by Bill Bright
“Beds are too soft. They hurt my back.”
“You can sleep on the floor.”
“Thanks, but I prefer sleeping outdoors,” Epps said.
“Suit yourself.”
Asa steered the carriage to the front of the hotel. With a loud groan, he climbed down and fished behind the seat for his bag. Epps took the reins.
“Had I known it would be this far, we would have stayed in Utica,” Asa said.
“All roads lead to Rome,” Epps quipped. “You of all men should know that.”
A good-natured smile lit Asa’s face. “You constantly amaze me, Mr. Epps.”
“Surprising people is part of my charm. See you in the morning.”
Chapter 30
Daniel’s music echoed among the barn rafters. Even the cows were taken by the solemn sounds, turning their heads to get a glimpse of the musician.
He played with his eyes closed, which wasn’t unusual. This time, however, he closed them out of necessity. Open, he would stare at Lucy. And if he stared at Lucy, he’d lose all ability to concentrate.
They’d added a fourth stool around the lantern for him. He sat between the girls, which was a distraction even with his eyes shut. It was all he could do to focus on his composition—a low, meandering piece of soul-searching anguish.
“Mmmm. That was lovely,” Lucy said when he finished.
“It made me sad, though,” Hannah added.
“You can really play that thing,” Ben exclaimed.
Daniel admired the recorder. “We’ve spent a lot of time together.”
“Play another one!” Lucy urged him, brushing back strands of golden hair. “I could listen to you play all night.”
Daniel smiled humbly, hoping to conceal the backflips his heart was doing. He flexed his hand. It was stiff from the cold without gloves. It hurt his joints to play, but it was a pain he was willing to endure as long as it fed the sparkle in Lucy’s eyes.
Mentally selecting another song, he lifted the recorder to his lips.
The banging of the barn door interrupted.
“Your mother was right,” a man boomed. “There’s music coming from the barn. I told her she was imagining it.”
His comment earned good-natured grins from Hannah, Lucy, and Ben, so Daniel risked one, too.
“Mr. Robbins!” Ben greeted him.
“Pa, this is Daniel,” Hannah said.
Daniel stood. He shook Robbins’s outstretched hand, the strong grip of a farmer.
The man was average height, stocky. He had friendly brown eyes and deep lines in his cheeks that suggested a happy nature. “You’re a musician?” he asked with a loud voice.
“I play for my own enjoyment,” Daniel said.
“He plays heavenly!” Lucy chimed.
Daniel didn’t object to the compliment.
Speaking to no one in particular, Robbins said, “You’re back from Western early. How was it tonight?”
Hannah was up off her stool. “Papa, it was amazing! I wish you would have come with us. Brother Finney’s preaching was so powerful. And the Spirit…oh, Papa…the Spirit moved. Hundreds came to the Lord!”
“Hundreds!” Lucy agreed.
“We got so excited,” Ben added, “we had to come back here to settle down.”
Chuckling, Hannah took Ben’s arm. “Papa, Ben was so funny. He said we were going to have to backslide in order to get sleep tonight.”
Ben’s eyes grew wide. “Mr. Robbins…I didn’t mean anything by that. I was just…”
Robbins grinned. “Relax, son. I understand what you meant by it.”
Daniel liked this man. Unlike other parents he knew, Robbins showed genuine affection for his daughter and her friends. And they to him.
Hannah turned to Daniel. “Have you heard Brother Finney preach?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“But you’ve heard of the revival that’s going on in Western, haven’t you?” Ben asked him.
“Afraid not.”
The three nearly came unglued. They all spoke at once, insisting that Daniel had to go to Western to hear Finney preach.
Daniel nodded and smiled, but inside all this talk of preaching and revival made him squirm.
“First time we went—,” Ben said.
“About two weeks ago—,” Hannah inserted.
“Sixteen days,” Lucy corrected.
“We went to poke fun at what was happening. Thought we’d get a huge laugh watching a bunch of old people raising their hands and shouting and dancing.”
“Four of us went,” Lucy said.
