Be Still My Soul

by Joanne Bischof

“You know what we’re going to do today?” Jebediah asked, draping one arm over his chair.

  Gideon shook his head and stirred a bite of hotcake into his syrup, then stuffed it in his mouth.

  “I wanna take a load of stuff to trade.”

  “All the way to town?” Gideon lifted his eyes from his plate.

  “Naw, Mount Airy’s too far. I just stop around at the neighbors’. Folks this far out are always willin’ to trade with one another.”

  Gideon wiped his mouth, then dropped his napkin in his lap. “What are we gonna trade?”

  “Well, chestnuts for a start. Some folks can’t gather their own, and we might unload a whole bushel.” Jebediah sipped his coffee. “Elsie’s got half a dozen jars of apple butter and a couple pounds of butter.” He shrugged. “Then again, we might not be able to trade anything, but it’s worth a shot. You never know when you got something that someone else might need, and likewise.” After rising from the table, he pulled an enamel pitcher down from the shelf above the stove, then tugged a leather pouch out by its strings. “And I’ll bring this.” Coins jingled when he shook the sack. “Ol’ Red Pickler up the way always has a good wheat crop. He usually sells me a few sacks of flour. Maybe I’ll be able to talk him into more. We’ll see.”

  “Can I come along?” Lonnie asked, her face full of hope.

  Reluctantly, Gideon looked at her. “Might be better if you stay here. It’s cold out there today, and who knows how long we’ll be gone.”

  Her smile faded. Why did he have to blurt that out? Gideon finished his meal in a few bites.

  “Well, ladies. We thank you for the food.” Jebediah dumped his plate in the washtub, then slid his hat over silver hair.

  Gideon’s chair scraped across wood planks as he stood.

  “I’ll get some food together for later.” Elsie sliced through a loaf of bread.

  Jebediah patted his stomach, his expression pained.

  “You’ll be hungry later.” Elsie moved the lunchpail in front of her and wrapped the bread, then a few pieces of cheese.

  “She’s right, Jeb.” Gideon put on his jacket and pulled his floppy hat down over his hair. It insisted on curling around his ears this morning. He licked his fingertips, combing it down.

  Lonnie was clearing away plates at the table. Grabbing the stack from her, he carried the dishes to the washtub. “I didn’t mean to say no just like that. It’s cold out there today, but you’d be more than welcome to come, Lonnie. If you want to.”

  Her face softened. “I would. But I should really stay. There’s so much to do. I don’t want to leave it all on Elsie.” Lonnie’s cheek brushed his shoulder. “Thank you, though.”

  The sentiment took him off guard as Gideon looked down on hair the color of chestnuts. “You’re welcome.”

  “Afternoon, Jebediah. Who’s this young fella with you?” Black skirts swayed as a gray-haired woman stepped onto her porch.

  Jebediah stopped, and Sugar halted. The cart burdening her sloped back stilled, and Jebediah lifted a worn canvas, revealing his goods. “Afternoon, Mrs. Krause.” He pulled off his hat. “This is Gideon. He and his wife are staying with us for a spell.”

  “Ma’am.” Gideon tipped his hat to the woman on the porch.

  “Look at all this!” She moved several furs aside, and her breath caught. “I got a quart of honey I could part with if that’s Elsie’s apple butter I see.” She smiled, eyes crinkling, and smoothed a strand of wiry hair.

  “Yes ma’am, it sure is.” Jebediah pulled out the jar. “Last one. I parted with five others this afternoon. I’m outa chestnuts too, but I’ve still got a half pound of fresh butter, if you’re interested.”

  The woman turned the jar in her hand. “This should do it, but let me fetch that honey.”

  She rushed inside, and while they waited, Gideon kicked around a pile of leaves. “ ‘Staying with us for a spell,’ huh?”

  Jebediah glanced at him. “I smoothed over the rough parts.”

  Gideon half smiled. “I appreciate that.” The winter breeze tickled his face, inching its chill beneath the collar of his coat.

  The older man chuckled. “ ’Sides, wouldn’t want to scare the neighbors.” He winked. “Can’t let on that I let any ol’ riffraff onto the farm.”

  Chuckling, Gideon stuffed his hands into his pocket. “I take it you’re not talking about Lonnie.”

