From the Relief Society Magazine, 1964 –

Your Heart to Understanding

By Hazel M. Thomson

Chapter 1

Selena Baldwin stood by the side of the open grave in the cemetery at Winter Quarters. With her heart despairing, she felt a wave of deep, unreasoning resentment against the men, healthy and strong, who stood with shovels ready.

How did the Lord decide who was to live and who was to die? Why, out of the entire camp, should she have lost the man she had planned to marry?

It would not be long now, before the wagon train was ready to leave for the Valley of the Great Salt Lake. She and Belle must go on alone.

Selena heard the dull thuds as the first shovelfuls of earth fell on the wooden box. She felt her sister’s arm tighten around her as Belle said, “Come, Selena. We can return when they have finished.”

“No,” said Selena. “I will stay until it is done.”

Her eyes were dry. She felt at that moment that she had cried all the tears she would ever have. Hadn’t she, Selena Baldwin, accepted the gospel as soon as the missionaries had convinced her that it was the truth? She had accepted his word. Then why should he not bless her with this one thing she had wanted and prayed for harder than she had ever prayed before in her entire life?

The grave was finished and rounded over to remind Selena afresh of the silent form within, so recently warm, loving and laughing at her side. Quietly the others withdrew, leaving only the men gathering up their tools and Belle and Selena. The shovels were all placed in the nearby wagon and most of the men climbed in. Still Selena could not bring herself to leave.

One young man who had been helping walked past the two women to get a crowbar and pick. As he returned with them he paused and said kindly “I’m right sorry, Ma’am.”

Selena looked at hi dumbly, unable to answer.

“Thank you, Sir, answered Belle.

Selena, unable to respond to the compassion in the deep blue eyes of the man, turned away. As the men drove off toward the settlement, smaller now than it had been during those first years of its occupancy by the saints, still Selena stood woodenly by the grave. At last, as it was growing dark, belle took her arm firmly.

“Come, Selena,” she said. “We must go. From this day I do not do what I want. I do what I must.”

The weeks to come dragged for Selena. She was anxious to be on the trail and get the long trek underway. Winter Quarters had brought her the greatest sorrow of her life and she hated the place.

“How much longer will it be, Belle?” she asked, as the month of June began.

“They are waiting for some emigrants from England to join the wagon train. They left New York some days ago. As soon as they arrive we shall be on the ay.”

“We have everything packed now, except the few things we need,” Selena said. “With you taking care of the wagon, getting the tires set and new shoes on the oxen, the packing isn’t much of a job.”

“You know how it is with me,” answered Belle. “I hate being cooped up in the house, though I must confess that one ox gave me a time getting the shoes on the back feet. I had to rope him and throw him down and tie him tight before I could get it done. I’d rather shoe a horse any day of the week!”

With the arrival of the emigrants the time to leave drew near, and Selena spent many hours in the cemetery beside the grave. Belle tried, without avail, to get her sister to make her visits to the graveside short, knowing the deep depression that engulfed Selena after each prolonged stay.

“I’ll be awfully glad to get away from here,” Belle said one morning after her sister had spent much of the night sobbing quietly into her pillow. “It’s unhealthy for you to spend so much time in that cemetery.”

“I suppose you think it’s easy for me to go out there every day,” answered Selena.

“No, honey, I don’t. I know it isn’t easy for you, and, since it isn’t, why do it?”

“Why do it? Belle! Sometimes I think you are completely without a heart. I loved him, Belle. Can’t you understand that?”

“Yes, Selena,” answered Belle quietly. “I can understand it. Believe it or not, I can understand that you loved him.”

“Oh, Belle,” cried Selena, throwing her arms around her sister’s neck. “I didn’t mean that. I’m just not myself these days.”

“That’s just what I mean,” Belle answered. “Why keep on torturing yourself? He wasn’t worth — .” Belle stopped.

“You might as well say it!” Selena’s voice rose to hysterical pitch. “You never did like him! No wonder you want me to forget all about him. But I won’t! I never will!”

Selena’s voice broke in a sob. She ran from the house, and Belle watched her as she hurried down the street in the direction of the cemetery.

The last check of wagons had been taken. When the order came to get the wagons in place, that they were moving out that afternoon. Belle was not surprised. She did the last loading of their wagon and still Selena had not returned. Knowing well where Selena was. Belle yoked the oxen in place and figured to pick up her sister as the wagon train moved out of town past the cemetery.

