Beyond the Quiet Hills

by Aaron McCarver

  Sarah was waiting to hear what he would say but saw that his hand suddenly stopped and his mouth opened as if in surprise. She thought for one moment that he was about to sneeze or cough, and then she saw a small dot on the left side of his chest grow larger as crimson blood gushed forth.

  “Philip—!” she screamed and leaped toward him. He was falling forward, and she fell under his weight. “Philip, what is it?” Then she realized that she had heard the sound of a musket, and she saw that the water was turning scarlet around her and that Philip was lying facedown. Desperately she turned him over, but she knew he was dead. She heard Andrew calling and looked up to see the boys rushing down the side of the creek. “Come on!” Andrew shouted, and as he came up to her, she saw that he had blood on his side, but he jerked her to her feet.

  “Come on! They’re coming!” Jacob yelled.

  They made a wild dash away from the creek, and Sarah gasped, “We can’t leave Philip there!”

  Andrew said grimly, “He’s dead, Sarah,” and pulled her along so that she nearly stumbled.

  They reached the cabin and Andrew collapsed. Abigail and Elizabeth helped take him inside. Elizabeth looked with fear at Abigail as they both saw the wound in his side that was bleeding heavily.

  Jacob began shouting, “Pa—!” as he emerged from the cabin with his long rifle.

  Hawk, who was chopping wood, dropped his ax and snatched up his rifle. He ran forward, yelling something that Jacob could not understand.

  The sound of footsteps came to Sarah, and as everything became confused she was aware that Jacob and Hawk were firing at a group of grotesquely painted Indians. But she was also aware that Amanda, who had turned toward her own cabin, was suddenly seized by a bronzed Indian in buckskins.

  He’s going to kill her! Sarah thought wildly and cried out even as the men moved forward. Somehow Sequatchie had appeared, and Sarah heard him calling out in the Cherokee language to the attackers.

  And then out of the woods a figure came running. At first Sarah thought it was another Indian, but she saw at once that it was a white man—and then she saw that it was Zeke Taylor.

  He was yelling, and she heard him say, “That’s my girl! Let go of her!”

  Akando whirled and was evidently surprised that one of his own was coming for him. A scream emerged from his lips and he leveled his rifle to fire at Zeke, who was running straight at him. The rifle was knocked upward as Amanda turned to see her father coming. She reached out and tilted the rifle—but not quickly enough.

  Sequatchie had seen all this, and he saw Zeke fall, grasping his stomach as the blood poured through his fingers. As he collapsed, Sequatchie sped across the open ground and headed for Akando. The Indian released Amanda and yanked the tomahawk out of his belt, warning Sequatchie in the Cherokee dialect.

  It seemed they were frozen like that when Jacob, who had come from the side, launched himself in the air and threw his arms around Akando, knocking him to the ground. The Indian swung his tomahawk, and the haft of it caught Jacob in the head and made him lose his grip. Sequatchie yanked Amanda up, and Jacob leaped to his feet, pulled his knife from his belt, and threw himself at Akando.

  Akando was a strong, wiry man with tremendous physical strength. He caught Jacob’s wrist and held it, and the two rolled on the ground. Jacob’s whole mind and heart were set on freeing his hand, but the grip of the Cherokee was powerful. He looked up to see William Crabtree, who had suddenly appeared and was coming to help Akando. He had his musket loaded, apparently, and as Jacob stared into the muzzle, it seemed as big as a dark tunnel. At that instant of time he was very glad he had taken Christ into his life. He waited for the musket to fire and for death to come—but it did not happen.

  A shot did ring out, and Crabtree was driven backward. Akando jerked himself free from Jacob and ran in a crouched position, fleeing to the trees. The other Indians who had not been killed by Hawk and Jacob followed. When Jacob turned around, he saw Hawk lowering his rifle, and he got to his feet and moved over to stand beside him. “You saved me that time, Pa!” he gasped, his breath coming in spurts.

  “I’m glad I was there. Let’s see how Zeke is.”

  The two hurried over to where Amanda had come to kneel beside her father. When Hawk leaned over and looked at the stomach wound, he shook his head slightly, a gesture that Jacob did not miss. Both men knew that stomach wounds were the worst kind.

