The Spirit of Appalachia, Book 2
Beyond the Quiet Hills
Gilbert Morris and Aaron McCarver
© 1997 by Gilbert Morris and Aaron McCarver
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopying, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-4412-6233-2
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
Cover by Dan Thornberg
Dedication
This book is dedicated with deep affection to two of the best friends anyone could have, my sisters, Marilyn Slatton and Ginger Bradford.
To Marilyn, thank you for always being there for me and encouraging me to strive for the best in every area of my life. You always made sure I had everything I needed, from money for school to a hair-combing to a special hug. Your example of how God brought you through difficult times to shining for Him will always be an inspiration to me.
To Ginger, thank you for your complete and total acceptance. Your steadiness in every part of your life, from spiritual to personal, is something I have tried to add to my life. Thank you for sharing your love of reading by giving me my first “grown-up” book. The other gifts that first book led to are immeasurable.
You both make me so proud! You have homes that are Christ-centered, and you put your families ahead of the things of this world. Thanks for the wonderful Christian examples!
I once heard it said that God made big sisters to take care of their younger siblings. Well, God certainly knew how much care I would need because He gave me the two best sisters ever!!! Thank you both for always watching out for me, for listening every time I have a problem, and for supporting me. But most especially, thank you for just loving me.
I love you both with all my heart! A.M.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Character List
Part I: Hawk’s Sons
1. Bride and Groom
2. Two Become One
3. Departure
4. Sixteenth Birthday
5. Jacob and His Father
6. Betrayal
7. The New Family
8. The Young Lion
9. Christmas Surprise
Part II: Watauga
10. Meeting at Chota
11. The Watauga Association
12. A Little Fishing
13. The Little Carpenter and The Carpenter
14. Presents for Abigail
15. Sheriff Spencer
16. A Brother’s Choice
17. Bread Rounds
18. Iris and Amanda
19. Dancing Lessons
20. An Uninvited Guest
21. Upcoming Events
22. Celebration With the Cherokee
Part III: Brothers
23. Jacob Goes Courting
24. Hearts
25. Lord Dunmore’s War
26. The Heroes Return
27. A Proposal
28. Plans for the Future
29. The Transylvania Purchase
Part IV: The Young Lions Roar
30. Revolutionary Fervor
31. Decisions
32. The Wounded Lion
33. Preparations for War
34. Washington, Lincoln, and Nancy Ward
35. On the Warpath
36. The Lion’s Heart
37. Akando’s Attack
38. Amanda’s Father
39. America’s First Birthday
Epilogue
Notes to Our Readers
About the Author
Back Cover
Character List
They came over the Misty Mountains to forge new lives on the Appalachian frontier. They brought their hopes and plans to a land of freedom and opportunity. But they find they must deal with the past before they can build the future of their dreams . . . Beyond the Quiet Hills.
Jehoshaphat “Hawk” Spencer—He came west to escape a painful past and carved out a new life on the frontier. He must now use his newfound faith to face the past or see the life he has built destroyed.
Elizabeth MacNeal Spencer—After losing her first husband, Patrick, God has given her another love. She must now use her strong faith in God to bring two families together and make them one.
Jacob Spencer—Abandoned by his father after his mother died giving him life, he has been raised by loving grandparents. When his father comes back to Williamsburg to claim him, Jacob must deal with all the bitterness and anger he has harbored in his heart for a man who claims to be changed by God.
Andrew MacNeal—The death of his father brought his world crashing down, but a man of the frontier has restored his dreams. Now a jealous stepbrother tests his patience and his faith when both fall in love with the same girl.
Abigail Stevens—A lovely young woman of the frontier whose future is set with a childhood friend. Then his handsome stepbrother comes into her life and challenges all she holds dear, including her faith in God.
Amanda Taylor—Abused by her father, she longs for acceptance and love. But the one her heart secretly desires loves another.
Sequatchie—Torn between two worlds, this Cherokee chief may be the only one who can save the frontier settlement and help the troubled son of his best friend.
Zeke Taylor—He vowed to get even with Hawk for interfering with his family, but his wife’s resilient faith in God halted his desire for revenge. Then he yields to old temptations and sets in motion events that could destroy them all.
Part I
Hawk’s Sons
November 1771-December 1771
The young lions do lack, and suffer hunger: but they that seek the Lord shall not want any good thing.
Psalm 34:10
Chapter One
Bride and Groom
As Elizabeth MacNeal stepped outside the small cabin, she took one startled look at the glistening black bear standing not ten feet away and froze in her tracks.
Hawk had warned her that the bears around Watauga were prone to wander close to the settlement, but she had only seen them at a distance since coming to the Appalachian Mountains. Now her heart leaped up into her throat at the enormous size of the bear. Suddenly he reared, his beady black eyes meeting hers. His coat was sleek and he was fat; thus she knew that most of his kind had already retreated into caves for the winter. A shiver of fear ran through her at the sight of the long claws and sharp white teeth as he slightly opened his mouth.