A man on horseback rode up and introduced himself.

“I’m Josiah Blodgett, Ma’am,” he said, lifting his hat. “Is your husband about ready to start? I’m Captain of the ten you’ll be traveling with. Better tell him we’re about to move out.”

Belle mustered all the dignity she could. “I have no husband,” she said. “I’m driving this outfit, and I’m ready as soon as my sister gets back.”

Josiah Blodgett exploded. “Gets back! You’ve only had months to get ready. Now we have to wait for your sister to get back!”

Josiah was a small, wiry man who rode his horse as if he were part of it. Now he stood as tall in the stirrups as he could make himself. He looked at Belle through narrowed eyes.

“Lon said there were a couple of females making this trip by themselves. I have the luck to draw the ten they are traveling?”

“You don’t need to worry yourself about us. Brother Blodgett,” said Belle, determinedly.

“No! I don’t need to worry about you. All I have to do is just your work and mine, too!”

“You’ll not be doing my work, Josiah Blodgett,” said Belle, her temper rising. “I’ll walk to the Great Salt Lake and pull this wagon myself before I’d accept one mite of help from you!”

Josiah looked at Belle, sitting large and strong before him on the wagon seat. “And you just might be able to do it, at that,” he muttered as he gathered his reins tight and started off.

“Better get that sister and be ready,” he called back. “Don’t start delaying us until we at least get out of town.”

Selena knelt on the clods of sun-baked earth for a long time. Then a cloud of dust arose and she saw many wagons moving along the road. They had started! Belle had said it might be today but she had forgotten. Selena felt a little guilty at having left everything at the last to Belle, but never once did the thought occur to her that her sister might not be ready. No man in the entire train was more efficient than Belle. Their wagon would be in place all right. Selena took a long last look at the grave, etching it in her memory, then she turned resolutely away and walked toward the road.

Belle brought the oxen to a halt only for a moment while Selena climbed lightly up onto the seat beside her. Belle looked at her sister’s tear-reddened eyes and did not speak until they came to the last place on the road from where the cemetery could still be seen. Selena sat small and silent without moving. Belle cleared her throat.

“We will be out of sight of it in a few moments, Selena. Would you like to look back?”

Selena continued to stare straight ahead. “I shall not see it again,” she said, her features set. “There is no need. It will always be there, in my mind.”

Belle spoke sharply. “I have the feeling that you are being more faithful than he would be in a like situation.”

“You did not like him,” Selena reminded her, as though speaking to a child. “You can say that if it pleases you, but you have no proof.”

“I …” Belle opened her mouth to say more, then she thought better of it. She called to one of the oxen instead, as Selena lapsed back into silence.

Determined that she would not prove to be a drawback to the days progress, Belle had had her oxen yoked and ready for the day’s journey before anyone else in camp. The same thing was true that night. She could unyoke a team of oxen as quickly as any man in the wagon train. Since she had a special reason for wanting to do so, she made it a point to be just a little fast; to see that whenever Josiah came around of an evening, her team was already turned out to grass.

They had been on the trail a week before Selena saw Lon Holiday. When she did, it took a moment before she could remember where she had seen him before. It was the deep blue of his eyes that recalled him – the young man at the cemetery on the day of the funeral. It was with an effort that Selena was able to speak civilly to him, remembering still her smoldering resentment.

He nodded to Selena but directed his remarks to Belle.

“I know Josiah can take care of his ten wagons all right but I want you to know I, too, am ready to help in any way I can. I’m Lon Holiday and captain of fifty.”

We’re getting along real well,” said Belle, “but thanks just the same. It does seem good to know there’s someone looking out for us a bit.”

“Well, Josiah’s a good man on a wagon train. There’s nothing about this kind of traveling that he doesn’t know,” said Lon, facing Belle, but his eyes were on Selena.

“Except how to hold his tongue!” said Belle, sharply.

Lon looked again at Belle and laughed.

“You’ve had a word with him, have you?”

“The first and the last,” said Belle. “I’ve had all the words I care to have with him.”

“I’ve seen him in many a tight spot, but Josiah always finds a way out.”

“That’s good,” said Belle. “Just let him come around this wagon and he’ll need to find a way out, quick!”

