Beyond the Fire

by Dewayne A Jackson

  Jennifer turned and gave him a mischievous smile, but for the first time, Larry noted lines about her eyes that shouldn’t have been there. Turning away quickly, he hobbled to the tree and retrieved the fallen bowl. He was more than a little angry with himself and everyone else. They all placed too many demands on this poor girl!

  When Larry returned with the bowl, Jennifer noted his dark mood. “Thank you, Larry,” she said, taking the bowl. “Is something wrong?”

  “No,” he growled and quickly changed the subject. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”

  “Well …” Jennifer paused. “The chores will have to be finished before I can read this afternoon.”

  “All right,” Larry said decisively. “I’ll get started.”

  Jennifer touched his arm. “Larry, are you sure you’re all right?”

  Larry looked her straight in the eyes. “No,” he said. “I’m worried about you.”

  Jennifer tipped back her head and laughed from her heart. “Larry, you had me worried. I thought something was wrong. I’m all right. Now, you get some of the others to help you, and I’ll be ready in no time.”

  Larry turned to the weathered old barn that served as their makeshift hospital. “Hey, guys,” he shouted, “Miss Jennifer will read to us as soon as we get the chores done!”

  “I’ll roll bandages,” someone shouted.

  “I’ll sweep the floor,” called another.

  The chores were completed in record time, and the men gathered in a large circle around Miss Jennifer. Larry couldn’t believe how everyone waited with such eagerness for Miss Jennifer to read the scriptures. At first he hadn’t been too interested, but after a few sessions, he too was hooked.

  Jennifer opened her Bible and looked around the room, a deep sense of satisfaction and gratitude filling her heart. “Let’s begin with a word of prayer,” she said.

  Every head bowed.

  “Dear Lord,” she began, “You have blessed us richly, having given us life and breath today. You have given us this special hour to spend with You. Open our hearts, Lord, and let Your Word come to life within us. We ask this in Jesus’s name, amen.”

  “Amen,” echoed a chorus of voices around the barn. Larry remained silent. He wasn’t sure how to deal with this part of reading time, but if it helped Miss Jennifer, it was all right with him.

  “Today,” Jennifer said, “we will read a parable, or story, that Jesus told many years ago.”

  As Larry listened to Jennifer’s melodious voice, tender thoughts flowed through his mind. Suddenly he snapped out of his daydream, for Jennifer was reading.

  “A man planted a vineyard, let it out to tenants, and then moved away. When harvest time came, the master sent a servant to collect his share of the crop. The tenants beat the master’s servant and sent him away empty-handed. The master then sent another servant, but the tenants mistreated him as well. The owner of the vineyard sent yet a third servant, but he too was rejected. Finally the owner of the vineyard said, ‘I will send my own son. They will respect him.’

  “But when the tenants saw the son, they said to themselves, ‘This is the heir. Let us kill him, and the inheritance will be ours!’ And they cast the owner’s son out of the vineyard and killed him.”

  Chavez shivered. Though Miss Jennifer read on, he thought about what he had heard. The owner of the vineyard was undoubtedly supposed to represent God, and His Son was Jesus. Larry knew Jesus had come into the world and that the world had rejected and killed Him, just like the tenants had done in the story.

  Larry suddenly felt sick. Was he guilty of murdering Jesus? Had he done just what the evil tenants in the story had done? He quietly struggled to his feet. He needed some fresh air.

  Once outside, Larry felt much better. He hobbled into the trees, found a pleasant spot, and sank to the ground. He had to think.

  The story troubled him. The landowner had built an entire vineyard and had given it to the men in the story. All the landowner wanted from them was a share of the fruit. That didn’t seem unreasonable. And then a thought hit Larry. Maybe the Creator of heaven had given each person on the face of the earth a vineyard! That vineyard could be the air one breathed or the food one ate. Everything came from the Master’s hand, didn’t it?

  I have air to breathe and food to eat, Larry thought. If God has given me those things as a vineyard, what can I give Him in return?

