by Bill Bright
“Of course I know how to milk a cow. It’s just like a water pump. You grab the cow’s tail and…” He took a tail in hand and began pumping it. The cow objected and tried to kick him.
“Funny boy.”
“Just a little city-boy humor. You farm girls do know how to laugh in the morning, don’t you?”
“Sure we do,” Hannah said without a hint of a smile. “But only when we hear something funny.” She positioned herself under the first cow and started milking.
Daniel picked up a pail and a stool. He looked at the pail and the cow, then sighed. Walking to the far end, he got to work.
“Do you normally milk all these cows yourself?” he said with a voice that would carry the length of the barn.
“Most days my eight-year-old sister helps me,” came the reply. “If you’re having trouble, I can ask her to help you.”
Daniel scrunched his eyes shut a couple of times, trying to coax them into working. They weren’t usually open this early in the morning.
“How long have you known Lucy?” he called out.
When Hannah didn’t answer, Daniel wondered if she had even heard him.
But then she spoke. “I was wondering how long it’d take for you to ask about Lucy.”
Had he been that obvious? He thought he’d shown restraint.
“Well…how’d I do? Now that you mentioned it.”
“About what I’d expected,” Hannah said. “A typical response time.”
“So then, you’re asked about Lucy a lot?”
Hannah laughed. “All my life. I’ve known Lucy since we were four years old.”
Finished with the first cow, Daniel moved to the next. He risked a glance down the row. He couldn’t see her, but he could hear rapid squirts of milk hitting the side of a pail.
Settling in beside the second cow, Daniel leaned into it, thinking it might be wise to wait and ask Ben about Lucy.
“Lucy Elizabeth Carrington.” Hannah spoke as though she were reciting a memorized report in front of a classroom. “Attracts boys like moths to a flame. She’ll tell you she doesn’t like all the attention, but she does.”
Daniel grinned, then felt silly about having romantic feelings with his hands full of udder and his cheek cozied up to cowhide.
“The mistake most boys make with her is thinking because she’s pretty, she’s not a real person. They treat her like she’s a picture or a statue—just something nice to look at. They never find out that Lucy is loyal to a fault, tougher than any boy I know, and has a brain for mathematics.” Hannah paused. “Surprised?”
“I-I’m not sure…m-mathematics?” Daniel stammered.
“Why do you think she loves your music?”
“Because I play well?”
Hannah laughed. “Typical self-centered boy. Lucy has always been attracted to music for two reasons: One, it’s something she can’t do. She tried to learn the violin once. It was awful. And that’s another thing about her—she’s competitive. She wants to be the best at whatever she does. The second reason she’s attracted to music is that she loves the mathematics of it. She told me once she could not only hear the mathematics of the notes and tonal scales, but she could see it in her mind. She said it was like watching fireflies dance in precision.”
“That’s amazing! I’ve never heard of anyone who saw music visually.”
“That’s our Lucy. She is amazing. There’s one thing more you need to know about her.”
“What’s that?” Daniel smiled at the thought Hannah was giving him tips to court Lucy.
“Since her faith has been revived, she can’t tolerate fakes or hypocrites. Spiritual things are important to her now. She’ll never go with a boy who doesn’t believe in God as strongly as she does. That’s why she dumped Arthur Hoyt. First he mocked her for believing in God. Then he promised to start attending church with her even though he doesn’t believe, just so he could be with her. He thought she would be impressed with his grand gesture.”
“I take it she wasn’t.”
“Do you want to know what she said to him?”
“Aya.”
“She said, ‘I’d sooner saddle up a mule and ride around pretending he’s a thoroughbred than dress up a pagan man and go to church with him, pretending he’s a Christian.’”
Daniel laughed.
“Go ahead, chuckle all you want, Romeo. But as long as you and God aren’t speaking to each other—to use your words—you don’t stand a chance with Lucy.”
