Three Books in One: A Covenant of Love, Gate of His Enemies, and Where Honor Dwells

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Hello, Melora,” he called out, and the sound of his voice brought her head up. She was startled, and the sight of him brought a strange expression to her face. Clay moved along the bank, coming to stand beside her. “Out for a walk?”

  “Yes.” She was wearing a green woolen coat but no hat, so that her hair, the blackest he’d ever seen, outlined her against the gleam of the white snow. “I love to walk in the snow.”

  “You always did.” He settled back on his heels and thought of days gone by. “Once it snowed so deep that I had to carry you on my shoulders. You must have been about six years old.”

  Memory stirred her, and she stood there thinking of that time. “I remember. When we got back to our house, I made you some toasted bread and we put honey on it. Then you read to me out of one of the books you’d given me. I was more than six, though.”

  They walked along the bank, speaking of time past, but there was a constraint in her, something that kept her from giving him her full attention. She was a woman of warm moods, one who seldom allowed her difficulties to depress her, yet now there was none of the joy and happiness in her that Clay had come to expect.

  “What’s wrong, Melora?” He stopped, taking her arm, and waited for her to reply.

  She said nothing for so long that he thought she would not answer at all. Then she said steadily, “Clay, I’m going to marry Jeremiah.”

  A sharp pain ran through him, but he allowed none of it to show in his face. He had urged her to marry for a long time … but now that it had come, a sense of loss filled him, and he knew time would not dull that feeling. He nodded, then said, “It’s the best thing for you and Jeremiah, Melora.”

  “Is it best for you, Clay?”

  “I—guess it is,” he stammered. Then taking a deep breath, he summoned up a smile. “God knows I love you, Melora. But there’s no way we can ever be together.”

  Melora’s eyes began to fill, and she said in a voice that was not steady, “Clay, I’ve loved you ever since I was a little girl. First as a little girl loves a big brother. Then later, when I was twelve or thirteen, I had one of those crushes young girls get on older men. But when I became a woman, that changed—and now I love you as a woman.”

  They stood there, torn apart by the bond that drew them together and by the decision they had made together never to tarnish their love by going against what they knew was right in God’s eyes. Suddenly Clay reached out to put his arms around Melora, and as he held her fiercely, she began to weep. It was not something that she did often, but she could not help it. Her body was wracked by a storm, and he could do nothing but hold her.

  Finally she drew back, and in a motion as graceful and natural as anything he’d ever seen, she pulled his head down and kissed him. Then she whispered, “Good-bye, Mister Clay!”

  Whirling, she ran down the path beside the small creek, leaving him standing there. He knew it was good-bye forever, and the bleakness of the years ahead without her suddenly seemed longer than eternity. When he resumed his walk, his shoulders were stooped, and there was a leaden feeling in his chest that seemed to drag him down. He wanted to run away, to get as far from Gracefield as he could, but he knew he would not. God had saved him from a dreadful life, and now he would see if he could be the kind of man who would trust God when there was nothing to hope for—nothing but the promises of God.

  “Vince—Vince! Come on, get out of that bed!”

  Jake suddenly came out of a sound sleep, fighting at the hands that were pulling at his shoulders. “W–what—!” he gasped, peering wildly around as if he expected to find his room filled with wild animals. He sat up and threw himself backward, cracking his head against the solid mahogany headboard. “Ow!” he yelped, and then as his eyes focused, he saw Rachel standing beside his bed. “Rachel! What the devil—!”

  “Come on,” Rachel said, laughing at his confusion. “It’s almost six o’clock.”

  Jake shook his head, licked his lips, then peered at her, asking, “Six o’clock? Well, so what?”

  Rachel reached out and pulled the blankets half off Jake, saying, “You’re getting your riding lesson, remember? We talked about it last night. Now get out of that bed.”

  “Wait a minute!” Jake yelled, grabbing at the blankets and pulling them up over his waist. “I’ll come—but give me a chance to get dressed first!”

  “Well, get dressed, then!”

  He stared at her as she stood there waiting impatiently, then said, “Do you mind stepping outside while I put my clothes on?”

