The Rogue's Redemption

by Ruth Axtell Morren

  He replied for her. “It leads to wasteful living. Don’t forget the parable of our Lord Jesus—God will require an accounting of what we do with the talents He’s given us.”

  Hester looked down at her clasped hands.

  “I’ve prayed long and hard about this decision, my dear. My heart is heavy at the thought of sending your young brother into the wilderness. But I think it will do them both good. If a man is to be stripped down to the point where God can reach him, there’s no better place than in the wilderness of our woods.

  “I have to trust them to the Lord and trust that He will complete the good work He’s begun in your major.” His brown eyes looked earnestly into hers. “If after he comes back he still wants to ask for your hand, I won’t withhold my permission.”

  “Oh, Papa!” She leaned forward and put her arms around his neck. The two embraced for a moment, saying nothing.

  “There…there,” he said, giving her back a pat before letting her go. “The months will pass quickly, you’ll see.” He sighed. “More quickly than I’d like, unfortunately.”

  “When…is he…leaving?” she asked, hesitating.

  “Tomorrow morning. I’m sending them with the Penobscot guide, Portneuf. He’s one of my best, you know.”

  So soon! Would there never come a time when she and Gerrit could be together for always?

  That evening, Hester had to endure Jamie’s enthusiasm at his chance to prove himself in the woods. He regaled Gerrit with all sorts of tales of bravado and danger he’d heard over the years from the lumberers.

  “Every spring, there are a few that drown on the log drives down the river,” he told them. “They lose their foothold on the logs and go toppling into the icy rapids.”

  “That’s enough of that sort of talk,” his father said sharply with a look toward his ashen-faced wife.

  “They’ll never put you on the logs,” Adele told her younger brother. “You’re so clumsy, you’d probably drag a few men down with you.”

  “I’m sure they’ll choose me to rescue a few. I can swim like a fish and am as nimble as a squirrel.”

  Hester turned to her father. “Papa, Major Hawkes won’t have to go on the drive, will he?”

  “I imagine not. They don’t put inexperienced men on the river. He’ll probably help maneuver a bâteau or help with the oxen team. The camp boss will know when he’s ready for which task.”

  Before they left the dining room, Mr. Leighton called Gerrit back. Hester turned, but seeing her father’s nod of dismissal, left the room with a reluctant step. What could he be telling Gerrit? Last minute advice?

  To Hester’s gratitude, her mother had made a fire up in the front parlor—the one only used when they had a large gathering of company. “You and the major can spend some time there before he has to leave tonight,” she told Hester. “I’ll keep Jamie and your sisters in the back parlor and have Meggy bring in some tea.”

  “Thank you, Mama.” She gave her mother a quick hug.

  She paced the spacious room as she waited for Gerrit to come back from her father.

  When he finally passed through the parlor door, she practically ran to him, unable to forget that this was their last evening together. He held out his hands and smiled down at her. How she loved his smile, which dimpled the rugged planes of his cheeks. She joined her hands with his. “What are you looking so pleased about? Was it something Papa said?”

  He shook his head. “I was smiling at how lovely you look.”

  She felt herself blushing. These were the first romantic words he’d ever given her. “I bet you say that to every young lady.”

  His eyes lost their humor and he let go of her hands, turning away from her.

  “What did I say?” She touched his arm. “Gerrit?”

  He glanced back at her at the sound of his name on her lips. “Perhaps that’s why I’ve never given you any compliments.”

  She drew her brows together. “I don’t understand.”

  “Because what you say is true. Compliments come very easily. They cost nothing.” He raked a hand through his hair, as if finding it difficult to express what he wanted. “I don’t…want you ever to think I’m merely flattering you when I tell you something.”

  She took a hesitant step toward him again. “I didn’t think that just now. It…just sounded nice to hear that from you and perhaps I had to make a joke because I felt…shy.” Her face felt warm at her admission but she didn’t back down from his gaze. He was leaving on the morrow and she didn’t want there to be any silly misunderstandings between them.

  “Oh, Hester, you are too good for me,” he murmured, taking her in his arms.

  She reached up and put her hands around his neck, hugging him tightly. How was she to endure being parted from him again?

  He lifted her up on her toes and buried his face in her shoulder. “Why didn’t I just turn around and walk away that first evening when I saw you at the masquerade in London?” he said with a groan. “You’d probably be engaged to a nice young fellow by now and make both your parents happy.”

  She laughed aloud, never wanting to be separated from him. “It was our destiny to meet.”

  He looked down at her face, his eyes both humorous and tender. “Destiny? You mean your doom?”

  She smiled. “My future.” Before he could say anything more, she continued. “The Lord permitted us to meet and He brought you here. He has a purpose for you once you stop running from Him.”

  Gerrit didn’t dispute her words. “I don’t think I’ve been running from God as much as from myself.”

  “He’s the only one who can give you peace.”

  “I came across the ocean because—” he swallowed, looking away “—because you seemed the only one who could save me from myself.”

  She reached up and smoothed the hair away from his temple. “What you saw in me was my love for Jesus and the light of His love for me burning in my heart. But He loves you, too, and wants to save you if you’ll invite Him into your heart.”

