The Wishing Star (25 page)

“Too?” Tom questioned. Jenny bit her tongue.

Jenny had been astonished by another scene also. From the window at the Knights' home she had spotted a cloud of dust and heard cries. One of Newel's sisters joined Jenny in her dash from the house. They found the crowd and wormed their way toward the center.

Betsy backed off in disgust. “It's nothing but a bunch of grown men going at it again. One of these days the Prophet'll have someone catch him at these shenanigans, and he'll wish they didn't.”

Beside her a man turned, saying, “Prophet! You mean that's the Prophet in there wrestlin' like a commoner? Lady, we've come from Pennsylvania hearin' about how this is God's people preparin' for the end times, with His word writ out on leaves of gold, and you're tellin' me this is the man who did it all?” He turned and grasped the arm of the dusty woman beside him. “Mattie, I can't follow a man who spends his time wrestlin' in a dust pile.”

Jenny watched the couple leave and shrugged. A victory shout cut the air and the dust settled. Joseph Smith sat astraddle a panting young giant with a torn shirt.

She was smiling as she followed Betsy back to the house. Later she saw Joseph, properly free of dust and impropriety, standing behind the pulpit. His solemnity nearly dulled her resolve, but in the middle of his sermon a smile crossed his face, and he delivered an illustration wrapped in the homey scent of the farm.

On the way back to the Knights' home, Tom had anxiously asked, “'Twas a good sermon, wasn't it?” She looked at him in amusement and nodded. She needn't tell him only one illustration lingered in her thoughts.

Once again in Cobleskill, Jenny discovered discontentment dogging her heels and coloring her days. When Clara confronted Jenny in her room under the eaves, Jenny was forced to admit all that she had been thrusting to the back of her mind. And yet she couldn't tell it all.

“There's a man there,” Jenny admitted.

Clara's eyes were shrewd. “Being a good looker like you, you shouldn't have no problem.” Jenny shrugged and Clara said, “Oh, one of those situations, huh? Well, get ye some dandelion root and some river water. I've the other charms. Want me to come while you make a circle and cast your spell?”

“Isn't that too easy? Is it fair?”

“It isn't easy. Fair? All's fair in love and war.”

Clara went with Jenny, giving her instructions. Later, at home, Jenny was emotionally drained, despairing of success.

In the kitchen she said, “I'll write to Tom; he can keep me posted.”

Once again Clara's shrewd eyes pierced her pretense. “If it's that bad, you can have some beeswax for a voodoo doll of the woman in your way.” Jenny's heart chilled. “If that don't work, you may have to make a pact.” Slowly Jenny turned and looked at her friend. For just a moment Jenny closed her eyes and saw that page in the book over which she had trembled in the past. She could only shake her head, and Clara's smile shamed her. “You don't want to admit you don't understand how it works, do you?”

“I've read a little bit about it,” she answered in a low voice. “But if you were to tell me, it might help.”

Later Jenny tossed on her bed and tried to forget what Clara had suggested. The questions tumbled through her mind, and finally she slipped from her bed, lighted a candle, and opened the book.

Carefully she avoided that section. Thumbing through the book, she muttered, “There's got to be another way.”

The next morning, while she and Clara were preparing breakfast, Jenny asked, “Clara, do you know anything about talismans?”

“Of course—I have one. Wanna see it?” Jenny's hands trembled as she nodded.

It was late afternoon before the two of them could slip away to Clara's room. Kneeling beside her bed, Clara pulled out her satchel. “You're supposed to wear or carry this all the time for it to have the most good, but I paid a good sum for it, and I can't afford to lose it. 'Tisn't as important I carry it right now as it will be in the future when I really plan to use it.”

“When are you going to use it?” Jenny watched the sly expression creep into Clara's eyes as she placed the strange object in Jenny's hands.

After a moment she replied, “When I find a man I really want. See, there's power here and I don't want it attractin' just anybody.”

“Tell me what it means.” Jenny turned the round object over in her hand. The heavy gray metal was marked with curious designs and unfamiliar letters.

