With a laugh he turned and started jauntily away, the other two falling in step beside him. Without slowing he called back over his shoulder, “We’ll be waitin’ for you when you get them gold plates, Joe. You can count on that!”
The storekeeper’s dark eyes swung around to bore into Joshua. Jumping as though he had been burned, Joshua hopped into the back of the wagon as Nathan picked up the reins. “Thank you for the supplies, Mr. McBride,” he said politely.
The balding man merely nodded, then turned and went inside.
They drove in silence, moving west along Main Street until they came to the road that led north across the bridge over the Erie Canal. Finally Joshua could stand it no more. He climbed up to the wagon seat, squeezing in between Joseph and Nathan. He was barely settled before he turned to Joseph. “All right. What’s all this talk about angels and a gold Bible?”
Joseph had picked up a small piece of straw from beneath his feet. Now he pulled it apart slowly, letting the shredded pieces blow away in the breeze. Finally, he turned. He seemed to be choosing his words very carefully. “Joshua, do you really think angels go around showing people where to find buried treasure?”
Joshua snorted in derision. “Of course not.”
“Good. I don’t believe angels do that either.”
“But they were talking about a gold Bible.”
Joseph flipped the straw away, then leaned back, chuckling softly. “When you hear a donkey braying in the barnyard,” he said, his voice suddenly wry, “it’s one thing to listen; it’s something else to assume the donkey’s saying somethin’ important.”
Nathan laughed right out loud. “Well said, Joseph. Well said.”
Joshua shot him a withering look. But it quickly became evident Joseph was not going to say any more. He parried two or three of Joshua’s further questions, then changed the subject and began talking with Nathan.
Joshua sat back, watching out of the corner of his eye the young man who had come to work for them. The Murdocks were clearly less than the salt of the earth, but Joseph had not denied anything they said, just neatly sidestepped Joshua’s questions. Maybe Joseph thought it was over, but Joshua’s curiosity had been piqued. There would be another time with Lydia, and then he would get to the bottom of this.
Joshua, working in tandem with Joseph Smith, snaked the chain under the end of the log and snugged it tight. As Joseph jammed the hook through one of the links, Nathan let the log settle back into its place. He turned to his father. “All right, take her away.”
Benjamin Steed was at the head of the mule team. Hyrum Smith, standing nearby, moved back. “Ho, mules,” Benjamin shouted. “Go!”
The animals lunged forward, hitting the traces. The chain snapped tight, bit into the bark of the log, and the log began to move. Snorting heavily, the mules clawed at the ground. Faster now the trunk slid along the black earth. “Giddyap, mules!” Benjamin called, slapping the near one on the rump.
“I’ll go help him unhook it,” Joseph said, breaking into a trot to follow them.
Hyrum watched them go, then cupped his hand to his mouth. “Watch out for hornets.” Joseph raised one hand briefly without turning. It was an unnecessary warning, for hornets were the bane of the frontier farmer. It was still a little early for them to be fully out of their dormancy, but it had been warm enough the past few days to make one be on alert. In a week or two, as the plowing got fully underway, they would have to constantly watch the ground ahead. Particularly in virgin fields like these, one could hit a nest of yellow jackets every second or third furrow, unleashing a deadly cloud of fury that could leave a farmer and his team half-dead.
Joshua stepped to where three shirts hung from a bush. On the ground next to the bush was a water jug and several rags. He took one of the rags and mopped at his forehead. Nathan and Hyrum moved to join him. The rain and overcast from the day before had gone, and while the temperature was pleasant enough, the humidity was still high, and they had removed their shirts. But the first swarms of mosquitoes were out now, and they didn’t allow one to sit around with bare back for long without regretting it.
Hyrum pulled his shirt over his head and tucked it into his trousers, then grabbed the water jug and drank deeply. He handed it to Nathan, then picked up a rag of his own and began to wipe at the sweat across the back of his neck. Joshua watched him for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Hyrum?”
“Yes.”
Joshua tossed the rag aside. “We were in town yesterday,” he continued.
Hyrum looked up. “Yes.”
Nathan, sensing suddenly what was coming, shot his brother a warning look, but if Joshua saw it, he ignored it. “Some men stopped to talk to Joseph.”
Wary now, Hyrum waited.
“They said Joseph has some kind of gold Bible.”
