Sevier looked up into her eyes and smiled. “This wasn’t the kind of dance I thought about.”
Catherine looked directly into Sevier’s gray eyes and, despite the danger, smiled. “We’ll have time for a better dance another day.”
The fight started in earnest then, and there were many occasions of heroism as they all fought for their lives. Ann Robertson, James’ sister, poured boiling water from washpots on a group of braves trying to set fire to the fort walls. She was wounded by one of the arrows but stayed at her post until the scalded Indians gave up and scampered back to safety.
During the heat of battle Hawk kept his two sons beside him, both of them firing and reloading with a furious activity. He looked over at Jacob and said, “That was a good shot, son.”
Jacob flushed with pleasure and then shook his head. “They’re brave men.”
“They always were,” Hawk nodded. Then he looked over at Andrew and said, “Keep your head down.”
“Right, Pa, and you, too.”
Finally the action ceased, and as the Indians pulled back beyond musket range, Hawk said as he stood up, “I think we won this time.”
“You think they’ll come back, Pa?” Andrew asked eagerly, his eyes alight with the excitement of battle.
“They may, but I doubt it. I think they’ve had enough. They lost quite a few braves.”
There was rejoicing in the fort but sadness, too, for there had been several killed and many wounded, and Hawk learned from Elizabeth the next day that Lydia Bean had been captured. “I was afraid it would happen,” she said and bit her lip nervously. “Poor Lydia.”
One bit of heroism that the defenders of the fort only learned later was how Lydia Bean’s life was saved. After being captured, she was taken to Togue, where she was condemned to be burned. She was tied to the stake and the fire lighted, when Nancy Ward appeared. She kicked the burning embers and stomped out the fire, glaring at the braves who were staring at her. After she untied Lydia Bean, she turned and said with scorn, “It revolts my soul that the Cherokee warriors would stoop so low as to torture a squaw!” She took Lydia away from the angry stares of the braves and kept her safe at her own home, where Lydia taught the Indian squaws how to make butter and cheese before she was returned to the settlement.
Dragging Canoe was defeated. He set up his camp and sent out raiding parties, but he himself was unable to carry on any more of the fighting. He was a bitter man, and as the Cherokee pulled back, he was already plotting other raids on the white settlements.
One of the raiding parties was under the leadership of Akando, who was as violent as Dragging Canoe. Akando led his small band of warriors through the countryside, murdering and butchering every white person found, except for two. Creeping up with three of his warriors early one morning, he captured two white men. They were in a drunken stupor and easy prey for the silent Indians who crept into their camp like ghosts.
Zeke Taylor and William Crabtree had been drinking all night. They had heard of the ravages of the Indians, and Zeke was worried about his family, while Crabtree was simply rejoicing in what might be the deaths of some of his enemies.
Zeke Taylor woke when something sharp touched his throat, and when he opened his eyes and saw the coppery face marked with war paint, he knew he was a dead man. He heard Crabtree, who lay a few feet away, begging for his life and knew it was hopeless.
Akando laughed at the pleas of Crabtree and shook his head. “We will not kill you quickly. We will see how much pain you can stand.”
“No, don’t do that!” Crabtree begged. “We’ll help you! Don’t kill us!”
“How can you help us?” Akando asked, his cruel eyes glittering.
“You know Hawk Spencer?”
“Yes, I know him. He is my enemy.”
“Let us live, and we’ll help you get him. He’s at Watauga. It won’t be hard to trap him. Just let us live . . . !”
Akando used his knife on Crabtree but not seriously. An idea was forming in his mind, and finally he said, “You can live until you help us catch the Hawk. If you do not, then you will go through the fire!”
Chapter Thirty-Six
The Lion’s Heart
Hawk had come to Jacob’s room and now stood watching quietly as the young man pulled his things together and packed them. Sequatchie had come to him three days earlier, saying, “Jacob holds me to my bargain. I promised to take him home when he became a man, and I think I must go.”
“Do you think it will be safe?” Hawk had asked.
“Yes. My people have had enough. They have gone back to the Overhill towns.”
