The girls intercepted her before she could reach him. She hugged them tightly for a moment, then pulled them aside. They kept trying to look at the place where both Jeremiah and Farrell Vance lay.
“Be brave for me a little longer,” she said in a rush, making them look at her instead. “Sit right here. I have to help Jeremiah. Stay here. Stay safe.”
“That mean man is crying, Sayer. Why is he crying?” Amity asked, trying to see around her.
“I think he’s sorry,” Sayer said. “And he’s afraid. Rorie will take care of him. Sit down now. Be quick.”
“Is that other man dead?” Beatrice asked. “Dead like Thomas Henry?”
“Sit down,” Sayer said instead of answering. “Stay here.”
They reluctantly did as she asked, and Sayer ran the rest of the distance to where Jeremiah lay on the ground. She stepped past Farrell Vance, still not understanding what had happened.
“Jeremiah! Jeremiah— Oh!” she cried, kneeling down beside him. She could see his chest rising and falling, and she helped him to sit up. “Are you hurt?” she said urgently, looking for wounds.
“No,” he said. “Vance—is he—?”
“I don’t know. He’s not moving,” she said, trying to loosen the rope that bound Jeremiah’s hands.
“Get the pepperbox away,” he said.
The pistol was lying just a few inches from Farrell Vance’s outstretched hand. Sayer quickly moved to retrieve it. She carried it back to Jeremiah and laid it beside him on the ground.
“I can’t get the rope loose,” she said, struggling again with the knot.
“Wait. Move around here,” Jeremiah said. “Let me see you.”
She moved to where she could see his face, and he suddenly leaned toward her, his forehead resting against hers for a moment.
“Thank God,” he whispered. “Thank God!”
“Yes,” she agreed, reaching up to press her hand against his cheek.
She moved so she could work on the rope again. Little by little the knot began to loosen. So far Halbert hadn’t tried to keep her from freeing him, and she suddenly realized why. He was no longer here. He must have taken off through the trees in the confusion.
“What happened?” Jeremiah asked. “Why did Halbert turn on Vance? I don’t understand. This can’t be what he intended. His only means of getting rich is lying dead on the ground.”
“I asked Halbert to let you go. I said if he did, you would take me—and the girls—away from here,” Sayer said quietly. She kept pulling at the rope, without really registering what she was doing now. She stopped and gave a quiet sigh.
“And what does he get, Sayer?” Jeremiah asked, turning so he could see her face.
“He gets me out of the way so he can lay claim to the Garth land—”
“Sayer, you can’t do that. This land is all that’s left—”
“It’s done. I’ve given Halbert my word that I’d go.”
“And he’ll hold you to it. You know he will.”
“Yes.”
“Why would you do such a thing!”
“It was the only way I could keep you alive,” she said simply.
“I can’t let you lose everything you have, Sayer. Not on my account.”
Sayer was looking into his eyes when he said it, and she realized that perhaps he meant Thomas Henry’s death, as well, whether it had happened as a result of a collective effort by the Union army or it was something he had done personally.
But she would never know the whole truth about that and neither would he. All she knew were the things Jeremiah had done since he’d come here. Perhaps his arrival had been of his own volition—and born of necessity—and perhaps not. It wasn’t difficult for her to believe that there had been a reason for everything that had happened to them both, a reason that was still unfolding.
“What should I call you?” she suddenly asked.
“Call me?”
“Jeremiah? Jack? I have something to say to you and I want to know which name to use.”
“Jeremiah,” he said. “Jack is my orphan name, my army name.”
“And what Elrissa called you,” she said quietly.
“Yes. It’s the name from my other life. Except for Father Bartholomew, it’s what everyone called me before I came here.”
She nodded, then looked at him steadily for a long moment before she continued. “Lost souls are important to me—but yours isn’t lost, ” she said when she was ready. “I know that with all my heart. Preacher Tomlin could see it, and so can I. I love you, Jeremiah Murphy— I— It’s—”
“Sayer—” he said when she began to flounder. “I don’t deserve your love. I’ve brought you nothing but trouble and it’s not over.” He looked toward where Farrell Vance lay.
“Halbert said there were no legal warrants issued for you. The bounty hunters in the jail at the crossroads told him—”
“I don’t think he can rely on anything they said.”
“He didn’t. He wanted to make sure the law wasn’t involved—because it might get in the way of his getting his cut. He went down to the railhead and sent a telegram to the authorities in Lexington. There was nothing.”
“Nothing,” Jeremiah repeated. “And he was still going to help them hang me.”
“Halbert is a greedy man. His greed is the reason you’re alive,” Sayer said. “He would never have listened to me otherwise. I—”
She stopped, realizing suddenly how close to disaster they had come. She suddenly threw her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder, completely overwhelmed by an onslaught of conflicting emotions—joy and sorrow, relief and worry, and the strongest one of all—love. Yes, she had loved Thomas Henry. She had loved him for most of her life and always would, but she loved Jeremiah, as well, and she needed to tell him what was in her heart.
