by Judith Pella
Cautiously, Benjamin approached the fallen form that had suddenly grown still. He tapped it with the toe of his boot. Nothing. He bent down and shook a shoulder, then heaved the body over and saw Thomson had impaled himself on his own knife. Blood oozed from his mouth. He was dead.
Benjamin looked around. John was sitting up now, rubbing his head.
“It’s over,” Benjamin said, panting, voice raw and sick.
“You all right?”
Benjamin nodded, still looking dazed. “How about you?”
“Sorry I wasn’t much help,” John said. “Tripped over a rock when that rifle fired and hit my head on that.” He pointed to a large sharpedged rock. One of the edges was tinged with blood.
“He’s dead,” Benjamin said, trying to make that awful fact penetrate his benumbed senses.
“Let me have a look at that arm of yours.” John reached for Benjamin”fs wounded arm.
“It’s all right. It doesn’t hurt. I have to see to Elise.” He returned to her blanket-covered form and laid a hand on her shoulder.
“Benjamin . . . I’m s-so sorry!”
“Shh, it’s time to get you home, Elise.”
PART FIVE
OCTOBER 1835
CHAPTER
53
FOR DAYS BENJAMIN DID NOT know if Elise would live or die. The wounds on her back had festered, and fever assailed her. She was never fully conscious. In her delirium she would cry out incoherently, seemingly in pain. At other times she mumbled things, often just Benjamin’s name.
It frightened the children. Hannah clung to her mother, often crying herself. Benjamin thought how fearful Elise had always been of losing Hannah. No one ever considered that the loss could be reversed.
Isabel was inconsolable at first. “Papa, will she die?” Her weeping was pitiful to behold.
But Benjamin wasn’t much help. He lifted his own tear-filled eyes to his daughter. “I . . . I don’t know. Dear God, she can’t die!” He hugged Isabel to him, and they cried in each other’s arms.
They both soon found strength in tending to Elise’s physical needs. Keeping her inflamed skin cool was a full-time endeavor. Nell Hunter came to help for the first three days. John’s grazed head was healing nicely, but he remained at home to tend neglected chores. Nell had insisted on cleaning and bandaging Benjamin’s cut arm. He’d hardly felt the wound in his concern for Elise but it was a deep cut, and Nell was worried that it would putrefy and cause lockjaw. She made a poultice of garlic and witch hazel, which she swabbed on the wound to prevent inflammation, then bound it with a rind of pork, explaining that would fight lockjaw. Benjamin accepted these ministrations impatiently.
But Nell, wise and logical like her husband, said, “What good will you be to Elise if you get sick?”
Finally, she turned her attention to Elise. Benjamin could hardly watch the process of cleaning her battered back. In fact, he’d had to leave the cabin once, sickened by her cries of pain at the mere touch of the wounds. Also sickened at the raw, angry sight of them. It was Isabel who helped Nell most. Once the stripes were cleaned, Nell put the garlic and witch hazel poultice on her patient’s back. This done, she covered the back with a bandage, instructing that it must be changed frequently.
Somewhat reluctantly she turned to Benjamin, who had ventured into the sickroom again now that the worst of the work had been done.
“Reverend Sinclair, I know you don’t approve of ardent spirits. Neither do I, for that matter, but”—she gazed sheepishly into Benjamin’s eyes—“I have administered a little whiskey to your wife. It was all I had for pain,” she added quickly, then appeared braced for rebuke.
Benjamin looked down at Elise, lying on her stomach and moaning softly. “Give her all she needs,” he said firmly, “if it will take away the pain.” He didn’t even think to inquire how sweet, God-fearing Nell had come by whiskey. He really didn’t care.
“We need not go overboard, Reverend.” She smiled. “A little will go a long way in a woman of your wife’s tender sensibilities.”
