For the Love of the Land

by Bonnie Leon

  Rebecca looked at the seared earth. As far as she could see, nothing had lived. Trees stood like giant, blackened cornstalks. Singed brush huddled, shriveled and indistinguishable.

  “Daniel, nothing could have survived. Joseph and Callie are dead. Our son is dead,” Rebecca sobbed and slid to the ground. Drawing up her legs, she pressed her face against her knees. “He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead . . .”

  “No!” Daniel yelled. “He’s alive! We’ll find him!” He kneeled beside Rebecca and gripped her forearms. “We’ll find him.”

  Rebecca pressed her forehead against his chest. Daniel held her so tightly she could barely breathe. And yet it was not tight enough.

  Woodman rested a hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Callie and that lad of yers may still be in this world. They could be needin’ help.”

  “Do you think they’re still alive?” Rebecca asked, feeling a spark of hope.

  Woodman didn’t answer.

  Rebecca tried to quiet her trembling. She gazed all around her. Everything was decimated. Her eyes moved across charred earth, taking in blackened trees that stood like the bones of dead loved ones. “Where could they be?” She looked at one burned building and then another and another. “Where?”

  Daniel cupped the back of her head in his hand and then smoothed her hair. He stood and squared his chin, blinking back tears. “Woodman said they might be alive.”

  Rebecca continued to gaze at the devastation. “No one could have survived out there.” Using her sleeve, she wiped dirt and moisture from her face with her sleeve.

  Willa moved close to Rebecca and settled an arm gently about her shoulders. “Whether here or in heaven, that little boy is all right. God’s looking after him.”

  Rebecca choked back a sob. “I can’t bear it. Oh, God, please . . . I can’t bear it. Please . . . not Joseph.” Sobs shook her body.

  “We’ve got to look for him,” Daniel said.

  Willa held Rebecca close to her. “If anyone could survive, it would be Callie.”

  Rebecca nodded and stepped away from her mother-in-law. Her gaze fell upon the house. Brick chimneys stood like charred towers amidst black ruins.

  “Yer roight, Mrs. Thornton. That Callie’s a clever one,” Woodman said.

  For the first time, Daniel seemed to actually see Woodman. He stared at him and then said, “I thought you’d gone on walkabout. Why did you come back?”

  “Don’t know. Just had a feelin’.”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  Woodman gripped Daniel’s shoulder and gave it a brotherly squeeze. “Me and the boys will round up the horses.”

  He called for Jim, and the two of them, along with a couple other blokes, walked away, disappearing into the ghostly, smoke-filled world.

  Willa let out a slow breath. “We must have faith. God has not forgotten us.” Her chin quivered and her eyes filled with tears. She turned to Daniel and rested a hand on his chest. “Don’t give up hope.”

  He pulled his mother into his arms. In little more than a whisper, he said, “Keep praying, Mum.”

  She nodded. “I won’t stop.”

  Daniel stepped away. “Fire started in a hay pile?”

  “Yes,” Rebecca managed to say. “I saw the smoke and we tried to put it out.” Fresh tears gathered in her eyes. She couldn’t continue.

  “It was my fault,” Daniel said. “I didn’t watch over the new roustabouts. Heard they’d stacked wet hay and figured on getting to it, but . . .” He shook his head slowly back and forth. “Should have made sure it was scattered and dried.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Rebecca asked.

  Daniel turned tortured eyes on his wife. “When you stack hay it’s got to be dry.”

  “Yes, so it won’t mildew.”

  “Right. But damp hay can heat up in the sun. Get so hot underneath that it bursts into flames.” His eyes roamed over the smoldering station. He tightened his jaw. “If Dad had been ’ere this wouldn’t have happened. It’s my fault.”

  “It’s no one’s fault,” Willa said. “It was a mistake.”

  Rebecca returned to Daniel’s arms.

  Daniel crushed her to him, and pressing his cheek against her hair, he cried. Finally he held Rebecca away from him. He looked at the burned-out house and said, “I was so wrong. None of this matters. I thought it was so important. Curious how things change.” His voice was laced with bitterness. “All that matters now is Joseph and Callie. We have to find them.” He looked down at Rebecca and gently wiped away dirt and tears from her face. “We will find them.”

