With This Peace

by Karen Campbell Prough

  “It’s back,” Luke muttered. His white shirt was ripped and hanging off one shoulder. “Pray. Get back in place, and … pray.” He glanced at the trees still standing. “Pray no tree falls this way. If you must confess to your Maker, do it now.”

  “Samuel, where’s Perleu?” Ella whispered.

  “Zach put him over there, before flipping the wagon.” He pointed to the right.

  The light faded behind surging clouds. The renewed wind bent tall, damaged trees in the opposite direction.

  Ella stood, her wet skirt whipping her legs. Hannah’s face was pale, her eyes dark-ringed.

  “Noo! Mama, I don’t want to! It’s hard to get air.”

  “Listen to me.” Luke lifted Hannah. The girl’s hair blew across his face. “Under there is the safe place. Let’s say a prayer.” Bowing his dark head, he raised his voice.

  “Lord, protect us through the last of this storm. Keep your hand and the wagons over us! Calm our fears. Hold fast those tall trees. Amen.”

  Rain splattered them. Ella clasped Amos’s hand, and Luke carried Hannah. Samuel hurried toward them. “Luke, I must be with my family.”

  “Quick, get under!” Luke shielded Hannah’s face from debris.

  The underside of the wagon was more crowded, damp, and scary than before, as the six of them and the baby filled the space. The adults laid side by side, arms protecting the children between them. They started praying. The wind and rain drowned their upraised voices.

  Water pooled around them. Rain dripped on them. Light faded away.

  Luke stayed by the crawl space. “Samuel, brace your back against that side of the wagon. Push against it. The wind might drag it sideways!”

  Aga got on her knees and elbows and rolled into a ball, with Albery tucked between her breast and knees. Samuel pushed Amos to Ella. She laid on her side and placed one leg and arm over her children, while the fury of the hurricane blotted out any other sound.

  Something crashed against the wagon. Ella clutched her children closer and felt short of breath. She wanted to scream and get out from under the wagon.

  Time dragged by, but when the wind and the drumming rain slacked, light crept through the cracks. Luke wormed his way to the opening. He stuck his hand and arm through to shove at the top of a tree blocking their escape.

  Samuel used his elbows and pulled himself to Luke’s side. “What can I do?”

  “Not much. Try yelling for Zach. I got to turn and push my feet through the hole—try to shove debris away.” He kicked against the blockage. “It’s too heavy!’

  From outside, a voice shouted, “Get your legs in! I’m usin’ an axe!”

  Jerking his legs and feet out of the way, Luke rolled sideways. With the sound of the axe, daylight grew.

  “I got one more branch!” Zach yelled. Moments later, he told them to come out.

  One by one, they slid on their bellies through the water and scrambled over the top of a pine tree. Zach’s children were crawling out from under the other wagon, shivering and wet.

  Ella felt ill from the throbbing ache in her hip. She heard Samuel’s voice as she gathered her nasty hair away from her face.

  “Ella Dessa?”

  “Hip hurts,” she admitted, limping away. Amos and Hannah still hung on her skirt, huddling close. “But it’s no worse than your wound. We need to bind it.”

  “It’ll wait for now.”

  Albery’s sharp cries caused Ella to turn. “Aga, is he cold?”

  “Yes. He is soaked an’ not happy.”

  Ella found a dry sheet and a wool shawl in one of the trunks scattered in the mud. Together, she and Aga formed a cozy pouch for the baby by wrapping and knotting the sheet crossways on the slave girl’s chest and stomach. With Albery cuddled in the shawl and supported by the pouch, it gave Aga the ability to move, hands free.

  Pulling more beautiful quilts out of another trunk, Ella wrapped them around all the dirty children.

  Mattie, with Zach’s help, had wiggled from under their wagon. Exhausted, the heavy woman proceeded to gather their scattered belongings.

  The storm had changed the forest, twisting it and leveling some of it. There was no sign of life or movement—no birds or animals. A mild wind stirred the tops of battered trees and clouds streamed by. Only occasionally did the sun slide out from behind a cloud on its downward journey.

  Samuel pulled at the neck of his bloodstained shirt and checked his wound. It still bled. He knew he’d have to ask Ella Dessa to bind it.

