Rebecca had turned nineteen on the second of March, which meant that Mary was almost twice as old as she. But in spite of the age difference, the two of them had developed a closeness just since meeting each other the day before. Mary was more verbal than her sister Mercy, sometimes to the point of being quite forceful if she felt something strongly. Both sisters had a quick sense of humor; but Mary’s was more subtle, and that made hers also the more delightful, because it had a way of sneaking around behind a person, then jumping out at them. Rebecca could tell right away that Mary was an intelligent and thoughtful woman and that she was filled with a deep commitment to the gospel. She and Rebecca became fast friends literally overnight.
About an hour before sundown on the twenty-sixth of May, 1837, Mary Fielding accompanied Rebecca Steed to the home of Joseph Smith, Sr., and Lucy Mack Smith, the Prophet’s parents. As they came up the walk, Mary was quiet and quite reserved, something unusual for her. As Rebecca lifted her hand to knock on the door, Mary reached out and caught her hand.
“I don’t have to do anything?” she asked.
Rebecca smiled. “Just bow your head and sit quietly while Father Smith gives you the blessing.”
Mary bit her lip. Her hair was dark brown and straight. She wore it back, parted down the center, and pulled into a twist fastened with a silver clasp at the crown of her head. On someone else it might have looked severe, but on Mary it heightened the fineness of her features and the liveliness that played in her brown eyes. She was slight of figure and looked quite a bit younger than her nearly thirty-six years. “What if I’m not worthy?” she asked.
Rebecca looked grave. “Then the Lord will warn Father Smith. He’ll stop right in the middle of the blessing and give you a listing of all your sins.”
Mary’s mouth dropped open. She looked horrified. “Really?” she breathed.
Rebecca couldn’t hold it in. A giggle came bubbling up inside her. “Of course not, silly. I’m just teasing you.”
Mary looked so relieved, Rebecca laughed all the more merrily. “You are worthy,” she chided her new friend from Canada. “Besides, a patriarchal blessing is to help you. It will give you guidance for your life.”
Rebecca knocked firmly on the door. “It’s a wonderful thing when you think about it,” she went on, as she stepped back to wait. “Imagine, our own personal counsel from the Lord. I can hardly wait to see what he has to say to each of us.” In her mind she was remembering the thrilling experience she had had a little over a year ago, when she had attended a meeting and heard the patriarchal blessings that Father Smith gave Lydia and several others. Because she had not felt quite ready, Rebecca had not received hers on that occasion. But now she was sure the time had arrived to have the Patriarch to the Church lay his hands on her head.
There were footsteps and then the door opened. Lucy Mack Smith, Joseph’s mother, was standing there in a dress and apron. She was barely four foot eleven, and had to squint up at them into the last rays of the setting sun.
“Hello, Mother Smith,” Rebecca said. “We’re here for the blessing meeting.”
“Oh, come in. Father Smith is waiting in the next room.”
* * *
“My dear sister, Rebecca Steed, in the name of Jesus Christ and by the power given to me as a patriarch in his church, I lay my hands on your head and give you this special blessing.”
Rebecca felt a great calm begin to settle inside her. She loved Father Smith’s voice. It was so deep and so resonant. And so dignified. He spoke very slowly so that the scribe could record the words with exactness. It was almost as if the Lord himself were speaking to her.
“You come through the lineage of Israel, even Jacob, the son of Isaac, who was the son of Abraham. You are of the tribe of Ephraim, which is of the house of Joseph. As a descendant of Abraham, you are entitled to all the privileges and blessings which were pronounced upon the heads of these great patriarchs of old. And just as Jacob gathered his sons and blessed them, so do I now bless you under the direction of the Lord.
“As a member of the house of Israel, you are privileged to come forth in the morning of the first resurrection. Be faithful and the time shall come that you shall be called up and crowned with glory and immortality and shall be privileged to live with your Savior and Master, Jesus Christ.
“You have been born of goodly parents, just as was Nephi of old. Stay close to them, follow their counsel, support them in their trials and they shall support you in yours.”
