The Prodigal's Welcome

by Billerbeck, Kristin; Darty, Peggy;

  “Come on, let’s search the entire area.” He stood and extended his hand, helping her up. “We’re not giving up yet.”

  They circled around the church to the back where the grass was knee-high. Thirty feet further, a small iron fence enclosed eight graves.

  “A cemetery,” Grace said, frowning at Jonathan as they walked in that direction.

  The rusty old gate creaked when Jonathan pushed it open, and they entered the cemetery. Grace glanced at the tombstones. All the names were the same.

  “One entire family is buried here,” she said softly.

  “Probably died of typhoid because all the deaths are in the same year except for one.”

  Grace looked at the small grave and imagined a baby had been stillborn.

  “Grace, look!” Jonathan pointed toward the back of the cemetery, which was overgrown with brambles and bushes. In the very back corner, Grace spotted a small tree.

  Her eyes met Jonathan’s, and he grabbed her hand as they walked carefully around the grave sites until they reached the remote little tree.

  An apple tree.

  Grace caught her breath and squeezed Jonathan’s hand. Again, her hopes were soaring. God, please, she silently prayed.

  At the base of the tree, there appeared to be a small grave, even though weeds had sprouted over some of the bare spots. A large flat rock served as a tombstone, and on the rock was written the word Cunningham.

  “Wait a minute,” Jonathan frowned. “It’s Cunningham. Grace, did your parents lose a baby?”

  “I don’t think so. Freddy was the first child. I know that because I’ve heard Mother talk about how much trouble she’d had giving birth to Freddy since he was the first one. He was only four years older than I. I’m certain no child was born between Freddy and me. At least I think I’m certain.”

  “Maybe you were too young to remember; maybe they just never told you about another baby; the baby could have been stillborn.”

  Grace stared at the rock, and her heart began to beat faster.

  “No, Jonathan. Father would have had a proper tombstone for one of his children. He would never use a rock on the grave. And look—even the name is crudely written.”

  Jonathan nodded, dropping down beside the flat rock. It was about twelve inches wide, and about twenty inches high, roughly inscribed with the words F. CUNNINGHAM, 1863.

  Jonathan examined the ground underneath the rock, where no grass had grown. In the soft moist earth lay a tiny piece of something that glimmered beneath its coat of dirt. Jonathan dusted it off and held it up.

  The late afternoon sunlight drifted down through the little branches of the apple tree and touched the object, which shone pure gold. “A gold coin,” Jonathan said, smiling at Grace.

  “Oh Jonathan. Maybe…” But she could say no more, for she was suddenly too nervous to speak.

  “I’ll get the shovel,” he said, hurrying off.

  Grace cast a furtive glance around the woods, then the cemetery, as she sat clutching the coin against her heart. God, please.

  Those two words had become a litany for her that she couldn’t seem to finish because she didn’t know how to ask for gold. All she could whisper were those two words: God, please.

  Chapter 9

  I think I’ve found something,” Jonathan said after shoveling out about twelve inches. “It’s leather, may be a saddlebag. Yes, that’s what it is!”

  He carefully dug out more dirt, exposing a dark brown, almost black, leather saddlebag, badly molded and showing sign of rot and deterioration.

  The leather strap he pulled on broke, so he dug out some more dirt, uncovering the full side of the upper bag. As he lifted the bag, he said, “It sure is heavy.”

  Grace looked right and left, her heart racing. She couldn’t see a soul anywhere, nor could she hear anyone. “Is there anything else?” she whispered.

  Jonathan reached down into the hole, testing the ground around it with the shovel. “I don’t think so. I think this is what your father intended for us to find.” He stopped digging and dropped the shovel.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked, staring at him.

  “Let’s walk a little deeper into the woods where we’re completely out of sight.”

  Holding the saddlebag against him, he reached for Grace’s hand. They stepped through an underbrush of weeds and briars as they hurried to the edge of the woods. Grace glanced back over her shoulder when they stopped underneath an old oak.

