The Wishing Star (27 page)

Joseph was at ease, even content, in his new role. During a three-day rest period at Salt Creek, Illinois, he took over the instruction and drilling practice the men sorely needed. Under his direction, within a short time the men mastered the simple maneuvers.

But not many days passed before Tom began to be puzzled about his colorful leader.

James brought up the subject. He and Tom sat together on the far side of the campfire, polishing their rifles. In a low voice James asked, “Does it strike you odd that the Prophet spends so much time hiding who he is? I heard him tellin' Wight to pass his name off as Captain Cook to strangers.”

Tom drawled, “Well, it might just keep us all safe if there's questions asked.”

James nodded and added, “But he keeps changin' his position in the company, even to ridin' in the supply wagons. And that dog—the nasty tempered thing—oughta be better'n the twenty men he's askin' for as bodyguards.”

Tom tried to shrug off the questions, but in the following days he became aware of his own doubts. The feeling guilted him until he saw the measuring look Brigham Young turned on Joseph the day his anger lashed out at Sylvester over the bulldog.

Tom heard the tirade of abuse spilling from Sylvester and came running. He arrived just as the man screamed, “If that dog bites me, I'll kill him!”

And Joe roared back, “I'll whip you in the name of the Lord. If you don't repent, that dog will eat the flesh from your bones.”

After a moment of stunned silence, Thompson exclaimed, “Aw, Joe, that dog is a blamed nuisance all around. There's not a fella here who can tolerate 'im.”

Tucker, a quiet, serious-minded man, spoke thoughtfully, “Joseph, you ought not go around talking of whipping in the name of the Lord. It's unseemly for a prophet.”

Joe took a quick step backward, and his words drew that look from Brigham. “You're seeing how this all looks. I did it on purpose to show you how base your attitudes are! Like animals. Men ought not to place themselves that low.”

As Tom and his tentmate had bedded down a couple nights later, Matt commented on the large white dog, curled up in front of Joseph's tent. “Seems strange,” he muttered, pulling off his boots. “The Prophet being on such good terms with the Almighty, getting revelations that the Lord will fight our battles for us, and yet he gets an old dog to stand guard.”

During the second watch of the night, a single gunshot brought the men running from their tents. Joseph was kneeling in the dust before his tent, and the white bulldog was making his last convulsive movements. The apologetic guard stood hat in hand. “Forgot about the dog,” he muttered. “Just saw a movement and shot quick.”

When Tom and Matt crawled back into their tent, Matt yawned and said, “Well, guess now Joseph's going to
have
to rely on men and angels.”

Chapter 19

The confrontation between Joseph and Sylvester soon was pushed into the background, forgotten in the light of a more compelling issue.

Orson Hyde and Parley Pratt rode into camp after their conference with Governor Dunklin. They had barely dismounted when the entire army surrounded to hear the news. Taking their cue from the men's grim faces, the foot soldiers waited quietly as Joseph and Lyman Wight joined them.

“It's not good news,” Pratt said shortly. He wiped his hands wearily across his face before continuing. “Unbeknownst to us, Governor Dunklin has been working for our cause. He's been dickering with the War Office to secure a federal arsenal, with plans to build it in Jackson County.” He paused and added, “Right in our own backyard, along with the federal army as a guard.”

“Glory be!” Wight exclaimed. “There's not much chance of the Gentiles fightin' us under those circumstances.”

“But wait,” Pratt interrupted, “on top of that, Dunklin was considering dividing Jackson County so our people and the Gentiles would have equal shares. Later in our meeting he dropped the information that on May 2, he dispatched orders to Colonel Lucas to restore the arms they took from us. But before Lucas got the order, news of the coming of Zion's Camp leaked.” He looked slowly around the assembled men. Deliberately he added, “Dunklin said the Missourians stormed the jail where our arms were stored and took every one of them.”

With a muttered curse, Wight flung his battered old hat to the ground and stalked away. Joseph watched him go, then turned back to Pratt. “Before any action could be taken they ravaged the rest of our property. Every last one of the hundred and fifty houses was destroyed.”