There was no change of expression, and no outward signs of response, but there was a sudden, unmistakable coolness in the air. Finally, he spoke. “The Murdocks, you mean?” He pronounced the name with great disdain.
“Yeah. Will Murdock and his brother. And a cousin.”
Hyrum gave a soft snort of disgust.
Joshua went on more slowly now, but still determined. “He also said somethin’ about angels.”
“Joshua!” Nathan broke in sharply. “It ain’t our place to pry.”
Joshua glared at him, but he wasn’t about to back down. “Well?” he pressed.
Hyrum lifted his head, his eyes searching across the field. About a hundred rods away, Joseph and Benjamin were unhooking the log and getting ready to start back. Hyrum stood up abruptly and brushed off his pants. “You’ll have to ask Joseph about that,” he said shortly.
It was just barely sundown. The spring air was cooling quickly now, leaving a misty haze across the fields and meadows. The songbirds seemed muted and still. The smoke from the cabin’s chimney rose in lazy, gentle eddies. Nathan hurried through unhitching the mules, then forked some hay into the manger. He had left the others cleaning up the last of the brush, but he knew Joseph and Hyrum would soon be leaving for home and if he didn’t hurry he would miss them.
As he came out of the barn, he saw with relief that the Smith brothers were just saying good-bye to Matthew and Becca near the front porch of the cabin. His mother was there too, wiping her hands on her apron, then waving to them as they moved off.
Nathan hurried over to his mother. “I think I’ll walk a ways with Joseph and Hyrum,” he said. “I’ll be back in time for supper.”
She looked a little surprised, then shrugged. “All right. We’ll be eating in about an hour.”
“I’ll be back.” He hurried off to join the two figures starting down the lane toward the main road.
Joseph and Hyrum seemed glad for the company, and for the first few minutes as they walked they chatted idly about the day’s work, the warming weather, the prospects of this year’s crops. But as they turned onto the road leading to Palmyra Village and passed the Martin Harris farm, they lapsed into a companionable silence, enjoying the pleasantness of the evening.
But Nathan had not come for idle chat. Since earlier that day when Hyrum had neatly sidestepped Joshua’s questions about the things Will Murdock had said in town, Nathan had been bursting with questions of his own. Being like his mother, he was too polite to broach the subject head-on like Joshua had. But if there was any way to find out more, he was determined to do it.
Clearing his throat, he decided to break the silence. “Is your wife from around here, Hyrum?”
“Yes. Jerusha’s from the Barden family, down near Canandaigua.”
“And yours, Joseph?”
He shook his head. “No, Emma’s from Harmony, Pennsylvania.”
That surprised Nathan a little. “Harmony? Where’s that?”
“About a hundred twenty miles south of here. Just across the state line.”
“My,” Nathan smiled, “you must have roamed far afield in your courting days.”
Joseph laughed. “A couple of years ago a man by the name of Stowell came into Palmyra to buy wheat. He was from down near the Colesville and South Bainbridge area, which is about fifteen miles this side of the Pennsylvania line. Somehow Mr. Stowell had gotten an old document which was supposed to show the location of a cave where the Spaniards had hidden a considerable treasure. I was needing work right then, so my father and I hired on to help him dig for it.”
He shook his head slowly, as if remembering. “We dug in the area around Harmony, which is about twenty-five miles south of the Stowell farm, so while I was there I boarded with a man by the name of Isaac Hale.” Again a quiet smile stole across his face. Nathan was learning this was characteristic of Joseph. “He had a daughter…”
Nathan laughed. “I understand.”
“Actually, Mr. Hale wasn’t so fond of the idea of me courting Emma. I mean he barely knew me, and I was not at that time employed in what folks viewed as a promising occupation. I finally convinced Stowell that looking for treasure was a waste of time. I stayed on in the Colesville area for a time, working for a family named Knight. They were kind enough to lend me a sleigh and a horse to go south and visit Emma. Finally, this last January we got married.”
“She’s a fine woman,” Hyrum said.
“As is Jerusha,” Joseph agreed.
“I hope to meet them both sometime.”
They walked along in silence for several moments. Nathan’s mind was racing. An old Spanish map. Was that what had triggered the stories of gold Bibles? Finally, he glanced up out of the corner of his eye. “Joseph?”
