The dream of the blue-eyed man started the way it always did. We fought until I had him down. While he struggled to get free, I tried to slam his head against the rock. And then everything changed. The blue-eye man looked up at me and spoke, even though my hands squeezed his throat. He said, “Let me go.” His voice was calm.
“No!” I said.
“Let me go.”
“No!” I tried to slam his head against the rock. But I couldn’t move him. I felt weak.
“Let me go.”
I cried out, terrified of what he would do to me. Yet part of was glad to be done, glad to die. Maybe there would be some peace in it. So I let go of his throat, ready to take whatever came next.
Then I was awake, lying in the twisted blankets of my bedroll. It was dawn.
I jumped a little when Jane spoke, just a few feet away.
“He’s gone,” she said.
She couldn’t know about the blue-eyed man. I had never told anyone. But somehow, she did. I turned and looked at her, squatting next to the ashes of our fire, holding her rifle with both hands. My mouth was very dry.
“You let him go,” she said.
“What’s it mean?” My voice was shaky.
I wanted to know what she was going to say. But I also wanted to run from her, from my bad dreams, from the militia, from my family and Maggie, from the future itself. Yet she held me.
“It means you’re free,” she said. “If you want to be.” She stood up and walked away, disappearing into the trees. Shivering, I sat up and watched her go. Then I wiped my tears away with the sleeve of my coat.
That morning, when Jane got to the field in front of the camp, at least a hundred people were waiting for her, with more arriving all day. Riley and I worked as before, settling the newcomers and making sure the water and food kept coming. Several times, I saw Campbell watching from a distance, but he didn’t come down to speak to Jane.
She listened to folks and prayed, laid hands upon the sick and suffering, but there were no sudden healings, no miracles. If those folks were disappointed, I didn’t see it. They prayed and sang, shared the food and water, and watched Jane with eyes full of hope.
During a quiet stretch in the afternoon, when no new folks had shown up for a while, I found Riley standing back from the crowd. I walked over slow and stood next to him. For a little time, we were quiet, just watching Jane. It was up to me to speak first, and I knew it.
“Thought about what you were saying last night.”
“Yeah.”
“About shitting or getting off the pot.”
“I recall.”
“Well . . . I’m shitting.”
Riley laughed. “Damn, but don’t you just have a way with words. Must be all that education you got.”
Grinning, I didn’t say anything. Riley was quiet too. We stood there for a while watching Jane and the crowd. It was nice, this feeling of being in this together--whatever this was.
It was close to sunset when we were finished for the day. Jane was working her way through the crowd toward the camp, when a man walked up with a folded piece of paper. He handed it to me and said, “It’s for the girl. Urgent.”
I took the message to Jane.
She was at the edge of the crowd when I reached her. She took the paper, unfolded it, and looked at it for a long moment.
“I can’t read,” she said.
I took it and read aloud. “General Winslow wishes to meet you. Please come to his residence as soon as possible.”
She took the message from me and looked at it again. She whispered a few words I couldn’t hear. Then she turned back to the crowd and held the paper up in the air. “Let us praise God for the mountains He moves when we have faith,” she shouted. “Charles Winslow, the leader of our people, will meet with me. I’m sorry. I’ll not be with you again, for now God has other work for me. Go home and tell everyone that a new day has dawned. Please keep me, our people, and our leader in your prayers. In God’s name, we will prevail.”
The crowd burst with excited talk and shouts. Those closest to Jane hugged her. Others hugged whoever was standing close by. I heard snatches of shouted prayers. It was that time of day, when for a few moments, the light of the setting sun becomes golden. I looked at the joyful faces, the faces that had made the important men on the hill pay attention to this unimportant girl. The moment was golden.
I looked for Riley and saw him standing apart. He didn’t look happy. I went over to him.
“Good news,” I said.
“Great news,” he said.
“So why don’t you look like it’s great?”
He squinted and scratched his beard. “Can’t help thinking of something my mama used to say.”
“What’s that?”
“‘Be careful what you wish for, cause you might get it.’”
I turned back to the crowd. The golden light had faded.
CHAPTER 7
Everyone in camp knew we were going to see Winslow. Silent and curious, they lined the path and stared at Jane as she walked up the hill. Riley and I followed along a step or two behind.
Campbell was waiting at the entrance to the building and greeted her. Then he told Riley and me, “You’ll wait here.”
Jane pointed at me and said, “No. He has to come.”
I’m not sure who was more surprised, Campbell or me.
“Why?” Campbell said.
“He has to come,” she said.
Campbell paused and seemed to make some sort of calculation. He said, “All right, Jane.”
After Jane and I handed our rifles to the guards, Campbell took us inside. We went through an anteroom and down a hallway to a set of double doors. As we went in, Campbell turned to me and pointed to a spot just to the left of the doorway. I understood he wanted me to stand there and say nothing, do nothing. That was fine with me. I had no business being there.
The room was square and had a nice rug on the floor. There were maps hanging on the walls and shelves filled with books. The room made me think of how dirty I was and how bad I smelled. In the corner nearest me, a Lieutenant sat at a small writing desk. Campbell turned and started speaking with him. On the other side of the room, six men were standing, talking to one another. One man was taller than the others, thick through the middle, and balding. His back was to the door, and as we came in, he let out a booming laugh that filled the room. I guessed he must be Charles Winslow.
