Where Leads the Heart

by Colleen Coble;D. Barbour

  Sarah nodded eagerly. She was glad to have Rand’s look of approval, but his next words spoiled it for her.

  “Jessica’s been wanting to go for weeks.” He didn’t seem to hear her quick intake of breath.

  The next day was bright and sunny, with the mercury hovering near twenty-five degrees. “It feels almost balmy,” Amelia said as they trooped across the parade ground to the tiny stucco chapel. Joel and Rand engaged in a snowball fight along the way and they arrived breathless and laughing.

  Inside were rows of backless benches and a rough pulpit in the front of the room. It was a familiar place to Sarah, since she had used the chapel for her classes, but Amelia had never seen it and this was the first time a chaplain had been here to conduct services. Jessica motioned to Rand imperiously, and he left them to go sit with her.

  Sarah drank in the words the minister spoke. She’d missed her little congregation from home so much. Until she’d come out here, she’d never realized how much the support and prayers of her friends had meant to her. A new thankfulness to God swelled up in her soul as she sang the hymns in her clear alto voice. Isaac sat beside her, and Jacob and Amelia sat on the other side. She and Isaac had enjoyed several discussions about God over the last few weeks, and she knew he was just as eager to hear the sermon as she was. She glanced over surreptitiously at Rand and Jessica. He seemed to be listening, which surprised her because he didn’t seem to have much use for God since the war. And he made it pretty clear he didn’t think God had a hand in the day-to-day things of life. Jessica seemed bored, though.

  Sarah dragged her eyes away from Rand’s broad back and fixed her eyes on the chaplain. God would take care of everything. Nothing would be allowed to happen that He didn’t know about. He had brought Rand through the war safely. If He could take care of Rand physically, surely He would care for Rand spiritually as well.

  Rand listened intently to the sermon. The message was a simple one of salvation through Jesus Christ alone, but it struck a chord in Rand’s soul. His thoughts drifted to his grandmother, the times he had lain upstairs in the loft listening to her praying for him as she knelt by her bed in the dark. He hadn’t been really happy these past few weeks. A strange discontent filled him every time Isaac talked to him about Jesus or Sarah mentioned God. They seemed so content and at peace.

  He hadn’t known peace since the war, but when he listened to Isaac pray, he could see the serenity in his friend’s face, as though God were sitting right beside him. Did God really care about the day-to-day things? How could he know for certain?

  The service was over too soon for Sarah, and she had to force herself to hurry home to change for the skating party. Jessica demanded Rand’s attention the entire afternoon. Every time she looked at Rand, he was smiling at Jessica.

  §

  Ah-ho-appa’s death cast a pall over Christmas. Sarah could not really get into the festivities. Rand brought Jessica with him on Christmas Eve to the party at Jacob and Amelia’s. She sat with a supercilious smile on her face while Jacob read the account of Christ’s birth from Luke. Rand listened intently and even read a passage of Scripture himself.

  Was he beginning to change? Sarah hoped so. Her eyes filled with tears as she heard again the old story. Only God had been able to keep her soul in peace through the difficult months here at Fort Laramie. She was close to giving up and trying to think about the future without Rand in it, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to let go yet—even though Isaac was sweet and would make a loving, God-fearing husband.

  §

  The long, hard winter gave up without a murmur in April. The nights were still cold, but the days warmed delightfully and melted the towering mounds of snow. Sarah looked eagerly for flowers, but all she saw was blowing sand and spindly brush. But Rand promised as soon as he had a break, he would take them on a picnic up the mountain where Rooster and Isaac told him was a spot full of violets.

  He had left with a detachment heading for Fort Casper. Sarah took the opportunity to try to convince herself to go back home. It was almost time for Jacob and Amelia to move on. Sarah couldn’t decide what to do, but for some reason, she wasn’t at peace with the idea of leaving. Once Rand was back she would decide.

  thirteen

  Rand rolled over on his back and looked up at the dazzling display of stars above his head. They seemed closer and brighter out here. The long days on maneuvers and the free time in the evenings left a lot of time for thinking, and he’d been thinking a lot about God. Ever since Christmas there’d been a stirring in his soul. The sermon had started it. He’d tried to talk to Jessica about it, but she had looked at him as though he were mad. “Religion is for old people,” she told him. “Going to church is fine. It’s where one meets the best people. But don’t take it too seriously.”

