Number Seven

Chapter 7-XXXXXXX

         The light came softly into the room, it reflected from the hillside outside the window, illuminating the lump of lanky young man who was sprawled on his stomach across the bed.  Nate awakened suddenly, but did not move. Carefully, he cracked one eyelid and looked around the part of the room that he could see. Listening for any sound that didn’t seem normal and hearing nothing but the thump of someone in the kitchen stirring around, he pushed himself up to a sitting position.  The heat of yesterday had evaporated overnight and the morning air was cool, almost brisk.  It reminded him that winter was coming and he wanted to be done with this job.  He had dreams of sitting in his father’s kitchen with the cook range roaring. In the dreams he was watching the snow quietly falling and listening to his father grumbling about lay-abouts and asking if the cow’s had been milked.  It had been a long three years since he had last had that pleasure. He prayed daily that he could go home to the farm before winter came.

         A sudden urgent pressure reminded him that he needed to get dressed and press on.  On his way out to the privy, Josephine’s mother waylaid him. “Ephraim, breakfast will ready shortly, are you hungry?” she asked.

         “Ma’am, it seems like I have been hungry all my life.  Uhh, Josephine told me your name wasn’t Young, er, I’m sorry that I reckoned you both had the same last name.” Nate said.  

         “Psshaww, a rose by any other name…you know.” 

         Perplexed, Nate asked, “I thought she said your name was Frances?”

         She laughed out loud, “Oh my, I take it you haven’t read Mr. Shakespeare then.”

         Nate turned red, then mumbled, “I gotta go.” and continued outside. Frances chuckled and continued to work on breakfast. Josephine walked into the kitchen. She watched her mother shake a pan and giggle, then, she lifted a lid on the stove, looked at the fire and giggled again. Josephine asked what was so funny.

         Frances then went into a real fit of laughing. “That boy…” she started to say, then broke out laughing again, gasping for breath she tried to continue, “Uhhh….hahahahaha.”

         Josephine didn’t understand what had made her mother laugh so hard but the laugh was infectious; she started to laugh too.  Seeing her daughter laughing caused Frances to re-double her hee-hawing. Losing her balance she fell on the floor. Josephine completely lost it. She doubled over holding her sides that had begun to ache with the effort of laughing and trying not to laugh at the same time. She landed on the floor too. Her breath came in whoops and gusts of laughter.  Carmen, who had been in another room, came rushing in to see what the disturbance was.  The scene that lay before her as she entered the doorway made her stop in amazement. The two women who provided stability and calm in her life, were rolling on the floor, roaring with laughter for no apparent reason that she could see.  Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open at the shock of it all.

         In the midst of this, Nate re-entered from his morning constitutional.  He too, was stunned at the sight before him. “Good God Almighty, what in hell is going on here?” Nate said forcefully, shouting in surprise. The door shut behind him with a crash that rattled the walls. This disturbance caused Josephine and Frances to pause, hiccupping from their tired breathing muscles. Nate held up his right hand, index finger pointing upward, and opened his mouth to speak. He closed it again without saying anything.        

         The women couldn’t handle his seriousness in their fragile condition.  They burst out laughing again.  They howled and struggled to breath. Nate scowled darkly, he turned abruptly and left the kitchen and made his way into his room and shut the door behind him.  The sounds of laughter followed him.

         Grumbling to himself about the antics of his landladies, he found the packet of instructions and information that had been sent to him.  Sitting on the edge of the bed, he opened it and drew the papers out and spread them on the bed beside him.  As he sorted them into some order, the sound of laughter died and the bangs and bumps of pots and pans took its place.  Concentrating on his work, he began reading the documents. 

         A knock came at his door, a female voice called out, “Want some coffee, Ephraim?” He got up and opened the door to Josephine holding two cups of steaming brew. “Come in, thanks for bringing me a cup.” Nate closed the door behind her, and turned to take the cup from her.  “Go ahead sit down, I’ll stand here.” Nate directed her. Josephine sat on the edge of the bed, a little uneasy being alone in his room with him. Her nervousness translated into a little chuckle.

         Nate’s head swiveled sharply to look at her.“What’s so funny this morning? Is there something wrong with me?” he said while he twisted to look at his clothes, glanced in the mirror above the bureau, looking for cowlicks or an untucked shirt.

         “No, no, mother just got me to laughing and I am having a hard time trying to stop.” Josephine smiled broadly. “And it is such a fine morning.  Don’t you think?”

