With no lamp on in the house, the man at the door was backlit by the moonlight, and his face was in deep shadow. “Yes?” Joshua growled.
“Hello, Joshua.”
It was like that split second in time when the trigger pin is kicked out of a trap and you know with terrible clarity, even before the steel jaws slam shut, what you have done. The knowledge is almost more horrible than the actual physical pain that comes an instant afterwards. Joshua fell back, his jaw slack, his eyes gaping wide. He felt as if he were strangulating. “Nathan?” he cried in a hoarse whisper.
“Yes, Joshua. It’s me. May I come in?”
* * *
As the lamplight filled the room with a soft glow, Joshua blew out the match. He saw that his fingers were trembling slightly, and he dropped the match quickly, as though it had burned him. He stood there, looking down. He didn’t want to turn. He didn’t want to see that face in the light. It had haunted him, dogged his worst nightmares for four years. Now it was as though the reality would be even more terrifying than the chimera of his dreams. He laid his hands on the table and leaned forward, staring down at them, willing them to be steady. “Why did you come here?”
Joshua had not invited Nathan to sit down, and so he still stood in the center of the room. Nathan lifted his hands and stared at them, as though he might find the answer written on them. “That’s what Lydia asked me, too. And Pa. They both think I’m insane.”
Joshua whirled on him. “You
are
insane!” he exploded. “Do you think they won’t remember who you are? This time they’ll dump you in the cemetery instead of on a doorstep.”
Nathan smiled wanly for a moment. “I don’t exactly plan to parade myself through downtown Independence.”
“I don’t want you here. Please go.”
It was as though he hadn’t spoken. In fact, Nathan didn’t react at all, just simply continued to watch his brother with a steady gaze. And then suddenly Joshua understood. His eyes narrowed and filled with fire. “This was Caroline’s idea, wasn’t it?”
That broke through. “What?” Nathan exclaimed.
“She put you up to this, didn’t she?” His breath exploded in a burst of disgust. “What’d you do, agree to meet in Liberty?” The pieces were dropping into place like stones in a rock wall. “That’s why she went to the hotel last night. She needed to get an early start to meet you.”
Nathan just stared at him. When Joshua finally stopped for breath, Nathan shook his head. “I haven’t seen Caroline since she came to our house last week.”
Joshua’s lips pulled back in a snarl. “Liar!” he shouted. “If you came down from the north, you would have passed her, seen her along the way.”
“As you may remember,” Nathan said evenly, “I wasn’t received too warmly the last time I came to Independence. So this time I stayed off the main roads. I avoided everyone I saw coming.” He let his breath out wearily. “I did not see Caroline. I have not seen Caroline. I assumed she would be here too.”
The rage went into an icy calm. “I don’t believe you.”
Nathan shook his head, a sadness pulling at his mouth. “I know. Because that’s easier than believing she left because of you.” His eyes raised a fraction. “Just as it was with Jessica.”
“You son-of—” Joshua leaped forward, one arm cocking back, his fist doubled.
Nathan didn’t flinch, did not so much as even blink. He just stood his ground, awaiting the blow. Joshua started the swing, but at the sight of those eyes, watching him without fear or anger, he pulled up. His chest was heaving, his whole body trembling. For several moments—moments that seemed like full minutes—they stood there, eye to eye, rage and calm locked together in a contest of wills. And then Joshua spun away. His hands dropped to his sides, the fists came unclenched. “Get out of my house,” he said. He walked across the room to the window. “Just get out of my house.”
Joshua felt sick inside. Empty. As hollow as a cooper’s new barrel. Without thinking, he raised his hands and began to massage his temples with his fingertips. He realized there had been no sound behind him. No footsteps across the floor, no opening of the door. He lowered his hands again. “Please go, Nathan,” he said quietly. “I know what you’re trying to do, but it’s no good. Tell the family to forget it. There’s too much trail behind the wagon now.”
“Yes, there is. I should have come years ago. Before it went this far. But now it’s time to settle it.”
