“I think by then,” Mary Ann said dryly, “there wasn’t much of a spirit of either worship or service.”
That brought a laugh from all of them, and several murmurs of agreement.
“So,” Carl prompted Nathan, following along closely with the report. “Sidney Rigdon got up. Then what?”
“Sidney told us he was some distance from his family and was anxious to return to them. He asked if the people had anything for him to do; otherwise he would be on his way back to Pittsburgh, as there were thousands and tens of thousands there who would receive him.”
“In Pittsburgh?” Carl asked dubiously. “Do you have a lot of members in Pittsburgh?”
Nathan laughed. “A hundred maybe. Perhaps less.”
“Then . . . ?”
Nathan shrugged. “I’m just telling you what he said. Anyway, in spite of the protests, President Marks said the meeting for Thursday would stand. We will meet to appoint a guardian for the Church.”
“President Marks has always been a strong supporter of Sidney Rigdon,” Benjamin said. “And he’s not particularly fond of Brigham Young. There’s no question as to who he wants to see take over here.”
“So,” Carl concluded, “back to Caroline’s question. Is Sidney Rigdon going to carry the day?”
“No!” Nathan said flatly, even as Joshua was nodding.
“Who, then?” Melissa asked. “Willard Richards?”
“Willard’s a fine man,” Nathan said, “but I don’t think the people think of him as the one to lead the Church.”
That brought Lydia’s head around. She gave him a quizzical look. He went on. “I don’t think Parley can do it, not George A. either, as much as we personally care for these brethren.”
“Are you agreeing with Joshua, then?” Caroline asked him. She looked as surprised as Lydia by his stance.
“Yes, I am, I guess.”
“See there?” Joshua crowed. “If Nathan and I agree on something, it has to be right.”
“You think Sidney ought to lead the Church?” Jenny said incredulously.
“No!” Nathan said sharply. “Absolutely not. But that wasn’t what Joshua was—”
“That’s right,” Joshua broke in. “I wasn’t suggesting that he
should
lead the Church. I was only saying that after today, I think he
will
lead the Church.”
Nathan laughed. “I knew it was too good to be true. No, if that’s what you meant, I don’t agree with you.”
They all laughed at that. To an outside observer, Joshua and Nathan seemed always to be disagreeing with each other on various matters. To the family, this was evidence of the depths of their relationship. Though poles apart in their thinking and beliefs, they spoke freely with one another without fear of offense or misunderstanding.
“No, all I was saying was that I agree with Joshua’s assessment of the impact that Sidney had on the people today. I think he did influence some minds. Obviously, President Marks has his made up.”
Now Benjamin jumped in and likewise caught them by surprise. “If you took a vote tonight, I think it would be Sidney Rigdon as guardian of the Church.”
“I agree!” Joshua said triumphantly.
“But, Grandpa,” Will exploded, “don’t you think that would be wrong?”
“I certainly do. At least, I think it’s wrong to do it this way. It’s like Sidney wants to get it done before people have a chance to really think about it.”
Nathan was nodding emphatically. “And before the Twelve get here to talk to people and change their minds.”
“The people are hungry for an end to this,” Benjamin said. “It’s been almost six weeks now. There are still a dozen rumors that our enemies are trying to marshal arms against us. The upcoming elections have everyone stirred up. If the anti-Mormon candidates win, it could mean disaster for us. You can feel the fear and tension in the air. It is not the time to be without a head. The people want someone to lead them. Someone strong, decisive, proven. Sidney, at least on the surface, fits that description.”
“But you don’t think he’s the one?” Carl asked.
“No, I don’t.”
“He’s opposed to plural marriage,” Melissa said suddenly. “I heard that he and Joseph disagreed strongly over that question.”
That brought a long silence to the room. No one looked at Melissa, who was watching her father, her eyes almost pleading.
“That’s true, Melissa,” Benjamin finally said. “Sidney would probably set aside the teaching of plural marriage.”
She said nothing. She didn’t have to. It hung in the air like some invisible presence, the words that she had not spoken: “Then I would vote for Sidney Rigdon.”
Finally, feeling pressured by the silence, Melissa spoke again. “Sidney has done a lot of wonderful things for the Church. Joseph himself said some wonderful things about him.”
