Brides of Iowa

by Stevens, Connie;

  The last sliver of sun was gone, and all that remained were the fading rays. He came to a small clearing and stopped, slowly scanning for some other indication that Susan had been there. An area of grass was matted flat, perhaps where a deer had lain down. Or a child.

  “Susan!”

  He listened. Nothing.

  A huge orange moon was already rising in the darkening sky. “God, I won’t be discouraged. You haven’t brought me this far to abandon me. I trust You, Lord.”

  He judged direction by the waning light from the west. If he circled back toward town now, he could approach the church from a different angle and cover an area he’d not yet searched. Shadows deepened, and the air held a chill. Everett stopped to pull a thorny vine from his sleeve. A high-pitched wail carried on the shifting wind. Everett jerked his head up. Was it the cry of a child? He stood motionless, waiting to hear it again, to determine from which direction it came. When the eerie sound reached his ears once more, a shudder filled his being. It was the howl of a wolf.

  Chapter 14

  Poison darts of helplessness pierced Tillie’s heart as the pastor’s wife coaxed Tessa to the parsonage to rest for a while. How she wished there was something more she could do. Not having a child of her own, she could only imagine the searing ache attacking Tessa’s heart. Determined to stay busy, she headed toward the long plank table, whispering repeated prayers for strength and courage.

  Several ladies remained at the church while their husbands were out searching. Tillie joined them, offering sandwiches and coffee to the men who returned empty-handed but in need of a fresh horse. Regret pinched her. If only she hadn’t promised Everett she’d stay put at the church. She knew this countryside far better than Everett did. Standing around handing out cups of coffee felt so…“Useless.”

  Pearl Behr slipped over and touched Tillie’s shoulder. “Before Hubert left to go searching, he gave me the key to the mercantile and told me to take anything out of the storeroom that was needed. Would you mind coming along and helping me carry some lanterns and coal oil?”

  Pearl’s request sent an involuntary shiver down her spine as she glanced toward the west. The sun’s fading rays set the sky afire with red and purple. The men would need lanterns soon. How she wished to hear three shots echoing across the hills. Nausea tightened her throat, but she nodded. “Of course.”

  Pearl patted her shoulder, and the two of them hurried off toward the mercantile. Tillie peered at Pearl’s profile as they walked. “Tessa told me that you’ve been like a second mother to her.”

  The woman gave Tillie a tiny smile. “I suppose.” Her voice sounded tight. “Little Susan is like the grandchild I never had.” The distress that grew hour by hour showed in the deepened lines on Pearl’s face, and Tillie’s heart longed to offer comfort, but the words wouldn’t form in the right order.

  “I heard Cully say he was going to make some torches to put around the churchyard in case…” She bit back the words she didn’t want to speak.

  As they stepped up onto the boardwalk in front of the store, Tillie noted the lengthening shadows and the dipping temperature. Another whispered entreaty—part of her continuous prayer—winged toward the throne of heaven. While she appreciated Cully’s thoughtfulness in supplying the torches, she prayed Susan would be found before darkness set in, and neither the torches nor the lanterns would be necessary.

  Pearl slid the key into the lock and pushed the door open. “Hubert and your brother Phillip went east. He said they planned to go as far as Rock Creek and zigzag back through the hills.”

  Tillie frowned. “Rock Creek is almost two miles from here. Susan never could have gotten that far. She has to be somewhere close, somewhere we haven’t looked.” They paused for a moment to look at each other. “But where haven’t we already looked?”

  Pearl began pulling lanterns off the storeroom shelf and handing them to Tillie. “Some of the ladies got tired of waiting and went to retrace their steps over many of the places around town that have already been searched. Maybe someone will find her curled up asleep.”

  They each took as many lanterns as they could carry, along with a can of coal oil, and made their way back to the church. No rifle shots or the church bell ringing had called to them while on their errand. They arranged the lanterns on the plank table opposite the coffeepots.

  Since Tessa was in Mrs. Witherspoon’s capable hands, Tillie felt free to slip into the church for a solitary moment of prayer. Muted noises and voices from the churchyard followed her, but none carried the joyful excitement of good news.

