by Judith Pella
Shuddering, Benjamin resisted an urge to raise his rifle and start shooting. Instead, he sat very still, appearing as calm as he could.
“Good evening,” he said levelly, remembering that the tall man spoke some English. Maybe they weren’t as savage as he’d heard.
“You preacher man,” said the tall Indian.
“Yes . . . yes . . . I suppose so.” Benjamin’s throat was dry. “Will you join me for supper?” Anything to get them to sit so they didn’t seem so tall and ominous.
“We have meat.” He held up two rabbits. One of his companions also had a rabbit.
“Then you are welcome to use my fire.”
The three conferred briefly then the tall one nodded, but first they skinned and dressed their game. When they finished, they toasted the rabbit flesh with sticks as Benjamin had his fish. The smell was pleasant, rolling away images of vicious cannibal rites.
When they offered Benjamin some meat, he took it, though he was full from his own meal. He shared his coffee and johnnycakes with them. They smacked their lips over the cakes, grinning appreciatively.
“Good!” said the spokesman. “You make?”
“No, my wife made them, but she will be happy to know you liked them.” Benjamin smiled as he thought of Elise’s reaction when he would tell her what a hit her cakes had been. Perhaps they would even save his life.
When every scrap of food was gone—Benjamin would have nothing, not even coffee for breakfast in the morning—the Indians belched contentedly and sat back against nearby rocks. Benjamin wondered what would happen next. Were they planning to sleep in his camp? At least they must be too full to want white man for dessert.
They had spoken little during the meal. Introductions had been made, but Benjamin could not pronounce the names of his guests, and they found it no easier to say his name. The leader settled for calling Benjamin “Ben” and was not himself offended when Benjamin shortened his long name down to “Kay.” The tall Kay had only a passing command of English, which did not allow for much in the way of conversation. Thus Benjamin was surprised when the man tackled a very difficult topic.
“You tell about Jesus-god,” he said. “Who you talk about at big meeting.”
“What?” Benjamin was more nonplussed at this than he had been by the arrival of the supposed cannibals.
“Jesus-god very powerful. Want to know more.”
Benjamin stared in stunned silence. Time was he would have been ecstatic to have someone ask to know more about God. He had a grand speech made up for just such an occasion, punctuated with all the appropriate salvation Scriptures.
“Well, I . . .”
“You tell like you did before!”
By the sound of Kay’s voice Benjamin wondered if he had a choice. Wonderful! he thought wryly. Now that my life may depend upon it, the words stick in my throat. He rubbed the rough stubble on his chin, wondering if Kay actually wanted him to jump up and begin shouting and exhorting the Word of God. He still remembered the sermon he preached that day. It had been one of his finest. He could belt it out now just as flawlessly, satisfying the Indians and perhaps saving his own neck.
“I . . . can’t,” Benjamin croaked.
“Why can’t?” Kay leaned forward, his dark eyes intense under a creased brow. “This Jesus-god only for white man?”
“It’s not that. . . .” Benjamin sighed. Here was a man eager, it appeared, for spiritual teaching, and Benjamin could say nothing. “Jesus is for all men, Kay.”
“Karankawa too?”
“Yes, of course.”
“What I do for this god?”
“Do?” Benjamin scratched his head. He wasn’t going to get a reprieve. “Well, you have to believe in Him and repent of your sins.”
“Sin? What that?”
“The bad things you do. You must change your ways.”
“Or Jesus-god throw me in fire like you said? He cook me?”
“Something like that,” Benjamin said without much conviction in his voice. It all sounded rather bizarre given Kay’s simple interpretation.
“I don’t want to burn,” reiterated Kay.
“Then you must repent. . . .”
Suddenly Benjamin thought of his conversation with Elise and of Jesus’ words to the woman caught in adultery. “Neither do I condemn thee.” It was that simple. As simple as love. Of course there was a place for repentance, but first there is love. Simple enough for a child, simple enough for an adulteress, simple enough for a prostitute. Simple enough for a savage Indian.
“Listen here, Kay.” Benjamin now fixed his own gaze, growing with intensity, on the Indian. “I’m going to tell you something I left out before. It’s very important. God loves you, Kay. You don’t have to do anything to have His love. It’s always been there.”
“No fire?”
Benjamin shook his head.
Kay added skeptically, “This love not very powerful.”
“You are wrong there, Kay. It is the most powerful thing there ever was.” Smiling, Benjamin went on to tell his listener about the power of God’s love. “ ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.’ ”
The Karankawas left a few minutes later. Benjamin wasn’t certain Kay ever really grasped much about “Jesus-god.” Maybe he’d have another chance someday to talk to the Indian, but for now Benjamin was certain the encounter had been more for his sake than for Kay’s. Long after the Indians had departed, Benjamin continued to think about this God of love. Everything Elise had said was right.
“ ‘For thou desirest not sacrifice, else would I give it: thou delightest not in burnt offering. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.’ ”
Benjamin had not thought of that psalm in a long time. But then, in the past he’d pretty much ignored most of the references of that sort. For a proud man, living by works had been far easier than being broken and contrite. “Holy britches” indeed! He smiled as he thought of Elise’s impassioned words.
