The Memory of Love

by Tammy Shuttlesworth

  Jeremiah cringed. He should tell Sarah that his being a militiaman was not by choice. He was stuck in this job for another three months, whether he liked it or not.

  “Look,” Jeremiah began, as nonthreateningly as he could. “I promise that while you are here, I will do my best to not let harm come to you or your son.”

  Sarah’s eyes widened. She took a step backward. “No one can keep a promise like that.”

  “My primary obligation is to ensure the safety of those who live in our community,” Jeremiah assured her. “That means I will do my best regardless of who those individuals might be or what happened to them in the past.”

  Sarah hugged Samuel close to her side. “I know what you are trying to say. I do not need a man, Mr…. Jeremiah. Men only complicate matters and cause undue heartache. Regardless of what your sister seems to think, I did not come here to find a man.”

  “I am simply trying to make you feel welcome,” he said.

  “I can appreciate your concern,” Sarah replied. “But I suggest that any further contact we have be limited to discussing the weather. Agreed?”

  Jeremiah wished he could do as Sarah asked. He had thought long and hard about her comments at his sister’s home last week. He figured Sarah must know more about the Praying Indians than she wanted others to know. If she did, and he could learn what it was, it might help their militia efforts in some fashion.

  “I cannot do that, Sarah,” Jeremiah replied. “There is something you and I must discuss that most definitely does not involve the weather.”

  Chapter 6

  Jeremiah strolled toward the office in Williamson’s home, his earlier conversation with Sarah replaying in his mind. Instead of gaining her trust so she would talk more openly to him, he had pushed her away.

  Perhaps that is best, he mused, stopping for a moment. A web of soft sounds borne on the wings of a bitter wind surrounded him. The only voice was that of a sentry whose duty was to shout the alarm should warriors appear.

  Jeremiah felt comforted knowing the man he had chosen to watch through the hours of darkness was one of the best in the county. His heels plunked on the wooden floor of the part of Williamson’s cabin that was devoted to militia business. He headed to the corner that contained a table, a wobbly chair, maps tacked onto one wall, and a very tall stack of reports.

  Jeremiah took a deep breath. He must put aside thoughts of Sarah Lyons for the moment and prepare his mind for what lay ahead. In eighty-three days he would be released from the militia. Jeremiah recalled how, in April, the colonel had gathered the men around him and announced that Jeremiah was their new lieutenant.

  Jeremiah secretly had hoped the men would rebel. If they had done so, he thought that would have convinced Williamson to change his mind. Instead, they had cheered their approval.

  Jeremiah pushed out a heavy sigh. All right, then. He didn’t like it, but God obviously intended to work another lesson in his life. He’d do his best at this job until his term ended. People—including his sister and Sarah Lyons—counted on him for their safety. He was duty bound to protect them. Not that Sarah Lyons needed any protection. She seemed quite capable of verbally handling anything that came her way.

  Jeremiah groaned. Sarah popped into his mind more every day, which wasn’t fair to Jenny. Jenny was the woman he had loved. Jenny was the woman who should fill his days. Jenny was … gone.

  Let her go. Learn to look ahead.

  Though he’d had those thoughts before Sarah came along, the words had echoed louder in Jeremiah’s heart each day since he met the young widow.

  “The past,” Jeremiah mused out loud. “If not for the past, Sarah would not be here.”

  As if that statement had cleared his mind, he opened the journal on the table. Jeremiah leaned back in the chair, propped the book on his knees, and flipped to the opening scrawl.

  A few weeks later Sarah was still without work. She took it upon herself to do most of the household tasks as a way to repay the Halls for their kindness.

  Shooing Sammy back from the table’s edge, she rolled a steaming loaf of bread from the pan. The crusty end was Sammy’s favorite treat, and he eagerly awaited it.

  “Smells good, Mama,” Sammy complimented in his best begging tone.

  Sarah handed him the end piece and watched as he happily scampered away. At least Sammy would have a warm place to live this winter. She wondered what would have happened to them had they not moved to Washington County.

