The Work and the Glory (592 page)

When he didn’t go on, Nathan finally couldn’t stand it. “Yes, President?”

He let out his breath in a long sigh of weariness and frustration. “The coming of the army changes everything, Nathan. Everything.”

Nathan waited as the Apostle sorted through what he wanted to say. “We are losing five hundred men, the very ones we would send with a vanguard company. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a good thing. There’s no question but what the hand of the Lord is in it.”

“Yes, sir. I can see that.”

Brigham looked up. “Did you pass the ferry this morning?”

“Yes, I did. It seems to be operating very well.”

“It is and I’m pleased. But it is so slow, Nathan. It’s maddening. It takes almost half an hour to get two wagons across and the ferry back for its next load.”

“I can believe that.”

“Half an hour! That means no more than four wagons per hour. Our best estimates are that we have about two thousand wagons either here or somewhere on the trail behind us.”

Nathan gave a low whistle.
Two thousand!

“Even if we run the ferry day and night, that’s less than fifty wagons a day. It’s going to take us well into August just to get them across the river. Then we have the problem of getting hay for our stock, finding places where we can build whole communities for our people. You think about that for a minute. Twelve to fifteen thousand people and we have to find shelter and food for all of them through the winter.”

He rubbed his eyes, shutting out momentarily the images which seemed to swim before them. “There’s no way we can send a large company to the Rockies this season, Nathan. That’s clear now. No way at all.”

Nathan nodded slowly, not really surprised.

“So that changes everything. We have to be prepared to leave first thing in the spring. It was the interminable time it took us to get across Iowa that has put us in this position. Had we gotten here in April, or even May, we could have pushed on. But now it is too late.”

“I think it’s wise not to extend beyond our abilities,” Nathan said, still not sure why the President was telling him all of this.

“Well, that brings us back to you and your family and what we need you to do.”

“We stand ready to do whatever you ask of us, Brother Brigham.”

“I know you do,” he said heartily. “In that way you’re just like your father. Benjamin was one of those rocks the Twelve could always depend on. And that’s why I’ve been thinking a lot about it. We do need volunteers for the battalion, but we also have to think about here and now.” He paused for a moment. “And next spring. It’s not too early to begin making our plans for that now.” He looked up. “I’d like to give you some counsel, Nathan.”

“Yes, sir. I’m listening.”

“Mind you, it’s only counsel. You are free to do what you feel is best.”

“I understand, President.”

“After thinking carefully about it, and talking with Heber, I have this recommendation. I would like to ask that you and Joshua and Matthew withdraw your names from the army list.”

“All right,” Nathan said slowly, completely caught off guard.

“We need all of you to help here.”

“Fine.” He was thinking swiftly, trying to consider what that would mean. Lydia would be ecstatic. His mother—

“I want you and Matthew to go with the vanguard company that will leave first thing in the spring, but I want Joshua to stay here.”

Nathan couldn’t help it. His eyebrows shot up.

“With his teamster and freighting experience, Joshua will be important in bringing the main company across the plains next summer.”

“He will be disappointed in that,” Nathan said hesitantly. “He doesn’t want to leave his family, but he saw this call to the army as a way to prove to the Lord that he is willing to do whatever he is asked.”

Brigham smiled. “Bless him for that, but tell him
this
is what the Lord wants him to do.”

“I will. What about the others?”

Brigham’s shoulders lifted and fell. “I hate to say this, but I think your family needs to contribute someone to the army. A lot of people look up to the Steeds as an example.”

“So Solomon and Derek?”

“No, just Derek. If both could go, that would be wonderful, but we need men to bring along the rest of the families, both those of the battalion and those of the lead company. If Solomon goes, that would leave only Joshua and the boys to bring your family on to the Rocky Mountains.”

Brigham stood now and came over and laid a hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know that your family had this all worked out.”

“We’re here to do what you think is best, President.”

“I know,” he said softly, “and the Lord bless you for that.”

“You’re disappointed, aren’t you?” Caroline tried to keep the note of accusation out of her voice, but it still crept in enough to be noticeable.

