The Work and the Glory (348 page)

That caught Jennifer Jo’s attention. “Skeptical?” she asked. “What do you mean?”

Brigham set the mug down. “There are some, including Matthew’s own brother, who have doubts about whether this was a serious attempt at suicide or not.”

Jennifer Jo looked dubious. She knew that Nathan didn’t like John C. Bennett, but she hadn’t heard anything about this. “How could that be? The man nearly died.”

Brigham answered with some tartness, making Matthew wonder if he might not share in Nathan’s doubts a little. “Bennett is a doctor. He specializes in medicines and herbs. It’s likely that he would know exactly how much poison to take to make it look real but without actually risking his life.”

It wasn’t enough for Jennifer Jo, who by nature trusted everyone. “But Nathan said he fought off any attempts to keep him alive.”

Brigham just grunted and said nothing more. Matthew reached over and took her hand and smiled at her. Jennifer Jo McIntire had come to America from Ireland with her mother and her younger sister, and they had eventually made their home in the sparsely settled area of northern Missouri. Their farm was some miles from the nearest town, and so for the two growing girls there hadn’t been much of what the Latter-day Saints called the “worldly influences.” That was one of the reasons Matthew had fallen in love with her so quickly. There was an innocence about her that was very precious to him.

He watched her now, admiring and loving her all over again. The freckles, once bright in childhood, had faded somewhat, but still provided a light sprinkling across her nose and upper cheeks. The tip of her nose turned up just slightly, as if she had bumped against something before the clay had set. All of that, combined with sky blue eyes and a smile that made him soften up like
butter on the fireplace hearth, made her seem almost childlike sometimes. Brigham’s skepticism about Bennett’s motives was clearly distressing to her.

Matthew decided to change the subject. “Nathan says Joseph is going to give Brother Bennett another chance and not bring him before the council.”

“That’s true,” Brigham agreed. He looked at Matthew thoughtfully. “He’s willing to see if this deep outward remorse is really proof of an inward change.” At Matthew’s frown, he went on quickly. “This is not to say that Joseph has turned a blind eye to the whole matter. He has instructed the Twelve to watch the situation very carefully. If we see any signs that there has not been true repentance, we are to let Joseph know immediately.”

“That’s good,” Matthew said. “I feel better about that.”

“Me too,” Jennifer Jo chimed in.

They were silent for a moment. Then Matthew gave Brigham a crooked grin. “So if you don’t mind my asking, is the reason you dropped by this morning to have breakfast or to encourage my wife’s continuing ill-treatment of me?”

“Ill-treatment in a pig’s eye,” Brigham snorted. “This girl is just wise enough to know that she’s got a real job on her hands here, getting you made into something valuable. The breakfast was an accident of timing, nothing more.” He slapped his stomach. “And a darn good one, I might add.”

He stood up, and the smile slowly faded. “No, actually I came by to tell you I’m not going to be in the shop today either, Matthew. Joseph wants us to spend the day with him.”

Matthew shrugged. “That’s fine.” Since their return from England, that was occurring with increasing frequency.

Brigham stood, walked to the door, and retrieved his hat. “If it doesn’t take all day, I’ll come over.” He opened the door and stepped outside.

The young couple followed him. “When it comes time to do those fireplace mantels though,” Matthew said, “I’m going to need you. That’s still a little beyond me.”

Brigham nodded absently, his mind already moving off to other things.

“Brother Joseph is spending a lot of time with the Twelve now, isn’t he?” Jennifer Jo asked. “That must be wonderful.”

Brigham turned, the surprise and then the pleasure showing in his eyes. “Yes,” he said softly, “he really is.”

He wasn’t the only one surprised. Matthew was looking at his wife with a bit of amazement. Brigham was gone a lot, but Matthew hadn’t really thought about what it meant for the Apostle.

“It is more than wonderful, Jennifer,” Brigham said. “It is incredible. Joseph is so different now. So . . . So . . .” He shook his head in frustration. “I don’t know how to describe it. So much broader. So much deeper. So much more—”

“So much more the Prophet?” Jennifer Jo guessed.

“Yes, exactly! It’s marvelous. Ever since we returned from England. He’s been opening the scriptures to us, teaching us the doctrines. He says that the time has come for the Twelve to take a larger role in the work of the kingdom.”

