But Caroline had gone rigid beside him, and there was a soft intake of breath. Joshua turned to her. “Caroline, do you know what this is?”
So slowly it was almost imperceptible, her head moved up and down. “That’s the purse I left the money in,” she whispered. “Will took it from my drawer.”
The marshall looked away. He turned to Samuelson and shook his head. “I don’t have any choice,” he murmured. “I’m going to have to put out a warrant for the boy’s arrest.”
* * *
The door to the coal bin opened, letting in a flood of daylight. Will sat up quickly, blinking at the brightness of the light. A dark shadow filled the narrow frame.
“You all right, boy?”
Will pushed his back against the one empty wall, feeling the grit of the coal dust beneath his seat, but he didn’t answer.
“How’s the arm?”
Will lifted the splinted wrist without thinking and looked at it. “It’s all right, I guess.”
“Good.” The man stooped and set a plate of food on the floor. “Eat up, boy.”
“Where are we?”
The man turned to look out the door. “We’ll shortly be docking at Cairo, Illinois, where the Ohio River comes in.” He spoke more kindly now. “Wish we could let you off to stretch your legs, but we won’t be stopping long. There’s more ice coming downriver, and we’ve got to keep moving.” Then abruptly he stepped back and shut the door. There was a metallic click as he put the padlock in the hasp.
Will could smell the food distinctly now, some kind of meat and beans, but he ignored it. He could feel the throbbing of the paddle wheels through the bulkhead and could hear the swishing of the water across the hull. Suddenly he dropped his head against his knees. Hot tears scalded his eyes, and his shoulders began to shake. “I’m sorry, Mama,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.
Chapter 32
When Jessica and her four children moved to the new cabin where she would teach school, the Steeds decided to once again realign their housing arrangements. Jenny and Kathryn McIntire moved in with Jessica to help with the children in payment for their enrollment in the school. Sister McIntire stayed with Benjamin and Mary Ann; Peter and Matthew were also still there. Rebecca and Derek moved over to stay with Lydia and Nathan.
Lydia was grateful for Rebecca’s and Derek’s company. Not only was Rebecca wonderful to help with the children, but she and Derek were both still so young and so in love and so perpetually optimistic and happy. Lydia desperately needed that right now. There had been no word from Nathan since the letter he had written from St. Louis almost a month before. And in that letter he had said that he had no idea how long it would take for him and Joshua to go to Georgia and look for Caroline, or where they would go if she wasn’t there. But any way she figured it, it would be weeks at least, maybe a month or more.
And now their departure from Missouri loomed closer every day. That frightened Lydia more than she could bear to contemplate. She knew that she would have Derek and Matthew to help her. It wasn’t that she felt abandoned, but it was not the same. She still felt that she was facing it all alone—trying to decide what to carry and what to abandon, crossing two hundred miles of open prairie in the depths of winter with a baby and three other children, the oldest only seven. She needed Nathan—to lean on, to complain to when she had to put on a brave face for everyone else, to snuggle against when there was no other safe place in all the world. Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes and she looked away, lest Rebecca should see them.
But Rebecca was dressing baby Elizabeth and finding her hands full in doing so. Elizabeth was eight months old now and had mastered crawling in the past two weeks. She was faster than a frightened kitten and could scoot out from under your grip in a flash. As Rebecca reached for her booties, she twisted away.
“She’s getting away,” squealed six-year-old Emily, giggling as she grabbed one of Elizabeth’s legs and pulled her back.
“You little mouse,” Rebecca laughed. “You’re getting too quick for your own good.”
“She not a mouse,” little Nathan said. He had turned three in October and had mastered a glare that would freeze an avalanche in its path. He leveled it at Rebecca now.
Lydia laughed in spite of herself. She brushed at the corners of her eyes, then turned around. “No, Nathan, Elizabeth is not a mouse. Rebecca didn’t mean it.”
