In October of 1850 the first blizzard of the season whitened the prairie and swept through the streets of Great Salt Lake City. Horses huddled at hitching posts, their patient misery a warning that all of nature must bow before the battle of weather. On his last bit of strength, the wind led a lone straggler from California into the valley. He was distinguished by the packet of mail and the news he carried from there.
When Brother Samuels carried home a letter from Joshua, he also carried the tales of California.
“There really is gold and just for the taking. Men are making millions and nearly dying for lack of bread and a new shirt. There’s a frenzy. Men are pouring into California to hunt gold, and another horde of men are pouring in to get rich off the miners. That’s why we got the goods last year.”
He paused in his story long enough to remind his family of the goods that had come into the valley just as Heber C. Kimball had prophesied.
“Not all’s good in riches; there’s greed and waste. Brother Young is wiser than we know. We’ve got to listen to him and not run after riches. I heard tell the wildest things. In San Francisco they say doctors walked out on their patients, judges out of the courtrooms, and schools closed for want of teachers. The city looks like the plague hit it. Three-fourths of the men left to look for gold, while crops rotted and the cattle were neglected. Even the ships that sailed into San Francisco lost their crews. Then the rains turned the streets of San Francisco into lakes of mud. They threw in bushes and even trees, but the mules stumbled in the streets and drowned in the mud. Then they threw in a whole cargo of cookstoves, right into the mud and used them for stepping-stones.”
“Stepping-stones!” Ann’s longing glance was on the makeshift stone oven.
After the Samuels had gone to bed, Rebecca knelt by the fire to read Joshua’s letter. Fingering the stained paper and recalling Brother Samuels’ words, she tried to imagine Joshua in that pack of cursing, pushing miners, fighting for gold nuggets. Joshua’s steady blue eyes surveyed her from distant memory. She could feel his final handclasp, suddenly tender. What could possess a man like that to go after gold?
She spread the paper. “Dear Rebecca, how I want to say that to you. It has been so long, and the future is still black and empty. How much longer it will be, I don’t know. One thing I do know, gold is a ghost here. It haunts our dreams and flits away when we reach for it. I wish she were lady luck and would smile on me.
“We’ve been dredging up the American River. Winter could come early and catch us; then we will hole up and hope for the best. Now we work from dawn until dark, dredging in icy water. My partner has been coughing for weeks now. He needs the sun and hot sand to cure his cough, but we dare not leave. Claim jumpers are hiding in the bushes. When you figure a lucky day can fill your bucket and keep you for a year, we dare not leave.
“At night I think about you and wonder. I hope things are going well with you and that you are able to teach school this year. They got a book for Jamie. I bought a Bible for myself. Just felt like I needed to be good to myself. Besides, I’ve ended up feeling it was the most important thing to have. I can’t get away from the notion that there’s a different kind of glory waiting out there.
“After thinking about the Whitmans I get to feeling that the most important thing a person can do with his life is to decide about God. The people I most admire in this world have got this all straightened out in their minds. I’m still working on it, and when I do, I’m coming. Becky, wait for me. Just let me see you again. That’s all I ask for now. But then, you’re young. The folks are still talking about moving to Oregon. Prue’s big. Ma says there’s lots of fellows sparking her. Matthew’s working out. I am your humble servant, Joshua.”
She sat looking at the blurred signature, pondering the stiff closing, conscious of the ache around her heart. That night Joshua walked through her dreams, and the golden radiance that he had become was trouble in her heart. She must creep away from thinking about him. In the press of this winter, she couldn’t stand up to the pain of both this place and Joshua.
As if in a rage, the winds and snow whipped down across the land. Again the Saints were faced with dwindling food supplies, and illness moved through the city.
One day in late November, Rebecca packed a loaf of fresh bread in a basket and told Ann, “I’m going to see Cora. I’ve not visited her since before the snow started, and Tim says he thinks they’re moving. I can’t imagine that in wintertime.”
She pulled her shawl over her head and closed the door behind her. The icy blast made her shiver. Last fall Brother Samuels had added on to the cabin. From two small rooms with a loft, the structure was expanded with two additional rooms in the back. Now there was a kitchen and a room for the girls.
The previous year a floor had dignified the cabin, and Mr. Samuels was talking about a cookstove for Ann. As she shivered, Rebecca was thinking the luxuries made stepping out into the cold that much more difficult. It also made it hard to visit the Wrights’ cabin in the old fort.
