

### Joseph Smith

### The President Elect

### Book Three: The General

Copyright 2013 Kurt F. Kammeyer

Smashwords Edition

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Introduction

This is a book about what might have been. Nearly all the characters depicted in this book were real people, and their actual histories are a matter of record. There are only a very few instances where the characters are completely fictitious. Since I am dealing with real people, I have tried to respect the memory of the many greats and not-so-greats mentioned in this novel. The actual heroes, for the most part, remain heroes, and the villains are still villains.

Most of the scenes in this book are based on real events that took place in America around the years 1844-1845. However, in many cases the dates have been changed to improve the flow of the narrative. In some cases, actual statements made by one person are "quoted" by another. For example, in a few places Joseph Smith "says" things which in reality were said by Brigham Young or others. The recurring theme of this book, so to speak, might be: "History precedes itself."

This book uses an entirely different approach than any previously used by LDS authors who have written about Joseph Smith. Instead of just fictionalizing the Prophet's short life, I have "extended" his life into a work of fiction that explores what could very well have happened, if only he had survived Carthage.

Since the 1930s a discipline has grown up under the name of "Counterfactual History" – the study of what might have been, if only small events were changed at certain key turning points in history. What if Hitler had repulsed the Normandy invasion? What if William the Conqueror had lost the Battle of Hastings? What if Annie Oakley had missed her shot and killed Kaiser Wilhelm II in 1889, when he challenged her to shoot a lighted cigar from between his teeth? In my estimation, Joseph and Hyrum Smith's presence in Carthage Jail was just such a turning point in history. I have no doubt that if they had survived, our nation and the world would be a very different place today.

I have gone to great lengths to make this book as true to life as possible. In particular, I have tried to make these people speak and sound the way they actually did in 1840s America. A quotation from Mark Twain in his introduction to Huck Finn best says what I have attempted:

In this book a number of dialects are used, to wit: the Missouri Negro dialect; the extremest form of the backwoods Southwestern dialect; the ordinary "Pike County" dialect; and four modified varieties of this last. The shadings have not been done in a haphazard fashion, or by guesswork; but painstakingly, and with the trustworthy guidance and support of personal familiarity with these several forms of speech.

I make this explanation for the reason that without it many readers would suppose that all these characters were trying to talk alike and not succeeding.

(Mark Twain, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn)

Would that I were as conversant with these dialects as Mark Twain was! In addition to some of the dialects he mentioned, I have sometimes made use of the broadest, most flap-jawed southern patois of all, as found in the writings of "Sut Lovingood" (George Washington Harris), a contemporary and inspiration to Mark Twain.

Many of the early leaders of the Church came from New England, including Joseph Smith and Brigham Young, and they no doubt spoke with a rather strong West New England "twang" which I have not attempted to imitate here. However, I have tried to mimic the following accents, with varying degrees of success: Southern English, Irish, Cockney, Welsh, Yorkshire/Cumbrian, Yiddish, German, and French. The accents of persons such as William Clayton, Charles Lambert, and Dan Jones were not written haphazardly, but are based on their place of origin in the British Isles.

Writing in dialect is an imprecise business at best, and the overusage of it can get in the way of the narrative. After awhile, the many dropped h's and apostrophes can become a liability. Unfortunately, there are simply not enough letters in the alphabet to portray the subtle nuances of all the English dialects used here. I found that certain dialects were fairly easy to render (Welsh, Cumbrian), while others were nearly impossible (Received Southern Pronunciation, the "Queen's English"). Unless you have actually heard a Yorkie or a Lankie's speech patterns, much of the effect of this dialect may be lost on you. Also, the use of written dialect can mislead us into thinking that the less "proper" (i.e., 21st century American-sounding) a person's speech was, the less educated they were. While this is certainly true of some of the characters in this book (Prudence Bigelow, for instance), it was not generally the case, then or now.

As a final check on the accuracy of this book, I have carefully compared it against Webster's 1828 Dictionary, in order to weed out any 21st-century anachronisms. Whether these efforts have made this a better yarn, I shall leave to the reader to decide.

To the best of my knowledge, no one has ever succeeded in fictionalizing Joseph Smith's life while still respecting his character. How could they? To the non-Mormons, he was and is a complete mystery. At the other end of the spectrum, Latter-day Saint authors tend to treat him with such reverence (and rightly so) that it is well-nigh impossible to explore his true personality.

Those who have written about Joseph Smith – and they are legion – have generally used two approaches. They either turn him into something he was not (a charlatan, a clever but lazy oaf, or a modern Mahomet) or, if they are more honest, they simply write "around" him. In the latter category are several extremely popular series written recently by Latter-day Saint authors, which I would prefer not to mention here by name.

No novel about Joseph Smith can surpass the true history of his life. As he said of himself,

"You don't know me; you never knew my heart. No man knows my history. I cannot tell it; I shall never undertake it. I don't blame any one for not believing my history. If I had not experienced what I have, I would not have believed it myself."

Since this book is an historical extrapolation, no one should assume that it represents the official views of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The views expressed here are solely my own. I have tried to tread lightly when it comes to Church doctrine or sacred matters, and I have relied heavily on historical records concerning polygamy, the Nauvoo temple, Church organization, Joseph Smith's campaign for President, and slavery. In addition, most of the miracles portrayed here are based on historical accounts – they actually happened.

The first chapter of this book is a meticulously accurate depiction of the actual events leading up to the instant of the martyrdom. As near as we can tell from the many written accounts, it really happened this way. After that, all kinds of amazing "alternate timelines" unfold, as Joseph Smith pursues his campaign for the Presidency.

For the record, these are the historical facts: Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum were incarcerated in Carthage Jail, Illinois, where on June 27th 1844, they were both killed by an armed mob. John Taylor was severely wounded in the attack; Willard Richards escaped with just a nick on his left ear. The campaign to elect Joseph Smith President of the United States died with him. In February of 1846, Brigham Young led the first company of Saints out of Nauvoo, and in 1847 the first pioneer company made the long journey to the Valley of the Great Salt Lake. The rest, as they say, is history...

Kurt F. Kammeyer
CHAPTER 33

WASHINGTON, Saturday, February 1 1845

The "Mormon Battalion" finally arrived in Washington. Major Lyman Wight and his men debarked from the train at the northwest end of Pennsylvania Avenue, then they marched proudly down the Avenue to 17th Street, just outside the War Department building. The musicians struck up a well-known hymn, the soldiers picked up the tune, and in a moment Joseph Smith poked his head out of an upper window.

When Joseph his brethren beheld,

Afflicted and trembling with fear,

His heart with compassion was fill'd,

From weeping he could not forbear.

By the fourth verse Joseph was out in the street, striking hands with his brethren and singing right along with them.

"I am Joseph, your brother," he said,

"And still to my heart you are dear;

You sold me, and thought I was dead,

But God, for your sakes, sent me here."

Lyman Wight folded Joseph in a bear hug, then he saluted him.

"All present and accounted for, sir! Five companies, seventy-five officers and 435 enlisted men, as you ordered!"

Joseph wiped a tear from his eye. "Well done, men! I feel like Helaman of old, with his two thousand stripling warriors! I feel inspired to promise you in the name of the Lord, that if you will keep your covenants, remain faithful to the gospel, and obey your officers, that not one of you shall fall in battle."

NAUVOO, Sunday, February 2

Hosea, Jessie, Chism and Harriot finally reached Nauvoo. Hosea arranged for the other three to stay for the time being at the Mansion, which was under the management of Ebenezer Robinson while Joseph Smith was away. Then he wearily made his way up Main Street to his own home, wife, and family. Louisa was suffering from the asthma, but she ran to the door and threw her arms around him.

"Oh, Hosea, I missed you so much!" she cried. "Promise me, you'll never, ever leave us again!"

NORFOLK, Monday, February 3

General Scott's Army of the South embarked from Norfolk aboard the same warships and transports that had carried them to Baltimore, under the command of Commodore Matthew Perry. The "dress rehearsal" in Baltimore had served the General well. He now had a small but well-disciplined army with experience in amphibious assaults, which was exactly what he needed for an attack on the relatively isolated town of Port Royal, South Carolina. From there, he planned to strike inland towards the State Capital at Columbia and quickly end the conflict.

Also embarking with the army was Lieutenant General Joseph Smith, Commander in Chief of the United States Army. At a meeting earlier in the day at the Executive Mansion, Joseph had discussed his plans with the Executive Committee. Henry Clay and George Dallas had argued strenuously against his going, on several counts.

"General Scott is fully capable o' carryin' out this mission", Clay argued. "An' you, Mr. Smith, ah' a 'paper' general, with no field experience!"

Joseph bristled at this insult.

"On the contrary, I have commanded field militias in Ohio, Missouri, and Illinois. General Scott will still have overall command of the campaign, but I strongly feel that this is something I must do. This land hasn't had a prophet-general for many centuries now, and if ever there was a time when we needed the Lord's guidance, it is now."

After the meeting had broken up, James Polk turned to Henry Clay and said,

"He's completely mad, you know."

"Yes, quite... a fit subject fo' Bedlam", Clay replied. "We must rid ou'selves of him, at the earliest oppo'tunity."

"Couldn't you simply ship him to Liberia?"

"Shore, an' then what? He draws follerers like flies to molasses. 'Fore you knowed it, he'd be singin' 'Go down Moses' to ever' black boy in Africa an' America to boot."

CHATTANOOGA, Tuesday, February 4

General Kearny's Army of the West was camped just to the east of Chattanooga.

Private Charles Davenport wrote the following letter to his wife in Nauvoo:

Near Chattanooga, Tennessee

February the 4th, 1845

My Dearest Sarah,

If it seems I have been remiss in writing to you, it is only due to a lack of opportunity these past few weeks. Would that I could write to you every day! We were first crammed aboard steamboats for a week, with scarcely room to stretch out and sleep. These past few days we have been continually marching, only God knows where to. I have learnt that armies are more or less the same, no matter the insignia – the mud, the senseless commands, and the complaints know no borders. The British army is perhaps more disciplined, but these American chaps have more than enough élan to make up for their lack of spit and polish. Our General treats us respectably.

We landed a few days ago near a town called Chattanooga. There, we met our first opposition from Rebel forces who were stationed on the top of Lookout Mountain. A rifle company from Springfield distinguished themselves most nobly as they fought their way to the summit of this mountain, from the top of which the entire Tennessee Valley below may easily be commanded.

We had a battle yesterday at a place they call Chickamauga – these American chaps have such outlandish names for places! We are fortunate that the rebels have as yet been unable to muster a force sufficient to slow our advance. The Georgian rebels we defeated at this place are under the command of a Major Albert Sidney Johnston, as I understand.

You must pardon my hen-scratches, but I am perched on a stump, writing this letter on my knee. If my ink continues to bleed through this paper, so much the better, I shall have a permanent copy of this letter tattooed on my thigh to remember you by. I am,

Your Loving Husband,

Charles Davenport

On this day, General Winfield Scott's Army of the South rounded Cape Hatteras, North Carolina.

NAUVOO, Tuesday, February 4

Late in the day, Hosea Stout and Jessie Frémont met with Brigham Young at his home. They were surprised to find that William Clayton and Porter Rockwell were also there.

"We left Washington nobbut a few days after ye, wi' th' copy o' Captain Frémont's manuscript", William said. "We took th' northern route, up th' Hudson River an' across th' Great Lakes. T'was surprisin' ta me, but th' weather, 'twas mild most o' the way an' the lakes, they warn't frozen o'er. I arrived aboot ten days ago wi' th' copy o' yair husband's manuscript, Mrs. Frémont."

Brigham Young put his hand out to take the leather-bound manuscript, but William instead handed it to Jessie, who held it close.

"Thank you, Mista' Clayton", she said softly. "You have no idea what this means to me."

Brigham Young harumphed and withdrew his hand, then he turned back to face Hosea.

"I hear tell you and your companions had quite an adventure getting here. Please, tell me about it."

Hosea and Jessie alternated telling bits and pieces of the tale; of how Joseph had requested a copy of the manuscript, and the miraculous way Hosea had obtained it; of the freeing of Chism, and their departure from Washington; of the incident aboard the General Brooke and the death of Lily. Brigham was quite moved and shed tears as Hosea recounted their cruel treatment by the soldiers. Hosea decided to omit telling of their visit to Jessie's mother in Palmyra, as it was still painfully fresh in Jessie's memory.

When they had finished, Brigham leaned back in his chair and looked at the two of them.

"And now, Brother Stout, what are your intentions?" Brigham said with a faint smile.

"Intentions? I, ah, I don't know", Hosea stammered. "I had thought to enlist in the army, but they left without me. If my old policeman's job is still available..."

"I withdraw the question", Brigham said diplomatically. "But the city does need policing, and I may have a special assignment for you in a few weeks besides. In the mean time, I believe you have a family to take care of."

"That I do", Hosea said with relief. "Thank you, President Young."

As they departed, Jessie turned to Hosea and asked,

"Hosea, just what did Mista' Young mean ba' that question, 'What are yo' intentions?'"

"I, ah, I don't really know", Hosea stammered. "Good day, Jessie." He turned away from her, red-faced, and headed up Granger Street.

CHARLESTON, Thursday, February 6

The Army of the South passed Charleston, South Carolina. As the flotilla sailed south past Folly Island, General Scott gazed north through his spyglass at the fortifications surrounding Charleston's harbor. He studied Fort Moultrie for a long time, then he growled,

"Don't get your hopes up, Calhoun. Your home town is on our list after Port Royal. If we can bag you here, we might not even need to move against Columbia."

CHATTANOOGA, Thursday, February 6

The Army of the West continued to advance with little opposition in a southeasterly direction from Chattanooga. General Kearny quickly made good use of the nearly completed Western and Atlantic Railroad, which stretched from Chattanooga south to the town of Marthasville on the Chattahoochee River. The railroad soon became a lifeline supplying him with men, food and equipment.

General Doniphan and his "Army of Observation" departed New Orleans for Texas.

NAUVOO, Friday, February 7

In the afternoon Jessie carded wool at the Mansion with her newfound friends, Eliza R. Snow and Mary Elizabeth Lightner. As she tugged at a skein of coarse gray wool with her carding comb, the other women inquired politely about her.

"Ah was born in Levington, Virginia in 1824", she said. "Ma father was already a senator fro' Missouri since 1821, just a year after it became a state. Ah 'member growin' up on his plantation in Palmyra, and oh, what a splendid time it was to be alive! Then the troubles began. Ah recall the endless stream of Mormons crossing the river in thirty-nine, fleeing the persecutions. It must'a touched me somehow, otherwise ah prob'ly wouldn't be here today."

"Yes, we all lived through that dreadful scene", said Mary Elizabeth, pulling at her comb. "We only hope that such awful times ne'er come again."

Jessie told them about her experiences with Hosea and the others on their way to Nauvoo, including the death of her daughter Lily. Then she said earnestly,

"Miss Snow – Eliza, why is it that folks seem to despise you Mormons so? You seem like fairly respectable folk to me."

Eliza said, "That's a complicated question, Jessie, with many answers. The Latter-day Saints believe passionately in something unique and precious, and we are a different sort of people. Some folks just can't abide the idea of someone being different from them, so they persecute us for it. I think that's the general reply."

"Ah see..." said Jessie. "Ah now know from experience that you don't even have to be a Mormon to suffer like them, you only have to take sides with them."

The women resumed their carding. Presently Jessie asked slyly,

"So, what ah your stations in life, Eliza, Mary? Ah' you betrothed, or have you at least taken a bead on some eligible bachelors in Nauvoo?"

Mary Elizabeth paused, then she looked at Eliza, who nodded slightly.

"We're already married, Jessie", Mary Elizabeth said softly. "That is why we're living in the Mansion here. We're married to Joseph Smith. This is his house."

Jessie was taken aback. "You – that is, you mean, both of you? You're both married to him? Then it's true, what ah've heard about polygamy?"

"I'll wager that what you've heard is nowhere near the truth", said Eliza.

Jessie stammered. "Well ah... that is... ah... No, ah suppose not... Is this practice common among all Mormons?"

"No, not many. But it is a principle of our religion, and perfectly legal under the laws of our nation."

Jessie pondered this for a moment, then she exclaimed,

"But how could two women share one man? Ah could never share Mr. Frémont with another woman, leastways what little there was of him to share! What a peculiar custom!" she pouted.

Mary Elizabeth said, "Yes, it does get complicated... Sister Snow here is 'sealed' to Joseph Smith for time and all eternity – that is, for this life and the next. I am sealed to him only for eternity, that is, I am not his yet, but I will be his in the afterlife. For the present, I am married to Adam Lightner."

Jessie looked completely baffled.

"Indeed, we are a peculiar people", Eliza said, smiling at her. "You don't know the half of it yet. Suffice it to say, the New and Everlasting Covenant of Marriage has been the greatest blessing of my life."

She turned and looked Jessie squarely in the eyes.

"Jessie, listen carefully to me. I know not why the Lord has brought you here, but I know it is for some wise purpose. I sense that you are drawn to this people, but you don't know why. If you decide to put in your shovel with the Latter-day Saints, you can't do it halfway. You must go the whole way, or none at all. There is no middle ground. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ah, ah think so..." Jessie stammered. "This is not an easy decision fo' me to make. But ah feel ah must make it soon, one way or t'other."

PORT ROYAL, Friday, February 7

The Union assault on Port Royal began at first dawn. General Winfield Scott had a combined force of about four thousand soldiers and Marines at his disposal. Because of a lack of transport ships, only about half of his army was on hand, with the rest to follow in the coming weeks. The General assumed that since the Rebels had been anticipating an attack on Charleston or Savannah, and Port Royal was only lightly guarded, the landing here would come off without a hitch.

As the flotilla anchored just north of Hilton Head, General Scott scanned Port Royal Sound with his spyglass from the bow of his flagship, the Roanoke.

"Looks pretty quiet to me", he said to Joseph Smith. "But then, this was always something of a backwater. That's why I chose it."

The ships formed up in line astern and slowly threaded their way up the channel, with the frigate Tecumseh in the lead. Joseph gazed with wonder at the lush bayous, mossy live oaks, and bald cypresses that lined the banks near Cat Island.

"I've never traveled this far south, nor seen such a profusion of flora before", he said to Scott.

His words were interrupted by a tremendous explosion, and the men watched in dismay as the frigate Tecumseh rolled to starboard several lengths ahead of them.

"What the devil?" Scott shouted. "Torpedoes, here? But how?"

"That can mean only one thing", said Joseph. "They know we're coming."

"But how could they? This whole campaign was planned in the strictest of secrecy!"

"I don't know", said Joseph. "I have several ideas. But at the moment, may I suggest we choose a different plan of action? Take us on past Port Royal, say, up to Spanish Point. Wherever the rebels may be expecting us, we must make certain we land somewhere else."

"But the channel's too shallow up there! It's not safe for navigation!"

"On the contrary Winfield, I checked the charts just last night, and we are at high tide now. The upper channel is just deep enough, if we keep to the center."

General Scott was not entirely convinced, but he turned and cried,

"Commodore Perry, signal your ships to follow me! We'll land farther north! And send out the yawl, to scout for any more of those damned torpedoes!"

The flotilla halted temporarily while the Roanoke lowered her small eight-man yawl. Then they carefully resumed their course, with the nimble yawl leading the way. They passed the stricken Tecumseh, which had settled hard into the mud.

Periodically the crew of the yawl would all raise their oars skyward, signaling that the channel was clear of mines. At the same time, a leadsman on the bow of the Roanoke took soundings.

"Three fathoms!" he cried.

As they approached Port Royal Island, General Scott gazed intently at the village.

"Damnation", he muttered. "They have breastworks and fortifications all around the lower end of the town. If we try to land here, it'll be just like the British at New Orleans, a slaughter. No heavy guns there, at least that I can see. But if that yawl gets too close they'll blow it to pieces."

A moment later the boatswain of the yawl stood and furiously waved a red flag over his head.

"Torpedoes ahead!" Perry cried. "Slow to quarter!"

In the next instant there was a thunderous explosion and the yawl disappeared in a shower of splinters.

"Hell's bells!" General Scott roared. "Commodore, full speed ahead! Damn the torpedoes! I'm wagering that's the last of them. Bring the batteries to bear! We'll give this town a Union welcome!"

The warships cracked on full steam and headed straight up the east channel past Port Royal, unleashing a tremendous barrage on the village as they passed. The cotton-bale and earthen breastworks along the waterfront disintegrated under the blast of the huge guns. A few small field cannons boomed a reply from the shore, but with no visible effect on the ships.

The leadsman out on the bowsprit of the Roanoke held on for dear life as the ship pitched and rolled. About fifteen minutes later the flotilla slowed as it approached Spanish Point near the north end of Port Royal Island. Just inland, they could see the V-shaped Fort Marion, with its massive, 21-foot thick stone walls.

"Lieutenant Robert E. Lee reported to me that the Army abandoned this fort last year", said Scott. "They spent twenty years building it, only to realize that maintaining it was too dear."

Joseph gazed uneasily at the shore. "I have a bad feeling about this..." he said.

"Nonsense, this is the perfect place to land", said General Scott. "Commodore, signal your men to lower the boats – and tell them to make it quick!" The soldiers and sailors began unstacking the surf boats and lowering them into the water. Scott began heading toward the first boat.

"And just where are you going, Winfield?" said Joseph Smith.

"Why, to lead the attack of course", Scott said cheerily. "There's no time to waste. General Smith, the flotilla is yours."

He saluted Joseph, turned on his heels and quickly climbed down the rope ladder into the bow of the boat.

"Steersman, cast off", he said.

Joseph and Commodore Perry watched in amazement as General Scott gathered his fragile flotilla and began the assault on the point. He was standing in the bow of the lead surf boat, urging the rowers on with his saber.

"Just like Washington crossing the Delaware", Commodore Perry breathed. "I tell you, he's mad."

Suddenly a ripple of cannon fire erupted from one side of the "abandoned" fort. Joseph instinctively cried "Take cover!", but it was too late. The frigate Connecticut, which was just aft of the Roanoke, took the full brunt of the fusillade, as about 20 cannons rained destruction on her from the fort. Several shots struck her at the water-line, and she quickly settled into the mud. The Roanoke was more fortunate, being situated in the blind area at the point of Fort Marion's "V", where the guns could not be brought to bear. To the north, the sloop Potomac took several hits but returned fire bravely.

By now about fifty surf boats were heading for the shore. All four hundred Marines ducked instinctively as a salvo from the Potomac screamed overhead and struck the fort.

A few moments later the first surf boat grounded on the swampy beach, and the eight Marines scrambled out.

"Fix bayonets!" their sergeant cried, and up the shore they charged, through the tangled mangrove roots and around the cypress knees. Now the soldiers were within range of musket-fire from the fort and from Rebel snipers stationed between them and the fort.

General Scott's boat grounded, and he and his men jumped out.

"Charge!" he cried, and they headed up the bank through the underbrush. He heard a whistling sound, and the man just behind him dropped face first into the coffee-colored water. He took cover behind an old cypress stump and looked around. By now about twenty boats had landed, but the men were scattered all up and down the beach. It was impossible to form a proper skirmish line through the tangled mangrove swamp, and the rebel snipers were difficult to spot through the trees. The fresh Union troops arriving in their boats were easy targets for the rebels, and before very long the beach was strewn with dead soldiers and abandoned boats.

General Scott peeked carefully around his stump at the enemy soldiers, who were continuing to take up positions along the coast road to the south. He thought in desperation,

We can't afford to lose this battle, not now...

At that instant a ball struck him in the left breast, and he fell backwards into the muddy water.

Joseph watched in alarm as the assault bogged down. He gazed anxiously at the shore, then he said to Commodore Perry,

"Signal the remainder of the boats to steer for the clearing in front of that plantation, just north of Spanish Point. It should be easier landing up there."

The Mormon Battalion and the 4th Vermont were just debarking as the new directions were semaphored from ship to ship. They made a beeline for the boat landing in front of a stately white plantation house well north of Spanish Point, as the frigate Passaic moved in and fired a broadside over their heads at Fort Marion.

This landing site was somewhat more successful, and within an hour the Mormons and the "Green Mountain Boys" were sweeping down the coast road in regiment force, driving the disorganized South Carolina militia before them. They succeeded in outflanking the undermanned Fort Marion and overran it from the undefended western side, but not without heavy casualties.

By the time the Stars and Stripes were finally raised over Port Royal at six that evening, over twelve hundred Union casualties had been suffered, including General Winfield Scott.

Joseph Smith was horrified at the carnage. As he gazed mournfully at the rows of bodies laid out along the waterfront, Major Lyman Wight turned to him and said somberly,

"General, what are your orders?"

With a start, Joseph realized that he was finally, irrevocably in command of this army. He thought quickly, then he replied,

"Secure the town. I want no looting or abuse of the civilian population, but anyone showing a weapon is to be arrested."

He swept his gaze over the corpses again. "This blood need not have been spent", he said mournfully. "Whoever divulged this plan to the rebels now has the blood of these innocents on his hands."

PORT ROYAL, Saturday, February 8

General Joseph Smith held his first staff meeting at Fort Marion on Port Royal Island, which he had taken over as his headquarters. As he looked at the sullen faces of his officers staring back at him from around the table, Joseph thought,

I need these men – how can I win their trust?

"Ahem, gentlemen!" he said bravely. "In light of the fact that the rebels were expecting us yesterday, I believe that you and your men performed admirably. As you all know, there is nothing more dangerous or unpredictable in war than an amphibious assault. But God is on our side, and with his aid we shall reunite this dissevered nation! Major Wight, your report, please."

Major Lyman Wight cleared his throat. "The Mormon Battalion suffered 127 casualties, none severe. Most of the men should be back on their feet in a few days. I have 473 able-bodied men at this time. We are still disembarking our horses and other equipment."

"Very well", said Joseph. "Colonel Logan?"

"The 4th Vermont suffered heavy casualties", Colonel Logan replied coldly. "We count 358 dead, and 279 wounded. What is left of my regiment, sir, is now camped at Fort Marion. I have about 450 able-bodied men under my command."

"I see", Joseph said hastily. "Colonel Vanleuwen?"

"Sir, the New York 4th Regiment was decimated. We have 381 dead and 107 wounded, many of them severely. Able-bodied men, about 350, I reckon. My engineers are working with Colonel Logan's men to strengthen Fort Marion. The Navy and Marines are assisting us in unloading our field artillery pieces."

As Joseph continued his way around the table, he began to grasp the enormity of the task before him. Simply keeping this army supplied by sea from the North would be a huge undertaking. Leading them out to engage the enemy was out of the question for now.

"Time is of the essence", he said. "If we dally here too long, we risk being hemmed in by our enemies just like Cornwallis at Yorktown. As soon as our supply ships return here with the second brigade next week, we will begin our march south towards Savannah! The sooner we end this conflict, the better! Dismissed!"

Joseph's adjutant, Major Daniel H. Wells, stood and cried,

"Ten-hut!"

The staff officers stood and saluted Joseph, then they began filing out. Joseph turned to Major Wells and said,

"Dan, stay a moment."

Wells paused and turned back. "Yes, Joseph?"

"Tell me, Dan, from your Gentile perspective, how is the morale in the ranks?"

"Sir?" Dan said with a frown.

"Can I count on my officers and men to obey me and follow my orders without question?"

Dan thought for a moment, then he said,

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Of course, always."

Dan said, "The Mormon Battalion trust you implicitly. As for the rest, I'm not so sure. They call you an, ah..."

"A what?" Joseph said.

Wells hesitated. "Well sir, ah... they call you a parade-ground, stuffed-shirt greenhorn, sir. They don't trust you to command them. I think most of 'em are come down here on a lark, thinkin' they could just mosey on up to Columbia 'thout firin' a shot."

"Well, they learned otherwise", Joseph said. "Though they did fight most bravely, yesterday..."

"Bravely? Joseph, they ha'nt an inkling of what they were marching into. It was a massacre! And they blame you for General Scott's death!"

Joseph was stunned. "Dan, I did what I thought was best. Whoever divulged our plan to the enemy is responsible for our men's deaths, not I. We achieved our objective here, and we'll prevail in the end. I cannot shrink from the task God has given me!"

"An' that's the other thing, sir! These men are not accustomed to bein' led by a self-styled prophet! They call you 'Deacon Smith', an' other names too vile to mention. And they're not too fond of our 'Mormon boys' in the Battalion, neither. They think you coddle them."

Daniel paused for breath. "An' lastly, sir, you gotta realize that you're leading an army staff now, not the Quorum of the Twelve! You'll never, ever get a unanimous decision out'o these officers, nor should you expect one. You are their commander, and your word is law here – military law! These are soldiers, not Saints!"

"Then I shall convert them all and baptize them", Joseph replied. "If I have to march into Hell and turn out the Devil, I shall. Thank you, Dan. I can see now, I have a difficult task ahead of me – more difficult than I ever could have foreseen."
CHAPTER 34

NAUVOO, Sunday, February 9

The Saints met this day on the unfinished first floor of the temple. The hall was still bare save for several rows of split-log pews and a temporary pulpit, and many of the Saints brought their own chairs to sit on. Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball and John Taylor each addressed the congregation. At the close of his talk, Elder Taylor stretched out his arm and said,

"Be there any 'ere 'at feels moved upon by t' Spirit, and air wishin' t' enter th' waters o' baptism? If so, would ye kindly signify by standin'?"

Several people stood up. Hosea glanced around and noticed to his surprise that Jessie was also standing timidly near the back of the hall.

"Thank'e", said Elder Taylor. "Followin' th' prayer, we shall repair t' th' baptistery ta pairform t' sacred oordinance. Air closin' hymn, t'will be noomber 171, 'Lo, on th' Water's Brink We Stand'."

Brother John Kay stood up and gave the pitch, and the congregation stood and sang:

Lo! On the water's brink we stand,

To do the Father's will!

To be baptized by his command,

And thus the word fulfill.

Lord we have sinned, but we repent,

And put our sins away,

With joy receive the message sent

In this the latter day.

Hosea glanced cautiously around and noticed that Jessie was standing between Eliza R. Snow and Mary Elizabeth Lightner, and singing right along with them from the tiny hymnbook that she held. She glanced back at him, then she resumed her singing.

Thou wilt accept our humble prayer,

And all our sins forgive;

For Jesus' sake the sinner spare,

He died that we might live.

We lay our sinful bodies now,

Beneath the op'ning wave;

Then rise to life divinely new,

As from the bursting grave.

After the closing prayer most of the congregation departed, while about twenty members and nonmembers descended the spiral stairs to the baptistery. Hosea and his wife Louisa followed along near the back of the group as they gathered quietly along the platform surrounding the font. This was the first time Hosea had viewed the newly refurbished baptistery, and his heart jumped in his throat as he took in the splendor of it all.

"I love this room", Louisa whispered to Hosea. "T'is unlike any other place on earth. We worked right hard to fit it out like this."

The only light in the room came from the sixteen semicircular windows on the north and south sides of the temple. These windows were at ground level, just above the congregants' heads. The low winter sun's rays slanted in through the south windows, casting dancing pools of light on the font and the brick floor.

Twelve limestone oxen had been lovingly sculpted to support the new stone font, which sat on a sloping red brick floor. At the east and west ends of the baptistery were several changing rooms and a laundry room. The only sound in the room was the faint lapping of the water filling the font.

Elder John Taylor took his place by the clerk's table near the steps to the font. He said, "Now, be there enny present 'at air desirin' a specific elder t' baptize an' confairm them?"

Jessie raised her hand timidly and said, "Yes, ah would."

She pointed at Hosea across the room. "Ah would like Brother Hosea Stout to perform this sacrament fo' me."

Hosea was surprised but pleased. Elder Taylor smiled at Hosea and said,

"Verra' well. There be a change o' clooting fair each o' ye in t' clooting rooms, yonder. We shall wait on yair return."

Hosea, Jessie, and the other participants were escorted to the small dressing rooms at the far end of the hall, while the other members softly sang another hymn. When Jessie emerged a few minutes later, she was wearing a plain white dress and had her long black hair tied back. She looked radiant.

"Brother Stout, ah have desired this longer than you know", she said as she beamed at him. "Thank you for assisten' me."

"The honor is mine", he responded.

He took her by the hand and led her up the steps into the font. The water was icy cold, and he gritted his teeth against the shock. Somehow the cold didn't seem to matter so much to Jessie. Hosea took her by the left hand, raised his right arm and said,

"Jessie Ann Benton Frémont, having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you..."

PORT ROYAL, Monday, February 10

After the morning reveille, mess, and assembly, General Joseph Smith retired to his office to catch up on his mountain of paper work.

Requisitions, transfers, promotions, letters of condolence, casualty reports, scouting reports, provision reports, letters from Congressmen... I must win the paper war before I even start on the shooting war... It couldn't possibly have been this complicated for the old Nephite generals...

He pulled a Request for Promotion from the top of the stack and quickly scanned it. Private Seamus McFeemish had been put in for promotion to Private First Class. Joseph called his Orderly, James Allred.

"James, what is this?"

"Why, it's a req-prom, sir", said James, glancing at the form.

"Shouldn't his company commander handle this?"

"Yes, sir, I suppose he should."

"Please see to it in the future... By the way, do I know this Private McFeemish?"

"No sir, I believe he's from Montrose, or Zarahemla per'aps."

"Very well", said Joseph. "A-prooved."

He selected a brand-new India-rubber stamp from a wooden tray, carefully inked it, and brought it down with a resounding thump on the req-prom. He felt a certain satisfaction in completing his very first act as Commander of the Army.

Next, Joseph went to work on a stack of requisition forms. A few minutes later there was a knock on his door.

"Yes, what is it?" he replied, somewhat irritated. His Orderly opened the door, saluted and said,

"Sir, there are two Captains here to see you. They said it's important."

"Captains? I have a score of Captains here, all with important business! What's so special about these two?"

"Uh, but sir, these are French Captains."

"French?" Joseph said, now thoroughly puzzled.

"- as in French Army, sir..." James said, rolling his eyes.

"Thank you James, that will be all. Show them in", Joseph replied, his curiosity now piqued.

James Allred saluted and withdrew, and two very curious-looking soldiers entered, clicked their heels together, and saluted in the French style, with the hand vertical. They were wearing the most outlandish uniforms Joseph had ever seen: short-waisted blue jackets with gold piping and epaulettes; huge, baggy red pants, and red fezzes with gold tassels. They each carried a knapsack on their back. They both had olive complexions, and were rather short and stocky.

One of them stood ramrod-straight, saluted again and announced,

"Mon général, nous sommes ici! Capitain Maronais et Capitain Lehay, à votre service!"

Joseph took a second look at the two characters standing before him; then as recognition slowly dawned on him, he started to snicker, then laugh, and finally guffawed and pounded the table, as tears streamed from his eyes. He finally got control of himself and said,

"General Lafayette to the rescue, eh? Captain Moroni and Captain Lehi, you'd make a cow laugh with those ridiculous French Zouave uniforms. Couldn't you have worn something a bit more discreet, say, German feldgrau?"

A bit miffed, Captain Moroni replied in broken English, "The French Army, it is second to none in discipline, élan et cran in this curious 'modern' world of yours. And besides, we hardly could appear here in breastplates and loincloths, vous savez? We had need of an, ah..." He looked at Captain Lehi.

"An alibi", Lehi replied. "Pardon, we are not accustomed to speaking English. Such a curious, how does one say, bouillabaisse of a language is English... The French language, on the other foot, er, hand, has a verb for toute occasion..."

Joseph cut him off. "Brethren, why are you here? As you can see, I am a busy man just now. I have a war to prosecute, and a Church to direct besides."

"That is why we have been sent for you to instruire, Joseph", said Moroni, as he removed his knapsack and sat down across from Joseph.

"Normalement we work on the Continent, but since the Napoleonic wars are finis, we are on the temporary assignment here. Joseph, it has been a very long time since there has been a prophet-general on this continent, and you have beaucoup to learn in a time very short. We know the routine better than any, ah, man living."

"Short time, indeed", Joseph replied sardonically. "I had four years of training under that other Moroni. I reckon I have, oh, about a week here before every militia in the South descends on me en masse. There, how's my French? So, what can you two veterans do for me in such a 'time very short'?"

Captain Moroni pulled a large, leather-covered book out of his knapsack. "This is the Serekh ha-Milhamah, the Nephite Rules of War", he said. "You must read it and commit it to memory."

Joseph laughed. "Do you seriously expect me to conduct a war in the ancient Nephite order of battle? In case you hadn't noticed, we now have guns, and horses, and railroads, and..."

Now it was Lehi's turn to cut Joseph off. "The basic principles of war, they have not changed since Sun Tzu."

Joseph looked at him in puzzlement.

Lehi continued. "Never mind, you have not ever of him heard. And besides, this is the 140th edition of the Serekh ha-Milhamah. We try to maintain it up to date, vous voyez?"

He handed the book to Joseph, who reluctantly took it and opened it to the table of contents:

Laying Plans

Waging War

Attack by Stratagem

Tactical Dispositions

Energy

Weak Points and Strong

Maneuvering

Variation in Tactics

The Army on the March

Terrain

The Nine Situations

The use of Spies

"You were always an étudiant rapide, Joseph", Captain Moroni said earnestly. "We know that you can accomplish this thing. You must accomplish this thing. You know all that is at stake."

Joseph clapped the book shut and said wearily,

"Oh, very well, I shall study it... and thank you. Thank you very much. I am grateful."

Captain Lehi said, "We shall be to return for it in eight days."

Moroni glanced at a book on Joseph's desk.

"I see also that Roger's Rangers Rules you are reading... The council it is very good there, on the proper disposition of the soldiers on patrol. Naturellement, these principles we had already learned many centuries ago."

Lehi reached in his knapsack and said,

"Oh, and there is also one other small thing. The other Moroni wanted that you have this – he said to me that you refused it to take, when you were there précédemment."

Lehi pulled out an ancient leather scabbard, about two feet long, and handed it to Joseph. He took the sword by the gold handle and unsheathed it, then he laid it on the table between them. Inscribed on the gleaming steel blade was a line of fine gold characters in an ancient script. Captain Moroni glanced at the sword, looked up at Joseph and said,

"You know that which it says, Joseph:

"This sword will never be sheathed again until the kingdoms of this world become the Kingdom of our God and His Christ."

Joseph reached hesitantly for the sword, picked it up and hefted it. He said softly,

"Never have I shed the blood of man. I would shrink from this task. Truly, I consider no man my enemy. This is against my very nature."

Lehi replied, "We understand well, Joseph. Do you think it was for us any easier? This sword has seen the death of hundreds, from its first owner Laban, to the Lamanites that ultimately killed Mormon. But dans le même temps, it secured the freedom of many thousands. Parfois, there is not an alternative."

NAUVOO, Monday, February 10

Brigham Young wrote in his journal:

Meeting of the Presidents of Seventies at early candle light. After the business before the meeting was attended to, I instructed the Elders on the subject of revelation; showing how the Lord dealt with his children in revealing to them here a little and there a little, as they were capacitated to receive, comprehend and improve upon, named baptism for the dead in which the Lord first revealed the principle, then the order.

After the meeting closed, Hosea Stout was just about to leave the Seventies Hall when Brigham Young pulled him aside. "Brother Stout, I wish to speak with you", Brigham said.

The two men sat down next to each other on the front row of benches. Hosea thought,

It's about that policeman's position Brigham mentioned last week, for sure.

Brigham got quickly to the point. "So, Brother Hosea, I'm sure you are relieved to be home again. And your family, they are also doing well?"

"Why, yes Brother Brigham, Louisa is overjoyed to have me home again, as are little William and Hyrum. These last few months have been hard for Louisa and them, what with me gone and her suffering from the asthma. We very much depended on my policeman's salary when I was here, too much perhaps."

Brigham turned and looked squarely at him. "Hosea, what are your feelings towards Mrs. Frémont ?"

Hosea was taken aback by this. "I, ah, well, President Young, isn't that a rather personal question? If you are asking, have I been unfaithful to Louisa, the answer is most emphatically no!"

"That's not what I'm asking, and you know it", said Brigham. "Tell me, how do you feel about Mrs. Frémont at this moment?"

Hosea stammered, "I, I, don't, ah, rightly know..."

Brigham leaned closer and said, "Brother Stout. I am one of only two men on the earth who is authorized to turn this key in your behalf. I am here to say to you, that the Lord desires for you to be sealed to Jessie for time and all eternity."

Hosea's mind searched desperately for a way out of this, as he blurted out,

"I, ah, can't do that. Uh, isn't she still legally married to Captain Frémont ?"

"No, she told me she has already filed a bill of divorcement with the State of Missouri, where they were married. She's free and unencumbered now."

"Oh..." was all Hosea could say.

He thought, I'm doomed – signed and sealed.

"I'll give you some time to think about it, say, until Wednesday. And might I suggest you discuss it with Louisa, also?" he said with a wink.

Brigham slapped Hosea on the knee, stood up, shook his hand and said, "Good evening, Brother Stout", and then he was gone.

DALTON, Monday, February 10

Later this day, General Kearny called a halt near Dalton, Georgia. A driving rain had turned the red Georgia clay into gumbo, making the roads nearly impassable.

Just before dark the rains finally ceased. Warsaw Battalion Commander Mark Aldrich was just sitting down to a late supper of bacon and beans when his two captains came rushing up to his tent. They were Jacob Davis and William Grover.

"Major, just what th' hell you think you're pullin' on us?" said Jacob Davis.

"At ease, Captain!" replied Aldrich. "And just what's pestering you now?"

"This!" said William Grover, pulling a soggy, tattered newspaper out of his coat pocket. He handed it to the Major, who studied it for a moment and then turned pale as a ghost. It was a copy of the Richmond Enquirer, dated January 28th:

GREAT UNION VICTORY IN BALTIMORE

SEMMES' MARINES ROUTED

FORT McHENRY RECAPTURED

Yesterday a combined force of US Army regulars and New England militia recaptured Baltimore and Fort McHenry without the loss of a single soldier. We are informed that this campaign was devised and executed by General Winfield Scott, under the direction of Lieutenant General Joseph Smith, Commander-in-Chief of the US Army. We shall issue extras as further particulars are gleaned.

Grover pointed angrily to the newspaper. "You see there, Aldrich? General Joseph Smith? Don't that name ring a bell with you? We tried to hive that ol' sonfabitch, and now you've set us up under his command?"

Aldrich's jaw moved, but no words came out.

"You damn fool, you sold us down the river!" said Davis.

Aldrich whispered, "How many men know about this?"

"Just us three, so far", Grover replied. "But if word of this gets out, we'll be an idiot short by mornin', an' you know who I'm referrin' to."

Major Aldrich stood and nervously glanced around. "Pass the word, we're clearing out tonight. But do it quietly."

"Clearing out? You mean, like deserting? Where to?" said Davis.

Aldrich scratched his whiskers and replied,

"I dunno... not back to Chattanooga, for sure. North, I suppose. We'll live off the land, fend for ourselves. We are the 'Warsaw Independent Battalion', ain't we?"

"Oh-kay, Major", said Grover, waving the paper. "We won't breathe a word of this to the men."

"Thank you. Dismissed", said Aldrich, saluting.

By the time the sun rose over Dalton the next morning, the Warsaw Independent Battalion had quietly melted into the Georgia forest and was gone.

PORT ROYAL, Tuesday, February 11

After much deliberation, General Joseph Smith signed an order emancipating all of the slaves within his military district.

"I am serving notice that human slavery will no longer be tolerated here", he said. "I've consulted the Military Code of Justice, and I have complete authority under martial law to enforce this proclamation. I'm hopeful that Generals Kearny and Doniphan will sign similar orders within their military districts, which, including mine, comprise nearly all of the slave-holding states of the Union. Mind you, this is a temporary military decree, in effect only until the current hostilities are ended. The only way to permanently outlaw slavery is by amendment to the Constitution – a much more difficult process, but one that I am hopeful will soon be voted on in Congress."

The proclamation read as follows:

A Proclamation.

Whereas, on the eleventh day of February, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and forty-five, a proclamation was issued by the Lieutenant General of the United States Army, containing, among other things, the following, to wit:

"That all persons held as slaves within the Southern Military District, the people whereof shall then be in rebellion against the United States, shall be then, thenceforward, and forever free; and the military and naval authority of the United States Government, will recognize and maintain the freedom of such persons, and will do no act or acts to repress such persons, or any of them, in any efforts they may make for their actual freedom.

And by virtue of the power, and for the purpose aforesaid, I do order and declare that all persons held as slaves within the States of Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia, Maryland, and Delaware, are, and henceforward shall be free; and that the military and naval authorities of the United States will recognize and maintain the freedom of said persons.

And upon this act, sincerely believed to be an act of justice, warranted by the Constitution, upon military necessity, I invoke the considerate judgment of mankind, and the gracious favor of Almighty God.

In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and caused the seal of the United States Army to be affixed.

Done at Port Royal, this eleventh day of February, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and forty-five, and of the Independence of the United States of America the sixty-ninth.

Joseph Smith, Lieutenant General of the United States Army.

"Congress can quibble over whether and how to compensate the former slave-masters for the loss of their slaves", he said. "However, I personally would not give one groat to these slave-drivers, as they are in a state of armed rebellion against the United States Government. In my opinion, they have forfeited whatever purported rights they may have previously claimed to hold humans in bondage."