“Arthur Hoyt went with us,” Hannah explained, as though the name meant something to Daniel. It didn’t.
Ben talked through the interruptions. “Once we got there, and Brother Finney started to preach—”
“The Spirit fell,” Hannah said.
“It was wonderful and terrifying all at the same time!” Lucy exclaimed. “All of us felt it.”
“All except Arthur,” Hannah added.
“He felt it,” Lucy objected. “He chose to fight it off.”
“God opened our eyes, Daniel!” Ben exclaimed. “Since then, everything is different! We haven’t been the same since.”
“We’ve been going to Western every night.” Lucy took Daniel’s arm. “You should go with us, Daniel. Will you come with us tomorrow night?”
The barrage of narration came to an abrupt halt, awaiting Daniel’s reply.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be here in the area,” Daniel said weakly.
Robbins folded his arms, “Daniel, if you didn’t meet these three scamps at Western, how did you manage to hook up with them?”
The three and Daniel exchanged glances.
“Actually,” Ben said, “I met him on the canal route. Theophilus really took a shine to him.”
Robbins guffawed. “Is that nag still alive?”
Ben laughed with him. “He’s lead horse! Shows the others how it’s done.”
Robbins turned back to Daniel. “Where do you hail from, son?”
“Cumberland…most recently.”
“Long way from home.”
“Originally from New Haven.”
“New Haven?” Robbins’s face lit up. “I used to work at the docks in New Haven when I was your age. Maybe I know your family. What’s your surname?”
“Cooper.”
Robbins stared at him in earnest. “Cooper…”
“Yes, sir.”
“You wouldn’t happen to be related to Eli Cooper, would you? He’s a minister in New Haven.”
Daniel sobered. “My father.”
“You don’t say!” Robbins slapped his hands together with delight. “You’re Eli Cooper’s son?”
The news and Robbins’s reaction to it prompted a fresh round of smiles among Daniel’s new friends.
“Well, what do you know! How is he? The last I heard of your father, he was going to England on a preaching tour. And let me tell you, if anybody could turn those Brits back to God, it’s your father!”
Daniel hesitated. “Um…my father’s dead. He and my mother went down in the Atlantic on the return voyage.”
It was as if he’d opened a door and let the cold air in. The worst hit by the news was Robbins.
“Oh my…” The man took a stumbling step.
Hannah grabbed his arm and steadied him. “Papa?”
“I’m…all right. It’s just that Eli’s been on my mind of late, what with everything that’s happening in Western. Just yesterday morning…” He cleared his throat. “I prayed for him.”
“Sit down, Papa.” Hannah guided her father to a stool.
“No, that’s…I’m fine.”
Fine or not, he sat down. He rubbed his chin. His eyes had a far-off cast to them.
“And Asa Rush?” Robbins asked. “Is he—?”
“My uncle. He’s still alive.”
The irony of the inquiry was not lost on Daniel.
“Your uncle? That�
�s right. Eli married Asa’s sister.”
The four young people stood in silence as Robbins retreated to a distant time and place.
“Did your father ever tell you the story of the guillotine revival?” Robbins asked.
“Guillotinerevival?” Ben exclaimed.
“Aya,” Daniel said without enthusiasm. “Whenever he was on tour, he preached on it.”
“How about the time he shot your uncle Asa during a duel?”
“Aduel ?” Ben cried.
This was dusty history to Daniel.
“Can I tell them, or would you like to?” Robbins asked.
Daniel shrugged his indifference. He could see that Robbins wanted to tell the story, and that was fine by him.
“Tell you what,” Robbins said, “I’ll tell them about the guillotine revival. You can tell them later about the duel.” He became as excited as a little boy. “Sit…sit…sit!”
With one stool less than the number of people present, Ben sat on the floor next to Hannah. She rested her arm on his shoulder.
Robbins began. “I was your age when I ran away from home, for reasons”—he looked down—“that are unimportant right now. It’s enough to know that I was angry, hurt, and wanted to get off the farm and do something with my life. I wanted to go to sea. So I ran to Boston.”