But as the days passed, he wondered if all the care in the world would help. He agonized by Elise’s bed day and night, thankful Nell was there to care for the children. Eventually Nell had to leave because her own family needed her. Then Benjamin’s home returned nearly to the state in which Elise had first found it so many months ago. It was only slightly better because Oliver was older and less demanding and Isabel was able to take on more responsibility. But it was far from the pleasant, peaceful home Elise had created.
Benjamin prayed by Elise’s bedside as much as he wept. He simply could not believe that God would restore his life to him only to wrench it away again. Perhaps that was his worst difficulty. He refused to say, “Thy will be done.” He refused to let go of Elise. He feared if he did so it might be his undoing. He could almost hear Elise gently admonishing him that God would never require more of him than he could give. It was wisdom that came from a heart sensitive to spiritual things without theological enlightenment. Thinking of what she would say to him if she could, Benjamin was reminded of the scriptural promise. “God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able.”
He clung to this and other Scriptures in the dark days when Elise teetered on the very precipice of death. And he clung to God as he had never done before—in helpless humility. But he did not contemplate what his life would be like if Elise wasn’t there. He simply could not face that.
He marveled at how his love for her had grown, washing over him like gentle waves flowing over the seashore. All doubts about it were gone, all fear that it could not be right. Only God was capable of sowing such love. And just so, God had given him Elise. He didn’t even stop to wonder if she loved him in return. He merely remembered the expression on her face when he had kissed her in the barn and knew it could only be love, for Elise was capable of nothing else.
Elise awoke to crisp sunlight flooding through the window. Her first thought was that it must be morning. At her request, Benjamin had placed the window in the east wall of her room, where it looked out on a pretty little hill dotted with trees and lovely wild flowers in spring.
Then she moved, felt the pain in her back, and darker images flooded into her thoughts. She remembered Maurice Thomson and the terrible things he had done to her. But she was home now. She must be safe. Benjamin had come for her. She remembered something else, but it was so vague it seemed more a dream than reality.
“I love you, Elise.” It had been Benjamin’s strong baritone that had uttered the words, or had she just imagined it?
Oh, if only it were true! She smiled, her face scrunched into her pillow. She could not roll over and knew instinctively she should not even attempt to rise from the bed, though she was anxious to see everyone. Where were they? How long had she been lying here? What would she say to Benjamin?
A little shiver ran through her as she thought of his dear face, the turquoise eyes dancing with intensity, the smile tentative but warm and caring. His arms so strong they would feel the closest thing to heaven wrapped protectively around her. Oh, Benjamin! Please let it not be a dream. Let it really be true that you said those words I most—
Suddenly, with a sharp, stabbing pain as if a cruel hand had scraped across her wounds, she remembered other awful images from her captivity. Shaking her head, she pressed her face deeper into her pillow, willing it to blot them out. How she wanted to forget! But she could not. She had been spared the worst abuse by her captors—Benjamin might have forgiven that as he had forgiven and looked past her old life. He would understand that she had chosen to survive, if indeed he loved her.
But how far could a man’s forgiveness be tested? He’d forgiven so much already. It would be asking too much to expect him to overlook her greatest mistake—no, deception would be more correct, and he could not be blamed for considering it so.
As she agonized over what Maurice had told her about Kendell, she wondered if the truth had to come out. Did Benja
min know? Why put him through more torture if he didn’t?
Oh, Elise, you are evil indeed! Longing for love on one hand, but in the same instant plotting even more deception. With clenched insides, she knew she had to tell him. However, a moment later when her door opened and she heard his heavy footstep, her courage fled.
He stepped close to the bed and laid a hand, so warm and secure, on her head. She tilted her head and opened her eyes.
“You . . . are awake?” He breathed the words as if he dare not believe them.
“Yes. How long has it been?”
“Ten days.” He pulled the chair close to the bed and sat. “We feared you might die, but you—” his voice caught, and moisture filled his eyes. “I have you back,” he said quietly. “Elise, I want to tell you something. . . .”
“First I must tell you—”
“Please, let me say this. I have feared for days now that I would never have the chance. Now that I have my opportunity, I don’t want to lose it. Elise, I love you!” He bent down and kissed her forehead. “You are so cool now. There were times when the fever raged that I thought my lips would burn when they touched you.”