NEW YORK, Tuesday, February 11

As news of the disaster at Port Royal reached the North, the Copperhead press swung into action. Horace Greeley's New York Tribune published the following broadside:

DISASTER AT PORT ROYAL

UNION ASSAULT REPULSED

TERRIBLE LOSS OF LIFE

GENERAL JOSEPH SMITH, who had vowed to wade to his knees in his enemy's blood, got his wish this previous Friday as an ill-conceived attack was mounted on Port Royal, South Carolina. The self-styled Mormon Prophet-General, with complete abandon and no concern for his men's safety, foolishly ordered a direct amphibious assault on Fort Marion, north of Port Royal. General Winfield Scott was among the over twelve hundred casualties of this mad campaign.

General Smith is no Wellington, despite his pretensions as such. He has plunged our nation into this pointless conflict with the aim of swelling the ranks of his deluded followers. We urge our leaders to put an end to his mad career and sue for peace with South Carolina, before the entire nation is plunged into conflict.

Horace Greeley

NAUVOO, Tuesday, February 11

After a sleepless night, Hosea Stout arose early and went down to the Mississippi riverbank. He spent the forenoon pacing up and down, his mind in turmoil. He felt enveloped in a dark cloud of gloom and despair. Several times he dropped to his knees in silent prayer, but the heavens seemed as brass over his head.

"Oh, God, what should I do?" he groaned. "Thy servant hath ever been faithful to Louisa. How can I possibly break this news to her? What will she say? What if she should refuse?"

Around noon, he finally resolved to return home and do as Brigham Young had advised. Just as he reached the crest of the sandy riverbank, a thought came to him:

The Gospel is still true.

Joseph and the Twelve hold the keys.

If you follow them, all will be right.

Somewhat relieved by this thought, he slowly wended his way home. Louisa was waiting for him at the door.

"Hosea, whatever's the matter?" she said, coughing. "You missed your luncheon, and I had begun to worry."

Hosea could tell that her asthma was worsening.

He sat down at the table and wearily removed his hat. "Louisa, I..."

She sat down next to him and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Hosea, I know what this is about, it's as plain as day to me. I know how you've wrestled with this decision. If you hadn't struggled with it, I would suspect other motives, but I know you better than that." She coughed again.

"It is? I am? But how..."

"My dear, I've known you for five years now. The instant I saw you and Jessie returning from Washington together, the spirit whispered to me to prepare myself for this. I've spent more sleepless nights than you perhaps, struggling and praying secretly over the matter. I have never, in all our time together, suspected you of being unfaithful to me. Don't you see? If I even suspicioned that you had abandoned me for another woman, I could ne'er go through with this." She smiled. "Not only that, but your father in law would have you horsewhipped an' run out of town."

He took her by the shoulders and gazed at her. "So, you have no reservations about my taking a second wife?"

She caught her breath. "Reservations, yes... but not about you. My faith in you and in the gospel is unshaken. 'Tis the principle itself that I yet struggle with."

"As do I", he replied.

She looked away as her lungs tightened again, then she gazed back at him.

"In truth, I would prefer you all to myself! But as the Lord has said, 'Ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith'. So, I am willing to accept her on that ground."

He gazed in wonder at her. "God bless you, my dear! Then I have only to break the news to Jessie... I thought proposing marriage to you was difficult, especially so soon after Sumantha's death. This is by far the more complicated."

He stood up and picked up his hat. "I suppose I should go and tell Brother Brigham, first of all."

Hosea headed down the street to Brigham Young's home. The air was clear and cold, and there were only traces of snow left on the ground. Hosea found Brigham in his shop seated at a small treadle-powered lathe, turning the stiles for the back of a chair. Brigham did not look up from his work, but said simply,

"Afternoon, Hosea."

Hosea replied, "Good afternoon, Brother Brigham", and nervously plied his hat with his hands as he waited patiently.

Brigham worked his round-nose chisel delicately up and down the tool rest, blew the sawdust off the stile and said, "Hand me my parting tool, Hosea."

Hosea handed the narrow pointed chisel to Brigham, who rocked the treadle a few more times and carefully cut the piece loose, then he held it up next to his "pattern" stile for comparison.

"Perfect", he said, turning at last to face Hosea. "I find that this helps me to clear my mind, and it keeps me in practice with my carpentry as well."

Hosea looked at the nearly-finished Windsor chair in admiration and said,

"It looks like you haven't lost your touch, Brigham... I am ready with my answer. I am willing."

"And Louisa is agreed, also?" said Brigham.

"Yes, she is. Now I only need Jessie's consent."

"Now, that should be the easy part", Brigham replied dryly. "Good luck to you, my friend."

Just one more errand to run, Hosea thought as he headed down Granger Street. He headed east on Water Street until just in front of the Red Brick Store, where he caught a glimpse of the Mansion in the distance. Then he hesitated.

What shall I say to her? Will she laugh at me? Will she spurn my offer, or turn against the Church as William and Jane Law did? I've done this twice before, but it never gets any easier, especially considering that I'm already married this time. What will my brother and cousins think? What if Louisa turns against me, as Emma did against Joseph? Isn't one wife enough for any man? How did I ever come to this impasse?

He thought back to that time not so long before, when the Spirit had led him to Jessie in the basement of the Capitol Building.

So much has happened since then...

He steeled himself and resumed his pace up Water Street. He opened the gate to the white picket fence and walked up the path, blew on his hands to warm them, then knocked on the door. Harriot answered the door and said brightly,

"Wha', Mars Hosea! An' what brangs you hea' dis af'ernoon?"

"I'm looking for Jessie, Harriot. Is she in?"

"No'suh, she lef' bout noon, I spec'. Say she gwine down to de ribber, cleah' her haid, she say."

Just Perfect, he thought.

"Thank you, Harriot." He turned and retraced his steps back to Main Street.

Let's see, he thought. With five miles of riverbank to choose from, where would she head to first?

He wandered down Main Street to the lower boat landing and looked around. The landing was deserted, save for the sunken hulk of the old Hyrum Smith. He headed west and north along the riverbank, picking his way amongst the overturned skiffs and flotsam from the river. He passed the remains of the Nauvoo, Joseph Smith's first steamboat. Still there was no sight of anyone.

As he passed just below the Red Brick Store, he saw someone sitting on the upper bank, leaning against a gnarled cottonwood tree. It was Jessie. He quickened his pace and climbed up the bank to greet her.

She was wearing a long, dark woolen riding coat and gloves, and playing idly with a small stick. She looked at him as if half expecting him, then looked away.

"Afternoon, Jessie. May I join you?" he said.

She looked up. He could tell she had been crying.

"Suhtenly, Mista' Stout. Or is it Brother Stout now?"

"My friends call me Hosea", he said, sitting down next to her. "Cold today, isn't it?"

She sniffed. "Quite cold, indeed. To what do ah owe the pleasure of yo' company?" she said archly.

She's not going to make it easy for me, he thought.

"I hadn't seen you for several days, and I was curious as to how you are getting along."

"Ah see. Are you that familia' with me now, that a mere two day's absence discomfits you so?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. We went through a lot together betwixt Washington and here, what with me saving your life and all."

She threw down the stick. "An' fo' what? Ah feel like ever'thing ah am or was has been stripped o' me – ma former life, ma home, ma husban' an' daughter, ever'thing! Now you tell me, Mista' Brother General Hosea Stout, what's left o' Jessie Ann Benton Frémont?"

"The best part", he replied. "Jessie, listen to me. Most everyone who joins this Church passes through the refiner's fire. I surely did – When I was baptized, nearly the whole Stout clan disowned me. I watched David Patten die in my arms after the Battle of Crooked River. I was sentenced to die along with Joseph Smith at Far West. I left a home and family in Missouri, and buried my first wife shortly after we arrived here. And for what? For the gospel of Jesus Christ, and the promise of eternal life, that's what! If you still can't fathom that, then all your losses till now are in vain."

He paused. "Jessie, the gospel is a very fragile, delicate thing, and it's real easy to lose sight of it, or never catch sight of it in the first place. Do you understand?"

She buried her head in his shoulder and wept. "A little... but it's so hard... ah don't know who ah am anymo'... Ma poor Lily, why did she have to die?"

"Jessie, I don't have all the answers", he said. "I only know that we're like the potter's clay, and God is twisting and shaping us into his likeness. Sometimes it hurts, but the Potter knows the end from the beginning, and if we allow him to shape us, we'll be the better for it in the end."

"Ah know why you're here", she whispered into his shoulder. "Siste' Snow told me all 'bout the 'New an' Everlastin' Covenant'. Is this why you dragged me all the way here from Washin'ton? To propose marriage to me?"

"It wasn't at first. And now, only if you feel you're ready. I've already discussed it with Louisa, and she is agreed."

She shivered and drew her coat tight around her.

"Well, that's a fine howdy-do... Ah truly admire her, for agreein' to share her husband with another woman. Ah just don't know... So much is happenin' to me so fast. Ah thought when ah was baptized, it would all come clear to me, but it didn't. People keep tellin' me ah should know this or that's true, but ah don't even know what ah'm s'posed to ask, you see? Ah figured that the Mormons would be like the Owenites or Campbellites or Shakers, all stiff-collared an' preachy-like, but they're not... It's all very hard fo' me to grasp, just now."

She paused, then she looked him straight in the eyes.

"Hosea, just answer me this question, and then ah'll give you ma reply. Is this Church really true? The gold plates, the angel, the Book of Mormon, an' ever'thing? Or is it all claptrap, just dreamed up by Joseph Smith?"

"Its all true, Jessie, every bit of it. I know it, and God will let you know it too, when you're ready."

In a barely audible voice she said,

"Then, on that principle, Ah accept yo' offer".

She poked at the sand with her stick.

"Oh, an' there's somethin' else ah must share with you, Mista' Stout, an' it may break yo' heart. Louisa isn't sufferin' from the asthma – it's pulmonic consumption. Ah've seen it many times before in Savannah, where people thought it was a 'romantic' way fo' a young lady to die. What rubbish! It's a painful, wastin', slow death, an' there's no cure."

NAUVOO, Wednesday, February 12

From the Diary of Hosea Stout:

February 12. Went to a trial. A man named John C. Elliot who had been engaged in the murder of Hyrum, came in town and put up with William Marks, who done all he could to secret him, but he was found out and arrested and brought before A. Johnson and Isaac Higbee, and examined found guilty, and sent by the Sheriff, who was present, to Carthage, to lay in the lonesome jail which he had stained with the best blood in the world.

As soon as he was arrested Marks used all his influence to notify the mob and raise an excitement against us, and several lawyers and other men from Warsaw came to his trial, and used every stratagem in their power to get him discharged. One of the lawyers gave the court to understand that if they committed him to jail, that it might cause some of our best men to be slain, thus threatening us with a mob if we attempted to put the law in force against willful murderers. But the court took a bold and decided stand in favor of the Laws.

From thence I met with the police and at dark met the 11th Quorum at my house; we had a good meeting. I taught at some length on the duties of Seventies, and other matters.
CHAPTER 35

PORT ROYAL, Thursday, February 13

General Joseph Smith had been devouring the Serekh ha-Milhamah, learning the timeless principles of waging warfare. One of the first orders he issued, based on what he had learned from the book, was to have a French-style "obstacle course" built at Fort Marion. Soon his raw recruits were training in the proper use of the bayonet, in hand-to-hand-combat, and in how to form a proper skirmish line.

"The days of the Grande Arméé marching in close formation are over", he declared. "By spreading our ranks and attacking on the run, we can greatly reduce our casualties, as compared to the slaughter that took place at Waterloo and Austerlitz just a few years ago."

Joseph also reformed his artillery companies, based on an innovation that General Zachary Taylor had discussed with him. For centuries, artillerymen had moved on foot. Joseph ordered that their entire kit – cannons, ammunition, and gun crews – be transported in wagons for greater mobility. These new "flying artillery" batteries could be quickly deployed anywhere on the battlefield, as needed.

While sorting through his mound of paperwork, Joseph noted with approval that Private Seamus McFeemish had been promoted to the rank of Corporal in the Illinois 9th Regiment.

NAUVOO, Thursday, February 13

At about ten a.m. Hosea and Louisa Stout walked down to the Red Brick Store and climbed the stairs to the second floor. A few minutes later, Jessie Frémont left the Mansion and joined them upstairs. Brigham Young had arranged the room for the wedding ceremony, with chairs along the sides and a small cushioned altar in the center. Hosea's brother Allen and his wife Elizabeth were present, as were Heber and Vilate Kimball, and William and Elizabeth Taylor, Louisa's parents.

Louisa took Jessie by the hands as she came up the stairs.

"Jessie, my dear, I'm so thrilled to meet you at last!" she said. "Oh, what a beautiful dress! Did you bring it with you from Washington City?"

Jessie was wearing a long, cream-colored dress with embroidery and long sleeves.

"Thank you but no", Jessie said nervously. "The Sisters at the Mansion stayed up most o' the night sewin' it. No one evah' did such a thing fo' me before."

Hosea escorted Jessie to her seat at one side of the room, and Brigham Young gave a short sermon on the blessings and responsibilities of eternal marriage. Following the sermon, Hosea and Jessie knelt on opposite sides of the altar, Louisa knelt at the far end, and all three of them held hands. William Taylor and Heber C. Kimball sat as witnesses on either side of Brigham Young.

Brigham stood and cleared his throat.

"Let us begin. Hosea Stout, do you take Jessie Ann Benton to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

Hosea replied, "I do."

"Louisa Taylor Stout, do you give Jessie Ann Benton to be the lawfully wedded wife of Hosea Stout, of your own free will and choice?"

Louisa replied, "I do."

"Jessie Ann Benton, do you take Hosea Stout to be your lawfully wedded husband, of your own free will and choice?"

Jessie looked at Hosea, then she replied softly, "Ah do."

"By virtue of the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you, Hosea Stout and Jessie Ann Benton, legally and lawfully wedded for time and all eternity..."

PORT ROYAL, Friday, February 14

The Second Brigade of the Army of the South arrived in Port Royal from Norfolk on this day. With these new reinforcements, Joseph Smith now had at his disposal nearly eight thousand men, almost a full division.

At his staff meeting this day Joseph laid out a map of South Carolina and said,

"We now have sufficient forces to pursue our campaign to reclaim the South. Our first order of business is to seize the Charleston and Savannah Railroad at Salkehatchie. Our Navy will accompany us up the Broad River as far as Pocataligo. Once we seize the railroad, we will then strike south towards Savannah, then east towards Charleston. Port Royal and Beaufort will continue to be our supply head.

"As we lay siege to Charleston, the Navy will strike from Charleston harbor. With any luck, we just might catch Mr. Calhoun by surprise there. After we capture Charleston, we will push north and west towards Columbia, the capital. At the same time, General Kearny and his army will attack Columbia from the west. I hope to end this war by May, at the latest. We move out tomorrow. Any questions?...Then let's proceed."

NAUVOO, Friday, February 14

From the Diary of Hosea Stout:

February 14, Friday. At home in the forenoon writing my history. And at four o'clock went to the fencing school; thence to the Police and Lodge. Home at nine o'clock. Today Jessie Benton came to live with me.

Hosea spent the afternoon at home, chinking some gaps in the outside of his log home. By working outside, he figured that Louisa and Jessie might have more time to get acquainted inside, and it gave him time alone to think. At about three thirty, he set down his bucket and trowel and went in, blowing on his hands to warm them.

"Well, that should keep the north winds out, 'least until the mud thaws in the spring", he said. He looked awkwardly at his two wives, who stared back at him in expressionless silence. Then he fished around for something to fill the silence in the room.

"I'm, ah, I'm off to fencing school, thence to the Masonic Hall to make my rounds of the city. I'll be home after dark."

The two women stood as if to bid him adieu. There was still no trace of expression in either of their faces.

Hosea grabbed his hat off a peg and lightly embraced Louisa, hesitated, and then gave Jessie a peck on the cheek. Turning beet red, he beat a hasty retreat and shut the door behind him.

Louisa could no longer contain herself, and burst out laughing. Jessie was giggling too, and had to sit down to regain her composure.

"That poor man", Louisa said, wheezing. "Never have I seen him this flustered! Usually he is all 'spit and polish', straight as a ramrod, ready to serve God and country at a second's notice. I don't remember him being this cowed since he first proposed marriage to me."

"You should'a seen him on the riverbank, proposin' to me", Jessie giggled. "He was pathetic! 'Only if you feel you are ready', he said! After all he'n ah'd been through, 'tween Washin'ton an' here..."

She stopped short, lowered her eyes, then looked up at Louisa.

"Ah'm so sorry", she continued. "This is so very awkward fo' the both of us. Ah feel like a' interloper here. Ah was the belle of society in Washin'ton an' Savannah, all graceful an' composed. Ah knew ma manners there, but there aren't no rule-books of etiquette to prepare a lady for this..."

Louisa took her by the hand.

"Jessie, it's all right", she said, pausing to catch her breath. "We – the three of us – know it's right. It's just confusing as all get-out, that's all."

NAUVOO, Saturday, February 15

Brigham Young wrote in his journal:

I met with the 'General Council' at the Seventies Hall. We decided to send twenty brethren westward, to search out a location for the Saints; many eloquent speeches were made on the present position of affairs; had a good meeting, which continued all day.

Brigham Young expressed a sense of urgency about the expedition. Various routes were discussed, based upon Captain Frémont's narrative and other sources. Finally, Brigham stood and said,

"Brethren, there's no time to dally. President Joseph Smith has informed me that if we don't mount this expedition right away, we'll never get another chance; our enemies will hem us in and we'll be used up in this place.

"You're all witnesses to the fact that Brother Joseph has talked about this movement for years. He's told me that he wants young men of faith for this party, men who can go upon the mountains of Israel and talk with God face to face as Moses did upon Mount Sinai, and learn just where he would have his people locate for their future welfare, and the kingdom's development.

"I realize that our able-bodied men are few in number now with the war and all, but surely we can spare twenty men for this expedition. Are you with me? All in favor, please manifest."

The vote was unanimous in the affirmative.

Several members of the committee considered it inadvisable for the expedition to head directly west across the Iowa Territory, due to the severe late winter weather. Brigham turned to Dimick Huntington and said,

"Brother Huntington, would it be possible to hire a steamboat to take us down the Mississippi and up the Missouri, to the Council Bluffs?"

"Possible, but not likely", said Dimick. "There's a lot of ice on the river, an' no river pilot in his right mind is gonna venture out at this time of year. There's no boats to be had anyhow, since the army requisitioned them all for the war."

"What about the old Hyrum Smith?" said Brigham.

Dimick looked at him in disbelief. "That hulk? Brigham, it's been under water for seven months! Everything above the hurricane deck is gone, used up for firewood. The hull's all rotten, and one of the steam engines is up at the temple. We'll have to chip through an inch of ice before we can even get down to the main deck."

William Player spoke up. "Ware all doone wi' th' stone work on t' temple, an' t'would be fair easy t' skid t' steam engine back doon th' brae. I'm sartain we could re-mount it on th' auld Hyrum."

Bishop Miller said hopefully, "The hull is still mostly sound, isn't it? We could 'fother' it with some of that canvas what the High Priests bought for to make a tabernacle. That should help stanch the leaks."

Brigham thought for a moment and said,

"Brethren, I think this is a good plan. At any rate, it's the best we can do. I don't look forward to trudging across Iowa in the dead of winter. Missouri was bad enough, thank you."

Dimick sighed. "I s'pose we can refloat it... We'll need to find a lighter to carry our mules, wagons, and other tack, and tow it behind... It just might work. Anyway, the old scow only has to make it as far as the Council Bluffs, am I right?"

Brigham replied, "And not a mile futher, I reckon. Oh, there's one final matter. In my absence, I don't want the Saints here in Nauvoo to be sitting on their lees, neither. Brother Joseph has instructed me to tell the Saints to have everything in readiness, upon my return from the west, in order to begin a full exodus from Nauvoo to the Upper California. As soon as the temple is completed, and we all take out our endowments, we shall leave this state and this nation, and find a place out west where no one can ever dig us out. Brethren, you've been putting up the temple for four years – now it's time to start putting up wagons."

BEAUFORT, Saturday, February 15

On this day, the Army of the South commenced their breakout from Port Royal Island. North of Fort Lyttleton the island narrowed into a thin strip of land just five hundred feet wide, just south of Beaufort. The rebel Beaufort Volunteer Artillery Company had thrown up defensive fortifications on this narrow neck of land to protect the Beaufort Arsenal about two miles to the northeast on Beaufort Peninsula. Before the Army of the South could proceed, General Joseph Smith ordered a naval bombardment of the fortifications and of the arsenal, which was soon captured, yielding a great quantity of arms and ammunition. The rebel forces quickly fled in disarray.

After the arsenal was secured, General Smith led his main cavalry force directly north and then west towards Battery Creek, hoping to prevent the rebels from reforming their defensive line. He was studiously following Roger's Rangers Rules, and had divided the Illinois 9th "Mormon Battalion" into three columns – left, center, and right.

"This whole region is a maze of creeks, channels, and estuaries, for ten miles or more – perfect for defensive positions", he remarked to Lyman Wight. "But if we press them hard enough, they shan't have time to dig in – I hope."

Joseph had sent scouts ahead to reconnoiter, and they had not reported any contact with the enemy. At this point, the shoreline of Port Royal Island made a broad, sweeping curve to the west at the headwaters of the Battery Creek estuary. The tide had receded, revealing a vast expanse of salt marsh and mudflats.

From this vantage Joseph could see the slave quarters of the Pick Pocket Plantation about a mile to the northwest. It looked quiet – too quiet. There were no slaves in sight, no activity in the cotton fields, in fact, no signs of life at all.

"I don't like the feel o' this", Lyman Wight remarked.

Just as Joseph was leading his center column into the muddy northern estuary of Battery Creek, all hell broke loose. A hail of musket fire erupted from the mangrove trees on the western side of the estuary, as Captain Alfred Barnwell's mounted Palmetto Hussars swept down from the cover of the plantation onto Joseph's lightly-armed right flank. Joseph quickly realized that if his right flank failed, he would soon be surrounded in the middle of the river – the most vulnerable of all positions for a soldier to fight from.

"Tell Tyler to hold the road at all costs!" Joseph shouted to his orderly, James Allred.

James cried, "Aye, Sir!", spurred his mount and galloped north to give the order to Captain Tyler's Company C, which was taking heavy fire on the right flank and falling back.

The left flank had halted farther south at the edge of Battery Creek, which was too deep for them to ford at that point. Their "flying artillery" battery could not be brought to bear, as their commander was directly in the line of fire. It was up Joseph Smith and his center column, stranded in the middle of the river, to save the day.

Joseph drew the Sword of Laban and cried, "L'zikaron eloheynu! In memory of our God!"

Then he led his men in a desperate charge across the mudflats, directly into the entrenched rebel positions on the west side. He had no choice – to remain in the river would mean death, and his line of retreat was quickly being cut off. Joseph knew he had about twenty seconds at most before the rebels on the west bank had time to reload and fire another volley.

"Charge!" he cried, and spurred his horse, Joe Duncan, in a desperate race against time.

His cavalry troop followed him, thrashing and floundering across the coffee-colored salt estuary. Just as they reached the far bank the muskets erupted again, but with less effect this time. The sight of several score of mounted cavalrymen bearing down on the rebels had convinced many of them to abandon their positions and seek cover elsewhere.

Joe Duncan made a tremendous leap over the rebel trenches, and Joseph felt several musket balls whiz past his head. As he laid into the enemy militiamen surrounding him with his sword, they retreated and fled deeper into the woods.

"Cheyruteynu u'shlomeynu! Our freedom and our peace!" Joseph cried.

His other officers had now joined him, and together they succeeded in clearing the west bank.

Joseph paused to catch his breath, just in time to hear the bugle call "To the Right". He glanced over his shoulder to the north, and saw to his horror that his entire right flank had collapsed, as the rebel Palmetto Hussars were driving his infantrymen into the Battery Creek estuary.

"Sound 'Come About'!" he cried, and his bugler made the call. Joseph led his weary troops back into the muddy tidewater in a furious counterattack. The two opposing troops collided mid-river in a thrashing, chaotic mêlée of horses and men. Joseph was not a skilled swordsman, but he quickly learned that although the enemy sabers could outreach him, he could easily parry and break them with his ancient Damascus steel broadsword.

Joseph fought sword to sword with the rebel leader, Captain Barnwell.

"Git offa ma land!" Barnwell cried as he lunged at Joseph, who dodged the blow and then broke Barnwell's saber at the hilt.

"Nasheynu v'tapeynu!" Joseph replied. "For our wives and our children!"

With his sword now reduced to a stub, Barnwell drew his pistol and fired at Joseph, but missed. The two men warily circled each other on their horses as the battle swirled around them. Barnwell suddenly unholstered his now-discharged carbine and swung the bayonet at Joseph's head, but Joseph avoided the blow and took another swipe at Barnwell with his sword. He missed, but the Sword of Laban struck deep into the horses' haunch. The horse reared up and the unfortunate captain was dumped into the muddy Battery Creek.

"I am not your enemy!" Joseph cried.

Barnwell stared back at him, dumbfounded.

"Th' hell you ain't!"

He jumped up and lunged at Joseph with his bayonet, but missed. Joseph kept his distance, as he knew Barnwell's bayonet could easily outreach his short sword. Finally he backed his horse up and charged Barnwell head on. Joe Duncan reared up on his hind legs and delivered a crushing blow to Barnwell with his forelegs, dumping the Captain for a second time flat on his back in the water. This time, he did not stand up again.

By now the idle Union left flank had finally come to the rescue, and before long the entire estuary was secured by the Union troops. The whole battle had taken less than fifteen minutes.

Joseph paused, gasping for breath, and looked around. He counted perhaps a hundred dead and wounded on both sides, plus a small number of enemy prisoners, including Captain Barnwell. Blue and grey-uniformed bodies were floating on the tide and scattered along the banks of the river. Joseph saw his orderly, James Allred, lying face up on the riverbank.

Joseph looked down at his saddle and uniform, and was shocked to realize that he was covered with speckles and patches of blood. He raised the Sword of Laban to his view and saw that the blade was stained red as well, for the first time in fourteen hundred years. He felt nauseated at the sight, and horrified at the thought of the slaughter he had just participated in. He had to resist a sudden urge to dive into the river and wash himself clean.

"Sir, are you alright?"

Joseph looked up to see Lyman Wight staring at him in shock. Lyman was also covered in gore. Joseph finally gathered his wits and said,

"Yes, I'm unhurt. Sound the call to assemble at the plantation, there, and gather our wounded and dead. I want a roll call before we press on."

Joseph thought to himself,

Mormon and Moroni – Now I understand what you meant when you wrote about the 'harrowing up of your souls' by this carnage...

NAUVOO, Sunday, February 16

From the Diary of Hosea Stout:

February 16, Sunday. In the forenoon went with my wives to a meeting at Bishop Hales; Elder Taylor preached. Sister Smith, the mother of Joseph the Prophet and Seer was there. She spoke to the congregation and told her feelings and the trials and troubles she had passed through in establishing the Church of Christ and the persecutions and afflictions which her sons and husband had passed through, and the cruel and unheard of martyrdom of Hyrum which had took place so lately. She exhorted the brethren and sisters to be faithful and bring up their children in the way they should go and not have them running about in the streets as was too much allowed now. All were deeply affected with the remarks of this "Mother," of the "Mothers in Israel" for she spoke with the most feeling and heart-broken manner of the troubles she had passed through.

YEMASSEE, Sunday, February 16

In the morning, Joseph preached a sermon taken from the seventh chapter of Moroni.

Later that day, Joseph Smith's new orderly, George Steele, knocked on the tent pole of Joseph's field tent. George was serving ad interim until James Allred recovered from his severe wounds.

"Enter", Joseph said softly.

George lifted the tent flap and entered, and saw that his commander was sharpening a rather short, odd-looking sword.

"Mail call", George said.

"Very well, Private, put it on the table there", Joseph said without looking up. He took several careful swipes at the blade with his whetstone.

George set down the mail pouch and was just turning to leave, when he paused and said,

"Sir, I know this may be outta' line, but why d' you hold onto that old pig-sticker? Couldn't we just issue you a brand-new cavalry saber, instead?"

Joseph smiled faintly, and without looking up he said,

"No, Private, I rather like this old blade. It's been in the family, shall we say, for a very long time. But thank you for asking."

"Very well, sir", said George, as he turned to leave.

Joseph laid down his sword. "George, stay a moment."

"Sir?" said George.

"Do you recall that Legion review on the parade grounds last fall, when Brother John Kay sang 'The Last War of Nations'?"

"Vaguely, sir, that was, ah, around October, was it not?"

"My lawyer, Mr. Lincoln, made a most interesting comment. He said as I recall, that 'War would be such a splendid spectacle, if only no one were ever kilt nor maimed'. Whatever misconceptions I may have then harbored as to the 'splendidness' of war, I now understand it in all its evil, brutish, awful mien – where men really do get kilt and maimed. That will be all, Private."

"Yes, sir", said George, as he saluted and withdrew.

Joseph continued stroking the blade with his whetstone, being careful to avoid the line of gold lettering. He paused to count the notches in the blade.

I wonder... Laban, Amlici, Zerahemna, Amalikiah, Coriantumr, Kishkumen, Giddianhi, Zemnarihah, Jacob, Aaron... How many wicked men has this sword dispatched to meet their Maker, and how many will yet fall, until a servant of God shall at last deliver up this sword and the Lord shall declare, It is enough – henceforth there shall be no more shedding of blood?

SALKEHATCHIE, Tuesday, February 18

The Army of the South reached the small railroad depot at Salkehatchie, South Carolina. Like General Kearny, Joseph Smith quickly discovered the usefulness of the railroads for moving men and supplies. He set his engineers to work tearing up the tracks between Coosawatchie and Salkehatchie, and used the rails to build a spur line to Port Royal.

As he watched his men tearing up, moving and resetting the railroad tracks, Joseph turned and said to his adjutant, Daniel H. Wells,

"I've been reading about Napoleon's campaigns in Europe. The old General often outran his supply lines, and he quickly discovered that his army was far too large to live off the land as armies before him had always done. He never did find a solution to his supply problems, and as a result his men were frequently at the point of starvation. This steam railroad is a godsend in that regard."

Lieutenant George Rosecrans came up, saluted smartly and said,

"General, Sir, there's something we'd like to show you over here."

He led Joseph and Lyman over to a siding where the small steam engine Yonah was attached to a short work train. In front of the Yonah was a flatcar carrying hundreds of yards of cotton fabric, all rolled up in a bundle. One end of the fabric was formed into a long tube, which was draped over the Yona's smoke box. At the front of the flatcar was a large wicker basket, attached by ropes to the cotton bundle.

"What is this?" Joseph asked, curious.

"A smoke balloon", George replied excitedly. "We requisitioned every muslin bedsheet in Beaufort County, I reckon, oiled 'em to make 'em air-tight, then stitched 'em together into a bag. We fill the bag with smoke from the steam engine, an' it quickly rises a hundred feet or more into the air, carrying an observer in this wicker basket. Before the smoke cools an' the balloon descends again, he can see twenty miles or more in ever' direction. It's a perfect way to look out for rebels who might try to waylay us along the rail lines – what has happened more 'an once, I might add."

Joseph was intrigued. "Amazing", he said. "We have conquered on land and sea, and now we have taken the battle to the air! Thank you, Lieutenant, for your ingenuity."

NAUVOO, Tuesday, February 18

Brigham Young wrote in his journal:

Hosea Stout, who was on duty this evening at my house as a watchman, called upon me and I had some conversation with him in regard to the Saints settling the country near the headwaters of the Colorado of the West.

At about seven p.m. Brigham looked out his front window and saw Hosea standing guard near his front gate. Hosea was stamping his feet and rubbing his hands to stay warm. Brigham stepped outside and said,

"Come on inside and warm yourself, Brother Stout. I don't think the Missourians are planning to snatch me away this evening, at any rate."

Hosea gratefully accepted the invitation and retreated with Brigham to the warmth of the kitchen.

"It's a policeman's lot in life, oft-times, to stand and wait for things to happen", Hosea said as he warmed his hands over the stove. "We learn to observe without being observed. But we're always thankful for small acts of kindness like this."

The two men were silent for a moment. Hosea said,

"Brother Brigham, what do you think the Upper California looks like?"

Brigham smiled. "You'd best ask Brother Joseph, Hosea. He can describe it to you just as if he's been there. Many times I've heard Joseph describe those mountains and valleys, and a great inland lake with islands, but now I know whereof he speaks. I too have seen it in vision, and when my natural eyes behold it, I shall know it. But the best part is, there won't be no one within a thousand miles to annoy us."

Hosea hesitated. "Brigham, are you still dead-set against my taking Jessie along? She still refuses to part with her journal. An' Louisa's consumption is getting worse daily. She couldn't possibly endure the journey."

Brigham sighed. "Jessie does have me over a barrel, doesn't she? And she has been there, at least through Captain Frémont's eyes... although if you pressed me, I could describe every mile of that trail to you as well as he, nevertheless that journal could be quite useful..."

He slapped his knee. "Oh, very well! Jessie can go, Hosea!"

Hosea replied gratefully, "Thank you, Brother Brigham. Of course, Louisa and our children will need to be taken care of against our return. Perhaps my brother Allen can look after them."

NAUVOO, Wednesday, February 19

Brigham Young completed his roster for the Western Expedition:

Appleton Harmon

Brigham Young

Chism

Clarissa D. Young

Dimick Huntington

Edson Whipple

Ezra T. Benson

George A. Smith

Green Flake

Hosea Stout

Jessie Frémont Stout

Orson K. Whitney

Orson Pratt

Porter Rockwell

Return Jackson Redden

Shadrach Roundy

Thomas Bullock

Truman O. Angell

William Clayton

Zebedee Coltrin

Sixteen year old Clarissa Young insisted on going, as she said, to accompany Jessie Stout.

"It's hardly appropriate to have just one woman traveling into the wild with all these men", she declared.

Jessie seemed relieved to have another female companion.

Brigham Young just sighed and said,

"Very well. Two women. But I remind you, this is a difficult journey, not a summer's lark."

In the afternoon Jessie was at the Mansion, where her sister-wives were helping her pack for the long journey west. At about four Harriot returned from the Post Office with several letters and a large, heavy package.

"Mistah Whitney say it fo' you", Harriot said as she handed the package to Jessie.

"What could it be?" Jessie said, puzzled. "It's from ma mother!" she cried as she started tearing at the brown paper wrapping.

Inside the package was a heavy, square folded bundle with a note on top. Jessie held the note up to the light.

"It says, 'You may need this away out west'," Jessie said, smiling. "Ma mother always was a practical woman. How did she know?"

The other women gathered around and examined the bundle. It was some kind of dark, glossy, slick material, folded like a large bedsheet.

"What is it?" said Eliza as she fingered the strange material.

"It's a India-rubber sheet", Jessie explained. "Made from the sap of a special tree. They take a ordinary cotton sheet an' coat it with this rubber, an' it makes it as watertight as a duck's backside. Captain Frémont used several of 'em on his last expedition, and he said they made marvelous groundcloths. He even had a foldin' boat made out o' the same material, what he used to explore the Great Salt Lake."

Jessie smiled again. "Ah think ma mother is tryin' to patch things up with me, so to speak."

PRITCHARDVILLE, Thursday, February 20

The steam engine Yonah and its observation balloon were assigned to an advance platoon of scouts, just north of Pritchardville. They would advance a mile or so, raise the balloon and look for rebel movements, reel in the balloon, and then repeat the process.

At around ten a.m., it was Private Benjamin Mayfield's turn in the observation basket. The soldiers halted the steam engine, stoked the firebox, and attached the cloth tube of the balloon to the spark arrestor on top of the smokestack. Mayfield took his position in the basket, and in a few minutes the balloon began to fill with hot air. He watched nervously as the balloon took shape, slowly rose into the air, and the rope lines went taught. There was a moment's hesitation, and then he was pulled effortlessly into the sky by the balloon.

"Hold on tight, Ben!" Private Hiram Chase shouted, as he reeled the balloon out on its tether line. In about a minute, Private Mayfield was suspended some one hundred feet in the air.

Private Chase looked up at the balloon and saw Mayfield frantically waving his arms and pointing. At the same instant, there was an unearthly yell from the woods just north of the tracks, and a rebel cavalry troop – Green's Guerrillas – came thundering down the hill straight towards the observation train.

Sergeant Ferguson cried "Take cover!", as Hiram let go of the windlass and ducked behind the relative safety of the steam engine. Now suddenly released, the windlass spun madly and the balloon shot even higher into the air.

The rebel cavalrymen were now upon them, and Ferguson's men returned fire from behind the engine. One of the grey-coated rebels made a daring leap with his horse directly over the flatcar, slashing with his saber in mid-air at the tether rope holding the balloon. There was a faint cry from Private Mayfield, now some three hundred feet in the air, as his balloon was released from the earth and floated away on the wind.

About this time, a troop of blue-coated U.S. Army cavalrymen came to the rescue and drove off the rebels. Sergeant Ferguson and his men emerged from the shelter of their engine and boxcar and surveyed the damage.

"Where's Mayfield?" said Private Chase.

Everyone scanned the heavens, looking for the stray balloon.

"There he is!" cried Sergeant Ferguson, pointing to a black speck far to the east.

As they all watched anxiously, the balloon slowly started to descend, picking up speed. Faster and faster it fell, dropping like a rock until it passed out of view, plunging into the rice fields about a mile east of them.

"Poor Mayfield, ran out of smoke", said Hiram. "When the bag cools, there's no more lift and it drops suddenly. I've larned 'at the hard way several times, from just a hundred feet up or so. He must'a been three, four hundred feet up when he dropped. Let's go find the poor feller."

SAVANNAH, Friday, February 21

The city of Savannah was captured by the Army of the South with little opposition. This was a great advantage to the Union forces, as it gave them access to a much larger terminus than Port Royal for resupply, as well as rail connections to Marthasville and Charleston.

General Joseph Smith immediately gave orders that every steamboat on the Savannah River be requisitioned for use by the U.S. Army for transporting troops. He said to his staff,

"As a secondary advantage, this will cut off from resupply the city of Augusta, at the upper end of the Savannah river. That will permit us to concentrate our forces on Charleston, while not having to worry about protecting our flanks. General Kearny's army will soon take Marthasville in Georgia, and from there, they can swing east and occupy Augusta, then join us at Columbia."

As Joseph Smith toured Savannah, he marveled at the beautiful mansions along Bay Street, and the orderly layout of wards and streets conceived by founder James Ogelthorpe.

"This is not unlike my plan for the City of Zion", Joseph said to his aides. "Would that every city in America was constructed with such planning and foresight!"
CHAPTER 36

CHARLESTON, Monday, February 24

The Army of the South reached Summerville, on the outskirts of Charleston. Joseph had followed the route of the Charleston & Savannah Railroad from Yemassee to Walterboro, and thence around the north end of the Snuggedy Swamp.

As the army approached Charleston, opposition to their advance increased. The troops often found that the rails had been destroyed or sabotaged ahead of them, and much time was consumed in rebuilding and securing the line. Still, Joseph marveled at the speed with which his men could move along the captured railroad.

"Old Colonel Tarleton, the British commander here during the Revolution, stumbled around in these swamps for several years trying to catch the 'Swamp Fox' Francis Marion. Now, in barely a week we've moved our entire army over seventy-five miles – an astonishing feat."

NAUVOO, Wednesday, February 26

The Quorum of the Twelve Apostles issued the following epistle to the Saints scattered abroad throughout the United States of America:

Beloved Brethren:

Greeting:

You all know and have doubtless felt for years the necessity of a removal, provided our government should not be sufficiently protective to allow us to worship God according to the dictates of our own consciences. We therefore write unto you beloved brethren, as wise men that will foresee the evil and hide yourselves until the indignation be overpast.

The utmost diligence of all the brethren at this place and abroad will be requisite for our removal, and to complete the unfinished part of the Lord's House, preparatory to dedication by the next General Conference. The font and other parts of the Temple are now in readiness to commence the administration of holy ordinances, for which the faithful have long diligently labored and fervently prayed, desiring above all things to see the beauty of the Lord and inquire in his holy Temple.

Therefore dispose of your properties and inheritance, and interests for available means, such as money, wagons, oxen, cows, mules, and a few good horses adapted to journeying and scanty feed. Also for durable fabrics suitable for apparel and tents; and some other necessary articles of merchandise.

Let all wagons that are hereafter built be constructed to the track of five feet width from center to center. Families may properly travel to this place during winter in their wagons. There are said to be many good locations for settlements on the Pacific, especially at Vancouver's Island near the mouth of the Columbia.

Wake up, wake up, dear brethren, we exhort you, from the Mississippi to the Atlantic, and from Canada to Florida, to the present glorious emergency in which the God of heaven has placed you to prove your faith by your works, preparatory to a rich endowment in the Temple of the Lord, and the obtaining of promises and deliverances, and glories for yourselves and your children and your dead.

BRIGHAM YOUNG, President.

Willard Richards, Clerk.

"When I return from our expedition to the west, I shan't tarry long here", Brigham said. "I hope to see a string of wagons from the temple all the way to Parley Street and the upper landing, ready and waiting to follow me back to our new home in the west. And I earnestly hope that our Brother Joseph Smith will be in the lead wagon."

CHARLESTON, Thursday, February 27

The Army of the South crossed the Ashley River and set up camp on the outskirts of Charleston. The city's defenders had had ample time to prepare for the army's approach, and Charleston was now ringed with several lines of embankments, trenches, bombproofs, and gun emplacements.

"We'll dig in here and wait for our navy to approach from seaward", Joseph said. "When the city's defenders see that they're surrounded, I'm hopeful they'll surrender quickly, just as the Continentals under General Benjamin Lincoln did here in 1780. I'd prefer to avoid a long siege, and the destruction and misery that would inevitably ensue."

NAUVOO, Thursday, February 27

On this day, the Western Expedition prepared to leave Nauvoo for the Upper California. The weather was bitter cold, and a light snow was falling.

Porter Rockwell and his chosen team of mule skinners herded the last of the mules onto the lighter, where pens had been prepared for them. The lighter was piled high with hay, wagon boxes and wheels, saddles and harness gear, and other supplies.

As Porter led the last of the ornery mules past Brigham Young he grumbled,

"Brigham, you have any idear' how hard it is to find mules these days? By now, 'most every mule in the nation has 'US ARMY' branded on 'is butt."

Along the dock just forward of the lighter, the resurrected Hyrum Smith floated proudly, with two wisps of black smoke rising into the cold air from its rusty stacks. The boat was an odd sight – the original hurricane deck and pilot house were gone, leaving only the main deck and Texas deck. The once elegant woodwork was now devoid of paint, and all the window glass was gone. Canvas curtains had been fashioned over the windows to keep out the winter blasts. The once-ornate paddle boxes were gone, exposing the two paddlewheels to view. A crude pilot house had been constructed on the forward end of the Texas deck. The pilot house windows had neither glass nor canvas covers, and were open to the winter's blasts.

Dimick Huntington walked up to Brigham, wiping his hands on a rag.

"It ain't fancy, but it'll get us there, Brigham. I never would have believed we could salvage this wreck, but the men have worked miracles. We even rodded out the boiler pipes. They steam mighty good now."

Hosea Stout had a tearful farewell at home with Louisa. Jessie did her best to comfort the ailing, bereft woman, but she was clearly uncomfortable with the task. Louisa had a pallor about her that did not bode well.

"Louisa, promise me you'll still be here when I return", Hosea said tenderly. "I couldn't bear to lose you, after Sumantha and Lydia."

"I promise", Louisa replied weakly, holding his hand.

Because of the bitter weather there was no elaborate sendoff. Brigham Young had bade farewell to Miriam and his other wives and children at home. At about ten a.m. the Hyrum Smith quietly slipped downstream into the Mississippi, towing its lighter. Great chunks of ice were floating in the river on either side of the boat.

"Least we won't have to worry 'bout running into other steamboats or broadhorns", said Dimick, shaking his head. "But cottonwood snags and ice floes are another matter. You gotta be pretty desperate to venture out on this ol' river at this time o' year."

WASHINGTON, Friday, February 28

A joint resolution was submitted in Congress supporting the annexation of Texas "on an equal footing with the existing States":

RESOLVED by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled:

That Congress doth consent that the territory properly included within and rightfully belonging to the Republic of Texas, may be erected into a new State to be called the State of Texas, with a republican form of government adopted by the people of said Republic, by deputies in convention assembled, with the consent of the existing Government in order that the same may by admitted as one of the States of this Union.

A similar measure, submitted as a treaty, had been defeated in the Senate the year before. President Tyler hoped that by avoiding the two-thirds majority rule required for treaties, the bill would more easily pass. In this he was not disappointed, as the resolution passed in the Senate.

After the Texas annexation issue was resolved, President Tyler appeared in a joint session of Congress in the Hall of the House to present his plan for an interim Executive Committee, to be continued from month to month at the pleasure of Congress. He argued ably the need for such a committee, which would derive its authority from an act of Congress.

The Hall of the House was the largest of the three semicircular chambers in the Capitol Building. Situated just south of the Rotunda, it housed the desks of the 233 Congressmen, arranged in semicircles around the dais of the Speaker of the House. Eight magnificent Corinthian marble columns supported the front wall of the chamber, directly behind the dais.

The Hall was architect Benjamin Latrobe's most magnificent achievement; however, it was cursed with poor acoustics, which made hearing difficult.

During this joint session the Senators were seated in the balcony at the upper rear of the Hall. About a third of the Senators and Congressmen, mostly Southerners, were still absent.

