Chapter One

Seated on the wagon tongue, the loaded rifle in her lap, Lucy sat staring. She was not staring at the horizon, exactly, but at the rippling yellow and blue, the smudged lines of sky, that might have been horizon, if anything in this great vast simmering bowl had that kind of clarity. Though low now in the west the sun still poured down her neck and shoulders and seared along the sandy ground. Sweat dripped in her eyes, and from time to time she licked it from her lips but though it gave her thirst no relief there was no more water, and she could not think what to do about that. Her mother inside the wagon had ceased her crying now, and only an occasional low moan told the girl she was still alive at all. She needed water; the baby, if he was still alive, needed water; they all needed water, but there was no water. She had used it all up caring for the sick ones, but three of them had died anyway. Pa, James, Nettie. When the hot breeze puffed, it carried the odor of their death from the little fissure in the hard cracked earth where she had dragged them; now and again a vulture rose or descended behind the scraggled desert scrub, always silent. She had paced around and around the wagon in spirals looking for water knowing she would not find any, dragging over the empty traces of the reins in the dust, but her mind ran down and down the same track, as if that could make water appear somehow, thinking endlessly about it, wishing for it. Her tongue was thick. Her nostrils were caked. Her fingers puffed out. The sun was pounding hard, but the smell inside the wagon was worse than the heat and the smell outside it. She had dragged the bodies of her father and brother and twin sister as far away as her strength would get her, but the smell of their illness seemed to cling to the canvas, and her mothers sour sick breath, and the babys fouled breechcloths, and the sliver of rancid bacon that was all that was left to eat, all gave off stench as thick as the cloud that had bedeviled them over the Great Divide and how could that, only three months gone, seem such a long lifetime ago. She sat, holding the rifle and trying to figure how far back to the Rockies, but it was impossible, all the weeks and months had blurred into each other. How far back, then, to the last water hole. Twenty miles? Fifty? How far ahead to the next? She had no idea, and no strength left to walk it even if it had been a hundred yards. She supposed the three of them still left alive would die too, though she hadnt reckoned on it taking quite so long. She was so tired that she could not even pray.

The sun was westering behind her now but still showed no signs of easing its heat as it went down toward the hazy distant mountains. Every low mound, every stunted bush, began to stretch its shadow long, trailing back along the road Lucy and her family had taken. She wondered how far the rest of the wagon train had progressed. Part of her was still stunned at the suddenness of it all and the ruthlessly efficient way they had left her, the only one not fallen ill, alone, to care for the sick as best she could and to bury the dead. Sorry, gal, Captain Clement had said My Lord, thought Lucy, it had been scarcely two full days since he had said it The oxll die anyway if we leave it with you, and cholera aint somethin we can risk spreadin among the rest of us. Her words had rasped along her desert throat. But whatll whatll I do? Whatll I do He had not answered her. She had watched his eyes drop, watched his fingers tighten around his horses reins, had watched him walk away, his filthy shirt and breeches stiff around his body. To be quite fair he had left her a little bit of his own water, though few of them had much left, and a few stale biscuits, the last of which she had forced that morning down her dry throat; and Mrs. Livesy had left her a handful of willow bark for the fever, which once shed steeped it in the last stale water had had no noticeable effect yet on either her Ma or the baby; but then they had left her there. Here where there was nothing but scrub and wavering heat, even this late in the year, September already, when back on their mountain farm the frost might be already on the garden of a morning. The captain had taken her familys last living ox, Caleb, and left her there, alone, with her Pa already dead and her brother James and sister Nettie quickly to follow him and her Ma and baby brother looking to do the same. She had watched the wagon train vanishing into the wavering distance with a cold, calm emptiness that flickered along its edges with a consuming rage she did not yet have the strength to fully acknowledge. That Captain Clement, who had taken so much of her fathers money to lead them safely through, who had sworn hed get them all alive to Oregon, and who had danced with her on those star-flung nights on the prairies of Kansas and Dakota Territory, so merry to the sound of a fiddle and a tinwhistle, should now ride away like this, leading her familys last live ox in his sweat-stiff glove, leaving them leaving her to die there in the empty, dusty heat. As if it was something they should just do, all of them as if she was bound by God to lie down and just let her heart stop.

