Joseph, Joseph
Kingdom of God in the West
by
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“Follow me,” he told the others. “We will kill these white men and be on our way. I will give the signal when to strike.”
The Indians crawled through the trees, alert for sentries. Wakara fitted an arrow to his bowstring. He had acquired the white man’s rifle, but trusted the fabulous bow he had made in his youth. His bow shot true to the mark and was much more quickly reloaded than the musket.
It was seven feet long and fashioned from the horn of an elk. He had softened the horn in boiling water to make it pliable, splitting it, and binding it end to end to make a single curve. The joint and both ends were wrapped with sinew. He had bound a buffalo rib to the top end so that it could be used as a spear in close quarters.
Wakara moved forward on Indian feet. When he looked into the hollow where the men stood around the fire, he saw only two, but they were not dressed as any white men he had seen before. They wore no furs and looked out of place in his mountains. Wakara drew back his bow, steadying the arrow to begin the slaughter.
“Come in and share our meat, Yah Keerah,” the tall man raised his hand into the air, invitingly, palm outward in a sign of greeting. The offer was repeated in Spanish.
Wakara was startled to hear this man call him by his sacred name. He looked at the tall man, puzzled. He saw something familiar. Where had he seen this man before? Then, it dawned on him and, releasing the tension on his bow, he walked into the firelight. “I know you,” Wakara said in English as he walked up to the man.
“And I know you, Yah Keerah” the tall man replied, with a grin.
“Did you bring it?” Wakara asked, his appearance frighteningly fierce in the firelight.
“I brought it,” the man replied, holding his hand up a little to assure the brethren that were in the trees.
“Show it to me!” Wakara demanded.
“All right,” the man said, carefully reaching into his coat pocket. “Here it is, just as you were promised.” The man handed it to Wakara.
“Are you sure this is it ?” Wakara asked, skeptically, looking down at the book.
“It’s the book you were promised. The book was written by your fathers and buried in the earth to preserve it to this day, Yah Keerah,” the man answered.
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About the Book
In 1844 history shows that God prepared a window of opportunity for Joseph Smith to build an independent Kingdom of God in the West.
On June 22, 1844, God directed Joseph Smith to go to the
Joseph said with a broken heart, “If we go back, we shall be butchered; but if my life is of no value to my friends, it is of none to myself.” It was the strong persuasion of the brethren carrying out Emma’s instructions that induced Joseph to return to Nauvoo and not the word of the Lord.
In fact, Joseph told Stephen Markham that he went ‘to
Joseph immediately sent an order to Major-General Jonathan Dunham to lead the Nauvoo Legion immediately to
In the afternoon of June 27, Joseph Smith, the Prophet, was murdered by a blood-thirsty mob. Alas, the Prophet was gone, but it need not have been. Joseph did not intend to die in
This historical novel takes you on Joseph’s exciting adventure had he gone west
About the Author
The life of the Prophet Joseph Smith has always fascinated me. Imagine the man! At the tender age of 14, the Lord chose him and schooled him to be the head of the dispensation of the fullness of times of which prophets of old have spoken.
He was to act as a forerunner to prepare the way for the return of the Lord Jesus Christ in glory. He was to restore the “old time religion” as taught by Jesus when he lived upon the earth.
Each must learn for himself whether there is a God and what God has intended for his life. No one is born into that truth.
I learned when I was eighteen that there was a purpose to my life. I chose to serve God although I have not done so in perfection over these many years.
I read the Book of Mormon and prayed to God to know if it was true. I found out from God that it is true and that Joseph Smith is a prophet. I read everything I could about him. I spent two years on a mission like so many others.
I was crushed that his life came to an end at the young age of 38 years just as he was revealing so many significant facets of godliness. The King Follett discourse, his last public address, revealed the possibility that man may become like God. It appeared that Joseph had more revelations to give to man. And then he was dead!
I wept that he was prevented from opening to the world more of the truths that God revealed to him. Alas, his calling is made sure. Not so mine. I offer to you this fictional account of what might have been had Joseph lived beyond 1844.