“Aunt Maggie, tell Papa not to cut his whiskers. I’m afraid I’ll not recognize him.”
Will laughed and set her down. “My, you’re getting to be a big girl.” He wagged his finger in her face. “I think we should stop calling you ‘Little’ and just Irene, would you like that?”
“Yes.” Irene jumped up and down on her bare feet. “Then I’ll be more like Flora and Jacob Jr. Can I go play now?”
Flora and Jacob Jr. came skipping in from one of the buildings Jacob and Prudence had made up for their house. Maggie watched Irene dash down the steps toward her friends. “Flora?” Maggie waved her hand. Flora looked up and skipped toward them. “Have you heard anything from your father?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then, perhaps, you’ll stay on longer, at least until after the auction.”
“Mama says that’s her plans.”
“Sweet Maggie, always worrying about everyone else and never thinking about her own happiness.” Will’s voice was low and soothing. He sighed deeply, leaning closer to her, his breath stirring her hair and tickling her ear. “I know this isn’t the time or place to be asking you this. But we need to set the wedding date. These cursed northerners coming down here to rape our country won’t steal our joy at having us a beautiful wedding. I’d like to see them try.”
She clutched the nearby pillar as if to draw strength from its solidness. Will couldn’t relinquish his hate. Oh, if only she could love Will, then Father would be content. Will would be happy because Irene would have a mother, and she should be happy because she would have a loving husband.
God, I have nothing in common with Will but our southern heritage. She, like the citizens of Maryville, was glad the South was reunited with the North. Suddenly she knew the truth.
Lord, I can’t marry Will. I just can’t; it would be wrong. Maggie turned. That was her undoing. She flattened her back against the pillar as Will reached for her. His eyes staring deeply into hers, his lips dangerously close. She turned her face away. He kissed her hair. “Will, I don’t love you. I wish I did. You deserve a loving woman. Someone to love you back.”
“Look at me, Maggie.” He touched her chin and gently turned it.
Maggie raised her downcast eyes. “Miss Peabody loves you and she adores your children. Please give her a chance?”
He took his thumb and gently wiped away a tear. “I am very fond of her, and you’re right, both Irene and Will Jr. adore her. Now, let’s be honest. Tell me that you are not still in love with Ben McConnell.”
His eyes seemed to swallow her face whole.
“I’m not going to allow you to become an old maid, Maggie, you’ve got too much loving in you for that.” His mouth fell onto hers hungrily. She didn’t fight it. Her lips felt bruised by his advances. He raised his sandy head. She met his gaze.
“That was like kissing my sister. …I had hoped…” He put his hat on his head and walked down the stairs. Not looking back, he said, “Well, it takes longer for some, but love will come… I’ll be up in the woods, chopping down trees.”
Hattie walked toward her and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Go for a walk, Miss Maggie. A walk will do you powerful good.”
“I think I shall.” Maggie grabbed her bonnet and down the cement steps she went. Walking up the lane, she turned toward her hill, the place where she first heard the cry for help that brought Ben to her side.
There lay their cotton plants, a few puffs of cotton clinging to the vines like stubborn children to their mother. A noise came from the distant road. A wagon and six white horses galloped toward her.
Horses were scarce and to have hitched six to a team, seemed wasteful in these times of need. The man stood and waved at her. Who could he be? In this new world of theirs it wasn’t a good thing for a woman to be out alone. Colored men and carpetbaggers had pilfered and raped white woman. She lifted her skirts and ran to Spirit Wind.
“Maggie Gatlan, I came for ya.”
She stopped, shielding her eyes with the upturned palm of her hand. Of all the absurdity, who could this stranger be? Will was in the forest on the north side somewhere. He couldn’t possib ly save her if this… Oh my, the wagon had a white cover over it. It was like the covered wagon father had brought from Virginia to this new land. It was rocking back and forth like a boat on a wave-tossed sea of grass and hills. The man must be unstable; what else would be his reason for racing his horses like that?
