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Blood Atonement
Actions du livre
Commencer à lireLongueur: 329 pages4 heures
- Éditeur:
- Fine Nib Publishing
- Sortie:
- Apr 9, 2016
- ISBN:
- 9780997234046
- Format:
- Livre
Description
Missouri Territory, 1846: Driven by angry mobs, thousands of Latter-day Saints flee their homes in the eastern United States. They gather west of the Missouri River to wait out the winter and hope they survive hunger and disease. A church leader unveils a shocking, divine revelation to teenage sisters Aveline and Frances Bowmore: they must marry married men. The specter of polygamy promises heaven. Aveline and Frances feel compelled to obey. They become plural wives. The loss of each other's support while faced with angry sister-wives and husbands they'd just met stretches their willpower to the breaking point. Aveline's world shatters when gentle Frances is brutally strangled. Grief-stricken, Aveline trusts the camp police chief to find the pious Mormon's killer, but the chief stalls his investigation. She presses him and Frances' husband for answers. Aveline's husband orders her to cease—how dare she question men? Time is running out to discover the truth about Frances's murder. Spring approaches and the Saints prepare for the overland journey west to Zion. Aveline quietly defies her husband. She discovers secrets of powerful men—secrets they don't want revealed.
Informations sur le livre
Blood Atonement
Longueur: 329 pages4 heures
Description
Missouri Territory, 1846: Driven by angry mobs, thousands of Latter-day Saints flee their homes in the eastern United States. They gather west of the Missouri River to wait out the winter and hope they survive hunger and disease. A church leader unveils a shocking, divine revelation to teenage sisters Aveline and Frances Bowmore: they must marry married men. The specter of polygamy promises heaven. Aveline and Frances feel compelled to obey. They become plural wives. The loss of each other's support while faced with angry sister-wives and husbands they'd just met stretches their willpower to the breaking point. Aveline's world shatters when gentle Frances is brutally strangled. Grief-stricken, Aveline trusts the camp police chief to find the pious Mormon's killer, but the chief stalls his investigation. She presses him and Frances' husband for answers. Aveline's husband orders her to cease—how dare she question men? Time is running out to discover the truth about Frances's murder. Spring approaches and the Saints prepare for the overland journey west to Zion. Aveline quietly defies her husband. She discovers secrets of powerful men—secrets they don't want revealed.
- Éditeur:
- Fine Nib Publishing
- Sortie:
- Apr 9, 2016
- ISBN:
- 9780997234046
- Format:
- Livre
À propos de l'auteur
Barbara Townsend is a West Virginia award-winning storyteller and preservationist. Shepherd University honored her in the New Writers Fiction Competition. She is the curator of the Ashby Fort Museum 1755 and lives with her husband and flat-coated retriever on top of a mountain in the Potomac Highlands.
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Blood Atonement - Barbara Townsend
BLOOD ATONEMENT
Barbara Townsend
Commentaries on
Blood Atonement:
A powerful and haunting novel. Barbara Townsend has an uncanny ability to evoke the lives of Mormon women in 1846 shortly after the proclamation of plural marriage. We root for the women as they struggle for their rights in a world turned upside down. Read Blood Atonement for the history, the compassion and the understanding that Townsend brings to her characters, and for the spellbinding story. Just read it!
~ Margaret Coel, Killing Custer
~*~
I thoroughly enjoyed Blood Atonement, the new historical thriller written by Barbara Townsend.
After reading and loving Under the Banner of Heaven by Jon Krakauer ten years ago, and seeing a great documentary about Mountain Meadows, I became interested in the darker details of Mormon pioneer history. Barbara Townsend’s book touches on that history -- it conveys a real sense of historic detail and accuracy, yet at the same time it manages to be a real page-turner.
This book is a great window into a fascinating chapter in the American Pioneer experience -- and is a satisfying crime novel to boot. If you know anything about the Mormon’s migration west -- or if you know nothing about it at all, you will enjoy this book.
