Guide Me Home

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Why’d he still look so worried? Cissy stomped her foot and huffed. “Mr. Temperance, can I take Beau with me or not? I’m wastin’ time I could be spendin’ with Nick.”

  He flicked his hands at her. “Go on then. I’ll leave your pay in Beau’s stall. You can collect it there when you return with him.”

  She gave a happy little hop. “Thank you, Mr. Temperance!” She dashed off.

  His voice trailed after her. “Keep that animal between you.”

  She waved to let him know she heard, but he hadn’t needed to tell her such a thing. She already planned to use Beau as a barrier between her and Nick’s cousins.

  Devlin

  Since he had accepted Cal Adwell’s invitation to lunch, Devlin decided it would be wise to attend services at the Good Spring Chapel. He intended to spelunk in the Adwell cave when he’d finished eating, so he chose not to wear a suit. Mother would frown, but she hadn’t seen the number of bib overalls over patched white shirts and frayed string ties at the Joppa church last week. His good trousers, shirt, suspenders, and ruby-red silk tie would still put him several steps above most of the men in the congregation when measuring formality.

  He located Junior in the barn and asked if Marey was available.

  Junior nodded, making his thick brown bangs fall across his eyes. He shoved the strands aside and sauntered to the horse’s stall. “You gonna be gone all day, Mr. Bale?”

  “I’m not sure. Until midafternoon at least.” He snagged a coiled rope from a peg. “May I borrow this, too?”

  Junior grunted as he tossed the saddle over Marey’s back. “Don’t reckon Mr. Vance’d mind as long as you bring it back.” He peeked at Devlin from beneath Marey’s belly as he tightened the cinch straps. “You’ve got pretty attached to Marey, haven’t you?”

  He shrugged. “She’s dependable.” And Marey didn’t plod like old Lightning. He had farther to go this Sunday than last, and he didn’t want to chance arriving after the service began. Entering a church service late was very poor form. Devlin tapped his foot in eagerness while Junior scuffed around the animal, checking straps and adjusting the bit.

  Finally the youth stepped aside. “Ready to go.”

  Devlin strapped the satchel containing his necessary tools to the saddle horn, looped the rope over his shoulder as Tolly did in the cave, and climbed into the squeaky leather seat. Once settled, he tossed the stable hand a nickel. The boy caught it, pocketed it, and grinned his thanks. Devlin nodded and aimed Marey for the road.

  He’d traveled the county road—what he’d come to call the Hardin Road—so many times he followed it without conscious thought. As he rode in the shade cast by clustering trees, he envisioned the cabins and clearings hidden behind the seemingly impenetrable woods. Every image in his head was picturesque. Peaceful. The perfect park setting. And so many of the properties included caves. Caves with the potential of increasing the scope of Mammoth Cave. A tremble built in his chest.

  As he had last Sunday, he fell in with others going the same direction. Among them was the Hardin family. He stayed well behind their wagon. His conversation with Reb weighed heavily on him. Not necessarily because he thought she was right but because their difference of opinion raised such a tremendous mountain between them, robbing them of the slightest chance for friendship. The loss created a greater sadness in the center of his heart than he cared to admit.

  Ahead, a white clapboard rectangular building with two doors on the front and a simple sloped roof waited in a small clearing. He reined Marey to a halt and did a double take. Had it not been for the absence of a cemetery, he would have believed he’d somehow found his way back to the Joppa church. The structures were identical.

  He clicked his tongue on his teeth, urging Marey into motion. As he drew closer to the yard, he realized there was a cemetery, but the graves were arranged in haphazard rows behind the church rather than beside it. He pulled back on Marey’s reins and watched Mr. Hardin assist his wife and children from their wagon. He found himself taken once again by the husband and wife’s courtliness despite their humble trappings. Reb came from good stock.

  He battled a grin when the two smallest girls ran in unladylike fashion across the yard and darted into the building. Clearly they were familiar and at ease with the place of worship. As he observed Mr. Hardin escort his wife up the steps, Devlin wondered why they hadn’t buried their deceased family members in the church graveyard. The plot appeared well cared for and peaceful. Perhaps having their loved ones’ resting places nearby gave them a sense of comfort.