He laughed. “My first voyage was a short one. Boston to New Haven. I spent the entire time hanging over the side of the boat, swearing that if I ever made it back to solid land, I would never step foot on a boat again.”
Daniel glanced at Lucy. As she listened to Robbins’s story, her face radiated the light from the lantern with a soft, romantic glow.
Robbins continued. “So I got myself a job at the docks, loading and unloading cargo holds. It was hard work, and I lived with hard men, but it paid well for a man with no family to support. Now that was back in the days when the whole country was going crazy over all things French, including revolution. Everyone was calling each other, ‘Citizen.’ That sort of thing.
“So one day this guy—Benton…no, Benson—comes to the docks and says he’ll pay us to drink ale, watch a real guillotine in action, and then do a little mischief around town. And we’re thinking to ourselves,Are you kidding? We’d do that for free.
“Sure enough, that weekend, right there on the docks, is this guillotine. The genuine article, imported from France. We couldn’t believe it! There were kegs of ale everywhere you looked, and we were all in a rather rambunctious mood by the time this guy stands up beside the guillotine and starts addressing the crowd. It became apparent that it was his job to get everyone riled up, and he was doing a pretty good job of it too. They even marched in a line of men who were scheduled to be guillotined!”
“No!” Ben exclaimed.
“That’s when Eli Cooper—Daniel’s father—took the platform to deliver the key speech. Benson had prepared us with a signal. When we heard the signal, we were to do a little mayhem in town. He told us to make it look spontaneous and natural.” Robbins paused to remember. “The signal was to be, ‘Citizens of America, unite!’ When we heard Eli Cooper say those words, we were to go into the town, break a few windows, and do some other damage.
“Well, Eli gets up there and—we didn’t know it at the time—but his good friend, Asa Rush, Daniel’s uncle…”
For some reason, Ben glanced at Daniel with a puzzled expression.
“…was in the front of the prisoner line to have his head chopped off. And he nearly did!” Tears welled in Robbins’s eyes. “Oh, I wish all of you could have seen it. Eli was masterful. Full of the Spirit of God. Not only did he save his friend’s life, but as the blade fell, he pulled Asa from the guillotine and gave the signal…only he changed it. He shouted, ‘Citizens of America, repent!’”
Robbins gazed at the floor. “And the Spirit fell,” he said with a choked voice. “I-I can’t begin to describe to you what it was like. A huge invisible wave crashed down upon the whole lot of us, and I remember this incredible realization…this ponderous weight upon my chest and shoulders, knocking me to my knees. And I knew that, of all men there that day,I was the one who deserved to be placed under the blade of that guillotine.
“Eli Cooper preached, and we lined up—hundreds and hundreds of us—mounting the steps to that platform. Kneeling beside that guillotine. Confessing our sins. And Eli had each of us put our hand on the guillotine pillar…”
Robbins pursed his lips. Tears fell. He wiped them away with the back of his hand. The barn was dead silent. It was as though the whole world were holding its breath, waiting for him to continue.
“To this day, I remember what it felt like. The cool, rough wood. The way the whole structure shuddered as the blade released. Thewhoosh as it cut through air. The sudden, horriblethud as it hit bottom…and knowing, at that instant, at the base of that guillotine, that the old, despicable Lionel Robbins died.”
He sniffed and smiled. “And then Eli Cooper said to me, ‘Rise to new life.’” Another sniff. “And I did!”
Robbins drew a deep, ragged breath. “After that, everything changed. Not just with me, but across the whole country! It was as though one minute we were on the verge of revolution, and the next the whole world was different. Instead of hate, there was love. Instead of revolution, there was revival. Everything was fresh…new…exciting…good again.”
He leaned toward his daughter. “That’s why, when I heard about what was happening in Western, I urged you and your friends to go. I knew you went intending to mock the preacher. But I’d seen what revival could do to a dock full of rioters. I figured the Holy Spirit needn’t feel threatened by the four of you.”
For a time nobody spoke. The barn had taken on cathedral reverence.