  “What do we do? Night’s comin’.” Zach voiced the question on everyone’s mind. He stood with his arm around Mattie’s hefty waist.

  They gathered together, rain drenched and exhausted. The night would bring more challenges.

  “No live animals.” Luke turned, trying to spot a horse or oxen. “It’s possible we’ll find one or two. Come dark, we’ll have to worry about wild animals, especially with dead oxen to draw them in. There’s no way we can bury them. But we need to … do a burial of one sort.”

  Zach nodded. “I think we also need a hot fire going—slowly add the wet wood. I’ll cut up one ox. At least, we’ll have meat tonight.”

  Luke nodded. “Good idea. We’ve don’t have much time before dark. I’ll chop wood.”

  Samuel spoke up. “The women could collect what food and staples aren’t ruined. Put it in one spot. Later, we should fix some makeshift packs to save essential things.” He cleared his throat. “I say we plan to leave in the morning, even if none of our animals are found. We can carry packs and walk the rest of the way. We’ll manage. Hopefully, be able to come back for larger things.”

  “Is there a shovel nearby?” Luke raised his gun. “We need to find Perleu and hold a burying. Make sure to gather all weapons, dry them, and check the powder.”

  Samuel started walking, kicking rubble out of the way, ignoring his injury and tossing aside tree limbs. He didn’t go far before he stopped and pointed at something half exposed in the brush … a white hand.

  “Here,” he called out.

  Perleu’s lifeless, crushed body was partially visible, buried within a snarl of branches.

  The women wandered the area, picking up wet clothing and useable supplies from the ground, but Ella Dessa soon sank to a log and rested her head in her hands. As Samuel helped clear branches so they could get to the old man’s body, he watched her, seeing she wasn’t helping. That was very unusual. His wound hurt, but he was still moving.

  The bedraggled group of children had huddled together, shivering, with a half-wet blanket around them. They kept close to Ella.

  Amos sniffled and wiped his nose. “Mama’s chickens are gone.”

  “They aren’t important,” Ella Dessa said as Luke and Zach lifted Perleu’s lifeless body from the rubble.

  Hannah turned her face away from the awful sight and held on to her little brother so he couldn’t see.

  Samuel disliked having all the children close by while Perleu was carried to a clear area for burial. He started to tell Aga to take the children a distance away, but he saw Ella Dessa still sat on the log, hunched forward.

  “Aga, what’s wrong with Ella Dessa?”

  Lifting her head at the sound of her name, Ella stood. “Samuel, I’m just tired.”

  Samuel walked over to her. “What is it?” He touched her pale cheek. “Talk to me.”

  “A tree branch hit my right hip and back. I’m in some pain. I just thought I’d rest a moment.” Her blue eyes stared at his bloody shirt. “You need to have your wound dressed.”

  “I can wait. Let’s make some sense of what we must do, and we’ll soon have a warm fire going.”

  “A fire would be good,” she murmured. “I’ll be fine.”

  “My lady, you are fine.” Samuel bent and touched his lips to the top of her head before going back to help with the old man’s body.

  Ella tried to ignore the nagging pain radiating from her hip down her leg. She listened to the muted conversation about Perleu. />
  “We need to bury Perleu—now,” Luke said. “Those dead oxen will have us fighting off wild animals tonight. We can’t bury the oxen, but we must get this old gentleman in the dirt. Maybe tomorrow, we can say a word over his grave.”

  Samuel and Zack both nodded.

  “Good. Do either one of you feel like searching for the horses before dark?”

  Ella saw Samuel volunteer.

  “I’ll go, so Zach can help dig. I’m useless at digging.” He held up his handless arm.

  “Take one of the guns with you and try a quick search—real quick. Zach can help me collect long limbs or saplings to use as wedges. When you get back, we’ll try rollin’ Zach’s wagon upright. His wheels are still good.” Luke cleared his throat and glanced at the wet, sleepy-eyed children huddled on the ground. “We do need a fire. It’s gettin’ chilly. I think Aga can do that while Ella holds Albery.”

  Without ceremony, Perleu was placed in the ground. Ella felt bad as dirt covered the old man’s body after only a hurried prayer of thanks to God for bringing him into their lives.