  He trailed the later arrivals, which included Cal Adwell and an older couple he presumed were his parents, across the patchy grass and up the steps. Like the Joppa church, the sanctuary contained simple wood pews and a small dais and podium, but someone had given the wainscoting a coat of green paint, and the floorboards wore a scuffed covering of white paint. No potbelly stovepipe blocked his view from his position on the back pew.

  A middle-aged, balding man wearing a suit with shiny elbows and a fraying lapel circled the room, shaking hands, patting little ones on the head, and speaking congenially. He made his way to the rear of the room, and his gaze fell on Devlin. His face lit, and he approached with his hand extended.

  “Well, hello, stranger. Welcome to Good Spring Chapel. I’m Preacher Haynes. It’s a real pleasure to have you join us this fine summer mornin’. And just who might you be? Not that it matters. You’re welcome here no matter who you are.”

  “Good morning.” Devlin accepted the man’s hand, wincing at the preacher’s firm grip. “My name is Devlin Bale. It’s very nice to be with you and your congregation today.”

  “Devlin Bale, Devlin Bale…Where have I heard that name?” He pinched his chin, his forehead turning into a series of deep furrows. Then he brightened. “Ah yes! My good friend Tolly Sandford told me about you. You’re the young man from the university in Lexington who’s drafting a map of the big cave.”

  Somehow it didn’t surprise him that Tolly was friends with this white preacher. He smiled and nodded. “Yes, sir, that’s me.”

  Preacher Haynes clamped his hand over Devlin’s shoulder and gave a squeeze. “In just a moment we’ll start the service, but before we do, would you mind comin’ up front an’ lettin’ me introduce you to the folks o’ Good Spring? It’s always a treat to have a fresh face among us for Sunday mornin’ service.”

  Be paraded in front of everyone? Including Reb and her family? Devlin started to refuse. But what better opportunity to have his name and face made known to those whose property butted the estate? Being introduced by a minister would remove any seeds of distrust from the people’s minds. Reb’s question tapped the back door of his mind. “Why not ask them if they want the chance at a different kind of life?”

  He rose and stepped out of the pew. “Yes, sir. I’d like you to introduce me to the folks of your congregation. And then, if you have time, may I share a word or two?”

  “None of them’ll leave ’til I give the go-ahead. We’ve got as much time as we care to take.” The preacher planted his hand on Devlin’s back, propelling him up the aisle. “So come along, young man, come along.”

  Rebekah

  “Lookit, Bek, Mr. Bale’s here.”

  Rebekah gave a start at Tabitha’s announcement. She sent her gaze in the direction of her sister’s pointing finger and spotted Preacher Haynes accompanying Devlin up the aisle to the preaching platform. Daddy and Mama gave her questioning looks, as if she should know the reason for his presence. She shrugged, and they turned their attention to the front.

  When the minister stepped onto the platform, the soft conversations taking place in various pews in the room quickly faded. He smiled and boomed, “Good mornin’, brothers an’ sisters!”

  “Good mornin’, Preacher Haynes,” they recited.

  “Is it a good day to be in the house of the Lord?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  The familiar routine seemed alien with Devlin standing a
t the edge of the dais, hands clasped loosely in front of him and a half grin bringing out the dimple in his cheek.

  Preacher Haynes gestured to Devlin, and Devlin joined him. The preacher put his arm around Devlin’s shoulders and beamed at the congregation. “Folks, this here is Devlin Bale, a man who’s come all the way from Lexington to spend his summer at Mammoth Cave. Tolly Sandford—you all know Tolly—”

  Across the room heads bobbed.

  “He tells me Devlin’s drawin’ up a map of the big cave for his college.”

  Murmurs rolled through the sanctuary.

  “When I greeted Devlin, he asked if he could speak a word or two to us before we get started this mornin’.”

  Rebekah sucked in a breath and held it.

  “So you all give him the same attention you bestow on me.” The preacher chuckled. “Or maybe a little better attention from some of you who like to catch a nap durin’ the preachin’.”