  Rachel lifted her eyebrows. “Aren’t we modest this morning! Remember me? I’m the one who gave you your bath and helped you put your pants on when you couldn’t do it yourself!” Then she laughed and left the room, saying, “All right, I’m leaving. But hurry up!”

  Jake waited until she closed the door, then got out of the bed and dressed hurriedly. He put on his heavy wool pants and shirt, then pulled on a pair of Vince’s boots—which were one size too small—and grabbed a heavy coat off a peg. When he came down the stairs, he smelled coffee and found Rachel just dumping a huge mountain of scrambled eggs into a bowl. “Pour the coffee while I dish out the food,” she said. When the food was on the table, they sat down and ate hungrily.

  “I’ll be glad to get away,” Rachel said. “I like to be around relatives, but they sure are pesky after a while!”

  “You’ve done a good job—you and Melora—taking care of them,” Jake commented. “Too bad the rest of the family can’t be here, the ones from the North.” He chewed a piece of toast, adding, “We haven’t seen Gideon and Melissa in a long time, have we?”

  Rachel gave him a quick glance. “Melissa? Do you mean Melanie?”

  Jake’s face flamed. Drat his memory! “Of course—Melanie! What’s wrong with me?”

  Rachel looked at him, concern in her eyes. “You’re better physically, but you don’t seem to be getting your memory back. And your voice—it’s still not like it was.”

  Jake shrugged, thinking hard of some way to distract her from her present train of thought, but could only say, “Well, the doctor said it might take a long time for my voice to heal. And I guess my memory will take more time, too, to get better.”

  Rachel had finished her food and sat there considering him thoughtfully. She was a woman of action, and it made Jake nervous when she kept still, for it was out of character for her. Finally she said, “I don’t understand the changes in you, Vince. I wish I knew if I could trust them. Sometimes … sometimes you seem to be a different man entirely.”

  Desperate, Jake gulped down his coffee and rose to his feet. “Oh, I guess I’ll be about the same when I get all healed up,

  Rachel. Come on, let’s get this riding lesson over with.” She rose to follow him, but he could tell she was reluctant to let the subject drop.

  They left the kitchen and went directly to the barn, finding Bruno milking. He spoke to them, saying, “I ain’t got them horses saddled yet, Miss Rachel. If you jes wait fo’ a minute—”

  “We’ll do it, Bruno,” Rachel replied and walked quickly down to where Crow and a bay mare were in the stalls. “First thing,” she said at once, “is for you to get a saddle on Crow.”

  Jake had watched the big stallion being saddled many times and knew that it took two men to do the job at times—depending on how Crow happened to feel. He liked the big black horse and felt that he could probably handle him, but knew that he had a role to play.

  “Rachel,” he said as anxiously as he could, “it takes Tad and Bruno both to saddle Crow. And I’m still weak in the leg, and my arm isn’t strong.”

  Rachel gave him a direct look. “It’s a little too late to back out now, Vince,” she said waspishly. She came to stand directly in front of him, and her brow was wrinkled with a frown. “Besides, this is the easiest thing you’ve got to do! I mean, the worst that can happen to you is that you’ll get kicked or bitten. Crow is tough, but he’s not a killer. If you can’t face a horse, I don’t know h
ow you could ever expect to face a man.”

  “Well, I guess you’re right, Rachel.” Jake nodded as though thinking it over. “Duvall can put a bullet in my brain, and anyone can get killed in the army.” He hesitated for a few seconds, aware that Rachel was watching him narrowly. “All right! I’ll do it!” he announced firmly.

  “That’s the way!” Rachel said with relief. “Now just remember, a horse knows how you feel. If you’re nervous or afraid, he knows that, and he’ll take advantage of it. So you have to ignore any sort of fear and just let that ol’ horse have it! Whap him across the nose if he tries to bite you—show him who’s boss!”

  “Right!” Jake moved toward the stall, picked up the bridle, then climbed up on the rails of the stall. Crow whirled at once, his mouth open, and all Jake could see was a cavernous mouth and what seemed to be dozens of big teeth! It was so sudden that he reacted by jerking backward—and sprawled full-length on the floor of the stable.