“He also refused to support Joseph in a time of crisis,” Nathan said, keeping his voice gentle. “He was sympathetic to John C. Bennett during that whole mess. Don’t you remember? That’s why Joseph wanted to release Sidney from the Presidency. John C. Bennett wrote to Sidney after he left Nauvoo. He was trying to find a way to get Joseph back into Missouri so his enemies there could get their hands on him. Sidney said nothing to Joseph about the letter. Orson Pratt finally told Joseph.”
Matthew had sat quietly through it all, listening, nodding occasionally, but mostly thinking about what was said. “The Savior said that the way you tell a true prophet from a false one is by their fruits. If you’ll remember, when we came out of Missouri and started gathering at Quincy, Sidney told us that we shouldn’t do that. He said that we had to scatter to be safe. We had to stay apart so as not to offend the non-Mormons.” Now he looked at Melissa. “If we had followed him back then, there would be no Nauvoo right now.”
“I—” Melissa stopped. She did remember Sidney’s posture back then, and thought of Nauvoo and all that it now held. It was a telling point.
“And he left Joseph when the situation started getting dangerous,” Nathan jumped in. “I’m sorry, but I can’t just forget that.”
“I heard that Joseph asked him to leave,” Carl said, “so he wouldn’t be killed. Just like he tried to get Hyrum to leave so he would be safe.”
“Yeah,” Nathan shot back, more hotly than he intended, “that’s Sidney’s story. But even if that’s true, isn’t it interesting? Sidney went to Pittsburgh. Hyrum went to Carthage.”
Suddenly Mary Ann spoke up. She spoke to Carl. “Does it look like Jane Manning is going to work out?”
For a moment there was bewildered silence. It was totally unrelated to anything they had been talking about. Then several began to grin. Benjamin was chuckling softly. This was Grandma’s role in these family gatherings. She usually said little in the discussions, but she listened—not just to the words, but to the feelings as well. And if things started down the wrong path, she was the monitor that pulled them back.
“She is going to work out wonderfully well,” Melissa said, smiling and understanding what was going on as clearly as Benjamin did. “I invited her to be here tonight, but Sunday is her day off and she wanted to be with her family.”
“The children adore her,” Carl said. “Thank you for suggesting her, Mother Steed. She’s going to work out just fine.”
Mary Ann nodded in satisfaction. “Now, I’d like to say one more thing.”
Every eye was on her. Nathan dropped his head a little, expecting a rebuke. He was the one who had let his emotions get away with him a little.
Instead, she smiled sweetly and asked, “How about some bread and milk?”
They all laughed at that, relieved that she had done her work again. Melissa looked to her gratefully. “I would like that,” she said softly.
As they began to rise, Will had to make one last shot. “So,” he said, “come Thursday, will the Saints vote for Sidney Rigdon to be their guardian or not?”
It was a sobering question, and they fell silent as they considered it. Finally it was Nathan who spoke. “There’s one last thing to consider. Think about what Sidney said today. What he claimed the Lord told him. What did he say he was told to do about the Church?”
“To be the guardian?” Derek ventured.
“No, that’s what Sidney is to
be.
But what did he say he was to
do
as guardian?”
“He is to build the Church up to Joseph,” Matthew answered.
“Yes. Exactly. He said it twice. That he was called to build up the Church to Joseph.”
“Yes. So?” Joshua queried. “I thought that was a wise move on his part. It says to the Saints that he’s not in this for himself.”
Nathan looked around at his family, first to Lydia, then to his mother, and finally stopped at his father. “Suppose Joseph were here and you asked him what his successor was supposed to do. What do you think Joseph would say? Would he say that the man who was called to replace him was supposed to build up the Church to Joseph Smith?”
There were instant expressions of discovery and understanding. “No,” said Jenny slowly. “That’s not what he would say.”
“What would he say?” Nathan asked softly.
“He would say that whoever follows is to build up the Church to Jesus Christ, not Joseph Smith.”
“Exactly,” Nathan said. “Exactly the point.”
As they left the room and went into the kitchen, Nathan lingered until Carl and Melissa came up beside him. With a warm smile, he put his arm around his sister and pulled her against his shoulder. She looked up in surprise.
“We may disagree about Sidney Rigdon, little sister,” he murmured, “but I want you to know how happy we all are to have you back in Nauvoo.”