~ Robert Ben Garant, Screenwriter, Night At The Museum
~*~
Enter a world where women share a husband—only a curtain separates intimate moments as jealously, pain, and despair build each day in their male dominated world. Discover a tenderness between sisters rent apart as evil individuals twist a religious course to fit their malicious intentions. Don’t miss this absorbing mystery of a pioneer journey of Latter-day Saints, its blessings and curses in the infancy of its church.
~ Patricia Frolander, Wyoming Poet Laureate, 2011 - 2013
Blood Atonement
Second edition published by
Fine Nib Publishing, 2016, Wyoming, USA
Copyright 2013, 2016 by Barbara Townsend
Originally trade published in August 2013 by Writers AMuse Me Publishing and entitled Blood Atonement; A Pioneer Trail Mystery
Cover by B. D. King, with components from shutterstock.com
Blood Atonement is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold
or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
ISBN-10: 0-9972340-4-0 (ebook)
ISBN-13: 978-0-9972340-4-6 (ebook)
To the Old West pioneers who struggled and sacrificed in the hope of a better life.
To Robert
Acknowledgments
I send a warm thank you to Ann Marie Lane, curator for the Toppan Rare Books Library in the University of Wyoming, for your guidance and without whom I would have no novel.
To Gail Holmes and Terry Latey of the Pioneer Research Library, Mormon Trail Center, at Historic Winter Quarters, Nebraska, for sharing your time and knowledge.
To the members of Absolute Write, the Internet writers’ forum, for being so generous in providing information, encouragement, and the necessary kicks in the backside.
To the members of the Writers Bloc, the writers group in our tiny Wyoming mountain town: Philippina Halstead, Jo Trumble, Marjane Ambler, and my sweetheart Robert Townsend. Your friendship, encouragement, and laughter kept away cabin fever and made writing a joy in my life.
Foreword
Many teachings, philosophies, and tenets of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints have evolved since its inception. For example, the church now forbids its members from drinking coffee, tea and alcohol, but in the early years such activities were acceptable.
The early decades of the Latter-day Saints were chaotic and the Mormons were often forced from their property. Both Mormons and Gentiles were guilty of criminal acts against the other. Tension, intolerance, and anger grew until the situation exploded into bloodshed.
The Afterword includes more information about the times and the Danites. Additionally, interested readers will find a Suggested Readings list for information relevant to this era, the pioneer trail, and the Mormon faith from varying perspectives.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Commentaries
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Foreword
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Epilogue
Afterword
Suggested Readings
About the author
Books by the author
Prologue
October 1838
Carroll County, Missouri
Eliza turned from the window as her sister Esther groaned and writhed on the bed. The glow from the oil lamp’s small flame barely lit Esther’s sweat-soaked face and that of the older woman tending her. The sparse furniture’s shadows on the log walls spasmed in time to the dancing blaze in the fireplace.
Bite down on this belt,
Mother whispered as she slipped the cracked leather into Esther’s mouth. Esther opened her jaw enough for the strap to slip between her teeth and bit down. A sharp moan escaped through her clenched teeth. She arched her back as agony coursed through her body.
I know, honey,
Mother spoke gently. I know.
She lifted the bunched hem of Esther’s nightgown and peered into the dimness. The crown of a dark head bulged from between white thighs. I can see the babe’s head. Push now.
Esther coiled as she made herself sit up. Her face creased in a grimace as she forced her muscles to push. Rivulets of sweat cascaded down her face from the strain. With a cry, she fell back onto the bed and moved the belt to the side of her mouth. She gasped for air.
Eliza turned back to the window and pushed aside the curtain to peek outside.
What are they doing?
Mother dabbed a damp cloth on Esther’s forehead.
They’re arguing with Lucas,
Eliza murmured.
The yelling outside the log cabin was clearer now. Jumbled hollers separated into words.
Get out, Mormon!
Better run, Saints!
We’ll burn ye out an’ eat yer cow!