Then Ben said to Daniel, “That man in the carriage. At the canal. You called him your uncle. The same uncle who almost had his head chopped off at the guillotine?”
Everyone was looking at him. Daniel grew uncomfortable.
“Aya.”
“Your uncle Asa is here?” Robbins exclaimed. “I’d very much like to see him again!”
“He’s n-not exactly with me,” Daniel stammered. “I think he’s—he’s already gone back home.”
Lionel Robbins’s eyes quickened, the way a father’s eyes do when he isn’t sure he’s being told the truth.
“Papa,” Hannah said, “Daniel needs a place to sleep for a couple of nights. He can stay in our loft, can’t he?”
Robbins turned to Daniel. “Is this true?”
“Aya.”
The father-squint deepened.
“I’d be willing to work,” Daniel offered.
Robbins relented. “Very well. I wish we could offer you better accommodations, but I’m afraid the loft is the best we can do for now.”
“The loft will be fine. Thank you, sir.” Daniel held out his hand.
Robbins took it and warmed to him. “It’s a privilege for me to meet the son of Eli Cooper.”
After Hannah’s father departed, the evening broke up quickly.
“I must be getting home,” Lucy said.
“I’ll walk you back to town,” Ben offered.
They said their good-byes to Daniel. He trailed behind them to the barn door, as though he were the host and this was his house.
He wanted to ask Lucy if she could stay longer, but he couldn’t think of a way to phrase it that wasn’t obvious. He could offer to walk her home himself, but then it would end up being him and Ben and Lucy.
Just then Lucy turned to him. “You don’t have Jesus in your heart, do you?”
“Lucy!” Hannah frowned. “That’s rather abrupt! Rude, in fact!”
But Lucy wasn’t listening to Hannah. Her incredible blue eyes stared at Daniel, waiting for an answer.
“I’m afraid God and I aren’t on speaking terms right now,” he said.
“Pity.” Turning, she walked out of the barn.
With an apologetic shrug, Ben said, “Lucy can be direct at times. See you tomorr
ow.” He kissed Hannah on the cheek, then ran to catch up with Lucy.
“I’ll leave the lantern,” Hannah said by way of good night. “We milk the cows at five.”
“In the morning?!” Daniel exclaimed.
Her eyebrows rose. “We tried doing it at five in the afternoon, but it kept interfering with the cow’s tea time.”
That got a smirk from Daniel.
“Good night, Mr. Cooper.”
“Thank you,” Daniel replied. “And thank you for asking your father if I could stay.”
Hannah stood in the doorway. “I like your music. Maybe next time you could play something more cheerful.”
In the dark, Daniel snuggled into the hay until he got comfortable. Having permission to be here made all the difference in the world. He didn’t have to jump at every sound.
His mind ranged over the unexpected turn of events, and he found himself smiling.
Daniel liked Ben. He was quick of mind. Self-confident. Humorous. He wasn’t like other fellows who turned everything into a competition, especially when girls were around.
Which, of course, made him think of Lucy…her sparkling blue eyes and milky skin and pearly teeth. Daniel inhaled deeply, intent on holding on to that image of Lucy until he fell asleep.
However, for some reason his mind kept drifting back to Hannah Robbins, framed in the barn doorway, her head cocked to one side, a playful smirk on her face.
Chapter 31
Morning clanged as Hannah Robbins tossed milk pails into the loft at five o’clock, waking Daniel with a barrage of empty metal buckets.
“Ow!” he complained, fending off one that would have hit him in the face.
“Wake up, music boy!” she called from below. “Cows don’t milk themselves, you know. And bring those pails down with you. We’re gonna need them.”
After stacking the pails inside one another and pulling hay from his clothing, Daniel climbed down the ladder one-handed. “When I was a child, my mother used to sing me awake.”
“Believe me, my singing would have hurt you a lot more than those pails. Besides, I’m not your mother. Start at that end; I’ll start at this end, and we’ll work toward each other.” Hannah paused with her hands on her hips. “You do know how to milk a cow, don’t you?”