Forward, Without Fear
By Dorothy Clapp Robinson
Chapter Four
With their money gone, Ann Kristin and Helga Mortensen are faced with the problem of supporting themselves. They have never worked except in their own homes. But the question of who took their money worries them more than the loss.
Could it have been Elder Lewis? He had gone to New Orleans four months before, to bring these immigrants up the river and to make sure just this sort of thing did not happen to them. Where did he get the money to bring the destitute ones up the river? He had only seven dollars when he left home.
Could it have been Tom Bedloe? He had the opportunity, but would a man steal from the girl he was to marry?
Was it Patty Lou, who didn’t like Ann? What about the gambler-trader who left the River Maid at Montrose? Or was it one of the immigrants?
Ann, under suggestion from Tom, has a warrant issued for the arrest of Elder Lewis, but he tells where he received the money. It is a fantastic story and hard to believe. While the officers are hesitating about taking Lewis, Ted Lewis comes running with the news that the Prophet Joseph has been killed.
Matilda Lewis drew the sheet up under Johanna’s chin. “It is warm, but it will protect you from the flies.”
“T’ank you.”
Mrs. Lewis busied herself with the baby. “She looks like you, Johanna. First thing you know you will be carrying her down to see me.
Johanna turned her eyes slowly toward the foot of the bed. Mrs. Lewis had put a square of mosquito netting over the bundle lying there. A beatific smile spread over her face for the moment, completely erasing the unhealthful pallor of her skin, the unnatural bright ness of her eyes. To hide her own tears, Matilda Lewis turned quickly
“I must get home now and set about Erva, but I will be back. It you need me, send Patty Lou. You will be quiet, won’t you?”
The sick girl’s eyes answered, and Mrs. Lewis went outside. The hastily erected lean-to was still the home of these immigrants. It kept out the sun, and most of the rain, but nothing else.
Sitting on the big stump in the clearing was Patty Lou. Her face was puckered in concentration as the pencil in her hand moved slowly over a square of paper.
“I think she will be more comfortable now.” Mrs. Lewis lowered her voice so her words would not reach the sick girl. “If the baby wakes or if she gets worse, call me at once, ni try to get a little rest. You don’t seem to mind the heat.”
“Mind? Oh, you-all mean the weather. I was brought up on this kind. You-all don’t know Alabama.” She struck suddenly at a mosquito that had been buzzing about her face. “There. Got him right on pap’s letter.”
“Please, Patty. Listen to what I am saying.”
The girl’s eyes opened wide. “Why, Sister Lewis, I am listening to you sure-enough.”
“Then watch Johanna carefully. She is very ill. Keep the flies away if you can, but let her sleep if she will.”
“Yes’m. I sure enough will, but I mus finish this letter to my papa.”
“Patty Lou!” Mrs. Lewis’ voice was stern. “I mean what I say. Your papa’s letter can wait. She may turn worse in an instant.”
Her tone brought patty Lou’s agile mind back from its wanderings. She smiled assurance, which changed quickly to wonder.
“Sister Lewis. Why do you do all this?”
“This?”
The girl waved her hand vaguely. “I mean, two months ago you didn’t know any of us. Since then you have watched over us, brought us food, helped the girls sell their things, and now for days you-all have been constantly with Johanna. Why do you?”
Mrs. Lewis’ brows drew together, puzzled. “I have never asked myself such a question. The need is here. That is enough. How far would we get if we didn’t help each other?”
The girl chewed the end of her pencil. “I can’t see you are getting anything but grief. Your husband is in jail, and all the tie Kris was having that terrible time with her sore hand you took care of her.”
“All I did was to see that she kept it in hot water. My mother always said that would draw corruption from the flesh.”
“If it hadn’t been for you, she would have died. I’ve seen arms bloat up and turn black like that before. They always die.”
“It was the priesthood saved her, not me.”
“I reckon some of it was punishment. that was a nasty thing she did.”
“She didn’t know what she was doing.”
“Well,” Patty Lou was definite, “if she meant it or not, she got into plenty of trouble over it. Matt won’t speak to her and she lost Tom.”