A great sense of affection swept through Rebecca as she thought of her mother and father. On more than one occasion in her daily prayers she had thanked God for the privilege of being born into her family. She also prayed for her father daily. She knew he was struggling, and it frightened her. With an effort, she forced her mind away from that and concentrated on Father Smith’s words.
“You have found the Church of Jesus Christ early in your life, and this is a blessing to you. Give of yourself to build up his kingdom on the earth and you shall lay up for yourself sheaves in heaven.”
He paused, and she could feel his hands shift slightly on her head. When he continued, his voice seemed to deepen even further. “The Lord is mindful of the sacrifice you have made in order to prepare yourself for marriage.”
Her eyes flew open in surprise. Many people knew that Arthur Wilkinson and she had broken off their relationship. But she had sworn her family to secrecy about her reasons for doing so. All she ever said was that it hadn’t worked out.
“You have made the right choice. Be not discouraged with the results. Be patient. Be trusting. In his own due time, the Lord shall reward you for your goodness. You will find a good man, a righteous elder, who will make you the queen of his home. When that time comes, and you must be patient until it comes, you shall know of a surety that the Lord has heard and answered your prayers, for he has heard the cries of your heart.”
Unbidden, tears had come to Rebecca’s eyes and were trickling down her cheeks. Off to her left, she heard someone sniffing.
Mary Fielding,
she thought. And that made her cry all the more, for Mary Fielding had no husband, and Mary Fielding was almost thirty-six, not nineteen.
“You shall have children, both boys and girls, and they shall become the jewels in your crown. They shall be a joy to you. I give you this blessing in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Rebecca stood slowly, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand. She turned to the white-haired man who had just removed his hands from her head. “Thank you, Father Smith,” she whispered.
He nodded, and took her hand in both of his. “That is a wonderful blessing, Sister Steed,” he said. “You must live for it so that every one of those promises becomes yours.”
“I will,” vowed Rebecca Steed. “I will.”
Chapter Twenty
I don’t like this, Father,” Nathan said gloomily as they approached the temple. “We shouldn’t be having a meeting without Joseph present.”
Benjamin gave his son a quick look, then looked away again. “I think they are having this meeting because Joseph
is
away.”
Nathan broke stride, looking at his father sharply. Benjamin saw the look of dismay but chose not to say anything.
“Is this another idea cooked up by Martin Harris and his little group?” Nathan did not try to disguise his contempt.
“Martin is not alone on this, Nathan, nor is he the leader.”
“Oh, I know,” Nathan shot back. “He’s got the likes of Warren Parrish goading him on.”
“
And
David Whitmer,” Benjamin said quietly. “Not to mention at least three members of the Quorum of the Twelve. Five, if you count Parley and Orson.”
“Parley is struggling right now,” Nathan said flatly, “but he’s not one of them.”
“That’s what you say. Others don’t believe it. And there is some question as to where Oliver Cowdery stands.”
Nathan started to retort, feeling his blood rising. But they were just coming up the walk to the great doors that were the east entrance to the temple. There were others there, some standing and talking, some just entering. Nathan took one last, whispered shot out of the corner of his mouth. “And where do you stand, Father?”
Benjamin didn’t answer. They were almost to the nearest group of brethren. They stopped and shook hands. They greeted several others, then started for the door. As they stepped forward, for a moment they were alone again. Nathan looked across at his father. “You can’t sit on the fence forever, Pa. Already there are people saying that your silence means that you are in agreement with them.”
“Come on,” Benjamin said, as though Nathan had not spoken. “Let’s get upstairs or we’re going to be late.”
* * *
“Joseph is not a bad man,” Warren Parrish said, his voice nearly oozing with charm. “No one is saying that. He has meant well, and he has tried hard.” Suddenly his voice shot up in both volume and pitch. “But I say he has lost the prophetic gift.” His fist crashed down on the pulpit, startling one of the older men near the back of the room who had started to doze. “He is a fallen prophet, and what has happened to the Kirtland Safety Society is proof of that.”
“Hear, hear!” someone cried from the back.
Brigham Young was the senior Apostle present and felt compelled to speak. He swung around in his seat, his brows pulled down in a deep furrow, his eyes spitting fire. “We’ll have order in this meeting, brethren, or we’ll immediately dismiss and continue it at another time.”
