Within the Candle's Glow

by Karen Campbell Prough

  He groaned with instant regret at his nasty actions. “I’m sorry.”

  “Samuel, let’s choose to care ‘bout one another.”

  He heard the quiver in her voice. “You don’t want that.”

  “Yes, I do. It’s a blessin’ you lived! I have scars. Awful ones!”

  “I don’t demand you expose your ugly scars.” He shocked himself with his mean words.

  “I know they’re ugly, but you’d reject me ‘cause of ‘em?” Tears shimmered in her eyes.

  A trickle of sweat ran the side of his face.

  “Samuel, I thought we were friends forever.” Her white lips formed a straight line.

  “Don’t come here anymore.”

  “You mean that?”

  “Yes, I do. I will figure things out for myself, without your implied help or God’s intervention.”

  She lifted a hand as if to ward off his words.

  “Listen to me. I’m not a whole man. I can’t plow, saddle a horse, hitch up a wagon, or pen a letter! So, stay away from me. Don’t come to visit me—even if my sister begs you.”

  With a sob, Ella Dessa fled. She ran with her dark-green skirt billowing behind her. Instead of following the path back to the field where Jim worked, she veered into the edge of the woods. Samuel heard her ragged sobs—even after the trees closed around her.

  He let out one harsh cry of regret and rubbed at his face with his left hand. He had accomplished the destruction of their friendship. There was no going back.

  Chapter 19

  Ella ran the first hundred feet of a zigzagging, rocky trail. She put distance between Samuel and herself, despite the danger of twisting an ankle. Her skirt tangled about her legs. With hiccupped sobs, she crumpled into a heap and pressed her hands against her cheeks. Deer was at her side within minutes.

  Why had her world turned upside down?

  She failed to understand Samuel’s shocking behavior. Never in the past had he been cruel about her neck. All she could hear was his terse words about her ugly scars.

  “Dear God, what’s wrong with him? He’s hurtin’! I don’t know what more to do!”

  Deer poked his cold nose against her cheek and whimpered. When she didn’t respond, he gave a tiny yip and demanded attention. She wrapped one arm around his back. Content, he gave her face sloppy licks.

  “Ugh, thanks,” she muttered, despite her misery. She scrubbed at her face, erasing tears and doggie kisses.

  She cuddled the dog’s panting body and recalled the day Samuel kissed her in the blueberry patch. That kiss had aroused passion she never dreamed could exist. Now, Ella accepted the truth. She loved Samuel, but it wasn’t as a woman loves the man of her dreams. She closed her eyes, realizing Peggy’s idea of her marrying Samuel would never have worked. But the loss of his friendship would hurt forever.

  Only the dog heard her whispered confession.

  “I’ve tried to cleanse Jim out of my heart. I wanted to help Samuel in body and mind, even if he needed me as a wife. I failed.” She was more alone than ever after experiencing Samuel’s unusual hostility.

  A twig cracked.

  Deer growled. Golden tan hair stood erect along his back and around his neck.

  “Hush!” She laid her hand on his head and bade him to hold still.

  Josh stood twenty feet away, his back to the dense foliage. Tree limbs bounced and indicated where he stepped from a clump of young maples with new leaves. At the end of his long arm, he clenched an old musket.

  With a wild yelp, Deer bolted at the man and then retreated, only to do a stiff-legged circle around him. Menacing sounds erupted from the dog’s throat.

  “Josh?” She struggled to her feet, hampered by a tangled skirt. “What are you doin’ up here?”

  Deer trotted back to her on rigid legs, but continued to snarl.

  “He hurt you.”

  “My dog? He didn’t—”

  “Samuel.”

  “What?” She swallowed and disregarded the tingle of disquiet she felt.

  “I seen you an’ him.” He stepped closer and ignored the dog’s displeasure.

  “In the field? By the stream?” A surge of adrenaline charged through her. Her legs yearned to run.

  “Yes, an’ I heard the words he yelled. See—he ain’t the one fer you.”

  Deer continued to growl.

  Ella’s heart fluttered and left her breathless. The urge to run made her legs tremble. “Deer, hush.” She bent, grasped the dog by the scruff of the neck, and forced him to sit at her feet. She glared at Josh. “It were you my dog barked at.”

