High Forest

By John D. Russell

If one were to be asked which states played the most prominent role in our nation's history in the middle of the 19th century most people would reply California or Utah or Texas, or states involved in the conflict over slavery. Few would probably suggest including Minnesota on such a list, but an argument can be made for its inclusion. For starters, the Dread Scott decision which helped lead to the Civil War came about when an enslaved man sued for his freedom based upon his having been moved from a slave state to Minnesota which being part of the Louisiana Purchase slavery was banned there. The Panic of 1857, which plunged the nation into a depression had much to do with land speculation in Minnesota. When the Civil War broke out, Minnesota was the first state to pledge volunteers to President Lincoln, and its regiments played a prominent role throughout the war in such battles and campaigns as Shilo, Gettysburg, and Sherman's March to the Sea. These events, as well as the Sioux Uprising of 1862, in which over 800 Minnesota settlers were slaughtered sets the backdrop for this tale of one family of pioneers who migrated into the state at this time. In addition to these challenges, the family had to deal with the more personal issues of adultery, incest, insanity, murder, deception, treachery, and intrigue. The cast of characters include a girl forced into marriage against her will at age 13, a Mississippi riverboat gambler, the founders of one of the world's most prestigious medical clinics, a secret bigamist, a mariticide, soldiers fighting in the Civil War, as well as the victims and perpetrators of the Sioux Uprising. Among those making cameos in this drama are Laura Ingles Wilder, Ulyssis S. Grant, the Drs. Mayo, founders of the world-famous Mayo Clinic, and Richard Sears, founder of Mercantile giant Sears Roebuck.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 15, 2024
• ISBN: 9798350938265

John D. Russell

John D. Russell is a retired school teacher living in Southern California. Though primarily a short story writer, he has written this work of historical fiction based on stories told to him of his pioneer Minnesota ancestors when he was young. Once he grew up, he began to research into these stories to test their veracity. Not only did he find that most of the stories were true, but he uncovered many more fascinating details about the lives of these pioneer ancestors that made their stories even more compelling, making American history come alive and more personal in the telling.

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Copyright 2024

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

ISBN: 979-8-35093-825-8 (print)

ISBN: 979-8-35093-826-5 (eBook)

Contents

Bdote, Mni Sota Makoce, 1805

PART ONE

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Traverse des Sioux, Minnesota Territory, 1851

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

PART TWO

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Epilogue

Author’s Notes

Bdote, Mni Sota Makoce, 1805

He was but one of the many wichasa wakha or medicine men of his tribe. But of his peers he was generally held in the highest esteem as a soothsayer and all listened well to his council when he offered it. That is why medicine men from near and far had come when he had called this council. They were now met at Bdote, the place where the two rivers met and the smaller fed into the larger, the great father of waters itself. There could be no more fitting place to hold such a council as it was on this exact spot that the Star People had come down from the sky, traveling the spirit road, to give birth to the Lakota people. Below the bluff on which their council fire blazed, beneath the waters of the confluence of the two rivers lay the gates that opened up into the Western World. They had been chanting all day and now as the sun slowly slipped below the horizon in the west they at last fell silent that they might look within and find the wisdom to guide their people going forward.

After sitting in silence thus for a space of time the soothsayer suddenly jumped up from his place on the circle and cried out, Did you hear that?

He looked to his left and to his right, cupping his hand to his ear as the others craned theirs in anticipation. In the ensuing silence all that could be heard was the crackling of the council fire and the soughing of the wind in the trees above them.

Something is coming! the seer shouted, Can you not hear it? Something is coming! And it is going to change everything!

PART ONE

Chapter 1

Chautauqua County, New York, September 1830

The good Lord had provided the Reverend Joshua Bush a fine evening for his daily constitutional. The slanting rays of the sun, which was just now sinking low in the western sky, gave the air a quality of diffuse light which filtered softly through the leaves of the birch trees, which were just beginning to yellow about their edges. Fall had always been the reverend’s favorite time of year and he found that this metamorphosis of the leaves, if a bit premature, nonetheless gladdened his heart. And just as fall was his favorite season, early evening was his favorite time of day. He was wont to take his usual stroll at that time, and he could often be seen walking the slopes above the creek on the old Indian trail then, communing with God and seeking inspiration for the sermon he would preach the coming Sunday, his long thin frame moving along the trail with his bible tucked under one arm and his silver handled cane leading the way in the other hand. The top hat perched upon his head only served to emphasize his lean, austere countenance.

Today as he reached a point at which the trail surmounted a rise above the creek his keen eyes descried movement in the bush below. This movement was repetitive and would have been written off as the mere rustling of the leaves in the wind had the evening air not been becalmed. The reverend supposed it was just an animal of some kind. Just ahead of him lay a side trail that cut down to the creek, and being of a curious bent, he headed down it to see what kind of animal was making the disturbance in the trees below. Ten paces on, this side trail curled back toward the area where the movement was coming from and he saw what kind of animal it was indeed.