Now she wished she had found words to curse him or rocks to throw at him. She had been so stunned and so tired she could not do anything but stare. Sorry, Lucy gal, he had said, his graying mustache hardly moving on his upper lip, but the scarred eyebrow twitching violently as a flys wings. Its cholera, and taint nothin to do. That had been the day before yesterday, and all day yesterday and this morning she had tended to her ma, until the water was all gone, and she could not bear anymore to listen to the cries of thirst that she could no longer ease. Since this morning she had sat here, or walked about in the sun, until the whimpers of Water, had given away to fainter and fainter and fewer and fewer moans. She was waiting for them to stop altogether now, and thenthen she would try to figure what to do. If there was anything to do. If there was anything to do but what Captain Clement thought she ought do. She realized suddenly that she hadnt heard any sound at all from the wagon for several minutes. Her heartbeat doubled. Ma? she said. Her throat came out a rasp. There was no answer. And her throat kept swallowing itself for any kind of moisture anywhere as the sun, sinking, pushed shadow out of every shrub and mound, but not coolness. She did not dare go inside the wagon to see.

When a figure appeared out of the dusky haze to the south, she thought it a phantasm of her mind at first, and then she could not see him as real, though after a time she knew he must be, or she would not be seeing him so constant. Until he was nearly in front of her, though, she could not surely make up her mind if horse and rider were real, or one of those things Pa had called a mirage, where the heat and the sun and all made you see things that werent really there. The horizon wavered so, and it was dusking, and her eyes were so blurry from the heat and the tears she would not let fall, that she wasnt sure of anything. Not until he spoke was she sure he was really there. By the Heavenly Father, gal, he said, what are you doin out here? He was a dusty, sweaty man, a bearded man, but his creased eyes looked kind and worried. When she opened her mouth to answer him her tongue and lips were so dry that they made a kind of clicking sound, and her voice was croaking and strained. They took the ox, she said. Who took the ox?

Thethe others in the train. They left us hereMister, have you got any water? Please? Heavenly Father forgive me, yes, he said, and tossed her a canteen. She caught it and nearly fell down under it and saw him wince at his own thoughtlessness. It was three quarters full of warm, sour water, but it tasted wonderful to her and she took three deep, lingering swallows. As she drank he dismounted, looking her and the raggedy wagon over, and smelling she could see from his mouth the smell of illness and death that made the air as thick and rancid as month-old grease. Thank you, she said politely and gave him back the canteen. Are you all alone here? Aint you got anyone else here with you? Ma and baby Thomas, she said, but I dont think theyll be here much longer. Theyre in the wagon and theyre mighty sick. Pa and James and Nettie Her throat went all dry again and she couldnt make herself say it. She didnt need to, anyway; he could smell it for himself. He nodded. Cholera? he said. I reckon. You aint sick. No sir, she said. I dont know why not, but I never got the fever. I felt a little poorly but I never was off my legs I could tend to em but... ohsir Pa and James and Nettie.. She drew her breath in deep, cutting herself off. So you been here by yourself tending the sick, and, uh, seeing to the dead? His hand drew a cross, forehead, torso, left shoulder and right, quickly, a little hunched, as if, somehow, he wished he could help doing it. How long? Bout two days now. Ran out of water this mornin. He nodded again, looking up at the waxing moon and the dimming purple in the east. Night was beginning to crawl out of the hills. He was not so very old, she thought; younger than her Pa had been; and his clothes, though stained with sweat and dust and nearly as worn as her own, were well-mended, and his boots were new enough. I got to think, he said. I got to think what to do. He looked at her, and she saw again that his eyes were worried and kind. They were blue eyes, bright blue, and under the dust, his hair and beard were red. Her pa was had been a blue-eyed man too: darker blue, and kind

