The Work and the Glory (597 page)

She rolled over onto her back, putting her arm across her eyes to help staunch the tears. Her other hand stole down to rest on her stomach. Gradually her body calmed and the shudders became mere tremors and then finally ceased altogether. She sighed, feeling the weariness now—they had barely slept three or four hours. She turned onto her side, trying to get more comfortable. As her hand fell across Peter’s pillow, she felt something there. Surprised, she groped a little, then picked it up. It was an envelope. Instantly she knew what it was. The tears came forth again, but this time they were accompanied by a quiet smile.

Through the canvas she could discern the first light from the eastern sky. It would be full light in half an hour, but she couldn’t wait for that. She went up on hands and knees and crawled to her trunk. In a moment she found a match and struck it on the side of the chest. In the flare of light she saw the candle and lit it. Moving closer to the candle, she opened the envelope and leaned toward the light. Her hands trembled slightly as she unfolded the single sheet. For a moment, tears blurred her vision as she recognized his neat and boldly dramatic scrawl. She blinked them back and began to read.

Separations

In the great, all-seeing providence of God,

Some things are made undivided

And indivisible—

The silver in the moonlight;

The heat within the fire;

The fruit within an apple’s seed;

Laughter in a child’s eyes.

Not the wisest of the wise,

Or the strongest of the strong,

Or the keenest of the keen,

Can separate what’s made divinely one.

Long years ago, at Eden’s wondrous gate,

Our God took two

And—miracle divine!—he made them one:

One in heart and mind and hand;

One in work and joy and pain;

One in spirit, life, and love.

In modern day,

The miracle has struck again.

Two hearts—

One from Ireland’s emerald shores,

And one from England’s teeming streets—

Became as one:

One in heart and mind and hand;

One in work and joy and pain;

One in spirit, life, and love.

No endless trail,

No boundless sky,

No dreary length of lonely days,

Can separate what’s made divinely one.

My dearest Kathryn,

  As you read these lines, I am riding ever-farther west. Do not think of this as taking me farther and farther from your side. Think of it as one great circle which brings me back to you. We are separated only by the miles. Every step I take shortens the distance and the time before we are rejoined. With that thought, I fly as if on the wings of lightning.

  All my love,

  Peter

Rebecca walked quietly beside her husband, content for the moment to leave him alone in his thoughts. She had a pretty good idea of what they were. This certainly would not be their first conversation on the matter. She also knew only too well how deeply stubborn Derek Ingalls could be when he set his mind to something. That was not all bad. He had shoveled coal in the boilers of the great cotton mills of Preston, England, in order to keep himself and Peter alive. That took some degree of iron will. She smiled inwardly. But the Steeds had some renown in the field of strong wills too. Since their last conversation she had begun to marshal her forces.

The Steed clan had not ferried over the Missouri River yet, but they were to do so in the next few days, and so they had moved their camp on Mosquito Creek down here to the river bottoms. Now she and Derek walked slowly along the riverbank about a quarter of a mile away from their wagons. When she had asked him if they could talk, his jaw had instantly set—he knew full well what the subject would be—but he nodded. Now they were here.

He nodded toward a dead log that had fallen near the water’s edge. “Let’s sit.”

“All right.” They moved over to it. He brushed it off and they sat down. For several moments, he stared at the muddy water. She waited. Her preparation had left her feeling really quite serene, and that pleased her.

“Look, Rebecca,” he began, “I fully understand why you want to go on this march, and in some ways it would be wonderful, but . . .” He blew out his breath. “It’s just not the wise thing to do.”

“Why not?” she asked innocently.

“You know why not. We have three children. Leah’s barely a year old.”

She laughed softly. He had tried that one before on her. “She’s sixteen months old, Derek, remember.”

“Yes, like I said, barely a year. How can you think of taking her on a march of a thousand miles or more?”

She smiled sweetly. “I think we should have asked that question before we left Nauvoo.”

