Polygamy, was it Worth Dying For?

By JG Hampton

Andrew Wood Cowley wasn't afraid of anything. However after two consecutive sentences at the Utah Federal Penitentiary for the same offense-cohabitation with his four wives, he was frightened. Would he survive his second term in federal prison under its severe conditions of double bunking, poor food and lack of sanitation? Now double jeopardy for the same offense is illegal but at the turn of the century it happened. Which of his four faithful wives would he give up? Why hadn't his prison walls come tumbling down when he prayed?

His wife Mary had buried five sons and a daughter. Which of his nineteen living children would he deny? His dead children gave him a reason for living. He had to live worthily to see them in the resurrection. The former bishop had taken up drinking prior to his arrest by the federal marshall. With four wives and nineteen living children, who wouldn't?

How did his four wives: Mary, Jane, Anne, and Rachel provide for his children without him? Download Polygamy, was it Worth Dying For?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JG Hampton
• Release date: Feb 2, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301490400

JG Hampton

J. G. Hampton is a full time author/illustrator who graduated magna cum laude from the University of Utah as an educator who thanks to recertification requirements has accumulated enough hours for a master’s degree from Utah State University. A survivor of both a wicked mother-in-law and a wicked stepmother who stole her inheritance, she’s trying to live happily ever after despite a few evil spells during her life. Being left handed in a right handed world, she has yet to master Leonardo Da Vinci’s mirror handwriting technique, but she has mastered being a reverse image identical mirror twin who not only survived her birth as the runt of the litter, but the birthing of three daughters and over twenty literary magnum opuses in several genres. While constantly rooting for the underdogs of the world, she looks at crystal goblets and life as being half full rather than half empty. A firm believer that one must create their own magic if one is to enjoy life. She enjoys happy endings in her fiction and nonfiction musings. Enjoy her work on Smashwords

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Chapter One

A baby's cry shattered the stillness in the little two room house, and Annie pulled herself up and reached in the wooden box by her bedstead, which served as the baby's cradle. The poor mite was soaked clear through, through the blankets, and down through the straw. She would have to wash all of the bedding, but that could wait for the morning. She stripped the wetness from him and pulled off her own warm nightgown and wrapped it around him. Grabbing an older, colder shirt of her husband's which she used as a robe; she put it around her shoulders and crawled with the baby back into her bed.

He was making hungry little noises and was frantic that his milk supply was so near and yet unattainable. Putting him to her breast, he sucked wildly. At least she still had milk, except in the late afternoon when she was too exhausted and poorly nourished to provide it. But in the morning she had enough for the baby. She felt the comfortable warmth of his little form and nuzzled her nose against his fuzzy head. There was no other smell sweeter to her than that of a baby's head with the essence of soap mingled with their own unique scent--a scent that could not be duplicated.

Tomorrow was her fifteenth wedding anniversary, but she knew she would spend it alone if one could be alone with the company of six children around her. There would be no remembrance, no small present or memento of the occasion because her husband would not be able to give her one. He'd been gone for two years, twenty-four long hard months. He had one more month remaining. He was a felon for U.C., or Unlawful Cohabitation with his wives. She and Rachel, the third wife, had pleaded with him to go into hiding, but he had refused, saying: If that is what God and the government of the United States intends for me, then I'll go to jail. But I won't deny even one of you, I'll lose you for eternity and I love all of you.

When he had said this with a determined look in his eye, she knew that it would be of no use trying to change his mind; so she and Rachel had discussed how they would go on the underground if necessary.

Now, Annie, where are you going to hide with five children? How can you drag them around from place to place and who's going to feed them? With all six of you, it would be like a herd of locusts descending on a stalk of barley for some poor good hearted farmer, and besides, some of the brethren have returned from Fredonia after visiting their wives on the underground and said that prison looked good compared to the conditions down across the border in Arizona. Families are living in tents and makeshift shacks. No, I'll just take what lies ahead." He'd said that nine months ago and if any one of them could have foreseen what was ahead, they all would have scattered for the underground.