Hawk sat down on the bed, half his mind analyzing the risk that Sequatchie and Jacob would have on their trip back through the mountains toward Williamsburg. The militias of Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, and Virginia had poured into the country to fight the Cherokee. They had pushed them back to the Overhill towns so that the frontier was safe. North Carolina had also accepted Watauga as Washington County, and there would be more protection for the area from now on.
“I don’t need to say how much I’ll miss you, Jacob.”
Jacob did not turn around but muttered, “Well, it’s been good of you to have me, Pa.” He finished his packing and turned around, and his father stood up. The two of them were almost the same height, and although Hawk was much heavier, they appeared to be looking into a mirror.
“Jake, be careful about Sequatchie. As a matter of fact, I really wish you weren’t going. You know the feelings against the Cherokee are pretty hot right now, so watch out for him.”
“Well, I think it’ll be all right, Pa, but I’ll be careful.”
A silence then filled the room, and Jacob said awkwardly, “I guess I’ll move my stuff to the door.”
“I’ll help you.”
The two men went to the main room, and as Jacob turned to say good-bye to the rest of the family, Hawk stood back. He watched as Elizabeth, Sarah, and Andrew came to bid Jacob good-bye, and noted that Andrew bore no ill will, for which Hawk was grateful.
Jacob said good-bye to Hannah and Joshua, then looked up at Elizabeth, saying, “I’m going to miss these two.”
“They’ll miss you, too, Jacob. They really love you—but then we all do.”
Sarah said, “You’re going to say good-bye to Iris and Amanda, aren’t you?”
“Sure I am.”
“I’ll saddle your horse and put your things on the packhorse, Jake,” Andrew said.
“Thanks, Andrew.”
Actually, Jacob was glad to get outside the cabin. He felt a strange sense of depression and had hardly slept at all. He had thought it would be a pleasure to get away from Watauga, especially to distance himself from Abigail. Now that the time had come, however, a great emptiness welled up inside him. He kept his head down as he crossed the path and looked up in surprise to see that Amanda was coming to greet him.
His lips were stiff and he tried to speak naturally. “Hello, Amanda.”
“You mean good-bye, don’t you?” Amanda seemed rather unnatural and her face was pale. “You want to take one look at the yearling before you go?” She did not really want Jacob to see the calf, but she wanted to say her good-bye in private. She had been praying all night, and now she knew that this might be the last time she would ever see Jacob Spencer.
“I guess so.”
The two walked to the barn and stepped inside, and Jacob glanced indifferently over at the calf, saying, “She’s a fine calf.”
“Jacob, I didn’t come in here to look at the calf. I just wanted to talk to you.” She had prepared the speech all night long, but now that it was time to say it, she hardly knew how to find the words. “I . . . I’ve been wanting to tell you how sorry I am.”
“Sorry for what, Amanda?”
“You know—for what I said to you about your being selfish.”
“You didn’t go far wrong. I am selfish.”
“I felt so bad about it.”
“Don’
t worry. It’s all right.”
Jacob turned to leave, but she took his arm, and when he turned around, she swallowed hard. “I’ll miss you, Jacob.”
Jacob looked down at her and was struck again with how she had grown up. He remembered how thin and frightened she had been when he had first seen her. She would not even hold her head up then, so afraid she was of her father and so intimidated by his abuse. But something had happened to her, and he knew it had something to do with her surrender to God. He forced a smile and said, “I’ll miss you, too. I won’t have anyone to go fishing with me.”
It was not what he wanted to say, and he felt he was babbling like an idiot.
Suddenly Amanda said, “Jacob, you don’t really want to go!” Her voice was urgent, and she reached up and held the loose fabric of his cotton shirt. It was as if she would hold him there and keep him from going, and her lips were trembling. “No, you don’t want to go! I know it!”
“Yes, I do. I’ve got to go.”
“No, Jacob, you don’t have to go. What you’re looking for you won’t find in Williamsburg any more than you could right here.”
“What are you talking about, Amanda?”