Foul jokes about Mormons and polygamy circled the cabin as curses echoed off the log walls, followed by a clear and chilling You got five minutes to clear out before the torches land on your house!
Eliza gasped and jumped away from the window. She and her mother exchanged horrified looks.
A low voice rumbled, trying to reason with the mounted Gentile mob. I beg of ye, my wife is birthing. Let her have the babe in peace. Then we’ll go.
Nah, sir, that’d be just one more Mormon we’d have ta get rid of.
We don’t need more of yer thievin’ kind here,
a higher-pitched voice shouted.
Wood popping in the fireplace and Esther’s groans broke the thick silence.
Four minutes.
Eliza fought a wave of panic and ran to grab a blanket for protection from the night’s cold air. Her eyes searched the small cabin for anything they needed for Esther and for their escape, but her mind raced too fast to think.
Esther spit out the leather strap. A wail flew from her mouth. No! My babe—
Three minutes.
Through the walls, Lucas’ voice vibrated. I have four women and two boys with me.
Tension laced his voice. We have harmed no one. We tried to be good neighbors. Mister Matthews, we threshed together. Mister Jones, I helped ye raise your barn. Allow my wife to give birth. Then we’ll leave peaceably.
How many wives you got, boy?
A round of chuckles echoed from the mob.
Like you, I have but one wife.
Lucas is trying to connect with them, Eliza thought.
Two minutes.
Eliza looked between Esther’s legs. The baby’s head hadn’t moved. She ran to the window and pushed aside the curtain.
Esther cried openly in pain and fear.
Mother looked up, her face stricken. Levi. Jack. Eleanor. Where are they?
Levi’s at the neighbors. Eleanor took Jack to the barn when Esther’s time came.
Do what ye will to me. I give myself unto ye, freely.
Lucas began to weep. He tossed his musket onto the ground and held out his arms. Here I am for ye. I pray ye leave my family be.
Laughter exploded from the mob. Eliza didn’t hear the joke for the roaring in her ears.
One minute.
Eliza ran to Esther. Mother, help me!
She heaved Esther to the bed’s edge. Esther moaned. Her weight was full on her haunches to stop herself from sitting on her baby’s head.
Eliza, find Jack! Find Eleanor!
Mother, they can run out the barn’s back door.
Eliza’s eyes flooded with tears.
Weeping, Mother grabbed the quilt. With Esther’s arm over her shoulders, Eliza gripped her sister’s waist and staggered to the door. She flung it open.
Mounted horsemen ringed the house. Flares from their burning torches hurt her eyes. The mob fell silent as they studied the three women.
Lucas ran to Esther and hefted her in his arms. She groaned and clutched her abdomen.
In the name of all that is holy, can ye not see? Will ye let my wife birth in the safety of her home?
Tears streamed down Lucas’ face. I beg of ye—
Time!
Whoops erupted as the riders spurred their horses. Several flung their torches onto the house’s shake roof. The dry wood exploded into flames.
Eliza and her mother ran into the darkness for the cottonwood grove to the west. Lucas ran behind them carrying his wailing wife.
Mother turned back. Jack! Eleanor!
Eliza grabbed her mother’s hand and pulled her along.
Screaming horses and the hollers and curses of the riders pushed her onward. The roar of the flames engulfing the house muffled the gunshots.
The sounds of brutality dimmed behind them as they neared the grove. Eliza’s lungs burned from the frozen night air. She gripped her mother’s hand and dragged the woman when she fell. Lucas’ boots thumped behind her, his breaths ragged.
Behind them, Eliza caught sight of Jack and Eleanor leading the cow from the burning barn. They fought off the mobsters from grabbing the cow’s harness. A rifle butt smashed down on the boy’s head. A horseman dragged off Eleanor.