  There were more pressing issues to tend to for the living.

  Samuel returned, without any animals. Using ropes wrapped and tied around denuded trees, they winched the good wagon upright. The men scavenged solid struts from both wagons and repaired the top. When finished, they stretched a dirty canvas over Zach’s wagon.

  The men cut chunks of meat off one oxen, giving them to Aga to cook over the fire. When not cooking, Aga continued to search for their sacks of food, clothing, staples, and blankets. She draped wet items over limbs and the wagon wheels until it got too dark to see.

  A couple of the water barrels, which had been lowered to the ground before flipping the wagons, contained a few inches of drinkable rain water.

  With her pain easing, Ella found she could help by moving slowly, favoring her right hip. Mattie kept an eye on all the children.

  Sleeping arrangements were discussed. The women and youngsters would bed down in the upright, empty wagon, but the men would take turns keeping watch, feeding the fire, and sleeping on the ground.

  Ella coaxed Samuel to sit down on a log near the fire. She wanted to cleanse his wound.

  “I have a dry shirt for you and warm water to wash your shoulder.”

  With her help, he gingerly stripped the blood-stained shirt over his head. “There. See? It isn’t so bad. How are you feeling?”

  She looked pale and thinner.

  “Happy to be alive.” She sat beside him on the log and dipped a clean rag in the warm water. She washed away the dried blood on his shoulder, arm, and chest. “Cut’s shallow, but bled a lot. I think it’ll heal nicely,” she murmured. “Lean toward me, and let me put some padding on it. I’ll then wrap it.”

  “How close do I lean?”

  Blushing, she gave a fake sigh of resignation. “Samuel … shall I punch your sore shoulder?” With her arms reaching around him, she worked at securing the cloth wrap.

  He was tempted to kiss the cheek closest to his face, but instead, he whispered, “I don’t remember ever seeing you blush, even when I kissed you in the blueberry patch—a long time ago, on a Georgia mountain. Hmm?”

  She leaned away, but her blue eyes glinted with remembrance. “That day is forever tucked away as one of my most special memories.”

  “Yes. Mine, also.” He smiled. “Along with conversations by the fireplace.”

  Chapter 39

  Wednesday, September 27, 1848

  “Through the tender mercy of our God; whereby the dayspring from on high hath visited us, to give light to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” Luke 1:78-79 KJV

  Dawn broke. Daylight inched through a ravaged forest. Samuel was still on watch and saw movement beyond the trees. Squinting, he brought the pistol up. He knew he could get at least one good shot. Reloading was the problem without the use of a right hand.

  But it was Luke’s gray horse. The animal stood about a hundred feet away, nibbling at grass.

  Chuckling, he circled fallen trees and walked up to the beautiful animal. The horse had a shallow cut on his head but seemed unbothered by it or the fact the soaked saddle had slipped sideways and wouldn’t budge.

  He followed Samuel to camp.

  “Luke? See what I got!”

  “Just what I needed!” Luke grinned, lifted the wet saddle into place, tightened the cinch, and stepped into the stirrups. “Keep watch, I’ll go do some searching.”

  Zach rolled out of his blanket, drank a cup of hot coffee, shouldered a gun, and walked in the opposite direction, leaving Samuel to guard the camp.

  Ella Dessa walked toward Samuel and placed a cup of hot coffee in his hand. “Thank you for all you do.”

  He leaned closer. “You’re welcome. I hope you got some rest in that crowded wagon.”

  “Mama!” Amos ran to them. “Come! It’s Wolf. He’s that way!” He pointed toward a swampy area. “He’s barkin’!”

  “I’ll be right there!” Samuel turned and kissed Ella Dessa’s cheek. “Thank you.” He ran to catch up with Amos. “Boy, look what your dog has done!”

  Working a zigzag pattern through the storm-flattened grass and debris, Wolf drove two of the missing oxen. They weren’t in any hurry, but the barking and circling dog kept them headed in the right direction.

  “It’s him, it’s him!” The little boy bounced on his bare toes.

  “Amos, find your boots! Samuel, a clean shirt,” Ella said, coming up behind him and slipping it over his head. Her hand lingered, smoothing it down his chest.

