord knows I intended to wait until spring—now we dare not. Becky, we must leave
now
.”

She roused herself and shook her head. She was looking as if she had just awakened, her eyes widening.

“Joshua, I'll never make it. You go, you'll be running for your life. I mustn't hold you back.”

“Rebecca,” he bent over her. “I didn't come this far just to give up now. No matter how weak you are, you must go. I'll get you through. One thing I know, every hour we delay cuts our chances of making it safely.”

With that face so close, those eyes demanding, Rebecca merely nodded as she dabbed at the weak tears on her cheeks. He remained close and, in the chill of the hut, she was aware of his warmth, feeling the strength of him pressing through her coldness and fear to give her hope.

Solali repeated, “I go, too.” Rebecca lifted her head and shook it but Solali insisted. “I fear, too. Remember last year and the reformation, the blood atonement. There's danger still.” Her dark eyes were flashing as she whispered, “Not any of us rebellious ones will be safe. What happened can happen again.”

Rebecca faced Solali and thoughtfully studied the woman. Without a doubt Solali, another former plural wife, was in as much danger as she was. They were both rebellious ones. “Yes,” Rebecca put into words her thoughts and again the bitterness came through. “An Indian, raised and educated by the Saints. Privileged to be a plural wife, and now you're choosing to deny it all—at the risk of your life.”

Rebecca's eyes widened with growing fear for the woman as she thought about Solali's history.

Orphaned in early youth, the Indian girl had been sold to the Mormons as a slave. But the Saints, in accordance with their beliefs, had raised her as a member of the family until she was old enough to become a plural wife.

Now Rebecca must ask the question that had been on her mind for some time. “Do you miss it, Solali?” she whispered. “Do you miss the other life?”

Slowly Solali turned, and with a puzzled frown she studied Rebecca's face before saying, “The snug cabins and the milk and yeasty bread, I do. I liked caring for the gardens and chickens and cows. But I didn't like the other.”

“Say it,” Rebecca demanded.

“I didn't like being one of many wives. I didn't like—” She gestured wordlessly and Rebecca finished for her.

“You've said it before. Sharing a man, being scorned because there was no child. You said it was like having a string tied around you, being jerked at will, knowing only that life was a set of rules.”

Now Solali added, “They told me I must not forget my past. I must be good so that I would turn white and pure. I must follow the prophet or be damned.”‘

“And you want to live like this again?” Rebecca gestured toward the simple shelter.

She nodded, “And I'm remembering you left, too,” Solali whispered. Rebecca felt herself writhing away from the memories, but the Indian woman persisted. “You won't go back. You had Eagle bring the trunk. You touch the Book with faraway eyes. But I see much fear. Is that a good thing in exchange? If it were only fear keeping me here, I could not stay.”

While they had been talking, Eagle slipped back into the hut. Rebecca glanced at him, wondering how much he understood. This silent Indian with the serene eyes seemed to always be there. Twice within the past year he had saved her life. Yet in the depths of his stoic face there was nothing to reveal his thoughts or feelings. As she studied him, briefly their eyes met and he turned away. She bit her lip, wanting desperately to say to him what she was feeling so deeply, the gratitude.

Looking around the hut, thinking of the people who had touched her life in this place, Rebecca was conscious of a wrenching, a feeling of saying good-bye to all that had been her life for the past months. It was the leaving-home feeling. Wordlessly she stretched her hand toward Eagle, wondering how she would ever repay his kindness.

Joshua got to his feet. He sighed, then with an attempt at lightness, said, “Tuck that Bible back in the trunk with the wedding dress and be ready to leave when the sun clears the trees.”

MARIAN WELLS was born in Utah and is the author of eleven books. The
Wedding Dress
and
With This Ring
are based on her thorough research of Mormon history. Marian and her husband live in Nampa, Idaho.

Books by Marian Wells

The Wedding Dress

With This Ring

Karen

T
HE
S
TARLIGHT
T
RIOLOGY

The Wishing Star

Star Light, Star Bright

Morning Star

THE TREASURE QUEST