After some seventeen years of marriage in a plural setting they had settled into complacency and a lifestyle that they thought would last forever. The government had never legislated about marriage before and determined what was proper or improper, but the Lord had. He had the ten tribes practice plural marriage before and during their bondage in Egypt. Now once again, He decreed plural marriage the appropriate arrangement for those who were worthy, and the saints had made it acceptable. The Edmund act had caused fear in their hearts ten years earlier, but hadn't upset them too much other than the fact that each plural wife now had her own home to confuse the authorities. The church leaders had advised whenever there were the means for separate establishments for each wife; it would be provident to provide them so that the plural families wouldn't be so obvious to the federal officers. They wouldn't know which one was the legal wife; it would be provident to provide them so that the plural families wouldn't be so obvious to the federal officers. They wouldn't know which was the legal wife or the legitimate children.

But the new Edmund Tucker legislation of 1887 had been designed to destroy their family life, their rights to vote, their constitutional rights, and the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Federal marshals descended on the territory in droves and church property had been confiscated. A warrant had been issued for Andrew for unlawful cohabitation. Ann Hazen and Rachel Coon both sometimes known as Cowley were listed as the co-conspirators in the act. Andrew had been subpoenaed and called to testify before the federal judge.

On the day of the trial six foot Andrew appeared pale, but calm, as the judge asked if he had anything to say regarding breaking the law, and he replied, Nothing.

Do you have any intentions of keeping the law? asked the judge.

No, none, replied Andrew looking him boldly in the eye.

The day he left for the penitentiary on October 29, 1885 three of his four wives, Jane, Rachel, and Annie, and nineteen of his children stood in front of Annie's little house and shanty for a photograph of the family. All three wives each with a young child in her arms smiled broadly for the picture which would be printed in all of the papers throughout the territory and back east, indicative of what the government intended to break up in order to liberate the women of Utah and pacify the moral indignation of Victorian America towards the saints. One wife, Mary, stayed away in her comfortable home in the city which she'd inherited from her grandmother, not being able to say goodbye to Andrew in this manner. Neither did she want to become a public curiosity in the national newspapers. She was much too gentle for that. Besides the way she lived her life was nobody else's business.

The baby's warm little form brought her back from her thoughts. She felt the smooth hardness of her wedding band against her lips, and thought of the day Andrew had placed it on her finger. She'd only been sixteen and Andrew was in his mid thirties, but he was so handsome and forthright. He was the one who said it wouldn't always be easy, but it could be forever if they did their part, and then in the next life they would earn a great reward. He thought they could find happiness in this one, too and he had done his best, despite the relentless battle between the natural elements, the barren land, the lack of water, and the insects. Still, they had sufficient for their needs.

On Jane's property, Andrew had discovered natural gas. Jane was the second Utah wife (Rachel, though a few years older, had allowed her to be sealed to their husband first in the endowment house the day of their marriage, well knowing that this would make her subservient to her sister wife in the pecking order of things. Nevertheless she did so because she loved her and considered the small spit fire one of her best friends.) Andrew had rigged up a system with pipes in the cellar to heat the little house. In the winter of 1885, Jane Cowley was the only woman in Utah who had a warm house without having to chop the wood to heat it. Natural gas wasn't used for heating neither back then nor much for lighting. Andrew was ahead of his times as an inventor.

Annie's babies had come fast; six in all. First Marcus, then John who died at three months, then Ezra, Mary Ann (Mayme), Martha Jane, and last, but not least, the baby Inez. Only the last three children had been born in this little white frame house. Annie didn't have many possessions in this rugged desert country, covered with sagebrush and weeds, but she didn't need many. Her children were her treasures. She'd looked at each and every one of them and wondered at their beauty. She considered each a gift to her personally from her Father in Heaven.

