The Veil

by Diane Noble

  Her weakness was worse now, nearly to the point where her head sagged against the warm stone. But wait. She had to see her babies. She tried once more.

  There … there they were … all of them. Walking out in single file. That seemed strange, but why should she question it?

  All the children, the tiniest children, were being loaded into wagons. There was Sarah holding Phoebe and Meg whistling through her flute, playing “Oh! Susanna” as they climbed into the wagon together. No, maybe the song was merely in her head. Stuck in there with the shimmering fields of goldenrod.

  She struggled to raise her head to see what would happen next. She knew something was wrong, but she couldn’t remember exactly what. She licked her lips to rid them of their dryness. But it didn’t help, just like when she was crossing the prairie and they’d blistered in the sun. All those days her lips had bled and blistered as she’d walked next to the wagon, gazing into Alexander’s eyes of love.

  The same eyes that had shown her everything in his heart on the day they were wed back at Drake’s Creek. She’d worn a crown of flowers that day, goldenrod, and she and Alexander had danced in a meadow like this. Whirled and danced. And Ellie’s veil had caught in the breeze. Alexander had laughed, saying she might fly off like an angel if he didn’t hold her tight in his arms.

  And, oh! He had held her. For all those years he’d held her. She looked at him now, walking so proud and tall as he led this long line of men. Her captain. Her wonderful, strong, and loving captain.

  But why had they laid down their weapons? Why were they walking single file, each next to a Mormon man? There was something dangerous about what they were doing, but she couldn’t remember what.

  And the women … why had their babies been taken from their arms? Their children ripped from them? She squinted as the women marched north through the goldenrod, the sunflowers, the lupines. They walked single file, just like the men.

  The meadow grasses were burning, though not consumed. They shimmered again, pale amber and liquid gold. But still the wagon company marched side by side with their captors.

  Her eyes searched for Meg and Sarah, but they were facing away from her. She longed to look in their sweet faces one more time, and her heart nearly broke in two because of the ache inside her.

  Then she noticed that there was someone with the children in the wagon. Someone she hadn’t noticed before. The little ones were gathered around Him, some on His lap, others nestled in His arms.

  The wagon drove on, not stopping, even after the shimmering field had turned red with blood and was filled with the screams of the dying.

  Ellie covered her ears with her hands, and she hardly knew her face glistened wet with tears. She kept her gaze on the figure in the wagon with the children, praying for Him to keep the little ones from turning to see the carnage behind them … their fallen mothers and fathers and grandmothers and grandfathers … their brothers and sisters and playmates.

  The figure in the wagon turned toward Ellie, as if He’d known she was there all along. He seemed to beckon, and she wanted to go with Him, though somehow she knew she could stay with Him but not with the children.

  At the same time, the meadow seemed filled with music and light. There was laughter and singing as friends greeted each other. She looked up to see Alexander striding toward her.

  He held her wedding veil, and when she stood, he placed its crown of goldenrod on her head. The veil floated on a breath of wind sweeping across the meadow. They laughed at the joy of it. Then he gathered her into his arms, and she felt so light that even earth seemed no longer able to hold her.

  “Ellie—?” a voice said in a hoarse whisper. “Ellie!” Her eyes fluttered open, but the pain of keeping them open was too great. She shut them again but not before she’d seen Lucas Knight kneeling beside her, his face filled with the tragedy of what they’d just witnessed. He lifted her head with his hand. “I’ve got to get you out of here,” he said, his voice ragged.

  “I don’t want to leave,” she breathed. “Alexander …” Her hand fluttered helplessly. “Don’t you see? I can’t leave.”

  Lucas tenderly wiped her face with a cool, wet cloth. “Ellie, I’m going to take you to Hannah’s, to Sophronia’s. They’re caring for Faith. You must return.”

  She knew he didn’t want her to think about what had happened in the meadow. But he didn’t understand. She would rest, she thought, as he lifted her into his arms. She would rest and then tell him, tell them all what had happened.

  As he carried her into the forest to where his horse stood waiting, Ellie kept her face turned from the meadow. When he’d mounted and lifted her onto the saddle in front of him, she asked, “Did you see?”

  He nodded grimly as she leaned against his chest. “Not everything, but enough to know what happened.”

  “They have my children.”

  He looked into her face. “They saved the children? You saw them?”

  “Yes,” she whispered weakly. “Two wagons.”

  “Meg and Sarah?” he asked, his voice choking. “Did you see them?”

  “Yes,” she said. “They were in the first wagon with maybe six or seven others. And I saw three of the O’Donnell girls in the same wagon.” She closed her eyes a moment. “I counted the children carefully, so I could tell who was saved.”

  “You must rest now, Ellie. You need your strength.”

  She closed her eyes. She’d been spared for a reason, and it wasn’t to rest. “You must find them … every one. Promise me.” He met her gaze and nodded. “I promise.”

  When she opened her eyes again, Lucas was heading around the last curve before the Steele ranch. She trembled, remembering John Steele’s role in the massacre. Lucas must have understood, because he held her more tightly.

  “You’re safe here,” he said. “John Steele is still at the meadows. I would think he’ll remain there for quite some time.”