"Our country is, or rather soon will be bereft o' leadership", Tyler said. "Our ship of state shall be rudderless, in peril of runnin' aground on the shoals of sectionalism. We need a head, a guardian as it were. If Congress cannot bring itself t' choose one man as that head, then at least grant us the authority t' govern as a committee. We ask no more, and our nation desarves no less at this critical time."

Sam Houston, the non-voting delegate from the Republic of Texas, was not at all pleased. He stood and pointed to the statue of Liberty and the Eagle over the Speaker's dais where Tyler was seated and said ominously,

"Yon proud symbol above yo' head should be enshrouded in black, as if dee-plorin' the misfortune that has fallen upon us, or as a fearful omen of the future calamities which await ah' nation in the ee-vent that this bill becomes a law!"

Senator Jabez Huntington of Connecticut stood and cried,

"And by this act, shall 'His Accidency' the President be continued in office ad infinitum, ad nauseum, like another Bonaparte? No, I say, no!"

Congressman John M. Botts of Virginia jumped to his feet and shouted sarcastically,

"The first American Republic is dead! Vive la Deuxieme Republique!"

"Robespierre! Robespierre!" cried former President and Congressman John Quincy Adams of Massachusetts as he pointed his finger at Tyler. The other Senators and Congressmen took up the chant:

"Robespierre! Robespierre!"

Speaker of the House John Winston Jones of Virginia banged his gavel and finally managed to restore a measure of order to the chamber.

"The Senator from Kentucky has the floor!" he cried.

Old Senator John Crittenden stood up from his seat in the balcony. His voice boomed and echoed as he said,

"Gentlemen, there is no precedent fo' this in the Constitution. But there is precedent fo' it in our national history. Durin' the American Revolution, from time to time various committees were appointed an' dissolved to represent the thirteen colonies then extant. We may not like this arrangement, but I move 'at we accept this so-called 'Committee of Safety', till such time as the House of Representatives shall have the backbone to vote for a true President of all the people."

There was much discussion about the constitutionality of the measure, and several Senators expressed fears that the Supreme Court might strike it down. After a lot of grumbling and acrimony and an attempted filibuster by the Senate, the bill narrowly passed in both chambers. A rider was added to the bill, stipulating that all sections of the nation be equally represented on the committee. At five o'clock in the afternoon, the bill was signed by President John Tyler.

WASHINGTON, Saturday, March 1

President Tyler signed into law the joint resolution admitting Texas as the twenty-eighth state. The American chargé d'affaires to Texas, Andrew Jackson Donelson, was dispatched to Texas to negotiate a formal treaty of admission with the President of the Republic of Texas, Anson Jones.

The Richmond Enquirer published the following extra:

Joy! Joy! The Last Stroke Struck!

The die is cast—The House of Representatives have passed the resolutions, as amended by the Senate, by a majority of 56—and President Tyler has promptly signed them. Thanks be to him and his Administration for the services they have rendered to his country on this glorious event.—It shall never be said, that on this, nearly the last day of his power, there was "none so poor" as to pay him respect.

His Administration will hereafter be associated—his name and Calhoun's, and the memories of Upshur and of Gilmer, with the brilliant name of the no longer "Lone Star!" Let others censure and abuse Mr. Tyler as they may. We will never refuse him this honorable but humble tribute—and in our "flowing cups" let "Texas and Tyler be freshly remembered." Errors he has committed—gross errors perhaps—but, to say nothing of his vetoes, this is an act for which he deserves the gratitude of all his countrymen.

ST. LOUIS, Saturday, March 1

The Hyrum Smith and its passengers reached St. Louis. The few loafers and lumpers on the riverfront were astonished to see this battered wreck steaming placidly down the river with no hurricane deck or paddleboxes, towing a lighter. The opening of the steamboat season was at least a month away, and besides, there was not another steamboat within five hundred miles on the river, because of the war.

The Hyrum Smith sighed to a stop along Front Street and the gangplank was lowered. Dimick Huntington came ashore, approached one of the loafers and said,

"Where can I wood up around here?"

The loafer stared at him, wide-eyed, and said pointing, "Over thar... You folks jist out fer'a pleasure cruise'on 'at ol' scow?"

Dimick smiled. "No, we're headed up the Missouri, Council Bluffs way, then west."

The loafer smiled knowingly. "Oree-gon, huh? Gittin' a early jump onna spring migration, I reckon?"

Dimick smiled back. "Sumat like that..."

CHARLESTON, Saturday, March 1

The Army of the West reached Milledgeville, the capital of Georgia.

The Army of the South was still camped north of Charleston, waiting for the navy to arrive and seal off the city from the south. General Joseph Smith had kept his men busy digging gun emplacements and in cutting off the Rebel supply-lines along the Cooper River and Wappoo Creek. At the same time, he had to protect his own lines of supply from attack, all the way back to Port Royal and Savannah. This was becoming increasingly difficult, and as the days passed, Joseph noticed with concern that his own armies' provisions were rapidly dwindling, and his officers were growing impatient.

"I expected our Navy to come to our aid a week ago", he reported to his staff. "Worse, it's now been two days since a supply train arrived from Port Royal. If this continues, we may become the 'besieged' instead of the 'besieger'."

Colonel Logan spoke. "Sir, why do we dally? We have more than sufficient forces to take the city, or level it to the ground if we want. As you say, time is not on our side. I say we strike now."

Joseph replied, "I still hope to convince the defenders to surrender without bloodshed. We can wait a bit longer. Dismissed!"

Joseph went to work on a stack of transfers and requisitions, and noted in passing that Seamus McFeemish had been promoted to Sergeant, and transferred from Company A to Company B of the Illinois 9th.

BURKES GARDEN, Saturday, March 1

At dawn on this day, Major Mark Aldrich formed up his Warsaw militiamen in the hills surrounding Burkes Garden, an isolated village in the center of a large bowl-shaped valley about ten miles east of Tazewell, Virginia. As he gazed down at the sleepy little village he said to himself,

Yes, this should make for easy pickins.

For nearly a month, the Warsaw Independent Battalion had been living off the land – or more properly, off others who worked the land, between Dalton and here. As they worked their way north through the Great Smoky Mountains, they had left a trail of ransacked villages and plundered farms behind them. Villages such as Conasauga, Etowah, Pigeon Forge, and Nicklesville had all felt the wrath of these "Union" renegades.

Major Aldrich had found that there was plenty of plunder for the taking in the more isolated back woods and hollows of the Appalachians. He avoided the larger towns such as Athens and Knoxville that had their own militias.

Aldrich knew he couldn't maintain this ruse forever. He hoped to reach some place – perhaps Wheeling, Virginia – where he and his men could quietly embark for home. What he didn't know was that for several days, his movements had been carefully watched.

For several weeks now, Captain Nathan Bedford Forrest and his Tennessee Volunteers had been chasing rumors of a Union drive up the length of the Great Smoky Mountains. To him, it seemed illogical for Union soldiers to attack in this direction, but still the reports persisted. Over the past few days, Forrest had felt he was closing in on his elusive prey, and he began sending out riders throughout Tazewell County to warn the citizens.

Forrest suspected that he was chasing a band of renegades, not a full-scale Union assault, and he knew that Burkes Garden was a likely target. Forrest respected these new settlers in spite of their peculiar religion, and he had vowed to prevent the renegades from leveling Burkes Garden to the ground, as they had done to Pigeon Forge.

By this time, Major Aldrich had perfected his plan of attack: Simply charge into town, occupy it briefly, take what they wanted and skedaddle before any opposition could be mounted. It had worked a dozen times before, and he didn't expect today to be any different.

In the chill of the dawn, Aldrich gazed down at the sleepy little town. Faint wisps of smoke rose from a few chimneys, but no one was in sight yet.

"All right men, you know what to do", Aldrich said as he drew his saber and started off at a trot down the hill. About a quarter mile from town he increased his horse's pace to a canter, then a full gallop, and his men did the same.

The Warsaw Independents had never faced any real opposition before, so it came as a total surprise to them when a crackling fusillade erupted from two buildings on opposite sides of the Tazewell Road. Too late, Aldrich noticed the barricade of wagons and fence posts spanning the road. He frantically wheeled his horse around, just in time to see three of his cavalrymen fall to the ground.

"Fall back!" he shouted as a shot whistled past his head.

He knew instinctively that his order was too late. Over fifty tons of men and horses were charging at full gallop directly toward him down the road. He knew it was well nigh impossible to stop a full cavalry charge in its tracks, and he watched helplessly as his rearguard plowed into his front ranks, sending men and horses flying in all directions. His own horse bucked and screamed, nearly throwing him off. His men were falling on every side, both by gunfire from the town and in the tangled mass of horseflesh swirling around them.

Aldrich hunkered down behind his horse's flank and peered through the haze of powder smoke as he was swept helplessly along the road by the inexorable tide of horses, ever closer to the barricades at the edge of town.

His terrified horse slammed up against an overturned wagon and reared up on its hind legs. Aldrich was thrown clear and landed in the dirt on the far side of the wagon, knocking the wind out of him. He shook his head to clear it, and looked up at about a half dozen muskets pointed directly at him.

"Aldrich?" said a man with a long, black beard. "What in nation are you doin' in Virginia, in a U.S. Army uniform asides? Warn't Yelrome plunder enough for you? Or Green Plains? You just cain't leave us alone, can you?"

Aldrich was still dazed, but he recognized the voice. "Jed Grant? What're you doing here?"

"I live here", Jedediah Grant snapped. "'Long with 'bout a hunerd-fifty of my fellow Mormons, right here in 'God's Thumbprint' – Burkes Garden. I'll 'splain later. Get him outta here", he motioned.

Two settlers pulled Aldrich to his feet and began dragging him down the main street into town. He glanced quickly over his shoulder past the barricades, and estimated that about two-thirds of his men had made it back to the edge of the Garden Mountain woods.

Good, he thought.

Just as his two captors were about to thrust Aldrich through the door of a log cabin, an unearthly yell erupted from the distant woods. Aldrich glanced down the road again, and to his astonishment he saw scores of gray-coated cavalrymen emerge from the woods at a full gallop, whooping and hollering.

The soldiers quickly fanned out across the Tazewell Road, cutting off the sole route of escape for Aldrich's men. Then they began beating the surrounding woods, flushing out the remaining Warsaw troops and herding them towards the town. The townspeople watched and cheered from the barricades as the last remnants of Aldrich's once-mighty battalion were rounded up and disarmed.

Captain Nathan Bedford Forrest rode up to the barricades and doffed his hat, and Jedediah Grant returned the favor.

"You No'thern boys jist cain't git along, can y'all?" said Forrest with a grin. "Well, we Suthreners have a special code 'o justice what we 'ministers ta house-bu'ners an' thieves. Ef it's all the same'ta y'all, we'll jist roun' up these year boys an' sta't ministerin' to'em?"

"Be my guest", said Grant. "I've had run-ins before with some of these galoots in Missouri and Illinois. We'll even throw in their leader here, at no extra charge."

In a few minutes Aldrich was brought to the barricades, with his hands tied behind him. He looked up at Captain Forrest and snarled,

"I'm a Major in the United States Army! You have no right to abuse me or my men in this way!"

"Y'don't say? We'll see 'bout that", Forrest replied. "We-all have ah' own type o' justice roun' heah. Take 'im and throw 'im in with t'otha' prisona's!" he ordered.

TAZEWELL, Saturday, March 1, evening

Captain Forrest's Tennessee Volunteers had quickly rounded up the remnants of Aldrich's Warsaw Independent Battalion. They disarmed them, tied them up and herded them several miles on foot from Burkes Garden to Captain Forrest's camp in the woods near Tazewell. Once there, Aldrich was taken aside for interrogation by Forrest and his officers. By then, Aldrich had long since lost all his former bluster and had clammed up.

"Who's yo' commandin' offica'?" Forrest inquired.

Aldrich was silent.

"Th' war's a hunert-fifty miles south o' heah. Y'all jist git lost in'a woods pickin' flowa's, or sumat?"

Still no answer from Aldrich.

"Y'all ain't reg'lar army, ah kin tell, an' y'all don't sound like Virginia boys, neither. More like sum'ere out west, Missoura' maybe?"

Still no response.

Captain Forrest was getting irritated. He seized Aldrich by the collar and said,

"Reg'lar U.S. sojers wouldn't burn Pigeon Forge t' ashes, like y'all did! Y'all are renegades, turncoats, traita's, am ah right?"

Aldrich finally broke his silence. "We were hoodwinked", he replied cautiously. "After we enlisted, we learned t'our consarnation that we was under th' command of 'General' Joe Smith – You know, the same stuffed-shirt fool 'at those Mormons bow down'ta in Burkes Garden, see?"

Forrest pondered this for a long moment. Then he replied,

"Tell me straight, Aldrich: Which side o' this lil' dog-fight are y'all really on?"

Now it was Aldrich's turn to weigh his words carefully. After a moment he replied cautiously,

"Y' know, we drove them Mormons outa Missouri, an' then they took over alla Hancock County in Illinois, an' now their 'prophet' is headin' the U.S. Army! So, I guess that sorta puts us, well, on the side he ain't on, wherever that mought be..."

Nathan Bedford Forrest smiled and released his grip on Aldrich's collar.

"Y' know, Aldrich, minute ah laid eyes on yew ah knew y'all warn't sicha bad fella. Looks like we gotta whole lot in common efta' all, we do. Y'all'l find out jist what ah mean, this evenin'."

At sunset, a huge bonfire was lit in the center of the camp. The Tennessee Volunteers stood silently at attention in a hollow box formation surrounding the fire. Mark Aldrich was brought out, bound and blindfolded, and was forced to kneel on the ground between two of Forrests's soldiers. The panic started to rise in him. The night air was chill, adding to his discomfort.

They're gonna shoot me down right here... he thought.

Soon the camp grew eerily quiet, save for the crackling of the bonfire.

To-whit-to-whoo... a "whippoorwill" cried.

To-whit-to-whoo... another one responded.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

"The Grand Cyclops!"

"Give the password!"

"Native..."

"...Born", was the countersign.

"Enter, oh Supreme Knight of the Midnight Mystery."

Aldrich listened, baffled. What kind'o mumbo-jumbo is this?

Suddenly, he was seized by the arms and dragged across the cold ground. He could feel the heat of the bonfire through his blindfold.

This is it... he thought. They're gonna hive me right now.

He was forced to his knees and his bound hands were placed on some kind of padded box, like an altar, it seemed. The heat and crackling of the bonfire felt very near. He felt a tap on his right shoulder, and the blindfold was torn off.

Suddenly blinded by the glare of the bonfire, he looked in terror at the towering figure facing him. It was dressed in a long, white robe with a large red X on its chest, with a tall, conical hood completely covering the face, save for two eyeholes. Two cow-horns sprouted from the sides of the hood, pointing skyward. The phantasm was holding a long broadsword, which it had apparently used to tap Aldrich on the shoulder. Silhouetted against the roaring bonfire, it was all a perfect depiction of the place where Aldrich expected to arrive in a few seconds.

I'm a dead man... he thought, cringing. They're gonna behead me, not shoot me...

"Mark Aldrich!" the figure thundered. "D' you sweah' allegiance to th' Imperial Wiza'd o' th' Knights o' th' Midnight Mystery, an' to none otha?"

An astonished Aldrich quickly thought,

It's Forrest, for sure... then I'm not gonna die after all...

"Well, sure, you betcha", he replied, relieved.

"D' you swear by yo' life t'keep solemnly secret th' oaths o' an' signs o' this Ordah', so he'p you God?"

Aldrich was getting his wind again. "So help me God", he replied coolly.

"D' you swear t' obey faithfully the Consteetution an' laws o' this Ordah?"

"I do."

"Ba' th'thority vested in me as a Grand Cyclops o' this Ordah, ah now de-clare you, Mark Aldrich, a Knight o' the Great Forrest. Y'all may rise."

The Grand Cyclops threw off his hood and embraced Aldrich.

"Welcome ta th' Ordah, Knight Aldrich. If'n you evah be-tray us, may God have marcy on yo' soul."

As Aldrich stood and shook hands with the Grand Cyclops, he was seized with an overwhelming sense of relief and gratitude at his sudden good fortune.

"Believe me, sir, I shan't let you down", Aldrich said, weeping.

WASHINGTON, Monday, March 3

Florida was admitted to the Union as the twenty-seventh state.

The Senate signed into law a treaty ending hostilities with Great Britain, and President Tyler signed it as his last official act as President.

The 28th Congress finally ended its work and went home without choosing a new President.

CHARLESTON, Monday, March 3

General Joseph Smith had sent an embassy to the Mayor of Charleston, requesting that he surrender the city peaceably. He received this reply from the mayor:

Charleston

March 2, 1845

General Joe Smith,

I have received your letter demanding the surrender of my city, and I hereby reject your contemptible demands. We will never yield an inch of our fair city, so long as a single Yankee invader violates our sacred Carolina soil. And in addition, I reject your terms for the exchange of prisoners.

You may have failed to notice that your pathetic siege of Charleston is of but little consequence, as we are more than able to resupply this city from the sea. Your vaunted Army of the South will starve long before the citizens of Charleston will lack for sustenance. We are prepared to wait you out here until Hell freezes over – and when it does, we shall still fight you on the ice.

I am,

Major General John Schnierle,

South Carolina 16th Regiment, and

Mayor of Charleston

RICHMOND Missouri, Tuesday, March 4

The Hyrum Smith quietly passed DeWitt and Richmond, Missouri. Brigham Young leaned on the railing, looked at the decrepit state of the towns as they passed and remarked,

"It was just seven years ago... Joseph and his brethren were imprisoned here in Richmond. Joseph rose up in the strength of the Lord and rebuked the guards. Looks to me like the whole town got hit by the concussion, to boot."

"I remember", said Orson. "My brother Parley was there. He told me the way Joseph stood up to those guards was the most powerful thing he ever witnessed in his life."

George A. Smith gazed at the scenery and said,

"I understand David Whitmer is still living here, and Oliver Cowdery visits occasionally. It's a pity we don't have time to stop and pay them both a visit."

"Yes, a pity indeed", Brigham said as the town faded from view. "It will just have to keep for another day."

CHARLESTON, Tuesday, March 4

The Army of the South was still camped outside Charleston, awaiting resupply. Attacks on the rail line from Port Royal were increasing, and the flow of provisions had dwindled to a trickle. Joseph's quartermaster, Major Lyman Wight, made his report at the daily staff meeting:

"As it stands, we now have just one weeks' provisions for our 7,000 soldiers, at full rations. It takes, oh, 'bout four pounds of bread, beans an' biscuits each day to feed one man, plus at least a gallon of water. That's 28,000 pounds of foodstuffs each day, which our rail line could scarcely handle under the best o' conditions. I've received reports that some o' the troops are fanning out into the countryside, foraging for themselves. We've been tryin' to dig wells, but bein' as we're only 'bout thirty feet above the sea here, many o' the wells are brackish an' of no use to us. So, much of our water must be transported in by rail as well."

"The foraging must stop", said Joseph. "We're attempting to win these Carolinians over to our side, not alienate them by plundering. I'll put our whole army on half rations, rather than steal a single morsel from these people. I still have faith that our navy will come through for us in time."

After the meeting broke up, Joseph retired to his tent, closed the flaps, and knelt in prayer for a long time. Then he wearily sat down at his small camp table and started leafing through his mountain of paperwork.

If only I had a Teancum to infiltrate this city, he thought.

In a few minutes there was a soft knock on the tent pole, and Captain Moroni entered and sat down opposite Joseph, removed his fez and set it on the table.

"How did you do it?" Joseph exclaimed in frustration. "How did you supply an army of forty, fifty thousand men in the field, with no railroads, no wagons, not even pack animals?"

Moroni smiled. "We had habituellement as many porters in our army as soldiers, or more. Each one, he transported a straw basket of grain on his back, as much as he could carry. It was a tremendous undertaking, and a source fréquemment of concern to me. The attacks on our lines of supply, they were a constant threat. The Lamanites had the same difficultés with their lines of supply. Sometimes the fighting, it would stop for months at a time, as we all were obliged to return to home and tend to our crops and our families."

"Time is running out for me here", Joseph said. "We can't maintain this siege much longer. Not only have our supplies dried up – there are no more fresh recruits arriving, neither. I have reason to believe that some faction in the government in Washington is impeding our efforts."

"In that, you would be correct", Moroni said. "Helaman, Lehi, and myself faced this same situation difficile very long ago at the city of Manti."

Captain Moroni leaned forward. "Joseph, it is time for you to write a 'Pahoran' letter to President Tyler. You must rally the people of this nation to your side. Continue raising the Title of Liberty, and you will prevail in the end. And as for the danger immediate, if you will just stay a little longer the course here, it will all work out for you."

Joseph looked around the inside of the tent; then he said,

"I never imagined that I would ever be here in the land of Noah, where the Ark was constructed..."

Moroni smiled faintly. "In a few days, Joseph, you may wish that you had your own Ark."
CHAPTER 37

WASHINGTON, Tuesday, March 4

For the first time in the history of the United States, no Presidential inaugural ceremony was held on this day. George M. Dallas was sworn in as Vice-President in a brief ceremony in the Senate chamber.

COLUMBIA, Tuesday, March 4

The long-anticipated constitutional convention of the Confederate States of America opened at Columbia, South Carolina.

Delegates had been streaming into Columbia from various Southern states for nearly a week, as well as reporters and politicians of every stripe. Horace Greeley, editor of the New York Tribune, even sent one of his reporters to cover the proceedings – John C. Bennett, who was also secretly a non-voting "delegate" of sorts for the Tammany Society of New York.

Promptly at 10:00 a.m., South Carolina Governor William Gist called the meeting to order in the State House. After the delegates from each state were officially seated, Gist called Congressman Robert Barnwell Rhett to the stand as the keynote speaker.

Rhett was considered the godfather of the Southern secession movement. As far back as 1826, long before even John C. Calhoun had seized upon the cause, Rhett had begun beating the secession drum in South Carolina, first on the issues of states' rights and taxation, and later by opposing abolition. Rhett's newspaper, the Charleston Mercury, had long been at the forefront of the pro-slavery movement. Now, at last, his long years in the political wilderness were finally paying off, as one by one the Southern states cast off their ties to the government in Washington and sided with the new Confederacy. Rhett got right down to business with these words:

"Ma fellow Southreners:

"The Govamint of the United States is no longa' the govamint of a confederate republic, but of a consolidated dee-mocracy. It is no longa' a free govamint, but a despotism! It is, in fact, such a govamint as Great Britain attempted to set ova' ah fatha's, an' which was ree-sisted an' dee-feated by a seven years struggle fo' indeependence. Thus the people o' the Southren States ah compelled t' meet the very despotism theah fatha's threw off in the Revolution of 1776.

"In separatin' from them we invade no rights – no interest o' theirs. We violate no obligation o' duty t' them. As separate, indeependent States in Convention, we made the Consteetution o' the United States with them; and as separate, indeependent States, each State actin' fo' itself, we adopted it. South Carolina, actin' in her sovereign capacity now thinks propah to secede from the Union.

"Y'all have long lingered an' hoped ovah the shatte'ed remains of a broken Consteetution. Compromise afta' compromise, formed by yo' concessions, has been trampled unda' foot by yo' Northern confederates. All fraternity of feelin' between the North an' the South is lost, or has been converted inta' hate; an' we o' the South ah' at last driven togetha' ba' the stern destiny which controls th' existence of nations."

Rhett pounded the podium and thundered,

"Citizens! We ask y'all to join us in formin' a confed'racy of slaveholdin' states!"

The delegates leaped to their feet, clapped, and stomped for about five minutes.

When Governor Gist finally succeeded in restoring order, a vote of the delegates was called, which passed unanimously.

Then the difficult task arose of actually forming a new government. Some called for the establishment of a provisional government until the individual states could vote on a permanent one; some pushed for the adoption of the existing U.S. Constitution as is. At the end of the day, and in spite of all the tiresome wrangling, no decisions had been made. Finally at ten o'clock Governor Gist banged his gavel and declared an adjournment until the next day.

Gist was just exiting the chamber when he was approached by John C. Bennett.

"Governor, sir, as a reporter for the New York Tribune, may I ask you a few questions?" said Bennett.

"Wha', sartainly suh", said Gist, as he approached Bennett and shook hands with him.

Both men stopped in their tracks as they looked down at the unusual position of their clasped fingers. "What th'..." muttered Gist.

Found him... thought Bennett.

"Come with me, suh, we been lookin fo' you", said Gist, as he hastily steered Bennett towards a side conference room. As they walked, Gist said softly,

"We was info'med of yo' presence heah, but Ah been shakin' hands all day, tryin' ta find yew! Y'all've seen the public side o' th' new Confederacy today in'is heah convention. Na', y'all'er gonna see whea' th' real powa' lies."

They approached an armed guard who was standing at attention in front of the door to the side room.

"Halt! Who goes there?" queried the guard.

"A Grand Cyclops", Gist replied.

"Enter, Oh Exalted One", replied the guard, as he opened the door for them.

The room was dimly lit by a single oil lamp sitting on a long table. In the gloom, Bennett could see about a dozen men seated around the table. Their faces were obscured by tall, pointed hoods with eyeholes. At the head of the table was another figure, similarly clothed, sitting on a raised platform. A thrill went through John C. Bennett as he viewed the ceremonial chamber.

This must be the sanctum sanctorum of this mysterious 'Order' I've heard about...

"State yo' pu'pose heah'!" said the leader.

Gist replied with a bow, "O Imperial Wiza'd o' th' Midnight Mystery, this man seeks a' audience with you".

"Bring 'im!" said the leader.

Two guards suddenly seized Bennett by the shoulders and forced him to kneel at the foot of the table, opposite the Imperial Wizard.

"Identeefy youse'f!" said the Imperial Wizard.

Bennett looked down the length of the table and past the flickering oil lamp and said nervously,

"I'm John C. Bennett, your, uh, Imperial Mysteriousness, and I bring tidings from the Grand Sachem of the Tammany Society."

"Indeed... an' what mout yo' tidin's be?"

Bennett took a deep breath. "The Grand Sachem is determined to restore the national political status quo ante, by whatever means necessary. I believe you share in that sentiment?"

"We do. In fact, we a'ready have a plan in motion. Go tell yo' Grand Sachem 'at we intend to dee-capitate the new gummint in Washn'ton, soon's they takes orfice – th' Pres'dent, Vice-Pres'dent, an' Gen'ral o' th' Army ah marked men. Ba' this means, we intends ta' make hit puffecly cleah 'at th' Southren states ah not t' be trifled with. We b'lieve in slavery yestiddy, slavery today, an' slavery tomorrah!"

"Thank you, sir, I shall deliver your message", said Bennett.

"See to it. An' Bennett, if yo' evah dee-vulge th' existence o' this Ordah ta ennyone, may God have marcy on yo' soul."

"Yes sir. I'll remember that, sir", said Bennett, swallowing hard.

"An' go tell yo' Grand Sachem 'at Seneca sends his re-gards."

INDEPENDENCE, Wednesday, March 5

Just after dawn the Hyrum Smith halted for firewood near Independence, Missouri. Dimick Huntington carefully guided the boat as far as he could up Sugar Creek, then he grounded the bow on a sand bar and tied up.

"I should like to visit Independence one last time before we head west", said Brigham. "I haven't been back here for many years now, and shall probably never see it again. This is a very special place in the Lord's vineyard."

The pioneers debarked from the steamboat and climbed aboard the wagons which Rockwell and Redden had assembled for them. Porter and Redden flicked the reins, and the wagons started off in a southeasterly direction. Porter glanced around nervously as they rolled along.

"Last time I was here they come nigh to hangin' me, then they throwed me in jail for nine months", he said. "I wonder if ol' Boggs still lives here. He still owes me an apology, I reckon."

In about a half hour the group reached the temple site just west of Independence. Except for a few stones still marking the site, the field was empty and abandoned. At this early hour, few people were yet stirring in town.

The pioneers formed a circle, and Brigham Young quietly bowed his head and re-dedicated the ground. Brigham said,

"In the name of Israel's God, I dedicate this ground for the House of the Lord, which house shall be reared in this generation, as the Lord has spoken by Joseph the Prophet. May it be hallowed and consecrated unto God until we return and forever thereafter. Amen."

Brigham looked around the group, poked his cane in the ground and said firmly,

"I want no one in this party to ever forget that this is the center stake of Zion, the site of the New Jerusalem. The Rocky Mountains are but a temporary refuge for us. In the Lord's own time, we shall return and inherit this goodly land."

Orson Pratt then read from the 87th Psalm – the same verse which Sidney Rigdon had read during the dedication of the temple site on August 3, 1831:

His foundation is in the holy mountains.

The Lord loveth the gates of Zion more than all the dwellings of Jacob.

Glorious things are spoken of thee, O city of God. Selah.

After this, the group softly sang Elder W.W. Phelps' song, "Adam-ondi-Ahman":

...Hosanna to such days to come,

The Savior's second coming,

When all the earth in glorious bloom

Affords the Saints a holy home,

Like Adam-ondi-Ahman.

The pioneers quietly returned to the Hyrum Smith and continued their slow journey up the Missouri River.

About twenty miles north of Independence a piston driveshaft broke. Edson Whipple and his crew were able to replace it in about an hour, and the journey resumed.

CHARLESTON, Thursday, March 6

For the past two days, a torrential rain had been falling on the South Carolina coast. The Army of the South was completely inundated, and their camp soon became a wretched, muddy swamp. Trenches became rivers, gun emplacements and fortifications washed away, and roads became impassable.

Around noon the skies cleared and the sun finally came out. Joseph surveyed his soggy "ragtown" of tents and thought,

So, that's it? I had assumed Moroni was referring to forty days of rain, not just two?

Just at that moment, he felt a faint tremor in the ground beneath him. He thought at first it was merely the damp ground subsiding, but then he felt it again, stronger this time. The shaking increased, and he noticed with alarm that soldiers all around him were stumbling and falling in the mud.

"Earthquake!" someone cried, and immediately the whole camp was seized with panic. The shaking continued and grew more severe. Horses and mules whinnied and broke loose, dogs howled, tents collapsed, and men were running and stumbling everywhere. Then, as suddenly as it had started, the shaking ceased.

What's next, locusts? Joseph thought.

Joseph's orderly, George Steele, came pounding towards him through the mud to take orders.

"George, round up the staff and have them report at my tent, on the double!" Joseph ordered. "Yes, sir!" George replied, and ran off again. In a few moments, Joseph heard the bugler sound the Officer's Call.

Joseph made his way back to his tent through the sea of mud, pondering as he went.

Moroni warned me that something big was coming, but what? I've been through worse earthquakes than that one, and I'm sure Charleston was scarcely rattled by it, too...

By the time he reached his tent, he knew what needed to be done, but not exactly why. There was something he vaguely recalled about the side-effects of earthquakes far out to sea.

For I, the Lord, have decreed in mine anger many destructions upon the waters; yea, and especially upon these waters.

A few minutes later when Joseph's staff had assembled outside his tent, he said to them,

"I want everyone to move to higher ground, or at any rate the highest ground you can find around here. Get everyone as far away from the Ashley and Cooper Rivers as you can. Something big is coming, and our only safety lies in distancing ourselves from the water."

Joseph's officers looked at him as if he were completely insane, to which he replied,

"Do it now! That's an order! We haven't much time."

Colonel Logan mumbled something about Moses parting the Red Sea, and then he stomped off through the mud with the other officers to round up his troops. Within the hour, all seven thousand men of the Army of the South were crowded together on the soggy high ground just north of Charleston, all grumbling about how their commanding officer had finally gone completely mad. Nearly all of them were soaking wet and cold from the rain, hungry, and in a foul mood. Joseph took his place at the head of the assembly on an observation tower, between his army and the fortifications surrounding Charleston just south of him.

"He's a stark raving lunatic", Colonel Vanleuwen said to Lyman Wight. "Does he really think he's gonna lead us into the Promised Land, like Moses?"

"Shh! I've seen Joseph like this before, and when he gets this way, you might wanna hold fast onto something solid", replied Lyman Wight.

Joseph pulled out his spyglass and scanned the horizon to the south. He could see the Charleston skyline, including the octagonal spire of St. Michael's Episcopal Church, which bore a remarkable resemblance to the Nauvoo Temple spire, he thought in passing. Farther south in the harbor was the circular brick Castle Pinckney with its gun emplacements. In the far distance he could just see Fort Moultrie and the mouth of Charleston Harbor. Beyond that, nothing but the ocean.

"Well, Moses, were there no graves in Egypt?" said Colonel Logan.

Joseph ignored him and fixed his gaze on the harbor entrance. Along the farthest horizon, a thin black line had appeared. It gradually thickened and became more distinct. Now it took on a bluish-green tinge. Taller and wider it grew, until it completely filled the gap between James Island and Sullivan Island.

Joseph put down the spyglass, drew the sword of Laban and raised it above his head, crying,

"Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord!"

By now, the entire army could see and hear the enormous seismic sea wave bearing down upon them. Surging through the harbor entrance was a wall of water over a hundred feet high. They felt and heard the deep rumble of the millions of tons of sea water racing at enormous speed toward them, and then they felt the chill sea wind that preceded it. After the massive wave thundered between James and Sullivan islands at the entrance to the shallow harbor, it fanned out and reduced in height slightly, but kept racing towards the city.

Shutes Folly and Hog Island were next to feel the wave's wrath, as every tree, building, and living thing was swept away. Next, Castle Pinckney disappeared under the blue-green surge.

Now Charleston itself suffered the brunt of the wave, still thirty feet high. The Sugar House, the Exchange, St. Michael's – all vanished under the thundering blue-green wall of water. It raced up the streets between the buildings, demolishing everything in its path. On and on it went, right to the northern limits of the city, just short of the line of defenses – just a few hundred yards from the soldiers of the Army of the South, many of whom ran in terror as the immense wave of destruction unfolded before them. A massive surge of water also swept up the Ashley and Cooper rivers to the west and east of them, engulfing every plantation, boat and dock in its path.

There was an agonizing moment's pause as the wave crested, and then the awful maelstrom resumed, only in reverse. All the flotsam that had been driven to the northern limits of the city was instantly drawn by the wave back into Charleston Harbor. People, horses, wagons, push-carts, furniture, cotton bails, lumber, doors, windows, and everything else not securely fastened down were swept out into the harbor in one huge, swirling, commingled mass of wreckage.

Joseph's sword arm dropped to his side, and he stood watching in stunned silence as the rogue wave finally subsided. The whole army paused in disbelief, gazing at the awful scene; then suddenly as one they began dashing across the trenches, past the barricades and toward the stricken city.

ST. JOSEPH Missouri, Friday, March 7

The Hyrum Smith and the pioneers reached St. Joseph. Progress was becoming increasingly difficult as the temperature dropped and the ice thickened on the river. Orson Pratt measured 17 degrees on his thermometer at noon.

"It might have been even colder if only the thermometer were longer", he said half in jest.

At about two o'clock Brigham noticed that their progress was slowing. The ice floes were crashing and grinding against the bow of the boat, and the paddlewheels were churning madly and flinging great chunks of ice into the air. Brigham realized that a tree he had been watching for five minutes just ahead of the boat was getting farther away, not closer. He hurried over to the boiler room and found Green Flake and Chism furiously stuffing wood into the fireboxes. In spite of the cold outside, they were stripped to their trousers and working up a sweat. Edson Whipple was manning the valves and gazing anxiously at the gauges. Little gouts of steam were hissing through numerous cracks in the old boilers, and the iron walls of the fireboxes were glowing cherry red.

"What's wrong?" Brigham shouted over the hiss and roar of the steam engine.

"I dunno!" Edson shouted back over the din. "We're nigh to busting the boilers, but we're still not making any headway!"

Brigham stepped outside again and gazed at the paddlewheels for a minute. He ducked as a huge chunk of ice sailed into the air and crashed down on the deck less than a foot from him. Dimick Huntington joined him and quickly sized up the situation.

"The paddle buckets are all iced up", Dimick shouted. "They're not grabbing the water the way they should!"

"What can we do?" said Brigham.

"We'll have to tie up, then walk the buckets an' try to bust the ice off", Dimick replied. "Otherwise, we'll just keep on going noplace in a hurry!"

"Then let's have at it", said Brigham. "But be careful."

Dimick ran back up to the pilothouse and carefully steered the crippled boat toward the east riverbank. He expertly guided the boat alongside a convenient snag and Thomas Bullock threw a bow line over it. Edson Whipple shut down the steam engines, and with a whoosh and a sigh the weary Hyrum Smith came to rest.

"Now comes the dangerous part", said Dimick. "We set the paddles in 'free wheel', and two men walk the buckets and knock the ice off with axes. Any volunteers?"

There was a moment of silence, and then Edson and Appleton hesitantly raised their hands.

"Mind yourselves, the current will keep the paddles turning slowly under you", said Dimick. "You'll have to step smart to keep from getting pulled under. We'll tie a line to each of you, just in case. You still willing?"

Both men nodded agreement, and in a few minutes they were ready. Each man was armed with a fire axe and had a line tied around his middle. They took their places on opposite sides of the boat and carefully stepped over the Texas deck guardrail. They each placed one foot on the deck and the other on the slowly turning paddlewheels, and went to work with their axes.

"Try not to mar the paint", Dimick said to Edson, straight-faced.

It was slow, hard, bone-numbing work, but the two men went at it with enthusiasm. Edson had nearly finished clearing his paddlewheel when suddenly the boat started to rock. With a deep groan the anchor snag tore loose from the mud which had held it fast, and the Hyrum Smith began drifting backwards into the channel.

Appleton made a desperate leap for the railing and held on for dear life. Edson was thrown outboard over the side of the paddlewheel and then brought up short by his safety line, dangling in midair. As the boat drifted backwards downstream, the paddlewheel slowly turned, drawing the line tighter and tighter until it snapped. With a cry and a splash, Edson was thrown into the freezing Missouri River and quickly swept downstream.

"Man overboard!" Dimick shouted.

Porter Rockwell and Ezra T. Benson had been watching from the main deck. They both dashed aft to where the skiff was tied up, jumped in it and cast off. As Porter rowed downstream past the lighter, Ezra searched anxiously for Edson amid the ice floes.

The two men finally caught up with him about a half mile downstream, where they found his body entangled in some brush near the riverbank. Porter and Ezra carefully pulled him into the boat and looked him over.

"Stiff as a post", Porter said mournfully. The two men slowly rowed back to the Hyrum Smith, and the crew carefully lifted Edson's frozen body onto the deck.

An hour later a short funeral service was held on shore. As the company huddled around the shallow grave, Brigham Young made a few desultory remarks. A biting wind caught his words, making it difficult for the others to hear him. Clarissa and Jessie were sobbing quietly, the tears freezing to their cheeks.

"I never knew Edson Whipple that well", Brigham said. "But I know he was a kind, gentle man. In 1841 he was a counselor to President Benjamin Winchester in the Philadelphia Branch. Born February 5, 1805, died March 7th, 1845. The first pioneer to give his life on this trail; may his name be had in remembrance by all who shall follow us to the West. May this grave be hallowed and protected until the resurrection morn, in the name of Jesus, Amen. Let's get back to the boat, everyone."

CHARLESTON, Saturday, March 8

The mission of the Army of the South had suddenly shifted from waging war to rescuing the victims of the tidal wave in Charleston. General Joseph Smith directed the surgeon's staff and chaplains to administer to the dead and wounded, and ordered the engineers to comb through the wrecked buildings for survivors. Other detachments soon had orders to work with the local militia, collect food and water, provide sanitation, reunite families, and maintain order in the stricken city. Joseph himself worked tirelessly alongside his soldiers in clearing rubble and tending to the survivors.

It seemed as if every block of the city had its own heartbreaking story to tell, as well as acts of courage – parents who had sacrificed their lives to save their children from the wave; family dogs that refused to leave their dead masters; survivors endlessly wandering the streets searching for loved ones. It was exhausting, heartrending work, but at the end of two days, the army could report that nearly every block had been combed over, and that there were no more survivors being found in the rubble. The toll was immense: Perhaps nine thousand dead and missing, as well as two thousand wounded.

Charleston Mayor John Schnierle suddenly became Joseph's best friend. His familiarity with the city was a great assistance in directing the recovery from the destruction. News of the disaster was spreading throughout the South, and food and assistance began arriving from as far away as Beaufort and Georgetown.

Beyond the devastating effect on Charleston, the disaster had a profound and sobering effect on every man in the Army of the South. General Joseph Smith was at last the unquestioned commander of the Army, and his every order was carried out instantly. There was a newfound loyalty and unity among his staff officers as well. Colonel Logan allowed as how anyone who could "part the sea" like that could have his custom any day of the week, including Sunday.

RICHMOND, Saturday, March 8

The Virginia Richmond Enquirer published the following extra:

Glorious News from Texas!

THE MEXICANS TWICE ROUTED!!!

1200 Mexicans Killed!

THE ENEMY'S GUNS CARRIED AT THE POINT OF THE BAYONET!

There have been two engagements between General Doniphan and the Mexican Troops. The first occurred on the 17th ult., when General Doniphan was returning from Point Isabel to his camp, opposite Matamoras. In this the Mexicans, from 5,000 to 7,000, were repulsed, our army sleeping on the field of battle, on which next day were found 200 Mexicans dead, several pieces of artillery, stores, &c.

The Mexicans commenced the action with their artillery, which was posted so as to sweep the narrow pass by which Gen. Doniphan was advancing; there being a swamp on either hand, Gen. Doniphan immediately ordered a charge in the teeth of the enemy's destructive fire, and the troops promptly responded, and carried the enemy's guns at the point of the bayonet.

The action lasted one hour and a half, in which some 600 Mexicans were either killed or wounded, and the Americans took 800 prisoners and eight pieces of artillery. The American loss in this action was but sixty-two, killed and wounded.

SANDUSKY, Saturday, March 8

For over a month now, since the recapture of Baltimore, "Semmes' Irregulars" had been quietly making their way north and west across Pennsylvania and Ohio. At every town they visited, they announced themselves as recruits for the U.S. Army, on their way to "fight the rebs down south". The fact that they were headed away from the fight, rather than towards it, never seemed to trouble the citizens of Cumberland, Pittsburgh, New Castle, or Youngstown as they passed through.

Captains Semmes' plan was to make it to Cleveland or some other port on Lake Erie, and then take passage on a steamer to neutral Canada. Ultimately he settled on Sandusky, Ohio as his destination. Sandusky was the last stop on the Underground Railroad and a frequent jumping-off place for slaves fleeing to Canada. The irony that Raphael Semmes was rabidly pro-slavery mattered not a fig to him – safe passage to Canada, and a speedy return to South Carolina, were all that mattered to him and his thirty men.

On this day Semmes, ever the tactician, was quietly spying out the waterfront along Sandusky Bay. He reasoned that if he was unable to get passage for his men aboard a ferry to Canada, then they were perfectly capable of seizing a boat and sailing it to Canada themselves. But so far, few opportunities had presented themselves. Much of the bay was still iced over, and there was very little traffic on the lake.

He blew on his hands to warm them and scanned the harbor.

"Look Rafe, a warship!" exclaimed his second in command, Lieutenant John Wilkinson. Lying at anchor between Sandusky and Johnson's Island was a rather small, barkentine-rigged paddlewheel ship.

Semmes was an avid student of naval warfare, and could boast that he had memorized the entire active list of U.S. Navy warships. He quickly sized up the ship and said,

"That's not just any ol' warship, John. That's the USS Michigan, the first iron-hulled warship built in America. Launched just over a year ago. 'Bout 450 tons, I reckon, has one 18-pound swivel cannon. May not look like much, compared to the ol' Catawba, but she's the biggest warship on Lake Erie, I'll wager. Has a crew of about eighty. Captain's name is William Inman, as I recall."

He sat down on the ground and leaned against a tree, lost in thought.

Wilkinson knew when the wheels were turning inside his commander's head, and he waited patiently in the cold. Presently Semmes looked up at him and said,

"John, I gotta plan. You see Johnson's Island out there? Couple dozen of our fellow Carolinians are prisoners of war there. I think it's time we quit playin' recruits and start actin' like sojers again."

MISSOURI RIVER, Saturday, March 8

The weather was clear and not so cold this day, and there was less ice on the river. Orson Pratt measured 27 degrees at noon. The Hyrum Smith made slow but steady progress up the Missouri River.

SANDUSKY, Sunday, March 9

At dawn Raphael Semmes and his thirty men boarded the steam ferry Philo Parsons, which was departing on its regularly scheduled service to Windsor, Canada. Just after the ferry cast off from Cedar Point, Semmes and his men pulled out their pistols and quickly seized control of the boat. Semmes took the wheel and steered the ferry cross-bay through the ice floes toward Johnson's Island, the ferry's first scheduled stop.

As soon as the ferry tied up at the landing, Semmes' Irregulars ran ashore and quickly overpowered the half dozen guards, then they freed the fifty or so prisoners. Then they put the crew and passengers of the Parsons ashore and cast off. With eighty men now under his command, and water under his keel, Captain Semmes was beginning to feel back in his element again, even if he was only piloting a Great Lakes packet boat, and not a warship.

Semmes' next objective was the USS Michigan. He was worried that the crew of the Michigan would know the Parsons' schedule and might become suspicious of their unusual movements.

"Just try to act like we're on a Sunday-school picnic", Wilkinson tried to reassure his commander. "This is the Parsons, right?" he chuckled.

"Sure thing, John, we'll just meeky right up alongside 'er and give 'er some religion", Semmes replied, smiling. "Just a harmless li'l ferryboat full o' holy rollers..."