Oh, the bestiality of Man! For there stood a youth with his back against a tree, thinking himself well concealed, committing the sin of Onan! The good reverend ducked behind a tree to avoid detection by the wretch committing this vile act, and then peered around it to ascertain who the sinner might be. It looked to be the young man who had recently moved in with Dr. Crumb, a relative of some kind, come from the east to help with the farm work. The reverend pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and held it to his mouth to keep himself from retching. Then he stormed back up to the main trail and headed back in the direction that he had come. He would not be completing his accustomed walk. There would be no need for further meditation upon the topic of his sermon for the following Sunday, for it had just been handed to him. He quickened his pace and his wraithlike form, shadowed against the setting sun, began to thrash about at the unoffending underbrush with his walking stick. The despicable act that he had just witnessed was one thing, but coming as it did upon the heels of what had been recently thrown up in his face on the front page of his weekly newspaper was just too much. There had been an advertisement prominently displayed there in which a certain Dr. La Croix claimed that he was able to cure what he called ‘Nervous and Constitutional Debility brought on by a secret habit indulged in by youth of both sexes’! Aghast the first time he had seen it, he was positively livid by the time it had appeared for the fourth week in a row. In this modern age the world had gone mad with every form of ungodliness, and the only cure for it was a good old-fashioned dose of hellfire and brimstone, and he would bring it to them, yes he would, and quickly too!

Two days later when the sermon was written, rewritten and folded neatly and deposited in its accustomed place in the inside pocket of the good reverend’s Sunday coat, his brother William and his wife Rebecca, whose farm lay not far from the parsonage, had been for a picnic on Lake Chautauqua. It was the kind of activity the reverend frowned upon as frivolous, but William was of a wholly different temperament from his brother, and he and his wife were well matched in this regard. The afternoon growing long towards evening, they packed up the remains of their picnic lunch in their buggy and headed home. The weather being fair, and being in no hurry, they merely let the horses walk, the more to enjoy each other’s company. They were just coming upon a bend in the road before it took a steep descent. William made a favorable comment about the crops in the field on their left just as they came upon a tinker walking along the side of the road. He was carrying his load of tinware upon his back. William’s wife leaned into him and said something that made him smile just as they passed the tinker, who, thinking the buggy was passing a little too close for comfort, jumped into the ditch on the side of the road. The tinware on his back made an awful racket as he tumbled into the ditch. Startled by the noise, the team bolted, and before William could regain control, they were upon the curve and the buggy flipped over throwing the couple. Rebecca hit her head upon a large rock and was killed instantly. William was trapped underneath the overturned buggy and was dragged by the runaway team for some distance before one horse broke free of its harness and ran off and the other came to a halt blowing hard and turning back to look at the mangled buggy as if awaiting the direction of its driver, a direction that would never come.

On impulse Juliet took off her shoes and stockings. No one was around to see or criticize, especially her dour Uncle Joshua, the preacher. She laid her shoes side by side at the edge of the wheat field with her stockings folded neatly upon them and tiptoed in among the ripening wheat. She was careful to not trample it and thus didn’t venture too far into the field. That would have been irresponsible. Then she sat down in the field and drew her knees up to her chest and enjoyed the light breeze and gentle sun as it fell upon her face. She clutched at a handful of stalks and ran her hands up them gently so as not to disturb the ripening grain at the crown, grain that she would soon be helping to harvest. Again she looked around to see if anyone might be watching, and once she was confident that there was not, she reached up and slipped the comb from her hair and let her long tresses of reddish-gold fall about her shoulders. Her mother had insisted that she start wearing it up as she was now thirteen years of age. But she still felt a girl inside, and today’s languorous indulgence in the wheat field came courtesy of the fact that her parents had taken a picnic lunch out to Lake Chautauqua, and her mother was unaware that she was here rather than home completing her chores. Arguing that she was but still a child would have gotten her nowhere with her mother as she often reminded Juliet that she herself had been married when she was only a year older than Juliet was now. But she would not think of such things today. Snapping off a single stem of wheat and drawing it close to examine it she was bemused to notice that the color of the single strand of hair that fell down her arm neatly matched the honey-colored hue of the wheat. This made her smile and gave her the courage to delay a few more minutes before heading off home, and so she lay down fully in the field and allowed her golden hair to fall upon the wheat stalks and mingle its warm color with their own. And in so doing she felt one with the wheat, one with the field, and one with the sky above it, and truly one with all of God’s creation. She breathed a deep sigh as she stared up at the pale blue sky. She felt just a little decadent, but once again, who was there to disapprove? And so contented was she laying there in the afternoon sun, that its warmth soon lulled her to sleep. When she awoke, she saw by the angle of the sun’s rays that she should have been home an hour ago. Her parents would be back from their picnic by now and her mother would be wondering why she hadn’t started dinner. She quickly wriggled into her stockings and shoes, brushed off her dress, and ran off home.

Feeling the need to be alone in her grief after her parent’s funeral, Juliet walked away from the farmhouse down the dirt road. Here she passed the wheat field where she’d been lying in self-indulgence as her parents lay dying on the Chautauqua Road. The wheat had been cut since then and the field now represented to her guilt rather than girlish innocence. She fell to her knees beside its stubble and wept. She gave no thought now to how the color of the stalks matched the color of her hair, but only to the black of her mourning clothes which to her made her look like the crows that had gathered to glean the leftover grains that had fallen in the field during harvesting. And this only added to her sense of guilt.