  “I pray you’re right.”

  Daniel took a deep breath. “I better help find the horses.”

  Willa put her arm around Rebecca’s waist. “Come along, then. We’ve got work to do.” She guided Rebecca toward the well. “We’ll need water for drinking and cleaning. I’ll get some buckets.”

  Hearing the authority and calm in Willa’s voice helped Rebecca feel quieter inside. With more resolve, she asked, “What about Joseph? We have to find him.”

  “And we will. But I doubt you want to walk, not out there.” She nodded at the burned-out flatlands. “Wait for the horses, dear.”

  “Right. I left a bucket beside Callie’s cottage,” Rebecca said. “I’ll get it.” Feeling as if her insides had been seared, she walked slowly toward a pile of smoldering rubble. It had been a home. “Callie,” she whispered, staring at the ruin. A pain cut into her chest, as if a knife had been buried there. Please, God, keep her and Joseph safe. Please bring them back to us.

  Daniel appeared, leading Chavive and one of the Morgans. “Have a look ’ere,” he said.

  “Chavive!” Rebecca shouted and ran to the horse. She wrapped her arms about the animal’s neck. “You made it. You made it.” She pressed her cheek against the mare’s neck.

  “Don’t know how she managed to find her way through the flames.”

  Rebecca took a closer look at the horse. “Is she all right?”

  “Yes. Right as rain.” He offered a dismal smile.

  “Where did you find her?”

  “She found me, actually. Came trotting up the road toward home.”

  “If she’s alive, maybe . . .”

  “Maybe. Don’t hope for too much, Rebecca.”

  A pulse of fear surged through her. “I thought you believed they were still alive?”

  “I do, but we’ve got to be . . . prepared. I found a lot of dead animals. And most of the stock is dead.”

  Woodman joined them with the other Morgan and Daniel’s stallion. He handed the stallion over to Daniel along with two pieces of rope. “No bridles, but these ought ta work, eh?” He tied the cords to the horses’ harnesses. Resting his hand on Chavive’s withers, he settled bloodshot eyes on Rebecca. “We’ll find ’em.”

  Her grief felt like a raw wound, and it choked off any reply. All she could manage was a nod. Resting her hands on the horse’s back, she realized that with no saddle she’d need a hand up. “Can you help me?” she asked Daniel.

  “I want you to stay,” he said.

  “No. The more people looking, the better.” With her eyes fixed on her husband’s, she said, “I’m going.”

  “All right, then.”

  Rebecca turned back to Chavive and pressed her left foot into Daniel’s cupped hands. Throwing her right leg over the horse, she settled onto the mare’s back and waited for the men to mount their horses. It was decided Woodman and Jim would ride east and Daniel and Rebecca north.

  Riders came up the road. It was Cambria, her father, and two of her brothers, Ran and Tanner.

  “Saw the smoke,” Mr. Taylor said. “Figured you could use some help.” He glanced about. “Looks like we’re too late.”

  “No. We need you,” Daniel said. “Callie and Joseph are missing.”

  “Oh, Lord,” Cambria said, her eyes filling with tears. “Rebecca, I’m so sorry.”

  Fresh tears pooled in Rebecca’s eyes. “We’ll find
them,” she said with more conviction than she felt.

  “All right, then, we better get to it,” Daniel said. “Jim, is it all right if you and Cambria ride together?”

  “Yeah.” Jim looked at Cambria, and the love in his eyes startled Rebecca. Strange how tragedy puts things into perspective.

  “Woodman, you take Ran,” Daniel continued. “And Tanner can ride with his father. The more of us looking, the better, eh?”

  Fearing the worst, Rebecca searched the charred land. Was it possible Callie and Joseph were still alive? The grass was ugly black stubble. Trees were scorched, their leaves shriveled and seared. There were animals too—charred. They’d fled yet still died. Rebecca’s hopes dwindled. But she continued on.

