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  The vows she pledged under Mark’s serious gaze became weighted with meaning that grew, doubling and tripling in strength until she felt the vows amplified to the very heavens. Her whispered promises were, to her, shouts of eternal declaration, binding Jenny with cords of integrity when she didn’t know the meaning of the word. Caught up, knowing only that she was partner in a holy act, she faced Mark and murmured, “I pledge you my love, my honor.”

  Astonished, she watched and listened to Mark. With tears in his eyes, he promised to love and care for her as long as she lived. For one swift second her father’s face seemed to rise up between the two of them. Trembling, she knew herself to be at the terrible mercy of this man.

  At the reception, she lifted a fragment of wedding cake to his lips, and the glow of the golden wedding ring flashed between their eyes. His eyes were sparkling with joy, and she carefully smeared icing on the end of his nose. Amid the laughter, Attorney Cartwright transferred the icing to her cheek, and the specter of Jenny’s father disappeared forever.

  “A hurried wedding I will tolerate gladly, lest you change your mind,” Mark had said, “but a leisurely wedding trip I will not forego.” He had promptly booked passage on a lake steamer for a two-week trip around Lake Erie.

  When Mark and Jenny returned home to Kirtland, Ohio, still basking in the glow of their honeymoon, they were amazed to find their previous world unchanged. And while Jenny dreamed about her house and cooked meals for her husband, Mark faced the world to which he had been innocently summoned.

  ****

  Because Mark was Mark, firmly believing with his lawyer’s mind that black was black and white only white, Jenny was called upon to share his feelings and be a sounding board for his questions as he explored the thought and structure of this new world—the Mormons.

  During one of those early dinners, after he had remarked on the fine roast, he said, “Just today I found the Prophet has gone to Salem, Massachusetts.”

  “Whatever for? Salem is a strange place for him to be.”

  “There seems to be a bit of secrecy involved. Some say it’s a missionary trip and that he’s taken men with him. Andy is disturbed.”

  “Oh, you’ve seen Sally?”

  “No, just her husband. Jenny, you smell better than the apple pie.”

  “Must you go out tonight?”

  “No, of course not.” Jenny touched his face. Sally was mistaken, she thought, when she said Mark was not good husband material. But she wistfully admitted that this perfect moment wouldn’t last forever.

  As the days of September gradually became more golden, their marriage mellowed and became more precious.

  Though her happiness seemed a steady and constant thing, at times she felt the frightening edge of uncertainty. Jenny had erected barriers in her life because of the nameless dread. The barrier she was least willing to explain was her reluctance to walk in the woods.

  The small stone cottage Mark had purchased for them was separated from the Morgan home by an uncleared strip of timber. Although the forest was warm and friendly, with a rich golden light, Jenny chose walking the extra distance through the center of Kirtland to reach Sally’s home.

  One day in the middle of September, Jenny piled a basket with apples and started through town to visit Sally. When she passed the printing office, she met Sidney Rigdon just leaving Joseph at the door. Sidney bowed and passed on without a word, and impulsively Jenny turned in at the door.

  Oliver disappeared into the press room, but not before she saw the disgruntled expression on his face. She looked up at Joseph. “Of the lot, you’re the only one who hasn’t been into the sour apples.”

  He laughed and took her arm. “Then come to my office and tell me all that’s transpired in Kirtland the past month.”

  She followed and took a chair before saying, “I can tell you nothing except that the Thomas family has a new baby. Will that suffice? Tell me about your trip. It was very mysterious. We returned from our wedding to find you gone. Both Andy and Mark are upset. I don’t know why they can’t juggle funds without your presence.”

  Joseph shot her a quick look and then concentrated on removing his tie. “Perhaps because there are so few to juggle.” He met her eyes and she was caught by the sharp, questioning expression in them. “Jenny, you know that the church is in dire circumstances financially.” He got to his feet and restlessly paced the room. “Missouri has great needs right now. You’ve heard of the specie circular, I’m sure, since you’re married to an attorney.”

