“That Bible belonged to Captain’s grandmother,” Bessie responded. “She carried it across the ocean when she settled here. Pick it up anytime you wish to. As a matter of fact, I would like you to do so. When Captain is gone, I do not get to hear the stories I love. You can read, Sarah. Would you?”
“Would I what?” Sarah asked cautiously.
“Read to me,” Bessie said, caressing her abdomen. “I want my child raised in the Lord so he knows there is a reason for everything that happens in his life. This way he will get a head start.”
Sarah’s throat grew dry. “I do not think that is a good idea. I do not read very well.”
“There is only one thing that is better than your reading, and that is your singing. It would mean so much to me. Please say yes.” Bessie seldom begged, but she was doing it now.
When Sarah was with child, Levi had done everything he could to please her. Sarah didn’t know why exactly, but making Bessie happy seemed important.
“Perhaps I could read a few verses a day,” Sarah offered.
“You are so wonderful,” Bessie squealed. “Captain will be over the moon. He has prayed for someone to study with me. I am so glad it will be you. Can we start right now?”
Sarah swallowed her discomfort. “I suppose now is as good a time as any, but what about this lock of hair? You still have not said where it goes.”
“I think Captain keeps it in the book of Isaiah,” Bessie said. “Just slip it in there somewhere. He will set it to rights when he gets home.”
Sarah felt awkward just “slipping it in there somewhere,” as Bessie suggested. Sarah recalled that one of her sister’s favorite Bible chapters was Isaiah 40. She paged to it and tucked the hair away, silently reading a sentence there: “They that wait upon the Lord shall … mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary….”
“Wait upon the Lord,” Sarah repeated to herself. Doing so probably couldn’t hurt. She’d waited for something to happen that would give her hope for the future since the day she had lost Levi. Perhaps there was something more meaningful that she needed to think about.
“Do you think you could start somewhere other than ‘In the beginning’? I know it is important, but I am anxious to hear about Jonah, and Ruth, and Daniel.”
Sarah drew a deep breath. Reading the words of the prophet Isaiah, she’d experienced a brief memory of comfort. She thumbed her way through the Bible so she wouldn’t have to think about it. “How about Jonah first?” Sarah asked. “It is short and will not take us long.”
And it describes exactly what I am feeling just now, Sarah realized, as if I have been swallowed by an animal much larger than myself and have no means of defense.
Bessie smiled. “I just love the part when Jonah finally realizes God is in control. How about you?”
Jeremiah entered the office, stamping his feet to rid his boots of the dust collected on his trip to Fort Pitt. He’d enjoyed the brief time on the trail, though he knew he wouldn’t have gone if Dan Whelp were still here.
Jeremiah frowned as he scanned a note lying on the desk. Colonel Williamson had been in while Jeremiah was gone. He left an invitation for Jeremiah to meet with Gemma tomorrow night, with a postscript indicating that he was again gone to the farthest reaches of the county.
Sometimes I think the colonel only wants the glory of being the commander, not the hassles or heartache that go with it, Jeremiah thought. No, that’s not fair, he corrected. The colonel does what he can.
Rufe cleared his throat and Jeremiah forced his mind back to the task at hand.
“What am I supposed to do with this mess?” Jeremiah pointed to a pile of papers on the desk.
Rufe shrugged. “You have done pretty well up to this point. Just tell me where to start, and I will get right to work helping you compose the answers.”
Jeremiah studied the heaps. Five months as county lieutenant had done nothing to relieve his awkwardness at being a leader. He made decisions and wrote requisitions for supplies, but mostly he prayed.
“Want some time to look through them before you write the replies?”
“I suppose that will be best,” Jeremiah said. “Especially since I might be tempted to quit if I wrote right now.”
He stared at a hand-drawn map on the wall. Miniature red dots marked Indian attacks up and down the Ohio River and several points to the east. With each attack, the red circles marched closer to their settlement.