  They moved past dead cattle and horses. A lizard had tried to flee but had been roasted and left in the middle of the road. Cooked corpses of roos unable to outrun the blaze lay along the roadside and among groves of scorched trees. How could a woman and a small boy have escaped?

  “What will we do?” Rebecca asked Daniel.

  “What do you mean?”

  “We have no home. No son.” She choked back a sob.

  Daniel let out a long breath, his eyes continuing to search. “I don’t know.” He rode slumped forward. “This is my fault. My father was right to despise me. He knew I was too weak to manage the station.”

  “No. He didn’t feel that way, Daniel. He knew you had a good mind and courage. But he also understood that he’d kept such a stranglehold on you that you would need time to build confidence and discover your abilities.”

  “How can you know that?”

  “The day I planned to leave Thornton Creek, your father’s attorney gave me a letter. It was from your father. In it he told me how he was to blame for your pain—that he’d been too heavy-handed with you. He wrote about what a fine lad you’d been and how his harshness had hurt you so.

  “He was proud of the man you’d become, and he said that in spite of him you had a strong spirit and he knew in time your strength would be renewed along with your compassion.” Rebecca hesitated. She hadn’t wanted Daniel to know that she’d stayed because of his father’s urging. “He thought I was the one God had chosen for you—to stand at your side.”

  “I thought you stayed because you wanted to.”

  “I did want to. But it was your father who helped me see how deeply I love you.” She reached across to Daniel and grasped his hand. “I loved you long before I knew I did.” Meeting his eyes, she continued, “You’re a good man, and I’m proud of you. You’ve done a fine job of running Douloo. No one could have done better.”

  “My father would have.”

  “Your father was not perfect . . . remember?”

  Daniel was quiet.

  “No man can do more than his best. And you have done that.”

  Rebecca’s eyes fell upon something lying in the burned grass. She let out a gasp. She knew what it was and moved Chavive ahead slowly.

  Daniel joined her.

  They stopped, and the horses stood side by side. Daniel and Rebecca stared at the charred remains of Joseph’s buggy. Shards of burned cloth clung to its metal frame, and like miniature flags they flapped in the breeze. Four melted wheels looked like black, blistered feet.

  Daniel jumped from his stallion’s back and dropped to the blackened earth. Kneeling beside the buggy, he lifted out a piece of Joseph’s blanket. “Where is he? Dear God, where is our son?” he demanded, then pressed the blanket to his face and wept. He looked at Rebecca, who knelt beside him. “I wouldn’t do this to someone I loved. Why is God allowing this?”

  Rebecca took the fragment of blanket. “I don’t know. But I know we can trust him,” she said, feeling a renewed faith. “He won’t forsake us.” Looking up and over the blackened grasslands, she could envision Callie grabbing Joseph and sprinting across the dry prairie. But where would she have run to? She took Daniel’s hand. “We’ll find them.”

  Hands clasped, Rebecca and Daniel returned to the horses. Daniel helped Rebecca onto Chavive’s back. “I know God’s ’ere,” Daniel said. “He hasn’t abandoned us.” With a shuddering breath, he continued. “And he can have Douloo. I’ll do whatever he wants with it. I’ll walk away forever if that’s what he wants. If only he’ll return my son.”

  Tears spilled onto Rebecca’s cheeks as she looked down on her bereft husband. Rather than feeling weak and hopeless, she felt strength and trust. “God will do as God will do,” she said. “We have to trust him.”

  Daniel nodded. He climbed onto his horse and led the way forward.

  Rebecca’s thoughts returned to the question of where Callie would have gone. She felt as if she should know. Probing memories, she tried to grab hold of the scrap of information she knew lay hidden somewhere in her mind. She couldn’t grasp it.

  “Maybe the others have already found them and are searching for us, eh?” Daniel said, trying to sound cheery.

  Still struggling to listen to her inner self, Rebecca kicked Chavive’s sides and moved on, clutching the piece of tattered fabric that had been her son’s blanket.

  Daniel and Rebecca continued their wretched search. Praying and hoping to find Joseph yet afraid of finding him. The fire had spared nothing. Rebecca felt as if she had awakened amidst a nightmare of charred plants and trees and dead animals. She gazed out across the station at billowing smoke that told of the fire’s continued life. It would eat its way across the district. She feared for her neighbors.