“You know what I mean. I mean on a march with an army, going to war.”

“Derek, this is not some idea that I cooked up on my own. It was the United States Army that said that each company could have four laundresses. Would they do that if they thought women were not capable of going along?”

“Single women, yes. I mean, not single but women without children.” He was clearly exasperated by her calm reasoning, and his temper was rising a little. “Look at Melissa Burton and William Coray. They were just married a couple of weeks ago. This will be like a honeymoon to them. They don’t have to worry about children.”

“And what if she gets in a family way during the next year? Will the army send her home?”

“Of course not, but if she were that way now, I’ll bet the army would say no.”

“I think you make an excellent point,” she said, nodding. “About newlyweds, I mean.”

He gave her a suspicious look. “You do?”

“Yes. In fact, I just heard about another set of newlyweds who will be going too.”

“Who is that?”

“Brother James Brown is going to marry Sister Mary McCree Black.”

One eyebrow lifted slowly. “Do we know them?”

“I do. They plan to marry on the sixteenth, the day of mustering. Brother Brown has gotten permission to take his new bride along too.”

“Well, that just goes to prove my point.”

“
And,
” she added innocently, “their two children. You see, Sister Black is a widow and Brother Brown is a widower, and they each have a child from their first marriages.”

He grunted, irritated at himself for not seeing the trap. “So, two children. Are they older?”

“I don’t know. But I did just happen to stop by the officer’s tent yesterday afternoon and make a few inquiries.”

“You what?” he exclaimed.

“The army officers that Captain Allen left here to help recruit, I asked them a few questions about the laundresses.” Removing a slip of paper from the pocket of her dress, she rushed on before his fuming could be expressed in words. “Here is what I learned. Brother and Sister James Brown—this is James P. Brown, not the one marrying Mary Black—will be taking their
four
children. A Brother and Sister Button will be taking
four
children. You know Nelson Higgins. He and Sarah will be taking six children.
Six,
Derek!”

His mouth opened, then shut again. She went on, pretending not to notice. “So as not to flog a dead horse overly much, I’ll just note that Brother and Sister Jefferson Hunt will be taking
seven
children, including two young twins, as will a family by the name of Shelton.
Seven,
Derek. That is more than twice the number of children that we have. In fact, with only three children, we shall be among the minority.”

He scowled at her, and yet she was pleased to see that he was impressed. “And I specifically asked the lieutenant,” she went on more gently now, “if my having three children gives the United States Army or any of its officers great concern. Even when I told him their ages, he assured me that it does not.”

She folded the paper and returned it to her pocket, then crossed her hands and placed them in her lap.

He was eyeing a large mass of floating weeds going by in the current. He spoke without looking up. “Seven? You’re not just fooling with me about that, Becca?”

“No, Derek. Right now there are two families who will have seven children with them on the march.” Now she turned toward him. “I know that it’s not going to be easy, Derek, but neither will staying here. You’ve heard how worried the leaders are about finding food and shelter for everyone. If we can get to Upper California with the army, that’s five mouths our family doesn’t have to worry about. That frees up a whole wagon for the others next spring. Think about that.”

“I have,” he sighed. “It’s just that . . .” He shook his head. “You know I don’t want to leave you, Becca. You do know that, don’t you?”

“Of course.” She took his hand. “And we don’t want to have you leave us, either.”

“I know. I just worry so about you.”

“If we were staying in our home in Nauvoo while you go, it would be a different matter, Derek. But we’re not. We’re out here in the middle of nowhere. We don’t have homes or enough food. We won’t have until we reach the Rocky Mountains. So if we have to go anyway, I would rather it was with you.”

He nodded somberly, but said nothing. For several minutes they sat together quietly, lost in their own thoughts. Finally he looked up. “They say President Young and the others are supposed to be back here tomorrow or the next day.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “What if we asked him what he thinks?”