When she finally cried herself out, she got up, wiped the tears from her eyes, brushed the chaff from her dress, and headed across the field toward home. From across the field she caught a glimpse of her uncle’s buggy parked outside. When she went in she saw that he had not come alone. She found her sisters standing off to the side clutching at each other and staring at the floor. Their gaze lifted to hers as she entered but quickly fell back down again. On the other side of the room stood three young men from the neighborhood shuffling from one foot to another with their hats in their hands and likewise staring at the floor. Two she’d known all her life. The other she thought she’d seen working on the doctor’s farm. Between her sisters and these young men her uncle paced the floor nervously.

Where have you been? he demanded as she entered. But before she could answer he motioned for her to join her sisters. "These young men you no doubt know, and you will soon find out why I have brought them here.

Then his voice softened somewhat as he added, I don’t know how much your parents may have confided in you about their pecuniary circumstances. But my brother, God rest his soul, was not a prudent man when it came to money. The facts are that the farm is heavily mortgaged and must be sold. There are other debts, not the least of which is the cost of burying your parents. Besides your most intimate belongings, everything must be sold including the current crops, and there will be little left after the debts are discharged, I dare say.

Then he paused, pulled his handkerchief from the pocket of his coat and rubbed his neck with it before continuing. You three know I have a large family of my own. I regret that I cannot take you in…

Juliet’s sisters looked up from the floor for the first time at these words.

And unfortunately, you have no other family in the area. If you were boys I might have been able to arrange for you to apprentice to a trade or gotten you work as farm laborers. But as that is not the case, I thought to find places for you as servants in the homes of some of the better people here about, but have thought better of it. You deserve more. Therefore, this night each of you will take one of these three young gentlemen as your husband.

The girls’ eyes grew wide.

Uncle, you can’t be serious! Have mercy on us, I beg you, pleaded Antoinette, the eldest. Give us but a servant’s place in your house. We will sleep in the barn if necessary, anything!

He silenced her with a wave of his hand.

"There is no other way. Each of these young men knows why he has been chosen. They are of marriageable age and come from good families. Otherwise I could not conscience this. Some day you will thank me for it.

Young Shippee, what is your Christian name?

The young man stepped forward. Zabine, Sir.

Stand here. And he took sixteen year old Antoinette by the arm and stood her next to him. Ivory Hawkins, come here! Stand next to Juliet. Young Crumb, stand here beside Ansellete."

Then the reverend took up his bible and began to read out the wedding ceremony. It was beyond the girls’ power to protest further.

But when it came time to exchange the vows their uncle looked up at the three young couples and stopped in mid-verse. He stared at the tall Crumb boy standing next to the petite Ansellete and the diminutive Ivory Hawkins side by side with Juliet who was taller than he. Uncle Bush was not the type to tolerate incongruency in any aspect of life and so he stepped forward and switched Juliet’s groom for Ansellete’s.

After the short ceremony the reverend drove all three couples to their new homes, two to the parents of the grooms, but Juliette and her new husband he dropped off last at Dr. Crumb’s. Not a word was spoken on the three mile drive. The doctor and his wife were waiting with a lantern when they pulled up and saw them into the house with little fanfare. Mrs. Crumb handed Juliet some fresh linens and gestured in the direction of the back bedroom. In silence Juliet and her new husband walked through the door into the bedroom. Dr. Crumb gently closed the door behind them. Juliette sat down upon the bed and fussed with the linens she’d been handed to mask her discomfort. The Crumb boy, now her husband, came and sat down beside her.

For a time they just sat there on either side of the folded linens and stared at the closed door. Juliet was the first to break the silence as she turned to her new husband and asked, What was your name again?

Chapter 2

Ela Township, Lake County, Illinois, 1840

Ever since the loss of his wife in December had made a widower of him, Eunice Gates had been eyeing Mr. Russell as a potential mate for her daughter Charlotte. It was true that Charlotte was only seventeen and given to be flighty. But this just meant the sooner she was married off the better. She had no father or brother as a protector, only her aging grandfather. Eunice’s husband had left them very little money when he died and Alexander Russell was the richest farmer in the township. He owned a full section of fertile land that he made pay handsomely. He had purchased this property piecemeal from the government since arriving from Pennsylvania soon after the area had been opened up for settlement. Mrs. Gates had observed him the three years of her own residence there since moving up from the little village of Chicago after her husband died. Most of their interaction had come at the Methodist Church in the little hamlet of Russell’s Grove, named for the esteemed Mr. Russell. He was a handsome man of medium build in his late 30s or early 40s. He had several qualities Eunice admired in a man. She knew him to be devout, as he’d spearheaded the founding of their church. She found him also to be reserved in both speech and action, and knew him to be a well-respected pillar of the community. He had a number of children, that was to be taken for granted by any potential second wife. His eldest was a head strong girl only slightly younger than Charlotte. The two weren’t close, in fact they rarely talked to each other at the few social opportunities their community provided, as they were of such different temperaments. Charlotte’s youth, inexperience, and flightiness need not be insurmountable obstacles in dealing with the children however. Eunice herself could move onto the Russell place with Charlotte and help out. But could the man’s interest be aroused? Perhaps he was not yet thinking about marrying again. After all, he’d only been a widower a scant two months. But he would be needing a wife eventually. His daughters could only do so much. Most people remarried quickly when they were widowed. Mr. Russell would likely do the same, and why shouldn’t he consider Charlotte? She was nice looking, if not exactly beautiful. But surely someone of his caliber would look for more than that in a wife. He would look for a real partner to help run the farm and raise his children, someone with strong domestic skills as well as someone with a wise head on her shoulders. These were not Charlotte’s strong suits, though such qualities might be developed over time through experience. Clearly, for this plan to succeed though, Charlotte would need considerable help in the wooing. And so the widow Gates, like the spider began to spin her web with the object of catching Mr. Russell for her daughter.