He looked at his aunt, still openly offended. Rebecca was appropriately contrite. “I’m sorry, Nathan. Elizabeth is not a mouse.” She finished putting on Elizabeth’s booties and turned her loose for Emily and Nathan to chase after. She stood up, looked at Lydia, then looked again more closely. “Are you sure you won’t go visiting with Jessie and me?” she said.
Lydia hesitated. Normally being out with the other sisters was something she enjoyed. But Emma? Mary Fielding Smith? Sister Rigdon? All that would do is remind her all the more keenly about missing husbands and lonely women waiting for them to return. She shook her head. “No, I—”
There was a step on the porch, followed immediately by a knock at the door. Lydia turned. “Come in,” she called.
It opened immediately and Jenny McIntire entered. She had a knitted scarf wrapped around her face and gloves on her hands, but her cheeks were still pink, which highlighted her freckles and her blue eyes and made her seem two or three years younger than her seventeen years. With a joyous shout, Emily and Joshua and Nathan leaped up and ran to her, nearly bowling her over. In the two weeks since the McIntires had come, Lydia’s children and Jessica’s children had fallen in love with Jenny and Kathryn. The two sisters were wonderful with the children, and the children adored them.
“Hello,” Jenny said, laughing as she let them wrestle her to the floor.
“Emily,” Lydia called, smiling. “Nathan. Let Jenny up, for heaven’s sake.”
Reluctantly they backed off for a moment, and Jenny stood. She unwrapped the scarf from around her face, then turned to Rebecca and Lydia. “Sister Lydia, Jessie sent me over to watch the children.”
“She did?”
“Yes. She wants you to come right over. Amanda Smith and another family just got in from . . .” She hesitated, trying to remember the name.
“Haun’s Mill?” Rebecca filled in.
“Yes, that’s it. They just arrived. Jessica was so excited to see her, she dismissed school. But she wants you to come, right now.”
Rebecca swung around. “Oh, Lydia, please come. Jessie says Amanda is the most wonderful woman.”
Lydia nodded. She had never met Amanda Smith, but Jessica’s accounts of Haun’s Mill and what had happened there were filled with references to Amanda Smith. Lydia untied her apron and tossed it aside. “All right, let’s go.”
* * *
“Well, I’d not be a truthful woman if I told you it has not been a terrifying experience.”
Jessica sat by Amanda’s side on the sofa. With much of the furniture smashed or stolen by the militia, Mary Ann, Lydia, Rebecca, and Sister McIntire all sat in a half circle on the floor facing the sofa, listening intently to Amanda.
“The Missourians have been back a dozen times or more, telling us that if we did not leave the state immediately, they would kill us all.”
“That’s what they’re saying to everyone,” Mary Ann said.
“I know. We kept telling them we’d move as soon as we could, but there were three families of us with wounded men or boys who couldn’t be moved. We had no choice but to stay. We told them that over and over. It made no difference to them.”
“The fiends,” Lydia said angrily. “Have they no heart whatsoever?”
Jessica knew the answer to that. Amanda’s coming had brought back with searing sharpness the memories of that hor-rible afternoon. It made her sick even now—men on horseback, painted like savages, whooping and screaming, shooting down men and boys, firing at women and children as they scattered for cover. Fiends was a term that didn’t half describe them.
“All I could do was
show them my Alma,” Amanda was continuing. “Obviously he couldn’t be moved, not even enough to turn him over in his bed. Even the very little I had to move him to put cloths under his back so he wouldn’t get bedsores made him scream out in agony.”
“And they accepted that?” Rebecca asked, the horror making her voice almost a whisper.
“Yes, finally, but they continued to harass us. The leader, he came one day and said we could stay until we could move our wounded, but we were forbidden to do anything religious. We couldn’t have any meetings, or even call the family together for prayers. They said they would shoot us if they caught us praying vocally alone.”
Her lips tightened and her eyes were suddenly fierce. “I decided I could not—would not—stand this godless silence. So one day I went down into a cornfield and crawled into a shock of the corn which had been cut and stacked. You know where I mean, Jessica. Across the stream in the field next to Brother Haun’s.”
