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

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Hey—mister—!”

  He heard people speaking and felt hands pulling at him, but they could not stop him from sliding into the deep black void that seemed to be waiting for him.

  CHAPTER 17

  GOD IN THE CAMP

  Four days before Christmas, Rev. Jeremiah Irons rode into the yard at Lindwood, determination set on his face. He stepped off his horse, quickly tied him to the hitching post, then climbed the steps and knocked on the door. He was met by House Betty, who said, “Lawsy, Rev. Irons, you look plum froze! Come on in and warm yo’self.”

  Irons stepped inside, took off his mittens and fur cap, then stripped off his coat. “Tell Miss Melora I want to see her, will you, Betty?”

  “Yas, suh, I sho’ will.”

  The diminutive maid bustled off quickly, saying, “You go on into the parlor, Reverend.” Taking her advice, Irons went into the large, high-ceilinged room. He stood in front of the cheerful fire that blazed in the fireplace, clenching his hands nervously and glancing toward the door. Irons was not a man of a nervous temperament; quite the contrary, he was one of the calmest men imaginable under adverse circumstances. But he had slept little for several nights in a row, and now his even features were stretched tightly as he waited for Melora to appear.

  Glancing across the room, he caught a glimpse of himself in a beveled mirror and blinked in shock at his own image. You look like a criminal appearing before a hanging judge for a sentence, he thought grimly, then at once considered that in a sense, his condition was much the same. He had loved Melora Yancy for years and had waited for her to accept him as her husband. Now he had come to the conclusion that the thing could go on no longer. Either she’ll have me—or she won’t, he thought grimly, then turned to greet her as she entered the room.

  “Hello, Jeremiah,” Melora said, coming to stand before him. “Is something wrong?”

  “Yes, there is,” Irons said abruptly, then gave an embarrassed laugh at his greeting. “Well, no, not really.”

  Melora relaxed, smiling at him. “You look like someone just died. I was afraid—”

  He cut her off, saying, “Melora, I’ve got to know what you mean to do.” He reached out quickly and took her hands, his words rushing forth as if he were afraid to wait. “This isn’t sudden, is it, Melora? I guess you know what I want. I’ve loved you for years, and I’ve waited for a long time—”

  He broke off, and Melora stood there looking into his direct brown eyes, her hands compressed as he held to them almost desperately. A great surge of pity rose in her as she stood there, thinking of how faithful and patient he had been. No other man she knew would have done such a thing, and she understood that now she had come to a crossroad in her life. She thought of her love for Clay Rocklin—and, with one act of will, closed the door on it as firmly as one would close and seal the door of a tomb where the body of the dearest one in all the world had been placed.

  Jeremiah had started speaking again, pressing his cause. She waited until he was finished, then answered evenly, “Yes,

  Jeremiah, I’ll marry you.”

  Irons stood there stock still, his face gone pale. He had expected a rejection, and now that she stood there with her hands in his, her eyes confirming her words, he could only stare at her. Finally he reached out, drew her close and kissed her lips, then held her tightly in his arms. They stood there for a long moment, the only sound the ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer. Then he drew back, saying huskily, “You’ve made me a happy man, my dear!”

  “I must say one thing—”

  He put his hand over her lips gently. “I know. It’s about Clay, but I know all about that. There is a part of you that belongs to him, and no other man can ever change that. I’ve always known that, Melora, but you have some feelings for me, too, I believe. And that will be enough.” He smiled, adding, “Very seldom do any of us get everything we want, do we? But you and I will have children, and you need them! You were born to have children at your feet. And you’ll love me more when they come. Clay is my best friend in this world, and I’ll never be jealous of what you feel for him. There must not be anything hidden about this. He must come and go in our home, and he’ll be a godfather to our children. Isn’t that the way it will be, Melora?”

  Tears gathered in Melora’s eyes so that the sight of his face blurred. She whispered, “You’re such a good man, Jeremiah!” Then she put her face against his chest, and he let her lie there until, finally, she drew back. She smiled, saying, “Now when will it be?”

