The Tender Flame

by Al Lacy

  OTHER BOOKS BY AL LACY

  Angel of Mercy series:

  A Promise for Breanna (Book One)

  Faithful Heart (Book Two)

  Captive Set Free (Book Three)

  A Dream Fulfilled (Book Four)

  Suffer the Little Children (Book Five)

  Whither Thou Goest (Book Six)

  Final Justice (Book Seven)

  Not by Might (Book Eight)

  Journeys of the Stranger series:

  Legacy (Book One)

  Silent Abduction (Book Two)

  Blizzard (Book Three)

  Tears of the Sun (Book Four)

  Circle of Fire (Book Five)

  Quiet Thunder (Book Six)

  Snow Ghost (Book Seven)

  Battles of Destiny (Civil War series):

  Beloved Enemy (Battle of First Bull Run)

  A Heart Divided (Battle of Mobile Bay)

  A Promise Unbroken (Battle of Rich Mountain)

  Shadowed Memories (Battle of Shiloh)

  Joy from Ashes (Battle of Fredericksburg)

  Season of Valor (Battle of Gettysburg)

  Wings of the Wind (Battle of Antietam)

  Turn of Glory (Battle of Chancellorsville)

  Hannah of Fort Bridger series (coauthored with JoAnna Lacy):

  Under the Distant Sky (Book One)

  Consider the Lilies (Book Two)

  No Place for Fear (Book Three)

  Pillow of Stone (Book Four)

  Mail Order Bride series (coauthored with JoAnna Lacy):

  Secrets of the Heart (Book One)

  A Time to Love (Book Two)

  This book is a work of fiction. With the exception of recognized historical figures,

  the characters in this novel are fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons,

  living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  THE TENDER FLAME

  © 1999 by ALJO PRODUCTIONS, INC.

  published by Multnomah Publishers, Inc.

  Multnomah is a trademark of Multnomah Publishers, Inc.,

  and is registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark office.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted

  in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording,

  or otherwise—without prior written permission.

  For information:

  Multnomah Publishers, Inc.•Post Office Box 1720•Sisters, Oregon 97759

  Library of Congress Cataloging–in–Publication Data

  Lacy, Al.

  The tender flame/Al and JoAnna Lacy.

  p.cm.—(Mail order bride: bk. 3)

  eISBN: 978-0-307-87484-9

  I. Lacy, JoAnna. II. Title. III. Series: Lacy, Al. Mail order bride series; no. 3.

  98-53481

  PS3562.A256T4 1999

  813’.54–dc21

  v3.1

  With deep affection this book is dedicated to

  Deanne Morris,

  wife of our beloved editor, Rod Morris.

  Thank you, Deanne, for your enduring patience as your husband’s

  attention is drawn to our manuscripts when deadlines draw near.

  Thank you also for being a fan of our books … and

  a cherished friend.

  With love and appreciation to you and your precious family—

  AL AND JOANNA

  2 THESSALONIANS 3:16

  Contents

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  As for God, his way is perfect.

  PSALM 18:30

  THE ENCYCLOPEDIA BRITANNICA reports that the mail order business, also called direct mail marketing, “is a method of merchandising in which the seller’s offer is made through mass mailing of a circular or catalog, or advertisement placed in a newspaper or magazine, and in which the buyer places his order by mail.”

  Britannica goes on to say that “mail order operations have been known in the United States in one form or another since Colonial days, but not until the latter half of the nineteenth century did they assume a significant role in domestic trade.”

  Thus the mail order market was known when the big gold rush took place in this country in the 1840s and 1850s. At that time prospectors, merchants, and adventurers raced from the East to the newly discovered gold fields in the West. One of the most famous was the California gold rush in 1848–49, when discovery of gold at Sutter’s Mill, near Sacramento, brought more than 40,000 men to California. Though few struck it rich, their presence stimulated economic growth, the lure of which brought even more men to the West.

  At this time, the married men who had come sent for their wives and children, desiring to stay and make their home in the West. Most of the gold rush men were single and also desired to stay in the West, but there were about two hundred men for every single woman. Being familiar with the mail order concept, they began advertising in eastern newspapers for women to come west and marry them. Thus was born the “mail order bride.”

  Women by the hundreds began answering the ads, wanting to be married and to make the move west. Often when men and their prospective brides corresponded, they agreed to send no photographs. They would accept each other by the spirit of the letters rather than on a physical basis. Others, of course, exchanged photographs.

  The mail order bride movement accelerated after the Civil War ended in April 1865, when men went west by the thousands to make their fortune on the frontier. Many of the marriages turned out well, while others were disappointing and ended in desertion by one or the other of the mates, or by divorce.

  As we embark on this fiction series, we’ll tell stories that will grip the heart of the reader, bring some smiles, and maybe wring out some tears. As always, we will weave in the gospel of Jesus Christ and run threads of Bible truth that apply to our lives today.

  ON MONDAY, JANUARY 18, 1841, the brightening sky over Montgomery Village, Maryland, was tinged with the opalescent hues of morning. In moments, the sun peeked over the horizon, sending bony shadows of the naked tree limbs across a layer of snow that had fallen early the night before.