  “Pray, sir,” she said primly, “I’ve been on my honeymoon. We haven’t discussed finances.”

  He grinned now, holding her eyes with his own in a way that brought the blood to her face. In another moment he was saying, “The specie circular issued by Jackson forbids the acceptance of anything except gold and silver for the purchase of public lands. Of course this makes the situation in Missouri impossible.”

  Still watching her, his voice softened as he explained, “It is imperative that we have gold to buy land in Missouri. The Lord has promised; He will provide.”

  Jenny frowned and said slowly, “I am trying to understand it all, but there’s a missing link. Did concern for money relate to your trip to Salem?”

  Now he was startled. After studying her face, he said slowly, “I’d thought the gossip had come home before I did. Jenny, I suppose I shall tell you since you’ve asked, and since the word will be around Kirtland before long.” He paused to shuffle through the papers spread across the table.

  “Before I left for Salem, I knew what I was doing and where I was going. Suffice it to say that the enemy was working with all his powers to prevent me. Fortunately, the Lord gave me this revelation while I was there; otherwise my companions would have been greatly discouraged. You may read it.”

  As Jenny read she muttered the key words, treasure. Why did He say folly? You have power over Salem, with the wealth of silver and gold belonging to you. She dropped the paper into her lap and leaned forward, “Joseph,” she whispered, “what does this mean? What have you been doing?”

  Despite her resolve, she knew that her eyes were sparkling with excitement; she knew it by the answer from his own. Leaning close he said, “Jenny, a fellow came to me and told me about a house in Salem where there’s gold and silver buried in the basement. I knew the Lord was giving it to me to pay the debts and to purchase land in Missouri.”

  “The folly?”

  “I went back to the rod and the stone in order to find—”

  Like a scolding mother, reacting before thinking, Jenny cut him off, “Joseph, you told me the Lord had forbidden you to use the stone, forbidden you to search for hidden treasures!”

  “I know, but this was such a sure thing, and the need was so great. Besides, you’ve seen the revelation. He’s said it’s all right.”

  Jenny was shaking her head in bewilderment. “I don’t understand God at all. But since He’s told you the treasure was for you, I suppose it was okay to keep it.”

  There was a strangled noise from Joseph and she looked up. “Jenny, we didn’t find any.” But when he saw her face he quickly added, “We’ve retained the house and will go back next spring to try again.”

  Jenny walked home, still shaking her head in disbelief. When Mark returned home that evening, she was unable to tell him of her conversation with the Prophet. As she hurried about her kitchen, setting the table with the pretty new china and taking reassuring sniffs of the stew, she was miserably aware that she was keeping a secret from Mark, deliberately hiding the conversation with Joseph. During the short walk home, the facts weighing on her mind had become warped and ugly.

  The next day Mark brought her a letter from Tom. After dinner she eagerly tore it open, saying to Mark, “I’m so anxious to hear his reaction to our marriage. Shall I read it aloud?”

  “Only if you are certain he won’t be angry with me for taking his sister,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Oh, Mark, you know he won’t
.” She spread the sheets and began to read. “It’s addressed to both of us. He says:

  Having you married to Mark makes me the happiest man alive. I am grateful, too, that he has joined the church. If I’m called upon to shed blood in Missouri, I’ll die happy knowing my dearest kin are part of God’s Zion.

  She paused and looked up, “Oh, Mark, he sounds so dreary and formal.” Looking back to the letter, she brushed at her eyes.

  Yes, things are as bad as you’ve been hearing. Late June the Missourians in Clay County requested the Saints to move elsewhere, and as you know, the appeal to Governor Dunklin for help was denied. He had received the same complaint given last time, but amplified. They’re accusing us of wrong motives in our relations with the Indians. They refuse to consider the red men as Lamanites, or to believe that we, as God’s people, have an obligation to bring them into the fold. For the time being, this response makes it impossible to follow Joseph’s injunction to marry a Lamanite, and I can’t say that makes me unhappy.

  When she paused to turn the page, she glanced at Mark.

  He nodded, “I’d heard about Joseph’s revelation.”

