WITH THIS PEACE BY KAREN CAMPBELL PROUGH
Published by Firefly Southern Fiction
an imprint of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas
2333 Barton Oaks Dr., Raleigh, NC, 27614
ISBN: 978-1-946016-11-9
Copyright © 2017 by Karen Campbell Prough
Interior design by AtriTeX Technologies P Ltd
Cover design by Elaina Lee
Available in print from your local bookstore, online, or from the publisher at:
lpcbooks.com
For more information on this book and the author visit: www.karencampbellprough.com
All rights reserved. Non-commercial interests may reproduce portions of this book without the express written permission of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas, provided the text does not exceed 500 words. When reproducing text from this book, include the following credit line: “With This Peace by Karen Campbell Prough published by Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas. Used by permission.”
Commercial interests: No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by the United States of America copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination or are used for fictional purposes. Any mentioned brand names, places, and trade marks remain the property of their respective owners, bear no association with the author or the publisher, and are used for fictional purposes only.
Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, King James Version.
Brought to you by the creative team at Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas: Eva Marie Everson, Jessica R. Everson, and Amberlyn Dwinnell
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Campbell Prough, Karen.
With This Peace / Karen Campbell Prough 1st ed.
Printed in the United States of America
Praise for the Ella Dessa Series
Wonderful reading. Seemed like a true story being written about some young lady‘s life of heartbreak, distrust, graving for true love and acceptance for herself image of herself. Karen Prough has brought to life the possibility of this story being true.
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Incredibly great storytelling that takes the reader to another time and way of life. Karen Campbell Prough’s intense character development brings out strong emotion in the reader. I highly recommend these books!
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Karen Campbell Prough’s characters are so wonderfully drawn that I was immediately engaged with their circumstances, their hurts and their joys. I will definitely seek other books by this author. Thank you for the joy of a well-crafted novel.
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Karen Campbell Prough has written one of the best sequels I have ever read! I love the continuing story of Ella Dessa. This is such a heartwarming, heartstring-tugging story. There is plenty of drama; some chapters had me on the edge of my seat. There is also so much love in this book, and the relationships are so real and tender.
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I thoroughly enjoyed both The Girl Called Ella Dessa and the sequel, Within the Candle‘s Glow. As soon as I finished the second book, I immediately looked to see if there was a third. Each book can be read as a stand-alone, but the enjoyment is multiplied reading them as a series.
Acknowledgments
Imagination and the desire to write is only the beginning of a writer’s path toward publication. Many people come alongside and join the writer, and the journey can be a long, slow one.
But faithful readers do not give up. They are my support and encouragement. They ask how long they have to wait for another book. They feel free to tell me to write faster! And they tell others about the characters in the books, as if they actually know them in real life! I know I am blessed to have such an enthusiastic group of readers sending emails and stopping me in stores and at church—to ask when the next book will be released.
I do not know why God entrusted me with the awesome desire to tell stories. I hope, through the characters’ eyes, a reader will gain some insight to live by, feel lifted above a painful situation in their life, or enjoy a relaxing day by just reading for a few hours.
Dedication
“Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace,
whose mind is stayed on thee:
because he trusteth in thee.” Isaiah 26:3
To the memory of Orville G. Reynolds, my grandfather. By telling vivid, action-driven stories, he could keep us grandchildren from wiggling at the supper table. And I wanted to be just like him!
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
A Gift for You
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Chapter 1
Thursday, August 26, 1847
Central Florida Wilderness
She hated Florida but loved her husband. She simply wished Jim had never agreed to follow his red-haired brother, Duncan, into a land of swamps and shimmering heat.
Ella Dessa McKnapp wiped her forehead and stared at the gnarled oak limbs shading the supply wagon. The pure blue sky promised no relief from the oppressive heat. It would linger after the sun vanished behind distant pines, which disguised the flat horizon.
She turned to watch Jim inspect a four-foot strip of leather. He sat on an upended wooden keg with the stained leather draped over his knees. Muscles in his sun-darkened forearms rippled as he punched holes in the two halves. His callused, broad-tipped fingers threaded a skinny strand of leather through the tight holes, weaving in and out. He pulled the strip snug and repeated the tedious process.
A sweat-stained hat rested on the ground. His messy brown hair had loose curls. Jim rarely complained of weariness or the delays on the trail, but his dislike of repairing harnesses showed in his scowl.
Ella’s attention switched to a restless cow tied at the back of the wagon.
“You’ll soon be a mama.” She ran her right hand over the bulging sides of the animal—one of three cows enduring the journey south from upper Georgia.
“Ella Dessa, does she know what you’re saying?”
“Yes.” She smiled at the broad-shouldered man walking toward her. “Samuel, this one twitches her ears when I talk. The other two don’t.”