Camilla Rush stood in front of the bedroom mirror and assessed herself. She adjusted the black dress and straightened the veil, checked to make sure she had an extra handkerchief, and evaluated her eyes. They were red and swollen, and there was nothing she could do about them. But then, that’s what veils were designed to cover.
Two coffins awaited her in the front room. She heard them being moved in downstairs while she dressed. Unwanted images of what was inside them tortured her mind. She bit her lower lip and tried not to think about it.
Cyrus Gregg’s voice came to her rescue. He was using his business demeanor to direct the workers.
Camilla closed her eyes and thanked God for him. She didn’t think she’d have been able to survive a double funeral without him.
Talking with Hannah made the time go quickly while milking the cows. It slowed to a crawl when Daniel helped Mr. Robbins scrub out some large milk vats. All Robbins wanted to talk about was how great Daniel’s father and uncle were during their college days.
Breakfast was even more uncomfortable. Hannah had seven younger sisters, no brothers, and five minutes into the meal Mr. Robbins was called away, leaving Daniel alone at the table, the sole male among nine females. Despite their mother’s repeated warnings, Hannah’s sisters stared and giggled at him the entire meal.
Daniel was shoveling feed alongside Robbins when Ben came running up.
“Where’s Hannah?” Ben gasped, out of breath.
“What’s up, son?” Robbins asked.
“Finney! He’s in town.”
Robbins’s entire demeanor changed in an instant—from workday dreary to childlike enthusiasm. “Rome? Finney’s in Rome?”
“At Mr. Frank’s hotel,” Ben explained. “Everyone’s headed there right now. I’ve never seen the road so busy with traffic.”
“Will Lucy be there?” Daniel asked.
“Been thinking about her, have you?” Ben said in jest. “Don’t know…I came here first.”
“Hannah’s in the house,” Robbins said. “You can go fetch her.”
Ben took off for the house.
Robbins called after him, “If her mother gives you grief, tell her I said she could go and we’ll discuss it later.” Turning to Daniel, he said, “You’ll want to wash up before you go.”
Daniel went back to work, sinking the shovel blade into the feed. “I’ll stay here. You can use the help.”
“You’re right about that,” Robbins replied, taking the shovel from Daniel. “But I have a feeling something good is going to happen in town today. One of us should be there to see it for ourselves.”
Daniel took the shovel back. “I agree. I’ll finish feeding the cows, and you can tell me what else needs to be done while you’re in town.”
Again the shovel exchanged hands as Robbins took it. “You’ve never seen a real revival, have you, son?”
“I grew up attending church services and religious meetings. There’s nothing going to happen in town that I haven’t already seen. And given the choice of attending another service or shoveling feed…well, I’d rather shovel feed.”
“I see.”
The two men locked gazes.
Daniel had another reason for not going, which he kept to himself. If he went, he would go to see Lucy, and from what Hannah told him, showing up at a religious meeting looking like some dressed-up pagan was the worst thing he could do to impress her. Better to see her after the meeting.
Hannah and Ben came running from the house, hand in hand.
They looked happy together.
Daniel was glad for Ben. Hannah was an attractive girl in her own way. Daniel liked her smile and enjoyed sparring with her. She would be a good wife for Ben.
“Daniel here says he doesn’t want to go with you,” Robbins said as they approached.
“Not go?” Hannah exclaimed.
“You have to go!” Ben insisted.
The way they went after him, one would have thought they were hounds and Robbins had yelled, “Sic ’im!”
Daniel had no choice. They would not relent until he agreed to go with them. Even then they took no chances. Ben grabbed one arm, Hannah the other, and they escorted him away from the cows.
Glancing over his shoulder, Daniel saw Robbins standing there, holding two shovels, watching them leave with a satisfied smirk. He’d gotten his way, and he was proud of himself.
Chapter 32
When they reached the edge of town, the threesome split up. Hannah left the boys and went looking for Lucy, while the boys went to secure a spot for the four of them inside the hotel.