  She waited, but he didn’t add to his comment. Returning to the letter, she continued:

  Our spirits were kept high, despite having the people of Clay County turn against us. We remembered the prophecy given by Joseph, appointing September 11, 1836, as the day for the redemption of Zion.

  Needless to say, some of us spent the day in prayer and fasting, looking for a miraculous sign that this would take place. Our disappointment when nothing happened was exceedingly hard to bear, and we were forced to prepare for our trek to the northern part of Missouri before more pressure was brought to bear.

  The prairie land is bleak, with water and timber in short supply. But we must keep our hopes high, remembering this is our promised Zion. God, true to His word, will in time deliver into our hands, not only the land but also the riches of the Gentiles. For brass we will receive gold; for iron, silver. All the Saints here in Zion are looking forward to the day when Joseph Smith will be able to surrender the reins in Kirtland and move to the Lord’s Zion.

  For now, nearly all the Saints in Missouri have moved to the new county named Caldwell. We are working hastily to settle ourselves and will be proud to show what we have done when the Kirtland Saints move here. This, despite the fact that we have been short of the needed and promised funds to buy more land. We call our goodly town by the name of Far West. Already our cultivated fields show our industry, and we are proud of them. Until you and my new brother-in-law, Mark, move to Zion, I remain faithfully,

  Thomas Timmons

  Jenny slowly folded the letter. Tom must have spent days on the writing. It helped explain Joseph’s trip to Salem. She wished she dared question Mark about the financial problems being rumored around. But as she studied his somber face, she was uneasily aware that she couldn’t endure hearing criticism of Joseph.

  Chapter 2

  As the winter snows began to pile up around Kirtland, covering the landscape and chilling the bones, so did events that most intimately concerned the citizens of the little community. But the new year was well under way before Jenny was aware of the further unrest throwing the town into upheaval.

  In the months since her marriage, Jenny had been content in her role as housewife, comfortable with Mark’s love. But her isolation had its drawbacks. Jenny knew little of the forces digging at the roots of the community. Her contentment had lulled her into avoiding the gossip and rumors.

  As autumn slipped into winter, Jenny enjoyed not only the esteem she and Mark had as a newly married couple, but also the respect Mark’s position was earning for him as a financial advisor in the church. She was also becoming aware of the increased demands upon his time.

  Early in January, on a glowering day that made her loneliness more acute, Jenny trudged through the snow to visit Sally. As she slowly unwound her shawl and sat down at the kitchen table, Sally’s first words pressed her into facing life. As she listened, Sally’s worried face and dire news seemed to pick the cotton padding away from her, letting in the unpleasant realities Jenny had shunned. Sally was enumerating the grave financial woes besetting Kirtland.

  Jenny listened and watched as Sally paced the room, holding her fussing daughter against her shoulder. “Did you know that Joseph made a trip to New York to borrow money, and has started a bank?”

  “That doesn’t seem wise.” Jenny shook the last of the snow from her frock. “Did he use the borrowed money?”

  Sally shook her head, “No, that was to pay off creditors. Andy says the bank intends to print notes, with the purpose of exchanging them for hard money.”

  Jenny frowned, “I can’t understand how that would put them ahead in the game. Sounds like it’s closer to—”

  “Illegal? Did Mark tell you how worried he and Andy are about the whole situation?”

  “He didn’t say worried,” Jenny said slowly, “and he didn’t talk about borrowed money. He did tell me that Sidney Rigdon is president and Joseph is cashier of the new bank. He sounded concerned when he said there’s a whole flock of banks springing up around the country, all doing the same thing. He said they were printing notes and exchanging them for anything of value as well as gold and silver.”

  “The bank was established by a revelation,” Sally continued, “and the Prophet has predicted that like Aaron’s rod, it will swallow up all the other banks around it. He also said it will grow and flourish to the ends of the earth, surviving when others are in ruins.”

  “Then I guess we needn’t worry,” Jenny remarked without looking at her.

  “Oh, Jenny, be sensible. Our money is in that bank!”