“Then . . . I wasn’t dreaming? They were really your kisses?” And she tried to convince herself again of the stupidity of spoiling what they had finally found. “I love you, too, Benjamin.”
“It would have been a fine mess if you didn’t!” His voice was so cheerful, so light. Why ruin it?
“A mess . . .” she mused almost to herself.
“I better not tire you.” He started to rise.
She grasped his hand. “I would never tire of you! Please don’t leave. Not yet.”
She told herself it wasn’t the proper time to tell him. Benjamin looked so pale and worn. He’d obviously spent himself caring for her. She decided to wait until they were both stronger. They had been through so much. Why not enjoy each other for just a while longer?
Maybe it would be easier later.
CHAPTER
54
IF ANYTHING, IT BECAME MORE DIFFICULT.
When Elise learned the details of the rescue, that Benjamin had been party to the deaths of two men in order to save her, she despaired of telling him the truth. She even became so desperate as to convince herself that what Maurice had said might have been a lie to taunt her.
Though physically she grew strong, emotionally she disintegrated as the deception ate away at her. Benjamin suspected nothing, thinking her melancholy was simply due to her illness. She let him think that. What was one more deception?
In two weeks she had returned to most of her household duties. Everyone helped out because she tired easily, but she was determined to return to her previous worth. Maybe if she made herself indispensable again, she might continue to hang on to her home and her life. Now that Maurice was dead, it was possible her secret could die with him.
But that thin hope fell apart one autumn day. It was the beginning of October and as warm as a summer day. Benjamin was in the yard chopping wood. He had shed his shirt, but sweat still ran in rivulets down his shoulders and back. His pale hair lay plastered to his head.
Elise brought him a jug of water.
“You didn’t have to,” he said as he impaled the ax into his chopping block and straightened. “You’re barely on your feet. I surely don’t expect you to wait on me.”
“I want to, Benjamin.” She offered a smile and held out the jug.
Their touching this way, then, was a rare contact, and it sent a thrill through her and made her heart trip as if he had kissed her. She did not pull away, though she knew she should.
“Thank you,” he said, smiling. He, too, was aware of the energy caused by the touch. “Elise . . .”
“You best have a drink before you expire,” she said as lightly and casually as she could muster.
He obeyed, taking a long swallow of water, then pouring some over his head. “Ah, that feels good.”
“You’ve got quite a bit of wood cut,” she observed.
“Yes, but not nearly enough for winter. I’ll have to leave off with the cutting today because John is coming tomorrow to help me harvest the corn. Micah and I could manage on our own if we had an idea of what to do. I thought I could figure it out with my book, but that is turning out to be a joke.”
“Thank God for a good friend like John.”
“And a friend who knows much. I have never met a man so accomplished in practical matters.” He paused to take another pull from the
“You will get there, Benjamin. John didn’t learn everything in a day, or even a year.”
“But he wasn’t thirty-five when he started!” He laughed. “I am learning the patience of Job.”
“I will let you get back to your work.” She turned to go, but he laid a hand on her arm.
“Elise, I’ve been doing some thinking while I work—that is the beauty of physical labor.” He paused. “Would you sit for a minute?”
“Well, I . . .”
“Please.”
She could not refuse him. He turned up a couple stumps he had yet to chop and shoved them close, then gestured her to take one. They sat quietly for a long time. Elise knew no light subject was about to be broached. A fleeting stab of fear made her wonder if Maurice had shared his secret with Benjamin. How would she know? She had been senseless during much of the rescue. But it wasn’t possible—Benjamin would not have remained quiet about it this long. Would he?
Her dread building with this thinking, she was more shocked than ever at what was on Benjamin’s mind.
“I’ve been thinking that . . . well, perhaps the time is right for us to begin living together as husband and wife.” He had been looking somewhere over her left shoulder, but suddenly his gaze shifted, and his eyes met hers. The blue intensity made her throat constrict. How she loved him! How she had longed for this moment. Yet how she now dreaded it.