  The next thing she knew, Hannah and Sophronia were bending over her at the sides of the bed where she’d borne little Faith. “My baby …,” she whispered, feeling weaker now than before.

  “She’s fine. Healthy and beautiful,” Hannah whispered. She held a cup of water to Ellie’s lips, and she sipped as Lucas supported her head. He helped her settle back into the pillows.

  “I need to tell you everything that happened,” she said. “But most of all I need to tell you about the children. You need to write down every name, so they’re not forgotten.”

  White-faced, Hannah sat on the side of the bed and took Ellie’s hand. “I promise you that the three of us will not ever forget the events that happened here today.”

  “I have a little journal,” Ellie said, “that I’ve kept since we started our journey across. I carry it with me always, usually in my skirt pocket. It was with me the day Faith was born.”

  “I found it,” Hannah said, standing to retrieve it from a lamp table near the window. She returned and placed it in Ellie’s hands.

  Ellie felt its worn leather cover, its ribbon marker, and brought it to her heart. “This is for my children,” she whispered. “It’s all I can give them of myself.”

  Hannah touched her arm. “Please don’t say that, Ellie. You must live.”

  Ellie knew better. She’d known at the meadow. Even though Lucas had helped her stanch the bleeding at the meadow, she’d known. “Would you write down the names for me? Write them in this little book.” She handed it to Hannah.

  Sophronia went for the inkwell and a pen, and Hannah settled into a chair near the lamp table. She folded back the cover and dipped the pen in the ink.

  “The children’s names are Martha Elizabeth Barrett, Sarah Frances Barrett, and William Twitty Barrett. And there are the five little O’Donnell girls: Rebecca, Louisa, Sarah, Prudence Angeline, and Georgiana.”

  Ellie’s eyes filled with tears as she thought of each child, how each represented a family of friends she loved. She continued, praying for strength. “And there were Alexander’s grand
children Kit and Triphenia Farrington. And little Nancy Huff, Felix Jones, and the Miller children: John Calvin, Mary, and Joseph. I saw Emerson and Billy Tackett.”

  Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And I saw Meg and Sarah, my precious little girls … my babies. They were in one of the two wagons filled with the children.” She frowned and slowly turned her head to look up at Lucas. “Why do you suppose they saved the children?”

  For a moment, only the scratching sound of the pen on paper could be heard. Finally, Lucas answered. “Their blood is considered innocent,” he said, turning to look out the window, as if her pain was too much for him to bear.

  “Lucas,” Ellie said suddenly, “would you read something for me?”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s in my journal, toward the end. I wrote down something that always gives me comfort. Would you read it now?”

  From the wooden cradle in the corner, a tiny cry sounded, and Ellie moved her head to look over at Faith. Sophronia, knowing it was time, stooped to lift the child into her arms, crossed to the bed, and placed Faith in Ellie’s arms.

  The shimmering had started again, and Ellie whispered, “Help me hold her, will you?”

  Sophronia pulled a chair nearer, placing her arms around the baby and Ellie.

  Ellie closed her eyes, feeling the warmth and security of the older woman’s embrace and Faith’s soft breathing as she stopped her crying. “Read, Lucas,” she whispered. “Now, please?” Hannah handed Lucas the journal.

  “Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine.

  “When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee:

  “When thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.”

  Ellie held up her hand for Lucas to stop reading. She smiled weakly, then looked down one last time at the precious baby in her arms. “Jesus was there, you know,” she murmured. “He was there with the children, holding them in his arms.”

  The shimmering was now so bright that she couldn’t make out their faces. “Take care of my children,” Ellie said, though she wasn’t sure it was with her voice or her thoughts.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Three days later, Hannah knelt to place wildflowers on Ellie Farrington’s grave. Lucas had dug it on a hillside near the pond, and from here the morning sunlight seemed especially brilliant. They had chosen the spot, knowing how Ellie would like it and also thinking that someday little Faith and the twins, Meg and Sarah, might want to visit the place and know that special care was given their mother. “Hannah—?” Lucas called out, striding up the hillside behind her. Hannah brushed her hands and stood to greet him. “You’re ready to go?

  “Sophronia’s packing me some provisions.” He was now standing in front of her and took her hands in his. “I hate leaving you here, Hannah. It’s something I swore I would never do.”

  She swallowed hard and touched his lips. “Don’t say it, Lucas. We’re doing what is right. If it weren’t for the children …” Her voice faltered.

  He turned her gently with his arm, and they began to walk down the pathway to the pond. “I’ll come back as soon as I can get a government agent to come with me.”

  “I know it may take a couple of years for you to get back, Lucas. But even then I don’t know that it will be safe for you to return. Not after what’s happened. If it ever comes out that you know anything about what really happened …” Her voice faltered.

  “Justice has to be seen to, Hannah. One way or another.”

  “The deception has already begun. A neighbor stopped by to check on me last night. He told me in great detail how the Indians annihilated the entire train.”

  “He still has no idea that there was a witness?”

  Hannah shook her head. “No one knew Ellie was here. And now that the children have been given out to families all over the territory, it’s assumed that Faith was brought here by one of the Danites. The neighbor never even asked where she came from.”