The baby had finished nursing, and was asleep in her arms. She knew that she had better get started on the day's work. Six cows were waiting for her to milk, and after nursing seven children, she empathized with the cows and their full udders. Tucking the baby between her two oldest daughters who continued to slumber on the straw ticking on the floor, Annie hurriedly braided her long brown hair in a single thick braid which hung down her back reaching well below her waist. Pulling her homespun work dress over her head, she pulled on black wool stockings she'd knitted on her feet and then shoved her dainty feet into her scuffed leather boots. A ratty looking wool sweater knitted in a popcorn pattern by her mother completed her outfit.

Silently, she dropped to her knees by the wooden bedstead, the only bed in the home and prayed as was her custom, thanking her Father in Heaven, for a restful night, her eternal marriage, her husband and her beautiful children and the many things she'd been blessed with. Then she whispered aloud: But please, Father, bless me with more materially. Was this being selfish? No, she thought: one is commanded to ask. '

'Ask and you will receive.' came the thought in her mind as she closed her prayer. The thought was reassuring as well as comforting. Would she make it through this ordeal? Having Andrew sentenced to another long term at the penitentiary hadn't been easy.

Peering through the curtain separating the room, she gazed at her two sleeping boys. They were still oblivious to everything as they slept on their cattail filled ticks and so she decided to let them sleep in. They could milk the cows for her that evening.

The spring air was crisp and it was necessary to pull her sweater tightly about her as she bridled Old Man, Andrew's black gelding. She didn't bother to get the saddle. It was too heavy for her to lift anyway. By grabbing the horse's mane and pulling herself up, she could straddle her legs over his broad back. With her skirts gathered up about her knees, she rode like a man out of the yard. Some of her hair escaped the neat braid and lashed about her face in the wind.

Smiling broadly, she remembered what her boys, Marcus and Ezra, had said to her just yesterday: Ma, you can do anything. You can run and hitch up a team, ride a horse like a cowboy, swim like a duck and cook beans like a wagon master. Indeed, she thought there was nothing much around the locality that she couldn't do, because she'd done it. Grateful she was that she'd been blessed with a strong constitution. It was a good thing since she hadn't had any time to be sick and hadn't been except for when Aunt 'Sukey, the midwife, came to the house to bring a baby.

There was a ride of about a half mile over the weedy range until the corral was in view. Andrew had placed the corral an equal distance between the three homesteads. Here the family cows were kept and milked twice a day. Six shadows were seen lined up along the fence waiting to be milked.

Annie tied up the firs cow to the rail and pitched a pile of hay for it. Milking the cows was the best part of the day for her. No children crying or demands to be met, only the soothing ping of the stream of milk as it squirted in the tin pail. She could be alone with the cows and with her thoughts. These huge creatures gave her security. They provided food for her children and now they were even making the mortgage payments on the homesteads. She hadn't wanted to resort to selling the milk, but Rachel had said they needed the cash more than the cheese and butter.

Annie couldn't deny that she had missed the cheese and butter, but as she did more than her share of the milking she always had a good drink of milk before she left and brought a pail home for her children. She hated the taste of the warm milk and longed for a good cup of strong tea, but hadn't had any for the last six months, as it was a luxury item, and feeding the children came first; besides, she rationalized, she was keeping the Word of Wisdom, the health code of the church. Coming from the British Isles with a great love of the habit, this was something she thought she would never be able to do.

After the milking, she headed Old Man for home, knowing hungry children waited for her. And indeed they were. All lined up by the door expecting her return.

Ezra, you don't have to herd the cows today. My hands need a rest from the laundry. I need you to help me hunt eggs. Hurray! shouted the gangly boy since he considered hunting eggs better than a holiday. Her ancestors came from the Isle of Man as had Andrew's and she and her mother had often gathered wild bird's eggs to supplement their food, but she hadn't had to do this since she'd married into the family because Andrew had been a good provider. But now things had drastically changed and she was back to swimming for her supper if not singing for it. 'There were less honorable ways to make a living for her family, came the thought to her head. This thought made her blue eyes light up twinkling considerably. At least, she hadn't had to resort to the oldest profession in the world to feed her children. Things could be worse.