  Closing his eyes, Larry reveled in the quiet afternoon. Birds sang merrily among the trees, and a squirrel chattered down by the creek. The scent of wild roses wafted upon the air, and a deep sense of gratitude filled Larry’s heart.

  Suddenly Larry knew what he could give the Master. He could give thanks. He really didn’t know how to pray, but imitating Miss Jennifer, he bowed his head and began. “Lord, I’m way behind giving You any fruit from my vineyard, but if You’ll accept it, I want to give You my thanks.”

  Minutes became hours, and Larry had no idea how long he sat by the tree. But the longer he thanked the Lord for his blessings, the closer he felt to the Almighty One.

  “Lord,” he said, weeping, “I owe You everything. My life is a wreck! I have lived as if You didn’t even exist. I’m just like the wicked tenants in the story. I’ve rejected You over and over. I’m so sorry! Please forgive me.”

  Shadows were growing long when Larry felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

  “Oh!” He jumped, awakening to his surroundings.

  Jennifer knelt beside him, concern etched into her features. “Larry, are you all right?” she asked.

  Larry tried his voice, but it sounded shaky. “Yes,” he managed. “I think I’m all right.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “I—” Larry stalled. “I hope I’m a different man than you once knew.”

  Jennifer’s eyes grew wide. “What are you saying, Larry?”

  “I—I gave my life to Jesus,” he stammered.

  “Oh, Larry,” Jennifer gasped, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him furiously. “You don’t know how I’ve been praying for you.”

  Larry looked into the excited girl’s eyes. “Thank you, Miss Jennifer,” he managed to whisper. “You helped me see my need.”

  “Oh, Larry.” Her lips trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. She buried her head in his shoulder, and they wept together in the joy of the moment.

  The very next morning, Carter complained, “Hey, what’s going on? Can’t a guy get a decent meal around here?”

  “Knock it off,” Larry snapped. “You’re getting as much as everyone else.”

  “Hey, don’t get sore, Larry,” Carter apologized. “I didn’t mean anything by it. What happened to all the food, anyway?”

  “I don’t know,” Larry growled, “but we haven’t had a shipment for several weeks, and things are getting pretty tight.”

  “Look, I’m sorry!” Carter apologized again. “I didn’t mean to complain.”

  “I know,” Larry said, “and I shouldn’t be angry. It’s just that Miss Jennifer is doing all she can, and, well … ah, just forget it!”

  Carter studied Larry Chavez. He knew what Larry was thinking because everyone in camp felt the same way. They all loved Jennifer and wanted to protect her and keep her safe. “I understand, Larry. Really, I do.”

  “Maybe someone thinks we’ve lived on charity long enough,” someone else said.

  “I don’t know what anyone thinks, but we’re going to have to do something quick, or we’re going to starve,” Larry said.

  “Are there nuts and berries in the woods?” someone asked.

  “If we had some seeds, we could plant a garden,” another suggested.

  “Are you going to plant it with your sword?”

  “What will we eat until things grow?”

  “Look,” Carter said, “why don’t some of you carry me
down to the creek, and I’ll try to shoot a deer.”

  “Hey, that’s a good idea,” several voices chorused.

  “If you lie down on your cot, Carter,” Larry suggested, “maybe several of us can grab an edge of the cot and carry you to the stream.”

  “Great!” Carter exclaimed, easing himself onto his back. Someone handed him his bow and arrows, and he held them tightly in his hands.

  Jennifer was folding bandages outside when she heard the commotion. Looking up from her labors, she witnessed the strangest sight. Eight men, some missing an arm or a leg, hobbled out of the barn with a cot on their shoulders. Over the edge of the cot she could see James Carter’s beady black eyes.

  The whole scene reminded Jennifer of a giant spider staggering about after ingesting something very disagreeable. “Ahem!” She cleared her throat, trying hard not to laugh. “Just where do you gentlemen think you are going?”

  “Hunting,” said a man who was missing one hand but had a firm grip on the cot with his other.

