Robert Marcum - A Nation Divided, Volume 1: Storms Gather

To my parents, who celebrated their seventieth anniversary

this year and who have always believed in me.

And to my wife, my greatest advocate and the one who makes life a joy. Were at forty-five years, and eternity will never be long enough!

I wish to thank my wife, Janene, for her honest suggestions and editing. And to Kathryn Gordon and the Covenant family, I thank you for believing I had the ability to write about such an important time in our history. This is a hard story to tellthere were so many rights and so many wrongs on both sides of the issue. The fact that we survived such a conflagration as a nation is both humbling and amazing.

Nearly 660,000 men lost their lives fighting for what they believed. All of us should acknowledge such a sacrifice. But we should also rememberremember what pride and a rush to war can really cost. If we do not learn the lessons such a war can teach us, we are bound to repeat the same mistakes. Pride is the one true evil. If we learn anything from the Civil War, it is to be a humble people.

Randolph Hudson dropped to the hard ground, a bullet streaking through the air where his head had been. Confused and shaking with fear, he tried to force his body even closer to the earth as another bullet whizzed above him. Then another.

Then they stopped, the night suddenly eerily quiet and foreboding. His fear was paralyzing, so strong that he could not move, could hardly breathe. He tried to calm his racing heart as his tears wet the already rain-soaked ground.

Suddenly a strong hand grabbed him by the coat collar, roughly picking him up and half dragging, half carrying him over the soaked earth. He fought, but the grip was so firm and his shoes so slippery that it did no good. Wet mud splattered his face, and a firm palm in his chest pinned him against the rough-hewn boards of a nearby wall.

Shhh! The noise was hard and demanding. Rand caught and held his breath, choking down both air and words as he recognized the face that was just an inch away from his own.

His father turned away, peered into the night, and listened. Rand still held his breath. Then his father turned back and spoke quietly.

Are you all right?

Rand nodded quickly. Large for the young age of twelve, he frantically swiped at his tears, lest his father think him a coward.

What is in your head, son? I told you, under no circumstances... Rand winced at his fathers anger and frustration. You could have been killed.

I... I just wanted... I didnt know... He forced the words, his fear still heavy against his chest.

Baker Hudson was watching the street. Voices, more shooting, and angry screams pierced the air from several directions.

You should not have come up here, Randolph. I told you to stay home, take care of your mother and Lizzy!

Mother said... she needed you... He choked on his own tears.

Bakers eyes softened, and he took a deep breath. All right, all right. Calm down. I need you to settle down so we can get out of here.

Rand finally got his racing heart under control and stared out from behind the wall past his father into the dimly lit street. The full moon revealed no movement; his father took his hand and pulled him up and into the street. There was a sudden flare and explosion. Rands scream split the air, and

Rand sat straight up with a jolt, his eyes wide, anger and fear gripping his heart with tight fists once more. As always, it took several deep breaths to wrest control from this recurring nightmare. He was covered with sweat and immediately threw off the covers. The last embers from the fire in his room gave enough light for him to stumble to the cabinet. Leaning against it, he lowered his head and took several more deep breaths then stood erect, poured water from the pitcher into a basin, and doused his face with it.

The dream was always the same, and it was always just as real as when he had actually lived it. It was the last time he had seen his father alive.

Grabbing a towel, he dried his thin face and dark hair. At nearly six feet tall, Rand had dark eyes that glinted when he smiled and pierced to the soul when he was determined. Like his father, he had thick, black hair and he wore no beard, though he had to shave at least once a day to prevent it. His shoulders were broad but his muscles elongated, quick and powerful when called upon, and he had a sharp mind with an uncanny ability to see solutions that most other men grasped for but never found.

He lit a lamp and glanced at the picture of his father on the end table. Baker Hudson stood tall and somber, his musket slung across his shoulder. He had died that night.

Sitting in the chair in front of the hearth, Rand put his head in his hands, wondering if the dreams would ever stop, ever quit haunting his nights. He picked up a second picture of both his father and mother from the reading table next to his chair and let his thoughts drift back.

As part of the Nauvoo Legion, Baker Hudson had helped protect the city against mobs, violence, and even friends who had turned enemies. He was well thought of, even loved by the leaders of the Church, and had been asked to lead a company of Saints west when that trek began. But all that had changed when Baker Hudson was killed just a few days before they were to leave.

The Hudson home had been in turmoil after the deaths of Joseph and Hyrum Smith at Carthage. Rand didnt know why then, and wasnt completely sure why even now, but his parents had carried on hushed arguments about what would happen, where they should go, and whether they would follow Brother Brigham. When attacks from mobs resumed and the less firm in the faith began to leave the Church, his mother also seemed ready to leave it, while his father remained steadfast. But his mother had stayed by his side, even supported his decision, and all of them had been planning on making the trip west. But after his fathers death at the hands of the mob, she became adamant. They would not go.

Packing up her children and her servants, she had moved them and all they owned south to St. Louis, telling them only that shed had enough of the trials of a new religion and the sorrows it seemed to bring. Her seeming bitterness for the price her family paid had changed Rands life forever.

At the time, Rand had hated her for it and swore to her that he would run away. But he had not. He could not, not with his fathers last words to him haunting his thoughts. He had promised to take care of his mother and Lizzy, and he could not break that promise.

He looked at the picture of his parents, taken at their baptism. Now they were both gone.

He felt exhausted but knew he would not sleep. He never did after one of these nightmares. He got up and put on his wool robe and his slippers. Lighting a small lamp, he left his room and went down the wide staircase to the main floor, then to his mothers library. He entered, lit several lamps, and poked the embers in the fireplace before throwing on some kindling. When the flames were high, he added larger split quarters. He warmed his hands and then turned to glance around the room.

This had been his mothers domainthe place where she and Rand had spent endless hours during the last sixteen years discussing everything from business to women, though not always in that order. Papers, books, reports, and ledgers, all stacked high across the large cherrywood desk, seemed to await her return. Though she had been gone for more than a week, he could not bring himself to go through any of it yet.

But then there really wasnt any need.

He felt the tears welling once more and forced them away; going to her desk, he sat in his usual chair across from hers. Few people knew that Mary Hudson had been the silent power behind his fathers highly successful business ventures. Intelligent and well educated for a woman of her day, Mary Hudson had a knack for seeing advantage where others saw only ruin. She had counseled her husband privately to buy and sell properties that others regarded as liabilities. Her counsel had paid off in large profits, which his father and mother had used to build a small fortune. Of course, few men knew of his mothers involvement in those early successes in New York state and of her shrewd dealings with money after coming to St. Louis.