  “You trained ‘im good.” He waved at a flying insect near his face.

  “He just don’t want you near me.” She straightened and rubbed sweaty palms on her skirt. “Josh—”

  “I ain’t lettin’ you be abused.”

  “I’m not abused. Leave me alone.” She turned on the rock-strewn path, her boots slipping on loose gravel and sticks as she stumbled away.

  Deer kept with her for a few paces and then stopped to growl.

  “Wait. I want to talk.” Josh followed her. “The time has come. Stop an’ talk.” His words sounded brittle.

  “’Bout what?” She whirled to face him, but Josh’s lonely expression made her pause.

  “You don’t care fer me.” He stood in the trail, scuffing his feet over the tree roots and small rocks. “I see it in yer eyes.”

  She placed her hands on her hips. “Josh, I don’t like the way you threaten me an’ follow me.”

  Deer sat in front of her and whimpered, seemingly unsure what he should do.

  “Is yer dog goin’ to bite me?” His question had a boyish tone to it.

  “He might. I’m not sayin’ he won’t if you step closer.”

  “I ain’t wantin’ to hurt him.”

  “Josh, I need to go home. We can talk some other time. It’s growin’ late, and everyone will wonder if I don’t go back to get Walter’s horse.”

  “You don’t need a horse,” he muttered, as if mulling over an unsolved problem in his head. “Walter—he tolt me to leave you alone. I don’t like ‘im.” He tapped his ragged hat upward with his thumb and combed skinny fingers through the coarse hair hanging in his eyes.

  “I need to be on my way.”

  “No.” With his eyes fixed on her, he approached. “Things can change. We got to thrash things out.”

  “What things? There’s nothin’ to thrash or discuss.” She backed away, feeling a thread of danger weave into the air between them—like a rattler raising its head.

  Deer must’ve sensed the same thing. With his tail tucked, he ran a wide circle around Josh and charged at the man’s right leg.

  Josh raised his weapon.

  “No! Josh!”

  The stock of the long gun walloped Deer. The blow sent the dog’s compact body tumbling off the trail and over an incline. His yelps continued, and he floundered in a layer of fallen leaves. Ella rushed to climb down the rocks, but Josh’s left arm seized her around the waist and brought her to a jarring halt.

  “Let go!” She kicked at his legs and slapped any part of him she could reach. “You hurt him! You idiot!”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he muttered and maintained his grip. His fingers pressed into the ribs on her right side, causing pain. He tightened his hold. “Stop kickin’.”

  The dog grew quiet. The bushes stopped quaking with his struggles.

  “I need … to go to him.” Her fingernails dug at Josh’s arm.

  “No, stop!” He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to hurt the dog, but now you gotta go with me. Go.” He pointed back down the old trail, released her, and shoved his hand against the center of her back.

  With wobbly knees, she stumbled a few feet. Fear bathed her in numbness. In her head, she still heard the dog’s pitiful whimpers, and she mouthed the silent words, Oh, God help me and my dog.

  Josh stepped forward, shouldered his weapon, and gripped her right hand with his dirty, cal
lused fingers. He pulled her onto a narrow trail and shoved her forward.

  “You killed ‘im.” She rubbed her hand on her skirt, and tears trickled down her cheeks.

  Keep calm. He’ll let you go.

  But time slipped by without him saying a word, and he prodded her in the back when she hesitated. She shivered with mounting fear. They hiked downward and switched trails one more time. The woods grew quiet, filled with menacing shadows. Late afternoon gave way to evening.

  “I’m takin’ you home,” he muttered.

  Home?

  The recognizable surroundings of her childhood home came into view. She stumbled over the threshold as Josh pushed her through the sagging doorway.

  The remaining meager light filtered out of a ragged hole in the roof. The interior smelled worse than when she and Jim waited out the rainstorm. The odor of rotting wood, mold, and dampness permeated it. Unrecognizable things crunched beneath her boots. Feces and tiny bones of rodents littered the floor—even grayish-white, gnawed bones of a larger animal.