“This has nothing to do with the family, Caroline. You know that.”

“I would think you’d be elated that you don’t have to leave us. I am.”

“You think I want to leave you?” Joshua exclaimed. “Do you think that’s why I decided to volunteer for the army?”

“No.” She reached out in the darkness and found his hand. “I know better than that. But if President Young wants you to stay, can’t you be happy about that?”

“He doesn’t have confidence in me. Not that I blame him. After all, I’ve only been a member for less than a month.”

Now she understood and she was incredulous. “Joshua, that’s not why he asked you to stay.”

“Isn’t it? And he’s right. Who knows if six months from now I’ll still be willing to be a Mormon?”

“
I
know,” she said quietly.

He went right on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Maybe I’d get out there on the road to California and say, ‘This isn’t worth it. I’m going home.’ ”

“Do you really think that’s a possibility?”

He grunted, whatever that meant.

But she wouldn’t let him get away with it. “
Do you?
Do you have questions about whether or not you believe?”

“I have a million questions.”

“I’m not talking about questions involving
what
you believe, Joshua. I’m talking about questions concerning
if
you believe.”

There was a long silence, then a quiet but firm, “No. I don’t have those kinds of questions.”

“You heard what Nathan said. The President needs you here and for next summer. It’s as important to the overall work as going with the army. Can’t you just accept that?”

“I’d like to, but I still wonder.”

“Not all soldiers go to the battlefront, Joshua.”

There was silence for a time, then a soft chuckle. “How long do you think it will be before I learn not to try to argue with you?”

“Did I just hear a, ‘Yes, Caroline, you are right, as usual’?”

He laughed aloud. “Yes, Caroline, you are right.”

She poked him.

“As usual.”

To his surprise she didn’t laugh back at him. “Joshua, who is more important? the man with a sword in his hand, or the man who brings him food so he can continue to fight? the man who fires the cannon, or the man who brings him powder and cannonballs?”

He was silent for several seconds. Then she felt him relax a little in the darkness. “You think that’s why Brigham wants me here? to carry powder and ball?”

“No. Powder and ball carriers have to go to the front lines. I think Brother Brigham needs somebody to cook for the troops.”

Now the silence stretched long. She finally squeezed his hand. “There’s not much glory in the cook tent, is there?”

He turned to her. “Do you think that’s what is bothering me, Caroline? glory?”

“No, of course not. I think what is bothering you is that you think your Commander in Chief—and I’m talking about someone in addition to President Young—doesn’t think you are worthy to carry His banner.”

“And you think I am?”

“Yes, but more important, I think
He
thinks you are.”

“I am going with you.”

Derek stopped in the middle of removing his trousers, one leg poised in the air. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m going to volunteer as a laundress, Derek.”

His foot clunked to the ground. “No, Rebecca. Don’t even think about it. I thought the whole idea was crazy when Jenny brought it up.”

“If Matthew were going, I’d tell him to let Jenny go too, Derek. Think about it. It would be five less people for the family here to worry about. Our family is small enough that we can travel easily. Christopher is seven now. Little Benjamin just turned four.”

“And Leah is just barely a year.”

“She’s almost sixteen months now, Derek. And she’s such a good baby. She’s handled this last three months without any problems. She hasn’t even been sick once.”

He blew out the lamp, then climbed into the bedroll beside her. “No, Rebecca,” he said when he got settled. “It’s too hard. It’s too dangerous for a woman.”

She leaned up and kissed him gently in the darkness. “We shall see,” she said sweetly.

In Nathan and Lydia’s tent, the two of them lay quietly. Lydia knew that Nathan was harboring some feelings of guilt that he would be allowed to stay with his family, while Derek was asked to leave. She also knew that having the call come directly and pointedly from Brother Brigham helped mitigate those feelings immensely. As for her, she was so filled with relief that it was hard to stop from being euphoric around Rebecca.

“Pa?”

Nathan turned his head. The tent was too dark for him to see the blanket that hung from a rope and separated their sleeping quarters from that of the children. “Yes, Josh?” he whispered.

