by Angela Couch
“I think not. You seem to put it to much greater use than I have in a long time.”
“Do you not miss it?” Andrew tried to keep his voice light. He needed to proceed gently.
Rachel remained silent for a moment. She straightened, but avoided his eyes. “I don’t have time—I need to get dinner ready.” She started for the door.
“What are you running from?”
“I’m not running from anything, I simply have a lot I need to attend to.”
“I think you are running—running from yourself, from your belief in God, and perhaps even God Himself.”
“He abandoned me first.” Rachel raised her gaze, her eyes ice and her face rigid. “Don’t presume you know me or my life.”
“My apologies, Miss Garnet, but I know God does not abandon His children, especially in their sufferings. We abandon Him—usually when we need Him the most. The Savior gave the invitation when He said, ‘Come unto Me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’ And again as is stated by John in his epistle: ‘Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us, and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins.’”
A mix of emotions played across her face and she turned away. “I don’t need you preaching to me, Captain Wyndham.”
As her footsteps echoed her retreat down the stairs, he glanced about the room, surrounding him like a cage. He couldn’t bear it. Grabbing the crutch, he made his way through the main area of the loft over a layer of chaff and around piles of freshly threshed wheat. The large doors hung open, and he sat on the ledge, ten to twelve feet above the ground.
The road was only partly visible, mostly hidden behind a line of trees. The front of the cabin peeked from the corner, and a clearing, some of it tilled, stretched around it. Mounds and rows of green latticed the black earth of a garden, but he had never paid enough attention to discern which were potato plants or some other vegetable. Not that it concerned him.
Rachel breached the border, an ax in hand, moving toward a huge stump. She raised the ax above her head and sank it past the dark soil into the roots. She must have cleared the area earlier. But where was Joseph? This surely was labor for a man and not a young woman, even in this wilderness. She’d never be able to remove that monstrosity by herself and really, how many times could her slender arms possibly heft the large ax over her pretty head?
Far more times than he’d imagined. The fervency and power in her swing was admirable…and strange. The women with whom Andrew had been acquainted in England became distraught at lifting more than a cup of tea. Women of sophistication and elegance, they trained themselves to be proficient in language, the arts and music—not digging in the earth and milking cows. Rachel Garnet was so very displaced from what he had ever considered accomplished, or even acceptable. She was a peasant. A farmer’s daughter. Common by everything he knew by which to judge...and yet, hardly common at all.
In England, if he had seen her, she would have never touched his mind, her station so far below what his had been. But given time to know her, he could not help but admire her. She was intelligent, and kind, and beautiful, and perhaps a superior creature to the ladies of his past acquaintance. She was genuine.
Andrew chuckled as the crack of an ax against a solid root met his ears. “And very determined.” If only he were not attached. If only he were free to act with little thought of duty or obligation. Desire clamped a vise across his chest. If only I were American.
~*~
Rachel cleared the supper dishes from the table. Her gaze wandered to the chair Andrew usually took. It remained empty. “Why don’t you take some roast up to him?” She tried to maintain a look of disinterest.
“I told you already, when I invited him down for supper, he said he wasn’t hungry tonight, and to not bother bringing him any,” Joseph stated.
“But he hasn’t eaten anything today, has he? He wasn’t hungry for breakfast either, and hasn’t been in since first thing this morning.” Water splashed as she plunked the plates into the basin. “Maybe he’s ill.”
Joseph leaned back. “He was up and about a couple of hours ago trying to help me in the barn. He looked fine.”
Rachel drummed her fingers against the table. “Maybe he’s changed his mind.”
“If he changes his mind, he’s capable of coming down and getting something.”
She picked up the dishcloth and wrapped it around her hand, fiddling with a loose thread at the corner. “Maybe his leg is bothering him more than he wants to let on. As you said, he’s been on his feet a lot today. He won’t be up to coming in even if he changes his mind.” Rachel tossed the cloth into the basin and moved for her shawl with the plate she’d already fixed for him. “I’ll take him something anyway. He can always eat it later.”
“Rachel.” She was half way to the door when Joseph’s voice stopped her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
A minute later she scurried through the barn. What would she say to ease the tension? Andrew was probably avoiding her after their exchange of words that morning. “Well, I will not sit back and let him starve to death while he wallows in his stubborn pride.”
Andrew’s voice carried from the room above. The words deepened with passion. A prayer—a very personal, soul wrenching prayer.
The pleading resonance of his voice held her in place.
“What am I to do, Lord? Almost no choice remains to be made. I must find him, but how do I know he is not already dead?”
A drawn-out pause draped its way around her heart.
“Do not let it be so, Lord,” Andrew continued. “He is still young. He should not have been here in the first place. Neither of us should be. I should be back in England serving Thy purposes, and Stephen should be attending to his studies. Yet here we are...only Thou knoweth exactly where. What am I to do, Lord? I need a miracle if I am to ever find him. For that purpose I come before Thee with my humble fast. Thou hast the power. I know this. Help me trust in Thy wisdom and accept Thy will.” His words faded.
Rachel turned back to the stairs.
