The Wedding Dress (39 page)

“I'm obliged!” he shouted; “just point the way. I don't—”

The Indian was moving ahead, and Joshua followed. Within an hour his guide turned off the road and started up the mountain. Joshua halted and shouted, “No! I go to the Clara.” The Indian came back and twitched the horse's reins. Now Joshua was beginning to sense the urgency in the Indian's actions, and reluctantly he fell in behind the Indian pony. As the trail narrowed and the pony slowed on the slippery slope, Joshua became aware of his surroundings. The trees were becoming taller and the undergrowth heavier. When the timber formed a canopy against the blizzard, Joshua caught the scent of wood smoke.

They broke into a clearing. Snow-covered cones dotted the area, and Joshua realized they were in an Indian village.

They led their horses to shelter under the trees. Joshua shook snow from his clothes and removed his snow-laden hat to wipe the moisture from his face. The Indian was untying bundles, lifting them from his pony, and Joshua went to help.

“Sun.” There was awe in the Indian's voice. Joshua realized he was staring at his hair and beard. “Sun child,” he said again, this time with understanding. He nodded and grinned. “Mormonee sun child, too.”

“No, I'm not Mormon,” Joshua said, “I'm—” The Indian was unwrapping the bundle and Joshua caught his breath. With a quick step he moved and touched the little leather trunk. “Where did you get this?”

The Indian seemed surprised, “Mormonee sun child.” He frowned and hesitated while his dark eyes studied him again. He said, “Come, sun child.” Bewildered, Joshua followed the Indian through the snow to one of the huts. He stooped and staggered through the opening. In the dark, smoky room he stood waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dimness.

One of the women turned from the fire. Her braids were long and as yellow as new-ripened wheat. His lips were stiff, unbelieving, but he must try the name. “Rebecca?” She was much taller than he remembered and much too thin.

It was a long moment before she moved, and whispered, “Joshua, is it really you?”

“Mormonee sun child.”

“Like children of light,” said the woman standing beside Rebecca. Joshua stepped closer to Rebecca and looked into her face. There were pain-filled shadows in her eyes. Looking at the thin, pale cheeks, he ached for her suffering.

Gently, as if he were touching a wounded child, he reached for her. A sigh escaped her lips as she leaned against his shoulder. He felt tears against his neck.

The Indian woman stepped close to them, saying simply, “You two belong.” She touched their hair. “I not believe Eagle's story about woman on mountain with hair like light. Now two of you.”

There was compassion in her eyes as she said, “Sun child very ill. Fever from gun wound; baby born dead.”

Joshua felt Rebecca's trembling and sensed the deep, silent sobbing. Alarmed he said, “Rebecca, don't. You are safe now. I'll make certain of that.”

When she could talk, she raised her head, “Why did you think I wasn't safe?”

He shook his head slowly. “I don't know. But there was nothing in me except the constant need to find you. The feeling wouldn't let me rest.” Was he sensing her shrinking away from him? “Rebecca, I'm asking nothing except, will you please let me take you home to Ma? You don't need to say one thing about what's happened. Just come with me. Let the past go.”

The room emptied slowly, and Rebecca said, “I think it will be best forgotten if I tell you all first.” They sat down beside the fire. The Indian woman, Solali, touched Rebecca's shoulder before she left. Rebecca explained, “Solali was a plural wife too. She wasn't happy and returned to her own people. That's why she speaks English. She also understands why I can't return to them.”

Joshua watched the sadness creep across Rebecca's face as she stared into the fire. Finally, she roused herself and began her story.

The embers dulled and grayed before new wood was added. A fresh log flared and glowed, but the embers were dying again before her story reached that night on Mountain Meadows.

Watching her face, knowing now where the story was leading, Joshua said, “As soon as I rode into the territory I knew something was afoot. I've never been aware of such emotions, and they were everywhere as I rode the trails and looked in the towns.”

“Looking for me?”

He nodded. They were silent for a long time, but when she spoke again, he sensed an easing of the tension between them.