  “As soon as possible!” Irons said instantly. “I’ll have to go ask your father’s permission.”

  “You’ll get no argument from him.” Melora laughed. “Getting rid of an old maid daughter will suit him well enough!”

  “Not so, but I must talk with Buford anyway.” A thought struck him, and he said, “Come with me to the meeting at the camp. I’m preaching, and I’ll announce it to the regiment.”

  “Yes! And I’ll get up a crowd to go. You go by and talk to my father. Tell him to bring all four of the children to the meeting, and I’ll try to get Rachel to bring all the Franklins who can be spared.”

  “I’ll go by and see Clay,” Jeremiah said. “I want him to hear it from me—unless you’d rather tell him yourself?”

  “No, you’re the proper one. I … don’t think it will come as a great shock to him.” She said no more about Clay, and Irons understood. “We’ll all be there, so preach a good sermon, Chaplain.”

  “I probably will be so nervous I won’t be able to find my text!” Then he kissed her hand and left the room. She watched from the window as he rode toward Gracefield, and a pain filled her heart as she thought of Clay—but she had made her decision and knew that she had taken a road that led her away from him.

  A cavalcade made up of Rocklins, Franklins, and Yancys moved toward the camp of the Richmond Grays early on the afternoon of the twenty-third of December. The roads were packed with snow, forming a hard surface, and the weather was crisp and cold. Buford Yancy led the way with his four youngest children and Melora, followed by the Franklin clan, including Jake, Rachel, Grant, and Les. Dent and Raimey drove another carriage with David, Lowell, and Rena, in addition to Irons’s children, Asa and Ann, who were staying with a family from the church. Bringing up the rear was Clay, who drove a small closed carriage with his parents bundled up in the rear.

  Clay had said little as he drove with his parents. Susanna finally asked, “Are you all right, Clay?”

  “I’m fine, Mother,” he had said quickly, but a mile down the road, he said, “You’ll hear an announcement tonight. Jeremiah and Melora are getting married.” Then he added quickly, “I’m very happy for them. They’ll have a fine life together.” Thomas had opened his mouth to ask a question, but Susanna nudged him with her elbow, then shook her head firmly.

  “Yes, they will,” she said quickly. “A pastor needs a wife, and Melora will be a fine one for him.”

  Melora had told Rachel about her decision, and Rachel had gone at once to Jake, who was reading a book. She told him the news, and he had said, “That’ll be hard on Uncle Clay.”

  “It’s best for Melora, though. She needs a home and a family.”

  Jake had stared at her curiously, remarking, “I thought you were a romantic. All for love and things like that. This looks like a marriage of convenience.”

  “It’ll work out. And you’re going to the camp meeting tomorrow.”

  Jake had argued, but now as Grant drove the team along the icy road, he was glad to be going. Les sat in the front with Grant while Jake occupied the backseat with Rachel. She looked very pretty in a dark wine-colored dress, and the cold air put a sparkle in her eyes. She caught him looking at her and gave him a nudge with her elbow. “You behave yourself in the meeting, you hear me?”

  Jake grinned, wondering what Vince had done to occasion such a dire warning, but only said, “You afraid I’ll challenge the chaplain’s theology?”

  “No. Bu
t I remember how you sneaked off with that Wilcox girl at the meeting in Oak Grove.”

  “We were talking about the sermon,” Jake said slyly.

  Rachel snorted. “I know what you were up to!” Then she smiled, and the dimple in her cheek made her look younger. “One good thing about a camp meeting with the army—there won’t be any pretty girls for you to run off to the bushes with!”

  “I’d run off with you if you weren’t my sister.” He smiled at her astonished expression. “You’ve grown up into a handsome woman, Rachel. I don’t know a woman any more attractive.”

  Rachel blinked at him, taken aback. “Well, that’s the first compliment you ever gave me, Vince.”

  “It’s true, though.”

  A flush appeared on her cheeks, and she gave a short half-laugh of embarrassment. “Well, thank you. Not that it’s true—”

  “Captain Semmes will think so.”