The horses were loping in a canter, and the dust from the wheels billowed up behind the wagon. The man held the reins in one hand and a whip in the other. He cracked it and it set off a volley of noise echoing about the hillside. Hair as black as the ace of spades, his dark beard flowing in the breezes. Fear clutched her throat. She picked up her skirts and ran. Had John Brown come up from the grave after her?
The screech of brakes, the horses neighing, and she heard a man’s labored breathing behind her. She zigzagged, hoping to lose him, just a few more steps toward the slave quarters, just a few.
“Wait I say, you obstinate lass!” he grabbed her and she fought him, her arms flying.
“Let me go, let me go you—”
“Pirate? Aye, my bonny lass ’tis your Irishman in the flesh, he is.”
Maggie peeked out from her dark curls that had fallen across her face. She blew a strand away. “Ben McConnell?”
“Yes, ’tis me.”
She gasped, gulping in a deep breath. He’s alive? “I, I thought you were John Brown’s ghost. Why, you arrogant Irishman, you nearly frightened me to death.” She struggled to be free of his grasp. “You were alive all this time and didn’t come for me?”
His black as coal eyes danced into hers in merriment. “You’ll not be running away from me until you hear me out, now will you? I want to tell you about my place.”
How could she ever have thought she loved such a… flirt? He’s so conceited, he must have thought she’d run into his arms. The audacity. Why he’s nothing but a, a happy-go-lucky Irishman who didn’t have a thought in his head but for his foolish land.
She struggled. His arms were firm about her and unrelenting. Struggling wasn’t doing her any good, and only made her want him the more… oh, foolish woman, she was. “Oh, alright, I’ll listen to your …your… blarney.”
His eyes cloudy, a puzzled expression swept his handsome face. “I won’t be taking much of your time. I understand you are to be wed.”
Wed? Slightly confused, how had he known? She just nodded.
Ben looked around and seeing the cabin he’d spent so many months in convalescing, he started toward it. “Come, Maggie, we can talk in here and renew our acquaintance. Remember? The summer when I wasn’t able to walk?”
“How can I forget it?”
He guided her up the steps, then politely opened the door allowing her entry first.
The room was as she had left. Maggie bit down on her lip. Would he notice there wasn’t any dust on the cupboard or sideboard? She had just been there the other day. This was her prayer room. Where she came to be alone. Where she found solace to face another day without—
“Maggie.” His voice was low and gentle. He walked around the room, his steps competing with the robins outside striking up a tune in the nearby blossoming apple tree.
He hadn’t changed. Tall, square of shoulder, and his strong legs pounding the boards as he paced. His black beard gave him a frightening appearance. She frowned. “Why did you keep your beard? You look like the—”
“Pirate scoundrel that I am?” Ben laughed. “I’ve been working on my land… then I saw no point, for you see…” He grabbed her Bible from off the vanity. “Look. ’Tis here what’s inspired my visit. ’Tis this that told me to come. All through the roads littered with wagon wheels and broken harnesses and dead animals too numerous to count, I wondered if anything good could come of this war. And this verse hummed in my mind, singing a new tune to my wayward feet.” He flipped through the pages. “‘Now the Lord is that Spirit: and where
the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.’
“See, Maggie, where there is no vision, no faith, there is no hope and we shall perish without a vision, perish for not believing the Almighty can do anything He so chooses… God united these States for a reason, Maggie, and where His Spirit presides nothing is impossible for us, or for America. We’ll carve our fortune out of the refuge of this war the way your father and mother did out of the wilderness.”
Maggie turned toward the window, listening to a singing cardinal.
He was such an idealist. Had Ben not seen the frowns on people’s faces, their eyes full of hate? Maggie burrowed her eyes into his. Angry, resentful. After all, his side had won. “You speak of faith? Hope? In what? The wind blows where it wishes and so does the wrathful nature of man. Just look what your Union has done to the South. How—”
“We will overcome, Maggie, my lass, just believe. Our good Lord never intended God-fearing people to fight among themselves.”