“Yes?”
Nathan suddenly changed his mind. His reticence to pry overcame his curiosity. He just shook his head.
Joseph was looking at him. “What?” he asked again.
“Nothing.”
One of Joseph’s eyebrows came up slowly.
Nathan just shook his head. “Nothing,” he repeated. “It ain’t none of my affair.”
They walked on for several steps in silence. Then Hyrum spoke. “It’s about what Joshua was sayin’ earlier today, isn’t it?”
For a moment Nathan didn’t respond, then finally shrugged.
“Do you ask this for yourself?” Joseph asked quietly.
The question caught Nathan by surprise.
“Do you really want to know, or is this just because of the things you’ve heard?”
“The only thing I’ve heard is what Will Murdock and his brother said to you in town.”
There was an answering laugh, not of amusement but one filled with derision. “You mean you haven’t heard Joe Smith is a lazy, no-account loafer, a drunkard who is immoral and untrustworthy?”
“And of limited mental capacity,” Hyrum added bitterly. “Don’t forget that.”
“Yes, that too.”
The exchange took Nathan aback.
“That’s what people are saying about Joseph,” Hyrum went on. “You’ll probably hear stories about our family as well—about us being grave robbers, devil worshippers, who knows what else.”
Nathan was flabbergasted. He looked first at Hyrum, then at Joseph. “You’ve only worked with our family for a short time, but I know you pretty well by now. I wouldn’t believe them kind of stories for a minute. And neither would anyone else in my family.”
Joseph stopped, looking at him closely. Then he reached out and grasped his arm. “Thank you,” he said, obviously touched.
“Why would anyone want to say them kind of things about you?”
Joseph let out a long sigh, filled with weariness. But he didn’t speak, just started to walk again, more slowly now. Nathan and Hyrum watched him for a moment, then fell in step beside him. Finally, Joseph looked over at Hyrum, a questioning look on his face. Their eyes locked for several seconds, something passed between them, then Hyrum finally nodded.
Joseph glanced up at the sky, now darkening quickly. Pink and gold tinged the clouds in the west. They were just a short distance from Palmyra Village now, and soon Nathan would have to turn back. “If we stop and talk for a spell,” Joseph said slowly, “it will make you late for supper.”
“No, Ma said it would be at least an hour.” Actually the “at least” was Nathan’s addition, but there was no way he was going to cut off Joseph’s willingness to talk now.
Joseph gestured to a grassy spot alongside a small stream just on the other side of a rail fence. “Then let’s sit for a while.”
They crossed over the rail fence and sat down. A cool breeze had sprung up now, and the chill of night would soon be on them. The wind tousled a lock of Joseph’s light brown hair. For several moments he toyed with new blades of grass sprouting beneath him, smoothing them with his fingertips, lost in his thoughts. When he looked up, his eyes—those light blue eyes which were always arresting in their intensity—were a curious mixture of…what? Nathan wasn’t sure. Sorrow? Exultation? Weariness? Joy?
“I’ll not ask you to believe what I’m about to tell you, Nathan,” Joseph began slowly. “But I would appreciate it if you would hear me through to the end.”
“All right.”
Hyrum settled back, content to let Joseph take the lead now. Joseph’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, as if trying to choose each word with great care. “Did you ever go to a camp meeting, Nathan?”
“You mean a religious camp meeting?”
Joseph nodded.
“No. Heard a lot about them, but Pa always had strong feelings ’bout them being kinda organized madness, so we never went.”
“They’re kind of dying out again now, but along about ten years ago they were real popular in these parts. In fact, there were so many circuit-riding preachers and so many people ‘getting on fire’ with the Holy Spirit, this part of New York came to be called ‘the Burned-Over District.’”
“A full-blown camp meeting is somethin’ to behold,” Hyrum put in. “There was a real big one in this part of the state just last year.”
“Word was sent ahead from village to village,” Joseph said. “Families came from everywhere, riding two and three days sometimes, bringing tents and provisions. Platforms were built in open spaces and the people camped all around them. There were probably twenty, maybe thirty, ministers come to preach.”
“Sounds like quite an experience,” Nathan said.
“Yes,” agreed Joseph. “My parents had never belonged to any church. Not that they’re not God-fearing folk. We’ve read the Bible in our family from the time we were small.”