Rebecca whispered, “When we started the march back to Cedar City, it seemed the very air was alive with something evil and frightening. My knees would scarce hold me as we walked. And I was sensing them moving out of the darkness. When the shouting began and the screams and gunfire, I ran. Then I saw Andrew.” She swallowed and shook her head. Grief bowed her double. Joshua stirred the fire and waited.

“'Twas the Lord. I am sure of it. It was His blessed faithfulness, not a quirk of fate that sent this Indian to me. You've heard them say he recognized me by my hair.” Her voice was low and husky. “I don't know what significance he saw in it, but he hid me in the bushes and later carried me to this village. You've been told the rest.”

Out of a long silence she spoke, “It's the blood atonement. 'Tis written in the Doctrine and Covenants. I read it for myself. Says that if a man in the priesthood has a wife who sins against the new and everlasting covenant, she is to be destroyed in the flesh. Do you understand, Joshua?

“When I told Andrew I was trusting in the atonement of Jesus Christ for my salvation, this meant I was rejecting the new and everlasting covenant. He was obligated.” She trembled and held her hands to the fire. It was a long time before she whispered, “'Tis his religion that makes him into this. So far as he knows, I'm dead. For him to know otherwise means he'll have the job to do over again.”

“Then there's no way you can return to him,” Joshua said slowly. “Your choice of Christ's atonement was a denial of the new and everlasting covenant. To return to him means death. Rebecca, you know I'm obliged to carry you out of here.”

It was his turn to be silent and then his words were tentative, as if he sensed he was probing a sore spot. “You know these plural marriages aren't recognized by the government of the United States. And he didn't tell you he already had a wife when you married him. Nowhere else in the country will he have any legal hold on you.”

For a moment Rebecca's expression became hopeful; then fear crept into her eyes. “'Tis so. But I'm still here. Under the covenant, he's obliged to destroy me if he really loves me. They teach 'tis the only way I'd make it to the highest glory.”

“Then you must flee for your life. Rebecca, I'm taking you home with me.” As if he sensed her questions, he raised his hand. “Rebecca, I'm asking nothing. Only let me take you home. For us both, that is enough for now.”

When Joshua moved again, it was with the motion of casting off a burden. He asked, “Were there survivors?”

Rebecca shook her head. “I had Solali ask Eagle. He said that all the emigrants were killed except the smallest children. Seventeen of them were taken to the Saints. That means there were one hundred and twenty older children, men and women who were killed. Eagle admitted the Indians had been given the task of murdering the women and children. Oh, Joshua, I still can't believe it. The stories were so horrible. Eagle said the wolves got the bodies; they had been poorly buried. When I remember those kind people….” She turned away with her grief. Her voice muffled, she said, “I'll never forget that I failed.”

The fire died and they could hear the wind and feel the press of cold. Joshua rose to kindle it afresh. In the light of leaping flames, Rebecca stirred and straightened. The lines were still on her face and the shadows in her eyes, but she lifted her chin and her hands were moving, touching the world around her.

“I made these people realize I must never return to my home. But there was one thing from the past I wanted. When I explained it to Solali, she sent Eagle to Pinto for it.”

“The wedding dress?”

“My mother's Bible. Before I left Pinto I felt the strong need to hide the Book. It had become too precious to risk. I placed it in the trunk where it belongs and shoved it back under the bed. I couldn't tell Eagle to bring just the Book, because there was another black book there. I dared not run the risk of having him bring the wrong book, so I asked for the trunk.”

“But the dress?”

“It's in there. But, Joshua, the dress wasn't the important thing. It was the Bible. My mother was trying to tell me that the Holy Bible was my only hope. I'm sure of that now. How blind I was to think a marriage was what she had in mind. How blind I was to think anything could supplant what God has given in His Word.”

In another moment she moved again. This time there was a new expression on her face. Even in the shadowed room he could see the sad lines ease as her eyes were touched with new light.

“My friend,” she whispered, “my dear faithful friend. I can't begin to understand the sacrifice you've made for me. Will I ever be worthy of this care, this concern?”