“So, twitching ears mean s
omeone’s listening?” Her brother-in-law’s pleasant grin widened. He leaned against the wagon. “Wish I had known that years ago.” Amusement deepened the unusual bluish-green tint of his eyes, and a breeze ruffled his sun-streaked hair. A battered hat hung on his back, the leather strap resting against his tanned throat.
She rolled her eyes. “Hmm, I spoke of the cow. But a listenin’ ear is always appreciated. A woman needs someone to talk to ’sides children.”
“Hmm. And none of us three men listens?”
“Oh, I must say, you do the best at listenin’. Jim an’ Duncan only speak of where this swampy trail should take us. But there’s no time for actual talk. And after the evenin’ meal, I’m mostly too tired.” She removed a rope dangling from the side of the wagon. Its coarse texture pricked her callused hands.
“We sure spent hours talking when we were young.”
“Yes—we did.” She loosened the cow’s lead rope, separated it from its two companions, and slipped the longer rope around its neck. “Those were good times.” A homesick sensation caused her to push away the poignant memories of life in the mountains. “I must lead this cow to water.”
“Want me do it? The path is slippery—water’s deep just past the cypress.”
“I’ll be careful. Shall we talk later?”
“Yes.” He reached over her head and removed a coiled whip from the wagon. He tossed his sweaty hat up where the whip had lain. “Beware of alligators.”
Samuel let the braided leather whip uncoil to the sandy ground near his left side. Its supple length resembled a snake, and his callused fingers curled around the thick handle.
He walked past the wagon toward a gray snag broken off eight feet from the sandy soil.
With practiced precision, he drew back his left arm and sent the looping end of the whip singing through the air. Its tip caressed the dry wood of the dead tree.
But the explosive crack of the recoiling whip startled Ella Dessa’s four chickens. They squawked and beat their wings in a nesting box roped to the left side of the main wagon. Their cackles joined the racket caused by wild birds near the quiet lake behind them. The oxen jerked under their yoke and rocked the loaded wagon.
“Samuel! Give me warnin’!” Ella Dessa stood by the sloping path to the cypress-rimmed lake. She pressed a hand to her chest. “I’m sure you woke the children.”
“Oh, they’re awake,” Jim muttered, not looking up from his work.
Samuel chuckled. “I forgot.”
His sister-in-law tugged on the cow’s rope. “Now she won’t budge.”
Samuel whipped the leather until it snapped. “Best get used to this sound, if we start herding cattle—like brother Duncan wants to.”
“He’s a dreamer.” She raised her eyebrow. “You’re a teacher—an’ a good one. You shouldn’t forget that.”
“I’m a one-handed teacher without a school.” He gazed at his right arm. The sleeve ended in emptiness, but he could still sense the shape of his hand. “Can’t see myself as a cowhand here in Florida, but I can pretend, since my two brothers seem determined to round up a few head of wild, spotted cattle.”
“You’ll teach ag’in—sometime. The accident with the old mule didn’t take that out of you. You’ve proved two hands aren’t needed for holdin’ a book and gettin’ a college degree. Herdin’ cattle might be a chore, but you’re good with the whip.” Her cheeks showed a light flush from the heat.
He tried to ignore the pleasing picture she made—despite the stained dress. Her honey-blond hair, looped in a double coil on the back of her head, reminded him of the sinuous whip he held in his hand—only much softer to the touch. Vivid scenes from their younger years flashed through his mind. With difficulty, he ignored the tightening in his chest and let the whip snap one more time.
“Uncle Samuel,” a child’s voice said from the wagon. “You hurt my ears.” She poked her head through the loosely gathered opening and stuck dirty fingers in her ears.
He grinned at the pouting girl—a five-year-old replica of her comely mother, right down to her sky-blue eyes. “Hannah, I’m putting it up. Did I wake Brother?”
“Yes,” she giggled.
“Samuel … thanks!” Ella Dessa nudged the cow forward. “Now, Amos will be ornery.”
“Just like his paw, eh?” He winked at Jim.
Jim rolled his eyes and tossed aside a damaged piece of leather.
“Like lightning, Samuel. You sure make it crack.” Their red-haired brother, Duncan, sauntered toward him, a gun balanced over his left shoulder. “I wish I had your ability with the whip. Of course, that loud crack might call Seminoles from the swamp. He isn’t too happy.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Jim’s mutterin’ under his breath.”
“Ah, our big brother’s never happy anymore. Besides, let the Indians come. I’ll show them what this leather can do.” Samuel wiggled the whip in the trodden grass, imitating the movement of an undulating snake.
“A big snake!” Hannah crawled up on the wagon seat. “Amos, come see the snake,” she said to her three-year-old brother.