“I . . . I . . .” Words caught in her throat. The walls of her heart felt squeezed, as if a fist had violently grasped it. Lies and deceptions faded on her lips. It was no use. There might have been an excuse for it when she had not loved him. But now . . . two people in love did not deceive each other. Still, the truth felt like gall in her soul, bitter and rancid.
“What is it, Elise?” he asked tenderly.
It would have been easy then to plead illness and flee. But to where would she run? All she wanted, all she needed and cared about was here before her, wrapped up in this man who loved her, who wanted to share his entire being with her. Who, in spite of that, perhaps even because of that, would be repulsed by the truth.
The words spilled from her lips. “Benjamin, I lied to you. I deceived you! I didn’t mean to. When Maurice took me he . . . he—”
“Is that what has been troubling you?” he asked, still no rebuke, only loving acceptance in his voice. “I feared such might have happened, but, Elise, I am glad you chose to live. When I was searching for you, I remembered what you said about dying before returning to that life, and I prayed you would do all you had to do to survive. I can accept the other, but it would have killed me had you died. Please don’t let it bother you!”
“If only that was all!” Tears filled her eyes. “You’ve forgiven so much, but this—oh, it’s just like with Kendell. I didn’t mean to deceive him either, but my father told me on my wedding day! What was I to do? I was afraid of losing him, and I am so much more afraid of losing you. But you must believe me, Benjamin, I didn’t know!”
“What didn’t you know?” There was an edge now to his voice, as her words were starting to register but obviously in jumbled confusion.
She took a breath. The least she could do was to present her personal indictment rationally. “I was married before.” She could not look at him but rather stared at her hands. However, her gaze saw only the ring he had given her on their wedding day. She had wrapped yarn around it so it would fit. Now it glared back at her accusingly. “Did you never wonder about Hannah’s father?”
&n
bsp; “I thought—”
She interrupted, not able to bear hearing his voice just then. “Oh yes, of course, the product of my occupation. But no, I let you think that rather than tell you the truth. I feared if you knew I’d been married before . . . well, I thought you could accept the other because you knew I had been forced into it, but marriage was a different matter. I know religious people who don’t accept divorce or even annulment as legal, no matter what the law says. I didn’t know what you would think, and ours was only a business arrangement. Had there been love, I would have told you. I never thought we would . . . oh, Benjamin, how was I to guess we would come to love each other?”
“So you were married before. . . .”
She could almost see his mind work, making allowances, gauging how much more he could indeed forgive. That made her next words nearly impossible to utter. “There’s more.”
“I was afraid of that.” He nodded for her to continue. His countenance was impassive, hard like the ax blade impaled in the stump close to where he sat.
“When Maurry captured me, he told me he had heard the annulment of my marriage had never been formalized. He said my husband had become demented and refused to sign the papers. Believe me, Benjamin, when I say I truly believed the marriage had been annulled.” She could have laughed at her words “believe me.” How would he ever believe her again?
Benjamin was silent for a long time. She began to wonder what it would be like if he never spoke to her again. She was already beginning to feel like the vast wasteland she’d heard occupied the western half of Texas. Dry, empty, barren.
“What happened with your other marriage?” he asked methodically, like a lawyer interrogating a witness.
“He found out about my Negro blood.” Shaking her head, she covered her tearstained face with her hands. “I deceived him, too. My father told me on my wedding day that my mother was an escaped slave, a quadroon. What was I to do? Why did Papa do that to me? He said his conscience was bothering him, but he would leave it to my discretion whether to tell my groom. I couldn’t tell him. I let myself think the secret would be safe. It was safe for about a year. Then Kendell’s father, William Hearne found out. The family disowned me, and Kendell . . . he just did not have the fortitude to face life as an outcast. I was every kind of fool possible. Because of my weakness I lost him, and now I will lose you.”