eyes too, and his hair was black and his skin more tan than most, and he never could grow much of a beard, and she had taken after him, the lanky frame, sharp cheeks and beaky nose. She didnt understand why this red-bearded, blue-eyed stranger had to think about anything. What was there to think about? Hed done his kindness by letting her drink water from his canteen out here in the middle of this desert and he owed her nothing more. Her Ma and Pa had paid Captain Clement to take them all the way safe to Oregon Territory, and Captain Clement had left them here all to die and taken Caleb too. Why should this stranger owe them more than Captain Clement? She said nothing, though. If he wanted to do something more she would not try to persuade him otherwise. Still standing there beside his patient horse he bowed his head and closed his eyes as if he was praying which, she soon realized, he in fact was. He mumbled to himself for a while and then was quiet for a long time. She was thirsty again, but didnt dare interrupt him, or ask for another drink. When he looked up again, to her astonishment and a hot burst of anger he was smiling. Smiling at her, here, with Ma dying in the wagon, and the smell of but she would not would not think of Biting her lip, she looked down at her filthy hands. Under each of her fingernails curved a solid half-moon of black, and dirt streaked her to her bony wrists. Whats your name, gal? he said, and his voice was gentle. Lucy, she muttered. Miss Lucy Frank, late of Tennessee. Her cheeks flamed at the sound of the ridiculous words, but they couldnt be unsaid. Well, Miss Lucy Frank, he said. My name is Josiah Benton, and our Heavenly Father has told me to help you as I can, if you will permit me. Permit him? Lucy stared at him. He was the strangest man she had ever met, and since setting out from Tennessee all those months ago, she had met some true eccentrics. Permit him, with that smell coming from the gully, and those sounds coming from the wagon? With the stinking heat rising from every stone and the water gone and Lords sake, wouldnt I? she demanded and then with a sick drop thought He will leave me here to die I must not be so rude . Beg pardon, Mr. Benton, she said, forcing her voice softer, but unable to stop its shake completely her whole body was quivering now. Id be grateful, truly I would, for any help you could offer. I dont knowMa is awful sick

He nodded. It may be there aint anything much I can do for her, he said. Now she heard in the tones of his voice the faint echoes of a county that must not have been so far from her own. But the Lord has directed me to make the attempt. I think this is what I must do. Im on my way to New Zion, and I expected to be there late tonight, but I darent delay so long if Im to save your Ma. Seems to me that what you need most now is water, and theres a spring long bout six miles back. Ill ride back and bring back waters much as I can, and if youll loan me that rifle Ill shoot some fresh meat if I get the chance. Then Ill stay here tonight and ride on tomorrow to send back help. It may be it wont avail, but it may be that it will. Is your Ma still feverish? I dunno, Lucy said. I havent checked on her since earlier shes so thirsty and there aint no water For the first time since the wagon train had left them, a lump rose in her scratchy throat, and the tears that blurred her vision threatened in earnest to spill. She bit her lip and looked down at her hands again. They were rosy in the evening light, but the bones raised up sharp like long canyons, with dried-up rivers of dirt running down through them. Theres water now, he said, and smiled again. One of his side teeth was missing, and the gap gave him a boyish kind of look, and so before she knew it she was smiling back at him, although her mouth trembled some as she did it. He climbed up past her into the wagon with the canteen, and she heard him speaking softly, and then, to her astonishment, she heard her Mas weak voice answering, and then the sound of gentle weeping. He was in there for a time. The air thickened and purpled, and began to cool. Before the sky was fully dark, Lucy knew, it would be cold and she would be driven into the wagon with its horrible smells for a filthy blanket. She wished she might make a fire, but she did not have the strength to wrestle the desert scrub for the poor fuel it would provide. When he came out again, his face pale in the moonglow, he wasnt smiling, and his hat was in his hand. Every word he spoke was pushed deep into her heart as it came from his tongue. Your babes gone to Jesus, he said. I am sorry, Miss Lucy Frank. Your ma wouldnt turn him over to me, to bury. I done prayed over im, but... well, in this heat well, hes got to be buried. Hes got to be buried tonight. You best see what you can do, when you have the strength. He cleared his throat and looked away, out toward the east where the stars were rising. As for your MaI dunno. As I said I think her best chance now is likely more water, and food, and rest. Ill ride for that spring; I ought be back before the moon is set. Give me that rifle?