         “Yes it is; It will be finer if I can find what I am looking for in these papers. I have been looking and so far, I haven’t seen anything that exactly spells out what I am to do.  I have been thinking about what you told me about Buford. I don’t think that he could have gotten to where he was on his own. Did your husband have any evidence of this?” Nate looked at her, waiting for an answer.

         Josephine quickly sobered at the mention of John, she pursed her lips in thought as she reviewed those short months that they had been in Washington. “I don’t think so, we talked about some of the Senators that were Anti’s, but most of them were just hacks, working for their own enrichment. While I was with Brother Taylor, we talked some on John’s work, and the characters that John had met in the Capital. No one in Washington knew about Buford’s…hmmm, Alpheus’ history with the Saints in Nauvoo. There is nothing more that I can remember in our conversations.”

         “Me neither, most of the Army officers were Anti’s just because of the lies they had heard.  None of them, that I can recall, ever said anything good about us.  Of course they didn’t know I was a Mormon. I had a feeling, there was no direct evidence of anyone else.” Nate was pretty sure that there was at least one person bigger than ol’ Buford in this, he didn’t want to influence her memories, in case she remembered something else. He had come across hints of a ringleader while working for the Colonel. Was the colonel an apostate too?  The Sergeant Major was just a greedy thug, so he could figure out his part in this. Brother Taylor had taken his report in the weeks while he was recovering from the beating. It seemed he had a lot of information at hand. Was the Prophet sure of his loyalty?  Nate thought that he would ask, first chance he had.

         The door burst open.

          “Yoohoo, you two quit your smootching and come to breakfast!” Frances began laughing again, he guessed at her own joke. She turned and went back to the kitchen before her daughter could catch her.

         “Mother! What are you doing? Now stop that! You’re embarrassing me, and Na…Ephraim. It isn’t funny!” Josephine shrieked at Frances as she followed her out of the room.

         Nate hadn’t been embarrassed until Josephine had said that.  Now he blushed clear to the roots of his hair.  He stopped to gather the papers and put them in the packet.  He took his time, letting the pink fade from his face before he faced the three women in the kitchen.  Finally, he decided he couldn’t hide any longer and picked up the cups and went to breakfast.

         “Do you want some more eggs, Brother Ephraim? There’s plenty left.” Mrs. Smith…Frances, asked as she tried to scoop more on to his plate. Nate held up his hands in surrender, “No, no more Frances! You’re gonna make me fat if you keep feeding me like this. Thank you, though, I haven’t had such good food since I left home.”

         “How long ago was that Ephraim?” she asked as she put the plate down.

         “It was three years past, last Friday, ma’am. A long three years.” Nate’s face showed his longing for home. His thoughts again went back to his dreams of sitting in his father’s kitchen. “Please Lord, let me go home before winter.” He thought to himself.

         “Oh you poor boy, how your mother must miss you. I know I missed Josephine terribly when she was first married. I was happy to see her home.” Frances’ faced crumpled when she remembered the circumstances that led Josephine home, “My poor dear, I’m sorry that I forgot about John.” She turned away.

         “Mother, don’t feel bad, he’s been gone three years now, Father even longer. Time has a way of easing the pain.  Ephraim, she’s right, your mother must pray for you to come home every day.” Josephine stood and hugged her mother to comfort her distress.

         Nate was sad at the thought of his mother.  She had died on the trip west.  Some ‘mountain’ fever had claimed her and an infant sister on the same day. His father and he had dug a grave for both of them, he recalled how hard it had been to break through the sod of those tough prairie grasses. He felt bad for Frances, she had been so happy just seconds ago, but he had to answer the question, “Ma’am, she’s been gone along time. Before we got to Utah. I reckon my Pa has been lookin’ for me, and my half brothers, Luke and Aaron.”

         Frances’ eyes filled with tears as she hid her face in her hands. Nate was at a loss.  He didn’t know what he could do, he felt like giving her a reassuring hug, but he knew that might be awkward since he had only known these women for a day.  Josephine held her, speaking softly trying to make her feel better.  Carmen stood quickly and joined the other two women in a group hug.

         Nate decided that a strategic retreat might be the best way to lighten the situation; so, he picked up his cup and poured it full of the black coffee on the stove and went back to his room. The mysterious packet that Brigham had sent was waiting for him. 

The second paper that he flipped over answered some of the mysteries that he had been struggling with.  It was a page with two newspaper clippings pasted to it.  The first headline read, “President Lincoln Shot at Ford’s Theatre, Dies.” It was dated, 15 April 1865; the second dated ten weeks later was titled….

         Suddenly, the Prophet’s last word’s to him at their last meeting became much clearer, he raised his voice and called, “Josephine! Come here please!  Quickly!”