  Daniel pressed his feet hard into the stirrups and straightened his legs, lifting himself out of the saddle. He stared at something in the distance. “What’s that?”

  Rebecca squinted, trying to see what was moving toward them. “It looks like someone’s walking!” Lord, let it be Callie. Let it be Joseph. Rebecca kicked Chavive’s sides and galloped across the sooty ground. Daniel’s horse ran alongside.

  “Callie?” she called. “Callie, is that you?” And then her eyes told her what she’d been hoping to see. It was her friend carrying Joseph in her arms. The little boy didn’t move. He lay limp in Callie’s embrace. Please let him be alive. Please. Lord, be merciful.

  Callie’s dark skin was dusky with soot. Her feet and ankles were burned, and she was limping. Joseph lay still across her arms.

  Rebecca pulled up Chavive and leaped from her back before the horse had completely stopped. “Callie! I’d nearly lost hope!” Rebecca cried, stumbling toward her friend and never taking her eyes from the child in her arms.

  Daniel threw one leg over the side of his horse and jumped to the ground. He strode toward Callie.

  “Glad ta see ya. And I’m thankful.”

  Rebecca’s eyes remained on her son. “What happened?” She braced herself to hear the worst.

  “When I seen the fire, I run.”

  Rebecca closed the final steps between herself and Callie. Joseph was nearly as black as the servant.

  “I run for the cave, mum.”

  “The cave?”

  “Yais. With the paintings.”

  “Oh. The cave.” Rebecca felt as if she were sleepwalking. “Yes. The cave. I remember.”

  “Roight. Wal, the fire was going so fast I picked up Joseph and we run.” She hugged him more closely. “I was truly scared. Didn’t know if we would make it. But I went fast as I could.”

  “I knew you would do all that was possible.” Rebecca reached for her son. “Can I have him?”

  “Yais, mum.” Callie held out the little boy.

  Her heart breaking, Rebecca clutched her son. And then he stirred.

  “Mummy,” said a tiny, raspy voice.

  Astonished, Rebecca looked down at the soot-covered child. “Joseph?”

  “Mum.” He opened his eyes and circled Rebecca’s neck with his chubby arms.

  Rebecca pressed him against her chest. “You’re alive!” She smiled broadly at Daniel. “He’s alive!” Closing her eyes, she said, “Thank you, Lord!”

  Daniel’s smile was bro
ad, and his blue eyes brimmed with tears. He rested a hand on Joseph’s head.

  “Yais, mum. Course he’s alive. We hid in the cave, and the fire went ’round us. It was roight smoky, but we stayed close ta the ground and it was all roight.” She smiled at Joseph. “He was a brave lad. Didn’t even cry.”

  Daniel swept Rebecca and Joseph into his arms. Husband and wife clung to each other, their son between them. Still holding on to one another, they dropped to their knees. Finally Daniel scooped Joseph into his arms. He hugged him and said, “Thank you, God, for my son.”

  He looked at Callie. “Thank you.”

  Callie smiled and bobbed her head. “I love ’im too, Mr. Thornton.”

  With Joseph tucked safely away in his arms, Daniel looked at Rebecca. “You asked what we should do. We’ll begin again. There will be a new Douloo.” He looked up at the blue sky and closed his eyes. “I praise God for his mercy. I had no faith, but he remained faithful.”

  He looked at Rebecca and smiled. Draping his free arm about her shoulders, he pulled her close. “The Thorntons are not done in, not yet . . . not ever.”

  Bonnie Leon dabbled in writing for many years but never set it in a place of priority until an accident in 1991 left her unable to work. She is now the author of more than a dozen historical fiction novels, including The Heart of Thornton Creek and Journey of Eleven Moons. She also stays busy teaching women’s Bible studies, speaking, and teaching at writing seminars and conventions. Bonnie and her husband, Greg, live in Glide, Oregon. They have three grown children and four grandchildren. You can contact Bonnie at www.bonnie leon.com.