Lucy hesitated. It was her Pas; he had put it in her hands with some of his last strength, and told her to guard them if she could. The young Frenchman, Nicolas Planchet, had wanted to take it, and the bullets and even all her powder, arguing that no girl could make proper use of such a thing, and this despite that she had practiced with it alongside her brother and was as good a shot, almost, as her Pa; but Captain Clement had not let him. Likely shell have need of it, and you have your pistol, he had said. Considering that he had taken their ox, for the first time and with a bone-deep shudder Lucy wondered if he had thought she might need to use it on herself. I seen a rabbit by the spring when I passed it, Josiah Benton said, coaxing her. As if she didnt know he was coaxing. Meat would do your Ma a powerful good. You too, I reckon. You look mighty peaked, gal, or you would, if your face werent so sunburnt.

What did it really matter, Lucy thought, and handed him the rifle. He might ride off into the desert night and never come back; probably would, she thought. But theyd be no worse off than they already were, and whatever Captain Clement had thought and her shoulders and her jaw both went tight with anger when his voice sounded in her mind she would never turn it on herself. (In her minds eye she saw Captain Clement turning away, grey eyes cool and unaffected, that damn dusty mustache on his scarred and narrow upper lip, saying so calm, We cant have the cholera spread amongst us, and your oxll die anyway, leaving them, leaving her, to die. Too stunned to speak she had just watched him do it; but she had noted, though not realized it til later, that he could not keep her eye. The level coolness of the words, the halfglancing look, as he led her last hope away, as he left her, and all she loved on earth, to die, she never would forget.) Josiah Benton was speaking; with an effort she turned her attention back to him. Ill build a fire, she said, her voice thin and surprising to her ears. To make that stew. In the early dusk and last thin wash of sunset his teeth gleamed paler than his face. You do that, Miss Lucy Frank, he said. I wont promise that rabbit for the pot, lest Im obliged to be foresworn before the Lord, but I do promise to get im if I can. She bobbed her head. She should thank him, and she opened her mouth to do so, but for some reason she could not speak. It was all so crowded up in her throat and behind her nose, stinging, leaking out of her eyes and nose. Before it all subsided enough to let the words have room, he had mounted his patient horse and ridden away, back toward the southern desert, which

all looked the same to her. It was nothing to her but raw white dust, dry heat, poisonous air and death, and she did not really expect ever to see him again. For a long time she sat not moving, breathing in the stench from the gully and the wagon. But then, though she never expected it, her legs and arms began to move without her conscious will, as they had so many times during the illness and death of her family. By the time she had a fire built of the scrubby branches, her hands were raw with pulling them off, her back was bowed with pain, and the stars were wheeling over her head. He had left her all the water, poured into a pot, and taken her empty skin and his with him. She set the pot by the flame and made a tea of the last handful of willow bark and coaxed her Ma to drink it. Ma let go, at last, of the limp little body of Baby Thomas, who would have been five months old in two weeks, and she took it and stumbled to the ditch swallowing hard against the nausea and laid it down gently on the edge and said a little prayer, as she had over her Pa and James and Nettie, and then closed her mind and shoved, so that the corpse tumbled down into the shallow crack. She could hear the flies buzzing. She turned away and vomited. Then she rose and went back to the willow-bark tea and drained the bitter sludge that was left of it, which made her thirstier than ever, and settled back onto the wagon seat. She must have drowsed, for the next thing she knew, Josiah Benton was speaking her name. Lucy gal, he said. Wake, now. She opened her eyes. He was standing by the wagon. It was deep night, and the air was cold. A lopsided swollen moon was low in the sky, silvering the stones. Josiah had stirred up the fire and added a few more scrubby branches to it, and was roasting a rabbit over it. The smell of it made her stomach growl, but her throat was still scratchy and her tongue swollen. Josiah handed her a water-skin and she drank. Even the warm, musty-tasting water was so sweet that tears sprang to her eyes. She started to hand the skin back to Josiah, but he shook his head. Ive likely been too close to you already. You keep that, Ill drink from the other. Her throat closed up. Cholera. This was where he would tell her he could do nothing more for her and would ride away. Leave me the rifle at least, she said, choking on the words. She couldnt see his face, but his voice, when he spoke, was puzzled. Leave you the rifle? Then his voice changed. Heavenly Father, gal, you dont think Im gonna leave you out here to die, do you?