Joshua swung around. “Why won’t you go?” he cried. “Don’t you see, it’s no . . .” His words died in his throat. Nathan was unbuttoning his shirt in slow, deliberate motions. Joshua’s eyes locked on Nathan’s fingers, appalled at the sight of what they were doing. “No, Nathan,” he exclaimed, falling back a step. “Please!” He wanted to hurl something at Nathan, stop that dreaded, inexorable movement. Something shouted at Joshua from the dark recesses of his mind to throw his hands in front of his eyes, to turn and bolt out of the room. But instead he stood transfixed. Nathan’s fingers moved in slow motion, like in a dream. And then, eyes wide with horror, Joshua watched as Nathan shucked the shirt from off his shoulders and pulled it down around his belt, baring himself to the waist.
Nathan stood for a moment, watching Joshua steadily, then turned so that his back was to him. In the soft glow of the lamplight the marks of the bullwhip were soft tracings against the smooth flesh, as if a child had tamped down a patch of dirt with his foot and then scratched out a random pattern of lines back and forth across it. It made Joshua gasp inwardly. Now the nightmare had become reality. He looked away quickly as Nathan turned back, pulled up his shirt, and started to button it again. “Nathan,” Joshua whispered, “I—”
Nathan cut in quickly, “They’re healed now.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Joshua,” Nathan said more sharply. “Did you hear me? I said the scars are healed. They’re getting less noticeable every year. That’s why I came. I wanted you to see that they’re healed.” He took a deep breath, his eyes suddenly filling with sorrow. “But there are stripes inside you and inside me that are as raw and bloody as the night this happened. It’s time to heal those too.”
Joshua turned and sat down heavily in a chair. He dropped his head in his hands. “Some things are done. You can’t change the past—not what’s been said, not what’s been done.”
Nathan finished the buttons and tucked his shirt back into his belt. He walked to the corner of the room and picked up a spindle chair that sat in front of Joshua’s desk. He brought it over in front of Joshua and set it down. He stood for a moment, looking down at the top of his brother’s head, then he sat down facing him. “I want you to listen to me, Joshua. Just listen till I’m done. Then I’ll go.”
Joshua didn’t look up, but neither did he protest. Nathan nodded slowly, then took a breath. He held it for a long moment, then it came out in a soft laugh filled with self-mockery. “Want to know the irony of this whole thing? I’ve been beating myself with the memory of that night for the last four years, just like you have.”
Joshua lowered his hands and lifted his head, his eyes questioning.
“That’s right, Joshua. All this time I’ve been kicking myself for being such a fool. I don’t blame you. I blame myself.”
“But it was—”
“No,” Nathan went on swiftly, “let me finish. I came to Jackson County that night because I wanted to make peace with you. I was so filled with determination. We were going to bury this ugly thing that lay between us once and for all. Be brothers again. But what did I do instead? I lost my temper. I lashed out at you, goaded you into a fury. Your friends weren’t the only ones with a whip that night, Joshua. I laid my words across your back as surely as they took the whip to mine.” A weariness filled his voice now. “I wrote you twice. Tried to tell you that I was going through hell. Tried to beg your forgiveness.”
“I tore them up,” Joshua murmured.
“I figured as much. Then we were told you had moved to Georgia. I thought I had lost the chance forever, that I’d never get a chance to tell you how terribly, terribly sorry I was.” He sat back, his eyes looking at the wall behind and above Joshua’s head. “And then Caroline came that night. We couldn’t believe it. It was like an answer to prayers.” He shook his head quickly. “It
was
an answer to prayers. I have begged God to let me find you again so we could make this right.”
Joshua’s eyes were wide with wonder and disbelief.
“I was so excited to tell Mother and Father. I wanted to tell Matthew it was you he saw on the road that day. I wanted the whole family to meet Caroline and the children. I wanted Pa to listen to her talk about you, to listen to her tell how you’ve changed.” His eyes bored into Joshua’s. “I wanted them to see the love this woman carries in her eyes for their son.”
There was a long pause, and only the quiet chirping of crickets outside the window broke the silence. Then finally Nathan continued. “But Caroline left first thing the next morning. She wouldn’t go see them. Said it wasn’t right to do it this way, without you. That was a bitter disappointment, but I knew she was right.” He stopped again, his eyes getting a faraway look in them. “For over a week now I’ve had nothing else but you on my mind. I knew this was the chance I had been pleading for. If I let it go, perhaps . . .” He couldn’t finish. Finally, he swallowed quickly. “So I came. Risk or no risk.”
“Pa didn’t want you to, did he?” Joshua asked in a half whisper.
