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Authors: Gerald N. Lund

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BOOK: The Work and the Glory
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Brigham nodded quickly. “There are many. Brother Elijah Fordham is especially ill.”

Wilford Woodruff clucked his tongue sadly. “We may be too late. My wife heard not more than an hour ago that he was breathing his last.”

“Take me to him,” said Joseph.

As they moved off, people swarmed around them. Word that the Prophet was on this side of the river was spreading through the community of Saints with great rapidity. Those well enough to walk were flocking in now. Many came with urgent requests that he come to their homes and help their families.

The Fordham cabin was another small one, newly built. When the woman opened the door, it was clear that she was badly distraught. The sight of Joseph was surprising but seemed to bring her little comfort. Only partly coherent, she said that her husband was dying. Joshua and Benjamin stepped back as the rest of the members of the group started in the cabin. There were now seven of the Apostles with Joseph, and others started to push in behind them. In the doorway, Joseph held up his hand. “Brethren and sisters,” he said kindly, “there just isn’t the room. We’ll be out in a minute or two.”

Then once again catching Joshua totally by surprise, Joseph beckoned to Benjamin. “Brother Ben, I brought you over here because I need your faith. Would you come in with me and the Twelve? You too, Joshua.”

Half-dazed, Joshua nodded and followed the others inside. Once in, Joseph shut the door, then turned to the bed in one corner. A figure lay on it, but there was no movement. Joshua stepped back. The smell of death was in the room. The man’s wife was right. This time they were too late.

Without hesitation, Joseph walked right up to the dying man and took hold of his right hand. “Elijah! This is Brother Joseph. Can you hear me?”

Fordham’s eyes were open, but they could have been made of glass. He stared upwards at the ceiling, and as Joshua watched closely, he could not see him even blink. With the toe of his boot, Joseph pulled a nearby chair over, so that he did not have to let go of Fordham’s hand. He sat down, and for what seemed like a full minute or more he gazed into the eyes of the man before him.

Joshua felt a jolt, as if someone had jabbed him. There was no question about it. The visage of the man was changing. The locked jaw was softening, the glaze over the eyes starting to fade a little. There was a softening of the whole body. And then he moved. There was a deep sigh, and Elijah Fordham turned and looked up into Joseph’s face.

“Elijah,” Joseph said again, this time in a very low whisper. “Do you know me?”

The entire group held its breath, and then came the reply, equally soft. “Yes.”

There was a collective sigh, as breaths were released and several of the men began to smile.

Joseph did not turn his head a fraction of an inch. He just kept his eyes burning into those of the man before him. “Do you have the faith to be healed, Elijah?”

Again there was that interminable pause, then painfully, “I fear it is too late. If . . . if you had come sooner I think I could have been healed.”

“Do you believe in Jesus Christ?”

“I do,” came the feeble reply.

Joseph rose, and Joshua leaned forward, his pulse suddenly pounding, leaving a roaring sensation in his ears. Erect as a steel rod, Joseph stood there, still holding Fordham’s hand in silence. When the Prophet finally spoke, Joshua jumped noticeably, as did several others, for he thundered it out. It did not seem like Joseph’s voice at all, and it was as though the very foundations of the house trembled.


Brother Fordham, I command you, in the name of Jesus Christ, to arise from this bed and be made whole.

As calmly as though he were rising from an afternoon nap, Elijah Fordham sat up. Color rushed back to his cheeks. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He took three steps toward his wife, who was staring in shock and disbelief and was crying uncontrollably now. He walked awkwardly, but Joshua saw that that was because his feet were bound in poultices. He kicked them off impatiently, then spoke to his wife. “Have we any bread and milk?” he asked.