For a moment she could not think and had a sudden impulse to whirl and dash back into the cabin, but then she remembered what Hawk had told her. The black bears around here aren’t dangerous. Most of them are shy. All you have to do is clap your hands and shout at them and they’ll turn tail.
Abruptly Elizabeth swung the bucket she carried in her right hand, throwing it toward the bear and crying out loudly, “Shoo! Get out of here, you old bear!” Although the bucket missed, to her delight the bear uttered a startled Woof!, dropped to all fours, and scurried frantically away. As he disappeared into the timber among the scrub trees that lined the eastern border of t
heir farm, Elizabeth clapped her hands together and smiled. “Now, that’ll be something to tell Andy and Sarah!” she exclaimed.
Strolling across the open space, she bent down and picked up the bucket as she stared at the large bear tracks. She had wanted trees and grass close to the cabin, but Sequatchie, her Indian friend, had warned her, “That’s for town people. Out here you don’t need to leave any way for the enemy to creep up on you—and besides, when a forest fire comes you’ll be glad of the open space.”
Elizabeth strode purposefully along the worn path leading down to the creek that wound its way around the tall growth of walnut trees. She was not a tall woman, but very erect with a fully developed upper body and a tiny waist. Her thick blond hair bounced on the back of her neck, and as the morning sun struck it, brown highlights glinted as she swept it back over her shoulders from time to time. She had green eyes and a broad, well-shaped mouth. Her naturally fair complexion had been darkened by the sun so that now she had a rich golden tan, except for a few freckles, almost invisible, that speckled her nose. At the age of thirty-four Elizabeth was a beautiful and robust woman with a soft depth and a strong spirit. Those who knew her well admired the great vitality and keen imagination that lay beneath her calm exterior. Her firm lips and a determination in her eyes expressed the strong will and the deep pride that ran in her. As she moved along the path toward the creek, she exuded an air of serenity and happiness.
She threaded her way through a small clump of fledgling walnut saplings that were held in a crook of the creek’s arm, until she came to the edge of the water. Stooping down, she reached forward with one hand and scooped up some of the clear water and tasted it.
“Better than Boston water,” she murmured. As she stooped there beside the creek she thought how different her life was now that she had crossed the Misty Mountains, the Appalachians, and made her way into the uncharted wilderness of timber and streams and mountains. Lifting her eyes as though she could see the city she once called home, she thought about the greater change that was soon coming into her life.
Thoughtfully she held the bucket with both hands, then lowered it until the cold water filled it almost to the brim. Straightening up, she put it down on a patch of dead brown grass and stood for a moment, her clear eyes thoughtful and meditative.
“I’ll have a new husband today!”
She whispered the thought aloud and then glanced around self-consciously, laughing slightly at herself. “I might as well talk out loud,” she said, looking up at a woodpecker that was drumming industriously, seeking larvae in a towering chestnut tree. She watched as the bird extracted something and flew off. Her eyes followed him until he came to a hole in the top of a dead tree and disappeared. “I wonder if you’ve got some babies in there,” Elizabeth said. She did not know when she had picked up the habit of talking to herself, but it had been since she had left Boston and spent long hours alone in the village of Watauga.
Finally she picked up the bucket, thinking suddenly of her first husband, Patrick. The memory of his face leaped into her mind, and her lips curved tenderly as she thought of him. When he had first been killed in an Indian raid on their journey west, she had thought sorrow would be her portion for the rest of her life. Slowly she had learned that God can even take away the sharp, bitter edge of grief. Now as she strolled along through the tall trees that stretched their arms up to heaven as if in prayer, she was suddenly grateful that she had Andrew and Sarah. Their looks and actions reflected so much of their father that he would never be forgotten, not as long as they were there.
A thought occurred to her and she put the bucket down and left the path, crossing rapidly into the thick canopy of trees. She reached a dying ironwood tree and put her ear to the slick surface. A pleased expression crossed her face when she heard the humming inside, and she whispered, “Honey in there! You just wait! I’ll have Sequatchie get me some of that. Then we’ll see some honey cakes!”
Leaving the tree, she turned to go back to where she had placed the bucket. Her thoughts were somehow still on her past. She had dreamed of Patrick sometime during the night, but it had not been a clear dream, for Hawk had been part of it, also. As she thought of the tall man she would be marrying in a few hours, she suddenly felt joy rise in her, and deep in her spirit she cried out, Lord, thank you for sending two wonderful and good men into my life!
Leaning over to pick up the bucket, she was slightly startled when a voice said, “Well, the bride’s up early.” Glancing swiftly across the opening she saw Hawk, who had emerged from the small cabin beside the larger one, where he had been staying since he had ceased his wilderness wanderings. A gladness filled her heart as he came to stand beside her, smiling down at her. As she gazed into his eyes, she could not speak for a moment, so happy was she.