“No,” Nathan said simply. He couldn’t lie about that, not even soften it for him. “But Mother did. She wanted to come with me. So did Rebecca and Matthew and Lydia.”
“But not Pa.”
“No. The hurt runs pretty deep, and he’s still as stubborn as a wet piece of oak. He’s mellowed a lot. But some things . . .” He let it go unfinished.
“Deep feelings. That’s something I can understand.” Joshua glanced quickly at Nathan. “But I’m glad you didn’t bring the others.”
Nathan nodded. Then his eyes searched Joshua’s face. “What I said earlier, about you driving Caroline out?”
Joshua looked away. “It’s true.”
“I didn’t mean it as a gibe, Joshua. Lydia and I, we were only with your wife for a few hours, but it’s like we’ve known her for years. That’s a fine woman you’ve found for yourself, Joshua Steed. Don’t let her get away from you.”
“I’m afraid she already has.”
Nathan shook his head. “She’s hurting too. There’s a cure for that.” He sighed, then stood slowly. “I’ve got a long ride back. And it’s best I go at night.”
Joshua looked up at him, but before he could respond, Nathan went on. As he spoke, his fingers absently rubbed at the flesh beneath his shirt. “Whenever I remember that night, you know what makes me the sickest, Joshua?” Suddenly his voice caught and his eyes were glistening. “It’s not the pain, not the horror of the whipping.” He blinked quickly, angry that his emotions were betraying him. When he spoke, his voice was low and deep. “It’s wondering how these four years might have been different if only I had held my tongue.”
With that, he turned and walked swiftly to the door. “Good night, Joshua. I’ll watch for Caroline. I’ll tell her to come back. It’s going to be all right.” He reached out and took the door handle.
“Nathan?”
He stopped and turned, his eyes questioning.
“Why did you call your son Joshua?”
For a moment, Nathan hesitated. But there was only one answer. “I’m afraid it was the Lord’s idea.”
Joshua shook his head impatiently. “That’s not good enough. Why did
you
call him Joshua?”
For a long moment Nathan just stood there, then his eyes softened. “Because it is a good name. And because—” Again his voice wouldn’t hold for him. He looked down for a moment, fighting for control. Then his head came up again and his voice steadied. “Because it is the name carried by the man I have loved and admired since I was big enough to toddle around after him.”
Joshua considered that, his face impassive. After a moment, when he didn’t speak, Nathan opened the door. Joshua seemed a little surprised. “How long since you ate last?” he asked.
Nathan thought for a moment. “I had some hard biscuits and goat’s cheese right after sunup.”
“I worked right through dinner and supper,” Joshua said evenly. “When I came in, I was thinking about warming up a pot of stew Caroline left in the icehouse. That interest you?”
Nathan smiled and shut the door again. “Yeah, I think it does.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
The morning worship services had finished some fifteen minutes earlier, but the great open field that lay right in the heart of Far West was still jammed with people. Weather permitting, all public and religious meetings were held at the site designated for the new temple, since there was no building in the city large enough to hold even a fifth of the normal number of attenders—and today was certainly not a normal Sabbath. There had been nearly double the numbers at the services on this day.
Part of that was due to its being the first day of July. On Wednesday the town would turn out to celebrate Independence Day with a parade, picnics, speeches, games, and a few fireworks. For those that lived away from the main center of the Latter-day Saint community, the opportunity to mingle and worship with the main body of the Saints was strongly appealing, and they had come into town a few days early so as to be there for Sunday. But more important, they had come for the temple cornerstone laying.
Two months before, on April twenty-sixth, in a revelation given to Joseph Smith, the Lord had said: “Let the city, Far West, be a holy and consecrated land unto me. . . . Therefore, I command you to build a house unto me, for the gathering together of my saints, that they may worship me. And let there be a beginning of this work, and a foundation, and a preparatory work, this following summer.” In obedience to that counsel, Joseph had announced throughout the scattered settlements that on July fourth, in addition to the other doings, the priesthood would lay the cornerstones for the new temple.
That announcement had been received with great rejoicing. The house of the Lord in Kirtland had been lost to the enemy, but now there would be one in Far West. And so the Saints had come, in their wagons and carriages, on mule- and horseback; and in many cases, whole families walking barefoot in the soft dust of the roadsides, Sunday shoes tied together and hung around their necks. They had come to worship together and would stay to see the start of a second temple.