Lon rode on toward the end of the wagon train, chuckling.

“Now there is a man” said Belle, “one that you could depend on. Somehow I feel quite a bit easier, to know that our getting to the Valley doesn’t depend upon the leadership of Josiah Blodgett.”

Selena did not answer, and Belle had the impression, as she often did, that she was concerned little with the present.

From that night on Lon Holiday made it a point to call at the Baldwin wagon each evening to offer his services.

Selena answered briefly but very definitely each time that there was nothing he could do. Then one evening he came just as Belle was replacing the brake block that had come loose and fallen out. He took the axe from her capable hands and cut the stump of a tree she was working on, to size, and drove it in between the iron cleats.

“There,” he said, as he finished wedging the block in tight. “That ought to hold you for awhile. Better not tell your sister I helped. She might not ride in the wagon if she knew I fixed the brake block.”

“It isn’t you particularly, with Selena,” said Belle. “She’s having a bad time. The best thing anyone can do right now is leave her pretty much to herself. Where are your folks, Lon?”

“They couldn’t accept the truth,” answered Lon. “After I joined the Church, they couldn’t accept me, either. They are still living, back in Massachusetts. And I am not welcome.”

“That’s a coincidence,” said Belle. “Same with Selena and me. Our folks couldn’t believe it either, but we both knew the missionaries were teaching the truth, and we had to come.”

“You and Selena. I still find it strange to think the two of you are sisters.”

“It surprised you, did it? I’m not surprised. Everyone finds it hard to believe, what with Selena being dark and so much smaller and, well, just prettier than I am. No one has ever taken us to be sisters, or for that matter, been hardly able to believe we were once they found it out.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean . . .” began Lon, embarrassed by the turn the conversation had taken.

“It doesn’t matter,” replied Belle, getting to her feet and picking up the axe, as Lon rode off.

At the evening dances around the campfires, Selena and Belle usually sat together, watching rather than dancing, but for entirely different reasons. Selena would have none of the gaiety and laughter and few of the young men were anxious to ask Belle.

“I did. Just once,” said John Meeks, “and that was enough. Why, she’d like to have picked me up and swung me clear off the ground every time the caller said ‘Swing your partners.’ I just don’t think it’s safe.”

This warning, coupled with the natural disinclination of the other young men to have Belle for a partner, kept her watching rather than taking part in the dancing.

Any young man in the camp would have been pleased to dance with Selena. Many of them asked her at the beginning, but her repeated refusals were sufficient to discourage the most eager of the dancers.

It almost angered Selena to see others gay and happy with the memory of her own sorrow fresh and new.

“Why do they have to dance so much?” she asked Belle as they sat in front of their wagon, the music filling the night air. “I should think once in awhile would be enough, but no, it’s every single night except Sunday.”

“They need to dance, Selena,” Belle answered. “They have all had just as hard a day as we have. They need to relax.”

“That’s just what I mean.”

Selena spoke heatedly, “Only day before yesterday old Brother Christiansen was buried along the way. And here they are, again tonight, dancing as though nothing had happened.”

“We can’t just give ourselves up to grief and sorrow, Selena.” Belle arose and stood tall beside her sister. “No one can keep on living with just memories.”

“Belle!” Selena cried. “How can you be so cruel?” She whirled, running toward the back of the wagon as Lon came around it from the other direction. She bumped hard against him and he caught her in his arms, steadying her a moment to keep her from falling.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, and drew back as she regained her footing.

“Let me alone!” she cried.

“I came at the wrong time, it seems,” said Lon to Belle. “Seems like I always show up at the wrong time, as fair as Selena is concerned.”

“There’s never a right time to be around Selena these days,” answered Belle.

“I’d like to be of more help. You’re too efficient, Belle. I’d feel a lot better if I could do something for the two of you.”

Belle looked at him squarely. “You mean for Selena.” It was a statement, not a question. Lon did not evade it.

“Yes, I do,” he said. “But you are her family, Belle. I mean for you, too.”

Belle was quiet for a long moment, watching the dancing. “So that’s the way it is.”

“That’s the way it is,” said Lon quietly. “That’s the way it has been ever since I first saw Selena, back there at the grave in Winter Quarters.”

After a time, belle spoke again. “It will take a long time, Lon.”

“I have plenty. Someday I mean to marry Selena.”

(To be continued)