“Yes,” Jessica said softly. “I know exactly where you mean.”
“Well, after making sure no one could see me or hear me, I started to pray out loud. I raised my voice and prayed till my soul felt satisfied.”
“Did they catch you?” Lydia breathed.
“No. But a most marvelous thing happened. As I left the shock of corn and started back toward the cabin where we were now staying, all of a sudden I heard a voice. It was a sweet and wonderful voice, and it sent chills through my whole body.”
Sister McIntire’s eyes were wide with amazement. “What did it say?”
“Do you know our hymn ‘How Firm a Foundation’?” Amanda replied.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Well, the voice repeated a verse from that wonderful hymn. The seventh verse, in fact, just as it is found in our hymnal.”
“Which is . . . ?” Sister McIntire asked.
Amanda closed her eyes and leaned back, the memory softening her features. Then she began to quote softly. “‘The soul that on Jesus hath lean’d for repose, I will not, I cannot desert to his foes. That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake, I’ll never—no, never, no never forsake!’”
Her eyes came open again and she looked around at the women’s faces. “I can’t begin to tell you what sweetness that brought to me. From that moment forth I had no further fear of the mob. I was so certain of God’s protecting care that I went right home and gathered Willard and my two daughters around me. I told them that as long as they had faith and that if they would conscientiously do right, the Lord would shelter us from harm.”
They all leaned back now, awed by the power of this simple woman and the story she had told them. Finally Jessica spoke. “And what of little Alma? How is he doing?”
Amanda sat up and clasped her hands together, her eyes shining with excitement. “You haven’t heard?”
Jessica shook her head. “No. Heard what?”
Amanda laughed and turned. She and her children had been taken in by a family with whom they had come out from Kirtland. The family had gone out, leaving Amanda to visit with her friends. “Willard!” She cupped her hand around her mouth. “Willard, come here for a moment.”
A moment later a young boy stuck his head into the room. “Yes, Mama?”
“Where is Alma?”
“He’s in the bedroom, Mama.”
“Will you fetch him for me?”
Lydia was shaking her head. She turned to Jessica. “Is that the boy you told us about? The one who helped those little girls who were hiding under the bed?”
Jessica nodded. “Yes, that’s Willard.”
Mary Ann felt her eyes burning. “You must be very proud, Sister Smith. I know you lost your husband and a son, but to have one like that . . .”
“Yes,” Amanda said soberly. “I was very proud of Willard that day.”
Just then there was the sound of footsteps and Willard came back in, this time leading a boy three or four years younger than himself. Amanda smiled. “Alma, these sisters would like to meet you.”
Alma bowed slightly. “How’d ya do,” he intoned. He was towheaded and slender, with an impish twist to his nose and mouth.
Jessica was staring at him, unbelieving. “But he’s walking.”
Amanda turned back and started to reply, then had to stop. Her lower lip was trembling noticeably now. “Yes,” she whispered happily.
Jessica turned to her family, her mouth round with amazement. “But I saw his wound. The whole hip joint was gone.” She turned back to stare at him. “I can’t believe it.”
Amanda motioned to her son. “Alma, turn so they can see your leg.”
He turned and extended his leg so that it stretched the trouser material tightly over the skin. Now all the women gasped. At his hip there was a depression about the size of a man’s fist beneath the material. It looked like someone had scooped part of the leg away.
Now Amanda began to speak again, not taking her eyes off her youngest son. “Alma lay in the same position for about five weeks while the wound was healing. But then one day—this would be in early December—I had taken a bucket to the spring for water. Suddenly I heard the children screaming back at the house. My heart nearly stopped. I thought the mob had returned.”
She stopped, overcome for a moment. She held out her arms and Alma came over into them. “You too, Willard,” she said. He came and stood behind the sofa, laying a hand on her shoulder.