He took her hand and squeezed it, clasping it between his two. “Rebecca, seems I don't know much about God, but I remember how I felt first off—unworthy. I couldn't lift my face to Him. When I finally could understand what He was saying to me in His Word, I knew He was wanting me to be thinking now about His love, not my unworthiness. If He doesn't want those feelings of not being worthy between me and Him, I sure can't imagine Him thinking it's good between a man and a woman.”

There were shadows moving back into her eyes, and he guessed her thoughts were on the past again. His own heart ached, but he could only watch helplessly.

Suddenly she took a deep breath and leaned forward. “Joshua, can you be patient?” She raised a trembling hand, but as she pressed it against his shoulder and then lifted it to his face, the trembling ceased.

With the other hand she brushed her hair away from her eyes and met his steadily. He smiled down at her. “Patience? It's faith, Becky. Everything's going to be all right.”

Rebecca could smell the pungent smoke of the pine and sage fire. Bitter cold won out over its feeble warmth, and she buried her nose in the rabbit-skin robe. Snuggling deeper into the robe, she felt sleep claiming her again.

The resinous pine snapped like gunfire and, with a cry of terror, she struggled against the blackness of the dream trying to suck her downward. Even as she fought against its fearful scenes, part of her mind reminded her that it was only a dream, the same one repeated endlessly throughout the days of her illness. But even now that she had strength to contend with the terror of memory, there was still only one escape.

Fighting off the heavy robes and blankets, Rebecca threw herself from her bed mat. Solali, crouched beside the fire, turned with a concerned frown to watch Rebecca. Shivering now, Rebecca pushed aside the heavy mass of blond hair from her face and knelt beside the Indian woman. She wiped the perspiration from her face while Solali's troubled eyes studied her. “'Tis the dream?”

Rebecca nodded tremulously and held her hands toward the blaze. “That cracklin' log did it. Seemed like rifle fire, and—and I was back there, livin' it over.” She was trembling now and Solali reached for the blanket.

More cold air struck Rebecca at the same time she heard Joshua whispering from the doorway. “Solali, I've got to talk to Rebecca.” As she turned, the deerskin curtain covering the doorway of the hut was pulled aside as Joshua stepped through the opening and saw her. “You're up early this cold morning. Did you feel the touch of snow in the air?”

Still caught in the terror of the dream, she whispered dully, “Snow?”

It was Solali who saw his worried eyes fixed on Rebecca and moved closer. “Eagle?” she asked. He hesitated for a moment and then turned to the Indian woman.

“Solali, we've got to get out of here,” he murmured. “There's trouble a'brewing but plenty.”

“Where's Eagle?” she asked again.

“He's here, just come back. That's why—”

Rebecca moved slowly. Turning from the fire, still shivering, she clutched the blanket about her, but she lifted her chin and said, “It's bad, and I might as well know about it. You two have been whispering behind my back for long enough. 'Tis time I start livin' again.” Her voice caught; she took two quick nervous steps toward the door and then returned to the fire.

She faced Joshua and, for the first time, saw the lines of fatigue on his face. As she studied those lines, wondering at their meaning, Eagle came into the hut. Moving to the other side of the fire, he squatted and held his hands toward the warmth.

Joshua knelt beside him, and while the two men spoke in low, hurried tones, Rebecca watched Eagle. She was still frowning at what she saw when Joshua got to his feet and came back to her. “Eagle's tired,” she said, “and I know he's been gone someplace.” She faced Joshua. “You look like something's pressing upon you.”

The curtain swung softly into place again as Eagle left the hut. Joshua's worried frown was still on his face as he turned, and pulling off his hat, tossed it to the stack of robes. Though dressed like a native American, his golden hair and beard caught the light and sharpened the contrast between the Indians and himself. Rebecca thought of the strange picture she, too, created. Her heavy blonde hair was braided Indian-style and she was wearing the typical Paiute woman's dress. A tentative smile curved her lips.

Joshua bent down beside her and looked into her face. His smile reflected not so much amusement or joy but simply relief at her softened expression. Knowing why, Rebecca stretched out her hand in mute apology. Joshua squeezed her hand but said abruptly, “Becky, I want you to get your things together right now. We're leaving as soon as we can get packs on the horses.”