Within the Candle's Glow

by Karen Campbell Prough

  “Help! Help me!”

  He tried leaning into the draw of the rope, praying it’d ease the drag on his arm. No relief came. He fought the frantic urge to let go of the tree.

  He couldn’t see the mule’s whole body, but he focused his eyes on one hoof sticking straight up above the rocky edge. He could make out part of her hindquarters. Nothing moved. The reins and the rope were stretched taunt and still connected to her.

  Was his arm holding her whole weight? Oh, God, there has to be tree trunks or rocks supporting her body. How do I know?

  Samuel screamed as the pain mushroomed into more than he could tolerate. Foggy thoughts in his brain tried to assemble an answer to his immediate need.

  A knife.

  It was at his right side, sheathed, and out of reach. He couldn’t let go of the tree.

  Shaking uncontrollably, he ground his forehead against the rough bark and sobbed. His hand became numb—adding a fragment of relief. “God—please! Help me. Please God, send someone—anyone!”

  The temptation to let go and gain relief from the flaming torture entered his pain-crazed brain. He shifted his head and tried to focus on his purplish fist, despite the falling snow. Somewhere above the tangle of rope, blood flowed and dripped from his arm. He groaned and beheld it splatter on the thin layer of snow—sticking to the dirt and rubble. The tightly woven rope cut into his flesh, separating it into a red gully of torn skin.

  Inch by inch, his grip on the tree loosened. Hazy memories of him and Jim rolling rocks over the same slope—years ago—mixed his laughter with Jim’s. Gray boulders smashed into trees and shattered. Bark had flown into the air.

  His left hand clawed at the tree bark, which crumbled and broke. He tried bracing his boots against rocks, but it didn’t lessen the persistent pull of gravity. Shale and smooth rock under his left thigh and hip contributed to his downward slide.

  Oh God … no!

  The pull of the reins flipped him onto his stomach. He slid face first to the edge. His coat ripped open. Rocks and stones cut his chest and face.

  The ground dropped away.

  His body slammed something solid.

  The world faded into darkness.

  #

  A flicker of light told him he was alive. Dark faces bent close and drifted away. Questions were voiced—ones he couldn’t answer. Gentle hands felt his right arm. Cold pressure made him whimper in pain. Freezing, wet snow covered his upturned face, and violent chills shook his body. He thought of the hot rocks in his pockets. So warm. If only he could reach them.

  More hands worked a rough rope down over his head, around his chest. They rolled his battered body face down, as if he were a baby. He sensed a rounded, hair-softened belly against his face—against his lips.

  The rope tightened and tugged upward. His back banged into a rocky ledge, the jagged outcropping tugged at his loose coat, and stiff, bare branches scraped the side of his face. The sensation of weightlessness rocked him, reminiscent of his mother’s arms.

  The wind sighed and crooned to him. Muscular arms lifted him, supported his body, and carried him. A gentle brown hand wiped wet snow from his face, and Samuel let his grip on consciousness drift away.

  Chapter 17

  A figure bent over him, blurred to his vision. Samuel had the impression something silky caressed his cheek. A low female voice asked a question, and another answered from farther away. Whatever touched his face was gone. He fought the fog in his head and forced his heavy eyelids open. He was on a bed or pallet, not a rocky ledge.

  “Granny, it’s been two days. I’m worried.”

  “He’ll survive. The herbs an’ sedatives I gave ‘im is wearin’ off. I might bind his shoulder today, jest in case.”

  He heard the elderly woman’s answer, but he struggled to understand what it meant. He blinked. His vision cleared.

  Ella Dessa.

  She stood sideways to the bed, her comely figure in profile. She gathered her long hair and wound it into a coil. Three bone pins protruded from between her pursed lips. Her right hand removed them and tucked them in place to hold her hair.

  “Granny, Inez said she’d be back here by noon. Jim’s bringin’ the wagon.”

  Her voice still came from far away.

  “Samuel’s lucky Sada’s body fell on the narrow ledge. If’n she’d slid on over, she’d have pulled ‘im with her. Her neck were twisted under her—snapped.”

  Sada.

  He felt sick.