There was another little boy at the Wrights’ home. This one also resembled his father. Bessie still rocked, cocooned in her isolation.
Rebecca accepted the cup of sage tea and pulled little Joseph onto her lap. Cora cuddled the baby close to her breast and beamed at Rebecca. “You don’t know how good it is to see you.”
Glancing at the silent figure beside the fireplace, Rebecca explained, “I’ve been busy. School. There’s been a pack of students this year. Two are just starting out and the rest of them are fighting for attention.”
Cora sipped tea. “Did you get books?”
“No, and my arithmetic isn’t any better. I try to keep them busy memorizing the Bible and making up dramas. Seems like everybody enjoys that come Fridays.”
“What a boring life.”
“Boring! It’s better than being stuck by your own fireside all winter. Cora, why don’t you come out for Relief Society? There’s quilting this winter and with new stuff, too. Ann’s gathered up every scrap in the valley.”
“I’d like to get some wool. The little one could use some stockings.” She dabbed at Joseph’s drippy nose.
“Tim tells me you’re thinking of moving.”
She looked astonished. “My, the news flies fast! It was only last week that Brother Young called Mr. Wright in. I told you about the big plans to start an ironworks down south. Iron’s aplenty down there and coal too. Some of the men will be going down pretty soon to look the place over. They say it’s a pretty spot. Lots of red rock and cedar-covered hills. I suppose there’ll be women moving out in the spring. If it weren’t for the Indians—” She looked from Bessie to the youngsters and sighed. “A body doesn’t worry as much when there’s more of you than Indians.”
She removed the towel from the bread and cut a piece for Joseph. “Oh, this visit is nice. What’s happening with you? Still just wanting to be the schoolmarm?”
Rebecca nodded and cuddled Joseph close. “More than anything else in my life. By this time next year, we’ll all have our own schoolhouse.”
“I hear some’s disgruntled because you’re using the Bible so much.”
She shrugged. “What else am I to use?”
“There’s the Book of Mormon. The Saints set more store by it than the Bible. They say the Bible’s not translated right.”
“Cora, I’ve honestly tried to give the book a fair trial, but it’s so hard to understand. I end up just telling the story; that’s not teaching.”
“Except the Book of Mormon is what we believe. You know Brother Brigham’s been saying all along that’s the most important.”
“Sometimes I feel so uneasy about the whole thing.”
“They’re preaching it every Sunday. Aren’t you going to meeting?”
“You know as well as I do that they don’t spend too much time preaching. It’s mostly about how we’re to be treating the neighbors and the Indians.”
Unexpectedly, Bessie spoke from her chair by the fire. “If’n you were really wantin’ to learn, you’d be going to the fast and testimony meeting. It’s the first Thursday night each month. That’s comin’ up day after tomorrow.”
Astonished at her break with silence, Rebecca asked, “Do you go?”
“I’ve no call.” She retreated into her silence once again.
When Rebecca rose to leave, Cora touched her arm. “I’ve been hungering for our talks; come back. I’ll need them more than ever if we move come spring.”
“I think it’s terrible for Brother Brigham to send you so far away.”
“It could be worse. Our family will be together. Some of the men are called to leave their families and go on a mission. How their families manage, I can’t imagine.”
Rebecca squeezed Cora. “I’m glad it isn’t happening to you. It seems unfair.”
Bessie’s admonition about the fast and testimony meeting was forgotten until two weeks later when Ann met Rebecca at the door as she came from school. Her expression informed Rebecca that something was amiss.
“I’ve hardly known that Bessie Wright to venture away from her fireside,” she began as she drew Rebecca away from the chattering children. “But it seems she’s found a reason to leave it now. She’s telling the world you’ve complained about the Book of Mormon and won’t teach it. She’s pretty well called your religion into disrepute. Knowing the neighborhood, you’d better draw the lines up tight.”
“Oh, dear,” Rebecca murmured, “what’ll I do?”
“I’d start by getting just as religious as I could,” Ann continued. “Brother Brigham really took that snippy little teacher from the academy to task when she didn’t teach like he wanted her to. He said there was no call for any teacher to show off all she knew about newfangled ideas. He said he was satisfied the Lord gave it to us straight and that she’d better teach it that way or apostatize in a hurry.”
Rebecca shuddered. “I’d be terrified to death if he thundered at me like that, especially right in the meetinghouse.”