  Now chuckles, some self-conscious, rumbled. Rebekah’s held breath eased out with her soft laugh, and she nudged Cissy. Only last Sunday she’d had to gently wake Cissy twice when her sister dozed on her shoulder.

  Devlin cleared his throat and stood erect, his pose reflecting ease and self-confidence. “As Preacher Haynes indicated, I came to the Mammoth Cave estate to craft a map of the cave’s intricate inner workings. I am a cartography student at the University of Kentucky. The map will be my senior project and, hopefully, will help me acquire employment when my studies are complete. But I also have a second reason for spending my summer in your beautiful hollow.”

  He drew a breath and Rebekah did, too. She gripped her hands in her lap, clutching so tightly they trembled. He was going to do it. He was going to come right out and tell everybody he wanted the government to buy their land. Would they all rise up and ride him out of Good Spring on a rail?

  “I believe this hollow and the amazing underground natural structure known as Mammoth Cave shouldn’t be selfishly preserved for the enjoyment of a handful of people. I believe folks from all over Kentucky—all over the United States—should be able to come here, breathe in your crisp, clean air, fish in your crystal-clear streams, and experience the wonder of Mammoth Cave.”

  Rebekah sent a furtive glance across the room. The people were listening, heads tipped, brows furrowed. Curious rather than condemning. But she knew what else he intended to say. How quickly would their expressions change?

  “Thus, I’m exploring the possibility of the government assuming ownership of the cave and the land surrounding it and making the hollow a state park.”

  A collective gasp rattled the rafters.

  “You’re wantin’ us to sell out to the government?” The angry blast came from the back corner of the room.

  “How much would I get?” The eager question quavered from the front.

  Devlin held up his hands. “Folks, I’m not here to make offers or speak on behalf of governmental officials. As I told you earlier, I’m only a college student. But I do plan to visit each of the families in the hollow and gather information to share with those who are in a position to make the land transfer possible. I’m particularly interested in properties with caves.”

  “So if I don’t got a cave on my place, you ain’t gonna come callin’?”

  Devlin shifted slightly, seeming to search for the speaker. “I—”

  Orval Spencer, who was seated in front of Rebekah, bolted to his feet and jammed his beefy finger at Devlin. “You show up on my property, boy, an’ you can expect a backside full o’ buckshot. Ain’t no government man gonna take my land.”

  Cal stood and aimed a grin at Spencer. “Government’d prob’ly pay a good price, Orval.” He nodded at Devlin. “I’ll give a listen to your offer, Devlin.”

  All across the room, voices exploded.

  “If the price is right, I’ll sure enough give it some consideration.”

  “Government’s already got my taxes. It ain’t gonna get anything more’n that from me.”

  “I might sell off a piece o’ my place, but I won’t sell my house.”

  “Why’s the government stickin’ its nose in our hollow? Ain’t there better things to do than bother with us?”

  Little Nellie climbed into Rebekah’s lap and clung.

  Preacher Haynes waved his arms. “Folks, folks, settle yourselves down.”

  The uproar continued.

  “I said shush!”

  At the preacher’s bellowed command, the hubbub dwindled to a few raspy whispers. He shook his head, gawking at the crowd. “I’m plumb ashamed of you all. This poor boy’s probably worryin’ about facin’ a lynch mob.”

  Mutters and the shuffle of feet on the floor sounded.

  Preacher Haynes turned a glare on Orval Spencer, who still stood with his fists clenched and the back of his neck as red as ripe cherries. “Orval, sit down before you give yourself apoplexy.” When Orval plopped into the pew, the preacher put his arm on Devlin’s shoulders and offered a weak smile. “Sure am sorry if we all scared you, son. Guess you now know, folks in these parts have some fiery spirits.”

  Devlin nodded weakly. His shoulders sagged and weariness etched his face.

  “Now that we’re all good an’ awake”—the preacher chuckled—“we’ll let Devlin have a seat, an’ we’ll get the service started.”

  Devlin stepped off the platform and hurried to the back pew, flicking uncertain glances back and forth as he went. Rebekah tried to catch his eye to give him a smile of encouragement, but he looked past her. Disappointed, she settled Little Nellie beside her and focused on Preacher Haynes.