“Oh, God, help me accept Thy will...and my fate. I cannot...I cannot allow myself feel. Or hope. God, give me strength,” Andrew’s voice was soft and sincere.
A black creature flew down from the rafters, the wind from its wings brushing her face. A scream squeaked out as the plate dropped. The stoneware shattered on the floor, the crash sending an echo through the loft.
Andrew emerged, silhouetted by the lamp on the table behind him. He leaned heavily on his crutch. The light reflected moisture in his eyes. Had he been weeping? Despite this, he was far from sorrowful. Instead his expression seemed livid. “Why are you here?” A deep cleft appeared between his eyes.
“I’m sorry. I was bringing you some supper—a bat startled me. I’m so sorry. I—”
“I told Joseph I did not want any,” Andrew said.
“I’m sorry.”
“How long were you there?” When she did not answer, his frown deepened. “It must seem quite humorous to you, I suppose, listening to a grown man pour his soul out to God. There, you have witnessed it. You may leave.”
Rachel couldn’t move, the sharp tone of his voice cutting her, paralyzing her.
Andrew’s breath was heavy and jagged as he stared her down. “What do you want from me? You have seen me in every humiliating way possible. You have watched me beg for my life, lie as helpless as an infant. You have seen me literally crawl on my hands and knees. Yes, I am your enemy. Yes, I fought against your people—against your own father and brother. Well, here I am. Do what you like, but leave me some dignity. That is all I ask. Let me be a man, whether you see me as one, or not.” He turned in haste to retreat. His crutch caught on a protruding plank and he staggered. He cried out as he tried to catch himself with his bad leg. He stumbled to the floor with a loud moan, and then a yell of frustration.
Rachel rushed to him and grabbed his arm to help, her heart aching. She�
��d never intended him to feel less than he was, and he was very much a man. “Are you all right?”
“Leave me alone.” He jerked away. “I do not require your assistance any longer.”
He might as well have slapped her. “I’m sorry. I only wanted to help.”
“You have helped enough.” Andrew pulled to his feet and hobbled back into his room, limping badly. “I want to be left alone.” The thin plank door slammed.
“I’m sorry.” Rachel didn’t bother with the broken dish and spilled food. Once outside, she leaned against the wall and sank to the ground. She slumped forward, buried her eyes in her folded arms.
24
As always, Andrew stood, his head inclined toward Rachel as she approached. His gaze, however, hardly brushed hers anymore. For the past week he’d politely avoided her. He seemed to regret their encounter as much as she, but his distance gave her little opportunity for apology.
Silence settled into the room as she laid plates on the table.
Joseph took the soft cheese and cut it.
She did the same with a fresh loaf of bread.
Andrew poured a cup of milk, sipping it as though it were a fine wine.
After Joseph said grace, Rachel put a thick slice of cheese over her bread and took a bite, her eyes not wavering from the food in her hands.
A knock sounded on the door.
Her gaze jumped to Andrew and then to Joseph. The bread clung to her throat as she forced it down. “It must be Daniel.” She smoothed her skirts as she moved around the table. Her palms moistened.
Andrew reached for his crutch.
“Let me, Rachel,” Joseph said, holding up his hand. He nodded to Andrew, motioning to the bedroom as he reached for the latch. He cracked the door open a half foot.
“Rodney. Nice to see you.” Joseph’s voice boomed.
Rachel pressed her hands over her stomach.
“You caught us in the middle of our dinner. Can we offer you some?” Joseph asked.
Andrew was halfway across the floor.
“No, I’m fine. But I’d like a few words with you, if I might.”
“Of course, of course.”
Joseph stepped aside, pulling the door wide as Andrew lunged out of sight.
Rachel put a smile on her face. “Welcome, Mr. Cowden. What brings you out our way?” Surely not to question why she had allowed Daniel to court her. She motioned to a chair. Andrew’s plate caught her eye.
“Thank you.” He followed her gesture and sat, then looked at Joseph. “But as to why I came by today. Last Sabbath evening I’d been over to the Reids’. I was on my way home past your place when I noticed someone out behind your barn, wandering through the pasture.”
“Just me checking on something,” Joseph said easily.
“I figured so at first, but a few nights ago I rode by after seeing Daniel.” He looked to Rachel. “Seems he’s quite determined to stay put in this valley now.”
Rachel fought the urge to squirm under his disapproving glare.
“Anyways, I saw what appeared to be the same man. He had something tucked under his arm, like a crutch, and seemed to have quite a limp.”
Joseph leaned forward in his chair. “What are you suggesting? We have a prowler?”
“I don’t know what else to think.”
“Could be Benjamin Reid out with his cane for an evening walk, or hunting.” Rachel struggled to keep her voice even.
“That would have been my guess as well if I hadn’t just left him.”
“It is mighty strange.” Joseph kept his own voice remarkably relaxed. “We appreciate you coming by and letting us know. Haven’t noticed anything go missing, but I’ll definitely keep my eyes open from now on. I wonder who it could be.”
“My query exactly.” Cowden stood and pushed his hat back on his head. “But I better leave you to your meal.”