Captain Clement did, she said. Hell be judged, Josiah Benton said, his voice dark and fierce of a sudden. We are to care for the widows and orphans. The Bible says so and so does our Book. No, Im taking you back to New Zion with me, you and your Ma. But theres no sense in takin more risk than I already have, thats my thinkin. So you use that and Ill use this. You hungry? The relief that flooded through her at his words was so intense that for a moment she did not know how to speak. Then a waft of smoke and roasting meat hit her in the face, and her stomach clenched with hunger. Yes, sir, she said. The rabbit meat was greasy and unsalted, but she was so hungry that she burned her tongue gulping it down. She closed her eyes. As sweet as the water. After the first few mouthfuls she was able to slow down and savor the taste of it in her mouth. Once, weeks ago, she had declared herself so tired of the taste of rabbit that she hoped never to eat another bite of it. Now, she wondered how shed ever been such a fool. Though as her stomach filled her mind recalled biscuits would have gone splendidly. With some gravy, perhaps. And some garden greens and onions with a little sugar and vinegar to dress them in. She hadnt had fresh greens in weeks. Ma had gathered some nettle greens and made a salad of them, of a sort, but that was before the Rocky Mountains, and they had been tough and bitter. Shed tried frying them in lard with the last of their shriveled onions, and that helped some, but James and Nettie had both refused to eat them after the first bite. Lucy had forced them down with water, and theyd given her a stomach ache. She pulled her mind back to the present, and her Ma still lying in the wagon. With a sudden shiver, she realized that shed not heard a sound from her for hours. Ma? she said, her voice quavering. Ma, theres food. And water. The stillness inside, the heaviness of the air, the stink. She couldnt see anything. Ma? she said, groping forward. Her hand found the wooden rim of the bed, and then a bare foot. It felt like soft candlewax. Lucy stumbled away and crashed into the cedar-wood chest which held all their quilts and Mas medicinal herbs. An acid sourness flooded her throat and burned on her lips, and her heart slammed against her ribs. Ma, she said, choking.

For a long while she just sat there in the dark, until Josiah finally called, Lucy? Miss Frank? Lucy could not answer him. When she tried, her voice scraped against her throat. She backed out of the wagon, fumbling in the dark. Her mind was buzzing. Lucy? Josiah repeated, sounding more alarmed. Turning, her knee struck the edge of the wagon-seat, and she tumbled into the dust of the desert floor. Her right elbow struck a rock, and she shrieked at the sudden explosion of pain all along her arm. Josiah was there in an instant, helping her to her feet. Miss Lucy? he said again. Ma, she gasped, unable to say more, cradling her elbow and rocking on her heels. Ma.

When he explained to her why he must fire the wagon, she was too numb to protest, but said only, Let me get the family Bible. Please. It was in the chest with the quilts. Holding her breath and carefully avoiding her mothers still, cold body, she felt her way to it and opened it and found the Bible by feel. It had been her grandfathers, given to him as a boy, and all their names were inscribed with their dates of birth. She could not leave it behind to burn. Clutching the Bible, she stumbled out of the wagon. She could not watch as Josiah stirred up the fire and set a blazing torch to the canvas cover. The rabbit meat shed eaten earlier was a cold, hard lump in her belly. She hugged the heavy book close to her as the fire roared behind her, the shadows dancing, and though the heat blazed on her back and neck, she shivered. Josiah came to her and stood beside her. Im awful sorry, gal, he said. This aint anything a little thing like you ought to see. He hesitated. How old are you, anyway? Twelve, Lucy answered numbly. She realized she would be thirteen in six weeks, and she realized with a cold plummet that Nettie never would be. How would she endure a birthday alone? We dont always know Heavenly Fathers plan, Josiah said. But we can be sure He has one. Lets pray for your Ma. He bowed his head and began to mumble. Out of habit, Lucy bowed her head too, but she

could not think of a prayer. She could not think of God. All she could think about was her mothers body burning in the wagon, and Nettie and James and Pa and the baby in the gully. And Oregon. None of them would ever see it now. She was one big echoing ache inside. How could this be Gods plan, that they would all die in a hot stinking desert hundreds of miles from their rocky Tennessee farm, with Oregon still beyond the mountains, and she left behind? The heat beat on her back; her arms throbbed, clutching the Bible so tightly that she could scarcely breathe. It seemed to her that Josiah prayed for a long time. After a while her legs folded and she sat down on the dusty, rocky ground. Cold washed over the front of her, while in the back she felt she might catch afire. Hot water leaked from her eyes, and though she wanted desperately to cry, nothing else happened.