Mary Ann and Martha Jane, you take care of Inez and the baby and I'll leave enough flapjacks for your lunch. The family quickly finished off the Johnny cakes and bacon grease while standing around the wooden table and then everyone helped wash up the dishes. Annie saw to it that everyone helped with the washing up in her family not just the females. Then she gathered them all around her to fill up their love buckets as was her custom in the morning after their morning prayer. Group hugs and kisses were vital now that their pa was in prison. Her children must never forget that they were all wanted and well loved even if one of the parents was missing in action.

It was spring and the water on the swamplands northwest of her two acre homestead had created nesting grounds for mud hens, wild ducks, pheasants and prairie chickens. Annie and Ezra took off their shoes and stockings and started out of the house barefoot. They carried a large homemade reed basket between them to put the eggs in.

Mother, you sing and I'll whistle, said Ezra. Marcus can whistle like a tea pot, but I can't. You tell me how it sounds if I can manage to make a sound. Annie couldn't help but smile at him grinning at her. Just looking at young Ezra made her happy with his cowlick blowing in the breeze and his long skinny legs and sturdy big feet which he'd inherited from Andrew. Trying not to play favorites, she couldn't help but admit that she adored this gentle son of hers. They enjoyed each other's company. Saying: Ezra, this day is a gift to both of us from our Father In Heaven and let's treasure it. If you really want to whistle, you have to pucker up your lips like this, said his mother showing him how. A shrill sound which would have awakened the dead escaped from her lips.

Ma, you're simply a marvel. Following her instruction, he succeeded as a large blast echoed through out the Salt Lake valley. Covering her ears, Annie grinned approvingly.

That should scare off a few bears, mountain lions and coyotes when I herd the sheep up in the canyon this winter, said Ezra proudly. If only Pa could hear me.

Ezra relished the company of his mother more than any one else. They'd often gone egg hunting to supplement their meager fare. Annie had found that if one egg from each nest was broken and smelled fresh then the others would be good and could be put in the basket and taken home. Today the water had been too deep to wade and the mother said to her son, Ezra, put your arms around my neck. She took him on her back and swam from one little island to the next. Their basket filled quickly and they stopped to rest on one island before heading back home. There the two of them, barefoot, with drenched clothes, sat and basked in the sun enjoying the day.

That night for supper, Annie prepared a large omelet flavored with wild onion, bread with butter and ate some of Mary's bottled peaches. They drank fresh milk which had been cooled in the cellar. Annie was able to feed her family through the month and due to providence had made it through the last few years. Refusing to worry about the future, she made due with her life one day at a time finding comfort in the thought from the Bible: 'Sufficient to the day is the evil therein.' After her nightly prayers, she collapsed exhausted into bed; Only to find that impish Mayme had beaten her there. Should she let her stay there or drag her back to her tick on the floor? Hoping she wouldn't wet the bed, she allowed the tyke to sleep with her. Life as a single mother was not easy.

On Saturdays Ezra and Marcus hitched Old Man to the sheep wagon and made the rounds of the railway stations and the irrigation projects. They collected the filthy clothing that the men were more than willing to let someone else wash. Whey they arrived home they piled the mountain of clothing near the shanty. On Monday, Annie faced a mountain of laundry in varying shades of filth from jet black to the white clay of the Jordan River banks. Annie washed six days a week trying to get to the bottom of the pile. She was always relieved for Sundays to give her poor red hands and aching back a rest.