  Iris Taylor had observed all that had happened from the door of her cabin. She had been frozen as she watched her daughter get captured and then her husband shot as he tried to save her. As the others kneeled over Zeke, Iris left her cabin and hurried toward her husband. “Carry him into the cabin. I will see to his wound.”

  Sequatchie was amazed at the strength of this woman who was offering to help the man who had abused her so terribly. He helped Hawk and Jacob carry Zeke into the Taylors’ cabin. Iris and Amanda immediately began to try to help Zeke as the others moved to the door.

  Hawk turned to Jacob. “Please stay here with Iris and Amanda. They will probably need someone to help them.”

  “Sure, Pa. But let me know how Andrew is doing as soon as you can. Philip didn’t make it.”

  Hawk grasped the shoulder of his son. “I’m sorry, Jake. And I’ll let you know about Andrew as soon as I find out something.” His expression told Jacob everything else, pride for a son who had acted so bravely to save another and worry for another son who lay injured and hurting.

  Hawk and Sequatchie walked outside and saw Crabtree lying where he had been shot. As they moved toward him, Hawk saw that his bullet had only hit Crabtree in the arm, but that he had hit his head on a rock when he fell. “Take him into Watauga, Sequatchie. He’ll need to be tried for what he has taken part in today. And please stop by the Baxters’ and tell them about their son. Tell them we are praying for them and will do anything we can for them.”

  “Of course, my brother. I will also pray for Andrew while I am gone.”

  “Pray for Zeke Taylor, too. Unless a miracle happens, he is in far greater danger than anyone else. He has an eternity at stake.”

  Sequatchie nodded grimly as he watched Hawk turn and hurry to the cabin to see about his son.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Amanda’s Father

  “How is Sarah?” Hawk asked anxiously. He had been talking to Elizabeth about the attack, and now an anxious look came into his eyes as he glanced into the bedroom.

  “I put her in our bed and gave her some tea. She’s very upset.”

  “I think she was fonder of Philip than any of us knew.”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth agreed. “She’ll always think of him, I believe, as her first love.”

  “He was a fine young fellow,” Hawk said quietly. “I’ll miss him.”

  “What about Zeke?”

  “I don’t think he’s going to make it.”

  “What a shame! It must be hard for a man like that to face death.”

  “I think it is,” Hawk said. He hesitated, then said, “I guess I’ll go look in on Andrew.”

  Elizabeth smiled, and a pixyish look came over her face. “You’ll have to get around Abigail. She hasn’t left his side since we put him to bed.”

  “Well, it wasn’t a serious wound, just painful. I thank God for that.” He grinned, then reached out and hugged Elizabeth. “God was with us. We came through it all right.”

  “Go along, now. Go and see Andrew.”

  Hawk, however, did not actually go into the room. He stopped at the door that led to Andrew’s room, and seeing Abigail sitting beside him, leaning over him with an anxious look in her face, he simply returned to the main room. I reckon he would rather see her as me, he thought, and somehow it pleased him to think that Abigail held such concern for Andrew.

  ****

  Andrew shifted uncomfortably on the bed and looked up at Abigail, who was seated on a chair and was bending over him. “Much obliged for taking care of me, Abby.”

  “It was nothing. I�
��m just so glad it wasn’t worse.”

  Andrew gazed at her face and studied her for a moment, then muttered, “You don’t have to stay. I’m all right.”

  “I want to.”

  For a moment a memory flashed back, and she knew it would be with her for a long time. She had seen Philip as he had been killed with a single shot, and then she had seen Andrew suddenly straighten up and clutch at his side. Her heart had seemed to die within her, for she was certain that at that moment Andrew was mortally wounded. She had rushed forward, crying his name, and then he had held his hand over his bloody side and urged her to flee.

  Now she took a deep breath and whispered, “When I saw you get hit with that musket ball, Andrew, I thought I’d lost you.”