“Sayer...”
She lifted her head and looked into his eyes again. “I thank God for bringing you into our lives. I don’t believe our paths would have ever crossed otherwise. Not ever. I want you to know that I wouldn’t be losing anything if I left here—as long as I was with you. I would have what truly matters to me—you, and Beatrice and Amity. I don’t need or want anything else. I can go from here gladly because I believe we would have God’s blessing. With His help we can start a new life wherever you say—unless you don’t want to marry me,” she added because of the troubled look still on his face.
“I...presumed too much,” she said after a long moment.
“I’m not the man you think I am,” he said. “I’ve lived through the worst things human beings can do to each other, and I shouldn’t have. Far better men than me died. I don’t know why I survived and they didn’t. I’m not...fit...”
“Don’t,” she said. “I’ve seen the kind of man you are every day—even when I didn’t want to, even when I found out you were Thomas Henry’s enemy. I know your heart is broken and you don’t sleep and your hands shake because of the things you’ve seen—” she touched his cheek to make him look at her “—and done. But the war didn’t take everything from you. I know you’re good and fine. Your kindness is—”
“No,” he said. “I’m not any of those things. When I came here, it had nothing to do with kindness.”
“But you stayed. You didn’t leave us when we needed you. I...love you,” she said again with a small shrug. “Even if you don’t want to marry me. Even if you leave this very day and I never see your face again. I don’t know why or how it happened. I just know it did.”
“Sayer, don’t—”
“I know you love me,” she interrupted. “I know it.”
“Yes. I love you—”
“Enough to marry me?”
“Yes. But I...”
“What? Tell me.”
&nbs
p; “I thought you and I could never be. I can’t believe we could actually do this—that you would want to do this.”
“Will you marry me or not, Jeremiah Murphy?”
“I would marry you right now if we could find Preacher Tomlin.” He gave her a weary version of one of his “almost” smiles. “That is...if you ever untie me.”
Sayer laughed softly. “I’d have to hear a firm yes to my bold marriage proposal first.”
“Yes,” he said every bit as firmly as she required. “There is nothing I want more than to be your husband.”
She rested her head on his shoulder again because she was very close to tears. He would have died for her today. She knew that.
“Sayer! Sayer!”
Amity and Beatrice were calling her, and she held out her hand to them. They both came running.
“Help me untie Jeremiah so he can get married,” she said to them.
“Who are you marrying, Jeremiah?” Amity asked, wide-eyed.
“Well, Miss Amity, I thought I’d marry your Sayer,” he said just as Sayer got the knot undone and his hands free. “What do you think of that?”
Amity and Beatrice looked at each other with their mouths agape. He stood and helped Sayer to her feet, then collected all three of them into his embrace.
“We’d like for you to marry Sayer, Jeremiah,” Beatrice said, leaning back to look at him. “Wouldn’t we, Amity?”
“Yes,” Amity assured him. “Jeremiah, can you teach us how to plow?”
He laughed. “I’ll put that on my list,” he assured her. “We’ll teach Sayer, too.”
Sayer smiled and looked into his eyes. She could see the love there, and he knew that she did.
“With all my heart,” he whispered.
Epilogue
Sayer had thought they would be leaving the mountains and the Garth land, but God was still at work in their lives. There had been a codicil to Thomas Henry’s will, one he’d filed shortly before he was killed. In it, he granted Sayer the right to live on the land for as long as she chose, with no stipulation that the privilege was to be rescinded if she remarried. He had hoped, in that event, that she would stay on so that Amity and Beatrice could grow up on the family land. In an effort to thwart Halbert Garth, he granted complete ownership of the property to Sayer’s uncle, John Preston, to be held in trust for Beatrice and Amity until they were of age. And there was nothing Halbert could do about it. In a fit of rage, he had burned the cabin down and had been arrested for it.
She and Jeremiah had chosen not to rebuild on the same site. All that was salvaged was Sayer’s keepsake box. Everything else, they left where it fell. With the help of Preacher Tomlin and the church congregation, a new cabin had been raised some distance away. It was waiting for them now. Waiting, as Jeremiah was waiting, for the two of them to begin their new life together.
Jeremiah had wanted their marriage ceremony to be held on the great outcropping of rock where Mr. Garth Senior and he himself had gone to talk to God—but only if she could reassure him that it wouldn’t be too sad for her. She had no doubt that it was a place of worship and communion and perhaps had been long before the Garths came. As such, sadness was only a small part of what it encompassed. It was a place of humble awe and gratitude, as well, and joy and love—all the things she was feeling this day. Her heart was overflowing with it.
Sayer kept thinking what a long road she and Jeremiah had traveled to reach this point in their lives. She could see him now. He looked so handsome standing there next to Preacher Tomlin. She was reminded of the day he’d managed to shave despite Amity’s “help,” and she’d made him blush by pronouncing him “dashing.” She had loved him even then.