  Under the damaged roof, the curtain around her mama’s bed hung in filthy, unrecognizable shreds. Mice had chewed into the discolored cornhusk mattress and secured nesting spots. The blackened, ash-filled fireplace looked eerie. With a strangled moan, she bolted for the door, but Josh easily blocked her flight with his lanky body and legs.

  “Whoa. Sit.” He propelled her to one of the benches.

  “Josh, why?” She perched on the edge, crossed her arms over her queasy stomach, and dug her fingernails into her sleeves. “You ain’t an evil man.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Then, please, let me go. Velma will worry. You don’t want that, do you?” She tried to appeal to his childish side.

  “No.”

  “I’m late. It’s almost dark. You know Walter will come lookin’.”

  He shrugged and laid his long weapon on the dusty mantel. “Don’t matter. No one’ll look here tonight. By daylight we’ll be gone.”

  “Gone?” She eyed his gun. Could she grab it?

  “Yes, we’re goin’ to Terminus. G’ttin’ hitched tomorrow.”

  “Married?” Her voice quavered as her empty stomach heaved.

  “I know I ain’t asked you, but I’ll take keer of you. I don’t mind your red, bumpy scars. I’ll marry you—proper like.”

  She could almost believe time ricocheted backward to childhood. Her stepfather stood before her—tall, skinny, and mean. His words had often shredded her self-worth. No man’ll ever wed ya … proper like.

  Josh wiped a hand across his wide mouth and squinted at her lips without blinking. “I seen how Samuel treats you, kissin’ on you one moment, then mistreatin’ you the next.”

  “You’ve spied on us?”

  “I stuck close. He ain’t goin’ to make you cry no more.”

  She didn’t need it explained to her. Josh was unstable, like a man with two minds—one childish and the other dangerous.

  Someone might start wonderin’, when I don’t show up to ride the horse home.

  Ella tried to guess how long it’d take Walter to realize something was amiss if she didn’t come home. He’d go to the McKnapp homestead, first. They couldn’t search during the night, even with torches. So, they’d wait until daylight—and it’d be too late.

  “Josh, take me to Miles. You like him. He pays you to do work. Samuel won’t bother me there. Hide me in the barn.” She said it with what she trusted was a conspirator’s tone and hoped it would satisfy him. “You can visit me there. We’ll talk ‘bout … the weddin’.”

  “That’s your real pa.” He shook his head. “No, I got to git us more gold, and then I’ll take you to Florida. I got friends—Indian friends we’ll live with. See, I care ‘nough ‘bout you to plan all this.” He squatted by the fireplace. His long legs seemed peculiar, all bent up, like a large praying mantis. The lack of light in the room hollowed in his eyes. “Cain’t have no fire.”

  She shivered and rubbed her upper sleeves. “I don’t want to get married. Josh—”

  “I’ve been stayin’ here some nights.”

  Yes, she could see there were two handmade crates in the room and dirty clothes spilled from them. Filthy dishes lined the table. A rusty frying pan occupied her mama’s flat rock in the fireplace. She had forgotten all about the special rock used for cooking. She bit down on her bottom lip to stop tears. Memories and the sight of Josh’s meager belongings collided in her mind. She pressed her fingers against her forehead.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My head hurts. Josh, you need to take me home ‘fore it’s fully dark. Please, guide me home, so I—won’t lose my way.” She tried a soft appeal. “You can help me.”

  “No.” He stood. Half of his face remained obscured in the shadows. “I knew the first time I seen you. We’ll be married.”

  “I don’t love you.” She placed a hand over her heart. “There’s another person in my heart.”

  He towered over her. “Samuel don’t own yer heart. It’s always been mine. Mine ’fore time began. It’s written in our blood.”

  She avoided his eyes. Please, Lord, let someone come searchin’. I need help to get away. Tell me what to say to him—how to act.

  Josh fingered her loose hair, pulling at it, and twirling a strand around one dirty finger.

  “Don’t. Please.”

  He made a humming noise deep in his throat. “It’s soft. I knew it was.”

  “I want to go home.” The scent of his sweaty body infiltrated the close quarters.