  Jenny stared at her friend. She was thinking not of Sally, but of the money Mark had given her. Back in November she had deposited it in the bank. How proud she had been to make her first transaction as “Mrs. Cartwright”! She winced as she recalled plunking down one thousand dollars in silver and gold, and the way Sidney Rigdon’s eyes had brightened.

  Now Sally demanded, “Why do you look so concerned? What have you done?”

  Jenny straightened and lifted her chin. “Just what any other housewife would have done. Mark gave me a thousand dollars and I deposited it in the bank.”

  Slowly Sally sat down and shifted Tamara to her lap. “Then you haven’t read the newspaper. The Ohio legislature refused to incorporate the bank. Jenny, the bank is operating illegally.”

  “Oh!”

  Sally looked up at Jenny’s exclamation and frowned. Jenny explained, “Now it makes sense. Mark said they changed the name of the bank to the Kirtland Safety Society Anti-Banking Company. Mark mentioned it one day as he flew out the door, but he hasn’t talked about it again.”

  “Does he know you’ve put your money there?” Jenny shook her head. “Then you’d be wise to hightail it right down there and quick draw it out while they are still above the waves.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Andy says everybody in town’s running around with his pockets full of notes. Joseph’s paid off all the debts around and even sent bills back east to clear the mercantile businesses in town.”

  “But why are you so worried about the bank?”

  Sally’s lips were tightly pressed together, and if the shake of her head didn’t convince Jenny her silence was sealed, the expression in her eyes did. Jenny couldn’t resist guessing, “You don’t think the church has the funds they’re advertising they have.” Sally didn’t answer.

  Jenny was nearly home when she stopped and turned back toward the bank. Since leaving the Morgans’ house, she had been mulling over the events Sally had discussed.

  Jenny began to hurry toward the red-brick building on the corner. A newly painted sign stretched across the face of the building. She stopped just long enough to read, Kirtland Safety Society Anti-Banking Company. Inside the door Warren Parrish hurried to meet her. “Well, Jenny—I mean, Mrs. Cartwright—what may I do for
you?”

  She took a deep breath. “Mr. Parrish, I’ve come to withdraw my money from the bank.”

  “And how much?”

  “One thousand dollars.”

  She saw him pale and quickly turn aside. “Jenny, that is rather unusual—at least, such a large sum is.”

  “You didn’t say that when I deposited it in November.”

  He leaned close and whispered, “If you are doing this because of the rumors, I assure you that they are unfounded.”

  She whispered back, “How do I know?”

  He hesitated and glanced around the empty room. “This is unusual, but since it is you, come with me and I’ll prove it to you.” She followed his rapid steps through dark corridors and heavy doors. When the last door creaked open, he struck a match and carefully lighted a row of candles. “There!” He waved toward the shelves lining the narrow room.

  Stepping forward, Jenny saw each shelf held numerous wooden boxes, each clearly marked as holding one thousand dollars. “Oh!” she exclaimed, “shall I take one?”

  “No, no,” he interrupted. “I merely wanted to reassure you. I—” He stopped and cocked his head. “Someone has come in. I’ll return in a moment.”

  She watched him disappear and then went to stand on tiptoe beside the shelves. A box just at nose level was heaped with shiny silver fifty-cent pieces. So were all the other boxes she could see. She paced the floor, waiting for Warren to return, amused at being left in a bank vault filled with money. After another trip around the room, she paused beside the nearest box, cast a quick glance over her shoulder and dug her fingers into the box of coins.

  “Ouch!” She pulled her hand away and looked at her bleeding finger. Again on tiptoe, she carefully lifted aside the top layer of coins and cautiously probed. Once again there was the sharpness against her finger. Quickly she pulled the box down and peered inside. Beneath the silver coins she saw iron nails and jagged chunks of metal.

  Shoving the box into its place, she moved quickly down the length of the shelves inserting her fingers into each box. Some boxes contained sand, others held chunks of lead and the rest were filled with old nails. “Joseph,” she murmured, “you rascal!” She almost began to chuckle.