The next month, on the first Thursday night, Ann, with Rebecca in tow, attended the fast and testimony meeting. As they faced the biting wind and trudged through snow, Rebecca said, “This wouldn’t be nearly so hard to take if we’d filled ourselves with that good rabbit stew before we left.”
“Just you hush; you can have some after meeting. This is good for your soul.”
“Oh, Ann, I hope you’re right. I’d expect your chiding me in that motherly voice would do me more good. At least there’s rabbit stew this winter, but I don’t know whether it’s any easier to go without when there is than when there isn’t.”
“The good Lord willing, we won’t go through another winter like that.”
The building held a handful of people, and Rebecca’s rumbling stomach advised her that it was a miracle there were that many. Two coal oil lamps brightened the room beyond the glow of the fire. As Rebecca and Ann entered, a woman hurried to them.
“You’re new, welcome. We’ll be singing and after Brother Ellis leads us in prayer, we’ll be bearing our testimony. The Lord bless you.” She disappeared.
“Who is she?” Rebecca whispered.
“Leitha Ellis. That’s her husband over by the door.”
The man turned, and his booming voice greeted the people walking in the door. “Well, Brother Eppson, I haven’t seen much of you since we left Nauvoo.”
Rebecca eased herself lower on the bench. That ever-present fear had surfaced. Since the day of Matthew and Ebner’s planned visitation from the angel, she had dreaded this day. Recalling that childish prank, she admitted her worst dreams were of Bishop Ellis recognizing her.
“Rebecca, pull that shawl away from your head or you’ll be in a sweat before we get outside. That means lung fever most certainly.”
Now Brother Ellis turned his back and bent his knees before addressing the Almighty. In the dimness Rebecca saw the round bald spot on his head, and she settled down with a sigh of relief.
After prayer the woman beside Ann jumped to her feet. Waving a black-bound book, she proclaimed her faith. “I believe this is God’s Word, I believe Brother Joseph Smith was ordained of God, called to bring, by the gift and power of God, this wonderful work to us. I’d rather be here in this Great Salt Lake City than anywhere else on earth.” She sat down. A bearded gentleman in the rear stood.
“Brothers and sisters, dear Saints and suffering emigrants,” he entoned. Rebecca lost his words in contemplation of his rapt expression and the rhythmic motion of the snowy beard cascading down the front of his dark coat. When he took his place, Rebecca was aware of sobs coming from the woman beside her.
Slowly the woman got to her feet. “I’ve sinned. I’m ashamed of my harsh tongue and complaining spirit. Brother Williams convicts me so. I’ve no right to complain under the yoke of the principle. I intend to live my religion.”
“Sister, it’s a blessing. Don’t look on the hard parts,” the high clear voice rose. “It’s God’s way of providing salvation for you. Without that good husband and the little ones you have, you’d never progress to being anything other than a servant of us all in the eternity. Brother Brigham says so. Rejoice!”
Rebecca snorted, and Ann’s sharp elbow found her ribs. Just then a high sweet sound filled the room. Rebecca strained to hear the words. They eluded understanding; could this be the gift of tongues she had heard about?
In awe she strained to hear, to see more clearly the face lifted and the hands stretched heavenward. Those hands described an arc of enchantment and the face glowed in the lamplight. Now the woman shook her head, and her snowy hair shed its pins and cascaded down her back. The sounds encircled Rebecca, enveloped her. When they finally faded, she was alone, more alone than ever before.
Ann and Rebecca stepped out into the snowy night. The crisp clean air rushed across their faces shocking them to life. In silence they walked homeward.
During the following week, Rebecca found herself recalling the meeting and pondering the significance of it. Try as she might, she couldn’t understand, and she yearned to talk over her feelings with someone.
One afternoon Rebecca walked to the fort. When Cora greeted her at the door, she said, “It’s warm as spring. Let’s bundle the tykes and walk down the street.”
“Rebecca, that street’s a mudhole. Joseph would be in to his armpits.”
“I’ll carry him.”
When they closed the door behind them, Cora gasped, “Oh, Rebecca, I’m so glad you’ve come. Another day and I would have gone as stark crazy as Sister Walker.”
In dismay, Rebecca listened to Cora pour forth her woes. Her impatient waiting for a turn to talk was arrested, trampled. It was dawning on her how desperate Cora was. They turned down the street toward the Samuels’ cabin.
“Cora, I just don’t know what to say,” Rebecca admitted. “Let’s talk to Ann. I can’t take care of my own problems, and I certainly can’t advise you.”