  Jebediah grinned.

  The door squeaked open and the woman returned. “Here y’are.”

  The jars passed hands, and Jebediah dropped the honey into the cart. He tipped his hat and patted Sugar on the hind end. “We’ll be gettin’ a move on. Sun’s setting and we got two more stops to make.”

  “Take care, boys. It was good seeing you, and say hello to Elsie for me.”

  Jebediah waved his good-bye.

  “This is Odis’s place,” he said a little ways down the worn path. “He lost his wife recently, and I’d like to pay him a visit.” Jebediah pulled off his hat and turned it in his hands, his eyes staring into the setting sun. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he has a few letters for me as well. Odis gets to town twice as often as I do and is always willing to pick up the mail.” Jebediah stepped toward the rickety cabin. “Head on to the last stop, and I’ll catch up.”

  Eager to get home, Gideon nodded. He turned and tugged on Sugar’s line. The mule followed with slow steps. They didn’t go far, and after knocking on a heavy, oak door, he introduced himself to the family inside. They had no need for trading, but Gideon accepted a stack of warm cookies and was on his way again.

  Still brushing crumbs from his jacket, he hurried to the fork where Jebediah had asked him to wait. Thoughts of a warm fire quickened his tired feet. “Almost home.” He patted the mule’s scruffy neck.

  A stray sound caught his attention, and Gideon peered over his shoulder. He didn’t see anything and lowered his head and tugged on Sugar’s line. “Get on up!”

  The mule leaned into her load.

  Leaves crunching made his hand tighten around the rope. “Jebediah?”

  Then he heard footsteps—too many to be one man.

  Before Gideon could react, three men emerged. A muscle in Gideon’s shoulder flexed. He recognized them all.

  “Hiya!” Bert called, stepping onto the path. “Ain’t seen you in a while.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

  Bert hurried toward him. Gideon willed his voice steady. “Evenin’, fellas.” He flicked the brim of his floppy hat and watched as they formed a half circle around him. He hated the way his heart jumped. He glanced from one scruffy face to the next. Each man looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. Hadn’t bathed in twice as many.

  “Fancy meetin’ you here.” Bert licked his teeth.

  Pulse racing, Gideon kept Sugar’s lead rope tight as he pulled her closer. Her front hoof stumbled, but she kept her footing.

  Bert flicked his head to the two others, and their formation tightened. Everywhere Gideon looked, he saw one of them watching him.

  “You in some kind of hurry?” Bert placed a stubby hand on Sugar’s back, making her step sideways. Her thick coat shuddered beneath his fingers.

  “Just wanna head home and get this cart unloaded before sunset.”

  Bert slid his hand down the lead rope, and Gideon’s grip braced against the tension. “Sun’s settin’. You ain’t gonna make it.” He patted an empty coat pocket. “Might as well sit a spell with us.”

  Gideon eyed the grimy fingers. “Thanks, but if it’s all the same, I’ll be gettin’ home.” He tried to step away, but Bert held the rope tight.

  A taller man spoke up. “Hey, don’t he owe you somethin’?”

  Gideon drew in a slow breath.

  “I’d say so.” Bert circled him. His eyes flicked to Gideon’s pockets. His eyebrows shot up, and Gideon knew he was waiting.

  “I don’t have it,” Gideon said, his voice defeated.

  Bert scratched his head. “Then it looks like we’ve got a bit of a problem.”
Bert glanced to the cart, tracing his gaze along Jebediah’s pile of goods. “Betcha got enough there to make up the difference.” His eyes lifted to Gideon’s face. “Don’t ya?”

  Gideon’s blood thinned. His hands itched to yank Bert up by his shirt collar. This wasn’t Jebediah’s debt to pay.

  Bert’s eyes dropped to the cart.

  Gideon tightened his grip. The rope burned his palm.

  “That’s fine cargo you got there.”

  Squaring his shoulders, Gideon glanced at the other men. He could take one, maybe two. But not three.

  As if he’d heard his thoughts, Bert smiled up at him. He reached beneath the furs, and Gideon gritted his teeth as glass jars clanged together.

  A dirt-creased hand flicked the fur back into place. “This looks like enough to feed a coupl’a men for a few weeks. How much you’d say a cartload like this is worth?” Glancing over his shoulder, Bert smiled at his men, and they chuckled.