“Thank you again.” Rachel also rose.
“Think nothing of it. Do you have company?” His gaze was on the third plate set with food.
“We um…” Rachel couldn’t finish. Another knock jerked her gaze toward the open door. All her breath escaped. “Daniel.”
Joseph issued him in. “Perfect timing, my friend. Rachel already set you a plate. Rodney stopped by to warn us to watch for a prowler he thinks he’s seen in the area.”
“Oh?” Daniel stepped into the room, glancing about. “Might be one of the Kastner boys fooling around. They’re big for their ages and wander back and forth through here all the time playing war. You know how boys are.”
Cowden appeared thoughtful. “Could be, but—”
“But it pays to be wary all the same.” Joseph clapped him on his buckskin clad shoulder. “We are in your debt.” He followed Cowden outside. “Is there anything we can do for you?”
Their voices faded as they moved away from the cabin.
Rachel closed the door, her hands planted against it as her pulse returned to normal. “Thank goodness, you came when you did, Daniel.”
“Where is...you know who?”
She pointed toward the bedroom as she dropped into her chair, her legs grateful for the reprieve.
Daniel sat across from her and took her hand. “When will you two accept that it’s not safe to have that...man here?”
“We’ve always known it’s a risk.” A shuffle against the floor raised her gaze to Andrew’s.
He stood in the bedroom doorway, his face flint.
She untwined her fingers from Daniel’s. “Let’s not talk about it now.”
Daniel twisted to look at Andrew. “Of course not. You wouldn’t want anyone to feel unwelcome.”
“Please, Daniel...” She touched his hand to get him to face her again. “Not now.”
Joseph slipped in the door and released a laugh. “That was close.”
Andrew leaned against the nearest wall. “I should have been more cautious. I was careless and entirely at fault.”
“Maybe stick to the denser trees if you need to stretch your legs.”
Daniel shook his head. “I can’t believe you even let him out.”
“He’s not our prisoner.”
“Well, maybe he should be.”
“Please, can we stop talking about it and finish eating. Have you had your dinner yet, Daniel? Will you join us?” Rachel invited.
He gave a nod.
“And—Captain Wyndham, please come back to the table.”
The room lapsed into silence as everyone ate.
Joseph finished first and slid the Bible onto the table.
Rachel cringed. She’d forgotten his renewed desire for Sabbath readings.
“I don’t know how much time you have, Daniel,” he said, “but you are more than welcome to join us for our devotions.”
Daniel answered with another nod as he chewed the last of his food.
“What do you say, Andrew, will you lead us?”
“If you desire it.”
Joseph passed him the Bible. “You can read from anywhere, and expound as much as you feel inclined to.”
Something seemed to pass between them, some sort of understanding.
Andrew’s mouth twitched as he nodded. When the dishes were cleared away, he opened with a prayer and then turned deep into the Old Testament.
~*~
“A clergyman, huh?” Daniel shook his head. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“None of us were.” Rachel released his arm to climb over the fence and then waited for him to join her on the other side.
“And yet, there he sat in your home giving a sermon on the three Hebrew boys thrown into a fiery furnace. What do you suppose he really meant by all that?”
Rachel sighed. She didn’t want to discuss this.
Andrew intended no veiled political agenda in his words. He’d been speaking directly to her. Trust in the Lord even in the face of death, knowing that He is able to deliver. But if not…still trust.
“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “Why don’t we talk abou
t something else? Anything not involving that man.”
Daniel faced her, and cradled her shoulders. “You’ve always acted so protective of him. I guess I took for granted how much your charity has put you through. How exhausting it must be having one of the enemy always present. I’m sure it won’t be much longer before even your conscience can rest easy at his departure.”
Rachel glanced down, not wanting to risk Daniel seeing the turmoil tearing her apart, or the overwhelming sinking feeling at his words.
“I’m sorry. You ask me not to talk about him, and all I do is continue ranting.” Daniel hooked her hand back onto his arm. “Let’s keep walking.”
~*~
Andrew cracked the loft door open to peer down at the darkened yard and the soft glow of a lamp dancing between the cabin and the forest. Daniel had left, so where was Rachel going so late in the evening alone? It couldn’t be safe.
The stairs squawked under his boots as he half hopped, half bounded down them and to the main doors, slipping through.
The light flickered, disappearing and reappearing as Rachel continued between trees, deeper into the woods.
Half way across the clearing he hesitated as the cool night seeped through his thin shirtsleeves. He’d forgotten his coat. If he turned back now, he’d never find her…and it was better she remain unaware of his presence. Ever since Andrew had doused her with his frustration that evening in the barn, he’d found it easier to keep his distance. His anger had been misdirected, but the apology she deserved proved most difficult to voice.
Tonight he only had to insure her safety. He hastened his steps. The thick foliage overhead completely blotted out the sliver of moon, plunging him into blackness as he maneuvered through the underbrush that clung to his legs and crutch. He slowed, using his free hand to shield his face and feel his way. After several more steps, he stopped. Trying to go farther without any light, or knowing the terrain was madness. He turned back.