“She gave up Thomas Bedloe,” Mrs. Lewis replied tartly, “and a mighty good thing it was. After the way he tricked her.”
“That’s what she says, but she can read when she wants to; but I was talking about you helping us. Why do you do it?”
“Why not? Brother Lewis says trouble refines us.”
“Hum-m. If misery makes saints I reckon we should all rise and shine. of all the miseries I ever heard of this place has the most kinds.”
Mrs. Lewis sighed. “You hit the nail on the head that time, but from what I hear we shall know worse. Once I rebelled against it, but now I am too busy to give it a thought. Now, dear, don’t forget Johanna.” She hurried away in the direction of her own home.
As soon as she was out of sight, Patty Lou tiptoed into the lean-to. Johanna was asleep. A sudden aching premonition caught the girl and she leaned close. yes. She was breathing. Patty Lou took a bonnet that was lying on a packing box and fanned it gently over both Johanna and the baby. The sleeping girl did not stir, but a slight, very slight sigh escaped her lips. With eyes blinded by tears, Patty laid down the bonnet, and went back to the stump. The girls had traded everything from their big chest for that bed for Johanna.
For a few minutes she wrote laboriously, but resolutely. She wanted the letter finished so that the first person leaving camp for Nauvoo could take it.
The next time she went to see Johanna she was lying exactly as she had been before. For the first time in her life the girl knew stark fear. She must get away from that bloodless, too quiet face on the pillow. Quickly she transferred the mosquito netting from the baby to Johanna. Then she hurried back to her writing, but she did not write. She felt an overwhelming desire to go for Mrs. Lewis. Once she started down the trail, but turned and came back.
“I must not be a coward,” she told herself. “I know Mrs. Lewis is plumb tired.”
But her nervousness increased, and when she saw Helga coming she was so relieved quick tears filled her eyes. She realized she was trembling all over.
“Evening,” she called loudly to hide her agitation. “You-all’s been a long time coming.”
“I worked,” Helga answered. “She didn’t want any sewing done today so I washed. I think I worked harder than ever in my life.”
With someone present to assume responsibility, Patty Lou’s fears were gone. Immediately she was her carefree self.
“Another crazy gal,” she cried scornfully. “I wouldn’t do anybody’s washing. Walk four miles and do a scrubbing just for the fun of being uncomfortable. I’d rather go home. That is why I am writing to papa. How much did she give you, thirty-five cents?”
“Twenty-five,” Helga corrected. “Wouldn’t our friends back in Loftshammar throw a fit, as you say, if they knew what the Mortensen girls were doing?” She nodded toward the shelter. “How is she?”
“Mighty poorly, but she is sleeping now. Mrs. Lewis will be back directly.”
Helga went in, and when she came back she had the baby. Crooning softly she held the tiny face up to her own. “She was stirring,” she told Patty Lou. “I was afraid she would wake Johanna.”
Patty Lou smiled absently. She knew Helga’s habit of making excuses for holding Baby Anna, but she was more interested in the basket Helga had brought home.
“Did you-all buy something?”
“Yes. I went by the trading post on my way home. It is just a piece of smoked salmon for Johanna. Doesn’t it look good? It smells like home.”
The Southern girl wrinkled her nose contemptuously. “Fan me up a breeze. If Norway smells like that I am glad I’m from Alabama.” She looked intently at the piece of fish. “I reckon you-all paid all your money for it. Why don’t somebody buy something I like?”
“How is she?”
They turned and Niels was standing behind them. He looked wretched. He had lost his cap, and his thick hair was standing up in all directions. One sleeve of his shirt was torn and there was a skinned place on one cheek. His upper lip was cut and swollen.
“Niels,” Helga cried. “You have been fighting again.”
With a movement of utter despair he dropped to the stump and took his head between his hands. He groaned aloud.
“What happened?” Helga asked. Something was always happening to Niels.
His English had improved. “I am unloading de boat.” He used his huge hands to describe the lifting. “Big boxes. Big barrels.”
“But what happened?”
“All day by me a man he talks, talks. All day I keep my hands down. Den he wishes he got one crack at de Mormon Prophet. I take one crack.”