  Outnumbered, Gideon knew that putting up a fight would do little good. “A lot less than a watch.” Though he doubted by much.

  Bert looked up at him.

  “I still have it.”

  Anger flashed in Bert’s eyes. “You better.” He rubbed his jaw. “And I know you’ll get it to me. Right?”

  Gideon nodded once.

  “And then some.” He glared at Gideon. “Let’s call it interest.” One of his men chuckled. “But what do we do in the meantime?” Bert motioned to the men behind him. “Boys, got any ideas?”

  As Gideon stared down the man in front of him, he wished he’d never met Bert.

  He forced himself to inhale.

  One of Bert’s men coughed, and Gideon shifted his stance. He couldn’t keep all of them in his line of sight at the same time.

  “I’ll get it back to you. You have my word.” He would pay the debt. Not Jebediah.

  A sharp laugh escaped Bert, and he glared at Gideon. “A lot of good your word is worth.”

  Grimacing, Gideon shook his head. “I will get it to you.”

  “Which reminds me.” Bert hooked his thumb in his belt loop. “That ring you traded.” He stuck up his lower lip. “The man I sold it to said it was hardly worth the two pennies.”

  Gideon sucked in a slow breath through his teeth at the thought of his ring holding so little value. Even to him. Bert motioned with his hand, and the nearest man stepped in the path. His chest bumped Gideon’s shoulder. Gideon tugged on the rope and stepped into the underbrush. He would cut through the woods if he had to. Anything to get away from them.

  Months ago, he would have put up a fight—thrown a few curses their way—and paid the consequences if need be. But now, knowing who waited for him, he had no desire for trouble, and the second reaction that came to mind was little like the first. He prayed. That’s what Lonnie would have done.

  Footsteps followed.

  Dropping his head, he leaned into the weight of the mule, urging her to hurry. A plaid coat stepped into his line of sight just up ahead, and Gideon lifted his gaze to see Jebediah standing a dozen paces away, his face sober, gray eyes hard.

  “Let him go,” Bert muttered.

  Gideon glanced over his shoulder and saw the trio had stopped at Bert’s command.

  “We’ll meet again.” Bert nodded slowly.

  With a toss of his head, Gideon motioned for Jebediah to walk on. The older man complied. As they rounded the bend, Gideon slapped Sugar harder than he liked. She and her cart lunged forward.

  “Sorry you had to see that.”

  “I was starting to get worried about you.” Jebediah adjusted the furs that had shifted out of place and slid a handful of letters beneath the canvas. “When I didn’t find you waiting, I decided to come look for you.” He glanced back in the direction they’d come. “Everything all right?”

  “Just an old friend,” Gideon muttered, not caring that disdain leaked into his voice.

  The old man eyed him. “So I see.”

  Marching home through the fading light proved to be difficult, and Gideon kept his eyes to the ground, glad for Jebediah’s calming presence. Remembering the prayer he had said, he glanced at his hands, where the mule’s lead rope had worn a red mark. Did God expect a thank-you? He wasn’t sure and, keeping his head down, hoped that what he did not know how to say would be seen in his heart. He was grateful. His thumb touched his empty ring finger, and he wished there was something he could do to prove it.

  Thirty-One

  Lonnie let the door close softly behind her and stepped onto the porch. She watched Gideon raise the ax high above his head. With a grunt, he brought it down. A shudder coursed through her as wood splintered and flew. He grabbed another wedge of pine and centered it. When he glanced at her, his expression tore at her heart. Crash. Another piece shattered in half. There was no need for him to chop wood. There was enough to last the winter and then some. Lonnie swallowed. He’d been like this for days.

  She tightened her shawl and skidded the toe of her boot across the frosty step. No sense in stalling. With a cup of coffee that nearly burned her hand, she strode toward Gideon. She passed spent vines in the garden. They were gnarled and brown, their fruits and vegetables having been canned and tucked in Elsie’s cellar.

  She sat on an upturned log, and her feet dangled just above the ground. Gideon leaned the ax against the chopping block and sat beside her. His shoulder pressed warm against hers, and to Lonnie’s surprise, he made no effort to move away. He pulled off his hat and turned it in his hands.