  Ella Dessa clasped her hands at her waist. “It was good of the men to drop rocks over the edge, so as to bury her. Keeps the critters and vultures away.” She turned her back to his low bed. “Inez left while you were in the privy.”

  “I heard yer good-byes.”

  “Where’s the … others?”

  “I fed Thomas an’ one he calls August some ham, gravy, an’ biscuits this morn’, gave ‘em a food bundle to tote, an’ sent ‘em on their way over the trace. Nary seen skinny men eat so much in my life—only varmints that’s starved. Not a breath ‘tween bites. My old Abe had to snatch fast to git any vittles the last couple days.” Granny chuckled and lowered herself into a rickety pine rocker.

  “How long have you been doin’ this?”

  “Doin’ what, child?”

  “You know what I mean—helpin’ those slaves escape to the north.”

  Samuel closed his eyes against the throb in his shoulder, right wrist, and hand. He continued to listen to their muted voices. He couldn’t quite understand to whom they referred.

  What slaves?

  “Ahh, it’s been secret, ‘til now. Abe found the first five of ‘em hunkered in the barn ‘bout six years ago. They were so thin I might’ve broke their arms with my twisted hands. He coaxed ‘em in the house. Woke me an’ I cooked ‘til dawn. They ate all I set ‘fore ‘em an’ loved my ‘lasses pie. One weren’t no more than twelve. I jest wanted to hug an’ keep ‘im. They’d been diggin’ ore in a mine owned by their master.”

  “How’d they know to come?”

  Granny chuckled, and the rocker squeaked. “They gots a good talk line. Seems to reach where needed. They slip into the barn. Sometimes alone. Others … a group. I tend to wounds ‘nd feed ‘em, then they skedaddle. Vanish to the silence of God’s forest.”

  “I honestly believe what you do is a God-given blessin’. Oh, Granny, I wish I could help you and Abe.”

  “No, child. It’s best only ole Abe an’ me take keer of ‘em. Nary breathe a word ‘bout us.”

  “No, never.”

  “Samuel had God watchin’ over ‘im. God the Father sent those slaves through the woods an’ acrost the trail ‘ezactly at the right time.”

  “Yes. With the wind and snow, I don’t know how they heard him moanin’ on that ledge, but they did.”

  “God provided.”

  Samuel opened his eyes and squinted at the underside of the loft. Bundles of dried herbs, corncobs, and plants hung, suspended by twine pegged into cut saplings. Everything started coming back to him, the sleet, and the snow.

  Sada falling.

  His hand.

  He turned his head and tried to move his right hand. It lay covered with a towel. His fingers tingled and ached, but it relieved his mind he could wiggle them. He groaned.

  “Samuel?” Ella Dessa’s face wavered before him. She knelt beside the bed. Her cool fingers caressed his forehead and cheek. The touch was familiar. “Thank God, you’re awake.”

  He saw Granny rise from her chair. “Well, ‘bout time.”

  He tried to lift his arm and shake the towel free.

  “No, Samuel, lay still. Please?” Ella Dessa’s hand gently pressed on his arm and elbow.

  He saw her eyes rise to meet Granny’s.

  With a calm, life-worn expression, the scrawny woman touched the girl’s hand. “Let ‘im see. It’s best he know.”

  “Right now?” Her face paled.

  “Know … what?” He breathed the words through dry, cracked lips. “
It’s hurting.”

  Granny plucked the towel off.

  Ella Dessa’s lake-blue eyes shimmered with tears. She covered her mouth with a trembling hand. He bent his elbow and gritted his teeth as the sharp pain radiated through his stiff shoulder. He felt his fingers curl into a fist, but his eyes saw a bandaged stump.

  He twisted and kicked at the heavy quilt covering his lower body. He whimpered and gagged. “No! No, no, no!” He lurched sideways and struggled to sit up. Bile rose in his throat. Granny grabbed him under the left shoulder and pulled him up, but the room swirled and darkened.

  #

  Two weeks later, Inez opened her front door. Ella smiled at her surprised expression.

  “Why, honey, come in.” She tugged her into the warm room. “You look half froze. Did you ride up? Alone?” Her face said that she didn’t approve.

  “Walter let me use his big horse.” She placed a finger against her lips. “Shh, don’t tell. I made myself a split skirt, so I can ride astride. Does it show?” She twirled and the fullness of the skirt moved with her.