Jeremiah tried hard to follow two principles his father had taught him: Study a problem from all angles and figure out the best way to solve it. But he still doubted his ability to make the best decision. Perhaps all the trip to Fort Pitt had accomplished was to point out that he missed hitting the trail and taking messages to leaders who would decide what to do next.
That’s what it was. He’d never had this much responsibility before. He just carried others’ decisions to those of higher rank. Perhaps that was part of his problem; he needed to take a step back and consider what it was he really wanted to do in life. That wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Not when the colonel refused to spend any time at home.
The next time Williamson returned, Jeremiah would insist Williamson select someone to fill Dan Whelp’s position. Then Jeremiah would take a few days off, time he needed to clear his head. Perhaps he’d visit the grave he hadn’t visited in so long. Then again, perhaps not.
You don’t need to resurrect pain you’ve already buried, Stewart, he admonished himself.
Pain. At least a benefit to staying busy was that he had little time to think about Jenny. All the way to Fort Pitt and back he’d thought of … Sarah.
Sarah, who had the same hollow look in her eyes that echoed how Jeremiah felt when he thought of how wrong his life had gone since losing Jenny. Sarah, who appeared to feel that she was the only one who’d experienced great tragedy and would never find anyone else who understood.
Jeremiah understood, though he didn’t like talking about it. Some things were better left alone. Scars healed faster that way, covering wounds that would otherwise always hurt if continually exposed. That’s why he kept thinking of Sarah Lyons. Not because she was beautiful. Not because the sad look on her face dug furrows in Jeremiah’s heart every time he saw her. Jeremiah buried his head in his hands.
Lord, what is it You would have me do? I do not understand why You have put me here, or what purpose I have in Sarah’s life. And speaking of Sarah, do You think You might find a way to take away her hurt? When I see her standing off to the side where she thinks no one is watching, it’s as if she sees something horrible run through her mind, over and over. Perhaps she does not know it shows, but it does. I trust You. Please help her, Lord.
Jeremiah opened his eyes to find the red circles on the map staring at him.
“Figure it out yet?” Rufe asked from behind him.
“Not yet, but I reckon that is why I do not sleep much. Gives me more time to ponder things.”
“I will fire up the lanterns and stay with you,” Rufe offered.
“What?” Jeremiah quizzed. “I thought you would probably go see that young lady you have been crowing about lately.”
Rufe shook his head. “It did not work out. Seems the only one worth going after would be that pretty miss that wandered in here by accident a few months ago. But I got the feeling she wanted nothing to do with men.”
“I think you are right, Rufe,” Jeremiah said, ignoring how painful that understanding was.
Jeremiah glanced across the table. Gemma’s cheeky stares were beginning to get on his nerves. He tried not to let his irritation show, but the more time he spent with her, the less he wanted to.
“You look so dashing tonight, Lieutenant Stewart,” Gemma cooed. “I just adore the way that dark blue jacket brings out the gray in your eyes.”
Jeremiah coughed. Mrs. Williamson glanced at Gemma but returned to sipping her soup without comment.
“Thank you, Miss Winslow.” Jeremiah wished he’d gon
e to Bessie’s instead of coming here. The colonel’s request that he visit Mrs. Williamson and Gemma was not a military order, but Jeremiah felt bound to do as the colonel requested.
“Did you know,” Gemma began, “that Uncle Davy has insisted that I spend the whole winter here? Now, is that not just the most wonderful news? I miss my parents, of course, but to stay here with Aunt and Uncle is an opportunity that I cannot put aside.”
“How nice,” Jeremiah murmured, though it really didn’t matter. Once Gemma started talking, she didn’t need encouragement from anyone. His sister sometimes chatted incessantly, but Bessie was family—he enjoyed listening to her. Gemma, on the other hand …
“And so,” Gemma went on, “since my mother just absolutely has no skills where cooking and sewing are concerned, I plan to learn those sorts of housekeeping details from Auntie while I am here. Must be prepared to be a proper wife when the day arrives, you know.” Gemma flashed him a coy smile.