  “Well, you look formidable enough!” she said placidly. “Really, what are you doing?”

  “We’re taking Carter to the stream. He thinks he might bag a deer or something for us to eat,” Larry said.

  Jennifer bit her lip. She knew better than any of them just how short their food supply was, but to watch “her” men attempt to solve the problem themselves nearly broke her heart. “Are you sure it’s safe?” she asked.

  “It’s better than starving,” Carter suggested.

  “Miss Jennifer wasn’t concerned about you, Carter,” someone said. “She was worried about the animals!”

  “Oh, I think the animals are safe enough,” someone else said. Someone snickered. Someone else guffawed. In a moment, Carter’s cot was rocking dangerously. Everyone was laughing, even Carter.

  “Hey, stop it, you guys!” Carter shouted between bursts of laughter. “You’re going to scare all the deer out of the country.”

  Jennifer shook her head and watched with growing respect as her strange “family” hobbled their way toward the creek.

  “You guys are going to thank me yet!” she heard Cater say as the pack of men moved slowly out of sight. Jennifer smiled and returned to her labor. There were so many others who needed her care; she couldn’t spend too much time worrying about those crazy guys.

  It was hours later when Jennifer came into the barn to check on the men. “Has anybody checked on James?” she asked. Everyone was exceptionally quiet. She hoped it was simply exhaustion from the morning’s labors.

  “Miss Jennifer,” one man said, “Carter told us not to come too often or we’d scare the wildlife away.”

  Jennifer nodded, but Carter was due to have his bandages changed. Looking from man to man around the room, she asked, “How will we know if he’s all right?”

  Everyone fidgeted. They could tell Miss Jennifer was getting worried. A man by the name of Benya Hefington, the only officer in the group, spoke up. “If it will make you feel better, ma’am, I’ll go check on him.”

  Ben was better on his feet than most, for he had two legs. He was missing an arm, but he was healing nicely, and Jennifer was glad for his offer. “Would you please, Benya?”

  “Hey, Ben,” someone called. “Don’t forget to signal him when you get there. Knowing Carter, he might shoot anything that moves.” He tossed the officer a strangely whittled piece of wood.

  Benya Hefington placed the little whistle to his lips and blew. The shrill blast startled everyone in camp.

  “Gracious,” Jennifer exclaimed. “I guess you will scare all the wildlife out of the forest.”

  Benya smiled, bowed to Jennifer, and left the barn. Moments later a faint whistle drifted on the breeze.

  All conversation stopped as they strained their ears to listen. “Was that Ben?” somebody asked.

  “Ben couldn’t have gone that far yet,” someone else commented.

  Jennifer looked around the room. “What exactly was your signal, gentlemen?”

  “Well,” Larry said carefully, “we didn’t really set up a signal with Carter. We just gave him a whistle and told him not to shoot if he heard one blowing near him.”

  Jennifer wrung her hands. Anxiety had finally taken its toll. “Why did I ever let you move James?” she asked. “Something has gone wrong. I just know it!”

  Every man hung his head. No one had wanted this. To bring distress to their beloved Miss Jennifer had been the last thing on their minds.

  “Hey, look!” someone shouted. “Ben’s coming on the run.”

  Every head came up, and all eyes peered out the open barn door. Benya Hefington was racing up the trail like a scared rabbit. He crossed the open space between the cottage and barn in an instant.

  “Get your weapons and scatter, men!” he shouted.

  “Benya, your shoulder is bleeding,” Jennifer said, trying to grab him as he rushed into the barn.

  “What is it, Ben?” men were shouting as they grabbed for the few weapons they had.

  “Jabin’s troops!” he panted.

  “Jabin?” someone asked. “We whipped him at Green Meadow.”

  “I don’t care,” Benya shouted. “There are about twenty redcoats riding up the road. It has to be a raiding party. Those who can walk, help those who can’t. Get everyone into the trees. We won’t be sitting targets for anyone!”