In the time it took me to take all this in, Jane had crossed the room and come up behind a short man standing with the others. I couldn’t see his face and didn’t know who he was. Jane put a hand on his shoulder. When he turned around and Jane put a hand over her heart and said loudly, “Charles Winslow, I am Jane Darcy. I have a message from the Lord. He will protect our people and drive out the enemy. Let me fight and He will give us victory.”
Jane bowed her head and went to her knees, praying. Everyone was still. After a long moment, the short man said to her, “Um . . . please, please stand up. Please.” He sounded embarrassed, unsure of himself. Jane stood up, and I realized I had been holding my breath.
“How did you know who I was?” he said to her. It was a good question. He was clean-shaven and had a fat little belly. He didn’t resemble his father, who had been tall and hard-looking with a long full beard. Charles Winslow was the softest-looking man in the room.
“The Spirit led me to you,” Jane said. Then she turned to the rest of us. “We must speak alone. Leave us.” It was a command.
No one moved. Everyone was waiting to see what Winslow would do. After a long moment, he nodded. The men moved slowly toward the door, glancing back at Jane and Winslow. I was the last out, shutting it behind me.
Outside, I stood next to the door, trying my best to be invisible. Campbell and his Lieutenant, both looking miserable, stood together in the hallway. The other men waited in the anteroom. The tall man looked very angry. His arms were across his chest, and his face was red. He wasn’t an officer, but I ha
d the feeling he was used to giving orders.
A minute passed. Then five. The tall man paced around the anteroom and up and down the hallway. The other men made way for him.
He had passed me a few times when he stopped in front of me, and looked me up and down. He turned to Campbell and said, “Just who the hell is he?”
“He brought the girl here,” Campbell said. “She insisted he come with her.”
“Insisted?! Insisted?!” the tall man said. “Who is she to insist on anything?” He stared hard at Campbell. But Campbell stared back. Just as hard.
The tall man started pacing again. Another five minutes. Then ten.
I wondered why I was there. Why had she wanted me here? What was I supposed to be doing?
The door opened. Jane and Winslow came out. Winslow was smiling. He appeared happy as he touched Jane’s shoulder and said to Campbell, “Please make sure this remarkable young woman is taken care of.” Campbell told his Lieutenant to see to it.
Winslow turned to Jane. “We’ll speak again soon.”
Jane nodded slowly.
Then Winslow said, “Gentlemen,” and gestured for the others to come back into the room. Jane stepped aside and stood watching until the door closed.
We went out, got our rifles back, and found Riley. Campbell’s Lieutenant had someone take us to a cabin. We went in and discovered Jane had a bed with real sheets, and a table and chairs for meals. Riley and I went back to our campsite for our bedrolls and the makings of Jane’s lean-to. Just as we returned, two men showed up with some hot food for us.
When the men had cleared out, and it was just the three of us again, Riley let out a low whistle and started dishing out big plates of food.
Over dinner, I told Riley how Jane had just walked in and taken over. Jane smiled as I told the story. I also told what went on in the hallway and had them both laughing with an imitation of the tall man asking, “Just who the hell is he?”
Then I asked Jane, “Why’d you want me in there? It’s not like I could help.”
“I wanted someone on my side,” she said.
“Ain’t Campbell on your side?” Riley said.
Jane shook her head.
Riley and I exchanged a look. I turned back to Jane and said, “Well, why me? Why not Riley?”
She shrugged. “The Spirit chose you.”
Riley and I exchanged another look. That was all the answer we were going to get. We were quiet for a bit.
“Jane, what did you and Winslow say?” I said.
She smiled, stood up, and said good night.
Riley and I went out, put out our bedrolls, and built a fire. We sat for a long time warming ourselves without talking. Finally, I said, “Leaves a lot unsaid, don’t she?”
“That she does.”
“Wonder why.”
“Maybe God don’t explain. Just tells her what to do.”
“Maybe,” I said, even though I suspected there was more to it than that.
We sat for a while and then Riley said he was going to turn in. Soon, I could hear him snoring. I sat at the fire and thought about all that had happened since morning. I thought about my dream with the blue-eyed man. It was strange, but I knew, knew for a fact, I would not dream of him again, at least not the way I used to. That felt good.
And I thought about how Jane would not tell us what she and Winslow had said. I realized then she would never tell. By tomorrow everyone in camp, and in a week or two all of our people, would know she had spoken with Winslow alone, but no one would know what they had said.
The secret is power, I thought. It makes her Winslow’s equal.
CHAPTER 8
In the morning, Jane got word Winslow wanted to talk to her again. Campbell’s Lieutenant brought us to the same room as the night before.
Campbell, the tall man, and another man I hadn’t seen before, sat at a table in the center of the room. Winslow sat at the head of the table, but the smile of the night before was gone. Instead, he looked nervous and glanced back and forth between Campbell and the tall man.
Jane took the empty seat. I stood to the left of the door.