  Rachel protested, but when they got to the camp, it was Jeremiah Irons and Captain Semmes who were waiting to greet them. Irons went at once to Melora, saying, “You look beautiful!”

  Melora looked around quickly, embarrassed at his words, but took his arm, saying, “I had a good talk with Asa and Ann before we left for the meeting. I hope they’ll not think I’ll be a wicked stepmother like in the fairy tales.” He hastened to assure her that they were delighted with having a mother, and they moved off toward the line of tents stretched out across the open fields.

  “Rachel, you’re looking more beautiful than ever,” Semmes said as he came forward to greet her.

  Jake moved to stand beside Rachel, a sly light in his eyes. “See, Rachel? I told you the captain would be here to say that.”

  Semmes looked up quickly, flushing a little, but then had to laugh. “Vince, you know me too well!”

  “We both have bad reputations, Semmes. I’ve just been doing my brotherly duty in explaining to my sister how little either of us are to be trusted.” Rachel covered the smile that rose to her lips as Semmes stood there not knowing what to say. Jake merely smiled at him. “I’m sure you’d have just such a talk with your sister if I came courting her, wouldn’t you?”

  Semmes had planned a little scene with Rachel, hoping to get her off to one side so that he could press his case. Now the look in Jake’s eyes told him that he would have difficulty achieving that. He frowned and said with as much grace as he could muster, “Perhaps so. We do have to protect the ladies.”

  “Well said!” Jake nodded, then turned to Rachel and gave a wink that only she could see. “Now you see that the captain agrees with me, Rachel.”

  “Surely I don’t need protection at a gospel meeting?” Rachel smiled.

  “Oh, the devil is an angel of light!” Jake nodded. “And wolves run about in sheep’s clothing. I think I’d better stay at your side, sister—just in case one of them tries to destroy the solemnity of the meeting by speaking to you improperly.”

  And stay by Rachel’s side he did, to the intense aggravation of Captain Leighton Semmes! There was a short meeting with the officers, and Jake did not move a foot away from Rachel the entire time.

  An officer wearing the stars of a general came into the meeting, and Jake asked Irons, who sat beside him, “Who’s that?”

  “Stonewall Jackson.”

  Jake turned a curious gaze on the general, having heard much about him. He was wearing a plain, worn uniform and carried an equally worn forage cap in his hand. He was not a handsome man, but there was something in his features that drew attention. His men, Jake knew, called him “Old Blue Light,” referring to his pale blue eyes, which were said to practically glow when Jackson led men onto the field of battle.

  Colonel Benton said a few words of introduction, then quickly added, “We’re privileged to have General Jackson with us this afternoon. General, it would be greatly appreciated if you would say a few words—or even more than a few.”

  Jackson got to his feet and turned to face the small group. He had a high-pitched voice, pleasant and very clear. “Colonel Benton, I am always made happy when the gospel of the Lord Jesus is proclaimed, and I must remark that your command is most fortunate to have a chaplain who does that as well as any minister of my acquaintance.” He nodded toward Major Irons, adding, “Chaplain Irons and I have enjoyed sweet fellowship, and it is gratifying to know that the Richmond Grays have such a servant of the living God to nourish them in these difficult days.”

  Jackson spoke briefly. Afterward, when he was introduced to the visitors, he took Clay Rocklin’s hand and paused. “I know that name—oh yes, Manassas.” His blue eyes glowed, and he remarked, “It was a pleasure for me to sign the recommendation that Colonel Benton sent to me, Sergeant.”

  Clay flushed at the reference to his commendation for bravery, saying only, “It was a small thing that I did, General.”

  Jackson shook his head. “No, Sergeant, it was not.” He moved on and, when introduced by Major Franklin to Rachel, bowed slightly, saying, “Your father is a good soldier, Miss Rachel. Are any other members of your family in the army?”

  Rachel had never seen a pair of eyes with such power. She suddenly took Jake’s arm, saying, “This is my brother, Vincent,

  General. He’s just recovering from a serious injury, but it’s his intention to begin his service immediately.”