She felt her heart leap. “I think that is a good idea, Derek.”

“If he says no, will you accept that?”

“Of course.” She held her breath for a moment. “And if he says yes, will you accept
that?
”

There was no hesitation. “Yes, I will.”

She threw her arms around him. “Thank you, Derek. That’s all I ask. We’ll let President Young decide.”

Mary Ann Steed was cutting potatoes into thin slices and dropping them into the gurgling stew pot that hung over the fire. Lydia was dicing carrots by her side. Joshua and Nathan had managed to acquire some fresh vegetables at the trading post downriver, and tonight they were going to have a treat. Both stopped what they were doing to watch as Derek and Rebecca appeared from some trees and walked toward them.

“Well?” Lydia asked her mother-in-law, who was now more a mother to her almost than her own mother had been. “Did she convince him?”

Mary Ann nodded slowly and sadly. “Yes.”

Lydia peered more closely to see what Mary Ann was seeing. “How can you tell?”

“Because it’s right. The moment she first brought up the idea, I felt it was right.” She sighed. “That doesn’t make it any less frightening, and that’s what Derek is struggling with. But it’s right. Don’t you feel it?”

Lydia started a little, then went back to work. “I suppose.”

Mary Ann gave her a sharp look, but said nothing, and she too resumed her cutting. She knew that at that moment Lydia was not thinking of Derek and Rebecca at all. She was thinking of young Josh. His desire to volunteer for the Mormon Battalion would not be squelched, and it had become a source of major contention between mother and son—the first real problem that Lydia had ever had with him. So what if he was not yet sixteen? he countered every time she and Nathan fell back on that, their strongest argument. He had heard that they were taking a few men who were not eighteen yet for orderlies or to help care for the stock.

Derek let go of Rebecca’s hand and went to get something from one of the wagons. Rebecca came straight to her mother and sister-in-law. She had kept her face without much expression until Derek turned away. Now it broke out in a huge smile.

“It worked,” Mary Ann laughed.

“Yes!” She pulled the paper from her pocket and waved it triumphantly at them. “It was just what he needed. He’s agreed that if Brother Brigham gives us his blessing, I can go.”

“That’s wonderful, Rebecca,” Lydia said slowly. Her words and her expression were in direct contradiction to each other.

Rebecca slowly put the paper away and came to stand between them. “I know,” she said softly. “Now the reality of leaving sets in.” Her voice caught for a moment. “I can’t bear to think about that.”

“But you’ll be with Derek,” Mary Ann responded. “That will make it easier.”

“Oh, yes.” She looked sideways at Lydia. “If it were Nathan, wouldn’t you do it?”

Lydia did not hesitate. “Of course. I would rather face whatever that march will mean with him than to be without him.”

“That’s what I told Derek. It’s not that I want some great adventure. I just want our family to be together.”

Mary Ann dropped the last of the potatoes in the pot and wiped her hands on her apron. She turned and gave Rebecca a quick hug, watching Lydia as she did so. “There are many roads to Zion,” she said. “And for some reason, the Lord seems to think our family should take more than one.” She stepped back and forced a smile. “But let’s not forget that they all lead to the same place. That’s all that matters. Someday, we’ll all be together again.”

Chapter Notes

The story of the group that came to be known as the “Mississippi Saints” is a little-known part of the great westward migrations of the Mormons. As Brigham Young’s plans for going west had to be adjusted, what seemed to be a setback for the Mississippi Saints, who were out ahead of Brigham’s group hoping to meet them on the trail, would prove to be one more evidence of the Lord’s over-watching eye. (See “Pioneer Journeys,” pp. 802–10; “Mississippi Saints Headed West in 1846,”
Church News,
13 July 1996, p. 4; Andrew Jenson,
Latter-day Saint Biographical Encyclopedia,
4 vols. [1901–36; reprint, Salt Lake City: Western Epics, 1971], 1:511–12.)