Taking a deep breath, Amanda whispered, “Jacob, you need the Lord. You’re not ever going to be happy until you find Jesus. Until He’s inside of you as He’s inside your father and your mother.”
Jacob shook his head and was aware of the deep longing for something inside his heart. “I’ve heard all that before,” he said.
“I know you have, but you haven’t listened, Jacob. You’re miserable, and there’s no happiness unless you let God take it away.”
The simple honesty in her words and the emptiness of his heart struck hard at Jacob. Perhaps it was the accumulation of sermons that he had heard all of his life from his grandparents, and then from Paul Anderson, from his father, and now from Amanda. He was shocked to find out that he was trembling, and for once he voiced what he really felt.
“Amanda—I feel so alone!”
“If you’d just let God fill you with His love and forgiveness, you’d never be alone again. He loves you, Jacob, and He wants you to know joy and happiness, but you have to humble yourself and ask for it.”
The trembling in Jacob’s body increased, and he looked down at his hands and whispered, “Look, I can’t hold my hands still.” Fear took hold of him then, and he said desperately, “I can’t go on like this, Amanda! I . . . I think I’m going crazy sometimes!”
Amanda whispered, “Jacob, will you pray with me and just ask Jesus to come into your heart? Will you do that?”
So many times Jacob Spencer had wondered why he could not say yes to God. He knew that God had dealt with him all of his life, but somehow the loss of his mother, and then the loss of his father for so many years had put a wall about his bitter and angry heart. He could not let God in, and he could not get out of the dark prison that held him captive. Now, however, something was happening inside the half darkness of that barn. As he looked down into the brown eyes of the young girl, he saw her heart revealed in the depth of her gaze and realized with a shock that she loved him. It suddenly came to him how many people had loved him and how little love he had given in return. Guilt and shame washed over him, and to his horror he felt tears brimming in his eyes. He was embarrassed and humiliated and dashed them away with the backs of his hands, but Amanda reached out and held his hands.
“Don’t be ashamed of your tears! God is dealing with you. Jacob, let’s pray! Kneel here, and let’s ask God to give you what you’ve longed for.”
And then Jacob Spencer found himself dropping to his knees. He was vaguely aware of Amanda praying urgently. He was more acutely aware that a revolution was taking place in his own heart. Guilt, such as he had never known, welled up in him, and he saw clearly how he had become bitter and had lashed out at a father who loved him and had ignored the call of God on his life. He began to sob, and finally in desperation he cried out, “Oh, God, I’ve been so wrong! I’ve gone the wrong way! I ask you in the name of Jesus to forgive me and to help me be the man you want me to be!”
Amanda was sobbing now, and finally the two of them clung together. Slowly Jake struggled to his feet and pulled Amanda up. He looked down and saw the tears running down her face.
“You’ll never be alone again now,” she said, a smile on her tear-streaked face.
Jacob was aware that something drastic had changed. There was a peace in his spirit, and he felt utterly drained—but filled with a sense of completeness he had never known in all of his life. “I feel so different . . . so clean,” he whispered.
“Jacob, you now have a personal relationship with a heavenly Father who loves you and will always be with you wherever you go. But you have an earthly father who is still waiting to be forgiven by a son he loves very much.”
A determined look followed by a smile came to Jacob’s face. “Will you please tell Sequatchie that I won’t need him to take me to Williamsburg?”
Amanda could hardly keep from shouting as she said, “Of course!”
Jacob barely heard Amanda answer as he began to walk toward the cabin. His steps quickened with every stride until he was running, calling louder and louder, “Daddy! Daddy!” as the tears coursed down his face.
Hawk appeared at the door with an anxious look on his face. Before he could ask what the trouble was, Jacob threw himself into his father’s arms, sobbing, oblivious to anything except his father and himself.
Jacob finally looked at his father. “Will you please forgive me for how I have acted?”
“I am the one who needs to be forgiven, son. I left you when you needed me the most.”
“That’s all in the past. Just as my sins are now!”
Hawk grabbed his son in another strong embrace as he sent a prayer of thankfulness heavenward.