  He looked down, his shoulders drooping. “My heart is too black,” he murmured in a heavy voice.

  When he finally met her gaze again, Hester’s heart twisted at the look of absolute dejection she read in his eyes. Slowly he disengaged himself from her arms with a false laugh. “I don’t think your father would approve of our position right now,” he said. “I won’t repay your parents’ trust with ungentlemanly behavior.”

  “Come and sit with me,” she said, inviting him to the settee which was near the crackling fire in the grate.

  When they were both seated, he at one end, she noted, instead of close beside her as she wished, she decided to risk the question that had bothered her since she left the dining room. “What did Papa want to say to you?” she asked softly.

  His look sobered again. “He told me I wasn’t obliged to make this trip tomorrow. He left the decision up to me and told me I could still work at the mill for the rest of the winter if I chose, with the chance at promotion when the opportunity arose.” He turned to gaze at the fire, his dark brows creased in a frown.

  Hester watched the glow of the flames reflecting off his profile. “Why didn’t you take his offer?”

  His lip curled in an ironic smile. “What makes you think I didn’t?”

  She reached over and took one of his hands in hers. “I know you.”

  He gave a silent chuckle. “Not as well as you should. If you did, you’d go running in the opposite direction.”

  She rubbed her fingers along his palm, loving the feel of his callused skin under her fingertips. Even that small part of him was beautiful and rugged, worthy of admiration. “You say that only because you haven’t been reborn. You haven’t shed your old man and he’s weighing you down.”

  He laid his head against the back of the settee, his fingers tightening on hers, and glanced sidelong at her. “What makes you so wise?”

  She answered without hesitation. “God’s Word.”

  They sat silentl
y for long moments, each wrapped in his own thoughts, their gaze fixed on the crackling fire. Then Hester scooted across the space separating them until she sat against him. Instead of pushing her away, he brought his arm up around her, and satisfied, she nestled close, taking courage and heart from the warmth of his strong body.

  “Promise me you won’t go treading on those logs during the spring drive,” she said.

  “Since I’m not sure exactly what it entails, I can’t very well promise anything,” he answered her quietly. “I can promise you I’ll take care of my hide. I’m used to looking after myself.” Humor laced his words.

  “I shall be praying for you that this time it’s the Lord looking after you as well.”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “Thank you for your prayers, Hester. I can’t imagine the Lord denying you anything.”

  “That’s because you don’t see the old me. I’m a new creature in Christ and that’s the one whose prayers God is heeding, the one who’s in His Son.”

  He said nothing more, but she felt the pressure of his lips, kissing the top of her head. She sat still, her only movement her hand pressing his.

  When Meggy came in with a tea tray, Gerrit stood. He tended the fire in the grate, while Hester poured the tea.

  They spoke about his preparations for the journey, and she offered what little advice she could, based on her own experience traveling upcountry.

  “Even though I wish you weren’t going for so long, I’m glad you’ll see my woods. It’s part of who I am.” She giggled remembering their time in England. “You can tell me if you think it’s sublime or merely picturesque.”

  He smiled in recollection. “What a bunch of fools we must have appeared to you in England.”

  “Not at all. I will never forget all I saw and experienced there.” She laughed again. “Besides, my sisters are so jealous I can lord it over them when they become insufferable. They’ll give Papa no peace until he gives them each their trip abroad.”

  Gerrit took a sip from his cup and set it down in its saucer. He leaned forward on the settee, his hands on his knees. He wore plain workmen’s clothes—dark corduroy jacket, fustian vest, rough linen shirt and leather breeches—but he’d never looked more handsome to her, not even in his decorated uniform.

  “I’d better get going,” he said softly. “We’ll get an early start.”

  She nodded, not wanting to think about tomorrow.

  He still hesitated. Then he slipped off the ring he wore on his finger.

  “This is the only thing of value I have left,” he told her, holding it out to her. “It’s my family crest.” He looked away again. “I…I want you to have it…as a pledge of my fidelity to you.”

  She took the ring from him. It was a heavy gold signet ring. She wrapped her hand around it, unable to speak for the lump in her throat.

  He looked at her then. “I don’t ask anything of you. I want you to consider yourself free of any pledges to me. If you should meet someone else…”

  She shook her head, unable to speak.

  “No, don’t take offense at my words. I need to know I’m not holding you back in any way.”

  “You have my heart, Gerrit,” she whispered.

  “Shh…” He brought his finger up to her lips. “Don’t say it. I want to hear it more than I can say, but I can’t go and do what I have to do if I think I’m tying you down in any way.”

  She pressed her lips together to keep from contradicting him. She knew in her heart that she needed to let him go, and she knew she could not join herself to him until he had been set free by the Lord’s redeeming grace.

  “Why does Papa have to make it so difficult for us?” The plea escaped her lips.

  “It’s not him. Whatever happens, don’t let me cause a breach between you and him. Believe me, he loves you very much.”

  “I know.” Her voice broke.

  “There, don’t make it even harder than it already is for me to leave you.”

  She managed a smile. “I’ll be here when you return.”

