unencumbered by the pomp and rituals of the Church of England, for which they had no use. They were taken by the idea of leaving the used-up tenant farm for the virgin land of America, too. And there seemed to be a place for women in the young church, which appealed to Jessie. Eventually, Ephraim, then Sutter, and finally Jessie were baptized by the missionary Thales Tanner.
Thales had led their way to the true church. Jessie would always be grateful to him for it. He was a holy man. She would give him that. But Jessie did not like him much. He had called at the farm more than was necessary after the Coopers’ conversion, and her brothers had teased her that when the three made the trip to Utah, Jessie would go as Thales’s bride. Indeed, it was obvious to everyone that he was interested in more than Jessie’s soul. But she did not care for his domineering ways, his humorlessness, his assurance that he was right in all things, even beyond religion, although he rarely spoke about anything other than religion. “I bet he knows the number of whiskers in the prophet Brigham Young’s beard,” she told her brothers.
After a time, Jessie did not encourage him, and so Thales courted Louisa Chetwin. Those two were a better match anyway. What Jessie considered blustery in Thales, Louisa found authoritative. While Jessie thought Thales pompous, Louisa believed him inspired. Louisa was a timid little thing who would cling to a husband, while Jessie worked side by side with her brothers and was a match for both of them. Louisa had a fair, lovely look, a tidy figure, and curls the color of sunshine, and she was as nice as a sunny day, too. Jessie, whose hair was as black as the loamy earth she worked, was as broad as Thales, and almost as strong, since she did her share of plowing and harvesting. Her face, with its wide brow and high cheekbones, would have been handsome in a man but was too strong for a woman. Her mood could be as dark as a winter storm. Indeed, Louisa, who was obedient and as fragile-looking as chinaware, was far better suited to the missionary.
The two girls, both of them twenty-two years of age now, had been friends all of their lives, and Thales might have come between them by what was perceived by some as his tossing Jessie over for Louisa. Besides, it was clear that Louisa thought Thales such a fine catch of a husband that she preened in his company. But Jessie was relieved by the match, so she said nothing, even letting Louisa think that she had stolen Thales from her, for she valued Louisa’s friendship that much. Jessie attended the wedding, of course, and was the first to congratulate the married couple, telling Louisa what a stunning match she had made, and Thales that he was as lucky a man as ever lived.
But she thought Louisa was not so lucky, and she was saddened to see how Thales dominated her friend, expecting her to wait on him and to accommodate the Mormon elders he brought home unannounced. Thales criticized Louisa’s cooking, her housekeeping, even the color of her bonnets, and he did not always do so in private. But Louisa didn’t seem to mind. “He is so patient in pointing out the error of my ways,” Louisa confided. “Am I not lucky to have such a husband?” Jessie held her tongue.
Jessie tried to concentrate on Thales’s good qualities—his knowledge of the Bible and the Book of Mormon, his earnestness in prayer, and his zealotry in living the faith. Thales was, she knew, a decent man, who would give a poor Saint his own cloak if it was raining or go out in the night to help a neighbor in need. There was an air of spirituality about him, of holiness. And something else. Jessie thought of him when she saw the hogs rutting.
Now, watching as Thales gave the Chetwins directions for setting up their camp, Jessie once again was grateful he was not her husband. He might hold sway over their spiritual needs, but Jessie and her brothers would never let him control their lives. In their
Thales had led their way to the true church. Jessie would always be grateful to him for it. He was a holy man. She would give him that. But Jessie did not like him much. He had called at the farm more than was necessary after the Coopers’ conversion, and her brothers had teased her that when the three made the trip to Utah, Jessie would go as Thales’s bride. Indeed, it was obvious to everyone that he was interested in more than Jessie’s soul. But she did not care for his domineering ways, his humorlessness, his assurance that he was right in all things, even beyond religion, although he rarely spoke about anything other than religion. “I bet he knows the number of whiskers in the prophet Brigham Young’s beard,” she told her brothers.
After a time, Jessie did not encourage him, and so Thales courted Louisa Chetwin. Those two were a better match anyway. What Jessie considered blustery in Thales, Louisa found authoritative. While Jessie thought Thales pompous, Louisa believed him inspired. Louisa was a timid little thing who would cling to a husband, while Jessie worked side by side with her brothers and was a match for both of them. Louisa had a fair, lovely look, a tidy figure, and curls the color of sunshine, and she was as nice as a sunny day, too. Jessie, whose hair was as black as the loamy earth she worked, was as broad as Thales, and almost as strong, since she did her share of plowing and harvesting. Her face, with its wide brow and high cheekbones, would have been handsome in a man but was too strong for a woman. Her mood could be as dark as a winter storm. Indeed, Louisa, who was obedient and as fragile-looking as chinaware, was far better suited to the missionary.
The two girls, both of them twenty-two years of age now, had been friends all of their lives, and Thales might have come between them by what was perceived by some as his tossing Jessie over for Louisa. Besides, it was clear that Louisa thought Thales such a fine catch of a husband that she preened in his company. But Jessie was relieved by the match, so she said nothing, even letting Louisa think that she had stolen Thales from her, for she valued Louisa’s friendship that much. Jessie attended the wedding, of course, and was the first to congratulate the married couple, telling Louisa what a stunning match she had made, and Thales that he was as lucky a man as ever lived.
But she thought Louisa was not so lucky, and she was saddened to see how Thales dominated her friend, expecting her to wait on him and to accommodate the Mormon elders he brought home unannounced. Thales criticized Louisa’s cooking, her housekeeping, even the color of her bonnets, and he did not always do so in private. But Louisa didn’t seem to mind. “He is so patient in pointing out the error of my ways,” Louisa confided. “Am I not lucky to have such a husband?” Jessie held her tongue.
Jessie tried to concentrate on Thales’s good qualities—his knowledge of the Bible and the Book of Mormon, his earnestness in prayer, and his zealotry in living the faith. Thales was, she knew, a decent man, who would give a poor Saint his own cloak if it was raining or go out in the night to help a neighbor in need. There was an air of spirituality about him, of holiness. And something else. Jessie thought of him when she saw the hogs rutting.
Now, watching as Thales gave the Chetwins directions for setting up their camp, Jessie once again was grateful he was not her husband. He might hold sway over their spiritual needs, but Jessie and her brothers would never let him control their lives. In their
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