He was eyeing this young Irish girl with open respect now. Then he put his hat on and turned to Matthew. “This is a fine young woman you’ve found for yourself, Matthew Steed. You treat her right or I’ll be putting you through the lathe and trimming your head down to size.”

Matthew put his arm around Jennifer Jo and pulled her shoulder up against his own. “I know, Brigham. I know.”

By the middle of 1841, it was becoming increasingly common for the Saints to have two houses. Virtually everyone except the newest arrivals had a “first house.” Usually it was a log cabin or a small hut made of mud and sticks, or even a rough lean-to put up against the side of a barn or some other outbuilding. Here the family did everything—eat, sleep, cook, socialize. Often these “homes” had only one large room and no doors or windows. It was not uncommon even after two years of remarkable growth to see some of these first houses with quilts hung across the front door to provide some privacy and to keep out the Nauvoo flies, those ever-present mothlike insects that plagued the city in summertime. Often the chimneys were no more than holes cut in the ceiling or wall, with a funnel or piece of tin twisted round to fit the hole and vent off at least some of the smoke from the cooking fires.

But with hard work came prosperity, and after two years of diligence more and more families were building a second home, what was commonly called the “big house.” It was usually located beside or just behind the first house. This second home was normally made of brick and was two stories—thus its name. It would generally have a separate kitchen and eating area, a parlor or sitting room for company, and several bedrooms for the family.

The block on Granger Street between Ripley and Mulholland was rapidly coming to be known as “Steed Row.” This was where all the Steeds had built their homes. Along the west side of Granger, from north to south, there was Jessica’s combination house and school, then Benjamin and Mary Ann’s cabin, flanked on the south by Nathan and Lydia’s place. On the east side of the street, Derek and Rebecca (and Derek’s brother, Peter) lived across from Nathan; Joshua and Caroline lived directly east of Benjamin and Mary Ann; and Carl and Melissa lived across from Jessica. All of these were what were known as “first homes.”

While the Steeds had fared better than most with their first homes—largely thanks to Joshua’s generosity—they were still fairly modest dwellings, with the exception of Joshua and Caroline’s home. But by summer 1841, the Steeds were prospering also, and started to add their own big houses. Not surprisingly, Carl and Melissa were first. Using brick from his own kiln, Carl had built them a fine two-story Federal-style home with a large, airy kitchen and five upstairs bedrooms. That proved to be perfect timing for Matthew and Jennifer Jo, who immediately moved into their first house.

Now two additional big houses were under construction. With the store doing a steadily growing business, Lydia and Nathan were just digging the foundations for a new home behind their old one. And over Benjamin and Mary Ann’s consistent protests, Joshua had hired a crew to begin work on a big house for his parents. It was now up to the first five or six courses of brick—furnished at no cost from Carl’s kilns—and though it would be smaller than either Joshua’s or Nathan’s, it would be a wonderful improvement for the patriarch and matriarch of the Steed clan.

Peter Ingalls was thinking about all of that as he left his house and started toward the store. Steed Row was a wonderful place to live. The families were constantly associating with each other, and the children were more like brothers and sisters living in adjacent bedrooms than cousins living in adjacent homes. Peter had turned seventeen in May, and he realized that he would soon have to find somewhere to live other than with Rebecca and Derek. Little Christopher was two now, and soon, he suspected, there would be a second on the way. While they would never say anything to him about it, Peter knew full well what it would mean to them to have his bedroom. And so without their knowing it, he had already visited with Joshua about underwriting Peter’s efforts to finance the purchase of a lot just around the corner from Nathan and Lydia. Peter was working now. He had recently been hired as a typesetter at the
Times and Seasons
office. It would be a while before he could actually start construction, but now that he was salaried, he felt that he could negotiate something in good faith with Joshua.

As he passed Jessica’s house he turned his head. Kathryn McIntire, Jennifer Jo’s sister, was on the front porch, sweeping it with a straw broom. “Good morning, Kathryn,” he called out.

She turned, raising a hand to shade her eyes from the sun. When she saw who it was, she immediately straightened, one hand going up quickly to brush back an errant strand of hair. “Oh, good morning, Peter.”

