The Work and the Glory (14 page)

He exhaled wearily. “But at the same time, another part of me was almost reeling, like I’d been poleaxed. I don’t know what to think anymore.”

Mary Ann nodded absently, as though she had only barely heard him. Finally she came out of her thoughts and looked at him. “The Smiths are fine young men. I don’t think Joseph is a liar either.”

“But Mother. He said he actually saw God and talked with him.” His voice lowered, partly in awe, partly in disbelief. “That just doesn’t happen, Mother.”

She picked up the Bible again, letting her fingers run softly along its spine. “It used to.”

“That’s why I asked you what I did. Do you think men could see the Savior today?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t seem possible, and yet…oh, Nathan, I would like to think it is still possible.”

“No wonder people are talking about him. They think he’s either mad or possessed of an evil spirit.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her face unreadable. “I suppose that’s what people said about Paul and his vision, too,” she finally said.

Nathan stiffened.

“What?”

“That’s exactly what Joseph said.”

“What?”

“He said he felt exactly like Paul. No matter what they say about him, he knows he has seen a vision and if he denies it, it will be like he is denying God.”

For almost a full minute they sat there, mother and son, lost in their own thoughts. Then Mary Ann swung around so she was facing Nathan directly. She laid the Bible down, then clasped her hands around her knees and leaned forward. “I want you to tell me the whole story again. As much as possible, try to remember Joseph’s exact words. Especially what God and Jesus said to him.”

Nathan took a deep breath, letting his mind go back to the evening two days previous as he had sat with Joseph and Hyrum. This time he went more slowly, interspersing the account with other details, how Joseph had looked as he recounted his vision, Hyrum’s occasional comment in support of his brother. When he was finished, his mother barely moved. Her eyes were down, looking at the Bible she had set on the log beside her. Then slowly, as if coming out of a daze, she straightened. Picking up the Bible, she opened it, turning pages toward the back of the book. She found what she was looking for and read it to herself.

Nathan leaned over enough to see she was reading in the book of James.

She looked up. “ ‘If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God,’ “ she quoted softly. “That’s quite a promise.” Suddenly she closed the book and stood up, brushing off her dress. “I’ve got to get breakfast. Your father will be waking.”

She turned to go, but Nathan stood quickly and grabbed at her arm. “But Mother.”

She smiled gently at him. “What?”

“Do you think it’s possible?”

Her face softened with affection, and she reached up and touched his cheek. “With God, all things are possible, Nathan.”

“I know that,” he said, frustrated by her evasiveness. “But do you think it really happened, or is Joseph being deceived?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know.” She held up the book for him to see. “You know how I love the Bible, Nathan.”

“Yes.”

She looked away, gazing out across the cleared land, now plowed and readied for planting. “For many years I’ve felt like the Bible, as wonderful as it is, is not enough. I’ve felt like there has to be more. The Bible talks of baptism, for example. But how can you be baptized without a church? And communion. We need to take communion. You need more than the Bible to do that.”

Nathan looked at her closely, surprised by her words. She had never given even the slightest hint she held such feelings.

Finally she turned her gaze back on him. “Remember when we lived in Vermont, we went to different churches for a time?”

Nathan nodded, puzzled by the direction the conversation had taken.

“I was searching for the right one. Even back then.”

“But I thought we never joined one because Pa didn’t hold much with organized religion.”

A quick shadow darkened her eyes. “He doesn’t. And that was part of it. But I don’t think he would have stopped us if I had insisted on it.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

“Why?”

For several moments she was silent, running the palm of her hand softly across the leather cover of the old Bible. “I’ve never told anyone this. Not even your father.”

Again she had managed to surprise Nathan. “Told him what?”

Still she hesitated, as though not yet sure whether to share her secret. “What, Mother?”

She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, her eyes closing momentarily. “You said Joseph Smith went into the woods because he wanted to know which church he should join.”

“Yes.”

“Well, during that time, when I was searching for answers to the same question…”

“Yes?”