  A powerful wash of awe swept over him now as he gazed up at the glittering sky. It seemed he’d been fighting God for so long now. All his life. But now he just wanted to quit fighting, to trust in Someone bigger than himself. A quiet awakening to God’s love had crept in over the past months, an awareness of His control. God was even in control of the mess his emotions were in. Surely He would tell him what to do about Sarah.

  As he lay looking up into the night sky, he tried to really pray for the first time in his life. Oh, he’d prayed in prison, but it was more of a cry for help. Not a real understanding of who God was and what He wanted from him. “God, I know You’re out there,” he whispered. “And I want to belong to You and Your Son. I’ve made a mess of my life, but it’s Yours if You want it—if You can forgive me.” A sense of peace flooded him at these simple words, and he fought unfamiliar tears. God had heard him, he was sure of it! He could sense His presence as he drifted off to sleep, a thousand glad songs ringing in his head.

  He awoke the next morning excited, but he couldn’t remember at first why he was so happy. Then he remembered, and he whistled as he packed his bedroll.

  “Yer awful chipper for so early in the morning,” Rooster grumbled. “Keep yer whistles to yerself.”

  Rand laughed and trotted off to splash cold water from the creek on his face. Wouldn’t Isaac be glad! He went about his tasks all that day with a cheerful expression and a kind word for everyone. Not that he’d been a grump before, but now he had a new reason to be joyful. His spirit was contagious, and soon the soldiers were working side by side singing as they restrung the telegraph wire. They had just finished when they heard loud yells from down in the ravine to their right.

  “Injuns!” Rooster grabbed his rifle and vaulted onto his horse.

  There was a wild scramble as the rest of the men clambered on their mounts and followed Rooster’s mad charge.

  “There’s only three of them,” Rand muttered as he fell into line. But the rest of the Sioux were hiding. As the main force leaped out from behind bushes and rocks, the charge of cavalry faltered. Instead of three, there were at least twenty-five.

  “It’s a trap,” Captain Brown shouted. “Retreat! Retreat!”

  But Rand was in the front line, and he knew retreat would just get him an arrow in the back. He slid off his horse and flung himself down behind a boulder. He took aim and began shooting desperately, pushing away the reality of his own situation. He just wanted to see his company get safely away, then he’d worry about how to get out himself.

  “Git out of there, boy,” Rooster shouted, wheeling around on his horse and firing at a group of Indians crouching behind a rock. “It’s better to say ‘here’s where he ran’ than ‘here’s where he died’!” But Rand ignored him and Rooster swore, then galloped away, still shouting for Rand to run.

  Something bit into his flesh, and Rand grabbed his shoulder. His fingers were covered with blood when he pulled his hand away. A bullet? But these Indians just seemed to have bows and arrows. He heard another shot off to his left and felt a fiery sting on his left temple, then darkness claimed him.

  When he awoke he was lying beside a fire. He groaned and tried to move,
but his hands and feet were bound. “So you’re finally awake.”

  He looked up at the familiar voice. Ben Croftner? Here? Where were the Indians? He shook his head to clear it. He must still be asleep. But a hard boot in his ribs convinced him he wasn’t dreaming.

  “So we meet again, old friend.” Ben stooped and sneered in his face. “Did you really think I’d let you get away with taking my girl? But I’m going to do worse to you, Campbell. When I get through with you, you’re going to wish that bullet had killed you outright.”

  “How–how did you get me away from the Indians?” Rand was still confused.

  Ben smiled, but the expression was a cruel one. “I paid the Indians to stage an attack. They were just Laramie loafers out for enough money to buy some liquor.” He leaned forward and spat in Rand’s face. “Are you ready to die, Campbell?”