“When I rushed inside the door, the children were all running around the cabin, with Alma in the lead, him crying, ‘I’m well, Ma, I’m well!’” She pulled Alma tightly against her, for a moment too moved to continue. Finally, she sniffed back the tears. “Yes, I lost Warren and Sardius that day, but the Lord did not forsake me. He has given us a miracle, and I shall ever sing his praises for his glorious mercy and love for me and my family.”
* * *
The others talked excitedly as they walked back toward their own homes, but Lydia lagged behind, not wanting to speak and break the wonder that filled her soul. Suddenly she dropped her head, staring at the ground. Dear Lord, forgive me. Forgive my murmuring tongue. Forgive my foolishness that I should think I am tested beyond measure. I thank thee for reminding me of thy marvelous power and of thy wondrous love and mercy. I miss my Nathan fiercely, but I shall murmur no more. Be with him and Joshua in their task, then bring him home safely to us, if it be thy will. Strengthen my faltering heart and feeble knees, O Father. Help me to be strong. In the name of Jesus, amen.
Opening her eyes fully, she raised her head, then moved forward more sharply. In three steps she was up to her mother-in-law and slipped her arm through hers. As Mary Ann looked at her in surprise, Lydia smiled happily. “Let’s all have supper together tonight, shall we?”
* * *
Derek was waiting for Rebecca and Lydia at the front porch. He was grinning like a child with a secret too marvelous to share and too wonderful to keep. “Hello, dear,” he said, kissing Rebecca on the cheek. “Hello, Lydia. You look well today.”
Lydia looked up in surprise. “I am well, thank you. Very well. How are the children?”
He laughed in delight. “Better than they have been for many days.” That puzzled Lydia even more, and she looked at him more closely. But his smile only broadened, sending the mischievousness spreading across his face. “By the way, we sent Jenny home.”
“Oh?” There was something she was missing, but she wasn’t sure what. “Is the baby asleep?”
“No.”
“Oh. So Joshua’s watching her?”
He was enjoying himself immensely. “No, I don’t think so. Nor Emily either.”
“Derek!” Rebecca said, getting exasperated. “Then who has the baby?”
He smiled, stepped to the door, and, with a sweeping bow, opened it. “I think she is in good hands, but why not go in and see for yourself?”
He pushed the door open wide. Thoroughly baffled now, Lydia started in, giving him one last quizzical look. But he merely gestured with his
head for her to enter and chuckled all the more deeply. Then she was inside and turned to look for her children. She had lifted her hands to untie the scarf around her neck, but they froze in midair. Nathan was sitting in the rocking chair, Elizabeth in one arm, Nathan on his lap, and Joshua and Emily standing by his side.
“Hello, Lydia,” he said happily.
“See?” Derek chortled. “I told you she was in good hands.”
* * *
Lydia reached over and stroked Nathan’s cheek with the back of her hand. “You must be exhausted.”
He reached up and took her hand. “Actually, I’m so excited to be home again, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep all night.”
She laughed softly. “It’s fine with me. I only have about a hundred million things to tell you.”
He turned over on his side so that he was facing her. Now he took both of her hands in his and squeezed them. “I’m so sorry that it took so long, Lydia. I feel—”
She jerked one hand loose from his and clamped it over his mouth. “No!” she scolded. “Don’t you say it.” Then she went up on one elbow, removed her hand from his mouth, and kissed him hard. Still up, she stared at him in the dark and began to trace the shape of his lips with her fingertip. “I can’t believe it. You’re really here.”
“Yes. I was going to write from Savannah, but we left the very next day. I figured we were going to beat any mail that could have been sent. When I left St. Louis it was the same thing. I figured I would make better time than the mail coaches.”
“Hmm,” she murmured, kissing him again. “This is much better than some dry old letter.” Then her mouth turned down. “What will they do?”
Her sudden switch of thought caught him off guard. “Who? You mean Caroline and Joshua?”
“Yes. About Will. What can they do?”
“There’s nothing now they can do. We spent two more days looking. He’s gone without a trace. We found people who had seen him, but no one after that night. They’re hoping he’ll head south to Savannah, looking for his mother. If he does, the Montagues will ship him right back north again.”
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