  “I’ll keep that thought.” He stood finally and gave her his hand.

  Together they rejoined her family where he bid them all farewell.

  “I’ll see you bright and early,” Jamie said with an eager smile. “Wait until you meet Pierre. Have you ever met an Indian?”

  Gerrit shook his head.

  “You’ll like Pierre. No one better to be with in the woods.”

  Hester’s father shook Gerrit’s hand. “Don’t forget, if you change your mind, I won’t hold it against you.”

  Gerrit looked him in the eye. “I won’t change my mind.”

  “Very well. God go with you.”

  When Hester stood alone with Gerrit at the front door—he’d refused to take the horse back with him—she said, “Thank you for entrusting your ring to me. I shall keep it safely for you until you return.”

  “Thank you.” He looked down. “Maybe then I can exchange it for another one for you.”

  She smiled even though he couldn’t see her face. “Yes,” she replied softly. She sighed. “Are you sure you want to go? Papa said you didn’t have to go. I know he meant that.”

  “I’m sure. Although he has given me a way out, I know he’d like nothing better than to see me fail and head back to England.” His teeth gleamed in the dark. “Don’t worry. I don’t intend to fail.”

  It was still dark the next morning when Mr. Leighton and his son came for Gerrit at the tavern. The three of them trudged down the block to the waterfront. Another man waited for them there.

  Mr. Leighton introduced him to Pierre Portneuf, a tall dark man with a braid down his back. After a brief handshake, he turned to load Gerrit’s and Jamie’s bags onto the canoe tied to the wharf.

  After Jamie had climbed aboard the canoe, Mr. Leighton took Gerrit aside. For the first time, the older man seemed unsure of himself. He didn’t quite look Gerrit in the eye. “Keep a cool head on your shoulders and you’ll be fine,” he finally said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I want to ask you…for something.”

  Gerrit waited.

  He met his eyes. “Look after Jamie for me. He’s a bit reckless at times. I…heard how you saved his neck on the wharf here when you first arrived. I’m much indebted to you for that.”

  Gerrit shook his head. He didn’t want a man’s gratitude for that. That had been a stroke of luck.

  “If you do half as much for Jamie on this trip, I’ll…” The man cleared his throat. “Well, you can ask what you will.”

  “No!” Gerrit softened his tone and said more slowly, “I can’t be responsible for another person. I don’t even know if I can save myself. I don’t know what awaits me.”

  “You’ve been in more danger than most men will ever be in. I think you know how to use your wits and act quickly and coolly when there’s danger. Look after my only son, and I’ll be forever in your debt.”

  Gerrit couldn’t take his gaze from the other man’s. What he had said filled Gerrit with dread. The man didn’t know what he was asking, nor of whom. The dead French cadet’s face rose before him and he felt sick.

  If Mr. Leighton had any inkling of how many young men had died at Gerrit’s hands, he wouldn’t be asking this of him.

  With a heart weighed down by this new burden, Gerrit gave only a nod and turned away from Hester’s father. If anything was destined to keep him from Hester, it was this commission. If he failed, how could he ever face her again?

  The journey by canoe took three days. Gerrit soon learned to handle the paddle, holding it in what first seemed an awkward position—one hand gripping the top shaft, the other the haft—and reaching down into the water with each stroke. When his arm ached with the motion, they would switch sides, and he’d begin the same motion on the other side of the craft.

  The canoe itself took some getting used to. Made of white birch bark, which he was able to see once the sun had risen, it rode low in the dark turbulent water. What looked
like a small, fragile craft in danger of capsizing any moment in the midst of the broad river, proved to be a very maneuverable and buoyant vessel. Soon they had to leave the river at the rapids above Bangor. They carried their supplies on their backs and the upturned canoe over their heads, its gunwales resting on their shoulders. Pierre pointed out his village of Old Town, where his people had first settled before the Europeans had arrived.

  That evening, Pierre taught him how to make a simple tent of fir boughs and blankets. They built up a large fire at the open mouth of the tent and slept after a simple meal of salt-pork strips cooked on a stick over the fire, boiled tea and sea biscuits.

  As the next day wore on, Gerrit acquired the same rhythm he’d developed as a young ensign on the marches through the rugged Portuguese and Spanish countryside. When they branched off the wide Penobscot River onto a narrower waterway, they again had to lug the canoe onto the banks where the rapids were too rough. Here he came to appreciate its lightweight build as they hefted it onto their shoulders.

  They traversed through thicker and thicker forest, the dark fir trees lightened by the slim white birch trees and the white carpet of snow. They crossed wide lakes, their edges already rimmed with ice.

  At last they arrived at the logging camp. It proved to be a rough log structure with a fir-bough roof held down by crossed timbers. Beside it stood another log structure for the oxen. The crew, with the exception of the camp cook, was out in the forest.

  Inside the log cabin a long bunk made of logs ran all along one wall. Dividing it from the rest of the room was a half-split log serving as a bench. This faced a large fire pit in the center of the dwelling. A hole in the roof allowed the smoke to escape. The fire was built up with massive logs and the cook sat on a three-legged stool tending a kettle and pan hanging over it. He stood to greet the new arrivals.