Rev. Ferry preached about God’s love, mankind’s sin and need of salvation, Christ’s sacrificial death on a cross, and His bodily resurrection. Jane prayed as she listened that the message of salvation would touch hearts among the listeners. Several enlisted men from the fort had come with their families. Jane knew of some who had recently been thinking deeply about their relationship with the Creator.
Jane sat with Jordan and his fiancée, Lucretia, the daughter of an American Fur Company official. The lovely girl seemed enthralled with Jordan despite his rather severe manner and inhibited emotions, and he was obviously smitten with her. Yet, while pleased for her brother, Jane reserved judgment about her future sister-in-law. Perhaps the coolness she felt toward Lucretia was unmerited. She hoped so.
Lucretia’s father, the widower Mr. Henderson, was seated on the aisle and gazed so fixedly at Jane that she felt heat rise to her face. He was an educated gentleman, dignified, handsome—a pillar of church and community. To be noticed by such a man was an honor … yet Jane wished he had never noticed her. He was more than twenty years her senior and had the unappealing habit of clacking his false teeth.
At the end of the sermon, Rev. Ferry gave an invitation that any desiring to pray and receive salvation might come forward. One of the military wives rose and stepped forward, closely followed by her husband. Jane rejoiced. Then a trapper wearing a buckskin vest and breeches but no shirt walked up to join them. A gray-haired Indian man rose with sober dignity and walked between logs to approach the rock.
The sound of a man’s sobbing reached Jane’s ear. A drunk, no doubt, making a commotion. Her stomach tightened. She glanced up at her brother, but his eyes were closed.
The noise grew louder as the weeper approached. That gruff voice sounded familiar. A dreadful suspicion struck Jane. Her suspicion was verified as a tall figure shuffled past and approached the rock. Durant! He fell to his knees and covered his head with his arms, still sobbing and wailing something incoherent. Her stomach knotted. Was he drunk or truly repentant?
“Disgraceful,” she heard Jordan mutter to Lucretia. Mr. Henderson slipped into the aisle and went forward to support Rev. Ferry.
The others at the improvised altar knelt beside Durant and bowed their heads. Mr. Henderson laid his right hand on Durant’s shoulder, his left hand on the other trapper’s bowed head. He and the missionary consulted each of the people quietly while Mrs. Ferry led the congregation in singing a hymn.
Rev. Ferry looked up, smiling. “Brethren, let us rejoice. Today our Lord has brought five sinners to repentance. Join us now in prayer.” Bowing his head, he led a simple prayer. Jane heard muffled voices repeating the words after him.
She tried to breathe but sucked in a sob. Tears burned her eyes. Her heart gave praise to God for His grace in reaching out to these five people.
A thought sneaked in while her guard was down. Would Mr. Durant become strong in faith, or would the cares of this world choke him and drag him back into darkness? Dear Lord, please provide the encouragement and instruction he needs in order to become firmly grounded in Thee.
Rev. Ferry ended his prayer and encouraged the new believers to take the step of baptism. The Indian man nodded and pointed at the lake. Apparently he saw no reason for delay. Rev. Ferry looked taken aback, but when the other four agreed, he nodded his assent and led the way to the shore.
Mr. Henderson returned to watch the proceedings with his daughter. Jane knew he tried to catch her eye, but she avoided looking at him.
One after another, the new believers proclaimed their faith, and Rev. Ferry cupped his hands to pour water on their heads. But when Rev. Ferry turned to Durant, the big trapper caught him by the arm and waded out into the lake, dragging the missionary behind.
“What is he doing?” Lucretia Henderson asked her father.
They could not hear the animated discussion between the trapper and the missionary, but Jane suspected what he wanted. Trust Durant to make a scene even at his baptism. “He wants to be immersed.”
“But why? This is appalling!” Lucretia’s voice carried, and Jane saw heads turn in their direction.
“There is nothing wrong with it. He is the sort of person who does everything in a big way,” Jane said, feeling strangely defensive.
“You know that man?” Lucretia asked.
“I know of him.”
“Nearly everyone in the territory knows of Mad Durant,” Jordan said in a dry tone. “If his conversion is genuine, it will be a true miracle.”