  “Not at all.” The older woman gave her a conspirator’s wink.

  “I brought Samuel’s lessons.” She held up what was in her arms. “I have Peggy’s subjects. I know she cain’t come to school right now—what with no one to bring her.” She breathed in the tantalizing smell from Inez’s well-stocked kitchen and heard her own stomach rumble. She spoke louder to cover the grumbling sound. “How’s he doin’?”

  “I’m fine.” Samuel’s gruff voice came from the other side of the fireplace.

  “Go visit with him. I need to tend to my soup. It’s boiling.” Inez grabbed a large wooden spoon and stirred the thick contents of an iron kettle hanging over the cooking fire.

  Ella forced a smile as she spotted Samuel in a straight-back chair next to a two-foot-square table. He placed a writing quill in a small tin on the desk. He closed a leather-bound copybook with his left hand, but not before she caught a glimpse of scrawled, uneven writing—not his normal polished penmanship. With an awkward movement, he secured the cap on a tiny ink well and wiped his smudged fingers on a blotter.

  “You seem better.” She cradled the two books and assignment sheets under her left arm. He had lost weight, but color had come back to his face, and the abrasions on his left cheek and nose had healed.

  “Not sure about that.”

  “Is the knot on your head gone?” She laid the books on the table and unbuttoned her full cloak, all the while praying she could act as though nothing had changed.

  “It healed.” His blue-green eyes wavered and skittered away. His left hand moved to hide the bandaged right arm.

  “That’s nice to hear.” She tried not recoil at the sight of the handless arm, but she instantly recalled the first time she saw it. Shock had brought her close to fainting. Granny had steadied her by digging bony fingers into her upper arm.

  “I guess so.” He stared at the books.

  “Konrad said to bring you and Peggy what you’ve missed so far. When will you return to school?”

  “Not going back.”

  “What? But you’ve studied so hard. Summer will come fast. He wants you to teach next fall. He’s dependin’ on you, Samuel. You know he even suggested you leave this holler—the cove—to take studies down in Terminus this summer.”

  He shook his head, his expression glum, and the toe of his boot tapped the board floor beneath the table. “No.”

  “No?” She grew sick with disbelief and sank into a nearby chair. “Samuel, why?” She saw his clenched jaw. Gone was the softness of youth. “Teachin’ is what you’ve dreamed of. Don’t give up.”

  “I can’t even hold a piece of chalk!” He jumped to his feet and knocked the table onto its side. Everything slid across the floor, including the ink. “Are you so blind you can’t see? I caused this by grabbing that tree. If I hadn’t, I would’ve just slid over the edge and landed on her belly. I didn’t know that. I grabbed the tree, because I thought I’d fall into the ravine.” He pushed the wrapped stump in her face.

  She flinched, stunned by his abnormal actions.

  “Samuel McKnapp.” Inez’s stern tone pierced the room. “I’m ashamed of you.” She came toward him. “You aren’t to blame. No one is.”

  Peggy burst in the door. “What was that noise?”

  “Me—leaving.” Samuel shoved past his sister, went out the door, and elbowed it shut behind him.

  “He’s so stubborn! Mother, we have to do something.”

  Ella knelt, rescued the unbroken inkwell, picked up the fallen items, and stood to face Inez. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t any idea my presence would do that.” She wiped away a tear.

  Inez righted the little table and said, “Come here.” She opened her arms. “Honey, it’s not you. Samuel has a core of anger in him. He won’t listen to me, and he doesn’t want Jim within ten feet of him. Anyone would think it was Jim’s fault, the way Samuel acts. Plus, the—the stump isn’t healing. It hurts all the time—stays red.” Tears welled in her hazel eyes. “Ella Dessa, I hurt for my poor boy.”

  “I thought he’d be ready to tackle the world. Is it ‘cause I waited two weeks? Granny told me to let him heal.”

  “No, no.” Inez shook her head. “He spends most of his time in that corner, trying to learn to write with his left hand. It’s wearing on him.” Her chin quivered. “I don’t know how to pull my son out of this depression, let alone help him with the anger. I’ve prayed God would comfort him and give him peace. The hatred is building—hatred toward himself.”