Annie had settled into her routine of washing. At first she hated it, but had learned that hate was wasted energy. Besides what was the real object of her hatred; not that inanimate pile of clothes? Did she hate Andrew? Because he hadn't gone into hiding; because he had just let the authorities take him? Did she want him to deny her or the children or end their marriage? No, she didn't hate Andrew or the way she lived. He did what he had to do and she had freely chosen to enter plural marriage. Did she hate her children because of the burden and responsibility that had fallen on her shoulders? No, she learned that she loved them more. Her two eldest boys lovingly gave her all the money they earned without any complaint, eager to help support the family, and her younger children helped the tedious work pass by quickly with their amusing antics. Did she hate the church because it had instituted this impractical lifestyle that the gentiles found so abhorring and now declared illegal? Well, if she hated the Church that would mean that she hated the Lord, because she knew that the Lord was the head of the Church, it carried His name: the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and she loved the Lord and her Father in Heaven with all of her heart.

She couldn't deny her testimony, she'd prayed earnestly for confirmation of her faith for years and hadn't felt anything, but one night when she was fourteen when her siblings were asleep, she got on her knees and poured out her heart to her Father in Heaven and she received an overwhelming encompassing feeling of love and peace that had filled her entire being. Her intellect was quickened; energy surge through her, and her mind was enlightened. The Spirit told her that she could not deny this feeling, as it was the Holy Ghost, the Spirit of Truth. If she did, she would become a Son or daughter of Perdition. The Spirit had told her that she, Annie, was the choice daughter of her Father in Heaven and that His Son, Jesus Christ lived. The Church was true and all of its principles were correct. The Lord loved her and she would be able to accomplish a great work while she was here on earth. That good would finally prevail against evil and that Satan would be bound.

She had been brought forth at this time for a great purpose. Her grain of faith had become sure knowledge. It was this knowledge that got her through the never ending wash; that made life without Andrew bearable, and was in fact, the reason that she had married Andrew.

While scrubbing the clothes on her wash board a scripture lodged in her mind which couldn't be routed: 'Out of small things came great things.' This menial work was keeping her family fed and she transferred her weariness of the task to one of perseverance in building the kingdom. Andrew was where he needed to be. If not, God would have freed him as he did other prophets. Hadn't the Prophet Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum had to suffer in jail? But they hadn't languished there forever. Sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven. Andrew had to make his sacrifices and so did she, in order to be counted worthy for the kingdom. Polygamy, was it worth dying for?

Once, the prophet had been freed when prison guards became conveniently drunk; the Smith brothers escaped only to find that during their break out their mother Lucy Mack Smith had been on her knees praying for them continuously.. The prophet never doubted that they'd been released because of the fervent prayers of his faithful mother. From this thought, Annie gained comfort. She must simply pray harder.

Another thought came to her mind: 'Thine affliction is but for a short time. Every thing I have is thine if thou endure it well.' Annie could endure this; so could Andrew. But could their children? They'd have to since there was no alternative. Perhaps this was a way to make weak things strong. Her children would no doubt grow up to be mighty oaks in the forest if they could learn to bend to the will of God.

Chapter Two - Building the Kingdom

When the weather was nice, Annie put a rug on the ground and placing the baby on it nearby she'd sing to him while she washed the filthy men's clothing. Some songs she made up to please herself and keep her from dying of boredom from the repetitive nature of her arduous task. Others she composed and sang to soothe the baby like this one which had a pleasant rhythm as she pounded the clothing against the washboard.

Anna's Song

Even in the falling rain,

I can hear You call.

Anna! Anna! Anna!

And with every splash of pain

You call me more.

Shout my name from the clouds

Tell me, is the wind your breath?

I can hear you calling me out loud.

Father of my immortal soul,

Listen to my humble prayer.

Help me play this mother role

Are you there behind unseen walls?

Are you listening to my urgent prayers?

Catching me deftly when I fall,

Kolob is ever so far, over where?

Does mother, too, hear my calls?

Is the soothing rain your falling tear?

I see You ride upon the mighty storm.

