The Wedding Dress Read Online Free

Smyths drove slowly through Nauvoo, Rebecca looked eagerly around. “Becky,” Cynthia murmured, “you’ve no call to crane your neck. It’s rude.”
    â€œThere’s so much to see. Wonder whose pretty house that is?”
    â€œJoseph Smith’s. Looks like they’re adding a few new touches.”
    Matthew studied the group of workmen and the neat row of flowers and shrubs. “Pa, if you were a prophet, Ma could have flowers and someone to fix the roof.”
    â€œAnd have six wives like Bishop Ellis does,” Prue added, glancing at her mother. “Then you could sit in the rocking chair all day while the younger wives fixed your dinner and ironed your clothes.”
    â€œThat’s enough of that, Prudence!” Mrs. Smyth snapped. “You’re repeating gossip.”
    Prue continued, “I heard tell that the bishop had a vision. He told the Prophet that God’s going to send them to the promised land.”
    â€œAnd what did the Prophet say?” Matthew asked, leaning close to Prue.
    â€œHe told him that only the Prophet gets visions, and he just had a pipe dream.”
    The penny was warm in Rebecca’s pocket. “I’m going to spend a penny,” she announced. Would squandering that bit of money on candy ease her conscience?
    As Mr. Smyth turned the oxen down Knight Street, they heard a crash of breaking glass. Tyler hauled back on the reins. “Sounds like a gunshot.” Again there was a crash and then the shouts of angry men. Smoke puffed above the trees.
    A horse galloped toward them. The rider shouted, “If you’re Gentiles, better not go down there. Joe’s gang is on the rampage.”
    A woman hurrying down the street called, “Don’t you go blackballing the Prophet!” She waved the newspaper she carried. “Like as not Brother Smith had nothing to do with it, but those apostates deserve everything they get.”
    â€œWhat’s happening?” Cynthia asked as the woman reached the wagon.
    â€œYou don’t know? Well, here. I’ve had enough of these lies. I wash my hands of the mess and you’re welcome to it.” She thrust the newspaper at Cynthia. “That Nauvoo Expositor lies; ’tis set up to make the Prophet look bad. Now, how can the poor man say anything other than what the Lord told him to say?”
    â€œAre you saying that the Saints are tearing up the newspaper office?” Tyler asked.
    The woman’s bonnet bobbed. Her lips were a grim line. “They scattered type from one end of Nauvoo to the other.” She added with satisfaction, “One edition was enough. There’ll never be another.” She turned down the street.
    Mr. Smyth was studying the paper in his hands. His lips moved as he carefully spelled out the words. “Those rascals said a mouthful.” He folded the paper and handed it to Mrs. Smyth. “They’re accusing the Mormons of straying from the true doctrine of Jesus Christ. You tuck that paper in your valise. I wanna show it to Lank.”
    â€œI reckon Lank’s in no mood for more trouble,” Cynthia said slowly. “They say his missus is in a bad way, probably won’t make it this time.”
    â€œI heard.” He flipped the reins along the backs of the oxen. “Since we’re here, might as well see if we can get a sack of flour.” He turned the team.
    Wistfully, Matthew said, “I’d sure like to see what’s going on. Bet it’s good!”
    Rebecca eyed the corner of the newspaper sticking out of Mrs. Smyth’s valise. Finally she took a deep breath and whispered, “Could I read it, please?”
    Cynthia studied her face. “I know you never get enough to read, but you’re only a child and this is grown-up material.” Cynthia’s eyes were compassionate but she was shaking her head, saying, “This is the beginnings of bad times. The less we get caught up in