Jeremiah lowered his gaze and grimaced. Gemma left little doubt as to whom she expected to be a wife to.
Sarah opened the door to Jeremiah’s knock. Her surprised look told him that he was the last person she expected. Jeremiah didn’t know how to relieve her distress, so he simply asked if he could enter. While Jeremiah took a seat at the table, Sarah rushed to find Bessie.
“Bessie is taking a nap,” Sarah announced as she returned. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“Yes. I came to deliver an invitation. There is going to be a Winter Supper,” he said. “For everyone in Washington County. The main purpose is to fellowship and to celebrate the birth of our Lord. Will you pass the word on to Bessie and Captain for me?”
“I take it I am not invited.”
You certainly handled that well, Jeremiah chided himself.
“Of course you are invited, Sarah. I meant that since Bessie is not available right now, I wanted you to let her know about the gathering.”
“I will tell her,” Sarah said. “But you can count me out.”
“You have something against getting together with others to celebrate the birth of our Lord?”
“No,” Sarah replied.
“I think Samuel might enjoy seeing everyone,” Jeremiah urged. “I hope you will reconsider. The supper is designed to encourage the men of the militia and give the ladies a chance to dress in their finery.”
“Well, Mr. Stewart, you will have to do without my presence,” Sarah said. “The less I have to do with militiamen, the better. After all, if your counterparts at Fort Henry had responded to my late husband’s request for protection, I would not be here today.”
This was not going at all the way Jeremiah had planned.
“Point taken, Mrs. Lyons. I will not let your comment pass without saying that our military companions downriver operate under different rules than we do. Please don’t assume that I or our force here would have done the same. May I also add in our defense that if people would quit settling so far from others, there would be less chance of renegades, Indians or otherwise, upsetting their worlds.”
“We thought we were out of the way,” Sarah retorted, her voice rising in pitch.
“In this day and time there is no place that is truly out of the way,” Jeremiah replied. “It becomes doubly important that we all help and encourage one another when we get a chance.”
“That might be,” Sarah acknowledged, “but I do not see a need to get myself involved in others’ lives right now. I will not attend the supper.”
“Tell me a story, Mama,” Sammy demanded, climbing onto her lap and disrupting her line of thought.
She did as he asked, but Sammy soon fell asleep in her arms. While he dozed, Sarah stared at the whorl of hair on the top of Sammy’s head. She placed a soft kiss on his brow.
“No matter how I try, Sammy, I cannot change what happened to us. Your pa and I planned for our lives to be filled with love and laughter. And that would have come to pass if those horrid Indians had not attacked us. I miss your pa, Sammy. Sometimes I miss him so much I cannot imagine how I am to go on without him. At least I still have you. I hope I can find a way to help you grow to be a man your pa would be proud of.”
Chapter 9
Jeremiah figured he’d be pressed into escorting Gemma to the supper, something he definitely did not want to do. He wondered if perhaps he might convince Rufe to escort the colonel’s niece and decided that he would discuss that idea with Rufe later.
With the colonel back and demanding an update, Jeremiah pointed to an area on the map a half-day’s ride north. “The latest report came from a family by the name of Clayton. They took the wife and two girls.”
Williamson indicated some other dots to the south. “What about these?”
Jeremiah shook his head. “I just do not know. They usually are not this scattered. When they attack, they hit one or two close together then disappear.”
Good thing there is less than a month of my commitment left, Jeremiah thought. I cannot wait till the Winter Supper, for I’ll be released shortly after.
“You are in charge while I am out in the field,” Williamson said. “You read all the reports. Give me your input as to what you think is happening, Lieutenant.”
Jeremiah thought for a moment before he spoke. “I think the group of Indians responsible for the raids is getting nervous. They do not know what is going to happen, since their alliance with the British is becoming more apparent.”
Williamson folded his arms in front of his chest and rested them on his portly middle. “A good analysis. I would like to add that after this latest trip of mine, I firmly believe the Wyandots are not the ones we need to worry about.”