Patty Lou laughed aloud. “I’ll bet it was a good one. how many teeth did you knock out?”
Niels lifted his head. He grinned shyly. “I don’t count. Dey come eight-ten. I fight good but de boss von’t pay. I started de fight.”
It was an effort for Helga to speak cheerfully. “Never mind, we’ll manage someway; but for Johanna’s sake you should try harder. Sometimes I wish you couldn’t understand English.”
He got up abruptly and started for the house, but patty Lou caught his arm. “Wait a minute. here.” She got the wash basin and towel for him. “Wash the blood and dirt off your face, and comb your hair.”
While he was washing, Helga took the baby inside. When she came back he was brushing ineffectually at his hair.
“She is awake now. Go in and see her; but don’t tell her about the fight.”
Only after he had gone did patty Lou notice how drawn Helga’s face was. her eyes were wide with fear.
“You better go for Sister Lewis.”
When Matilda Lewis came she said very little. To the girls’ delight Johanna ate nearly half the small piece of fish. For days she had taken nothing but water and a thing cruel. Mrs. Lewis’ eyes were more watchful, if possible, but Niels and the girls relaxed. Niels gathered twigs to start their campfire, while Helga made preparations for their scanty meal. Patty fed the baby a little sweetened water from a spoon.
Back along a road that roughly followed the river from Montrose, Ann Kristin was placing one weary foot ahead of another. To the east, the sun’s slanting rays made a mirror of the water. Grimly she recalled her emotions when first she had looked across the Mississippi toward Nauvoo. She had stood on the wharf after leaving the River Maid, and in that moment the shining dreams of her girlhood had seemed realized. Life stretched before her, a radiant vista of love, peace, and security. Security was gone. Peace she had not yet found, and love – had she lost even love?
“I could stand the poverty, the humiliation,” she said aloud, “even my withered hand, if only I could do something about elder Lewis.”
On her good arm she carried a basket, a replica of the one Helga had carried. Niels had woven them from willows. They carried them whenever they worked, for their pay was usually in produce.
The soft clop of horses’ hoofs made her look up. She stepped aside to let the buggy pass. Opposite her, the driver stopped his team abruptly.
“Kristin. What on earth—?”
It was Thomas Bedloe. he stared at her in unbelief. “What in the world are you doing here – this way?”
Ann Kristin had thrust her bad hand into the pocket of her skirt. “I have been looking for work,” she answered, shortly.
“but—you mean you walked to Montrose to find work? You mean —work?” His tone told her all he was thinking.
“We must eat, although I have found we can get by with very little of it.”
Twisting his reins about the brake handle, Bedloe got out.
“Allow me.” He made as if to help her in the buggy. “I will drive you back.”
She did not move. “Thank you. I will walk.”
He studied her. She was very thin, and her bonnet did not entirely hide the effect of wind and sun on her hair. In her eyes a shadow had replaced the fun and laughter. The shadow was not fear, of that he was sure. It could be hurt. He spoke quickly.
“Haven’t you forgiven me yet? I have tried to explain, darling.”
“Explain. Will that get Elder Lewis out of jail? He didn’t take that money, Tom. I know he didn’t. Tell me one thing,” she demanded suddenly, “when I signed that paper did you know they would arrest him?”
“Must we go over that again? Can’t you take my word for it?”
“If you will give me your word. Did you or didn’t you know they would arrest Elder Lewis?”
She wanted desperately to hear him say he, like her, had been duped. She wanted to believe he had not tricked her. Watching her, Bedloe’s eyes softened.
“Darling, if I erred I did it because I loved you. I may have said more than I intended, but they have been hunting a chance to arrest someone. It is all part of the scheme to discourage us. For the same reason his trial has been postponed time and time again.”
There was no mistaking the love and desire in his eyes. Ann Kristin felt her color rise. It was all so confusing. If he loved her, why had he allowed this thing to happen? More to herself than to him, she explained: “Some English I understand perfectly, but not legal terms —and the way he fired questions at me was so confusing. I had no idea what I was doing. I have gone to them time and time again. I have tried to withdraw the complaint.”