The tall man cleared his throat and thanked Jane for coming. He said he was David Jackson, Chairman of General Winslow’s Council of Advisors, and the other man was Reverend William Maxwell. “And, of course, you know General Winslow and Colonel Campbell.”
Jackson wasn’t angry anymore. He looked like a cat about to jump on a mouse.
“We wanted to talk with you,” Jackson continued, “to ask a few questions about you and the . . . the claims that you’ve been making. Would that be all right?”
Jane said nothing. A nod.
“Perhaps you could tell us about yourself, your family, your upbringing?” Reverend Maxwell said.
Jane told them about her family and her farm. She said she was about 17 years old, and all she had ever done was clean, cook, sew, and work on the farm. Until this journey, she had never been more than a few miles from home. I couldn’t see Jane’s face, but her voice was calm and even.
“Do you know how to read and write?” Jackson said.
“No. Don’t know A from B,” she said.
Maxwell smiled and said, “Is Jesus Christ your personal Lord and Savior?”
“Yes,” Jane said.
“And you believe the Bible is the Word of God?”
“Yes.”
“And you keep the Commandments?”
“Yes.”
Jackson said, “But you dress in men’s clothes?”
“Yes,” Jane said.
Jackson smiled and reached for a Bible that lay open on the table. “Well, the Bible says in Deuteronomy, Chapter 22, verse 5.” He paused and cleared his throat before reading, “The woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a woman’s garment: for all that do so are abomination unto the LORD thy God.”
He put the Bible down and smiled. The cat had pounced.
Jane said, “God didn’t call me to be a man, but to go to war. So I dress for fighting.”
“But the Bible calls it ‘abomination.’”
“Jesus said to the Pharisees, you ‘strain at a gnat and swallow a camel.’ My britches don’t matter. What matters is what God wants us to do about the Government’s army. Let’s talk about that.”
Jackson didn’t answer, but his face was getting red again. Winslow and Campbell sat silent, watching. Maxwell, looking uncomfortable, cleared his throat and said, “You say God has given you messages?”
“Yes,” she said.
“And God has given you a mission?”
“Yes.”
“Now, please don’t take offense, but I think we’ve all heard of folks who claim God spoke to them. Then they’ve gone out and done some terrible things. Wicked things.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“I’d say those folks were listening to the Devil, not God.”
“Yes, I agree.”
“So how do you know that your mission is from God rather than Devil?”
“God sent me to save our people from our enemies. And that’s what this militia’s for. You ever asked if this militia is doing God’s work or the Devil’s? Of course not. Foolish question.”
Maxwell opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I reckon he wasn’t used to 17-year-old girls calling him a fool.
Then I noticed that Jackson was looking hard at the minister, disgusted. He turned to Jane. “You claim to have healed a little girl?”
“Only God can heal,” Jane said. “I prayed with Mrs. Baker for the child. God saw fit to heed our prayers.”
“What about the people who came to this camp?” Jackson said. “Didn’t you tell them you could heal the sick?”
“No. I only talked and prayed with them. Should I turn them away without a little kindness word after they’d come so far?”
Jackson sat back in his chair and folded his arms. His face was very red.
Maxwell drew a deep breath an
d tried again. “Jane, please look at this our way. In a time of danger, you tell us God has told you to save our people. Don’t you see this is difficult to believe?”
“Yes,” Jane said, “if I didn’t know it to be true, I’d find it hard to believe.”
“So help us!” Jackson said. “Give us a sign so we can believe too!”
“Send me to fight and you’ll get a sign,” Jane said. “Victory.”
“So if God will provide this victory, then there’s no need for our men. Perhaps we can just send you!”
“No. Our men must fight, and God will give them victory.”
Jackson now looked as angry as the night before.
Maxwell said, “Jane, I’m sure you believe . . . all this, but ask yourself: If God wanted someone to fight the Government, wouldn’t He choose someone who already knows how to do that?”
“Don’t know,” she said. “God didn’t explain. I sure wouldn’t have picked me. So maybe He wants us to turn to Him for strength.”
“May I ask a question?” Campbell said. Jackson glared at him. Maxwell sat back, looking relieved. Winslow just stared at the table.
“Jane, if you were to lead our men,” Campbell said, “what would you do with them?”
“Attack. Attack now,” she said. “Better today than tomorrow. Better tomorrow than the next day.”
Jackson narrowed his eyes and shouted, “Attack, attack, attack! This sounds like the Gospel according to Colonel John Campbell. Can’t you see that we can’t fight the Government? They are too strong. We have to negotiate.”
“The Government doesn’t negotiate,” Campbell said. “It conquers. We need to hit them before--”
“Please!” Winslow said, “Please, gentlemen. We’ve had this argument too many times.” He looked ill and rubbed the sides of his head with his fingertips. “This is a very difficult matter. Very difficult. I have to think . . .”
Jane stood up, leaned forward, her hands flat on the table, and said, “You must decide. We must act now. Do not lose this chance.”
As Winslow stared at her, he hunched down in his chair. He looked as though he wanted to be anywhere else but here. To be anyone else than who he was. What we had suspected was true. He was nothing like his father. I was frightened.
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