Groans of dismay erupted in angry words, and finally Joseph lifted his hand. His face white and rigid, he said, “Let's hear the rest of it.”

“Well, that cooked our goose with Dunklin. He was pretty frosty. Said the comin' of Zion's Camp plus the fact that all our houses were destroyed made it impossible at this time to restore our property to us.” He paced the trampled ground in front of Joe.

Watching Pratt, Hyde added, “News about the army has traveled fast. We're findin' out it ran like wildfire ahead of us. Militias from four different counties have moved out to meet us. They had our number right off. They knew we were an army, not a bunch of farmers with a sack of grain to plant. The word was passin' ahead of us, with people yellin', ‘The Mormons are comin'; they'll murder our women and children!'”

The group turned to Joseph and waited in stunned silence as he paced back and forth, head bowed, hands clasped behind him. Wight had crept back to the edge of the crowd, and Joseph stopped in front of him. “I tell you, it's best we don't make a wrong move; we're sitting ducks!”

Wight bristled, looking at the men clustered around them. “We can't go back, not after comin' this far!” A rumble of assent rose from the men, and Tom remembered the confident assertion that angels would fight for them.

Finally the army moved out, advancing cautiously, disheartened and confused. The men needn't be told that Joseph was as deeply disturbed as they. On the second day further bad news drifted back. An armed band was waiting across the Missouri with plans to attack.

Immediately Joseph Smith ordered the men to move out to the prairie.

“Smith!” Lyman Wight roared. “These men'll have neither decent water or wood for fire. I say let 'em all spend the night in the woods.”

Joe turned back to argue the matter, and then impatiently wheeled about. Raising his voice, he shouted, “Thus saith the Lord God, march on!”

In disgust, Wight silently turned aside and waved his men to camp in the woods. Sylvester turned to shout at Joseph's men, “Who are you following? Wight's in charge of this army!”

That night, just as Wight predicted, Tom and the group who had followed Joseph were forced to drink bad water and eat raw pork.

The following day, Tom was surprised to hear Joseph defending his position before the men. Stepping close to Joseph, Tom growled from the side of his mouth, “Forget it, 'tis all come to naught.”

But Joseph pressed his case. “By the Spirit of God I know when to sing, to pray, to talk, even to laugh.”

Wight and some of the other men became apologetic, but Sylvester raged. “You want a man in bondage, without the freedom to speak! These prophecies, they're lies in the name of the Lord. You're as corrupt as the devil himself in your heart.”

Joseph seized the horn used to call the men to prayer and threw it at Sylvester. Tom caught his breath, then gasped with relief as the horn missed the man and smashed into pieces.

Three days later, the Camp of Zion moved up the bank of Fishing River, just on the border of Clay County. But before Joseph could advance his troops, cholera struck.

One by one the ranks of Zion's Camp fell victim to the dread disease. Within two weeks sixty-eight of the army had succumbed.

Thus far Tom had been spared, but each day he counted his chances with a sinking heart as more of his comrades took to their pallets. Carrying water and the common remedy of whiskey mixed with flour, Tom made his rounds among the sick. At the same time, Joseph moved among his men, praying and laying hands upon the stricken.

Early one morning, Joseph approached as Tom filled his jugs. “You're looking mighty worried this morning,” Tom said as he mixed the whiskey and flour together.

“Leave that mess for someone else,” Joseph ordered in a low voice. “I've another task for you.” He led Tom away from the men. “I understand today's the day of the confab across the river in Clay County. You know we've promised to stay put until the business is settled, so I can't stick my nose over there. I hear a Judge Ryland is meeting with the Gentiles and the Mormons to read them all the governor wants done to settle this problem.”

Tom looked at him for a moment and said slowly, “You want me to slip over easy-like, huh?”

Joseph nodded, “I want a quick report from someone I can trust to give me the truth.”

“Still scratchin' for a fight?”

“Not me,” Joseph said bitterly. “I want a peaceful settlement of all this. It's Wight who's itching to use that cannon.”