He slowed his step and then stopped by the fence. “How are you this morning?”

“I . . . we’re just fine.”

“Getting ready to start school again?”

She smiled at that. “Yes. We start a week from Monday. Jessica has gone down to Warsaw with a couple of other people to see if they can find any arithmetic books.”

“And I heard that you will actually be helping her teach.”

“Yes.” She lowered her eyes, coloring slightly. “Will you be coming to school at all this year, Peter?”

He shook his head, feeling the disappointment in him. It had been he who had served as Jessica’s teaching assistant the previous school year. He would miss that more than he was willing to admit. “No,” he answered. “I’m working every day now.”

Kathryn nodded and Peter saw the disappointment in her eyes. He thought nothing of it, other than its being the reaction of a friend. “Well,” he said, lifting one hand, “I’d better be going or I’ll be late for work.”

Kathryn waved; then as he started north again, she called out to him. “You haven’t forgotten where the printing office is, have you?” she teased. The
Times and Seasons
was printed in the basement of a warehouse down on Water Street, near the Prophet’s home. That was the opposite direction from the way he was headed now.

“Oh,” Peter responded, “I’ve got to stop by the store. I’ve written a poem for Jenny.”

It was as though someone had blown out the candle in Kathryn’s eyes. Her face fell and her mouth pulled down. “Oh,” was all she said. Then she turned to her sweeping again, swinging around so her back was to him.

Barely aware of her reaction, and forgetting it almost as quickly as he noted it, Peter started off again, striding out with resoluteness. As he rounded the corner, Kathryn stopped her sweeping and turned to watch him disappear. “Yes, that’s right, Peter,” she muttered. “Hurry and go see your precious Jenny. Will is gone to St. Louis. Now’s your chance.”

Angry at him, angry at herself, Kathryn swung the broom at the last vestiges of the dust on the porch, then spun around and went back in the house, slamming the door behind her.

The Steed Family Dry Goods and General Store was a low structure, made of logs chinked heavily with mud and mortar. Though Caroline had funded the store with twenty thousand dollars she had received from the sale of her home in Savannah, Georgia, most of that went into the stocking of the store rather than the construction of it. It had proved to be a wise move, for their store had a much wider variety of goods than most of the other stores in the city. But there had been no money for a second story. Instead, there were storage rooms all along the back of the store, and thus the low squat profile of the building.

Peter jumped up lightly onto the porch that ran the full length of the storefront. There was a sign in the window that announced the store was still closed, but he tried the door anyway. Jenny was almost always here by eight o’clock, getting things in order for the nine o’clock opening time. The door was unlocked and he pushed it open quietly. For a moment, he couldn’t make out much in the dimmer light; then he saw Jenny over in the corner near the tools, straightening out items on the shelf. He pushed the door open wider and stepped inside.

Jenny heard the noise and turned, then smiled warmly. “Oh, hello, Peter.”

“Hello, Jenny.”

“You’re up and about bright and early.”

“I have to be at the print shop by half past.”

“Oh, yes. That’s right. You’re a working man now.”

“Yes.” He felt a quick warmth to know that she knew about his new position. “And you’re up early yourself,” he said, walking over to where she was.

“Actually I was a little late this morning. It’s a good thing Lydia and Caroline don’t know what a lazy girl I am.”

“One might call you a lot of things,” Peter said, “but lazy isn’t one of them.”

She laughed lightly, seeing that for what it was. Peter blushed, feeling like a tongue-tied dolt. He and Jenny had been childhood friends back in Preston. Back then they had been able to talk about anything. But he had come to America, and Jenny had turned from a spunky little girl into a lovely young woman.

She stopped what she was doing and turned to face him squarely. The morning light from the window lit her face, showing the wideness of her eyes, the firmness of her lips, and the golden sheen of her hair. There was an elfin look in her eyes. “And just what might some of those other things be?”

“What things?” he asked, having lost the thread of the conversation.

“Those other things that you might call me?”

But before he could answer there was a sound behind them. They both turned to see a tall young man coming out of one of the back rooms, staggering beneath the weight of a large wooden box. “Jenny, where do you want these shoes?”