“Where’s snake?” The sleepy-eyed boy climbed up beside her. His flaxen hair, darkened with sweat, stuck to his head.
“I hate snakes!” Ella Dessa studied the high grass. “They could be anywhere!”
Hannah clapped. “Uncle Samuel, make the whip wiggle in the grass.”
Samuel grinned but caught sight of Jim’s deepening frown. “Next time, Hannah. Got to roll it up.” He tucked the whip under his right arm and coiled it with his left hand. “Duncan, this whip’s the best you made before we left the mountains. We sell it last—or I keep it.”
“Hmm. Keep it, my brother. Making them gets easier with practice.” Duncan’s green eyes watched him prepare the whip for storage.
“Duncan, you should’ve made more.” Ella Dessa patted the stubborn cow. “Usin’ them to trade for staples and dry goods has helped.”
“Yeah, trading whips for provisions south of Dahlonega and in Saint Augustine reduced my inventory.” Duncan nudged Samuel. “Thanks for showin’ them to that woolly bunch of men outside the settler’s camp. Their eyes ’bout popped out of their skulls, when you cracked it over their heads.”
Samuel chuckled. “One man thought I scalped him. I saw him patting his head after his hat blew off.”
Duncan laughed. “They didn’t believe you were a teacher.” His smooth-shaven face showed the stark outline of a sunburn where a beard had been days before. His red hair stuck out in spiky points where he had sawed at it with his skinning knife.
“If I can’t teach school here in Florida, then I’ll teach whip cracking. Eh?” Samuel chuckled and glanced at Ella Dessa. “When do you think she’ll drop the calf?”
“Soon. If you crack the whip again, she’ll birth right here.” She rubbed the side of the cow. “She’s been slow-walkin’ today and bagged up.” She pulled on the lead rope. “Hannah, stay with Brother.”
“Yes, Mama.” The girl brushed aside her untidy hair.
Ella Dessa shoved at the cow’s rump. “Let’s go!”
Samuel took his eyes off his sister-in-law’s shapely figure wrestling with the cow and glanced over his shoulder. “Brother Jim, did you compare the old settler’s map and Duncan’s drawing?”
“Naw.” Jim laid aside the repaired harness. “I stored it in our wagon.” His smoke-gray eyes watched his wife and the lumbering cow. “See how the cow’s sides have sunk in? Calf has shifted. Betcha it’s born by daylight.” He reached for his hat. “Ella? I’ll start the cooking fire. Watch for gators.”
“I will.” Her hair reflected the setting sun’s radiance. She lifted her skirt free of the damp soil, and the tops of her worn leather boots showed.
Samuel felt a twinge of uneasiness. He wanted to trail after her—make sure she was safe. If she was my wife, I wouldn’t have dragged her out of the mountains to this bug-ridden swampy land. And I’d protect her, not let her go to the lake alone.
Jim
had assumed the authoritative position in their large family after their father died, and each one of the sisters and brothers usually followed his advice—except Duncan.
No man or woman ever stood in Duncan’s way.
“Jim, let’s look at the settler’s map—compare it to Duncan’s,” Samuel said.
“My map’s good.” Duncan frowned.
“I feel uneasy, like there’s too much difference.”
“Samuel, we’ll get to it.” Jim beckoned. “Let’s turn both wagons and stay the night. I repaired the harness on the supply wagon, plus I finished an extra binding, just in case.”
“The water barrels need fillin’.” Duncan rubbed two fingers across his brow. “Ouch! Got burned today.”
“Wear a hat.” Samuel chuckled. “Your short crop won’t hide your scalp and neck … like your bushy red hair did.”
Duncan grunted. “I hate hats.” He squinted at the sky. “Jim? This heat is unbearable. We must fill the water barrels.”
“Heard you earlier. But we can’t get near this lake with the wagons.” Jim squinted at the setting sun. “Too many cypress.”
“We can bring water from the lake in a bucket line.” Duncan stood with his muscular arms crossed, rolled sleeves exposing tanned freckled skin.
“Wait ’til Ella gets back. She can help.” Jim yawned and stretched.
“Jim, she shouldn’t have to,” Samuel said. “Just like she shouldn’t be down by that lake alone. Those gators lie in wait for anything coming to the water.”
Jim’s gray eyes flashed, but he gave in. “All right. Sam, collect the buckets, and let’s get it done.”
“Most are in the supply wagon.” He took four steps and froze.
A choked scream broke the stillness, accompanied by a cow’s bawl of agony.
Chapter 2
Samuel ran for the slope, but Duncan was halfway there. Ella Dessa burst from the high grasses. She snatched at a tree limb, fell to her knees, and scrambled upright, the muddy skirt hampering her frenzied movements.
“Stop!” Duncan grabbed her upper arms, halting her headlong flight. “What is it?”
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