The Wedding Dress (13 page)

Out on the street again Rebecca clutched the precious packet of paper and the one pencil she was able to buy. “Becky Wolstone,” Granny Hicks was hailing her. She nodded at Rebecca's paper. “Nearly school time. The haze's on the mountains.”

Rebecca lifted her eyes to the towering mountains. They were veiled in their smoky autumn haze. “I love this time of year,” Granny continued, “but it sure makes me homesick to sink my teeth into a nice crisp apple.”

“Yes.” Rebecca's mind was flooded with the sight and scent of apples. Clearly she saw herself throwing an apple at the squawking chickens. “I regret every apple those silly chickens got.” She stopped to listen to Granny's chatter. With the memory of home sharp in her thoughts, she glanced down the street.

At the end of the block there was a horse and rider moving swiftly away from her. The rider's broad shoulders were clad in black broadcloth, and memory tumbled her back into the arms of the dark stranger on that long-ago day. Andrew Jacobson. The tattle-tale pulse at the base of her throat pounded, and she quickly covered it with her hand. Silly, she didn't know for a fact that he was one of them.

As they walked down the street together, Granny Hick's chatter slid past her. She was musing over the changes that had taken place in the territory. Without the iron-fisted leadership of Brigham Young, it would never have happened.

Iron fist? Yes, but more than that. There was a mystical quality about the man that commanded love and respect—adoration. Without him they would have failed, with him they dared not.

Just this very month the territory had become a recognized part of the United States. Utah. Rebecca pondered the name. Deseret, the name the Saints had chosen for the territory, was a Book of Mormon name meaning honeybee. But the government had chosen to deny them this name, just as it had chosen to withhold statehood from them.

Already there were rumblings from the office of President Young. It was reported that he had sworn he would be governor. There was not a Saint in the new territory who doubted his word, and many already pitied those who would dare challenge him. And challenge him they would. It was rumored that by next summer there would be federally appointed officers here. Rebecca shook her head. Gentiles trying to govern the Saints while Brigham was around to wave the laws of the church at them?

“Why you shaking your head?” Granny Hicks peered at her.

“I'm thinking of the Gentiles charging in here where angels fear to tread. If this is the Kingdom of God, it's beyond the talents of Washington to handle it.”

“Brother Brigham? I'll say the angels will be wary of him. Washington, huh? They'll be asking for a fight sooner than can be when they start moving their men in here.”

“Well, no matter; next summer will tell it all. I'll imagine a dose of Brother Brigham's pepper will get us statehood in a hurry.” They reached Granny's gate, and Rebecca went on her way, busy with her thoughts.

Thinking again of Brigham Young, Rebecca's lips twisted in a wry grin. She must admit that any people would have been this successful if their leader had promised them—as had Brigham Young—that they would obey or be damned.

But things were looking up. She sighed with pleasure, remembering the one piece of legislation that had particularly pleased her. It had been the move the provisional government had made to establish district schools. Already plans for the whole territory included a school in each ward.

In October of 1850 the first blizzard of the season whitened the prairie and swept through the streets of Great Salt Lake City. Horses huddled at hitching posts, their patient misery a warning that all of nature must bow before the battle of weather. On his last bit of strength, the wind led a lone straggler from California into the valley. He was distinguished by the packet of mail and the news he carried from there.

When Brother Samuels carried home a letter from Joshua, he also carried the tales of California.

“There really is gold and just for the taking. Men are making millions and nearly dying for lack of bread and a new shirt. There's a frenzy. Men are pouring into California to hunt gold, and another horde of men are pouring in to get rich off the miners. That's why we got the goods last year.”

He paused in his story long enough to remind his family of the goods that had come into the valley just as Heber C. Kimball had prophesied.

“Not all's good in riches; there's greed and waste. Brother Young is wiser than we know. We've got to listen to him and not run after riches. I heard tell the wildest things. In San Francisco they say doctors walked out on their patients, judges out of the courtrooms, and schools closed for want of teachers. The city looks like the plague hit it. Three-fourths of the men left to look for gold, while crops rotted and the cattle were neglected. Even the ships that sailed into San Francisco lost their crews. Then the rains turned the streets of San Francisco into lakes of mud. They threw in bushes and even trees, but the mules stumbled in the streets and drowned in the mud. Then they threw in a whole cargo of cookstoves, right into the mud and used them for stepping-stones.”

“Stepping-stones!” Ann's longing glance was on the makeshift stone oven.

After the Samuels had gone to bed, Rebecca knelt by the fire to read Joshua's letter. Fingering the stained paper and recalling Brother Samuels' words, she tried to imagine Joshua in that pack of cursing, pushing miners, fighting for gold nuggets. Joshua's steady blue eyes surveyed her from distant memory. She could feel his final handclasp, suddenly tender. What could possess a man like that to go after gold?

She spread the paper. “Dear Rebecca, how I want to say that to you. It has been so long, and the future is still black and empty. How much longer it will be, I don't know. One thing I do know, gold is a ghost here. It haunts our dreams and flits away when we reach for it. I wish she were lady luck and would smile on me.

“We've been dredging up the American River. Winter could come early and catch us; then we will hole up and hope for the best. Now we work from dawn until dark, dredging in icy water. My partner has been coughing for weeks now. He needs the sun and hot sand to cure his cough, but we dare not leave. Claim jumpers are hiding in the bushes. When you figure a lucky day can fill your bucket and keep you for a year, we dare not leave.