  #

  Jim finished the plowing as the sun fell behind the western rim. Bigger-than-life shadows stretched to touch him. He lingered by the gate, brushed dust off his pant legs, and watched Samuel drive in the eight head of cattle—all they owned. Their twenty-five sheep and few lambs milled in the corral, protected for the night. One of Dancer’s male offspring lay near the gate, his head resting on his front paws, and his golden-brown eyes watchful.

  “Numbers dwindling,” Jim said, even though he wasn’t unhappy to see the count go down on the sheep.

  They had sold fifteen. Something had killed and dragged away six in the past two months. With a nudge of guilt, he turned to watch his brother shoo the last cow into the second fenced area near the barn. Jim knew his mother wanted to keep the sheep.

  Samuel latched the gate with his left hand and kept his face averted.

  “I ache all over.” Jim rubbed his dirty neck. “I think I found every rock in the side field. I don’t have strength to tote water for a bath.”

  His brother barely acknowledged him, only grunted in reply.

  “What’s troubling you?”

  “No troubles I know of.”

  “I didn’t see you and Ella come back from the stream.”

  “Didn’t come back that way.”

  “How was the stream? Blocked up or running full?” He wrinkled his nose at the scent of the sheep pen.

  “Not too bad.” Samuel headed for the house.

  Jim pressed on with his questions. He was curious and quickened his steps. “Are you going to ask Ella to marry you?”

  “No.”

  “That’s not what I heard Peggy whisper to Mother, yesterday at breakfast.”

  “Peggy needs to keep quiet.” Samuel stalked ahead. His handless arm swung free of the pocket.

  Jim stared at it. He tried to imagine what it would be like to awaken and find out your hand had been sliced from your body. Compassion swelled in his heart, and he sprinted to catch up and touch his brother’s shoulder.

  “Samuel, I won’t stand in the way. You’ve no competition from me. It was fun teasing about it, but I gave up the idea some time ago that Ella would consider me.”

  “Not my concern.” He shrugged off Jim’s hand.

  “You’re her age. I see her coming to visit you, regular like. The first time she found you sitting on the porch, outside, with Anna and Phillip, she was thrilled your arm was healing. She’ll make a wonderfu
l wife.”

  His brother stopped and turned. His green eyes hardened.

  “I don’t want Ella Dessa as my wife. I will not saddle any woman with this.” He raised his arm. The sleeve slipped away, exposing red and purple scars, but no fingers or well-shaped hand. The gloominess of the long evening shadows deepened the new skin growth to muted shades of mauve.

  “Sam, it wouldn’t matter to Ella.” Jim wanted to look away but couldn’t. He fought nausea. In his mind, he could clearly see his brother’s long, tapered fingers attached to a hand similar to their papa’s. “You need to … ask her.”

  Samuel’s face, which had grown thinner since the accident, failed to reflect pleasure at Jim’s words.

  “Jim, she doesn’t love me in that way. I also overheard Peggy talking to Mother—whispering that she thought by marrying me, Ella Dessa could restore me to my former self.”

  “What?” Jim blinked in disbelief. “Listen to me, Ella would only marry a man she loves.”

  “No. You listen.”

  “What? Me listen to you?” He caught himself as Samuel’s jaw clenched. “I’m sorry. What do you want to say?”

  “Jim, she cares for me, but she’s not in love with me. She’s willing to give herself and sacrifice her life to save me from the deep hollow she believes I’ve fallen in.” Samuel worked the fingers on his left hand, opening and shutting them. “Today I told her to leave me alone.”

  “What?” Jim shouted again. “You said it to her face? That had to hurt.”

  “Now, you can go comfort her.”

  “Samuel McKnapp, you’ve no feelings.”

  “Maybe I don’t.”

  What was left of the day’s light barely lit the plowed field behind them. Jim fought the urge to punch his brother’s handsome face.

  “Sam, she cares deeply about you—call it love, if you want. That’s what it is. She’d marry you, bear your children, and never desire another man. You know each other’s good points and bad. She does love you.”

  “What do you know of love?” Samuel pulled his sleeve down and headed for the house, but turned back to glare at Jim. “I made her cry. I reminded her of how ugly her scars are.”