  “Lost me? Why, Abby—”

  Suddenly Abigail reached out and put the tips of her fingers across his mouth. “No. Don’t say anything, Andrew. I . . . I’ve got to tell you something.” She held her hand over his lips for a moment and summoned up her courage, then said, “I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you when I’ve never told you . . . how I felt.”

  Reaching up, Andrew took her hand from his lips and kept hold of it. It was warm and soft, and he asked, “What do you mean, Abby?”

  “I love you, Andrew.”

  Andrew MacNeal stared at the girl. He had loved her for so long that he had forgotten how it had first come into his heart, but now as she bent over him and he could see the clearness of her eyes and the smoothness of her cheeks, he could not believe what he was hearing. “I can’t believe that,” he said quietly.

  “I’ve been so foolish that I don’t blame you for not believing me. I thought I was falling in love with Jacob. I really did, but I wasn’t. All the time, as long as I’ve known you, I’ve always felt something in my heart, but I didn’t know what it was. . . .”

  Andrew listened as Abigail continued to speak, then finally he interrupted, saying, “I guess you know that I’ve always loved you, Abby.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I thought you were in love with Jacob. I thought I’d lost you because I hadn’t fought for you, but I’ll never let that happen again.”

  A great joy filled Abigail Stevens’ heart. She leaned forward, whispering, “You’re right about that.” She leaned against him and her lips were soft and yet possessive as she kissed him. She leaned forward still harder, and suddenly he groaned, for she had leaned against his wound.

  Laughter danced in his eyes as he grimaced, but he did not release her hand. “I didn’t know your kisses hurt so much.”

  Abigail laughed and said, “If you don’t like them, I won’t do it anymore.”

  “A little pain never hurt anyone,” he said and drew her down again eagerly. He put his arm around her and held her close and knew that she had come into his life to stay.

  ****

  Hawk entered the cabin of Iris and Amanda and saw Jacob standing beside Amanda on one side of the bed where Zeke Taylor lay, with Iris on the other. He studied Jacob’s face as he turned toward him and saw his son shake his head. He knew it wouldn’t be long.

  The silence was broken as Zeke, in a faint, raspy voice, called out, “Hawk . . . !”

  Quickly Hawk moved across the room. Amanda moved back, and Jacob put his arm around her and held her tightly as Hawk knelt down by the bedside. “I’m here, Zeke. What is it?”

  “Reckon . . . I’ve treated you . . . purty bad.”

  “Don’t think about that now, Zeke.”

  “Guess maybe . . . it’s the only time . . . I got. I’m right sorry.”

  Hawk’s heart went out to the dying man. He had never liked Zeke, and yet now he felt pity rise in him, and he said quietly, “I’d like for you to be asking God for forgiveness, not me. You’ve got mine, for what it’s worth.”

  “Too late for that!”

  Iris bent over and brushed the hair away from her husband’s forehead. “It’s never too late to ask God, Zeke.”

  A faint ray of hope crept into Taylor’s eyes, and his lips trembled. “You reckon it’s so?” he whispered.

  “Yes, it’s so,” Hawk said quickly. “The Bible is full of promises that God’s ready to forgive. All we have to do is know we’re wrong and ask.”

  Zeke listened as Hawk continued to speak quietly, quoting Scriptures on God’s love and mercy. Finally the dying man shook his head with despair. “Not me. I’ve been too mean . . . to my wife and young’un.”

  Inspiration came to Hawk then, and he said, “If you really want to do something for Amanda and Iris, then get right with God. Then one day they’ll come and be with you. You’ll all be together. A real family.”

  Iris watched as tears filled Zeke’s eyes. I never saw him cry, not once, in all the years we were married, she thought. She knelt down beside him, took his hand, and said, “Ask God to forgive you in Jesus’ name, Zeke!”

  Zeke mumbled and his chest heaved. His voice was growing weaker, but they all heard him say, “Oh, God, I ask for forgiveness in the name of Jesus.”

  Amanda then sobbed and pulled herself away from Jacob. She knelt beside her father, took his free hand, and said, “Oh, Pa, I love you!”

  “I’m sorry I treated you . . . so bad,” Zeke gasped.