Jacob then looked at his father again and smiled. “I love you, Daddy!”
Hawk answered as tears now began to flow from his eyes, “I love you, too, son!”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Akando’s Attack
The hot summer passed away and with it the memories of the Cherokee war faded. Not for everyone, however, for there were fresh graves, and some carried wounds to the end of their lives over the brief but fierce struggle. A sense of peace descended over the hills and valleys of the frontier as the Cherokee pulled back, and the militia grew stronger day by day. As the leaves of the hardwoods turned to a riotous yellow and gold and red, and the air brought an invigorating crispness to it, the Spencers all grew closer together in a way they had all dreamed of.
The creek that wound around the Spencer homestead made a serpentine shape as it meandered over the lowlands. Each fall it grew shallow, but there was one spot hollowed out by years of erosion, where a large pond swelled over nearly half an acre. Some strange force of nature had cut out a disk-shaped indentation in the earth, and the water had entered it, filled it, then left to wind its narrow way toward the Watauga River. It was a favorite fishing spot for the Spencers, and one Thursday afternoon Jacob, Andrew, and Philip Baxter had formed a party with Abigail, Sarah, and Amanda. The six had made the trip, bearing baskets of food that were packed by the young women, while the young men carried the fishing gear. They had been fishing at the pool now for some time, and as usual, Andrew had caught the most fish. Jacob had caught a monstrous snapping turtle, which had occupied them for a time. It was a frightening-looking thing with its mossy back, fierce old eyes, and, most of all, the curved beak. The boys had discovered that it could break a stick in two and enjoyed themselves letting it perform this trick while the girls wrinkled their noses and said, “Turn that old thing loose. He’s so ugly!”
Jacob, upon hearing Amanda say this, grinned broadly. “Why, how do you know that? He may be the handsomest snapping turtle in the world.”
Amanda was wearing a chocolate brown dress with a square neckline, elbow-length sleeves edged in white lace, and the waist encircled with a white sash.
She looked very pretty. “I don’t think so.”
Jacob laughed and said, “He may be the Romeo of the turtle world. Somewhere there’s a Juliet waiting for him to come back.”
“Well, let him go back to Juliet, then,” Amanda insisted.
“No, we’re going to eat him,” Andrew said, winking at Philip, who was sitting next to Sarah. He had become a regular member of the little group that took every opportunity to get together, and now he grinned, saying, “Nothing like turtle soup, is there, Sarah?”
Sarah reached over and pinched Philip on the side, saying, “I ought to make you eat it for talking like that.”
“Ow!” Philip yelled. “Watch what you’re doing! You pinched a plug out of me!” He reached up and pulled at Sarah, and she struggled to get away but could not. Philip’s eyes gleamed, and he winked at Andrew, saying, “Let’s see if that turtle can bite a girl’s finger through.”
“Don’t you dare, Philip Baxter!” Sarah wrenched away and picked up a stick, saying, “Your pa should have taken a switch to you a long time ago! It’s not too late to start!”
“I reckon I’m a little bit large for that,” Philip said.
The playful spirit went on for some time, and finally Philip went downstream with Andrew to see if they could catch a few more fish. “You know what, Andrew? I think your sister is wonderful.”
Andrew laughed, and with a big brother’s mentality, said, “Must be love because you’re not seeing what’s really there. She drives me crazy.”
Philip, however, was unembarrassed. He watched Sarah, who had left the other girls and was moving upstream from them. She had taken off her shoes and was wading in the water. “I’m going to go ask if she’ll go to the dance with me over in the settlement next week.” He seemed not to mind the taunts of Jacob and Andrew, who teased him unmercifully, as he made his way a hundred yards upstream. He glanced up and saw that Abigail and Amanda were sitting down on a grassy spot talking about something, and as he approached, he said, “You look mighty pretty, Sarah.”
Sarah had seen him coming and now smiled. They had been friends for a long time, and she knew that someday, when they got a little older, he would actually come courting her. He reached out to take her hand and help her over the rocks, which were slick with green moss, and said, “Sarah—”
Beyond the Quiet Hills Page 33