Please wipe away overpowering fears.

Father, am I created in your form?

Keep counting each hair and breath.

Stay near enough to show you care.

Watch over me 'til my mortal death.

Help me believe you're really there. .

Calm my little baby's fears.

I'm calling you right out loud.

I promise, Father, I'll stay near.

Let your precious tears drop

Showing us you're still here.

Water our burning crops

I'm still here doing what I can,

drying up all the tears.

Some songs she'd heard in Pennsylvania where her family had lived for five years after emigrating from England while her father worked the coal mines to earn money to bring them out west. These hearty songs were saved for the dirtiest clothes and she noticed the baby liked these best. He would coo and wave his arms up and down as Annie waved hers up and down on the scrub board singing loudly with a strange accent half British and half Pennsylvanian Dutch.

During the day her songs changed as her mood changed, often becoming introspective. She had one particular song that was her favorite and she'd sing it if Martha Jane and Mary Ann (Mayme for short) quarreled or whenever the baby Inez was particularly ornery. She sang this in a low mellow voice, not trained nor cultured, but distinctly pleasing to the ear:

Let's be kind to one another, Let us win each other's love

Let's each be a sister, brother, as the angels are above.

Though we can't be pure and holy while as mortals here we stay,

Yet we can shed love and kindness 'round our pathway every day,

Yes, we should let love and kindness be our motto day by day,

Many hearts are sad and weary of the world with all its toil,

And this gloom, however dreary, could be banished by a smile;

And that smile would cost you nothing, nothing more than would a frown' One would raise

them up to heaven, while the other casts them down' Let us then make earth a heaven

turn to kindly smiles our frowns.

Often while she washed she meditated and reflected about her life. Annie smiled when she thought about her courtship. There hadn't been one. Her father had arranged the marriage when he found out she was being courted by a gentile; that is, a man who was not a member of the church. He went to the bishop, Andrew, and asked if he would take her as his fourth wife. Andrew was only one of a few men in Brighton Ward in the Utah territory who was given permission to take more than one wife by Brigham Young, the prophet, the only one who held the keys of the sealing power. Andrew had proven faithful to the Lord, lived up to the standards of conduct required of a good church member, and most important, was a good provider who honored his priesthood.

Annie had never dreamed of marrying Bishop Cowley, not that the thought had been repugnant to her; she had just never considered it. He already had three wives. She'd been old enough to marry when she turned sixteen and there weren't a lot of choices her staid father approved of. The only man who had caught her fancy had been handsome Zeb Anderson who had grown up with her in the neighborhood. However, he wasn't spiritually minded and didn't believe in the principles of the church and wasn't a practicing member. Annie her father said when he'd come courting her after a social, I would rather see you dead than marry outside of the church, for then you would be spiritually dead and your children wouldn't even belong to you. Your mother and I have sacrificed too much for the gospel to see one of our children marry outside the church. We left England and crossed the plains and started from scratch so that our children could embrace the gospel and marry honorable men and be faithful women in the church.

Her father had said that to her on Saturday and on Sunday she found herself at the neighbor's large home where the church meetings were held until a proper chapel could be built. She was sitting next to her father on a hard wooden bench daydreaming while the dull speaker droned on. She found herself gazing at Bishop Cowley's wives sitting on the bench in front of her. Annie had admired all of them. Rachel, the tallest one was not beautiful, but she was so charismatic that one thought she was. At least that's what Annie thought as she closely inspected her in church. Her hair was netted smoothly into a chignon and her white hands which were wearing elaborate Irish crocheted gloves of her own making rested quietly on her lap as she listened to the sermon. Her sons Oscar and Abe were fidgeting next to her with their starched collars and the baby cooed happily chewing on a teething ring.