“At night I think about you and wonder. I hope things are going well with you and that you are able to teach school this year. They got a book for Jamie. I bought a Bible for myself. Just felt like I needed to be good to myself. Besides, I've ended up feeling it was the most important thing to have. I can't get away from the notion that there's a different kind of glory waiting out there.

“After thinking about the Whitmans I get to feeling that the most important thing a person can do with his life is to decide about God. The people I most admire in this world have got this all straightened out in their minds. I'm still working on it, and when I do, I'm coming. Becky, wait for me. Just let me see you again. That's all I ask for now. But then, you're young. The folks are still talking about moving to Oregon. Prue's big. Ma says there's lots of fellows sparking her. Matthew's working out. I am your humble servant, Joshua.”

She sat looking at the blurred signature, pondering the stiff closing, conscious of the ache around her heart. That night Joshua walked through her dreams, and the golden radiance that he had become was trouble in her heart. She must creep away from thinking about him. In the press of this winter, she couldn't stand up to the pain of both this place and Joshua.

As if in a rage, the winds and snow whipped down across the land. Again the Saints were faced with dwindling food supplies, and illness moved through the city.

One day in late November, Rebecca packed a loaf of fresh bread in a basket and told Ann, “I'm going to see Cora. I've not visited her since before the snow started, and Tim says he thinks they're moving. I can't imagine that in wintertime.”

She pulled her shawl over her head and closed the door behind her. The icy blast made her shiver. Last fall Brother Samuels had added on to the cabin. From two small rooms with a loft, the structure was expanded with two additional rooms in the back. Now there was a kitchen and a room for the girls.

The previous year a floor had dignified the cabin, and Mr. Samuels was talking about a cookstove for Ann. As she shivered, Rebecca was thinking the luxuries made stepping out into the cold that much more difficult. It also made it hard to visit the Wrights' cabin in the old fort.

There was another little boy at the Wrights' home. This one also resembled his father. Bessie still rocked, cocooned in her isolation.

Rebecca accepted the cup of sage tea and pulled little Joseph onto her lap. Cora cuddled the baby close to her breast and beamed at Rebecca. “You don't know how good it is to see you.”

Glancing at the silent figure beside the fireplace, Rebecca explained, “I've been busy. School. There's been a pack of students this year. Two are just starting out and the rest of them are fighting for attention.”

Cora sipped tea. “Did you get books?”

“No, and my arithmetic isn't any better. I try to keep them busy memorizing the Bible and making up dramas. Seems like everybody enjoys that come Fridays.”

“What a boring life.”

“Boring! It's better than being stuck by your own fireside all winter. Cora, why don't you come out for Relief Society? There's quilting this winter and with new stuff, too. Ann's gathered up every scrap in the valley.”

“I'd like to get some wool. The little one could use some stockings.” She dabbed at Joseph's drippy nose.

“Tim tells me you're thinking of moving.”

She looked astonished. “My, the news flies fast! It was only last week that Brother Young called Mr. Wright in. I told you about the big plans to start an ironworks down south. Iron's aplenty down there and coal too. Some of the men will be going down pretty soon to look the place over. They say it's a pretty spot. Lots of red rock and cedar-covered hills. I suppose there'll be women moving out in the spring. If it weren't for the Indians—” She looked from Bessie to the youngsters and sighed. “A body doesn't worry as much when there's more of you than Indians.”

She removed the towel from the bread and cut a piece for Joseph. “Oh, this visit is nice. What's happening with you? Still just wanting to be the schoolmarm?”

Rebecca nodded and cuddled Joseph close. “More than anything else in my life. By this time next year, we'll all have our own schoolhouse.”

“I hear some's disgruntled because you're using the Bible so much.”

She shrugged. “What else am I to use?”

“There's the Book of Mormon. The Saints set more store by it than the Bible. They say the Bible's not translated right.”

“Cora, I've honestly tried to give the book a fair trial, but it's so hard to understand. I end up just telling the story; that's not teaching.”

“Except the Book of Mormon is what we believe. You know Brother Brigham's been saying all along that's the most important.”

“Sometimes I feel so uneasy about the whole thing.”

“They're preaching it every Sunday. Aren't you going to meeting?”

“You know as well as I do that they don't spend too much time preaching. It's mostly about how we're to be treating the neighbors and the Indians.”

Unexpectedly, Bessie spoke from her chair by the fire. “If'n you were really wantin' to learn, you'd be going to the fast and testimony meeting. It's the first Thursday night each month. That's comin' up day after tomorrow.”

Astonished at her break with silence, Rebecca asked, “Do you go?”

“I've no call.” She retreated into her silence once again.

When Rebecca rose to leave, Cora touched her arm. “I've been hungering for our talks; come back. I'll need them more than ever if we move come spring.”

“I think it's terrible for Brother Brigham to send you so far away.”

“It could be worse. Our family will be together. Some of the men are called to leave their families and go on a mission. How their families manage, I can't imagine.”

Rebecca squeezed Cora. “I'm glad it isn't happening to you. It seems unfair.”

Bessie's admonition about the fast and testimony meeting was forgotten until two weeks later when Ann met Rebecca at the door as she came from school. Her expression informed Rebecca that something was amiss.

“I've hardly known that Bessie Wright to venture away from her fireside,” she began as she drew Rebecca away from the chattering children. “But it seems she's found a reason to leave it now. She's telling the world you've complained about the Book of Mormon and won't teach it. She's pretty well called your religion into disrepute. Knowing the neighborhood, you'd better draw the lines up tight.”