  “I am so glad Captain remembered to stock the woodpile before he left last week,” Bessie said, garnering Sarah’s attention. “Seems like it gets colder each passing day.”

  “Captain does seem to remember to take care of every little detail before he leaves on his circuit rides,” Sarah said. “You are fortunate to have such a caring mate.” She offered Bessie a slice of bread.

  Bessie patted her stomach. “I think I had better pass on that. There does not seem to be much room in here for anything but the baby lately.”

  They sat quietly as Sarah finished chewing her bread.

  Finally Bessie broke the silence. “Do you mind if I ask a nosy question?” At Sarah’s shake of the head, Bessie went on. “I just wondered if you happen to know something about those Praying Indians the men were discussing last month?”

  Sarah swallowed hard. “I suppose you could say that.”

  “You know, it might be of some help to Jeremiah if you told him what you know,” Bessie said.

  “Well, Mr. Stewart will not get any useful information from me,” Sarah declared. “What I know is hardly worth the trouble of asking about.”

  “But it might help the militia,” Bessie answered.

  Sarah stood up. “I did not come here to help the militia,” she stated.

  “If you know something, then I do not understand what you will not tell him,” Bessie persisted.

  Sarah drew a deep breath. “I just cannot do it, Bessie.”

  Bessie dropped the subject. Sarah reflected on why she didn’t want to reveal her knowledge. For one thing, she refused to believe that the tribe she once worshipped with would kill a person. She knew the missionary who led them, recalled the hymns and other parts of the morning and evening worship services.

  Those Indians would not kill anyone, regardless of their skin color, Sarah thought. They journeyed to Ohio to gain religious freedom, to avoid battling white folks who wanted to pen them into a tiny area hardly big enough to support a family, let alone a whole tribe.

  Should she attempt to prevent them from being blamed for something she did not believe they could do? What could she say that would make a difference?

  The solution flashed quickly to mind. She could tell Jeremiah what little she knew. No, she realized, she couldn’t. If she disclosed what she knew about the tribe, Jeremiah would discover her secret. Sarah frowned. There didn’t seem to be a way to convince him without revealing her past.

  Though his heart wasn’t in it, Jeremiah smiled at the woman at his side. The colonel’s niece, Gemma Winslow, was staying with the Williamsons while her parents built a new home a few counties to the west.

  Gemma had a cute pixie face surrounded by a halo of reddish-gold curls, but she was too short for his liking. As Jeremiah listened to her chatter, he added to his mental tally that Gemma also was simply too talkative. He forced himself to pay attention.

  “So,” Gemma said, “I said to Uncle Davy that he simply must allow the men more time to see their families. Do you not agree that is a grand idea, Jeremiah?”

  “Actually—”

  Gemma’s beguiling look cut him off. “The way I see it, the men need to know that their loved ones support them in their venture to serve their country.”

  “Well, I suppose you could—”

  “Uncle Davy agreed to look into my idea as soon as he can. Ah, to be married to a marvelous-looking man who fears nothing and is willing to give his life to defend this land from those dreadful heathens who insist on perpetuating those h
orrid atrocities.” Gemma paused for a breath.

  Jeremiah jumped up from his seat. “Please pass my thanks on to your aunt for the superb meal. I must go though. Militia business calls.”

  Gemma frowned. “But you have been here hardly a half a hand of time, Jeremiah. Surely there is someone else who could do whatever it is that you do.”

  “Afraid not. I really must go, Gemma. It has been a pleasure talking with you.”

  Gemma stood and walked to his side. “You are coming back tomorrow night, are you not? I heard Uncle Davy ask you to stop by.”

  Jeremiah sighed. “Yes, I will be back. To discuss militia matters,” he added, just to set Gemma straight.

  Sarah seated herself on the floor near the fireplace. Though the spot was overly warm, it did not chase away the cold in her soul. Sammy was abed for the night, and she planned on taking a few moments to relax.

  Her thoughts circled from her childhood in an orphanage, to living with the Praying Indians, then to Jeremiah.