  “Oh, well done, brother!” Rachel laughed from where she had gone to sit down on a bale of hay and added as he picked himself up, “You sure showed him that time!”

  Jake glared at her, then snatched the bridle up. He said in a grating tone, “I hope you’re enjoying all this!” Then he climbed up again, but this time he was ready. He’d thrown the bridle up over the top rail, and when Crow swung around to bite him, he drove his fist right into the tender nostrils of the stallion. Crow blinked and let out a surprised neigh, then turned his head back toward the front of the stall. Slowly Jake picked up the bridle and eased it into position. Crow gave one snort and lifted his head, casting a wicked glance at Jake, who said, “Stop that!” Crow shook his head, but Jake managed to slip the bit into place and fastened the bridle before stepping down. “Now I’ve got him bridled, but that’s not the worst of the thing.”

  “Maybe we’d better get Bruno to help.”

  “No!”

  Rachel was amazed at the determined light in the man’s eyes and got to her feet, ready to help. Crow came out with his head reared high, staring down at Jake. The animal was in one of his bad moods, and for the next half hour Jake struggled with him, trying to get the saddle on. He tied the bridle to the top rail, but Crow still had a large arc to swing in. The saddle was heavy, and full strength had not come back to Jake’s hand, so time and time again he would heave the saddle up, only to have the big horse lurch away, sending it to the floor.

  Rachel bit her lip after Crow had not only knocked the saddle to the floor, but swung around and crushed Jake against the side of the stall. “Vince, let me help!”

  “Keep out of this!”

  Rachel looked at him, taken aback by the fire in his voice. But Jake’s blood was up now and he was not about to let any horse beat him. He didn’t realize he had spoken so forcefully to Rachel. He had, in fact, forgotten about her—his mind and spirit were caught up in the duel with Crow. He stood there staring at the animal, thinking. Suddenly Rachel saw him smile, and he went to the tack room and came back with a pair of hobbles. He shortened them until they were only a foot long, then fastened them to the hooves of the horse. Then he picked up the saddle, and though Crow tried to dodge, it was not enough, and the saddle went across his back.

  “Now, you black demon,” Jake said, breathing hard as he tightened the girth, “we’ll see who’s boss!”

  Rachel smiled. “Well, you’ve proved you’re smarter than he is. But he’s still bigger.”

  Jake stooped and removed the hobbles, then nodded. “I guess he knows that, too. Come on. Get the saddle on that mare.”

  Rachel saddled the mare and they led the two animals outside. Jake was a good rider, but he had seen the strength and cunning of the horse a few days earlier when Grant had tried to ride him. It had been all that Grant could do to outlast Crow’s wild pitches—and Grant was probably the best horseman on the place. Rachel seemed to be the only one who knew how to handle the horse so that he didn’t fight being ridden.

  “I’ll probably get piled up,” Jake said, looking up at the high saddle.

  “Are you afraid?”

  He gave her a quick nod. “Can’t help thinking about what he can do. I’ve been a cripple for a long time. Now if he falls on me or pitches me off and I break a leg, it’ll be worse than the first time.”

  Rachel was suddenly worried, and her hand caught at his sleeve. “Vince, don’t do it. Wait for a while. You’ve made a start. Now do that for a day or two, just until he gets used to you. Then you can ride him.”

  “No time for that,” Jake said. “Just say a little prayer that when I hit the ground, I don’t break anything.” He shook her off and, with a smooth movement that surprised her, swung into the saddle. Crow stood still, caught off guard by the suddenness of Jake’s mount—then he began to hunch his back in a sinister fashion.

  “Look out—!” Rachel cried out, for she knew the horse well, but it was too late. Crow gave a short hop forward, then leaped high into the air, twisting into a corkscrew shape. When his hooves hit the ground, Jake—who had been thrown off balance—was flung out of the saddle and hit the ground, landing on his back. He grunted as the air was driven from his lungs and rolled to one side to escape the horse’s plunging hooves. But Crow stopped at once, walked a few yards away, then turned and stared at Jake.

  “Are you hurt?” Rachel was beside him, sitting in the snow and holding his head on her lap. Her eyes were wide and she was trembling. “Vince—what is it?”