  “Yes. Are you?” Rand was surprised at his own calm assurance, but he was ready. Ever since last night.

  Ben’s gray eyes widened at Rand’s gentle tone. “You’ll pray for death before I’m through with you,” he spat.

  “You can’t frighten me with heaven, Ben,” Rand said softly.

  Ben gaped at him, then stood with an angry oath. “Don’t tell me you’ve gotten religion,” he jeered. “If that doesn’t beat all! Hey, Labe, Rand thinks he’s going to heaven.” He sneered and spat on the ground. “But he’s going to find out what hell’s really like before we’re through.”

  Rand turned his head as Labe shuffled from behind a rock, fastening his suspenders. “Sorry to see you’re mixed up in this, Labe,” Rand said evenly.

  Ben laughed again, an ugly laugh with no mirth in it. “Too bad you’re mixed up with this, Labe,” he mimicked. He tossed a shovel toward his younger brother. “Get digging.”

  Labe cast one agonized glance toward Rand’s prone figure, then picked up the shovel and began to dig a small hole. He took a stake out of the knapsack beside the fire and pounded it into the hole, all the while keeping his eyes averted from Rand’s gentle gaze.

  Then Rand realized what Ben was planning. He was going to stake him out in the sun! A slow death, but a sure one in this deserted terrain. Lord, help me to die with dignity, he prayed silently. And take care of Sarah.

  A few minutes later Labe finished his task and threw the shovel down, then wiped the sweat from his face with his shirt sleeve. “I’m done, Ben,” he said with a helpless look at Rand.

  “I’m not blind. Grab his feet.” Ben grabbed Rand by his wounded arm and dragged him toward the two posts.

  Rand clenched his teeth to keep from crying out from the pain. His face was pale beneath his tan and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead as he fought to retain consciousness.

  Ben took a knife and began to cut his clothes off him. “Don’t just stand there—help me, you fool,” he snapped.

  Labe shuffled forward and pulled off Rand’s boots and socks. Ben grinned as he wound rawhide strips around Rand’s wrists. “Think of me with Sarah as you’re lying out here, old friend. Stage two of my plan is being put into action right now. You’re little fiancée won’t be too thrilled with this part of the plan, but her plan for Sarah was pure genius.”

  “What are you talking about?” Rand groaned as his wounded arm was wrenched above his head and bound to the stake. Sarah! What would become of her?

  “Your little hussy cooked up a pretty good scheme to help me get Sarah. It’s really what gave me the idea for this little rendezvous here.”

  “Jessica? What did she do?”

  “You just stew about it while you’re dying. But you can go knowing I’ll take good care of Sarah.”

  Labe tied Rand’s ankles to the stakes, then stood up dusting his hands.

  “You’ll never get my blood off your hands if you leave me here, Labe,” Rand whispered.

  “Shut up.” Ben kicked him in the side, then turned to his brother. “Get our things and let’s get going.”

  Labe’s mouth worked soundlessly, and he hesitated. For an instant Rand thought he was going to defy his brother, but in the end, Labe dropped his head and shuffled off to obey Ben.

  The two brothers swung onto their horses and stood looking down at Rand lying spread-eagled on the rocky ground. “So long, Rand.” Ben smiled cruelly. “The best man always wins, you know. You were never ruthless enough.”

  Rand watched as they rode off, biting down on the pleading words struggling to escape. Wouldn’t Ben love it if he begged for mercy? He turned his head away from the direct glare of the sun and began to pray for an early death.

  §

  After two days with no water, the burning sun scorching every inch of his exposed skin, Rand was delirious. He muttered incoherently, sometimes shouting, sometimes screaming. The nights were bad, too. The warm spring days plunged to cold nights and Rand shuddered with the cold.

  At one point he realized he was quoting the Twenty-third Psalm. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” He was surprised he still remembered it after all these years. He’d learned it at his grandma’s knee when he was eight. But this was the valley of the shadow of death, and somehow, he wasn’t afraid to die. But something inside kept him from giving into the fever that racked his body, something stopped him from letting his spirit slip away.