  “Aga, can you bring that rope you found?” Samuel jogged to meet the oxen and dog.

  By the time Luke returned, Samuel had Zach’s black oxen and one of theirs tied to trees. He had found and untangled a set of harnesses to go with the yoke lying on the ground near Zack’s wagon.

  “Well, ole one-eyed dog has been busy,” Luke said, an appreciative smile on his tired face. “Has Zach returned?”

  “No, he headed toward the pine forest. Aga has coffee made. She’s done a splendid job of collecting the belongings we tossed out.”

  Beaming with gratefulness at Samuel’s praise, Aga raised her head and smiled at Luke. “Mattie done helped, too.” Going to the fire, she filled a cup with coffee and gave it to the tall man.

  Luke smiled his thanks. “Samuel, how’s Ella?”

  “She bandaged my shoulder. Back has quit hurting—just her hip bothering her. Luke, since we have a pair of oxen, why don’t you rest? I’ll take the gray and go find Zach and send him back for coffee.”

  “That’d be good. Sure didn’t sleep too well last night!”

  Samuel rode into the pines, skirting broken trees and snapped branches. He spotted a few boot prints where Zach had walked in dirt instead of the matted pine needles. While he rode, he talked to God.

  “Lord, years ago you placed a love in my heart—a love for Ella Dessa. I drove her away, when I lost my hand. I felt unworthy of her love—but also knew her heart was Jim’s. My brother’s death about killed me. But, Lord, there’s one thing that’s never died. It’s my love for Ella Dessa. What do I do now? We’re married, but not husband and wife in the real sense. How do I get her to love me?”

  “Samuel!”

  The shout jerked Samuel away from his prayer. “Zach!”

  The big man stepped from a group of pines. “I want a ride back ta camp. I’ve been tryin’ to pull this stubborn beast, an’ she wants to stay here.” Milly stood beside him, battered and storm weary. A frayed rope hung from her neck, and her muddy offspring stood beside her. The cow limped, favoring her right front leg.

  Samuel grinned. “Do you blame her after yesterday?” Reaching down, he clasped Zach’s hand and let him use the stirrup.

  “Riding double,” Zach muttered. “Thanks. Need to save the soles of my boots. Looks like I’ll be walkin’ when we head out ag’in. I didn’t see no horse.” He hung on the end of the l
ead rope, and Milly stepped up the pace, despite her sore leg.

  When they reached the camp, Samuel went to talk with Ella Dessa, while Aga and Mattie prepared a noon meal.

  “We found—er, Zach found Milly and the little bull. A bit battered but alive.”

  “Samuel, that’s good news! The children kept worryin’ over her.” A smile lit her face, but her blue eyes spoke of sadness. Her tangled hair was twisted into a sloppy coil on the back of her head.

  “Anything I can help you with?” He turned the hat in his hands. Words tumbled through his mind—words he longed to say.

  “I don’t think so.” She smiled. “I’ve been sortin’ through my pitiful belongin’s.” She indicated the wet heap. Her leather-bound trunk sat on the ground, its top open. “Got to do it, while the children play.”

  “Ella Dessa?” He touched her shoulder. “I am sorry life has been so rough—with my brother dying and …”

  “You’re also hurtin’ and sad.” She bowed her head and tried to smooth her filthy skirt. “Duncan will be shattered when he finds out about Jim. I don’t wish that type of pain on anyone.”

  “I wish I never went with Duncan to that village—Tampa. Jim might be alive, if I had stayed.”

  She shrugged. “It wasn’t your idea to separate all of us. It was Duncan’s wishes. Jim went along with it.” Tears filled her blue eyes. “It was a mistake. You an’ I always seem to be the cautious ones.” A slight smile touched her lips.

  “We’ve now made it through a hurricane. And I know I could’ve lost you.”

  “We could’ve all been lost. God was good.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Samuel … I need you to carry this trunk to the wagon.”

  He nodded, accepting what she needed from him at that moment. With a slight smile, he grasped one of the leather handles on the trunk and winked. “But … I only have one hand, and your back is hurt.”

  “Oh.” She took a breath, and her blue eyes widened. “I forgot.” A silly smile touched her lips, and she giggled. “We make a fine pair!”