By the time they returned to the ferry landing later that afternoon, Joshua no longer doubted the reports Nathan had brought back that morning. He had been a living witness of exactly the same scenes. After Elijah Fordham dressed and had his bread and milk, they started around Montrose. From house to house, from tent to tent, from lean-tos to wagons to open bedrolls they moved. Old people, young children, babies, women, girls, grandmothers—it made no difference. In that calm, unruffled manner Joseph moved among them. He spoke, he counseled, he commanded. But everywhere they went, they left people dramatically better than before they had come. Joshua’s mind was spinning. He didn’t know what to say. He knew full well that if he were sitting in a room and heard himself describing what he had just witnessed, he would immediately scoff and brush it aside. What shook him so deeply now was that he couldn’t brush it aside. He had seen it for himself.

“Brethren?”

Joshua turned. The Apostles were gathered in a half circle around their prophet. Their eyes were fixed on him. Joseph looked very tired, totally drained. “I must return to my family. We have done much good here today.”

“Amen!” John Taylor said quietly. There were other murmurs and nods of assent.

“But there are still many who are in need of God’s blessings.” He let his eyes move from face to face. “You are the Twelve. You hold the holy apostleship. When the Savior called his original Twelve he laid his hands upon them and sent them out to preach the gospel, to heal the sick, and to cast out devils. That is the same power which you hold. Go forth. Do as you have seen me do. Bless the people.”

Now the looks turned to uncertainty, but Joseph’s words were so sure, so matter-of-fact, that they started to nod.

“Give my best to your families, and—”

“Mister Smith! Mister Smith!”

Joseph looked up. A man was running toward them, waving his arms frantically. They all turned now, and Wilford Woodruff squinted into the afternoon sun. “That’s Amos Queensley,” he said, looking back at Joseph. “He’s not a member of the Church. But he’s been good to us.”

The man ran up and came to a stop in front of Joseph. Panting heavily, he tossed out the words between intakes of breath. “Mr. Smith. Please! I heard what you were doing.”

“Yes.”

“My children,” he gasped. “I have twin girls. Three months old. They are dying.” He clutched at Joseph’s coat. “Please come! Please!”

Joseph’s face was filled with compassion, but after a moment, to everyone’s surprise, he shook his head. “I am totally exhausted,” he said to the man. “I must get back.” But then as the man’s countenance fell, Joseph went on. “But I shall send someone.”

He thought for a moment, then reached inside the frock coat he wore and withdrew a red silk bandanna handkerchief. He took it in both hands; then, to Joshua’s utter amazement, he lowered his head and closed his eyes for a moment. Finally he straightened and handed the cloth to Wilford Woodruff. Woodruff was startled. “Take it, Wilford,” Joseph said. “Go with this man. Wipe the faces of the children with this handkerchief and bless them and they will be healed.”

Wilford stepped back.

“Do it,” Joseph said gently.

Tentatively, Wilford reached out and took the red cloth. “I will, Joseph.”

Joseph laid a hand on his arm. “Wilford Woodruff, as long as you keep this handkerchief, it will serve as a league between you and me. Now, go, and God be with you.”

The man grabbed the Prophet’s hand, thanking him profusely, then stumbled off after Wilford Woodruff, who had started up the riverbank. Joshua was incredulous, and it showed on his face. Benjamin nudged him. “Go with them, Joshua.”

Joseph turned at that. He gave Joshua a long searching look. “Yes, Joshua,” he finally said. “Go with them. See with your eyes and know with your heart.”

It was almost dark when the door to the cabin opened and Joshua stepped in. Benjamin and Mary Ann were at the table, reading the Book of Mormon. Matthew wasn’t there, having gone over to Jessica’s to be with Jenny.

Joshua came in and shut the door. He took off his hat and dropped it on the small table there. Mary Ann stood up. “You must be starving, Joshua. Let me get you some soup and bread.”

“Yes,” he said heavily. “I am hungry.”

As she moved to the fireplace, he came over and sat down across from his father. For several moments, they looked at each other, searching each other’s faces. “Well?” Benjamin finally asked.

Joshua almost flinched, as if he had been dreading the question. “Well what?” he half growled.

“Did Brother Woodruff use the handkerchief?”

Joshua looked down, staring at his hands. “Yes.”

“Well?” Benjamin persisted. Mary Ann turned now to watch her son.