“He seemed sincere,” Mr. Henderson said. “God’s Spirit can reach even the foulest sinner. Let us hope and pray for the best.”
Standing hip-deep in the lake, Rev. Ferry reached up to lay his hands on Durant’s shoulders. He asked a quiet question, but Durant’s reply boomed out clearly. “I believe that Jesus Christ died to pay for my sins. He was buried, rose from the dead, and now lives in heaven. My purpose in life is to proclaim His salvation to everyone I meet and to follow in His steps. I ask the missionary to baptize me as a sign so all may know that my life belongs to God now and always.”
Jane blinked back sudden tears.
The missionary baptized August Durant “in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost.” Durant emerged from the water dripping and grinning from ear to ear. Splashing to shore with huge steps, he let out a whoop that echoed from the bluff. Jane’s heart drummed so hard that she feared her brother would overhear.
The big trapper’s features appeared illuminated, and he hugged his fellow believers, even the Indian, drenching them with unrestrained enthusiasm. “Praise God! He’s real! I believe, and now I know He’s real!” He thrust his fist high over his head.
Jane gave a little cry, seeing a shock of pain on his face, and she bit her lip as he reeled and nearly doubled over. The other trapper caught and supported him.
Jordan gripped Jane’s arm. “Where are you going?”
“I’m afraid he’s reopened his wound,” she said weakly.
“What wound? If he is wounded, he had better see the doctor.” Jordan frowned down at her, then glanced from side to side to make sure no one overheard him. “The man is a worthless trapper, Jane. He amounts to nothing, owns nothing. This religious fervor will quickly pass, and he’ll be drunk on the streets again. I’ve seen it happen time and again. Have nothing to do with him.”
She said nothing, but her joy faded. Jordan was probably right.
“Come.” Jordan offered her his arm. “Let’s go home.”
Chapter 7
Weeks passed. A summer storm struck the island and churned the lake waters. Lightning blazed and forked overhead. Durant had always loved thunderstorms, and now that he knew their Maker, his appreciation for the power and splendor of each storm had magnified tenfold.
“Durant? Is that you?”
He turned around, then rose quickly and wiped water from his face and chest. “Good evening.” A lightning flash revealed his visitor, a man wearing an oilcloth coat and a broad-brimmed hat. “Mr. Henderson, come inside. I’ll build a fire.”
The coals on his hearth required coaxing before they decided to lap up the birch bark he offered. Slowly he encouraged the little blaze into a crackling fire, feeding it with chunks of oak and maple. Water dripped from every crease of his trousers. Suddenly he felt cold and foolish.
“Why were you sitting outside?” his visitor asked, shaking the rain from his coat and hat. At Durant’s invitation, he sat in the best chair.
“I was swimming when the storm hit. Since I was already wet, I stayed outside and talked to God while I watched His display of power.”
Henderson lifted his brows and stared. “Ahh.”
“If you’re thinking I’m drunk, you’re mistaken.” Durant grinned. “Crazy, yes; drunk, no. I dumped out all my whiskey and haven’t drunk a drop in weeks. I got depressed and went back to it once, but I couldn’t swallow. I don’t know how He did it, but God took away my taste for the stuff.”
“Amazing. News of
your changed life has spread throughout the island, Mr. Durant. Your interest in things of the spirit is most commendable. In fact, I came today at Rev. Ferry’s behest to offer you instruction in the Word of God. We have spoken of this with four other new converts—Armbruster, Dowdy, McNaughton, and Gerard.”
Durant nodded. “I know them well.” He had talked all four trappers into attending Sunday meeting. McNaughton had come to the service, still in shock after Durant apologized for breaking his jaw, and he had gone forward at Rev. Ferry’s invitation along with Dowdy and Gerard. Only three days ago, out on the lakeshore, Durant had led Billy Armbruster in a prayer of repentance and commitment to Christ.
He poked at the fire with a long stick and watched sparks fly. “I accept the offer, Mr. Henderson. I need a deeper knowledge of my Lord God, and I hunger after a committed human relationship.”
“We honor your enthusiasm for God, Mr. Durant. But I think it best that you become well grounded in the scriptures before you attempt to evangelize.”