She made her way to him, with Amity and Beatrice at her side. Amity gave him a little wave as they approached, and he couldn’t keep from smiling in return. Sayer paused from time to time to speak to a member of the congregation or to accept an embrace here, a kiss on the cheek there. How different it all was from the last time she’d been in this place.
She looked for Rorie and spotted her not far from where Jeremiah and Preacher Tomlin stood. She was resplendent in her best Sunday dress and bonnet—and the walking stick with the face Jeremiah had cut for her. Sayer had been worried that Rorie wouldn’t get here in time for the wedding. She had gone to Jefferson to testify at the trial of the young man who had shot Farrell Vance, and she had come back happy, despite the fact that he was being sent to prison, not for the shooting, but for the other things he’d done in Vance’s hire. She had offered him, probably for the first time in his life, a place to go and the prospect of a real home if he wanted it—on her farm. And she had told him bluntly, as only Rorie could, exactly what she would expect of him when he got out, including the part about settling down, finding himself a good wife and creating the kind of loving family he had never had. Knowing Rorie and the part she had played in making this wedding possible, Sayer was convinced that she could bring it all about.
Jeremiah was walking out to meet them now. He held out his arm, and Sayer took it, returning his smile as she did so.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked her as they all walked to where Preacher Tomlin waited.
“I am,” she said firmly. “And you?”
“Very sure.”
“Beloved of God,” Preacher Tomlin began in his booming voice. “Grace unto you and Peace. We gather here now in this beautiful place to unite Sayer and Jeremiah in Holy Matrimony...”
“Don’t forget me and Beatrice,” Amity said, causing a ripple of laughter among the congregation.
“And to create a good and loving family for our Beatrice and Amity,” he added. “Where they shall grow up—before Him—as a tender plant—is that all right?” he whispered to Amity, and she nodded.
“Excellent,” he said. “Now. I charge you, Sayer, and you, Jeremiah, to remember as you stand before God that love and loyalty will avail as the foundation of your life together. Jeremiah Murphy, wilt thou take Sayer Preston Garth to be thy wedded wife? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her...”
Jeremiah said his vows in a strong and steady voice, and so did she. Neither of them stumbled as they committed themselves to each other before God and before the people who had come to wish them well. She couldn’t help but think how much he would have liked to have had his orphan family here today.
“I love you, Sayer,” Jeremiah whispered to her when the ceremony ended.
He kissed her gently on the lips—with much approval from the wedding guests.
“And I love you,” Sayer whispered. “Always.”
They stood together, receiving congratulations—and all the newlywed teasing that went with it—until they had spoken to each person and everyone began walking down the slope to the new cabin for refreshments and music.
“Before we go,” Jeremiah said when Sayer would have followed, “I have something I want you to read.” He reached into his coat pocket and brought out a letter. “It’s from Father Bartholomew. He gave this to me when I went on the run. He told me not to read it until I was content.”
“Content? I don’t think I understand.”
“Neither did I. But I do know I’m far beyond content today, Mrs. Murphy.”
She smiled.
“Read it,” he said, and she took the letter, hesitating a moment before she unfolded it.
Dear Jeremiah, she read.
You came back from this terrible war a discouraged and changed man, but you were not lost. I knew that when you brought catfish to our kitchen, and I was even more certain when you told me about the Ancient Mariner. I knew that God was trying to give you the comfort you so desperately needed in the only way you would allow.
If you are reading this now, then I will trust that my condition has been met, and you are content, perhaps even happy
in your life. I pray that this is so.
Here is the thing that I hope you have learned. Adversity can have more than one purpose. It’s not always simply a lesson we need for the betterment of our souls, though that is often the outcome, regardless. Sometimes adversity is not intended just for us alone, but it is a means to move us to a place where there is someone else in need. Through adversity, we become God’s instrument for a greater good, and in the process, we ourselves are made better. It is my hope that you can see this now in your own life and that you will always be mindful of God’s hand whenever challenges arise.
Be assured that we here will always keep you in our prayers. God’s blessings be upon you and those you love.
Your friend in Christ,
Father Bartholomew
Sayer looked up at him, deeply moved by what Father Bartholomew had written. “Do you want to go back? To Lexington?”
“No,” he said.
“It would be safe for you to go, wouldn’t it—now that Farrell Vance is dead?”
“I...have another charge to keep—from yet another soldier. Little Ike. We always called him that whenever we wanted to tease him. I wouldn’t have gotten away from Farrell Vance’s men if it hadn’t been for him. I owe him...everything. He told me I had to go and live my life for the ones of us who had died in the war—live for all the orphans we had to bury on the battlefield. I’m going to do that,” he said. “Here. With you.” He suddenly smiled. “Ike would love you. They all would.”
He put the letter back into his pocket. He was quiet now, his eyes on the mountains. The wind ruffled his hair.
Jeremiah, she thought. My husband. She thanked God every day for this good man.
“What is it?” she asked after a moment because he was clearly lost in thought.
“I was thinking about coming here—this is where I told God I loved you.”
“You did?”
“I did,” he assured her. “I put a lot of heart into it, too—just in case He missed my sincerity.”
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