But he was broken now, no doubt of it. Broken as only a man can be who has watched his weaknesses destroy others. Incredibly, God did not despise him. He never had. Benjamin had once told Elise he feared God no longer believed in him, but that had never been the case. Of course he was unworthy of God’s love. He never had been worthy, not even as a socalled flawless preacher. The only difference between now and then was that he now realized the unequivocal truth of his unworthiness. He had no more been able to earn God’s love and acceptance as a devoted preacher than he was able to do so as a failed husband and father.
“Neither do I condemn you.”
Dear God, it’s true! You don’t condemn me. The words seared his heart as never before. The truth became clear. If God didn’t condemn him, then who was he to condemn himself? He had never let himself think about this before. It would have been too easy.
Simple enough for a child, an adulteress, a prostitute, a savage. Simple enough for a preacher wearing “holy britches”!
Weeping, Benjamin sat before the fading embers of his campfire and made peace with God, and then with himself.
CHAPTER
44
THE LITTLE CABIN IN ITS pleasant clearing made an inviting picture. Benjamin felt more enthusiastic about returning home than he had in months. He was anticipating sharing with Elise his discoveries out on the trail.
As if to make his homecoming perfect, Elise opened the cabin door as he rode into the yard and waved a greeting. Had she also been anticipating his return? No doubt, with a house full of demanding children. But the smile on her face was not haggard; in fact, she looked quite fresh and beautiful.
“You’re back early,” she said as he dismounted.
“Yes.” He smiled awkwardly, realizing he was happier to see her than he had a right to be. “I’ll take care of the horses and be right in.”
Ten minutes later, he was en
sconced in the cozy warmth of his home. Noisy children were everywhere, for which Elise apologized. It was late afternoon and naps were over and tummies were getting hungry for supper. But Benjamin took it all in with a kind of zest he’d never been able to feel before. He’d always considered his children a burden. He’d felt the heavy responsibility of rearing them to godliness. Now he experienced a side effect of his own personal release from the law. He could actually enjoy his children, knowing perfectionism was no longer required of him.
He bent down and kissed Isabel’s cheek. She looked up at him shyly but with a little twinkle in her pale eyes. Leah, not wanting to be left out, crawled up to him and squawked, tugging at his leg until he picked her up and kissed her cheek also. Then, with Leah balanced on his hip, he went to the rocking chair where Hannah was sitting and kissed the top of her head. Only as he straightened did he realize Elise was watching him.
“I can probably count on one hand how many times I have kissed my children,” he both explained and apologized.
“They appreciate it.” She was kneading dough on a board at the table. As she spoke, a strand of her dark hair fell in her eyes. Tucking it back in place, she smudged flour on her nose.
He swallowed hard, trying not to think about how that silly smudge seemed to make his heart race. His experience on the trail showed him his need to not be imprisoned by his past any longer, but there were still some things he could not forget. He could not forget Rebekah, nor could he forget that he had made an agreement with Elise regarding their marriage, which he was bound to honor.
Still holding Leah, he went to the cradle where Oliver cooed and gurgled contentedly. “They all seem so healthy and happy.”
“Even Hannah is better.” Elise finished with the dough, placed it in a bowl, covered it with a cloth, and set it by the hearth. Wiping her hands, she turned back to Benjamin. “I’ve almost forgotten, but we have a little surprise for you.”
He cocked a brow. “A pleasant one I hope.” But he couldn’t imagine anything else in the idyllic setting his home had become.
“I think you’ll be pleased.”
She came near him, and as she reached for Leah, he caught the scent of lilacs.
“Come here, Leah,” she said and took the child from his arms.
Moving a couple of feet away, she instructed, “Kneel down, Benjamin.”
When he complied, she set Leah on her feet. The child wobbled a bit and twisted around, her arms reaching for Elise’s neck. “Come on, Leah, show your papa what you can do. Benjamin, why don’t you call her?”
Discerning what was about to take place, Benjamin held out his arms. “Come to me, Leah.” He tried to make his voice enticing and sweet, though it came out more like a rusty creak.
Leah looked back and forth between Elise and Benjamin, then suddenly seemed to realize she was the center of attention, a place she liked very much to be in.
“Come, Leah,” Benjamin encouraged.
“Show your papa,” Elise prompted.
For a brief moment it appeared as if Leah might not be able to propel those chubby legs, then, like a barroom drunk, she tottered forward. One step . . . two steps . . . three steps, finally careening into Benjamin’s outstretched arms.
Benjamin caught her with a laughing whoop. “You did it! That is wonderful, sweetheart!”
Leah giggled. “Mo! Mo!”
Benjamin set her on her feet again, and Leah reversed the procedure until she toppled into Elise’s arms. Both adults rose, Elise holding Leah and swinging her gaily.
“She took her first steps last night,” Elise said. “She was sitting on the floor and just got up and started walking. She took two steps, then suddenly realized she was doing something new, lost her concentration, and tumbled to the floor. She wouldn’t try again all day today, so I wasn’t certain she’d do it.”