Later, she remembered very little of the ride to New Zion. She remembered that once the wagon had crumbled into a heap of glowing coals Josiah put her on the back of his horse and they rode through the late-night desert. A lopsided moon followed them as it slowly sank and she jounced and jolted, clutching tight with her face pressed against the unfamiliar smell and roughness of his coat. Her legs ached and her stomach and her jaw from grinding, and she was so tired she feared to fall from the trotting horse. She wondered briefly how he could know where he was going in the dark, in the night, but she did not have the strength to ask him. She must have dozed; the next thing she was aware of was a babble of female voices. She opened her eyes and saw trees, dark blue in a pallid light, jagged mountains in a blurry distance. Her numb legs let go, and she slid off the horse. The ground punched her breath out of her lungs with a whoof and the voices redoubled their volume. She wanted them to stop, and she put her hands over her ears, closing her eyes tightly. She felt strong arms gather her up, and for a moment she thought it might be her father, until she remembered. Poor child, she heard someone say. Put her to bed, Josiah, quickly. Where did you find her? a second voice asked. Ill make her some sage tea, said another voice. Lucy did not want any tea. She wanted to curl up and go to sleep, and never wake up again. She was too tired and too numb even to open her eyes as she felt herself placed in a soft, warm bed. Someone drew a quilt over her, and then she was asleep.

Chapter Two

A hand touched her brow, jolting her awake. She lay there confused by the face looking down at her: dark hair pulled severely back from a sallow face, long of chin and narrow of nose. No fever, she said in a voice that reminded Lucy of someone, though she couldnt think who. Thats a blessing, and a blessing it is that my husband found you. Lucy is your name? Yes maam, Lucy said. I am Mrs. Anna Benton, said the woman. How are you feeling? Her legs ached, and her heart as well, like a sharp stone was wedged between each beat. Her mouth was so dry that her tongue clicked when she answered. Thirsty, she said. Mrs. Anna Benton picked up a tin cup of water and gave it to her. It was warm and musty and Lucy drank every drop. Is this New Zion? she asked when she was done. It is, Mrs. Benton confirmed. Can you get up, child? Uncertainly, Lucy swung her legs over the side of the bed. They wobbled but held her when she stood. Looking down at herself, she saw that she was wearing a long, white cotton night-dress that was not her own. And then she remembered that everything she had owned was gone, burned in the wagon, except the Bible. My Bible! she said, suddenly panicked. Where is my Bible? Here on the table, said Mrs. Benton, and to her relief Lucy saw it on the small table beneath the lone little window. A puff of warm air stirred the curtains and she saw a glimpse of blue sky beyond. She looked around, taking in the room. The floor beneath her feet was hardpacked earth, with a braided rag rug before the low door. The furniture was of rough hand-cut wood, and there were two other narrow wooden beds, little more than cots, each neatly made with quilts and two pillows, covered with white crocheted slips. Each narrow bed had a small stand beside it, each with a candle and a slim leather-bound book upon it and nothing else. An oil lamp and a pitcher stood on the table beside her Bible, and a small chair beside the table, where Mrs. Benton had been sitting and sewing while Lucy slept. Folds of pale blue cloth draped over the edge of the table and a sewing basket sat beneath the chair. At the food of the bed was a plain cedarwood trunk with iron hinges. That was all.