  The hours since Everett left had crawled by. She tried to fill the time, keeping her hands occupied with helpful tasks, but more important than brewing pots of coffee or making sandwiches was keeping her promise to Everett. The only thing he’d requested, other than for her to remain at the church, was for prayer, and she set her heart to honor his request. Intercession for Everett’s protection and Susan’s safe return flowed between her lips and heaven. The imploring tone of his voice and the memory of his face when he’d insisted she stay behind where she’d be safe brushed her senses. So much of their time together over the past months she’d spent looking at only his profile in the shadows—she’d never had the opportunity to look into the depth of his eyes. Most of the time he’d kept his heart as guarded as his countenance, but there were a few moments that had revealed brief glimpses into the things that molded Everett’s character. Only on rare occasions had Everett shared anything of a more personal nature. Vulnerability wasn’t something he allowed, and to finally see uncloaked emotion on his face had left her breathless.

  She sank to her knees and leaned her elbows on a pew, holding her head in her hands. The moment she closed her eyes, images of Everett and Susan—and wolves—emerged in her mind.

  “He’s doing the same thing he did the day he ran into the burning boardinghouse, Lord. He’s hidden his face for a year, and what drew him out from behind his defensive stronghold was hearing a child was in danger. It’s like he’s running into a burning building again, except this time he’s tramping around in the woods and hills unarmed, with wolves in the area.” Tears burned her eyes, and she swiped at her nose with her sleeve. “He’s not thinking of himself at all. Lord, please keep him safe. He didn’t even take a gun.”

  Her chest tightened. “Lord, of course my heart is burdened for Susan’s safety and Tessa’s anguish. But as always, I’m lifting Everett up to You. Everything I have ever felt for this man is magnified.

  “You’ve heard my prayers asking You to put Everett and me together. I even ran ahead of You and tried to make it happen using my own selfish devices, because I wasn’t willing to wait for You to reveal Your plan to me. Lord, that was wrong. Please forgive my impatience and impulsiveness. There are no secrets from You. You already know I love Everett, and I ask You now, if my love for him isn’t Your will, then please remove this love from my heart. And if Everett doesn’t love me, please give me the grace to accept it.”

  Tears welled and spilled over. Uttering the words, even to God, impacted her with such force it nearly knocked the breath from her. Rushing headlong into her own plans had ended in disaster. Waiting for God’s plan to unfold stretched her trust further than she had believed possible.

  “Dear God, my heart is in Your hands. You are everything I need. The longing of my heart is for Everett and me to be together, but even more than that I want to be obedient to You.” She took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “You are my rock, Lord Jesus.”

  She dug in her pocket for her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose. “Please be with Everett as he searches. Be with all the men, watch over them, and please, dear Lord, please let one of them find Susan soon. Prayer is the most important thing I can do. I’m sorry for feeling so impatient, wanting to do more.”

  Tillie continued in prayer, begging God for His mercy and protection for Susan, comfort for Tessa, and strength for the men searching. She opened her eyes and raised h
er head off the pew at which she was kneeling. The air had turned chilly, and the fading light that had accompanied her into the church was gone. She pushed away from the pew and rose from her knees. There were lanterns to fill.

  Everett tipped his head up and watched with appreciation as the moon slowly rose higher in the inky sky, gradually changing from orange to gold to bright white as it ascended. He couldn’t remember ever seeing such a large, bright moon, bathing the countryside in silver. Tillie’s father had said something about a harvest moon. Everett didn’t know the difference between a regular moon and a harvest moon, but as he gazed across the illuminated landscape, he whispered his gratefulness to God for supplying just what he needed to pick his way through the darkness.

  The underbrush gave way to meadow grass as he emerged from the woods. He hoped he would come across another stream or spring. Why hadn’t he thought to bring a canteen with him? His throat was parched with thirst and raw from yelling Susan’s name.

  “If I’d used common sense, I’d have taken a few minutes to borrow a canteen and a gun.” He shook his head at his foolish impulsiveness.