  Behind them lay the lonely little cemetery with its eight graves that contained a family. She could barely make out the dark outline of the fence and the little church, which seemed a soft white against the graying light.

  Jonathan knelt down with the saddlebag. “Say your prayers,” he said to her.

  “I already have. A hundred times.”

  He untied the leather straps of the saddlebag, lifted the flap, and reached inside. He pulled out a leather bag with drawstrings pulled tight. Grace pressed against him, straining to see what was inside.

  In the gray light, gold coins gleamed. Grace gasped, then covered her mouth with trembling fingers.

  “There are a lot of coins,” Jonathan whispered. He began to check the offside bag. “Grace, this one is full, too.”

  She still had her fingers clamped over her mouth, afraid to open her lips, not trusting herself to refrain from shouting with joy.

  “Clear off a spot on the ground somewhere so we can count them,” he said, glancing toward the base of the oak.

  Grace scrambled back against the tree and began furiously yanking up weeds and shoving pebbles aside until she had cleared a small area where none of the coins could get lost in weeds or grass.

  Jonathan moved back beside her and carefully emptied the bags. Together they began to count the coins. Grace stacked her coins in little piles of twenty. Jonathan methodically counted his. When they totaled up the amount, there was six hundred dollars.

  They merely stared at one another for one unbelievable moment. “Quick, put them back,” Jonathan said, opening the leather pouch. “Let’s count the other one.”

  An even better surprise awaited them with the next pile of coins.

  “There are 720 in this one,” Jonathan said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Grace was beyond speaking. Never in her wildest imagination would she have believed that her father had managed to bury this much money and get a message to her. Then, with the help of God, she and Jonathan had found the gold that would change their lives. Yet, she was almost numb with shock. She couldn’t even speak. All she could do was close her eyes and say, Thank You, God.

  When she opened her eyes, she saw that Jonathan was praying, too. As they stood, Jonathan unbuttoned his shirt and stuffed the saddlebag against his chest. The bag was so heavy that his shirt gaped open a bit, but it was almost dark, and Grace realized it was smarter to look like two people walking the cemetery hand in hand, than two people with one carrying a saddlebag.

  They moved quietly, reverently, past the graves. Although Jonathan was careful to open the gate slowly, the creak seemed to echo through the night, louder than before. Somewhere in the distance something scampered through the woods. Grace began to tremble.

  “Just walk fast to the horses, mount up, and we’re going to ride off in a normal fashion,” Jonathan whispered.

  She nodded, her teeth chattering as they marched back to the horses. A light wind whipped through the trees and cooled her skin, but she knew it was not the cool night air that made her weak-kneed. The initial shock had worn off, and she felt as though every nerve in her body was doing a crazy dance beneath her skin.

  Once they reached the horses, Jonathan carefully tied the saddlebags in front of the saddle horn, then draped a blanket from his bedroll over the bags.

  “I think the smartest thing to do is ride back to Pine Grove. I saw a boardinghouse on the edge of town. We’ll have to stay there tonight and leave first thing in the morning.”

  Grace
nodded. She was so grateful to have Jonathan with her to make the decisions. In spite of all her bragging about how she didn’t need a man to take care of her, she knew that having the right man beside her made all the difference in the world to her.

  All the way back to Pine Grove, Grace kept glancing at Jonathan, thinking he had become as important to her as the gold could ever be. Her wish had come true. Now that she had the gold, she felt certain it would solve her financial problems. Now that she had the gold, she could keep Jonathan. Everything was going to work out just fine.

  When they reached the boardinghouse, most of the town had already bedded down for the night. Only a few lanterns still glowed in the windows. Grace could not imagine closing her eyes and sleeping even an hour; she was far too excited.

  They pulled up to the hitching rail before the frame house with the small sign ROOMS FOR RENT in the window.

  “Jonathan, I think I should do the talking,” she whispered.

  He nodded, and Grace imagined he, too, was recalling the unpleasant encounter back in Whites Creek.

  Jonathan was careful to keep the saddlebag under the folded blanket as they walked up and knocked on the door.