Jane was the prettiest with small delicate features and shiny black hair which she curled in ringlets down her back with a curling iron heated over a flame. She had a tiny pert nose not like her own long nose; Jane's dainty smile exposed even teeth and her lips turned up ever so slightly at the corners when she smiled. Jane had the tiniest waist and hands which were set off by her full gathered skirt which contained at least twenty five yards of store bought material. If only she could whittle an eight of an inch off her own nose then she might appear as lovely as Jane Cowley. But her pa had always said much to her chagrin: Annie Hazen, if wishes were fishes, we'd all have a fry. Don't waste wishes over what you can't change. Woulda, coulda, and shoulda, should be buried under marble tombstones. Be happy with what the good Lord has given you. Annie, you're pretty enough. If you were any prettier, I'd have to fight off the men like wasps around lemonade.

Annie watched as Jane bent over to pick up Melissa Jane who was playing at her feet. The child was well cared for and wore an elaborately tucked white pinafore and matching white bonnet complete with pink rolled ribbon roses and pink ribbon festoons. How had Jane managed to create those enchanting details?

Her blue eyes turned towards Mary, the first Utah wife; she had a heart shaped face fringed with heavy lashes and she was sitting near her beautifully dressed daughter Clarissa who was trying to read her Book of Mormon. She was the epitome of a gentle cultured generous woman who often spent her time helping those immigrants who weren't educated write letters home to the old country. How she sorrowed at the death of each of her four small sons who didn't survive infancy. Mary was renowned for her excellent tart cherry jam, her quilts, her charitable good works and numerous donations to worthy causes.

When Bishop Cowley got up to conduct, three smiling faces gave him their support as he confidently directed the business of the ward. It was hard to imagine that he'd only been converted a few years ago since he now acted with such aplomb and confidence. Obviously, he'd taken his conversion to heart and showed it in his leadership skills. Annie leaned closer to the three and noticed that they all smelled so clean. From her place behind them, she could discern three individual scents: lilac, rosewater and glycerin, and one of vanilla. Sniffing she was impressed that they paid such attention to the minor details of good grooming and to their appearances, unlike some of the other frontier wives who looked as if they used their dresses to wipe the dishes or the noses of their children. Some ne'er do wells used their children as excuses for having unkempt hair or dirty fingernails as they hurried in late to church. How lazy, this was something she would never allow to happen to herself. Fastidiousness was an inborn character trait of her own mother who just happened to be the Relief Society President.

When she married, she wanted to be just like the Cowley women. Sighing, a little too loudly, she caught a knowing look from her father. Had he been watching her for the last few minutes? She hoped not. Then a strange look came on his face as if a light had been switched on inside his head. Annie sat up immediately and feigned attention to the second speaker. At the end of the meeting she failed to notice that her father did not accompany her and her mother and brother home from the meeting in their wagon. He had gone to ask Bishop Cowley to marry her.

She soon found out her father had really meant what he said about not allowing her to marry a gentile and ardent Zeb had been sent packing. But her heart wasn't unduly broken. It was less than two months after the discussion that she was standing along side of Andrew in the endowment house in Great Salt Lake City, a mere slip of a girl compared to Andrew's huge frame, one month after Andrew had approached her for marriage. Her father wasn't allowing much moss to grow on his young rolling stone of a daughter.

Startled by the marriage proposal and the problem of entering plural marriage, her own stubborn mother had steadfastly refused to enter plural matrimony. Said her mother frequently:

I don't care if I'm not in the top echelons of the celestial kingdom, I won't share my husband with a passel of women. No doubt I'd murder the lot of them and end up in hell and where would that get me? She's said this often enough to her father's endless entreaties whenever they'd fought over the subject. Obviously, her father would not win this battle with his dominant wife Lucretia Hazen.

Annie had prayed about Andrew's proposal and had felt right about it; if she hadn't received a strong confirmation, she never would have been forced into it; for she had always been headstrong something she inherited from her mother. But she received a strong burning in her bosom when she asked her Father in Heaven if she should marry Andrew. It was hard to ignore the feeling. In fact there was no doubt in her mind as to what her Heavenly Father's wishes were for her regarding marriage. She was to be a member of the Cowley family.