Eliza, Mother, and Lucas ran deep into the grove. Hidden behind thick bushes, Eliza and her mother collapsed. Lucas tripped over the brambles and crumpled beside them, dumping Esther onto the ground. He knelt, bellowing in grief. Lungs heaved as Eliza and her mother knelt by Esther. They placed their hands on her face and stroked her hair. Esther!
She didn’t respond.
Chapter 1
November 1846
Winter Quarters, Missouri Territory
The bridal party of three sat around the makeshift altar—a plank table. Sixteen-year-old Aveline Bowmore sat erect across from her groom-elect, Washington Avery. Beside him hunched Dorris Avery, his wife of nineteen years. Behind Avery stood Bishop Lang, the ward’s bishop.
Aveline’s heart thumped in her chest as Dorris’ red-rimmed eyes stared at a dark corner of the log cabin.
As a sign of your willingness to give this woman to your husband to be his lawful wife, place her right hand within the right hand of your husband.
Lang held out his hand.
Dorris reached for Washington’s hand. Her other hand trembled as she lifted Aveline’s off the table. Dorris joined Washington and Aveline’s hands. With this act she had demonstrated her approval of this polygamous union.
Dorris’ eyes welled with tears. A soft hiccup choked off a sob. Her place in heaven was assured, yet to Aveline the act seemed to fill her soul with despair.
Aveline’s hand disappeared in her new husband’s cupped palm. She didn’t feel comfortable touching this man she had met only a month earlier. Now being married to a married man spiked her anxiety. Her hand was cold, stiff. His hand is so warm. She flinched as he squeezed hard, a signal that she belonged to him and for her to get used to his touch.
Lang intoned the final marriage blessing. The gathered witnesses echoed Amen.
The wedding ceremony in the Bowmores’ log cabin concluded.
A plural wife now, Aveline was the second wife of the First Counselor of the Ninth Ward, Winter Quarters. A jolt of pride shot through her. His first wife might be queen of the household, but she’s old and worn. I’m young and fresh, now the preferred woman of his household.
Dorris Avery said nothing to her new sister-wife, to Washington, or to Aveline’s parents. She pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders and fled the cabin. The door slammed behind her.
Aveline’s parents, Lyda and Royal Bowmore, stood with pride and shook the bishop’s hand. Frances pressed against the wall beside their parents and bent over the bed from the crush of bodies in the tiny cabin. The bishop nodded to Aveline, shook Washington’s hand, and left.
Frances hugged Aveline, now a sister-wife like herself, in a long embrace. Frances had arrived alone just before the ceremony began, and Aveline had had no time to speak with her. I’m so happy you were able to come! I haven’t seen you since you married. I have so much to tell you!
Aveline cried.
Frances’ wedding to Lucas Bates had been two weeks earlier. She wore a gold comb, Lucas’ wedding gift to her. Small pearls dangled from the arch of gold, dramatic against her dark, upswept hair.
Aveline studied her older sister. Frances’ mouth turned up in a quick smile. How thin she’s gotten since she married. Her left hand’s fingers brushed her hairline, but they couldn’t hide the bruised cheekbone that had faded to a light rust.
Aveline recalled Frances’ wedding to Lucas Bates; Eliza, the first wife, had not attended. The sisters had exchanged horrified glances at the glaring defiance that a first wife must be present at the wedding or her sin would cause her damnation.
Alarm swept over Aveline for Frances’ circumstances.
Ma and Pa embraced her tightly. Each was overcome with emotion. Their last child is leaving their home. They are alone. Aveline blinked back tears.
Washington excused himself. The Lord’s work calls.
To Aveline he said, I will be home after dark.
He shook hands with Pa then he left the Bowmore house without another word.
Frances hugged Aveline, too tight. Her mouth close to Aveline’s ear, she whispered, Let me help you prepare tonight.
Aveline nodded, unable to speak from shock at the sight of Frances’ bruised face and apprehension at what might happen to herself in the Avery household.
Alone with her parents and sister, Aveline tried to calm her nerves. She busied herself by checking and rechecking her packed trunks. Afraid to go to her new home to live with distressed sister-wife Dorris, Aveline sat on her stump and chewed her nails. So much has happened so quickly in the past month.