Durant turned to face the older man, watching firelight play on his dignified features. “I want to learn, Mr. Henderson, but I can’t stop talking about God while I wait to become ‘grounded,’ as you say. I tell people that He’s real, He loves them, and they can know Him the way I do because of Jesus Christ. That much I know. If someone asks a question I can’t answer, I’ll send him straight to Rev. Ferry. How’s that?”
After a moment, Mr. Henderson nodded. “I suppose that will do. Our study group will meet Wednesday evenings at my house.”
“Thank you. Are you a married man, Mr. Henderson?”
“I am a widower. My wife passed on to glory four years ago.”
“You were happily married?”
“So much so that I contemplate remarriage. Why these questions, Mr. Durant?”
“How do I make a woman love me enough to want to marry me?”
Henderson glanced around. “You wish to bring a wife into this hovel?”
“I live here only in summer. In winter, I share a cabin near my trapline.”
Mr. Henderson made an odd clicking noise. “A woman deserves a house she can make into a home. She also wants a man she can respect and admire. Have you any aptitude for numbers? You might apply for a position as a clerk at the Company. We prefer to hire married men; they tend to be more dependable. With a steady income, you might build a cottage on the island and raise a family.”
Durant reached inside his shirt to scratch at his itchy scar and nodded. He could work figures both on paper and in his head. The position of clerk held little appeal, but if the sacrifice might win him a wife …
“You have a particular woman in mind?”
He pictured Miss Douglas’s round face, her clear eyes. “Oh yes, I do.”
“A note of warning, Durant. If you marry a nonbeliever, she might draw you back to the world. Does she love strong drink?”
“No, she loves God and knows Him well,” Durant said with confidence. “She saved my life by praying, and she gave me a Bible. I read the book called John, but it confused me, so I came to meeting like she asked. The missionary preached about Jesus coming to earth to die in my place, and all at once, it made sense.”
“This woman invited you to meeting?” Henderson’s brows knit in thought.
“She told me it was the only way I could see her again. I went to meeting for her sake, I confess, but I stayed and listened for Jesus’ sake. A fire lit inside my soul that day, and it will never die. Now I live for Jesus Christ.” His voice rang with conviction. “I believe God planned for me to marry my angel, but even if she’ll never have me, nothing can take away the peace and purpose I’ve found.”
Henderson shook his head and clicked again. Was it his teeth? “I confess I cannot guess the identity of your chosen woman. Attendance has gone up since the missionary’s arrival, and there are many new faces in the congregation.” He rose, donning his coat and hat. “I shall see you at Bible study Wednesday evenings, Durant. Good evening.”
Chapter 8
The following week, after Sunday meeting, Lucretia pinched Jane’s arm. “Who is that man? The big one with the crooked nose. I don’t think I’ve seen him before.”
“I’ll tell Jordan you’re looking at other men,” Jane teased. She turned her head and looked, then turned her entire body. “Oh!”
“What? Do you know him?”
“It is—it is—August Durant.”
Lucretia tilted her parasol back and studied him, squinting against brilliant sunlight. “Why do I know that name? I don’t recognize the man.”
I scarcely recognize him myself. Durant’s laugh boomed across the open area. Clad in plain but neat garments, his hair and beard trimmed short, he talked with Mr. Gerard, Billy Armbruster, and two men Jane did not know.
“Durant,” Lucretia repeated. “Papa has invited several new converts to meet at our house for Bible study, and I believe he mentioned that name. I intend to be elsewhere when our house fills with trappers. They stink.”
“For Bible study?” Jane repeated. Her mouth opened again, but no sensible conversation came to mind, so she closed it and met Lucretia’s quizzical gaze.
“Are you feeling well, Jane?”
Jane fanned her face with her hand. “Perhaps we should move under the trees.”
Lucretia glanced past Jane, and her expression brightened. “Ah, here come our men.” She rose on tiptoe and waved.
Thankful for the interruption, Jane turned to see her brother and Mr. Henderson approaching. Henderson met Jane’s gaze, and his expression softened. “Miss Douglas, how well you look.”
“Thank you, sir.” She curtsied slightly.
“I have invited the Hendersons to dine with us today,” Jordan announced.