The door opened and a second woman came in, carrying a plate. She was short and slightly plump, with fair hair and round blue eyes and a pretty, smiling face. Oh, you are awake! she exclaimed. I brought you some cornbread and honey in case you were hungry. Despite everything, the savory smell of the warm cornbread made her stomach growl. The new woman laughed, showing a grey tooth at the side of her mouth. It sounds as if you are. I am Caroline Benton. Josiahs sister, Lucy assumed. She couldnt recall his face just then. The woman went on. Josiah told us of how he found you in the desert, what a miracle. This is my bed but youre welcome to it for as long as you need. Tomorrows Sabbath, and as youre up I expect youll come to Meeting with us, but for today you just rest and get your strength back. What a trial for you, poor girl! But youre safe with us here. Who... Lucys voice faltered. She cleared her throat and went on. Who all lives here? Well, said Caroline Benton, misunderstanding her, theres six families in New Zion. Elder Preston, hes our leader and a good Godly man, and his five wives and twelve children, and then theres his brother, Hiram, and his three wives and their five children, and Lucy had been taught all her life that she must never interrupt, that she must listen respectfully when adults spoke to her, but the words just burst out of her. Five wives? she repeated. Oh, didnt Josiah explain? Caroline said. Were Saints. We follow the word our Prophet, Joseph Smith, who is now in the Celestial Kingdom. He preached the blessing of Celestial Marriage, and we follow that in surety of our salvation. I am Josiahs second wife, Anna is his first, and we have another Sister Wife, Bessie. Shes working in the garden. I have two children, David and Daniel, Sister Anna has three, and Bessies expecting her first. Slightly dizzy, Lucy sat back down on the bed. So you see, said Mrs. Anna Benton, we have busy lives and another set of hands will be most useful. She had picked up her sewing again and was working on the hem of what Lucy now saw was a dress. Let the girl rest, Sister Anna, said Caroline. Shes had quite an ordeal. Yes, but when she is better she must expect to work, as we all do. Lucy managed to say, Im used to hard work, maam.

Dont worry about that yet, child, said Caroline. Eat that cornbread and Ill make you some tea. It will do you good. She went out, her plain brown skirt swinging merrily. Mrs. Anna picked up her sewing and followed her, murmuring that it was time to start dinner. The cornbread was spread with honey, and tasted wonderful, but after the first bite Lucys throat closed against it. Out of habit she made the bed, then she sank down on its edge and buried her face in her hands as the reality of her situation washed over her. Once, years ago, she had fallen into the crick in the spring melt, and the water had been so icy that all the strength and breath had been sucked instantly from her body. Pa had waded in and snatched her barely in time as she rushed by, half-drowned already, and carrying her up to the house had wrapped her in a quilt by the fire, but it had taken her hours to get really warm again, to stop shivering She felt that same feeling now. The air in the dim little room was warm, but she felt herself shaking and she wrapped her arms around herself. God, she whispered, what am I going to do? When she closed her eyes, she saw the burning wagon again. Oh Ma, she said. Oh, Ma. Pa. Nettie. James. Baby Thomas. There was no one left to pull her out of the flood. The door creaked open on its wood-and-nail hinges, and a waft of moist sweet scent came in with it. Lucy could not lift her head and could not stop rocking back and forth on the edge of the bed. Oh, my dear child! said Carolines voice. Oh, you poor sweet girl! Fleshy arms and the smell of sweat enveloped her. She jerked away. The fleshy arms came round her again, inexorable as a rockfall. I know, crooned Caroline. Oh, I know. You poor child. You dont know, Lucy thought, but the tears were already running down her face, and she could not help herself. She sank into Carolines arms and let the sobs come. After some time her sobs died away. She felt limp and exhausted. Lets pray, child, Caroline said, releasing her gently. That will help you feel better. No it wont. But Lucy sank down on her knees beside the bed anyway, put her hands together, and listened to Caroline as she prayed fervently: Heavenly Father, help this child in her grief. Comfort her and give her strength. Take her family into Your loving arms so that she may one day greet them all in the Celestial Kingdom. Forgive them that they did not know the One True Doctrine before they perished, and let Your guidance now set this precious child on Your true path, that she may come to know the sacred doctrine of the One True Church as You in Your love revealed to our most revered Prophet. Let her find her true identity upon that path, and take her mother, her father, and all her