  “Gonna sing a hymn, but before we do, I’ve got somethin’ to say, an’ I want every person in this room—you, too, Devlin—to listen close.” Fervor gleamed in the preacher’s eyes. “If Devlin comes to your door, you give him a welcoming handshake and a respectful ear. You don’t have to sell your land if you don’t want to, but if I hear tell of even one of you aimin’ a shotgun at him or otherwise bringin’ him harm, you can expect to face my wrath an’ discipline. We’re Christians. Christians do what Jesus commanded, to love your neighbor the way you love yourself.”

  Orval Spencer muttered, “That college boy ain’t my neighbor.”

  Preacher Haynes whirled on the man, his expression so stern Little Nellie latched on to Rebekah again. “Every person who crosses your path, whether family, friend, or foe, is your neighbor, Brother Spencer, an’ you’ll do well to remember it.”

  As quickly as it flared, the preacher’s vehemence faded. A smile broke across his face, and he bounced his hands, encouraging everyone to stand. “Sing now. ‘Immortal, invisible, God only wise…’ ”

  Softly at first, then with growing volume, the people added their voices to the preacher’s. Rebekah sang, too, but the words and melody fought their way past a knot in her throat. Devlin meant well. She understood that. But if he persisted with his plans, he might very well tear the hollow apart.

  Cissy

  “See? I toldja this was a good spot to be alone.”

  Cissy tossed another mushroom into the basket and then peeked over the rim. Half-full already. She’d better slow down. Mama told her to come back to the house when she’d filled it, and she wasn’t ready to say good-bye to Nick.

  They’d been in her family’s cave for more than an hour, and not a soul had come around. The lantern in the middle of the dirt floor sent a soft yellow glow in all directions. Little plump shadows from the mushrooms fell toward the walls, and Cissy’s and Nick’s shadows—sometimes short and squatty, other times long and thin, depending on how close or far they were from the lantern—moved around the walls like dancers.

  Nick had spent his time prowling the small cave, poking at the wall with his penknife, knocking mushrooms loose from their hold, and kicking at rocks. He leaned against an outcropping and shrugged. “Yes, it’s private, but it isn’t very interesting. This isn’t much of a cave compared to Mammoth Cave.”

  Cissy’s clothes weren’t m
uch compared to his cousins’ wardrobe. Her house wasn’t much compared to the hotel. And now her cave wasn’t much, either. She balled her fists on her hips. “Well, la-di-da.” She imitated Real and Reflection. “I’m sorry it’s not much. But I didn’t think you came out here to see the cave. Thought you came to see me. Ain’t I interestin’ enough for ya?”

  A grin pulled one side of his lips higher than the other. She loved the way his eyes lit up when he grinned that funny, crooked way. He scuffed toward her, his shadow growing longer and wider on the wall behind him and swallowing hers up. He came so close she had to tip her head back to look into his green eyes.

  “You’re interesting,” he said.

  She swallowed, hoping. “Enough?”

  He nodded.

  She sighed and slid her arms around his neck. “I’m glad.”

  He eased his hands onto her waist. He glanced out the cave opening and then looked into her eyes again. He licked his lips. “May I kiss you, Cissy?”

  She angled her cheek to him.

  He shook his head. “Huh-uh. On your mouth.”

  Heat flooded her. She pushed loose and flounced away, dividing their shadows. “My daddy would skin me. An’ then he’d skin you.”

  “How would he know?”

  He wouldn’t unless she told. And she wouldn’t tell. Even so, her insides went all trembly thinking about letting Nick’s lips touch hers. She picked two mushrooms and lobbed them into the basket. “It ain’t proper to kiss on the mouth until you’re pledged.” She reached for another mushroom.

  He ambled up behind her. “Who told you that?”

  She flicked a frown at him. “Nobody told me. I just know.” She gave the mushroom a toss. It hit the rim of the basket and rolled across the ground. She huffed and started toward it.

  Nick caught her arm and turned her to face him. “It’s not true, you know. That you have to be…pledged…before kissing on the mouth. I’ve never been pledged, and I’ve kissed two girls already.”