Not long afterwards, Andrew and she had received recommends from the President of the Church, President Brigham Young. And with the approval of his other wives, she joined their hands in marriage in the endowment house in the downtown part of the city and had become a part of the Cowley family. Her mother had made a beautiful wedding dress with elaborate side pleats and yards of elegant handmade Battenburg lace down the front of it which she'd expertly made herself. There had been a benefit of being a daughter of the Relief Society President after all she realized gazing at herself in the glorious gown in the full length mirror where the brides readied themselves for their momentous occasion. Annie had been a beauty that day with her brown hair with its reddish gold highlights piled up on her head wearing her grandmother's pearl ear bobs which she'd inherited and her lavishly pin tucked wedding dress. Her brother scarcely recognized her when he'd helped lift her into the buggy before driving them all into town for the ceremony.

"Annie, I never thought you'd clean up so pretty. You're prettier than a princess, or the British King's reputed mistress Lily Langtry who sells her pictures in store windows to supplement her income. Annie winced at this back handed compliment. Did Samuel always look at the demimondes pictures in the store windows? Coming from Samuel, it was a compliment nevertheless. Was he getting overly sentimental on her wedding day? The two had often fought like cats and dogs to their mother's dismay. However, there was no time like the present to mend broken fences. Giving him a kiss on his cheek after he lifted her down from the buggy, he blushed three shades of scarlet.

I love you, Sam. Don't become a stranger after I marry. Think of Bishop Cowley as a new older brother you're gaining. The thought made Sam wince; he'd been expecting someone closer to his own age as a brother-in-law rather than an authority figure so she'd gotten even with him. Annie was always one who liked to have the last word. She hugged him as if he was about to disappear.

Entering the Cowley family hadn't gone as smoothly as she'd envisioned. Jealousy entered the mix. In fact, at first she'd been snubbed by the other wives except for Rachel who had a maturity far beyond her years. Jane refused to acknowledge her for weeks despite Andrew's stern warning to all of them:

I love all of you. All I want is peace in my families. Let Anna enter your hearts, or you'll regret it. Don't shut her out, widen your circles and let her in, warned Andrew after the first argument over who was most intelligent wife. For several days arguing ensued even during a picnic at the large park in mid city where they'd gone for an outing hoping to clear the air and smooth ruffled tail feathers.

The smartest wife is the one who causes me the least amount of grief. She's the one I'm going to love the most. said Andrew sagely. Had he bitten off more than he could chew? Seeing Annie all dolled up in her lovely wedding dress complete with fragile veil created by her English grandmother of fragile Honiton lace and the fifty tiny pearl buttons on the gown had made Jane intensely jealous. She'd always been the family beauty and now a younger woman vied with her for Andrew's affection. Why did she have to compete with a female who was almost ten years her junior at this stage of the game? Jane pinched her own cheeks and bit her lips to bring her a little color while cursing herself for agreeing to this marriage in the first place. She could hear her husband's words now if she bothered to complain. "Jane, you have no one to blame, but yourself. I remember that you agreed to this marriage along with the other three wives. Are you a turncoat? Then he'd laughed at her wickedly.

The next day, the morning after Annie's one night honeymoon at Hotel Utah, Jane set about making trouble. Where had the pine sap come from on the silver brush set Andrew had given Anne as a wedding gift if not from Jane? Annie had had to cut a big chunk of her long hair with Andrew's pocket knife in order to remove the offending glob. Luckily she had plenty of hair left which hid the missing piece.

After the delicious Roast beef dinner Mary had made for them in her elegant dining room in her townhouse she sought out a kindred spirit. While washing up the dishes Annie complained to Rachel who she felt had a sympathetic ear, but she should have known better. Rachel had merely tsked tsked saying: "All