  Amanda barely caught the words, and her tears fell on his hand as she kissed it. “It’s all right, Pa. It’s all right now.”

  Zeke Taylor only had time to reach up and touch his wife’s cheek. “Iris, I’m sorry.” Then he whispered, “You was always . . . the prettiest woman . . . I ever saw.”

  They stood around the bed of the dying man and he did not speak again. Just before he died he looked up into the faces of those around him and strength seemed to return to him. He raised his hand as if in a farewell wave, then he smiled. It was a smile such as none of them had ever seen on his lips, then he closed his eyes, and his chest ceased to move.

  “He’s gone,” Iris whispered, tears flowing down her face.

  Amanda put her arm around her mother, and her voice was choked as she said, “He’s gone, Ma, but he went to be with the Lord. We’ll see him again someday!”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  America’s First Birthday

  “Get up, woman! You’re going to miss your son’s wedding day!”

  Elizabeth had been lying in the bed, coming out of a deep sleep. She sat bolt upright and stared at Hawk, who was standing over beside the washstand, his razor in his hand, his eyes laughing at her.

  “Oh me! What time is it?”

  “Time for you to get up. Here it is July 4, 1777, your son’s wedding day and America’s first birthday. You’d better jump to it.”

  Elizabeth slipped out of her nightgown at once and began pulling her clothes out of the chest beside the wall, saying, “Hurry up! I need to wash my face!”

  Hawk was lathering up and said, “Your face doesn’t need washing. You washed it just three days ago.” He laughed as she picked up a moccasin and threw it at him and then began raking the blade down over his tough beard. His eyes watered, and he gritted his teeth. “Indians ought to try shaving for a torture,” he said. “It’s about the worst thing I know.”

  Elizabeth was slipping into her undergarments, and she stopped long enough to stare at him. “Don’t talk about things like that. Not today—well, not ever, really.”

  “All right.” Drawing the blade down his other cheek, Hawk said, “Life’s real funny sometimes. Here we are getting ready for Andrew and Abigail’s wedding. Just seems like yesterday you and I were getting married.”

  Elizabeth pulled the shift over her head and then moved over to begin combing her hair. “God’s always working things out in His own time,” she remarked.

  Hawk said nothing until he had finished shaving, then he bent over and sputtered into the water, washing the lather away. As he dried on a coarse towel and picked up the basin to get rid of the water, he said, “I was proud of Jake offering to stand up for his stepbrother.”

  “I think he’s g
otten over Abigail pretty well. He was never in love with her anyway. He didn’t love her as he should, but she’s going to make a good sister-in-law for him.”

  Hawk moved away and sat down as Elizabeth poured fresh water into the basin and began to wash her face with soft soap. “Things are going well with the settlers, aren’t they?”

  “Couldn’t be better.” Hawk thought about the treaties that were signed in June, ending the war with the Cherokee. It had come about when William Christian had led a force of militia against the Overhill towns in October. He had defeated the Cherokee and forced them to surrender—all except Dragging Canoe. He thought about that fierce warrior and the rumor that he had fled into the Chickamauga area. Aloud he said, “I wonder if we’ll ever see Akando again? Nobody saw him after the attack.”

  “I hope not. Don’t talk about that, Hawk.”

  “All right.” He came over, leaned over and kissed the back of her neck, then put his arms around her. “I’ll talk about how beautiful you look.”

  Elizabeth turned, put her arms around his neck, and drew his head down. She kissed him firmly, then said, “I’ve got two small ones to attend to. Now, you get dressed. I want you to look beautiful today.”

  “I always look beautiful,” Hawk grinned, then turned to begin dressing.

  ****

  The wedding of Andrew MacNeal and Abigail Stevens was being held at Fort Patrick Henry near Long Island. It was a part of a large celebration that was being held at the fort to commemorate the first birthday of the new United States of America. Settlers from all parts of the frontier were to be in attendance to see troops parade from Virginia, North and South Carolina, and Georgia, as well as militia companies from Watauga and Nolichucky. They were even being joined by more than five hundred Cherokee warriors, including twenty chiefs. To show good faith, the Indians were even going to perform a dance for the settlers in their dress costumes.