“Well, in the first place, it's a table. The markings add up to meanin's that are related to the energy of the stars. The writin's different names for God, and blessings.”

“What'll it do?”

“Well, for instance, see these little marks? They mean you can call upon the celestial powers that's been assigned to you. They can be invoked. That's where I get my power to make charms and cause storms.”

“Is that all?”

“No, there's lots more. You can use it to get rich, have power and love, peace—oh, just lots of good things. But for some of them, it takes a bit of practice.”

“How's that?”

“Well, I'm good at storms, but so far, I guess I haven't tried love too hard.”

“Clara, will you sell this to me?” Clara drew back, and Jenny pressed. “You said you didn't even carry it yet. You can get another one. I need one now.”

“These are hard to come by. A special man makes 'em, and he's got to do it at a special time and in a special frame of mind. Serene like, or there won't be the proper magnetism in it.” She studied Jenny's face. “Why don't you tell me what's goin' on? If there's a person on this earth who can help you, it's me. I figured out that you were settin' your cap for Mark. But you've come back from your trip all like a thundercloud.”

Jenny took a deep breath and slowly lifted her face. She was still clutching the talisman in her damp hand, desperately knowing she must have it. “If I do, will you promise to sell the talisman to me now?”

After studying her face for a moment, Clara nodded.

“It's Joseph Smith. I want him.”

“The Mormon prophet,” Clara said slowly. “I can't see any person in their right mind wantin' to be stuck with a preacher. And he's already married.”

Jenny slowly shook her head. Miserably she whispered, “I don't know why either, but ever since I was a little tyke I've loved him. He's never paid any attention to me. It hurt when he got married, but then she was sickly and losing her babies. I thought sure the heavens had willed me to have him. Now I see I need help.”

“Maybe so, maybe so.” Clara pursed her lips. “You're wantin' her to die, aren't you?” Jenny hid her face in her hands and nodded. “Well, I guess you've come to the right place, 'cause there's no way on this earth you'll get what you want except through the craft.”

Clara watched Jenny make a tiny pouch of cotton to hold the talisman which she pinned inside her dress, just over her heart. Clara chuckled and said, “You're wantin' him bad, aren't you?” She nodded. “Well, I have a feelin' it's gonna take a lot of power. Better think about what else you're willin' to do to get him. Have you figgered out yet how you'll know when the talisman's workin'?”

Jenny caught her breath and for a moment stood very still, lost in thought. “This is real, isn't it? Well, I guess when I hear from Tom that—that she's dead.”

Chapter 18

The sound of sawing and hammering was music in the streets of Kirtland. The Mormons were building a temple. On the construction site workmen swarmed, thick as ants. But twice as thick were the crowds who constantly walked the streets, keeping track of every nail and board and the scores of quarried stones piled high beside the excavation.

The spectators saw Joseph Smith working beside his men, cheerfully heaving the foundation stones into place. They also saw Sidney Rigdon, well known for his emotionalism, walking the masonry at night with tears raining down his cheeks as he petitioned heaven for the blessings of God upon the new temple.

When Tom joined the spectators, he frowned at it all. Sweating and panting, Joseph came to him, grinning.

“Joe, how can you call this a temple?” Tom challenged. “I recollect your sayin' this isn't consecrated ground and that we're to be a-movin' to Zion.”

“Call it what you wish,” Joe said shortly, his grin replaced with a frown. “Until we do move to Zion, we need a house of worship, and a place for learning. Remember, we are still waiting for the Lord to instruct us when to move.” His brilliant smile again in place, he said, “I'll tell you another thing. The Lord himself has set the timing of all this. Now He has commanded that the building of the temple in Zion be commenced. There needs be a tithing collected from the people immediately. For now, how about giving us a hand on this job?”

Several days later, while Tom was on the construction site working beside Joseph, Oliver Cowdery appeared. He was striding through the piles of lumber when Tom spotted him. His face was lined with fatigue and his clothes still bore Missouri dust.

“Joe, look,” Tom said slowly. Together they waited in silence as the man walked toward them.