  Jennifer quickly grabbed what supplies she could carry, not wanting to lose a single precious item. She suddenly dropped everything and cried, “Grandmother!” In an instant, she was racing across the yard toward the cottage.

  Men ran, limped, hobbled, or were carried to the edge of the clearing. There they fanned out, hiding the most incapacitated men carefully under bushes and behind trees.

  “Did you see them, Ben?” Larry asked the young officer.

  “Yes,” Ben answered. “Did you hear Carter whistle?”

  “We heard a whistle anyway,” Larry responded.

  “Well, that was Carter. I crashed through the bushes toward his whistle and saw them out on the road. Every last one of them was wearing those red coats we fought at Green Meadow.”

  “Get down!” Larry whispered. “They’re here!”

  The men could hear the thunder of hooves as horsemen surged around the corner and galloped into the yard. Their leader swung from the saddle and surveyed the surroundings. Everything looked deserted. He motioned for some men to search the barn while he headed for the house.

  “Oh, no!” Larry whispered. “Jennifer is in there!”

  “She is?” Benya whispered in horror.

  They watched several crimson-clad men amble toward the cottage. “Open up!” Braten yelled. When they tried the door, they found it locked.

  “Good!” Larry whispered, barely daring to breathe. He was angry with himself for forgetting the women.

  Braten tried the door again but to no avail. He put his shoulder to the door and shoved. A small cluster of men began to gather about the door. Several tried to force the door open with their weight.

  “I’m not messing around with this!” said one of the crimson-clad riders, and he walked to a window. Picking up a piece of firewood, he hurled it through the window and began to crawl in. When he was about halfway through, he suddenly slumped and went limp.

  “What’s going on?” Braten yelled.

  The man did not move.

  “Good girl!” Benya whispered savagely.

  They heard another glass break and saw men stationing themselves at every window. Another man tried to gain entrance, but he too fell limp. Others tried, and finally someone succeeded at getting inside. Several tense moments passed, and a terrible scream rent the air. The cottage door flew open, and Braten marched inside.

  Minutes passed before Benya Hefington grabbed Larry’s arm and whispered, “Look!”

 
Two men carried a large bundle out of the house. It was a rolled blanket, tied at either end. In a moment the bundle was slung over the back of a packhorse.

  Benya swore. “Those swine! I’ll bet they’re trying to take Miss Jennifer!” He leaped to his feet and raced across the clearing, brandishing his sword. One of Braten’s men turned and saw Benya’s charge, but Benya cut him down before he could draw his own blade.

  Another redcoat shouted, “Attack!” and Braten bounded from the cottage. He raced for the horse bearing the bundle.

  In seconds, Benya Hefington was surrounded by redcoats and was fighting for his life. He felled another man, but before he could strike the third, men began to fall around him. Arrows filled the clearing as the men of Amity fought back.

  A savage cry welled from Benya’s lips. “For Jennifer!” he shouted.

  Around the edge of the clearing, men shouted, “For Jennifer!”

  Braten leaped into a saddle, grabbed the reins of the packhorse, and turned to flee.

  With savage fury, Benya swung his blade at Braten, but another redcoat stepped into its path and intercepted the blow.

  Devia’s men were scrambling for their horses, but only seven were still on their feet. More arrows streaked across the clearing.

  Larry struggled to get up. “Botheration!” he fumed. Braten and his cargo had raced out of the clearing before Larry could reach the road. He met the next rider, though. With no weapon but his crutch, Larry balanced on one leg and swung his crutch at the knees of the horseman’s mount. The frightened beast reared, dumping his rider onto Larry, and both men went tumbling.

  Another horseman plowed into the fray. With another volley of arrows, everything suddenly grew quiet.

  The yard began to stir as men hobbled from their hiding places, swords and bows in hand.

  “Aaah!” A scream rent the air, and all eyes turned toward the cottage. Benya stepped from the doorway and fell prostrate on the sod. Larry struggled to get up. He could only watch as others raced to Benya’s side.

  “Ben,” someone asked, “are you hurt?”