Chapter Twenty-three

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Chapter Twenty-three

The old homestead had the most exciting vantage point in the whole town. We loved living there. We could see every steamer and all the goods and travelers that landed at the Nauvoo House Wharf and continued up Main Street. The Mansion was within my view as well as the headquarters of the opposition, set up at William Law’s. We didn’t miss a trick. And now the Nauvoo Legion was to train in front of the Mansion! From my brother’s bedroom window I had a view that was the envy of every female in town.

My, they looked magnificent! Row upon row of soldiers paraded in front of our home. There was a veritable forest of them making cuts and thrusts with their bayonets as they marched by. The Nauvoo Legion Band played their horns and drums to keep time. Second came the Calvary. I leaned far out of the window searching for Lorin until I found him. Then I waved my scarf madly. He was much too good a soldier to lift his hand, but knowing I would be at my window he offered a smile in my direction.

Lastly came the Boys’ Brigade, with two sturdy youth bearing the painted banner that read, “Our Fathers We’ll Respect, Our Mothers We’ll Protect.” The Brigade looked almost as worthy as Helaman’s two thousand stripling warriors! My brother and cousins were among them. I waved my scarf extra hard and gave them a shout – those who had saved me from the clutches of Joseph Jackson. Hurrah! Hurrah!

The visitors to Nauvoo were most impressed with this display of discipline, but William Law was not. His doors and windows remained tightly shut. Just that month he had been court-martialed and removed from his position in the Legion. Such an action must have been a heavy blow to his pride.

Monday, the twentieth of May, he had his pride back, for the circuit court came to Carthage and all the county went as either spectators or testators. Court week was more popular than the circus. All the “anties” went. And every last apostate who had a grudge against Uncle Joseph laid a charge against him. By Tuesday he was in hiding again. Poor Uncle Joseph spent half his life in hiding from frivolous lawsuits got up against him. It was his lot. One minute he was shoveling the ditch to help drain the flood waters, and the next minute he was gone. The man sent to arrest him searched in vain.

Forty Indians came to Nauvoo the next day to counsel with the Big Chief (Uncle Joseph) as they often did. My brother John ran to tell us, and we watched the canoes come down the river and land. Several of them strode up to the Mansion and went in. When they couldn’t find Uncle Joseph, they sat on his front lawn to wait. It seemed to me that if Uncle Joseph were to place himself right amongst those Indians, no law officer would dare to take him. They were frightening!

The Indians spent the night in the council room and came to call again at the Mansion the next day. Mother kept the children safely indoors and sent them right upstairs when the red men came across the street and entered our kitchen door, asking for food. They looked solemn as eternity decked in their native pride, with ornaments of feathers, paints, and broaches. They seemed to fill our whole kitchen. Last year one chief had wanted to trade a pony for two of little Martha Ann’s golden braids, but Mother wouldn’t allow it. She had stood firm before the chief. This year she was taking no chances with a repeat encounter.

Mother passed them some corncake and a string of catfish someone had brought us for our dinner. She smiled politely and spoke kindly. Mother was always a lady. Not knowing what else to do, we bowed to them and they went away.

At three o’clock the cannon was shot off in front of the Mansion for the Indians’ entertainment, and a dance was held in the street. I went across and partnered with Lorin. All the Indians sat in a straight line upon their knees like they were praying. I could see my sisters and Joseph F. lined up at the window to watch, so I waved gaily.

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