Semmes carefully brought the Philo Parsons alongside the Michigan, warily scanning the deck for lookouts. He only spotted two.

Rest of the crew are probably at Sunday morning services, he thought, looking at his watch.

It was just past eight a.m. The ships touched, and he cried,

"Boys, let's do some preachin'!"

Semmes' Irregulars and the freed prisoners poured over the railing of the Michigan and quickly overpowered the two lookouts; then they fanned out and secured the main deck. The attack was a complete surprise. Within ten minutes the entire ship was in Semmes' hands, and Captain Inman and the former crew were rounded up and herded aboard the Philo Parsons. Then, "Commodore" Semmes' little fleet headed up through the South Passage, past Put-in-Bay and the site of Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry's naval victory in 1813.

Semmes spied a small island just south of Put-in-Bay and checked his chart.

"John, I'll bet you five bucks you don't know the name of that island", he said, grinning.

"You got me there, Captain", Wilkinson replied.

"Catawba", Semmes said. "Our old ship's namesake."

A few hours later, the crew of the Michigan was put ashore on West Sister Island, an uninhabited, brush-covered speck of land about fifteen miles from Toledo. Then they used the 18-pounder cannon to scuttle the Philo Parsons.

As he impatiently watched his gun crew peck away at the Parsons with their single 18-pounder, Semmes glanced at the row of empty gun-ports along the ship's bulwarks and remarked,

"When this barkentine was launched, we signed a treaty with Canada 'at only allowed for this one lil' 18-pound swivel-gun. This ship was built to carry ten times 'at much armament."

As the Parsons finally slipped beneath Lake Erie, Semmes said,

"It'll be a long while afore anyone misses the crew or the ferry. The Parsons ran a four-day round trip between Sandusky an' Windsor, an' we should be long gone by then. Boys, it's time we did a little privateerin'! John, set a course for Presque Isle!"

CHARLESTON, Monday, March 10

The United States Navy finally arrived in Charleston Harbor – three ships of the United States Navy, at any rate.

Commodore Matthew Perry apologized profusely to General Joseph Smith for the delay, and he explained that his flotilla had been held up by late winter storms on the Atlantic and was unable to leave Norfolk at the end of February as originally planned. The Commodore was stunned at the utter devastation he saw in Charleston, and he immediately put his sailors to work cleaning up the harbor. Then, he met privately with Joseph in his tent.

"Matt, what's the drift?" said Joseph. "Just three ships? And I know it wasn't just winter storms that delayed you. What's happening in Washington? Why are we not receiving supplies?"

Commodore Perry gazed sadly at Joseph for a minute, and finally replied,

"Joseph, I don't know how to put this to you – there are some in Congress and the Executive Committee who really think that you overstepped your bounds with that Emancipation Proclamation. Henry Clay, in particular, was livid when he read it. All the Southerners are dead-set against it – you can see why, can't you? It's their worst nightmare: They imagine a million Nat Turners springing up all across the South, all bent on murdering their masters in their sleep. To the slave-owners, the Proclamation is simply intolerable. You must rescind it."

Joseph was stunned. "Matt, did they send you here to tell me this? I simply can't believe that the government would cast aside all we've gained here, after all the sacrifices we've made! Didn't we come down here with the express design of freeing the slaves, after all?"

"No Joseph, we did not! We stated very clearly, in our first military staff meeting in the Executive Mansion, that the sole objective of this campaign was to put a stop to this rebellion amongst the white Southern population – not, I repeat not, to start an insurrection amongst the Negroes! You have simply bitten off more than this nation can chew, or stomach! And, well, furthermore... Congress is becoming very weak-kneed about the cost of this war, and the number of lives lost. Many of them believe it to be not worth the effort."

Joseph sat stock-still. His jaw moved, but no words came out. He finally regained his composure and said,

"Are you here to relieve me of my command?"

"No, only the President can do that, and he is still on your side, but only just! And since he is technically no longer the President, his authority in this matter is highly questionable. Until a new President is chosen by Congress, I don't believe anyone can relieve you. But I warn you, Joseph, you are skating on very thin ice here."

Joseph sat back and closed his eyes for a long time. Then he looked at Perry and replied,

"Commodore Perry, I took an oath as an officer to 'bear true allegiance to the United States of America, and to serve them honestly and faithfully against all their enemies or opposers whatsoever, and observe and obey the orders of the President of the United States'. As long as I carry these four stars on each shoulder, I'm duty-bound to honor that oath, so help me God! So long as a band of 'free-men' still exist who believe in our Declaration of Independence, I shall hoist the Title of Liberty to them, and we shall 'Live free, or die'! If I have to take Columbia single-handedly, I shall! That is my answer to Congress, and to all those who would subvert what we have so dearly accomplished here!"

Commodore Perry stood and saluted.

"Very well, General. I shall inform them of that."

Joseph returned the salute, then he reached inside his overcoat and pulled out a letter.

"Please give this letter to the ex-President. The very future of our nation may hinge on his response to what I have written here."

Perry replied, "I shall do that, Joseph." He shook his head. "My God, if only I had half the stomach you seem to have for this war... You truly are a man of honor like unto General Washington, sir, and I respect you for that. But as a fellow officer, I must also consider my career, and my pension..."

Joseph was near tears, and all he could say was,

"I have never done anything but what God ordained me to do. That is the sum of it. Good-bye, Commodore."

As soon as Commodore Perry had left, Joseph called a brief staff meeting and announced to his officers,

"We break camp at dawn tomorrow. We are heading north to Columbia, where I fervently hope we can put a swift end to this conflict, or die trying."

MISSOURI RIVER, Monday, March 10

The weather cleared long enough for Orson Pratt to take some sightings with his sextant. He estimated that they were less than one hundred miles from the Council Bluffs. The Hyrum Smith was paddling serenely upstream at about two o'clock, when suddenly there was a loud bang and a hiss, and the boat veered to starboard. Dimick tried to compensate with the wheel, but the boat started weaving awkwardly from side to side. He looked out the starboard side of the pilothouse and noticed that the paddlewheel on that side had stopped turning.

Blast, he thought. We've blown a steam pipe, no doubt.

He nursed the boat over to the east bank of the river and carefully grounded the bow on the riverbank. Then he ran down to the main deck to see how bad the damage was.

Sure enough, steam was hissing from a broken pipe leading to the starboard cylinder. The driveshaft on the larboard side also made a nerve-jarring bang-bang, bang-bang sound as its piston drove it back and forth.

"How bad is it?" Dimick shouted to Thomas Bullock, who had taken over from Edson Whipple as Engineer.

Thomas turned a valve to release the steam pressure into the escape pipe, and the din decreased somewhat.

"Not too bad, I think", Thomas replied, then he hesitated.

"...Dimick, how much futher is it t' the Council Bluffs?"

"Why do you ask?"

Thomas said, "It's not just the steam pipes that are breaking. We have no more spare shafts in case we break another. Don't you see how they tremble? The journals and bearings are shot, and the boilers are springing more leaks. I can scarcely maintain two atmospheres' pressure, even with my firemen sweating like Turks. Not only that, it's getting harder to find wood hereabouts. What do you want us to run 'er on, buffalo chips?"

Brigham Young had come up in the middle of the conversation. He said,

"I'll throw my hat in the firebox if necessary, if it gets us an inch closer to Iowa. There's plenty of wood all around you – just strip the boat and burn it if you must! It's a far sight easier to travel this way than on foot or mule, wouldn't you say? Boys, just get us close to the Council Bluffs, that's all I ask."

PRESQUE ISLE, Tuesday, March 11

The former USS Michigan, now renamed CSS South Carolina, approached Misery Bay, the site of Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry's old camp during the War of 1812. Captain Semmes knew that Perry's old ships, the Niagara and the Lawrence, had been scuttled here in shallow waters in 1820, and he planned to put them to good use.

By the end of the day, Semmes had succeeded in raising six 12-pound cannons and two 32-pound carronades, as well as a considerable amount of solid shot, and the now re-armed South Carolina set out to "do a little privateering."

CHARLESTON, Tuesday, March 11

The Army of the South broke camp and began their march northwest toward Columbia. During their occupation of Charleston, the army had requisitioned every steamboat within a hundred miles, and they put them to effective use ferrying men and supplies up the Congaree and Cooper Rivers. The South Carolina Railroad was also used for the same purpose.

"There are only about a hundred miles between us and Columbia", Joseph Smith told his men. "But much of it is through trackless swamps, across countless creeks, and through never-ending palmetto groves. We should be grateful that the very first railroads in the United States were built right here, starting about fifteen years ago."

Privately, Joseph was deeply concerned about the supply situation. Since Commodore Perry's departure, only one supply ship had entered Charleston Harbor. Joseph's quartermaster, Lyman Wight, informed him that they could sustain the army for three weeks, perhaps four on short rations. By then, if no more provisions had arrived from the North, Joseph hoped to at least link up with the Army of the West under General Kearny and capture Columbia as swiftly as possible.

"Time is not on our side", Joseph told Lyman. "If we don't succeed in capturing Columbia soon, it will be like Napoleon retreating from Moscow – a disaster."
CHAPTER 38

MISSOURI RIVER, Tuesday, March 11

The Hyrum Smith finally came to grief near the mouth of the Platte River. Dimick had just steered the boat across the channel and was hugging the western bank, trying to keep to the slack water as much as possible. Even so, the tired old steamboat was barely making four miles an hour against the current.

Dimick turned his head to watch the east riverbank, but when he looked back a huge cottonwood snag was bearing down on him. He desperately spun the wheel to the right, but it was too late. With a grinding crash the snag tore into the ship's bow, punching a gaping hole which the river quickly filled.

Brigham Young dashed into the pilothouse.

"Head for the western shore!" he shouted. "We'll ground 'er there!"

Dimick was already trying to coax the dying steamboat in that direction, but the bow was going under and they had lost all headway.

"Kill the engines!" he shouted into the speaking tube. A moment later the paddlewheels stopped and the escape valve cut loose with a roar.

"What are you doing?" Brigham said nervously.

"I'm going to back 'er into the riverbank", Dimick replied grimly. "Not an easy task, what with our lighter towing us for a change." He spun the wheel hard to the right.

By now the forecastle was nearly awash. Men and women were running to and fro on the decks in panic. Brigham looked aft just as the lighter slid onto the muddy riverbank with a gravelly shoosh, then stopped dead.

Unfortunately, the Hyrum Smith was still traveling backwards at about four miles per hour.

"Brace yourself!" Dimick shouted as the sterncastle ploughed into the flat bow of the lighter with a tremendous crash.

The truss cables snapped and the two chimneys toppled backwards onto the deck, then rolled overboard into the river with a loud hiss.

"Abandon ship!" Dimick shouted through his speaking trumpet.

He didn't have to ask twice. The stern of the ship was now settling into the mud, still firmly impaled on the bow of the lighter. The men and women scrambled for their lives from the ship's ruined stern to the relative safety of the lighter. The mules were bellowing and braying, and supplies and equipment were scattered all over the deck.

Hosea carefully helped Jessie down from the splintered sterncastle to the deck of the lighter. Last of all came Clarissa and then Brigham Young, who looked around and said anxiously,

"Is everyone accounted for?"

They counted noses and found that all nineteen men and women were present. There were some minor scrapes and bruises, and Green Flake had a large burn mark on his back from falling against the firebox. It was considered a miracle that no one had been badly hurt or killed.

Dimick Huntington wearily sat down on a bale of hay with his chin in his hands, gazed at the wrecked Hyrum Smith and said with a sigh,

"Well, I think that went rather smoothly..."

"A wonder we didn't catch fire", said Zebedee Coltrin.

"She was a good ship, the old Maid..." Shadrach Roundy said wistfully.

"... and a great man, Hyrum Smith", Thomas Bullock finished.

Brigham slapped his knee and stood up suddenly. "Well, there's no use sitting here all day, preaching epitaphs till we all freeze up. We landed just about where the Lord wants us to be, and we still have a thousand miles or more to cover. Let's unload the barge and be on our way."

PLATTE RIVER, Wednesday, March 12

The day was spent in unloading the wreck of the Hyrum Smith and the lighter, and in assembling wagons and other equipment for the trek west. In spite of the cold, the mules seemed glad to be freed from their pens, and Porter Rockwell and his mule skinners had their hands full trying to keep them from running off.

When the work was completed, the pioneers had four light wagons and twenty five pack mules to assist them to the Rocky Mountains. One of the wagons carried a small leather-covered boat, dubbed the "Revenue Cutter". Dimick Huntington wanted to christen it the Hyrum III, but Brigham Young turned him down.

Dimick saw to it that the steamboat was stripped of everything useful. A great quantity of wood was torn loose and piled in the wagons for kindling. Jonathan Browning's cannon was removed and attached to the trail of the Revenue Cutter's wagon frame. Last of all, Brigham removed the ship's bell, attached a handle to it and gave it to Clarissa to call the pioneers to prayer each day.

BRANCHVILLE, Thursday, March 13

The locomotive Spitfire chuffed up the tracks near Branchville, South Carolina, hauling four flatcars loaded with supplies for the Army of the South. Each car carried two riflemen to guard it from marauders. Flanking the train was a patrol of cavalry.

Each time the train approached a creek or slough, the cavalry was obliged to fall back and follow behind the train along the narrow trestle in single file, for fear of getting mired in the swamps.

As the train crossed a low trestle over Cattle Creek there was a deafening explosion underneath the Spitfire which tipped it into the creek on its side, hissing and smoking. Engineer Jacob Butterfield and fireman Andrew Goodwin were thrown clear and landed in the water on either side of the trestle, where they lay stunned. Corporal Gilbert Hunt, who was leading his patrol of railroad guards, looked to the north and cried,

"Rebels! Take cover!"

Just in time, his soldiers ducked for cover under the flatcars as a troop of about thirty Carolina militiamen came galloping straight towards them out of the cypress forests, whooping and hallooing. At almost that same instant, there was another huge explosion, and a flatcar flew ten feet straight up, throwing baggage and bodies in all directions. The remaining railroad guards thought better of hiding under the three remaining flatcars, and instead scattered for the woods. The Union cavalrymen, badly outnumbered, beat a hasty retreat back along the path they had taken.

Butterfield and Goodwin instinctively ducked under the water as the Carolina horsemen descended upon the train. Butterfield swam under the ruined trestle to the right side and surfaced next to Goodwin, who was huddling under the overturned locomotive's left drive wheel for cover. They peeked carefully out from under the engine and saw a half dozen grey-coated cavalrymen rounding up their six comrades.

"What'll we do, Jake?" Goodwin whispered.

"Shh! Just wait 'em out. They won't hang around long", replied Jacob.

By the time another train came steaming up the line a half hour later and rescued them, the Spitfire's cars had been picked clean, and six Union soldiers were nowhere to be found.

General Joseph Smith was livid when Corporal Hunt sheepishly reported the incident to him.

"What were you men doing, traipsing along in single file behind that train? Roger's Rangers rule number three: 'If you march over marshes or soft ground, change your position, and march abreast of each other'! I want those twenty-eight rules memorized by every man under my command, before this week is done! They will save many lives!"

"Yes sir!" Corporal Hunt replied, snapping to attention and saluting.

Joseph continued, "We must send out patrols in advance of each train, on foot or on horseback if necessary, to check the tracks for more mines. We will also double the guards on each train, and make more use of the new observation balloons that proved so useful outside Port Royal. Finally, if the trains require a larger mounted escort, we will provide it. We simply must get these supplies to the troops, and it is far easier to carry them on steam trains than on our backs."

PLATTE RIVER, Thursday, March 13

The Camp of Israel began their march "out of Egypt", as Brigham Young put it, following the north bank of the Platte River. They made only about ten miles before camping for the night. The weather was bitterly cold and windy. Orson Pratt measured a high of 12 degrees at noon. Most of the men walked, as the pack mules were already heavily laden. Brigham gave the task of piloting two of the wagons to Jessie Stout and Clarissa Young, which afforded them a small measure of shelter from the cold.

CHARLES CITY, Thursday, March 13

Sherwood Forest was one of the largest and oldest plantations in Virginia, covering some 1600 acres of cultivated land. In 1842 President John Tyler had purchased the huge plantation from his cousin, Collier Minge, in anticipation of Tyler's retirement from the Presidency three years later. Tyler's first order of business had been to enlarge the already immense, 120 year old plantation house to a length of 300 feet – about twice the size of the Executive Mansion in Washington – making it the largest plantation house in America.

On this day, as ex-President Tyler was writing his memoirs in his study, he received a letter from Lieutenant General Joseph Smith. He eagerly broke the wax seal and scanned the first paragraph, then he read it again. And again... By the time he had finished reading the letter, he was stunned, his mind racing.

I've created a monster... he thought. This Mormon monstrosity, whom I personally anointed Lieutenant General, now accuses me of treason.

Tyler locked the letter in his desk, then he left his study and sat outdoors on his colonnaded front porch, gazing out at his many acres of tobacco and his numerous outbuildings. He selected a cigar from a humidor – made from his own tobacco – cut the end and lit it with a friction match, and sat rocking and smoking for a long while. He watched several dozen of his slaves who were busily hoeing and weeding his rows of tender new tobacco shoots, as well as his twenty five acres of gardens.

In John Tyler's view, Sherwood Forest was the epitome of the genteel, aristocratic Southern way of life – the antithesis of the frenetic, scheming, back-stabbing political life he so loathed in Washington.

He mentally reviewed Joseph's letter:

He accuses our government heads of treason.

He claims that the "sword of justice" hangs over this nation.

He declares that this land cannot long endure half-slave and half-free.

He threatens to "stir up insurrections amongst us". Didn't we sent him to Carolina to quell an insurrection, not start one?

How do I even begin to respond to these charges? I'm no longer the President. We have no President – just an 'Executive Committee' that has driven me from their midst.

After several hours of rocking, smoking, and pondering, John Tyler returned to his study and began composing a letter to Joseph Smith. Then he wrote a note to his cousin Collier Minge in Richmond. Last of all, he wrote a confidential letter to Congressman John Quincy Adams at Washington.

AUGUSTA, Friday, March 14

Augusta finally fell to the victorious Union soldiers of the Army of the West.

PLATTE RIVER, Saturday, March 15

The Camp of Israel reached the mouth of the Elkhorn River. The river was frozen over, so fording it was an easy task. There was little fodder for the mules, as the ground was frozen solid. The weather was still quite cold and windy.

WASHINGTON, Saturday, March 15

Congressman John Quincy Adams received a letter from ex-President Tyler, which suggested his views on a plan to both end the war and end the logjam in Congress over the selection of the next President.

NAUVOO, Saturday, March 15

Late this afternoon, Charles Lambert finished up his weeks' labors at the Nauvoo Temple. As was his custom at the end of each day, he carefully re-sharpened his stonecutting tools – many of which had accompanied him from England – and then he placed them in order back in his toolbox. William Player gave Charles his "wages" for the week – a small bag of carrots and turnips; then he left the foreman's shack and wearily made his way down Mulholland Street towards his home on the corner of Hotchkiss and Fullmer streets.

As he trudged along, shivering in the cold, Charles pondered his situation – the dire poverty of his family, his once elegant but now shabby clothing, his meager pay. There was not a better stonecutter in the state of Illinois than him, he wagered, and yet here he was, toiling six days a week for carrots and turnips, or an occasional side of ham. Laboring on a building that would be abandoned in a few short months, he figured.

A month ago, Brother Brigham counseled us to begin building wagons, he thought. I couldn'a build me a wheel-barrow, at present...

He turned his empty pockets rightside-out and stuck his fingers through them, then he adjusted the remnants of his old silk top hat on his head and pressed on.

Just as he was passing the Ezra T. Benson home, Charles saw a man approaching him. The man was finely dressed in a black suit and top hat, with a silk vest and a gold pocket watch on a chain – obviously a man of considerable means.

"Excuse me, sir, are you by any chance Charles Lambert?" the stranger inquired.

"Aye, tha' t'would be me", Charles responded, puzzled at how the stranger knew his name.

The man smiled broadly. "My name is Higgins, and I'm a craftsman from Missouri. I've heard of your skill as a workman, and I want you to go to Missouri and work for me. I could use your kind to labor on the new state capitol in Jefferson City."

Charles looked at him in surprise, but Higgins persisted.

"You're not appreciated or properly paid here! If you'll quit the temple and go and work for me, you can name your own price and you'll be sure of your pay. You see, I have plenty of money with which to pay you."

Higgins thrust his hand into his pocket, and drew it out full of ten and twenty dollar gold pieces, which he held out to Charles.

"Think about it, Charles, you could school your children and live as befits you!"

Charles Lambert looked at Higgins, then he looked up the hill at the nearly-completed temple, then he thought for a moment. There was something about Mr. Higgins that made him faintly uneasy.

"Nay, but I couldna' think o' acceptin' yair offer", Charles replied. "T'would be unfair t'th' chairch, an' t'God as well. An' as fair me treatment 'ere, I'll stake me lot wi' th' Saints ovair t' Missourians ennyday. Truth be told, I'd work fair noo pay't all, ta build 'is 'ere temple o'God. G'day t'ye."

Charles started to shake hands with Higgins, but thought better of it. He quickly turned on his heels and continued towards his home, still wondering how the stranger knew his name. Immediately he turned around again to ask, but Higgins had vanished as if the ground had opened and swallowed him.

As he crossed the street to his home, his wife Elizabeth met him at the door.

"Charles, why did ye tarry in t' street?" she said anxiously. "I saw ye standin' there alone, as if talkin' t' yairself. Air ye not well?"

Charles looked at her, perplexed, then he put down his bag of carrots and turnips and replied, "Ach, t'was a bloke named 'Iggins, sumat aboot needin' me labor in Missouri. When I turned me aboot, 'e'd vanished."

"Charles, I swear, there was nobbut thee standin' alone in t' street, convarsin' wi' thysen. An' whom evair thou sawest, it could'na be but the Devil, 'imself."

PLATTE RIVER, Sunday, March 16

The pioneers camped and rested on the Sabbath. At about ten a.m. several wagons pulled into camp from the west, led by a trapper named Peter Sarpy. The pioneers traded some of their supplies for buffalo robes and meat.

Several Indians were sighted in the distance, and the guards were doubled during the night.

NAUVOO, Sunday, March 16

Heber C. Kimball wrote in his journal:

Meeting at the stand. Myself and Elder John Taylor preached. Several officers attended the meeting. Elder Taylor gave them to understand that if they made an attempt to serve writs on him it would cost them their lives, and said, if they wished to magnify the law and make it honorable they should bring to justice the murderers of Hyrum, one of our best men, who was treacherously butchered while in the custody of officers pledged for his safety; and that he would not submit any more to such outrages on our lives and liberties, for under present circumstances the law is only powerful to hold men still while the lawless massacre them.

PLATTE RIVER, Monday, March 17

The weather had warmed considerably due to a south wind. This morning after traveling about two miles, the pioneers came upon an Indian battleground and graveyard.

At noon, Orson Pratt took a sighting with his sextant and found their location to be latitude 40 degrees, 27 minutes, and 5 seconds.

Late in the evening the pioneers reached the mouth of the Loup River. Distance traveled this day: 23 miles.

WASHINGTON, Monday, March 17

Congressman and former United States President John Quincy Adams of Massachusetts proposed a joint resolution in the newly convened 29th Congress of the United States, calling for an amendment to the Constitution prohibiting slavery.

Now that the hated "gag rule" had been lifted, and most of the Southern Senators and Congressmen were absent, Adams hoped that he could ramrod through a two-thirds present majority in favor of the bill in both Houses, as required by the Constitution. Then, it would be up to the states to ratify the amendment. The 78 year old Adams, a longtime abolitionist, argued strenuously for the bill.

He was not an eloquent speaker, and his flat, monotone voice echoed and boomed in the acoustically flawed Hall of the House:

"All those present this day know my views on the subject of slavery. Just five years ago I argued the Amistad case in the Supreme Court here. Some fifty years ago, my father John Adams and the other framers of the Constitution nearly came to blows on the question of slavery. I see it as the greatest imperfection in that otherwise sublime compact intended for the governance of this Union. The eminent Mr. Jefferson said not long ago that 'This momentous question, like a fire bell in the night, awakened and filled me with terror.' He considered slavery to be the death-knell of the union.

"Now is the time for this Congress to complete the work our fathers left undone! How long shall the British Empire, which has long since outlawed human slavery, continue to hold in derision Mr. Jefferson's noble words, 'We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal'? Are the Negro race truly equal, or are they not? The moment you come to the Declaration of Independence, that every man has a right to life and liberty, as an inalienable right, this case is decided.

"By adopting these measures, I expect we shall achieve the further benefit of taking the wind out of the sails of this Southern insurrection. Once the abolition movement has the force of law behind it, this Southern 'peculiar institution' shall wither and die, as there shall no longer be any monetary advantage to holding humans in bondage."

The Southern caucus, now much reduced in numbers, were furious. Congressman Robert A. Toombs of Georgia leaped to his feet.

"An' ah pree-sume, Mista' Ebony n' Topaz, 'at y'all intend ta' ma'ch south an' pussonally lead alla sons' o' Africa ta' their new promised land in th' no'th?"

President Adams had been ridiculed for years in the press as "Mr. Ebony and Topaz", after a toast he had once offered in Baltimore in honor of the British General who had led the attack on that city.

At this point, most of the remaining Southern Congressmen stood up and walked out, including John Slidell of Louisiana, Asa Biggs of North Carolina, even Andrew Johnson of Tennessee.

By this time, of the 228 elected members of Congress only 153 were still present, nearly all of them from Northern states. Congressman Stephen A. Douglas of Illinois stood and called for a vote on the resolution, and his fellow Congressman John Wentworth seconded the motion. When Speaker of the House John W. Davis called for a roll-call vote, the measure passed with 103 "yeas" to 50 "nays" – barely a two-thirds majority, but enough to forward the resolution on to the Senate.

After the votes were tallied, Congressman Jefferson Davis of Mississippi, one of the few Southerners still present, approached John Quincy Adams and said bitterly,

"Congratulations, Mista' Wilberforce. Y'all do re-call how that Limey was able t' dupe Parliament inta' bannin' slavery, ba' givin' 'is enemies tickets t' the horse races? Na' tell me, Adams, jist what sleight-o'-hand y'all intend t' use t' dupe twenny-two states inta' votin' fo' this despicable measha?"

John Quincy Adams quietly replied, "Mr. Davis, the incomparable Mr. Wilberforce also said that 'God Almighty has set before me two great objects, the suppression of the Slave Trade and the Reformation of Manners'. As I look upon you, I am convinced that the suppression of the slave trade is by far the easier object to achieve. Good day, Mr. Davis."

Later in the day, John Quincy Adams dropped the other shoe by switching allegiance from his fellow Whig, Henry Clay, to Democrat James K. Polk, thus breaking the logjam on the issue of the Presidency. By the end of the day, sixteen of the state quorums that were present had swung their votes over to Polk, finally giving him the two-thirds majority he required to be the next President of the United States.

By this "logrolling" tactic, former President Adams had accomplished in two blows what former President Tyler had requested of him, without overtly involving Mr. Tyler in the procedure. Adams said to his fellow Massachussetsian, Robert Winthrop,

"I consider it more than a fair trade, if I must give but one 'Polk' for three millions of enslaved human souls. I deem it the greatest accomplishment of my life."

SWANSEA, Monday, March 17

The weary, half-starved Army of the South reached Swansea, on the road to Columbia. Quartermaster Lyman Wight reported that even at half-rations, the army would exhaust all their provisions in about one week. In spite of this, he said that morale in the ranks was high, and that nearly all the troops were determined to "see this campaign through to the end."

Just before sunset an army courier rode into camp with dispatches for General Joseph Smith. Joseph eagerly opened the first letter, which he saw was addressed to him from ex-President John Tyler:

Charles City, Virginia

The 13th of March, 1845

My dear General Smith,

I received yours of the 4th inst. by a somewhat circuitous route, as it was addressed to me in Washington City, of which I am no longer an inmate as you see. The 'Executive Committee" – now reduced to Mr. Polk and Mr. Clay – have driven me from their ranks, on the pretext that my term as President has expired – as if they ever had accorded me the deference which that office demands, it matters not to me.

Your words have been quite harsh against me, but I attribute them to a somewhat misplaced zeal on your part, and a misunderstanding of the situation at hand. The Executive Committee, in league with certain Southern factions in Congress, have determined to cut off all support to your army, in the expectation of bringing this "mad campaign", as they term it, to a swift end – and the Army of the South be damned, in their estimation. I think Mr. Polk is somewhat sympathetic to your plight, but Mr. Clay stated in my presence that he "would care not a fig if you perished like Napoleon's Grande Arméé on the steppes of Russia." I have refused to be a party to this cabal, and as a result they have banished "His Accidency" from Washington, accusing me of treason. I have since received numerous threats against my life, and have retreated to my estate at Sherwood Forest, like "Robin Hood" of old, as I suppose.

My dear Joseph, do not abandon hope. I am rallying support to your cause, both in Congress and in the "court of public opinion". Many in the North still support the war, in particular abolitionist James Birney and your Secretary of War, Mr. James Arlington Bennett. The indefatigable Daniel Webster has been reelected to the Senate and as always is "one crying in the wilderness" for reform.

I am sending to you what provisions I have at hand, and will send more as I am able. Mon Général, despair not. As Patrick Henry said not far from here in 1765, "If this be treason, let us make the most of it!"

I am, respectfully yours,

President John Tyler

PLATTE RIVER, Tuesday, March 18

Jessie Stout awoke at six a.m. to the sound of the camp bugle. She groaned, rolled over and sat up on her India-rubber sheet, banging her head on the underside of the wagon.

"Ohh..." she moaned as she wiped the hair and grass out of her face.

The smell of coffee and biscuits was already wafting through the camp, but somehow it didn't agree with her at all. She shook Hosea, then rolled out from under the wagon and stumbled down the path to the trenches. She barely noticed that the ground was covered with frost.

"Gents to the right, ladies to the left", she mumbled to herself.

A few minutes later she returned and sat down next to Clarissa, who took one look at her and said,

"You're lookin' a bit rusty this morning?"

She handed Jessie a plate of beans and corn biscuits.

"Ma head hurts, an' ma stomach's on the warpath", Jessie mumbled. "This prairie sod makes a mighty poor counterpane, besides."

She took a few small bites of her breakfast, then suddenly dropped the plate, jumped to her feet and made a wild dash for the trenches, passing her husband along the path.

"What addles her?" Hosea said as he sat down by the fire.

Clarissa looked back with a smile and said,

"Morning sickness, for certain. I've seen it before. She'll be quit of it in a week or two."

Hosea said, "Morning what...?" then his eyes grew wide and he smiled. "Oh..."

Later this day the pioneers passed another Indian mound and crossed over Shell Creek. The snow was quickly disappearing from the plains and the ground was becoming miry. Orson Pratt measured 42 degrees at noon.

PLATTE RIVER, Wednesday, March 19

At about noon the pioneers came in sight of a large Pawnee village of over a hundred lodges. Several dozen of the Pawnee waded across the Loup Fork and began trading with the pioneers. Brigham Young gave them several pounds of tobacco, some lead, fishhooks, flour and salt.

LOUP RIVER, Thursday, March 20

The Camp of Israel had been following the Loup River for three days now. On this day they finally found a place to cross the Loup so they could turn south and rejoin the Platte River again. The crossing was difficult, as the river was about 300 yards wide and flowing rapidly.

The first wagon to attempt the crossing quickly became mired in the quicksand and had to be pulled back. Brigham Young finally took the Revenue Cutter and began ferrying the contents of the wagons to the other side. The mules were roped together and driven into the river, where they floundered and splashed their way across to the far side. Last of all, Brigham returned and ferried Jessie and Clarissa across the river in the Revenue Cutter in some semblance of style.

LOUP RIVER, Saturday, March 22

In the afternoon the clouds moved in and a great thunder and lightning storm descended on the pioneers. Many of the mules were frightened and ran off, and much time was spent in rounding them up again.

COLUMBIA, Saturday, March 22

The exhausted Army of the South reached the outskirts of Columbia, but could go no farther. General Joseph Smith was just sitting down to his meager ration of corn dodger and beans, when his orderly, George Steele, burst into his tent.

"Sir, steamboats a'comin!" he cried.

Joseph raced out of the tent and looked east to the Congaree River, where to his joy he saw a line of three steamboats, each towing a lighter laden with live cattle, sheep, stacks of forage, casks of water and beer, sacks of beans, biscuits, and more garden produce than he had ever seen in his life. The flotilla was guarded by a company of about eighty well-armed free men of color. Lyman Wight and his Quartermaster regiment quickly unloaded the supplies, and before long the weary soldiers of the Army of the South were sitting down to a far more substantial dinner.

The Captain of the first boat, the Armistead Burt, came ashore and handed a note to Joseph Smith. "Sa'n heah, please", he said.

Joseph looked at the brief note:

My dear General Smith,

Thought you might have need of these provisions.

I will try to send more.

Yours,

Robin Hood

WOOD RIVER, Monday, March 24

The pioneers sighted Grand Island in the distance, in the middle of the Platte River. The long island was thickly forested with cottonwood trees and covered with lush grass. Early in the afternoon the pioneers reached the Platte River again and camped near the mouth of the Wood River. William Clayton found a great number of wild onions growing along the banks of the river, which he harvested with relish.

In the evening several buffalo were spotted in the far distance. A discussion arose around the campfire about the best way to hunt the huge beasts.

Sixteen year old Clarissa Young said hopefully,

"Maybe you could get two men to dress up as a buffalo and sort of, you know, sneak up on the herd? I hear that's how Indians do it."

Return Jackson Redden – called "Redding" by everyone – nearly fell off his log backward laughing at this suggestion.

Jessie Stout said, "Ma, er, former husban' often told 'bout how he an' Kit Carson would just wade into a herd of buffalo an' start blazin' away. There were so many, you couldn't hardly miss."

Redding replied, "Did the good Captain ever tell you where to shoot, so's he'd bring that buffalo down, 'stead o' just annoyin' him?"

"I say a head shot", said Rockwell. "Right 'tween the eyes, nice quick kill."

Redding smiled. "You kiddin'? A buffalo skull's nothin' but solid bone clear through. You shoot 'im in the noggin, he won't even notice it. Why, Port, I bet you fifty cents you can't down a buffalo from head on. It just flat out ain't never been done."

"You're on", Porter replied.

COLUMBIA, Monday, March 24

The siege of Columbia began on this day.

General Joseph Smith left his headquarters tent to view the construction on the gun emplacements that were taking shape around Columbia.

When he reached the Illinois 9th Regiment – his "Nauvoo boys" – Joseph called a review of his officers, including Colonel Jonathan Dunham, his Captains, and the enlisted NCOs. As he was walking down the line, Joseph paused at Company B, commanded by Captain Jesse Hunter, who saluted smartly.

"Where's McFeemish?" said Joseph.

"Sir?" said Hunter, still saluting.

"Sergeant Seamus McFeemish, he was assigned to your Company B, was he not?"

"Yes sir, he's, uh, out on patrol at the moment. We expect him back presently."

"Very well, Captain. At ease. Carry on", said Joseph.

PLATTE RIVER, Tuesday, March 25

The morning was cold and unpleasant. As there was little forage for the mules at this site, the decision was made to move the campsite before breakfast. About six miles were covered before eight a.m.

William Clayton was just finishing his breakfast when he spotted something shaggy looming over a bluff several miles away. He looked through his spyglass and spotted three buffaloes placidly grazing. Word quickly spread, and soon a hunting expedition was organized.

Porter Rockwell and Return Jackson Redden were the first to ride out, and as they reached the top of a nearby rise they saw an astonishing sight: As far as the eye could see, the plain was a rolling carpet of brown, woolly buffalo.

Porter quickly gave up counting them and gave his mule the spur. Redding followed him and the two men charged into the great herd. William Clayton and Ezra T. Benson had just come up over the rise when they saw Rockwell and Redding ride headlong into the sea of animals, which parted on either side as the two men charged through them, making a splendid sight.

Like Moses partin' th' Red Sea, Clayton thought. No, 'tis a bit too dramatic...

Rockwell shouted to Redding, "You still a wagerin' man?"

"Fifty cents says I am", Redding shouted back.

Porter pulled his 15-shot rifle out of his saddle holster and looked around. He quickly spotted a huge bull about fifty yards away and moved in for the kill. The other bulls and cows were warily keeping their distance but didn't seem to be spooked, yet.

The bull eyed Porter suspiciously with his huge brown eyes and pawed the ground. Porter maneuvered to within about twenty feet of the great animal, carefully aimed at the white blaze between his eyes and pulled the trigger. A wisp of dust and hair flew off the bull's forehead and he shook his head in irritation, then he charged.

"Whoa, whoa, hyah mule!" Porter cried, as he quickly spurred his mule out of the path of the charging bull. Redding finished the bull off with a shot to the heart. The rest of the herd had scattered in all directions.

"Pay up", Redding cackled, holding out his hand.

"Not so fast", a chagrined Rockwell replied, looking at his gun. "This here pea-shooter's only forty-caliber. I need somethin' bigger."

"Like what, a carronade?" Redding grinned.

"Summat like that", Rockwell answered over his shoulder, as he turned and rode back toward the camp.

Clayton and Benson had finally caught up with Redding during this conversation. As they watched Rockwell head down the bluff, Clayton turned to Redding and said,

"What's he up to?"

"Beats the tar outa me", Redding replied.

In a few minutes the men saw Rockwell returning with something slung across his saddle. It was the brass cannon from the Hyrum Smith.

"Port, you outa' your fool head?" said Redding. "Why, that thing must weigh a good fifty pound."

"A bet's a bet", said Rockwell, motioning for them to follow. "Boys, I may need some help here."

Still carrying the cannon, he rode off in the direction of the herd, which had reformed about a half mile away. The other men followed at a distance, curious to see what foolishness he had in mind.

Porter carefully scanned the herd, then he slowly approached the milling cows and bulls. He dismounted about fifty feet from a huge bull and rested the heavy cannon on a forked stick, with the stock under his arm. The bull ignored him and continued chewing his cud.

"Will, can you sorta maneuver him around so's he's facing me?" Porter said, sighting down the barrel.

Clayton pulled off his red bandanna and waved it in the air. Still the bull ignored him. The other men just looked on in disbelief. Clayton started dancing a jig and waving his hat and bandanna. The bull looked up for a moment, then went back to grazing. Benson picked up a rock and flung it at the bull, which irritated him mightily. He finally turned and faced the men, pawing the ground and snorting.

"Perfect", Porter muttered, and released the hammer. There was a sharp crack and a wisp of smoke, but no dead buffalo.

"Damn, burst a cap!" he growled. "Will, you got one to spare? And hurry it up, that bull's getting mighty peeved at me."

Clayton quickly fished out another percussion cap and fit it on the cannon, and Porter took aim again. By now the bull was thoroughly annoyed at them, and he lowered his massive woolly head and charged. Porter sighted down the barrel and released the hammer.

KA-BOOM

The massive recoil sent Porter flying backwards, while the stock of the cannon buried itself in the dirt, pointing skyward. The bull reared up on his hind legs and fell over dead, a wisp of smoke curling from a huge hole in his forehead.

Porter staggered to his feet and shook his head, then he rubbed his bruised shoulder. "Pay up", he said to Redding.

Redding fished out a fifty-cent piece, handed it to him and said,

"A bet's a bet, Port. You win."

"It's all wheat to me", Porter said as he dusted himself off. "I dern near busted my arm with that blunderbuss. Did you see how that shot rattled 'round inside that bull's haid?" He giggled.

Brigham Young was furious when he learned about the escapade with the cannon. He gave the four men a blistering dressing-down after they returned to camp.

"What in dingnation did you think you were doing, Port?" he said, ticking off the offenses on his fingers. "Wasting powder and lead, not to mention a perfectly good buffalo; wagering, risking your fool lives just to show off your so-called marksmanship!"

"But, Brigham..." William Clayton said.

"No buts about it! The time has come if men don't obey the rules and regulations of the camp they must be punished. You men are confined to camp for the next three days, and on guard duty all three nights! What I say to you, I say to the camp as a whole – If you continue to leave camp and scatter off hunting without counsel, some of you are going to be caught by Indians and, if not killed, at least severely abused. That is all."
CHAPTER 39

PLATTE RIVER, Thursday, March 27

The Pioneers arose at dawn, only to find that some of the mules had wandered off and were mingling with the buffalo herd. Brigham Young and several others rode out to round up the mules, and in the confusion Brigham dropped his spyglass in the tall grass. When he finally returned to camp with the wayward mules he was fuming.

"I never would have lost my spyglass if the mules had been properly staked down last night, or if the guards were worth even half the powder to blow them up", he complained.

"Gonna be a long, hard day", Porter Rockwell mumbled sleepily to Return Jackson Redden. Between guard duty at night and bringing up the rear during the day, the two men hadn't slept for two days now.

The weather was hot and dry, and feed was scarce because the Indians had been burning the plains ahead of the pioneers. By the time Brigham called a halt at noon, everyone was cross and exhausted by the heat and dust.

Jessie swatted idly at the flies circling above her plate of bean porridge and antelope meat. Her morning sickness had subsided, and by now she was at least able to stomach the trail food.

"You know, this ain't half as romantic as ma former husban' made it out to be", she said between bites.

"I thought it was you who did the writing in that journal?" said Clarissa.

"He made up the real stretchers, and I done the embroideren'," Jessie replied laconically. "It was sorta half-an'-half."

William Clayton looked around the circle, then he said,

"Where're Rockwell an' Redding?"

Brigham Young suddenly looked up. "Why, I don't rightly know. They'd best be close by..."

They were not. The two men had slipped away from camp at the beginning of the noon halt. As they followed their trail back towards the east, Redding looked over his shoulder nervously.

"Port, you're gettin' us in another peck of trouble!" said Redding. "We're already on Brigham's bad side."

"I know, I know, but if this pans out, we'll be back on his good side. Just stick with me."

The two men carefully retraced their steps back to the previous night's campsite. Porter dismounted and thought for a moment, then he waded off through the grass with Redding reluctantly following. Porter carefully examined the trampled ground, then he headed south for a time.

"Port, I'm tellin' you, you'll never find it!" Redding protested.

"You still a wagerin' man?" Porter said mockingly.

"Well, no, not this time..." Redding replied cautiously.

Something glinted in the noon sun, catching Porter's gaze. He pounced on it and said, "Aha!" It was Brigham's spyglass. He hoisted it proudly above his head.

"Redding, we're off the hook for good", he said grinning.

As the two men returned triumphantly to camp with the spyglass, they could see Brigham Young and several others coming to meet them, and it was obvious that Brigham had blood in his eye. He reined up about thirty feet in front of Rockwell and Redding, but just as he was about to unload on them Porter held up the spyglass. Brigham's countenance immediately changed to a smile, then a grin.

"Boys, that was a pretty risky move", he said as he took back the spyglass. "But I'm letting you off this time. You've earned your salvation."

COLUMBIA, Friday, March 28

The Army of the West reached the western limits of Columbia, South Carolina. General Stephen Kearny relinquished overall command of the combined armies to General Joseph Smith. With nearly ten thousand men under his command, General Smith immediately ordered that fortifications and gun emplacements be thrown up around the entire city of Columbia.

PLATTE RIVER, Saturday, March 29

The Camp of Israel made about 21 miles this day. After the camp was settled for the evening, Orson Pratt carefully unpacked his telescope and sextant and set up his "observatory" several rods from the campsite, so as to be away from the glare of the campfires. There he busied himself for several hours in taking sightings of the moon and planets, and in establishing the campsite's exact latitude and longitude. Green Flake wandered over after about an hour, watched Orson curiously for a time, then said timidly,

"What you doin', Mars Pratt?"

Orson squinted through his telescope and without looking up said,

"I'm determining the altitude and elevation of Jupiter. At the same time, I'm calculating the precise local time with respect to the Greenwich Meridian, by observing the position of Jupiter's moons."

"Oh..." said Green Flake, baffled.

"Here, allow me to show you", said Orson. "Just look through this eyepiece, but don't bump it or you'll loose sight of Jupiter! You see that reddish patch there? That's Jupiter. And those four little white specks close to Jupiter are its moons – Io, Europa, Ganymede, and Callisto."

"Ooh, Lord a'mighty, that's summat a'right", Green breathed as he squinted through the eyepiece.

Orson showed him a book full of numbers and a piece of paper covered with mysterious calculations.

"And by the process of trigonometry and with the aid of this ephemeris table, I have determined that our latitude is precisely 40 degrees, 51 minutes, and 18 seconds, and our longitude is 100 degrees, 5 minutes and 45 seconds. That's only two seconds of a degree or about 160 feet different from Captain Frémont's calculations near here two years ago. "

He looked at his pocket watch, which he had just reset. "The local time is exactly 9 o'clock, 12 minutes and 36 seconds."

This was all a bit over Green Flake's head, but he took it in stride.

"Look over here!" Orson said excitedly as he swung the telescope around to the west. He peered through the small brass sighting telescope, then through the main lens.

"That faint bluish dot is Herschel's Planet, sometimes called Uranus. It has two moons of its own named Titania and Oberon, and is over a thousand million miles away! The astronomers LeVerrier and Adams in Europe believe that there may be an eighth planet even more distant than Herschel, but to this date no one has sighted it. I'm not likely to find it with this little telescope, but I keep searching nonetheless."