  Peggy stood with two huge tears dripping down her cheeks. She gulped back sobs and used her fist to dry her face. “Come, sit.” She tugged on Ella’s elbow. “Let me tell you what he said to me last week.” She righted the chair. Her hand patted the leather seat.

  Inez wiped her apron over her face. The willowy woman returned to the kettle of soup, but Ella could hear her sniffling.

  “Peggy, what is it?”

  The girl pulled a square of cloth from her apron pocket and blew her nose. “Samuel thinks everything is over for him. He plans to leave.”

  “Leave?”

  “Yes, as soon as the stump is healed enough for travel.”

  “Where’s he goin’?”

  “We don’t know.” Peggy chewed her lower lip. “He told me he believes God erased everything out of his life. His ability to teach and—just a minute.” She turned. “Mother?”

  “Tell her, if you must.” Inez spooned meaty soup into a serving bowl. Steam rose around the tired lines on her face. “I guess it can’t hurt.”

  Peggy gave an exasperated sigh. “You can’t let it be known I told you. Only Mother and I know this. He spoke to us right after the—” Her face crumpled. “Oh, I don’t know if I should.”

  “I won’t tell.” Ella placed a hand on her friend’s knee. “What is it?”

  “It’s you.”

  “Me?” She pointed at her chest.

  “Samuel says he has to leave, because he can never be good enough for you.”

  “For me?” Bewildered, she searched Peggy’s worried expression for an answer. “I don’t understand. Why he’d say that?”

  “He planned to ask you to marry him. He talked to me about it—just before this. Now, he doesn’t want to be near you, because he’s made up his mind a man with one hand isn’t good enough.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  Peggy blew her nose again. “I wish he’d just ask you. You’re so loving. You’d soon let him see he’s still a wonderful person, worthy of your love. I believe you’re the wife he needs—the perfect one.”

  Inez came to stand beside them. She placed her hands on her hips.

  “Peggy, I know you love your brother, but asking Ella Dessa to consider a marriage at this time isn’t right. They are both young. Besides, Samuel’s never asked her or let his intentions be known, other than to you and me. You can’t court someone’s affection … for Samuel.”

  The
girl raised her head. Her swollen eyelids pressed more tears over her cheeks. “Mother, I’m sure she loves him. For years now they’ve been the best of friends. Right, Ella Dessa?” Peggy wrapped her fingers around Ella’s hand.

  “Peggy, I know I care ‘bout Samuel, but I never thought we’d marry.”

  “I’m so afraid he’ll do something crazy. How can he leave here? Where will he go? He won’t have us to help him.” Peggy used her skirt to wipe away tears.

  Marry Samuel?“Can I speak to him, alone?” She appealed to Inez. “Do you think he’d let me talk to him?”

  The woman sighed. “Child, this is not my idea. Peggy’s been beside herself with fear Samuel will leave like Duncan did. Jim hurts for his brother, even though he assumes Samuel should carry on. But the boy’s dream has been teaching, and he sees this tragic event as an end to his life.”

  “That’s not so.”

  “I know, and you know it. Samuel does love you. He always has. But I’d never suggest you consent to marry my son to save him from himself.” She touched Ella’s cheek and smiled. “Not that you wouldn’t be a perfect wife.”

  “I’m not perfect,” she whispered.

  “Each of my children have their own strengths and weaknesses. Peggy cares for her brother, but I know my daughter will understand if your heart doesn’t sing the same song as Samuel’s.”

  Peggy twisted the handkerchief in her fingers. “I’ll understand and love you the same.” An optimistic smile trembled on her lips.

  Ella stood and buttoned her cloak. “My thoughts are tumblin’. I cain’t talk to him at this time. It’s too much.”

  “Oh, I’m so selfish!” Peggy jumped to her feet. “I’d so love to have you as my sister-in-law. You wouldn’t have to marry right away—just let him know you’re willing.”

  “Give me time to think,” she whispered.

  Chapter 18

  Friday April 30, 1841

  Nearly three months had passed since his injury. Samuel knew people wondered why he refused to go to the cove, but he didn’t want their pity and curious stares. Some had come up to visit him—most stayed away.