  His feet throbbed and legs ached from hours of hiking, and weariness dogged him. Oh, how he’d love to lie down in the grass and indulge in blessed sleep. But the memory of the wolf howl he’d heard earlier continued to send chilling echoes through his mind. He pushed on.

  A few clouds drifted lazily, occasionally obscuring the pale light. Everett paused, waiting for the spooky veil that slowed his progress to move away from the moon. Maybe he should take a few minutes to rest. No, the picture he’d burned into his mind of Susan’s distraught mother wouldn’t let him stop.

  A few trees dotted the meadow, and many of them had shed much of their foliage. Drizzled with mottled moonlight, the branches created curious patterns overhead. The temperature had dropped rapidly once the sun disappeared, and the scent of frost piqued his awareness. It was unlikely Susan wore a coat, and he imagined the little tyke shivering in the cold.

  Quiescence reigned over the landscape. Only an occasional breeze rattled the remaining leaves, but even the slight wafting made the air feel colder. At least when there was no wind, he could hear more clearly.

  A rustling sound stopped him in his tracks. He turned his head in the direction from which he thought the noise had come, only to hear it again, this time coming from near the woods. The clouds chose that moment to draw their shroud over the moon, plunging him into near blackness. His heart pounded in his ears, and despite the chill in the air, beads of sweat popped out on his upper lip. He tried to hold his breath, but his lungs betrayed him by sucking in a raspy hiss.

  Another crackling sound behind him, like stepping on fallen leaves, sent a shudder through him. It might simply be a raccoon or opossum. How did one tell the difference between the sounds made by a foraging animal and a stalking animal? He held his breath and listened hard, praying he wouldn’t hear growling. It was impossible to calculate the size or weight of the animal by the rustle of grasses and leaves. The sound seemed to come from more than one direction. Was his mind playing tricks on him, or did the stillness of the cold night air alter the sound? There it was again, this time to his left.

  What if it was Susan? Should he call out to her?

  What if it isn’t Susan? A drop of sweat ran down his neck into the collar of his shirt.

  A slight breeze stirred, and an owl hooted from a nearby tree. An explosion of noise erupted from the grass. His heart seized with a jolt, and he instinctively threw his arms up in front of his face. Two or three animals bounded into the woods, the sound of their feet leaping through the brush growing fainter as they retreated. Deer, most likely. Everett’s knees wobbled, and his stomach twisted with nausea. The breath he struggled to control moments earlier now came in great gulps. He bent at the waist and propped his hands on his knees.

  “Thank You, God.”

  He waited until his pulse returned to almost normal and the moonlight once again befriended him before he straightened. The owl hooted again, and Everett squinted up through the tree branches. “I suppose you’re amused by that.” He sent an accusing glare into the trees limbs, and the owl replied with a series of doleful whoo-whoos.

  The sound reminded Everett of the prayer he’d prayed a few weeks ago for God to make something beautiful of his life. Something beautiful, beautiful…

  He pressed on through the meadow, moonlight and clouds creating a strange patchwork of silver and shadow. The owl’s hoots followed him, floating on the still night air. Instead of sounding like a taunt, it fell on his ears in a soothing reminder of God’s hand liberating him from his self-made prison.

  Everett smiled. “Lord, I don’t know what direction You will take me or how You plan to work in my life. I only know the best place, the safest place, for me to be is within Your hand. If I stay there, I believe You will make something beautiful happen. Guide me, Lord, through this night. Whatever path You’ve charted for me, keep me close to You.”

  Something beautiful. Something beautiful. Heaven spilled affirmation over him, as if God was agreeing with his prayer. Weariness drained away. A fresh spurt of energy flowed. Uplifted, Everett called out again. “Susan. Susan.”

  What was that? An unidentifiable sound reached him. Another animal? He stopped, all of his senses piqued. The breeze picked up again and stirred the leaves and grass.

  There it was again. A frail squeak filtered through the soft whooshing of the wind. Did Gray follow him out here? Silly cat.

  He was about to move on when the muted mewing sound penetrated the darkness once more. “Gray? Is that you?”