With a terse nod, Oliver handed a folded paper to Joseph and then sat down on a quarry-stone to wait. It was a Missouri newspaper,
Western Monitor
, dated August 2, 1833. Slowly Joseph read aloud, “Number one says no Mormons are to settle in Jackson County in the future. Two, those settled are to sell out and leave.” His startled eyes turned to Cowdery and then returned to the article. “Number three, the Mormon press, the storehouse, and the shops are to close immediately. Four, the leaders are to stop emigration from Ohio. Five, the brethren, referred to as those with the gift of divination, are to be informed of the fate that awaits if they fail to comply.” Joe snorted and crumpled the paper.

“Cowdery, what happened?” Tom asked.

“They've smashed the press. Everything's gone. Took all the copies of the
Book of Commandments
; Partridge and Allen got tarred and feathered. Later the Gentiles threatened to burn the crops and houses if we didn't promise to clear out.”

Tom turned to pace the construction site as Joseph continued to talk to Oliver. Miserably he studied the jumble in front of him and thought about the revelation which Joseph had just sent to Missouri, commanding them to gather tithes in order to start the temple in Zion. “Temple,” he muttered. “Bet they wish they'd never heard of the place.”

Oliver left and Tom went back to Joseph. “I've letters to write to send back with Oliver,” Joseph said abruptly. “I'll walk down the street with you.”

“What ya gonna say?” Tom asked.

“The Spirit tells me to instruct them to renounce war, work for peace, and put up with the fussing.” After a moment he added. “I'll instruct the brethren there to petition the governor for justice. He will not fail to give ear to them.”

Tom stopped by Joseph's office the next day. A still weary Oliver Cowdery was waiting for a final letter before starting his return journey.

Joseph finished writing, then lifted the paper. “You might as well hear the letter I've written. I'm not the least surprised at what's happened. I can't help thinking that Zion's brought the trouble on herself. Notwithstanding the articles written by Phelps in the
Star
, there's a deeper reason for the problems. It all goes back to men not being willing to obey counsel and take instruction from those the Lord puts over them.” Silently he folded the letter and handed it to Oliver. With a sigh and shake of his head, Joe added, “All I can do is allow the Lord's wrath to be poured upon His people until they will confess their sins.”

****

It was well into September 1833 before another communication was received from Jackson County, Missouri.

The day it came, Joseph stopped at the livery stable and waited until Tom finished shoeing Hyrum's horse before he showed the letter to him. “My friend,” he said, “much of this matter with Zion can't be discussed with just anyone on the street. Bear with me while I tell you about this letter and air the problems. It relieves me to see they're handling the situation in a worthy manner, but still—” He unfolded the letter.

“Phelps, the writer of those articles, explains the explosion down there. Seems it started with his article in the
Star
; he was just trying to handle a sticky problem. Since Missouri is a slave state, they're mighty edgy over the issue, more so than ever since they know we prophesied that slavery will be abolished.”

Tom added, “Cowdery admitted to me that part of the problem is our own people bein' too free with the prophecy that Jackson County is goin' to be cleared of the Gentiles and become the inheritance of the people of God.”

Joseph moved his shoulders impatiently and continued, “They got wind that some free Negroes had converted to the church and were trying to emigrate to Independence. Phelps discovered a Missouri law that decreed they must have citizenship papers from another state before they could enter Missouri. After that came the article stating that the church had no policy regarding colored people. That blew the powder keg! Phelps says he tried to right things by admitting he wasn't only trying to stop them from coming, but to prevent them from joining the church.”

“Doesn't seem enough to start those problems!”

“The Gentiles said it was an open invitation for the Negro to emigrate, and that it would stir up problems with the slaves in the state,” Joseph sighed.

“Phelps said they've petitioned the governor for troops to keep order until their suit for damages is settled. Since that's under control now, Sidney and I can make our trip to Canada with an easy conscience.”

“And since you're leavin', I think I'll be makin' my own missionary trip,” Tom stated. Joe turned to look at him, and Tom added, “To see my sister Jenny.”