Green released his grip on the telescope. "My, ain't dat a saterfaction ter' see! Ah never know' dey was sich won'ers inter' sky. Ah's much obliged, Mars Pratt."

He squatted down on the ground and gazed at the heavens for a time, then he traced the line of the Milky Way with his finger.

"Orson, you tink dey's people livin' on all dem planerts?"

"I'm sure of it", said Orson. "Brother Joseph taught us by the scriptures that,

'Worlds without number have I created; and I also created them for mine own purpose; and by the Son I created them.'"

" 'Magin dat... You tink dey's massas an' slabes up dere, too?"

"I don't know, Green. I hope not. God didn't invent slavery, but man did. God never forces anyone, or anything to obey him. He just says the word, and waits until he is obeyed. Even the elements willingly obey him, while we, his children, are the only disobedient creatures in the whole universe. Perhaps that's why our Father lavishes such care and patience on us, as the verse says,

'For behold, this is my work and my glory – to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.'"

" 'Tarnal life... I likes da soun' o'dat", said Green. "Soun's pooty free ta me. You eva' been in chains, Orson?"

Surprised by the turn in the conversation, Orson said, "Why, yes... I've been in prison, in shackles. Why do you ask?"

"Den you's had jist a taste o' slabery. Now Green Flake, Chism, we's had da whole plateful. I tell you, dey ain't nuffin wuss'an libben iner lan' o' de free, so-called, an' not bein' free! Oncet' a body gits a taste o' freedom, dey ain't nuffin else kin skasely satersfy 'im!"

He took a deep breath and looked at the sky. "Nah, out year, 'way fum de Yu-nited States, a body kin truly be free." He stood up.

"Ah'm mos' 'bliged ter' you, Orson. G'night."

Green Flake wandered back to camp, where he found that Chism had been observing Orson from a distance.

"What he doin'?" said Chism. "Watchin' de Drinkin' Gourd all night?"

"No, he doin' trigger-nomertry", Green Flake replied smugly.

"Trigger what?" said Chism.

"You know, ciphers, 'rithmetic."

"How you talk!" said Chism. "Den'e bes' light a can'le, afore he go blind."

COLUMBIA, Saturday, March 29

The weekly Notification of Promotions from the Illinois 9th Regiment crossed General Joseph Smith's desk. Sergeant Seamus McFeemish was now promoted to the rank of Sergeant-Major, and attached to the staff of Colonel Jonathan Dunham.

Odd, that I've never met this chap yet... thought Joseph. I must pay a call on Dunham and look him up, presently.

PLATTE RIVER, Sunday, March 30

The Camp of Israel traveled three miles before breakfast to find better pasturage for the mules. As it was Sunday, the day was spent in preaching and prayer, and some of the pioneers took time to bathe and wash their clothes.

William Clayton walked down to the river, waded into the freezing water, and washed himself and his clothing all in one pass. Then he ran shivering back up the bank to his tent, changed into clean dry clothing, and spent several hours in prayer and meditation. After a while, George A. Smith came over and sat down by him.

"Afternoon, Brother William", said George. "You mind my company?"

"Nay, not at all, George... I 'ad just done wi' readin' me scriptures an' meditatin'. T'was a verse in Isaiah chapter five that caught my eye:

"And he will lift up an ensign to the nations from afar, and will hiss unto them from the end of the earth: and, behold, they shall come with speed swiftly."

William leaned back contentedly against the tent pole and put his hands on his knees.

"Well George, 'tis the fulfillment o' prophecy we air witnessin'. The Lord's House is near completion in Nauvoo, an' I reckon we'll build oother temples bye th' bye, out 'ere in th' Rocky Mountains. Leastways, 'at's what Broother Brigham says. Nought can stop the Lord's work, eh?"

"No, nothing", said George, breathing deeply. "What a splendid time to be alive!"

"I've been thinkin' on me family an' their well-bein'", said William. "Ach, I do so miss my four wives – Ruth, Margaret, Alice, Diantha. They air a quarrelsome lot ofttimes, an' Diantha in particular 'as had a sore trial o' late."

"Indeed?" George inquired politely.

"You mightn't 'ave known, but Diantha 'ad a difficult time acceptin' the New an' Everlastin' Covenant o' Marriage. Well, shortly afore my departure, she was taken wi' a sort'o fit o' mental derangement. Some o' th' brethren administered to 'er, an' she soon fell inta' a mild sleep. She then began convairsin' wi' th' departed, as if she wair well an' truly in 'eir presence, far instance William Smith's wife Caroline, an' Jennetta Richards, an' oothers. She spake wi' them, an' they spake back. She convairsed aboot two hours in this manner, an' when she awoke she was a changed woman."

"Remarkable..." said George.

"It near broke me 'art ta leave 'er right after that, just as peace 'ad retairned in a measure ta our 'ome."

William looked across the camp site, to where Hosea Stout and Jessie were carrying on rather flirtatiously. He sighed, and drew in the dust with his finger. "I mean, 'tis all well an' good for Broother Brigham an' Broother Stout ta bring 'air wives, but the remainder of us men air not so fortunate."

"I know precisely what you mean", said George. "Well, I expect we should be back with our wives in Nauvoo by August or September, at the latest. At least for a spell..."

"Lord willin'," said William somberly.

At that moment fifteen-year-old Orson Whitney walked up to them, dragging a large weed behind him. It was long and prickly, with a knob on top like a small pineapple.

"Brother Clayton, 'scuse me, but d'you know what this is? I was a'goin' to taste it, but Chism warned me not to."

William took the weed from Orson and examined it. It looked unremarkable except for its whitish, two foot long root. He broke off a piece of it and pounded it with a rock.

"Why, I doon't reetly know", said William. In the mean time, Orson Pratt had wandered over to see.

"It's called Spanish soap weed", he said, examining the root. "If you crush the root, it will make excellent suds. Spanish women use it to wash clothes with."

He handed the weed back to Orson Whitney. "Here, my young namesake Orson", said Pratt. "Take this over to Jessie there, and explain its use to her. She and Sister Young will bless your name forever."

COLUMBIA, Tuesday, April 1

In the morning, General Joseph Smith paid a visit to Colonel Dunham's 9th Illinois Regiment headquarters. As soon as the Colonel had assembled his staff, Joseph said,

"At ease, gentlemen... let's get down to business..."

He paused and looked around the tent.

"Colonel Dunham, where's your staff Sergeant-Major?"

"Sir?" said Dunham

"Your new Sergeant-Major, McFeemish? Surely you've heard of him?"

Jonathan Dunham stared blankly back at Joseph. "Uh, sir, you're lookin' at him."

"Where?" said Joseph, somewhat impatiently.

Without averting his gaze, Dunham pointed down to his feet, where an English bull-terrier was chewing on a bone.

"Here, sir – this is, uh, Sergeant-Major Seamus McFeemish, sir..."

"I see..." said Joseph, as a smile started to crease his face. Now everyone in the tent started snickering, then laughing, including Joseph, who could take a joke with the best of them.

Joseph finally wiped a tear from his eye, slapped his knee and declared loudly,

"Well, by cracky, if Sergeant-Major Seamus McFeemish ever wants my Lieutenant-General's billet, he's more than welcome to it!"

Early in the afternoon, six men were seen approaching the Army headquarters from Columbia, waving a white flag.

"We're an embassade from th' gov'mint o' South Carolina, heah t' parley!" their leader cried.

The six were quickly searched and then escorted to General Joseph Smith's command tent, where their two leaders were permitted to enter. No one was more surprised than Joseph to see these particular men in his tent, at long last.

"Will you look at this! If you aren't John C. Calhoun and Robert Barnwell Rhett, then I'm a Hottentot!" said Joseph. "Welcome! Or should I say, Welcome, Seneca and Hermes?"

All the bluster immediately drained out of Calhoun and Rhett. "How d'you know ah' code-names?" Rhett said darkly.

"Didn't you know that the Army handles the mails in this military district? We thought it a bit singular that Governor Ford's errand-boy, William Marr, or Flavius as you called him, should be corresponding with you, Calhoun, the so-called President of the Confederacy. We now have copies of every letter you exchanged with Ford."

Calhoun let out a mental sigh of relief. Then he still don't know 'bout the Washington conspiracy, he thought. We can still pull this off...

Joseph continued. "So, I repeat, why are you here? To surrender Columbia to me?"

Calhoun bristled. "Ova' ma daid body!" he exclaimed.

"We can arrange that too, if you wish", said General Kearny. "You know that we have your city surrounded, and there's no hope of escape for you. Your short-lived Confederacy is at an end."

"Here are my terms", said Joseph. "Your army will lay down their arms and take an oath of loyalty to the United States Government. Only then will you be allowed to depart in peace. I consider that more than generous."

"A'll see y'all in Hell afore 'at!" said Calhoun. "We ain't takin' no oath, what we know we'll jist turn 'round an' break!"

Joseph was losing patience. "Mister Calhoun, may I point out that you, as a United States Senator, have already taken an oath of office 'to support the Constitution of the United States'? As has Congressman Rhett? And that by violating that oath, you would be committing an act of treason?"

About this time, an Army courier galloped into the headquarters of the Army of the South with dispatches from Washington. He dismounted, pulled the leather mochila bag off his saddle and ran straight to General Joseph Smith's command tent. He saluted Joseph's orderly, George Steele, and handed him the bag.

"Official government dispatches, sir!" he announced.

"Thank you, Private, that will be all", Steele responded. He carried the bag to Joseph's tent and gave it to him. Joseph glanced at the bag, glanced up at Calhoun and Rhett, then he gave an order to his guards:

"Hold these two outside a moment while I read my mail."

Joseph pulled out his mail key, unlocked the leather pouch and pulled out a stack of letters. The top one caught his eye:

Executive Mansion

Washington City, D.C.

Joseph broke the wax seal and quickly scanned the text, then he dropped the letter on the table and stood mute, as tears welled in his eyes.

"Sir, what is it?" said Steele.

"It's over. The war is over", said Joseph, still staring blankly at the canvas wall of his tent. "We've been ordered to stand down."

Now General Kearny was stunned. "Now, sir? Just when we have these rebels in our sights? Are we surrendering, or are they?"

"Neither. Congress has just passed an amendment to the Constitution outlawing slavery. In exchange, the leaders of the rebellion are to receive amnesty. Now, if only three fourths of the states can be persuaded to ratify this amendment, then I shall have reason to hope that we've achieved our objectives here. Bring in those two men."

Calhoun could scarcely contain his glee after Joseph read the letter to him.

That amendment'll never pass, he thought. We're right back to where we started – the status quo antebellum.

"Your men are free to go", said Joseph. "Please tell your militias to stand down, and then we'll withdraw from the city."

Calhoun couldn't resist one last jab at Joseph before they parted company.

"Y'know wha' ah really came 'ere, Deacon Smith? Jist ta take yo' measha', ta see if'n yo' really was nine foot tall, ta see if'n yo' eyes really said 'shoot'. Looksta me like yo' ain't sich a big-bug afta' all."

He spun on his heel, whipped open the tent flap, and quickly strode away, followed by Rhett.

Word of the cease-fire quickly spread through the camps, and before long a huge celebration was on. Late in the afternoon, General Smith and General Kearny called a mass assembly to give the men their final orders.

"The Army of the West will be cashiered out at St. Louis, and the Army of the South at Washington", he said. "Each private will receive three months pay, equal to twenty-one dollars, except for the 9th through 12th Illinois – the Nauvoo Legion – who were paid their first month in advance. Officers will receive thirty dollars. You are permitted to keep your side-arms, but you must shift for yourselves to get home. Your passage via steamboat or rail will be paid by the Army. Please remember that you are still soldiers in the United States Army, until you are discharged by your commanding officers."

Joseph gazed at the vast assembly before him, and his eyes lingered on the various elements of the Nauvoo Legion that had served him so well for five years now. He pulled several sheets of paper out of his coat pocket, cleared his throat and continued:

"Ahem... as I attempt to express to you the sentiments of my heart, at this moment of parting, I am overwhelmed with gratitude and appreciation for the service you have rendered to your country. We came to these Carolina shores as mistrustful strangers, but we part as friends. Your uncommon valor on the field of battle here shall be remembered for generations to come."

Tears welled in his eyes, and he paused to compose himself.

"If I may be so bold, I should, ah, like to read to you from General Washington's farewell address, which seems apropos on this occasion. Here is what the great General said:

"In the discharge of this trust I will only say that I have, with good intentions, contributed toward the organization and administration of the Government the best exertions of which a very fallible judgment was capable...

"The name of American, which belongs to you in your national capacity, must always exalt the just pride of patriotism more than any appellation derived from local discriminations. With slight shades of difference, you have the same religion, manners, habits, and political principles. You have in a common cause fought and triumphed together. The independence and liberty you possess are the work of joint councils and joint efforts, of common dangers, sufferings, and successes..."

Joseph's voice had dropped to a whisper, and he dabbed at his eyes. Many of his officers and enlisted men were in tears as well. He continued reading:

"Relying on its kindness in this as in other things, and actuated by that fervent love toward it which is so natural to a man who views in it the native soil of himself and his progenitors for several generations, I anticipate with pleasing expectation that retreat in which I promise myself to realize without alloy the sweet enjoyment of partaking in the midst of my fellow-citizens the benign influence of good laws under a free government -- the ever-favorite object of my heart, and the happy reward, as I trust, of our mutual cares, labors, and dangers."

"That is all. You are dismissed."

The bugler called Retreat as the 29-star United States flag was slowly lowered. General Kearny, Colonel Jonathan Dunham, Lieutenant Colonel Stephen Markham, Captains Hunt and Oman and others gathered around their General and embraced him. Then they seized Joseph and hoisted him on their shoulders.

"Three cheers for General Joseph Smith!" cried General Kearny

"Hip-hip, hurrah!"

"Hip-hip, hurrah!"

"Hip-hip, hurrah!" the troops all cried. The band struck up "Hail Columbia" and the soldiers joined in:

Hail, Columbia! Happy land;

Hail, ye heroes! Heav'n-born band,

Who fought and bled in freedom's cause,

And, when the storm of war had gone,

Enjoyed the peace your valor won.

Let independence be our boast,

Ever mindful what it costs;

Ever grateful for the prize,

Let its altar reach the skies.

Firm united, let us be,

Rallying round our liberty;

As a band of brothers joined,

Peace and safety we shall find.

In the afternoon, Joseph was cleaning out his tent when Captains Moroni and Lehi entered. Joseph rummaged around in one of his rucksacks and pulled out the sword of Laban.

"Thank you, I shan't be needing this anymore", he said, handing it to Moroni.

"You have done well, Joseph. Very well indeed. Your work here is now complete", said Moroni, taking the sword.

"As is ours", said Lehi.

Joseph paused to consider the weighty implications of Moroni's words, then he said hesitantly,

"Is my time drawing short?"

"Very short", replied Lehi, saluting. "Au revoir, mon Général."

AUGUSTA, Wednesday, April 2

As soon as the Union soldiers were dismissed, there was a mad rush as almost ten thousand men tried to arrange whatever conveyance they could find back to their homes. The Vermont and New York regiments headed for the South Carolina Rail Road line running from Columbia to Charleston, while other units pinned their hopes on the Congaree River steamboats that were heading downstream to Charleston. The Army of the West mostly sought passage back the way it had come, from Chattanooga down the Tennessee and Ohio rivers to St. Louis.

Company G of the Illinois 2nd Cavalry and Company A of the Illinois 9th Regiment both made a beeline for the South Carolina Rail Road terminal in Fort Gordon, just west of Augusta. Company G arrived first. It wasn't until their two captains spied each other that they recognized the irony of the moment: Captain Robert F. Smith of the former Carthage Greys, and Captain Jefferson Hunt of the former Nauvoo Legion immediately went at each other face to face, just as a train whistle tooted in the distance.

"Stand aside, Hunt, we was here first!" Captain Smith shouted.

"You can go to blazes, Smith, an' take your bloody jail-bait rabble with you!" replied Captain Hunt, just as the locomotive Atlantic steamed into the station pulling five passenger cars.

Captain Smith drew his revolver and cocked it, and his men followed suit, pointing them directly at the Mormons. Captain Hunt backed up several paces, his hands raised.

"Whoa, Smith, we don't want any trouble. You want the train that bad, you can have it."

"This war ain't over yet", said Captain Smith. "We may not'a whupped Columbia, but Nauvoo is easy pickins right now, an' by God if we don't finish it there! Boys, let's board!"

The Carthage Greys stampeded the train, cramming themselves into the five cars. The conductor shouted "All aboard!" and the Atlantic responded with a toot. In a few moments Captain Hunt and his men were left standing on the platform.

Hunt looked around the switch yard in desperation. The only train in sight was the old West Point, with a string of flatcars, sitting on a siding pointing toward Augusta.

"C'mon, men!" Hunt shouted, and his company followed him across the switchyard at a dead run. He leaped aboard the engine's footplate, swung open the firebox and peered in. There was a low fire burning, but the gauge showed no steam pressure. Just then, the West Point's hostler wandered up, wiping his hands on a rag.

"Coor, wot air ye doin wi' me locomotive?" he said.

"We must catch that train that just departed, the Atlantic", Hunt said. "It's urgent."

The old hostler snickered. "Air ye blimey? Atlantic's one o't' fastest engines ona' SCRR. Na, West Point, she's wot ye Yankees calla 'donkey engine', not built fair speed. An' it'll take me ooh, a half air 'er soo ta get soom steam in 'er. But fairst, ye'll hafter dawk it oot wi' t' station-master, 'ere."

The Fort Gordon SCRR station-master had just joined the conversation. After Captain Hunt explained the situation to him, he reluctantly agreed to put the West Point in their service, for a price – one dollar per soldier, in advance.

"Thank you" said Hunt, relieved. "Please hurry! This is a military emergency!"

"Ye doon't say..." said the old Yorkie hostler, who was not much in the habit of hurrying. He climbed up on the engine's footplate and pulled a lever, dumping the previous day's cold ash and cinders from the bottom of the firebox. He carefully checked the water level in the boiler, then he opened the firebox and threw in six chunks of wood, followed by a shovelful of sand.

"Ta scour oot t' creosote in t' flue", he explained.

Then he climbed back down and did a full circuit of the engine, oiling the journals, bogie pivot and crossheads. Then he unscrewed the front cap of the smokebox and inserted a large chunk of tallow in the blastpipe, and screwed the cap back down firmly.

"Ta lubricate t' pistons an' valves", he said. He shuffled to the back of the engine and climbed up, checked the steam gauge and announced,

"Na, we wait. Ina boot, ooh, twenny minutes air soo, we mought be on'air way."

Captain Hunt thought he would slowly go mad, waiting for the steam pressure to rise. The hostler was soon joined by the West Point's engineer and fireman, who rechecked all the levers, valves, and gauges. The old engine slowly came to life, as the firebox rumbled and gouts of steam hissed from every leaky joint. In about twenty minutes, the hostler climbed down and announced,

"She's all yairs, cap'n".

The engineer gave three toots on the whistle – the signal that West Point was running in reverse – and waited for the flagman to signal that the switches were all clear. Then he released the brake, pushed the throttle lever in reverse, and the backwards West Point slowly began pushing her string of flatcars and soldiers in the direction of the now long-departed Atlantic.

MARTHASVILLE, Wednesday, April 2, evening

The Carthage Greys arrived in Marthasville, Georgia – which some of the local boosters were now calling Atlanta – after a nine hour trip, only to find that their promised "free passage" had apparently ended: The ticket agent refused to accept their U.S. Army railroad scrip.

"Hit's ha'd cash onna barrelhead, er y'all kin jist lump it yoselves", the ticket agent said. "An' none o' yo' wuthless A'my greenbacks neitha', y'hea?"

Captain Smith was not pleased. He glanced warily around the train depot and spied a passenger train that had just arrived empty from Savannah: the Arabian, pulling six cars.

Time for a little Missouri requisitioning, he thought. No Georgia cracker's gonna stop me from gettin' home afore them Mormons...

He sidled up to Sergeant Franklin Worrell and whispered,

"Frank, you see the Arabian yonder? That's our ride. Jist follow my lead, here."

Captain Smith sauntered up to the front of the train and struck up a conversation with the engineer.

"Fine engine you got here. Where you headed?"

"Oh, jist our reg'lar route, Big Shanty, Dalton, Chattanooga", replied the engineer.

"That'll do nicely", said Captain Smith, as he pulled his revolver and cocked it in the startled engineer's face. Smith jumped up on the engine's footplate and signaled for his men to board. They rushed the gates and boarded the cars before the startled conductor could even protest. Captain Smith looked back along the length of the train, saw that all his men were aboard, and said to the engineer,

"Now, get us outta here, nice an' smooth. Just get us to Chattanooga on schedule, an' then you kin have your nice little choo-choo train back."

About an hour later the old West Point came chuffing into the Marthasville station, still pushing the Nauvoo Legionnaires ahead of it. They were cold, wet and hungry after riding for nine hours on the exposed flatcars. In spite of stopping for wood and water four times, the old locomotive had made nearly fifteen miles per hour – the standard speed for this line. Captain Hunt jumped down from the engine and scanned the depot, looking for the Atlantic. He finally spied her off in the switch-yard pointing the wrong way, as she was being prepared for her return trip to Augusta.

Where are they? he thought.

Just then the Arabian's conductor, William A. Fuller, came pounding across the tracks towards him, waving his arms.

"What in Sam Hill you Union boys think y'all'er doin'?" he shouted, red-faced. Hunt looked at him, puzzled.

"Bout an hour ago, soma yo' fella blue-coats shanghaied ma train!" said the indignant conductor.

Jefferson Hunt thought quickly. They couldn't buy passage, so they stole it... so typical of the Greys...

"Sir, those aren't 'Union' soldiers, they're the worst sort of Missouri renegados", he explained. "They'll stop at nothing to get their way, including murder. We must bend every effort stop them."

The conductor pondered this for a moment, scratching his chin-whiskers, then he said,

"Th' ony train we got with steam up's ova' thea'. She's fast enow ta ketch th' Arabian, I reckon."

He pointed to the locomotive Catoosa, which had just arrived from Macon. She was a big, new American class engine, with four huge drive wheels and an enclosed cab to protect the crew.

"Then let's mount up!" Captain Hunt called to his men.

TUNNEL HILL, Wednesday, April 2, midnight

The Arabian had been steaming along the Western & Atlantic tracks at her usual pace of fifteen miles per hour, on schedule, so as not to draw attention to her forced "requisition". About 25 miles outside Chattanooga, Captain Smith heard a faint train whistle far to the south of them. He peered at his paper train schedule by the dim light of the firebox and said to the engineer, Peter Bracken,

"I thought there was no other train scheduled on this line but us?"

"Ah thowt so too", Bracken replied. "Could be an extry."

The whistle hooted again.

"It's gaining on us", said Captain Smith. "That ain't supposed to happen!"

He looked back nervously in the dark, then he gave the engineer an order.

"Open 'er up. I want some distance 'tween us an' them, whoever they mought be." He brandished his revolver for emphasis.

Bracken reluctantly pushed the throttle all the way to the stop, and the Arabian gradually picked up speed. Captain Smith held onto the footplate railing for dear life as the engine thundered down the tracks. As the wind whistled past him, he counted the seconds between mile markers, did a quick cipher in his head and realized that they were racing along at nearly thirty miles per hour. Still the pursuing engine's whistle blows came louder and closer.

As they approached Ringgold, Smith and Bracken looked back around a curve and finally caught sight of their pursuer in the dark. It was the Catoosa.

"Pour it on!" Captain Smith shouted.

"Cain't go no fasta'! She'll leave th' tracks!" the terrified engineer replied.

"I don't care!"

Captain Smith opened the firebox and threw in several more chunks of wood. The engine was shaking violently as the two drive-wheels pounded the tracks, and the passenger cars jumped and rocked as they struck every joint in the rails. Still, the Catoosa closed the distance.

Conductor Fuller and Captain Hunt gazed forward out the cab windows as the Catoosa gained on the Arabian. In the dark, they could just make out the dim red lantern affixed to the last car.

The engineer, Oliver Harbin, glanced nervously at the water-gauge and said,

"We'll needta water up here here real soon..."

"Neva' mind! Ah want ma train back!" replied Fuller, reaching for the firebox handle.

"Ah wouldn't touch that, if ah was you", said Harbin.

The instant Fuller opened the firebox door, there was an enormous flashback as the draft in the flue reversed, belching flames and smoke directly at him. Fuller staggered back and fell on the woodpile in the tender, with his clothes smoking.

Harbin had seen flashbacks before, and he sprang into action. He grabbed a water bucket and doused Fuller, then he closed the throttle, released the steam valve, dumped sand, pulled hard on the Johnson bar, and brought the train to a screeching halt in about five hundred feet.

Captain Hunt tended to Fuller, who was slowly coming to. His face and hands were blistered and black from soot. "Ah'm all right..." he said weakly.

"We don't water up soon, we'll bust a crown-plate or wuss", said Harbin. "Y'all'l jist hafta ketch th' Arabian notha' day. 'Sides, Chattanooga's th' end o' the line, so whea' kin they ha'd?"

Captain Hunt put the soldiers to work with leather buckets, "jerking" water from a nearby stream to fill the engine's reservoir. After about a half hour of this bucket brigade, the engineer checked the water-gauge and declared the Catoosa ready to proceed.
CHAPTER 40

PLATTE RIVER, Thursday, April 3

Early in the day, Brigham Young called the camp together and chastised them for continually running off on hunting expeditions and wasting game. He said,

"Some members of the company have left meat on the ground and would not use it just because it was not a hind quarter. God has given us a commandment that we should not waste meat, nor take life unless it is needful.

"Some men would kill all the game within a hundred miles if they could, without one thought of who created it or formed those great pastures for the wild animals to feed in!

"Some men will shoot as much as thirty times at a rabbit and are continually wasting their ammunition. But when they have used all they have got, they may have the pleasure of carrying their empty guns to the mountains!"

The terrain was beginning to change. After endless weeks of passing sand bluffs along the Platte River, the pioneers came upon several rock outcroppings, suggesting that perhaps they were finally approaching the foothills of the long-anticipated Rocky Mountains.

COLUMBIA, Thursday, April 3

The Armies of the West and South had quickly evacuated their camp around Columbia, save for the Mormon Battalion. General Joseph Smith put his men to work cleaning the camp, dousing campfires, striking tents, and collecting some seven thousand stand of arms left by the soldiers.

"This isn't quite Armageddon, but something like unto it", Joseph remarked to Lyman Wight, as they viewed the vast, empty encampment and the mounds of refuse. "And I expect we'll be done with this cleansing in under seven days, not seven years. But it's a shame that Gog and Magog are still sitting in Columbia, in a manner of speaking."

At the end of the day, General Smith pronounced his army's former campsite clean, and the Mormon Battalion finally broke camp and began their journey back to Washington, where they would muster out.

CHATTANOOGA, Thursday, April 3

Late in the day Captain Jefferson Hunt and his eighty exhausted men of Company A finally arrived in Chattanooga, only to find that they weren't the first arrivals – hordes of soldiers from all over Illinois were vying for passage down the Tennessee River, on whatever steamboat, flatboat, or shingle they could find.

Chattanooga was a village of just over a thousand inhabitants, and it was ill prepared for this onslaught of discharged soldiers, all seemingly on a spree. The waterfront was in complete bedlam, as scattered bar-fights broke out and guns were fired in the air. There was not a single steamboat in sight.

As Captain Hunt looked in dismay at this madhouse, he recognized officers from Macomb, Peoria, Quincy, Augusta, and of course Carthage in the crowd. Captain Robert F. Smith cuffed Captain Hunt on the shoulder and smiled as they passed.

"Well, Hunt, it looks like I'm still at the head o' the line, or leastways futher up'an you", Smith sneered.

Hunt replied, "We'll see about that. It's a long boat-ride back home for the both of us."

He returned to his company and gave the order for his men to find whatever shelter they could for the night, and pray for a steamboat on the morrow. Most of the soldiers crowded into an empty barn on the outskirts of town. At about sundown, they were joined by Captain Jesse Hunter and his Company B of the Illinois 9th, thus swelling the Mormon ranks to about 170 men.

CHATTANOOGA, Friday, April 4

At dawn, Captains Hunt and Hunter walked into town to see if any steamboats had arrived. When they reached the waterfront, they were astonished to find it deserted – no soldiers, no boats. He walked over to the office of the Riverboat Pilot's Association and knocked on the door. When the union boss answered the door, Jefferson Hunt asked,

"Where'd everyone go?"

The boss snickered and said, "Wal, if yew Illinois boys din't miss th' boat! They all up an' left last night!"

"How?" said Hunter, astonished.

"Howd'ya think? A whole flow-tilla o' steamboats came in 'bout, oh, two in th' mornin', an' off they went! Na', mebbe we kin git some peace an' quiet back'a roun' heah." He slammed the door.

The desperation was starting to rise in the two captains.

"Well, Jeff, what now?" said Hunter. "You remember what those polecats said about Nauvoo?"

PLATTE RIVER, Friday, April 4

It rained heavily most of the day, and most of the pioneers were wet and miserable by noon. Nineteen miles were covered by the time the weary pioneers halted for the night. Jessie Stout finally prevailed upon Brigham Young to let her ride one of the pack mules, instead of steering the spine-jarring buckboard all day.

"Well, if the mother of Jesus could ride a mule, ah can't hardly complain" she said, rubbing her back.

"But Mary didn't have six hundred miles to travel, neither", said Hosea as he helped her down from the mule.

"I still have six or seven months to go", she said. "I'll get to the valley afore the baby, I promise."

CHATTANOOGA, Saturday, April 5

Company A and B of the Illinois 9th were still camped outside Chattanooga. During the day, they were joined by Company D and Colonel Jonathan Dunham, swelling their ranks to about 250 men. Not a single steamboat had arrived since Friday, and Dunham was near desperation when he heard of the Carthage Greys' threats to level Nauvoo.

Finally at about noon, to their joy, they heard a steamboat whistle in the far distance.

"That's our ticket, men!" cried Captain Hunt, as they all beat a path down the hill to the waterfront. They arrived just in time to see three great steamboats gliding up to the landing: The New Hyrum Smith, the Don Carlos Smith, and the Alvin Smith. And at the wheel of the New Hyrum Smith was none other than Dan Jones.

"Avast, ye mateys!" Dan cried through his speaking trumpet. "Ennyone 'ere be needin' passage t'Nauvoo?"

Colonel Dunham dashed up the companionway to the pilot house of the New Hyrum Smith and explained the situation to Dan Jones, as the soldiers began filing onto the three steamboats.

Dan's face showed his concern. "Ach-a-fi, 'tis a cawl cabbage... We passed 'em fools goin' full pelt near t' Huntsville yestiddy – ef only I'da knoown!"

"There's no time to waste", said Dunham. "Those men have threatened to burn Nauvoo to the ground, and for once I take them at their word. They have about a day's lead on us, so we simply must overtake them before St. Louis!"

Captain Hunt ran up the companionway to the pilot house and saluted.

"All the men are boarded, sir!" he reported.

"Then let's cast off, and make it quick!" replied Colonel Dunham.

"Aye-aye", said Dan, as he tooted the whistle for departure.

Once the three steamboats were headed down the Tennessee River, Dan Jones explained to Colonel Dunham about how Joseph Smith had made good on his promise to have a "whole fleet of Smith Boats" after the election. The Don Carlos Smith was the former Meteor, and the Alvin Smith was the former Amaranth. The Prophet had called Dan back from his mission to the east, with instructions to take his little fleet down the Mississippi, Ohio, and Tennessee Rivers and bring the Nauvoo Legion home on a certain date.

"'An na' I see why 'e gie' me thoose instrooctions", Dan said somberly.

PLATTE RIVER, Saturday, April 5

At noon the pioneers halted near a grove of ash trees. Jessie consulted her journal and declared,

"This looks like Ash Hollow, accordin' to Captain Eff's map. If it is, we're now camped directly on th' Oregon Trail, an' only, let's see... 134 miles from Fort John."

A group of bluffs along the south bank of the North Platte River was named Castle Bluffs by William Clayton, for their resemblance to the castles of England.

A little farther on, the pioneers noticed a lone cedar tree along the banks of the river. As they approached, they saw a small bundle tied to the tree.

"An Indian burial, for sure", said Thomas Bullock as he paused to examine the bundle. The remains of the tiny child had been wrapped in straw, then deer skins, and finally a piece of buffalo robe. Wrapped in the bundle with the child were a spoon, a bowl, a horn, and a shot pouch.

"Leave it be", said Brigham Young. "This babe entered the world pure and undefiled, and left it the same way. He shall come forth in the morning of the first resurrection – before many of us, I reckon."

PLATTE RIVER, Sunday, April 6

The Camp of Israel halted to observe the Sabbath. Brigham Young preached on the topic, "I am the resurrection and the life."

In the afternoon, a small wagon train was seen wending its way along the south side of the North Platte.

"Gentiles..." muttered Brigham Young. "They'll wear out their teams before they're halfway to Oregon. It's 'Devil take the hindmost' for them, and they'll find to their sorrow that the Devil quite often takes them at their word."

NAUVOO, Sunday, April 6

CONFERENCE MINUTES

Special conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints at Nauvoo, April 6, 1845; it being the first day of the sixteenth year (i.e. of the organization of the Church)

The choir sang 'Hark the Jubilee' at quarter past ten o'clock, while the assembly was collecting.

Present – President Heber C. Kimball, Orson Hyde, John Taylor, John E. Page, Willard Richards, and Amasa M. Lyman of the Quorum of the Twelve – Father John Smith, president of the stake – Bishops Whitney and Miller – the high council – and about nineteen thousand persons (in attendance).

Elder Kimball called the meeting to order at half past ten a.m.; and the choir sang the 132nd hymn, by Brother Phelps:

Let us pray, gladly pray,

In the house of Jehovah,

Till the righteous can say,

"Our warfare is over!"

Then we'll dry up our tears,

Sweetly praising together,

Through the great thousand years,

Face to face with the Savior.

We can then live in peace,

With a joy on the mountains,

As the earth doth increase,

With a joy by the fountains,

For the world will be blest,

With a joy to rely on,

From the east to the west,

Through the glory of Zion.

Followed by prayer by Elder Richards; the choir then sang 'Come All Ye Sons of Zion.' The morning was spent in teaching on the baptism for the dead, by Elder John Taylor.

WATERLOO, Sunday, April 6

The Nauvoo Legion flotilla passed Waterloo, Alabama. They still had not caught sight of the Carthage Greys and Augusta Dragoons' steamboats. Colonel Dunham still hoped to gain on them by spending as little time as possible "wooding up", and by pushing the boilers to their limits.

"If I have to strip the boats to feed the fireboxes, I will, but I hope it doesn't come to that", he said.

PADUCAH, Monday, April 7

In the morning, the three Nauvoo Legion steamboats reached Paducah, Kentucky, at the confluence of the Tennessee and Ohio Rivers. As the soldiers loaded firewood, Colonel Dunham ran down the gangplank and interrogated the loafers sitting along the landing. He was encouraged to learn that the Carthage Greys and Augusta Dragoons had left Paducah just a few hours before them on the steamboats Waterproof, Sunflower, and Saluda.

"Boys, we're getting close", he announced to his men.

PLATTE RIVER, Monday, April 7

The pioneers made about ten miles this day before halting for breakfast. The ground was level and sandy, making travel easier for the mules and wagons. During the morning, several Indians were sighted on the opposite bank of the Platte, about two miles away. At noon, two Sioux approached the camp and the pioneers gave them some dinner.

Later that evening, the pioneers noticed about thirty-five Indians paralleling them on the far side of the river. When the pioneers finally halted for the evening, the Indians began to cross over the river towards their camp.

"Let's give 'em a good welcome, but watch yourselves", said Brigham Young.

Rockwell and Redding saddled up their mules and rode out to meet them, carrying a white flag.

When the Indians saw the flag, they halted about three hundred feet from the camp and began chanting. Then their chief began unwrapping a colored piece of cloth which was tied to a long pole.

Jessie had been watching the Indian's ceremony from the safety of the camp. As the Sioux chief finished unfurling his banner, she gasped.

"That's Captain Frémont's cavalry flag!" she exclaimed.

The flag had thirteen red and white stripes with a blue field in the upper left corner. Twenty-six stars were arranged in a semicircle on the blue field, around an eagle with its wings outstretched.

"What? How do you know?" said Brigham.

Jessie was becoming quite agitated. "Ah made that flag, Brother Brigham. It was ma' own design. Ever' time the Captain left on one of his expeditions, ah stitched him a new flag. Ah've made four of 'em over the years."

Brigham thought for a minute, then he said cautiously,

"Can you, ah, tell which expedition that one was made for?"

"Not without examinin' it up close", she said nervously.

"Then I'll get it for you", Brigham replied. "You just stay put here."

Brigham mounted his mule, put on his sternest demeanor, and rode out to meet the chief with his right arm upraised. He halted about twenty feet from the old chief and said solemnly,

"Greetings. I am Brigham Young, chief of this camp. Tell me, where did you get that flag?"

The Chief hesitated, then replied in broken English and French,

"Me, Owash-to-cha, Chief Dacota Sioux. Me win drapeau in battle avec Pawnee. Chief Pawnee say he kill ten bluecoat pour ce drapeau. Me take drapeau de son corps."

"Will you trade for the, er, drop-oh?" said Brigham.

The old Indian looked perplexed and scowled at him. "Pourquois you want drapeau?" he said crossly.

"It is bad medicine for you to carry it", said Brigham. "If other bluecoats see you with it, they will kill you. I don't want that to happen. We have coffee, tea, and sugar to trade for it."

Chief Owash-to-cha thought for a minute, then he held the flag out to Brigham with his right hand and extended his left hand, palm up.

"We trade", he said stiffly.

Brigham took the flag, then sidled up to Rockwell and said softly, "Keep him happy." Then he rode back to the camp carrying the flag. He dismounted and handed the pole to Jessie, who took it with trembling hands. She slowly unrolled the tattered cloth and carefully examined the stitches, the stars, and the eagle.

"I... ah don't know..." she said, half sobbing. "It could be the '42 banner... The Captain never mentioned losin' a flag on any of his expeditions."

She looked again at the eagle and gasped, then sat down hard on the ground and buried her face in the flag.

"This is the flag ah made for 'im just last year", she said through muffled sobs.

Porter Rockwell approached the camp, followed closely by the Sioux chief and his party.

"They seem friendly enough", he said to Brigham.

Brigham replied, "Give them some food, but make sure they understand we are no fools."

Hosea Stout assembled his team of sharpshooters in a line, and the six men went through the rifle drill several times to impress the Indians. He also made sure the cannon was prominently displayed. Then Ezra T. Benson dug into the camp's stores and handed out small packets of coffee, sugar, corn meal, and buttons.

William Clayton had observed the Indians as they entered the camp, and remarked on how well turned-out they appeared. Many of them were wearing broadcloth, blankets, and fur caps, which were richly ornamented with beads and shells. Some of the squaws were light-haired.

"I've seen all kinds o' Indians", William said in an aside to Zebedee Coltrin. "These air mooch better dressed 'an moost, I would say. In truth, far cleanness an' neatness they'll compare wi' the most tasteful whites."

Brigham was impressed as he watched the Sioux chief, who made sure all the gifts were fairly distributed to his people. The Indians offered moccasins and several buffalo robes in exchange, which were gladly received by the pioneers.

When the trading was finished, Zebedee Coltrin accompanied the Indians back across the river. He returned about a half hour later as the sun was setting, with the chief and his squaw following.

"He wants to stay the night", Coltrin said apologetically.

Brigham sighed. "Very well, then get them a tent and some food!"

He stomped off, mumbling something about the "Indian Chief Hotel."

Later that night, Orson Pratt demonstrated his telescope to the old chief. He was awestruck as he viewed the moon through the eyepiece, and he kept reaching out as if he could touch the moon. Orson attempted several times to talk to the chief about the mysterious flag, but came away none the wiser.

Jessie and Hosea Stout spent a sleepless night. Jessie lay on the ground, imagining one terrible end after another for Captain John Frémont , while Hosea tried to reassure her and calm her down.

"We don't really know anything about his condition, good or ill. No sense worrying yourself sick about it", he whispered to her.

"But that's just it", she whispered back. "Who knows what might've happened to him? An' like it or not, ah do still care 'bout the ol' goat. Ah don't want to find him lyin' on the trail scalped, or shot through with arrows, or..."

"Sssh! We'll talk about it in the morning."

CAPE GIRARDEAU, Tuesday, April 8

The three Smith boats had passed Cairo and entered the broad Mississippi River in the late afternoon. Now they were headed upstream, and their progress slowed considerably. At about nine p.m. they approached the rock promontory at Cape Girardeau, Missouri. They were hugging the west bank of the river where it made a great horseshoe curve to the northeast, trying to avoid the current. Colonel Dunham was with Dan Jones in the pilot house, and both men were attempting to peer through the gloom upstream, in hopes of finally sighting the other steamboats.

Just as they approached the town of McClure, the night sky was lit up by a tremendous explosion and flame. A few seconds later the concussion hit them with a great whoomp, and then the sky went dark again.

"What in nation was that?" said Dunham in astonishment.

"Ach, t'was a steamboot explosion, fair sartain", Dan replied grimly. "I've seen 'em afore. D'ye remembair th' Boreas? No doot, somon' potched wi' th' relief valve, an' blew 'er sky-high. We gorra rescue 'em, na". He spun the wheel hard over and called down the speaking-tube to the main deck for more lanterns to be lit, and for his crew to stand by the boats.

Sure enough, in a few minutes they began sighting flotsam and bodies on the black Mississippi River. The crew managed to fish only about ten survivors out of the cold river. One poor wretch, whose skin was peeling off in ribbons, looked up at Colonel Dunham and gasped,

"Private Ben Clark, Illinois 2nd Cavalry, Company G. I was on th' steamboat Saluda, goin' home..." Suddenly he stopped trembling and his eyes rolled back.

"Put him aft with the other bodies till we get to home", said Dunham. "He was one of those in the mob at Carthage last year, but he still has a mother, I'm sure."

PLATTE RIVER, Tuesday, April 8

As soon as the pioneers arose this morning, Chief Owash-to-cha and his squaw quietly left the camp and rejoined their companions on the other side of the river. Thomas Bullock and William Clayton had composed a letter which they gave to the chief, attesting that the Indian band had visited the Mormons and behaved themselves civilly and peaceably.

The pioneers halted at about ten a.m. to rest their mules. Chimney Rock was now clearly visible, looming up like a giant inverted funnel in the distance. Several of the pioneers made bets on how far away the rock actually was.

"I say three miles", said Appleton Harmon.

"Six, at least", replied Shadrach Roundy.

"Better clean your specs, Harmon", said Truman O. Angell. "This clear mountain air is deceiving. Things that are far away look deceptively close. My architect's eye says ten miles."

Orson Pratt finally ended the argument by taking a sighting with his sextant.

"It's really quite a simple procedure", he said as he scribbled in his notebook. "Assuming the rock's height is 260 feet, which is what Captain Frémont calculated, I take the angle of elevation, which is three tenths of a degree by my sextant, and look up the sine in this trigonometry table, giving me a ratio of one in two hundred. Two hundred and sixty feet is almost precisely one twentieth of a mile. One twentieth divided by one two-hundredth is..."

Orson looked up. "Exactly ten miles. Looks like you win, Truman."

In the afternoon it began raining heavily. The pioneers made about 15 miles before camping for the evening.

From the diary of Appleton Harmon on this day:

Tuesday the 1st fine warm morning we got up our teams and started at 8 A M & traveled 4 5/8 miles when we ware exactly North of chimney rock 9 mi distant.

we halted for dinner at 12 n. having traveled 7 1/4 miles

we started again at 25 past 2 P.M.

we traveled about 5 miles & camped in a circle by the river at 5 P.M.

4 antelope killed today & distributed through the camp.

a tall range of bluffs extended along the oposite side the river which apear very broken, on which their is some shrubby cedars, on guard duty for a part of the night, Showerry this evening.

no buffalo been scen for several days.

PLATTE RIVER, Wednesday, April 9

A morning rainstorm delayed the Camp of Israel until nearly eleven a.m. Brigham Young noticed several of the men playing cards during the delay, but made no mention of it.

When the pioneers finally moved out, Clarissa invited Jessie to walk with her. Clarissa had a small wicker basket slung over her arm.

"We can pick berries along the way, and talk", said Clarissa.

"I'd like that", Jessie said, arranging her sunbonnet.

The terrain was beginning to change. After weeks of featureless, flat plains, the ground along the North Platte was becoming more hilly, and timber was more plentiful. In the far distance Laramie Peak could be seen shimmering in the heat, with snow just visible on its summit.

"So those are the Rocky Mountains?" Clarissa said hopefully. "Then we must be nearly to the Great Salt Lake!"

"Not quite", said Jessie. "Laramie Peak is just a foothill of the Rockies, an' it's still a good hundred-fifty miles from here. We still need to cross the Black Hills, an' the Wind River Mountains, an' South Pass – then we get to the Rocky Mountains. After that, it's a mere three hundred miles futher to yo' blessed lake."

"Oh..." Clarissa said, disappointed. She thought to herself,

Why does she always know everything? Someone needs to take her down a peg...

As the two women waded through the fragrant fields of dandelion, pepper grass, prickly pear and dogwood, looking for berries, Clarissa noticed a large mound.

"Oh look, Jessie, an ant hill! Perhaps we can harvest some Indian beads!"

"Harvest? Beads?" said Jessie, perplexed.