Chapter 2
October 1846
Beyond Winter Quarters, the nearly frozen Missouri River crawled on its journey south. A shroud of smoke from more than a hundred cooking fires settled over the town and obscured the prairie beyond. Aveline stood on the slope above the town and watched the Camp of Israel begin its day.
The morning sounds, diffused in the calm air like a ripple after a tossed pebble in a still pond, reached Aveline. Horses whinnied in their tack. Boots crunched on the frost as men walked toward the stockyard south of town to tend the Saints’ lowing beasts. An infant wailed its discomfort.
Stretched before her, the entire world was brown, a dead brown, from beast-packed dirt streets to log cabins standing in rows like a battalion of wood soldiers, smoke drifting from their chimney mouths. The uniform brown rows of cabins and straight roads were interrupted by scattered white canvas wagon tops. Even with the coming winter, these wagons will be home for many Saints. Some will have to live through the winter in tents. She shivered at the thought.
She remembered how quickly the Saints had erected this temporary settlement. Here they would wait for spring. She imagined how the families would then pack their meager belongings and head west to Zion, to the land outside the United States where they’d be free to practice their faith without persecution.
Lyda Bowmore, Aveline’s mother, carried a package as she hurried down the dirt road. She looked up the knoll toward Aveline and waved before ducking into their new log home. Aveline headed down the slope.
A thick bacon slab and three brown eggs sat on a plate, ready to fry in the skillet. Smaller bacon slices and one egg lay segregated on another plate.
Pa gets a treat today,
Aveline said, eyeing the large slab and three eggs.
Your father has worked very hard, not just building our cabin, but others’ too. He’s almost breaking his back getting Brother Tyler’s cabin logs up and ready so their baby girl can get out of the weather. He didn’t eat breakfast this morning.
Ma stated adamantly. He should eat well when he does.
The sheet curtain moved aside and Frances stepped from behind the curtain that hid their shared bed. Her fingers fumbled as she buttoned her gingham dress.
Well, look who’s up! You’ll sleep through the second coming of the Lord,
Aveline teased her year-older sister.
Frances wrinkled her nose in response and lifted the coffee pot. A disappointed look crossed her face at the heft of the empty coffee pot.
Oh, I’m sorry, m’ lady, but the servants don’t have your coffee ready yet.
Aveline bent in a deep curtsy as she spoke.
Behind their mother’s back, Frances stuck out her tongue at Aveline. I’ll fetch some water. If I go walking around at least I bring back something.
Frances grabbed the water bucket’s handle, leaned from the weight of the wood and left the cabin for the well.
Four occupants crowded the twelve-foot-square cabin. If Bedford were here ... Aveline tamped down the feeling of dread for her brother’s safety in the Army’s Mormon Battalion.
Two beds—more accurately, one very large bed—took up almost half the cabin. A square frame of horizontal logs etched into the log walls, and ropes strung from log to log provided support for the straw mattresses. An old sheet, hung by twine from the bottom of the tiny loft, split the beds into two sections to provide some measure of privacy. Trunks tucked under the bed provided opportunities for stubbing one’s toe in the dim light. Rough shelves lined the wall above where their heads lay, providing food storage and protection from hungry mice and rats.
In the other half of the cabin, Ma’s rocker and Pa’s straight chair faced the fireplace in the center of the wall. Two tiny tables flanked the fireplace. One makeshift table held her grandmother’s oil lamp for a desk, and the other served as their kitchen counter. The washbasin and washtub nested on the packed dirt floor under the counter beside the wood water bucket. Pots and pans hung from nails on the wall. Windowless, the few pieces of furniture were bathed in the sunlight streaming in through the open wood-slat door.