At Church the following Sunday Eunice saw to it that Charlotte was charmingly attired. After services the two of them positioned themselves shoulder to shoulder at the base of the steps leading out of church so that Mr. Russell could not help but notice them as he shook hands with the preacher. Descending the steps, he tipped his hat to mother and daughter.

Fine weather for this time of year, Mr. Russell, Eunice offered

Seasonable, I should think, he replied, surveying the frozen churchyard.

But very mild after such a cold January, threw in Charlotte after a barely perceptible nudge from her mother.

All is well at your place I trust? Eunice asked casually.

We have all been busy with the usual winter chores, he replied, There is always more to do than there are hours in the day. But being busy helps keep us from grieving our loss overly much.

Eunice saw her opening. Poor dear, the whole community shares in your loss. Mrs. Russell was a fine woman, and an outstanding cook I am told. Besides her company you must miss her good cooking. Perhaps, Mr. Russell, you would care to join us for dinner one evening this week? My Charlotte here is an excellent cook.

Is that so? and here Mr. Russel tipped his hat once again to Charlotte. She smiled and curtseyed in return.

Are you free on Wednesday evening?

Wednesday would suit me fine.

Good, we will look forward to your company.

After they said their good-byes and Eunice and Charlotte headed toward the cutter which Eunice’s father was holding for them, she couldn’t help chiding Charlotte for her reticence.

Couldn’t you have added more to the conversation? I can’t do this all on my own you know.

Charlotte frowned. Really, Mother, what would you have had me say?

Something, anything. Mr. Russell is not a boy. You can’t win a man like that by just making doe eyes at him. Your conversational skills will need some polishing before Wednesday, especially on topics that might be of interest to Mr. Russell.

Charlotte frowned. Can’t you just brew up some kind of love potion or throw a spell over him?

Eunice stopped in her tracks and planted her fists on her hips and gave Charlotte the look. Charlotte knew immediately that she had stepped over the line.

Sorry, Mother. It was said only in jest.

The look on her mother’s face showed Charlotte that her mother did not take kindly to this form of joke. Eunice’s family originally hailed from Salem, Massachusetts. An ancestor had been convicted of witchcraft at the time of the troubles there and had been executed. The stigma hung over her family still, and there were those who looked on Eunice’s raven-black hair as proof that the blood line lived on in her. Her own grandmother had taught her the healing function of various plants and herbs, as well as when and how to harvest them, and Eunice used these skills to help the sick in her new home as she had in the old, which only set the wags to gossiping all the more. It was a topic she did not take lightly as her stern visage now clearly showed.

What shall we serve him for dinner? Charlotte asked by way of changing the subject.

I thought we might have goose, her mother replied.

But Mother, we have no goose, only Martha…

Now it was Charlotte’s turn to pull up short. Oh, Mother you wouldn’t! She’s a pet.

Don’t dawdle, Charlotte, you keep your grandfather waiting.

Despite Charlotte’s protest that she could no more eat her pet goose than she could the dog, it was nonetheless dispatched, plucked, and roasted by Eunice with vegetables and potatoes she hand picked from the root cellar. She baked two varieties of pie, sweet potato and apple. She attended to every detail of the meal personally but did allow Charlotte to peel the potatoes. Once the meal was well along it was time to tend to Charlotte herself.

Not the blue dress dear, the gold brocade surely.

But the blue brings out the color of my eyes, Charlotte protested.

But the brocade flatters your waistline more. And men are more interested in a girl’s figure than in her eyes, however long they may stare into them.

Mother!

Well, it’s true, and high time you learned the truth of it. When he appreciates your domestic skills in the meal, notices the slender lines of your waist in that dress, and finds you able to converse on a number of different topics you’ll have won him. Come, let’s go over those topics again while I do your hair. Then after you’re dressed you can practice your conversational skills on your grandfather.

Mr. Russell arrived on horseback as the warm weather had melted most of the snow and rendered the roads a thick mire of mud. Eunice’s father took his horse and made excuses about work in the barn he had to attend to to explain why he would not be joining them for dinner. But he assured their guest that his portion would be kept warm for him.

The ladies have not been idle I can assure you, he added as he led Mr. Russell’s horse to the barn.

Come in, come in, Eunice called from the porch as Charlotte bounded into the room.

Something smells wonderful, he remarked as he gave his hat and scarf to Charlotte.

Roast goose, said Eunice, Charlotte has done most of the work. As I told you at church, she’s an excellent cook.

So I recall, he replied taking the proffered seat in the parlor.

Would you care for a glass of elderberry wine? Eunice inquired, Father put it up last summer.

I’d be delighted, he answered.