"Why yes, this is where they grow. They're free for the pickin', see?"

The ant hill was about three feet high, built of tiny pebbles and sand which the ants had laboriously hauled into place. Interspersed among the pebbles were dozens of Indian beads which the ants had also collected.

"See, what did I tell you?" Clarissa said eagerly, pointing to the beads. "It's the peak of the bead harvesting season."

She began picking them delicately and placing them in her basket.

As the joke finally dawned on Jessie, she gave Clarissa a sour look.

"Bead harvesting, ma left hind foot... Clarissa Decker Young, ah declare to goodness, you'd make a cow laugh with that tall tale!"

Both women had a good laugh, then they resumed their berry hunting. Clarissa kept an eye on the pioneer train, to make sure they didn't wander too far.

"Ah'm still worried 'bout Captain Frémont ", Jessie said suddenly. "Ah just can't put it out of ma head, seein' that flag, the work of ma' own hands, unfurled by some wild Indian!"

"I don't know what to make of it, neither", said Clarissa.

Jessie sat down on a boulder, and Clarissa sat next to her.

"Ah mean, ah was married to him for four years, an' had a daughter by him an' loved him, leastways most of the time. He was good to me, an' treated me decent. Ma father was opposed ta our marriage, but he came 'round by degrees, till he an' John were best friends. Best ah can figure is, the Captain left Washington back in January just after me. He prob'ly headed straight to St. Louis, where he an' his men fitted out some time in early February. Ah must have just missed him there."

"And where was he headed?" said Clarissa.

"All ah know is, he had orders to explore the Front Range o' the Rocky Mountains, then head south to Taos, an' then to Lower California. An' here ah am, sittin' on the banks of the North Platte River, talkin' 'bout him in the past tense!" She broke down and sobbed.

Clarissa put her arm around Jessie and tried to comfort her. "And how is your health holdin' up?" she said.

"Not half bad, ah s'pose", Jessie sniffled. "Leastways, ah can keep food down now. Ah was worried ah might miscarry, which ah'm prone to, drivin' that awful ol' buckboard over rocks an' gopher holes all day. Walkin' an' ridin' a mule have helped ma condition a bit."

Late in the day the Camp of Israel arrived opposite Scott's Bluff. By Orson Pratt's calculations, the massive red sandstone bluff loomed 750 feet above the Platte River. William Clayton likened it to a great English castle with parapets. Hosea Stout thought it more closely resembled Fort McHenry. Clarissa thought it looked "like a giant sugar loaf."

Appleton Harmon wrote:

Wednesday the 2nd a fine morning the future prospect pleases & nothing to mar the pease that universally prevails.

we got up our teams & started at 8 A.M. & traveled over a flat level Bottom in a straight line N.W. 8 miles & halted near the river. & near & a little below Scotts Bluffs that is on the south side the river at 12 N. for dinner.

3 antelope killed & brought to camp.

We started again at 2 P.M. & traveled 5 3/4 miles in a N.W. direction & camped in a bend of the river near a bog a mile from the same the in a circle at 1/4 to 5 P.M.

having passed Scotts bluffs about 3 miles the river takes a bend to the North or nearly so

1 antelope killed.

a heavy north wind in the evening.
CHAPTER 41

WASHINGTON, Wednesday, April 9

Private Lucius Forsythe arrived at the Washington City Post Office promptly at eight a.m., as was his custom. His Army platoon was responsible for sorting and directing the U.S. mail – a huge task, given the quantity of letters coming and going of late between the troops in Carolina and their families at home. Private Forsythe's particular responsibility was the District of Columbia.

No one in Forsythe's platoon knew that he was one of "Semmes' Moles" – a Southern spy, left behind during Semmes' retreat from Baltimore. In his position as chief mail sorter for Washington, there was very little that escaped his notice: Correspondence from the war front, letters from congressmen, occasional military dispatches, casualty lists – they all crossed his desk.

Private Forsythe settled into his mundane task, sorting and pigeonholing the mail. Around ten o'clock a letter caught his eye. It was addressed:

Gen. Joseph Smith

Executive Mansion

Washington City

Forsythe quietly slipped the letter into his overcoat. His handlers would pay him well for this kind of information, and tomorrow the letter would be quietly returned to the pile, with the seal apparently unbroken.

Late in the afternoon, General Joseph Smith arrived in Washington from South Carolina. He wearily dismounted from his carriage in front of the Executive Mansion, grabbed his valise and climbed the stairs to the second floor.

I will be ever so glad when peace is restored, and we can all return to Nauvoo, he thought. I've overstayed my welcome in this town.

Emma and the children were waiting for him in the living quarters. Joseph embraced Emma, then the children, and then he broke down and wept. Emma did her best to console him, as a flood of emotions overcame him:

The war is over, and my work is complete. I thank God that I am reunited with my family, and yet, I know my time is short, and soon we will again be parted...

Joseph wiped the tears from his eyes and sank exhausted into an ornate Louis XVI chair. Alexander helped him pull his boots off, while Emma handed him a stack of mail she had been saving for his return.

Joseph shuffled idly through the letters until he noticed one addressed from "A. Lincoln". He broke the seal and smoothed out the paper:

Springfield, Il.

March 18, 1845

To General Joseph Smith

The Executive Mansion

Washington City

Dear General Smith,

Pursuant to your request, and in preparation for the upcoming trial in Carthage, I have collected the necessary affidavits and subpoenaed most of the witnesses you identified. I believe that we are far better prepared this time around than we were in October last. However, there is one area where I am yet lacking. You have not indicated if you intend to appear personally at the trial, or whether you will supply written testimony only. For this reason, I purpose to visit you in Washington City on or about the 10th of April to solicit your advice in these and other matters.

If you are away from Washington when I arrive, I shall be forced to shift for myself at the trial, but I am prepared for that eventuality I believe. I feel certain we can still bring your brother's murderers to justice. In expectation of meeting you soon, I am,

Your obedient servant,

Abraham Lincoln.

"Well, the wheels of justice grind ever so slowly", Joseph said to Emma. "I am not as sanguine as Lincoln, but be that as it may, Hyrum's blood still cries out for justice. I must expect Mr. Lincoln when I see him, as I suppose."

That evening, Private Forsythe finished his work at the Post Office and quietly slipped away into the darkened city. Roll call was not until nine o'clock, and he had plenty of time to finish his personal business.

He headed east to Georgetown, to a street lined with shabby tenements, and knocked on a door. A man opened the door and silently admitted him into a small room, which was dimly lit by a single candle on a small table. The man sat down across the table from Forsythe. He could not make out the man's features, but his voice was familiar from previous encounters. Forsythe only knew him as "Hotspur".

"Well, what d'you have for me?" the voice said.

"Just this", Forsythe replied, handing the letter to him. The man held it up to the candle and examined the address for a moment.

"Excellent", he replied. "This is precisely the sort o' thing I'm lookin' for. It might come good."

He pulled a long, thin knife out of his pocket and held it over the candle for a moment. Then he carefully slipped the hot knife under the paper and held it there until the wax seal popped loose. He studied the contents of the letter for a minute, then refolded it and reattached the wax seal with the hot knife. Then he silently handed the letter back to Forsythe, fished in his pocket and pulled out a gold coin.

"Five dollars, as agreed", the man said. "Thank you and good evening."

Forsythe peered at the gold coin for a moment, bit it to make sure it was genuine, and then stood up and left without a word. As the door closed, "Hotspur" leaned back in his chair, hooked his thumbs in his suspenders and thought:

I was this nigh to pluggin' you in Carthage, and John Taylor to boot. This time, you won't be so lucky, old Joe.

ST. LOUIS, Wednesday, April 9

While the three Smith boats paused to search for survivors of the Saluda explosion, the Sunflower and Waterproof slipped off into the night, still heading for St. Louis. At dawn on April 9th, Colonel Dunham called an end to the rescue effort, and he ordered full steam ahead in pursuit of the other two boats.

"We're running out of time", he anxiously remarked to Dan Jones. "They know we're in pursuit now, and they'll push their boats to the limit to stay ahead of us – although, perhaps, just a wee bit aft of the limit, since the Saluda's unexpected eruption."

In the late morning the New Hyrum Smith was in the lead. Daniel Burbank was standing lookout on the bow. Just as they passed Cahokia he cried out, "Steamboat ahead!"

"It's them for sure!" said Colonel Dunham. "Full speed ahead, Mr. Jones!"

"This be fool speed a'ead, sir", said Dan Jones, pointing at the engine telegraph. "We canna goo ana' fastair, else she'll whemmle apart joost like th' Saluda!"

"Blast..." said Dunham in frustration. "We'll never catch them at this rate."

This cat-and-mouse game went on for several hours, as the New Hyrum Smith briefly caught sight of the two steamboats ahead of them, only to lose them around the next bend. The Alvin Smith and Don Carlos Smith struggled to keep up, but the Hyrum was slightly the quicker, though not as quick as the two boats they were pursuing, apparently.

About an hour later they finally caught sight of St. Louis in the distance. The Mississippi River broadened out here, and at long last they got a clear view of the Sunflower and Waterproof steaming about five miles ahead of them, madly thrashing their way upstream as fast as they could go.

"At this speed, they'll arrive at Nauvoo 'round Saturday, I reckon, and we'll still be ten-fifteen miles behind them", said Colonel Dunham. "Looks like we're out of options, gentlemen."

ST. CHARLES, Wednesday, April 9

The three Smith boats were still desperately trying to close the distance between themselves and the other two steamboats, but to no avail. The Sunflower and Waterproof were newer, smaller and faster than the old former Osprey, and now they knew they were being followed.

Around about St. Charles, Colonel Dunham had almost resigned himself to coming home to a view of Nauvoo reduced to ashes, when he spotted a curious ship in the far distance. Through the spyglass, he could tell it was not a steamboat, but a three-masted, sea-going barkentine. It looked so completely out of place here, six hundred miles from the ocean, that Dunham blinked twice and refocused his spyglass, just to make sure.

"A ship? On'a opper Mississippi?" said Dan Jones.

"See for yourself", said Dunham, handing him the spyglass.

Through the glass, Dan could just make out the four plumes of smoke from the two steamboats they were pursuing, and the unmistakable profile of a three-masted ship.

"'Ell, it's true", he breathed, handing the glass back to Dunham.

Now Dunham could see a paddle-box on the side of the ship, and gunports – with guns run out, no less. "I don't believe it", he said. "What in heaven's name is happening here?"

"Ach, they're firin'!" cried Dan, as he saw four flashes erupt from the mysterious ship.

About ten seconds later, they heard a faint rumble like distant thunder, as the two steamboats disappeared in a cloud of smoke, steam, and flames.

"Could this be the Carolina Navy?" said Dunham, now thoroughly alarmed. "Don't they know the war's over?"

"I donna ken, but they be still betwixt us 'an Nauvoo", Dan said nervously. "We donna have mooch of a choice, ay?"

Colonel Dunham glanced forward at the jackstaff, which was bare, and on a hunch he said,

"Let's raise the American flag and identify ourselves. Then, we'll hope for the best. Proceed with caution, Captain Jones."

"Aye-aye, Colonel", Dan replied nervously, as he telegraphed down to the engine room to proceed slowly.

In about twenty minutes the New Hyrum Smith and the other two Smith boats cautiously came abreast of the USS Michigan. Colonel Dunham was astonished to see Governor Thomas Ford on the deck of the Michigan. Governor Ford was equally astonished to see Colonel Dunham again, after nearly a year.

"Permission to come aboard, sir?" cried Dunham.

"By all means", Ford replied with a grin. "Welcome aboard the flagship of my new 'Illinois Navy', Colonel."

Dunham climbed the ladder to the main deck, glanced around, spread his arms and could only mouth, "What the..."

"It's a long story", said Governor Ford. "First off, we found this ship saddle-baggsed tight into one of the locks on the Illinois & Michigan Canal, 'bout a month ago. Turns out Captain Semmes had underestimated the draught of the Michigan, which is nine feet. The locks are only six feet deep. I think he was hoping to sail 'er on down the Illinois River to Alton, then down the Mississippi to New Orleans, per'aps. Semmes abandoned her, and we're still looking for him. Meantime, we needed the Illinois & Michigan Canal back, so we unloaded all the ballast we could from her, ran her through all seventeen canal locks to Peoria, and sailed her down the Illinois River – not an easy feat, I might add, with an unballasted, full-rigged seagoing warship, and I'm no admiral, neither. But I digress.

"Round 'bout this time, I got a letter from the War Department, warning us that the new Confederate Navy was planning a sweep up the Mississippi from New Orleans. It sounded a bit far-fetched to me, but just to be safe, we positioned the Michigan here at the mouth of the Illinois River to guard the upper Mississippi. We knew that any steamboats plying these waters right now had to be either US Navy requisitions, or rebels – maybe even Semmes himself. Sure enough, looks like we bagged ourselves a coupla Rebs just now, wouldn't you say? Eh?"

Thomas Ford was strutting like a peacock, his thumbs hooked in his suspenders, basking in the glory of his sudden military triumph.

Colonel Dunham just stood dumbfounded for a long moment, contemplating the rich irony of what had just happened. Then he said,

"Sir, may I see that letter from the War Department?"

"Why, certainly, here it is", said Ford, fishing in his pocket. He handed it to Dunham:

United States War Department

Port Royal, South Carolina

Monday February the 10th, 1845

Colonel George Meade

Commander, 3rd Military Department, St. Louis Mo.

Sir,

You are hereby ordered to be on the watch for a possible rebel naval incursion on the Mississippi River in the vicinity of St. Louis. We have reason to believe two or three steamboats may be employed in this attack. Any boats not flying the American flag from their jackstaff are to be considered hostile until proven otherwise.

Under no circumstances should these vessels be permitted to enter the upper Mississippi. Please advise the other military commanders in your Department.

Signed,

Lieutenant General Joseph Smith

Colonel Dunham was thunderstruck. He thought, How did Joseph know?

He handed the letter back to Ford and said,

"Governor, the war is over. Those weren't Rebs you just blew up – those boats were carrying home the Carthage Greys, principally. We fished some of their dead bodies out of the river, just yesterday."

Ford's jaw dropped, and he looked perfectly astounded for a moment.

"No..." he breathed. "How dare you insinuate such a thing! Those were Confederate rebels, and I can prove it! They were threatening commerce along the upper Mississippi! I had to destroy them!"

He pointed his finger at Dunham and roared,

"Get off of my ship, you traitor!"

"Whatever you say, Lord Nelson", Dunham muttered as he saluted and beat a hasty retreat to the deck of the New Hyrum Smith.

"He's mad as a hatter. Get us out of here now, before he starts another Trafalgar on us", he said to Dan Jones.

"Aye-aye, Colonel", Dan replied, throwing the wheel over to larboard.

PLATTE RIVER, Thursday, April 10

On this day the weary pioneers toiled through deep sand across a stretch of barren country, then they camped exhausted on the banks of a large creek that wound down through the bluffs. Jessie consulted her journal and identified the stream as Rawhide Creek.

There was little browse for the mules, and no buffalo chips to feed the fires. To make matters worse, no game had been spotted for several days.

After a scanty dinner George A. Smith wandered out to view the scenery. He found a considerable quantity of prickly pear, and also wild garlic, which he brought back to camp.

"Well, at least we won't starve", he said. "If we do, it's our own fault."

Orson Whitney looked at the prickly pear with distaste.

"No, really, it's quite tasty", said George, carefully peeling off the thorns.

He bit off a hunk, then he puckered his lips. "A mite tart, though..."

The fire was getting low, and Jessie walked out to the far end of camp to retrieve some kindling that had been laid there earlier. As she half-knelt in the dark, balancing the sticks on her left arm, she felt a hand rest lightly on her left shoulder.

"Jessie!" a familiar voice said to her with a laugh. She whirled around, dropping the firewood in the process, but no one was there.

"John? Captain Frémont ? Is that you?" she said, shocked. She looked around, but she was alone. She gathered up the firewood and trudged slowly back to camp, pondering what had just happened. As she approached the fire, Clarissa looked at her and said,

"Jessie, what's wrong? You're white as a sheet! Who was that man out there with you, and why didn't you invite him to join us?"

Jessie stood blank-faced for a moment, then her mouth finally moved and she said,

"Why... Ah think that was Captain Frémont – ma former husband. He was there, an' then he was gone – just like that. I – ah, ah don't know what to make of it. Ah don't know if'n he's alive or dead – only that he's at peace now. Yes, that's it – whatever burden he had to bear is over; an' he's now safe an' light of heart; and in some way he himself has told me so."

WASHINGTON, Thursday, April 10

Abraham Lincoln took the morning train from Baltimore to Washington, where he arrived at about noon. He hired a buggy and headed southeast along Pennsylvania Avenue toward the Executive Mansion. Joseph Smith greeted him at the north entrance and escorted him inside.

"I trust you had a safe journey, Abe?" said Joseph.

"A fairly routine trip", Lincoln replied. "The usual steamboat explosions, tornados, Indian attacks, runaway stagecoaches, and highwaymen", he joked. "Near Harrisburg, a skeeter tried to make off with one of the women folk, but we managed to subdue her. However, the skeeter got away."

Joseph laughed. "Come, my friend, there is much to discuss." He grabbed Lincoln's carpet bag and escorted him up the stairs to the second floor. Lincoln gazed in admiration at the elegant furnishings and said politely,

"You have excellent taste in furnishments, Mr. Smith. I trust you are comfortable here?"

"On the contrary", Joseph growled. "Whilst I was chasing rebs around Carolina, my wife Emma was spending most of my general's pay on fancy flubdubs for this palace. From what I have experienced as the quasi-president-elect-in-waiting, I would advise against your so much as thinking about taking up residence here."

"I shall take your advice to heart", Lincoln replied.

Halfway along the upper hall, the two men made a right turn into a sitting room, and Lincoln seated himself at a small Chippendale writing table. He pulled a small lap desk out of his bag and placed it on the table, then he pulled a sheaf of papers and a pen out of the desk.

"Now Joseph, tell me about Carthage", he said.

NAUVOO, Friday, April 11

The New Hyrum Smith, Don Carlos Smith, and Samuel Smith arrived at Nauvoo to a rousing welcome. The women were overjoyed to see their husbands after three months, and a great victory celebration was held on the parade ground near the temple. Colonel Jonathan Dunham, now "promoted" back to his militia rank of General of the Nauvoo Legion, addressed the Saints and gave a stirring account of the progress of the war. He finished up with a description of the destruction of the three mobocrat steamboats on the Mississippi two days previous.

"I believe that Divine Providence has meted out stern justice to those who spilt the blood of our Brother Hyrum Smith", he said. "In this we do not rejoice, only to say, 'Justice is mine, saith the Lord.' Those who died also had mothers, fathers, and wives. Insofar as we are able, we purpose to return the bodies of these men to their kin in Carthage."

PLATTE RIVER, Friday, April 11

The morning was cold and drizzly. Several hours were lost in rounding up the mules and in waiting for the weather to improve. At about 10:30 the bugle was sounded to head out, but Brigham Young did not take his usual place at the head of the company. Instead, he climbed into the Revenue Cutter and gave the eighteen pioneers a tongue lashing they would never forget.

"I refuse to travel one mile futher with this party because of your bad spirit", he said from his leather pulpit. "Nobody has told me what's been going on in the camp, but I've known it all the while. I've been watching its movements, its influence, its effects, and I know the result if it's not put a stop to.

"Since we marched into this wilderness, we've left our persecutors behind. We're beyond their reach, we're beyond their power, we're beyond their grasp. What has the devil now to work upon? Upon the spirits of the men and women in this camp. And if you don't open your hearts so that the spirit of God can enter, you're a ruined people and will be destroyed.

"Unless there's a change, I go no futher. I'm in no hurry. I could understand your behavior if you were all new in the Church. In that case I would preach to you, watch over you, and tell you what to do each day, like little children.

"But you", he said, pointing to various members of the camp, "are men experienced in the Church, holders of the priesthood, and yet you don't have faith to get rid of a quarrelsome spirit!

"When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I hear is some of the brethren jawing at each other and quarreling because a mule has got loose in the night. I let the brethren dance and fiddle night after night to see what they will do. But I don't love to see it."

He looked pointedly at Porter Rockwell and Return Jackson Redden.

"I am ashamed to see joking, nonsense, profane language, trifling conversation and loud laughter. You don't know how to control your senses. I want every man and woman in camp to repent of their weaknesses, of their follies, of their meanness, and every kind of wickedness, and stop your swearing and profane language.

"I want each of you to signify by raising your hands if you are willing to repent of your follies."

Every man and woman in the Camp of Israel meekly raised their right hand.

"Then let's move out", said Brigham, waving his hand forward.

At midday, the pioneers halted near the burned ruins of Richiau's Trading Post. Brigham Young said,

"According to Hasting's account, we're on the trail that the first trappers used in 1812 while returning from Astoria. Richiau kept a trading post here for some time until he was burned out a few years back. Fort John should be just beyond those far bluffs there."

The pioneers resumed their journey at about one o'clock. Thomas Bullock was riding the lead mule, and as he crested a bluff he cried,

"I see Fort John!"

A loud cheer went up from the travel-weary saints.

The pioneers continued on past a stand of timber and paused on the banks of the North Platte, just opposite Fort John, scarcely a mile and a half away. The low, adobe brick fort was unimposing, but to the pioneers who had not seen a sign of human habitation for six hundred miles, it was like viewing the City of Enoch. Brigham Young quickly launched the Revenue Cutter, and with William Clayton and Hosea Stout he paid a visit to the fort. When William and Hosea returned near sunset a few hours later, Hosea's face was a rigid mask.

Jessie looked at him. "What's wrong?" she said anxiously.

Hosea tried to mask his feelings, but to no avail.

"He's alive, and he's here", he said, turning his face away.

"Who? Who's alive?" Jessie said, then gasped. "No!"

"Yes", he said, taking her by the shoulders. "Major John Frémont is right here at Fort John, or Fort Laramie as they call it now."

"How soon can I see him? How is he? How did he get here?" she said excitedly.

"I think you'd best ask him, not me", Hosea said cautiously. "If you want, we can ferry you over there immediately."

She ran straight to the Revenue Cutter and climbed in, and George A. Smith and Hosea pushed the leather boat into the swiftly moving current and jumped in too. George took the oars, and Hosea steered them through the maze of shoals, channels and sand bars to the opposite bank.

As soon as the boat grounded, Jessie jumped out and waded up the sandy bank, followed by the two men. Waiting to meet them was James Bordeaux, captain of the American Fur Company which had recently bought out Fort John and renamed it Fort Laramie.

Bordeaux hustled them up the bank and toward the fort's entrance. "Vous êtes Frémont's wo-man?" he said as he hurried them along. "Mon Dieu, vous avez journeyed a long dees-tance to see heem! We haf bes' entrer ze fort bee-fore dark, so zee Crows ne nous entrapper."

Fort Laramie was enclosed in a rectangular wall of adobe brick, 168 feet long and 116 feet in width. Within the walls were eighteen buildings – the nearest thing to a "city" between St. Joseph, Missouri and Willamette, Oregon. The fort was occupied by a mix of French, Indians, half-breeds and soldiers, currently about forty five in number.

Bordeaux escorted them up an outside flight of stairs to an upper room of one of the buildings and opened the door. Brigham Young and an Army Corporal stood up to meet them. Lying on a bed was Major John C. Frémont , his right arm and torso swathed in bandages and his face scarred and powder-burned. His gaunt eyes were sunk deep in his head, and his skin was pale and drawn.

William Clayton thought, Sure'en this canna be the same man 'at I saw at th' Capitol in January!

Frémont raised his head and stared in disbelief at the doorway.

"Jessie?" he rasped. "What ah' you doin' heah? How did you get heah?" He glanced over at William Clayton, and a vague recollection set in.

"Capitol... Washington... So long ago. We met, did we not?"

"Yes, you introduced us t' your father in law, Senator Benton", said William.

Frémont sank back onto the bed and closed his eyes. "Damn you Mormons... stole my wife... Shanghaied her off to Nauvoo..." His voice faded.

Jessie rushed sobbing to his side and knelt by the bed. "John, what happened to you? Who done this to you?" but Frémont didn't respond.

Brigham Young cleared his throat. "Excuse me Mrs., er, Jessie. This is Corporal Charles Preuss, one of Major Frémont's company. Perhaps he can enlighten you."

"Yes, ah know him", said Jessie, turning to the Corporal. "Charles, what happened?"

"We were ambushed by Crow Injuns 'long the South Platte, near Long's Peak", said Preuss. "They own this land, or leastways think they do. Major Frémont fought bravely but took an arrow in the bowels. The doctor cain't remove the arrowhead, and he's mortifying inside."

"What about the rest of your men? Vincenthaler, Saunders?" said Jessie.

"All dead", said Preuss. "Crentzfeldt, Brackenridge, Williams, the whole party... dead. The Major an' I were both wounded, but we played dead 'til dark an' then crawled away. We walked near onto fifty miles to get here, an' I carried the Major most of the last ten."

Jessie said through her tears, "Thank you, Charles. And John?"

"He hasn't long to live, Jessie. Hours, maybe days. I'm very sorry."

Jessie looked around the room. "Ah would like to be alone with the Major if you please", she declared.

"I'll be just outside if you need me", Hosea said somewhat awkwardly, as the room began to empty.

When they were alone, Jessie took John's hand and rubbed it. He stirred and opened his eyes and said weakly,

"Jessie? In truth yo' still heah?"

"Yes John, ah'm here." She told him about finding the flag and recognizing it as his.

"Ah prayed you here, Jessie... Just about this time yesterday, afta' we arrived at the fort, ah was wishin' at you could know of ma comfo't an' at yo' mind would be at ease."

"John, ah did know! At that moment ah knew, just as plain as day!"

John said, "But why ah' you out heah on th' Oregon Trail with these Mormons? What've they done to poison yo' mind?"

She thought for a moment. "John, listen to me. Ah loved you, and ah still love you. But you were never around. Ah needed a full-time husband, an' Lily needed a father. Ah also realized that there was more to life than fancy balls an' Washington receptions, an' that life could have a purpose. Ah can't explain it to you now, but these Mormons showed me a better way of life, a hope an' a promise stronger than the bands of death."

Her voice choked on these last words.

"Ah understand duty an' honor to ma God an' country", he whispered. "Ah think ah understand what yo' sayin', perhaps, a little..." his voice faded.

During the night, as John Frémont faded in and out, Jessie talked with him about old times; about their secret marriage and elopement, and how her father used her to translate secret Spanish documents for the State Department during the Amistad affair. She carefully avoided telling him about Lily's death. At one point John asked her,

"An' what became of the expedition journal?"

"It's all complete", she said proudly. "The Senate has authorized a printin' of ten thousand copies, to be published by Gales an' Seaton in Washington. In fact, we used a copy of yo' draft to get us to here."

John was pleased at this news.

Jessie finally emerged from the room at about three a.m.

"He's gone", she said wearily to Hosea and Brigham.

FORT LARAMIE, Saturday, April 12

Major John Charles Frémont was buried with full military honors this day. A small honor guard escorted his coffin to the cemetery just to the south, between Fort Laramie and the ruins of old Fort Pueblo. During the early morning the remainder of the Camp of Israel had been ferried across the river, and about sixty persons attended the funeral. Brigham Young dedicated the grave, and Frémont's close friend Charles Preuss gave a brief eulogy.

"John Charles Frémont was born January 21, 1813 in Savannah, Georgia." said Preuss. "His father died when John was five years old, an' the family then moved to Charleston. He was ever the Southern gentleman, an' put honor an' duty to country afore all else. He had a brief career in the Navy, after which he joined the U.S. Topographical Corps with the rank of Second Lieutenant. In 1838 he joined Jean Nicollet's expedition to what is now the Iowa Territory. He was skilled in geology, topography, an' astronomy, an' a fearless explorer an' adventurer. I consider it the greatest privilege of my life to've been with him on two of his expeditions. Generations to come will thank Major John Frémont for puttin' a face on these endless expanses betwixt the Missouri River an' the Pacific Ocean."

The honor guard fired a three-gun salute. Jessie Benton Frémont Stout threw a bouquet of primrose and goldenrod on the coffin, and then the soldiers began filling in the grave.

Later that day, a small wagon train rolled into Fort Laramie. The members of the Camp of Israel were eager for news from the east, so they hailed these newcomers warmly – that is, until they learned that the wagon train was from Missouri, and included some of the Mormons' bitterest enemies.

When the new immigrants arrived, Porter Rockwell was working in the blacksmith shop, shoeing a mule. He stepped outside for a moment to cool off and came face to face with his old nemesis, Lilburn W. Boggs.

Both men stood stock-still in astonishment for a moment, then they took a step backwards.

"You bloodthirsty, murdering puke!" Porter shrieked.

"You lowdown, sneaking assassin!" Boggs replied.

Rockwell lunged at Boggs, and both men fell in a heap inside the doorway of the blacksmith shop. Boggs' son William jumped in and pulled Porter off of his father, then Return Jackson Redden waded into the brawl. Porter was holding a pair of blacksmith's tongs that he had been using to shoe his mule, and he took a vicious swipe at Boggs with them. Just then, Boggs' wife Panthea came to the door, recognized Porter and began screaming hysterically. At that, Brigham Young came running into the shop and attempted to break up the fight, with assistance from Redden. Together they succeeded in restraining Porter.

"Port, stand down..." Brigham said calmly, as Porter writhed in his grip. "No one is being exterminated today, leastways if I have any say in it."

The Boggs family and the Mormons withdrew to opposite sides of the blacksmith shop, while Brigham and Redden carefully pried the blacksmith's tongs from Porter's upstretched hand.

"I din't shoot him!" Porter bawled. "Why don't anyone believe me? He's the assassin here!"

"No one is saying you did, Port. Let's all just go back to our camps and cool off a bit", said Brigham.

The Boggs family beat a hasty retreat, looking fearfully over their shoulders as they exited the shop.

"You two are both restricted to the wagons", said Brigham, as he finally released his grip on Porter. "And I want you, Redden, to keep an eye on Mr. Rockwell to make sure he obeys. I want no bloodshed here, from either party."

WASHINGTON, Saturday, April 12

Young Joseph brought the mail up to the second floor of the Executive Mansion at about one p.m. and handed it to his mother. On top of the stack was an elegantly printed invitation. Emma eagerly broke the wax seal and held the letter up, as her husband read over her shoulder:

Washington City

April 8, 1845

To General Joseph Smith and his lady,

I have the distinct pleasure of requesting your presence

at a showing of

Richard III, by William Shakespeare

Featuring the renowned English thespian

Junius Brutus Booth

April the 14th, 1845 at seven p.m.

At the National Theater, Washington.

General Zachary Taylor

Emma squealed and clapped her hands. "Oh, Joseph how splendid!" she cried. "I hear the National Theater is the most elegant place of its kind in the nation. We shall have a marvelous evening, you and I!"

Joseph smiled. "Indeed we shall, my dear. I feel the need to unstring my bow for a spell. I think I shall invite Mr. Lincoln, as well."

FORT LARAMIE, Sunday, April 13

At about two in the morning, Brigham Young suddenly awoke to the sound of someone screaming. It appeared to be coming from the opposite side of the fort, where the Boggs wagon train was camped.

Brigham sprang from his bed under the wagon and scanned the night sky, as the screaming continued. The adobe fort was blocking his view, but he could see flames rising from behind several buildings. Now others were waking up and staring as the crackling flames lit the night sky.

Brigham took off at a full pelt around the corner of the sutler's store, followed closely by Thomas Bullock and Porter Rockwell. As they came in full view of the west side of the stockade, they were horrified to see one of the Boggs party's wagons in full flame.

By now the screaming from the wagon had stopped and the flames were subsiding. With a soft whump the charred wagon box collapsed, spilling its incinerated contents on the ground in a pile of ash and charred wood.

Brigham recognized William Boggs standing near the remains of the wagon. William had thrown a blanket around his mother Panthea to smother the flames from her burning clothes. She was sitting on the ground near the wagon, shrieking hysterically.

"Lilburn, Lilburn, come back! Speak to me! Say you're all right!"

Brigham made a wary sideways glance at Porter, who shrugged his shoulders and waved his hands in a sign of innocence. Just then the wagon master, William H. Russell, approached them.

"What happened?" said Brigham.

Russell replied, "We think Boggs fell'ta sleep with a lit lantern in 'is wagon. Who knows, he mout'a tipped it o'er, er sumat... poor wretch, burned to a cinder..."

Brigham Young breathed a mental sigh of relief that none of the Mormons were culpable.

"I'm so sorry", he said. "Is there anything we can do?"

"Nah, we'll bury 'im heah, then press on" said Russell. "'Devil take the hindmost', an' all 'at, an' no offence, but we gotta keep movin on to Orygon'... Lordy, I cain't believe how fast 'at wagon lit up, jist whoomph..."

At dawn, Lilburn W. Boggs was buried in the cemetery south of the fort. After a short ceremony, which the Saints did not attend, the Russell wagon train left Fort Laramie.

At noon Brigham Young conducted a brief sacrament service in the small adobe chapel at Fort Laramie. Jessie had invited Corporal Preuss to attend the meeting, and afterwards Brigham Young pulled him aside and said,

"Mr. Preuss, what do you plan to do now?"

"I dunno..." said Preuss. "There's still a heap'o wilderness to explore out here, but I sure ain't doin' it on my own, not after what the Major and I went through."

"Then join us", said Brigham. "We could use a good scout, and you've been to the Great Salt Lake and know the way better than anyone. Will you consider it?"

"Indeed I will..." said Preuss, after thinking for a moment. "Consider it a done deal, Mr. Young." The two men shook hands on it.

WASHINGTON, Monday, April 14

Joseph and Emma arrived at the National Theater at about 6:30 p.m.

Joseph had shed his stuffy army uniform for the evening in favor of a black silk swallow-tail coat, top hat, white kid gloves, and a starched white shirt with a collar that nearly reached to his ears.

He tugged uncomfortably at the stiff collar. "I feel as if I'm peeking over the bow of a steamboat", he said to Emma. She was wearing an elegant blue silk dress with a ruffled lace collar. Her dark hair hung in long ringlets, and she was wearing a pearl and silver necklace loaned to her by Mrs. Tyler.

"Now, don't fuss", she replied as Joseph helped her step down from the carriage. "The cream of Washington society will be here tonight. We want to look our best, do we not?"

"The cream..." Joseph said, as they entered the lobby. "I would gladly trade this 'cream' for the corn pone and skimmings of Nauvoo. Ah, there he is."

Abraham Lincoln approached them and shook Joseph's hand, then he bowed awkwardly to Emma. Lincoln was wearing a tall beaver hat that must have reached well over seven feet into the air, perched on his already lofty head.

Emma blushed. "Mr. Lincoln, you needn't fold yourself in two for me. I believe we have already been introduced."

She noticed General Zachary Taylor and Mr. Dallas approaching from across the foyer.

"Ah, General Taylor", she said. "So kind of you to invite us to the theater this evening!"

General Zachary Taylor bowed stiffly. "Madame Smith, the honor is mine. Permit me to introduce to you my youngest daughter, Mary Elizabeth. I regret that my wife Margaret is indisposed this evening."

Emma said politely, "Tell me General, are you a fancier of Shakespeare?"

"Actually, Mr. Dallas and his wife Sophia here deserve the credit", said Taylor, motioning to Vice-President George Dallas and his wife.

"As ambassador to the Court of Russia, I fell madly in love with the theater", said Dallas. "Goodness knows, there was little else there to occupy our time during those endlessly dreary winter months. When Mr. Polk told me that he was unable to attend this evening, I fairly leapt at the opportunity. Come, I will take you backstage and introduce you to Mr. Booth."

None of the group paid any notice to a tall, slender man across the lobby from them. The man kept his back to them as much as possible, while carefully following their movements out of the corner of his eye.

Mr. Dallas escorted the party down a side hall to the dressing rooms. Junius Brutus Booth was just leaving his dressing room as the group arrived backstage.

"Ah, Mr. Dallas, dovre viecher!" Booth said in Russian as he wrapped his arms around Dallas in a bear hug.

Booth was a tall, solidly-built man, and he cut a striking figure with his full head of curly black hair and bushy mustache. He was wearing a breastplate and 16th century "balloon" pants, and he had a wooden sword hanging from his belt.

"Zdrastvuychen!" replied Dallas, turning to his friends. "I met Mr. Booth in St. Petersburg some years ago when he was touring the continent. Junius, permit me to introduce General Zachary Taylor and his daughter Mary Elizabeth, Mr. Abraham Lincoln, General Joseph Smith and his lovely wife, Emma. I believe you have met my wife, Sophia."

Emma noticed a small boy peeking shyly around Mr. Booth. "And who might this be?" she asked.

Junius Booth smiled and looked down. "Why, this is my son, John. He helps me backstage with the costumes and curtains, and is nine years old. Say hello to the nice gentlemen and ladies, son."

"Hello", John Wilkes Booth said timidly, then he bowed to them and hid behind his father again.

"What a charming lad!" said Lincoln.

The elder Booth noticed that the stage hands were beginning to extinguish the gas lamps.

"Quickly!" he said. "To your seats! Tonight I shall present to you a King Richard for the ages!"

The group exited the backstage area and climbed a steep flight of stairs to a box overlooking the stage. Joseph assisted Emma with her skirts as she carefully maneuvered her way up the stairs. The view from the box was splendid.

"Oh, Joseph..." Emma breathed. "What a beautiful theater!"

"I must allow as that this takes a bit of the shine off our Masonic Hall in Nauvoo", Joseph replied in admiration.

"Shh!" whispered Mrs. Dallas. "They're beginning!"

The man in the lobby moved nonchalantly toward the main floor seating, glanced cautiously up at the balcony, then quietly slipped into the side hall that led to the balcony. He glanced down the darkened hall.

"Hotspur" thought: No guards. Good.

The curtain rose on Act I Scene I, revealing a street in London. Booth, who was playing the hunchbacked Richard, hobbled onstage and struck a dramatic pose:

"Now is the winter of our discontent

Made glorious summer by this sun of York;

And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;

Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;

Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings,

Our dreadful marches to delightful measures."

General Taylor leaned over to Joseph and whispered, "What a fitting play on words, and how applicable to our nation at this moment of victory!"

Hotspur pulled out a derringer and a knife and slowly started climbing the stairs to the balcony.

Booth continued:

"Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front,

And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds

To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,

He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber

To the lascivious pleasing of a lute."

Hotspur paused at the top of the stairs and raised a hand to the curtains which separated him from the balcony seating. Slowly, carefully he peered through the gap in the curtains. He could discern about seven persons in the box, four of them men.

Booth continued:

"Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,

By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams,

To set my brother Clarence and the King

In deadly hate the one against the other;

And if King Edward be as true and just

As I am subtle, false, and treacherous,

This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up-

About a prophecy which says that "G"

Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be."

"You there, what're you doing?" a young voice spoke from the foot of the stairs.

Hotspur whirled around and saw a young stage hand staring up at him from below. Quickly, he tore the curtains aside, glanced at the group of heads silhouetted in front of him and thought desperately,

Which one is he?

The stage hand was ascending the stairs, and several people in the box were beginning to stir. Desperate, Hotspur singled out a man's head and fired. The man slumped to the side and fell off of his chair, and Emma and Sophia screamed. The flash and the boom from the derringer momentarily dazed everyone, as a cloud of smoke filled the box.

Hotspur was just cocking the hammer on the second barrel of his derringer when the stage hand reached the top of the landing and charged him with a yell. He was a boy of about nine years, and Hotspur had little trouble fending him off with one hand as he entered the box.

The women were still screaming, and the commotion was starting to spread throughout the theater. In the darkness, smoke and confusion, it was quite impossible to tell who was who.

Two of the men in the box stood and turned to face their attacker, who noticed the shock etched in their faces.

"Who are you?" the taller one exclaimed. Hotspur raised his pistol to fire, but just at that moment he was struck from behind at the knees by young John Wilkes Booth. The tall man made a leap over the chairs and desperately seized Hotspur's pistol arm. The two men struggled, and the pistol discharged into the ceiling.

Dazed again by the flash, Hotspur slashed at the man's arm with his knife, and he fell back with a cry. Now a man wearing a long officer's frock coat was wading into the fray. Hotspur leaped over the chairs as the officer made a vicious swing at him with his sword. Then a third man struck him from behind.

By now, it was obvious to Hotspur that the tables were turning. He broke free of the two men holding him and threw himself at the railing of the box overlooking the stage. He grabbed the railing and turned back for a moment to face his opponents, still waving his knife to warn them off.

"Sic semper tyrannis, the South is avenged!" he snarled.

He quickly straddled the railing and hung by his hands for a moment, then he made a desperate leap for the stage below.

Hotspur had time for just one fleeting thought: Who was that I plugged? before Junius Booth furiously charged him with his wooden sword. Wooden or no, it was more than a match for Hotspur's small dirk. With a resounding crack, Booth's sword connected with Hotspur's head, and he fell to the stage, stunned. The audience roared its approval as Booth struck him on the head again, and just before he passed out, Hotspur looked up to see three soldiers mounting the stage to assist in his capture.
CHAPTER 42

WASHINGTON, Monday, April 14, evening

As the gas lights came up in the National Theater, the pandemonium slowly subsided. "Hotspur" was sprawled unconscious on the stage, surrounded by soldiers. Sophia Dallas was kneeling over the body of her husband George, weeping hysterically. The Vice-President had been killed instantly by Hotspur's first shot. Emma Smith and Mary Taylor were trying to comfort Sophia, to no avail.

Abraham Lincoln righted one of the overturned chairs and sat down heavily, holding his right arm to stop the bleeding. Joseph Smith picked himself up off the floor, where the assailant's last charge had thrown him. General Taylor sheathed his sword and came over to examine the lifeless body of the Vice-President. He looked down at him mournfully, shook his head and intoned,

"Poor, poor Dallas – to be appointed, but never serve..."

Lincoln turned to Joseph Smith and said,

"Does anyone know who that man was? Or who he was after?"

"I do", said Joseph Smith. "His name is Joseph Jackson, and he once wormed his way into my confidence. He was in the mob at Carthage last year that killed my brother, and is a desperado of the worst sort. I can only assume that I was the target here."

Joseph sadly looked down at the lifeless form of Mr. Dallas, then up at Sophia. He wept.

"I am so sorry, Mrs. Dallas. I would gladly trade places with your husband in an instant, if only I could."

WASHINGTON, Tuesday, April 15

The news of the assassination of Vice-President Dallas spread quickly throughout Washington. Kendall's Expositor printed the following extra, wreathed in black:

VICE-PRESIDENT ASSASSINATED

THE MURDERER, A SOUTHERN CONSPIRATOR, IS CAPTURED

Vice-President George Mifflin Dallas was brutally murdered at the National Theater at about 8 o'clock last night. His assailant, a Missourian named Jackson, crept unawares into the presidential box and fired point-blank, killing Mr. Dallas instantly during a performance of Richard III.

Jackson was quickly apprehended, largely due to the able assistance of the distinguished thespian Mr. Junius Brutus Booth, who was playing the part of Richard III, and his young son, John Wilkes Booth. Security has no doubt been redoubled around President-elect Polk and other high government officials. We can only assume that this cold-blooded murder was part of a Southern conspiracy to unseat the lawfully elected government of our fair country.

Accompanying Mr. Dallas in the box were General Joseph Smith, General Zachary Taylor, and a friend of Gen. Smith by the name of Lincoln.

Gens. Smith, Taylor and Mr. Dallas' wives were also present to view the horrid deed. Mrs. Dallas was nearly insensible with grief, and was seen to faint dead away several times as her husband's lifeless corpse was carried off.

We have been informed that President-elect Polk and his wife were planning to attend the theater, but declined because of the press of affairs incident to the inauguration. While the nation mourns for Mr. Dallas' widow and family, we can only be thankful that Mr. Polk withdrew at the last instant.

When Major Mark Aldrich heard the news in Alexandria, he cursed in frustration.

"Damn, he was so close", he muttered as he read the headlines. "But Jackson was too timid by far. It'll take more 'an a derringer and a dirk to put ol' Joe Smith underground, or the new President, for that matter."

WASHINGTON, Wednesday, April 16

Vice-President George Dallas' body lay in state in the Rotunda of the Capitol Building. Thousands came to pay their respects, and President-elect Polk gave a eulogy. He observed that:

"Mr. Dallas has done much during his brief tenure as Vice-President to heal the schisms that have beset our nation of late. Previous to his appointment as Vice-President, he distinguished himself in a long and noteworthy career in the foreign service of our country. As our Union embarks on a new era of freedom, we shall sorely miss his able services in our behalf."

Abraham Lincoln, having secured his affidavits for the trial of the assassins of Hyrum Smith, returned to Illinois. In parting, he said to Joseph,

"From time to time in my life, I've had presentiments of death. But that 'sperience in th' National Theater has shook me to the core. Were it not for that young boy – Booth, was that his name? You or I mought not be here today. Farewell, Joseph."

At Forts Middoni, Ammonihah, Gideon, Moronihah, Nephihah, and Alma, surrounding Washington, the various units that had served in the southern campaign lined up to receive their pay prior to mustering out. Major Mark Aldrich and his Warsaw Independents also quietly slipped into the line at Fort Alma, in Alexandria.

"I figger Cousin Jonathan owes us for trompin' all over the Appalachians these last three months", he said to his two Captains, Jacob Davis and William Grover. "After we collect our pay, we can finally settle our scores here an' git home."