“Why not?”
Williamson glanced to the dots spiraling out along various creeks that fed into the Ohio River. “You read those journals Rufe’s father loaned to us. If I am not mistaken, it seems he believes the Praying Indians are the prowlers.”
Jeremiah studied the colonel. Feeble candlelight gave him a sallow appearance and drew attention to his somewhat rumpled shirt.
“Those Indians are Christians, Colonel. I cannot believe that they are to blame. Besides, I think that Colonel Brodhead out of Fort Pitt stirs them up on purpose.”
“Brodhead is just trying to defend his territory, Jeremiah,” Williamson replied. “Did you read the last report he sent out?”
“Yes,” Jeremiah growled. “All that bragging about how they took three hundred men and killed fifteen warriors then dragged the old men, women, and children away. They murdered most of them before going back to Fort Pitt. What is the world coming to?”
“My mother would say, ‘Nothing good,’” Williamson offered. “Sometimes we can only react to an action. We do not control our fates. We do what we are pressed into doing.”
Jeremiah flexed the fingers on his right hand. “They killed forty warriors they said were drunk and highly dangerous. Those braves were probably scared and running away. Brodhead didn’t have to pursue them. I wonder if he had proof that they were guilty.”
“Brodhead is on our side, Lieutenant. What is the matter with you?” The colonel pinned him with a hawklike gaze. “Getting cold feet?”
Jeremiah raked his fingers through his hair. “I believe that as Christians, Zeisberger and his flock will not kill. Nor will I.” He sought to remind Williamson of his promise not to take part in any such thing.
“I think there is something more than Brodhead killing warriors bothering you.”
“Rufe’s father wrote everything he could in those journals.” Jeremiah hoped to turn the conversation away from death and dying.
Williamson nodded. “So?”
“I think I will read them again and see what else I can find out about those Moravian missions. If that fails, I may just take a short trip to Fort Pitt to see what I can find out from them.”
“It will not change my mind, but do what you think you need to. I think they are guilty. That is all I need to know.” Williamson’s words we
re filled with bitterness.
Bessie waddled through the door with Samuel pushing her knees from behind as if she couldn’t make it under her own power. She was not far from giving birth, and though it wore her out, she insisted on going out each day for a short walk. Sarah remembered that awkward time when her body felt like a fruit that stayed on the vine too long. But the end was worth it—holding your child and realizing that God’s blessings often came in the form of babies. As if he knew the joy he brought her, Sammy launched himself into Sarah’s arms.
“Missed you, Mama.” He planted a smack on her cheek.
Sarah’s heart spun in her chest. Sammy looked so much like his father that she wanted to cry. What if she couldn’t keep Sammy safe long enough for him to grow up?
“I missed you, too, Sammy.” Sarah smoothed his hair behind his ears. “Looks like we will have to cut your hair soon.”
“No haircut. I want hair like Miah.” Sammy pouted.
Bessie chuckled. “Guess I ought to tell you so you know what Samuel means. You know those daily strolls we take?”
Sarah nodded. “I do not understand how you can continue to go out every day. I sat at home and did nothing but wait for the big day.”
“Family means a lot to me, and so I go to visit Jeremiah. He has been rather gloomy lately, and I do so want him to cheer up. You know that Major Whelp is … gone. Well, actually, I guess his dying is only part of the story.”
Bessie had the geese ready to head south again, prattling on about things that made no difference to what she had started talking about. Sarah snuggled Sammy on her lap and prepared to stretch her patience.
“I am sure you remember Captain telling us about Dan Whelp being killed,” Bessie continued. “I heard he wasn’t well liked, God rest his soul, but anyway, with Colonel Williamson back, Jeremiah is upset because now he does not see any way out of this militia business. He only did it as a favor for Williamson, and in the beginning Williamson told him it was only for six months and now he says longer. That has Jeremiah all worked up. I just hope he does not do something he will regret later.”
The Memory of Love Page 22