Charlotte, bring the wine in from the kitchen will you, dear?

Once they were all seated in the horsehair chairs in the parlor and the wine was served, Eunice commented, Charlotte and I began to despair if you would be able to come. The roads look impassable.

It was no problem for Jack. He’s a high stepper. I just hope he has not thrown up any mud on my clothes which I might have inadvertently tracked into your parlor. And here he inspected his boots and pant legs for any sign of the offending mud.

Don’t worry about that. Charlotte is an excellent housekeeper as well. She does the lion’s share of the cleaning and keeps an immaculate house.

I’m not sure I can say the same for my girls, he replied with a laugh. My compliments to your father, by the way. The wine is excellent.

I’m glad you like it, Eunice replied, We will have to send a bottle home with you, and then she excused herself to check on the goose.

As she went, their guest turned to Charlotte. Do you know my daughter, Mary Ann? She must be about your age.

Yes, we’ve been in quilting bees and the like together. Of course we didn’t move here until I was fourteen, and so we never went to school together.

An uncomfortable silence then fell between them for a space before Charlotte remembered the topics she’d rehearsed and blurted out, Do you think, Mr. Russell, that work will resume on the great canal again soon?

Mr. Russell appeared rather taken aback by the question.

I have heard nothing about it.

Do you think when it is completed that it will have a great influence on our ability to send our produce to markets in the east? she asked.

Undoubtedly, he replied and eyed her curiously, a look which Charlotte mistook for interest.

Just then Eunice returned to inform them that dinner was served.

The goose was done to a turn and was enjoyed by all save Charlotte of course, who couldn’t even look at it on her plate, though she took a small portion to avoid having to make explanations. Throughout dinner Eunice never missed an opportunity to bring the conversation back around to Charlotte who tried all the topics her mother had schooled her on but kept bringing them up at the most inopportune times. Mr. Russell always made a polite reply or comment but then brought the conversation back on topic. They’d been speaking of Chicago, a day’s ride to the southeast when Charlotte inquired who he thought the Whigs might put up for president to oppose Martin Van Buren. He politely told her that he did not know and thought it early in the year to speculate. Then he brought the topic back to Chicago.

It is said that there are four thousand residents there now, offered Charlotte from her recently memorized store of useful facts, realizing that her foray into presidential politics was at a dead end.

Can it be so? Mr. Russell wondered aloud, Why, the last time I was there, there were no more than a few hundred souls in the town at most. But I’ve heard speculators from the east are buying up lots in the hope the city will become the great transportation center between the East and West. Your canal again, Miss Charlotte. Here he gave a nod in her direction.

I believe your grandfather has told me you moved here from Chicago yourself, Mr. Russell continued, Did you and your late husband live there, Mrs. Gates? he asked, turning to Eunice.

No, we lived in Joliette, Eunice replied. My husband ran a store there. But when he died, Charlotte and I came to Father in Chicago. He was running a tavern there at the time called the Wolfpoint Tavern.

I know it well. I have stayed there myself while in the city. There’s a sign out front with a picture of a wolf’s head on it.

Yes, that’s the place. Soon after Charlotte and I moved there, Father sold the place and we moved up here.

Musing on his own recent misfortune Mr. Russell asked, Since your husband’s death, have you ever thought to remarry?

Charlotte’s welfare has been my only concern since the death of my husband, she replied. The same question may be asked of you Mr. Russell, though it may seem a bit premature to ask, but do you think you will ever remarry?

It is too soon to consider such a move, he answered, I have not really given the matter any serious thought.

Quite. But life goes on. One does what needs to be done, as when I came to Father in Chicago when Edwin died. You have your children to think of, several of them quite young, I believe. That will surely factor into your decision.

Yes, the youngest of my six children is a boy but three years of age.

He needs a mother, poor dear. And you sir, should have a companion to grow old with, and to see to the running of the household.

Perhaps, he replied vaguely, but Eunice thought the seed had found fertile soil.

When they were through with dinner they retired to the parlor where Charlotte was imposed upon to play the harmonium and sing. Her playing and voice were unremarkable but were greatly praised by their guest nonetheless.

After seeing to it that Mr. Russell had another glass of elderberry wine, Eunice excused herself on the pretext of making up a dinner basket for her father and taking it out to him in the barn.

Thus Charlotte and Mr. Russell were left alone in the parlor. She smiled at him and he returned the smile. Then, as the evening was growing cool and the fire in the parlor had been allowed to burn down during dinner, Charlotte jumped up to throw another log on the fire. Gallantly, their guest jumped up to help her and after tossing the log on the fire together, her hand came to rest lightly upon his arm for just a moment. He looked down at her delicate white hand and then up into her bright blue eyes and in those few seconds that her hand rested upon his arm and she gazed up into his eyes, Charlotte thought that she had surely won him, and she thought that she had done it rather nicely, and with minimal help from her mother, and without the prop of clever conversation. She even considered, just for an instant of offering her face up to be kissed, but quickly stifled the impulse as being overly forward, and so restrained herself.