“You looked like a regular farmhand back there at the dairy,” Ben said in jest.
“It’s not the first time I’ve handled a shovel.”
“How long do you think you’ll stay?”
Daniel surveyed the town with an evaluating squint. “If things work out, I may settle here.”
“Really? But last night you said…”
“Last night everyone was teaming up against me to drag me to a religious meeting. Is kidnapping the usual procedure to get people to attend church in these parts?”
Ben laughed but didn’t apologize. “Do you think your uncle’s still looking for you?”
“It’s the other man I’m worried about,” Daniel replied. “His name is Epps. My employer and my uncle have hired him to kill me.”
“Kill you? Your uncle? Are you sure? From the way Mr. Robbins speaks of him—”
“He’s changed.”
“Is that possible? Can a man change that dramatically? From a courageous man of God to a killer? It seems so unlikely.”
Daniel tried to be patient. Ben didn’t know all he’d been through.
He said, “Epps—the man you saw riding with my uncle? His partner? I’ve seen him kill two people. Slit their throats. Do you still want to defend the man?”
Ben pursed his lips.
They walked in silence. Talk of Epps had made Daniel skittish. Each time a carriage approached from behind, he jumped.
“What about you?” Daniel asked, covering his jitters with conversation. “Are you going to settle down with Hannah? Take over her father’s farm someday?”
A twinge at the corner of Ben’s mouth suggested that Daniel had hit a nerve.
When Ben didn’t answer right away, Daniel said, “Sorry. I’m getting too personal.”
“No need to apologize. I like you.”
Daniel basked in the comment. The feeling was mutual. He hadn’t had someone he thought of as a friend since moving to Cumberland. In the short time he’d known Ben, he’d come to like him too. It was as though he’d known him for years.
Ben grimaced. “It’s just that…please, don’t tell Hannah, all right? But I’m not sure she’s the right girl for me.”
“But you look so happy together!”
“We are! I love Hannah. She’s been my best friend since we were eight years old. It’s just that, well, I don’t feel attracted to her in a manly sort of way. Do you know what I mean?”
“Aya.”
“The last thing I ever want to do is hurt her—or her father, for that matter. I like Mr. Robbins almost as much as I like Hannah. Strange, huh?”
“It’s obvious he likes you.”
“So you see my problem.”
“Aya.”
They strode side by side, their hands shoved into their pockets, mulling over Ben’s dilemma.
“It gets worse,” Ben said.
“Oh?”
Ben didn’t elaborate. They walked a dozen or so steps before Daniel glanced over at him. Ben was looking back at him.
And Daniel knew. He couldn’t explain how he knew, he just knew. “Lucy,” he said.
Ben nodded. “Aya.”
The hotel stood in the center of town on a corner. Daniel and Ben wove their way through the congested lobby into a large dining room that had been converted into a meeting hall with rows of chairs. It was already noisy and warm with people.
“You take that side; I’ll take this side,” Ben said.
Row by row they searched for four adjoining seats. There were single seats scattered here and there, an occasional set of two, but Daniel had yet to find three seats together. Four would be a miracle.
Waving arms from the far side of the room caught Daniel’s attention. Ben was signaling him.
Abandoning his search, Daniel made his way to the other side. Ben had found two pair of chairs within a few rows of each other. He was bent over talking to some men who exchanged glances, shrugged, and got up. They relocated to empty chairs two rows behind them, leaving four adjacent chairs.
“Well done!” Daniel said.
The boys settled in, three rows from the front.
A door opened not a dozen feet from the boys. A tall, slim man in a gray suit stepped out, closed the door behind him, and surveyed the room before making his way to the lectern. He gripped a piece of paper in one hand.
“Is that Finney?” Daniel asked.
“No. Name’s Gillett. I think he’s from Western. At least that’s where I’ve seen him before.”
The speaker called for attention. With all the commotion in the room, he didn’t get it easily.