  Jake lay there with pain throbbing down his bad leg, unable to speak for a moment. But he wasn’t sure which was causing him the most trouble—the pain of having the air knocked out of him or the feelings that raced through him at Rachel’s touch. Then as some air came back into his lungs, he gasped, “I’m … all right.” Her face was only inches from his, and he smiled feebly. “Well, it … looks like you’re … back to nursing me!”

  He sat up, drew a deep breath, then stared at Crow. “You ornery outfit!” he said softly, then smiled. He liked the horse’s spirit and the humor he saw in the way Crow stood there staring at him, almost laughing at him. “Bring him over here, will you, Rachel?” he asked, getting to his feet painfully. “One of us has got to lose this fight—and I’ll be blasted if I’ll let it be me!”

  An hour later, the two horses were making tracks through the snow headed toward the brook. Jake felt as though his head had been driven between his shoulders. He had been thrown four times before he learned to anticipate Crow’s movement, and each time he’d gotten up more slowly. Rachel had grown afraid and had begged him to quit, but he had kept it up. Finally, when he had learned how to recognize that Crow was going to jump, he would reach out and strike the animal between the ears with a stick, shouting out, “No!” at the same time. Finally Crow could stand it no more, and all Jake had to do when he felt the huge muscles of the animal bunch was to shout, “No!”—and that took care of it.

  Now they came to the brook, and Jake said, “Let’s have a drink.” He stepped off his horse, and they tied the lines of the horses to a low limb, then went down to the creek. He stooped and broke the ice; then, making a cup of his hands, he brought some to his lips. It was so cold it hurt his teeth, but he grinned at her. “Thirsty work, learning how to be a man, sis.”

  Rachel shook her head, and there was a soberness in her eyes. “I’ve never seen you act so determined. All your life when something didn’t go right, you just walked away.”

  “Try some of that water,” Jake said. He waited until she bent and took a drink, then glanced around. He remembered something that Vince had told him about the place and said, “There’s that deep pool, the one where we used to swim.”

  Rachel nodded, then smiled at the memory. “I remember when I got too old to swim with you boys. I went home and cried all day.” Her eyes were soft as she let the memory linger, and she added, “That was the last time you ever did anything with me. You’d hunt with the boys, but you never played with me or took me anyplace after that.”

  Ja
ke had a bitter thought about Vince but could only say, “Boys are pretty mean sometimes.” He hesitated, then added, “Wish I could go back and change it.”

  “Do you?”

  “Why, sure!” Jake paused, suddenly afraid that he might say too much. She was beautiful as she stood in the snow, her cheeks reddened with the cold, and he felt a strange sense of longing run along his nerves. “If I had it to do over again, I’d—”

  When he paused, she prompted him. “What would you change, Vince?”

  “Well, I guess I’d take my little sister places.” He smiled, then shook his head. “I was watching Dent and Raimey last night. Have you noticed how they stay close together? Oh, I know they’re still newlyweds and she’s blind and all that—but still, there’s something in that pair I haven’t seen much of.”

  Rachel was staring at him. She whispered, “What do you see?”

  Jake gave a half-embarrassed laugh and reached out to push a curl of her hair back from where it had fallen on her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know, Rachel. It makes me feel like a fool poet talking about it.” He struggled with his thoughts, then said slowly, “For a man, women are the only real beauty in this world. A mountain or a sunset—they can be beautiful—but a man can’t put his arms around a sunset, can he? There’s some sort of an emptiness in a man that the whole sky and sea and all the stars can’t fill. Only a woman can.”

  Rachel was stunned. She had never dreamed such thoughts could be in Vince Franklin. She looked up at him, saying, “How long have you had thoughts like that?”

  Jake saw the softness of her lips and knew that here was a woman who could fill the emptiness in him. He started to lean forward, to tell her how he felt, but stopped as though someone had dumped cold water on him. Rachel would never be his, not in the way he wanted … she thought he was her brother! Drawing a deep breath, he shrugged and said as casually as he could, “Why, Rachel, I don’t know. I guess every man thinks about things like that.”