“Very well. We have plenty,” Jane said.
“Jane always prepares enough Sunday dinner to feed a crowd,” her brother added.
“In that case,” Mr. Henderson said, “might we ask two of the Bible study students? I am certain they would enjoy Miss Douglas’s cooking, and I hope that after speaking with some of these trappers you might find yourself called to join my charitable project, Lieutenant Douglas. These men require solid doctrinal instruction.”
Lucretia let out a peep of disapproval, but Jordan looked flattered. “Me, a Bible teacher? Although the notion intrigues me, the invitation for supper must come from my sister. Jane?”
Lucretia’s elbow jabbed Jane in the ribs. Startled, she achieved a smile. “I do not object.” Hearing Lucretia’s frustrated sigh, she continued. “Lucretia has been telling me of your plan to instruct these new believers into scriptural truth, Mr. Henderson. I find it most commendable, and I hope my brother agrees to assist you.”
Mr. Henderson looked gratified. “Then if you will excuse me, I’ll extend your gracious invitation.” He bowed and moved to intercept the trappers.
“Oh, Jordan,” Lucretia sighed. “I wish you had discouraged him. Why must he encourage those savages to mix in civilized society? If he wants to lower himself to their level, I won’t object, but when he forces us to endure their foul stench and backwoods manners …”
Behind a bland smile, Jane imagined pinching Lucretia, then repented of the unchristian thought as she realized she’d had similar thoughts about the trappers herself.
“Your father feels called to extend God’s grace to the unfortunates in this land, my dear. You should honor him for his magnanimous sacrifices.” Jordan turned to Jane. “Thank you for supporting him in this, Jane. Your encouragement means more to him than you know.”
Henderson brought Durant and Armbruster forward and made introductions all around. Jane nodded acknowledgment with silent dignity, catching an amused gleam in Billy’s blue eyes and an ironic note in August’s voice: “Miss Douglas, the pleasure is all mine.”
Unlike Lucretia, she offered her hand to each man. Durant pressed her fingers and released them only when she gave a little tug. No one else seemed to notice.
“L
ucretia, you ride in the Douglas carriage. I’ll drive the men up to the fort.” Mr. Henderson nudged his daughter toward Jordan, who offered his arm.
Jane glanced up in time to catch August’s quick wink before she hurried after her brother and Lucretia. Crammed on the end of the narrow carriage seat while Lucretia snuggled up to Jordan, Jane stared into the distance.
Lake Huron seemed a deeper blue today, and after recent rainstorms, the island was like a glowing green jewel. A fresh breeze rustled the treetops, and Jordan’s horse whinnied. From behind, Henderson’s horse neighed in reply. Jane could hear the three men talking in the other carriage, their voices distinct, their words unintelligible.
Delight and frustration wrestled within her heart. So few men had ever paid her any notice that August Durant’s attentions sent her spirits soaring. Yet he had nothing to offer except romance. Why did she find him so appealing? Weather-beaten and craggy, he could never be termed handsome, yet one glance from his squinty eyes made Jane weak in the knees. Ridiculous! She tried to breathe deeply, but her breath caught in her throat.
“Don’t worry, sister; you needn’t speak to the trappers. You and Lucretia might excuse yourselves early if you wish.” Jordan’s tone held sympathy.
She gave him a weak smile.
Conversation at the dinner table was lively. The trappers downed a tremendous amount of roast beef, vegetables, bread and butter, and cherry cobbler with cream. Jane observed that Durant and Armbruster watched and copied the way her brother cut and ate his meat. They looked ill at ease but made few social gaffes. More than once, August’s gaze intercepted Jane’s across the table. She picked at her meal and drank a lot of water.
Methods of evangelism, denominational differences, and the primary importance of Christ’s deity comprised the afternoon’s conversation. Durant debated theology with Mr. Henderson and Jordan. Armbruster just ate and listened.
Mr. Henderson followed each of Durant’s questions with a click of his false teeth, a quirk of one brow, and an amused glance toward Jane or Jordan. Why? In Jane’s opinion, Durant’s questions indicated careful thought. He had obviously been studying his Bible.
Love Is Patient Romance Collection Page 4