Parrish pounced on that. “Oh, no, Brigham. Now is the time for action. We have already let this drag on, and look where it has gotten us. Only deeper and deeper into trouble.”
John Taylor raised his hand, but Parrish shot him a withering look. “I have the floor at present, Mr. Taylor.” Without waiting for a response, he swung back to the assembly of priesthood leaders. “We have several members of the Twelve present. We have both counselors in the First Presidency. We have leaders from the various priesthood quorums. I say we have sufficient leadership present here now to make a decision.”
He stopped, his chest rising and falling. His eyes narrowed into two dark points of glittering triumph. “I hereby propose that this body act to solve the problem once and for all. I propose that Joseph Smith be removed from his office as prophet, seer, and revelator to the Church, and that our good brother David Whitmer be sustained to take his place.”
The room broke out in instant pandemonium, but John Boynton, one of the Twelve, shot to his feet. “Second the motion!” he shouted into the noise.
“Strike the motion!” “Second the motion!” “Vote! Vote!” The cries rang out like shots from a volley of muskets.
Nathan looked around the room in horror. He had expected the opposition to bring forth their usual charges against Joseph—but remove him from office? He was stunned. He looked at his father. Benjamin returned the look, his face grim. He just shook his head.
Brigham Young was on his feet now too. He stepped to the podium, elbowing Parrish aside. He turned and faced the group, staring down at them with such fierceness that gradually the bedlam subsided a little. But there were still angry mutterings, and several individuals were in heated conversation.
“Brethren,” he thundered, “we shall have order, or we shall clear this room.”
As Brigham waited for silence, Nathan suddenly remembered something he had heard Joseph say some years before. There had been a meeting with some of the brethren. Brigham was asked to give the prayer, and when he did so he spoke in tongues. After the meeting, Joseph had said to some of those close by, “Someday, Brother Brigham will lead this church.” It was clear now how that could be possible, for he stood like a lion, his eyes sweeping the room and daring anyone to resist further.
Finally, even the last undertones of whispering and muttering stopped. “Brethren.” His voice had dropped again, and the contrast was such that several leaned forward to hear him more clearly. “I find it no accident that this meeting has been called while Brother Joseph is away. I wonder why it is that we do not have the courage to do this when Joseph is present.”
Several heads ducked, or eyes turned away. “This is a crisis, brethren,” Brigham went on. “This is a time when earth and hell are in league together to overthrow the Prophet and the Church of God.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Nathan saw a man two rows behind him stir. He half turned. It was Jacob Bump, a small but wiry man who had been a boxer some years before. He was known for having a fiery temper and for being one of those most virulent in his attacks against Joseph.
Brigham ignored him. He had a fire of his own inside him at the moment, and he wasn’t about to let someone make him hold it in. “It is obvious that the knees of many, even some of the strongest in the Church, have faltered.”
His eyes raked those along the front two rows. There were nearly twenty of the opposition seated together. Among them were David Whitmer and Martin Harris. Next to these two sat the Pratt brothers, Orson and Parley (it had pained Nathan greatly to see the two brothers sitting with the dissidents). On the row behind them were Luke and Lyman Johnson, John Boynton, and William Smith. To the sorrow of the Smith family, Joseph’s younger brother William, always headstrong and arrogant, had become sympathetic to the opposition, who, of course, milked that with great effect, for William was also a member of the Quorum of the Twelve. Between them, they represented a substantial portion of the leadership in Kirtland. But if Brigham was intimidated by either their numbers or their callings, it did not show.
There was a strong core of support for Joseph as well. Sidney Rigdon, First Counselor in the First Presidency, sat alongside Heber C. Kimball. And there were others who, though not in the Quorum of the Twelve, were part of the growing leadership in the Church. There was Wilford Woodruff, fearless and solid; Brigham’s cousin Willard Richards; John Taylor and Joseph Fielding from Canada; Newel K. Whitney, the bishop of Kirtland; Lorenzo Snow, brother to Eliza Snow; John Smith, the Prophet’s uncle; and others. While it was true that Brigham had formidable opposition to deal with, he also had a group of stalwarts behind him.