  Why did he intrude so much in her mind? Why didn’t he just join the ranks of other men she had met since losing Levi, men who had wanted nothing to do with her once they learned of her horrible past?

  “I am just a lonely widow trying to set my life back to rights,” Sarah said aloud. “If Jeremiah wants to know about the Praying Indians, he can ride there and find out for himself.”

  “He has probably already been through there when he was a courier,” Bessie said. “If the issue bothers you so much, Sarah, why do you not tell him so yourself?”

  Sarah realized Bessie had heard what she said. Though nervousness gripped her, she crossed the room to a chair. “I just might do that, Bessie.”

  “Good,” Bessie said, harrumphing as she plopped into her own chair. “You do that. I know he wants to see you again.”

  “You cannot fool me, Bessie Hall,” Sarah said. “You are playing matchmaker again, just as you did with Mary Logan and Tom Pittman. I do not like it, and I would appreciate it if you stopped.”

  “Mary and Tom are happily married,” Bessie replied. “And despite what you think, there are decent men in this world. Matter of fact, Jeremiah is one of the best men I know.”

  Sarah folded her arms in front of her. “I appreciate all you and Captain do for Sammy and me, but I do not think I need to remind you that I am not looking for a mate.”

  “You do not, but I have to admit something….” Bessie grinned.

  Sarah threw her hands up in the air. This wasn’t going at all like she had planned. Instead, it was as if she stood in a cabin in the middle of the Ohio wilderness with her sister, who was spouting thou-shalts and thou-shalt-nots at her. A wave of turmoil rose within Sarah. If she’d listened to Callie, she wouldn’t be in the situation she was in now.

  “Say it, Bessie. You will not stop until you do.”

  “Jeremiah is not just any man,” Bessie announced.

  “I do not care if he penned the Declaration of Independence,” Sarah replied. “I am not interested.”

  “He has been hurt before—a woman named Jenny…. That is all I am going to say.” Bessie grumbled as she got up heavily and marched to the fireplace where she poked at some embers.

  “It does not matter to me that he has been hurt,” Sarah called out. “Everyone has at one time or another.”

  “At least you realize that much,” Bessie commented. “Do you also know that most find a way to pick themselves up and carry on? Prayer helps, and so do friends.”

  “Besides you and Captain, I do not need friends,” Sarah insisted. “I am quite capable of making it alone.”

  “What about God?”

  “Sometimes I do not see a need for Him either,” Sarah said. “If He was a loving God as the Bible claims, He would not have disrupted my life.”

  “He is a loving God, Sarah. It is only that you chose to look at what He gave you as trouble, instead of as a test to make you stronger.” Bessie clucked her tongue. “The book of Matthew says, ‘Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’ What a divine promise that is.” She gave Sarah a tender glance. “You say you do not need God and you do not need friends. In that case, I pray our heavenly Father has an easy life planned for you.”

  “This is beginning to get old,” Sarah warned. “I am in control of my life, no one else.”

  “That is where you are mistaken,” Bessie replied. “God always has everything to do with your life. You just have to learn to trust Him again.”

  Sarah jumped from the chair. “How can I trust Him when I know what He took from Sammy? I may sit and listen, Bessie, but that is why I do not participate in Captain’s Bible studies. I find it hard to believe in Someone who allows such cruel things to happen.”

  Did I truly mean that? Sarah was so flustered, she didn’t know. Nothing seemed to work the way she wanted; perhaps nothing ever would. Going it on her own couldn’t be any worse than walking with God, could it? Two years ago God let her down one too many times. Everything since that night only proved her need to stand alone. Why couldn’t Bessie see that?

  “That is exactly why I believe in Him, Sarah,” Bessie said. “I have no doubt that He is always with me.” Bessie patted the child within her. “Yes, God sometimes takes away that which we love the most, but if we are patient, He will send us other blessings. Not to make up for the ones we lost, but to show us that we are His children and that He loves us.”

  Sarah shook her head. “You cannot tell me you are content to sit around and wait for God to work a miracle.”

