To hold the Far West meant making a deal with the Mormons.
They’d occupied the Salt Lake valley since 1847. The area had been known as the Great American Desert before their arrival, and the nearby dead lake had discouraged settlement. But they’d labored sixteen years, building a city, creating the Utah Territory. They’d wanted statehood, but it had been denied, a reaction to their rebellious attitude and unorthodox beliefs, especially polygamy, which they refused to denounce. Their leader, Brigham Young, was both determined and capable. In 1857 he faced off against President James Buchanan when five thousand federal troops were sent west to restore order. Luckily for Young, that invading force was not led by military strategists. Instead politicians called the shots, and they ordered a march across 1,000 miles of harsh wilderness, ending short of Utah just as winter took hold, stuck in the mountains where many died. Young wisely determined it would be futile to fight such an army head-on, so he adapted guerrilla tactics–burning supply trains, stealing pack animals, scorching the earth. Buchanan was eventually backed into a corner and did what any good politician would do—he declared victory and sued for peace. Envoys came with a full pardon for Young and the Mormons. The conflict ended with not a shot fired between the opposing sides and Young once again in total control. By 1862 both the railroad and telegraph lines ran straight through the Utah Territory to the Pacific. If Lincoln did not want them severed, which would cut him off to the far west, he had to reach an accommodation with Brigham Young.
“It’s a hell of a tale,” Davis said. “Congress had passed the Morrill Anti-Bigamy Act in mid-1862, which targeted polygamy. The Mormons did not like that at all. So in early 1863, Young sent an emissary to meet with Lincoln. The message was clear. Mess with us and we’re going to mess with you. That meant a break in the railroad and telegraph lines. Mormon troops might even enter the war for the South. Lincoln knew this was serious. So he had a message for Brigham Young.”
“When I was a boy on the farm in Illinois there was a great deal of timber which had to be cleared away. Occasionally, a log was found that had fallen down. It was too hard to split, too wet to burn, and too heavy to move, so we plowed around it. Tell your prophet that I will leave him alone, if he will leave me alone.”
“And that’s what happened,” Davis said. “General Conner, who commanded the federal troops in Utah, was ordered not to confront the Mormons on the issue of polygamy, or any other issue for that matter. He was told to leave them alone. It wasn’t until 1882 that the next federal criminal act on polygamy came along. That one was a problem, and thousands were prosecuted. But by then the Civil War was long over and both Lincoln and Young were dead.”
“How do you know about this deal?”
“Classified records.”
“From 1863?”
Davis sat silent for a moment, and she could see that he was troubled. He was legendary for his poker face, but she knew better. She’d seen him at his most vulnerable, and likewise. Pretense did not exist between them.
“The Mormons didn’t trust Lincoln,” Davis said. “They had no reason to trust anybody in Washington. They’d been ignored, put off, and lied to for decades. The government was their worst enemy. But finally here they were in the catbird seat. So they made a deal, but they also demanded collateral.”
She was amazed. “What could Lincoln have given them?”
“Here’s where we know only bits and pieces. But we know enough. Worse, though, is that Senator Thadeaus Rowan knows some of it, too. He’s an apostle in the Mormon Church and, besides us, they’re the only other people alive who have any clue about this.”
“That’s why you wanted Salazar scoped out? His connection to Rowan?”
Davis nodded. “We became aware of some things Rowan was doing about a year ago. We were then told of the connection to Salazar. When we made the request to you for the dossier, we realized we had a problem. Now it’s grown.”
She tried to recall what she could about the Mormons. She was not a religious person, and from what she knew about Edwin Davis, he was similar.
“Rowan is smart,” Davis said. “He’s plotted this through carefully and waited for the right moment to act. We need our best people on this. What’s about to happen could have catastrophic consequences.”
“All my people are good.”
“Can we keep Malone involved?”
“I don’t know.”
“Pay him. Do whatever. But I want him on this.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this anxious. Is it that bad?”