“I’ve offered to take you into the mountains anytime,” Rowan said as he sat across from the older man. “Just ask and I’ll make the arrangements.”
“As if my doctors would allow that. No, Thaddeus, my legs barely work anymore.”
Snow’s wife had died ten years ago, and his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren all lived outside of Utah. His life was the church, and he’d proven to be an active manager, overseeing much of its everyday administration. Yesterday Rowan had called Snow and briefed him about the find inside Zion, which raised many questions. The prophet had asked Rowan to go and see if there were any answers.
He reported what he’d found, then said, “It’s the right wagons. There’s no doubt.”
Snow nodded. “The names on the wall are proof. I never believed I would hear from those men again.”
Fjeldsted. Hyde. Woodruff. Egan.
“Damnation to the prophet. They cursed us in death, Thaddeus.”
“Maybe they had a right to? They were all murdered.”
“I always thought the whole thing a story fabricated at the time. But apparently it’s a true one.”
One Rowan knew in detail.
By 1856 war seemed inevitable between the United States and the Latter-day Saints. Differences over plural marriage, religion, and political autonomy had festered to the breaking point. Brigham Young ran his isolated community as he saw fit, with no regard for federal law. He minted his own money, passed his own rules, created his own courts, educated the young as he thought best, and worshiped as he believed. Even what to label the newly settled land had been a matter of dispute. Locals referred to it as Deseret. Congress called it the Utah Territory. Finally, word came that a union army was marching west to subdue the rebels everyone in the east called Mormons.
So Young decided to collect the community’s wealth, hiding it until the expected conflict ended. Every hard asset was converted into gold bullion, church members willingly divesting themselves of almost all their worldly goods. Twenty-two wagons were requisitioned to relocate the gold to California, where other Saints waited to receive it. To avoid detection a circuitous route bypassing populated settlements was chosen.
Little is known of what happened after that.
The official story said the caravan set off with the gold across the uncharted badlands of the south-central part of Deseret. The men soon ran short of water and all efforts to find a source were fruitless. A decision was made to retrace their path back to the last water hole, more than a day’s ride behind them. Teamsters were instructed to manage the horses and watch over the gold while forty militiamen set out for the water hole. Upon their return several days later, they found the wagons’ charred and blackened hulks, all of the teamsters dead, the horses and gold gone.
Paiutes were blamed for the attack.
The militiamen spent days reconnoitering the region, tracks fading out on rocky scarps or stopping abruptly in dry, meandering riverbeds. Eventually they gave up and returned empty-handed to report their failure to Brigham Young.
More search teams were sent out.
None of the gold was ever found.
Records noted that there was approximately 80,000 ounces being transported, the value at the time nearly $19 an ounce. That same gold now was worth over $150 million.
“You realize that the story we’ve heard for so long is wrong,” he said.
He saw that Snow had already considered the reality.
“Those wagons weren’t burned or charred,” Rowan went on. “They were deliberately hacked apart inside a cavern. Hidden away. Four men shot. Then the cave sealed up.”
And there was one other problem.
“Not a speck of gold was there,” he said.
Snow sat silent in his wheelchair, clearly considering something.
“I had hoped that this would not arise during my tenure,” the older man whispered.
He stared at the prophet.
“Forget us not. It’s interesting they chose those words, because we haven’t, Thaddeus. Not in the least. There’s something you do not know.”
He waited.
“We have to cross the street, to the temple. Where I can show you.”
TWELVE
MALONE ASSESSED THE SITUATION. KIRK HAD CLEARLY COME to them armed. But with all the excitement, who would have thought to search the victim for weapons? Still, something had not rung right about the man from the moment they’d met.
And the call with Stephanie had cemented his doubts.
He said, “You work with those two we met in the square.”
“More like they work for me.”
Luke stood military-straight, his eyes suggesting We should take this son of a bitch right here, right now.
But his stare back signaled No.