“The carnal mind is enmity against God,” Gillett shouted over the noise.
The din died, and the room came to order.
Satisfied his one-sentence sermon had earned him a hearing, Gillett began. “Reverend Finney has requested that I make the purpose of this meeting abundantly clear.”
He spoke with a powerful voice. It was obvious the man was no stranger to public speaking.
“This is a meeting of inquiry,” he said. “It is for those who are anxious about their spiritual state before God.”
Daniel punched Ben’s arm. “Did you know that’s what this meeting was about?”
“Hey! Why did you hit me?”
“A meeting of inquiry? You brought me to a meeting of inquiry?” A pause. “What’s a meeting of inquiry?”
“How should I know? I just heard that Finney was going to be here.”
Ben turned his attention back to Gillett, but not before checking the back door for the girls.
Daniel glowered in his seat. He hadn’t wanted to come to this meeting in the first place. And he certainly wasn’t anxious about his spiritual state. He couldn’t help feeling that Ben and Hannah had duped him.
As Gillett spoke, the room became a simmering pot of noise and commotion. The more he tried to put a lid on it, the more it seemed to reach the point of boiling over.
“You have no doubt heard about the revival at Western,” Gillett said. “Many of you have questions. Some of you, I am sad to say, have been outspoken critics of Reverend Finney and his methods.”
The room rumbled with a mixture of supportive and critical comments.
“Let me assure you that Reverend Finney is a man of God of the highest caliber. While some might question the methods by which he promotes revival, few can argue with the results.”
Another rumble rippled through the congregation, enough to prompt Gillett to raise both hands. He had to shout to be heard.
“I assure you, his methods are spiritual ones. Allow me to enumerate: Reverend Finney believes in much prayer, both secret and social. He believes in public preaching. Personal conversation and visitation from house to house. And where inquirers have multiplied, he holds meetings whereby they are invited to assemble for instruction, suited to their necessities. These, and only these, are the methods Reverend Finney has used in attempt
ing to secure the conversion of souls.”
“There they are!” Daniel said, directing Ben’s attention to the back of the room.
Hannah and Lucy stood in the doorway, arm in arm to keep from being separated. They stood on their tiptoes, surveying the congregation for a glimpse of Ben and Daniel. Even from a distance, Lucy commanded attention, a vision of grace and femininity.
Daniel stood so they might see him. When they didn’t, he waved both arms over his head. Hannah saw him first. She whispered to Lucy, who looked his direction, saw him, smiled, and waved. Daniel’s heart skipped a beat as the girls began making their way toward him.
Then it stopped beating altogether as the girls cleared the doorway.
Immediately behind them, leaning on his cane, stood his uncle Asa.
Daniel was still standing, still holding his hands over his head, though frozen now.
His uncle scanned the crowd in his direction.
Daniel dropped into his chair, hunkering down.
“What are you doing?” Ben cried.
The chair wasn’t low enough. Daniel slid to the floor.
“My uncle!” Daniel whispered.
Ben stretched as tall as he could in his chair.
“Standing at the back door,” Daniel directed him.
Ben turned that direction. “With the cane?”
“That’s him. Did he see me?”
“He’s looking this direction.”
Daniel crawled on his hands and knees to the aisle.
Walking up the aisle from the back, both Hannah and Lucy saw him and scowled.
Up the aisle, in the other direction, was the door through which Gillett had entered. Daniel crawled toward it as fast as he could, crossing an open space in the front of the room. It couldn’t be helped. There were two ways out of the room. Front and back. And his uncle was guarding the back.
At the door, Daniel reached for the latch, risking a glance over his shoulder. He could see his uncle, which meant his uncle could see him. Mercifully his uncle wasn’t looking his direction.
In the aisle Ben crouched low. The girls turned their scowls to him. He said something to them Daniel couldn’t hear and pointed at the empty seats. Both girls hissed at him. He shushed them and crawled after Daniel.