  The morning of the third day, he awoke relatively clearheaded after a night of blessed coolness. His lips felt thick and his tongue filled his mouth. Today he would probably die, he knew. But at least he could see the land he loved with clear eyes one last time. His eyes closed tiredly several times, but he forced them open. This time when he fell asleep, he didn’t think he would ever awaken. But the sun began to take its heavy toll, and he slipped into delirium for what must be the last time. His final thought was of Sarah and he prayed for God to watch over her.

  fourteen

  The next morning was a beautiful day. The girls were tired of being cooped up, and Sarah was too happy at the thought of Rand’s imminent return to feel like doing any housework. She and Amelia decided to go for a stroll in the sunshine. They had barely stepped foot outside the door when Jessica hailed them.

  “Sarah! Amelia!” She was dressed in a cream percale gown with cream lace lavished on it.

  The girls stopped and waited as she came toward them. Sarah raised her eyebrows at Amelia. “Hello, Jessica,” she said as the other girl stopped in front of them and caught her breath.

  “I was hoping to find you,” Jessica said. “I haven’t seen much of you lately. Isaac has arranged for a detachment to escort Mother and I on a picnic. Would you like to come?”

  Sarah and Amelia looked at one another. “Why?” Sarah asked. “You’ve made no secret of how you feel about me all winter. Why the change?”

  Jessica smiled winningly. “I know, and I’m really sorry. I’d like us to be friends. Can’t we start over? The fort is too small for enmity between us.”

  Sarah was silent a moment. There had to be some reason Jessica wasn’t telling, but this might be an opportunity to get better acquainted. And she was weary of the tiny area she was allowed. It would be grand to see some new terrain. That was the one thing she hadn’t accepted about fort life yet. The restrictions. Back home she was used to going for long rides by herself, wandering in the woods, or just walking along a country road. Now she was not allowed off the fort premises without a guard of at least five soldiers. And it seemed the fort’s parade ground got smaller and smaller every day.

  “All right,” she said. “We’ll go pack some food.”

  “Don’t bother. Mother has packed enough for an entire troop.” Jessica chatted easily as they strolled to the stable. Isaac had their mounts waiting for them, already saddled with sidesaddles. He helped them up, and they followed him west toward the purple mountains. A detail of twelve soldiers followed them.

  Jessica kept up her smiling chatter, and gradually Sarah and Amelia relaxed. It’s just too bad she can’t be like this all the time, Sarah thought
. They found a grassy area near an outcropping of rocks and spread out their blankets. The air was pungent with the scent of sage.

  After lunch they decided to mount their horses and ride a bit over the rough terrain. Isaac was hoping to find some game.

  Sarah let her horse pick its way up the winding trail, and breathing in the scent of sage, she reveled in the sense of well-being at being out of the confines of Fort Laramie. The men had been listening to Jessica tell a story about a ball in Boston and paid no attention as Sarah let her horse walk farther and farther away from them. Even Amelia didn’t notice. At the top of the bluff, she slid down off her horse and sat down where she could look at the fort below her. She chuckled as she saw Isaac’s sudden agitation when he discovered she was missing.

  I suppose I should let him know I’m okay, Sarah thought. She raised a hand and opened her mouth to call to him, when she heard her horse whinny behind her. She stood quickly and turned to see an Indian brave, heavily painted, galloping toward her. She froze in sudden terror, then tried to put her foot into the stirrup and mount. But the Indian was upon her in an instant. He leaned down and scooped her up, his horse barely pausing as he caught her.

  Sarah struggled to get away, gagging at the odor of bear grease and sweat, but his arm was like a steel band around her waist. She screamed, certain she was doomed. But the crack of a rifle sounded and the Indian slumped against her and his arm loosened. She wrenched free and fell from the horse. Stunned from the swiftness of both the attack and her rescue, she lay on the hard ground as the Indian wheeled away, his face glazed with pain, holding a hand to his bloody shoulder.