“I didn’t read James, but I came to the same conclusion. I decided I had to pray. Without God’s help I couldn’t know for sure which one was right.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I prayed a great deal about it as a matter of fact, over a period of several months. I never went off into the woods, but hardly a day went by I didn’t ask God the same question Joseph asked him.”

She stopped and gave him a strange look.

Nathan felt a sudden prickle up the back of his neck. “What? What happened?”

“One morning I had gotten up very early to pray. Your father was still asleep. I…as I was praying, suddenly this feeling came over me. It was like…” She stopped, groping for the right words. “I don’t know. Thoughts just came into my mind. Afterwards I wasn’t even sure it had happened.”

Nathan was watching her intently, searching her face. “What kind of thoughts?” he asked in a low voice.

“I suddenly felt—very strongly—that for now I was to join none of the churches.”

She stopped, her eyes far away, lost in the memory of that morning. Nathan was tempted to nudge her, to bring her back. When she finally went on, she spoke softly. “I felt that sooner or later I would be shown which church I should join, but for now I was just to be patient.”

Nathan was staring at his mother openly, his eyes mirroring his surprise. No wonder Joseph’s account had struck her with such force.

Again she smiled, her eyes misted with a faraway look. “I’m going to talk to the Lord. Maybe the time has come to ask again.”

And with that, she took his arm and they started back for the cabin.

Sixteen-year-old Melissa Steed put the bowl of corn flour mush on the table and walked to the stairs. She cupped one hand to her mouth and called loud enough for her voice to carry clear up into the loft. “Matthew, Becca. Breakfast’s ready.”

“Comin’.” It was Rebecca’s voice, but it was Matthew’s body that came shooting down the stairs and into the main room of the cabin.

Melissa smiled. Her youngest brother never did anything at normal speed. “Happy Easter, Matthew,” she called.

His head shot up in surprise. Then he scanned the room, with his usual lopsided grin. Nathan was at the table cutting thin slices of bacon off the side of pork he’d gotten from the smokehouse. His mother was at the fireplace tending a large black frying pan, where the bacon sizzled and sputtered. Melissa was still at the table, arranging the dishes.

“Happy Easter, everybody,” he crowed to them all.

“Happy Easter, son,” Mary Ann said.

“Happy Easter, Matthew,” Nathan said.

“Do you think there are Easter eggs, Mama?” Matthew asked eagerly.

Melissa shot Nathan a quick wink. After their return from Palmyra the previous evening, the two of them had spent a half hour hiding some boiled eggs and a few pieces of hard candy in the barn. “I thought Easter eggs were only for when children were especially good,” Melissa said to Nathan gravely.

“I have been good,” Matthew cried. “Real good.”

Nathan shook his head. “I don’t know. What about last week when you let the dog chase the chickens?”

Matthew whirled, his face outraged. “It wasn’t me.” Then he saw the look on their faces and grinned again, turning to his mother. “Can I go look, Mama?”

She stepped to her youngest and gave him a quick squeeze. “Get the spoons on. We’ll have breakfast, then we’ll go out to the barn and see.”

Becca had come down in time to catch the last part of the conversation. Though two days before she had loftily sniffed that she was too old for childish things, Melissa noted, her nine-year-old sister now went to work helping Matthew set the table without being asked. For the girl who could find a dozen excuses for avoiding unpleasant tasks, this said a lot.

A moment later the door opened and Benjamin Steed came in, carrying a bucket of milk, still topped with foam.

“Happy Easter, Papa!” Matthew cried.

“Happy Easter, Matthew.” He swung the milk up to the counter where Mary Ann had set out the five-gallon milk can with a muslin cloth over the opening. Melissa stepped up beside him and held the cloth down as her father poured the milk carefully through it to strain out any particles of dirt that had fallen in the bucket.

“Thank you, Melissa.” He capped the can and turned. “Nathan, put this out in the icehouse till it cools down.”

As Nathan came over, Benjamin suddenly looked around the room and frowned. “What time did Joshua finally come in last night?”

Melissa whirled in surprise and shot a look at her mother. Mary Ann was equally startled. The first thing she had done before going out to read the Bible was check to see if Joshua had returned. She assumed Benjamin had done the same.

“Joshua isn’t here,” Mary Ann said quietly.