“My father curses the flag that flies at the Capitol. There is so much hate here for the northerner you can cut the very air with it.” She turned away and buried her face in her hands and sobbed. “Go away. Leave me alone.” She heard his steps behind her.
“It’ll take more than a day.” His voice was but a whisper, so soft, so gentle. “It’ll take years to remove the stench of this war from the nostrils of the southerner. But have faith, it will happen.” He took her into his arms. She had no strength left.
She laid her head on his chest. She could hear his heart beating, feel his strong fingers covering her arms, his arms hugging her to him. There was peace and strength and an undying faith in Jesus here. Ben’s bright hope and love for his fellow man. She felt the security she longed for. New hope coursed through her veins. God had heard her pleas; only God knew the yearnings of her heart. This wasn’t the end of the South or the end of her and Ben’s lives, but the beginning.
“I’ve renamed my farm to Shushan, Maggie. For during the bloodiest battles, when I did not see how I would come out alive… I prayed for God to choose the victor, and Esther 8:6 came to my mind ‘For how can I endure to see the evil that shall come unto my people? or how can I endure to see the destruction of my kindred?’ The United States is established beneath God’s commandments. I now claim Esther 9:2 for America: ‘and no man could withstand them; for the fear of them fell upon all people.’
“Maggie, it was then I knew the commonality we had between Yankee and Johnny Reb.”
“What similarity could there possibly be?”
“We were both battling Satan himself.” His eyes burned into hers, infusing her with his truth and the wisdom of a man who had gone through the fiery furnace. “It was Satan who wanted to kill the idea of the United States, for America to lose faith in God and our Savior, Jesus. Satan wanted to stop the traveling evangelists from spreading God’s Word. He wanted the immigrants to give up and leave this bonny land, but we didn’t stop loving our God—we couldn’t.
“We didn’t stop believing in the Stars and Stripes we carried with us into battle. Only if there is no vision can a man or a country perish. I realized that watching Grant and Lee shake hands. A bloody four-year war ended with a solid hand shake and a determination to reunite and rise again! We are stronger, Maggie, because of the bloodshed. Stronger now than ever before.” He took her in his arms and hugged her. “Like Lincoln said, ‘there shall be a new birth of freedom.… With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right.’”
Maggie’s heart quickened. “As God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation’s wounds.”
His eyes had not left her face. “A husband and a wife must have the same goals, same dreams, same God.” Ben knelt before her, took her hands in his, and kissed them. “Marry me, Maggie, my lass.”
“Oh, Ben. Yes, with all my heart.” Maggie laughed. “Father will be happy now.”
Ben stood. “How so?”
“Because like is marrying like. We are new beings in Christ Jesus striving for one commonality, to make this nation the best Christian nation it can be until Jesus returns to claim His own.”
Ben’s dark head lowered to hers, his lips gently caressing hers, then he swept her up into his embrace. “For here destiny awaits, a whirlwind of destiny our children shall decide, and they will need the shield of faith we believe in to get through the terrible battles. And faith as small as a wee mustard seed that my dad bequeathed me to believe it!”
Preview of Destiny Series
Book 2
INTO DESTINY’S WHIRLWIND
Chapter 1
S omething was amiss. She could sense it.
Collina May McConnell shrugged the feeling off as tiredness. Joseph McWilliams and she had loaded hay and a thousand pounds of feed on her wagon not more than an hour ago.
Joseph sat astride his sorrel gelding next to her wagon, scowling at Emerald’s townsfolk. His fiery-red hair and thick beard added to his frightful appearance. What’s got into Joseph? This isn’t like him.
Store clerks sweeping the wooden porch leading to their doorways paused in midstride. Children stopped their snow ball fights. Three young men outside of Jim’s Mercantile halted their chatter.