  Lucas looked across the pond. “I am ashamed that I was ever part of the Avenging Angels, that I ever thought there was a reason for vengeance.”

  She took his hand. “We were brought up in an atmosphere of hatred and fear. We knew no other way.”

  “Ellie said something to me once about Christ’s robe of righteousness. I was trying to convince her that we have to earn God’s favor. Of course, I was thinking about my own unworthiness, my own terrible wrongs.”

  Hannah smiled. “She told me that it’s Christ’s atonement for our sins that makes the difference—not anything we can do on our own. Certainly not giving our own lives or causing someone else to lose theirs.”

  “How strange that we pursue blood atonement so fervently when Christ was the One who made the sacrifice,” Lucas mused.

  “The robe Ellie mentioned—?” He nodded. “Ellie said that when we accept that sacrifice—his blood shed on our account—that’s when his robe of righteousness is draped around our shoulders. All our sin, no matter how terrible, is removed from God’s sight. We stand blameless and pure before him.”

  “Are you talking about what I’ve done,” he asked gently, “or what’s happened to you?”

  “We both have much to overcome, Lucas. I wanted to come to you as pure and innocent as I was the day I met you. Instead, John Steele took me …” She couldn’t go on. She merely stood, looking into Lucas’s face, trembling and pressing her lips together to keep from crying.

  He reached out and gently touched her cheek. “Oh, Hannah—” His voice broke. “If you only knew the things I’ve witnessed. Things I didn’t try to prevent.”

  “If what Ellie says is true, then we can stand blameless before God through his Son,” she whispered.

  “I feel I’ve already met her God …”

  “Our God,” Hannah corrected gently.

  He nodded. “But it’s Christ’s sacrifice I’m just beginning to understand.” He hesitated, frowning in wonder. “When did you begin to believe that Christ lives in us?”

  She smiled. “I think I saw him in Ellie from the moment I met her. But when she said that she’d seen him with her children, I couldn’t doubt her words. I saw his love, his life, in her face. I believed her.”

  “It was the same for me,” he mused, glancing at the small mound up the hill from the pond. “She told me back in Laramie that God never makes mistakes, that he’d led me to their train for a purpose. I know now what that purpose was. It was so she could introduce me to the living, holy God.”

  They turned to walk back down the hillside to the ranch house. “I’ll find the location of every child while you’re gone,” she said when they were standing by Spitfire. “If you can’t come back into the territory, have your agent—or that of the government—come see me. I’ll have all the information he’ll need. All of the children will be accounted for—and watched over by Sophronia and me—until they’re returned home to relatives in the East.”

  Lucas cupped her face in his hands. “It takes courage to stay here.”

  She smiled gently. “Both of us are doing what we must for the children.”

  Sophronia stepped to the doorway of the house, holding tiny Faith in her arms. Lucas walked over to tell her good-bye.

  He took the child and held her for a minute, gazing into her eyes. “Such a beautiful baby, born of such tragedy.” His voice caught, and he said no more.

  Sophronia wrapped her arms around Lucas and gathered him and the baby into her arms.

  Hannah, tears now streaming down her face, went over to join the embrace. “I thought I would be braver than this,” she whispered. She pulled back slightly, looking from Lucas to Sophronia and attempting to smile through her tears. “The only thing that helps is to think about what Ellie said, that God doesn’t let anything happen by accident. He’s had his hand on us all since the beginning, and he’s not going to let go now.”

  For
a moment Lucas didn’t speak, then he said, “I leave you all in God’s hands.” Without another word, he placed the child again in Sophronia’s arms and turned back to the stallion. With a nod to them all, he swung a leg over the saddle then headed down the trail.

  Hannah watched him go, wondering how long it would be until she saw him again. Or if she would see him again.

  “Lucas!” she cried, running after him. “Lucas!”

  He craned around in the saddle, saw her running, and dismounted in time to catch her up in his arms.

  “Oh, Lucas!” she cried again, her arms circling his neck as he twirled her around and pressed her close. “My darling, I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

  Then he stopped and held her tightly in his arms. “Hannah,” he said his voice husky. “My beloved … my beloved Hannah! I promise I’ll come back for you.”

  “Don’t promise what you can’t know,” she said, kissing his palm when he’d released her. “Just promise me you’ll think of me every day—just as I’m keeping you in my heart forever.”

  He brushed her lips with his, then again swung into the saddle. He pulled his hat down low and smiled tenderly at her from under its brim.

  “Good-bye, my love,” he said. Then he kicked Spitfire to a trot, waved once more, and was gone.

  That evening, John Steele rode into the ranch, dismounted, and strode toward the house, the heavy thud of his boots reverberating across the wood-slat porch and announcing his arrival before he threw open the door.

  Hannah had been humming as she held little Faith in her arms. She stopped abruptly, gazing up at him as he entered the room.

  His face was haggard, his eyes circled by a bruise-colored darkness, and he stared into the room without speaking. Then he walked toward her and pulled back the corner of the blanket to peer at the sleeping baby.

  “How did you get this child?” he demanded.

  “It’s one of those from the Meadows,” she said simply.