The Belle of Nauvoo - Book One

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

“That Mr. Jackson came out today to help the brethren.”

“Oh, did he? I hoped he would do so,” I answered Lucy nonchalantly while we were cutting potatoes for soup in the Mansion kitchen. We were serving oceans of soup to the hungry men chopping wood for Uncle Joseph. Two hundred brethren had volunteered with fifty wagons to haul the cuttings from Mormon Springs, north of town, to the yard of the Mansion. It took a mountain of wood to heat the mansion, and hungry work made hungry men. The loaded wagons began arriving by nine on the Mansion clock.

Lucy and I worked by the window where we could stand and view the wagons and, of course, offer our commentary on them. Such diversion for the sisters had not been possible for weeks due to inclement weather conditions, and now we were making the most of it by sharing news, recipes, and bits of advice. In the midst of this Lucy and I kept the others apprised of each arriving wagon.

“Another wagon is here!” Lucy called. “It’s Brother Richards!” Then, turning to me, she continued our previous conversation. “What have you to do with Mr. Jackson?” she inquired.

Though my trusted friend, this was Lorin’s sister. Dare I confide in her? Would she not be prejudiced in his interests? I concluded to answer, “Not too much,” which was true enough! “He came to our home yesterday to hear Father preach, and I suggested that he join the men in service today. I am pleased that he took my advice.”

“Brother Richards is coming inside!” Lucy reported and sat down. Then she said to me, “I’m glad that is all there is to it. When I saw him walking with you several days ago, I became concerned.” Then Lucy lowered her voice and leaned close. “You see, I have every anticipation of you and I becoming sisters someday through Lorin, and would not want anything at all to spoil that pleasure.”

I could barely answer, for my heart was in my throat. But the expression on my face was revealing enough. Lucy could tell where my true affections lay. We reached out our arms across the potatoes and sealed our mutual hopes with an affectionate embrace. Wiping the tears from my lashes with the edge of my apron, at last I answered, “If it is the will of God, may our cherished hopes of sisterhood someday be realized. It would above all things be delightful. I would wish for no other sister. But we must also see what Lorin wishes.”

“I am most certain of his wishes! I only wished to be certain of yours.”

We heard another rumbling in the yard and stood to see who was coming. “Another wagon has arrived!” I called. “Lucy, look who is on it!” I grabbed her arm. Verily, they were all of our favorites – Horace Whitney, Garrett Ivins, William Cutler, and Andrew Cahoon. After informing the rest of the kitchen of this development, we proceeded to watch the men work by abandoning our own. The young men worked hard. The stack of wood grew steadily, like the Great Wall of China.

“Here comes yet another load!” chimed Lucy.

“Another! You girls had better start chopping potatoes and stop watching the young men!” said our neighbor, Sister Turley, who had come to help and visit.

“Yes, sister,” we meekly agreed.

But how could we do something so mundane as chop potatoes when on this wagon came Sylvester Emmonds, Mr. Eaton, and Joseph Jackson himself? There was no end of things to observe and comment upon, especially when Andrew Cahoon accidentally knocked Mr. Jackson with the end of a log! We were most curious when all our young men put down their wood and stood ranged against Joseph Jackson, Sylvester Emmonds, and Mr. Eaton. Would that we could hear what was said! Lucy and I pressed our noses right against the glass in the most unladylike manner. Apparently the conversation became heated and words flew, for before we knew it a fight had begun.