“It worked. Almost immediately. The twins are going to be all right.”

Benjamin leaned back, nodding very slowly. “And how do you explain that?” he asked.

Joshua didn’t look up. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “I just don’t know.”

Benjamin wanted to leap up and shout, but he didn’t. “Joshua?”

“Yes, Pa?”

“What you and Caroline have is good. It’s very good.” He finished slowly, emphasizing each word. “But there is
so much more.

Chapter Notes

  July twenty-second, 1839, came to be known as, in Wilford Woodruff’s words, “a day of God’s power.” The healings were so frequent that only a fraction were recorded. Some of the sources say that Joseph went to every house. The demonstration of priesthood power continued on the west side of the Mississippi, with the most dramatic healing being that of Elijah Fordham, which is told here almost word for word as recorded by Wilford Woodruff (see
Leaves,
pp. 76–77).

  There is some discrepancy in the sources as to which of the Twelve accompanied Joseph on the Nauvoo side and then crossed over on the ferry to Montrose with him. The author’s choice reflects statements by Heber C. Kimball, Wilford Woodruff, and Parley P. Pratt (see
LHCK,
p. 263;
Leaves,
p. 75;
PPP Auto.,
p. 254).

  It is also Wilford Woodruff who tells of the handkerchief experience. He kept it as a token of the bond between him and Joseph, treasuring it throughout the remainder of his life. (See
Leaves,
pp. 78–79.)

  Joseph’s comments on why little children are sometimes taken are found in his recorded teachings (see
Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith,
sel. Joseph Fielding Smith [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1938], pp. 196–97).

Chapter Thirteen

For a long time after Joshua stopped speaking, Caroline just sat there, watching him, wanting to go to him and hold him, and yet knowing that if she moved, it might drive away the mood that lay so heavily upon him. He was staring at his hands, examining them intently as he slowly turned them over and over, as if somehow the explanation for which he was so desperately searching had been there for him but now he had let it slip away.

Finally he looked up, almost surprised to see that she was still there. “I don’t know,” he said wearily. “Maybe they just believe in Joseph so strongly that he’s like some powerful medicine to them. So when he speaks to them it . . .”

It trailed off slowly as the fallacy of his reasoning showed itself. He looked toward the window. “That man named Fordham. I saw him, Caroline! When we first went in, I was sure he was dead. Then I saw he was breathing, but that’s about all there was. His eyes were wide open, like a corpse’s. He didn’t even know we were in the room. When Joseph first spoke to him, he didn’t even blink.” One hand began to rub his cheek. “
He didn’t even blink!

She waited a moment, then asked softly, “And your father too? You saw that for yourself?”

He jumped up and began to pace, almost angrily. “Yes! I was there, not four feet away. Just hours before that, we had our last talk—he gave me his deathbed farewell.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “He thought he was going to die.” He turned and looked at her in wonder. “He
was
going to die, Caroline. And now, he’s as strong as he’s been in months. You won’t believe it.”

“Thanks be to the Lord for that,” Caroline whispered. Even the thought of losing Benjamin filled her with a piercing ache. And with that, she decided to risk saying what had been on her mind almost from the moment her husband had started to tell her about the day of healing. “Joshua?”

His eyes finally focused on her. “Yes?”

“We told Nathan and Lydia that once everyone got their houses built and things were established up there, we’d start the store. Well, maybe it’s time we move to Nauvoo.”

To her complete amazement, he nodded almost immediately. “Maybe so.”

She was dumbfounded. “Do you mean it?” she cried.

He nodded slowly, surprised at how easily the answer had come. He came over and sat down beside her on the sofa. He took her hands in his and peered into her eyes. “I’m not any more excited about living with ten thousand Mormons than I have ever been, but . . . It wasn’t just Pa, Caroline. Mama nearly died too. When I think that we might have lost them both, well . . . I’ve thought about it all the way down. I can’t make up for all those lost years by only seeing them for a few days every two or three months. The business here is established. I’ve got a good foreman. Let’s move as soon as possible.”

BOOK: The Work and the Glory
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