For the rest of the week Charlotte imagined herself to be rapturously in love. She dreamed of passing her single friends with her nose in the air on the arm of her new husband. There had been as yet no communication from Mr. Russell since the dinner, but this did not alarm Charlotte. Surely he would need time to think the matter over. Then the following Sunday they ran into him after church where he again assured them how much he had enjoyed the evening. After that they spoke of other things of no consequence. But then just as he was about to take his leave of them he asked Eunice if he might ride over later in the day as he had something particular that he wanted to talk over with her. Charlotte’s eyes dropped to the ground demurely but her heart fluttered like a spring bird in her chest.

Mother and daughter both met Mr. Russell at the door but then he asked to speak to Eunice in private and Charlotte withdrew to her room. As her room was at the opposite end of the house from the parlor, try as she might, Charlotte could make out none of the conversation. But it did not last long as she heard the front door close, and looking out the window she saw Mr. Russell ride away on Jack. She ran out of her room and into the parlor where her mother met her at the door. She led Charlotte to the settee, set her down and sat down beside her, her eyes fixed upon the floor rather than meeting Charlotte’s. She took a moment before she spoke as she smoothed the fabric of her dress.

Charlotte, dearest, Mr. Russell has asked me to marry him, and I have accepted.

What? But he was to marry me! cried Charlotte.

You can marry your cousin, Amos, Eunice replied casually, He needs a wife. And then without another word she got up and went into the kitchen to see about dinner.

Chapter 3

Nauvoo, Illinois 1844-1846

Alexander’s oldest girl, Mary Ann, was not about to play second fiddle to her father’s new bride, and so she hastily contracted a marriage of her own scarcely a month after her father’s, though she was but fifteen years old. Her new husband was a gentle bear of a man named John Social Rolph, if he could yet be called a man, for he was but 17 years old himself. They took a farm near her father’s, but Mary Ann soon tired of country life and talked her husband into moving to the growing city of Chicago and here John took up the trade of shoe and belt maker. A child was born to them in March of 1842 whom they named Oscar.

If John thought moving to the city and becoming a mother would at last content Mary Ann, he was very much mistaken. For one day as she went out on the muddy streets of Chicago on an errand she noticed an orator standing on a crate speaking to a rapt group of men and women. He was a powerful speaker with a stentorian voice. Curious to know the subject of his oration, she wandered over to have a listen. The subject of his speech was the end times alluded to in the bible. He spoke of a powerful new prophet who had been sent down to earth by God to reestablish His church on earth. This prophet had been told by an angel the whereabouts of some ancient golden tablets along with the tools necessary to translate them. The speaker went on to tell how this new prophet located those golden tablets and translated them. The tablets spoke of one of the lost tribes of Israel that had crossed the ocean and come to the land that would later become America. In time this tribe had split into two groups, those who followed the law of God and those who did not, and consequently deteriorated into savagery. Furthermore, the speaker stated that this lawless tribe were the forerunners of the American Indians. This story resonated with Mary somehow. The man grew more and more animated as he went on, all the while striking with his free hand a book that he held in his other. This book, he told the crowd, was the very translation of the golden tablets that he spoke of. At that moment Mary found that she wanted to read that book more than anything. Up to this point in her life she had never been particularly religious. But the story this man spoke of seemed more authentic than the kind of watered down religion that she’d been raised on, where you just went to Sunday school and church because it was expected of you. The man painted an image of a group of followers who were truly living their faith, not just attending church as a social function once a week. When she was a young girl attending Sunday school the stories of the Old Testament had always moved her more than the stories of the new. The stories of the Patriarchs and their women had always held a greater fascination for her than the gospels. And here this man was telling her that those days had come again! God had sent down new prophets and patriarchs and was once again involved in the affairs of men. It was as if the Israelites were once again heading to the Promised Land under a new prophet right here in America, and anyone who wished to could join them and be a part of it, though they must first count the cost, for the followers had suffered much in trying to reestablish the kingdom of God here on the earth. It was the most inspiring speech or sermon that Mary Ann had ever heard. She had never felt so inspired. In fact, she found herself so deep in thought concerning all that the man had said that she didn’t even notice when he finished speaking and the crowd disbursed. She only came to herself when he called to her.

Miss?

Only then did she notice that she alone was left of the crowd of listeners and that the speaker had come down from his perch upon the crate he had been standing on to address her.

Oh my, was all she could say to the man as her eyes refocused upon the mundane world about her.

I see that my words have moved you. This is the new scripture that I spoke of, that the prophet Joseph Smith has translated from the golden plates, he said handing her the book.

Take it and read it. Then come join us at our Wednesday meeting. We meet in the big white house on the corner of Canal and Lake Street.

And that is how Mary Ann Rolph came to join the Church of Latter Day Saints. Her husband was loth to go with her to the meeting thinking she was just chasing another one of her whims. He had read much in the papers about the controversy surrounding this new church. They had started their own city here in Illinois after being driven out of Missouri. They stirred up both political and religious controversy everywhere they’d tried to settle.