“Nothing better for a bride to do than haul water?” Hawk smiled, lifting one eyebrow. He reached out to put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it slightly.
Even this light touch gave her pleasure. Elizabeth smiled up at him, thinking, He’s such a fine-looking man, but he doesn’t know it. That’s a good thing! He was, she knew, exactly six feet tall and weighed one hundred eighty-five pounds. He was wearing buckskins, as usual, which were stretched tightly across his broad shoulders, and his wrists were thick and strong. His thick hair was as black as any man’s she had ever seen. It had a slight wave in it as it fell forward over his forehead, and he had tied it behind in a queue with a rawhide thong. The eyes he put on her were very dark blue, the darkest she had ever seen. She knew also that when he was angry they looked almost black. Impulsively she reached up and placed her hand on his cheek. He had a square face with a strong cleft chin and a straight English nose. His skin was deeply tanned from years of being outdoors, and now he covered her hand with his, humor touching his eyes.
“You’ve got nothing better to do on your wedding day than to stand around and gawk?”
Elizabeth moved her hand back and shook her head. “You shouldn’t see me before the wedding, Hawk. That’s bad luck.”
“Luck’s got nothing to do with us, Elizabeth. I once put a lot of stock in luck and good fortune and things like that,” he said quietly. His voice was a soft, pleasant baritone, and he kept his eyes fixed on her as he added, “But it was the Lord that brought us together, not luck.”
At Hawk’s words Elizabeth smiled, and a strange light came into her eyes.
“Why are you smiling?” he asked.
“It’s just that it’s so good to hear you talk about the Lord. There were times when I never thought it would happen. I suppose I don’t have much faith.”
Hawk’s eyes clouded for a moment as memories swept over him. Long years of being alone had made him a rather quiet man who lived within his thoughts. He had lost his first wife at the birth of his son, Jacob, and the overwhelming grief that tore at him had driven him away from his home in Williamsburg. He had wandered west to the mountains of the frontier and had survived, becoming a skilled long hunter. Only recently had he returned to the Lord, and as he looked down at Elizabeth he felt a sudden gladness, knowing that his years of loneliness would end today.
Hawk put his hand out and ran it over her locks of blond hair and said nothing. It was strange, he thought, how the two of them did not always need to speak. Somehow she knew what was in his heart, as he knew the thoughts she pondered in hers. He suddenly picked up her hand and held it for a moment, then kissed it.
A flush came to Elizabeth’s cheeks. It was a gallant thing for him to do, and one that he did rather awkwardly, but her heart warmed that he had within him what many men lacked—the willingness to show affection. She suddenly reached up, put her hands behind his neck, and pulled his head down. When his lips touched hers, she leaned against him and held him close. Then his arms came around her and she felt the love in his embrace and was glad, for she knew that same love herself.
“That’s enough,” she said, laughing breathlessly and shoving him back with a hand on his chest.
>
“Well,” Hawk said, his dark eyes dancing, “you can say that now, but you wait till later.”
“Oh, really!” Elizabeth teased saucily. “Well, we’ll see about that!”
“Where do you want to have the wedding?”
“I think it would be nice to have it outdoors. It’s such a beautiful day.”
“A mite cold,” Hawk suggested.
“That’s all right.”
“I suppose it is,” Hawk said idly. He looked up and seemed to be studying a bird that was winging its way high overhead in the hard blue sky. “If you get cold,” he said innocently, “it won’t matter. You won’t stay that way long.”
Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open, and she had a desire to giggle but held it back. “You are awful!”
“No, I’m nice,” Hawk said. “I’ll prove that to you very soon now.” But he saw the humor rise in her eyes and was glad that he had found a woman with whom he could share a joke.
“I suppose being married under God’s sky in this beautiful place is the best idea, since we don’t have a church.” He turned to her then, and a hesitation came to him. “Are you sure about this, Elizabeth?”
“Am I sure I want to marry you?”
“I mean, should we get married now? We could wait.”
Elizabeth knew this was thoughtfulness on Hawk’s part. He was really asking her if it was too soon after the death of her first husband. She warmed at his concern and said, “We’ve been over all this, Jehoshaphat.”
Hawk could not help but smile. “You only call me that when you’re upset with me.”
“Jehoshaphat Spencer. I’ll call you that when I’m upset with you. I’ll say, ‘Jehoshaphat Spencer, you stop that this minute!’”
“Well, we’ve got a preacher to marry us. Then I’ll be taking Paul and Rhoda to Williamsburg so that they can be married, too.”
“That’s strange, isn’t it?” Elizabeth said thoughtfully. “We’ve got a minister to marry us, but there’s nobody to marry the minister.”
“It is odd, I suppose.” The two talked for a few moments about Paul Anderson and Rhoda Harper. They had come west at the same time as Elizabeth, when Paul was a minister-to-be and Rhoda was a tavern wench. It had been a source of wonder to everyone when Rhoda Harper found God’s love and forgiveness and Paul Anderson asked her to be his wife.
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