  Gideon leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. With his hat pinched between his fingers, the brim nearly touched the mud. “We kill the hog tomorrow.”

  “Is that so?” she said softly, hoping he would say more. Lonnie realized that come springtime, half a dozen piglets would be running around the pen. “He’s not gonna see his babies.”

  “No, I suppose he won’t.”

  Her eyebrows fell. “It’s a shame.”

  His voice was soft. “It’s a part of life.” He flipped his palms up as if to emphasize the insignificance in it.

  Lonnie watched as he pulled at a sliver of wood and peeled it off. A few seconds passed, and he flicked it into the mud.

  She sighed. Soon she would feel the child inside her kick and squirm. Lonnie wondered if she would still be making good on her promise. I’ll give you until the baby’s born. Not a day longer. Had her words struck a chord in him?

  He was changing. She saw it in tiny strides each day. Perhaps one day it would bloom into something more. She took in the shapes of his face, uncertain how that made her feel. Who are you fooling, Lonnie? She knew just how it made her feel. Lying by his side at night was becoming natural. More than that. It was the only way she could imagine her life.

  His brow creased as he studied the pig in the distance, its dirty snout rummaging through the muck.

  “A penny for your thoughts.”

  He peered down at her. “I don’t want to talk about money.”

  She nearly laughed. “I was teasing you.”

  He hung his head.

  “Gideon, is everything all right?”

  His head bobbed in a nod, but he didn’t look up at her.

  She touched his arm briefly, then pulled back. “What’s the matter?”

  He ran his hand over his face. “Everything, it seems.”

  “What do you mean?”

  When he looked down at her, he searched her face. Her cheeks warmed beneath his determination. “It’s all such a mess.”

  “What’s a mess? Gideon, I don’t understand.”

  “What I’m trying to say is that I wish things had been different.”

  “How so?” Her voice sounded small to her ears.

  “I wish I had been more.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I wish things had begun different. Much different.”

  She let her fingers rest beside his, overlapping ever so slightly. “I do too.” She watched the hog push his snout through a pile of scraps. “But in a
way I don’t.”

  His eyebrows pinched together.

  “There are so many regrets. But not everything is something I would take back.” She smoothed her thumb along the band of her apron that covered her rounding belly.

  He followed the movement. “No?”

  She shook her head, wishing with all her heart that he might one day feel the same.

  His chest lifted, sorrow heavy in his sigh. “I should get back to work.”

  Gideon lowered his head as he trudged away. She deserved more than he had to give. Gideon shook his head. Had? Or was willing?

  He was never meant to be a father. Nothing about him suggested he could raise a child. Not even Lonnie’s? He glanced back to where she sat, dark boots crossed. He wondered what the baby might look like. Emotion thickened his throat when he imagined a baby with large brown eyes. Just like its mama.

  He picked up his ax and carried it toward the edge of the yard. That morning Jebediah had mentioned a fallen branch blocking the path. Perhaps he could have it cleared by sundown.

  His boots stomped through the wilting layer of snow. He wondered if Lonnie had gone inside but didn’t look back. What was he so afraid of? He shifted the ax from one fist to the other. He knew the answer.

  He wasn’t worthy of Lonnie … or their child. Not with his demons chasing him.

  Once he returned the pocket watch to Bert, he’d be able to shake the chains of his earlier life. Nearing the path that meandered from the Bennetts’ farm, Gideon spotted the fallen branch. It lay like a dead man in the snow. He heard the door close and glanced back to see that Lonnie was gone.

  Using the side of his boot, he kicked at the hefty branch, but it didn’t budge. He set to work, his arms weary from an afternoon of wielding the ax, but he kept a steady pace. The sound of steel striking wood filled the silent forest, echoing from mountaintop to mountaintop. When he finished, Gideon went back for the wheelbarrow, loaded the smallest portions into the rusted metal bin, and headed back toward the farm. When he brought back the last load, he spotted Jebediah in the doorway of the barn, wiping his hands on a rag.

  With a grunt, Gideon dumped the last of the gnarled wood beside the chopping block, pausing only long enough to rub his arm along his temple before he trudged toward the barn. Jebediah had disappeared, and stepping into the warm building, Gideon inhaled the dry scent of animals and feed. The humble smell calmed him.