  When no meow replied, he shook his head, chagrined. Perhaps his imagination was getting carried away. He ran a hand through his hair. How long had he been out here? Four hours? Longer? With the light of the moon, he moved on in what he hoped was the direction of the church. His foot stumbled on a low spot, and he realized he’d come across a tiny rivulet, no doubt coming from a spring somewhere higher. Grateful, he bent on one knee to quench his thirst. As he was sucking in the third handful of water, the squeaky cry reached him again, but this time it was closer. And it spoke.

  “Mama.”

  The water slipped through his fingers, and he jerked his head up. “Susan?” He pushed to his feet. “Susan?”

  He heard a tiny sob and hiccup. “Mama.”

  Joy stirred in his middle and rose up, much like the joy he’d felt last year after the fire when he’d learned his father and Pearl were safe. “Susan, where are you? Keep calling so I can find you.”

  Another weak cry rode on the breeze to his ears. “Mama.”

  “I’m coming, Susan. I’m coming.”

  “Mama.” Her voice grew stronger.

  As the air currents moved the clouds away from the moon, a shaft of radiance like a beam from heaven widened across the meadow and revealed a patch of pale yellow at the base of a tree. Everett headed toward it. “I’m coming, Susan.”

  “I want Mama.”

  A grin split Everett’s face. He’d never heard such sweet words. A few more strides and he lowered himself to one knee in front of the little girl in the yellow dress. “Hey, do you know how many people are out looking for you?”

  Susan tipped her face up and stared at him. She shook her head.

  “Are you all right? Are you hurt anywhere?” He sent an anxious scan over her face and arms. No visible blood.

  She held out one arm and twisted it around, pointing to a place near her elbow. “Ow.”

  Everett couldn’t see much in the pale light, but based on Susan’s description of her injury, it was minor. A wave of relief washed over him.

  The little girl chattered her teeth. “I cold.” She reached out her arms, and Everett gathered her close to his chest. She snuggled her head onto his shoulder.

  He pulled his chin back and looked down at her. “I’ll bet you want to go home, don’t you?”

  Moonlight shimmered off the tears on her plump cheeks. “I wa
nt Mama.” She locked her arms around his neck.

  “I know, honey.” He patted her back. “Can I put you down for a minute?” He set her in front of him, and she leaned against his bent knee. A mixture of fatigue and exhilaration made his fingers fumble with the buttons on his shirt, but he pulled the garment off and wrapped it around her. It wasn’t a blanket, but it was the best he could do. He tugged the collar higher around her neck and face, and then adjusted his suspenders over the shoulders of his long johns.

  “Let’s go back over here and get a drink of water. Then we’ll go home.”

  He carried her back a few paces where the tiny stream cut through the meadow. Cupping his hand, he scooped up several handfuls of water for the little tyke, who slurped at the moisture noisily.

  She leaned forward and peered up at his face. “Are you a angel?”

  Everett chuckled and dabbed at her wet face with the tail of the shirt. “No, honey. My name is Everett, and I’m going to take you home.”

  “Ever.” She wrapped her arms around his neck again.

  He rose with the little girl safely snuggled in his arms. She felt like an aspen leaf quivering in the wind. Shivers rippled through her tiny, lithe body. Everett positioned his arms to cover as much of her as he could, hoping he could give her some of his warmth. Again he berated himself for not bringing a gun. The other searchers and those waiting at the church wouldn’t know he’d found Susan until he arrived back at Willow Creek with her.

  If he kept the woods to his left and followed them, he should eventually find the town. With a prayer of gratitude on his lips, he headed toward the church with as much speed as his limited vision and small burden would allow. The very thought of placing the little girl in her mother’s arms filled him with unspeakable joy.

  Chapter 15

  Tillie’s chest tightened at the sound of Tessa’s soft weeping. Mrs. Witherspoon sat beside the distraught mother, holding Tessa’s hand. Tillie rolled her head from side to side, working out the kinks in her neck and easing the tension in her shoulders. If only she could do the same for Tessa’s heart.