Tom nodded slowly. “You're bein' cautious, but I heard the fellas talkin'; from something you've said, they're believin' that once they strike a sword, there's gonna be angels right there fightin' for them.”

Joseph turned away. “Just get over there and find out what's going on. Keep your mouth shut as to who you are.”

Tom cut downstream and found a youth idly fishing from the security of his crudely made raft. Pulling a packet of fishhooks from his pocket, Tom hailed the boy. “You headin' across the river?”

The boy poled closer to shore and blurted, “Them's hooks? I wasn't, but I would for hooks.”

It was nearly noon when Tom sauntered into the clearing where the two groups belligerently faced each other. Another group of men approached, and Tom silently merged with them, resisting the urge to pull his hat down to his ears.

He was eyed suspiciously, but was momentarily forgotten as a gentleman entered the clearing. The drift of conversation about him stopped as he surveyed the two groups. “Come close, men; I've no intention of straining my voice. The original settlers of Jackson County have drawn up a list of proposals to present to the group of Mormon settlers. With no further ado, I intend to read them to you, and then, gentlemen, the mode of settlement is upon your shoulders.

“Be advised that Governor Dunklin insists that a settlement be agreed upon. Adherence to the settlement will be enforced by law. There are a number of points that need to be made before we read the proposals, points made by legal counsel which must be taken into advisement before a satisfactory solution to the problem can be reached. First of all, Governor Dunklin points out that the Constitution of the United States guarantees that the citizens of any state shall be entitled to privileges and considerations in all states; the state boundary is no license for discrimination regarding emigration. The constitution of this state allows men the right to bear arms in defense of themselves. Also, the Constitution of these United States guarantees freedom to worship according to the dictates of a man's conscience.

“I wish to point out that whereas the state allows arms for defense, it is strictly illegal for any group to promote the use of cannon. That is considered aggressive action, not defensive. It is rumored that both sides of this faction are preparing to use cannon.” An angry growl swept through the crowd, and Tom noticed hostile looks turned his direction. He held his breath and returned the glances with a level stare.

“Now,” continued the judge, “the proposals set out by the residents of Jackson County are as follows. With due appraisal by disinterested parties, the residents of Jackson County are prepared to buy the property of the resident Mormons of Jackson County at double the appraised value, to be paid within thirty days. If this proposal is not met with agreement by the Mormons, then the counter-proposal, the sale of the Missourians' land under the same agreement, is also made.”

Silence held both groups. Tom was busy thinking of all the implications. The foremost memory he had was that revelation from the Lord. Briefly he closed his eyes and could clearly hear those words: “Zion shall not be moved out of her place. . . . There is no other place appointed.”

When Tom opened his eyes, Phelps was walking toward the judge. His voice rang with confidence and conviction. “Sir, we cannot accept your proposals at this time, but I do promise you that until a settlement is reached, Zion's Camp will remain in their position on Fishing River.”

Tom straightened his shoulders, and his heart soared. Phelp's statement brought to mind all those other revelations concerning Zion—surely not one of them would fail!

The Gentiles didn't look as if they were planning to give up any of their positions, either. So the two groups parted with the understanding that the governor would look further into the matter.

As he made his way back across the river, Tom thought about the revelation the Lord had given Joseph in 1831. Of all the promises, this one was the most vivid, telling Joseph that Satan was stirring the Missourians to anger, to the shedding of blood, and that the land of Zion couldn't be obtained except by purchase or the shedding of blood. Well, it didn't look like there would be a purchase.

In Zion's Camp, the cholera continued to claim its victims. The number of dead rose to fourteen before the disease abated.

Just two days after Tom's foray as spy, Gilliam, Clay County's sheriff, visited the camp. Handing Joseph Smith a copy of a letter written by the chairman of the Jackson County committee, he settled back and waited for him to read it.

When Joe folded the letter, he said, “I understand you want me to pay particular attention to the section underlined, in which it is noted that our communication is signed by persons not directly owning land in Jackson County, in other words, the heads of the church; and therefore we have no right to our claims. It's correct that we don't directly own land there, but we are spokesmen for the church.”