But Mary Ann took to the movement instantly. She read the Book of Mormon cover to cover in a few days and joined the church at her very first meeting. Within a week she had talked her husband into joining too. He thought this would placate her at last, that she might settle down to a quiet life as a wife and mother, but it only seemed to make her that much more restless. She pestered him until he finally agreed to move to the new Zion that the Mormons were building in the western part of the state on the shores of the mighty Mississippi River, and so within a couple of months of joining the church they packed up their few meager belongings and moved to the city of Nauvoo. The new town’s name was taken from a Hebrew word meaning beautiful. For the first time in her life Mary Ann felt a real sense of purpose, far beyond just the role of wife and mother. She and her husband were among the saints of the new dispensation, building the new Zion that God might come down and dwell among his people. As for John, he just wanted her to be happy, to feel contented at last. Though he had joined the church only to please her, once they bought a home overlooking the river in Nauvoo he became caught up in the excitement of working on the temple which was under construction there. All men of the community were expected to work on it one day out of every ten as a tithe.

The town grew by leaps and bounds and soon became the largest in the state. But the swamps around it proved pestilential. Hundreds in the city came down with malaria including all three members of the Rolph family. John was laid up for 5 months and grew more and more depressed at the turn his life had taken. He could not work and so their little cache of funds soon evaporated, and even worse, he felt he’d lost his wife to the church. His bitterness increased when it was rumored about the town that the Prophet had healed many others down with the same affliction but had not deigned to heal them. Then in January when it looked as if things could not get any worse they lost their infant son to his illness.

But then as John began to mend physically a second son was born to them whom they named Henry Enos Rolph. John pleaded with his wife that they should now return to Chicago where the climate was healthier to raise the son that God had provided to replace little Oscar, but Mary Ann would not hear of it. Soon a more immediate threat to their well-being arose and for the time being there was no more talk of returning to Chicago. The Mormons had encountered bitter opposition everywhere they had lived-in New York, Ohio, and Missouri. They’d been driven out of all of them. And now other cities in Illinois were growing alarmed at the sudden growth of Nauvoo and were afraid of its growing political and economic influence. The state of Missouri charged the Mormons with any number of crimes from the time of their sojourn there. Saints in outlying farms were often harassed. To protect themselves the Mormons formed their own militia, a right which was guaranteed by their city charter. Three thousand men were enlisted, including John Rolph. They took the name of The Nauvoo Legion. In addition to threats from the outside there was considerable dissension and back biting within the ranks of the faithful themselves. Rumors spread that the church was planning to bring back the practice of polygamy from biblical days. It was said that the prophet, Joseph Smith, had already taken a second wife. There were struggles for leadership within the church. A group of about two hundred disaffected followers under a man named William Law sought to unseat Joseph Smith as head of the church calling him a fallen prophet because of his stand on plural marriage and claiming among other things that he’d had enemies in Missouri beheaded. The saints were used to such scandalous accusations and ignoring them they renewed their support for the prophet at their general conference in April. As the situation deteriorated, martial law was declared in Nauvoo. Then on June 7, 1844 an article in a paper called the Nauvoo Expositor whose only edition was published that day, led to the gravest crisis the saints had yet faced. The paper accused Joseph Smith of whoredom, speaking blasphemy against God, grasping for political power, and more. Two days later the press at the Expositor was destroyed under Smith’s orders, the type destroyed, and remaining copies of the scandal sheet burned. The publishers went to the nearby city of Carthage where dwelt many enemies of the church. Here they obtained warrants for the arrest of those involved in the destruction of the press. Sentiments were aroused to a fever pitch until the people swore they would drive the Mormons out of Illinois. People in surrounding cities refused to sell provisions to the people of Nauvoo. The governor called for calm and assured Joseph Smith that he and the others named in the indictment would be under his personal protection if they would only go to Carthage to stand trial. On Monday, the twenty-fourth of June, Joseph Smith and 17 other leaders rode to Carthage in an effort to defuse the situation. They were met by the Illinois Militia which had an order from the governor to disband the Nauvoo Legion, whose members returned to Nauvoo to turn over three cannon they held along with several hundred firearms.

But as a result of the last few day’s developments, John Rolph’s unit of the legion was called up and was preparing for all-out war at their small armory. Yet he was not surprised when the prophet rode up and instructed the men to turn over their rifles to the militia. Then Joseph Smith saluted them and rode off to bid farewell to his family.

This cannot end well, John thought to himself.

Two days later rumors spread through the town that the defendants in Carthage had been accused of treason. Then on the night of the twenty-seventh, the jail where Joseph Smith and the others were being held was stormed by the citizens of Carthage and the prophet and his brother were gunned down.

The next day the whole town of Nauvoo came out and lined the streets as two wagons rode solemnly down the main street carrying the bodies of the prophet and his brother Hyrum. Their bodies were taken to the Mansion House where the next day thousands, including John and Mary Ann Rolph, filed past where their bodies lay in state. Afterward, as they wended their way silently back to their house on a rise above the Mississippi John was clearly agitated. Once back in the privacy of their home he spoke his mind.

Mary, we must leave this place at once. It is not safe here for us any longer. I asked you when little Oscar died, but now I implore you, let us return to Chicago before we or our son are hurt or killed.

His wife was incensed. Why, John, how can you speak thus when our leader lies slain and newly laid out in his coffin in the Mansion House? Such cowardice! Now in the hour of its gravest crisis the church needs us most of all. How can you speak of leaving?

Is it worth our very lives?

You are but an imposter, John Rolph. You are no loyal member of this church. But as for me, I will not abandon my post. You may do as you will, but I knew of the hardships to be suffered by the saints when I signed on, including the possibility of martyrdom. Do you forget that we are building God’s city of Zion here, under God’s very own direction? And if that is not worth giving your life for, then what is?