Ann had just put bread into her rock-walled oven. She was heaping coals around the stones as they entered the house. Releasing Joseph and unwinding his shawl, Rebecca said, “Ann, Cora really needs help. That woman is driving her mad.”
Slowly Ann turned. Her placid features crumpled into lines of concern. In a low, miserable voice, Cora said, “It’s the principle. Don’t let your man go into it.”
“I can’t stop him once Brother Brigham puts his finger on him,” Ann said sadly. “But, Cora, much as you women scare me to death talking about the problems, I don’t think God meant it to be so. The good Book tells us He’ll help us overcome. It’s the enemy making this so hard, and it’s because it’s earning us such glory.”
Tears were sliding down Cora’s cheeks, and her hands trembled as she dabbed at them. “I’d forego the glory for a little peace on earth. That woman harps constant when no one’s around. I wait on her like I was a slave, but nothing suits her. She keeps the Mister wore out with her whining, and he’s changing. It’s getting so he’s believing the complaints. I can see it in his eyes.”
“There’s nothing I can do except pray the Lord will make you stronger.”
The troubled look was still on Ann’s face when Cora and Rebecca left to walk back to the fort. Rebecca mused over that expression. Why hadn’t Brother Samuels taken another wife? They were saying it was the only way to reach the highest glory.
As they entered Cora’s cabin, Rebecca asked, “Do you believe that everyone who isn’t in the principle will be just a servant in the hereafter?”
“I wish I didn’t have to believe it. But if they say it, it’s true.”
Cora eased her sleeping baby into his cradle and turned to Rebecca. Now it was her turn to study Rebecca’s face. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”
Rebecca glanced at the impassive figure beside the fire and lowered her voice. “I do. I’ve been doing lots of thinking, and I wanted to hear how you’d take to my thoughts, but I sure don’t want Bessie passing them all around the city.”
“She will, and they’ll come out worse than they started,” Cora warned. “Looking at you, I’d guess you’re as down as I am. There’s no call for that. You’re free to go out and have a good time. There’s no man and young’uns to pull you back. Rebecca, have a good time. Go to the parties and everything else you can. Let the fellows spark all they want, but put off getting married.”
“That doesn’t sound like the last sermon you preached to me. You told me to live my religion.”
“I’ve changed my mind. There’s plenty of time to get married and start working toward earning your glory.”
“There is?” Rebecca questioned. “I can’t help thinking about David Fullmister. He didn’t have time. He’s been cheated out of a chance to earn any glory, if the only way’s through living the principle.”
That night Rebecca started another letter to Joshua. At first her words were stilted phrases detailing the events of her life, at the same time her thoughts were busy. Joshua bought a Bible. Why did he talk about the Whitmans and a glory?
She wrote, “You talk about a glory, and I know it has something to do with the Whitmans. I’m guessing it’s a spirit thing you’ve got a hankering for. We get lots of that kind of feeling around here. Mostly it confuses me. I don’t doubt there’s a God, but I find myself wondering if He’s like they say He is. They say He’s kind and loving. That He’s trying to help us live right. But there’s much that’s fearful. We hear sermons from the twelve apostles and the first presidency where they’re passing out curses on everyone who opposes the Saints. At first I was kind of glad, but then it started drawing such fearful pictures of God. I’ve begun to wonder if all those curses were deserved. Right now I’m relieved to see that not many of them have been carried out.
“But I must confess, I’m convinced more and more that the Latter-day Saints are really God’s people, and that only through believing like they do and accepting the restored gospel given through Joseph Smith will anyone ever make it to glory. You see, there’s just too much happening to show that God’s with them. I am constantly hearing stories about how Joseph Smith had visions and how he could heal people. Others, from the apostles on down to the bishops, are able to heal too.
“Just this last month I’ve been to a fasting and testimony meeting, and one woman there spoke in a strange manner. I couldn’t understand her, but Ann had told me about the gift of the Spirit that’s called speaking in tongues. It gave me gooseflesh to listen to her, but it was beautiful, all high and almost like a song. I guess with all these things happening, I must conclude that these people really do have God with them and that I’ll have to admit Joseph Smith is right—he’s proven it by his visions and prophecies. There’s just no other way. Mormonism is right. They have the witness.”
When Rebecca finished the letter and folded it, she found herself straining to check that inner pulse of her being. The declaration she had made didn’t seem to satisfy some deep resistance within. She was almost relieved that she had no way to get the letter to Joshua.