PLATTE RIVER, Wednesday, April 16

This day, the pioneers came to their last and most difficult crossing of the Platte River. This part of the river was quite different from the gentle, meandering stream the pioneers had started following six hundred miles to the east. Brigham Young took one look at the roiling, hundred-yard wide torrent and said reluctantly,

"Well, we'll never succeed unless we try. Launch the Revenue Cutter."

Six men carefully lifted the boat off of its wagon and carried it over to the shallows. Dimick Huntington and Shadrach Roundy climbed into the boat and each took hold of an oar, while the other men helped them push off. On this first crossing, there would be no cargo – just a guide rope, which they hoped to secure to trees on both banks of the river.

Brigham Young watched anxiously from the riverbank as the two men pulled on their oars. It was soon obvious that the river was much stronger than they had expected.

"Lay into it! Harder, Shad!" cried Dimick, as they were quickly swept downstream.

"Turn it! Turn it upstream!" replied Shadrach, as the boat rocked dangerously in the current.

"No! I'm trying to reach the far bank there, not New Orleans, you fool!" Dimick shouted back.

Neither man noticed the huge cottonwood snag that was bearing down on them. It rammed the side of the boat with a loud thump and spun them around so the bow of the boat was momentarily pointing upstream. Dimick looked down at his knees in astonishment and saw a chunk of wood the size of his leg poking through the side of the fragile boat.

"No, not again!" Dimick cried, as muddy water began to trickle in through the torn leather.

The boat and the snag continued their slow pirouette until the snag was on the downstream side, when it pulled itself loose from the boat with a loud goosh and continued serenely on its way down the river. With the hole now unplugged, the boat quickly began to fill with water.

"Reel them in!" Brigham cried, and the men on shore began pulling furiously on the guide rope. Shadrack had just enough presence of mind left to secure his end of the line around the bow davit, and in a few minutes the nearly submerged boat was towed ashore.

Dimick and Shadrach emerged from the Revenue Cutter, soggy and exhausted. Dimick squatted down and looked at the huge hole in the side of the boat and said in disgust,

"Well, that just caps it. Brigham, you shoulda' known better'n to trust me with another boat, after I killed the Hyrum Smith on a snag. Guess the only thing I'm good for now is collecting firewood – big chunks of it."

The rest of the company gathered around to view the damage.

"Can't we just stitch another piece of leather over the hole?" said Clarissa.

"It's not that easy", Orson Pratt replied. "The boat was constructed from whole oxhides tightly stretched over a wooden frame. You can't just sew a patch onto it, like you would a pair of trousers. It would quickly tear loose, making the rend just that much the worse – like new wine in old bottles, so to speak."

"Ah have an idea", said Jessie. She walked up to her wagon and pulled out the India-rubber sheet. She cut off two pieces, each about a foot square, and brought them back down to the river.

"It's better than leather", she said as she showed the material to Brigham Young. "It's flexible and quite waterproof."

"Shoot, it's worth a try", Dimick said glumly.

Appleton Harmon got out his tentmaker's kit and went to work on the patch. He carefully punched holes in the leather with his awl, then he stitched the India-rubber patches to the leather with his long, curved needles, both inside and out. The tough old shoe-leather was difficult to work with, and before long he was complaining about his cracked and bleeding fingers.

"Ol' Ira Eldredge really made a piece of work here", he grumbled. "Little did he know, when he was ferrying his family across the Mississippi and Missouri rivers in this tub, that it would end up in the tops of the Rocky Mountains."

In about an hour the Revenue Cutter looked almost as good as new. "Now fo' the piece de resistance", said Jessie. She had been heating a soldering iron in a small fire next to the boat. She carefully lifted the hot iron out of the fire and deftly ran it around the edges of the rubber patch, which sizzled and smoked under her touch. When she had finished, the rubber was permanently bonded to the leather.

"There you ah', better than new!" she said, throwing down the iron and admiring her handiwork.

WASHINGTON, Thursday, April 17

In the forenoon Joseph Smith met with Hiram Kimball and Congressman William P. Richards of Illinois. The two men had traveled to Washington to consult with Joseph about the disposition of lands in and around Nauvoo. Hiram Kimball was one of the original inhabitants of Commerce, and one of the largest landholders in Hancock County. Congressman Richards hoped to place several proposals before Congress that might aid the Mormons in their exodus to the West.

Meanwhile, preparations continued in Washington for the Grand Review and Inauguration to be held in the afternoon. Almost every Army and Navy unit that had participated in the war was camped out on the city's outskirts, preparing for the long procession down Pennsylvania Avenue. All along the great tree-lined thoroughfare, the excitement mounted as dignitaries and common folk gathered to welcome home the soldiers.

President-elect Polk and his wife Sarah would review the troops from a viewing stand which had been built in front of the Capitol Building, at the southeast end of Pennsylvania Avenue. Joseph Smith and his family preferred to view the procession from the Executive Mansion, at the northwest end of the Avenue. Joseph was in full regalia, wearing his Lieutenant Generals' uniform – hopefully for the last time, he mentioned several times to Emma. With them on the balcony were Hiram Kimball, Congressman William P. Richards, and General Zachary Taylor.

At three in the afternoon the great procession finally got underway. Soldiers from every state north of the Mason-Dixon line proudly marched north on 17th Street, turned right on E Street Northwest, and then passed in front of the Executive Mansion before turning southeast on Pennsylvania Avenue.

At the head of the procession were many of the units that had distinguished themselves in the war – the New York and Massachusetts 4th, 7th and 8th Volunteer Regiments, the Illinois 9th or "Mormon" Battalion, and the 4th Vermont Regiment which had saved the day at Port Royal. Last of all, the Illinois 2nd Cavalry – The Warsaw Independents – swung into line and blended in with the other units at the end of the procession.

If this works out, we'll be the heroes here, not those stuffed shirts viewing us from the Capitol steps, Major Mark Aldrich thought.

At about four p.m. the head of the parade finally reached the corner of E Street and turned east toward the Executive Mansion. Joseph, Emma and the children were viewing the whole spectacle from the south portico, just outside the Blue Room. Young Joseph, Julia, Frederick, and Alexander watched excitedly, while Emma tended to little David in a cradle next to her.

At the head of the procession was General Stephen W. Kearny, mounted on a fine white stallion. Behind him, the band struck up "Hail Columbia", and the soldiers swung left and then right around the Ellipse, directly in front of the southern side of the Mansion.

"Eyes left!" cried General Kearny, raising his sword. He and his men executed a crisp salute, and Joseph Smith and General Taylor returned the salute from the portico.

"Oh, Joseph, what a singular honor!" Emma said as she beamed at him. "I'm so proud of you."

"Papa, will they hang your picture up there now, next to George Washington's?" asked young Joseph.

His father smiled. "No son, but I hope they will at least think better of me after we return to Nauvoo."

A few minutes later, the Mormon Battalion came in sight. As Lieutenant Colonel Stephen Markham led his men past the Executive Mansion, he grinned up at Joseph and saluted him. Joseph grinned and saluted back at him.

"Those are my boys, Emma!" he said, pointing excitedly. "Hurrah for Zion!" he cried, and waved his hat in the air.

The Battalion band struck up "The Spirit of God" as they made their way around the Ellipse and back towards Pennsylvania Avenue.

The long procession of brass bands, rifle companies, cavalry troops, and sailors continued on for miles. The throngs lining the streets shouted hurrah after hurrah, the women threw flowers, and young boys followed the parade, lighting firecrackers and throwing them. As General Kearny and the van of the parade reached the western portico of the Capitol Building, they formed up as units on the Mall to hear their new President address them from the viewing stand.

At the northwest end of Pennsylvania Avenue, the Warsaw Independent Battalion was just making the turn onto the Ellipse in front of the Executive Mansion. Major Aldrich carefully slowed his men's pace as they approached the building. As he was leading his company, Aldrich failed to notice that one of his mounted officers had peeled off and spurred his horse southeast across the Ellipse, towards Constitution Avenue.

THE CAPITOL, Thursday, April 17, 5:00 pm

Promptly at five o'clock, President-elect James K. Polk stood and approached the podium. Chief Justice Roger B. Taney placed George Washington's Bible on the podium, then Polk laid his left hand on it and raised his right hand. He intoned after the Chief Justice:

"I, James Knox Polk, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States, so help me God."

Out at the west end of the Mall, a signal cannon spoke with a thunderous BOOM.

The Marine Band played four ruffles and flourishes, then they struck up "Hail to the Chief". Earlier in the day, former First Lady Julia Tyler had specifically requested that this tune be performed at the inauguration.

The new President of the United States looked out over the vast throng and cleared his throat.

"Fellow-Citizens:

"Without solicitation on my part, I have been chosen by the free and voluntary suffrages of my countrymen to the most honorable and most responsible office on earth. I am deeply impressed with gratitude for the confidence reposed in me. Honored with this distinguished consideration at an earlier period of life than any of my predecessors, I can not disguise the diffidence with which I am about to enter on the discharge of my official duties."

"What a pompous windbag", Lyman Wight whispered to Levi Hancock.

President Polk continued:

"... The Constitution itself, plainly written as it is, the safeguard of our federative compact, the offspring of concession and compromise, binding together in the bonds of peace and union this great and increasing family of free and independent States, will be the chart by which I shall be directed."

THE EXECUTIVE MANSION, Thursday, April 17, 5:00 pm

As the Warsaw Militia turned onto the Ellipse, Major Aldrich gave the signal to his bandmaster, and his fifers and drummers struck up "The Hebrew Children" – the same ditty they had played and sung at Carthage Jail the year previous. He marched his men onto the south lawn, directly opposite the south portico. Then he looked straight up and locked eyes with Joseph Smith. Joseph's face froze, and he stepped back from the railing a pace.

No, it can't be, not now... he thought.

Aldrich's mind raced too. Why, this is just too perfect. It's old Joe Smith himself, not fifty paces from me!

He turned and faced his soldiers and announced, "Men, there's been a small change of plans". He began outlining his secret "plan" to them.

THE CAPITOL, Thursday, April 17, 5:05 pm

President Polk continued his speech:

"It will be my first care to administer the government in the true spirit of that instrument, and to assume no powers not expressly granted or clearly implied in its terms. The Government of the United States is one of delegated and limited powers, and it is by a strict adherence to the clearly granted powers and by abstaining from the exercise of doubtful or unauthorized implied powers that we have the only sure guaranty against the recurrence of those unfortunate collisions between the Federal and State authorities which have occasionally so much disturbed the harmony of our system and even threatened the perpetuity of our glorious Union."

THE EXECUTIVE MANSION, Thursday, April 17, 5:05 pm

"Joseph, what is it?" said Emma. "You look as if you'd seen a ghost."

"I have..." said Joseph.

He quickly started gathering his flock and herding them toward the French doors leading to the Blue Room. Emma was still protesting as he thrust little David into her arms and pushed her through the door.

"I don't have time to explain", he said quickly. He took his eldest son by the shoulders, locked eyes with him and said firmly,

"Joseph, I want you to run down this hallway and make a beeline for the Capitol Building where the inauguration is underway. Look for the Mormon Battalion guidon, and find Stephen Markham! Tell him the Mansion is under attack by Major Aldrich. Do you understand? Aldrich! Stephen will understand."

Young Joseph swallowed hard and replied, "By Aldrich. Yes, Papa". He ran off down the cross hall and through the doors into the East Room, then out the east door of the Mansion.

Joseph turned to Emma and said,

"Emma, I want you to take the other children and hide downstairs. Do you recall that pantry door you found in the ground-floor kitchen? Go quickly, and don't come up until I come for you. Quickly! Now!"

He shooed Emma and the children, still protesting, out the main door of the Blue Room, then he turned back to face the three bewildered men and said,

"Gentlemen, the enemy is at the gate. Whether any of us shall survive this day, only God knows."

General Taylor sputtered, "But Joseph, what on earth are you alarmed about? Those are United States Army soldiers out there, sworn to defend us!"

Joseph tersely replied, "Zachary, do you recall that battalion that deserted en masse from General Kearny's army back in February? They not only deserted, they went over to the enemy side. They also happen to be the same militia that tried to kill my brother Hyrum and me in Carthage last summer. Now, is that reason enough to be alarmed?"

Young Joseph dashed out the east doors of the Mansion and ran through the gardens and across the east lawn. Behind him, he could hear the crackling of musket fire. He ran south on Executive Avenue, east on E Street Northwest past the Willard Hotel, then he turned south to Pennsylvania Avenue. As he paused for breath and glanced down the long, ramrod-straight avenue thronged with people, his heart sank. He still had nearly a mile and a half to go to the Capitol Building.

What if I can't find Stephen Markham in time in all this crowd? he desperately thought.

WASHINGTON, Thursday, April 17, 5:07 pm

As his horse cantered east along Constitution Avenue, Canfield Hamilton thought about the diabolical plan that Aldrich had divulged to him in Alexandria, earlier this day. For months, as he marched and rode the length of the Appalachians with the Warsaw Independents, Canfield had dreamed of the day when, for the first time in his life, he could actually view the Capitol Building and the Executive Mansion. As a hotelier, he had a deep reverence for this "national hotel" and its storied forty-year history.

Canfield had participated reluctantly in Aldrich's banditti raids on innocent villages along the Appalachians, and had been initiated into the "Order" against his will. For the past month or so, he had been looking for a way to quietly slip away from Aldrich's renegades. And firmly fixed in his mind was that June day the year before, when many of his fellow soldiers had plotted the assassination of Joseph and Hyrum Smith in Canfield's own hotel in Warsaw.

Not on my watch, by God... General Joe Smith, whatever his strange religious leanings, has saved this nation from itself. He deserves our honor, not our bullets. Now, how do I go about raising the alarm? Who can I trust here?

THE CAPITOL, Thursday, April 17, 5:10 pm

At the Capitol, President Polk continued his speech:

"By the theory of our Government majorities rule, but this right is not an arbitrary or unlimited one. It is a right to be exercised in subordination to the Constitution and in conformity to it. One great object of the Constitution was to restrain majorities from oppressing minorities or encroaching upon their just rights. Minorities have a right to appeal to the Constitution as a shield against such oppression. Beneath its benign sway peace and prosperity prevail. Freed from the burdens and miseries of war, our trade and intercourse have extended throughout the world. All distinctions of birth or of rank have been abolished. All citizens, whether native or adopted, are placed upon terms of precise equality. All are entitled to equal rights and equal protection. No union exists between church and state, and perfect freedom of opinion is guaranteed to all sects and creeds."

THE EXECUTIVE MANSION, Thursday, April 17, 5:10 pm

Outside the Executive Mansion, Aldrich watched as Joseph Smith disappeared from view on the portico above him. He finished his instructions to his men, then he pointed his sword at the doors to the Diplomatic Reception Room and bellowed,

"Now, men! Charge!"

As if one body, about seventy soldiers lowered their rifles and charged the main entrance to the Mansion. Aldrich led the way, kicking open the doors to the Diplomatic Reception Room. Most of the soldiers charged up the two outside circular stairways to the portico outside the Blue Room.

"Fan out, men!" Aldrich cried. "He might be on the second story som'ere!"

Joseph had hastily escorted his family and his three friends to the main floor stairway. He quickly shoved Emma and his children down the stairs towards the basement, just as he heard footsteps and doors slamming down the hallway. He ran up to the second floor, desperately glanced around and noticed the door to the upstairs Oval Parlor, which was directly above the Blue Room.

"In there!" he whispered to his three companions.

Julia, Alexander and Frederick followed their mother, who was carrying David, down the dark, narrow stairway to the ground floor. The building's architect, James Hoban, had designed this lower floor with a long central corridor with a groined, vaulted ceiling made of whitewashed brick. On either side of the corridor were the furnace room, the kitchen, and other smaller rooms which were used mainly for slave's quarters and for storage. In the center of the corridor was a short cross-hallway connecting the Diplomatic Reception Room to the North Portico.

Emma paused at the bottom of the stairs, her heart trembling, as she heard doors slamming down the corridor. She peeked carefully out into the corridor just as Mark Aldrich disappeared into the furnace room at the far end. She motioned to her children to follow and they quickly tiptoed across the corridor to the kitchen. They quietly entered and closed the kitchen door behind them. There, Emma saw old Ebenezer, the head cook, preparing food for the Inaugural Reception that evening. He looked up at them and exclaimed,

"Wha' Missus Smith! What you doin' heah? An' yo' chillen, too?"

"Shh! Eb! We're playing hide-and-seek" she whispered. "You mustn't tell a soul we're here!"

She quickly herded her children toward the pantry door.

"Sho' nuf, ah unnerstan'!" said Ebenezer, smiling, as they disappeared into the pantry. This was a small, dimly lit room lined with shelves stacked with baskets, pottery urns, crates, barrels of wheat, rice, fish, pork, and other commodities, boxes of silverware, and piles of linen tablecloths and serviettes. Emma quickly threw aside several bales of linen and motioned to her brood.

"In here!" she said. "Quickly, now!"

She handed David to Julia, who burrowed down into the pile of linen along with her brothers. As Emma hastily covered them with the extra linens, she heard pounding at the hallway doors.

THE CAPITOL, Thursday, April 17, 5:10 pm

As Canfield Hamilton pressed his way through the mass of soldiers near the Capitol, he desperately scanned the sky for a familiar insignia.

New York, Massachusetts, Vermont... There's only one other Illinois unit here, and that's the "Mormon" Battalion, he thought. Where are they? The Illinois 9th Regiment, 2nd Battalion?

At the east end of the Mall, Canfield Hamilton finally spotted the 9th Illinois regimental coat of arms, flying just above a white battalion guidon bearing the image of an angel with a trumpet.

Aha... he thought. The Mormons.

He quickly dismounted and ran over to the color-bearer and saluted.

"Sir, Lieutenant Canfield Hamilton, Company G, Illinois 2nd Cavalry!" he said breathlessly.

Major Lyman Wight stared back at him as if he had seen a ghost.

"Ham? What in nation are you doing here?" he said.

"The Executive Mansion is under attack!" Canfield exclaimed.

Lyman continued to stare at him, still uncomprehending. He finally came to his senses, grabbed him by his uniform lapels and said,

"What're you telling me, Canfield?"

"I'm telling you that the Executive Mansion is under attack by the Warsaw militia. I was with them, but I wanted no part of this!"

Stephen Markham and Daniel H. Wells had come up and caught the end of Canfield's dialogue. Lyman Wight released his grip and Canfield fell to the ground with a thud. Lyman quickly turned to Levi Hancock, his bugler, and whispered,

"Pass the word to the mounted men – but quietly. If we don't make it to the Mansion in time, our Prophet is a dead man."

"But, sir, the President...?" replied Levi.

"To hell with the President, we must save our President and Prophet!" Lyman hissed. "Do it now!"

President Polk was just saying:

"... It is a source of deep regret that in some sections of our country misguided persons have occasionally indulged in schemes and agitations – "

At that instant about fifty Mormon Battalion soldiers sprang to their feet and ran for their mounts, which were hitched along Constitution Avenue. Polk tried to continue his speech, but to no avail.

"Ahem, ah, whose object is the destruction of domestic institutions existing in, ah, other sections – other sections, I say! Ah, institutions which existed at the adoption of the Constitution and were recognized and protected by – can someone please tell me what the hell's happening down there?"

Stephen Markham and Lyman Wight led the dash to the hitching posts, sprang to their mounts, and went galloping up Pennsylvania Avenue toward the Executive Mansion.

THE EXECUTIVE MANSION, Thursday, April 17, 5:12 pm

On the second floor of the Mansion, Private Albert J. Myer had been observing the parade from his tiny office near the presidential living quarters, on the south side of the building. He watched in astonishment as Aldrich's men charged up to the portico, and in a moment he heard footsteps on the stairway. A few moments later his door came crashing open and he found himself face to face with a very angry, armed, and breathless Illinois militiaman.

"You there, put your hands up!" Jacob Davis said, panting for breath. "What're you doin' here?"

Private Myer quickly decided to meekly play along.

"I'm a signalman for the army", he replied calmly. "I send an' receive dispatches from the Capitol an' the War Department for the President. May I help you?"

"What'n hell's that thang settin' on your desk?" said Davis, pointing.

"That? Oh, that's the new ee-lectric telygraph", Myer said cheerfully. "Y'see, from this office, I can 'hear' what they're sayin' in the Supreme Court Chamber at the Capitol, an' vicey-versey. Would y' care for a demonstration? Like this, see, you just put your ear right close to it like this, an' if you listen real hard you can hear what Justice Taney is sayin'! Why, even the President can hear what we're sayin' here this very moment, if he's a mind to!"

Jacob Davis pondered the implications of this for an instant, then he set his musket down and reached for the two bare copper wires that led to the telegraph key.

"Not today", he said, pulling on the wires.

"I wouldn't touch those, if I was you", Myer replied.

The instant Davis grasped the wires, he was seized with a fit of trembling, then he stiffened like a board and fell to the floor, dead. The palms of his hands were burned and smoking. Private Myer leaned over to him and said,

"Y'know, they warned us 'bout that in telygraph school."

As he began hearing gunshots down the hallway, he turned back to his desk and quickly tapped out the following message on his electric telegraph:

EXEC MANSION ATTAKD BY ILL MILITIA NEED HELP NOW MYER
CHAPTER 43

THE EXECUTIVE MANSION, Thursday, April 17, 5:13 pm

A shower of musket balls were thrown down the second story cross hall past the door of the Oval Parlor, followed by many rapid footsteps and the sound of doors opening and closing.

"They're coming!" General Taylor cried.

Joseph reached in his coat pocket for his six-shooter, Hiram Kimball for his single barrel pistol, Zachary Taylor drew his sword, and Congressman William P. Richards brandished his cane. Then Hiram and General Taylor closed the door and placed themselves against it, there being no lock on the door.

The door was a solid oak panel, about ten feet in height. Shortly after the footsteps were heard at the head of the stairs, a ball was sent through the door, which passed between Hiram and General Taylor, and showed that their enemies were desperadoes, and that they must change their position.

THE CAPITOL, Thursday, April 17, 5:13 pm

At the other end of Pennsylvania Avenue, President Polk was just hitting his stride again:

"... Has the sword of despots proved to be a safer or surer instrument of reform in government than enlightened reason? Does he expect to find among the ruins of this Union a happier abode for our swarming millions than they now have under it? Every lover of his country must shudder at the thought of the possibility of its dissolution, and will be ready to adopt the patriotic sentiment, 'Our Federal Union – it must be preserved'."

THE EXECUTIVE MANSION, Thursday, April 17, 5:14 pm

"Block the door!" Joseph cried. He and Mr. Richards sprang back to the front part of the room and leaned against the door. Hiram Kimball retreated back in front of the door and snapped his pistol, when a ball struck him in the chest, and he fell on his back on the yellow-carpeted floor saying, "I am a dead man!"

When Hiram fell, Joseph exclaimed, "Oh, dear Brother Hiram!" and opening the door a few inches he discharged his six shooter into the hall, two or three barrels of which missed fire. There were several cries of pain from the hallway, and the shooting paused for a moment.

General Taylor with his saber stood by Joseph's side and knocked down the bayonets and muskets which were constantly discharging through the doorway. Several times, soldiers tried to force the door open, only to be skewered by the General's sword. Mr. Richards stood by him, ready to lend any assistance with his stick, but could not come within striking distance without going directly before the muzzles of the guns.

Down the hall, Private Myer carefully peeked around the frame of his office door and observed the assault on the Oval Parlor. There appeared to be about a dozen men, half of whom were attacking the door, while the other half reloaded. Now, Myer picked up Davis's musket – a short-barreled carbine – shouldered it, and cocked the hammer.

Whoever's in that room down the hall needs my help real bad, he thought. I'll only get one shot with this.

Myer quickly swung the carbine around the door sill, took careful aim at one of the soldiers, and pulled the trigger. There was a flash and a boom, and one of the assailants cried and fell to the floor.

That's it, Myer thought as he ducked back into his office. Now, I'm a dead man.

He bolted the door, grabbed Davis's pistol from the floor, and waited for the counterattack.

A shower of balls was pouring through all parts of the Oval Parlor, many of which lodged in the ceiling above the head of Hiram Kimball. Several shots struck the French gilded-wood chandelier, and shards of wood, glass, and gilt acanthus leaves showered down upon Hiram's body. Splinters flew in all directions from President Monroe's gilded mahogany chairs, and the elegant French windows that overlooked the south portico shattered and crashed under the barrage.

"That's the way, General Taylor, keep knocking them down!" Joseph cried as he continued snapping his pepperbox, to no avail.

Continual discharges of musketry came into the room around the partially opened door as well as through the oak panel itself.

WASHINGTON, Thursday, April 17, 5:15 pm

A breathless young Joseph the Third had reached the muddy intersection of Pennsylvania and 10th Street. He could clearly see the Capitol Building but he still had nearly a mile to go, and the throngs were getting thicker. He was having more and more difficulty pressing his way through the crowds of flag-waving celebrants, military units, and dignitaries. Every time he heard a firecracker go off, it reminded him of the musket fire he had heard as he was leaving the Mansion. He struggled on a bit farther, crossed the bridge at Tiber Creek, then exhausted, he sank to the ground in despair, buried his head in his hands and cried.

THE EXECUTIVE MANSION, Thursday, April 17, 5:15 pm

"My pistol's shot out!" cried Joseph.

General Taylor continued parrying the guns until they had got them about half their length into the room.

"I can't hold them off any longer!" he shouted. He retreated to the west side of the room just in front of the side door connecting with the bed chamber, when a ball fired from the hall struck him on his left thigh, the force of which ball threw him back on the floor, and he rolled under the marble-topped table which stood in the center of the room, where he lay motionless, the mob from the door continuing to fire upon him. Several of the shots that missed him pierced the yellow silk upholstered Bellange sofa on the west side of the room.

WASHINGTON, Thursday, April 17, 5:16 pm

Stephen Markham and Lyman Wight led the charge up the length of Pennsylvania Avenue, followed by about fifty of their fellow Nauvoo Legionnaires. Just as they arrived at the intersection of Pennsylvania and 10th Street, Lyman thought he spied a familiar figure by the side of the road. It was a young boy, sitting by a lamppost and crying. At the same instant, the boy looked up through his tears and spied Lyman galloping towards him. It was young Joseph.

Lyman slowed his horse, reached down and quickly grabbed Joseph under the arms, then he swung him in front of him on the saddle.

"Joseph, what's happening?" Lyman shouted as they sped off again.

"It's those bad men from Warsaw, you know, the ones 'at kilt Uncle Hyrum last year?" young Joseph wailed. "Now they're tryin' to kill my Ma and Pa at the President's house!"

NAUVOO, 3:16 pm

At this instant, there was a tremendous din as every dog in Nauvoo began barking and howling, and all the cattle in town began bellowing. Joseph's dog, Major, padded into the Nauvoo Mansion parlor and lay down, whimpering.

Eliza R. Snow looked up suddenly in horror.

"No, not again..." she said to Mary Elizabeth Lightner. "I have that awful presentiment again... I sense that our husband is in grave danger."

She dropped to her knees, her arms upstretched, and cried, "Oh Lord my God!"

Mary followed her example.

EXECUTIVE MANSION, Thursday, April 17, 5:16 p.m.

When Joseph's revolver failed, the men had no more firearms, and expected an immediate rush of the mob, and the doorway full of muskets, half way in the room, and no hope but instant death from without. Each time a soldier fired his single-shot musket into the room, he would fall back as another soldier took his place in a slow-motion dance of death.

William Richards attempted to knock down their muzzles with his stick; while they continued to reach their guns into the room, and aimed their discharge so far round as almost to reach Joseph and William in the corner of the room near the fireplace, to where they retreated and dodged. Two shots through the door narrowly missed the two men and struck a painting of John Adams on the west wall. One shot struck the ornate bronze mantle-shelf clock, leaving the hands frozen at 5 o'clock, 16 minutes, and 26 seconds.

On the ground floor of the Mansion, Major Aldrich and several of his men were still searching the rooms. Aldrich approached the double doors leading to the kitchen and paused for a moment, then he kicked them open with his boot and charged in. He looked around and saw no one. On the hob a large pot of water was boiling gently. On the cutting-table in the middle of the room was a pile of sliced carrots and potatoes, alongside a butcher knife and a ladle. Next to them was a bucket of salt pork. A rolling pin and several long strips of pastry dough completed the scene. The room seemed suspiciously quiet and empty.

Aldrich glanced around the room for other exits and noticed the door to the pantry. He slowly approached the door, listening carefully. He cocked his musket, then he heard a woman's muffled gasp from inside the pantry.

THE CAPITOL, Thursday, April 17, 5:17 pm

Outside the Capitol Building, President Polk concluded his inaugural address:

"Confidently relying upon the aid and assistance of the coordinate departments of the Government in conducting our public affairs, I enter upon the discharge of the high duties which have been assigned me by the people, again humbly supplicating that Divine Being who has watched over and protected our beloved country from its infancy to the present hour to continue His gracious benedictions upon us, that we may continue to be a prosperous and happy people."

James K. Polk, the eleventh President of the United States, stepped down from the podium to loud applause and cheering.

Just at that moment, a breathless Army signalman came dashing out the front entrance of the Capitol, crying,

"The Mansion is under attack! The Mansion is under attack!"

THE EXECUTIVE MANSION, Thursday, April 17, 5:17 pm

On the ground floor of the Mansion, Aldrich kicked open the door to the pantry and found to his astonishment, not Joseph Smith, but his wife Emma, staring wide-eyed in fear back at him.

"Where is he? That damn husban' o' your'n?" Aldrich shouted, poking Emma with his bayonet.

Just at that moment young Alexander sprang up from a corner where he had been hiding. "You leave my Ma alone!" he cried.

The other children appeared one by one from their hiding places.

"Well, if it ain't the whole family of Smith nits!" Aldrich sneered. "Alla' you, out!"

Just at that instant there was a dull klong, and Aldrich fell to the floor limp as a four-foot long cast-iron warming pan connected with the back of his skull. Ebenezer had crept up behind him and knocked him senseless with the pan. He quickly gathered Emma and her children and herded them out a back door onto the north lawn, near the stables.

Emma gathered David in her arm, took Julia by the hand, and made a mad dash for the stables, followed by Alexander and Frederick. Ebenezer brought up the rear, still brandishing his warming pan and glancing nervously around the grounds for other militiamen, but seeing none.

THE EXECUTIVE MANSION, Thursday, April 17, 5:18 pm

In the second floor Oval Parlor, a strange thought flashed through Joseph's mind.

If only John Tyler could see this room now...

William Richards sprang back to the door again and desperately threw his weight against it, then recommenced the attack with his stick.

Joseph looked quickly around the room and thought:

There's no Nauvoo Legion to rescue us today. This truly is the end. Oh God, receive my soul.

He turned calmly from the door, dropped his pistol on the floor and walked quickly to the French windows overlooking the south portico, just as three Warsaw militiamen finally burst in from the hall. Two balls pierced Joseph from the door of the room, and one entered his right breast from without, and he fell outward through the open window into the hands of his murderers below, exclaiming. "O Lord, my God!" He fell on his left side on the South Portico of the Executive Mansion, a dead man.

Down the hall, Private Myer was still waiting for the counterattack on his office. He glanced out the window just as Joseph's body flew out the window of the Oval Parlor and landed on the South Portico below.

Myer glanced desperately down the length of Pennsylvania Avenue and saw a troop of cavalry approaching. Recognizing their Illinois banner, on an inspiration he ran to the door, opened it and cried,

"The Mormons are coming! The Mormons are coming!"

At this same instant the cry was raised, "He's leaped the window!" and the soldiers in the hall and on the grand staircase ran out to the south lawn, where they scattered to the wind.

THE CAPITOL, Thursday, April 17, 5:18 pm

At the Capitol, President Polk had read the army signalman's message in disbelief.

Those damned Mormons and their religious feuds... he thought furiously.

He quickly turned to former President Tyler and his Secretary of War, James Arlington Bennett, and read the dispatch to them. The huge throng of people on the Mall was already beginning to disperse, but Bennett quickly stepped to the podium and shouted,

"Ladies and gentlemen, soldiers, your attention please! We have one final order for the 4th Vermont Regiment. Would their cavalry brigade now kindly form an honor guard and escort our new President to the Executive Mansion? Please form up quickly on Constitution Avenue and await the President as he takes his place at your head."

President Polk, John Tyler and Secretary Bennett strode as briskly as they could without raising too much suspicion, down the steps of the Capitol Building, leaving their families behind. They climbed into Polk's phaeton coach, where he said to the driver,

"Get us to the Mansion quickly, and don't spare the horseflesh!"

Stephen Markham and Lyman Wight had reached Pennsylvania Avenue and 15th Street. The Executive Mansion was now visible in the distance, and just at that moment Lyman noticed a black speck falling from an upper window on the south side of the building. He spurred his horse and shouted, "C'mon, men! We can't fail Joseph now!"

They raced past 16th Street and across the Ellipse toward the Mansion. All seemed quiet, but as they approached the south side of the building, they noticed a group of people gathered around something on the South Portico. Stephen and Lyman quickly dismounted and ran up the steps to the Portico, where to their horror they found Emma and her children huddled around the body of their husband and father. Joseph was lying in a pool of blood, and Emma was holding his hand, stroking his forehead, and sobbing and speaking softly to him.

"Joseph, wake up! I'm with you now, and you're safe! Come back to me! Say something!"

She finally released her grip on him, sank back and wailed,

"My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken this family!"

As the Mormon Battalion soldiers assembled on the south lawn and viewed their fallen prophet, a low, keening moan arose from the assemblage. They were stunned that their Prophet and General, who had saluted them from this same portico scarcely an hour before, was now dead.

Levi Hancock tenderly raised Emma up and carefully guided her away from the awful scene into the Mansion, followed by her sobbing children. Four of Joseph's former lifeguards reverently lifted his body and carried him into the Blue Room and laid him on one of the blue-upholstered settees.

About this time President Polk's phaeton came tearing around the Ellipse, followed closely by a troop of Vermont cavalry. As he saw the Mormon soldiers milling around on the south lawn, he thought,

A fine place for these Mormon fanatics to play out their little vendetta – at the Executive Mansion, no less. It's MY house now.

Polk, Tyler and Bennett ran up the steps to the South Portico and into the Blue Room, where they were stunned to find the Mormon Battalion officers surrounding their fallen General.

Polk's jaw dropped, and he looked perfectly astounded for a moment.

"No! How can this be? General Joseph Smith? Dead?" he said in astonishment.

"Yes, now he belongs to the ages", Stephen Markham replied, looking up mournfully.

"To the ages..." Polk echoed, the fury rising in him.

It's time for my Brutus speech, he thought. Helluva way to start my Presidency. My "second" inaugural address, as it were.

He stepped outside to the portico railing and gazed out at the mixed crowd of Mormons and Vermont soldiers now assembled before him, steeled himself, and took a deep breath.

"My fellow citizens:

"While I mourn the loss of your friend and brother, I am not unmindful of the pernicious effect that his religious movement has imposed on our once-happy nation! This man, whom you have seen lying before you, would have overthrown the noblest structure of human wisdom, which protects himself and his fellow-man. He would stop the progress of free government and involve his country either in anarchy or despotism. He would extinguish the fire of liberty, which warms and animates the hearts of happy millions and invites all the nations of the earth to imitate our example!"

This was simply too much for Lyman Wight. He rushed at the President with the intent of braining him with his musket, but Stephen Markham and several others grabbed him and pulled him back to a safe distance.

Polk turned and faced the officers down.

"You damned religious fanatics! I know there's a great prejudice against you on account of your peculiar religion, but you ought to be praying Saints, not military Saints. How could you turn on your own leader like this, in his moment of triumph?"

Markham tried to protest. "But sir, those weren't Mormons that attacked the Mansion – they were Gentiles from Warsaw."

"I don't care if they were Jews from Krakow!" Polk replied. "Isn't it enough that you tear Missouri and Illinois apart, but what you must now bring your religious crusade to our national capital, to the people's mansion, to MY mansion! GET OUT, I say, and take your petty squabbles back to Illinois, or to Poland, I care not whither!"

President Polk placed his fists on his hips and gazed in disgust at the front of the Mansion, where the double doors to the Blue Room had been smashed open; then his gaze ascended to the second story, where the Oval Parlor's French windows had been broken by Joseph's fall.

God only knows what other desecration has been done to my new house by these fanatics, he thought, tapping his foot. He pointed at them and cried,

"You really know how to throw a house-warming, don't you? Go, and take your fallen 'Prophet' with you! And you can expect to receive a hefty bill for all the destruction you people have wrought here!"

Polk turned on his heels and strode through the Blue Room, leaving John Tyler and James Arlington Bennett standing gape-jawed. Bennett turned to the Mormon leaders, shook his head, raised his hands and dropped them.

"I'm so sorry, gentlemen... I share your anguish. Joseph Smith was a true friend to me. President Polk's behavior just now was inexcusable, and therefore I shall never serve in his cabinet. Goodbye."

He clapped his hat back on his head and strode grimly down the portico steps.

Former President John Tyler was near tears. He and Joseph had become close friends during their past three months together in the Mansion, and he was stunned at this sudden turn of events.

"I – I, ah, I'm at a loss fo' words... except to second Mr. Bennett's sentiments", he said to Stephen Markham. "If there's any assistance I can proffer, y' have but to ask."

President Polk exited the Blue Room into the cross hall and ascended the main stairway to the second floor Oval Parlor. He was stunned by what he saw there.

The room was demolished – Bullet holes peppered the walls and ceiling, and the furnishings were all smashed and scarified. Chunks of plaster littered the floor. Sulfurous smoke still hung heavy in the room. Hiram Kimball was stretched out on his back, his feet toward the door. Zachary Taylor was lying under the marble-topped table in the center of the room, bleeding from four wounds. Congressman William Richards and Private Myer were tending to General Taylor's wounds.

"Myer! What're you doing here? I assumed you'd be at the inauguration?" Polk asked.

"I was observin' and telygraphin' the proceedin's from my office down the hall", Myer replied, looking up. He paused for a moment, then he stood and took Polk by the elbow and said,

"Sir, uh, Mr. President – I think you should know, this warn't a 'Mormon' feud – those troops 'at attacked this house were turncoats, rebels, Southern sympathizers, as it were."

President Polk glanced around the room and put his arm around Myer's shoulders, then he said softly,

"Private, d'you think I don't know that? Voltaire said that 'History is the lies we agree on'. And sometimes, the truth is just too damned inconvenient to reveal, you understand?"

The President quickly excused himself and returned to his temporary lodgings at the Octagon House. At about seven p.m., the President and his entourage returned to the Mall and advised all who were still present to disperse, as he expected the Mormons would be so exasperated that they would come and burn the town.

THE EXECUTIVE MANSION, Thursday, April 17, evening

General Zachary Taylor was carried on a stretcher to the basement infirmary, where several Army doctors tended to his wounds. President Polk grudgingly sent permission for the Smith family to remain a few days in the Mansion, until they could make arrangements to ship themselves and all their furnishings back to Nauvoo. Joseph's lifeguards placed his body in a casket and moved it to the second floor master bedroom.

After these preparations, the children were allowed to enter the room. As the door opened, they saw their mother Emma standing with her back to them, near the open casket, dressed in a black, floor-length crinoline dress and veil. As the children entered, Emma turned to face them and they all saw the horror etched in her face.

Julia, young Joseph, Frederick and Alexander stood dumbfounded for a moment just inside the door, staring in disbelief at their mother, and at their dead father lying before them; then the two younger boys ran crying back into the main hallway. Julia quickly followed after them.

Joseph the Third approached the casket, dropped to his knees, and exclaimed, "Oh, my father! My father!" and broke down and cried.

His mother drew him to her and they sat together for a long time at the head of the casket.

Late in the evening, Stephen Markham and Lyman Wight held vigil with Emma in the master bedroom. For hours Emma sat staring at Joseph's lifeless form. All the tears and emotion seemed to have finally drained out of her, and she sat rigid as a statue, as motionless as her husband lying before her – as if, by her immobility, she could somehow will him back to life.

The hours dragged on. Finally at about eleven, Stephen Markham heard a sound outside. He glanced out the south window and noticed a faint light. He looked again, out toward the Ellipse, and to his surprise he saw a long string of lights approaching.

"What is it, Stephen?" Lyman said as he too approached the window.

Now both men could see the lights – dozens, then hundreds of faint, twinkling flames, slowly proceeding up and around the Ellipse. Lyman threw open the window, and now they could hear the soft cadence of hundreds, then thousands of soldiers marching eight abreast towards the Executive Mansion. Each soldier had placed a lighted candle in the muzzle of his musket, and the effect was like thousands of tiny yellow stars, all slowly moving together in a river of light past the Mansion.

The Mormon Battalion led the parade, and as Company A came abreast of the Portico they turned left and Bandmaster Levi Hancock led them in singing William W. Phelps' funeral dirge:

Praise to the man who communed with Jehovah,

Jesus Anointed that Prophet and Seer!

Blessed to open the last dispensation,

Kings shall extol him and nations revere!

Now the other companies picked up the tune, until the whole battalion was singing:

Praise to his mem'ry, he died as a martyr;

Honored and blest be his ever great name!

Long shall his blood, which was shed by assassins,

Stain Washington while the earth lauds his fame.

Almost fearing to break the spell, Stephen Markham whispered, "Sister Emma, come and see!"

Emma slowly roused from her coma, stood, and approached the window.

"See how they honor Joseph!" Stephen said, pointing.

Emma stared uncomprehending at the singers for a few moments, then she covered her face with her hands and sank back into her chair, softly weeping, as the singing continued:

Hail to the Prophet, ascended to heaven!

Traitors and tyrants now fight him in vain.

Mingling with Gods, he can plan for his brethren;

Death cannot conquer the hero again.

When they had finished their song, Levi Hancock looked up at the open window, saluted and said, "All present and accounted for, Sir!"

True to Joseph's prophecy, not one of the Battalion soldiers had fallen in battle, although many had received severe wounds.

The Mormon Battalion resumed their march towards Pennsylvania Avenue, and the Army of the South followed them. Not a word was spoken, but as each company of soldiers came abreast of the Portico they performed "eyes left" and saluted, then they silently moved on. The same soldiers who a few hours earlier had saluted their living Lieutenant General on the Portico, now honored their fallen friend Joseph Smith with this candlelight funeral march.

The parade continued for hours, as the eight thousand soldiers of the Army of the South paid honor to their late comrade in arms. Just before dawn the soldiers and the candles quietly faded from sight, along with the ghosts of their fellow soldiers who had fallen on the battlefields of Georgia and South Carolina.
CHAPTER 44

WASHINGTON, Friday, April 18

The Daily National Intelligencer

Friday, April 18, 1845

AWFUL SLAUGHTER AT PRESIDENTIAL MANSION

GENERAL JOSEPH SMITH ASSASSINATED

MORMONS BRING THEIR HOLY WAR TO WASHINGTON

Yesterday, in what must surely be the most dastardly deed since British Admiral Cockburn put the torch to Washington City, and at the very moment that our new President was placing his hand on General Washington's Bible on the steps of the Capitol scarce a mile away, a troop of Mormon renegades stormed the Executive Mansion and killed their own 'prophet', Joe Smith.

A Mormon sympathizer, Hiram Kimball, was also killed in the fracas. General Zachary Taylor was severely wounded, but is expected to recover. Congressman William Richards, who was also present in the room, escaped without so much as a hole in his robe. At least five of the attackers were killed, presumably by Joe Smith's revolver. "Those who live by the sword, shall die by the sword."

When the accounts first reached us of the death of the Mormon prophet, they conveyed the impression that he had been killed in a general mêlée, or fight between the Mormons and the people. But later intelligence renders it evident that he has fallen victim to that lawless spirit which has brought so much disgrace upon our country. The enormity of this transaction cannot be palliated by the atrocities committed by Smith and his arch-impostures, because he was then the highest military authority in the nation, and had a right to protection, or so we would suppose.

General Zachary Taylor, who was badly wounded, remained at the Executive Mansion under the care of Army surgeons. Lyman Wight, as the presiding apostle in Washington, moved the bodies of Joseph Smith and Hiram Kimball to the Indian Chief Hotel. Emma and her children were cloistered in another room at the hotel. As soon as Julia Tyler heard of the dreadful news, she and John Tyler rushed to Emma's assistance.

From the Indian Chief Hotel, Congressman Richards wrote the following message to Nauvoo:

Washington City, April 18, 1845.

Joseph Smith and Hiram Kimball are dead. General Taylor wounded severely. I am well. Our guard was forced, as we believe, by a band of Warsaw militia from 100 to 200. The job was done in an instant, and the party fled towards Alexandria instantly. This is as I believe it. The citizens here are afraid of the Mormons attacking them. I promise them no!

William Richards

Lyman Wight

Stephen Markham

Private George Grant of the Nauvoo Legion was charged with the task of carrying the sorrowful news to Nauvoo.

Later in the day, Colonel Markham spoke to his officers at the War Department building, next door to the Executive Mansion.

"Gentlemen, our work here is finished. As the war is over, we are no longer United States Army soldiers, but just another state militia beyond their state boundaries. And as for that, it wouldn't surprise me to find upon our return that our Nauvoo Legion charter has been repealed, to boot. Well, that's gratitude. Our sole remaining task is to take our fallen prophet home, and let Washington and this nation be damned."

Former President Tyler had been observing this mustering-out from the side of the room. He stood and addressed the soldiers:

"Ahem, gentlemen, if I may? I know you-all view me as an outsider, but in just three short months, I've come t' know yo' Mr. Joseph Smith as a p'culiar an' wonderful man, blessed with extraordinary gifts. Indeed, I've formed an entirely different opinion o' him since my first introduction t' him last August.