blessed siblings into Your loving arms despite their apostasy and grant that they may be once again together in Eternity. Help her to obey Your word with all humility, gratitude, and obedience. Amen. Lucys jaw ached before the prayer was done. She did not know what to say she could not bring herself to echo the Amen, and she did not want to be close to Caroline any more. Before they could rise, she heard a door slam open and a deep, hoarse voice called out, Sister Caroline! We have come to see the child. Oh! Carolines eyes widened in alarm and she hissed to Lucy, Its Elder Preston! Be silent, child, unless he asks you a question. Hes our Prophets voice here. Lucy had a moment to wonder briefly if they all kept calling her child because they could not remember her name, and then Caroline was pulling her up by the elbow as a man, black-clad and long-bearded, swept into the room. He was followed by three women, each clad in drab, plain clothes. Two were dark-haired and one fair, and that was all Lucy had time to see before he stood before her, looking her up and down with cold, narrow eyes. She knew she must look a fright. She had not washed or combed since she slept and she was still in the borrowed night-dress, and her face was streaked with tears. Her heart beat swift and loud. She did not know who the Prophet might be hadnt Caroline said their Prophet was dead? but if this man was the Prophets voice here, clearly she must please him. If he cast her out into the desert, she would die. So this is the child who was rescued from the desert by the miraculous intervention of our brother Josiah? he said, frowning. Lucy dared to look up at him from beneath her eyelashes. His beard was stained around his mouth and untrimmed. His eyes on her were dark beneath drooping lids, and so cold they made her shiver inside. She could smell him now tobacco, stale sweat, and something else, something slightly acrid she could not name. Yes, Elder Preston, said Caroline, keeping her eyes on the floor. And all her kith and kin have perished? Yes, Elder Preston. Elder Preston came nearer, and got down upon one knee before her to gaze into her face. At this closeness Lucy could smell old tobacco and rotting teeth. He reached out and grasped her hand in fingers that were spidery and too strong they ground her own fingers together until she nearly winced.

Bless you, child, he said, and Lucy had the same fleeting thought about him not knowing her name. Heavenly Father has sent you to us for a purpose. How old are you, dear? She did not want to answer, but the word came out anyway, a little hoarse from all her crying. Twelve. And are you a Christian? Yes. Yes, Elder Preston, or sir, he corrected, grinding her fingerbones a little tighter. She gasped, Yes, Elder Preston, sir. Which church did you attend, child? The the Reformed Baptist Church of Christ in Spring Creek, Tennessee, sir. And you were baptized therein? Yes, Elder Preston. At what age? At age eight, Elder Preston. And you attended church and Sunday school regularly thereafter, and were a good girl to your parents, and love our Savior and Lord, Jesus Christ? Y yes, sir. And have you ever heard of His last and greatest Prophet, Joseph Smith, may he be blessed for eternity? N no, sir. At least, not until today. At last, he let go of her hand and stood. We can teach you much, child, he said. I am sincerely sorry for your great tragedy. To lose ones family that is hardship indeed. Yet you may take comfort in knowing that you will be united with them once again, and if you accept our faith, you will all be reunited in the highest of the Celestial Kingdoms. You have an honorable foundation on which to build your true faith, my child, and I am glad to welcome you into our community. Sister Caroline, and he turned so swiftly that she flinched, she will live with you, for now. You will make her your daughter, you will treat her as one of your own, you will instruct her in our ways, and you will prepare her for entrance into the Celestial Kingdom. Is that clear? Yes, Elder Preston, she murmured, eyes still downcast.

Very good. You are a good and faithful servant and if you do this well the Lord will reward you. I will instruct your dear sister-wives and your good husband as to the Lords wishes. Let us all praise the Lord that yet another soul has come to us, through Providence, to be saved to her great good fortune. Her stomach twisted tight and painful, and her skin crawled. As he left he turned and said offhandedly to Sister Caroline Lucy would never again be able to think of her any other way Find her a Book of Mormon and have her read it. Yes, Elder Preston, murmured Sister Caroline, eyes down. I will never, never, never speak to him that way, she thought. But she already had. She had called him Elder Preston, sir. She had said, Yes, Elder Preston. Perhaps Sister Caroline saw the look on her face, for she said, Dont worry, dear; he can be formidable, but hes a good, righteous man.