  As families throughout the village and the surrounding hills prepared for a new day, thin wisps of smoke floated reluctantly from chimneys, meeting the chill of the air.

  Men who worked in Washington, D.C., and other nearby cities left their homes early, riding on horseback or in buggies. By eight-thirty, children were trudging through snow toward the schoolhouse at the south edge of the village.

  At the Duane Reynolds home, Beverly Reynolds was making sure her two children—fourteen-year-old Lydia and twelve-year-old Billy—were bundled up.

  Beverly tied Billy’s scarf about his neck and studied his black eye. “Your father told me that if you have any more trouble with those bullies, he’s going to talk to their fathers and see that something is done about it.”

  On the previous Friday, fifteen-year-old Frederick Kendall and sixteen-ye
ar-old Gerald George had decided to walk Lydia home from school, even though she made it clear she didn’t want their presence. Billy, as usual, was walking with his sister and told them to leave her alone. An argument ensued, and Gerald punched Billy. The younger boy had fought back, but both of the teenage boys had pounded on him, giving him the black eye.

  Lydia pulled a stocking cap over her light brown hair. “Mother, I hope Gerald and Frederick stay away from me; then there won’t be any trouble between them and Billy.”

  “Well, if they do bother you again, just ignore them. I don’t want your brother getting in any more fights.”

  Lydia picked up her schoolbooks. “They’re pretty hard to ignore, but we’ll try.” She placed a hand on her brother’s shoulder as he opened the door for her. “I appreciate my little brother protecting me.”

  Billy, who was almost as tall as Lydia, stood a little straighter and said, “That’s what brothers are for, isn’t it?”

  She gave him a mock scowl. “What about last summer when my brother put a june bug down the back of my dress? Was that protecting me?”

  Their breath plumed in the frigid air as they laughed.

  “There have to be a few exceptions,” Billy said. “Brothers have to have a little fun now and then.”

  “So do sisters,” said Lydia, tucking her books under her left arm. She grabbed a handful of snow off the porch railing and flicked it in his face. “And that was fun!”

  Billy had started to retaliate when his gaze fell on his mother, who was shaking her head.

  “But Mom!” he protested.

  “Son, she’s just paying you back.”

  “That’s right!” Lydia said. “And now we’re even, William John Reynolds!”

  “Ah, but William John Reynolds will have the last word. I don’t get even, I get ahead!”

  Beverly laughed at her children’s sparring and said, “See you two this afternoon.”

  “Bye, Mother,” Lydia said. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, honey.”

  “I love you, Mom,” Billy said.

  “And I love you, son.” Beverly rubbed her upper arms against the cold as she watched her children walk as far as the road, then she moved inside and closed the door.

  The Reynolds family lived two blocks from the schoolhouse. When Lydia and Billy were almost halfway to school, Lydia saw Frederick Kendall and Gerald George coming from between two houses.

  “Uh-oh,” she said with a sigh. “Here come Gerald and Frederick. Just ignore them. Pretend they don’t exist.”

  The older boys drew near, their feet crunching the snow. Gerald, who was the bigger of the two, grinned at Lydia and said, “Hello, sweetheart. You know, I think you’re absolutely the prettiest girl in all the world. Frederick and I were just arguing about which one of us you’d like to have walkin’ beside you to school.”

  Lydia looked straight ahead, as did Billy.

  “Aw, c’mon,” Frederick said. “Don’t play hard-to-get.”

  Billy clenched his teeth and tried to ignore them, as his sister was doing. Gerald moved close to Lydia and rubbed his shoulder against hers.

  “You two leave my sister alone!” Billy said. “She doesn’t want anything to do with either of you, so just go away!”

  Frederick looked at Gerald and said, “I guess little brother didn’t get enough on Friday. Since he seems to like black eyes so much, I say let’s give him another one.”

  “You two get away from us!” Lydia screamed.

  Gerald laughed and put his arm around her, pulling her close. “I can stand it without your ugly little brother, but life without you is getting unbearable. How about a little ol’ kiss for Gerry?”

  “Let go of me, Gerald!” Lydia tried to twist her shoulder from his grip.

  He just laughed and held her more firmly. “Now, you know you like all this attention.”

  “Move, kid, so I can hug her too,” Frederick said. “We want to know which one of us she likes best.”

  Billy grabbed Gerald’s arm and yanked it from Lydia’s shoulder. “Take your hands off my sister! Get away from her, you creep!”

  Other schoolchildren looked on from a distance, but no one made a move to help.

  Gerald stood over Billy, his eyes widening with anger. “If you’re man enough to make me get away from her, kid, hop to it!”

  Billy glared at him, and Gerald turned back to Lydia and put his arm around her again. Lydia twisted from his grasp, but slipped and fell facedown in the snow. Billy started to help her up, and Frederick shoved the boy’s face into a nearby drift.

  “Keep his face in the snow for a while,” Gerald said, as he took hold of Lydia’s arm. “Teach him a lesson.”