"I would hazard t' say that no man, since Gen'ral Washin'ton, has done more fo' the welfare of this nation than this 'prophet' of yours. And at the same time, I am disgusted and appalled by th' dastardly deeds played out here in our capital these past few days.

"These last four years have not been kind t' me, nor t' my family. My invalid first wife Letitia died here in 1842. The storm of calumny an' invective unleashed upon me, the 'Accidental President', was without precedent in th' history of our nation – but it pales in comparison t' the sufferin's of your fallen leader. No man was less deservin' of his unhappy fate than your Mr. Smith, and, ah, well... Mrs. Tyler and I have determined t' cast our lot with you 'Mormons' henceforth. You-all've won our admiration an' respect, an' we wish t' join with you, if y'all will have us."

A gasp ran through the room. Stephen Markham spoke for everyone:

"Mr. President, we welcome you with open arms. But what about your retirement to Sherwood Forest, and all your holdings in Virginia? Are you just walking away from that?"

John Tyler looked at his wife Julia, who laughed. She said,

"Oh, that old swamp... we sold it back to John's cousin a month ago, to raise money for the war effort. General Smith's march on Columbia was financed in large part by the sale of that old plantation in Virginia. Oh, and we freed all our slaves, too."

Later in the day, the remaining members of Joseph Smith's "shadow cabinet" – John Neff, George C. Anderson, and Orson Spencer – joined the returning Legionnaires.

WHEELING, Monday, April 21

Joseph Smith's funeral procession, attended by Joseph's family, John and Julia Tyler, and the soldiers of the Nauvoo Legion, arrived in Wheeling on the newly-laid tracks of the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad.

SWEETWATER RIVER, Monday, April 21

The Camp of Israel reached Independence Rock, a vast mound of rocks extending from south to north about five hundred feet and in width, one hundred feet. William Clayton and Charles Preuss climbed to the top of the rock to take in the view. Just as they reached the summit, William spied a curious animal that resembled a large mouse. It was tan-colored, with a small black tail. It was sitting on its haunches staring back at them with large brown eyes, and emitting loud, bird-like chirping sounds.

"Coor, 'at's th' biggest mouse I ever laid eyes on!" William exclaimed.

Charles laughed. "That ain't no mouse, Will, that's a prairie dog – a kind o' squirrel 'at burrows underground. They congurgate by the thousands 'round here. Bad part is, if a horse steps in one o' their burrows, he kin bust a leg."

At noon, the pioneers camped on the banks of the Sweetwater River. Orson Pratt calculated that they had traveled 175 ¼ miles from Fort Laramie. From there, they proceeded on another 5 ½ miles to Devil's Gate, where they camped for the evening.

For supper, Jessie and Clarissa baked some saleratus bread, which was eagerly received by all. When the dishes had been cleared away, Brigham Young spoke a few words to the Saints surrounding the campfire, and then William Clayton stood, holding a piece of paper.

"Ahem..." he said apologetically. "Fro' time ta' time I've tried me 'and at writin' poetry, but I've but little ta show far it. But leetly I've felt th' inspiration ta write a song o' comfairt, far alla' Saints 'at may come 'is way aftair us. 'Tis based on th' auld Scottish hymn, 'All is well'.

George A. Smith spoke up. "I know that tune – such a doleful dirge: 'What's this that steals, that steals upon my frame? Is it death? Is it death?' It seems a rather, well, comfortless hymn, to me." He shuddered.

William replied, "Aye, young George, I thowt th' same, so I cheerfulled it up sumat. Now, mind ye, I'm no th' match o' Broother Phelps..."

"Sing it! Sing it!" the travelers shouted impatiently.

Encouraged, William Clayton began "lining out" the words to the pioneers in his soft, tenor voice, gaining strength as he went:

"Come, come, ye Saints, no toil nor labor fear,

But with joy wend your way;

Though hard to you this journey may appear,

Grace shall be as your day.

'Tis better far for us to strive,

Our useless cares from us to drive.

Do this, and joy your hearts will swell –

All is well! all is well!"

The tune was familiar to all, and by the fourth verse William had the entire company singing his "cheerfulled-up" words:

And should we die before our journey's through,

Happy day! All is well.

We then are free from toil and sorrow too;

With the just we shall dwell.

But if our lives are spared again

To see the Saints their rest obtain,

O, how we'll make this chorus swell –

All is well! All is well!

WHEELING, Tuesday, April 22

Wilford Woodruff arrived from Boston, where he had been presiding over the Church until hearing of the assassination the previous week. Lyman Wight and Stephen Markham apprised him of the events following the attack on the Executive Mansion, including President Polk's shameful performance.

Later in the day, three steamboats nosed up to the wharf along the Ohio River. Wilford looked out the window of his hotel room and instantly recognized the New Hyrum Smith. A moment later Dan Jones came striding down the gangplank, whistling.

"I'm 'ere ta collect t' last o' t' Nauvoo Legion", Dan said cheerfully to Wilford Woodruff and the others. Then he saw their long faces and stopped in his tracks. He said cautiously,

"Ach, I can see yair loong jibs, broothers... wot ill tidings d'ye bring me, 'is time?"

Wilford replied with a sigh, "Dan, prepare yourself – Brother Joseph is dead, and Hiram Kimball too. They were shot by the Warsaw Militia in the Executive Mansion, just last Thursday."

Dan Jones burst into tears and buried his face in his hands. "Ach-a-fi, Marw? Dim! Ble mae e?" he cried. "Can ye show 'im t'me?"

Wilford led Dan to the hotel room where Emma and her children were still holding vigil over the coffin of their husband and father. The sight broke Dan's heart, and he sobbed again.

"Poor Joseph, poor, poor dab!"

Wilford took the little Welshman by the shoulders and said,

"Dan, do you recall what Brother Joseph told you in that jail cell last year?"

Dan wiped his tears and said, "Aye, aboot me mission t' Cumreigh?"

Wilford nodded. "To Cum – to Wales, yes. I believe the time has finally come. Captain Anderson here can pilot the New Hyrum Smith back to Nauvoo for us."

Dan took a deep breath, looked around the room and said bravely,

"O'r gorau...Verra' well. 'Tis a solemn oath I made, an' God will go wi' me."

GREEN RIVER, Saturday, April 26

For several days now the pioneers had traveled through a barren, sandy wasteland, festooned with towering red buttes and dry gullies. The march from the Little Sandy to the Green River seemed nearly endless, as the pioneers struggled across twenty-four miles of desert before finding water. Near sundown the exhausted Saints finally reached the banks of the Green River, where they camped for the night.

The Green River itself was a welcome respite from the rigors of the trail. Cottonwood trees grew along both banks as well as sage, wildflowers and bunch grass. The only discouragement was the hordes of mosquitoes that plagued the pioneers and their livestock.

Brigham Young walked down to the riverbank to view this last great obstacle to their journey. The river was about three hundred feet wide and flowing rapidly. Brigham gazed at the roiling blue-green water and muttered to himself,

"Tarnation... This is worse than the Platte River crossing. I'd rather not risk the Revenue Cutter in these waters. But we can't wait around till it freezes over, neither. If we can't find a way to cross over, we'll just have to call on the Lord for help. Isn't that what Joseph would do?"

NAUVOO, Sunday, April 27

An exhausted George Grant finally rode into Nauvoo with the first tidings of Joseph's death, in the middle of a tremendous thunder and rainstorm. Many of Nauvoo's citizens were roused from their sleep at the sound of his winded horse galloping down Water Street. As George approached the Mansion, he cried,

"Sister Smith, your son Joseph is dead!"
CHAPTER 45

CARTHAGE, Monday, April 28

"All rise!"

Judge Richard M. Young entered the Hancock County Courtroom from the adjoining jury room. He sat down behind the bench and went right to business:

"You may be seated. Our first order of business, the case of People vs. Levi Williams is now in session – I hope. This case has dragged on far too long, in my estimation. Mr. Browning, have you prepared your defense?"

Orville H. Browning stood and tried to compose himself.

"Ahem, Your Honor, I have the unenviable task of bringing you the news that – the news that – ah, Joseph Smith is... ah, dead." A murmur went through the court house.

"Dead? How?" said Judge Young, shocked.

"He was killed by an angry mob of Warsaw militiamen, as we believe, in Washington City just over a week ago. He saved this nation from itself, but himself he could not save."

Orville sat down, weeping.

Judge Richard M. Young leaned back in his chair for a long time, rubbed his chin, then he straightened up, pounded his gavel and said,

"Very well – this case is hereby dismissed, ex coram nobis."

Later this day, when Charles Lambert heard the news of Joseph's death, he immediately went to the now-abandoned temple rock quarry and began carving a headstone.

GREEN RIVER, Monday, April 28

Early in the morning George A. Smith and Appleton Harmon approached Brigham Young's tent.

"Morning boys, what can I do for you?" said Brigham, looking up from his breakfast.

"We have an idea to help us ford the river", said Appleton.

"Indeed... And what might that be?" said Brigham, raising an eyebrow.

"A harpoon", said George.

"A what?" said Brigham, raising the other eyebrow and setting down his plate.

Appleton explained, "We think we can use the cannon to fire a grappling hook attached to a line across the river. Then we can use the line to steady the Revenue Cutter as she crosses the river."

Brigham thought for a moment, then he smiled.

"It's crazy, but it just might work... What can we lose by trying? Go ahead and fashion your harpoon, then let me know if you stick any whales with it."

George and Appleton went to work whittling down a piece of broomstick. They drilled a hole in the end of the stick and hammered an iron hook into it. Then they tied a thin rope to the hook. George spent about half an hour carefully coiling the rope in turban fashion, making sure that it didn't snag as it uncoiled. Then they wheeled the Revenue Cutter's wagon down to the riverbank and pointed the brass cannon across the narrowest stretch of the river.

"Too bad Browning couldn't be here to see this", Appleton said as he measured the powder charge. Then he stuffed a piece of rag down the barrel and slid in the broomstick with its hook attached.

"It looks ridiculous", said George, examining their work. "What's the best elevation for this?"

"Hard to tell when you're firing broomsticks", Appleton said as he placed a cap on the lock. "But according to Browning's tables, about twenty degrees should do it, I think. I gave it a smidgen more gunpowder, just in case."

He played out about six feet of lanyard, and the two men took cover behind a large piece of red sandstone.

"Here goes nothing", said Appleton, and he pulled the lanyard.

KA-BOOM

The world disintegrated around them as rocks, wood, leather, and chunks of brass flew in all directions. Appleton peeked over the rock just in time to see his harpoon land in the middle of the river with a loud splash.

"Wha' happened?" said George, dazed.

"What say? Can't hear!" Appleton shouted back.

When the two men turned their gaze to the Revenue Cutter, they were stunned by what they saw. The cannon was gone, as well as the entire stern of the boat. The explosion had blown both rear wheels off of the carriage. Bits of leather were still fluttering down from the sky.

"I don't think Sister Jessie can fix this..." George said ominously.

Brigham Young came pounding down the hillside, followed by several others. He ground his teeth as he viewed the destruction.

"Why didn't you remove the boat first?" he shouted at the two men, waving his arms. "Now we're really stranded here!"

"Oh, no!" Jessie cried as she viewed the ruined boat. "How am ah supposed to fix this?"

"Well, this is a fine state of affairs", said Orson Pratt.

George A. Smith sat down on the riverbank with sigh and stared across the blue-green water, his head in his hands.

"Brother Brigham, I have another plan", he said.

"Not another word!" Brigham stormed. "I should have known better than to listen to you two chuckleheads!"

"No, hear me out please", George said. "I think I can make it across the river on my own pegs. Just tie the rope to me and play it out as I go. The water's not deep, just swift. I weigh eighteen stone, so I think I can brave the current about as well as anyone."

Brigham groaned. "Very well... But the moment you get into trouble, we'll harpoon you and reel you in!"

George picked up his coil of rope and wandered down the riverbank about a quarter mile, to a place where the river was wider and shallower. He hunted around until he found a long stick with which to test the water's depth. Then he tied one end of the rope around a box elder tree and the other end to his belt.

As George turned and cast his gaze across the roiling green waters, he thought he saw two men standing on the far bank. They were waving to him and urging him across the river. One of the men was wearing a light-colored suit and a "leghorn" hat; the other man's head was bare. George turned back to look for Brigham Young, and when he looked across the river again, the two men were gone.

How peculiar... he thought.

"Here goes", he said out loud to himself, and taking a deep breath, he stepped into the river. As the cold water lapped around his ankles, he carefully probed with the stick to find the shallowest path. He took another step, and then another. It wasn't until he was about twenty feet out that he noticed something very odd. Wherever he probed with the stick, the water was a good three or four feet deep, but as he stepped forward, the water still only came up to his ankles.

Brigham Young and the other pioneers watched with growing amazement as George walked farther and farther out, then they saw him throw his stick away and stride confidently across the three hundred foot wide river, with the water never reaching above his ankles. He marched up the far riverbank, turned around and shouted back to the wide-eyed Saints,

"Hurrah for Zion!"

"I never would have believed it, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes", Orson Pratt breathed.

"We read where Joshua and the children of Israel crossed the Jordan River on dry ground", said Brigham. "But to see it happen in our day... The Lord is surely with us."

Brigham Young quickly set his engineers to work preparing to drive the pioneers, their three remaining wagons, and their teams across the Green River. With the assistance of George A. Smith on the opposite bank, a heavy rope was strung across the river and tied to trees on the opposing banks. Zebedee Coltrin and Shadrach Roundy went to work cutting down cottonwood trees, which were lashed to the wagons to provide buoyancy.

Each wagon was double-teamed and secured to the guide rope, and then the first four mules pulling the first wagon were driven into the river, steered by Porter Rockwell. In the back of the wagon were five more pioneers, holding on for dear life.

Brigham Young watched anxiously as the first wagon began to float; then it rocked and swayed as the current caught it. The guide rope creaked and stretched as the force of the water drove the wagon downstream, but it held. Porter whipped the mules as they thrashed and floundered their way across the stream along the guide rope. In about two minutes Brigham watched as Porter drove the wagon up the opposite riverbank and onto dry land. Then Porter stood up on the wagon, turned around and raised his arms as the pioneers on both banks cheered him.

The next wagon was driven by Return Jackson Redden, and it too made it across the river without mishap. The last wagon was driven by Ezra T. Benson, closely followed by the last of the pack mules. Thomas Bullock, Orson Whitney, and Hosea Stout were assigned to lead the mules across the river.

"If I know these animals, they'll head straight for their fellow mules on the other bank", Hosea said hopefully, as he led the mule train into the water. Orson and Thomas brought up the rear, on either side of the mule train. Hosea was holding his own mule's reins in one hand, and pulling another very reluctant mule behind him by its reins. The ten unmounted mules behind him were all roped together in single file.

Too bad these mules are smarter than ol' George over there, he thought as the water reached his thighs. Mules know perfectly well you can't walk on water.

Suddenly the first mule behind Hosea whinnied and reared up on its hind legs, breaking Hosea's grip on the reins. Then it kicked and plunged downstream away from him, dragging the other nine mules with it.

"Whoa, whoa mule, git back here!" Hosea shouted, as he nearly lost his own mount.

Thomas and Orson tried to head off the watery stampede, but it was too late. In a moment, their neat, single-file mule train was heading in all directions.

"Don't let them tangle up!" Hosea shouted desperately. As the lead mule thrashed its way towards him, he reached out for the traces and realized too late that he was slipping off his own mule. With all the strength he could muster, he kicked himself out of the stirrups and landed stomach-first on the lead mule's bare back. He wrapped his arms for dear life around the terrified animal's neck as it thrashed and rolled in the water, then he swung his leg up and over the animal's back.

"You broken-down, bone-spavined jackass!" he roared as he tightened his death-grip around the mule's neck, and ground his spurs into its flanks. The mule fairly leaped clear of the water and started thrashing its way toward the distant bank. The other mules had no choice but to follow, and before long the mule train was pointed in the right direction again. Thomas and Orson chased down Hosea's original mount and drove him in the same direction.

Jessie had been watching the whole spectacle from the back of the last wagon. She nearly split her sides laughing as Hosea regained control of the pack train. He stared back at her in grim determination, soaking wet, from the bare back of the lead mule.

"Oh, Hosea, you should'a joined the circus!" she cried as she leaned over the tailgate of the wagon and waved at him.

"Good thing we're not leading elephants!" Hosea shouted back at her, as he forced a tight smile.

These mules are too skittish by half, he thought. I won't feel safe until we're all on the other bank, there.

They had nearly reached the opposite bank when the last wagon struck a submerged rock. Jessie had been sitting in the wagon facing backwards, waving to Hosea; now suddenly she found herself tumbling headfirst over the tailgate of the wagon into the river. She flailed around desperately for a handhold, but to no avail.

"Oh Lord!" she shrieked as she hit the water with a loud splash.

"Jess!" Hosea cried.

He jumped off his mule into the waist-deep water and gave the mule a whack on the rump to send it up the bank. Then he waded over to Jessie and lifted her up, gasping and coughing. Together, they waded the rest of the way up the bank and collapsed in the dirt, exhausted.

"Jessie, are you all right?" he gasped as he cradled her head in his arms.

"Ah think so..." she panted, breathless. "Ah hit the tailgate on ma way out, an' it sorta knocked the wind outta me... Mr. Stout, this is twice now you've rescued me from the river. Thank you."

"Don't mention it", he said.

BLACKS FORK, Tuesday, April 29

The pioneers crossed Ham's Fork, and then later they crossed Blacks Fork twice. William Clayton remarked on the fields of red, blue, and yellow wildflowers, as well as wild flax which grew in profusion. That evening, the pioneers camped on the east side of Blacks Fork, which they would cross yet again in the morning.

Just as the sun was setting over the distant mountains, Brigham Young stepped out of his tent to take in the view. As he cast his gaze to the southwest, in a diagonal direction across Blacks Fork, he thought he saw two men standing there, about a hundred yards distant. In the gathering dusk, he could not make out their features. Puzzled, Brigham returned to his tent and fetched his spyglass. He trained the spyglass on the spot where the men were standing and squinted into the lens. Nothing.

That's passing strange... he thought. Must be a derangement of the lenses.

When he lowered the spyglass, he could still see the two men standing there, still looking expectantly in his direction. Now thoroughly intrigued, Brigham set off on foot across the prairie in the direction of the two figures, fording Blacks Fork as he went.

When he returned to the camp about a half hour later, he immediately pulled William Clayton and Orson Pratt aside. He said through his tears,

"Brethren, prepare yourselves for this. Our Brother Joseph Smith – is dead."

William and Orson stared back at Brigham, uncomprehending. Finally, Orson opened his mouth and said,

"Dead? How? And how did you learn of this?"

Brigham replied, "Joseph and Hyrum appeared to me just now, out there. They said it happened in Washington City two weeks ago. I don't know the particulars."

The three men sat in silence for a few minutes, pondering the implications of this new turn of events. Then Brigham turned to his two companions and said,

"I would advise you two brethren to keep this knowledge to yourselves for the time being. As President of the Quorum, it looks like I'll have my work cut out for me when we return to Nauvoo."

FORT BRIDGER, Thursday, May 1

The pioneers reached Fort Bridger. The fort was a walled compound, with a wood and adobe wall surrounding several small buildings. Superficially, it reminded Hosea Stout of old Fort Armstrong on Rock Island, except for the flat, featureless terrain surrounding it.

Jim Bridger was not at home, but the pioneers visited and traded with several of Bridger's partners at the fort. Jessie consulted her journal and said,

"Well, about here is the parting of the ways, ah suppose. The California Trail goes southwest, an' the Oregon Trail goes northwest. From here, Captain Eff took th' Oregon Trail up to Fort Hall, then 'e headed south to the Bear River an' on down to the Salt Lake. Brother Brigham, which way should we take?"

"The California Trail", Brigham replied. "It's the most direct route, and should take us straight up South Pass and down Red Canyon to the valley of the Great Salt Lake."

Jessie suddenly winced, and touched her stomach.

"Sister Stout, is something the matter?" Brigham said, concerned.

"It's nothing", she said. "Ah musta' hit the tailgate o' the wagon t'other day, when ah fell in the river. Ah'm just a little sore, is all."

QUINCY, Saturday, May 3

As the New Hyrum Smith and the other two boats churned past Quincy, Wilford Woodruff looked in on Emma Smith and her children. For most of a week now, she had scarcely left the main-deck cabin where Joseph's coffin lay, and had hardly spoken to anyone, except to her dead husband.

Wilford entered the cabin quietly and approached Emma. He noticed that she was wearing the same black dress she had worn since leaving Wheeling the week before. She was kneeling next to the coffin, and her four eldest children were sitting quietly at the far end of the cabin. Baby David was lying in a cradle next to her. Wilford looked at the child and thought mournfully,

He'll never know his father...

He touched Emma lightly on the wrist and said,

"Sister Smith, we're passing Quincy now. We'll be home soon."

Emma looked up at Wilford as if from a great distance, then she turned away, closed her eyes and bowed her head again.

Several hours later, Stephen Markham and Lyman Wight were together on the Texas deck, watching the scenery pass. Just after the New Hyrum Smith ground its way across the rapids at Keokuk, a gleaming, golden dome appeared through the trees north of them. The dome was topped with a gilded weathervane – a flying angel, holding a trumpet.

"Hurrah, there's our home at last!" Lyman cried, waving his hat in the air.

Stephen put his hand on Lyman's shoulder and pointed.

"Lyman, d'you see which way the angel's pointing?"

"Aye, directly to the west, Brother Stephen."

"Now, that's where our new home will be, Lyman."

NAUVOO, Saturday, May 3

For most of five days now, Charles Stoddard had been sitting on the riverbank at the lower landing in Nauvoo, scanning the water for riverboats. The news of Joseph Smith's death had affected him deeply, and he hoped to be the first to spot the funerary procession as it made its way up the broad Mississippi River. Several times, Charles had spotted a tall plume of smoke signaling the approach of a steamboat, only to find that it was the Louis Phillipe or the Grand Turk or some other boat instead.

Charles thought about the time nearly a year before, when Brother Joseph had rescued him and Chism from Sheriff Reynolds on Law's Island; and again later when Joseph saved them from bounty-hunters in Warsaw. Chism was young Charles' closest friend, but now he was out west somewhere, and Joseph was dead, and Charles felt a great emptiness.

In the late afternoon, Charles scanned the river for the hundredth time, and he thought he saw a faint plume of smoke to the south, near Keokuk. A few minutes later he heard the low, breathy moan of a steamboat whistle, then another joined in, then a third – all signaling the approach of something important. At last Charles spotted the first boat away south, crossing the bar at the Keokuk rapids, followed closely by two other boats.

"It's them!" he cried, jumping to his feet. He made a beeline for the Nauvoo Mansion, a hundred yards to the north on Main Street. He ran through the white picket gate and pounded on the front door. Eliza R. Snow answered.

"Ma'am, it's Brother Joseph, he's coming!" Charles panted.

"Very well, Charles, you may ring the signal bell", Eliza responded.

"Yes'm!" said Charles. He ran back to the gate where the triangle was hanging, seized the clapper, and gave the triangle a thrashing. All up and down Main and Durphy Streets, people began appearing. Eliza R. Snow and four of her sister-wives accompanied a frail-looking Lucy Smith down to the landing. Apostles John Taylor, Willard Richards, Parley P. Pratt, and Orson Hyde came down also.

As the New Hyrum Smith approached the landing, followed by the Don Carlos Smith and the Samuel Smith, all three boats cut loose with their whistles again, in one long, mournful trumpet call. Orson Hyde looked, and just at that moment the sun touched the western horizon.

How perfectly symbolic and fitting... he thought. Brother Joseph used to teach us in Kirtland about the ancient Egyptian temple rites, how the solar barque carrying the dead up the Nile would land at sundown, and the funeral procession would enter the temple. It's almost too perfect. What was that phrase he taught us from the last lines of the papyrus?

'Hail, Osiris, Justified. Thou enterest into the heavens; thine enemies do not exist, for thou art a deified soul.'

As soon as the gangplank was lowered, Wilford Woodruff and Lyman Wight disembarked and embraced their fellow apostles. Then the six formed up and carried Joseph's casket up Main Street to the Mansion, accompanied by the muffled drums of the Nauvoo Legion. The citizens of Nauvoo watched in somber, tearful silence as the body of their fallen prophet was carried home. Lucy Smith, Emma Smith, and her children followed closely behind the pallbearers. Behind Emma were Joseph's other widows: Mary Elizabeth Rollins Smith, Zina Diantha Huntington Smith, Eliza R. Snow Smith, Helen Mar Kimball Smith, and Sarah Ann Whitney Smith. Last of all came John and Julia Tyler.

As the procession passed Mary Fielding Smith and her children, young Joseph the Third locked eyes with his cousin Joseph F. Smith and nodded, as if to say,

I understand what it's like now.

COYOTE CREEK, Saturday, May 3

Return Jackson Redden discovered a large circular cave in the pudding-stone formations, about thirty feet in width at the mouth and the same in depth. The cave showed signs of having been used by trappers as a cache. The pioneers rested and dined in the shade of the cave at noon.

Jessie's stomach was still bothering her, and in the afternoon she gave up her seat in the jarring wagon and decided to walk instead, to relieve the pain. Hosea was becoming ever more concerned about her condition.

"Th' baby's stopped movin'", she said to Hosea. "I'm terrified I might lose it."

NAUVOO, Sunday, May 4

At ten a.m., the funeral of Joseph Smith was held on the meeting grounds near the cemetery. It was a beautiful, warm, sunny spring day. A vast throng of nearly fifteen thousand Saints packed the grounds. Apostle John Taylor presided. Among his remarks he said, in part,

"Joseph Smith, the Prophet an' Seer o' th' Lord, 'as done more, save Jesus only, far th' salvation of men in this warld, than enny oother man 'at evair lived in it! In th' short space o' twenty years, 'e 'as brought forth th' Book o' Mormon, which 'e translated by th' gift an' power o' God, and 'as been th' means o' publishin' it on two continents...

"He 'as gathered many thousands o' th' Latter-day Saints, founded a great city, an' left a fame an' name that canna' be slain. He lived greet, an' 'e died greet in th' eyes o' God an' 'is people; an' like most o' th' Lord's anointed in ancient times, 'as sealed 'is mission an' his works wi' 'is own blood; an' soo 'as 'is broother Hyrum."

Wilford Woodruff next addressed the congregation:

"Nigh onto two years ago, our Brother Joseph preached to us in Yelrome. He spoke on the second epistle of Peter, first chapter, fifth verse, which reads:

'And beside this, giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge;'

"Brother Joseph also said that 'Salvation is nothing more or less than to triumph over all our enemies and put them under our feet'. Surely no man has triumphed over all his enemies more completely than Joseph Smith the Prophet, who surmounted every obstacle of life and has now entered into his rest."

William W. Phelps had made a few last-minute changes to his hymn, "Praise to the Man". As he stood to conduct the hymn, on a sudden inspiration he announced to the congregation:

"A year ago, we sang this hymn to the doleful tune 'Star in the East'. That was a mournful time. I feel a sense of triumph in the air now, and therefore we shall sing it to the tune 'Scotland the Brave'."

Nearly fifteen thousand Saints raised their voices in Brother Phelps' now triumphal-sounding hymn:

Sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven;

Earth must atone for the blood of that man.

Wake up the world for the conflict of justice.

Millions shall know "Brother Joseph" again.

Hail to the Prophet, ascended to heaven!

Traitors and tyrants now fight him in vain.

Mingling with Gods, he can plan for his brethren;

Death cannot conquer the hero again.

While they were singing, Mary Ann Maughan leaned over to her friend Sarah Davenport and said through her tears,

"Ay, 'tis different this time. When Hyrum died, in truth we all thought th' world 'ad ended. But now 'at Joseph's work is well an' truly complete, I should be sad, but I feel almost, well, happified."

"As do I", Sarah replied.

Charles Lambert and William Player had carved a massive headstone and crypt out of temple limestone, positioned next to Hyrum's gravesite. They were determined to build a monument to Joseph that would withstand vandals, weather, and the ravages of time.

As Joseph's coffin was laid to rest, the Saints sang 'Why do we mourn for dying friends', after which John Taylor firmly declared,

"Truly, in life they ware not deevided, an' in deeth they ware not separated!"

NAUVOO, Sunday, May 4, Noon

At noon, the Nauvoo Temple was dedicated. As not all the Saints could be accommodated in the temple at the same time, several sessions were scheduled – one for each municipal ward in the city.

As Mary Elizabeth Lightner stood patiently in line to enter the temple, she gazed in wonder at the grand façade rising before her – from the broad flight of steps leading up to the outer portico, to the circular stained glass windows with their inverted five-pointed stars; to the octagonal bell tower with its golden dome topped with the angel weathervane; and lastly to the entablature above the entrance that declared,

Holiness to the Lord

The House of the Lord

Mary Elizabeth leaned forward in line and exclaimed to John Taylor,

"Oh, Elder Taylor, it's splendid! If only Brother Joseph could see it..."

"I doubt not but wot 'e 'as seen it, Sister Mary", John Taylor responded. "D'ye recollect wot 'e said last fall, 'at he 'intended ta keep th' door at th' dedication hisself'? He'll be 'ere, of that I be quite sairtain."

As Mary Elizabeth slowly made her way up the eight steps and through the right hand doorway, she admired the beautiful vestibule or "outer court", which had been furnished with tables, chairs, and art work donated by the Saints. In a prominent spot near the entrance to the assembly hall, Mary Elizabeth noticed Prudence Bigelow's Norwegian tole painting of the Nauvoo temple: a white rectangle with six black spots representing the round windows, a triangular spire, and two winged figures symbolizing the cherubims and seraphims watching over God's temple day and night. At the bottom of the painting, in bold, block letters, were the words,

HOLENES TU THE LORD

Before his departure, Brigham Young had donated a small melodium reed organ to the temple. As Mary Elizabeth quietly entered the assembly hall, she was greeted by the sweet tones of 'Who are these arrayed in white', and 'God in his earthly temple lays', played on the organ by Emmeline B. Whitney. Mary noticed that the assembly hall was quite similar in pattern to the Kirtland Temple, but much grander, with three sets of pulpits at the east and west ends of the hall, representing the Aaronic and Melchizedek priesthoods. A profound and reverent silence reigned, save for the soft music.

When the hall was filled to capacity, Presiding Bishop Newel K. Whitney and the lesser Aaronic Priesthood presidencies took their place above the pulpits at the west end, while the Apostles and the Nauvoo Stake Presidency took their place at the east end, with John Taylor presiding.

Wilford Woodruff arose and said,

"Notwithstanding the many false prophecies of Sidney Rigdon and others that the roof should not go on nor the House be finished, and the threats of the mob that we should not dedicate it, yet we have done both and we had an interesting time of it. The Saints have labored faithfully and finished the temple and we are now received as a Church with our dead. This is glory enough for building the temple and thousands of the Saints shall receive their endowment in it. And the light will not go out!"

Elder Orson Hyde offered the dedicatory prayer:

"....By the authority of the Holy Priesthood now we offer this building as a sanctuary to Thy Worthy Name... Let Thy Spirit rest upon those who have contributed to the building of this temple, the laborers on it that they may come forth to receive kingdoms and dominions and glory and immortal power. Accept of us we pray Thee, inspire every bosom to do Thy will, cause that truth may lead them for the glorious coming of the Son of God when you come in the name of the King, the Lord of Hosts shall be the King. Gather us in Thy Kingdom through Jesus Christ, our Lord, Amen."

Following the prayer, William W. Phelps led the congregation in the dedication anthem, "The Spirit of God".

We'll sing and we'll shout with the armies of heaven,

Hosanna, hosanna to God and the Lamb!

Let glory to them in the highest be given,

Henceforth and forever, Amen and amen!

Elder Lorenzo Snow ended the dedication with these words:

"As soon as these services are concluded, I purpose to go home and finish my fitting-out for my journey to the west. President Young has instructed us to have everything in readiness against his return, which I expect in some two months or so, to evacuate the city of Nauvoo and move this whole body of Saints to the Upper California. As President Young would say, it will do us no good to sit around strumming our harps, but we should each secure a good wagon and team, and sufficient provisions to carry us through to the Pacific coast if necessary, or through the next winter in our new home, as circumstances shall dictate."

Lorenzo paused for a moment. Then he said,

"As the revelation to Joseph says,

'But I command you, all ye my saints, to build a house unto me; and I grant unto you a sufficient time to build a house unto me; and during this time your baptisms shall be acceptable unto me.'

"The house of the Lord is complete, and He has accepted it. It is now time for us as a people to move on."

He pointed over his shoulder to the golden letters that were engraved on the east wall, in an arc above the pulpits:

THE LORD HAS BEHELD OUR SACRIFICE, COME AFTER US

NAUVOO, Monday, May 5

John and Julia Tyler were baptized members of the Church by Apostle John Taylor. The Apostle welcomed his near-namesake into the Church with this remark:

"Tyler, Taylor – 'tis all the same sound ta' my ears, an' ta' God's, I ken."

RED FORK CANYON, Monday, May 5

Appleton Harmon spent the morning fixing a broken axletree on one of the wagons, while Orson Pratt and Thomas Bullock rode ahead to explore the best route for the Saints to take up the narrow, winding canyon. The walls of the canyon rose over a thousand feet on either side, forcing them to hug the narrow bank along the Weber River. Orson caught several speckled trout with his fly rod, before returning to camp.

Back at the main camp, Porter Rockwell was having difficulty with the mules, who seemed highly agitated. The more they whinnied and brayed, the more agitated they seemed to become. Porter finally expressed his irritation to William Clayton.

"I don't get it", said Porter, throwing up his hands. "They's somethin' round here that spooks 'em, but derned if I know what it is."

William Clayton listened to the mules for a moment, then he said with a smile,

"Port, 'ow many mules 'ave we?"

"'Bout twenty now... so?"

"Sounds like more onto forty t' me. Every time one o' those jackasses 'ee-aws, 'e 'ears 'is own echo a second or two later, frae' th' high canyon walls. Those fool beasts'r thinkin' 'ey 'eare a whole herd o' jennies up in th' rocks, a-callin' t' them. 'Tis no wonder they be addled."

Porter grinned. "Sounds t' me like we should name this place Hee-haw Canyon."

"Pairsonally, I prefair Echo Canyon", said William.

Jessie's illness was worsening. While Appleton repaired the axletree, she flopped down on the grass underneath another wagon, exhausted and shaking. She was running a fever and sweating. Hosea was alarmed at her condition, but she replied to him weakly,

"A'll be fine... half the camp has this Rocky Mountain fever, an' it'll pass..."

EMIGRATION CANYON, Wednesday, May 7

The pioneers hacked their way through several miles of scrub oak and willows along the river bottoms, as they ascended their way to the summit and, they hoped, the final descent to the valley of the Great Salt Lake. As they proceeded, they noticed that here and there some previous emigrant party had cleared the way before them. But instead of following the canyon, the earlier trail suddenly veered off and went straight up and over the last hill at the valley's mouth.

Brigham Young looked at the old trace in astonishment.

"They must have been mad, to drive their teams straight up that mountainside", he said. "Who would attempt such a fool thing? If we stick to the more level river bottom here, we shall save our teams and ourselves much effort, thank'e."

Jessie's condition was becoming serious. Hosea fashioned a hammock for her in one of the wagons by stretching ropes between two poles fastened to either end. It seemed to ease her suffering somewhat. Clarissa stayed near her side and administered to her as best she could, but there was nothing anyone could do to relieve Jessie's unrelenting abdominal pain.

BIG MOUNTAIN, Friday, May 9

The pioneers were still toiling their way up Emigration Canyon. The trail had been rising for many days now, and the endless hills, streams, boulders, and ravines were beginning to wear on them. Orson Pratt's barometer indicated over 8200 feet of altitude, and the thin air and heat left them breathless and sapped their will to continue on.

At about eleven in the morning, Thomas Bullock was in the lead. He suddenly started jumping up and down, waving his hat and shouting,

"Hurrah, hurrah, there's my home at last!"

Hosea drove his wagon up to the crest of the hill and turned it so Jessie could see. Spread out before them was a glorious vista: Just beyond the green and yellow-dappled nearer hills was a long, silvery lake with an island in the middle. Beyond the lake in the far distance was a long chain of snow-capped mountains.

Jessie wept as she viewed the scene. "Oh, what a beautiful valley! It's just as th' Major described it!"

Hosea gazed in awe at the valley and said in disbelief,

"Do you think this is really the valley? Have we truly arrived, think you?"

"Yes, ah'm sure of it." She collapsed back onto her hammock and took a deep breath.

"Now lettest thy servant depart in peace", she whispered.

Hosea turned to Charles Preuss, slapped him on the back and said with a grin,

"Well Corporal, you're the only one of us that's actually been here before. Is this the Great Salt Lake, or have we overshot the mark and fetched up on the Pacific shore?"

"No, that's the lake for sure", said Preuss, wiping his brow. "I've never seen it from this vantage point, but there's no mistakin' it. We've found it."

Brigham Young had just come up. "Ah, but you forget, gentlemen, that I have seen it in vision from just this vantage point. Yes, this is the right place. Let's drive on."

Hosea finally tore his gaze away from the valley and glanced at Jessie. She was unconscious.

"Whoa, Jessie, wake up!" he cried. There was no response.

Brigham laid his hand on Jessie's head, closed his eyes for a moment, then withdrew his hand.

"The Lord's will be done. See what you can do to aid her, Sister Young", he said sorrowfully.

Jessie opened her eyes, looked up at Hosea and said weakly,

"Ah'm sorry, Hosea... Ah'll be fine in a minute or two..." Then she closed her eyes again.

"C'mon Jessie, wake up! Don't leave me now!" he said desperately.

At about six that evening Jessie quietly passed away, still clasping Hosea's hand in hers.

GREAT SALT LAKE VALLEY, Saturday, May 10

The pioneers arose at dawn for the final push down Emigration Canyon into the valley. Jessie's body had been tenderly wrapped in a blanket and placed in one of the wagons. Brigham was anxious to reach the valley as quickly as possible, and Hosea agreed with him that Jessie would have wanted to be buried there anyway.

Brigham said to Hosea, "We'll drive on down into the valley today. This is the right place. I have seen it before in vision. In this valley we shall build the City of the Saints and the temple of our God."

The trail was extremely rough, and the travel-weary pioneers were taxed to the limit as they cut their way through the heavy underbrush. The trail wound up and down, crossing Emigration Creek many times. As they descended Little Mountain, they chained the wagon wheels to keep them from running away.

Near the mouth of the canyon the ground finally leveled out and the trail became easier. Brigham Young was leading the way, followed by Hosea Stout. Hosea's thoughts alternated between the ever-expanding valley vista before him, and the need to find a burial place for Jessie. As his mule waded through the tall grass, Hosea spotted something sticking up near the southern edge of the canyon. He rode over to examine it, and found it was a rough wooden headstone bearing the faint words:

Matilda Crowley

Apr 26 1845

Brigham rode up and viewed the headstone. The ground had been cleared around the grave, and footprints and tire marks were still evident.

"Looks like we're not the first ones to pass this way", said Brigham. He looked carefully at Hosea. "What do you think, Hosea?"

"Yes, this will do nicely", said Hosea. "There's a fine view of the valley from here."

As the other pioneers approached the spot, Brigham said,

"We'll pause here for an hour or so to refresh ourselves, then I'll preach Jessie's funeral."

Chism and Green Flake set to work digging, and when they were done Hosea and Thomas Bullock tenderly lifted Jessie's body out of the wagon and gently laid her in the grave. Brigham Young gave a brief sermon:

"This is now the third funeral that I have preached on this journey, and I pray that it may be the last. Nothing remains here for us but to pay our last respects to that which came from mother earth. It was formed and fashioned and the spirit was put into it, and it has grown and become what it is, and the spirit having departed, the body lies ready to return to the bosom of its mother, there to rest until the morning of the resurrection.

But the life and intelligence which once dwelt in that body still live, and Sister Jessie moves, talks, walks, enjoys and beholds that which we cannot enjoy and behold while we are in these tabernacles of clay. She is in glory; she has passed the ordeals and has reached a position in which the power of Satan has no influence upon her. Where the pure in heart are the wicked cannot come. This is the state of the spirit world."

"May this spot be hallowed and held in remembrance, and be protected from the elements until the morning of the first resurrection, in the name of Jesus, amen."

At about five p.m. President Young, Ezra T. Benson, Orson Pratt, and William Clayton rode north about a mile and climbed the low mountain peak that President Young had seen a day earlier. President Young named it "Ensign Peak", after the prophecy in Isaiah 11:12.

Orson had brought his telescope along and set it up at the top of the peak. They each took turns gazing in awe at the deep green patches of sage and grass, the Great Salt Lake with its islands, and the mountains beyond. Ezra noticed a faint cloud of dust near the south end of the lake, and he trained the telescope on it.

"Haloo, I think we may have company."

"What, out here?" said Brigham, somewhat alarmed.

"Sure as I'm alive", said Ezra. "They look like Conestogas, heading away from us, I think."

"It must be the advance group of the Donner Party", said William. "Don't you recall, back at Fort Laramie, Boggs said that there was another, larger party of two hundred or so ahead of him?"

"It's a shame for them they didn't just unhitch their wagons right here", said Ezra. "This is the best climate and most fertile soil for a thousand miles in any direction. They have a long row to hoe before they reach Sutter's Fort."

Brigham said, "I wish them a most hearty farewell. The last thing we want to camp with here is a pack of Missouri wildcats. No, this valley has been preserved for a wise purpose by the Lord. It don't look like much now, but Joseph told me it would blossom as the rose. All it takes is a little elbow grease."

Orson pointed out some features of the valley to Brigham. He said, "You know, if I didn't know better, I would say we were in Palestine, looking down at the wilderness of Judea. This Great Salt Lake looks for all the world like Brother Hyde's description of the Dead Sea. Right where our encampment is, at that creek at the mouth of the canyon, I should expect to find Jericho."

Brigham laughed. "Now, that would be quite a surprise."

William said, "Accordin' to Major Frémont's journal, there'll be a freshwater lake some distance south of 'ere, 'at feeds a tributary into this Salt Lake. So there be your Sea of Galilee an' Joordan River, Orson."

Orson remarked, "There is at least one great difference, I might point out. According to my barometer, this 'Dead Sea' is over 4,000 feet above sea level, not 1500 feet below it."

They all sat for a time, watching the sun drop closer to the distant mountains. At last, Brigham rose slowly to his feet. "Thank you for your geography lesson, brethren. We'd best be getting back to camp. You men head back down to the wagons, I'll be along presently."

Brigham sat alone on a rock, watching the sun set over the lake. A moment later he heard footsteps behind him and turned. Joseph and Hyrum were just coming around the brow of the hill towards him.

They sat down next to Brigham, who was sitting as still as the rock he was perched on, his mind racing. Brigham said the first thing that came into his mind.

"Joseph, what would you have me do here? There's scarcely a jint of wood to build with in the entire valley."

Joseph smiled. "Brigham, this is your watch now. You'll figure it all out. There is enough and to spare here for thousands and tens of thousands of Saints to live comfortably. But don't let them get too comfortable, lest they should kick themselves out of the kingdom."

Brigham said, "I assume you know about Jessie..."

"Yes, I've already spoken to her. A remarkable woman", said Joseph. He raised his arm and pointed to the west.

"Many times I have seen this valley in vision, and I longed to come here with the Saints. But I was hedged up by my enemies. Now it is up to you and the Twelve to lead this Church, Brigham. Don't you remember, in Nauvoo I conferred upon the Twelve all the keys and authority to carry this work forth after I was gone? I have laid the groundwork, and now you must carry it on."

"But without you -" said Brigham.

"Brigham, do you recall in Kirtland, when the whole Church was less than a hundred strong? I told the brethren that they were as babes – that they knew no more about the destiny of this Church than a child."

"If you lead the Saints aright, they will follow you", said Hyrum. "Tell the brethren to get the Spirit of the Lord. If they do that, they will be all right."

Hyrum pointed to the valley and said,

"Joseph, look!"

"What is it, Hyrum?" said Joseph.

Brigham strained his eyes to see what they were seeing.

Joseph stretched his arm out to the west. "Yes, I see it... Brigham, do you see this valley before you? The Saints will fill this valley; they will fill all of North and South America, they will fill the whole earth. There will be hundreds of temples dotting the land. The Lord has decreed, and thus it shall be."

Brigham gazed at the valley before him. When looked around again, Joseph and Hyrum were gone. He slowly rose to his feet and made his way down the hill to the rest of the company. As he drew near, Orson gazed at him.

"Brigham, is anything the matter?" he said.

Brigham replied, "No, all is well, Orson. I'm fully satisfied that this is our abiding place. This is the best spot, and here is the center place of Zion. Let's go see our new home."

THE END

~~~~~~~~~~

Did you like this book? Please rate it or review it.

Then check out Kurt Kammeyer's other publications here:

The Clan of the Stone series:

The Clan of the Stone

The Defender of God

The Empress of Edom

By Ailad's Bootstraps (Short story)

The President Elect series:

Book One: Joseph Smith the Prophet

Book Two: Joseph Smith the Candidate

Book Three: General Joseph Smith

The Rejuvenated

The Last Stradivari (Short story)

Bath-time Anomalies (Junk science at its best)