  An older man opened the door.

  “Good evening,” Grace said, smiling at him. “My brother and I are traveling and need rooms for the night. Do you have any?”

  The man thrust a lantern in their faces, looking at Grace, then at Jonathan. “Come in.”

  He stepped aside and opened the door wide. “I’m Wallace Toney. Wife’s got some soup on the stove if you’re hungry.”

  “That would be nice,” Grace said, glancing at Jonathan as he nodded politely to the man.

  “First, I’ll show you your rooms.” He led them up some rickety steps to the second floor where half a dozen doors were closed. “You can have the first two. Me and the Mrs. Toney have the last one. Those in the middle are occupied by a schoolteacher and a cowboy.”

  Grace noticed that Jonathan’s eyes lingered on the one Mr. Toney had indicated belonging to a cowboy.

  “We’ll be just fine. Thank you, Mr. Toney.”

  Jonathan nodded again and headed for the second door as Grace turned in the first one. She stepped inside and closed the door. Once Mr. Toney’s footsteps sounded on the stairs, she opened the door again and crept down the hall to knock on Jonathan’s door.

  He cracked it, then opened it wider as soon as he saw it was Grace.

  “I’m not leaving the room,” he whispered.

  “Good idea. I’ll say you aren’t feeling well, and I’ll bring some soup up to you.” She hesitated. “Could you advance me some money to pay for our rooms?”

  He reached into his pocket and withdrew two crumpled bills. Grace had the distinct feeling that these might be his last ones.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” she whispered, slipping the bills into her pocket as she hurried down the stairs.

  She followed the aroma of food down the hall to the back of the house and turned into the kitchen. She came up short in the doorway. Seated at the table was a very proper-looking, middle-aged woman, probably the schoolmarm. Opposite her sat a tall, burly-looking man with narrow dark eyes who stared lewdly at Grace. The cowboy, she decided, turning toward the stove, where a portly little woman dipped up soup into the serving bowls Mr. Toney was holding.

  Grace hurried over to the stove. “My brother is not feeling well, and I’m tired, too. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll take our food upstairs.”

  Mrs. Toney turned a pleasant round face to her and smiled. “Sure, honey. That will be just fine. Wallace, get the spoons, why don’t you?”

  Even with her back turned, Grace felt the man at the table watching her carefully. She dared not look around. Neither he nor the woman at the table spoke a word to one another.

  It seemed to take forever for Mrs. Toney to fill the soup bowls and put them on a tray, along with a napkin and spoons. “Oh, what do you want to drink, honey?”

  “Just water will be fine,” Grace said, smiling at her.

  Another eternity seemed to pass before her tray held the necessary items. “Thank you very much,” she said.

  She turned and hurried from the room, back up the stairs, and knocked again on Jonathan’s door. “It’s me,” she whispered.

  The door opened three inches as Jonathan peered out to make sure. Then as soon as he opened it wide enough, Grace darted inside, and he closed the door again and turned the key in the lock. She hurried across the room and placed the tray on a bedside table, then sank into the chair beside it.

  “The schoolteacher looks unfriendly, and the so-called cowboy looks more like a thief. I don’t like his looks one bit, Jonathan.”

  Jonathan was looking toward the door. “Well, we’ll be safe enough here. I’ve already put Fred’s bag away,” he finished, grinning at Grace.

  “That’s good. Fred is very particular about that bag.”

  Then suddenly they began to laugh, and soon they were laughing so hard they had to cover their mouths to keep from being heard downstairs. They kept on laughing until Grace was holding her stomach and Jonathan was bent double on the floor. When finally their laughter had subsided and Grace was wiping tears from her eyes, Jonathan spoke up.

  “I guess we needed a good laugh.”

  “I guess we did,” Grace said with a long sigh.

  She heard footsteps up the stairs, then the steps ended at her door. Her eyes shot to Jonathan when she heard a faint knock.

  Jonathan crept to the door, slowly turned the key in the lock, and cracked it. “It’s Mr. Toney,” he whispered to Grace.