A woman ran out of the mercantile like a passel of hornets was attacking her, hauled a boy up by the inside scrap of his collar, and glared at Collina.
“If looks could kill—”
“Smallpox carrier Collina May, smallpox carrier go away, we don’t want you or any McConnell to stay!” the young men yelled.
A chill went through her, the townspeople stares crushing her morale. She pulled her team to a halt and jumped down from the wagon. The thwack of her boots echoed in the silence as she slammed up the wooden steps to Doctor Baker’s office. She grabbed the medicine left on the porch, then took the steps down two at a time.
Joseph jumped off his horse and barred her escape, his large hand like an iron anvil weighing her shoulder, his red head as alert as a bird dog’s on a sudden shift in wind. “What you fixin’ on doing, drivin’ your team home in a snowstorm just ’cause some mama boys called you a name who ain’t got nothin’ better do with their day than pick on a lone woman?”
“Let go, Joseph.” She figured the reason he’d ridden into town with her was to put a halt to her plans. She yanked away from his grip. “I can handle myself and my team as good as any—”
“Man?” Joseph interrupted. “When are you going to realize God made you a woman for a reason? You just say the word and those men won’t feel like singing anymore.”
Her puckered eyebrows met his scowl with one to match.
“Seems like yesterday you were just a freckle-nosed kid kicking that big Macintosh boy in the behind ’cause he’d muddied up your stockings.”
“Wasn’t just the Macintosh boy that got my boot, I’m recalling. And it looks like I…” She looked away. Joseph knew some of the story. She would spare him the details. Now she knew what a leper must have felt like back in Jesus’ time. Well, she needed to get this medicine to Father.
Joseph’s six-foot build had a width of shoulder that won him easily every arm wrestling fight from Kentucky to the Tennessee border … but he let go of her without a struggle. His arms fell to his sides as he hunched his muscular shoulders against the north wind. “These are truly bitter days in more ways than a thermometer can record.”
“I’ll be all right,” she whispered. She swallowed down the lump that followed, seeing the pity in Joseph’s eyes.
“Take Haggerman Road, not that lane you came in on. I’d go with ya, only Pa’s come down with a bad case of the gout.” Just the two of them were left. Joseph’s ma and sister died of typhoid last summer.
Joseph’s pa, Big Jim, and her pa went back a long way. Both were Irish immigrants and had fought side by side during the Civil War. She wished she could help. But her pa wasn’t faring any better than Joseph’s.
“Too long that way.”
The wagon seat felt cold and wet. She grabbed her lap blanket. Thick white flakes of snow flew gracefully downward, as if they’d sprouted wings. Wet and pearly white, they rested on her red-plaid blanket like tiny flies—little snowflies. Just a passel of fly-flakes. She could make it through the pass. Pa always says a person can make good of any situation.
Joseph stared up at her. Thick waves of hair tussled about his generous forehead that sloped to a firm jaw. It was a face unchangeable by circumstance. “Someday someone will come along and make those stubborn feet of yours want to follow. But I sure pity that gent’s toes before you learn the step.”
“You’re not bad lookin’ from up here. You might even be powerful handsome if you ever took a razor to those whiskers you call a beard.” She laughed as deep crimson spread across his face like a sign post telling of his adoration for her.
He bent forward, resting on his strong forearms. “Most girls tell me I’m handsomely appealing!”
She knew that to be true. She couldn’t figure why he even looked her way. “Joseph, thanks for… well, you know.” She never held much store in the prating tongues of the townsfolk. So, she’d not lost anything losing their friendship. She had the friend that mattered. “I’m long overdue at Shushan.” She slapped the reins. “Giddup!”
If the townsfolk want something to gawk at, she’d give it to them. “Yah!”
Her horses picked up the pace to a trot. She gave the clicking sound and with heads arched, her horses went into a high-stepping gait. The ground beneath the wagon pounded their beat.
“Yeehaw, Collina, you show them!” Joseph hooted.
Swept into Destiny Page 27