  “Captain is a miracle, as far as I am concerned,” Bessie said. “Someday, when you are ready to listen, I will tell you what happened to me. And I am convinced that no matter what tribulations God allows me to endure here, He will make up for my difficulties in the Great Beyond.”

  “You are the most stubborn person I have ever met,” Sarah replied.

  “Guess that is why I survive what life throws at me,” Bessie said. “Jeremiah is the same way.”

  “He does not look as if he has survived that woman you mentioned,” Sarah commented.

  “So you did notice him.” Bessie grinned like a cat who just caught the last available mouse.

  Alarm tightened Sarah’s throat. “You do not have to raise your voice, Bessie. What I noticed is that Jeremiah appears uncomfortable around me,” she explained.

  “Why would a man who is not afraid of going out into the unknown to fight something he does not understand be uncomfortable around someone like you?”

  “Why are you asking me? You should ask Jeremiah that question.”

  “I think you should ask yourself that, Sarah.”

  Chapter 7

  This man wants the job, Lieutenant Stewart.”

  Jeremiah pushed aside the journal to scan the candidate for courier who stood beside Rufe. Tall and rangy, he was just shy of being gaunt. Black hair spilled over his ears, and his features seemed fixed in a perpetual sneer.

  With Colonel Williamson out again, Jeremiah had no choice but to acquaint himself with the only applicant. He introduced himself.

  “Just call me Shade,” the newcomer stated.

  “Has Rufe explained the responsibilities of the job?” Jeremiah asked, thinking that the man’s name certainly matched his solemn features.

  “Yes.” The man kept his dark gaze locked with Jeremiah’s.

  Jeremiah felt uneasy, but he continued. “You do not have any questions?”

  Shade shook his head.

  “Why are you so willing to work with us?”

  Shade shifted his weight to one hip. “Call it evening the odds.”

  There was an air of edginess about Shade. Just what I need, Jeremiah thought. Someone who is out for revenge. “You do not talk much, do you?”

  “No need to talk. Action is better.”

  “We do not pay much,” Jeremiah offered, intrigued by the confident air Shade possessed.

  “Don’t need much.”

  Jer
emiah didn’t have much choice. The colonel had announced the job to the men, but none had stepped forward to accept it. “Well, then, I reckon you will have to do,” he told the man.

  “Reckon I will,” Shade answered.

  Jeremiah narrowed his brow. Rufe had done the preliminary work; all Jeremiah must do now was confirm the selection. He recalled Captain telling him to trust the clerk’s judgment. Jeremiah would do that, but a prayer that this wouldn’t be a decision that would haunt him couldn’t hurt.

  The interview over, the new courier gave a two-fingered salute to his brow and eased out the door with the elegance of a mountain lion. Rufe followed him.

  Jeremiah’s gaze returned to the journal. He’d have to finish it later. There was another matter he had to take care of first, one that had developed over the last few days, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

  “Rufe, I am headed to the trading post. Got a few things to take care of.”

  Sarah dashed into the house. She almost tripped over Sammy, who played with his blocks in the middle of the floor. After assuring herself that her son was fine, she shouted for Bessie.

  “Miz Bessie upside down,” Sammy contributed. He made a V with his fingers to show his mother what he meant.

  Oh dear! Had Bessie fallen? Sarah’s heart bobbled to a halt. What should I do?

  She realized she must find Bessie and see what had happened. Sometimes the woman poked her nose into places where it didn’t belong, but Sarah didn’t want anything to happen to her. She shouted Bessie’s name again.

  Bessie’s reply came from the back room. Sarah rushed down the hall. She found Bessie leaning over and holding her ankles, exactly as Sammy had shown with his hand motions.

  “What are you doing? You are over seven months along. You could hurt yourself.” Sarah bent down to peer at Bessie’s flushed face. “Have you no sense?”

  “I only wanted to see my toes before they disappeared,” Bessie explained. “I did this last week and did not have a bit of trouble getting back up. But now look at me!”