“Darling! If you would only marry me as we had planned. You know I shall always love you. When we are married I will use my influence to get him released. I do have considerable influence in Montrose, you know. You are so uncomfortable. Come with me. I want to take care of you.”
The girl’s eyes leaped with sudden hope. She hated this camp. She hated these coarse dusty clothes she wore. She hated asking for work and seeing disdain in the eyes of those she asked. Seeing her indecision, Bedloe intensified his persuasion. In the end she said:
“Tomorrow I will give you my answer. Now I must walk and think.”
With a promise that he would see her tomorrow, he drove reluctantly away. When he had gone, she drew her hand from her pocket. She looked at it, and laughed harshly. It was not enough that she had lost her beloved Norway, her parents, her security. Now she must suffer this— this nightmare. And she must not let Tom see it until after— she must not tell him her beautiful belongings were gone— for food, for me^cine, for those things that sustained her physical body while her other self withered and died. She could not go on in this way,
with no hope, no future.
At the trading post she looked about for Niels. He had said he would be working at the wharf all day. She did not see him; but a number of men, evidently just off work, stared at her so boldly she pulled her bonnet closer about her face and hurried away.
Then she thought she saw him between the brush on the trail that led to camp. She called and hurried to overtake him. He turned and too late she saw it was Matt Lewis. She had been carrying the basket on her sore arm; but now she shifted it quickly and put her hand in her pocket again.
“I— I thought it was Niels,” she stammered. “I was going to walk with him.”
“Won’t I do?” He watched her closely. He thought, she has changed. She is still bitter— no, not bitter. Sick and discouraged. His quick glance saw the hand in her pocket. Rudely he snatched it and held it so he could look at it. The
fingers were drawn and taut.
“Are you using it?” he demanded.
“I can’t.”
For a full minute he did not answer. He turned her hand over. He flexed her fingers. He spoke, and there was command, reproof, and something she could not name in his voice.
“That night when you were so ill and mother sent for me, I promised you something. Remember?”
She nodded without speaking.
“Then you must help. If your arm is to become whole vou must do as I said. The Lord expects us to do what we can.”
“It’s no use,” she cried rebelliously. “I have tried and it’s no use. There is nothing for me but sorrow.”
For a moment they walked together in silence. He had not released her hand.
“We can’t understand completely,” he said at length. “Perhaps you need a lesson in walking humbly, by faith.” She snatched her hand away. Presently he saw her wipe her eyes.
“What’s the matter with Bedloe? I thought you would be married by now. Isn’t he pressing his suit?” He threw the words at her. She did not know it, but the night she had been so ill had not been easy for him. Before he had administered to her he had gone off by himself. There on his knees he had asked that all rancor be removed from his heart, so there would be nothing between them to stay the answering of the blessing for her. His heart had been at peace, but now he was again restless and unhappy, but for a different reason. He did not want a woman who was in love with a scoundrel.
“We may be married tomorrow,” she answered, matching his tone. She did not look at him. “He is doing well now. He could give me a home.”
“Yes. He could give you a home. That is more than— many others could do. Just what does he do? I have never been able to find out definitely.”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“I would if I could get close enough to him. He takes care to keep out of my way.”
No matter how they started, they always ended by quarreling. Her heart ached for understanding and peace.
“How are conditions in Nauvoo? Could I get work there, now that my hand is better?”
“Conditions are bad. I hear the charter may be repealed.”
“What does that mean?”
“More lawlessness, probably more deaths among the brethren. Certainly, another move. Our patience and forbearance are being taxed beyond endurance.”
As they came into the clearing, Helga looked up from the corncakes she was cooking. Ann Kristin handed her the basket.
“Ann Kristin Mortensen, where did you get this food? Fish, hominy, potatoes— even a little salt pork. You could not have earned this much in three days. Where did you get it?”
“I’ll explain later.”
Patty Lou took the basket from Helga, and started for the table. “Jake came,” she called over her shoulder. “He’s behind the lean-to talking to Niels.”
“I’ll see them.” Matt started toward the thicket, but stopped short. Coming up the trail were two men. They were the same two officers who had arrested his father two months before.
“Be careful what you say,” he warned the girls.
(To be continued)