Benjamin jerked around. “What?”

Melissa tensed.

“He hasn’t come home yet, Pa,” Nathan inserted quickly. “He must have stayed in town last night.”

Melissa felt a clutch of anxiety as she watched the anger flash across her father’s face. She, more than any of the children—perhaps even more than her mother—understood the complex of emotions which drove her oldest brother and which led more and more to the clashes with his father. Melissa also seemed to have a special closeness to her father, under-standing the New England stubbornness and rock-hard integrity which formed the foundation of his character. Normally she could cajole him out of his frustrations with his oldest son and help avert the more violent confrontations. But she sensed that a new and frightening dimension in the relationship between Benjamin Steed and his oldest son had been opened.

Disappearing was one thing; drinking in company with the Murdocks was something else again. The Steed family had been shamed, and Benjamin Steed took great stock in one’s name and reputation. Forgiveness for any damage done there wouldn’t come easy from him.

Her father spun around without a word, stalked to the door, and took down his hat. “I’ll be back,” he muttered.

Mary Ann moved quickly to his side and laid a hand on his arm. “Breakfast is ready, Ben. There’s no use going into town now. You don’t even know where he is.”

“He’s probably on his way home right now,” Nathan jumped in.

Benjamin just stood there, his eyes hard, his jaw working as he clenched and unclenched his teeth.

Melissa took a quick breath. “Pa, Josh had his heart set on getting to talk with that Lydia McBride girl. But she paid him no mind. I think he took it kinda hard.”

“He don’t need you sticking up for him.” He snapped it out at her, like the crack of a whip.

Melissa felt her temper leap, but she caught the warning look from her mother and dropped her eyes. She felt a deep ache for Joshua.

“Please, Ben,” Mary Ann pleaded. “It’s Easter morning. Come and eat. He’ll be comin’ along.”

Finally he jammed his hat back on its peg and moved to the table. He sat down hard, staring at nothing. Nathan motioned sharply with his head and Becca and Matthew jumped to sit down as well. The others joined them, the silence heavy in the room.

Finally Benjamin looked up. “Becca. Offer grace, please. We’ll wait no longer for your brother.”

Chapter Six

The first thing to penetrate Joshua Steed’s awareness was the brightness pounding down on his eyelids, jabbing at him like needles. He groaned and rolled over to get away from it, and instantly regretted it. Waves of hammering pain exploded inside his skull. Pressing the heels of his hands hard against his temples to suppress the waves of pain, he pulled himself up into a sitting position. He opened his eyes slowly, then blinked in bewilderment. His shirtsleeves and his pant legs were covered with straw. There was a strong smell of cows. His mouth was dry and foul, his tongue covered with a thick scum. Through the cracks in a board wall in front of him, rays of sunshine were streaming, turning the myriad specks of dust into drifting pinpoints of light. He realized it was the sunshine that had awakened him.

He closed his eyes, struggling to push his way through the heavy creek-bottom mud that clogged his mind. Cracking one eye
open
again, he turned his head slowly to survey his surroundings. A mound of hay was to his left, a pitchfork stuck in one side of it. The collar of a harness hung against a wall. He turned the other way as the sound of heavy snoring finally registered in his brain. Then in an instant it all came flooding back. Will Murdock lay sprawled across the straw-strewn floor, the empty jug of rum lying on its side next to his head. His brother, David, was a few feet further on, lying on his back, twisted at a crazy angle, the flap on his pants unbuttoned, showing a corner of dirty underwear beneath it. Mark Cooper had collapsed on another pile of hay in the far corner.

Joshua dropped his head into his hands, massaging his temples carefully as the recollection returned. The last he remembered was hearing voices approaching and Will Murdock motioning frantically for the others to follow him into the dark recesses of the barn. They must have collapsed there and slept through the night.

He jerked up sharply, then groaned, not for the flash of pain which the sudden movement caused, but for the image of his father which leaped into his brain. His family! Last night he had simply walked away from the activities, following after Will Murdock. He had said nothing to anyone. He groaned again. Going home was gonna be right down ugly. He could feel it in his gut.