“Is it settled, then?” he asked in a low voice. “You won’t be going?”

“No, son. If President Young wants me to stay, then I’ll stay.”

Lydia smiled, guessing how all this talk of a vanguard company and volunteers for the army must have affected the children. If she was relieved, so must they be as well.

“I’m glad for Mama, Pa.”

“I’m glad for all of us,” Lydia said.

She heard Josh stir in his blankets and thought he was settling back down again. But when he spoke, it brought her up with a start.

“Pa, I want to volunteer.”

“What?” they burst out together.

“I want to volunteer in your place, Pa. I want to go with Uncle Derek.”

Lydia was up on one elbow, shaking her head fiercely at Nathan. It was too dark to see, so she grabbed his hand and placed it against her cheek, then shook her head vigorously again.

“You have to be sixteen, son,” Nathan said, still a little dazed from what he had heard.

“Pa, I’ll be sixteen in a little while, before the expedition ends.”

“No, Josh!” Lydia said firmly. “I won’t hear of it. You’re not old enough.”

“Pa?” It was plaintive and soft.

“Your mother’s right, son. But thank you for even thinking about it.”

This time they heard him lie back, and finally they did the same. No one said anything more, and in about five minutes Lydia listened to Nathan slip off to sleep. But she did not. For a long, long time, Lydia Steed lay awake in the darkness, staring up at the top of the tent, trying to push away the horrible feeling that had come over her.

Peter rolled over, kicking aside the light sheet. Through the tent’s canvas he could already feel the warmth from the first rays of the morning sun that painted their tent now. He stretched, yawned, then lifted his head enough to look at his wife.

He shook his head. Her breathing was steady and deep, and there was no question but what she was in a very different world than he was. Her hair was splayed out on the pillow, as though she had deliberately arranged it that way to make herself look particularly alluring. For a moment, as he looked at her, he was tempted to reach across and kiss her, but then he gave in to his nobler self, which prodded him to let her sleep.

He yawned again, listening for any sounds outside the tent. After a moment, he heard the stamp of a horse’s hoof, and then one low bellow from an ox that sounded farther away, but no human sounds as yet. Everyone was taking this rare opportunity to sleep in beyond sunrise. Last night the decision had been made to lay over here for the holiday. In the five days since they had left Fort Laramie, the temperature had turned hot, usually tipping beyond the one-hundred-degree mark each day. With that and the increased roughness of the road, they had averaged only fourteen or fifteen miles each day. The teams were in serious need of a rest.

Without being conscious of it, Peter’s face pulled into a deep frown. Five days out from Fort Laramie and they were barely seventy-five miles farther west. They were in what was known as the Black Hills now. The North Platte River had turned to the northwest—occasionally almost due north—to skirt around the range that paralleled it on the south. The mountains were beautiful—the highest were still crowned with snow—but left many in the company filled with a quiet foreboding. Was this the kind of country that lay ahead of them?

He leaned forward, arms on his knees. Today was the Fourth of July. That was the main reason for their decision to lay over. The previous evening they had caught up with the pack train of William Bryant and Colonel Russell again and by mutual agreement decided they would celebrate Independence Day together before moving on. It was also important that they recruit their teams.

Peter did some mental figuring. They were still about twelve hundred miles from California. At fifteen miles per day—he shook his head. You couldn’t travel every day. Both people and animals had to rest. Figure sixty miles per week, he decided. He drew with his finger, using his palm as a writing tablet to do the arithmetic. He shook his head, not believing his answer, then figured again. Now his mouth turned down distinctly. Twelve hundred miles at sixty miles a week was twenty weeks, or about five months. No cause for worry, he thought bitterly. That would only put them in the Sierra Nevada sometime in mid-December.

“My goodness, what is wrong, Peter?”

He turned, surprised to see Kathryn watching him. She hadn’t stirred, but she was wide awake and looking at him curiously.

“The furrows in your forehead are deep enough to plant corn in. What is wrong?”