  “Don’t you touch me!” Lydia said.

  “Aw, c’mon, sweetheart. Let me help you up.” He took hold of both her arms.

  “I said don’t touch me!”

  Frederick relaxed his hold on Billy for just a moment, and Billy scrambled to his feet and lunged at Gerald, catching him slightly off balance. Gerald fell heavily in the snow, then jumped up and swore at Billy, threatening to beat him to a pulp.

  “You aren’t going to beat anybody to a pulp, Gerald!” someone said.

  All eyes went to sixteen-year-old Grant Smith, who stood with his feet apart and fists ready for action. While Frederick and Gerald stood motionless, Grant leaned over and helped Lydia to her feet.

  “Thank you, Grant,” she said.

  “Seems I heard Lydia screaming at you two to keep your hands off her,” Grant said. “You deaf?”

  “We don’t have to take this from you, Grant,” Gerald said. “If we want to walk Lydia to school, it’s none of your business.”

  “It’s my business if Lydia says she doesn’t want your company and you try to force yourselves on her.”

  “Let’s teach him a lesson!” said Gerald, making a lunge for Grant.

  Grant met Gerald with a fist square on the mouth. In the frosty air it sounded like an ax hitting a tree. Gerald fell sideways, and Frederick stumbled over him but got up fast enough to catch another punch from Grant flat on the nose. He went down hard.

  Billy was standing beside Lydia with an arm around her as Gerald got up, swearing at Grant. His lips were split and bleeding, and an upper front tooth was barely clinging to the gum. Gerald held a hand partially over his mouth and said, “Look what you did, Grant! You knocked my tooth loose!”

  “You bother Lydia or Billy again,” Grant said, “and I’ll knock some more loose. You got that?”

  Gerald did not reply. His attention went to Frederick, who was just getting up, his nose bleeding profusely.

  “Grant,” Billy said, “they did this on Friday, and when I tried to fight them off, they gave me this black eye.”

  Grant nodded. “They better never give you another one.” Then he asked Lydia, “You all right?”

  “Yes, Grant, I’m fine.”

  He turned back to the bullies. “I mean what I say: you two stay away from Lydia and don’t even think of doing anything else to Billy. If you do, what you just got will seem like nothing compared to what you’ll get then.”

  Gerald ran a hand across his mouth, looked at the blood, and said, “We’ll tell Mr. Wilkins what you did.”

  “Go ahead. I’ll tell him what you were doing when I did it too. You boys want him to hear that?”

  Without a further word, the two boys turned and walked away.

  “Guess we’d better get going,” Grant said to Lydia and Billy, “or we’ll be late for school.”

  The three of them made their way as quickly as they could through the slippery snow, and Grant took hold of Lydia’s arm to keep her from falling.

  That afternoon when school let out at 3:30, Billy was waiting outside Lydia’s classroom door when she came out. “Well, big sister,” he said, “what did you learn in school today?”

  Lydia smiled at him as they headed toward the school’s front door behind other students. “I learned that th
e seventh wonder of the world was not the Pharos lighthouse at Alexandria, Egypt, as some historians have stated, but the gigantic walls of Babylon. I learned that mathematics is not just the science of numbers, but also of space configurations; and I learned how to construct a sentence without ending it in a preposition.”

  “That’s a lot for one day.”

  Lydia giggled. “I also learned something else. This was before school this morning, though.”

  “Mm-hmm?”

  “I learned that Grant Smith is the most wonderful—”

  Lydia’s words ended abruptly as she and Billy moved outside and she saw Grant standing there.

  “Hello, Lydia, Billy,” he said with a smile. “Just thought I’d walk along with you, if it’s all right.”

  “Yes, of course,” Lydia said, glancing at Billy’s sly grin.

  When they reached the street at the edge of the schoolyard, they saw Gerald and Frederick standing beneath a big oak tree, its leafless branches silhouetted against the cold blue sky. There was fear in the two boys’ eyes, and they quickly looked away.

  “I don’t think they’ll bother you anymore, Lydia,” Grant said.

  She looked up at him and smiled. “Thanks to you.”

  When they reached the end of the first block, Grant slowed his pace and said, “Do you want me to walk you all the way home?”

  “That won’t be necessary, Grant,” Lydia said.

  Billy looked over his shoulder. “No sign of you-know-who.”

  “They know better,” Lydia said. “Thank you, Grant. See you in the morning.”

  Beverly Reynolds greeted her children at the front door as they stomped snow from their shoes on the front porch then stepped inside. “So how was school today?” she asked.

  “School as usual,” Billy said.

  “Yes, but before and after school was anything but usual,” Lydia said.

  Beverly’s eyebrows arched. “You had trouble with Gerald and Frederick again?”

  “Before school, yes. After school, no. And the reason we didn’t have trouble after school is what happened before school.”

  Beverly’s gaze ran quickly between her children. “Well, take your wraps off and tell me about it. I don’t see any more black-and-blue marks on my boy, so whatever happened on the way to school today must’ve been better than what happened on the way home from school on Friday.”