  She nodded and hurried past him and out the door. Mr. Toney’s eyebrow lifted in shock when she stepped out of Jonathan’s room.

  “I was getting some money from my brother,” she said. “How much do we owe you for our rooms?”

  He looked a bit relieved, although Grace wasn’t sure he believed the part about Jonathan being her brother.

  “A dollar per room,” he answered.

  Grace thought that was too much, but she was in no position to argue. She withdrew the bills, paid him, and turned toward her door. “Thank you. We’ll be leaving first thing.”

  Once inside the door, she turned the key in the lock. Then she hesitated. She recalled the dark narrow eyes of the man Mr. Toney had described as a cowboy but who looked more like an outlaw. Reaching for a chair, she pushed it against the door and stepped back to be sure it was secure. If the so-called cowboy tried to break through her locked door, he would make enough noise to alert the entire household.

  She removed her riding habit and crawled under the covers in her underclothes. Although she managed to get a few hours of sleep, most of the night she lay in the darkness and stared at the ceiling, wondering how best to use the gold.

  Just after daylight, she heard a soft knock on her door. She bolted up in bed and stumbled across the room, listening.

  The knocking continued, soft and gentle, then she heard Jonathan call her name softly.

  “Yes?” she called to him, reminding herself she was still in her underclothes.

  “I’m going to get the horses,” he said. “Meet me out front.”

  “I’ll be right there,” she called back.

  In spite of her fears about the man at the table who lurked in her nightmares during the night, they left Pine Grove without incident. The little community was still asleep, as it had been the night before. They walked their horses out of town, heading south again.

  As the day broke, the sun shone brightly, pouring liquid gold over the treetops and lush grass in the meadows. The sweetness of honeysuckle filled the country. Grace rode along, breathing the clean country air, and ventured a glance at Jonathan.

  He seemed to be deep in thought as he silently rode on General. She longed to know what he was thinking, but she reminded herself he had a right to his own thoughts without her prying. As though he knew she wondered, he turned to her, looking very serious.

 
“If you’re up to it, I think we should press on as far as we can. We can pay for hotel rooms with gold, and we would be wise to do that. A nice hotel is a good investment in our safety.”

  “I agree,” she said, nodding.

  They picked up the pace and didn’t bother with conversation as they headed toward their destination for the night.

  To Grace’s immense relief, the trip passed uneventfully. She had begun the journey back a bundle of nerves. All she could think about, of course, was the gold in the saddlebags. Jonathan was very careful with it at all times, however, so she began to relax by the time they finally pulled into a small town for the night. The strain of nerves and the long trip had worn on both of them, and they kept conversation to a minimum.

  They ate their meals, went to their rooms, got up, and left at daybreak each day. On the third day, they rode into Tuscaloosa. More than anything in the world, Grace longed to soak in a tub of hot water with scented soap.

  She got her wish when Jonathan obtained rooms for them at the Bradford. It was by far the nicest place they had stayed at during their trip, and Grace asked to have tea and a sandwich sent to her room along with a tub of water. When finally she crawled beneath the clean linen sheets, she closed her eyes and sighed deeply. Then she said what she vowed never to forget again. “Thank You, God.”

  Chapter 10

  Over breakfast at the hotel, Jonathan and Grace made their plans. The desk clerk had supplied her with a pen and paper to make the list, and her mind was working furiously.

  “Grace, I was thinking we should talk to Mr. Douglas about helping you find some field hands,” Jonathan said. “I know we can count on Reams to get us a couple of hands, but you’ll need more.”

  Grace nodded. “Yes, I’ll talk to Mr. Douglas.”

  At the adjoining table in the dining room, an older man and his wife were having breakfast. His accent was not that of a southerner, and Grace had glanced his way as he and his wife discussed plans for their new farm.

  Finally, Jonathan turned in his chair and looked at the gentleman. “Excuse me, sir. I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. We’re in town to buy supplies for her farm,” he explained, as Grace turned to smile at the couple.