She seemed startled, and then there was an instant sheen of tears in her eyes. “Thank you, Nathan,” she whispered, as she leaned against him.
He reached down and kissed her cheek. “We missed you,” he said, his voice husky. He released her and looked at Carl. “Welcome home.”
Matthew and Jenny Steed and Kathryn McIntire were gathered around a kerosene lamp reading passages from the Book of Mormon, specifically the account of the Savior’s visit to the peoples living in America. Betsy Jo was asleep in her crib down the hall and they read in soft voices, even though it took a great deal to wake Betsy Jo up once she fell asleep. The windows were open, and a soft breeze off the river was stirring the curtains in gentle motions. The house had been unbearably hot during the afternoon, but with the breeze, it had become quite pleasant now. Through the open windows they could hear the sound of the crickets or an occasional barking dog. Now and then the soft murmur of voices would pass—someone out for an evening’s stroll—or they would hear the clop-clop of a horse’s hooves as a rider went by, moving up or down Granger Street.
In her wheelchair, Kathryn was reading, her hair falling softly around her cheeks, her head bent slightly to better catch the light falling on the book. “‘And when he had said these words, he wept, and the multitude bear record of it, and he took their little children, one by one, and blessed them, and prayed unto the Father for them. And when he had done this he wept again.’”
Kathryn stopped and looked at Jenny and Matthew. “I just can’t imagine what that must have been like,” she said quietly. “Can you imagine the Savior taking Betsy Jo and Savannah and Sarah and little Joseph—” She had to stop as the image of each of the children filled her mind. “And taking them in his arms and blessing them,” she finished, her voice breaking a little.
Jenny reached up and brushed at the corner of her eye with the back of her hand. “This is my favorite passage in all the Book of Mormon. When I try to think what it must have been like for the parents to watch that happen with their children, I always start to cry.”
Kathryn nodded and lifted the book again. “‘And he spake unto the multitude, and saith unto them, behold your little ones. And as they looked to behold, they cast their eyes towards heaven, and they saw the heavens open, and they saw angels descending out of heaven as it were, in the midst of fire; and they came down and encircled those little ones about, and they were encircled about with fire; and the angels did minister unto them.’”
She stopped and silence filled the room. Each was trying to picture that glorious event so many centuries before.
“What must it have been like to be there?” Matthew finally said in a low whisper.
“Incredibly wonderful,” Jenny said.
Kathryn could only nod.
And then, through the window, they heard the sound of a carriage going by. “Whoa!” someone called, and the carriage came to a halt in the street in front of their house. There was a murmur of voices, the sound of the carriage door opening and shutting again, the creak of springs. Then one voice spoke just loudly enough to be heard above the others.
“You go on, brethren. I can make my way home from here.”
Matthew stiffened as though he had been jabbed with a sharpened stick. He was staring at the window, dumbfounded.
From outside, the first voice spoke to the horse, and over the sound of the carriage starting to move again there were calls of farewell. Then clearly now, more loudly, the first voice spoke again. “We’ll meet in the morning in council. At Brother Taylor’s house.”
Matthew was on his feet, gaping at the window and the dark beyond it. “That’s Brigham!” he cried in a hoarse whisper. He swung around to Jenny and Kathryn. “That’s Brigham’s voice,” he said.
“But—,” Jenny started.
Matthew didn’t hear her. He was across the room, pulling open the door. Even as he did so there was the sound of heavy steps on the porch. “Brigham!” Matthew cried. “It
is
you!”
There was the chief Apostle standing at the door, a knapsack over his shoulder, looking very tired and rumpled, but grinning as though he were a miner who had just struck a vein of pure silver. “Hello, Matthew.”
Matthew flung the door open and threw his arms around the older man. They grabbed one another and pounded each other on the back. “I can’t believe it,” Matthew said over and over. “You’re home.”
Jenny was on her feet now, and Kathryn wheeled her chair around to face the door.
Brigham saw them over Matthew’s shoulder and pulled free. “And here are two of my favorite people,” he exclaimed. In three great steps he was across the room and swept Jenny up into his arms, swinging her around and around. Then he dropped to one knee, taking Kathryn’s hands in his. “Dear, sweet Kathryn. How are you?”