“But she did.” Benjamin’s grin faded slightly. “I have never been on hand to watch my children’s first steps—their first anything, for that matter.”
“Well, there’s Oliver yet to give you that experience.”
“And Hannah.”
Now Elise’s mirth dimmed. “I hope so.”
“Now that she is better, it will only be a matter of time.” He knew how this weighed on Elise and glanced at the child as if to confirm his prognosis. She was breathing easier than he had ever seen her, but she was still pale. Her curly, dark brown hair framed delicate, frail features. Her brown eyes, large as a doe’s, were shadowed yet with dark rings.
“I pray for that every day,” Elise responded.
“I will also.”
She had turned to continue supper preparations, but with his statement, she abruptly swung back. “You?” She tittered with embarrassment over how her query must have sounded. “It’s just that . . .”
She gave him a frank scrutiny now that made him want to squirm, though he forced himself to remain still.
“I see it now,” she added. “Something has happened, hasn’t it?”
“Yes.” He smiled. “But I’d like everyone to be here when I tell it.”
He glanced around the cabin. “Where is Micah?”
“Working in the field.”
“Really?”
“Yes. He’s been harrowing the dirt and doing a decent job at it, too.”
“Well, I’ll be . . .” He’d had to bribe and threaten Micah to work on the field earlier. Maybe it wasn’t the work that had been distasteful to Micah but rather the man with whom he had been forced to work.
It was hard to wait, but Benjamin was more determined than ever that Micah hear of his father’s experience. Perhaps if Benjamin confessed his mistakes and God’s loving acceptance to Micah, it would be the thing to finally reach his son. Thus Benjamin held his tongue until the boy came into the cabin an hour later. He was sunburnt from working outdoors, but the work had toughened him up considerably. He was clean, his slicked-back wet hair indicating he had probably taken a dip in the creek before coming in for supper. His tall, lanky frame was filling out with sinewy muscles, which were emphasized by his shirt, which was a couple sizes too small. He’d grown so much his trousers ended at least three inches above his ankles. He looked several years past thirteen, both in size and in the cool aspect of his expression. Not for the first time, Benjamin felt daunted by his own son.
Micah acknowledged his father’s greeting with a mere grunt. He then took a leftover johnnycake and sat at the table gnawing at it to tide him over until supper.
Benjamin took a breath before speaking, then lost his nerve and remained silent. He repeated this ritual three more times before finding his courage, reminding himself that he had never been one to shy away from a challenge—and Micah was becoming the greatest challenge of his life.
“I had quite an interesting trip,” he said lamely, but at least it was a start.
“I’m dying to hear,” Elise said gamely.
Benjamin opened his mouth, but before he could get any words out Micah lurched to his feet.
“I’m going out to . . .” Micah faltered, clearly with no immediate reason to make an exit. Then he grabbed the water bucket. “To get water.” He headed toward the door.
“Micah, I want you to hear this.” Benjamin’s voice held a quality of desperation.
“I don’t care to.” Micah’s voice was cold as he grasped the door latch.
“Why do you have to be so difficult?” Benjamin felt his old anger and frustration return. He wanted to strike the boy. Instead, he curled his fingers so tightly around the arm of the rocker where he sat that his hand began to cramp. “Stay, Micah, and hear me out.”
“Are you gonna make me? Maybe take me behind the barn if I don’t?” sneered the boy.
“I’ve been trying to give you a little slack, boy. The least you can do is the same for me. We’ve both got to live in this house. We ought to attempt to do so as peaceably as possible.”
“Who says I have to live here?” Micah retorted. “I can take care of myself.
Maybe I’ll go find Uncle Haden—”
“If Haden had wanted you, he would have taken you before!” The words were out before Benjamin could rein them back. He regretted them the instant they had been leveled, but he couldn’t apologize for them because they were true.
“I’ll make it on my own then,” Micah intoned coolly.
“You’re a child. You’d perish out there,” Benjamin shot back.
“I’d take my chances.”
Benjamin jumped up. “I’m sick to death of your attitude!”
“I wish you would—“ Micah stopped, perhaps sensing that actually stating his wish would be more of a risk than even he was willing to take. His jaw tightening, the muscles working furiously, he glared at his father. “I’m just gonna get water. If you wanna make me stay—”
“Never mind!” The words came through gritted teeth. Benjamin was shaking inside with fury and defeat. He hated that Micah’s threat had taken hold. But if it took concession to keep Micah at home, then there seemed nothing else for it. “Get the water.” He spoke with the evenness of a sharp blade.
Micah left, and Benjamin slumped back in the rocker, letting his head loll miserably in his hands. In a moment, Elise was at his side, a slim hand on his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured.
He sliced his fingers through his hair. “Like in a battle,” he grunted, “defeats must be taken with the victories.”
“Would you care to tell me about your victories?”
He looked up at her, and his heart clenched. He’d seldom felt a greater need, and here she was to fill it for him and encourage him— just like a real wife. As much as he wanted to reach out and draw her to him, he also wanted to push her away. He feared needing her too much. There were just too many reasons why he couldn’t, why he shouldn’t. But, oh, how he ached with need!