  “Indeed?” Jackson put out his hand, and when Jake took it, he held it in a strong grip. “You will be welcome, Mr. Franklin.” He hesitated, then added, “Your father will have already given you wise counsel, but may I say just a word?”

  Jake was startled and stammered slightly as he answered, “W–why certainly, General!”

  Jackson held the young man with his eyes, and Jake felt as though the officer saw deeper than he would have liked. Finally Jackson said, “It is the duty of a soldier to put his life in jeopardy. Many of us will fall in the service of our country. That, sir, is not a tragedy as long as we are right with God. Have you put your trust in Jesus?”

  A silence had fallen on those gathered there, and the blood seemed to pound in Jake’s veins. He had expected advice, words encouraging him to give his all for the South or a statement of the importance of the war—anything but this! He felt Rachel’s presence as she stood so close that her arm brushed his, and he could only give his head a slight shake. “I–I’m afraid not, General.”

  Jackson smiled then, the severity of his face broken. “There is yet time, Mr. Franklin. I will pray for you.” Then he turned to greet the other visitors. Jake’s legs were like rubber, for the encounter had been like nothing he had ever experienced.

  Rachel was aware of his difficulty, and as they left the meeting to go to the service, she whispered, “Are you all right?”

  “Well, not really.” Jake swallowed and shook his head. “That fellow really knows how to shake a man up!”

  “Rev. Irons says he’s always like that,” Rachel said quickly. “He attends all the prayer meetings and talks to a lot of the men about God. And he seems as concerned with a Sunday school he started for black children back at his home as he is with the war.”

  “A strange man,” Jake muttered. “A blazing killer on the battlefield—and yet he’s got some kind of love in him that I can feel.”

  Jake escorted Rachel out onto the open field where the Richmond Grays had assembled for the service. There were no chairs, but a small platform had been built for the preacher.

  The service got under way when Chaplain Jeremiah Irons stood and welcomed them to the meeting. He paused, then said, “I must introduce one very special guest—the young woman who has agreed to marry me.” Melora was forced to stand, blushing but smiling, and then Irons said, “Now we can begin the service.”

  A lieutenant with a fine singing voice mounted the platform and, after a fervent prayer, began to sing “All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name.” There were no books, but the five hundred or so soldiers filled the field with their lusty singing. They sang “Rock of Ages,”

  “O Happy Day,�
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  “On Jordan’s Stormy Banks I Stand,” and several others.

  Rachel noticed that Jake was not singing at all, but said nothing to him. She knew her brother had stopped going to church when he was sixteen years old and had begun at that time—or even earlier—to make fun of all that was Christian. Even so, she could see that he had been troubled by Stonewall Jackson’s simple question. She began to pray for him.

  When the singing was over, Stonewall Jackson, having been asked by Colonel Benton to say a few words, rose and greeted the men, then asked them to pay careful attention to the message. “The power of the gospel is the greatest power there is,” he declared, his high voice carrying out over the ground. “More powerful than all the guns of our armies, North and South. For guns and cannons destroy, but the gospel of Jesus Christ restores and makes whole. You will soon be facing the enemy on the field of battle, and you may be facing the great Judge of all the earth. On that day, the only question that will have any importance is this: ‘Do I belong to Jesus Christ?’”

  As Jackson spoke this last appeal, Rachel saw that Vince had clenched his fists so tightly that they were white. His head was bowed, and when Irons stood and began to preach, he didn’t lift it at all, but stood there staring down at the ground.

  When Irons stood up, he opened his Bible to the nineteenth chapter of Matthew and began to read.

  “And, behold, one came and said unto him, Good Master, what good thing shall I do, that I may have eternal life?

  “And he said unto him, Why callest thou me good? there is none good but one, that is, God: but if thou wilt enter into life, keep the commandments.

  “He saith unto him, Which? Jesus said, Thou shalt do no murder, Thou shalt not commit adultery, Thou shalt not steal, Thou shalt not bear false witness,

  “Honour thy father and thy mother: and, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.

  “The young man saith unto him, All these things have I kespt from my youth up: what lack I yet?