Aveline hauled out the coffee grinder and scooped out the leftover grounds she had roasted and ground yesterday. Movement beyond the open door caught her eye, and she looked up to watch her father, Royal Bowmore, stride toward them. In the chill air, his ruddy face beamed with a glow of pride. His sagging trousers and ripped overcoat did not diminish his quiet dignity. Another man marched to her father’s right. The stranger was tall, and as he strode, his long brown hair waved behind him in time with his flowing unbuttoned overcoat. Even from this distance, the shadow cast by his top hat’s brim did not hide his piercing dark eyes. A third man, a hulk whose sheepskin coat was taut across his stomach, lumbered on Pa’s other side. The man’s bulk made Pa and the tall man look like the runts of a mixed litter.
Ma, here comes Pa. Two gentlemen are with him.
Ma spun and watched the men approach. Her hand rubbed her forehead as she stared at the plates of uncooked food as if calculating how to stretch it for six mouths.
Mornin’, my dear,
Pa sang to his wife. Ma blushed at his familiarity in front of strangers and looked at the ground, hands folded.
This here is my wife, Sister Lyda. Dear, this is Brother Washington Avery. He’s the First Counselor in our new ward.
Pa held out his hand toward his wife. Avery touched the brim’s edge of his top hat in salute and nodded as Ma bobbed a small curtsy, but she kept her hands folded in front.
Avery turned to Aveline. His brown eyes darkened.
My youngest, Aveline,
Pa said. She’s sixteen.
Avery nodded and stared at Aveline. She curtsied and folded her hands. He was so good looking she wanted to rest her chin on her cupped hands and gaze into his eyes. Instead, she focused at the ground and fought the urge to peek at him.
Brother Lucas Bates. He’s a right-hand man of Brother Brigham Young’s,
Pa continued.
Bates resembled the image Aveline had in her head of a superhuman backwoodsman in a fable Ma had read to her. He dipped a rough bow to Ma and nodded his head in Aveline’s direction. As his head tilted downward, a small clod of dirt rolled off the ragged brim and landed on the ground. Aveline forced herself not to look at what else could have found a home on his hat.
Where’s Frances?
She went to fetch water. She should be back directly.
Ma looked from Avery to Bates. Brothers, if you could stay for breakfast, I can have it ready for you both in a few moments.
Most kind of you, Sister, but Brother Brigham has ordered me on a mission to Mount Pisgah, and I must leave immediately. Saints are still evacuating Illinois and are arriving unprepared. Our people suffer greatly, and they require my assistance.
While he spoke, Avery stared at Aveline until she looked away.
Whispered reports about the Saints’ troubles arrived daily. Around the Saints’ church headquarters in Nauvoo, Illinois, tension between the Saints and their Gentile neighbors had built up for years. Mistrust, thefts, religious prejudice—perpetrated by both sides—spiraled out of control. The Saints’ leader, Joseph Smith, Junior, and his brother, Hyrum, were murdered. Aveline had listened, wide-eyed, to the stories told around the campfires of how Mormons fled their homes at musket point. Some were fortunate enough to escape with their belongings, food, and beasts. Some escaped with only the clothes on their backs.
As the Bowmores had traveled toward Illinois, Bishop Riter had warned them to divert for the Missouri Territory. They passed thousands of refugees in temporary settlements like Mount Pisgah, Iowa Territory. Each family member helped others to find food, pitch tents, build fires, or dig graves. At Winter Quarters, Aveline watched the daily stream of mourners trudging to the cemetery.
We wish you well, Brother, in alleviating their suffering.
Ma bent to shift the skillet away from the fire.
Avery turned to Pa. Only one wife, Brother?
Pa froze at the blunt question. His face pinched from tension. Ma straightened slowly, her face a stony mask. With a glance to his wife, Pa squared his shoulders and faced Avery. I have one wife, Brother Avery.
Avery’s face grew stern. "Doubtless, you know of our prophet’s blessed principle of plural marriage, a required undertaking for the faithful in order to reach heaven’s highest plane. Brother Bates and I intend to enter into salvation. As obedient Saints,
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