Now, Mary, I have humored you since the day we married and you have always had your own way. But not this time. I have given the life of one son already to this cause of yours and I will not give another. We are leaving and that is final.

Now I truly see you for the man you are, John Rolph, and I rue the day that I married you. You are an apostate and a fraud. You may stay in Nauvoo or go, as you so choose, but Henry and I will stay. I hereby renounce my vows to you. I will live with you as your wife no longer. I will never leave my fellow saints as long as I live.

With that she stormed out of the house.

John did not leave right away. He stuck around long enough to watch others leaving as mobs from surrounding communities began burning homes in the town. He did his duty to the community as he saw fit by manning fire brigades or being posted as a guard against further depredations against the community by the people of surrounding area, but he had totally lost his taste for the Mormon religion. Mary would no longer speak to him nor share his bed, and after being shunned for a few weeks he simply slipped away one day and returned to Chicago. In time Mary, her young son in tow, fled the city like all the rest. She went to St. Louis where the ranks of Mormons in that city swelled to about fifteen hundred since the start of the crises. Unbeknownst to her husband she was carrying their third child.

The church had chosen a new leader, a man named Brigham Young, to replace the martyred Smith. During the winter of 1844-1845 Young and other leaders studied up on reports of fur trappers and explorers of the far west trying to decide where to relocate where they could be left in peace to pursue their faith. They considered the country of Texas, Alta California in Mexico, and Oregon Territory. The city of Zion would have to be rebuilt somewhere other than Nauvoo. But before they left they resolved to finish the temple at least. They intended to leave in April of 1846 when the temple was completed but they ended up leaving quickly in February instead because Brigham Young and eight of the apostles had been charged with counterfeiting. They crossed over the Mississippi River into Iowa and set up temporary camps there.

John stewed in his anger and humiliation in the city of Chicago for a time without a plan as to how to proceed with his life. Then in the spring of 1846 the United States went to war with Mexico after annexing Texas. John Rolph found in this happenstance an opportunity to end the unhappy state of limbo that his life had fallen into. As many a jilted lover before him, he decided to enlist in the army. The depredations of war would either so occupy his mind as to take it off the loss of his family or he would be killed in combat. Either way it was all the same to him. If he was killed, at least there would be a certain poetic justice to the end of his life. Once resolved on this course of action, he traveled north to see his father-in-law up in Lake County and to make him executor of his will before he left, in the event that he did not survive. And there he received another crushing blow. He found out that Mary Ann had only recently been there to retrieve her sister Matilda to take her back to St. Louis with her. She had come through Chicago with not only Henry but with a baby boy that she’d named Enon Adolphus who had been born to her since their separation. She had been but a few miles from her estranged husband in Chicago without bringing his sons to see him. With this additional blow weighing on his already sinking spirits, he departed by the steamboat Acadia to join up with his compatriots in Alton, Illinois where they were gathering for their long journey to join with the army in Santa Fe.

Chapter 4

Moral Township Shelby County, Indiana, 1840

Though not of a particularly religious temperament, Nicholas Cobler had nonetheless endured enough restless afternoons in Sunday school in his youth to endow him with a healthy fear of the wrathful God he’d been indoctrinated with and the eternal punishment He handed out to those who lacked respect for his commandments. Nicholas thought himself on pretty solid footing as far as most of the ten were concerned, notwithstanding the ones that he did not particularly understand. But the fifth commandment, however, plagued him severely, for he found it impossible in his heart to honor either his father or his mother. He perhaps took some solace in the fact that the woman in question was not really his mother, but his stepmother, his own mother having died many years before. This was perhaps but a technicality, but he was willing to grasp at any straw where his stepmother was concerned, for not only did he not honor her, but he flat out loathed her. It wasn’t that she had tried to supplant his real mother, for she hadn’t. He might have understood that in a stepmother. No, that wasn’t the problem, the problem was that his stepmother was only three years older than he was and yet she insisted on treating him like a child. He was sixteen after all, nearly a fully-grown man, yet she tried to lord it over him as if he were a five-year-old. His father was no help in the situation. He just seemed amused by it, and beyond that he did not want to get involved, for he knew how difficult his wife could be when thwarted, and he didn’t need the aggravation.

And as far as honoring his other parent, he had other reasons for finding it difficult to comply with the fifth commandment, for his father was a drunk, slovenly, and lacked ambition of any kind. These traits were a constant source of irritation to Nicholas and just as incomprehensible, for his father had been born into a good family of modestly well to do tobacco planters in North Carolina. But every family must have its black sheep, and his father fit the bill perfectly. In his youth he had gotten a neighbor girl pregnant when he was not much older than Nicholas was now. Nicholas had been the result of that assignation. His father had reluctantly agreed to marry the girl and seemed to have settled down afterwards and resolved to reform. He worked without complaint on his father’s plantation for a number of years, fathered a half-dozen more children, most of whom had lived. But then Nicholas’s mother died in birthing their last child. His father took to drink after that and began to chafe at working for his own father. And then one day an incident took place that became the straw that broke the camel’s back. He’d chanced upon his father in the barn bedding one of the slave girls, one that had been